#its truly some of the least trash i write for

[jaketsparrow]

Tending Part 1

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 8.9K 

Preview: One night when your work crush Jake takes the main stage at the bar you work at, you both finally get the courage to take things to the next step. You finally get to see a side of him he hasn’t gotten to show you yet. The only thing that sours the excitement is when you wake up the next morning and he’s not there. 

Note from author: This is my first time writing something like this so I hope it's enjoyable! It’s definitely a slow burn, but I really like how it ended. There is room for more, so I’m open to suggestions :) 

MENTIONS OF/ TW: !Drunks3x, Oral (m/f! receiving) receiving, dirty talk, name calling, teasing/edging, explicit sexual content, *some* impact play, dom/sub, mature themes, unprotected sex, fingering (f! receiving), language, choking, safe words… Moral of the story it's filthy (imo). Sorry if i missed anything! 

MINORS DNI

“You know we shouldn’t do this,” he says while unbuttoning his pants. Jake wants it too. Maybe just as much as you did. 

The autumn air is rolling into the bedroom, slowly waking you with its crisp touch. You try to fight the sleep off, slowly coming to. You rub your legs up and down the silky satin sheets, trying to navigate and stretch each muscle through the tangled mess. Next is your arms, sluggishly moving up to wipe the smeared mascara further across your eyes. One last wipe and you’re finally awake enough to open your heavy eyelids. 

Still in a state of morning fog and confusion, you turn to your left and reach out to touch him; expecting him to be there- but he’s not there. Where did he go? He was so close to you last night, facing you, noses practically touching, breathing lightly, but still enough to feel the breeze of him on you. The sheets had been completely evacuated of him; the only thing remaining was a few long strands of his chestnut hair. Was he truly only expecting sex last night? Honestly, how could you even think that he would spend the whole night? You desperately wish that he did, especially after everything. 

You finally muster the strength to sit yourself up, swinging your body over the edge of the bed. The hangover doesn’t hit you like a truck, but instead slowly sweeps through your body reminding you of your late night. 

Shit how much did you drink? 

Your judgment was far too clouded, the steps had already started- the act already unfolding. And you sat there silent, unsure of why this would be a bad idea at all. 

Each movement out of bed increases the throbbing in your head. It takes a good five minutes before you can struggle over to the dresser and find the clothes for your shift. Each step and dressing needs long deep breaths. You push past the bedroom door and walk into the tiny apartment bathroom; the cold tile beneath your feet sobering your sleep. You trash the vanity looking for your toothpaste, but once you find it you don’t even want to use it. The taste of his salty skin still lingers in your mouth, almost tastes too good to let go of… But soon the taste of alcohol begins to join in, creeping up the back of your throat- and you know you have to wash it out before it's too late. 

He’s still only unbuttoned, waiting for you. You are in awe of his beauty, in awe of this talent he has to leave you speechless… You can clearly see the outline of his hard cock, begging to be freed from his pants. He runs his hands over the front of his jeans; twitching with excitement. 

The night is still flashing back to you, slowly. You’re not too hungover to remember, but it’s almost like your brain knows that if you saw it all at once, you’d combust. You spit the foam of the toothpaste into the running sink. The burn of last night’s alcohol sits on the brim of making an entrance, but you won’t let it. You didn’t want it to be your first morning after him to be this rough, but at least he wasn’t here to witness it all.

Your absence of words means he will not move further- unless you permit him. He walks over to you, lifting his hand to hold your chin in his palm. He steers you to look upwards at him. You gaze up at him. His soft brown eyes gazing back at you. The eyes you’ve looked at so many times, hoping they would look at you like this. Deep with lust, crazed with some primal need to taste us. I still can’t believe he wants this- he wants… you. 

Your zombie-like body glides through the apartment in search of the Tylenol bottle that still hasn’t found its permanent home. You find it at the bottom of your purse, remembering that you packed it there for this specific reason. You twist the medicine bottle open and shake out two oblong pills. You place the bottle back in your purse, grab a rogue half-filled water cup from the counter, and swallow the pills back. 

He brings his face closer to yours. Squeezing his hands around your jaw. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks. 

You nod your head slowly, showing him your approval. By now the tension is so thick. His lips are so close. I lean forward towards him, but he dodges your attempt. His lips move towards your ear, his hand moving up to hold the underside of your head, caressing it gently. You can feel all the hairs on your body stand up as his cheek touches yours- as skin meets with skin. 

He whispers, “I need you to say the words.” 

You let out a quiet whimper- melting like putty into his hands.  “Jake, please fuck me.”

All that movement already has you wiped and you have no choice but to settle down at the kitchen table. Your head slowly moves towards the aged wooden table, but your arms cross in front of you to catch your forehead before you hit it. You nestle into your arms, resting the side of your face across your bicep. You try to remember how it all even happened. Where did it even start? 

It’s your night off, but on Wednesday nights you still choose to go in. You usually get free drinks, especially if Jake is working. In fact, he’d probably shoot tequila with you once the manager heads into the back office. But as you walk in there, you don’t see him at the bar; it's your friend Mariella bartending. Granted if you were actually going in for free drinks Mariella would also probably give you them, but you know it wasn’t about the drinking at all. 

Ever since Jake started another job you started to see him less and less. You try to not let it bother you, but having a work crush is what makes work exciting. Trying to catch smiling glances with each other, sometimes working the bar together on a busy Saturday night and having to slide past one another… Like that one time, you thought maybe more than just his legs brushed over your ass. You really couldn’t tell if he thought of you though, he had a perplexing silence to him. Bartenders can be like that though, brooding, mysterious, only showing their fun sides to get better tips. 

On a night like this, you’d sit at the end of the bar and enjoy the live music that filled the bar. You decide you will continue this weekly ritual and you walk over to Mariella. She’s wiping down the bar with a wet rag, swiping up some sticky mess left behind by the previous patrons. She dumps the rag out of sight and turns to see you smiling at her. 

“Hi dear,” you say to her. 

She chuckles at you, “Hello dearest,” she says, “I’m guessing you didn’t come in looking for me, huh?”

You pout your lip and reach out for her hand. “Of course not, but you’re just as pleasant to see.”

She crosses her arms and scoffs at you. 

“What do you want?” 

“Whatever you can give to me,” You say, “without getting in trouble.”

She thinks about that for a moment, then turns to start making you a drink. You turn your back to her, resting your arms on the edge of the wooden bar. The bar isn’t as full as it is on a Saturday, but there's a steady crowd forming. Some boys take the stage and start assembling. Mics connect to stands, drumsticks are being pulled out of bags, but you can tell they’re not ready yet. You turn back to watch Mariella. 

She's just about finished, eyeing the other customers who start to crowd her. She grabs the icy glass and puts it down in front of you, not saying a word, not even looking. You eye the light amber drink, trying to guess what it is. You take a sip from the straw. Whiskey sour. Nice. 

You watch Mariella assemble drinks and pass them off to their new owners; her speed is impressive. You're so lost in her service, that you don’t notice the band behind you starting their set. 

Jake… On guitar? This must have been the other ‘job’ he started. You turn to look, slowly, trying not to make yourself noticeable. There he was, beginning to lightly strum the guitar. His hair sitting on his shoulders, a loose button-up- that hasn’t been buttoned on the top four buttons, dark wash jeans clutching onto his legs, and these chelsea boots that he pulled off more than you wanted to give him credit for. There he was. Playing the fucking guitar, and then looking at you. 

Shit. You fell asleep again at the kitchen table. A jolt goes through your body. Your shift! You run searching for your phone. It’s on the living room couch, lighting up at you. 12:15 PM. Shit. The hangover still buzzes through your head and body, but somehow you manage to grab everything and your purse and head out the door. 

The mustyness of the hallway stings your nose and you try to hold back your gagging. The front door is opened by a neighbor and you rush out past them, apologizing for your rudeness. You shuffle to your car, except it isn’t in the parking lot… Oh… Yeah.

The set is ending, the crowd is starting to die down, and you can see how tired the entire band is getting. Jake’s forehead glimmers with sweat as he finishes the last few chords of the song. He’s so fucking good. Like really fucking good. The drums come to a slow, heartbeat-like, crash. The lead singer addresses the crowd and the band waves goodnight. 

You become aware of your staring problem, and move down to the end of the bar, hiding in the corner, scared of what conversation may occur. He saw you staring at him, eyeing his body, glazing over his sexy… Wishing you could finish unbuttoning his shirt, and relieve him of those tightly fitting jeans. He was truly too fucking much. You hide your head in your second whiskey sour, quickly sipping, leaving only the last bit of watered-down ice & whiskey. You look around at the bar- anywhere but the stage. 

You’re completely zoning out, tapping your fingers against the sticky bar, when you feel a presence walk up behind you. You can feel the nerves coming through, your heartbeat pounding in your chest… You have to remind yourself to breathe. 

His arm reaches past you for your drink. He takes the straw, throws it on the bar and shoots back the remainder of your watered-down cocktail. He puts the glass back down in front of you and occupies the stool next to yours. He doesn’t turn to look at you but instead waves to Mariella, and puts up two fingers. She understands his gestures and begins making the drinks. Your heart is racing faster now. You sit there frozen, trying to calm yourself. You don’t even know if he’s interested in you. But all you can think about is pressing your face up against his, violating his mouth with yours, sitting on his lap, and feeling his cock pressed up against your pussy... Enough. 

Your Uber pulls through the bar’s parking lot, which is in desperate need of paving. The car bounces up and down the potholes until you reach the employee parking in the back. The rollercoaster of the parking lot puts you at risk of letting that alcohol finally release itself from your throat. You swallow. Hard. 

You thank the driver, holding back anything else other than words trying to come out, grab your purse, and head into the back door. Immediately after you close the steel door, your manager Chris is there yapping your ear off. You start to prepare with your apron and supplies, half-listening to his scolding.

“You had the audacity to come in here last night, and drink nearly half a bottle of whiskey…” Tuning him out has become easy, but his shrieks test your already weak limits, “... You show up 45 minutes late! Now you're going to have to share your tips with Jake.”

You stop in your tracks and turn to him, “...What?”

“Are you even fuckin’ listening?” You can see his expression grow with frustration, “You weren’t here to open, I called Jake and he started you off by taking orders at the bar. Go take over the dining for him- and share your fucking tips with him!”

Fuck. 

You're on your third round, while Jake is mending to his first. It's no longer the alcohol making you feel buzzed, it's him. He's smiling and laughing, telling you how happy he was that he could play good music for the bar- half sarcastic and half serious. You're loosening up,  laughing with him, playing around and trying to give him your best doe eyes. Your legs are turned to face him, crossed, trying to hold in the slick that's starting between your thighs. Your leg brushes his slightly, tempted to creep further. 

“Did you like the set?” He asks. 

“Hell yeah!” Why did you say that?

“I thought you might not be able to hear the music through your laser focus on my dick,” he states. You stop. What did he say? I’m perplexed by his question. Did you imagine this? Should you have passed on this third round? “C’mon, you didn’t think you were being subtle did you?” 

You're trying to form words, but you keep stuttering and stumbling through the words. Your thoughts are spinning like a Rolodex trying to find the right response. You eventually land on, “I was just surprised to see you out of your usual jeans and work shirt… and in those boots!” 

“Sure…” He laughs and pats your leg, “It was nice to see a familiar face in the crowd,”

He turns to smirk at you. His lips are full. Slick with the whiskey sour. They’re curled up to the left side of his face. He starts to blush and you notice your once again staring for too long. He turns to look out to the crowd. You break your gaze for a moment to look at your drink, only to slowly glance back at him, craning your neck slightly. 

His profile is fucking stunning. His eyes are deep, and he has this tired yet excited look in his eye. He has this gorgeous round face that still somehow has sharp accentuated features. He’s still wearing that half smile and pretending not to notice you peering at him. You’re so close to him now, smelling the distinct smell of sweat and cologne.  What is that smell? Sandalwood? Vanilla? It doesn't matter. At least you're close enough to him to even be breathing him in. 

You stop and realize his hand still hasn’t left your leg. The pat has turned into a hold right above the knee. This has to mean something. Your legs are still crossed, holding in what so desperately wants to be released. You look back at him, trying your best to look calm and not completely hopeless. His hair is loose from the usual low bun he sports behind the bar. You can’t believe how long it is. Some of the loose strands of hair are still stuck to his glossy forehead. You give in to impulse and swipe the clung pieces from the sweat. Your hand grazing the edges of his face, tucking the hair with the rest. 

Your adventurous hand wants to linger. You are definitely overstepping and begin to pull away. He turns to face you, his face falling into your palm. You can't help but smile softly. You can see him entirely now, his eyes, his stupid perfect nose with its petite ring, the hair that frames his face perfectly, those thick eyebrows… ugh. You pull your hand away, but his hand meets yours on its return to your lap. Holding it gently, melting you into the wooden stool. 

“Hi sunshine,” he says to you in an entirely different voice than before. It's sultry, velvety… sexy. 

“Hi,” You reply, feeling a rush of shyness wash over you, still unsure what the fuck is even happening. 

There is no real lunch rush at this bar. Fleet’s has been around for quite some time and the appeal of it has faded away almost completely. Anyone who shows up before 6 has been coming here for the past 30 years and are by far the easiest customers I could have. They tip well for people who seemingly don’t work on a Thursday, and don’t bother you except for a drink every 20 minutes. 

Jake and you don't communicate during the first half of this shift, except for the glances we keep giving each other when you pick up orders at the end of the bar. You don’t know what to say to him. You don’t want to come across as desperate to him. You don’t even know what last night means. “You know we shouldn’t do this” keeps echoing in your brain. Why shouldn’t we have?

Maybe today is an example of why we shouldn’t have. 

Somehow you’ve ended up in his car. Maybe he finds your awkwardness charming. Or maybe he knows 3 whiskey sours is enough whiskey sours that you shouldn’t be driving yourself home. 

The car is an old convertible that has clearly been on its last ride for years. You’re still feeling unsure from the interaction only moments before. You want to be close to him, but you’re still fighting that desperation that's looming deep in you. 

His hair is cascading behind him, moving in unison with the wind. It's fucking magical. No strands are falling into his face, it's all just flowing in one swift sweep behind him. Classical rock is playing through the radio, echoing into the backstreets that lead to your apartment. Although he’s right it's really hard to focus on the music when all you can think about is a bulge sitting in his lap. 

He turns to smile at you; a slight grin of enjoyment. He switches his hands on the leather steering wheel, so he can reach over to touch you.  He reaches his hand over the center console and grabs your inner thigh. Oh my god, he wants you too. He slowly takes his calloused hands up and down your thigh. Fuck. How does he know that's your favorite? 

You haven’t spoken a word in the ride other than giving him your address. You want to say more, but you don’t want to spoil the moment and say something stupid again. He senses your shyness, and your apprehension, and cuts the tension in the air. 

“If you’re wondering if I’m into you,” he says, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, “Of course I fucking am.” 

Your heart is practically bursting through your chest. You get lost in the words again, but somehow manage some bratty response, “Of course you are,” you reply. 

He gawks at you, sarcastically, knowing you're trying to be funny with him. You smile and bury your face into your shoulder. You’ve never been this shy with men before, in fact, you’ve always led the flirting and seduction. But here you are now, letting him take control of you like you're already his. You don’t mind though; you enjoy this chase. 

You push the door of the back hallway open and keep your head down. Only three tables are occupied on the dining side, you walk over to them to inform them you would be taking over for Jake. 

You finish introducing yourself to the third table and finally turn your head to the bar. Jake’s doing inventory on the bar, his usual regular sitting in the corner seat, reading the paper. He turns away from the bottles to write something down and looks up at you. Eyes eager, but full of confusion. 

You’re half drunk fumbling with the keys trying to fit the metal into the lock. He hasn’t revealed too much of his excitement yet. He hasn’t even kissed you yet. But you can feel a look of admiration happening behind you. You finally get the key in and unlock the door to the silent apartment. It’s a completely different vibe than the bar. Silent. Intimate. You walk in and awkwardly place your hands in your pocket and spin to see his reaction. 

“Home sweet home!” You say, hands still in their awkward pocket position behind you. 

You fight off the embarrassment of it not being completely spotless the first time he sees it. He closes the door behind him and slowly moves towards you. “Why is it exactly how I imagined it would be?” 

You giggle. “I don’t know, I guess my personality picked all my decor,”

He smiles looking around the kitchen and peering into the living room. He’s still moving closer to you as you stand there, waiting for his next move. 

“Do you have anything to drink?” He asks, “Not a good host so far, you haven’t offered me anything,” He's playing with you. 

Flustered, you release your hands from your pockets and walk over to the silver bar cart that sits between the kitchen and the living room. You reach your hands towards the cart, “Pick your poison, sir,”

“Ooh sir,” he purrs, “I like that.”

The heat of the moment is slowly writhing through you, warming your face, and... As much as you don’t want to admit it yet, pussy. He comes over to stand next to you. He places his arm over the small of your back. You try to choke down that distraught moan that wants to escape your lips. He takes his other hand to tilt and move around the bottles, inspecting the labels before deciding on whiskey.

“More?” You ask. 

“Sunshine, there's never too much whiskey,” he replies in that velvet tone again. 

He removes his hand from your waist. You go to reach for a glass, but before you can, you see he’s already taken the liberty of suckling straight from the bottle. He lets out a cool ahh. 

“You want some?” He asks, even though it's yours and of course you want it. You nod in response. “Open”

Confused, you half open your mouth, expecting him to pour some in, but he doesn't. He takes another swig himself and pushes himself up against you. He releases the amber liquid into your mouth, warm from its hold. He’s so fucking… Ooh shit, that burns. The whiskey falls back down into your belly. You swallow and he is pleased with himself. Some of the whiskey is dribbled around your mouth, and he takes the lead in removing it. 

He caresses your face, moving the alcohol away from your lips. You’re on the brink of release. Jumping off into the deep end. He pushes himself closer to your hips. And you can feel him. His cock slowly grinds further and further towards you. You're practically ready for him to take you right there. He puts the bottle back on the cart and turns his full attention to you. The eye contact is intense and full of excited uncertainty. He moves his hand up your back to cradle your neck. Neither of us can wait one more second. 

Around three the bar starts to lose some of the action. The lack of the customers draws you to continue staring at him more and more. Why do you have this obscene staring problem? You want him to be thinking of you just as much as you are of him, but you seriously doubt it. 

You finish cleaning up the tables in the dining room and sit down to restock the salt and pepper shakers, turning yourself away from him. You make it halfway through the side work before you feel it again. His presence hovering over you. It takes all of your might not to turn and look into those brown eyes again. But you want to, you really really want to see him again. All of him. 

His hand pulls you into his face and you become one. Lips touching so softly, unready for the ferality that was about to occur. He pulls you further into him. His tongue beckons for yours and you allow the dance. Faces smashing together, exploring each other's lips. You can taste the whiskey on him, and for some reason, it tastes so much better in his mouth than yours. He walks both of you slowly, and pushes up against the wall. 

You relinquish your self-control and submit to him, reaching up to explore the rest of his body. Hands combing through hair, moving up and down his back, feeling the muscles and unexplored areas. His hand moves down to your ass, groping it gently at first but getting more ferocious with each passing moment. 

You’re drinking him up, getting lost in whose body is whose. His wet warm kisses are leaving you desperate, wanting it all. While still kissing you, he leans down to grab under your knees and lift you, your legs wrapped around his torso. He's caressing your ass, and gently tugging at the scalp of your hair. Fuck this is everything you’ve been wanting for the months you’ve been working together. All that pent-up desire is finally happening right in front of you. He walks you a few steps to the couch and sits; leaving you in his lap. 

His cock is desperate to meet your pussy, you can feel it practically bursting through his jeans. But you know he won’t let you have that just yet. He’s no longer being gentle with you, it’s him leading, and you’re doing everything he wants. His cock feels huge under you, and he can sense your excitement for it. Jake grabs your hips and steers you up and down his cock. You didn’t realize before but you're both moaning. Not quiet whimpers, but pornographic hums between breaths. He shifts your body below him, swiftly taking dominance over you. The way he moves you so effortlessly is fucking hot. 

You can feel his cock now, it's pressing between your legs, and you're practically purring for it. He lifts his arm and gifts your neck with his hands. You pull away. 

He looks at you, perplexed. 

It’s not that you didn’t like it, you just maybe didn’t expect it. You’ve never done that before. And just as it all started- it stops. He pulls his hand away and his dominance is shoved back down. He stands up and slowly steps away from you. Brushes through his hair, pushing it back out of his face… He’s coming into some form of clarity.  

“Wait!” You call out to him, “Come back,” urging him to stay in the moment with you. 

He inches a step closer to you and places his hand on your shoulder. He says your name. You choose to continue playing the silent game. Are you angry at him? Maybe. That feeling of insecurity has been bubbling in you all day, but you have tried to ignore it. Why didn’t he stay? Why didn’t he say anything before he left? 

“Alright, whatever petty shit this is- it isn’t happening,” he says, intensely this time. He grabs your arm and pulls you from your chair, forcing you to turn to face him. His strength and dominance stuns you. He has this juxtaposed look of sincerity and seriousness to him. He’s hard to read in this state. “Great now that I have your attention, we have to talk.”

He turns to look back at you. His eyes are bare of emotion. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I just haven’t been… you know... choked… before… ” your voice trails off. 

“Oh,” He says, turning himself fully to you. Is there a hint of embarrassment in his voice?

“Please, I…” You hesitate, nervous to reveal too much. 

“Please what?” He's smirking again. Still standing looking across to you. 

The shyness comes back to you, you feel unsure of being this vulnerable with him, “I just have been thinking about this for a while,”

He looks down at his still-hard cock and rubs it softly, “Yeah me too…” The tension is building again, but you’re back to square one. 

“I think we should…” Fuck! Say it! Stop sounding so unsure. 

“You know we shouldn’t do this,” he says, while unbuttoning his pants. He wants it too. Maybe just as much as you did. 

Your judgment was far too clouded, the steps had already started- the act already unfolding. And you sat there silent, unsure of why this would be a bad idea at all. 

He’s still only unbuttoned, waiting for you. You are in complete awe of his beauty, in awe of this talent he has to leave you speechless… You can see the outline of his hard cock, begging to be freed from his pants. He runs his hands over the front of his jeans; twitching with excitement. 

Your absence of words means he will not move further- unless you permit him. He walks back over to you, lifting his hand to hold your chin in his palm. He steers you to look upwards at him. You gaze up at him. His soft brown eyes gaze back at you. The eyes you’ve looked at so many times, hoping they would look at you like this. Deep with lust, crazed with some primal need to taste us. You still can’t believe he wants this- he wants… you. 

He brings his face closer to yours. Squeezing his hands around your jaw. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks. 

You nod your head slowly, showing him your approval. By now the tension is so thick. His lips are so close. I lean forward towards him, but he dodges your attempt. His lips move towards your ear, his hand moving up to hold the underside of your head, caressing it gently. You can feel all the hairs on your body stand up as his cheek touches yours- as skin meets with skin. 

He whispers, “I need you to say the words.” 

You let out a quiet whimper- melting like putty into his hands.  “Jake, please fuck me.”

“That's my girl,” 

Everything had resumed right at the pace where it left off. He leans back over you, continuing to kiss you. He grabs your outer thigh and pulls you closer into him. The primal need for him is growing inside, just like the wetness inside of your pants. He reaches his hand up your shirt to find your bra, reaching under the wire and firmly grasping your breast. Just this simple act of touching is sending you into the deep end.

“I have to see these,” he says playing with you, “You won’t believe how many shifts I spent trying to guess what they look like,”

He lifts you to remove your shirt. Everything moving faster now. With one swipe of his hand, your bra detaches and falls from your body. He reveals your nude torso and a fire lights in his eyes. 

“Fuck.” Now the desperation is on his end. His dreams are coming true. “They’re even better…”

You giggle at his admiration for your tits. His hand moves up to caress your breast, moving his fingers to the bud of your nipple. He brushes over it, back and forth, hardening it between under his thumb. You sigh a moan. He can’t tease either of you for much longer and takes the initiative, putting your breast into your mouth. Swiping his tongue over your already sensitive nipple. 

“Mmmm Jake,” You moan to him.  

He’s moaning too, excited to have you in his mouth. He releases your breast and starts kissing up your chest back to your mouth. The kissing is getting sloppier, no one is focused on precision or neatness anymore. You return the favor of pleasure by reaching into his unbuttoned pants. You run your hands over his tight boxer briefs. His cock is huge. Thick. Jumping at your touch. He moans loudly through breaths. You want to feel him, you want to touch his skin. No, no, it's not just want; it's need. You reach into his pants to grab his bare cock. 

He stops in his tracks and lifts his head to meet your eyes. He evidently wasn’t expecting you to be so forward. 

He lets out a small chuckle through his labored moans. “You little whore, you can’t wait could you?”

The name. Another thing you weren’t used to, but you liked it. The name drips through your ears, sending goosebumps down your spine. You wanted to be his whore. You liked being that. 

He’s starting to move back down to your neglected breast, which inevitably pushes his cock out of your reach. He caresses the nipple in swirling patterns. He hasn’t even reached where you want him most, but still he manages to send shock waves through your body. No man has ever made you feel this way.

 He’s not attached to your breast for long, he has a plan. He moves down your torso, kissing the path between your breasts, down your torso, pushing himself backward, down to your…

“Not yet,” He says, breaking himself from his path, “Be patient.”

He kisses the band above your jeans. Oh, please take them off. You’re so ready. You’ve been soaked for nearly the entire night. You look down at him, admiring the beauty and his devotion of care. You help sweep the hair out of his face, mostly to tell him it's okay to keep going, but also so you can get a better look. He unbuttons your pants and looks back up at you, satisfied with the choices he's making. The anticipation is killing you. He yanks at your jeans, pulling them off in 3 swift pulls. You are thankful you chose to wear that sexy black thong, it's almost like you knew he’d be the one taking them off of you tonight. 

“Oh baby, these are almost too good to take off,” He says, playing with you, “My little slut was ready for me huh?” 

You whimper in excitement. He knows he has you at his will. He runs his hands across your abdomen, gently caressing you, dancing across your needing clit. He chooses not to take off the underwear just yet. Instead, he's kissing the areas around it, your thighs, pubic bone, and then planting one final kiss on your aching pussy. He stops to admire your body, you can see the lust in his eyes. 

“Mmm” he moans, “I need to know what you taste like,”

He places his thumb directly over your clit, circling it, soft with his touch, but you want him to continue further. 

“Do you want me to eat you out?” He asks. 

You nod, at a loss for words again. 

“I need you to say it,” 

“Yes.” You respond, half conscious in a daze of nervousness and arousal.

He smirks at you. You know that teasing look already, “You don’t sound like you really want it,” he jokes, “Beg for me, baby.”

“Please Jake,” It's not hard for you to find the desperation, “Please sir, please… please”

Your groveling is enough for him to start. He pulls your thong to the side and dives into your cunt. He's exploring you with his tongue, eager to lick every inch of you. You let out a wild gasping moan. He’s better than you’d imagined. 

“Fuck baby… you’re so fucking wet,” 

“I’ve been wet… Thinking about you all night,” you choke out between gasps. 

He starts lapping at your clit and moaning wild animalistic noises. If anyone else were listening you’d both be ashamed of the noises you're making. He’s taking you in, practically hungry for your pussy. He looks amazing while doing it too, the determination and precision he has to make you feel fucking amazing. 

Before you even realize what's happening, he has his middle digit sliding into you, curling up, grazing your g-spot. “Oh fuck.. Oh… Jake,” You’re in agony. You know now that what they say about guitar players is true. He makes you feel so good. You’re getting so close already. 

“You better come for me,” 

Your breaths are heaving, inching towards orgasm. The moans signal to him that he's reached the perfect rhythm. You reach up again to pull the hair out of his face, allowing you to see how gorgeous he looks pleasuring you. His fingers and tongue swirling and stroking your pussy. He inserts another finger and you can barely hang on anymore. You whine with him, “Yes…” He's stroking all of the sensitive spots, pulling you closer to finishing. 

“Come for me baby,” he says, while increasing his speed. Tonight you have become his instrument, and he intends on playing with you. “I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.”

His dominance is a new side that you are excited to explore. He’s comforting you with his control. His hair becomes entwined further in your fingers, being pulled by your tight fist. He doesn’t seem to mind, he knows that means he’s pushing you. A few more swift strokes of him and your unraveling. Releasing yourself into his fingers. The walls of your pussy tightly squeezing onto his fingers. You let out an exhausted moan. 

He reaches his tongue down to taste you. 

“Oh fuck,” he says, barely inches from your cunt, “I wish I could’ve tasted this sooner…”

You're still twitching with the overstimulation he caused your body. Your clit pulsing between your legs. But he wasn’t done pushing you yet. He continues to explore you with your tongue. Your legs are shaking so hard with each move he makes. It’s almost too much to handle. 

You whine, “Please Jake.. Sir, please…” 

His last move is his most devious. He puts his tongue at the bottom of your cunt and slowly licks forward to your clit. He looks directly into your eyes as he makes his last flick over your clit. He laughs softly, obviously pleased with how he’s already sent you so far. 

You look up to find him already undressing himself, his shirt is off, revealing his soft, slender figure. He’s so tan, and has this slight muscular build… Absolute perfection. You move your eyes down his body to see his cock in his hand. Wrapping his hands around himself. Wow. It's finally been revealed from his pants and it looks even better than it felt when you were grinding on him. He’s already wet with precum, sliding his hands up and down his shaft.  He sputters out a stream of spit to lubricate himself. Fuck that was so smooth. He licks your come off of his lips. His mouth is slightly agape, admiring your body through heavy eyes. 

“Wow,” Is the only word that you can mutter. You’re shocked at how vulnerable he’s made you. You’ve already been in his grasp all night, but feeling him for real was just too satisfying; and this was just the start. 

“You like it?” He asks, obviously proud of his body. 

You lean forward to take it from him. It's glistened with his spit, and you want to taste it. You slide your hand up and down the shaft, and can see his muscles tightening in response. “It's fucking gorgeous.”

“Do you want to suck it for me?” He asks you as if you weren’t already heading there. He’s whining, practically begging for his turn like you begged for yours, “You want my cock in your mouth? Huh?... Does my little whore want me to fill her mouth?”

You look up at him. His dominance is intoxicating. “Yes,” you respond.

“Take it like a good girl, okay?”

He grabs the nape of your neck and pulls your face to him. He envelopes your mouth. Holding back a gag and taking him as far as you can. He’s too big to fit entirely, so you use your hand at the base of the shaft to cover what can’t be swallowed. Using your hand as a guide; sliding up and down. 

“Fuck-” You can feel him tensing in your mouth. His cock is jumping inside you, excited to be here. “Yeah… Keep doing that.” 

You're happy it's your turn to show him how good you can make him feel. At first, you try to hold back the gagging noises that are coming out, but he keeps pushing your head further, signaling he wants to hear them. The noises are truly pornographic and quite honestly might turn you on as much as it turns him on. You find your rhythm and start to move faster, taking him in as he guides your head around him. You place your hand on him to brace yourself as you take him in. You can practically feel the vibrations of his moans echo through. 

“You’re too good at this,” he whispers, “You’re gonna make me come already.”

He balls your hair into his hands and pulls you away. Now only a stream of spit connects your mouth to his cock. 

“You’ve been such a good girl for me,” He lowers himself so he can look down on you, “Do you think you deserve my cock now?”

You already know the right words to say, “Yes sir,”

His hand is on your lower back, something that would have seemed sweet the night before, but now he’s practically pushing you into the hallway. He’s moving you toward the back office. It's empty so your manager must have stepped out for his usual 30-minute smoke break in the parking lot. You stand in the doorway, blocking the situation from moving forward. Plus, there's barely any room in there amongst the invoices and your manager's shit. 

He gives you one last shove into the office and you turn to face him, offended by his man-handling, crossing your arms to show your distaste. 

“What?!” You say in an aggressive tone.

“What, me?” He asks, matching your aggression

“I have work to do out there!”

“C’mon really? Filling salt & pepper shakers?”

“...Yes.” 

 “What's going on out there? Why are you being weird?!” 

You throw your hands up in the air. His question snaps you into reality and your insecurities are coming to light. The hangover that you thought was lost is trying to resurface in your anxiety. “I don’t know.” 

He drops his head, repeating your name in a slow painful voice. “What?! Did I do something?” 

You pause. Did he not think of anything this morning when he left? Were you making a big deal of waking up alone? You decide to continue with the pettiness. “You did absolutely nothing,” which in your mind is true. He didn’t do the things you thought he should have done. Like maybe say goodbye or explain his absence. 

“Nothing doesn’t mean nothing,” 

Your frustration is growing, “What is even going on?” You reach your hands out to gesture “... What is this?”

He scoffs at you and laughs. “I knew we shouldn’t have done anything,” he turns to open the door.

He's pleased that you’ve learned his new name so easily. God he looks so good from this angle.

“It will be all yours baby,” he says, pulling your hair along with the rest of you further back. He moves his face to your neck, gently marking his lips on you, “On one condition.”

A condition? What does that even mean? 

“Since you're new to what I like,” he says between planting sloppy kisses, moving closer to your ear, “We’re going to use safe words, okay?” Safe words. Like that BDSM stuff? “Nothing to worry about, but I don’t want to scare either of us anymore, okay?”

You nod in response

He moves his hands up your body now, tracing your skin with his fingers, “Just like a stoplight, okay baby?” You think you know what he means, but he still explains it to you, “Red means stop, yellow means you want to slow down or you want time, and green…”

Oh you know what green means, “Green means you really fucking want it.” 

He pulls back slowly to smile at you, “Good girl,” the praise is fucking killing you, “I’m going to fucking rail you now, okay?”

You are drenched with excitement. He reaches under you and across your back, using his strength to flip you onto your stomach. His hand now across your midsection. You can hear him starting to play with himself again. He reaches back up to your neck.

“Green?” 

“Fucking green,” you reply, excited to start this journey with him. 

He grabs the sides of your neck, and pulls you into him. The tip of his cock breaches you. Fuck. 

“Fuck…” He moans. 

He starts slow rhythmic movements, not allowing you to feel him in full yet. He uses his spare hand to smack your ass. Hard. He’s dangerous, and you like it. He reaches over your ass to grab your hip, his fingers holding tightly onto you. In one quick thrust he presents all of himself to your tight pussy. Fuck. You were unprepared for him. His cock pressing itself into your cervix. It’s twitching inside you, and you know he likes what he feels. 

“Does my little slut like feeling all of me?” 

Oh yes she does. But you are again at a loss of words. His mounting is emptying your brain with each pump of his cock. You wildly moan, voicing your excitement the best you can. 

He leans down next to your ear, “Words baby, I wanna hear you,” He slows his movements, “I want to hear how much my slut likes my cock. I want to hear you when I fuck you,”

He stops moving entirely, waiting for your response, “I fucking love your cock sir.”

“Good girl.”

He resumes his thrusting. He releases his hold from your neck so he can use both of his hands to force you closer to him. His hands forming bruising holds on your hips. The noises that your bodies make when they smack together is fucking filthy. Your cunt is tightening around his mass, unable to bear his pounding. He’s pushing you into a realm of pleasure no man has ever been able to bring you to. Any inhibitions that were holding you together are being released. Months worth of sexual tension coming to fruition

He reaches his arm back under you to find your clit. You’ve lubricated it quite nicely, thanks to his help. You know what he's gearing up for. He’s just barely grazing the surface, giving you nothing but everything all at once. 

“Beg for it,” he demands. One hard slap raps across your ass.

You’re not even sure how you would be able to function if he made you come again. Scared and excited you reply, “Please,” He’s railing you harder now, and you can’t help but let out a yelp, “Oh please Jake- sir… Please… I want to come.”

He uses his free hand to press down on the back of your head, and your face into the cloth couch; bracing himself for a deeper pounding. Garbled moans escape your mouth. His other hand presses into your clit, circling it, coaxing it into release. He makes it too easy. Your pussy reacts, sending him into utter euphoria. Forcing his body to let out soft pleasurable moans. 

“Mmmm I’m not sure if you deserve to come yet…” he says. 

Of course I do. I’ve been so good. “Please, please,” you're groveling now, “I want your cock covered in my come.”

Those words were enough to release you from any doubts he had. He’s grunting your name now, trying to hold himself back from pleasure. “You’re such a good girl for me,” He pulls your hair up towards him, your body moving like a rag doll. “Come all over my cock baby,”

A few more strokes of your clit and you release onto him. The moans you both voice are deep, passionate… fulfilling. You can feel him start to fill you with his warmth. Both of your excitement mixing deep inside you. Your legs are shaking already from the overstimulation, and you can’t stop your body from the twitching. He's still freeing himself, his cock pulsing. He unhands your hair and kisses your neck softly. He slowly glides himself out from your full cunt. Both of you moan with overstimulation and satisfaction.

He turns you over and lays you back down in your original position. Venturing below to the mess that's between your legs. He tastes you softly, trying to be careful of your already exhausted pussy. His tongue feels smooth and refreshing, almost like he's trying to heal the well-worth it damage. 

He removes himself from you and leans forward to meet your mouth. His face is glistening with your- our come. He kisses you, making sure you taste exactly what he just did. He kisses you only for a few moments, leaving you wanting more of this gentle Jake. 

“Don’t forget what we taste like, okay?” He smiles. 

He pulls away from you, and reaches for his boxer briefs. He slips them back and falls backward onto the couch with exhaustion. He gently guides you to his chest, laying you down on him. You’re still in an utter state of shock, unsure how you were deserving of all of this treatment. You try to slow your breathing and cool your body down. You feel fucking amazing. 

“Jake, stop!” you yell to him, scared he might actually leave. His hand is on the knob but he's not turning it.

“Why didn’t you stay?” You finally asked it. 

“I actually may need help getting to bed tonight,” You say, looking up at him, “Can you take me?”

He laughs, you’re undoubtedly stroking his ego, but maybe a walk to the bed means laying in bed… Together. You’re scared he might not want to go. He gently brushes the hair out of your face and holds you in his hand. 

“Of course sunshine,” he replies. 

He's gently guiding you past the hallway and into the bedroom. Any other day you’d be slightly ashamed of the state your room is in, but you’ve already been so vulnerable with him that you forget to care

He turns to you, “You’re mad I didn’t stay?”. 

“Yeah, I just thought that meant that you didn't…”

He steps back over to you and grabs your shoulders gently, almost lovingly, “Whoa whoa, you think because I didn’t stay, that I didn’t absolutely fucking love your pussy?”

He helps lift you into your bed, and turns to head towards the door. 

“You can stay,” You call out to him. Hoping he’ll accept your offer. He turns to you, wearing his classic smirk beneath the loose frayed hairs surrounding his face. You pat the empty spot next to your bed. “I promise my bed will feel so nice after all your hard work,”

He accepts your invite and walks slowly over to the bed. You both giggle. How can this actually all have just happened? The thought of it is utterly ridiculous. 

His vulgar words are melting you, just like they did the previous night. “Well…I said you could stay… And I just thought you would… You know… Stay?” 

“I just didn’t want to overstep, or take it too fast,” He replies, “I didn’t want to do too much too fast… I kinda like the chase of it all.”

He pulls himself into the sheets. Pulling you over towards him, slipping your head underneath his arm, and pulling your waist towards his. He runs his fingers through your hair, and you place your hand on his chest, feeling the faint beats of his heart. You’re closer than you’ve ever been with him. Experiencing a different moment of intimacy. 

He closes his heavy eyes. He worked so hard. He devoted himself to you tonight. You look up at him through your own sleepy eyes. His face is even more beautiful in its resting position, soft and still slightly damp from the act. You reach up to pet his cheek. He reacts to your touch with a smile. 

“Goodnight little slut,” He jokes. 

You tap his cheek with a playful slap. “Oh shut up.”

“Wait, so…” Every thought you had assumed was incorrect. You’re trying to reorganize yourself. “Does that mean?”

“Does that mean that I want to fuck you again?” He squeezes your arms harder, “Yes… But you have to be patient with all of the other stuff, okay?”

You’re embarrassed now of how petty you were acting. He didn’t deserve the cold shoulder, but that doesn’t mean you won't let go of your bratty attitude, “Hmm. I’m not sure if that's worth it…” You laugh letting him know you’re not serious in the slightest. He reaches up your back and holds the nape of your neck. His demeanor is changing into the dominant figure he was previously. 

“Shut up.”

He leans in to kiss you, holding you in his hand firmly. The kiss is absolving both of your behavior, it's a fresh bandaid over a minor cut. You accept his embrace and return your tongue into his mouth. God you could do this forever. 

If you read this far- THANK YOU! :)

Tending Part 2

#greta van fleet #Greta Van fleet fic #greta van smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #jake kiska fic #jake kiszka #jake kiskza x reader #jake kiszka fanfic #jake greta van fleet #gvf smut #greta van fleet smut

[ilovewriting06]

Promises

A/N: I’m back….again, hopefully for good this time. I’m working on a few more one shots and there may or may not be a couple series in the making. I also wanted to thank @kati-1997 for all the amazing ideas and help she gives (most of my writing is inspired by her ideas or at least incorporate her ideas).

I sigh as I finish up the autopsy as Max walks in. “Is everything okay Dr. Y/L/N?” I hum and look at him, “What? Yeah, yeah I’m okay. Why do you ask?” He tilts his head as he throws his gloves into the trash can, “It’s just today you’ve seemed quite perturbed and slightly irritable at times.”

I sigh again as I set my clipboard on my desk, “I’m sorry Max I didn’t mean to seem rude. It’s just.” I sigh as I sink into my chair and run a hand down my face, “Oh Max I’m sorry I don’t want to dump my burdens onto you.” He pushes his glasses up his nose and protests, “It’s hardly a burden, I consider you a close friend and I would like to help if I can.” I brush some hair away from my face and lean forward in my chair, “Its just, this morning I got into a fight with my boyfriend and I said some things, mean and nasty things, that aren’t true and I don’t know why I said them and now I don’t know what to do.”

Max leans against my desk before nodding, “I did not know you were seeing someone but it appears to me that you simply have to apologize.” I shake my head and groan, “You don’t get it, I can’t just apologize. He-, we-, it’s just, god Max it’s not that simple. What if he calls it off even after I apologize?” Max looks at me with serious eyes before asking, “Do you love him?” My eyes widen and I nod, “Yes! Of course I love him.”

Max nods as if he already knew the answer, “Then you at least owe him an apology, even if he does end it if you truly love him you need to apologize.” I nod knowing he’s right before jumping as a familiar voice cuts in, “Apologizing is definitely something that you should do, especially if you mean it. Speaking from personal experience a little remorse goes a long way.”

I spin around to meet the ocean blue eyes that I had watched break from my words just this morning. I lick my lips and nod, “I am sorry, truly and genuinely sorry. I never meant the things I said and I don’t know why I did it but I regret doing it.” I watch a smile threaten to give away his cover before he nods, “Just tell him that and I think you’ll be okay.” A small smile graces my face and I nod, “I will, I promise I’ll find a way to make it up to him too.” Steve nods before him and Danny look at Max, “Alright Max, what was it you called about?”

Once Max was done telling them the autopsy report on their latest victim they bid their goodbyes and start leaving. I bite my lip trying to decide what to do when I take off down the hall after them. When I get close to them I call out, “Commander McGarrett! Can-can I borrow you for a second?” He spins around to look at me before hesitantly nodding, “Yeah, here we’ll go in here so we have privacy, unless you don’t mind Danny hearing anything you say.” I know the silent question he’s asking with those words, is it about our relationship or about something else?

I point towards an empty room, “Privacy, please.” He nods leading us to the door before turning back to Danny, “I’ll be out in a second.” I see Danny’s concerned face before he nods, “Yeah, it’s fine I’ll wait here.”

When we get in the room and the door’s closed I grab Steve’s cheeks as tears threaten to spill down mine, “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry! I didn’t mean what I said, if I had a problem with you putting your life on the line I shouldn’t have ever went out with you. I don’t have a problem with it, well, I mean I do because I can’t imagine my life without you, but I’ve come to terms with it. I don’t know what got into me this morning but, i-if you feel that you need to go to North Korea, go. I just have this feeling that it’s a bad idea and I know that you’re a SEAL I know you’ve done stuff like this before but you’d be dealing with Wofat, and he wants to kill you. It’s just, I don’t know how to explain it. I guess, I guess I’m just scared.”

I sniffle as I watch Steve’s face soften before he cups my cheeks and wipes the tears that I didn’t even notice had fallen, “I know you’re scared, I see it every day, even before we got together you were always scared for the team. I promise you, I’ll be okay, I’ll come home to you.” I nod as I feel more tears threaten to fall as I bury my face in his neck and wrap my arms around his torso. His hands slide to hold me close and he rubs a hand up and down my back, “I’ll come home to you, I’ll always, come home to you.”

I pull back just enough to make eye contact with Steve and I nod, “S-Steve, there’s something else that makes me want you to stay.” He brushes a piece of hair from my face as his brows furrow, “What do you mean baby?” I snort at the irony of his words before sighing, “I’m pregnant Steve. At least I think I am, everything adds up and I’ve got a pregnancy test in my bathroom cabinet but I’m too scared to take it.” I step back a little more as his eyes widen and his mouth opens and closes, reminding me of a fish, “What? H-how?” I tilt my head with a small smile, “Stevie, you know how. There’s really only one way to get pregnant.”

I watch as he smiles and pulls me into him before leaving a quick kiss on my lips, “Take the test, before I go. I want to know before I leave.” I smile and nod, “Only if you’ll be there when I do it.” He nods and cups my face, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” I blush and shrug my shoulders causing him to frown, “Y/N/N, sweetheart, light of my life, you are everything to me. I’ve thought about kids and I honestly never thought I would ever have the chance or meet the right woman but now. Fuck, now I’m standing in front of my secret girlfriend who just told me she’s pretty sure she’s pregnant and I honestly have never been happier.” My smile drops slightly as I ask, “What if I’m not?”

He runs his thumb across my bottom lip with an adorable pout on his face, “Well, if you aren’t, we have all the time in the world, there’s no need to rush. I mean no one except us knows we’re together because I’m worried Wofat will use you against me and I would never forgive myself if he hurt you, because of me. But I’d also be lying if I said a small part of me isn’t overjoyed at the thought of being a father and praying that the test says you are pregnant.”

I smile and grab the back of his head pulling him into a passionate kiss, “I’ll take lunch a little early and head home and you can meet me there before you leave. Just let me know when you’re about to leave.” He smiles his dazzling smile that swept me off my feet the first time we met before nodding, “Yes ma’am.”

When we exit the room I wipe the remainder of my tears off my cheeks as Danny looks between us confused and worried. “Steven what did you do to her?!” I chuckle a little as Steve’s eyes widen, “I didn’t do anything! We talked about what she needed to talk about and she got a little emotional she’s a woman Danny, an emotional one at that.”

I scoff at Steve, “Excuse me, did you just say all woman are emotional? Because that’s not true, my sister’s like a brick wall, in fact you’d be better off making a wall cry than her.” Steve and Danny both laugh before Steve pats Danny’s shoulder, “Alright Danno, we gotta go. See ya later Dr. Y/L/N!” I fake an annoyed growl before yelling after his retreating form, “How many times do I have to tell you?! Call me Y/N!”

The response I get in return is a sly wink and a, “Sure thing Doc.” I roll my eyes before heading back into the morgue.

————————————————-

I take a deep breath as I shakily grab the box that had been tucked away in my bathroom cabinet for a little over a week as a gentle yet firm hand rubs circles into the small of my back silently urging me on as I open the Clear Blue box and pull out the pregnancy test. As I hold the test in one hand I read the instructions. When I set the box and leaflet down I turn to Steve with anxiety bubbling in my stomach, “Are you sure about this? If I take it, and it says I am there’s no going back.”

He uses his thumbs to rub circles into my biceps before pecking my nose, “Babe, no matter what you do, whether you take the test now or not, if you’re pregnant, you’re pregnant there’s no going back.” I wet my lips as I nod, “O-okay, it says I can pee directly on the stick so uh, here we go? I guess.”

I put the cap on the test and set it on the counter before washing my hands. I dry my hands before grabbing onto Steve making sure I can see the test from where I’m resting against him, “Stevie?”

His hand continues rubbing up and down my back, “Yeah, sweetheart?” I nuzzle into the warmth of his chest before sighing, “I kind of hope it’s positive.” He places a kiss on my hair before whispering, “Me too.”

I suck in a breath as the last block fills the screen before gasping at the word on the screen. The one little world that just changed our life forever…pregnant. I turn to Steve with my mouth hanging open to see the same expression on his face before he blinks and looks at me. As soon as we make eye contact he pulls me into a hug that lifts my feet slightly off the ground, “You’re pregnant. We’re going to be parents.”

He sets me down and holds me at an arms distance with a huge smile, “You are going to be the best damn mother ever.” I blush and smile, “And I know you’ll be an amazing father.”

I grab the test off the counter and sigh, “I don’t want to throw it away. It feels like such an important thing now. Like I want to keep looking at it to make sure I’m not dreaming.” I lean into Steve as he wraps his arms around my torso and rests his head on my shoulder pressing kisses along my neck, “Keep it.” I roll my head to the side to give him more access as I choke back a moan, “What?” He chuckles as he runs his nose up my neck before nibbling on my earlobe, “Leave it in your purse or somethin’ that way when you think you’re dreaming you can whip it out and see the proof.”

I let out a laugh that quickly turns to a moan, “Whip it out? Are we talking about the pregnancy test or your dick?” He bit into the juncture of my neck causing me to release a whine, “Steve.”

He hummed before soothing the bite with his tongue. He pulls back slightly and groans when I grind into him, “Baby, I gotta go.” I growled and dig my nails into his forearms, “Steve I swear if you leave me all riled up.” He hisses slightly before chuckling, “Or what? Come on baby, tell me what you’re going to do?” I throw my head back on his shoulder and look up at him, “I’ll be mad at you.” He gasps dramatically before running his hands up my shirt, “We can’t have that now can we?”

—————————————————

I pant slightly, covered in sweat as I button my jeans up. I turn and lean against the counter as Steve zips up his pants and grabs my hairbrush and the pregnancy test off the floor that had been casualties of our escapade. He hands me the pregnancy test and kisses me on the cheek, “Here ya go momma, I do have to go now.” I bite my lip to hold back tears as I nod, “I know, just, promise you’ll be careful.” He smiles a sad smile before nodding, “I promise. I love you.” I pull him in for a kiss and when we pull away I brush his hair back, “I love you too.”

————————————————————

I glance up from my laptop on my desk when the door is thrown open and a disheveled Danny falls through it. He looks at me with wide worried eyes before asking, “Do you know where Max is?” I furrow my eyebrows and shake my head, “No, he said something about running an errand but he left like twenty minutes ago. Why?” Danny runs a hand through his hair as he anxiously paces. I jump up and grab his shoulders, “Danny! Snap out of it, you’re going to make me sick, what happened?”

He stops pacing and takes a deep breath, “It’s Steve.” I let go of Danny as if he burned me and I feel the anxiety that’s been in my stomach since he left turn into dread, “What do you mean? Danny, what’s wrong with Steve?” He sighs and shakes his head and I grab his arm and shake him slightly, “Danny! What the hell is wrong with Steve?!”

“He’s missing.” I step backwards slightly as Danny continues, “We found out that Jenna Kaye was lying to us and we’ve lost all contact with Steve. We think Jenna has been working with Wofat, which means Wofat has Steve.” I feel the blood drain from my face as I dart for the trash can. I retch as the last of my lunch leaves my body and Danny rushes towards me. “Y/N?! Are you okay?!”

At his words I fully process what he says and feel tears start to overflow no matter how hard I tried to hold them back. I try and fail to hold back a sob as I shake my head, “No, no, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. He promised.” Danny furrows his eyebrows before taking a step back, “What are you talking about?” My eyes search his face debating if I should tell him our secret and remember that Steve trusts him with his life, so I know he can be trusted. “We- Steve and I- we’re together. Like together together.”

Danny shakes his head confused, “What?” I wipe my tears as I run and grab my purse remembering that I took Steve’s advice and squirreled the pregnancy test in my purse. I willed the tears away as I dug through my purse before finding the little white and blue stick that I had tucked away in a pocket. I shakily hand it to Danny and watch as the confusion morphed into surprise, “You’re? And he’s?” I nod knowing what he’s trying and failing to say, “Yes, I'm pregnant and the baby is his.”

His eyes widen before his facial features soften, “How long have you two?” He trails off and I wipe the remaining tears from cheeks, “A little over a year.” His mouth drops and for a second I thought he was frozen but he snaps out of it and whisper shouts, “A year?! And neither of you said anything?!” I nod, “We were going to, and then Wofat started targeting people close to Steve and he got scared and made me promise to keep it a secret, at least until you guys caught Wofat.”

He nods following along before asking, “Are you going to tell the others?” My eyes widen and I shake my head frantically, “No! Absolutely not, I’m not going to tell anyone anything until Steve is back and we decide if we want to or not, it’s not just my life I’m considering, I’m thinking for three now because god knows Steve doesn’t do much of that.” Danny chuckles and I continue, “Danny, you have to promise me, you can’t tell anyone about this, about the pregnancy or me and Steve.” He nods but I want a verbal response, “Promise me.”

He hands me the pregnancy test before nodding, “I promise Y/N. It stays between us, but I better be the godfather.” I sniffle and nod as I put the test back in my purse, “Deal, now, I’m going with you, I want to know everything you do, he’s my boyfriend and my child’s father, I think I’ve earned that right.” He nods before gesturing me to follow, “Okay, I’ll drive.”

————————————————————

I tap my foot anxiously as the team decides what they want to do. When they finally come to a decision I breathe a sigh of relief knowing that if anyone can find Steve it’s this team (and Joe). As they’re leaving I run to grab Danny’s arm, “Promise you’ll keep me updated.” He squeezes my arm and nods, “I promise, stay here with Lori and I’ll call as soon as we touchdown.” I nod and silently thank him.

—————————————————-

I fiddle with a pen that had been laying on Steve’s desk before jumping when Lori speaks, “I wouldn’t mess with his stuff.” I spin around and nod putting his pen back where he had it, “Oh, yeah, sorry I’m a fiddler when I’m nervous.” She nods before sitting on the couch and putting her feet on the coffee table, “Mind me asking you why you’re so concerned about Steve.”

I manage to not blush before sitting in one of the chairs and turning to face Lori, “Well, we’ve known each other for over a year and he has a way of working his way into your life, even if you don’t want him to.” I narrow my eyes as she sighs wistfully, “Yeah, I understand that.” I clear my throat and stand up from the chair, “Um, I’m going to run to the bathroom really quick. Do you want anything from one of the vending machines?” She shakes her head with a small smile and I spin around on my heal and rush towards the bathroom.

It’s not surprising to know someone else likes Steve but it’s awkward when someone outwardly shows it and it fills me with jealousy knowing that Lori works with him all day everyday and I only get him a few hours every few days. I splash my face with cold water hoping to quell my nausea before pulling out my phone and smiling at the lock screen. It was a picture of Steve and I sharing a quick kiss that I had managed to get a selfie of. I tilt my head back and blink, willing the tears away knowing that if I start crying now I’m not going to stop.

Once I’ve calmed myself down I grabbed some M&M’s from the vending machine and head back to Steve’s office. When I step into the office Lori is on the phone and I rush forward, “Are they there?” She smiles and nods before pulling the phone away from her ear and putting it on speaker. I sit beside her on the couch and listen as Danny rants about the poor excuse of a helicopter they call Tangerine and that when they opened the door chickens jumped out. He continues relaying the plan before asking, “Hey, Lori, is Y/N there?” I lean forward before answering, “Yeah, Danny I’m here, you’re on speaker.”

“Can I talk to you privately for a minute?” I bite my lip and grab the phone before turning it off speaker and walking across the room, “Yeah Danny, it’s just me now.” I hear him clear his throat before he asks, “How are you holding up?” I let out a noise of discontent and he sighs, “Yeah I figured, probably still dealing with morning sickness. Has that bothered you anymore since our conversation yesterday?” I shrug as I answer, “Yes but no, mostly just nerves, that’s what yesterday was about too. It’s honestly not all that bad.”

I hear him chuckle before he seems to sense the underlying anxiety and stress because his voice gets a little quieter and worried, “Hey, Y/N, listen. I know you’re worried and I can only imagine how you must feel right now but it’s not good for you right now. Just, try and relax, drink a cup of tea or do sudoku.” I snort, “That’ll just stress me out more, I don’t have the patience for sudoku I don’t understand the fun of it either.” I can all but hear the eye roll before he sighs, “Okay but seriously babes, you have to calm down. You worrying and stressing isn’t going to change anything. Look we’re 98% sure we have a lock on his location and I will call you as soon as we get him and I have a chance. I’ll bring him home to you Y/N/N, I promise.”

I bite my lip to hold back tears as I nod, “Thank you, I’ll try and drink some tea, maybe it’ll help.” He lets out a sigh of relief as he says his goodbyes. When I hand Lori the phone she lifts an eyebrow, “What was that about?” I blush slightly before smiling sheepishly, “I’ve been a little sick lately and I threw up yesterday when Danny told me and he was just checking to make sure I was relaxing.” She nods before standing from the couch, “Here lay down, take a nap, I’ll even go get you some tea if you want.” I smile and sit on the couch as Lori leaves the office to presumably get tea.

————————————————————

I sip my eighth cup of tea as Lori and I walk to her car to go to the military airport that the team would be landing at before I groan when my phone hits the ground. Lori spins around as I bend down to pick it up and check to make sure the screen isn’t broken. “Y/N/N, that’s like the third time you’ve dropped that thing today.” I tuck my phone ‘securely’ in the waistband of my leggings again before responding to Lori, “Yeah I know, I have a love hate relationship with these leggings. They don’t have pockets so my phone is constantly falling out but they’re so comfy. Literally feels like I’m not wearing pants.” She chuckles before motioning me to continue, “Come on they should be landing soon.”

I quickly catch up as excitement pumps through my bloodstream. We got the call about thirteen hours ago that they have Steve and would be home in about thirteen hours. I lean my head against the window and close my eyes as my stomach churns. I take slow breaths before opening an eye to glance at Lori, “Do you have any gum, a mint flavor preferably?” She hums before shaking her head, “No sorry, why?” I sigh before closing my eyes again, “Helps with nausea.”

When we pull into the airport I jump out of the car before leaning on the hood waiting for the plane to come into sight. I gag slightly before taking another sip of my tea hoping it’ll calm my stomach but all it does is stir it up more. I heave as I double over and groan when all that comes out is spit since there was nothing in my stomach to come out. Lori rushes over and lays a hand on my back between my shoulder blades, “You okay?” I take a sip of my tea once my stomach has decided to calm down and nod my head, “Yeah, yeah I’m okay.” She looks at me skeptically before nodding and then pointing to the ground, “You dropped something again.” I furrow my eyebrows and look down to see my phone, on the ground, again. “For fucks sake!”

———————————————-——-

I all but shake as the plane lands and oh so slowly the team starts to exit and there he was. He seemed okay, a little beaten and bruised but other than that nothing life threatening. I go to run forward but I’m beaten to it when Lori takes off and embraces him in a hug that is far from a friendly hug. I scowl but blush when Danny comes over, “You’re girlfriendness is showing. How’s the baby SEAL?” I smile and shrug, “I guess okay, making me sick every now and then though.” He chuckles and nods, “I remember those days, Rachel was sicker than a dog for her first trimester.”

I grimace thinking about how she must have felt before purking up as Steve starts walking towards me again. Danny senses my excitement and excuses himself and goes to stand by Joe. When Steve gets about ten feet in front of me I take off running and slow down slightly when I get to him so I’m not colliding too hard into his obviously sore body. I wrap my arms around his upper torso and bury my face in his neck as tears I’ve been holding back for two days start to fall. “I was so scared, Stevie.” He pulls me close and buries his face in my hair as he rocks us slightly, “I know baby, I know. I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”

I sniffle and nod slightly as I smile, “But you still came home, just like you promised.” I feel him pull back when we hear Kono, “Oh. My. God.” I spin around to face her when I feel the blood drain from my face as I process what she’s holding…my phone. I look at Steve wide eyed and his eyes immediately widen when he realizes what my lock screen is. I scramble forward quickly before grabbing my phone from her hands and making eye contact with her silently begging her to not say anything.

She must not interpret my look or she completely ignored my silent pleas, “You two are dating?!” My mouth opens and closes looking for an answer and glancing at Steve who looks just as helpless as me. I look back at Kono and say the only thing I can think of, “It’s not what it looks like!” She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, “Really? And how exactly do you explain why you and boss are locking lips?” My eyes dart between everybody and notice the surprised look on everyone’s face, except Danny, even Joe looks surprised. I feel Steve’s hand on my lower back before he speaks, “Okay, you’re right, there’s really no explanation for that other than the obvious.”

This time Lori steps forward and has the decency to look guilty and slightly horrified, “So, you guys are dating?” I glance at Steve and he gives a subtle nod that says he’s okay that we tell them. I sigh before nodding, “Yes. We’ve been together for a little over a year.” Everyone gapes at us as I smile finally relieved that I can show up when he’s at work to visit and that I can show him affection without worrying if some is watching.

————————————————————

After explaining everything and why we kept it a secret Danny is driving Steve and I back to Steve’s place after I promised him I would stay with Steve and make sure he was okay…and to call if we needed anything. His words to be exact were, ‘Call me if you need anything, and I mean anything, even if you can’t find a toothpick, call me.’ I lean forward resting my head on the side of the passenger seat before grabbing Steve’s hand, “I missed you.” Before Steve can answer Danny gags, “Alright love birds no PDA in my car.” Even though Danny seems perturbed at our fingers being interlaced on the center console I can see the faint smile threatening to curl it’s way onto his lips.

I see Steve roll his eyes before holding my hand a little tighter as if he’s scared I’ll pull away. I hum slightly as Steve finally speaks, “I missed you too, baby. How are you doing?” I rub circles into the back of his hand with my thumb as I answer, “Pretty good, I get a little sick every now and then but it’s not as bad as it could be.” He nods before relaxing into the seat, “That’s good.” I nod and place a kiss to his shoulder before shifting to lean on the drivers seat but maintain a grip on Steve’s hand scared that if I let go he’ll be gone.

———————————————————

When Steve and I are curled up in his bed finally settling down to get some much needed sleep I curl myself around him and he runs a hand through my hair while placing a kiss on the palm of my hand. I glance up at him from my position knowing he wants to talk and smile as I meet clear blue eyes filled with love. “I thought about you the whole time. I remembered my promise to come home to you and it gave me the energy to keep going.” I smile and place a kiss on his chest before snuggling further into him, “I know baby, you kept your promise and I believe you will for the rest of our lives and I’m making a promise to you.” He raises an eyebrow as he glances down, “What’s that momma?” I chuckle and roll my eyes at the nickname before answering, “As long as you keep coming home to me, I promise to always be here waiting, no matter what.”

He squeezes me a little tighter, “Promise?” I push myself up on my forearm before brushing away some stray hairs that had fallen into his face as I study his features that are illuminated by the moon before leaning down and kissing him. When I pull away with my lips still brushing his I whisper, “I promise, you just keep coming home and you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

Tag List: @kati-1997 @djs8891 @natashamea18

#steve mcgarrett #hawaii five 0 #steve mcgarrett x reader #hawaii #hawaii five oh #danny williams #5 0 #angst

[birdsaretoddlers]

okay everyone promised to be niceys about it so here's a snippet of the first chapter of the neo-noir whatever the fuck i'm writing. everyone be nice or else i'll explode into a puddle of tears ok?

Red Vixen Returns! After what appears to have been a two year hiatus, famed cat burglar ‘Red Vixen’ has struck again, this time taking a stab at Overeasy Industries! Newest reports claim that the Phosphoril Rose was stolen last night out of its exhibit at the Museum of Earth Sciences. The CEO of Overeasy Industries has promised that any credible claim to it’s whereabouts that lead to the recovery of the artifact will be rewarded handsomely-

“Turn that off, would you, Vette?”

The television cycled off the news and on to a different news station, then more news, and finally, a gossip tabloid that, again, was covering the news. With a disgruntled hawk in her throat, the bartender tossed the remote onto the countertop, unable to escape chippy newscasters with dead eyes and fake cheer. “If you can find any channel not showin’ that, you’re welcome to it.”

The remote slid, spinning, over the scarred, heavily-lacquered wood. The man at the bar stopped it with the hand not currently holding his glass, tapped the channel buttons a time or two, and eventually settled on golf. The tournament lasted for all of fifteen seconds before the breaking news bled overtop of it, too. He finally turned the whole system off instead.

“Don’t know what you were expecting, Mars. It’s Overeasy. They’ve bought every station we get out here.”

“Mm,” said Mars. “Can’t hurt to try.”

“Awfully hopeful, coming out of you. Careful, someone might just try to steal that off ya.”

Knocking back the remnants of his drink, he set his empty glass an inch over the invisible line that begged for a refill. “Welcome to it. Not sure who I lifted it from myself.”

Vette smirked and pulled a pair of dirty bottles from the rack behind her, grey hair tied out of her face with a black leather cord. “Probably the Valentines, if I had to guess. Julio’s always got some to spare.”

“Julio’s full of spare parts. His brother and his sister in law aren’t much better.” Mars waited patiently as Vette offloaded old stock into his cup, then took it back with two fingers. “Dunno why you let your boy run around with ‘em. Gang types, through and through.”

Vette shrugged her shoulders and replaced the liquors to the shelf, sending up a puff of dust as she did. “Who cares where they came from? Keeps Tommy out from underfoot. Better he go knocking over trash cans with them three than the neighborhood boys. At least the Valentines know how to handle a weapon.”

Mars gave his head an acquiescing little tilt. “Just thought you’d stay away from cats that reek of a family, that’s all.”

Vette leaned over the bar with one arm, gesturing at the establishment, as much as it could be called that, with the other. “Hey, here at the Dog, everyone’s family as long as they leave their guns at the door. Doesn’t matter who killed who, what corp fucked over the next, anyone that wants a drink or somethin’ to eat can get it as long as they have the money to pay and don’t spill bad blood within two feet of the doorstep.”

That was true. This dive was the only place that was truly neutral in the entire town. The bartender looked and acted like she’d shoot you, along with her husband and the entire waitstaff, so nobody dared cause any trouble within the doors of the Sighthound. Otherwise called ‘the Dog’, by anyone who had been here more than once. The walls, floors, even the tables were stained with the arguments of generations of enemies who had come together to dine as strained equals, along with a hefty dose of grime. Smoke hung low in the air, mixing with the rank scent of desperation. The opened front door only did so much to clear it out, but hey, if having health insurance was mandatory by law, why not make good use of it?

Mars removed his hat to fan it under his nose anyway. He couldn’t smell the ethanol of his drink through this haze. Vette rolled her eyes, made a comment about his failing constitution, and wandered off without waiting for him to bite out a retort. “Sure, sure. Have to be the one born this minute to start anything here. You’d have ‘em sharing a scientific classification with a colander in a second.”

“Damn right.” Vette turned the television on again, though Mars hadn’t seen her swipe the remote out from under his sleeve. The news bulletin had faded, golf proceeded apace. She pulled a face and started looking for anything else. Mars sipped his highball and did not pull one, though tequila rose was not a proper ingredient no matter what old swill Vette was trying to cycle through the inventory tab. “That’s why we say two feet away from the door. Gives us enough time to close it before we start gettin’ stains on the hardwood.”

With a subtle glance behind him, Mars studied the floors. It was hard to tell there was wood under the inch of grit and mud, but he’d take her word for it. They were almost alone here. The ‘enforcers’ that were the Valentines were playing babysitter, the owner of the bar was up in his office, and who drank at two o’clock on a Tuesday?

Other than him, of course. And the guy that just walked in the door.

Vette looked up, blue eyes a-blinking. “Oh, that’s gotta be the lunch order. Hold that thought, Capone.”

#mars capone and the red vixen #bird droppings #birds original words

[lillysilvermoon]

Messages from your guardians

Pile 1

Signs: mentors, spiritual guides, ancestors (old woman), dragons (I heard "dragon soul" but I don't know much about dragons so,,,, takes what resonates), guardian angel, Archangel Raphael, green color, rivers, 1111 (I heard that you should read about this number's meaning and also to pay attention to how you feel when you see this number, it's important because has some kind of message in this and will be different for everyone!).

I feel like some of you has been through some kind of "spiritual awakening", it's like something has happened and now you understood what was necessary and a change of some kind is coming. Wait this is the message of someone: yes you understood and yes the change will happen - well, actually already is lol - and that's your confirmation. Also: there will be a "crisis" of some kind, or happened already, it's to remind you what YOU truly want and what's need to let go, it's kin the way of the Universe test you (I know it's sucks, believe I know......... but, this kind of situation teaches A LOT so me EXTREMELY aware, try to take notes because I swear to you, helps!).

Humm, some of you need to do little adjustments here and there and have a moment of rest, you know when we start our spiritual journey and we read about so many things, we wanna try it all but at some moment just feels like you are stuck? That's it here, it's like you are a vessel and you have been filled more and more and some of this was good but some wasn't and you need some time to "take the trash out", you need to stop and look at all this and see what servers you and what not.

If you are going through some hardships your guardians want you to know that first: you are not alone (please call upon them when you need, I promise they will help. But you need to ask guys😭💗) and you need to have trust to move forward of this situation.

"What you believe it's true becomes true, kid. You are halfway of your goal but you need to be more disciplined and put effort. Commit yourself to what you wants and don't give up." Alright for you all I need to say this: remember the thing about the universe test us? It do this to see if we have learned our lesson, so any dramas that may happen you need to see just as a stepping stone to where you want to be/your goals.

This is now just my own advice: call them, talk to them. It can be ANYTHING. Light a candle, write a letter to them and read out loud, pray, meditation. Can whatever y'all want to be. They are with you and really want to help.

You shall receive good news because abundance is coming at waterfalls to you, give abundantly and you accept with gratitude if you are given (I feel there is people here that just don't know how to accept things, either material or emotional help and your guardian wants you to learn this).

For anyone trying a business: it's gonna be blessed!! Expect thing to work really well because I can tell you: wealth is on its away to you.

Please have more faith in yourself Pile 1, seriously you guardians see you like someone SO capable (king of Wands) you can do it! (Whatever this "it" means to y'all, know that YES U CAN! and I believe in you👽🙌)

Last but not least: When was the last time you heard your feelings? You give them some kind of, you know, attention?..... pretend you are fine, you are strong, a warrior blablabla it's needed sometimes, but if this is your normal it's bad, blocks your heart center and the energy which can make you feel sick and warm you hole body. You need more balance when related to your emotional and self-care. Take more care of your spiritual body. (People who likes crystals: rose quartz it's good for you!)

Pile 2

Signs: green color (pile one had this too lmao maybe y'all need to work on your heart chakra just saying 🤷‍♀️), leo, fire signs and fire placements at your big three (so weird when I receive this things because it's very specific and because I don't even know too much about astrology so I was be like "damn... its really specific" lmao never mind ignore me), aquamarine (loved this because the picture of this Pile is a mermaid🤭🥺), color pink, pisces, 111, 444

Humm okay, first of all your guardians want you to know that some things need to comes to a end because teaches you what was supposed to teach and now it's just time to end, and you don't need to be sad about that because ends also means create space for new things, people, experiences. I feel like this is Love matters, well there is 2 options here: the first one it's all that I said, and the second one is that you are ending this to meet your "special someone" (since there a increase of Twin Flames on earth this time, maybe you are ending this relationship because you gonna meet them soon and you learned the lesson with this person). But for some of you is a friendship. Yeah, it's right, nothing will come of this situation (its literally what the card says), meditation, time out and you know, just be a little contemplative will help you. Surrender to the Divine (whatever The Divine are for you) will help, believe that you will get what you need (I thought this were for the people that are working on there skills but your guardian was like "NO! IT'S NOT!!!!!!) and I came back here and yes it is for you really).

If you are into mantras I recommend "Om Namo Narayani" which basically means I surrender to the Divine.

(I think this is for a really small group: don't let your pride get in your away okay? You need to work in group and balance your needs with the needs of others. Its important and you need to work on this!)

The other message here is that: you are doing SO GREAT at your job/craft. Really, your guardians are proud of you for better your skills and know that you are doing a really good job!

And you need to hear you on thoughts, someone here has been anxious as and your guardian wants you to calm down, repeat to yourself "this thought isn't mine" and start to calm yourself, your guardian wants you to know that you are not alone, but you need to take better care of yourself especially related to your anxiety!

Pile 3

Signs: male guide, trans men (fo explain: someone here reading this are and this is the sign that yes, this is your Pile Hello😙💗), seashells, collect rocks (I don't who you are but you have such a good and fun energy lmao you know this person who just looks like a really good friend and person? It's you), color read, Divine Feminine path (or something related to the topic), life path number 3? (You got FIVE number 3), 666, number 9, pink hearts, Grenade and red jasper (it's more likely you should try to use them, will help you have more energy)

This pile have STRONG feminine energy and also priestess energy (which means that you can be one, become one in the future, was one in some important past life or just have the characteristics of one!)

Okay, some of you has Mother Mary as one of you main guardian (She and Archangel Mary are not the same! I can talk more about this if y'all be interested♡) and I feel a lot of you are working on something new and she wants you to know that: it's worth, this project is important, the world deserves to see the incredible person you are. And also to know that you are entering a knew phase and will bee FULL of good things and blessings, omg I can't calm myself its SO AMAZING really there us so many blessings, so many good moments. Okay I need to calm myself down or things gonna be all messy lol sorry I get really excited with this messages, your faith will be renewed, you are entering a peaceful loving phase, filled with calm energy and personal growth. Your belief that your dreams can manifest are working well, there us a big "yes" coming your away (I'M SO HAPOY FOY YOU, HERE, TAKE MY HUG). Whatever situation this is: is blessed, if you chose this pile probably you are starting all over again in some away, can be on a new/better course or just feeling more positive about archiving your goals.

(Very small group who are feeling stagnant: life goes on cycles and you are going enter a new one now! Likely our friend Pile 3 it's a moment to you to trust in the Divine (again: whatever the Divine is for you). Your guardians want you to trust your feelings and intuition (because logic won't work right now) and speak positively because "your words have power. Say what you want will work, and believe in it" (someone guide said and it's a man).

I need y'all to take care of yourself, your guardians want you to be more in touch with your intuition, your body (dance, yoga and stretching can help) and on do creative things, also try to just go more with the flow, be less controlled (some here are control freaks help) and just... take better care of you, u know?

Oh, I almost forgot: Its time to spread your wings and fly, universe is supporting u right now (your guardians want you to know that because apparently you don't have much physical support so ita important to you to know that). Youe hard work will pay off, I promise you (and for anyone who was wanting to travel: can happen soon)

Pile 4

Signs: aries, pisces, waterfalls, Mexico, ireland, 333, 6666, Angel's, Saint Mary (it's a place in Jamaica).

"You need to take a break" that's what I heard, for some of you I feel like you have to much energy, and you are doing to much things and it's time to get inwards and have some time of to chill, I think you don't like to open up to others because what I'm feeling is that you guided are talking but I just can't understand (like you didn't want help from other person, or that anyone no one knew what going on...) okay I assume its related to your job, or group you live with, looks very...heavy, a sense of hostility and conflicts. Your guardians want you to know that: first isnt your fault! Sencond: try to find common ground and focus on mutual collaboration rather then the competition. You need to focus in maintai you inner peace and don't let the environment you are get the best of you.

For other group here: your guardians always you to take action, to do you best and BE HAPPY (and proud) WITH THAT! (My perfectionist group, maybe?). I think there is something you want and this is a huge YES, but you need determination (and probably a long term plan).

And our last group (but I think this applies to the one before) you need to balance spirituality and practicality (I feel you, same boat here 🤡) WAIT A MINUTE BECAUSE I'M A HOPELESS ROMANTIC SIR, the card says "a new male is coming into your life" nd the other one (the one about balance) SAYS THAT THE PERSON CAN BE A SOULMATE OMG GUYS THE CARDS COMPLEMENTS EACH OTHER THIS IS SO CUTE I CAN'T I'M SORRY-

I couldn't help myself to freak out sorry Pile 4, getting back to what I was saying: Your intuition won't let you down and you need to trust it, and your guardians also wants you to know that you need to take more practical steps and be with your head in the clouds less, they ask you to find balance between your responsibilities and your dreams (maybe you have to work but are trying or want to try your new business, stop dream about it and think "what can I do NOW to make my dream happen?" Or "What step can I do NOW with what I already have to start my business?" Questions like this will help!.

This is coming so strong omg: Your soulmate is coming guys, I mean really appeared 3 times in 2 cards (besides you got The Emperor which can means Divine Masculine depends on the topic. Anyhow just takes what resonates).

COME HERE: When things get hard you have emotional balance? Your guardians want you to work on this, because sometimes the solution is right in front of you but you are to angry, sad or agitated to realize.

I hope this message reaches everyone who needs. Bye bye from me and your guardians 🤣🤭 see y'all soon.

- Lia

#pac tarot #tarotreader #tarot readers of tumblr #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarottribe #tarot free reading #free readings #free tarot #guardians #spirituality #pisces #leo sign #aries #fire signs #witch #pick a pile #pick a card #angels #self healing #witchcraft #witches #witch community #healing #witches of tumblr #astrology #astr

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Fifty

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends,

I cannot believe this is chapter 50 of this fic!! Thank you so much for still being here, for still loving on this version of our favs almost a whole year into writing SGW (end of November 2022 is when I started to post it!). It means the world to me because I love this version of them so much.

As it is October 12th, our beloved Emily Prentiss's birthday, I have dedicated this chapter to celebrate that, and given it a special banner to mark the occasion.

There is still SO MUCH of this fic to go in my little head, so who knows...maybe we'll have another 50 chapters?!

Please do let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.9k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

October 12 1991

She just needs a minute to herself. 

It’s what she tells herself as she leaves the party supposedly being thrown in her honour. The house filled to the brim with her mother’s friends and their sons, men deemed suitable for her to date and marry, and people Emily hadn’t really seen or spoken to since she left for college. 

This had never been her home, not really. It was a base. The place they came to for a month or so in between her mother’s postings, somewhere she knew could have been a home if her parents had made different choices. 

She sighs as she hears her mother’s laugh, the gregariousness that Elizabeth only ever truly had when she’d been drinking. It had been a problem for years, since her father had left, but Emily knew it had got worse since she’d gone to college, as if the loneliness her mother had always seemed to strive for hadn’t been as peaceful as she thought it would be. It made guilt bubble in her stomach even though she knows it’s not her fault, that she finally deserved her own life. The chance to find some stability. 

She pulls the office door closed behind her, grateful for the barrier it creates, for the way it muffles the sound she was hiding from. She pauses when she spots the mostly empty bottle of scotch on her mother’s desk, its presence answering a question she’d never dare ask. She walks over and grabs it, pouring herself a measure into one of the crystal glasses Elizabeth kept in here. She then drops the, still not empty, bottle into the trash can, finding satisfaction in the sound it makes as it hits the bottom, the clang echoing around her, briefly blocking out the sound outside. 

She sits on the couch in the corner, sinking into it as she looks at the drink in her hand before she blows out a breath. 

“Happy 21st birthday to me,” she says, taking a sip of the scotch. She drops her head back against the couch cushion, “At least she buys the decent stuff.” 

Her peace is disrupted as the door opens, a brief burst of sound draws her attention towards it. She furrows her brows as she sees one of her mother’s new security agents walk in. He seems just as shocked to see her, freezing in place in the doorway as their eyes meet. 

“Miss Prentiss,” he says, clearing his throat, “I’m sorry I didn’t realise you were in here, I was just looking for some paperwork.” 

She smiles politely at him, “That’s ok Agent…” she drifts off, cursing herself for not remembering his name.

“Hotchner,” he says, finishing for her, his smile polite as he steps further into the room, “Isn’t it your birthday party out there?”

She smiles and nods, “Yes, yes it is. I just needed a break from all of the suitors my mother lined up for me this evening,” she says, and he raises his eyebrow at her, clearly trying to stop himself from smiling, “I’m being serious.”

He smiles politely, “Well, I’ll get what I came for and leave you to it.”

She’s not sure what makes her say it, whether it was the fact he was nice, or because he was handsome, but she’s speaking before she’s aware she’s going to, “You should stay. Have a drink with me.” 

He furrows his brow, a mix of confusion and something close to absolute horror that makes something spark in her chest, “I’m working, I can’t-”

“Come on,” she says, smiling at him, “I won’t tell anyone. Besides, it’s my birthday. It would be rude not to.” 

He thinks about it for a moment, wondering if he should just leave, politely say he had things to do, or if he should stay. His decision is made by the slightly sad sheen to her eyes. He’d never spent much time with her, but she always seemed lonely when he saw her.

“Ok, one drink,” he says, turning to where the glasses are, his eyebrows knitting together when he doesn’t see any liquor. 

“The scotch is in the trash can,” she replies, sipping her drink, finding herself amused by the look on his face, how he doesn’t question what was, on the surface of it, a ludicrous statement. She watches as he pours himself the smallest amount, the amber liquid barely visible from where she is sitting, and he crosses the room and sits next to her, a respectable distance between them.

“Happy Birthday Miss Prentiss,” he says, raising his glass, and she smiles at him. 

“Emily,” she corrects and he nods as he swallows thickly.

“Happy Birthday Emily,” he says, clinking his glass against hers. They exchange a smile and drink. “Your mother seems to be the life of the party.” 

Emily hums and finishes her scotch, letting the liquor burn the back of her throat, “Yeah,” she replies, smiling tightly at him, “She really is,” she looks him up and down, taking in his suit, the way he looked nothing short of an agent. She has an urge to mess with him, to mess up his hair and see what he does, “What does your girlfriend think of you working late?” 

He frowns, “How do you know I have a girlfriend?”

She shrugs, “I can tell,” she says mysteriously, smiling when he looks confused, “You’re a nice guy. The nice ones are rarely single.” 

He clears his throat, feeling his cheeks go warm at the compliment, “She’s okay with it,” he explains, “Haley, my girlfriend, she knows it’s a means to an end.” 

“That’s good,” she replies, watching as he finishes his drink, “I hope she knows she has one of the good ones.”

He chuckles as he stands up, placing the empty glass on the desk before he picks up what he had come in for, “I’ll let her know,” he walks towards the door, “Happy Birthday again, Emily.”

“Thank you for having a drink with me, Agent Hotchner,” she says, and he turns to face her, offering her a half smile. 

“Aaron.” 

She nods and presses her lips together to stop her smile from getting too wide, “Aaron.”

___

October 12, 2000

Emily curses under her breath as she pushes her apartment door open, her arms full of groceries, her briefcase and the birthday gift her colleagues had bought her. 

She makes it to the kitchen counter and dumps everything she’s holding onto it. She turns and closes her front door, making sure it’s locked before she puts away groceries she knows will go bad before she eats them. She pulls out the card her colleagues had given her, the number ‘30’ emblazoned on the front, and she takes a moment to read the messages inside before she sets it down on the counter, next to the one her mother had sent her, and she heads to the fridge. She pours herself a glass of wine and stares at it for a moment, the scar on her abdomen throbbing. 

A silent warning, a phantom of her worst fear - that she’d turn into her mother. After she’d saved her mother’s life, literally giving her part of herself and turning down a once in a lifetime job opportunity to do so, things between them hadn’t got better. There were no apologies from Elizabeth, no thank you. No acknowledgement of what Emily had done. It got too painful to be in DC, to watch her mother act as if nothing had ever happened, so when she’d been offered a job doing translation in the FBI Detriot Field Office she hadn’t thought twice. She’d taken the job and started again, only letting her mother know when it was already a done deal. 

She shakes her head and pours the wine away, tipping it unceremoniously down the sink, before she makes herself a hot chocolate, the warmth of the mug in her hands a comfort. 

She settles on the couch and is about to turn on the TV when she hears the phone ring. She groans and gets up, but sees her mother’s number flashing on the screen and she decides not to answer, feeling wholly not in the mood to listen to comments about her life. Thinly veiled criticisms that she thinks she’d accept from someone else. 

Emily knew she wasn’t entirely happy, but it would do for now. She was content to simply exist until she figured out what she wanted her life to look like. 

She sits back down and waits for the call to ring out, the beep of the voicemail ringing out around her. 

“Emily, I had hoped to catch you, but you may still be at work. I just wanted to say Happy Birthday. When you’re here over Thanksgiving I’ll introduce you to Bruce Cameron’s son. He’s your age and is about to get divorced-”

She rolls her eyes and stops listening after that, not paying attention as she flicks through the menu on the television, finally pressing play on something she knows she also won’t pay attention to when the message comes to an end. 

She couldn’t help but wonder if she should be sadder about her 30th birthday being like this. If the loneliness should bother her, but she was used to it. She had friends here, people who had tried to coerce her into going out for drinks, something she’d got out of by lying and saying she was seeing her boyfriend that night, a man she’d broken up with a few weeks ago without telling anyone. 

Emily sighs as she takes a sip of her hot chocolate and she thinks of her 21st birthday. Of Agent Hotchner and how he’d been nice to her, the few minutes they’d spent in her mother’s office the highlight of her day that year. She hadn’t thought about him in years, but all of a sudden she wonders where he is, what he’s doing. If he’d married the girlfriend she’d tricked him into mentioning. If he had kids. 

It’s something she knows she wants. A family. People in her life she knows love her unconditionally, something she’s not even sure her parents had ever done. 

She just hoped she’d get the chance. That her life wouldn’t pass her by, years melting into decades, as she turned into the one person she told herself she’d never be. 

As she drinks her hot chocolate and barely pays attention to the TV, she idly hopes that one day, life will look a lot different for her. 

___

Emily is woken up by a tiny hand on her face, small fingers and sharp nails digging into her skin. 

“Careful, Lilypad.”

She opens her eyes at the sound of her husband’s voice, and smiles at the sight that greets her. Aaron is sitting on her side of the bed, Lily in his arms, and a tired smile on his face. 

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” She says as she sits up and stamps a kiss on his lips, her hand ghosting over the back of Lily’s head as she does so before she rests her back against the headboard, her hands reaching out for Lily, “Give me my baby.”

Aaron smiles as he does as he’s told, handing Lily over immediately. Emily laughs when she sees the onesie she’s wearing, one she’s never seen before with flowing words on the front.

Happy Birthday Mommy

“Oh my god,” she exclaims, lifting Lily to press several kisses to her cheek before she settles her into her arms, “You’re so fucking cute.” 

“Em.”

She looks up at Aaron and raises an eyebrow, unable to stop herself from smiling, the happiness and joy in her chest too overwhelming to suppress, “She’s 13 weeks old, Aaron, it’s going to be a while before she picks up on cursing,” she says, her smile only getting wider as Aaron shakes his head at her, love shining in his eyes, “So, what’s the plan for today? Now you can finally tell me.” 

He’d kept it secret from her for weeks. His insistence on planning her birthday for her was as endearing as it was irritating. He’d said not only was it her 40th and special because of that, but it was also her first birthday as a mom, and he wanted it to be perfect. 

Aaron swallows thickly, suddenly nervous that he’d got it wrong, but he nods, “Well, first thing this morning Lily and I went out to your favourite bakery to get those pastries you love.”

“You did?” She says, looking down at Lily, the baby’s hand tangled in her hair, “You’ve been busy this morning, huh?”

Aaron hums in response, smiling at the sight of the two of them together, “By the way the woman at the bakery is obsessed with her.”

“As any sane person would be,” Emily replies, tickling her daughter to make her laugh before she looks back at her husband, “So that’s breakfast?”

“Breakfast and then presents. Then Jack is coming over this afternoon,” he says, his heart warming at how excited she looks, her love for his son one of the many things he adored about her, “And this evening Dave is cooking us your favourite meal, and the team are coming here so Lily and Jack can sleep in their own beds and we don’t have to worry about bedtime being disturbed.” 

“You really thought of everything,” she says, the thought of spending the day with the people who meant the most to her a perfect one. She smiles at him, unhooking a hand from under Lily and wrapping it around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss, “Thank you.” 

“I know it’s a bit simple-”

“Honey, it’s perfect,” she says, stamping another kiss to his lips. She smiles at him as she pulls back, “So, are you worried about no longer having a hot wife in her 30s?” 

“No,” He shakes his head at her and reaches out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, “You just keep on getting hotter, baby.” 

“Good answer,” She smiles, her cheeks aching with it, and she looks down at Lily, the infant chewing on her fist, “Daddy is so getting laid tonight.” 

“Emily.”

___

The house is bursting at the seams. 

The whole team is there, the gifts and love they brought with them filling all the space. The laughter was so raucous that Emily keeps glancing at the baby monitor, checking the lights on it, just in case she misses Lily crying upstairs. 

As she sits at her dining table, Aaron’s arm slung around the back of her chair with his fingers skimming her shoulder, she feels lucky. She takes a sip of her wine as she looks around, not paying much attention as Derek gives Dave crap about something said on a recent case, the older man taking it in his stride. JJ was smiling wistfully at them in between continuing her conversation with Spencer, her secrecy about her new job something that scared Emily, a feeling she would put away for tonight. Something she’d bury deep inside so she could enjoy this - the life that not all that long ago she convinced herself she’d never have. 

She’s pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of a fork being tapped against a glass, the noise enough to draw everyone's attention, and she looks at her husband, her eyes going wide as she sees him raise his glass, her cheeks already turning pink at the thought of a speech.

“I just wanted to take a moment-”

“Oh God, not a speech,” Derek exclaims, any further protest cut off with a yelp as Penelope stamps on his foot, her eyes narrowed as he looks at her in question. 

“Don’t ruin this for me,” she says, always keen for any insight into Aaron and Emily’s life, and she turns back to the couple in front of her, “Carry on boss-man.” 

Aaron shakes his head and turns to look at Emily, his spare hand on her leg under the table, squeezing softly to stop her protest. They exchange a small smile and she nods. He was never one to talk about how he feels in front of other people, never one to reveal too much, so even though she already felt a little embarrassed she let him carry on.

She could never get enough of his love. It was her lifeline, the very thing she knew she could always rely on. 

“As I was saying,” he says, raising an eyebrow at Derek before he looks around the table, “I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for being here tonight to celebrate Emily’s birthday,” he looks back at his wife, his smile soft, “Em, sweetheart, it’s been 19 years since I first met you and somehow you’re infinitely more interesting and more beautiful than you were even then. I love you and Happy Birthday.” 

She chokes on a sound halfway between a laugh and sob, and is grateful that it’s drowned out by the other’s cheering and clinking their glasses. She had no idea that he remembered. He’d never alluded to it, and neither had she - so sure that it was something that existed only in her memory. A moment between the two of them that was just for her, so worried he didn’t remember it that she hadn’t wanted to embarrass either one of them by bringing it up. 

The sound of crying cuts through everything, and Emily goes to stand, but Aaron stops her, his hand still on her thigh, and he leans in to kiss her cheek.

“I’ve got her,” he says, stamping a kiss against her lips, both of them ignoring Penelope’s enjoyment as Emily places her hand on his cheek and keeps in place a beat longer than he’d intended. He pulls back and smiles at her, “You enjoy yourself.” 

She watches as he leaves, her eyes fixed on him until he disappears from view. 

“Em.” 

She turns to see JJ and Penelope leaning in over the table, “You never told us you met Hotch when you were young.” 

She shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, “It was nothing really,” she says, and both of her friends raise their eyebrows at her. She’s not sure if it’s the wine in her system, or the love that was warming her from the inside out, but she sighs and carries on, “It was my 21st. My mom threw me an awful party and I hid in her office. Aaron was working there at the time, he came in to get something. I made him have the world's quickest drink with me.” 

Penelope squeals and sits back in her chair, her smile so wide Emily’s sure it must hurt, “It’s like you’re meant to be.”

For once, Emily can’t bring herself to say she doesn’t believe in that kind of thing, because she thinks she agrees.

___

“Dave sure knows how to use every dish in a kitchen.” 

Aaron chuckles at his wife as she stacks dishes next to the sink and he walks over, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pulling her into his embrace. He kisses her shoulder, smiling into her skin when it makes her shiver. 

“It’s your birthday, you’re not supposed to be doing the dishes,” he says, his hands on her hips as he turns her in his arms, “I’ll sort them later.”

She nods as she wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers trailing through his hair, “Thank you for everything today,” she says, smiling as thought of it all. Of the jewellery Aaron had bought her, a beautiful necklace with a Lily flower carved into the small disk pendant,  the line of cards on the mantel from the team. The glitter that she knew she’d be finding for months which had come loose from the handmade card that Jack had made, Haley’s neat writing on the inside. 

“You deserve it and more, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to kiss her, his lips firm against hers. He presses his hand to her lower back to pull her closer. She hums as she pulls away and she rests her head on his shoulder, content to stand there with him. 

“Mom didn’t call,” she says, her cheeks pressing into his shirt, “I knew she wouldn’t, I asked her not to but…” 

It was a complicated feeling, a situation she knew her mother couldn’t win. If she’d contacted her she’d be going against what Emily had asked of her, but it was still her birthday. A big milestone that had gone unmarked. Their usual game of Elizabeth calling and pretending she didn’t know Emily was screening her call, only for Emily to return the call a few days later, nowhere to be found. 

“I know,” he says, kissing the top of her head, “It’s hard.”

“Yeah,” she replies, giving herself a moment before she clears her throat, wanting to only focus on the good today. All the ways she’d been shown that she was loved - everything she’d hoped for as she sat in her apartment in Detriot on her 30th birthday. She bites her lip as she pulls back to look at him, her eyes meeting his as she says what she’d been wanting to say all evening, forcing herself to wait until it was just the two of them, “I didn’t realise you remembered that moment on my 21st,” she says, pressing her lips together, “I…never wanted to bring it up in case you didn’t.” 

Aaron cups the back of her head, “Sweetheart, there is nothing on earth that would ever make me forget you,” he says, his fingers trailing through her hair, “Even then I was fascinated by you.” 

She blushes and bites the inside of her cheek, “Why did you never mention it?” 

“I didn’t think you remembered,” he says, and she raises an eyebrow at him, “I’m serious, I really thought you forgot. Then a few weeks ago when we went looking for that scotch for Dave, you picked up that bottle and said-”

“I drank this on my 21st.” 

He smiles as she finishes his sentence, “Yeah. And then I realised you remembered too.” 

She leans in to kiss him, her lips firm against his, and she loses herself in the feeling of him, of the way she was drowning in his affection. They eventually pull back, both breathless with swollen lips. She looks towards the diffraction of the stairs.

“How long do you think we have until Lily wakes up?”

He looks at his watch, “Maybe 20 minutes?”

She smiles devilishly at him and pulls away just enough to push herself onto the kitchen counter, “Then we’d better be quick.” 

She pulls him in by his shirt collar and kisses him again before he can complain, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. 

He was going to clean the kitchen in the morning anyway, so she saw no harm in making it a little dirtier beforehand. 

-x-

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[firstblogcantdeletenowgoddamit]

Hi! If requests are still open, could you write some headcannons of Gary Smith with S/O who’s a perfect student but also a scaredy-cat?😊

She is a pet of the teachers, so Gary approaches her to use her as a pawn to control the teachers. But she is so cowardly that she tries her best to avoid him. Gary always pranks her or brings her into his plan, and she always tries to run from all those things. What if they become closer as time pasts???

Gary Smith headcanon with s/o.

Tbh this took on a life of its own and didn’t come out well. At least not good in the sense of trying to write a s/o that’s a teacher's pet. I think this turned more into a yandere headcon than anything else. If you want, I can try to write a proper headcanon.

TW: Mental illness and toxic relationship.

Perfect wasn’t a real word to describe someone, but that’s how Gary would describe his s/o. Not in a loving, romantic way. No, she was perfect to be an alibi.

He doesn’t remember why he needed an alibi. He just remembers he had absolutely no romantic attraction toward her. Girls like her were too vanilla for his liking.

What he does remember is her caving when she was pressed on the legitimacy of his alibi. After that, she became one of the many people on his shit list.

It started pretty harmless. Hiding spiders and snakes in her locker. Sometimes they were fake, but what wasn’t fake was her reaction. Letting out a blood-curdling scream before running down the hallway.

Truly the peek of comedy.

Though after a while it started to get stale, thankfully he noticed something. Sitting next to her in the only class they shared, he noticed how anxious she’d become. Her legging bounced under the desk. Her posture wouldn’t be straight but hunched over like she was trying to hide from his peripheral vision.

The snakes and spiders would come to an end. As of now, he’d hang around her from time to time. Glaring at her just to scare her and hitting her with spitballs from a distance.

At this point, she’d realize who was behind it all, and what she did was nothing. Not wanting to be higher on his shit list by telling the teachers, it's not like they’d be able to do much, she kept quiet. Doing her best to avoid him.

Seeing Gary walking down the halls? She’ll do a quick U-turn. They shared one class and she almost contemplated skipping it entirely. She’s never skipped a class and she wasn’t going to start now.

It wouldn’t take long for Gary to notice that she’s been running away from him. The thought that he scared her so much that hiding was good. Grand even. He liked having power over people.

She’s helping decorate and plan out the prom? Oh, goodie. Gary will show how trashy her idea was by throwing trash or something to ruin everyone’s night.

His idea was to make her go with him and stand close by as everything goes up in flames. Metaphorically of course. He wouldn’t want to get himself hurt.

Nothing cute or romantic when asking her to go with him. They both know there isn’t anything going on between them. He’ll ask nicely at first, but she knows this is a big red flag. So she’ll try to make up excuses and back away.

Resulting in Gray responding with, “We both know you don’t have a date and you never will. Honestly, I’m being generous because I know no one is going to even think about taking you when there are better options.”

Gray is patting himself on the back after degrading a girl so much that she starts questioning her worth. And now going to prom with him, he has such a way with words.

He insisted that this was the night that he felt something towards her. Though it must have been early as he acted like a little boy trying to get his crush to notice him by being horrible to her. But it's not like he’d emit that.

The original plan for the night was forgotten as they awkwardly slowly danced to the music.

They weren’t official in any way, but the horrible treatment had stopped. Every so often there would be something hiding in her locker.

Everything was peaceful.

Just stop here if you are sensitive to topics of mental illness and toxic relationships.

Until Jimmy motherfucking Hopkins came into the picture.

Then everything went to hell. Everyone around and near Gray would and will become miserable. Consistent paranoia and the need for more control would lead to him calling her his girlfriend. Without asking her opinion on it.

At this point, he’s off his medication and becoming more unstable.  His s/o would only learn that he was on medication in the first place because he made a passing remark on it when rambling to himself.

He has the dark triad personality traits. That being narcissism, psychopathy, and machiavellianism. He might also have schizophrenia as well, but it doesn’t matter because he’s fucked and he’s going to drag his s/o down with him.

Gray will say anything to make sure his s/o stays where she is. Whether that be making up fake pity stories, gaslighting her, or even threatening to take his own life. As long as she stays, then that's enough.

To his s/o it felt like being dragged through the seven layers of hell. He can be the sweetest thing and then be so off-kilter. It wasn’t fair for her to be put in these uncomfortable situations. The whole thing was like he was holding his s/o hostage and to an extent that was how it was. His s/o probably developed some sort of stockholm syndrome by the time he was sent to Happy Volts.

If we’re being realistic here for a moment. His s/o would probably end up staying with him and their relationships would become more toxic. People like him won’t change or get better.

But ignoring that for the sake of fanfiction.

He’d be looking forward to his s/o visiting him. There isn’t anything fun to do in there, so she’ll at least prevent him from dying of boredom.

He’s not sorry for his actions and knows damn well that putting on an act wasn’t going to get him back into Bullworth. So he’s not even going to try, but at least he has his s/o.

Maybe I should just write yandere headcanon.

#gary smith x reader #bully game x reader

[ultimateloserboy]

i said i would make this post, so here i am. here is the red guy analysis, starting with this qna answer from baker terry. i talked about this question before, it was “whos your favorite to write for?” and after a bit of debate the answer ended up being red guy for pretty much everyone. i mentioned that, but i left out this answer specifically because of how significant it is. im gonna go on a bit of a tangent here, but i promise itll come back around and make sense

this is what ive been saying about red guy!! hes been going through a constant character arc that never reaches its completion because he is torn down again and again. “hes sensible and together until he isnt” is such a good description, because he might be the MOST normal character but he isnt truly normal. not really. thats very important.

i think red guy is a realistic character, a very human character, and the thing about people is that we’re not as normal as we think. there are differences about all of us that don’t quite fit, and some of us moreso than others, but that is the true normal. true normal is to not be normal. that is what red guy represents to me. we relate to him and think he is sensible because he is, but that doesnt mean hes free of oddness altogether. thats what makes him even more relatable.

but he doesnt realize this, hes riddled with insecurity, and THATS what makes him the way he is. he doesnt quite fit anywhere. hes out of place in his own world, and hes out of place in every other world as well. he doesnt enjoy the house, and he tries to run, but even when he runs he doesnt like what he finds outside. he’ll never find a place where he perfectly fits. he’ll try, but he’ll fail.

but thats another thing. because he doesnt fit anywhere as he is, he usually tries to fit in instead. the characters around him (the fax machine thingy, the trash can, lily and todney) they all tell him that theres something wrong with him and the way he lives, that he could be better, that all he has to do is listen to them and he’ll be normal and respected. and so he does. he listens to them and tries his best to be happy with it. hell tell himself that hes normal and everyone loves him now. that weird people are below him, that nothing is wrong with him because hes perfect. he wont believe it, he’ll be unhappy playing pretend, but at least hes better than everyone else now. at least hes the most normal one. at least hes normal, right?

but then he’ll end up back home, and things will go differently tomorrow. there could be a day where hes waltzing around in clothes, masking who he is and pretending to like it. but then there could be a day where hes coming to terms, where he looks in the mirror and he doesnt care much what others think anymore. where he’ll say “im not supposed to wear clothes, this is the way i look” finally sticking up for himself. he’ll start being kinder, to others and himself. he’ll start being more honest, more open, more loving. he’ll still be as average and monotone as ever, but he’ll be slightly different. he’ll be happier with himself as he is, he’ll ACTUALLY like himself instead of just pretending.

but happiness doesn’t last in a house like theirs. his memory loss will rip away at the realizations he has. he’ll go right back to being bitter and miserable. i dont believe the house is in a timeloop, i hate that theory with a burning passion, but thats besides the point. timeloop or not, he’ll be built up, and then the next day he’ll be knocked back down. he never reaches a point where hes fully happy and i doubt he ever will. i doubt any of them ever will. it makes me so sad, but at least he gets close enough.

in conclusion, duck and yellow guy are very nonsensical and complicated characters, but red guy is too, just in a calmer and more easy-to-understand sense. just because hes the regular, human kind of complicated does not mean he isnt worth analyzing. i wish people would see him as more complex instead of just “relatable depressed tumblr sexyman” like if yall paid attention youd realize that yes, he pulls off the suit, but hes miserable in it. it’s literally him masking. i wish people paid more attention to these things. no shame if you dont, hes supposed to be a more chilled out character compared to the other two, so its natural that people wouldnt think as hard about him. but hes not as smart and reasonable as yall give him credit for, he is until he isnt.

or, if we want to go with the gayer conclusion:

hes YOUR babygirl because hes hot in a suit, but hes MY babygirl because he thinks electricity is magic. because hes an embarrassment to everyone around him. because he doesnt like wasting food or making a mess. because all he wants is a family, and he already has one, but its not normal or functional enough for him. because he smiles more often than everyone thinks. because hes actually kind of an asshole but duck outshines him in that department. because hes selfish and yet he dislikes himself. because he is complicated in the most human way, with a little bit of an inhuman thought here and there. because i am in love with him im just going insane now i need to shut this shit down. ive gotten my point across. goodbye, i love you ! (leaves you a spherical internet device which i created)

#dhmis #dhmis red guy #red guy #dont hug me im scared #dhmis analysis #dhmis tv show #red guy dhmis #dhmis fandom

[evita-shelby]

Plus One

Inspired by @justrainandcoffee Wandering Jew series.

Aka an excuse to write rolfie and teva in the same universe

Gif by @crackshipandcrap

(2019)

“Who won’t text you back?” Eva asked noticing the rather forlorn way he looks at the message.

She knows he’d been seeing someone, and yet while he knows about her disastrous sex life, Eva doesn’t know jack shit about his beyond Grace the Barmaid, Lizzie and several other women Eva may or may not have also fucked.

“None of your business, Smith.” Tommy glared and she pouted.

It had been a bad idea to ask her out again, the drinks had been fine and she thought him a gentleman when he didn’t take her up on her suggestion of staying over at her place.

“I told you about my ex marrying my cousin and my ex who fucked all my friends, c’mon, Tommy tell me who’s the broad who’s place I need to trash.” The brunette reminds him.

They were friends now.

Eva was enjoying being single after her ex decided Franco was who she loved and Tommy had been in a relationship with someone whom he had hardly ever mentioned.

“Not a she, and no, you’re not committing a felony for me, Evie, but thanks anyway.” He said with annoyance and shoved his phone into his pocket.

“Ah so we’re more similar than I thought. So your guy broke up with you, then?” the witchy young woman guessed correctly going by the stony look he gets as he orders another drink.

“Yes, and before you ask. It was me not him.” The dark haired man loathed speaking about things like these and yet he willingly shared this with her, progress. “Won’t forgive me and I know you’d agree with him.”

“You got me there. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been there before. At least your ex is still alive to hate you.” Eva regrets her words the moment she said them.

She never told anyone about Leopoldo, nor how him learning about her and Antonia seeing each other behind his back led to the car accident that killed him.

She’d been displayed as his grieving girlfriend. Given flowers, comforted along with his family and crushed by the guilt of knowing she hadn’t truly loved him.

“Lucky me.” He grumbled bitterly and raised his whiskey in a toast. “Here’s to our shit luck, Evie.”

It is spring 2020 when Tommy and Eva elope to Cancun and welcome the pandemic as the newly elected representative of the Birmingham Hall Green.

Their exes remain unnamed and neither Shelby aware of how little the world is.

Its 2023 when two identical invitations arrived addressed to the both of them.

“I didn’t know you knew Alfie as well.” Eva mentions as he played with little Gabriel on the rug.

The look on his face says it all.

Alfie was the guy who dumped him for being a cheating asshole.

Same Alfie who was Aunt Florence’s baby brother.

There had been no malicious intent.

This is what Rose tells herself when Alfie learns she hadn’t removed Tommy Shelby from the guest list.

She had met him in passing once, when she found more than just a nice holiday at the Wandering Jew.

Then she came to know Tommy had been the heartless bastard who’d broken Alfie’s heart. Having disliked him from the start, knowing how awful he was had made her hate him.

Now she was seeing him in the profile picture of Alfie’s ‘niece’ Eva Smith-Riley who had sent her congratulations through Instagram.

Rose had met through zoom calls and FaceTime and once in person when Eva came to give them her good news.

‘Is it okay if I bring my plus one?’

It was then Rose had seen who the man she was married to was.

Then the bride to be did what everyone has done since the invention of social media has done.

She looked at every single photo of him in Eva’s profile, Facebook page, twitter and some tabloids that sprung up under her name.

They’d met at Birmingham U, they dated for approximately five months, married on the first of March in a lovely beach in Mexico and had a baby named Gabriel.

“Are you jealous of Evie, sweetheart?” Alfie Asks seeing the picture of Eva hanging out with some celebrity at a charity thing.

“No. It’s not that. Why didn’t you tell me Tommy’s her husband?” she shows him the next picture, Tommy Shelby smiling through the pain holding his one-year-old son next to Eva.

After the way he fucked things up with Alfie, Tommy resolved himself to be a better man.

“Because I didn’t know about it until she married the fucker and then I didn’t want to ruin things for her. He’s changed, or so it seems.” the burly man admitted knowing the hell that was going to be unleashed.

“For a man in love he looks like he’s in agony.” Rose points out thinking the worst of Thomas Shelby.

“That’s just his face, love, he can’t help it.”

And he had, not once has he strayed and while that took much work on his account, it had rewarded him with a woman he loves and a family he hadn’t thought he could have.

He should’ve told her about his past with Alfie, but he was afraid, not sure of what, but he was afraid.

Eva wouldn’t have judged him about it, not after she told him about Leopoldo, but Alfie was her friend.

And yet here they lay beside each other as the baby slept curled up between them.

“You should’ve told me, Tom.” She’s not angry, there is a hint of disappointment about her, but nothing has changed as he feared he would. “We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.”

“He’s your friend, sort of relative too. I don’t want you to miss it on account of me.” He could invent an excuse to stay, claim Gabe is too little for a sitter.

“Alfie is your friend too, we’ll hire a sitter for Gabe and you will come with me. I already told Alfie I’d be bringing you anyways.” She points out reaching to caress his face, a contrast to his words.

December rolls around, and Tommy finds himself fixing the black satin bowtie that matches Eva’s black evening gown exactly.

“Are you ready?” she asks softly, knowing how big of a step this is for him.

“Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be, Mrs. Shelby.”

#eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x oc #evacore #peaky blinders fanfiction #alfie x rose #tommy shelby x alfie solomons #alfie solomons x ofc #rose coldwell #wandering jew series

[skinnypaleangryperson]

There's kind of a theme in Rick and Morty Reddit culture where they tend to make fun of fans who claim to be a fan of the TV show but then complain every single episode or every other episode that the show isn't good anymore and make fun of them for continuing to watch a show that they don't like.

I initially was one of those people that looked down on these people, but now here I am, finding myself to fit into that exact stereotype. And I understand why fans like us exist now.

You can't develop a show that, for the most part, sets up the viewers to be extremely invested in this crazy deranged drunk old man and his traumatized grandson, and the general family dynamic, and to have that be the core of the entire TV show and the point of it, and then to throw in episodes twice at a time or even just once or for half of a season that is just a bunch of gags and ridiculously one off one spin characters and not expect the viewers to feel cheated, especially with the show that is generally as slow in production as much as this one has been.

Even the first episode of this season was a little bit unsatisfying but at least it made sense-it showed Rick hanging out with his friends, and at least someone showing that he's starting to humble himself a little bit so it still made sense overall, we got to see Birdperson, etc. It still felt like a decent episode and it made sense to produce it.

I've never in my life have felt so awkward as a fan of a TV show honestly, because most TV shows are more consistent in their themes than this. For the first time in my life I genuinely do feel a little bit irrationally frustrated and depressed over being a fan of a TV show, and I truly don't think that it's my fault because I was set up to care about a certain theme that this show set up.....just for it to snatch or to rob it away from the entirely of some episodes-THAT THEY TEASE FOR A WEEK BEFOREHAND-at least a good half of the time for a show that only comes out with 10 episodes a year, if even that, as we've seen in the past with the show.

Fans aren't pathetic for being frustrated for being emotionally caught up in a show that swings around worthwhile content that they've been set up to care about to like a piece of meat, and then just to have a bunch of random gags and trash thrown in their face and then to be made fun of sometimes even by the creators themselves (I remember reading an article where Dan Harmon said that he loves to watch his fans cry whenever they get frustrated over the content, which for the most part I find ridiculously immature and pathetic) for being frustrated by it.

I was set up to care about Rick, and to care about Morty, and some parts of the family like Beth and Rick and Jerry and the like. Yes, it is true that it's just a TV show, but it is true that the real world is complete chaos, and I don't see what the point is in cheapening something that has the potential to give people a lot of meaning and connection with others and joy by staying consistent with its theme or at the very least, staying within the general realm of it.

It's not my fault as a consumer if I feel cheated and frustrated viewing the TV show-it's bad writing on the TV shows part. I'm not even usually the kind to even rant about stuff like this, but I truly feel like I've been caught up into a corner where I was cheated or set up into caring about this TV show and expecting for the TV show to play along with me with every single season, but it feels like half the time their intentionally throwing cheap or aimless gags or episodes that genuinely don't really seem to be for anyone-in the sense that I can't think a single person on this earth that would give a damn about an episode about Ice T, much less for the entire episode to revolve around him, and especially when there's only less than a handful of episodes left.

I've never been so dumbfounded as a fan of any piece of media, and I don't think it's my fault in our refuse to blame myself for it. Lol.

It's probably just my autism and my real life personal issues shining through, and I admit to that. I'm also irrationally attached to Rick for a personal reasons. But I've never in my life have ever felt so ridiculously disoriented and frustrated being a fan of literally any piece of media, they're usually all pretty straightforward and consistent about what they're about. The show is so on and off with its content, I almost feel embarrassed to watch the episode next week because of how irrationally frustrated I got about this one being such... Random meaningless trash.

#rick and morty

[aethertownusa]

Here's some more. If you want to stop me posting this you've got to come here and physically stop me but you won't on account of your great cowardice. Reflect on that. THIS IS FROM 2021 I LIVED EVERYTHING IS FINE

I went to the bath room, peed in the cup, surprised as always by its heat. Gratified at least that all that chugging made it easy to pee. Unsure where to put the cup. Balanced it on the trash can lid while rinsing my hands. And outside when I opened the door, close as before, the old man, me with my hot-sided sample cup of urine right there by his head. He looked at it and me. I was turning, friendly saying "Where shall I put this?" I had heard his voice from outside the bathroom and it was clear and strong. I wondered while turning if this would be sexually gratifying for him, the way your desires and interests get weird when you’re confined. Young woman with her breasts practically out with a cup of her own recent urine—like a complete nudity; this will be porn in the future; simultaneity of all concealed body—better than Baudrillard, because I see that the organs themselves, still inside and functioning but somehow seen, will become objects of sexual interest.

“Just set it there,” said the young man, and the woman said “I can take it.” I gave it to her and I thanked them again, earnestly, for their kindness and patience.

While it happened I felt helpless and pathetic, but almost immediately after, I was glad at how strange and interesting it was.

END OF THAT ENTRY. NEXT DAY'S ENTRY

I forgot to add that I’d been listening to 3Sex while waiting and “le retour de la jupiter” kept cycling in my head while almost passing out. The whirr of a coin down a funnel.

I was on Ambien while writing that & I’m on Ambien now. I don’t know that I would have so emphasized sex if I hadn’t been on Ambien. I’ve had to take it each night because at night this week I grow tenuous and terribly unhappy. Tenuous—drawn out, attenuated in my heart. I think about death. I am afraid there is no God. I haven’t ever been afraid of that before—if there is a God, then the world as I think it is is real. If there is no God, well! I’ll be dead so I won’t know! That was what I thought I felt. But now I think I have never seriously felt before that it was possible that there was no God. The possible silent closure of human life had never truly occurred to me.

I am so accustomed to thinking of the perfect significance of human life, appearing on earth like a ridge of stone and then forever in the sea—but now suddenly it seemed to me that there might be no God and no Friend and no wake-up and reality after death. And I am harmed at every side by thoughts of my parents dying, my awareness of their age. It is unthinkable to me. Unbearable. And one thing worse, one thing conceivable, that I should die before them. I worry about this all the time. Now these thoughts are inescapable. The old Satanic nonsense: “Think of what it will be like when they die. Now think of what it will be like when you die before them.” as if both will come true.

My death feels so sure to me. As silly as this sounds, although the greatest likelihood is that everything goes perfectly, to believe this is true seems the more absurd choice to me, the flightier. I don’t know how to believe that I will live. I don’t know how to hope for the best.

This thing with God—if God is real, I don’t know why I’m having this experience. The structure I mean by that is: Assuming that the circumstance is that God is real, now I ask why I’m doubting it. It could be the dryness from John of the Cross. I hope it’s a spiritual trial. But really I think I’ve degraded my brain morally. Degraded it with cruelties and my schadenfreude and my daily sheltering in “others suffer x but not I”.  I know intellectually that it’s the flimsiest house. All that happens, guaranteed, is that the thing others suffer will happen to you, and the only shelter you have will collapse.

I had a vision some months ago which I should have written about the next morning. Now I remember none of its implications. It was when I was washing toward goodness. The vision was like one of the medieval scenes I loved when I was a little girl, oak-leaf-green and teal, rolling on a glass ball of profound beauty; a garden, mostly green, and it was earth.

I’ve always known that my act of degrading my empathy, my playful mutilation of my empathy, is an act of destroying my most powerful tool. Now I recognize that it is a blow at the very heart of holiness in me, at the trunk of the tree of God in my heart.

[whenlifegivesyousparklingwater]

Wednesday, March 27, 2024

Dear Public Diary,

I feel an increasing sense of dread as April approaches. As a student in the humanities and social sciences, not only do I have research of my own to do, but I have so many papers to write for courses. Just in the next week, I have two papers due, neither of which I have started. I have been staring at the same page and reading the same sentences over and over. I cannot concentrate or comprehend what I am reading. However, in my defense, Locke writes in paragraph-length sentences that could have easily been broken up into at least three separate statements. This inability to be productive, combined with the inability to relax, puts me in stasis, where I just freeze up. It's not that I don't like the Enlightenment thinkers... or maybe it is.

I have to remind myself that just because power is shared among several White men (as opposed to power concentrated in one White man) does not make it democratic. It's so easy to read ideological philosophical texts and convince myself that I am one of the humans they speak of, though I know that these thinkers would not have considered me as one. Even still--centuries after Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau--I am not truly considered as a full, free [hu]man by the government. It is not really that oppressed people are becoming a part of this "human" category; we are just changing the boundary between who is in the human and subhuman categories. We are just given an illusion of progress by introducing new moral justifications.

For example, in the US, we are taught to believe that racism ended with MLK--we no longer treat Black people as lesser just because of skin color! Hooray! However, what the government did was refocus our morality--we believe criminals deserve to be punished and treated as lesser. Solution: make Americans believe crime is out of control and that Black people are criminals. Now we draw the line slightly differently from where it was before, but not really. It just gives us new moral justifications to put a certain group of people in the trash to be forgotten. This is a weird analogy, but it reminds me of the barber poles that captivated me as a child; the spinning motion combined with the diagonal lines give the illusion that the lines are continually going upward when, in reality, the stripes are not changing.

I am taking a graduate-level course in philosophy of law; this semester, it is focused on feminism and cornography laws. [I don't know what words Tumblr flags these days, but just to be safe, I will just use 'corn' to refer to--you know.] We are reading In Harm's Way: The [C]ornography Civil Rights Hearings by Catharine MacKinnon. The hearings took place in the 80s when there were no real laws limiting corn or allowing people to seek justice for wrongs they faced because of corn. I'm happy to discuss the philosophical, sociological, and psychological dimensions of harm caused by corn, but that would be an entire dissertation on its own, so I will hold myself back for the time being.

In the past seven days, I have read ten books. These were mindless fantasy romances, so I breezed through them, no critical thinking skills activated. However, it made me stop and analyze the parallels between mainstream romance books and visual cornography. Corn had previously been limited to the men who had access to art (so basically the upper class) or brothels. Until the internet age, it was not as democratically accessible. Nowadays, even young children are able to access corn without any barriers. Corn tends to refer to visual mediums (rather than literary), and we as a society now recognize the existence and harms of sex trafficking and its role in creating corn. People tend to believe that the harm of cornography lies in the women who are forced to perform and that this is what makes the ethics of corn questionable. [Of course, some may argue upon which ones or what situations can be evaluated as "forced," but that's a topic to tackle on another day.]

However, this is my controversial opinion: I think corn and the pimps of this multi-billion dollar industry have strategically adapted to the new social constraints of the time. Behold, spicy books: a newly-mainstream medium of corn that still maintains abuse/violence as something sexually arousing, maintains toxic gender dynamics (i.e., male dom/female sub), brings in a new demographic of customers (i.e., women), and seems ethical (i.e., no women are harmed in the process). Seems like female sexual liberation, but is it really? I recently went to a local bookstore, and they had a whole section of the store dedicated to BookTok romance books with an emphasis on those with "spice." Alarmingly, it was right next to the Young Adult (YA) section (ages 12-18). The displayed spicy books have such deceiving, innocent, cute covers that make children pick them up and prevent parents from knowing the true nature of the story. Pimps would often show children corn as educational material of sorts so that they know how to behave and what to reenact. Especially since sex education is not very thorough (if there is any at all), these toxic dynamics displayed in these books become young girls' sex education.

Even for us adults, it's important to analyze whether the maledom/femsub dynamic is truly a personal preference that many people also happen to hold or whether it is an internalization of misogyny. Although these YouTube shorts were satirical, I saw a few that were something like "POV: you're dating a book girlfriend" and the girlfriend would do toxic things, like objectify their partners, have unrealistic expectations, expect/demand violent actions in sex that the men are not comfortable doing, etc. Seems like an ironic reversal of the previous situation with visual cornography. [It is important to remember we are still in a male-dominated society, and as long as we are in a male-dominated society, men will not truly understand the harm corn has caused women.] However, men are being called "too sensitive" by talking about the harm these books are causing in relationships. Wouldn't this be another form of silencing a group, this time on the basis of toxic masculinity ideals? Then, we are not necessarily giving more people voices but shifting who gets the voice based on a shallow understanding of the deeper issue at hand.

One of the reasons why violent corn should not be protected by the First Amendment is because of the real-life harms that they cause. For example, corn may just say these are "sexual fantasies," but they cause real-life harm as real-life men seek to reenact them with women in coerced/forced situations. Just because one has a camera recording should not mean that the violent act is protected under free speech. If real-life harm is being caused because of smut, smut should not be fully defended by the First Amendment as free speech. More importantly, we need to realize that these books are not "just fiction" or "just sexual fantasies" and understand the real-life implications. I guess smut books can also be seen as a form of sex discrimination under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act in that they create content based on gender/sex where one group (i.e., women) is degraded, and these books facilitate gender-based discrimination in real life. Anyways, these are my thoughts.

I have a breakfast meeting to get ready for, so I will call it a day here.

Yours Truly,

RCH

#dear diary #personal blog #public diary #journal #journaling #feminism #books

[flynndesdelca]

For Day 14 (Creator's Choice) of @chelltastic’s Portal Drawtober 2023 Challenge. As I’m not really an artist, I chose to write short pieces for the prompts. As this one had no theme, I went with how I felt that day: physically exhausted.

I sense you like a broken window

the lack of something makes a sound

The facility breathed, in its own way.  Rather than the flow of air, though there was that too despite what its overlord had stated, it was in the sounds that she could hear.  The distant rumbling of structures moving.  The faint clicking of panels, or perhaps tiny robotic feet.  The roar of machinery far, far below.  Behind the scenes the facility was alive, producing and disposing and everything in between.  Like putting one's ear to someone's chest, in a moment of stillness one could hear those sounds, the grumbles and gurgles of an entity too sprawling and complicated to truly fathom.

A moment in between chambers.  Chell had decided enough was enough and had sat down, resting against the wall.  Even with the adrenal vapour in the air, her body was tired and she needed a moment.  Thankfully she had passed the threshold where GLaDOS could technically interact with her, not that she cared.  She could handle being called fat and lazy and unmotivated for a few minutes if it meant getting some time to let her sore muscles rest.  She stretched out her legs, bouncing her feet on the back springs of her long fall boots.  That wasn't what they were supposed to be used for, but she didn't care.  It felt nice for her feet to feel weightless for that brief moment in time.  

It was hard to believe that she was back there again.  She'd escaped, or at least she'd thought she had escaped.  Waking up in that room had been infuriating, but there wasn't much that she could have done.  Trashing the place wouldn't have gotten her anywhere except perhaps dead.  She had no reason to consider such a thing, but the thought of 'would that be better than where you are now?' hung heavy over her thoughts before she banished it away.  No, being alive was better, because it meant not letting her win.  She'd made it through the gauntlet of tests once before.  Despite how skilled the supercomputer might have been at making them, Chell was more than certain that she could get through them easily.

What then, though? That was the sticking point.  She'd seen Wheatley a handful of times here and there, at moments when GLaDOS had been distracted or busy.  She knew he was planning something, working on a way to get her out.  Even if he succeeded... what then? The idea of being a fugitive on the run didn't appeal much to her.  She'd seen the evidence of that kind of life before, the random secret passages and rooms full of water bottles and cans of beans and sad little places to sleep.  If she was going to go down, it was going to be fighting every step of the way.  She pulled her legs back to her chest, the muscles protesting at the movement as they folded obediently.  She glanced down at the portal gun resting beside her, then wrapped her arms around her legs.  She flexed her hand a couple times, wiggling the fingers distractedly.  Her arm was sore and her wrist hurt.  It had been a long time since her body had carried the weight of the portal gun, and while some muscle memory remained the actual muscles themselves had faded during her hibernation.  This was truly a workout that she had not asked for at all.  She rested her head on her knees, staring at the wall across from her.

She could feel the faint throb of her muscles, the beat of her pulse as her body worked hard to keep up with everything being thrown at her.  She leaned her head back, straining her ears and reaching out with her mind.  Maybe she was just tired, but if she focused just so, it felt as though she could feel the facility vibrating in time with her.  The distant pounding of pistons and the rumble of machines in the deep throbbing in time with her pulse, a background roar that threatened to tremble all the way up her spine.  Faint whines, metallic scraping, the rolling of conveyor belts, all  a backbeat that she could feel more than she could hear, the cacophony of the structure's own body.  She counted the beats of her heart, feeling them matching.  Much like everything around her almost seemed to be singing in some abstract way, the facility itself felt similarly alive.  Perhaps it was singing, in its own way.  If she listened just so, could she hear that song here, too? She turned her head and pressed it against the wall, the coolness of the surface refreshing and relaxing.

The snatches of song she had heard from the Companion Cube, from the lasers and the hard light bridges and everything else drifted into her mind.  She focused hard on the sounds that hovered just outside of her range of hearing, the dim echoes that reverberated through all of the massive spaces between, the passages and corridors behind the scenes twisting like capillaries all throughout the facility.  She smiled slightly to herself.  Perhaps it was confirmation bias, or perhaps it was wishful thinking, but she was almost certain she could hear it faintly, a dim echo deep down.  As though each individual mechanism was its own instrument in a grand orchestra, playing the song that seemed to permeate everything there.  A song that now thrummed through Chell, her own heartbeat adding to the secret symphony, a backbeat that had her close her eyes once more and let herself relax just slightly.  She couldn't let her guard down, it was still dangerous after all, but she could enjoy this, just the one time.

It was definitely not intentional, but that didn't matter.  Anything that would help dull the ache in her limbs, the stiffness, the odd pains from moving in ways she hadn't in what had been longer than one might have thought humanly possible.  For the moment she was content to let the facility serenade her, let the throb of overwork slowly recede until she finally fell out of tune with the song around her and it was time to get back to testing.

#portal drawtober 2023 #portal 2 #chell #chell portal

[philosophicalparadox]

Random Berserk HC's: Guts Edition

Because I should be writing bridge scenes but want to be lazy because I am tired. Some of these are supported by canon and are kinda just character observations, some are things my brain made up because it could. WARNING: dark content and a mini essay ahead.

Guts has impressive large motor control, able to finesse with a sword extremely well. However his fine motor control is pretty trash, comparatively. Don't ask him to crack eggs unless you want some extra calcium spontaneously added to your diet.

In spite of his strength, though, he can be pretty gentle. With things that are really small and delicate, he might have an accident, but if he's touching someone, or petting something, he can be very tender.

Speaking of - Guts is definitely a cat person. Dogs are too loud and too chaotic, plus he has some questionable experiences with them. But cats? Cats are cool. Cats can't betray you because that's just not the relationship you have with a cat in that kind of society. They also are more respectable from his standpoint, able and willing to defend themselves and taking no shit from anybody. Plus I bet you he's a sucker for soft and fluffy textures. They're a luxury he doesn't often get to afford.

Guts doesn't really have a favorite food in most circumstances - but if there's fish to be had, he will gorge himself on it, and nobody is getting in his way. Fish, especially freshwater fish, would likely have been something he ate very rarely prior to the world falling apart; rivers and streams were owned by nobility, and they also owned the fish in them, so trout, greyling and pike were objectively rich people food. Same goes for Venison, which was also rich man's game. Ocean going creatures were usually fair game, but things like Salmon, sharks, and crabs were reserved by those who could afford them. Though I highly doubt Guts would think twice about poaching, especially for fish, provided he was confident about not getting caught.

Guts can be quite shy, in the right circumstances. If he is expected to be naked around strangers (such as a public bath), or to talk to people who are way too interested in him, or be around anyone whose judgement of him matters, he can be painfully shy. Unfortunately, shy and bashful are not the same thing, and his response to that anxiety is the same as if the people around him were hostile - the effect of course being that they do become hostile or wary.

Contrary to the above, however, I feel that at his core, Guts is a Runner, not a fighter- at least when it comes to things he doesnt know how to handle, like emotional conflict. You see him do this mentally with Casca when she confronts him about Griffith - he doesn't physically run away, but the disassociation is kicking in and he reverts to child-like defenses/excuses to try and avoid being in trouble. In other circumstances, I could easily see him choosing to just wash his hands of a difficult situation and walk or run away from it rather than deal - I mean, he basically does this all the time after the eclipse, but even before then - he doesn't even try to reconcile with Griffith, because it was easier to just assume he was right than to confront the man about his feelings.

With that said: Guts well and truly is not a very sympathetic, or even empathetic, person. He is self interested to a degree Griffith only wishes he could be; if it's not in the best interest of himself and his own, then you'd better have a good reason to bug him with it. That isn't to say he can't be compassionate, or go out of his way to help people sometimes, but usually if he does its because he stands to gain something or quiet a discomfort which often has nothing to do with how the other person is feeling and everything to do with himself. He is that way even in the GA, though it becomes much more punctuated post eclipse.

However, he can be quite tender and loving when the person in question is someone he really cares about. He is the guy who would move heaven and earth for someone who meant the world to him, and canon rather proves that. However, being emotionally stunted and socially awkward does mean that even under better skies (AU) he would have difficulty expressing his feelings in appropriate ways.

Speaking of which, there are two possible reasons for that stuntedness - his upbringing is kind of undeniable, but personally I like the idea of him being a high functioning autistic person. He's odd, awkward, and hyper fixated enough. But that's just me. :)

Guts is quite smart, actually - he has a good head for logic and notices patterns in familiar mediums (fighting) quite easily. He doesn't really fit the mold of "ultra intuitive fighter" to me, which says something to his wit. That said, he definitely is more of a numbers guy than a words guy. Math would probably be pretty easy for him, and though his job as a merc miiiight possibly necessitate him knowing several languages, I doubt he could speak most of them fluently. Though I do like to imagine that he grasps the concept of translation better than most people - he isn't remotely attached to his native tongue or peoples, really, since he doesnt entirely possess the latter and the former might not even be a single language, given that he grew up with mercs from all over. For all I know, he may not speak any language completely fluently, just borrowing bits and pieces here and there from everywhere in a bid to be understood. Which, ironically, would make him popular for sorting out civilian conflict since he might recognise something they said.

On that note - Guts is a raider and more to the point of this one, a raiders captain; I won’t go into too much detail about that now, since I’ve got another post in the works explaining that, but to cap: Raiders were not usually good people. Raiding parties were effectively professional terrorists whose job was to use intimidation to pillage and loot, and that, unfortunately, tended to include “lustful spoils”. Now, Guts, having the history he does, probably isn’t too fond of the idea that his men were doing those kinds of things, and if he caught them at it a part of me feels like he might intervene, if the situation seemed intense enough. However, I do not actually believe he would order his men not to do that, and would largely look the other way so long as it wasn’t “in his face” so to speak. This is because he lives in a world where he’s been conditioned exactly like them, if not more so having been raised by mercs, and though he might never personally engage in such activities, the idea of “right of conquest” is still very much alive in his head. Guts lives in a very medieval inspired world, and it was just understood for much of the time and even before that when men came knocking on your door to steal your stuff, they might take a piece of action for themselves “by rights”. What’s more, post eclipse Guts is quite aversive to helping people being assaulted unless they’re, like, actively disturbing his sleep. So the idea of him getting pissed off and fight-or-flighty if he’s near enough to hear or witness the act in the GA? Yeah, I can definitely see that. But going out of his way to be a hero and intervene? There’d have to be some extenuating circumstances for that one. Personal investment in the person counts; for instance if it were Casca being attacked, or heaven forbid even one of his own men, I think he would go off the rails over that. But if it was just some stranger? Eh, probably not.

That’s what I got for now folks. Feel free to comment, disagree, or not, etc. but please keep it civil in the notes, or I’ll turn off comments entirely. This is an opinion piece/ study and is meant to be fun…ish. Thank you for your cooperation.

#berserk #guts #berserk HCs #Guts HCs #I’ve got more but I’m tired

[iratusmus]

😳🫡

*cue Katy Perry LOL*

😳 Hottest Sonic Take?

ok definitely not my hottest sonic take but some things are best left unsaid. regardless uhhh one of them . at least in the realm of scourge fans specifically is that m*ghtourge as a ship SUCKS it SUCKS its HORRIBLE and i cant even begin to bring myself to apologize for it. like i dont feel sorry at all like you take away scourge's tacky sunglasses and you take away the tacky flame and then you make him into a smol uwu bean housewife for some godforsaken reason (namely because you dont understand the character even a little bit like this is top ten fundamental misunderstandings ever of all time) for your bad yaoi. im not even going to call it m/m its YAOI. then you ship him with .... mighty ? mighty, a guy who has 1) Standards 2) absolutely no relation to scourge even a little bit 3) NO DYNAMIC THERE TO EXPLORE. THERES NOTHING INTERESTING HERE. its literally. ok sonourge is onecest (its not like . problematic i guess its just really weird) and i am notably not a fan but at least theres something to EXPLORE. the amount of character assassination you would have to do to get that to work is truly incredible but with m*ghtourge its literally character assassination but for the worlds most boring cardboard box bland instant gratification fanon crappy yaoi GARBAGE. theres NOTHING interesting here and none of these people even want to write a scourge redemption arc anyways they literally just want to make everything he ever did not his fault because a) moebius lead poisoning or something, which weirdly enough does not apply to any of the other moebians except for scourge b) his daddy issues c) his trauma or d) some combination of the above. so basically "he was never evil to begin with he was just really sad and lonely 😌✨" which is literal trash like i dont even know where to begin on this one. look. im a huge fan of redemption arcs but this is neither a redemption nor an arc this is an EXCUSE HEEL-FACE TURN. ITS TRASH. ITS TRASH. OHHHHH ITS JUST GARBAGE i actually have way more i could say on this but i will spare you the rest . this got a little out of hand. oh well

🫡 Coldest Sonic Take?

i dont like surge and kit all that much im SORRYYYYYYYYYY im sorry but its TRUEEEEEEEE. literally they have been redeemed so much in my eyes by the passion for them of my dear mutuals bunnymajo and cartoonrival so we're back to "decidedly neutral" but like . im sorry its not even their fault theyre just .... okay because the thing with me is that when characters who i feel decidedly neutral on get super popular and nobody will ever shut up about how amazing and perfect and poor uwu bean they are ... this is the quickest path to get me to dislike them.

added on top of the fact that they were literally like the entire idw focus for a year AND people (non-archie fans, specifically,) kept . bafflingly. beyond all reason and comprehension. comparing surge to scourge (which i have already ummmm written about my opinions on) it just. im sorry guys 💔 theyre okay. theyre Fine. they just never really clicked with me and then people were super annoying about them and particularly annoying in the direction of archie sonic, a series which i am aggressively defensive over in the face of idw fans 😭

#ask game answers #authorleaandres #THANK YOUUUU also sorry for uh . getting on my soapbox a bit there. well its all true but still

[mirusx]

just a little thought about readers ✨ (it's really just very personal thoughts and experience from some orv audience so everyone can just ignore this im sorry 🥹)

my roman empire is that everyone can read orv but only a few percent of them would actually be able to understand- UNDERSTAND what it means or at least what it's trying to convey to its readers... and I will die on this hill probably upset because why can't everyone be aware of orv's love-filled story? (ofc that's not possible, i'm very painfully aware) or at least, if you're not inclined to its message, don't be so vile towards it and to its readers?

let's just look at what our god, han sooyoung, the creator herself said 😗

"However, it is up to you to decide on what you'll get out of reading the novel. If you only find trash within, then it'll simply end as trash. But if it can impart just a tiny little bit of deeper meaning to you, then that alone will improve this work in your eyes. Again, it is up to you to decide which one it will be. But l'd really like you to choose the option where you get to 'appreciate'your time a little bit better."

that should be enough, if it still isn't then maybe it just wasn't meant to be. (ppl who's just looking for thrill, adrenaline rush, and excitement are all good, they're fine. i know you're out there and sometimes i do also want stories like that. what gets me are the ppl who somehow hates on stories that focus more on their characters' development just because it's 'boring'... even when those stories also have hype, great plot, insane story execution, and great worldbuilding)

I could never stress enough that orv's a love letter to ALL readers and not just to its own, but it would depend on what kind of a reader you are to truly appreciate the love for readers that was poured into it and on what level of depth you'll be able to unravel it. (skin-deep readers proved this to me so unkindly, i think i got ptsd from it and it's bcs of them why I'm even writing about this right now) 

but if you're in the kdj-scale of being a reader, we should probably seek help and not spend our entirety spending in the comfort our own little snowfields. I say this as I comfortably and happily stays in mine by the way

#sighs #i love orv too much it's unhealthy #my reader heart just got violated too much these days and it's aching okay 🫥 #this really just got to me and i needed to slightly vent #this might be very shallow but the takes ive been seeing these past few days prob accumulated 😭 #and now it's just overflowing #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #kim dokja #han sooyoung