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lust4life01 · 29 days

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Too Sweet - David Loki.

Inspired by the song ‘Too Sweet’ by Hozier because I’m obsessed with it!!

Disclaimer: I haven’t seen anyone do this yet but if it has been done please let me know!! ☺️

Pairing; David Loki x f/reader

Warnings!!: brief smut, oral f/recieving, angst-ish, colleagues, alcohol consumption, grumpy x sunshine, mention of crime/murder, knife mentioned, violence, etc.

Summary: David is profoundly attracted to his colleague but tries to stay away due to her sweet nature, which very much juxtaposes his. sulky nature. (key word- tries)

It can't be said I'm an early bird It's ten o'clock before I say a word Baby, I can never tell How do you sleep so well?

7:20 am , the clock read as you walked in. Coffees situated in hand as your pretty summer dress swayed softly.

“Hey Bill! Morning Sandra!” You greeted everyone in the morning with coffee and a smile, it’s was that time between spring and summer where everything was bright and made life feel worth living.

You fixed your eyes on Detective Loki, who had his nose buried amongst some case files and a frustrated grumpy look across his sharp features.

Taking out a black coffee from the holder you trailed over to him. You two weren’t exactly friends but you had a desperate need to be liked by him. Maybe it was because he was always so stern and earning yourself a smile would make you feel like a winner, or maybe it had something to do with the fact you were ridiculously attracted to him? Well, both things can be true simultaneously.

“Detective Loki, coffee?” You smiled down at him whilst extending the cup towards him in hopes he would accept your kind gesture.

Peeling his eyes away from his paper he met your gaze after you said his name.

“Oh, yes. Thank you.” He said in his monotone voice.

He grabbed the cup from your hands, lightly brushing over your fingers but snapped his head back to his paper in a matter of seconds.

There was nothing profoundly interesting on the paper but he didn’t want to engage with you. Just the thought of your company was overwhelming, never mind when you were handing him coffee and saying his name in such a sweet tone of voice. The smell of your perfume, your pretty summer dress and the sweetness that surrounds you would sweep him up in the blink of an eye. You were gorgeous, smart, likeable. You didn’t need to be getting involved with an older bitter man like him.

He did however wonder how you remained the way you are in a job like this. I mean how at seven in the moring are you considerate and nice? He imagined that you slept the way a princess would, other wise it would be a true mystery not even he could solve.

Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

The huge trees howled and peered down at you. Trapping you in as the screeches of crows was the only noise to be heard amongst the dismal scene.

You and Loki had been sent to a barren camp site out in the woods where two suspects had been reported as camping out. Realistically, you shouldn’t have been there, one because you quite literally weren’t suppose to be but had to be because Loki’s partner was off sick. And secondly, because most of your colleagues doubted your ability and thought infantilising you came from a place of concern rather than blatant misogyny.

Loki, however, didn’t want you there because the thought of just being alone with just you made him want to place his head in his palms. You had only exchanged a couple words as far as a sentence can go and you clearly liked to talk. He wasn’t so keen. He anticipated the awkwardness from the minute his supervisor had told you to go with him.

The crunching of leaves could be heard as the two of you stalked through the woods.

Loki spoke to you lowly as he kept his eyes on the tree line rather than you “These men are dangerous. You let me get them okay.”

You scoffed lightly which prompted him to turn his head to you, with his same expression he always had.

“Believe it or not, I am a fucking detective too. I have a gun strapped to my waist. I’m not an idiot”

Your sweet personality had been lost recently, which was most likely from the frustration of people assuming because you were nice you had to be weak too, and embarrassingly, because you still felt as though Loki was never going to crack. There was something about his cold nature that drew you in. You just wanted him to see you, which felt impossible.

You’re hostile attitude shocked Loki, it was quite attractive the way you stood your ground when he was so accustom to your soft spoken self. He raised his hands slightly as he apologised “Okay, sorry. You're right.”

You both continued to walk in silenced until you could see a campsite through the trees. There was a tent, a blazing bonfire, and some belongings scattered about. Loki protectively stood in front of you as you both spotted a man sat on a log, one which looked exactly like one of the two suspects.

Loki ran towards the man with his gun drawn and shouted “STAY FUCKING STILL!”

You followed behind quickly as Loki wrestled the man to the ground and cuffed him. Even if you were wrapped up in hostility you couldn't help but admit to yourslef that it was one of the hottest scenes you'd ever witnessed.

“Think you can run from me mother fucker.” Loki grunted as the man tried to wriggle his way out of the cuffs.

As Loki was taking care of the sicko criminal on the floor you heard movement from the tent. A man quickly appeared holding a knife but he tried to run from you rather than at you. You chased after him and trapped his foot, sending him flying to the floor, the knife flying from his hand and landing in a brush. Loki had noticed this and leapt up to come and help but you already cuffed the shouting man.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH! I’LL KILL YOU LIKE I KILLED THOSE OTHER WHORES!”

Back up had turned up shortly after to come and collect the two men. You stood by the bonfire and watched as the men were shoved into vans. A feeling of adrenaline consuming you as well as a deep sadness for the women who weren't saved from the foul men.

Loki slowly approached you scanning over your drained features as he stepped closer to you.

“Good job today (y,n).” It was blunt and pretty vague but honestly gaining validation from your older attractive colleague was rewarding and his presents dragged you from your depressing thoughts.

You smiled at him, your face illuminated by the orange flames as the sun started to set. He stared back at you whilst trying to decide if he should say what he wanted to. Fuck it.

“You look like you could use a drink. I’m gonna grab one, you wanna come?” He felt nervous, like he was twelve years old asking out the pretty popular girl to be his date to some cheesy dance. It was purley out of compassion and a need for a drinking buddy he told himself, not because he wanted to spend more of the day with you or anything.

The tiredness in your eyes remained but your lips did form into a smirk “I’d like that a lot, Loki.”

The smell of smoke from the bonfire filled the air before you, as he couldn’t help but stare at the reflection of the flames in your eyes, getting lost in your haze.

He snapped out of his admiration and suggested you guys take his car.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat

The sultry music that played in the background of the barren bar was drowned out by the sound of Loki's glass hitting the bar again, only the smell of whiskey left in the glass. After that day, Loki decided he needed a drink and had reluctantly invited you to come along which was his weird way of forming somewhat of a relationship with you. You absolutely did come along because the thought of the two men you and Loki had caught made you want to drink until a single thought couldn't grace your thoughts. And you felt comfortable with him. It wasn’t some sleazy type of invitation for drinks but more a mutual feeling of despair that could be lifting with the taste of alcohol.

Loki had order whiskey, neat of course, which made so much sense. You however had far one too many vodka and cherry cola’s.

At first Loki admired your ability to somewhat keep up with him, until he realised maybe that wasn’t the case, which he realised when you started to drunkenly cry about how you felt like your boss hated you and everone thought you were weak. Loki knew this was drunk nonsense because nobody could hate you, you‘re too sweet.

“Hey hey come on now, he doesn’t hate you. How could anybody hate you? And nobody thinks you're weak, especially not me.” He tried to calm your drunk ass down and started to think maybe asking you for a drink was not a good idea. That compassion he felt for you did scare him a little though.

He had tried to distance himself from you, but it seemed he couldn’t. Every assignment, there you were. It was impossible to remain distance or blunt around you. Even if he was admittedly a bit of a dick to everyone else he realised after being in your presence continuously that you were now almost friends? In a way?

Loki wasn’t drunk, sure he had drunk but he wasn’t drunk. He walked you to his car and helped you into the front seat. I mean what’s a detective without a little criminal activity, and he was still perfectly fine to drive. You on the other hand was not fine and there was no way Loki was letting you get into a cab on your own , not in this state.

Once driving you had gone quiet from your intoxicated rambling that had entertained Loki as he practically carried you to the car.

“Hey (y,n) what’s your address so I can take you home.”

There was no answer.

Loki peered over and you were sound asleep. Of course you were. He grabbed his phone from his pocket so he could call a colleague to find out where you lived but of course it had died.

He looked over at you and felt an odd feeling in his chest. He let out a huff and made a U turn.

My coffee black and my bed at three

He had helped you into his apartment and made a bed up on the couch for himself. But before that he had fixed you both some coffee in order to help you sober up a little. His was black o. He gave you some toast and your sweetened coffee as you thanked him mercilessly. He was glad you were at least conscious now.

“That’s already. Do you want me to take you home, or you can stay here? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

It was pretty late and he had felt an odd shift towards you from the hours before. Your vunreblity you inviited him to see had eradicated the strange tension you two seemed to possess previously. You felt comfortable with him, so he felt comfortable around you.

Despite your intoxicated state, you could recognise the serenity in his voice, probably being the nicest he’s ever spoken to anyone ever.

You shook your head slightly as you eyes fluttered “David you don’t have to do that, I’ll sleep on the couch. ”

The thought of another car ride did make you want to vomit, and you trusted Loki so there was no harm in staying.

The use of his first name threw him off a bit but he was insistent that you took the bed whilst also briefly apologising for his lack female comfortable clothing. He set out some briefs and a t shirt, that was nowhere close to fitting you, onto the bed.

You slipped them on a thanked him one more time before settling in to his bed. The alcohol in your system left a feeling of guilt upon your conscionous as the smell of him hit you from his pillows. However, after a couple minutes with your head touching his pillows you were fast asleep.

You're too sweet for me

The next morning had arrived and Loki started to get up for work, when he remembered you were sleeping soundly in his bed. He quietly got himself together and left you a note on the bedside table which read;

Gone to work, I’ll let them know you're sick. Help yourself to anything and the keys are on the kitchen counter.

Accompanied with the note was a glass of water and a some aspirin to help with the hangover. He stared down at your face, you looked so pretty. God you were too perfect, far too kind and compassionate to be with the likes of him. He covered the duvet over you before he left and made sure to take a final glance at you before leaving.

After waking up from a pleasant sleep to a not so pleasant headache, you were quickly snapped out of your self pity after realising you were in your colleagues bed. Your colleague who you had been trying to impress forever.

You shortly remembered why that was and the hangxiety demons grabbed ahold of you. You shoved your face into his pillows as you cursed yourself for getting in such a state. God, he probably thought you were ridiculous, a stupid child who couldn’t handle their alcohol. Great.

Then the panic of work hit you, fuck were you late? Where was Loki? What was the fucking time? Your eyes scanned for an indication when they laid upon his note. You let out a sigh of relief after reading that Loki was going to cover your ass. You took the pills, made his bed, changed back into your clothes and called yourself a cab home.

You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate

Once you had gotten home you left Loki a message to thank him for his kindness, not only through letting you stay at his house but also for covering your ass at home. The thought of inconveniencing others made you want to die.

Loki's kindness left you with this debilitating feeling in your chest, you two had becomes somewhat friends but the overwhelming attraction you felt to him only became magnified when he provided you with his security last night.

You felt absolutely disgusting with the hangxiety seeping through your soul, your clothes from yesterday, and the fact you hadn’t showered since yesterday morning.

The sound of the shower blasting accompanied with your favourite playlist playing made you feel calmer and cleaner already. You jumped into the shower and decided you had to see Loki. You had to thank him in person. Something about knowing you slept in his bed last night and you haven’t seen him since just didn’t feel right.

If you were seeing Loki, it had to be an everything shower. You had to look and feel perfect. As you massaged your sweet smelling shampoo into your scalp your mind imagined walking up to his door and kissing him. God, the thought made your heart ache and yearn for it to be reality, but you highly doubted he felt the same. I mean it was Loki.

Once every inch of your body smelt, felt and looked divine you admired yourself in the mirror. Your makeup looked stunning but not overbearing, your hair looked like you had just come out of a Victorian secret catalog and you smelt gorgeous.

You quickly checked your phone and saw Loki had replied, meaning he was probably home from work by now. You opened up the message which read;

‘Thats okay (y,n), no need to thank me. Did you get home alright?’

God why did he care so much? Why did it make you want him more, and why did he have to be a colleague? Without even replying to the text you rushed to your car and made your way over to his. Admittedly, you did have one of your friends from the IT department tell you where he lived a little while back. It wasn’t creep or stalking, you’re a detective okay? That makes it fine, I suppose.

Once you arrived and was stood outside his door your heart started to pound. You took a deep breath and gently knocked on his door.

The minutes in which it took him to open the door immediately made you want to run away. But you didn’t. You stayed and stared at the door.

Finally when it opened you saw Loki standing in the doorway, uniform still on and was that a smile plastered on his face?

“Oh hello (y,n).” He said sounding pleasantly shocked to see you. Then he subtly looked you up and down. Fuck you looked so pretty.

You stared for a minute, wide eyed. “Hey, so um-, I just like, wanted to say thanks. Again.” You could feel your cheeks blush from being so self aware.

You could feel his low brow stare as you talked, making you feel even more nervous. You had talked to criminals that had committed heinous crimes but somehow this was far more nerve racking.

He stepped a little closer to you, looking down. “You didn't need to say it again, I told you it’s my pleasure.”

Without saying anything you stood staring into his eyes.

“Well yeah, I just came by to express how thankful I really am.”

He smirked and then brushed a piece of hair behind your ear with his large hand, a small piece of his own hair falling as he leaned forward. God you were so sweet, but he could tell you weren’t here because of that.

Cupping your jaw he gently connected his lips to yours. You gasped quietly making Loki retreat instantly.

“Fuck. I’m sorry I-“

Before he had time to continue you smashed your lips together again, humming into the kiss. It became heated and as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, feeling as though he had reached heavens gate.

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

You tried to catch your breath as Loki's lips attacked yours mercilessly as you both made your way to his bedroom whilst crashing into every surface on the way.

The base of your back hit the wall as his hands started to undress you in between the hard kisses. “You’re so fucking pretty. Wanted you for so long.”

You could only moan in response as the feeling of his hands hugged your skin and his teeth grazed your neck.

Once he had gotten you in just your lingerie set, which he noticed immediately, he grabbed the backs of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Pulling his hair you whined as he carried you to the bedroom. You were so desperate for him, it was insane.

Placing you down on to the end of the bed, he stood before you. You immediately crawled to your knees, and reached for the hem of his long fitted black shirt. He smiled and reached his big hand around your back and un clasped your bra as his other hand stroked your hair. You bit your lip in anticipation as the shirt slipped over his head, leaving him shirtless with nothing but his work pants on in front you you. You admired his god like torso, covered in tattoos.

You whispered a quiet “fuck” and kissed down his snail trail.

Loki groaned as you reached closer down his torso and gripped your jaw, bending down and kissing you hard once again.

“Lie back for me princess.”

Immediately you did as you were told and Loki quickly followed on top of you. One hand firmly gripped your waist hard enough to bruise, whilst the other held your right wrist again the bed. He kissed your sweet collar bones and made his way down to your nipples. He licked and kissed them as your chest heaved.

“Loki, please. I need you to bad.”

An amused grin spread across his face as blood rushed to his already hard cock. He dipped two large fingers into your underwear and they were immediate soaked by your desperation.

“Not as innocent as you seem, are you baby? Mhm?” He hummed.

You shook your head as you tried to not cry out from your needy incoherent state.

He brought his fingers to your lips and you wrapped your swollen lips around them and moaned.

Seconds later he was tearing off your panties and connecting his wet tongue to your pulsating cunt as he praised you through your moans.

“Taste just as sweet as you seem though. Taste and look so fucking good for me baby.”

He sucked on your clit as if it were a divine exotic fruit, almost as sweet as a grape turned into a majestic wine falling from an enchanted waterfall.

You thread your fingers through his hair and whimpered hysterically “Loki! Fuck!”

You're too sweet for me

The summer breeze trailed in through the open window as your head rested upon Lokis bare chest. You both laid there as you played with his big tattooed fingers and he took in the smell of your shampoo that he so secretly loved.

You started to talk his ear off mercilessly and he simply just listened. Taking in all of your words as if they were the most important words to ever be spoken. He nodded and hummed as he admired you. Your skin glowing. He had to admit to himself your sweet charming personality had caught him in a choke hold. There was an element of purity and sunshine that you brought to his sulky self, he was well and truly fucked. You're too sweet.

(Ugh im so obsessed with this song and it is soooo David Loki.)

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal smut #david loki fanfiction #david loki x reader #david loki smut #too sweet #hozier #prisonersmovie

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dem0nic-darling · 9 months

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Interesting Solution (Keigo x AFABReader) 18+

18+ CONTENT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning- Unprotected sex, filmed sex, praise, dirty talk, creampie, rough sex, squirting

Synopsis: After a video of you and Hawks having sex is leaked Keigo decides that the best way to respond is to make and post a video yourselves.

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You took a deep breath to calm your nerves as you checked your appearance in the mirror, admiring the way the lacy red lingerie hugged your curves so perfectly.

When Keigo had first proposed the idea to film and upload a porn video of the two of you, you had thought the stress from the scandal had finally gotten to him. The two of you had spent the past several days avoiding going out into public after someone had somehow gotten footage of the two of your having sex in his office and uploaded it to several porn sites. The Commission had gotten it taken down as soon as they learned about it, the problem was every time it was got taken down it would immediately be re-uploaded and the user who uploaded it was untraceable. It was certainly not the way you had wanted your relationship with Keigo to be made public.

The original video was leaked for the sole purpose of humiliating the both of you, so here you and Keigo were proving their failure by filming a video of your own. Despite Keigo's constant reassurance you were still a bit nervous about the repercussions, which led you to fighting against anxiety and insecurities in the bathroom.

"You doing ok in there, pretty bird?" Keigo asked through the door, with a small knock to announce he was coming in. He whistled at your appearance, admiring the way the lingerie complimented your body. "Damn you look sexy~" He said, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

"You ready?" The look of hesitation the flashed across your face had him tilting your head back to meet his gaze. "We don't have to do this, you know?" His concern and tenderness allowed you to shake away your worries. "I'm fine, I'm just a little nervous is all." He raised his eyebrow. "You sure?" You gave him a soft smile and kissed his chin, the stubble tickling your lips. "I'm sure, besides I'd hate to be the one to ruin this cocky bastard image you've created for yourself." Keigo laughed and scooped you into his arms, carrying you over to your shared bed. "The world wouldn't be able to cope with such a tragedy." He cut off your laugh with a passionate kiss, pinning your body to the bed.

After a few minutes of the kiss, which left your lips bruised, Keigo finally pulled away to give the both of you a chance to breath. "You do realize we're not filming yet?" You teased, earning a smirk and quick peck from him. "I'll let you have that one for free since you dressed up all pretty for me." You rolled your eyes with a huff, your eyes trailing over every camera in the room. "It's just so we can get several different angles, though I'm sure you'll look sexy in every one of them." He said, ignoring your questioning gaze. "I think you're a little too prepared for someone who just came up with the idea yesterday." Keigo's feathers briefly flittered at your statement, something he instinctually did whenever he was nervous.

"Whatever, just turn the cameras on so we can fuck already." You whined, too horny to care about the details. "So needy" Keigo laughed, crawling over you and activating the camera's with a remote. Keigo immediately captured your lips in another passionate kiss, flipping the two of you over so you were the one on top.

Pushing your thong to the side he rubbed his fingers between your pussy lips. "Such a wet pussy, so ready to ride my dick~" Keigo delivered a light slap to ass, his cock twitching at the way the fat jiggled against the palm of his hand. "Take these off for me." He demanded, tugging at the thong and unclipping the bra. He watched with lust clouded eyes as you removed the lingerie, eagerly shoving down his boxers to release his throbbing cock as you did. "Fuck look at you sexy girl, ready for me to impale you on this thick cock?~" You responded with a shy nod only to receive a rough slap on your bare ass. "Answer me properly, do you want me to stuff that tight cunt?" You whimpered, biting back the embarrassment. "Please Hawks~ I need your cock so bad, please fill up my slutty pussy and pump it full with your cum~" Keigo groaned, pulling your hips to hover over his meaty raw cock. "That's it sexy girl, take this fat cock like the slut you are!" You shrieked as he forced you down onto his entire girthy shaft, filling you just like you had begged for. He grunted at the way your pussy swallowed his inches, the plush walls wrapping snugly around his sizable dick.

After taking a brief moment to let you adjust to considerable size Keigo started to buck into you with powerful and aggressive thrusts. "Fuck, I love this tight cunt, god it milks my cock perfectly-Oh fuck!" You began to bounce on his cock, meeting his harsh thrusts that hammered at your cervix and stimulated all the sweet spots that left you seeing stars.

Keigo began to massage your sensitive nub, hissing as you dragged your nails down his chest because of the unexpected extra stimulation. "God, baby bird, the way your pussy is devouring my cock is driving me insane-shit!" Your pussy fluttered around his cock, at the feeling of him lightly pinching your clit. "Haw... ah Hawwkkss...plea..pleaasseee ahh~" You were teetering on the edge of your climax, ecstasy just barely out of reach. "Does my slutty girl need to cum?" Keigo teased, pulling his thumb away from your swollen nub. Your eyes watered from the loss of the stimulation, desperate for release. "Don't cry baby bird, I'll give you what you need."

He used one of his feathers to stroke your clit, pulling and squeezing your perky nipples between his rough fingers. You tossed your head back at the sensation, your eyes rolling back into your skull as pleasure raked over your body. "That's it pretty bird squirt all over this cock~" Your body shuddered in ecstasy as your fluids coated Keigo's abs. "Oh fuck, that's it sexy...shit I'm gonna stuff this cunt so good~"

His harsh pace turned animalistic, rutting into you frantically, overtaken with the need to flood your tight pussy with his seed. In your fucked out state, still panting and recovering from orgasm, you grabbed onto his wings for purchase. Keigo let out a string of groans, tightly gripping onto your hips as he held you down on his twitching cock, the bulbous head pressing into your bruised and sore cervix while his strong grip prevented you from moving away. He nuzzled into you neck as he emptied his heavy load inside you, letting out a chirp of satisfaction at the way your greedy pussy swallowed his cum. "Shit pretty bird, take that cum...oh fuck that wombs just stuffed with my seed ain't she? Shiiittt!~" With one final shallow thrust he pulled his softening cock out of your sensitive pussy, stuffing the creamy cum the dribbled from it back in with his fingers.

Tired and cock drunk you collapsed on his chest, watching him fumble for the camera's remote through hooded eyes. He rubbed your back and captured your lips in a sloppy and passionate kiss.

After coming down from his high he walked over to the bathroom and filled the tub with water, pouring in some of your favorite bath salts. After the bath was ready he carried your sweaty and worn out body over to it and gently laid you inside with a kiss to your forehead and the back of your hand. "You relax pretty bird, I'll take care of the rest." You hummed in response, sinking into the warm water and inhaling the scent of the bath salts. Keigo smiled before returning to the bedroom and pulling out his computer.

By the time your had finished your bath and walked out wrapped in a fluffy towel he had already edited the video and uploaded it to several porn sites and was now replacing the sheets and blankets for the bed. You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek as thanks and slipped on a pair of panties, throwing one of Keigo's shirts over your head before joining him in the freshly made bed. "You enjoy your bath pretty bird?" You hummed, snuggling into his bare chest while he wrapped a muscled arm around your body. Thinking of a way to convince you to do more videos in the future.

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Dabi desperately fisted his cock to the video Hawks had uploaded titled 'Enjoy The Show Bastards. When he had leaked a video of you and Hawks fucking he had no idea this would be the outcome, but he certainly wasn't complaining. He may not have succeeded in humiliating you and Hawks, but at least he got some new fap material out of it. He was tempted to release another porn video of the two of you in hopes it would have the same erotic results.

#+18 content #fanfiction #no minors allowed #reader insert #smut #minors do not interact #bnha #mha #bnha hawks #hawks #mha hawks #hawks x reader #keigo takami #takami keigo #hawks smut #keigo x reader

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qsycomplainsalot · 1 year

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Re: Pervertin or how German Supersoldiers High on Crack travelled through Space and Time Buy my Book

I came across a post on the bird site yesterday calling into attention the use of pervitin, more or less adderall, among German troops during WW2. For context pervitin tablets were indeed issued to a lot of military personnel back in those days, specifically to aircraft pilot and sometimes tank crews on long missions. The drug as some of you may have heard keeps you awake and alert, along with a slew of side effects and a non negligible chance of addiction. In a discussion that brought to view just how willing people are to buy into Nazi propaganda in the year of our f*cking lord 2023, I pointed out a few things, uphill and having to indulge a lot of sidetracking. The use of pervitin has always been a little overstated ever since it came to the internet's attention, and I certainly would never call it a key component of the Blitzkrieg when, in the theaters of war where actual Blitzkrieg was employed, its success was more due to a combination of innovative doctrines, intact fuel supplies and a big fat helping of dumb luck. It was a bold move highly relying on capturing enemy fuel depots with fast, surprise deep strikes supported by a lot of armored and air forces, and it was only sustainable in neighboring, industrialized countries. One can argue if the USSR was industrialized at the time, but it stopped mattering when the Russians removed their entire industry from the West to beyond the Ural mountains. The Blitz stalled there.

"But if it didn't work, then why did the Nazis do it so often ?" Well the answer to that is twofold. The first, longer answer is that Nazis were a bunch of f*cking morons. Maybe not one by one, but as a government in charge of military procurement, they were one bunch of goofy motherf*ckers. Gaggle of functional shit-for-brains really. The Nazis gave every one of their tanks in the middle of the war two coats of anti-magnetic paint, which took almost a full day to cure, despite being the only major nation to use magnetic antitank mines. The Nazis kept using slave labor drawn from their prisoners of war, including in the manufacturing of their overengineered armored vehicles, resulting in poor quality products or, you know, a few rivets in your magnificent Tiger tank being replaced by a cigarette butt. The Nazis spent more than half the cost of a strategic bomber on every V2 rocket, not including design costs, for less than half the payload. It ended up killing more Germans and slave workers than British people in London, for literally no strategic or tactical result with 0.4 person killed per every rocket. The second, shorter answer is that pervitin was not used that much. A lot of the arguments trying to boost its importance come from a single book, "Blitzed" by Norman Ohler, now available in twenty languages apparently, where grand claims are made by a historian who was probably more than a little tired of seeing Buzzfeed rack in the big bucks instead of him.

End note; I was called out by a bird siter after the conversation that inspired this post for even beginning to fact-check this, which they considered, and I quote, "fangirling over nazi stats". I cannot stress this enough, learning the 'bad' parts of history does not make you bad person, it is how you interact with the resulting knowledge. Unlike what they implied, I had to look for those supporting evidence. I had a hunch that such a grabbing headline about super-drugs would be fake, I knew offhand that V2 rockets killed more blues than reds, but when I had to research all that jazz about Nazis and their superweapons it was to dunk on them, not make another History Channel documentary about a time-travelling bell. Stay critical, fascists can eat shit.

#history #ww2 #rambling #rant

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charmandabear · 5 months

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Out of the (Coat) Closet

Summary

Wyll's coronation is boring, so Astarion and Rosalind look for somewhere more interesting.

Pairing: Astarion/nb!Tav

Rating: E

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags/Warnings: PwP, post-game, drunk sex, chubby Tav, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, body worship, blood drinking, named Tav

I owe my life to @zipzoomzaria for the incredible screenshot in the banner. Go follow her yesterday. I really wanted more fics with explicitly chubby Tavs! Hence this was born. I also don't see a ton of nb!Tavs, so two birds and all that.

Part 1 | Part 2 ~ Read on AO3

Rosalind shifted in their chair uncomfortably. This was maybe the third? fourth? stuffy speech of the evening. They were happy to support Wyll in his coronation as grand duke, but anyone would have a limit to how many old politicians they can listen to drone on in an evening. The ceremony itself was blessedly short and so Rosalind thought that they all could unwind and properly celebrate at the dinner afterward. But not only was Wyll not able to sit with them, dinner apparently wasn’t being served until after the speeches. Which means Rosalind was on maybe their third or fourth glass of champagne (they started timing it with the speeches halfway through the second) and had barely a bite to eat.

Rosalind glanced around at their companions, studying the rest of their reactions. Karlach and Gale were both absolutely rapt, though almost certainly for different reasons. Karlach’s eyes swam with pride for Wyll, occasionally dabbing them with a dainty white handkerchief before tucking it back into the plunging neckline of her stunning black dress. Gale, on the other hand, was hanging onto every word of the man older than Withers currently giving a speech. Trying to extract any knowledge he somehow didn’t already have from this living fossil.

Rosalind’s eyes slipped to Lae’zel and Shadowheart, sharing a quiet moment of intimacy. Shadowheart was tracing something onto her partner’s palm, and Lae’zel was watching along with eyes as wide as saucers. Rosalind loved seeing Lae’zel drop her guard like this, and Shadowheart always brought out the best in her. Shadowheart’s silver locks were styled in a chunky braid resting on her shoulder, little rings and jewels making it sparkle in the low light. Her satiny steel blue dress hung off her figure beautifully, and it contrasted with Lae’zel’s purple and burgundy dress that nearly resembled armor. A swirling silver neckline adorned with a scarlet stone came up high on Lae’zel’s neck and spilled out across her shoulders, making the shimmery violet fabric hanging from it seem delicate in comparison.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart pressed their foreheads together, and it was clear to Rosalind that they were in their own little realm.

Jaheira and Halsin were surreptitiously passing notes to one another while trying to maintain the respectable facade that they were paying attention. Rosalind knew by the way their faces were contorting that they were each trying to make the other break. They couldn’t tell which of the two druids was closer to winning, as the silk leaves adorning both of their formalwear were shaking with their suppressed laughter. Minsc, on the other hand, stared out into space, not a single thought going through that man’s head. Rosalind briefly wondered if he had learned to communicate with Boo telepathically, because they briefly heard small squeaks coming from beneath his fine leather tunic.

And then there was Astarion. Gods, Rosalind could hardly stand the sight of him, he looked so good. His midnight black tunic made of velvet and silk with gold embroidery down the front hugged his lithe chest perfectly. The high collar came up just enough for his scar to peek over the top, a scar which Rosalind had pressed many beautiful, desperate, sad kisses to. The site of his first trauma, they wanted to reclaim it for their own and turn it into a source of love and lust rather than angst and terror. He was unconsciously twirling a steak knife in his fingers and Rosalind just stared at the blade deftly moving across his knuckles. Their throat went dry as they remembered the last time they were this focused on his fingers, and Astarion’s eyes snapped up to meet with theirs. Can he read their thoughts? No, Rosalind mused, more likely their pulse quickened at the memory and he could hear the change in heartbeat. They hated that they telegraphed their lust that loudly for him. Astarion smirked mischievously.

He dropped the knife and moved his hand into his lap before sneakily reaching under the table to touch Rosalind’s leg through the thigh-high slit in their emerald green velvet dress. His touch was cold and sent a shiver up their spine. He slid his hand a little higher, playing the dirty schoolyard version of the game that still occupied Jaheira and Halsin, trying to make Rosalind break. They were completely fine at maintaining their cool until Astarion dug his fingernails into the thick flesh of their thigh. They shot him a dirty look, one that he responded to with a devilish grin that flashed just a hint of fang.

He abruptly pulled his hand away and stood, smoothing out the front of his tunic. It was clear that none of their companions paid any attention to either of them, but nevertheless he smoothly whispered in Rosalind’s ear, “Meet me in five,” his lips barely brushing the pointed tip as he moved away. He then grabbed a bottle of Baldur’s grape from the table and sauntered out of the grand hall. Rosalind squirmed in their chair again, uncomfortable for a completely new reason. They clamped their legs together tightly, trying to relieve a tiny bit of the pressure beginning to mount. They stared into space in the general direction of Elminster’s great-grandfather, counting the seconds as they ticked by.

When enough time had passed that Rosalind felt secure as to not rouse significant suspicion, they stood and quietly excused themself to no one in particular. They walked with lightly shaking legs towards where Astarion had disappeared. They exited the hall, scanning the lobby for any sign of him, when a Dragonborn that couldn’t have been more than sixteen waved them down. Slightly confused and more than a little impatient, they walked over to the teen who was all too happy to distract them from their mission. As they approached, however, Rosalind saw the telltale signs of being charmed in the boy’s eye. Astarion had become an absolute menace since learning a handful of bard spells.

“Excuse me, saer, but the dashing young man is waiting for you over there,” he gestured behind him into the room where everyone had stored their cloaks and wraps to protect them from the harsh winter wind outside. “I have very important business to take care of over there,” he added and pointed to the opposite side of the lobby. Then, without another word, the boy walked in the direction of his finger and didn’t stop until he was standing a few inches away from the far wall. Rosalind rolled their eyes and dipped into the room behind the boy’s now abandoned post.

Astarion was slouched against the wall with his collar undone and elbow resting on one bent knee. In that hand he held the bottle of wine, which sloshed a bit more than it had when he had first removed it from the table. He looked up at Rosalind with dark pupils blown wide from drunkenness and lust. They snatched the bottle from his hand and took a swig. The fine wine was smooth and rich, just the right balance of dry and sweet. Astarion held his hand out for the bottle back, but instead Rosalind grabbed it and pulled him to his feet. He swayed just a tiny bit and they could tell he was only a little tipsy; it took quite a bit for him to get sloppy drunk, and usually neither of them wanted to do anything when that happened, rare as it was.

Astarion smirked at Rosalind’s cheekiness and responded by pulling them into him, their belly squishing softly against his lean abs. He grasped at their lower back, fingers splaying into the mesh that covered their midriff. The two of them thumped softly against the wall of the small room, cutting between two fur stoles that tickled Rosalind’s bare arms. Astarion kissed them roughly, twisting one hand into their fuchsia locks, eliciting a small gasp. He used their momentary distraction to steal the bottle back and take a mouthful of the dark red liquid. It was already starting to stain his pretty mouth, and Rosalind ran a thumb over his lower lip. He dipped his chin and took their thumb into his mouth fully, sucking on it lasciviously. They moaned quietly at the sensation of his tongue working against the underside of their finger, his crimson eyes piercing theirs as he did so. They pressed their hip against his growing erection, earning a similar noise in turn.

Astarion pushed against Rosalind enough to escape from between them and the wall, and placed the bottle on the floor in the doorway. “No use in wasting perfectly good wine,” he said in a low tone, before slamming Rosalind back up against the wall, locking their wrists above their head. They whined and squirmed beneath him as he devoured their lips, the heady scent of his cologne making them dizzy. He took his other hand, the one not currently imprisoning their wrists so cruelly, and stroked the velvet sweetheart neckline of their dress, taking time to brush his thumb over where he knew their nipple was. Another embarassing sound escaped their lips and Astarion smiled against them wickedly.

“You make the most delicious noises,” he murmured into the kiss, “but we want to make sure we don’t alert the boy outside, he might eventually tire of staring at the wall.” He clearly had no intention of keeping them quiet, however, because he took that moment to slip a finger below their neckline, finding that sensitive tip hardening for him. Rosalind moaned in a higher pitch, their chest heaving as they sucked in a sharp breath. He took his hand trapping their wrists and clamped it over their mouth as he flicked their nipple with his forefinger. Their hips bucked against him, the moan coming out more muffled this time. He responded with an impish smile, clearly enjoying his torture of them.

He moved his lips to their ample breasts, kissing and licking along their cleavage. Their hands now free, they laced their fingers through his silvery curls, simultaneously trying to pull him away and push him into their tits more. He pulled down on the neckline of their dress, releasing the previously teased nipple, perky and eager for more. He slid it into his mouth, swiping his tongue back and forth over the tip. Rosalind melted into the wall and tore their eyes away from his ministrations. They dug their nails into his scalp, a simultaneous plea to stop and keep going. He pulled away from their nipple and brought his lips back up to their ear.

“I do so love hearing your stifled moans,” he breathes, “and I wonder what kind of sound you’ll make when I do this?” He uses his free hand to hike up the skirt of their dress just enough to slide a finger past their panties, pressing into their slick folds. Like a trained pet, Rosalind whimpered against Astarion’s left hand while grinding into his right.

“Gods, you’re wet,” Astarion said in a low groan, and Rosalind could feel his erection pressing against their thigh. Desperate to regain some control of the situation, they slid their hand from the back of his neck down to the growing bulge, relishing in the stuttering breath they elicited from him.

“Cheeky pup,” he hissed into their ear. He nipped the lobe lightly, sending a jolt of lightning through their entire body. “Wait ‘til I’m through with you, you’ll be begging for me to let you come.” He dropped to his knees, migrating his hands to clutching around Rosalind’s ass, and they let out a shaky breath. They knew they looked a mess, cheeks flushed from drink and lust, pink hair torn from its elegant updo and tumbling around their shoulders. They looked down at Astarion, astounded that he was able to appear as collected as he does, save a few beads of sweat beginning to form at his brow. They longed to make him look disheveled as they did.

He pulled them towards him and pressed filthy kisses to the black mesh at their midriff, receiving a strangled noise in return. While slathering their soft belly in kisses and tantalizingly gentle bites, his left hand resumed its station between their legs, pushing aside their now soaked underwear to stroke their labia. Rosalind groaned at the light touch, aching for something more substantial.

He trailed his lips down the velvet dress while continuing to tease their opening with his fingertips. They writhed in place, chasing an ounce of relief from his touch, but he seemed to anticipate every move they tried to make. He reached his target, grabbing their panties between his teeth and, looking up at them with a salacious grin, pulled the fabric down their legs. He nudged their left leg up, freeing the underwear to sit undignified on their right ankle, and rested their left knee onto his shoulder. He turned his face into their thigh, inhaling their scent deeply.

“Ah-Astarion,” they stuttered as his lips ghosted over the sensitive flesh of their inner thigh.

“Hm?” he sounded without looking at them, infuriatingly calm while they were being reduced to a puddle.

“Please,” they whined, sliding their fingers back into his windswept locks, but refraining from guiding his head anywhere specific.

“Please what?” he asked innocently, followed by gently scraping his fangs over their skin, and their moan in response was significantly less tempered. The knee that still supported their weight buckled slightly, but Astarion’s grip kept them upright. He flashed his blood-red eyes up to them and they panted, their hunger for his lips stealing their breath away.

“Bite me if it means you’ll stop being such a fucking tease,” they hissed through gritted teeth, tightening their grip in his hair in sexual frustration. He flashed a bright smile and sunk his fangs into their thigh while simultaneously dipping a finger inside them. Rosalind gasped, worried they might be torn apart by the contrasting sensations, being penetrated by him in more ways than one. They shuddered as their right leg almost fully gave out, leaving barely anything but the wall and Astarion’s shoulder to keep them from collapsing entirely. He sucked down swallows of their blood while working his fingers in and out of them, filling up both of them deliciously.

“Gods, Astarion, fuck,” Rosalind babbled through the overstimulation, the relief of his fingers interweaving with the satisfying ache of his teeth followed by the soothing sensation of his tongue along the wounds. They could feel him getting stronger as he fed on their blood, a rare pink tinge flushing his cheeks. He worked his fingers faster, building up their sounds of pleasure as he drank his fill.

Once he was satiated, he pulled back both his lips and fingers to gaze up at Rosalind, panting from the exertion. He looked a touch more unkept than before, their blood pooling on his lips and dripping down his chin lightly, hair only slightly out of place. Rosalind, on the other hand, was barely keeping themself together.

“Well, I think you’ve suffered enough, don’t you?” he hummed, looking up at their entirely bedraggled appearance. They didn’t even trust themself to speak, they just nodded as a whimper escaped their lips.

“That’s a good pet,” he breathed and dove in to lick a thick stripe up their labia, and Rosalind grasped for purchase on the nearby cloaks, a loud moan tearing itself from their throat. With their leg hanging off his shoulder, he had all the access he needed to properly eat them out. He alternated between dragging his tongue lazily along their folds and teasing flicks of their swollen clit with the tip.

“Astarion, gods, please don’t stop,” they panted, their orgasm slowly starting to build. They rolled their hips against his tongue, trying to refrain from fucking his face and failing miserably. He pushed in deeper with his tongue and their hands went into their own hair, twisting and writhing from the overwhelming feeling.

“Fuck, Astarion, I’m close, keep going,” they babbled, and he took the invitation to maintain a steadier speed as he lapped at their clit. Their moans grew louder and less restrained as they began to reach the crest.

The two of them were so lost in one another that they didn’t even realize when a hulking, muscled figure filled the doorway. Halsin, simply on his way to pick up his cloak, stood frozen in the liminal space, unsure what to do. Rosalind suddenly made eye contact with him and, before they realized what was happening, crashed over the edge with a cry. Astarion, still completely oblivious, continued to suck and kiss their pussy through their throbbing orgasm, cleaning up any last remnants of arousal.

Once Rosalind had resurfaced on the other side of their climax, feelings of horror and embarrassment started to creep in. They quickly pulled their leg off Astarion’s shoulder, hastily shoving a tit back in their dress and trying to smooth out their hair. In the same instant, Astarion whipped around to see their unexpected visitor as Halsin jumped like a startled deer, knocking over the bottle of wine in the process. The blood-red liquid pooled on the carpet as the three elves stared at each other in stunned silence.

Astarion recovered first and got to his feet, delicately wiping Rosalind from his lips. “If you wanted to join, Halsin, you needed only to say something,” he said cooly, but Rosalind could tell he was embarrassed. Halsin coughed, turned away, then turned back with a hazy look in his eyes.

“Well, if you’re looking for a third…”

#astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion smut #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #baldur's gate astarion

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deadvnstudios · 3 months

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Hello! This is for the character question week! I like being outdoorsy, so I would like to ask how would everybody react on a camping adventure?

"...I now understand survival of the fittest…"

Noel is once again reminded he might be the only capable person in this group, and he is forced to constantly take over tasks the others are failing at.

The next morning, Noel takes an "everyone for themselves" attitude in regard to cooking breakfast. He departs from the campsite before dawn and heads to the trails most renowned for bird watching, hoping to find some peace and quiet.

It's right as a rare bird settles in the sites of his binoculars that Mona and Vein appear from behind, their laughs piercing the air and startling the bird away. Noel turns, considering homicide, only to decide there are too many witnesses, when they both slyly suggest he might want to return to camp.

At a breakneck pace, he heads back to camp, arriving at the harrowing sight of flaming mallows being waved around and improperly secured sausages sliding off their roasting sticks and plopping into the fire.

To no one's surprise: he winds up cooking dinner.

"Nature, the finest work to be crafted by the gods! Shall we see what mysteries they've left for us to find…?"

Still dressed entirely in her dark outfits, Mona roasts beneath the sun–but she faces the heat with a dogged determination.

She volunteers to collect firewood, only to disappear for an hour because a unique cluster of mushrooms caught her attention. When she finally returns, she has no firewood, but she does have several pages worth of mushroom sketches.

This surprises no one. In fact, a contingency plan was put in place the minute she volunteered, and she delightfully curls up in front of the fire someone else constructed. There, she shows off her sketches to anyone who glances her way–particularly Sorin.

After this, much of her camping adventure is spent exploring the nearby woods (where, according to Mary, a sacrificial site can be found) and sketching every creature she comes across. In the evening, she eagerly shoves the sketches into Sorin's face in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Did mankind not begin their construction of abodes so we could avoid wallowing in filth…?"

Dripping in sweat and unable to find a clean surface to sit upon, Sorin finds maintaining his princely demeanor difficult while camping.

Having no experience and even less interest in camping, Sorin is… very little help around the campsite, unless you consider staying out of the way helping.

The only joy he seems able to find is standing near the stream's edge, watching small minnows and tadpoles drift along with the current. This joy is doubled when the sun finally sets and the moon's pale light glimmers across the water's surface.

"Really, we came all the way out here to listen to Tempest's whiny-ass songs around a campfire? We get enough of this at home."

Mary prefers to stay with her creature comforts and only agreed to go on this trip because it was a break from the commune's monotony.

She quickly discovers while she hates how needlessly complicated camping is, she greatly enjoys all the opportunities camping presents to spook the other members.

This often takes the form of disappearing at night, only to crack twigs and create odd noises near the tree line. Once everyone has gone to bed for the night, she'll grab a flashlight and create scary shadow creatures on everyone's tents.

"Aw, fuck! Another mosquito just fucking bit me! But, hah, even mosquitoes think I'm tasty. All part of the charm, I guess."

Tempest wants to believe himself a hardened naturalist, and he tells the others as such, but he is really just a stream of annoyed complaints: there's too many bugs, he's getting sunburnt, the stream water tastes funny (Noel: "…you need to boil it first."), the tent instructions don't make any sense… etc, etc, etc.

When he has to dismantle the tent for the third time, he abandons this task completely in a fit of frustration and goes to pout by the stream with Sorin. He is not safe here, either, because immediately, the bugs start gobbling him.

Eventually, he decides he will be the de facto entertainer. He takes up what seems like permanent residence by the firepit where he sings and plays his guitar, confident this will help lighten the mood.

"Nothing cozier than a nice fire and friends! Huh - we can't make a fire? Aha, oh well - nothing cozier than friends and a good game night."

Vein doesn't find much enjoyment in sweating and physical activities, but she does enjoy playing games and having everyone trapped and at her mercy in a single area. She loves hanging out–and this is the perfect excuse to hang out with no distractions.

When no one was looking, Vein loaded up every outdoor game they could find into their vehicle. It's only once things are being unloaded at the campsite that it's discovered Vein removed the group's firestarter in place of… you guessed it: another yard game.

She starts camp set-up by delegating tasks, only to eventually do most of the work alongside Noel.

#fool's paradise #indie games #visual novel #indie game #vn #tempest #vein #mona #ask #anon #noel #mary #sorin

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doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou · 1 year

Text

Slow And Steady

> larissa weems x reader

> warnings: none

> a/n: i do hope this is what you were imagining as you requested!

You could fix a broken bone in your sleep, but you're not sure if you could do the same for a bird. Being the on-site "veterinarian," as everyone called you, you had all different kinds of animals waiting up at your dorm window.

As the owl wriggled free of your grasp, you muttered, "Come one Frank, sit still."

“It hurts, though!” said Frank with an English accent.

“Frank, stop being such a little birdy!” was yelled at the afflicted patient by another bird.

“Come up here, you cowardly swine, and I'll break your wing!”

“Be quiet! When you two fight like long-married lovers, I find it impossible to concentrate! You two don't even belong to the same species!” You said, your eyes glowing a brilliant orange. Your gaze caused Frank and Lia, the other bird, to cower. Your eyes blazing in whatever color must have been a signal for them to stop talking.

You finished Frank's bandage with a huff and placed Frank in a cage next to your bed. “Now, if I hear any fighting between the two of you, I'll set you both free in the wilderness alone.”

“Here comes the animal whisperer!”

You rolled your eyes and didn't pay attention to Morticia's everyday attempts to tease you. Morticia would refer to you by a different name on different mornings. Just like yesterday, despite the fact that it appeared to be directed at them rather than you, you were branded the "outcasts zookeeper." However, you made no mention of the inappropriate use of the words.

“Hello, Zooella!”

The sunshine from your book was suddenly obscured by a shadow.

You sighed as you marked your page and turned to face Morticia. “What is it?”

“How's it going for the birds?”

Morticia's comment caused your eyebrows to rise and your stance to straighten. “How did you learn about Lia and Frank?”

She couldn't possibly care less about them, right? Well maybe this was a change of heart for the raven-haired girl.

Morticia stopped for a brief moment before uncontrollably giggling and slapped the blonde next to her on the arm. “Oh my! You-you gave them names?”

The embarrassment came crashing down on you like a waterfall. Your face turned scarlet, and you bit your lip to contain your tears.

“You can't possibly be so foolish to give your 'pets' names, Y/N.” Larissa, the blonde standing next to Morticia, got in on the fun.

"They're not my pets! They are my friends! You gave the blonde a glare. The concept that the blonde was distinct from her roommate made you feel remorseful. Oh, how you were mistaken.

Morticia patted your head and stood up, Larissa following her every step, "Animals aren't friends, Zooella.”

“Why is the Circe Hall so dim?”

“Morticia finally got Y/N to run away!”

“Y/N left!”

“I heard Y/N died.”

“Where'd you think she went?”

Larissa could hear many explanations for why and how Circe Hall turned dark on Halloween night all around her. Even though you weren't the sole resident of Circe Hall, your roommate had to acknowledge your departure. Thus, having your roommate dim the lights of the hall for a week.

Larissa got the nerve to speak to Crimson, your old roommate, a month after you departed. She was reading your book when she came across her in the quad.

"Crimson, I assume?”

After marking her page, Crimson abruptly closed her book and glared at the blonde. “Yes, what brought you here? And no, Y/N did not pass away, therefore there is no need to offer your sympathies.”

Larissa calmed down with the realization that you weren't dead, despite the brutal manner in which the words were delivered.

"No, I meant to ask you why Y/N actually departed."

Opening her book once again, Crimson replied. “That's for her to know and for us to find out.” With that, Larissa took the hidden message and left the psychic to her own.

“It's been years!” As you entered the hallway, a feathery object hit you in the face.

With a sputter, you pulled the thing aside, only to discover Frank, Lia, and three additional birds hovering over you. “How many times must I remind you against doing that?”

“And how many times have I urged you to return?”

You dusted off your attire and responded while grinning. “Touché, little birdie.”

As you carried on talking, you were unaware that the tall blonde started to observe you as soon as she heard squawking.

She cocked her head, her eyes focused, trying to get a sense of who you were. Larissa gasped after a brief moment. You were there—the person she didn't anticipate seeing but also anticipated seeing.

She sauntered across the room, nodding to both of your batchmates as she came toward you. She didn't hesitate to tap your shoulders to get your attention as soon as she was behind you.

Jumping, you glanced away from your feathered companions and toward the blonde. “Larissa! Great to see you!”

“Likewise, Y/N–” Larissa gave you a smile and looked behind you as well. “and feathery friends of Y/N.”

Lia and the others followed Frank as he flew off after squawking back.

You lifted an eyebrow while chuckling. "Larissa, I thought pets weren't friends.”

Larissa felt her cheeks heat up as she bit her lip. “That was– uhm– that's what I'm here for.”

You leant against the wall with a hand on your hip, beckoning for Larissa to continue.

“I sincerely regret my behavior at the time! If I only knew…”

“If you only knew?” You laughed at her illogical justifications.

“Let me say that again- no, wait! Let me change that; there aren't any justifications for what I did to you to appease Morticia.”

You remained silent for a while, which caused Larissa great anxiety. All she wanted was for you both to start over, like what she wanted back then when you were students at Nevermore.

You gave her a genuine smile. “That's more like it.”

Larissa put her hands on her chest and sighed with relief. You squeezed her arm as you chuckled at her antics.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“But I do have a proposition for you.” She added.

You took two wine glasses off the buffet table and gave her the other one. “May I find out what that is?”

She prayed to all the gods to give her the confidence she needs while she closed her eyes and drank the beverage you gave her.

“Can I take you out on a date?”

"Slow and steady wins the race, Larissa."

see what i did there

#principal weems x reader #larissa weems x reader #wednesday #larrisa weems #principal weems #morticia addams

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ramp-it-up · 1 year

Text

Bucky Charms

Summary: You learn more about Bucky other than the physical. Are you ready to risk it all?

Pairing: Dark CEO! Bucky Barnes x Journalist! Reader

Warnings: As always, 18+ ONLY, SMUT. Minors DNI. ANGST. Fluff. Descriptions of past trauma, kidnapping, death, violence. Steve and Sam, Pining, lust, flirting through music, teasing, karaoke, non con surveillance, oral sex (m recieving) degradation kink alongside praise kink, Sir kink, good girl/bad girl kink, p in v (wrap it up!) lil bit of breeding kink, Soft Dark Bucky.

A/N: This is part of the Playlist Series. Read the previous part, F*cking Bucky @ysmmsy and @blackwidownat2814 are my exquisite muses who created the playlists, with more to come. 😉 Thanks you both! 🥰 please leave feedback, like and reblog. It helps to inspire me. 😊

The playlist is real and is linked here!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

I’ll stop the world and melt with you/you’ve seen the difference/ and it’s getting better all the time/there’s nothing you and I won’t do/I’ll stop the world and melt with you…the future’s open wide…

You listened to that cut over and over until you fell asleep after Bucky left your apartment and woke up with it still on repeat.

You’d certainly melted for James Buchanan Barnes last night, and he melted all over you. You smiled at the window, feeling light and buoyant as air, but then sat up and frowned as you realized what Bucky said.

“Professional.”

He’d suggested that you could both be professional. After last night, you didn’t think you could do it, but you had to try. You moved to get out of bed and realized that you were still sore.

You grinned as you padded to the bathroom and ran another hot bath. You didn’t regret a single thing about the night before.

And you had a feeling that despite what Bucky had said, neither did he.

Bucky was late to work. For him. He walked into the office at 8:45 am.

Steve and Sam shared a look across the shared space, but didn’t say a word. Until Bucky put in his AirPods and started singing Frank Ocean.

A tornado flew around my room before you came/Excuse the mess it made…

“Okay. What the hell is going on?”

Bucky stared up at Sam who was now hovering over his desk and who’s broken through his noise cancellation.

“Hunh?

Steve got up and walked over to Bucky.

“Don’t play dumb with us. You are late, and in an awfully good mood. Singing, Buck? What happened last night, Bucky. Did you get with Y/N?”

Bucky looked up at the two men who were most like brothers in his life. He couldn’t hide anything from them.

“So what if I did get lucky last night?”

Bucky put his long legs up on his desk and leaned back in his ergonomic chair.

“What makes you think it was her? There are 4.3 million women in this city.”

Steve and Sam just stared at him, then Steve spoke again.

“Sure. But there’s only one that you are laser focused on.”

Sam agreed.

“Yeah, you’re like a dog with a bone.”

Bucky’s grin got wider and he just shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

Sam shook his head.

“I’ve heard that before. That means this is serious, because in the old days…”

“We got a blow by blow. Literally.”

“Fuck you Steve. And fuck you Sam.”

Bucky threw up double birds at his friends.

“And step the fuck back from my work space. I’ve got work to do.”

When his business partners had safely retreated, Bucky picked up his phone to text you. He couldn’t not text you the morning after, but he had to be careful.

“See you at 4 o’clock. Looking forward to moving on with this project.”

You read the text, your heart beating a mile a minute when you saw the notification. You took some deep breaths as you walked to the subway station to go into the city. It was pretty straightforward. No subtext to be parsed out.

There was no way to know that you were the project that Bucky was talking about.

Both of you went through your days, listening to the playlist Bucky was building throughout the day. This was not the music to do work to. The songs were cute and flirty, silly, surprising, and in some cases full of emotion that went well beyond a professional relationship.

But it was just music, right?

You two sent songs flying to the playlist throughout the day, flirting with music in place of words, glances, and touch. Etta James, Savage Garden, Monica, The Pogues, Frank Ocean, The Darkness, from the 80’s to last month.

It was a very eclectic mix that seemed to summarize both of your personalities perfectly. On the A train that afternoon, you caught an older woman smiling at you as you cheesed at your phone.

Bucky was becoming more and more active on IG since your interview and he’d posted a photo. It was a close up selfie of him staring off into space at his desk in a dark grey suit with a purple line-patterned tie. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and his blue eyes were dreamy.

This man was posting thirst traps fully clothed. And judging from some of the comments, plenty of people were falling for it. There were over 1200 likes in the 90 minutes it had been up.

You didn’t want to like the picture, but then you read the caption.

No time to relax! Finished a full day of work, looking forward to working on a passion project this afternoon. #Icanseethebluerskieslikemulticoloredflowerfields

You scrolled through the comments, people saying how handsome he was, sending their coochie through the interwebs. You sighed, and liked the picture, and then posted your own comment.

I drifted off the Earth to march in your parade/Colors on me moving slowly

Bucky was waiting for your comment, ignoring all of the thirst replies and hoping that you’d respond. He replied with two perfect words.

Technicolor, girl.

Then came another slew of comments about his response and you started gaining random followers.

Oh lord, you thought, this was going to be a lot.

You decided to get control of yourself before 4 pm. If not, you would fall right into Bucky’s arms as soon as you arrived. And that wouldn't do, would it?

45 minutes later, you stood in front of Bucky Barnes’s brownstone for a minute making sure you had composure. You did a mental check of all your systems.

Heart rate: normal.

Breathing: easy.

Panties: dry.

You were confident that you were in full control and could be professional. You paused and bit your lip as you thought of the night before Bucky had made you feel like no one else had. You shook your head to clear it.

You could do it. You could be strong. He probably wasn’t as attractive as you were making him out to be. After all, it had been a while, you were horny, and now, you were fine.

Your hormones had made him out to be more than he actually was. He wasn’t all that. The dick was only amazing because you’d been sex starved. That was it. He had no control over you.

You stood up straight, your self-talk making you confident, you reached up to knock on the door.

Bucky watched your internal struggle on his laptop. He admired the body that he felt like he knew so well after just one night. Your choice of outfit was modest, but sexy. Blue chambray shirt over slim fit black pants and tank with wedge sandals. You were covered, professional, yet comfortable. There was only one upgrade he would recommend.

His blue chambray shirt. But all in due time.

Bucky studied your countenance and posture as you paused before you attempted to enter. The way you bit your lip made his cock shift, but he willed it down. You looked as if you were confident in your self restraint.

Perfect.

He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt as you knocked, once, twice, three times and when he saw you look around and lick your lips, tentatively reaching for the digital lock on the door was when he went to open it.

Your heart started beating off kilter when your knock went unanswered.

System one down.

You moistened your lips and looked up and down the street. There was no mistaking what he said last night. It was the right time. And the right place. You had the combination to the door, but you remembered what happened the last time you entered. But you screwed your courage and reached for the lock.

The lock drew away from your hand and you moved as if you were falling down Alice’s rabbit hole when Bucky opened the door.

First sensation: the sound of The Internet playing on a sound system behind him and you knew you were in trouble.

Know you wrong/But sho you right/Home alone/For the night…

Second sensation: falling in slow motion into Bucky’s arms as you tried to follow the knob.

“Oh!”

You stumbled forward further into his chest.

“Hey!”

Bucky chuckled as he held you fast. You two stared at each other and you forgot to breathe. Damn, he was as handsome as you thought. Even more so.

System two down.

Bucky inhaled a good whiff of your scent and smiled down at you.

“We have got to stop meeting like this.”

You looked up at him, slightly confused as you attempted to process the next sensations of Bucky’s hands on your body, the smell of him all around you, and that sexy tenor in your ears. And that smile, that face, that mouth. Your serotonin spiked.

Bucky just continued to smile as you remembered yourself. You pulled back and straightened your clothes.

You concentrated hard for system three to stay afloat. But then you looked back up at him. i

Damn. He was beautiful.

“You okay?”

“No.”

Your panties were not as dry as they were. You wanted to climb the man in front of you, your hormones going crazy with flashbacks of the night before.

James Buchanan Barnes had put it down and now you were addicted.

But you couldn’t just flow with that. You were a professional.

“What-”

“I mean… no worries.”

You smiled brightly at him to cover your embarrassment.

“It was my fault, I should have waited–”

“My fault, I should have checked-”

You both spoke at the same time, and then laughed. You loved Bucky’s eye crinkles.

You cleared your throat and straightened your spine.

Bucky covered a moan in his throat with a cough. That body was his weakness. His cock thickened with thoughts of pulling you in his home and then fuck you on the hallway floor, but instead he stepped back and put his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

He smiled, and you blushed.

“How are you?”

Bucky ducked his head and smiled that smile at you. He looked so young.

“I’m good, Y/N. Real good. And you?”

His smile was hopeful, and full of knowing. God, you were a simp. Professional wasn’t going to work.

“I’m good, Bucky.”

You smiled at him and you two just stood there grinning.

Bucky just continued to stare at you. His smile and his nervousness was doing something to you, so you cleared your throat again. This was so not what you were expecting.

Finally, Bucky realized the awkwardness of the situation.

“Shit. I’m being rude. Come on into my office.”

You laughed again and followed him into the room, noticing his laptop. It made you grow warm.

“How did you sleep last night?” asked Bucky.

What a question.

He was closer that you thought, but farther away than you hoped. You turned around and looked at him, biting your lip and shifting on your feet.

“After a nice, hot bath, I slept like a baby.”

That eyebrow raised and made you squirm with the faint sensation of him inside you. You could still feel the effects of him.

“Hot bath, huh?”

“Yes, with Epsom salts. I was a bit… sore. Needed another this morning.”

You lowered your eyes to your fingers which were clutching your bag, and then raised them back up to his face. That tongue snaked out and licked his bottom lip and his teeth captured it. You dragged your eyes up to his and saw the desire there. But he also looked contrite.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.”

You interrupted him, fighting to keep your eyes wide open while they were on his. You tried to keep your voice from cracking when you said, “I liked it.”

Bucky took a deep breath and stepped to you.

“Y/N. I want to talk to you… about ground rules. With us.”

You lowered your eyes. You just knew he was going to shut all of this flirting down. You weren’t going to beg him, you just had to suck it up. Even though this thing between you felt like crack.

Bucky tipped your chin up, the feeling of his fingers on you shooting electricity straight to your core.

“I don’t want there to be any.”

“What?”

You were confused.

“I thought last night would get it out of my system, but it only served to make me want more.”

What was he saying?

“More? More what? You want more sex?”

You were thrilled and disappointed at the same time. Bucky Barnes had you stirred up.

“Of course I do.You’re beautiful. That body, the way you feel…I’m not dead.”

Bucky stood there and his eyes raked over you with possession. And you let hIm, wanting to belong to him. That realization had you shook.

“But I want more. More than just sex. And if you just want sex, then that can’t happen. Feelings would get involved. At least for me.”

Bucky drew in a ragged breath.

“So you have to know that you are in control of this…” he moved his hand between you both, “this situation. Because I can’t trust myself to not go headlong over this cliff with you…”

Bucky’s eyes searched yours and you tried to return his honest gaze. His words were so fucking charming that you were ready to jump as well. But you had work to do.

“I get it, Bucky. Let's just take it moment by moment. Right now, I’ll behave and be a good girl.”

Bucky released a light groan and shook his head as his eyes dilated slightly.

“Please stop. Unless you want me to…”

He stopped, and you could tell that he was holding himself back by the way his jaw clenched. The knowledge that you had this power over him was heady stuff. But you decided to chill.

“Okay, you’re right, we have work to do. Now is not the time for.. more.”

You looked up at him and bit your lip.

“Definitely not.”

“Totally.”

You took a deep breath.

“Where’s the manuscript?”

Bucky’s eyes swept over you one more time, then turned to his laptop, sat down and typed for a few seconds.

“In your inbox.”

He was calmer now, and anxious for you to read his story.

You sank down into the couch and opened your bag to grab your own laptop.

You looked up at him one more time before you started to read, and when you began, you were quickly immersed in the narrative.

An hour and half later, you looked up at him, tears in your eyes.

“Bucky… I…”

“Is it any good?”

You looked at him in a totally new light. This was a different level of intimacy than just sex. This was his soul laid bare..

“Is it any good? Bucky, it’s fantastic! The honesty, the raw emotion…thank you for trusting me with this.”

Bucky gave you a sad smile and your heart twisted. You centered yourself by observing details and realized that his tie was now off and his sleeves were rolled up. He seemed more relaxed and natural and now that you knew the full story of Bucky Barnes, he was a marvel.

You put your laptop aside and stared off into space, trying to process. Bucky watched your profile, anxious and wanting to pull you into an embrace. But you were setting the pace.

You looked back over at him after a full minute.

“Are you sure you want all of this out there? This gives insight into your most personal, devastating moments. It will give people a lot of access to things most people hold close. And it opens you up for a lot.”

You had an entirely new perspective on James Buchanan Barnes. One that went far beyond sex.

“Yes. Writing this down has helped me to heal. Publishing it will bring closure.”

Bucky stood up and poured himself a drink, and offered the brown liquor to you. You nodded and took the glass, realizing that it was probably Macallan 18.

This man had lost his wife, his whole life… you couldn’t imagine. And here you were wondering if he were playing games.

“It must have been horrifying.”

Bucky nodded and looked down into his drink.

“At first I had no memory of what I’d done and how I’d done it. I woke up in the hospital and saw the headlines that the CEO of CapTech had been found injured and sobbing hysterically as he cradled his wife in his good arm. The most anyone knew was that Sarah was killed in a failed robbery attempt. No one knew about the kidnapping.”

You rocked back in your seat, remembering the rumors around that event. Word was that Bucky went almost insane with grief.

You realized now that the rumor was true.

“My heart was buried in the casket with Sarah, and after everything that happened, I went into a type of hibernation, holed up in the Manhattan penthouse above our offices. Steve and Nat challenged me to get back to work a year later, telling me that they were taking up my slack.”

Bucky laughed bitterly, shook his head, and took a drink.

“It wasn’t until Sarah’s birthday two years later that I finally noticed that Sam was grieving as hard, if not harder, than I was. And I realized how selfish I’d become.”

Bucky looked at you with a pained look on his face and you shivered, feeling a fraction of the emotion he must have been feeling. You wanted to cry.

“Bucky… I’m so sorry.”

Bucky looked at you.

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N. It’s alright. I’m ok now.”

“But… how?”

Bucky smiled at you.

“Well, intense therapy for one. Family therapy with Sam. Running. Running with my friends, or… with strangers I bump into.”

He gave you a smile and you smiled back, hopelessly connected to this man.

“Another thing that has helped me immensely was meeting you and seeing the way you crafted our interview, and experiencing the response to it. I’m communicating about myself more with the public.

“Yes, I’ve noticed the response you’re getting on social media.”

Bucky just chuckled at your thirst trap shade.

“I need you to help me tell this story, Y/N. Please. Help me.”

You leaned toward him. You two gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Your story is powerful the way it is, but right now, the way it reads leaves you open to some liability for what happened to those men in that warehouse that day. I believe you that it was self defense, and defense of your wife. That was such a hard thing to live through and to write down. I have an idea on how to revise the story to keep the emotion, but protect you, and Sarah and Sam at the same time. Hear me out.”

—--

Two hours later, you’d sketched out revisions to Bucky’s memoir. You were emotionally spent. And starving. It was almost 8pm. You looked at Bucky when you were done and he read you like a book.

“I ordered Thai food 45 minutes ago when you were on a roll outlining. I hope you’re hungry.”

You sighed and smiled.

“Feed me and I will love you forever.”

You laughed at your joke, but Bucky did not.

“Don’t tease me, Y/N.”

Suddenly, the air was thick with need.

“About that… Bucky… I want to work with you on this project. But I can’t deny that… that I am attracted to you in the worst way.”

Bucky smiled and cocked his head.

“’The worst way.’ Is it that bad? I feel like I need to apologize.”

You nodded.

“It is bad. If we need to be professional.”

Bucky looked up in the air.

“Well. Think about last night…”

You shifted in your seat.

“I mean, we just did some pretty good work tonight. After what happened,…”

Bucky grinned

“Well. You’re not wrong…”

You grinned back at him. You just liked him so fucking much.

The tension was thick. You were about to climb onto Bucky’s lap when the doorbell rang. He looked disappointed, as if he was reading your mind again.

You stood up, drank some water and tried to get your head on straight. Bucky came back in with and you remembered your hunger for food.

When you’d eaten, Bucky had a suggestion.

“Listen, we did some good work, had some good food, but I don’t want the night to end. And it is Friday. Don’t need to get up early tomorrow.”

Bucky looked at you like a little boy again.

You raised your eyebrow at him

“What do you suggest this late that we haven’t already done today?”

Bucky grinned at you.

BABY YOU LIGHT UP MY WORLD LIKE NOBODY ELSE/THE WAY THAT YOU FLIP YOUR HAIR GETS ME OVERWHELMED/BUT WHEN YOU SMILE AT THE GROUND, IT AINT HARD TO TELL/ YOU DON’T KNOW OH-OH/YOU DON’T KNOW YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!

You two were laughing through belting out the One Direction song at the top of your lungs at Upstairs Karaoke bar, not far from where you both lived. You were both jumping around and acted like idiots, as one does when they have a proper fun time doing Karaoke.

“Omg! Bucky! That was terrible.”

You grimaced, thinking about your singing voice.

“I bet you’ve reconsidered this idea after that.”

Bucky just ginned and swung the mic around in a circle as the music for the next song came up.

“I can do this all night.”

I can't fight this feeling any longer…

You grinned back and joined him in singing REO Speedwagon.

——

Three hours later, at almost one am, you walked back toward Bucky’s brownstone, and your apartment. When it came time to turn in the direction of your place, you took Bucky’s hand and tugged it toward his place. You walked in silence toward his house until you spoke up again.

“I’ve been through the gauntlet of emotions today, Bucky.. I mean in the last 24 hours.”

“Hmmmm?” said Bucky.

“Yeah. Lust, uncertainty, infatuation, nervousness, sympathy, motivation to write, attraction, hunger, silliness, and just plain fun. It feels like we’ve lived a lifetime today.”

Bucky stood on his stoop and looked down into your eyes.

“I feel the same. With maybe a couple more thrown in.”

You cocked your head.

“Yeah, like what?”

“Mmmmmm. Not ready to reveal that just yet. But I do want to explore a couple that you’ve mentioned. But, like I said earlier, that’s not my call.”

“Which ones?”

You didn’t know why you were holding your breath.

“Lust, infatuation, attraction… and hunger.”

You knew he wasn’t taling about Thai food.

“Oh.”

You tugged his hand, leading him up his own steps and put the code into his door.

“I would like to experience, more of those. And more of what you want. Bucky. Let’s drive off that cliff.”

With that, you pulled him inside.

You two kissed all the way down the hallway to his living room, where you ended up on his leather couch, pulling off your jacket and pulling the sweater he had put on over his shirtsleeves up over his head. You were feral for him.

And so, it seemed, he was for you.

“Come here, Doll.”

Bucky grabbed your neck and pulled your lips toward him as he devoured your mouth and his hand roamed your body.

“Been wanting to kiss you all night. Want to kiss your lips. I love the way they suck my tip.”

His hoarse voice in your ear did things to you, although you were confused at first until his put his hands in your leggings past your panties and used two thick fingers to part your pussy. He wasn’t talking about the lips on your face.

He used your slick to lubricate his digits and entered you, pumping a few times, watching as your head lolled back on your shoulders. He kissed your neck and cleavage as you succumbed to the pleasure. Then, he pulled his hand away and toward his mouth, earning a whine from you.

Bucky meant to just taste you, but that taste stirred something in his soul.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?”

He kissed you, letting you taste yourself on him, then rested his forehead on yours as he asked a question.

“What do you want, Y/N?”

“Let me suck your dick, Bucky.”

He pulled away from you, and looked you in the eyes.

“You’ll get anything to ask for.”

This was a different Bucky, not totally unlike the night before. Still sex on legs, but this Bucky was gentle, but still oh so sexy.

He pushed you backward until you stood up before him and he took off his shirt, and then his pants. You reached for him before he took off his underwear, pulling his waist band so that his hard cock slapped his abs. You stared down at it but didn’t touch it.

“I’ve been dreaming of this since last night, when you denied me.”

You swiped your thumb along his tip and then sucked it, making him lick his own lips.

“Sit down, please. Sir.”

Bucky sat, and then you kneeled in front of him on the hardwood floor. Bucky noticed and put a pillow down for you to kneel on. You smiled at him as he started stroking himself. You stared, your hand trailing song your neck and chest absentmindedly as you admired him.

“It really is a thing of beauty. Ever since I saw it the other day, I’ve been obsessed with it. How it would feel, how it would split me apart. How it would taste.”

You looked up at Bucky and it was like he’d been shot with a magazine of cupid’s arrows.

“Damn, Doll. You sure do have a way with words.”

You reached for him, grasping his shaft in one hand that looked small now, and his balls in the other.

“I’m not all talk…”

And then you leaned forward to lick a stripe on the underside of his cock, from his balls to the tip, stopping to suck the thick cap vigorously.

“Ooooh, shit… Doll. That mouth.”

Bucky’s head was sideways, cocking his head to watch you from that angle.

You opened your mouth and took as much as you could in your mouth and relaxed your throat to let him in there.

“Gotdamn.”

He placed his hand on your head but placed no pressure on you as you bobbed freely for his pleasure. And yours.

You placed your hands on his tensing thighs as you came apart as a result of your mouth, and he shuddered when you released him with a pop just to grab it again and trail your tongue back down his length. You drew his balls into your mouth, one at a time as you continued to stroke him off.

Bucky was looking at you with disbelief. He was putty in your hands. He leaned forward to kiss your sloppy face.

“I want to be inside you, wanna make love to you. Take off those clothes.”

He spoke to you softly, yet with a command your body remembered. You stood up slowly and tried to gracefully shed your garments as he stroked himself and looked up at you like you were the moon.

“So beautiful.”

Bucky reached out and made grabby hands for you as you stood naked before him.

”C’mere. Climb on. Let me in again.”

He continued to stare up at you, kissing your sternum and each breast as your thighs trembled on either side of his as you slid down over his mushroom cap.

“Buckyyyyyy.”

The feeling of him splitting you open caused a delicious pain, the soreness from the night before still evident. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to his size.

And you didn’t want to.

“Fuck me baby doll. Fuck me good. Fuck your self on this dick.”

Bucky slipped his hand between you two and started circling your clit in tight little circles.

“Oh my god Bucky! I can’t. Can’t breathe, can't concentrate…”

Your mind was mush as Bucky drove you toward your peak and up over the edge.

“Shhhh…”

Bucky leaned down to lick your nipple and suck briefly, teasing each breast in turn to work you up even more.

“Don’t think. Just feel. Release all thoughts. Cum for me.”

“Jeeeeeezzzzzzuzzzzzz!”

You came ferociously, clenching around Bucky and causing him to pulse inside you.

“Thaaat’s a good girl.”

He did not let up on your clit and drew your pleasure out until you were a complete mess on his lap.

Bucky licked a stripe up the middle of you, from your belly button to your cheek as you lay back in is arms, cock drunk, and still impaled on his very stiff dick.

“You tastes so fucking good, Doll. Tasted you in my dreams last night.”

You your surprise, he stood up, holding you and turned around to place you on the couch. The fine leather stuck to your sweaty skin, but you didn’t care.

“I don’t want to service you anymore.”

Bucky started pumping and telling you how he felt. All you could do was moan in response.

“Want to make love to you.”

He watched your fucked out face and started stroking more insistently.

“Of course, if you were mine, I’d service you anytime you needed it. Give you everything your heart, mind, pussy, body could want…”

“Yes, Bucky… yessssss.”

You were blissed out, hearing and feeling all the sensations you wanted at the moment.

“What are you doing to me doll?”

Bucky’s eyes moved from where you two were connected to your face.

“So beautiful…”

He grabbed your hand from where it was resting on his abs, picked it up, and brought it to his mouth, kissing your palm. Your back arched at the added sensation of his lips on your hand and the long fingers on his other hand grabbed your hip as he continued.

Bucky’s ice blue eyes were watching you as yours closed in ecstasy.

“Yes.”

He started moving your hip, long fingers digging in and sure to leave a bruise.

“You like this? Like how I’m giving it to you? You deserve it. Such a good girl.”

“Mmmmhmmm.”

You started moving, loving the feel of the wiry hairs at the base of his cock against your clit.

“Feels so good. Feels like this dick is mine.”

Bucky’s eyes were focused on yours now. He held your stare, which bloomed new warmth in your belly.

“You want it to be yours?”

You didn't answer, just bit your lip and nodded.

Bucky’s hand snaked up behind you and grabbed the hair at your nape, causing your neck to bend and your body to arch backward.

He admired your form and the way your breasts moved as you did. You could feel him swell impossibly more than he already was.

“I’m trying to be gentle. Sweet and slow. Like a good girl should be fucked .But you just make me want to… make me wanna fuck you. Like…”

Bucky groaned and squeezed your hip.

“Take it, Bucky. It’s yours.This pussy is alll yours.”

You rotated your hips so as to feel all of him, and which caused him to spurt a little inside you.

“You trying to make you cum inside you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

You moaned as Bucky’s hand came around and grasped your throat skillfully. His other hand grows and pinched your nipples, causing your hips to move wildly.

“There’s my bad girl. Damn. I think I…..”

“Y-yes Sir?”

Bucky almost let it slip.

“I think I wanna cum inside.”

He leaned down to whisper into your ear. That voice making you clench harder around him.

“Would you like that? Hot load of cum in your tight little snatch?”

“Oh, ohhhh shittt. Yes!”

“So fucking pretty when you’re needy, Doll.”

The combination of filth and praise sent your over the edge and you detonated around him, causing Bucky to hike your knee over his elbow and start chasing his own end.

“I can’t… No. I won’t deny myself any longer. I want this. I want you and I’m gonna. Shit can I? Can I please cum inside?”

Bucky begging got you hot and bothered again. You nodded vigorously.

“Please, I want it too!”

“Circle that clit for me. Circlie it. Cum again for me just one… fuck, just once moreeeee!”

Bucky came inside you with a shout, shooting hot ropes of cum onto your cervix. You came when you felt that and as Bucky pumped like a jackrabbit inside you.

“Holy shit.”

He chuckled in your ear.

You curled yourself around Bucky and gladly accepted his weight for a few minutes. Then, he lifted himself off of you and knelt on the floor.

“Was that? Was that okay? Did you really want this?”

Bucky looked so earnest. You nodded.

“Yes Bucky. And I want more.”

You bit your lip as he smiled down at you.

“Wanna spend the night?”

You shook your head.

“No.”

Bucky’s smile dropped. You put your hand on his cheek..

“It’s practically morning. I’ll sleep over and let you feed me breakfast later. And then we’ll talk about spending the night.”

“Anything that’ll make you smile, Doll.”

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niqhtlord01 · 2 years

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Humans are weird: The man who bested gods

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

From the memoir of Yen Valir

“For over six thousand years the people of Gan’da had been ruled by the god themselves.

The seven suns of our world would rise and fall at their leisure, the oceans would be bountiful or scant on their whim, and life of every citizen was their gift to us; though one they were more than willing to take back should we anger them.

High atop their palace in the Crimson Teeth Mountains they lived in luxury beyond measure. Food from across the entire planet was brought before them to feast on, the most desirable males and females were brought before them to serve as servants and courtesans when the desire arose, furnishings of gold so bright it hurt one’s eyes if looked upon too long and furs so soft that you would never want to get up from them.

One could be mistaken to believe that from this grandeur that the people of our world lived in peace and harmony. They would be mistaken, for just as the gods were beneficial they were even more vengeful.

Disputes between gods would spoil into outright bloodshed as their followers were commanded to exact their revenge. Compelled by their faith, the average citizens would turn on each other like rabid beasts, drenching the streets of their cities in the blood of their rival god’s followers. There was no concept of denying the orders of their gods for no one had ever done so. They slaughtered each in the belief that what they did was in service for a higher purpose.

What was even more astounding than the fickle nature of our gods was not only how quickly these bloodbaths could begin, but how quickly they could be resolved by the gods and forgotten. Thousands would die in a matter of days, but when the quarreling gods came to a compromise they ordered their subjects to cease and return to their normal lives as if nothing happened.

The gods laughed at their feuds while the people buried their dead in mass graves.

This way of life would have gone on for generations had it not been for the sudden and unexpected intervention of one who fell from the heavens and was themselves mistaken for a new god, until we came to know them by their true name.

Anthony Benson, the bester of gods.

In the year 2929.07 a flash of light cut across the sky like a burning blade through butter. Its tail grew across five continents before impacting atop the Crimson Teeth Mountains.

The people of the lands took it as a sign that a new god had come from the heavens to rule alongside their fellows and bring about a new era of wonder. The gods on the other hand, had a less optimistic viewpoint.

They ordered their guards and servants to the site of the impact and there they discovered a metal sphere. It was scorched black as coal and pieces had been torn off from the impact revealing a series of strange tubes and rope like colored threads inside. A small glass circle was on one side of the sphere that was no doubt a window of some sort, but the heat of the fallen sphere was so hot that none could get near it without burning flesh from bone.

Water was brought to the impact crater and for a full day and night they poured the precious liquid into the area to cool the heat until finally the temperature had dropped enough to allow them to approach. No sooner had they begun to walk towards the sphere did the windowed side crack open like the beak of a great bird.

From the new opening a lone figure emerged out on to the now cooled stone. They were adorned in clothing that enveloped them entirely and wore a helm of polished metal that reflected back the faces of all that looked upon it.

Those that were gathered bent to their knees and bowed their heads. They were convinced that they were in the presence of a new god and that to show disrespect was to invite their doom. To their surprise the new god walked towards them and bade them to rise.

Tapping a strange symbol on their chest they spoke. It was a tongue that no one had ever heard of and to this day no one still has understood. When those gathered gave no response they tapped the same symbol several more times before speaking again.

“Take me to your leader.”

The voice was cold and metallic sounding which further unnerved the people. No doubt sensing this, the new god tapped the symbol again and said. “Sorry, it was something I’ve always wanted to say.”

Put at ease the citizens brought the new god to the palace to join their fellow gods in eternal bliss. Yet when they arrived the new god was surrounded by guards the moment they set foot upon the hollowed grounds and taken directly to the ethereal chamber.

Inside the chamber sat all of the gods in a great circle looking down on a lower platform. It was on this platform that the new god was placed and spoke directly to the gods. The palace servants and guards sat beneath the gods on lower rings and watched the discussion with great interest.

They said their name was Anthony Benson and that they were not a god but a lost traveler searching for a way home. This Anthony asked the gods if they could help him return to the stars and resume his journey.

The gods deliberated amongst themselves for some time before they made their decision.

They would assist this wayward traveler to the fullest of their ability, but only if they knelt before them and offered his faith to them.

Upon hearing this Anthony was confused. He said that though he was grateful for their generosity he would not bow before them in worship for he was an atheist.

The gods were confused at this, as there was no translation in their tongue of such a word and demanded Anthony elaborate. He told them that an atheist was someone that believed gods do not exist, and therefore he would not worship in that which he did not believe.

The chamber erupted at this with gasps from the commoners and servants while the gods shouted and demanded this Anthony’s head for his blasphemy.

Behind Anthony two guards approached with their swords drawn ready to cut this skyward traveler down when Anthony spoke.

“Oh noble beings, I wish to make a wager with you.”

“What possibly makes you think that we would accept any arrangements with a heretic like you?” retorted the gods.

“I wager my life for my freedom.” Anthony said.

Intrigued, the gods held up their hands and the guards stopped their advance as the traveler continued.

“I challenge each of you to a game, and should I win you will let me live and do all that you can you assist me.”

“And if you should lose?” one of the gods countered. “What then?”

“Then I shall convert to your faith and allow you to kill me, so I will be forgotten for my crimes against you.”

With such a tempting offer the gods discussed amongst themselves once more. Some were for the wager having been lacking in entertainment for some time, while other’s demanded this travelers head for his affronts to their faith. The gathered crowds of servants and guards looked on in wonder, for no one in their history had ever been so bold as to challenge a god. This traveler, this Anthony, became just as much of an interest to them as he was to the gods.

As the gods debated Anthony spoke once more, raising his voice so all in the chamber could hear.

“Surely you who claim to be gods are not afraid of a mortal of flesh and blood.” At this the gods stopped their discussions, several now on the verge of ordering his execution but stopped as Anthony continued.

“To you, who claim to raise the sun and banish the night, I would have thought a simple game mere child’s play; unless of course you are afraid to lose.”

Goaded by the traveler’s words before those who worshipped them, the gods accepted the wager but demanded that for them to aide him, Anthony must defeat every god present to obtain his prize.

All six hundred of them…..

Without a moment’s hesitation Anthony accepted the terms and said the game would be something from his own world called “Chess”. He turned to one of the guards behind him and asked if they could return to his sphere and remove from inside a small brown box that contained the board.

When the gods protested and demanded that they play a game of their world Anthony said “For ones who claim to have knowledge of the universe I would have thought you would know of this game; do you mean to tell me that you do not know how to play it?”

The crowd watched in silence as the gods did not respond.

“Surely gods who weave the fates of millions would know the rules of a simple game.” they thought.

With bluster the gods admitted to knowing of the game and having played it well for generations beyond counting. At this Anthony said “Then such a game is perfect for our wager for masters such as you.”

It took some time before the guard returned with the requested box and handed it to Anthony. Setting up a table on the platform and two chairs, the traveler laid out a board and several carven figures. Two towers of stone, two beasts, two sharpened spears, a pointed crown, a barer of a cross, and ten guardians. As the pieces were set together Anthony bade the first god to join him.

The god who first came down demanded the guards fetch a more fitting chair for themselves so the game was delayed until they found a more elaborate chair for the god to sit upon.

Anthony took the white pieces and the god took the black pieces. When Anthony made to make the first move the god demanded he stop.

“A god will always go first, mortal.”

The voice was deep and booming and several servants cowered in fear. They had heard it often whenever one of them had displeased a god and a punishment was swiftly coming. The traveler however was unphased by this and merely spun the board around so that the god had the white pieces.

“Then you should have asked for the white pieces.” Anthony said, his polished helm reflecting the confused look of the god. “Have you forgotten that white moves first?”

Enraged, the god made to say something but stopped themselves. The eyes of everyone present watched with baited breath as the strange traveler and theirs gods began to play.

It was astounding when the first god had been defeated, but the rest of the gods had laughed and mocked that they were the simplest of their number and sent another. This process repeated itself over and over and over for three days and nights.

The traveler Anthony and the gods played their games and for three days and nights the traveler won each and every game. With each win the number of spectators from the palace increased further and further until every living soul on the Crimson Teeth Mountains was in attendance and watching. So enthralled had they become by this moment that many slept where they sat rather than risk losing their spot.

At the dawn of the fourth day the final god had been bested.

A task so monumental in scope many had thought it not possible and yet the traveler, this Anthony, had defeated each of the gods in turn.

“You were worthy opponents,” Anthony said as he stood from the table, “but I have won the wager and shall now hold you to your word.”

In anger the final god who had been bested flipped the table and scattered the contents.

“No one makes demands of the gods!” they bellowed. “Savior your victory for it shall be your last!”

With that the gods called upon their gods to kill Anthony. When several made to follow the command Anthony shouted “So this is who you call gods!? Oath breakers!?”

The guards continued advancing on Anthony but slowed their pace slightly and Anthony continued.

“All heard them give their word they would assist me should I win, I trusted that promise and wagered my life in respect; yet now that they lay defeated they break their word like common vagabonds!”

At this the god nearest him lunged at him, the intent to kill painted across their face.

Before they could lay a hand on Anthony a blinding light surrounded the skyward traveler. The light burned so bright all those present covered their eyes but only for a moment. As quickly as the light had arrived it vanished, taking with it the Traveler Anthony Benson.

Enraged, the gods ordered all present to scour the mountains and find them, yet for all there searching no trace remained of the traveler.

The gods ordered that no one would speak of what had transpired in those four days on pain of death and eternal damnation to the dark, but by then the cracks had already begun to appear.

Those that had witnessed the events spoke in hushed tones in their quarters amongst themselves, then amongst the guards, and then even the traders who came to provide tribute. Some had even begun to carve similar game pieces the traveler had brought with them and begun to play the game themselves.

The traders, interested in such gossip, took those stories and even some of the pieces and shared them with the rest of the world. The legend of the Anthony Benson grew and grew with each passing rotation. A mortal who bested gods? Why, the populace could not but day dream of what a being must have been like; and as their legend spread so too did the true nature of their gods.

Those who gave promises with one hand, then offered the dagger with the other, soon cast a dark shadow of the god’s portrayal to the public. How could they claim to be noble if their word meant nothing?

When the gods learned that the game that had bested them was now being played across the world they ordered that anyone found with those “heretical” pieces would be put to death. At first the authorities followed the god’s orders, and many hundreds were put to the axe. That changed when even the children were not sparred and they too were cut from the neck; their lifeless bodies strung from the gates of every city.

The disquiet grew into anger, then the anger to rage, and from the rage came vengeance.

Within two generations the people of Gan’da finally had enough of their “gods” and stormed the Crimson Teeth Mountains in their millions. The gates of the golden palace were torn asunder and the gods who had played with the lives of millions were dragged from their decadence and cast from the mountain side.

It is said that if one is go to the very same spot today and listen closely, you can still hear their terrified screams as they plummeted to their demise.

There was chaos afterwards, as all great change brings. Some say that the way of the gods was harsh, but it was stable. Yet those today would say that to follow those filled with deceit are unworthy of such reverence.

Now as our people finally reach out to the stars we carry not just the hopes of our people, but each a small children’s game and the pieces that changed a world for the better.

We hope one day we will find this Anthony Benson and thank him for the freedom we had denied ourselves for so long.

And then, we would ask if he would play a game with us."

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #science fiction #story #writing #original writing #writer #long post #chess

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gumnut-logic · 8 months

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Along the way (Part Two)

Sweetapple | Dear Mr Tracy | Along the way - Part 1 | Part 2

Here we are after one hell of a long wait, the next part of the third Sweetapple fic :D A good percentage of this was written back in April, but today I have managed to wrangle it to do what I needed it to do.

Many, many thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the readthrough and cheerleading :D And for Thunderfam cheering me on. Honestly, you guys are amazing to me and I cherish all the support you give me ::hugs the lots of you::

I hope you enjoy this bit :D

-o-o-o-

Māhia was seconds away via Thunderbird One. The blur of mach ‘I need to get there now’, cleared as Scott braked mid-air above the facility.

Experienced eyes scanned the grounds and his heart sank as the clear signs of a building collapse in the older part of the property became clear.

“Thunderbird Five, visual confirmation on scans. Several of the lab buildings have collapsed.” As he lowered One down to land, he shoved her landing gear down in frustration. Those buildings had been reinforced for exactly this reason. Why had they collapsed?

But that was a question for later as he did mental calculations on who might own those five life signs Five’s scanners were reporting.

They taunted him on his display as One blew up dust and settled softly to the ground.

“Five, I need employee locations and I need them now.”

It was Eos who answered. “Yes, commander, compiling them and sending them to your mobile device.”

His thank you was little more than a whisper as he stepped out onto Tracy Industries land as an emergency responder.

Tia hurried across the grounds towards him, Fireman Fred, not far behind.

“Sir, we have six staff missing.”

Damn.

He nodded and pulled up the data Eos had sent him.

It correlated.

Alexander Sweetapple was at the top of the list, followed by Erica Stoltz, Bruce Palmer, Gus Kinnear, Emily Anderson and Violet Drummer.

As he moved to assess the situation, he shut those names in the back of his mind and jammed his hope and despair into a box of professionalism.

Tia’s breath came in a rush. “The engineering team have set up scanners and have been directing the rest of the staff to move debris, but…” Her voice trailed off as her amber eyes stared up at him.

A nod and he put more confidence into his stride. Fireman Fred started spouting stressor numbers and building structures…

Just another rescue, use the tools, save lives and console later.

-o-o-o-

Thunderbird Two swooped in low over Gisborne and Virgil groaned. A series of apartments on the main street appeared to be compromised with partial to full collapse. He hated apartment buildings.

They were always the most heartbreaking.

And they weren’t alone, it was obvious even from this height that there were several sites that would need their attention. With confirmation from John on the priority list, Virgil lowered Two as delicately as he could down into a main intersection, as close as safely possible to the first site.

Automatically speeding through post-flight, Virgil set up the job in his mind. “Gordon and Alan, you’re on pick-up-stick duty. Clear as much debris as possible. Alan, you have Two if needed. I’ll be in the exosuit.” He threw up a live scan of the collapsed group of buildings, absently noting the age of the structures and the possible reason for initial failure. He pointed at the first lifesign. “We’ll start here, follow through to here and pick them off one by one. Any information that requires a change in these priorities, I need to know.” The sixty-four lifesigns flickered at him like heartbeats.

“FAB.” And the professionals who were his brothers were moving.

He climbed out of his pilot’s seat and followed.

-o-o-o-

Scott was missing both his heavy lifting brother and his ‘bird.

Thunderbird One was good for many things, but in this case, Two was better.

Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

The fortunate thing was that with so many Tracy Industries employees on hand, most of the equipment required to dig a person out of this mess was available.

Mostly.

He missed his brother’s support.

And their ease of working together.

But then, if Alex wasn’t one of these lifesigns, there was no way Scott wanted his brother here.

Virgil had formed an attachment to the likeable engineer. There was no other explanation for his repeated visits to Māhia. At least once a week found him down here knocking heads with Alex. He claimed it was Siliwrap development and Scott had no doubt that was part of it, a very small part. He had seen his brother on a design binge many a time in the past and this wasn’t it.

What it was, was hopeful and although Virgil had yet to declare any intentions of any kind, Scott couldn’t help but smile each time Virgil babbled to him about Alex.

Because he did. Scott knew more about the smart, dark-eyed, pale-haired engineer than he ever thought he would. But then considering his brother’s interest, he made it his business to know as much as possible about Alex. Both Kayo and John had done a thorough security risk assessment on the man and everything had come up green…repeatedly.

This just left Scott happy for his brother.

And nodding and smiling each time one of their late-night discussions turned to the topic of Alex.

Again.

He doubted his brother was even aware of it…and that made Scott smile even more.

But so far nothing had come of it beyond friendship and Scott wasn’t going to push other than give his hardworking little brother a little extra time with his friend when he could.

All Scott had to do today was find that friend.

“Sir! We found him!” Scott startled and despite himself, abandoned the area he had been clearing and ran over to where Fred and his crew were lifting out a prone body.

For just a moment, Scott’s heart lifted, only to be dashed by dark hair and a beard, followed by shame to even be thinking that way. Gus Kinnear was the lucky soul that beat the odds down to one in four that Alex was safe.

Scott saw to the groggy man, only to hand him to the onsite Tracy Industries medical team. His life was in no danger and he would be well attended to while they recovered the others.

Rolling his shoulders, Scott went back to shifting debris.

Just as the ground started rumbling.

-o-o-o-

“Aftershock!” John’s voice bounced through comms as Virgil lifted a couple of tonnes worth of masonry off what turned out to be a mother and child.

He gasped. “Can you move?”

The woman was covered in dust, her baby clutched to her chest, tears had streaked her cheeks. But she nodded, hesitantly, and did her best to get her feet under her just as the earth beneath him literally jumped.

He stumbled, his exo-suit whining under stress as he struggled to restabilise the weight. “Gordon!” He could barely hear his own voice over the roar of aftershock and for a split second he thought he was going to lose it.

But his brother was there. Swooping in and gathering the woman into his arms, baby and all, just fast enough.

Virgil was still holding the weight, hydraulics hissing as he fought with it and the ground beneath him shifted his footing.

“You’re clear, Virgil! Let it go!”

He wasn’t sure if it was Gordon or John, but the load was coming down, regardless. He clung to it, following it down with as much control as he could give it, but when it hit, brickwork flew, catching his legs, his helmet, and taking him down with it.

Virgil hit the ground on his side, a tangled mess of exo-suit and flailing limbs.

-o-o-o-

Part 3

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #alexander sweetapple #nuttyfic

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allisonreader · 7 months

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@inklings-challenge Here’s my challenge story for this year.

Grandfather's Story

(Not a true story.)

There’s a story that my grandfather always liked to tell about his days working in a coal mine. He would always tell it to his kids and then us grandkids. Most of us weren’t sure whether to believe it, but he swears that it’s true.

His story starts with a tragedy.

A tunnel had collapsed and miners had died. Others were injured and managed to get out of the mine.

My grandfather had been one of the men tasked with shoring up the tunnel so that the dead could be safely removed to be given to their families for proper burials.

He and the other men took a canary in with them. An important alarm system for them even though they weren’t actively mining.

They had been working for several hours and had managed to bring all but one of the dead up. This particular gentleman had been buried in the wall collapse more than any of the others had been. As soon as they had managed to recover him, my grandfather and the other miners swear on their lives that the canary spoke. Telling them that they needed to leave before the tunnel collapsed further, before the bird fell completely silent.

Not a single man my grandfather worked with hesitated. They grabbed the dead man and booked it out of the mine as quickly as they could. Just making it out before the tunnel did indeed collapse behind them.

The canary returned to its regular singing once out of the mine.

Not a single one of those miners; my grandfather included, heard that canary or any other, speak like that again. My grandfather was certain that if the canary hadn’t spoken that all of them working to retrieve that last man would have been buried and died.

When that canary died, he was buried with all the dignity of a human and was given his own highly attended funeral. All the miners who were there that day, came to honour the bird that not only saved their lives but allowed families to bury their loved ones as they wanted to.

I still find it hard to believe that the canary spoke, but it’s also hard to argue with the amount of witnesses. Plus my grandfather loves to tell the story and I won’t tell him what to believe when he was the one who was there.

🐦‍⬛🐦🐦‍⬛🪹🪺🐦‍⬛🐦🐦‍⬛

So fun fact. I wrote this fairly short story during the duration of a one of the sprints that I've held this year. It came from out of nearly nowhere where, as I certainly never had anything planned like this for Team Chesterton, either this year or previous. I also have only given it a basic once over before posting it. (Mostly out of fear of not deciding to not post it if I leave it too long.) I'm still not super confident about it. Part of that is because of how I wrote it feels very much like a post that you would come across in the wild on this site in some ways. By which I mean I feel like it's more written like a post telling a story than how I typically write stories. Anyways I think I should stop over explaining before this becomes more of a mess than this note might already be.

(Three days after originally posting; post note. I'm pretty sure the nerves about sharing this were more just typical new posting than actually about the style. Because the story does exactly what I intended it to do. Be a quick story told in a way like I'm telling friends/explaining this story that is passed down by family. So I mean it's definitely not that I don't like it, it's just generally not how I write fictional stories. Anyways this is to say that while I might not have been confident, doesn't mean that I don't feel accomplished in what I have written. Now I probably really have over explained at this point.)

#inklingschallenge #team chesterton #genre: intrusive fantasy #theme: burial

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petermorwood · 2 years

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A bit more pronunciation fun...

Vase (thing to put flowers in) can be vaaz or vays, both are correct, the difference is usually based on class or region.

Scone (small crumbly bun / US biscuit) is skonn or skown, both are correct for the same reasons.

In both instances a particular version can be used just because it fits better: the classic example here is Discworld’s The Scone of Stone, pronounced as you might expect, even though in its real-world equivalent The Stone of Scone, that Scottish place-name is pronounced more like skoon.

*****

Rain, Reign and Rein are all pronounced more or less the same yet all have different, non-interchangeable meanings - but you’ll still see the second two used wrongly more times than you’d like.

And then there are words like Pique Peek and Peak, Breach and Breech, Peel and Peal, Compliment and Complement - again all pronounced more or less the same, all with completely different non-interchangeable meanings varying with context and indeed whether they’re used as noun or verb.

English is a succession of successful pitfalls placed in plain sight - this site could be seen from a plane - to trip or trap any weary wanderer who is less than wary.

While wandering, this one went wondering out of his way to weigh a secret load of lodestone that someone had secreted under a tree near a well. He meant to seize it but now sees, through eyes that secrete tears, the tears in his clothes caused by a bear which couldn’t bear his presence.

It probably believed he was after the hoard of food that had once been a horde of creatures, cheap stuff like birds that once went cheep and deer that might have been dear to buy if they’d got by the bear.

The maid at his lodging might have made repairs though first he had to flee. So he leapt like a flea many feet across a brook, quite a feat, but the bear brooked no denial. Its muscles coiled like a spring, then it made a spring the way bears do in Spring.

He breathed in short pants while its claws, sharp as any clause in a rent agreement, rent his short pants, but they barely bared his hide as he tried to hide. He could have tried the bear in court, but so near its homestead it might have caught him instead.

The breaches in his breeches came apart. A part of the bear’s failure to meet the meat was not getting a grip; maybe it suffered from grippe after taking a fall in the fall. We end our tale with no sting in its tail, since the wanderer didn’t fall in the well.

So all’s well.

I had to stretch a bit in places (grippe? come on!) but not as much as I’d expected, and it goes a long way to demonstrate why English is such a difficult language to learn, never mind master. And that’s before class, regional and dialect variations get added to the mix.

Are we having fun yet?

:->

*****

Finally...

Colonel (military rank) is spelt that way but pronounced kurnel / kernel because it started as the French rank for an officer commanding the sort of infantry column (la colonne) familiar from the Sharpe series. That rank was "Colonnel” and both “L”s were voiced.

The French pronunciation changed over time and became (approximately) “co’onel” while the spelling became “Colonel”. Italian still has and sounds every “L” as “Colonello”, Spanish went the other way as “Coronelo”, while in Irish it’s Coirnéal, pronounced and now usually spelt “cornal”.

Why the English version looks and sounds as it does, I have no idea; possibly a long familiarity with words that don’t sound the way they look, along with a disinclination to pronounce anything foreign (especially French) the way the foreigners do.

*****

Lieutenant (military rank) is lootenant in the US armed forces, luhtenant in the British navy and leftenant in the British army and air force.

That British “lef-” version is the outlier. Apart from Malay (Leftenan, a possible Britfluence) no other language (that I bothered checking) which starts this word with “L” has an “F” sound anywhere.

French (Lieutenant), German (Leutnant), Dutch (Luitenant), Danish (Løjtnant), Swedish (Löjtnant ), Norwegian (Løytnant), Estonian (Leitenant), Finnish (Luutnantti), Polish (Lejtnant), Ukrainian (Лейтена́нт, pron leytenant,) Russian (Лейтена́нт pron. leitenant)…

*****

ETA: @katbelleinthedark has pointed out (in no uncertain terms, gosh) that "Lejtnant” isn’t the Polish word for Lieutenant (thanks for nothing, Wikipedia link from “Lieutenant”.) The proper word is “Porucznik”, which fairly obviously doesn’t have either “L” or “F” sounds anywhere. So, deleted. Any other corrections will also be, er, corrected. No need to shout, just ask.

*****

And that’s enough of that. Stannat-EASE. Dis-MISS.

@dduane - “Why is a plane coming out of his head?”

Me - “It’s a Spitfire.”

DD - “And?”

Me - ....

DD - “That’s the only answer I’m going to get, isn’t it?”

Me - :->

#fun with english #fun with pronunciation #fun with languages #confusion #discworld #scone of stone #GNU Terry Pratchett

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boundinparchment · 1 year

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Dream a Little Dream of Me - XXVIII

Celestia has a cruel sense of humor. He’s always known this, ever since his days as a student. But a soulmate? Really? Dottore/Female Reader Soulmate AU. Lore speculation, interpretations, etc. On AO3 here.

He caught you after you swayed, your claymore falling with a clatter as your body gave out from the sudden demand for energy it didn’t have. The last thing you needed was a concussion.

Not that it mattered. A concussion might have, perhaps, rid you of the knowledge of everything if your head struck the ground just so. If you were a test subject perhaps he would have let you fall. But wasn’t this entire experience, finding you to begin with, just another experiment? Why else had he sought you out other than to see what Celestia deemed worthy for someone like him? A heretic, a blasphemer, who still somehow received both a Vision and a soulmate.

He didn’t dream for centuries, not in that way, and not before you came along. Adults in Sumeru did not dream, a well-known fact inside the nation, one that perpetuated itself even now; a byproduct of the Akademiya’s rejection of Buer.

Dottore adjusted his hold on your body and lifted you as though you were nothing more than part of the arm of a Ruin Guard, and settled you back onto the sofa. Your arm continued to bleed from the IV site, where you’d torn the needle from your skin.

He did not like this sensation, the way the ache radiated outwards from his chest with every squeeze of his still-human heart. Would it still hurt if that organ were synthetic, like his Segments’? He should have seen to that before coming here.

If you care about me, let me go.

The way your voice cracked stabbed him deeper than the words themselves. Dottore long since stopped listening to the words themselves, rolling off of him like raindrops on oiled leather. For the first time in hundreds of years, your words and your tone cut right through him.

His own soulmate didn’t even want him, couldn’t stand him, did not want to be near him.

Feared him.

Just like everyone else.

For all your willpower and resilience (for he would at least give you credit for enduring so much; few in this world could say such a thing), you were just like everyone else. Stones would have been less effective than your terrified expression.

You were nothing more than a hindrance. A ball and chain that existed solely to remind him of how inescapable the stars above truly were. Omega had been doing him a service, being as efficient as necessary, to get you out of the way. He had greater tasks ahead than to deal with you .

The lies did not soothe him as they used to. He wasn’t sure what he hated more: you or that the world treated you much the same as it did him.

Beautiful things came from suffering, he mused as he cleaned your arm and bandaged it on autopilot. His experiments advanced Snezhnaya far beyond the other nations in both military and civilian technology; your music brought raw passion and emotion to those who otherwise might feel nothing.

He stepped back from you and raised a hand to his lips. Bringing you with him felt wrong now as he considered his options. A caged bird would not sing and he swallowed the selfish urge to keep you to himself, keep your music to himself. It was evident already that his presence, especially alone, would potentially do more harm than good.

But leaving you behind would be negligent with Omega still here, finishing out the tasks given to him.

“Still weighing your options and deciding which will have the best possible outcome, Prime?”

Dottore slowly raised his head, garnet eyes falling on the figure in the door. A reflection of himself, made of leyline energy and machinery, stood with its arms behind its back, shoulders straight, arrogant in its gait as it crossed the threshold.

The Segment’s voice was cold, taunting. “I told you I could do more with her than you ever could.”

Something inside Dottore snapped and he was across the room in an instant, his hand tight around Omega’s throat. The action would do little, for the Segment didn’t need to absorb oxygen, but Dottore lifted him just enough to bring the other’s feet off of the ground. Omega grinned, the same wide smile reserved for only the most intriguing instances, the same grin he gave you as time wore on in the dream.

“Always observing rather than acting, as though that would have saved anyone,” Omega hissed. “I lost her too. Or have you forgotten that more of us than just you remember that day?”

The selfishness that took root in him was only heightened by the inability to save her, by the accidental snapping of her hyoid bone when he tried to slow the bleeding. All he’d wanted was to keep the one person who believed in him alive and—

Dottore let go of Omega’s throat, shifted his weight, and sent the Segment tumbling back through the door with a push-kick to the chest. Omega’s laugh bounced off the metal walls in tinny echoes as Prime strode forward. He needed the Segment to finish the task on schedule, which couldn’t be done if he damaged the Segment too much beyond a self-repair capacity.

The Segment stood and brushed himself off, unaffected by the kick.

Omega was the last Segment, the closest to his current personage, the perfect specimen. But he was closer to Sohreh’s loss than he, Zandik, was. Prime had the benefit of time and distance: the beauty of hindsight was always its startling clarity . He had hypothesized that a Segment in the later part of his life would have been able to shed that selfishness at long last. This experiment, however, was far from unbiased and instead proved to be insightful in other ways.

After all, he, Zandik, the Prime Segment of himself, was the one who removed the necessary distance and time that Omega would have needed by creating him to begin with. His actions required a solution only he could provide.

Omega, in time, could overcome everything, as he had. Zandik’s own existence proved his own hypothesis correct once. After all, he already overcame all of this, was able to come to terms with his choices and accept them and the consequences they brought with them.

Killing his own Segment would do nothing but stifle potential and never offer you, his soulmate, a chance at closure.

You deserved that, at the very least.

You deserved so much more than him.

“You hurt her. Just like I hurt Sohreh,” Dottore’s words were controlled, but only just. Omega was already under his skin and the Segment didn’t need more goading. “Worse, even.”

Death had been a mercy for Sohreh.

“I freed her of the confines of her life here, where she must hold herself back for the sake of others.”

“You fed her lies and a false life.”

“As if you wouldn’t do the same to keep her from seeing your true self. A monster is still a monster, no matter how finely you dress and no matter how polite you act.”

Dottore resisted the urge to summon his claymore and silence Omega, resources and time wasted. Omega didn’t even move as his master closed the distance again, this time laughing joyfully as Prime pulled away the mask and faceplate, exposing the Ruin Core and the tangles of wires for the optical sockets. Both hands then grasped the Segment’s head, and Dottore twisted a finger around the love lock and pulled in the process. In true selfishness, he only ever loved himself, something only noticeable if one found the other lock and noticed how it always curved around his crystal earring on every Segment. Leyline energy to preserve memories and experiences, pulled from the roots of Irminsul.

This close, he could access the Segment’s neutral network by mental connection alone through the shared Akasha network he constructed using those crystals.

“You and I are almost exactly the same,” Omega said softly, his words vicious. “Unlike you, I’m not afraid to explore something, even if it is a useless reminder of the Divinity that has wronged us at every turn. You can’t tell me you were never tempted to push the boundary further in every dream. After all, you wanted to kill her once upon a time.”

Dottore couldn’t fathom that now, not after meeting you, after feeling more alive now than he had in centuries because of your music, your presence. His bones ached in a way he had never felt before but it was his experience to explore with you, not Omega’s.

If anyone had been robbed, it was him. No, you . You were robbed.

Archons and Celestia be damned, you deserved better than him.

“You might be the accepted monster but I am better than you in so many ways. Despite your augmentations and longevity, it stands to reason that I am far more worthy of your Vision, of her , than you will ever be.”

“You want what I have?” Dottore growled, the dam inside him finally breaking as his rage and agony seared his veins. “Here, take it, have it all! See what you’ve broken this time!”

The rush of his own blood was deafening in his ears as he flooded the system. Memories upon memories of dreams, of that night he first laid eyes on her in the theatre and the way his heart swelled at her passion, of her determination afterward, of her laugh, her smile, the peace she brought to his mind when his Perspectives conflicted…

Guilt washed over him, ran through his fingers and into the leyline circuits, followed by the frustration and agony of seeing Omega wreck everything before it could begin, the fear that gripped him as he realized what her presence now might result in, the uncertainty of what would become of her, because of him…

Omega’s Ruin Core spun faster, clicking as its processes picked up in an attempt to accept and understand the data. Dottore severed the connection abruptly, pulling away. Omega, overloaded, folded easily, his knees buckling as his body fell limp in response as he titled his head up at his creator, grimacing.

“Maybe in time you’ll understand,” Dottore said through gritted teeth. “Hope is a thing with wings, Omega, and you clipped hers before she could fly.”

He left his Segment where it fell, like a toy abandoned, and returned to the figure in the office. Your face was closer to peace, perhaps too close for comfort, but you were breathing evenly. A good sign.

Dottore gathered you in his arms, ignoring the squeeze of his heart when your head rolled and rested against his chest, and fell into the veins of the world once more.

#dottore #il dottore #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #dottore x female reader #il dottore x female reader #genshin impact reader insert #soulmate au

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thatwriterchaotic · 2 years

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Man's Best friend (Dog part 2)

So a lot of you really liked my last post Dog. I decided to make a part 2 from Dog. Haven't been really sure about what I've wanted to write with Daryl lately so here we go. And if you haven't read the first part to this I suggest you go back and read if you want. Anyways thanks for reading as always. :)

Word count: 1166

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

It was supposed to be an average Sunday afternoon. Not much was happening in Alexandria. You decide to sleep in a little more than usual. When you woke up you didn't feel the warmth next to you where Daryl sleeps. You knew he was always an early bird. Waking up at on godly hours of the morning to you. You sat up and stretched feeling a slight pain in your shoulders.

You got out of bed and got dressed for the day. It was oddly quiet. You knew Daryl usually took Dog with him everywhere he could. But something just felt off about today. That's when a loud yell came from outside. It sounded like Rick. You quickly grabbed your knifes and put them in the holsters around your hips. You bolted out of the house and to the gate where you saw Rick, Michonne and Carl surrounded by someone hunched on the ground. You didn't realize who it was until you heard Dog bark. You picked up the pace. You felt your nerves go haywire. What happened to Daryl!? Was he hurt?! Your mind raced with thoughts.

Once you finally made it to Rick and the others. You got down right beside Daryl and noticed he had scrapes all up his side and leg. He fell off his bike again. Probably from getting away from walkers. But his bike was no where in site. Did he walk the rest of the way here?? You were happy Dog was with him at least. Daryl groaned and whined as he laid on the ground. “Shh Daryl it's okay we are going to get you help”. You said softly brushing his hair out of his face.

The others came over quickly with a cot. Michonne pulled you back a bit so they could pick him up. You felt sick to your stomach with worry. You knew he had done this before but it still made you worry. “He's going to be alright” Michonne said softly as she hugged you. You sighed softly hugging her back. “I know, I just care about him so much”. You s

A couple of hours had passed, you sat waiting outside the medical room. Denise was inside patching Daryl up. She asked you to wait out here until she was done. Soon she came out and looked at you. “He's knocked out but you can come in now I'm all done” You nodded and got up out of your chair. You thanked Denise before entering the room. Daryl laid in the bed with bandages all around him. His arm and shoulder, down to his leg. He had a small patch above his eye brow where he scraped it.

You sighed softly as you walked over and gently sat down on the bed next to him. “Going to give me a heart attack some day Daryl Dixon” You said quietly to yourself. You reached out and gently grabbed his hand rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. You herd light taps across the floor. You knew it was Dog. Carol was watching him for you while you checked on Daryl. But you knew eventually Dog would want to see Daryl. Dog worried just as much as you did about him.

Dog jumped up and laid down at Daryl's feet whining. “Shh it's okay boy, he's going to be alright” You said softly reaching over to pet him. Daryl groaned as he woke up. He felt like he was hit by a truck. He eventually got still and looked around seeing you and Dog. You smiled softly gently gripping his hand. “Hey hey, you're alright Daryl it's just me and Dog” you said to calm him down.

Daryl relaxed and slipped his fingers in between yours. “hey sunshine” He said as he looked at you. He hated making you worry so much and he knew you must have been doing that for hours. “Sooo you gonna tell me what happened or am I going to have to ask Dog?” You said as you looked at him and then Dog.

Daryl sighed and sat up a little. “okay okay, I was out scavenging with Dog and a hord came out of no where. I hopped on my bike and started heading back when I swerved trying not to hit a walker, I fell off my bike and slid across the road and must have knocked myself out. Dog woke me up and lead me back home” Daryl explained feeling like an idiot.

You sighed softly trying not to laugh. Daryl Dixon, bad ass on a motorcycle wrecked because of a walker. Eventually a small laugh came out and Daryl playfully hit your shoulder. “Hey that's not funny you ass” He said in a bitter tone. You knew he meant nothing behind it. You smiled softly and leaned down kisses his cheek. “It totally is not funny, my poor Daryl is all hurt” You said teasing him more.

You could see a tiny pout on Daryl's face as he rolled his eyes at you. You giggled and gently laid down beside him. Curling up to his side and laying your head on his shoulder gently. “Just messing with you, but if it weren't for Dog you would still be out there” You said softly, happy they both made it home somewhat safe. Dog perked up and moved to lay in between you and Daryl, wagging his tail. Daryl wrapped his arm around you gently drawing shapes into your arm with his fingers. “Yeah he saved me today, good boy” Daryl said kissing your forehead.

You smiled as you reached down petting Dog's head. “He really is man's best friend, that dog would do anything for you” You said softly. You loved how much Dog cared for Daryl. It had only been a few months since you found him and they already had a very close bond. You relaxed and got comfy next to Daryl being careful not to hurt him. “You should rest” you said softly looking at Daryl. He looked so tired from all that pain he went through.

Daryl grunted in agreement. He held you close and nuzzled into you. “If I'm napping so are you” He said before slowly drifting off to sleep. You smiled softly and pulled the blankets up. If you could lay here forever with Daryl and Dog you would.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x reader #puppy #dogs #twd fanfiction

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writing-a-to-b · 1 year

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Title: Winter Word Count: 4,962 Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader, a side helping of platonic/familial Ellie Williams X Reader A/N: This work is written in collaboration between @specialagentmonkey & @bangaveragewhitewine

We’re back! We post weekly; we have one more season, which will be followed by some ~interludes~ in between the main seasons.

Thanks for reading folks, any comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! Follow and turn on notifications if you would like to hear when we post the other seasons / chapters, or sign up to our taglist to be kept up to date with what we post!

We do not give permission for our work to be posted on other sites.

Seasons Of Us masterlist

Contains: tooth-rotting fluff, shitty christmases past, panic attacks, canon loss of a child (not mentioned but gives context)

Autumn made way for the Winter, the fresh mornings and evenings becoming more bitter as the weeks grew on. Small flurries of snow began to blanket Jackson, causing the townsfolk to take a final inventory of the supplies and the towns’ reserves to last the duration of the winter. The sunlight during the day began to lessen making the days work shorter and harder to complete tasks. There was a shift in the atmosphere amongst the town too, everyone was optimistic, cautiously so, for getting through the winter.

And of course, following the celebrations of Halloween and Thanksgiving everyone was looking forward to Christmas and all the festivities that came with it. Since you, Joel and Ellie had arrived in Jackson, each holiday had only gotten better every year. It should feel normal, not buying friends and your make-shift family gifts after so long of not being able to, but being in Jackson and back in a proper civilised community (no matter how small) made you miss your old tradition of scouring the hundreds of stores in the mall, coffee in hand ready, putting time and thought into each gift.

Despite the Christmas holiday being special and close to everyone’s hearts, it had been a yearly struggle for Joel to settle into his festive spirit. He really tried, tried for you and for Ellie. You had decided that there were going to be some changes this year, for one, you were determined to surprise Joel and Ellie with an actual Christmas tree for the living room. You had even scored some decorations - though they had seen better days - and some extra candles to make the place feel cosy and festive. You just hoped it would all go to plan…

The perfect chance to go looking for a tree came early one morning, before any of your alarms had gone off. There was muffled knocking coming from downstairs and then two sharp taps on the bedroom window.

Joel startled awake and shot up in bed on the second tap against the window, his arm instinctively shooting across your body to protect you from whatever evil or intruder was there. Only there wasn’t one. No raider, no infected, just a constant sharp tapping against the bedroom window.

“What is it?” You mumbled into the pillow, voice thick from sleep.

You felt the bed shift, Joel’s side of the covers being thrown over you. Tugging the covers down from your face you peak an eye open to see Joel pulling back one side of the curtains.

He rested his forehead against the cool glass in partial relief and annoyance, “It’s Tommy- somethin’ must be wrong.” Seeing his brother’s sleepy glare, the younger Miller stopped his assault of throwing pebbles at the window, signalling Joel to open the door. Before you closed your eyes again, you spotted Joel flip the bird in return for the unwanted wake-up call; despite it all, the Miller brothers never changed.

It turned out nothing was wrong in the sense that Jackson was being attacked or they had infected to deal with. Kenneth, one of the regular patrolmen, had gone and twisted his ankle coming home from the Tipsy Bison the night before and couldn’t go out on the dawn patrol. Joel’s house was the closest to Tommy when he heard the news, and he knew Joel hadn’t any other work planned, so he figured he would get his big brother to come along.

“It was supposed to be my day off, Tommy,” he muttered as he pulled on his boots.

You were sitting on the sofa, rather blurry eyed in your dressing gown, but concentrating on the task at hand. You loaded up Joel’s backpack, making sure there was extra ammunition, a pack of beef jerky and a flask of hot tea in there too.

“I’m sorry but you were the closest, capable person.” He explained in an apology. To give Tommy his due, he did look sorry.

You stood when Joel did, watching him pull on and zip up the layers that would keep him warm. Shuffling with him to the front door you helped him get his pack on while Tommy went to wait outside. You smoothed your hands over his shoulders and chest. “You be good. No heroics, no breaking any bones, no getting stabbed or shot or-“

“-I got it. I got it.” Joel tutted and bent his hand down to meet your lips, “Wish I could take you back to bed,” he murmured against your lips, his hands slipping down your back and round to squeeze your hips.

“Patrol shouldn’t be long, we have that route pretty much locked down. You’ll be back by midday.” You pecked his lips, then his chin, then his cheek, bringing your hands up to cup them, “Ellie will still be in school, I’ll keep the bed warm…?” You trailed off, brushing your nose with his, leaving the tail end of that suggestive sentence open.

“Y’dont have to twist my arm, sweetheart.” He gave you one last slow kiss before pecking your forehead. Then he was gone, his and Tommy’s footsteps crunching on the fresh snow as dawn broke.

—

You didn’t in fact go back to bed that morning, you instead decided to use the early start to your advantage. You made short work of any chores or clean up that needed doing throughout your Jackson home before you had to wake Ellie for breakfast and school.

After getting your winter gear on you called in at the southern gate, asking for permission to head out into the woods, explaining to Maria why and what for. She was more than happy to help; Christmas was special in their house, with their little toddler loving the excitement and the twinkling lights in particular.

With Joel’s axe in hand, you and Maria went a short ways off into the woods to look for the perfect tree but also a one that you’d be able to drag home and get into a pot, all before Joel came back from patrol. The one you laid your eyes on after an hour or so of searching was perfect. It wasn’t too full and if you were to estimate it stood just under five feet tall - a nice size.

Together with Maria you chopped it down, tied the rope around it and prayed it would last the walk back to your house. It did, and you were glad to have an extra pair of strong hands as you lugged it home. You struggled to get it up the porch but with a bit of brute force and grunting it stood in your living room in the soil filled bucket in the corner of the room beside the window.

Both out of breath, you wiped your hands and brows before standing back to take in your handiwork; it seemed to tilt a bit to the left but it was upright and already made the place feel more festive, that’s all that mattered..

—

By mid afternoon you’d made lunch for yourself after Maria left to pick up the littlest Miller before starting preparations for dinner. It would be stew again tonight, Ellie's favourite. Joel didn’t care what was on his plate or in his bowl as long as it was hot and edible, but he was fond of your Mom’s stew recipe.

After a while, you started to get worried, it was nearing one in the afternoon and there was still no sign of Joel or any of the patrol coming back. Leaning your shoulder against the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room you sighed, looking between the box of decorations and the Christmas tree. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to take it down.

“And don’t you care come knockin’ tomorrow Tommy or so help me you won’t have any knuckles to knock with!” Joel’s voice made you jump, even through the door it was loud. His somewhat playful yet very serious threat to his younger brother was followed by loud stamps of his feet, removing the excess snow from his boots before he turned his key into the lock in the front door.

You dashed to the door to meet him, hoping to keep his eyes on you instead of the living room, “Welcome back, I was starting to get worried.”

Joel waved you off, placing his rifle down beside the door frame before he unzipped his coat and fleece jacket, “The snow really built up on the outside of the wall, made it hard to get through. Is that stew I can smell?”

You chuckled at him lifting his nose in the direction of the kitchen, sniffing loudly. You nodded as you helped hang his outer layers up to dry out, , “It is. Beef, Ellie’s favourite.”

Joel met your eyes then as he toed off his boots and his brows pulled together, “Why’d you look so nervous?”

The reality of the surprise had landed on you. Maybe it was a terrible idea after all. You cleared your throat, “I might have a surprise for you but.. I can get rid of it. I don’t want you to be upset, or annoyed.” You winced at the worry in your voice and you watched every emotion cross Joel’s face.

“I can’t promise anythin’ but if it’s a surprise then I’m sure you’ve put a lot of thought into it so I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckled and placed his hands on your shoulders, looking into your eyes, “What’s goin’ on, darlin’?” Had Ellie brought another animal home, did you cave and let her keep it…

You took his hand and side-stepped from his field of view, making a sweeping motion across the space of the living room, revealing the bare Christmas tree and the box of decorations beside it on the floor. “Surprise...” You held your breath as you hoped for the best.

You bit inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying anything else yet, watching his face instead. He seemed at a loss for words just staring at the tree. To some it wouldn’t seem like a big deal, but you could probably hazard a guess that the last time Joel had any form of decorations in his house it had been alongside some happy memories that were now tinged with pain and sadness, much like your own.

“I-uh-I was thinking that maybe this year we could have a tree and.. y’know decorate it and maybe the house as-as a family.” Your voice ended up being so soft towards the end before you took a deep breath. “If you hate it, I can throw it out. I won’t be hurt. We can use it for firewood..” Your hand instinctively squeezed Joel’s. Your heart sang and voice wobbled when he squeezed back.

For once you couldn’t read Joel. He had tears in his eyes but his expression was guarded and you didn’t like it. You had fucked up. It had gone wrong, you knew deep down it was a bad idea and now you’d have to drag the tree back out after cleaning your floors earlier.

“It…”

You raised your eyebrows, a shred of hope lingered.

“It’s perfect.”

When his eyes met yours you very nearly started crying. He liked the idea of a tree, he’d opened up to it finally and you couldn’t have been happier.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he whispered and after releasing your hand, he drew you into his side with an arm around your shoulders, “I mean it. It’s perfect…I think it’s time too. Ellie is definitely gonna love it. How on Earth did you get it in here?”

Feeling a rush of hopeful excitement, you laughed. “Excuse me Miller, you ain’t the only one with a bunch of muscles and persistence the size of Texas.” You scowled playfully at him as he looked amused. “It was a struggle, I won’t lie, but Maria helped me chop it down and drag it back to town - I owe her big time. Then there was the fight with the porch steps,” you paused and pointed to the bucket the tree sat in, “And don’t even get me started on that thing.”

A deep laugh bubbled up from his chest as he pulled you against his chest, wrapping you up. “You’re amazing, I ever told you that?” Joel pressed his lips to your head as he tried to articulate just how dear you were to him. “The way… The way you just think about my feelings and..” He shook his head, irritated with himself as he struggled with the words. He squeezed you tighter and spoke into your hair, “I can’t picture my life without you in it.”

You slid your hands up from his arms to his cheeks and brought his head down to look into your eyes again, “I know. Me too.” You nodded, letting him know that you didn’t need his words, you could tell on his face and in his body language that he was thankful, “I love you too.”

—

The tree was a hit with Ellie when she arrived home from school, she was even more excited about the decorations for the rest of the house and the porch. For her, Christmas was something that she learned about in FEDRA school, but she never really got the chance to celebrate the holiday. Not properly, not like a kid should, surrounded by family, presents and plenty of food. Jackson did Christmas right, maybe this year you would finally enjoy it.

Your first Christmas as a trio wasn’t like Christmas at all, holed up in some draughty old cabin to wait out a blizzard. Joel and Ellie had a lot of healing to do - physical and emotional - after all that had happened with David and his crew. You hadn’t even realised what day it was, focusing instead on staying alive and sane. Those days on your way to Salt Lake City had been a blur.

Your first real Christmas in Jackson was overwhelming in a different way. The three of you were swept along in the festivities as you tried to forget the previous hellish winter. There were town meals and dances at the Jackson hall.. To call it ‘overwhelming’ was an understatement. ***

It was the evening of the Jackson Christmas dance, Ellie had been talking about it non-stop all week so you could hardly forget about it, or ignore it like Joel seemed to. With everything that had happened in the last year, you were excited to be able to relax and feel some semblance of normality, for you and Joel to let your hair down a bit. The distraction for Ellie was welcomed with open arms.

Maria had really helped you and Ellie out with some nicer clothing for the dance, a simple dark green dress for you that she had swapped some of her old maternity clothes for. For Ellie it was a little less formal, a pair of cargo trousers, a Savage Starlight tshirt and some second hand sneakers that had made the girl practically squeal.

“Are you guys ready?” Ellie asked as she came barrelling into the bedroom you share with Joel, skidding to a halt just through the door, “It’s nearly time, it starts at six thirty!”

“Slow down, girl. We have time.” You reassured her with a smile when your eyes met in the mirror. You were currently trying to do something with your hair while Joel was in the bathroom. Even Ellie had kept her hair down.

Ellie huffed and sat down on the end of your bed, examining her new sneakers, “Is Joel even ready?”

“Yes. He’s probably adding some extra curls into his hair,” you quipped, both of you sharing a giggle at his expense.

You moved to sit down beside her and threw an arm over her shoulders, “You excited?”

“Uh, duh.” She deadpanned before breaking out into a grin, “Are you crazy? It’s like my first proper Christmas, it’s gonna be fuckin’ awesome.”

You couldn’t help but agree, pleased to see she was smiling about something again. There was the sound of something dropping behind the bathroom door that perked both of your ears up. Followed by muffled curses.

“Joel? Everything okay?” You asked from your seat on the bed, when you didn’t receive a response you stood from the bed, knocking gently on the door, “Joel?”

Still nothing, “I’m coming in, okay?” With that you turned the handle and slowly opened the door.

At first there was nothing for you to see out of the ordinary, that was until your eyes laid on the sight of Joel on the floor, back pressed against the side of the bath, clutching his chest. It took a split second for you to act but you were on your knees, between his bent legs in an instant, resting your hands on his knees, “Joel? Joel? Joel, can you look at me?”

He shook his head, his eyes tightly screwed shut. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t get the ringing in his ears to stop. Was it actually a heart attack this time, or was he having another god damn panic attack? All he knew was impending doom in that moment. And why? Because he couldn’t stand the thought of being around people, celebrating, drinking and dancing. People that insist on reminiscing about the good old days when all he wanted to do was forget they ever happened. Every time he remembered it hurt.

Your hand on his clammy cheek shocked him enough to open his eyes, “Joel, you need to breathe, baby. You’re having a panic attack.”

Joel shook his head again, pushing his chin down into his chest as best he could, this was looking like it was his worst one yet.

“Shit…” Ellie stood helplessly at the door, frozen in place.

You turned your body enough to look at her. “Ellie go get some water from downstairs-”

She made a noise of complaint and motioned with her hand towards the basin. “- there’s a tap right th-”

Your eyes pleaded with her to understand, she didn’t need to see this, you didn’t want it to scare her, especially when she had been so excited and happy. You also knew that maybe he didn’t want his baby girl to see him like this either. “Ellie, please. A big cold glass of water from downstairs.”

She didn’t realise that this was her helping you out, feeling like she was in the way again, and with a huff she muttered “Fine,” before leaving the two of you alone in the ensuite bathroom.

“Hey, it’s just us.” You said in a soft voice, moving one hand to take one of his, you moved your other from his knee to his chest, “Can you look at me? Do you know what set it off?”

Joel shook his head weakly, eyes glazed over as he stared at his jeans. “I ca-hnnn.. I can’t.” He had never sounded smaller, felt more pathetic. He had been through hell and back, yet the thought of a party and some sparkling lights was what was going to finish him off.

“Joel. Breathe, please baby.” You took his balled up fist, coaxing him to place his hand on your chest as you began to take slow deep breaths, holding them before releasing them. “Breathe with me. I got you.”

Slowly, he lifted his tearful gaze up and met your eyes. You nodded, smiling. “Good. Thank you.” You stroked his hand with your thumb as you continued to breathe deeply for him. “I missed those pretty eyes. Deep breaths with me, handsome.”

It felt like an eternity for you both, but soon his breathing had steadied and the tears that had spilled began to dry on his cheeks. You heard Ellie’s footsteps and caught Joel’s gaze duck again as she appeared back at the door.

“I brought the water… I might’ve broke a glass.” She stepped in and dipped down to set it down on the floor beside you. Her eyes looked red, her sparkle of excitement gone. You all knew you wouldn’t be going to the dance tonight.

“Thank you, Ellie. Don’t worry about the glass.” You looked between them before patting the ground next to you. Even if Joel didn’t like it, you couldn’t keep hiding this from her. What if you weren’t there next time this happened…“Sit with us?”

“Shouldn’t have’ta see this shit.” Joel’s voice was ragged, exhausted. “Go… t’the dance.”

Ellie tensed her jaw and shook her head before sitting on the cool tiles, picking at her laces. “I don’t want to. I’m staying right here.”

You could see Joel beating himself up, Ellie tensing too as she battled with her worries. Your own feelings of inadequacy - feeling like you couldn’t be what either of them needed - crept in too but you couldn’t crumble, not now.

Your dream of some sort of normal Christmas disappeared as you bolstered both of them. You had each other, just like last year, that’s what mattered. What was one more year…

Decorating the tree was the family affair you had dreamed of. Laughter and some old records you had collected over the years were your soundtrack as Ellie took care adding the decorations to the tree with you, Joel helping with the higher branches, even though you could reach just fine. The few shiny baubles you had got your hands on had seen better days, but they were charming in their own way and reminded you of the Texan by your side.

With a few paper snowflakes - the making of which had blown Ellie’s mind - the tree was finished in time for dinner. You couldn’t have dreamed of a better day, seeing Joel’s boyish grin and the sparkle in Ellie’s eyes as they bickered playfully over bowls of hot stew.

The teenager had her own plans that evening, going to check on the horses and hang out with some of the other kids, leaving you and Joel to have a quiet evening admiring your handiwork with a glass of bourbon in hand.

You were both cuddled up on the couch under a thick blanket with your legs thrown over his lap and your head gently resting against his shoulder. It was a feeling you might never get used to, being able to sit in a warm home that was yours, on a mostly comfortable sofa with soft country music coming from the record player across the room. Being safe and secure in a world that was the complete opposite. That thought alone made you hum softly and snuggle further into Joel’s warmth.

There was something else weighing on you, and you were mindful not to spoil the lovely day and calm mood. After a few sips of your drink, you built the courage to bring it up.

“So I might have another surprise for you,” you murmured quietly, your fingertips tracing the veins on the back of Joel’s hand that was resting on your thigh,“Just a little something that I’ve been working on in my spare time.”

“Oh?” Joel squeezed your thigh gently, “Didn’t know we got spare time ‘round here. How do I get in on that?”

You pinch his arm gently and roll your eyes, “Shush.” After another sip you speak again, feeling his whiskey gaze on you,“ Yeah, it kinda goes with the tree..” You unwound your body from Joel’s and moved to take a small wrapped package tied with string from the dresser, hidden right at the back of the drawer. He stayed, one arm along the back of the couch, watching you curiously.

“Might’ve used some of your tools for this. I hope I’m not overstepping…”

Joel’s eyebrows raised and he sat forward as you offered him the package, keeping his eyes on you as he took it. “My girl using my tools to make me a gift?”

You nodded and tried a shy smile. “I didn’t even cut myself this time.”

Joel clicked his tongue as he unwrapped the package, mouth open to lecture you on tool safety before his eyes settled on the simple disk of wood inside. Cut from a branch of pine, the disk was carved with a simple ‘S’ in the centre, framed by dark pine bark, with a loop of string for hanging. It was even varnished, remarkably tidy for a beginner. If his words hadn’t caught in his throat, Joel would have praised you right out of the gate.

“I wanted Sarah to be part of our Christmas.” Your voice was shy, gentle, as you watched Joel blink away the burning sting in his eyes. He cleared his throat and you watched him work through a few breaths as his words and emotions twisted in his throat.

“S’really beautiful.” Joel looked up at you, voice thick. “Help me put it on, right near the top?” he asked, sniffing as he stood.

You nodded eagerly and took his offered hand as he gazed at the disk. “You really did this for me.” It wasn’t a question, a simple statement of the fact that you loved him.

“Yeah.. Might’ve made one for Ellie too, I’ll give it to her on Christmas Eve, but I wanted this to be special. Just for you.”

Joel tore his eyes away to look at you like you hung the moon. “Special? Doesn’t even touch how much this means to me, sweet girl. Thank you.” He ducked his head to kiss you before looking back at the tree.

“You got me a gift?” The look of wonder and pure disbelief that crossed Ellie’s face was enough to set both you and Joel off smiling. This girl really hadn’t celebrated Christmas properly before. It broke your heart.

You shrugged as if it was nothing and after glancing at Joel you pulled a small package from behind you, wrapped identically to the one you had given Joel a few days ago, “I made you a gift, with my bare hands.”

“No fucking way.”

“Language.” The soft scold came from you and Joel at the same time, causing you both to share a smirk with each other. The cursing had been kept to a minimum at the dinner table; Joel had a hand in that, teaching her the old southern table manners.

“Sorry but this is so cool. So I open it tomorrow, right?” Ellie asked, her eyes moving between you and the wrapped gift. “Like does it go under the tree? Some of the kids in the FEDRA school got presents but I never- I was always in trouble so…”

With a shake of your head and an encouraging smile you hold out the present for her to take. “No, you can open it now, we won’t make you wait.”

Joel sat forward with his elbows on his knees. “Go on kiddo.”

Ellie beamed a smile at the both of you before she started to carefully untie the package and pull open the paper. Ellie’s gift matched the one you had made for Joel, with an ‘E’ instead of Sarah’s ‘S’; the wood had been cut from the same branch which felt almost poetic. You found yourself holding your breath while Ellie examined the wooden circle, holding it delicately in her hands before tracing the carving. You felt Joel’s warm hand on your knee, offering some silent support.

“You made this for me?” Ellie’s voice wobbled slightly, her eyes shining with tears.

You glanced at Joel before nodding at Ellie, “Yeah do you-”

All of a sudden Ellie threw herself at you. After a few moments, Joel joined in, hugging you both tightly.

“C’mon kiddo, let’s put it up next to Sarah,” Joel said after you had all peeled away from each other, Ellie still enthralled by the thoughtful gift. You felt a lump in your throat as you watched Joel put his arm around Ellie, the way he had with you, as she placed the carving as high as she could reach.

Together they hung the decoration, pride of place on your first family Christmas tree.

Joel looked over toward you, opening his free arm out for you to join them - an offer you wouldn’t turn down.

“This is the best fucking tree ever,” Ellie said, awestruck.

“Better than the one in town?” Joel asked, feeling you hold him a little tighter. He had avoided spending too much time around it in the years previous. He had told you why, but he didn’t want it to be a fuss for you or for Ellie. Last year, when you had taken the teen to watch the tree-lighting in the town square, Tommy had arrived with a distraction - an old wood burning stove that he was trying to get working for a couple who were having their own first family Christmas a few streets away. That had kept Joel’s mind occupied.

Ellie looked up at him, her eyes flicking toward you before nodding. “Miles better. Are you kidding, this one has me on it.” She grinned proudly.

“Well I was going to suggest going to see what all the fuss was about. We could make it into town this evening before it gets too late. But hey, if it sucks then…”

You shared a look with Ellie.

“Are you sure?” You knew the panic attacks had gotten fewer, further between. You couldn’t remember the last one.

“I’m willing to try, I got my girls with me - how bad can it be?” he said, looking at you, then Ellie. He grunted before laughing as you both squeezed him as tight as you could. The tight feeling in his chest this year was a good one, a great one.

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