#the shield is also quite broad!

[sensitivehandsomeactionman]

Finally, a good view of the back of Soldier Boy’s supersuit ⭐🤩

#Jensen Ackles #jensenedit #Soldier Boy #soldierboyedit #The Boys #theboysedit #Herogasm #the boys 3.06 #the shield is also quite broad! #danistuff #1k

[angel-of-the-moons]

Doppelgänger

Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Angst, self-image issues, mentions of childhood trauma, addiction, our mans has had it rough as fuck™

A/N: Brought on by this post from @tarjapearce and the comments i made (I'm sorry i am a ho for some angst sometimes) I'm merging ATSV stuff with comic stuffs because NO WAY IS HIS MOVIE DESIGN LIKE THAT ON PURPOSE WITHOUT IT POSSIBLY COMING UP IN FUTURE MOVIES ASDFGHJKL

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies

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You came home and it was quiet. Quiet and dark; and already you knew something was up. You left Miguel sleeping so you could attend to some meetings and paperwork at your office, and pick up a few groceries.

Miguel had been acting strange the past few days. You'd asked him if it had something to do with work and he simply shrugged the question aside, like it was a small chip on one of his broad shoulders.

You'd asked him what was bothering him again, and he simply stared at the carpet, muttering something you didn't quite catch, and he went straight to bed.

You were so worried you'd even texted Gabriel on your walk home:

Hey, Gabe...

Heyyyy! If it ain't my favorite brother's girlfriend!

You couldn't help but roll your eyes with a soft snort. You only have one brother, Gabe.

No no, chica, I meant that you're my favorite of any girlfriends he's ever had. 😂

Gabe that sounds a little... Bad. 😬

Does it? Woops! Anyways, what's up? My big dumb, brick-house brother do something to make you mad?

No, Gabe... He's acting weird. Has been for the past few days, and he won't open up to me. I'm worried.

You could see the chat bubble pop up over and over again with '...' signifying that he was in the process of texting. With how many times it popped up and went away you were expecting a bible scripture's length of a text wall.

But what you got instead made your heart sink.

He saw our mom. She... She brought up Tyler.

Oh, god. You knew that Miguel and Conchata had a rocky relationship. Miguel had told you why. It was so bad, even just recalling everything, that you felt Miguel's pain like it was your own.

You also knew that Miguel's biological father, Tyler Stone, was the one that manipulated him, that used him, got him addicted to Rapture and almost killed him...

But it wasn't even the real dose of Rapture. It was simulated. Just another manipulation tactic. It was overhearing that conversation that Miguel found out the truth of his heritage, and you could tell that nugget of knowledge permanently chipped his sense of identity.

Even moreso when he confessed to you about Gabriela--

Your phone pinged.

They fought. It was... It was ugly. I... I didn't know about Tyler. God, chica, I didn't know. Dad was...

You felt your heart flop, knowing poor Gabriel was shielded by Miguel for so long so he didn't have to suffer like he did at the hands of their gaslighting and manipulative mother, his sadistic sperm donor... Miguel wanted nothing more than to protect Gabriel from that pain.

Your fingers flew fast on the little keyboard, a few spelling errors here and there;

God, Gabri im sory you had to fidn out that way

I know. It figures Miguel would have told you, before me, tho. He loves you.

He loves you too, Gabri. God, more than you know. He loves you.

I know. He was trying to keep me safe and out of Mom's drama.

No offense, Gabri, but if I ever see that woman I'm rearranging her face with a shovel.

OMG. I mean... After the things she said to Miggy, I... Kind of want her to at least feel consequences of her actions, y'know?

Oh, she will. Don't worry. Thanks for telling me this, Gabri.

Go cuddle my big brother and tell him I love him, k? Let me know how he's doing.

OMW home now, I'll text you when he's feeling better.

KK, see ya.

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Yeah. You knew for sure Miguel was still heartbroken when you came home after that.

You put the groceries away, a somber expression on your face as a million thoughts went through your head.

God, of course Conchata had to come see Gabriel at the same time Miguel was there. You wouldn't be surprised if either she could have tabs kept on him, just to... to try and lord her power over him somehow, like he was still that scared little boy, holding onto his baby brother, being his shield and buffer from their parents' fights.

That bitch had to have had a hand in Tyler using him the way that he did, that she had to have known about--

Your mind was knocked away from those dark thoughts when you heard glass shatter.

You dropped the bag of apples onto the ground, the fruits tumbling out and rolling across the floor as you made a mad dash to your bedroom.

Noting Miguel wasn't in there, you turned to the adjoining bathroom door, seeing faint light come down from below, small wafts of steam rolling out.

"Miguel?" You frantically called out, knocking on the door and leaning your ear against the smooth metal.

You could hear shuffling and the tinkling of glass shards, as well as the shower running; but no verbal reply.

You knocked on the door again, hurried and a little too hard, your fingers hovering over the control panel.

Before you could push a button, the door slid open.

Miguel was in nothing but a pair of boxers, leaning over your bathroom sink, his hands gripping the marble countertops, threatening to crack the material. Beads of water rolled down his muscular, tanned skin; droplets of water dripped from the ends of his thick, wavy chocolate locks, the natural curls more apparent thanks to the water.

That's when you noticed it. Your bathroom mirror, shattered into a hundred pieces, scattering the counter, floor, and in the sink.

Bright, scarlet droplets were on the floor, steadily building into small puddle from his right hand, his knuckles split, shards of the reflective material sticking out of it.

"I'll pay for it." His voice croaked out, unable to lift his eyes to meet your horrified gaze. "I just--"

"Oh, god! Miggy!" You breathed, reaching out, taking a step towards him, only to wince and hiss when the pieces of broken mirror stabbed the soft, delicate soles of your feet.

You gritted your teeth as the glass crunched, but you grabbed Miguel.

Instantly it was like a switch flipped inside of him, Miguel's head snapped up and he looked down at you, seeing the bloody footprints you now left on your tile.

He looked terrified at what he was seeing. How you just ignored the shards in your body in favor of frantically digging around one of the cabinets for your first aid kit.

"Bebita... I..." Miguel choked out.

When you found it, you killed the shower and stepped into the glass once again, pulling him into your room, and onto your bed, your feet leaving bloody prints as you walked, like macabre rose petals being left in your wake. Miguel had a large enough stride that he was careful to avoid getting any in his feet, but the smell of your blood permeated the air, it made him sick to his stomach. Not with disgust.

With guilt.

Of course, you checked him over first, plucking out the shards of glass from his knuckles and cleaning the cuts out with wound wash, ignoring the blood welling up onto the tile floor of your bedroom from.

You carefully roll his hand as you try to wrap the gauze around his knuckles. "Miggy, can you hold your--"

"I'm sorry." He interrupts.

You looked up at him, and only then do you see his face. Framed in his wet curls, his face was shadowed and haunted, his eyes dark and as tumultuous in a maelstrom of anxiety and fear.

You bring your hand to his cheek, caressing one of his sharp cheekbones with your thumb. "Baby, it's okay. It's just a mirror, I can--"

He shook his head, as if your touch to his face burned him like a hot iron.

He leaned over, grabbing your legs and pulling your feet into his lap so he can assess the damage, and return the favor of cleaning and dressing them.

"You're hurt because of me." He whispered sadly, dabbing the blood away.

"I'm hurt because of the glass, honey." You tell him gently, letting him apply the "honey" to the cuts in your feet, sealing them.

His massive hands encapsulated your ankles, his thumbs rubbing small circles as the rough pads caressed your skin. Like you were made of the delicate gossamer of a butterfly's wing.

He sits like that, not meeting your eyes. And god, did that hurt you so badly. You knew how important eye contact was with Miguel, he almost always went out of his way to keep eye contact when he was conversing with someone. Having him avoid your eyes... hurt.

Because you knew he was hurting.

"Miggy." You breathed. "Talk to me."

You move your feet from his lap and scoot closer to him, moving your face until he locked eyes with you again, and you could see the pain and the tears fill his own as he looked at you; his full, pouty lips trembling in an effort to hold his emotions at bay.

His shoulders dropped low, and Miguel leans forward until he was practically bent in half, clinging to you, burying his face in your chest as he fisted your shirt in his hands.

You rubbed his shoulder with one hand, biting your lip as he softly cried into your blouse, your other hand combing through his messy wet hair.

You stayed like that, for what felt like hours. You weren't sure how long it was exactly, with the blackout curtains drawn and the lights off. The only light that dimly illuminated the room was from your bathroom, and the open door.

He finally calmed enough to speak, to explain why he shattered the mirror.

"...I look like him." Miguel said, his heart in his voice, his soul stripped down and naked with raw pain.

"Mig--"

"God, I look like him. That... that cabrón." He hissed, tugging your shirt in his fists.

"I look like that bastard that... that made me into this." The self-contempt in his voice broke your heart.

You kiss the top of his head, murmuring against him. "No, you don't, baby."

"Yes, I do!" He snapped, pulling himself away from you and throwing himself to his feet. He paced like an angry tiger in a cage, waiting to swat at whatever keeper dared enter his enclosure. He didn't notice that he was stepping into the sticky, dried blood trails you left.

"I have his--his face. His fucking face--" He said, gripping his hair in his hands, tugging as he started to hyperventilate. "My fucking nose, my fucking cheeks, my fucking lips--they're all him! I'm not allowed to be me, every time I look in the mirror I see him! I can't ever get away from him! He's a part of me, he always will be! I fucking look like him!"

You get to your feet, ignoring the throbbing in your soles as you dared to reach out, to touch the pacing tiger.

Your hands smooth up his back, gently, softly; then back down until they wrapped around his mid-section.

You feel him, how tense he is, how his muscles flex at your touch almost like he's bracing himself for some kind of blow that simply will never come from you.

You rest your cheek against his back, feeling how hot his skin was burning.

"Baby. You don't look like him. You aren't him, and you never will be." You whisper.

You plant kisses wherever you could reach, not letting him go, feeling his body shake with each shuddering breath as your soft lips made contact.

"More importantly, Tyler will never be you."

"I--"

You cut him off. "Listen to me... Did Tyler figure out multi-dimensional travel, build a strike force of super-powered people from across the multiverse? Does Tyler, almost every day, work to keep dozens--no, hundreds--of universes safe from monsters?"

He didn't answer.

"And did Tyler Stone protect your baby brother from your mother all these years?"

No answer.

"You are Miguel-goddamn-O'Hara." You tell him. "I love you, with trauma, quirks and all. I love your little scritch-scratches you make, the way your bottom lip pokes out when you pout, your crooked teeth when you smile. I love your ridiculously large body, I love how you hug me. I love the little snores you make when you fall asleep at your desk, how you crinkle your nose when you're about to sneeze.."

You feel his hands slowly rise to touch your arms where they're almost-locked around his larger frame.

"I love how sweet and gentle you are. I love hearing you curse to yourself when you shock yourself with your soldering gun... I love listening to you bicker with Lyla, or complain about one of the other Spiders bugging you." You place more kisses after each sentence; hoping each one plants a seed of love beneath his skin, to bloom into a garden that he can admire and love, not hate for the very skin he was born with out of illegitimacy and infidelity.

"Tyler Stone is not you. He never will be. He will never be as good as you." You sigh against his skin, feeling the goosebumps form in the cold of your room, now that the adrenaline of his anxiety was beginning to fade, and his body became aware of the water that was slowly drying and cooling his skin.

"I love you, Miguel O'Hara. You and no-one else. Don't ever think for a second that you don't have your own identity because of your genes."

He slowly turns in your grasp, looking down at you with raw, unclothed emotion as his hand touches your cheek.

"You're more than that. You're you, and I wouldn't have you any other way." You say, your tone set and jaw tight; every word you spoke carrying a hefty weight of seriousness and honesty.

He smiles, almost sadly as you feel the rough pads of his thumb against your cheek, the little talon there poking you but not breaking the skin.

"...I..." He said, his voice stiff as he swallows the lump in his throat.

"I really will pay for your mirror, you know."

You grin up at him and turn your face so you can kiss the palm of his hand.

"I know you will, Miggy."

"But I am curious... I felt like you were going to keep going with the affirmations." He said, raising an eyebrow slowly.

"Well, the last one..."

"The last one?" Miguel tilted his head down at you quizzically.

You grin at him again, your teeth showing and eyes creasing as you barely manage to reach around him, swatting his ass playfully.

"I also love the fact you have the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man."

He couldn't contain the snort that came out of him, and he reached up to cover his whole face with his other hand.

"Mierda..."

You giggle as you step around him, giving a playful swat to his ass once again as you walk by.

"C'mon, Miguel O'Hara. You got a broken mirror to clean up."

His shoulders lifted as he watched you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen as he smiled.

Yeah. You were right.

He was Miguel O'Hara.

And he was certainly going to pay you back for the smacks to his ass.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse

[cosmal]

“you can hold my hand, if you want” with remus?? love your writing so much i legit check ur blog everyday ❤️

little lies

summary — remus lets you hold his hand in a crowd.

content —remus lupin x reader

note —thank you so much i love you!!!! also this kinda sucks my laptop kinda started to glitch so I wanted to finish this up !!!

You’re not entirely sure why you agreed to come along tonight with your friends. Your head is pounding, and when you get shoved about, you get so dizzy you feel like you’ll fall over.

You'd made the mistake of pushing your way out of the crowd to go get some water. Remus had offered to go for you, but you really needed to escape the swarm you'd all found yourselves in before you couldn't breathe.

You walk slowly towards the edge of the crowd away from the bar and realise you have no idea where you came from. You don't know where you left your friends or if they've stayed in the same spot. The idea of blindly shoving your way through the crowd terrifies you but you don't want to be alone for however long it takes you to find one of them.

James is tall, so it shouldn't be hard.

Before you think you should start your search, Remus is emerging through a thick group of sweaty bodies. He's not broad but he towers over most of them and they part without him even asking them to. It's quite envious.

"There you are," he says firmly over the sound of the band. He looks as flustered as you feel but he holds his own.

"Sorry," you say not quite as loud as you should, though Remus frowns like he's heard what you said. "Just needed a drink."

"You're okay?" he leans in so his mouth can find your ear. Unlike you, he's almost louder than he needs to be. Your ear stings.

"Yeah," you say reassuringly. You won't ruin his night, because you know him. If you tell him your head is hurting he'll want to take you home. You want to, but you also want to spend time with him.

"Your head's not hurting?"

He can read you like an open book. It's a quality of his you have a love-hate relationship with. "No," you lie. He seems convinced.

You've become good at convincing him with your little lies. Like when he asks you if you're hungry and you tell him you're not because you hate it when he spends his money on you. Or when he asks if you're cold and you tell him you're okay because you won't have him give up his jacket for you.

Or how you hide your feelings for him every day because the idea of him rejecting you is terrifying. That might not be as little as the others but you like to pretend.

"Do you want to find the others?"

You look over his shoulder where the band is playing and then at the crowd where it's swarming near the front. You spot Sirius to the side and think it's not too far. You don't want to leave yet.

"Yeah," you tell him and mirror his pretty smile. Though, you're sure yours isn't as earth-shattering.

You're sure he can still sense your anxiety but you won't let him ask you anything when you start to move. He turns and you hide yourself in his side so you can dodge the people that seem to part around him. Mostly because it feels good to stick by him.

You wince when someone steps on your foot and Remus turns like he's about to say something to them but decides against it when he catches your eyes.

"Hey," he says and nudges your shoulder with his, "you can hold my hand if you want to."

You blink, startled that you've been caught, but then you're doubling down because it's always like this. He always knows how to make you feel better.

You mutter what you hope is a thank you and take his hand. His skin is soft under yours and the hem of his sweater tickles your wrist.

You feel overwhelmed, but not because of your surroundings, probably because you're holding Remus's hand. Still, you feel safe when he starts to guide you back to your friends and shields you from any damage from the drunk crowd.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x female reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin imagine #marauders fanfiction #the marauders fanfiction #marauder x reader

[mintsv]

can u do play fighting w gunwook scenarios plz 🙏

play fighting w/ bf! gunwook ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 🫐 ⋆˚˖

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park gunwook x gn!reader

synopsis : scenario / imagine kinda thing about you and your boyfriend (gunwook) having a play fight when he crashed into your house on a particularly lazy sunday.

genre : fluff, the slightest angst

wc : 1k

-> note : thanks for the request anon ^^ i hope you like it! (also i know you said scenarios but i kinda got overboard and it's a whole imagine now i hope you don't mind 😅)

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today was a really boring sunday for you, the plans you made with your friends were suddenly cancelled and your boyfriend had dance practice, so you were absentmindedly lying in bed scrolling through social media while sighing for the umpteenth time.

the ring of your doorbell caught you off guard, your ears perked up and you were basically running to the door just hoping for any kind of social interaction. the moment you opened it, you thought god was playing tricks with you. there stood your adorable boyfriend wearing his black t-shirt that looked a bit too good on him, a bouquet of fragrant tulips held in front of his chest and of course his sickeningly cute gummy smile. (sorry if that was too descriptive i love gw)

"hi~ are you surprised?" he said that so casually like you haven't been CRAVING for him the past 2 hours so you greeted him with a well needed hug, gunwook pushes you slightly backwards to close the door behind him without breaking the hug.

"I thought you had dance practice?" you look up from his chest, judging him because you thought he skipped for you.

"don't worry i didn't skip, i was too good at it so the teacher let me off early!" you nod in response as he hands you over the tulips.

"it's so pretty! what's the occassion?" you ask again, admiring the prettily arranged bouquet with your favorite scent and you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks from your boyfriends sweet antics.

"nothing really, i just wanted to give you these since they have your favorite scent and all, do you like it?" you thought he asked a dumb question, well of course you liked it but you were worried you've fallen a bit too hard for your boyfriend now.

"no, i hate it." you said sarcastically, playfully hitting his chest and turning away so he couldn't see your flushed cheeks but you panicked when you saw him he held the area where you hit his chest and started to frown like a sad puppy.

"you.. hate it?" he starts wiping his fake tears and sniffling. you were quite gullible so gunwook continued his silly act and he was surprised himself how you could believe his horrible acting.

"no no wait i didn't mean that, i was joking i love it i really do wookie! please don't cry.." you start to get really nervous so you run to him, comforting him.

gunwook turned away from you, pretending to sulk like a little kid and you really believed him because you start to get so worried that tears have pooled in your eyes unconsciously.

"wookie i'm sorry i didn't mean it.." you hug him, burying your face in his broad back. gunwook's ears perked up when he suddenly heard your (real) sniffles and he immediately turns around.

"wait wait y/n are you crying? i was just joking i'm not sad. I'm perfectly fine! it was just an act─"

"you're not sad?" your tears stopped before they could fall to your cheeks, it finally clicked for you and you start crazily trying to beat him up.

gunwook used his forearms as a shield while you were basically clawing and punching him, gunwook was saying a bunch of sorry's and giggling while you struggled to get revenge on him considering his rather bigger frame. your efforts were soon wasted when gunwook fought back by tickling you, forcing you to surrender almost immediately when his well built arms entrapped you.

gunwook lifted you up to his shoulder like he would carry a wood log. carrying you all the way to your bedroom before he continues tickling you on your bed. your giggles felt addicting to him (not in a creepy way) and he couldn't help but grin ear to ear.

the anger you felt before was soon forgotten as you two continued to play fight, you had tried to get gunwook off you multiple times but it was near impossible to beat him in a physical fight so you had to think of another way to make him off guard.

it was as if a light bulb lit up above your head as you thought of the perfect strategy. you quickly place your hands at the back of his neck before lunging forward to kiss him. gunwook's arms froze around your waist and you took the opportunity to flip him over so that you'd be on top of him.

"hey that's not fair kissing wasn't in the rules!" gunwook complained, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson as you failed to contain your laughter.

"are you really laughing right now?" he takes the pillow beside him before landing a straight blow to your head (gently). you fought back by taking another pillow hitting him right on the face.

the pillow fight continued for about 5 minutes before you gave up, exhausted. you land on the spot beside him, breathing heavily while your hair stuck on your forehead from the accumulated sweat. although gunwook seemed entirely unhinged from the 5 minutes of arm swinging. he was laying beside you panting a little but his gaze fixed onto you, a small admiring smile grazing his lips.

"so about the kiss.. do i have to playfight with you first or can i get one right now?" you turn to him, his face still slightly pink making you chuckle.

"i never knew you could be this cute." those words spilled unconsciously from your mouth, resulting in a scoff from gunwook.

"i'm not." he said.

"sure.."

gunwook wanted to prove to you so badly he wasn't just cute so he did the 'manliest' move he could think of. he leaned in and pecked your lips for a split second, it seemed that the universe wasn't on his side because the moment he saw you smile at him in such a close proximity he thought his heart had stopped. his flushed out face and thumping heart really didn't do him any justice because you thought he had become impossibly cuter.

"gunwook-ah we should play fight like this more often, it really brings out your cuter side"

"shut up."

#zb1 imagines #zb1 #zb1 drabbles #zb1 scenarios #zb1 x reader #zerobase1 #zerobaseone #fanfic #zb1 fics #zb1 angst #zb1 gunwook #gunwook fluff #gunwook imagines #gunwook x reader #park gunwook #zerobaseone gunwook #zb1 oneshots #zb1 reactions #zb1 fluff #fluff #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone scenarios #zb1net #zb1work

[auteurdelabre]

Something to Fight For (Series) (PART FOUR)

Word Count: 6.8

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no age or physical descriptions)

Warnings: THERE ARE SEXUAL THEMES IN THIS CHAPTER.   

A/N: This is part of a series (lots of angst, pining and smut ahead) Also despite Sarah's young age Joel is early 40's in this because slightly grey babygirl DILF Joel is the best Joel.

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"You didn't!" Frank laughs as you pull out the gift certificate to Tipsy Bison and slide it across the counter to him. 

"We did it," you say with a smug smile. "Finally put those bitches in their place."

Lightning crackles outside as if emphasizing your victory. The storm has been brewing intensely. You and Maria are standing in Frank's kitchen, half standing against the center kitchen island with freshly poured cups of tea the next morning. 

Rain is coming down in torrents, lighting and thunder punctuating the normally placid weather. 

"You didn't have to do that," Frank assures you, looking at the gift certificate with a tight-lipped smile. He turns the paper over a few times between his fingers. 

"Yes we did," Maria says solemnly. You agree. Taking it from them had felt not only satisfying, but right. 

Several months ago when you had first learned of trivia at the Tipsy Bison you, Maria, Frank and a very reluctant Bill had attended together. It was supposed to be a fun night out, a chance to distract yourself from your solitude. 

Except Myrtle and the Merryatrics decided to make it their personal mission to make Bill and Frank feel as shitty and judged as possible.

Wincing when Frank or Bill touched hands. Making gagging noises when Frank laughed, putting his head on Bill's shoulder. Frank had gone red in the face, trying to ignore them but it was too late, the damage had been done. 

It had all come to a head when Bill had passed Myrtle on his way to the commode and she'd called out an ugly slur under her breath, much to the tittering of her equally horrible tablemates. 

You'd all heard it. You'd all seen it and both you and Maria held a visibility upset Frank by the hands, shielding him from their mockery and smirks as you left the pub seconds later at his request. An oblivious Bill had joined minutes later completely thrown as to why everyone was outside. 

That night you and Maria had been fuming, trying to come up with something harmless but effective. You both come from a world where justice needs to be served. Getting revenge on a bunch of asshole senior citizens was hard when they had so little in their prejudiced lives to live for. 

Screaming at them was what you wanted to do, but knew that revenge had to be better than that. Something that would really hurt them. Trivia night; that had been their Achilles heel. The one thing they had in their miserable lives. 

And now you've brought back a small piece of that victory, like returning the shield of a slain warrior back to your king. 

You reach into the drawer in the island, pulling out a pair of scissors and sliding them across the counter to Frank who smiles at you both with a teary grin. 

"Wanna do the honors?"

Frank takes the scissors and with a flourish slices the certificate into several pieces before sweeping them into the garbage bin. 

You and Maria give emphatic claps and whoops. It feels good, like the closing of a particularly ugly chapter. After a pause Maria is giggling gently. You and Frank exchange looks of amusement before she finally talks again. 

"I also dropped off a particularly nasty note at their table when we left."

You dart a look over at Maria in surprise. "How? You were so hammered by the time we left you could barely stand."

"I wrote the note when I was sober," Maria says tapping her temple. "Had a feeling with we'd win with Joel there."

"Joel was there?" Frank says, his attention diverted. "The handsome one with the broad shoulders and ass that just will not quit?"

Frank says this with a sigh that borders on pornographic. You're thankful that Bill is working in the basement. 

"Frank!" Maria says with a good-natured laugh. "You been perving on him when he comes to the house?"

"No just observing." Frank darts a look to you. "Had to see what he looked like after this one was complaining about him being about the worst person alive."

You don't say anything, choosing to focus on the milk that you are now mixing into your tea. 

"Seemed like you two were getting along at trivia," Maria offers with a hopeful look in your direction before she looks back to Frank. "Plus she babysat his daughter."

You can feel Frank's incredulous gaze on you.

"So one week he's a nightmare come to life and now he's cool and you're hanging out at his place?"

Frank is now eyeing you with a curling grin. 

"Babysitting isn't hanging out," you defend. "He was barely there."

"Did you snoop?" Maria giggles. "I always wondered what Joel's place was like."

"Boring," you answer honestly. "I thought with him being a carpenter there would be so much beautiful woodwork like in here. But nah, just a boring ol' box house."

Something about that house stands out in the back of your mind though and you can't help but ask. You turn to Maria, your cheeks warming from your tea. 

"Do you know anything about his ex? There are no photos of her on the walls, not even from when Sarah was a baby."

"Maybe he doesn't wanna be reminded of her?"

"But when Sarah was at the office she mentioned she didn't have photos of her mom and Joel got all weird." You frown at the memory. "I just wondered if Tommy had ever mentioned anything."

"Not to me," Maria says. At this point Frank demands to hear more about her anniversary trip away and you turn your attention to the large windows and the rain that slides down them in rivulets. 

//////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

The next morning you sit at your desk, making notes for Miller Construction to work off of  when the work phone rings. 

"Austin Rescue," you chirp in habit as you circle one of your notes. 

"Hey, you got a sec?"

Joel's rumbling voice sounds through the speaker of the phone, startling you. 

"Joel? How did you get this number?"

There's a pause where you almost feel Joel rolling his eyes at you before he replies flatly. 

"Phonebook."

"Right," you nod tapping your pen anxiously against the desk as you run through a list of reasons why he would be calling. "Is everything okay? Did the -"

"Everything's fine."

You can hear him clear his throat awkwardly. 

"Okay."

You let the silence continue, a bit confused as to why he is speaking so stilted. 

But then again after the pub maybe he doesn't know where you stand. You're not really sure yourself. It seemed like you two had gotten on pretty well the other night, but maybe you're remembering it incorrectly now that you don't have the hazy glow of victory flooding you. 

"You mentioned being free to babysit Sarah again back at the pub." Joel sounds as if he's pacing slowly back and forth when he's talking. "Wondered if that was still a possibility?"

"Uh, sure," you nod glancing at your wristwatch. "When?"

"You free tonight by any chance?"

"Oh, that's soon," you say as if it weren't obvious. You think of what time the next bus will come and if it takes you by Rancher Street. 

"I know its last minute and I'm happy to pay you whatever you think is fair."

You smile at his earnestness. "Don't think you can afford me, Miller."

You almost feel like you can hear him smile on the other end of the phone.

"Plus an extra fifteen dollar Tipsy Bison gift certificate that you can shove in Myrtle’s face."

You can't help but laugh gently at that. "What time are you thinking?"

"Seven." 

You look again to see you have a few hours. "Yeah that works."

"Great."

You go to hang up when you hear the catch in Joel's tone. 

"Uh, one thing, can you tell her that sugar monsters aren't real? She's been sleeping in my room all fucking week."

/////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

Why you didn't bring a jacket today is beyond you. A decision built on a house of cards made of asinine assumptions. 

You had assumed you'd be going right home after work instead of traveling over to Rancher Street. 

You had assumed the blue sky of the morning would hold out until the evening. 

You had assumed that you wouldn't find a hole in the bottom of your boot as you walked up the sidewalk to Joel's house in a downpour. 

These assumptions have you dripping wet and shivering when you finally get to the house, knocking feebly. Joel swings the door open, about to say something when he stops. His eyes swim all over your body, no doubt observing your drenched state. 

"You're soaked," Joel says after a beat, clearing his throat. "Uh, lemme get you a towel."

You enter the house with a sniff, toeing off your books and glancing around to see it looks cleaner than the last time you were here. None of Sarah’s toys litter the carpet; no bowls of cereal lay on the table. Joel reappears a few minutes later handing you a fresh-smelling towel.  You thank him, throwing it over your shoulders. 

"Sorry I'm late," you say pushing the damp hair from your eyes. "First bus was full so I had to wait for the next one. Then the fucking sky opened up and well, you know."

You motion to your soaking body and Joel looks strangely upset. A quick scan of him indicates you’re here to babysit Sarah so he can go on a date, probably with the waitress. To you it seems obvious in the jeans he’s picked (dark wash, a bit tighter in the thighs than you’ve seen him wear before) and the light blue button down shirt he wears rolled just below the elbows.

He’s also got fuck-me hair. 

Fuck-me hair is a phrase that you and Maria had come up with in college. Invented for frat boys that took hours to artfully arrange their hair to look slightly disheveled, as if they’d just had a good fucking. You don’t know if Joel’s is intentional or not, but he definitely has it.

He watches you silently dab at your clothes with the towel before rubbing it over your hair. You must look a state. You probably have fuck-this-rain hair.  You follow him into the kitchen, still sniffling as he goes to the coffee maker. 

"Here, drink this," he says sliding a mug of warm coffee in your direction. You take it with thanks, basking in the warmth of the liquid spreading through your body.  His coffee is strong, you realize, wincing as the acidic burn hits you belatedly.

“No good?”

“Wish it was a mocha,” you admit. “I like strong coffee to taste like a dessert. Save your judgments because I can tell just by looking at you that you’re a coffee purist.”

Joel about to reply when his phone buzzes and he picks up, moving to the other room. There’s the sound of his low murmur and then you can hear tiny feet making their way down the stairs and you smile. Sarah squeaks when she come around the corner and sees you, running over with a stack of playing cards. 

"You’re here!”

“I am,” you laugh.

“Daddy's teaching me Go Fish!"

"I love that game," you enthuse, smiling down at her. She seems to notice your damp apparel and towel slung over your shoulders because she looks you over, her tiny nose wrinkling. 

"Why are you all wet? Did you go swimming?"

You laugh. "No. It's just really pouring outside."

Sarah clamors onto the chair next to you, placing the deck of cards on the table between you. You begin a new round when Joel reappears into the kitchen looking embarrassed. The tips of his ears are red, a telltale sign that you noticed last time as well. 

"Place is closed 'cause of the storm. Blackouts all over apparently. Rescheduled with her for another-“ he stops himself as if this detail isn’t relevant to you or for his young daughter. “Guess you came all this way for nothing."

You smile down at Sarah, playing with a strand of her coiled hair absently.

"I wouldn't say that." 

Sarah smiles up at you before her attention is back on the cards in her hands. You look over to Joel to see him staring at you, only jolting to action when your eyes meet his. 

"Lemme give you cab money," he says going to reach for his wallet. You hold a hand up in his direction, waving it away.

"Please," you shake your head. "It's no problem. The bus comes by, like, every ten minutes and I’m already dressed for the weather."

It's more like every thirty but you don't want to make him feel bad. And if you get soaked, oh well, it's not that long a bus ride home. Sarah is watching you and her father with a quirk of her brow.

"Please take the money," Joel insists, his voice bordering on desperate. You can tell he feels awful for all of this.  

"How about I just borrow an umbrella?" You ask, motioning to the one at the door. "I'll bring it back next time I see you."

Joel doesn't seem enthused by this compromise but he nods, turning from you and heading to the pantry. 

“How about some mac ‘n cheese, Sar-bear?”

“You said we could get pizza,” Sarah scowls over her cards at her father.

“Well there’s a bunch of blackouts from the storm,” Joel reasons. “So I think it’s best if I make us something. Otherwise you might be waiting hours for something to eat. Your choice.”

Joel leans back against the counter, his arms crossed as he waits for her reply. You wonder if he’s serious, if he’ll actually let her choose. Your parents never gave you choices. It was eat or go hungry. 

Sarah sighs heavily at this disruption to her night, her disappointment palpable. “Mac n’ cheese.”

Joel smiles and gets to work filling a pot with water in the nearby sink. You decide this is a good time to make a quick exit. You stand only to feel Sarah's tiny hand shoot out to clamp around the waist of your sweater.

"Wait!" Sarah pleads with you, pulling gently. "No! Don't go!"

"Sarah," Joel warns sternly from his place beside the stove. He's placing the pot there, twisting the switch to turn on the heat. 

Sarah's eyes are huge in her tiny face. She looks so concerned that you drop to your knees, gripping her tiny hands in yours and looking at her earnestly.

"I’ll come back when your Daddy goes out next time," you promise. "I’ll bring cupcakes and we can decorate ‘em. What do you think of that?"

You can see Sarah's chin starting to wobble, her eyes filling with tears as she nods. She's clearly overtired, rubbing her eyes as she begins to whine. 

"But you just got here."

You shoot a desperate look at Joel, expecting him to look frustrated. Instead he looks bemused at you, indicating to the pot bubbling on the stovetop with a tilt of his head.

"Any chance you wanna stay for dinner?"

///

“Thanks for the dry clothes," you tell Joel as you move into the seat opposite him next to Sarah.  You're dressed in one of Joel's soft grey t-shirts and basketball shorts that go past your knees. Not exactly your sexiest look, but very welcome considering your other clothes were soaked.  

Joel glances up at you as you slide into your chair, smiling at Sarah’s already cheese-covered face.

"You stuff should be outta the dryer in an hour or so," he answers gently, spooning noodles onto Sarah's plate as quickly as she can eat them. You have to admit that after a few spoonfuls you understand her culinary exuberance – it’s really tasty.

You and Joel chat about the unexpected downpour, the sound of thunder in the back of your talks like some grim portend of doom. Joel brings over the salad bowl and steaming garlic bread still wrapped in its foil.

“I noticed you have that big tree out front of where you work,” Joel is saying as he cuts the bread into slices. “Ever worry it’ll fall?”

“Never thought about it,” you answer truthfully. In all honesty you’re so tunnel-vision-ed when it comes to work that anything outside the four walls seems like an ancillary detail to you. Sarah is tugging on your elbow and look over at her.

“Can we decorate blueberry cupcakes next time? Those are my favorite.”

You pause thinking about what’s available at the grocery store. “I can see what they have.”

Joel spoons a second helping of noodles onto your plate without being asked after you inhale the first. You thank him before turning your attention back to Sarah who has been in the middle of telling you both a very long, very serious dream she had involving my Little Pony and killer insects

"And there's was huge a huge uh, uh bee," Sarah stammers excitedly. "And it poked my arm and the pony she uh-uhh, she ran away so fast."

Joel nods, cutting off another piece of bite-sized garlic bread for her. She pops it into her mouth with her fingers, momentarily silencing her tale. Joel takes advantage of this, glancing your way. 

"Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"I think so," you answer thoughtfully. "I wasn’t exactly thrilled with having to spend the grant money on the office, but I’m trying to be positive about it. Might be nice to walk on floorboards without threat of a hospital visit.”

Joel smiles at this.

"I gotta ask, is this Kraft dinner?” you ask, looking down at the noodles. “Because it’s really-“

"Not a fucking chance," Joel interrupts clearly affronted as you laugh. “You think I’d feed my kid that junk?”

"Daddy you said f-" Sarah begins, her mouth full. 

"Oops," Joel interjects before she can finish, his face serious. "That's a bad word. I shouldn't have said it."

You hide your smile behind your water glass, taking a big gulp and chortling. Joel smirks over at you, his gaze dropping when you dribble your water down your chest.

"Oopsy," Sarah says as she notices.  

"Oh for-" you stop yourself from swearing just in time. You grab a napkin and blot at the ever expanding water stain. You give a half chuckle of disbelief at yourself. 

"Seems I'm determined to stay wet."

As soon as the words leave your mouth you hear a fork clatter onto a plate. You glance up to see a pink-cheeked Joel going to pass you a fresh napkin but his elbow hits the bowl of salad, toppling it to the floor. 

"Fuck," Joel hisses, dropping down to pick up the mess. Sarah watches the top of his head solemnly. 

"Daddy you said-"

"I know, sweetheart," Joel grumbles. 

You go over, helping him scoop the wilted leaves and assorted vegetables back into the bowl.

"At least you didn't put dressing right in it," you offer with a smile. "That would've been a pain to clean."

Joel is knelt so close to you that you can see the defined hair of his beard when you glance up at him in between scoops. He's staring at you, his mouth slightly parted. You feel insecure at the scrutiny, your brows furrowed. 

"What?"

Joel's looks like he wants to reply but then his eyes drop to your mouth and your heartbeat quickens. 

"Daddy, can we watch The Little Mermaid?"

The moment is broken by Sarah's shrill cry from above you at the table. You laugh awkwardly as you sit back on your heels. 

"Course sweetheart," Joel nods, helping her down from her chair. "You know how to work the machine."

Sarah bounces excitedly from her father, darting into the next room. You can hear the sound of DVD's being shuffled and you look back to Joel whose eyes are on your face again.

"Thanks so much for dinner," you say continuing to pick up the vegetables. "It was delicious, 'side from the salad of course."

Joel breaks into an easy grin at this, the boyish dimple clear in his cheek. You find you can’t look at him too long or you start to feel warm. And you shouldn’t feel warm about Joel fucking Miller for a lot of reasons; most importantly you’re only here because he was going on a date with a cute waitress.

You hear the gentle buzz of the drier finishing its cycle and you stand quickly.

“I better grab those and head out,” you reason glancing at the clock on the wall. “Got a lot to finish before you guys come this week.”

///////

Its hours later in your suite with rain still pelting against your windows. The lightning is sharp and the thunder rattles your window frame when it arrives. The fireplace is on, making your studio glow peacefully.

"C'mon," James pants from underneath you, his hips jerking up. He gives your ass a light slap. "C'mon sweetheart. Ride this cock hard."

James came to go over any last minute additions for construction tomorrow. When he saw how stressed you were he'd suggested a way to take your mind off things. 

Now you're riding him in your bed, his hands on your tits as he thrusts up into you. You can't help but feel underwhelmed. James is so fast, so quick, which doesn't lead to a very pleasurable experience. 

James also likes to hear himself talk, which would be nice if it wasn't so cock-centered. ("Come on this cock baby" "gonna stuff you full of this cock" and his personal favorite "take my cock"). 

It takes a lot of concentration, wriggling and clit stimulation from your covert hand to get you to come and when you do it's barely a whimper. James doesn't care - he follows soon after, his face reddening as he chokes out how good you feel. You both collapse next to each other on your narrow mattress. 

"Maybe I should stay the night," James murmurs against the top of your head as he circles you in his arms. "Maybe a little morning delight before work?"

Sex with Paul was nice if not a little boring. Sex with James is intense if not unsatisfying. You feel like a sexual Goldilocks, forever trying to fight the right porridge. And right now all you want to do is sleep.

"I'm pretty exhausted," you say faking a yawn. "Think I need a good night’s sleep and I can see ya tomorrow.”

He hides his disappointment behind a shrug before pulling back from you.

You tell yourself that sexual compatibility isn't always perfect the first time around. That it takes communication and time to perfect. This is what you remind yourself as James excuses himself to the bathroom to wash up. 

He’s almost there when something catches his eyes and your gaze follows his over to your sofa. You can see Joel’s clothes there, crumpled. You intend on washing and bringing them back the next time you babysit.

“Whose are these?”

James’ tone is light, but you can sense the unspoken tension.

“Joel’s,” you answer, pulling the sheet of the bed over your chest. “I was babysitting earlier and got caught in a downpour.”

“You could’ve called me,” James says tightly. “I’d have driven you.”

“It’s fine,” you say waving away his concern. You pull on a robe, stretching and padding over to the sofa to stand next to him.  “I’m gonna wash ‘em and give them back next time I babysit.”

“You’re sitting for him again?” James is staring at you with a look you don’t enjoy. It’s suspicious.  “Thought it was a one-off. S’what you said it was when we chatted.”

“Yeah but his daughter is actually amazing and he’s not so bad once you get past the grumpy exterior.” You shrug, giving him a peck on his cheek. James seems soothed by this gesture and nods before heading into the bathroom.

You look down at the clothes when the door closes, your forefinger trailing over the shirt. It’s soft and warmed from the fire. Without thinking you raise the shirt to your nose and inhale. It smells like Joel’s laundry detergent.

You start when there's a knock at you suites door, dropping the shirt back onto the sofa like you’ve been caught doing something illegal. You check your watch to confirm that yeah, it's late, almost eleven, and frown.

It's not Maria, she'd just come through the inside entrance. You pad over to an increasingly rapid knock and pull open the door, shocked at the figure standing there waiting. 

"Joel?"

He's completely soaked from the rain, droplets slipping down the end of his nose. Thunder booms behind him as he looks at you from under the brim of his cap. His eyes trail quickly over your robe before jumping back to your face.

“I’m sorry it’s so late.”

"Come in," you urge, closing the door after him and pulling the nearby towel from the kitchen hook. 

His dark eyes scan the room as he enters and you wonder what he sees in your modest studio. You know for a fact the bed is unnaturally disheveled and you pray he doesn't notice his clothes in a pile on the sofa. 

"Won't stay long," he finally says taking the towel and wiping his face. "I didn’t have your cell. I'm here to make sure about that tree by your building. When's the last time an arborist had been out to see it?"

"I couldn't say," you shrug before calling over your shoulder to James.

James exits the bathroom at your call, rubbing at his nose. He sees Joel and comes striding over. 

"Everything okay, bud?'

Bud? You frown over at James at this. You’ve never heard him use this term before. Joel is suddenly tense, his eyes darkening as he scans James’ face.  

"I couldn't remember the last time the arborist was out to give updates on that big oak outside the building," you explain to James. "Do you?'

"Years probably," James shrugs. "Why?"

"Because, bud," Joel expels this word as if it disgusts him. "When I saw it during the walk through I made a note that it looked pretty shaky. Was gonna call a guy I know to give an idea on safety but he charges a bundle and I wanted to make sure you hadn't already had a recent visit. Then this rainstorm started and hasn't let up and now the wind so I thought I'd come and check before its too late."

“Door to door service,” James observes with a flat look.

“Didn’t have her number,” Joel explains motioning to you and looking irritated at having to explain himself to James.

"I'm sure we'll be fine," James assures from behind you. "That tree has been there for decades of storms just like this one."

"I had no idea you had a background in horticulture," Joel says in a voice that verges on challenging. 

James steps forward, his shoulder brushing yours. 

"Well if your friend charges a bundle to tell people to unnecessarily uproot old trees I guess I went into the wrong career," James laughs obnoxiously. 

Your eyes ping pong in between the men, confused as to where all of this animosity is coming from. 

"Is it really necessary if it's that expensive?" You ask Joel, your mind going back to her already feeble budget. 

Joel's eyes drift back over to you and you’re thankful to see that they lose some of their chill.  "I think ---"

"It's not," James answers for Joel. His arm slips around your waist. "We'll see you tomorrow then, Joel? Unless there's something else?"

Joel looks thunderous. And you're strangely embarrassed for him. You move back from James, out of his touch. 

"Your choice."

Then he's gone, handing you back the towel and yanking the door open. You watch his broad shouldered frame move out the door and into the pouring night. 

/////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

When you see the flooding in the morning of the construction job, you assume that you're imagining things. 

It's not until you wade in feeling the damp soak into your shoes that reality sets in.

Water is everywhere. The storm knocked over the tree Joel warned you about. It shattered the window, cracking the widow frame. Glass is all over the buckling floor planks. 

It also brought in the rain. 

Waterlogged files swollen with rot. Wood flooring planks warped and buckled. It's worse than you thought. 

James enters quickly after you looking even more devastated than you. He rushes to his desk, pulling open the locked drawer with trembling fingers. 

"The blueprints," he tells you as he begins to dig in the drawer. "I never made backup copies."

"He told us," you say through burning eyes. "Joel told us about the tree and we just -"

"How was I supposed to know a tree that hasn't given us any issues in the last ten years was gonna crash through the window? Huh?" James suddenly sobers when he sees your wet eyes. "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

You want to be mad at James, but seeing how sorrowful he is makes you realize that this is just an awful mistake that no one, save for an overpriced arborist, could have accurately predicted. 

"There's no point in fighting," you say shaking your head. "What's done is done."

By the time Joel and Tommy arrive minutes later you're still trying to locate all the items that were once on your desk and are now in the shallow puddles and debris. 

Tommy offers a low whistle when he walks in, his eyes large. Joel follows suit, offering a soft "fuck" when he sees the damage. 

You’re still searching amongst the water, coming upon the trinkets you had in your desk, the jelly bean bowl, all of it is submerged in a thin layer of water and debris. The framed photos on your desk, the ones of Pongo and your parents are warped and impossible to decipher. You only know it's them by the frames that hold them and this is what breaks you. 

"No," you utter in a low moan when you see them. "No." 

The tears have sprung up, ones you keep hidden away, locked in your soul. They've escaped, slipped past your heart's jailer and are spilling brutally down your cheeks. 

James comes loping over, his eyes wide and nervous. 

"Are you okay?" James broaches gently placing a palm on your shoulder. "Can I do anything?"

The tears are warm and wet and despite how overwhelmed you're feeling, they still take you by surprise. James brings you into his arms, cradling you gently. You wipe at your face angrily with the back of your shirt sleeve, embarrassed.

"Do you want me to take you home?" James asks you but you pull back from him shaking your head. 

You feel embarrassed at being coddled like that and you feel uncomfortable in James' arms. 

You turn to see Joel and Tommy talking, Joel is looking irritatedly between you and James, frustrated at you for not listening to him last night about the tree. You've made he and Tommy's job here so much more work, no wonder he’s resentful.

"It was caught quickly, you'll barely have to dip into your discretionary spending," Tommy tries to assure you. "The stuff that's damaged was the stuff we were replacing anyway."

Not everything.

Your chin tremors, the hot tears sliding down your cheeks and again brushed away by the back of your wrist.

"Could've been way worse," Joel mutters more to himself than anything. "Don't have to cry about it."

The tone in the room immediately shifts at this last muttered comment. Tommy is straightening and shooting his brother a wild-eyed look. James is standing next to you, moving back when you shake his hand from your shoulder. 

Your anger works through your body like lightning. The tears come faster now, but now they're full of spite and fury. 

"I don't have to cry about it?" you seethe, marching up to Joel and holding up the ruined photographs. "These were my history, Miller. My only connection to the part of my childhood that wasn't fucking terrible!"

Joel is quietly staring at you, watching as you look at him with a look of mingled, anger and disdain. 

"But hey I guess I could just walk around miserable like you," you spit furiously. "How's that working out for your social life?"

You realize it's a stupid thing to say when only days ago you saw a waitress slip him her number, yet Joel still acts insulted, his jaw clenching. 

"Hey now," Tommy intercedes from across the room. You may be his girlfriend's best friend but Joel is his big brother. 

Joel tilts slightly forward and looks like he's going to say something low and quiet and just for you to hear. His face inches closer, so close you feel the warmth of his breath on your cheeks. 

You stare at his mouth, waiting to see what he could possibly say after such an insensitive comment but then he's turned away and gone back to pulling back the debris by James' desk. You watch him go, wincing. 

"We can take care of the rest of this," Tommy assures you with a smile that doesn't quite reach his dark eyes. "If you want, I mean."

You know he's trying so hard not to push your buttons. He's trying to give you everything Joel can't at the moment; kindness and civility. You relent because he's kind and because Maria loves him.

"Sure."

James is determined to drive you home and you're too worn down to say no. The flood, Joel's attitude, the weather; All three have conspired to leave you battered today. 

James excuses himself to use the bathroom before you leave. You stand in the center of the waterlogged space and shake your head. All your hopes, your dreams, gone. Vanished. There won't be a dime left over for kennels now. And the photos you've carried with you from place to place? The good memories? Gone. 

Joel and Tommy have started to move everything salvageable from from the main area of the office back to the storage room which thankfully was barely affected thanks to it being built a few steps up. Small miracles. 

Tarps cover the furniture and the electronics have been stored in large tubs to take to the repair shop.

After coming out of the washroom with a spring in his step a few minutes later, James is much more pleasant than you are. 

He circles you waist with his arm, calling out his thanks to Tommy before he leads you out the door away from the cold gaze of Joel Miller. 

/////

"That asshole! I don't care if he's Tommy's brother I'm gonna kick his ass!"

Maria is pacing around your suite, her dark hair flicking behind her as you summarize what's happened that day at work and the cruelty of Joel's statement. James dropped you off hours ago trying to insist he stay but you were eager to be left alone with your thoughts.

Not even an hour had passed before you called Maria in tears.

She was to you in thirty, insisting that her work could wait. She hugged you when you showed her the photo frames, listened to what happened and jumped from the sofa the second Joel’s comment of ‘don’t have to cry about it’ was spoken aloud as if she’d been electrocuted.

“He’s not worth it,” you insist, your eyes on your interlaced fingers over your knee. “I just never want to see him again.”

“You won’t have to,” Maria insists. “I’ll tell Tommy to get one of the other guys to help him. You don’t need that grumpy bastard hanging around making you feel shitty.”

This is why you and Maria had been friends for so long, this instant call to action if the other is in pain. You would do the exact same for Maria (and have). Maria is already pulling out her cell phone and while you’d love the satisfaction of hearing Joel being removed from your project, you also can’t jeopardize things with Maria and Tommy. It’s going too good, the two of them too perfect for that.

“Just take a beat,” you tell her softly, motioning for her to come join you back on the sofa.

"I thought you two were getting along," Maria sighs disappointed. "I saw you two at the Bison and you were babysitting Sarah."

"I dunno," you shrug. "I guess he was really pissed off about the arborist thing."

"Still," Maria shakes her head disappointed. "I just expected better from him." 

You suppose you had as well which is why this has you especially upset. You’d thought you and Joel were working towards a friendship or something. The way you got along so well at dinner? Had you been imagining it?

“Oh shit I forgot,” Maria says suddenly slapping her thigh and jumping up. “I brought you kolaches. Be right back.”

She makes her way through the door connecting your places, closing it behind her in habit. You hear her jogging up the stairs to her kitchen. You smile at her thoughtfulness, idly wondering if she got them from that European bakery near her office.

You pause when you hear something over the light rain outside. It sounds like scratching. A panic goes through you at the sound. What the fuck is that? Rats trying to hide from the storm? For a fleeting moment you wish you had a cat.

Or worse, what if it’s a burglar trying to break in? There were break ins a few blocks away, Bill had told you recently. You think of calling Maria back, but she won’t hear you with the door closed. You rise slowly from the sofa, your eyes going to the butcher knife in the kitchen. Given your culinary prowess it’s mostly there for decoration, but today you’re thankful for it.

You strain your ears, listening to the sound of shuffling. Your heartbeat is in your ears as you raise the knife with one hand and use the other to fling the door open. A tall figure is hunched over your welcome mat, but you recognize the curls right away.

"Joel? What the fuck?"

You glance down to see Joel straighten, his dark eyes widening in surprise as he sees you and the butcher knife. He shoves his arm behind his back, speaking in a voice laced with irritation.

"I didn't think you'd be home."

"That's not a reassuring reason to be skulking around my place," you insist with narrowed eyes. You lower the knife slowly to your side, taking him in. He won’t look you in the face and his hand is still behind his back.

You feel your mouth curving into a scowl at the sight of him. He’s still dressed in his work clothes, the neck drenched with sweat. You hate that he’s been working at your office all morning. You hate that he’s come into your life at all.

“Surprised I answered the door?” you snipe. “Gotta admit I’ve been so busy unnecessarily crying I don't know how I was able to see in front of me enough to walk."

“Thought you’d be with your boyfriend,” Joel mutters, his eyes still not meeting yours.

“Nope, just here,” you answer flatly. You hear crinkling coming from behind his back and you are about to question it when you hear another voice from behind you.

“Joel?”

Maria has come back from upstairs and is now looking at the both of you in confusion. She looks at you and the knife and then back at Joel.

You hear Joel mutter something that sounds an awful lot like "Christ on a bike" under his breath. You shoot a confused look at Maria before turning back to face an increasingly jittery Joel.

"I just wanted to-" Joel looks uncomfortable having an audience, but finally he brings his arm out from behind his back and thrusts a bouquet of cornflowers, fall asters and petunias at you. The cellophane crinkles against your arm as you hold the colorful arrangement in shock, your other hand still holding the knife loosely.

"Was wrong, what I said before," Joel tells your shoulder. "Was havin' a bad day and you didn't deserve it. Won't happen again. Sorry."

He doesn't even give you a chance to reply. He just turns, his broad-shouldered frame moving away from the house with the speed of a seasoned athlete. You watch him throw himself into his truck, speeding away before you finally step back into your home and close the door, the flowers still clutched to your chest.

“What the fuck was that?” you ask a very amused Maria. She goes to your cupboard to bring down a vase before giggling.  

"That was the cutest thing I've ever seen."

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #pedro pascal joel #pedro pascal characters #dad joel miller #fanfiction #fanfic #smut

[tired-biscuit]

Innocent reader knows nothing about sex but wants to please her current boyfriend?? WHO better to ask for advice than her step brother kiba? He could surely show her the ropes- show her how she should be getting fucked. How he could be fucking her instead. Maybe he would fuck her so good she would leave that good for nothing boyfriend of hers.

18+ fem!reader // cw: stepcest, virginity loss, infidelity.

he smiles when you linger by his door one afternoon, finally having the balls to ask him for his help.

the room is hot. it's one of those unbearable days in the year when the air itself weighs heavy on your shoulders and the concrete outside looks like it'd melt the soles of your shoes right off if you ever decided to take a single step out the front door. blinding sunlight seeps between the parted curtains, which open up way for an occasional breeze to come swooping in from time to time. it paints the walls a mellow orange.

the little gust of wind - which you'd call mundane, at best - fails to cool down your heated skin, and it doesn't strike you as shocking, really. nearly saturated with sweat; your cutesy top has long since become flushed to your spine, uncomfortably clinging to your skin despite being cropped. it's so hot out that even the little hairs on the nape of your neck have turned damp. a cold rinse doesn't sound like such a bad idea to be quite honest.

however, the heat is not the only reason as to why you're sweating in such great amounts. your core temperature also rises because the expression that now rests on your stepbrother's face seems to be one of pure amusement. he even tilts his head to one side like a puppy would as he turns away from his computer screen to look at you. no wait, scratch that; he doesn't just look at you.

he leers. practically eyes you up from the top of your head to the tips of your toes like a proper bastard as he leans back and swivels in his gaming chair. the dark look in his eyes and the hazy tension to accompany it make your nipples harden. from the way he's staring so openly at your chest, you don't doubt that he's noticed them turning apparent underneath your shirt. there's no bra to shield them.

"you want me to do what?" he asks at some point, looking you in the eyes finally.

the question - no, the tone - he now voices makes you start sweating even more profoundly. there's a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he notices the way your hand twitches with desire to reach up and wipe away the thick film of salt that's now sitting on your forehead. they're rosy and plump - his lips. never chapped, except during an especially cold winter, because he always keeps a water bottle nearby that's bigger than your goddamn head just so he can consistently hydrate during his workouts over the course of this hellish summer.

being a gym rat has its quirks, you suppose. the appealing muscles, broad shoulders and jaw-dropping strength don't sound too bad, now that you think about it.

brushing away the thought, you watch with narrowed eyes as he takes his headphones off and leans over his desk to pick up said water bottle, now. trying not to pay any mind to the warmth that increases somewhere in the pit of your stomach whilst you watch him drink the cool liquid, you know damn well that the way his throat moves every single time he swallows shouldn't make you so intrigued. that when he bites through an ice cube, the sound and sight of it shouldn't make you visibly shiver.

but you just can't help yourself.

you're finally ready, after all; ready to indulge in the dirty thoughts that have been plaguing your mind for a long while, and to lose your virginity in the process, too. ready to impress your boyfriend with some skills he definitely wouldn't expect you to have, but would otherwise enjoy experiencing them nonetheless.

and speaking of your boyfriend: what's important is that he's the reason as to why you're here in the first place, not kiba, your mean stepsibling. that he's the reason why you're willing to learn how to acquire those nasty skills with the help from another man, who just happens to be your stepbrother. in your defense, it's not like you've planned it! your one year anniversary is right around the corner and this is just way more convenient than trying to land a hookup that might end in disaster.

so as you stand there, looking at those big brown eyes that nearly gleam with twisted delight, you swear to yourself that wooing your boyfriend is the only reason why you're offering yourself to your big brother now.

and yet, all you say is, "ugh, never mind."

however, when you turn to run away just like you always do with your problems, there's an immediate, steady pressure wrapping around your wrist. you have no idea how he's managed to reach you so fast, but before you've even fully succeeded in stepping away from the doorway, he's right there, standing beside you.

his grip is cautious, albeit firm when he spins you around so that he can look at your face again. avoiding eye contact by keeping your chin tucked low, you internally scold yourself for always forgetting how swift he can be when he wants to be. there's something eerily cat-like about him, even if he reminds you of a dog when it comes to his godawful personality.

and that dog in him really shines through when he roughly pats your cheek and chuckles. by the time you try to push his hand away, it turns into quiet, most definitely provocative laughter. what a douchebag.

"easy there, squirt," he says mid-laugh, letting go of your wrist just so he can close the door shut behind you. it's just the two of you, you're home alone for who knows how long, but the action still makes you feel slightly wary. especially as he leans down to your eye level to add, "where are ya runnin' off to all of a sudden, hmm?"

glowering up at him at the stupid nickname he simply refuses to stop using for you just because you're a couple of years younger than him, you chide, "forget it... it was just a stupid idea, moron."

"yeah, it was," he mumbles, nodding vehemently just to spur you on. "but, i never said i wouldn't do it."

that surprises you. "wh-... what?"

he smiles again at the obvious shock you exhibit, and only when you spot the dimple appearing in his right cheek, do you notice how close he actually is to you. there's no actual proximity; you can smell his inviting scent, can see the ring of amber in his irises. his tan skin looks like it's glowing in the golden hour, and the fact that he's shirtless, only wearing black gym shorts that hang dangerously low around his waist, does not help you at all when it comes to ripping your gaze away from him.

the small amount of freckles that are dusted all over his sun-kissed shoulders and the bridge of his nose only make him seem even cuter than he already is, despite the fact that his vocabulary is absolutely foul as he says, "well, since you're offering... lemme get your little virgin cunt ready for your stupid boyfriend, then."

time either seems to come to a full stop or starts moving insanely fast after that, because one second you're standing at your big brother's door, glaring up at him in evident disapproval, and the other you're laying on his bed; squirming on top of the mattress he keeps pressing you into with his immense weight.

he sighs as he flicks up the hem of your shirt to the collar so that he can see your tits. you're not entirely sure if it's an appreciative one, but his eyes do light up at the sight and his cheeks are ever so slightly pink as he says, "did he eat you out already?"

you can barely function from being exposed so easily. he really has no sense of privacy, does he? "y-yeah, once."

he brushes his thumb over your nipple as he cups the fat of your breast with one hand. it's hard to keep yourself from arching your back until it's shaped like one of those old-timey bridges. "was it any good?"

"i mean, it was okay." a small pause forms as you think and sink your teeth into your bottom lip. "i didn't know where to put my hands, though, and that made me spiral a bit... i guess i kept overthinking the entire thing."

it's true what you tell him when he dips down to peck your jawline; you really were overthinking it whilst your boyfriend tried to give you head. however, as he kisses his way down your stomach, unceremoniously ridding you of your shorts and panties along the way, it's different.

because five minutes later, you have no time to form a thought, much less overthink it. the way he knows how to overstimulate you with his mouth is indescribable. moans keep bubbling up your throat as he licks you; loud slurping noises - lewd-sounding enough to make a feverish blush sear your face and make you cum all the harder - emit as he fucks your virgin hole with his tongue and fingers.

he's got you splayed wide open for him with the help of his hand on your thigh even if you're not used to being so exposed and vulnerable. it's insane to look down; to see the tip of your brother's nose smushed against your clit in broad daylight, to see his eyelids turning heavy with lust from how pussy drunk he's getting on his little sister's cunt. his chestnut hair is all mussed up from how many times he's made you run your hands through it. it makes him look all the more appealing, because the messy look has always suited him better than neat button ups and fancy shoes.

holding fistfuls of it and tugging at the roots whenever he hits a rather sensitive spot within you, you suppose he's taught you where to put your hands at least. perhaps this entire thing really will help you get ready for your anniversary with your boyfriend, who you're so happily cheating on right now. perhaps.

but truth be told, you're not thinking about your anniversary or your boyfriend at all when your brother finally gets to sink into you for the first time. when he makes you wrap your legs around his waist and pushes in deep - right past that pesky barrier that only he will be able to call his from now on.

and goddammit, breaking that barrier hurts; it hurts like a motherfucker. multiple tears slide down your cheeks when you blink, but he doesn't wipe them away. just watches.

it takes a bit of effort for him to push the entirety of his cock into you. you're nervous and overwhelmed and stuffed full with him, with anyone, for the first time, so it's normal. it feels like he's reaching all the way up to your throat, and with the way your eyes widen and your mouth pops open in response to the fullness, you're reminding him of a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car.

there are even more tears brimming your waterline, now. you whimper when they cling to your eyelashes. "it hurts."

"i know," he grits out, panting. yours is the tightest pussy he's ever had the pleasure of experiencing and the way it clamps down around his fat cock, despite the ache you're enduring at the moment, feels like a dream. it makes him sneer with arrogance as he mutters, "but look at it this way... if you're able to take me, then i'm positive you'll have no trouble taking that dunce of yours."

"you think your dick is bigger than his?" you try to quip, though it doesn't come across as sassy as you want it to when you're in-between whines and your eyes insist on rolling into the back of your head. stupid, stupid, stupid.

"i dunno, you tell me," he replies, his grin complacent. "you're the one who gave handjobs to both... wanna play slutty critic?"

"well- ah, fuck," a small, mewlish moan slips out when he strokes your walls for the first time. you're not sure if it's from the pain, pleasure, or a mixture of both, but the throbbing hardness that touches your sensitivity inside makes your legs shake. the squishy, soft part within you is so tender. "i-it isn't."

he snorts at your sad little jab, the sound so derisive that it makes your heart tighten, not just your cunt.

"yeah? you're sure 'bout that, sis?" he draws his hips back and adds a little more fervour to his thrust this time, watching as your entire body stutters with the action.

he nearly makes you glitch out of this reality with it and the wanton cry you let out in response is so loud that it would surely wake up the entire house. thank goodness you're home alone.

his grin grows absolutely vicious as he looks down at the place where you connect. your cunt is so soft and warm, it sucks him right in. and as if the moan alone wasn't proof enough, he even gets to feel your toes curl and your heels dig into his lower back when he spreads your pussy lips apart with his fingers and spits right onto your clit.

he leans in to whisper into your ear whilst he messily smears his saliva into the sensitive button of nerves, "'cause i can't help but keep wondering; could your little boyfriend make you sound like i just did, mm?"

could he?

#kiba x reader #kiba smut #naruto smut #biscuit drabbles #cw stepcest #cw virginity loss #cw infidelity

[nicomundthered]

A Kiss and a Bounty

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

warnings: little blood, little violence. nothing too intense.

summary: from the prompt- ‘for gods sake just kiss her!’

word count: 2,158

a/n: repost from ao3.

Masterlist

You and Arthur had traveled everywhere searching for this bounty.

This damn bounty. He was a wormy type of man that kept sneaking out of your grasp. How? You’re not exactly sure. But one thing was for certain, this man was either dangerous or lucky.

What was supposed to be a quick day trip, ended up taking three and a half days of hunting him all over the Grizzlies.

To be honest you were about ready to give up. You hadn’t packed for this type of trip. You were cold and miserable, and weren't quite sure if all this hassle was worth a hundred dollars.

And you really didn’t want to hear it from Arthur.

He was always so quick to fuss over you. And you weren’t positive as to why. The two of you got along great and always had, but something was different lately. You’d caught him staring a little harder, offering to help ya when ya didn’t need it. Which, in retrospect, didn’t really bother you. You knew what a kind soul he was even if it was shielded by the big broad shoulders and all around rough exterior.

“You know Arthur, maybe we should just turn around.” You called up ahead. It was getting late, your stomach was gnawing, and you felt a headache coming on. You were just ready to return to camp, eat a bowl of questionable stew, and lay down on your lumpy bedroll and not exist for a couple of hours.

He knew you were right, of course you were, you were the smart one. The Grizzlies were dangerous not only because of the wildlife, but also the Murphee brood. They were dumb but unpredictable and dangerous. So all of this wasn't really his best idea. But this particular bounty by the name of Jim, Gold Tooth Jim, had gotten under his skin. He’s never had a bounty make him feel inadequate before. Usually if you gave him the poster in the morning he’d give you your bounty by nightfall. What made Jim so different? Why was he able to string them along for so long? It was infuriating.

Plus, if he were being honest. He really wanted to impress you a little. He knows he doesn't deserve you, but dammit if he couldn’t stop thinking about ya. You were pretty much the only topic in his journal as of late. And he knew you were not a shallow woman, but this whole big-strong-tough-guy was the only thing he felt he had going for him. The only thing that might possibly tempt you.

Thus, it was his stupid pride that wouldn’t let him quit. Even when he felt the exhaustion deep within his bones.

“Just a little while longer.” He called back.

You rolled your eyes. He didn’t even turn to speak to you. You could tell by the tension in his voice and how high he was sitting on his horse that he wasn’t playing around. So you bit your lip and dropped it. This Jim fellow, for some reason or another, had obviously gotten to him.

A few moments later, you blame it on your hunger or maybe even your boredom, missed the sound of a horse coming in hot. And before you could you could even process what was happening, two horses went skidding and two riders went flying.

“Arthur!” You practically screamed jumping off of your moving horse and ran to him gun drawn.

“I’m al’ight.” He said slowly through his wheezing breath. “What the hell happn’d?”

It was getting too dark to see, and from what your sluggish memory could recollect the man was dressed in dark colors, so you kicked around a bit searching for the son of a bitch who apparently had some kind of death wish.

You were distracted, yet again, this time by the sound of Arthur making his way to his feet. You were still slightly concerned for him, it was a hard hit at full speed. Your eyes checked him over just as the stranger leapt forward pinning you to the ground.

You hit the ground hard and your cheek landed on a rock, you yelped at the sudden contact.

Then the human pile got even heavier as Arthur tackled the man. You heard a faint-familiar “sonofabitch” before you stood quickly, relieved that the two men were off of you, and cocked your revolver aiming it at the dark pile of limbs.

“You are one big idiot aint’ ya mister.” You said as Arthur hauled the tall man to his feet.

The man smirked wildly as the moon reflected in his gold teeth, which you recognized immediately.

You returned the wicked smile “Well, Arthur I believe our luck has changed.”

“Wha the hell you talkin’ about?” He looked up at you and worry flooded his features. “Hey you ok?”

You wiped the blood from your cheek, realizing it was bleeding heavier than you thought. “I’m fine.” You responded with more venom than intended.

“This here is ol’ Gold Tooth Jim.” You said bringing Arthur’s attention back to the matter at hand.

Arthur whipped his head to study the man, and when he seemed to be in agreement, gave you a big grin.

He was so handsome. And it broke you every time you saw him happy. It was so rare that he ever was, it hurt your heart. Your eyes locked with his and his smile slowly disappeared. Worry crept back to his face as a large drop of blood landed on your collar.

A horrible creepy chuckle broke the moment.

“I see you finally caught me. Well done!” The sarcasm was palpable.

You were shocked to hear a british accent, the smooth voice not fitting the appearance of the dirty stringy man before you.

“Why did you run into my horse?” Arthur asked, sounding more than a little confused, he too seemed a little thrown off by the man.

“To be perfectly honest, I hate being hunted like some animal. And since the two of you were so relentless, I thought I’d just...give it up.” He chuckled again giving you goosebumps.

“By trying to kill em’?” You were annoyed that he had almost hurt Arthur. It frustrated you that that was what he called ‘giving up’, plowing into a man with a horse.

“Don’t get me wrong I was hoping it would kill you. In fact I was hoping to kill you both.” His eyes seemed to darkened even further as he stared you down, but his smile was cut short by Arthur’s fist hitting him square in the face.

He landed hard and when he looked up blood was oozing from both his mouth and nose.

“What was that?!” Jim asked furiously from the ground.

Arthur landed on top of him, easily turned him over, and reached one hand back to you. You, familiar with his thought process quickly got the rope ready and passed it to him.

Then you turned to find Arthur's horse, hopefully unharmed when you heard him whisper to Jim “If you say one more goddamn word to her, I’ll smash your face in.”

Chills ran up your spine. You wish you could say that that didn’t do it for you, but that would make you a liar. You didn’t need your honor defended, you didn’t deserve it, you too were a no good outlaw, but hearing him do it made you feel special. And the fact that he hadn’t even wanted you to hear it made it even...sweeter.

You found his horse, thankfully unharmed, and led her over to the two men.

He lifted Jim easily, causing you to swallow harder than necessary at how strong he was, and placed him on his horse.

He turned to you suddenly, without any warning and lashed out with a loud booming voice. “Why did you turn your back on the man?”

Confused at first, but then you picked up on the fact he kept glancing at your bloody cheek.

But that didn’t matter, you didn’t deserve to be spoken to that way. “Like I could even see where he was Arthur.” You rolled your eyes and tried to pass him to find your horse.

He grabbed your forearm hard and turned you back to face him. “You can’t be letting you guard down like that, what if he would have had a knife!”

His voice was still too loud for your liking

“Oh like you did any better. I wasn’t the one that went flying.” You chuckled and tried to shrug everything off, this for some reason or another, was getting too intense.

His eyes squinted and he let go of your arm like it burned him. “I reckon this’ll be the last bounty you go on.” He slipped his tough guy mask on. His features turned sharp and intimidating.

It’s never worked on you. You could never be scared of him. For him, yes, everyday. But never of him.

“You can’t decide that for me.” You hissed and hated the way tears welled in your eyes.

“Sure I can.” He stood even straighter brows furrowed and lips tight.

“I’ll do whatever I want, whenever I want Arthur. I’ll catch every damn bounty the sheriff posts, in every county if I want to, and you can’t stop me.” You stood slightly on your toes trying your best to reflect his body language. You could feel your face flush as the anger flared. “Besides, if we would have turned back when I said, this never would have happened.”

You hated that you knew how to hurt him. You could see it as his eyes fell and his fists clenched. Guilt smacked you as hard as Jim and his horse did earlier to Arthur.

You reached out to him, feeling like a piece of shit “Hey…”

He backed just out of your reach. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I always seem to get ya into trouble.” He sounded ashamed and somehow small. You didn't like it, not one bit.

“No, Arthur, look I didn’t mean that. The camp needs money and I offered to go with you. This was your run, it was your call. I should have just been more prepared is all.”

You smiled at him but he couldn’t look at anything but your cheek.

“It’s just a scratch. Don’t be so silly about it.”

His eyes hardened and looked at you with an intensity that you’ve never seen directed towards you. But his voice betrayed him, it was still as soft as the breeze. “And what if it’s not just a scratch next time? What if it kills you instead of just cutting your pretty face?”

“You, you think I’m pretty?” You hated that that was what your mind chose to focus on, but in your defense, it caught you completely off guard.

“Dammit! I’m serious! What if next time it’s a bullet? Or a…”

You stepped forward, reached out, and touched his dirty face. In an attempt to calm him down. You were surprised by how fast he leaned in, closed his eyes, and exhaled loudly.

Jim, completely forgotten by now, chucked again and called out “Oh for god’s sake just kiss her!”

Arthur moves to turn and presumably ‘beat the man's face in’. But you didn’t want him to do that. You were certainly tired of Jim, however, you were thankful for the suggestion.

You grabbed a hold of Arthur’s arm and turned him to you, one hand pulled his collar, the other pulled his head down, and you pressed your mouth firmly against his.

At first he doesn’t move, and all you can hear is Jim's ridiculous cackling, but then, then he started to kiss back. And nothing else existed in that moment other than Arthur Morgan.

It’s delicate so very delicate. Like he was afraid you'd shatter, or maybe he was afraid that he'd shatter? He lifts up slightly and kisses the tip of your nose, and then the center of your forehead. You smile largely, it hurts but you can’t help it, and he returns it with another soft kiss to your patiently awaiting lips.

After a few moments of his mouth gently playing with your mouth, he reaches to grab your cheek to deepen the kiss.

You gasp as his hand pulls your wound and he opens his eyes horrified.

“God I’m sorry.” He reached into his coat and pulled out his favorite handkerchief, pressing it firmly, yet gently, to your cheek.

It was your turn to close your eyes as his palm comforted you.

“We’ll get Miss Grimshaw to look at that when we get back.” His voice sounded almost hoarse.

“I told you it’s nothin’.” Your voice didn't sound much better.

You opened your eyes to see his shining back, with a beautiful smile on his face as he pulled you back in and kissed you.

You had never seen him so happy.

--------

#arthur morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #my fics

[cloud-player]

## MILD SPOILER for Companion Mission: Rarely Affectionate

## PAIRING: Gepard Landau x Gender!Neutral Reader

# GENRE: fluff, comfort

# WORD COUNT: 1k

◍ ✧⁠ *⁠。

"Thank you, Trailblazer." Svarog nods, his metallic head moving gently– quite contrary to the harsh mechanical grinding it produced against his neck segment. "For guiding Clara."

"Will she be okay?" You ask. The white-haired child is still fussing over the robot you both just saved.

Svarog lets out a noise that sounded like a grunt. "Calculations deem so. I will do my best to keep the bot active and functioning well so as to not hurt her."

You smile, feeling warm in your chest. "Maybe she wants to help the bot because she sees you in it, Svarog. It is pretty rare for a robot to develop empathy like you. Maybe it's Clara's way of returning the favor because you took care of her."

Even though Svarog's metal face cannot change, you feel as if you've somehow made the gigantic robot smile. You bid them both farewell and make your way back to Boulder Town, walking briskly so as to fight the cold wind seeping in through your clothes.

It's been at least two weeks since your battle with Cocolia, and as Mr. Yang predicted, the weather was still bitter cold and unforgiving even with the Stellaron gone. You huddle deeper into your jacket, unable to help but shiver.

"Y/N?"

"Captain Gepard?" In your haste and blurry mental state, you failed to notice that you've been walking directly into the male Landau heir's broad and hard chest. "Oh, hi– what are you doing here?"

"I should be the one asking that, trailblazer." Gepard counters, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing in the middle of a snowstorm, some long ways from the nearest settlement?"

"A snowstorm?" Oh, that's why the weather was shittier than usual.

A particularly strong gust of wind interrupts your conversation, and Gepard quickly tries to block the incoming breeze with his massive shield. He grabs onto your arm, strong fingers wrapping effortlessly around your limb.

"It's not good to be out in the open during a snowstorm. I have a tent pitched nearby, let's go." He isn't waiting for an answer, almost dragging you behind him and using his body to block the wind from getting to you as much as possible. It's not like you were going to complain, anyway; the weather is horrible and a tent to shelter in sounds really good right now.

You arrive at a small camp almost immediately, and some guards stand to attention once Gepard passes them by their posts. He tells them to get inside their tents and rest until the storm dies down, and all you can do is wave and weakly smile at the confused guards.

"My tent isn't that much bigger than the other guards, but I figured you'd prefer a cleaner place." Gepard admits meekly once you're both inside the tent. He makes you sit on a rolled out insulated mat, rummaging through his pack beside you.

"So… what are you guys doing here? Silvermane business?" You ask after feeling heat rush into you again for a bit.

"Miss Seele asked us to check on some reports about vagrants in the area around the settlement." Gepard also sits down, though on the tent floor instead of the admittedly still huge space on the mat with you. He runs a hand through his blonde hair, turning it into a disheveled, fluffy mess. "Unfortunately, we didn't find any vagrants. I told my guards to make camp while I continue scouting and well… I found you instead."

You try to smile and hide the fact that you were just dazedly staring at him while he was talking. "Not a vagrant."

"Not a vagrant." Gepard surprisingly grins, sounding amused with his crystal blue eyes twinkling even in the dim light of the miniature heat lamp in the corner. "And you, trailblazer? What were you doing out there?"

"I was coming from the settlement, actually." You start to explain, sitting up straight to look for something in your many, many pockets. "Clara messaged me for help regarding something, and I had just finished the errand and was walking back to Boulder Town."

You finally find it: a little delicate sculpture of a rose made of scrap iron. It feels cold in your palms.

"A little robot gave me this." You tell Gepard.

"I didn't think you'd be someone who likes those things."

"What, metallic flowers?"

"No, affection." He tilts his head to the side, as if surveying you fully. "You are the hero of Belobog, Y/N. From what Lady Bronya told me, you were stabbed in the chest and came back to life. She told me you fight so fiercely and without regard for your own safety if it means you can help others."

The attention and praise makes you blush and you look down at the delicate craft in your hands. "That doesn't mean I'm not a softie, you know?"

Gepard doesn't say anything for a while, and you're too timid to look up to meet his gaze.

Fortunately, you don't have to wait long. You see him move through your lashes, and he sits next to you. His large hand, void of the glove and armor, carefully slips under both of yours to cradle the metal flower.

The heat emanating from him makes you feel woozy and you almost swoon into him, as he smells so strongly of pine and forest and attractive musk. But he catches you, extending his other arm to wrap around your shoulders and press you flush against his side with your head resting on the crook between his neck and shoulders.

"That's good to know." He murmurs, just barely audible.

"What is?" You ask, fighting back a yawn.

"That you like affection, trailblazer." Gepard rests his own cheek on the crown of your head with a contented hum. "Go to sleep, Y/N. I'll wake you up when the snowstorm is over and escort you to Boulder Town myself."

You smile, sleepy and heady.

"Thank you, Geppie."

"Rest, Y/N."

◍ ✧⁠ *⁠。

#honkai star rail #hsr gepard #gepard x reader #hsr fic #cloudnotes

[pardi-real]

Weapon Review part 1(?)

Warning: will describe what weapons do

Let's review how well the weapons fare against angels and what they're gonna do with it. By your local akuneko brainrot patient (me). The bonus points aren't really counted.

The types of weapon listed here are unofficial and merely what I think they are.

I'm pretty sure the weapons aren't scaled in actual size in the pictures because Lucas's scythe definitely looks bigger in-game and Lato's daggers aren't that big.

Daggers/Combat knives

I was searching for materials regarding why daggers over swords for research purposes, but then I remembered Lato uses daggers too. Daggers are so cool.

It's lighter than swords and should increase his agility

And it has holes, holes on blades to reduce weight (usually) so further increase in agility

It's perfect for stabbing and easy to carry

Maybe he can throw it because he has multiple. Requires mad skills tho

The hilt makes it look like a trench knife (maybe it is, idk)

It mainly stabs. Too short for fatally slashing (different story if he wanna torture or something) What he gonna do, stabs angels eyes? Actually do angels have the same vitals as humans? Then he can just stab their hearts

Generally lower damage and shorter range than swords

I wish the blades were serrated to make it cooler (+ easier to tear off limbs)

7/10 +3 from being cool

Double-bladed polearm

Looks graceful to me. Polearms aren't for throwing because they're longer and heavier than spears.

With blades like that I think Berrien can use it for stabbing, except with more force because of the momentum

Looks like it can slash too but I don't think it's effective. It may be a quick attack but it needs space to do a rotation. Maybe it'll do well when surrounded by angels and that's when double blades come into action, he only needs half of the rotation, maybe less if there are many angels but not enough damage Imo

It definitely has long range

The long shaft can drive away things, defend, and maybe for bludgeoning too just like what a metal pipe would do *insert falling pipe mp3 here*

Hard to use in a cramped space

Double blades like that is actually quite heavy, and he should be rotating/thrusting that around

Actually would get Berrien in big trouble if an angel closing in

8/10 it's good. I like how he stores it under his bed

Double Ax/Labrys

Practically, the point of Double Ax is so that the blades can have different degrees of sharpness. Lumberjacks can use one side for felling and the other for limbing. But Fennesz isn't a lumberjack so you know whose limbs,

Definitely dishes out big damage

Labrys is a symbol of power, it should looks intimidating, it sure does but I don't think angels can feel intimidated (if they feel anything at all)

There is a lot Fennesz can do with it, it's primarily for chopping/hacking but it can also do thrusting, hooking, slashing, and so on. For maximum damage he can do an overhead strike... No wait I just realized this Labrys has longer shaft than usual

Increased reach I guess

It's heavy, no matter how strong Fennesz is, it might drain his stamina

Create openings especially when gaining momentum

He'll get in big trouble too if an angel closing in

7/10 DPS enough ig, +3 for being pretty and loosely looking like a butterfly

BFS

Look at that extra-broad broadsword. I wonder which one is heavier between this and the double ax

Big damage but with speed, Bastien is known for his insane speed

What else does it do other than damage…? It looks very cool I guess, like a shounen protag or Guts or Cloud

Just like usual sword it's good for stabbing, thrusting, slashing, piercing, etc but because it's wide it can be used for shield too maybe

Heavy

Despite the speed he still leaves openings and results in plot-points. What a deadly weapon

5/10 too deadly +2 for shounen

Thorned/barbed whip

What was Ammon thinking when choosing this? It's less of a killing weapon and more like a torture device. Looks very aesthetic tho since it resembles a rose

Can make the opponent bleed profusely. Can angels actually die from blood loss? (Do they even have blood…?)

Long range, and can keep angels from getting closer

It's noisy so it can intimidate & scare things away. Again, if they can even be scared at all

Fictionally it can be used to tangle, trip, or holding enemies in place ala Indiana Jones with his bullwhip (requires mad skills)

It barely does any fatal damage

Difficult to control/aim

With it barbed, it's more likely to cause accidental self-injury. Or injures companions. Unless he's really really skilled… Well, I sure hope he doesn't train often. *Insert uncanny mr incredible png*

Then again it would be difficult to not harm any companions in a cramped place

It can't do any slashing, thrusting, hooking, or literally other type of attack, it mostly whips

Also would get in trouble if an angel closing in

4/10 it's cool but impractical, +3 for being pretty

You know what, I know way too little about angels or maybe I just don't remember

Maybe to be continued in part 2

I started writing this for no reason so yeah why not post it.

#Ramblings #Brainrot #Idk man #Akuneko #I actually feel bad spamming the akuneko tag #Weapon #Woohoo #daggers #axe #Thorned whip™ #BFS #send help #Double bladed polearm

[amarriageoftrueminds]

But you know what? Rewatching CATFA, the part where Abraham Erskine was shot and killed by a Hydra spy, I kept thinking this: yes, I know that Hydra had spies everywhere, but I had kept thinking that Peggy had something to do with Abraham's death. Because he died almost immediately after Steve was injected with the serum, and how did that Hydra spy get into that secret room in a bookstore so easily??? I still think Peggy had something to do with Abraham's death, not JUST that Hydra spy that Richard Armitage played..

Peggy says she's supervisor of all SSR operations (but then jumps a foot in the air when her boss shows up behind her, and then spends the rest of the film carrying clipboards. So is she really?)

Neither Col. Phillips or Howard Stark are framed as anything to do with 'intelligence.' So, according to Peggy herself, the person in charge of making sure there aren't any Nazi spies around is... her.

Then she goes to a top-secret base in Brooklyn. And there are shady guys hanging around outside, and she doesn't notice.

Then we're introduced to a Nazi spy embedded at the State Department. Peggy again doesn't notice. (And hasn't noticed before this time.)

When that guy sets off a bomb and kills Erskine, Peggy grabs someone else's gun (she doesn't have one of her own) and misses every shot at him. She fails to stop the saboteur, who looks to be successfully escaping with serum.

(Even in other universes, where she's in the room with Erskine, she's still inept at stopping him being killed. In fact, even more people get shot if she's in the room.)

So Steve has to chase down the saboteur barefoot.

When Steve wants to go off to raid a Hydra base and rescue soldiers, she tries to dissuade him from doing that -- even though she was acting like she wanted Steve to quit his anti-Nazi money-raising job a second ago.

She's also shown to have intell. on what the Nazis are up to -- she knows Krausberg is a factory. And yet her 'plan' to help Steve amounts to flying through enemy gunfire, dropping him in the middle of a Nazi weapons factory, where Red Skull is that very minute, and which is also laced with explosives.

(Tantamount to dropping Steve on a minefield, really.)

This, while Steve has: a wooden shield, and no means to communicate except a flimsy transponder, and no back up plan for if the flimsy transponder proves useless.

And then, despite her acting like she's Boss of Intelligence, she cannot get planes to find any any aerial reconnaissance to show the 107 have survived. (That's 500+ men marching back to base in broad daylight over 3 days, and Miss Spy can't manage to spot them.)

And when the soldiers come back, safe and sound, she looks not pleased at all but rather pissed off about it. (Because Steve wasn't under her control, or paying her attention).

When Steve is about to jump on the Valkyrie, to go stop Red Skull, she stops him and makes him kiss her.

When Steve is about to crash the Valkyrie and save millions from Red Skull's final plan, she tries to dissuade him from doing that.

Oh, and she of course throws a temper tantrum and fires a gun at Steve (in a way which coincidentally endangers multiple other people).

Then it's revealed in CATWS and What If...? that she hired Nazis and happily worked with them, in exactly the circumstances which she herself admitted she would in AOS. In AOS she also claimed she, alone was solely responsible for the Nazi-hiring decisions, and in the one universe where she, alone, wasn't in SHIELD... there weren't any Nazis in it, either.

It's also shown that she's power hungry for the serum herself, would monologue like Red Skull about it, would literally step over Steve's bleeding gunshot body to steal it from him, and throw more violent temper tantrums about not being given more power immediately (also literally throwing her weight around).

And that if she knew Bucky was being tortured and enslaved for decades (ditto the child victims of the Red Room) she wouldn't do anything about it.

This in the MCU, and the Cap movies, where not ignoring a situation "pointed south" is explicitly framed as what makes you a hero.

("When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen ... they happen because of you.")

All of which is to say:

if you wanted to write Peggy as a Nazi villain doing heinous shit on purpose (including feigning constant incompetence as a nepotism hire, which coincidentally always benefits the Nazis), and/or thinking she's the moral center of the universe despite this, you wouldn't have to change a single thing about the character herself, only the way other characters treat her.

🤷‍♀️

#toAyourQ #dat's me #hey nonny #antipeggy #antisteggy #cynthia glass #p*ggy meta #mcu critical #steggy is hydra trash party #meta #mcu meta #erskine isn't even the only jew she's got shot #counting ana jarvis #remember folks: REBLOG 🔁 / DON'T JUST LIKE 🤍

[floralbuckleyswrites]

Finally

♡ Pairing: Buck/Gender Neutral!Reader ♡ Genre: Soulmates ♡ Word Count: 594 ♡ Warnings: None ♡ Summary: Having a bad day and drenched in rain, the last thing you’re expecting is to meet your soulmate. ♡ Note: This is for a 30 day writing challenge I am doing. Day: 4: Sharing An Umbrella.

Everyone has a soulmate in this world, someone destined to love you and be loved by you. When you meet them is determined by the small clock embedded on your wrist, the moment it hits 00:00, your soulmate will be around you. You have to be careful as the moment can pass and if you don’t spot your soulmate, you can miss them forever.

The day you met your soulmate was a cold and dreary afternoon. You had been rushing around town all morning to business meetings across the city when it started to pour down rain. It was utterly miserable and just your luck that you were standing outside waiting for your delayed Uber. You were also drenched, as you had forgotten your umbrella at home.

Today was definitely not your day. You were about to cancel the Uber and just run to find the nearest bus, when suddenly the rain stopped falling on you. Confused, you blinked owlishly upon realizing it was not a miracle, but a very handsome stranger now shielding you with a big yellow umbrella.

He was quite broad with more than a few inches on you, blonde hair and bright blue eyes settled on a beautifully sculpted face. You noticed he was also wearing a navy uniform with a shining LAFD badge. 

A firefighter, huh? You had never met one before. A part of you wondered if you should move away, but something about the stranger made you comfortable and safe. You couldn’t explain it.

“Um, thank you?” you started, unsure what to say at the unexpected act of goodwill.

“No problem, you looked like you might need a bit of assistance,” he replied with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” you said with a sigh as you looked down at your soaked dress, “the one day I don’t have my emergency umbrella in my purse it has to rain.”

“Happens to the best of us, though in this case… I think fate might’ve had a hand in it.”

Confused, you tilted your head at him, “What do you mean by that?”

He simply gave you a smile that took your breath away and brought up his left wrist, showing you that his clock read 00:00. 

“I mean that… I think we’re soulmates.”

Your heart seemed to stop at his words as you processed that you were meeting your soulmate right now. You hadn’t thought to check your clock that morning as you were too overwhelmed with work, but this was happening right here, right now.

Glancing down at your wrist, you could plainly see that it also now read 00:00. The street the two of you stood on was completely empty, which meant that without a doubt, the two of you had been destined to meet.

Before you could reply, a sleek black car pulled up in front of you and honked at the same time your phone pinged, letting you know the Uber was here.

You cursed, knowing you needed to get to your meeting pronto, but also you had just met your soulmate.

“So, my name is Y/N and isn’t really the way I pictured us meeting, but would you like to share an Uber? I’m very late to a meeting downtown, but also very happy to meet you.”

He smiled at that. “I’d love that. I’m Evan Buckley and I’m happy to finally meet you too.”

With that the two of you got into the Uber and began introducing yourselves, both of you overwhelmingly happy and relieved to have found each other.

My Masterlist || My AO3 || Please leave feedback, helps motivate! :) Thank you for reading~

#911reader #911 imagine #911 imagines #911 reader inserts #911 x reader #evan buckley x reader #buck x reader #my fics #911 fics #911 reader fanfiction #my drabbles #Soulmates #911 headcanons #evan buckley headcanon

[callsignspark]

•intertwining fingers when making love

Marry Me

hi anon! thank you for sending this one!!

send me a physical intimacy prompt for any of my Dagger, Sword & Shield couples!

the ninth of January

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut (explicit language, unprotected p in v sex, he teases her and it's a little mean but not unwelcome, like the tiniest hint of dumbification, mentions of getting pregnant), this is set once they're already together so offscreen conversations have happened regarding kids/protection, so many goddamn pet names, baby's first time writing real smut so we are being kind, also you don't need to read Mar[r]y Me to read and understand this, but (shameless plug) I think you should anyway

word count: 1.4k

“Bradley!” She can feel his smile get bigger; he loves it when she moans his name.

“What, Mary? What’s wrong, honey?” He teases as he pulls away from the sensitive spot near her collarbone, flexing his hips up to meet hers as she bounces on his lap for the sole purpose of hearing her breath hitch.

She’s honestly not quite sure how they got here.

The evening had been moving along like every other night since they moved in together three months prior. They enjoyed the dinner she made - tonight was chicken parmesan with roasted green beans - and Bradley did the dishes, talking and laughing the entire time. Migrating to the pink couch, she claimed the chaise while he flipped through their combined DVD collection.

Actually, she does know how they got here.

He holds up a case with a dark cover. “How about this? It’s Skyfall… And you need to go to the optometrist if you can’t recognize your man.” He teases when she squints to read the title.

“I can see perfectly fine! It’s dark in here because someone hates watching movies with any sort of light on.” She protests as he pops the disc into the machine and hits enough buttons to make the DVD menu appear.

“First of all, that would be a better excuse if I had already turned the lamp off. Second, it’s like being in the theatre, but I don’t have to wear pants.” He dramatically shoves his sweatpants down, leaving him in just an old t-shirt and his blue boxer briefs that hide nothing. “Hey, you know what today is?”

Her brain ignores the question, distracted as her eyes drag over him, stopping to admire the thickness of his thighs. She knows she’ll never tire of his body, no matter what it looks like, but he’s looked extra good lately, and she can’t help but stare.

“You know what today is, baby doll?” Mary nods, her heart thumping as she presses her thighs together at the pet name. One he only uses in private. “Answer my question then.”

“It’s Monday.”

“More specifically?” He pulls the UVA t-shirt over his head, muscles everywhere flexing at the movement.”

“It’s uh-” She gulps, he’s not playing fair. “It’s January 9th.”

Bradley hums, running his hand over his abdomen, playing with the band of his briefs. “That’s right, which means it’s been two years since the last time we watched this movie, and we almost fucked right where you’re sitting.”

“I- how? Wha-” Mary stammers, confused and amazed at how he remembers that. She knew it was early January, but she had forgotten the exact date.

“Happy anniversary, baby.” He sits on the couch, the movie forgotten as he tugs her across the cushion into his lap.

She enthusiastically returns his kiss, letting her hands roam his broad shoulders until she suddenly pulls back. “What anniversary? We didn’t even do anything that night.”

It takes him a minute to respond, busy pulling her sweatshirt over her head. “Anniversary of the first time I jerked off to the memory of you wriggling around in my lap.” She can’t continue with her questioning, preoccupied by her boyfriend sucking and pinching her nipples.

Which got them here.

Mary, riding him on the same pink couch where she almost did exactly two years earlier, shifted one cushion to the right so Bradley can plant his feet on the floor.

“Bradley!” She can feel his smile get bigger; he loves it when she moans his name.

“What, Mary? What’s wrong, honey?” He teases as he pulls away from the sensitive spot near her collarbone, flexing his hips up to meet hers as she bounces on his lap for the sole purpose of hearing her breath hitch.

“Fuck! Do that again!” Her thighs are burning, and she’s so close it’ll hardly take anything to send her over the edge.

“Do what?” He stops all movement, smile turning a little mean when she lets out a desperate whine and pulls at his hair. “No, that’s not gonna work this time, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna cum, Bradley.” She’s almost begging, and she will if that’s what it takes.

He smirks. “So keep moving, honey, I ain’t stopping ya.”

“I can’t; my legs are too tired. Feel like jello.” She leans forward, tucking her face into his neck and rocking her hips a bit, hoping to entice him into taking over. “Need help.”

Her tone is sad enough that he pulls her out of his neck to check-in. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, just can’t keep riding you right now.”

He gently kisses her. “Okay, I got you, baby doll. Let's switch ourselves around here.”

His plan for tonight is to enjoy themselves the way they didn’t get to before, not tease her to the point of tears.

He helps her move off his lap, the squelch of them parting making her face burn as she stands between his legs. “Fuck, you’re so wet, honey.”

Bradley scoots to the edge of the couch, tapping her thigh and pressing a kiss to her stomach when she complies with his silent request to spread her legs. He can’t help but grin and laugh when, a second later, her nails are digging into his shoulders. An instinctual reaction to her knees buckling as he plays with her clit.

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

“Would feel better if you were inside of me.” The effect of her snark is negated by the breathlessness of her voice.

He stands up, nudging her back to make room, and groans when she wraps a hand around him. “I thought you wanted me inside you. Can’t do that if you don’t lay down.”

She reluctantly lets go and lays on the chaise, shimmying back to make enough room for him to join her. “Can’t help it, you’re just so hard- oh! Bradley!” She moans as he rubs the head of his dick against her clit.

“I gotcha, I gotcha… fuck. You always feel so good for me, baby.” He moans as he slides back inside her. “You still close?”

She nods, breath escaping her as he starts moving. He grabs her left hand, intertwining their fingers and supporting himself on his elbows so he can drop down closer. He focuses on hitting deeper spots, moving slower than usual so he can continue kissing the love of his life.

“Bradley… I need to-” She cuts herself off at a particularly deep thrust, moaning into his mouth.

“Whatever you need, honey. Do it.” He doesn’t blink an eye as he feels her free hand drop from his hair and slip between them. “That’s it, you’re almost there, huh? Can feel it; you’re so tight. Play with yourself for me like a good girl.”

And that’s all it takes.

Her body tenses as she cums, mouth dropping open in a silent moan and her left thigh twitches against his side. Bradley slows down but doesn’t stop, working her through her orgasm until she squeezes his hand tight.

“How was that?” He drops down completely, letting his weight ground her as he noses against her pulse point while she comes down.

“Fuck, Bradley. Give me a second, and I’ll help you finish. How close are you?”

“Take your time, baby. Not going anywhere.”

“C‘mon. How close are you, handsome?” She pulls him to her face, murmuring the question against his lips.

“Close.” She wraps her left leg around his hip again, holding him as close as possible, and starts purposefully clenching around him. “What are you doing?”

“Want you to start moving.” She pulls her hand from his and sinks it into his hair, knowing how much he likes it when she pulls it. “Want you to cum in me.”

After those words, it only takes a few minutes for him to finish, hips stuttering and grinding against her when he feels his cum start to leak out around his dick.

“Fuck, Mary!” He huffs out. “I thought we weren’t trying to get you pregnant.”

“We’re not trying. But we’re also not, not trying.”

“You’re gonna kill me, baby doll.” Mary giggles when he all but collapses on her chest, rubbing his back while he catches his breath.

“Stop giggling, or I’m going to get hard again; between you squeezing my dick and your tits bouncing, it won’t take a lot. And then I’ll have to fuck you again.”

“Oh, no. What a shame that would be.” He looks up from her sternum, her smile making his heart skip a beat.

“It’s a good thing I find your sarcasm sexy.”

She grabs his hand again, linking their fingers and pulling him in. “I am a very lucky lady to have you love me like you do.”

“I do love you, Mary.”

“I know. I love you, too, Bradley.”

only tagging a few friends since this isn't an actual update. have a great weekend!

@gretagerwigsmuse | @hangmanapologist | @hangmanbrainrot | @princessphilly | @roleycoleyreccenter | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @sometimesanalice

fic tag | credit for dividers here

#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fic #top gun au #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #DSS universe #MM fic #ask game #asks answered #anon <3 #elle writes #mar[r]y me fic

[hereforsterekcontent]

Imagine this sign at the entrance to the preserve lmao

There are so many options as to who would put it there...

...maybe Laura (in an alive hale family scenario) because she REALLY doesn’t need to see her teenage brother and his little boyfriend awkwardly exchange handjobs ever, and that means EVER, again. God this is worse than when she walked in on him masturbaring years ago and she still hasn't completely recovered from that. Although "nice panties, Stilinski!" she can't help tease, pointing at his batman boxers. "Laura!" Derek screeches , frantically trying to get the zipper of his jeans up while simultaneously trying (and failing) to shield Stiles from his sisters looks. "Thanks Laur!" the idiot himself laughs. "STILES!" Derek looks scandalised and okay maybe embarrassing him is worth the nightmarish images she will now have to live with a little bit. She always liked the Sheriffs kid. What she can't, however, live with, is catching her uncle in a quite similar, if not slighlty more compromising situation with..."Oh my god is that Allison Argents DAD?? Uncle Peter what is wrong with you, he's married! YOU are married!" She puts the sign up right after that incident (and after snitching on uncle Peter to her mom). Enough's enough. Unfortunately some of her younger siblings inevitably stumble upon the sign and after asking their parents what "fuck" meant at the dinner table, with the Sheriff present mind you, Misses Hale makes her take it down immediately, scalding her especially strictly, considering the towns Sheriff (and their very likely future in-law) is present. If Laura tells them about her initial reason (stumbling upon Derek and Stiles) to get them off of her case and distract them, it's not her proudest moment, but well you gotta do what you gotta do and seeing her brothers eyes widen with fear is admittedly a nice bonus.

...Maybe Derek after he had to stumble upon yet an other pair of teenagers making out there when he justed wanted to to go for a nice little evening run. Stiles would obviously find it hilarious at first but also most definitely take it as a challenge. At one point they'd probably be patrolling the borders of the preserve after a particularly viscous fight with a coven of witches or something equally fucked and Stiles would jokingly initiate some making out wich would probably turn into either him blowing Derek or Derek fucking him against the sign. Either way Derek would somehow manage to leave clawmarks on it which, again, Stiles would be absolutely delighted over. The betas would probably shake their heads at him because he had forbidden them all from getting it on in the woods near his house since "just because we are part wolf doesn't mean we have to behave like wild animals, Erica " so what happened to practicing what you preach, boss? He'd be embarrassed but probably stand by it though, he's stubborn like that. If Derek wants to go to what is basically his back gardens and plow his mate into a tree or make out like teenagers with him in the flower field behind the old shed then he by all means will do so, it's his land . Also...he's the alpha goddammit >:(

...it admittedly does seem most like a Stiles thing to do though. Like he's not a werewolf, he can't hear or smell it (thank god for that one) from yards away if there's s someone doing the nasty behind a tree. No, poor, unsuspecting Stiles would have to inevitably stumble into what's going on resulting in him letting out a screech that would have Derek drop everything at the grocery store a town over and run to his mates aid. Because "Scotty, my pal, my brother, there is only so much our friendship can take. And having to see your bare ass in broad daylight is NOT one of them! Ugh hell no Allison, please tell me thats not-Oh hey babe, what are you doing here, I thought you went to get me icecr- woah what's going on with the fangs and the eyes did something happen??"

Anyways after one time to many he would eventually stalk towards the most popular make out spot, the sign in hand and hammer it into the ground without further explanation. It does speak for itself he reckons. Derek and the others would probably follow him and watch all amued. That is until Isaac jokingly says that no-ones going to listen to Stiles' sign anyways and Dereks eyebrows shoot up immediately communicating that his mates little sign will be taken seriously or else.... Also he's pretty sure Stiles is willing to make an exception for him....

#sterek #hale family #the hale pack #laura hale #hale family feels #petopher #disaster hales #sterek mates #my stuff

[lord-aldhelm]

WIP Wednesday

No one tagged me this time and I almost forgot about this!! Another week, another tag game! Please share your last sentence; or, if you don’t have one, share a plot bunny or idea!

So for this WIP Wednesday, I am going to do something a little different! I am going to post the entire most recent chapter of my WIP. I really love how this turned out, and wanted to share the whole thing. It kind of works well as its own little standalone ficlet.

From my latest Aldflaed WIP (that does not have a title yet)

Background Context: This takes place in early Season 2. King Ceolwulf II has just passed away, and Lord Aethelred was installed as the new Lord of Mercia. He is taking charge of moving the household from the old capital of Tameworthig (Tameworthy) to Aegelesburg (Aylesbury). Aldhelm has just been promoted to captain of the guard, and is having a hard time gaining the respect of his new subordinates...

______________________________________________________________

Chapter after the cut below:

Aldhelm left the peace and solitude of the forest, feeling energized and enlightened. But it was not to last. Before he even entered the castle gate, he heard shouting and the sounds of things breaking. He drew his sword and ran into the courtyard, expecting the worst, but to his dismay and somewhat relief found it was just the guards being rowdy. The previous captain had already been dismissed, given an early retirement and a gift of land in the western part of Mercia. In that short time, the guards were taking advantage of being leaderless, or so they thought. Many held horns of ale as they stood in the street, yelling and laughing, and some of them were even causing destruction to property. Others sparred recklessly in the sides of the courtyard, and some others were harassing women who were trying to go about their business. Apparently, they were bored and restless, having nothing to do as the castle was being packed up.

He had never known the guards to be so unruly before, but they seemed to be taking advantage of the change in leadership to relieve some stress. And also, quite clearly, to test him. Although he had already been acknowledged as their captain, and had made a point to introduce himself to them, they did not take him seriously. He needed to make a forceful impression on them so they knew he meant business. He was already used to the role of advisor and king’s right-hand man, but he had to adjust to his new role as captain of the guard.

He was a decent warrior, having been highly trained in skills of sword and shield, axe and spear. He mastered every skill given to him with ease, and was a fast learner; however, he detested fighting. He would much rather fight his battles with a quill than a sword. But Aldhelm had a special talent for battle tactics, and it made sense to have a strategist like him in the lead of the army. So, he accepted it without complaint. And now he needed to bring them in line, and he knew he only had the one chance or else they would never respect him as their captain. He sighed, realizing that his leisurely strolls in the woods were now a thing of the past, no matter where they lived. His life was going to get busier and more complicated than he anticipated.

He sheathed his sword and casually strode in through the front gate. The guards saw him enter but paid him no mind, and continued their raucous merrymaking. They were not at all threatened by the tall, lithe man with no real battle experience. He remained calm and complacent, which was difficult considering the circumstances. Were the guards so undisciplined that they could not go a day without their captain bearing down on them? That would need to change. He continued to saunter seemingly unbothered through the middle of the courtyard, glancing over the scene before him to pick out the worst offender. Without breaking his stride, he unsheathed his sword again, and smacked the loudest man with the broad side of his sword.

It might as well have been a honeybee stinging a boar; the man was much larger and heavier than him by nearly double, and built like a brown bear with thick corded muscles and a broad barrel chest. He had clearly seen many battles, and was covered in scars. The man turned around to confront his attacker, but when he saw Aldhelm, he gave pause. Aldhelm could see some semblance of thought forming behind the man’s dull grey eyes, and let him think about his next action before he continued. The battle-worn guard, rather than getting angry, started to laugh. The rest of the guard looked on, not knowing what to do, but eventually they joined in and laughed as well. Aldhelm smirked and tilted his head slightly, knowing he was the butt of the joke but let them have their little moment of jest.

“I seem to have interrupted quite a party here,” Aldhelm said, standing firm and confident in the face of real danger. As he spoke, the laughter stopped. “But it is time now for you to clean up this mess you have made.” He gestured broadly with the point of his sword to the broken bits of wood and other debris that littered the walkway in the courtyard. The burly man just laughed in his face, completely unbothered by the weaker man making unreasonable demands of him, and turned to walk away and continue his wanton destruction.

Aldhelm was undeterred. “Since you are all clearly bored, and in need of something to do, why don’t we have a training session.” His soft steady voice barely carried across the courtyard, but the big man heard him.

His head turned to once again face Aldhelm. “You? Train me?” His eyes darted up and down across Aldhelm. “What a joke.”

Aldhelm rested his blade against his shoulder in a cocksure manner. “You are right. It would not be a fair fight. I will ask one of the other guards to spar with me instead. Someone who will actually be a challenge for me.”

“Little twig, I don’t know how you ended up being the captain, but you had best go home now, unless you want me to snap you in half!” the burly man announced. When Aldhelm made no indication that he would leave, he continued. “Look, we all know that I should be the captain. I was second in command, and was promised a promotion. Now, why don’t you do us all a favor, and go back inside the castle, and tell the king that a mistake was made, and that Wulfstan is the new captain of the guard.”

A chilling smile spread across Aldhelm’s face as he unpinned his brooch. He removed his cloak and gently set it on a stone bench nearby, and picked up one of the shields that had been callously dropped on the ground. “You can certainly have the role of captain, if you defeat me in single combat.”

“Little lordling, I will not be held responsible for your death,” Wulfstan replied gruffly. “You want the title, fine, you can have it, in name only. But you step aside and let me lead the men in real battle.”

The smile vanished from Aldhelm’s face, and his fierce green eyes were set in a cold, hard, unwavering glare at Wulfstan. “Draw your sword and face me. I will not ask again.”

Wulfstan decided to humor him. He nonchalantly picked up his shield, and pulled his short-sword from the scabbard. He had no time to react before Aldhelm struck without warning, raining powerful blows onto his shield. Wulfstan was shocked at how strong he was; he was taken off balance and pushed backwards before he was able to stabilize and defend himself properly. He managed to get an offensive swing at Aldhelm but made no contact; Aldhelm had anticipated the move and leapt backwards, leaving Wulfstan to swing at empty air. Aldhelm charged forward again, and made contact with Wulfstan’s armor, leaving deep cuts in his leather bracer and severing a few links of chainmail on his left arm. Wulfstan realized that Aldhelm meant business, and began to take the fight seriously. If the scrawny man died, so be it. He had an entire army as witness of his attack, and would be justified.

Wulfstan charged at Aldhelm, sword held high, and swung hard at his head. But as before, he never made contact; Aldhelm was far too fast for him, and had already leaned backwards, avoiding the blow. In response, Aldhelm circled around to his right side and struck again, and managed to get a slice into his right shoulder pad. Wulfstan swung his sword out at him, but again, Aldhelm had already leapt back, avoiding the sword. By this point, the rest of the guard had already formed a square around the dueling pair, and were watching intently. They could not believe that a skinny weakling was able to fight the man they thought of as their best warrior. They watched with baited breath, hoping that Wulfstan would put an end to the silly battle, and retain his honor. But as the duel continued, they realized that their leader was actually being bested by him, to their disbelief.

Aldhelm seemed to anticipate the advances of Wulfstan with eerie accuracy, and always managed to avoid his blows. It was like he could see into the future. But what they didn’t know is that Aldhelm had spent many hours watching the guards spar in the courtyard and training grounds, and knew all of Wulfstan’s typical moves. What they also did not know was that Aldhelm was formally trained by Ceadda, the previous captain. He had also received combat training during his time in Rome, and was deceptively strong for his stature. People tended to underestimate Aldhelm, which he used to his advantage, and this time was no different.

Wulfstan was starting to escalate, while Aldhelm stayed calm and composed. In his fury, Wulfstan charged at Aldhelm and their blades met with a loud metallic clang. The bigger man pressed down on Aldhelm, and his blade snaked along Aldhelm’s down to the hilt. At that moment, Aldhelm raised his shield and hit Wulfstan hard with the edge of it, straight into his temple. The burly man stumbled backward, dropping his own shield in the process. Blood ran down his face and into his eye, temporarily blinding him on one side. While he was stunned, Aldhelm rammed hard into him, knocking him down onto the ground. As Wulfstan’s blurred vision came into focus, he saw Aldhelm standing over him, his sword pointed at his chest.

“Do you yield?” Aldhelm said softly. The burly man raised his hands, and nodded. Aldhelm withdrew his sword, and as he did, Wulfstan staggered to his feet. His angry glare met Aldhelm’s cool one. He could not believe this willowy man defeated him at swordfighting. The rest of the guard started shouting epithets at Aldhelm, briefly drawing his attention to them. He half expected one of the other guards to charge at him in defense of their fallen leader. However, it was Wulfstan who made the next move. He drew his seax, and while Aldhelm was distracted, charged at him full force. Aldhelm saw the movement in his peripheral field of vision, and reacted quickly. At the last second Aldhelm raised his shield, blocking the attack. The seax was plunged deep into the shield, splitting it, and almost making contact with his face. He rotated his arm so that the blade was deflected away from his face, but in the process, it had grazed him just to the side of his right eye.

Aldhelm put his full force into his shield, twisting it and forcing it away from himself and into Wulfstan. The seax, still embedded in the broken shield, was wrenched from Wulfstan’s hand and tossed onto the ground. Wulfstan grabbed the shield fragment from the ground, and struggled to pry the seax loose, holding the shield with his right hand and using his left to free the blade. Before Wulfstan could use it, Aldhelm had raised his sword and struck the unarmed man with a devastating blow that penetrated a weak point in his armor just below the elbow of his left arm. A major artery had been severed, and blood gushed out of the wound. Wulfstan dropped the seax and fell to his knees, his right hand squeezing his left elbow to stop the bleeding. Aldhelm swung his sword swiftly around to point directly at his throat, and once again, calmly asked, “Do you yield?” Wulfstan’s eyes were wide with pain and fear, and he relented this time.

“Yes, Lord,” he said weakly, shaking uncontrollably. He was starting to lose a lot of blood, and would surely die. Aldhelm sheathed his sword and grabbed his cloak, using it to place a tourniquet on Wulfstan’s injured arm.

He stood and glanced at one of the horrified guards still standing in a square. “You,” he said, making eye contact with one, “bring me something to cauterize this wound.” When he didn’t move, Aldhelm emphasized, “Now!” and the young guard ran off to the nearby blacksmith, and returned with a metal bar, still red hot at the tip. Aldhelm removed the cloak and pressed the glowing end of the bar into the wound. The big man screamed in pain, and the acrid smell of burning flesh and smoke filled the air. But, the bleeding was stopped. Aldhelm rewrapped his elbow with a clean section of the cloak. He ordered another guard to notify the priests, who would be needed to tend to his wounds and nurse him back to health after his severe injury.

Once Wulfstan was carried away by the priests to recover, Aldhelm addressed the rest of the guard. “Does anyone else wish to challenge me?” No one said a single word. They were shocked and impressed by not only how deceptively strong a fighter he was, but by the mercy he showed Wulfstan. Wulfstan had committed treason, humiliated his master, and attempted to murder the new captain. He should have been executed on the spot for his crimes, or allowed to bleed to death where he lay. But Aldhelm showed him compassion, and tended to his wounds instead, saving his life. They all looked at their new captain with awe and reverence, and knew that this man was someone they would follow to the ends of the earth.

* * *

No Pressure Tags: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @gemini-mama @thenameswinter99 @alexagirlie @synintheraven @garunsdottir @thelettersfromnoone @aegonx @itbmojojoejo and whoever else wants to do it!

#wip wednesday #fanfic #aldhelm #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom fanfic

[ceo-of-sloppy-men]

Let’s talk body types:

Okay, so, realistically Cullen and Blackwall would need a huge amount of muscle mass and body fat to actually do their jobs.

Take the iron bull for example:

See how his body literally forms a 🔻 (triangle)? He’s got broad shoulders and hefty arms, as well as a gut to off-set the weight of wielding a literal sword. Not dissimilar to heavy-weight lifters.

Which ya know, he was probably designed after. But my point is, take note of the gut. Center of gravity is super important here too: being a heavier stature while you throw around a massive sword/axe/what have you, or carry a sword and shield, a heavier body would have an easier centre of gravity to accommodate such a feat.

With all that said, Blackwall has the option of wielding a two-handed weapon or a shield and sword, meaning he’d need a heavier build similar to bodybuilders and the Bull. Even if he had been wandering the wilderness. Which makes his “3 pies is a lot” comment to sera 100% funnier because to sustain that body weight he’d need to eat well (ie larger portions tailored to him).

Cullen, however, is trickier. Because templars wear such bulky armour he’d need his strength to even carry it around - let alone swing a sword. Which is possibly also covered by Lyrium so up until the point he leaves the order and quits Lyrium, he’s probably at least under or average weight due to trauma and shit he went through (not taking care of himself or accepting help).

But leaving the order and quitting Lyrium would definitely impact his overall physique because he’d finally be eating enough food to actually sustain himself and wear even the light pieces of armour all day. Which is probably why he has to wear far less armour then we see Templars wearing: he physically can’t carry it all.

Realistically speaking, he’d slowly build his body mass up again over the course of being at Haven and later Skyhold - due in part to Casandra and the Inquisitor making sure he actually eats, mostly by ordering servants to take him food. Eating more probably would help with his Lyrium withdrawal as there’s something else for his body to focus on breaking down (not an expert tho). As he trains with his men, and takes care of himself, bam. Recipe for body weight and muscle mass increase.

In conclusion, blackwall definitely has a larger body, Cullen’s on the road to recovery which will lead to his larger body type, and Bull has a pretty accurate body type.

#i won’t touch Casandra because im not brave enough #blackwall dragon age #cullen rutherford #cassandra pentaghast #dragon age headcanons #da inquisition spoilers #dragon age

[hungrydogs-if]

Fakeout makeout? Fakeout makeout.

(pretty please, dear author? 🥺)

oh boy you're getting some text now, nonny. you've opened the floodgates for one of my favorite tropes.

also these are a bit ambiguous and abrupt but i hope you enjoy! also all in the same setting.

dane

a wall catches your back just as a rough hand settles on the nape of your neck, cold rings a stark contrast to the sudden heat of his lips on yours. the beard scratches your chin as he holds still, the broad expanse of his torso shielding you from those prying eyes that settle on your darkened forms in the dimly-lit alley. you hear a distant voice mistake you for just a couple of drunken lovebirds, and you feel the chuckle that rumbles in his chest through where your hand is pressed against it. the footsteps recede until there is no other sound than your intermingled breathing, and the hammering of your heart beneath your chest. the fingers release your neck and trail over to tug at the lapels of your jacket, gripping it just for a moment longer before he pulls away with a laugh and a smile, his words a husky rumble in the darkness; "close call, huh?"

mona

she is swift when the footsteps approach, pulling you into an alcove with strength you know only she possesses. in the darkness you hear her ask, "do you trust me?" but she knows the answer. nimble fingers snake around your throat, sharp nails gently scratching into sensitive skin right below your ear and warm, plush lips press against yours as you stumble back against the wall. her thumbs soothe the edge of your jaw, and the taste of black cherries lingers on your lips as the darkness swallows you. the beam of a flashlight passes overhead, and in that brief moment you freeze, the hand that now rests on her hips tightening in response. she pulls away, whispers a reassuring hush, amber eyes glinting in that brief luminous glow. as the footsteps grow distant, she offers you a final caress across your cheekbones, and you know you're safe once again.

sam (no kiss, hugs instead)

their fingers are cold wrapped around your wrist. labored breaths escape both of you, and the feeling of hopelessness creeps closer with every footsteps you hear approaching further behind. a sudden diversion of your path makes you stumble, leg catching a stray debris and you feel gravity meeting you. the pain never comes, a soft body trapped beneath yours as you lie on top of them, heat radiating off overexerted bodies hiding in the shadows. when the footsteps grow louder, they panic, wide eyes darting from you to the alley, and suddenly your body is pulled towards them in an impressive feat of strength. they hug you tight, and you, too, let your head rest against their shoulder as you return the embrace. you stay there for what feels like hours until the night is once again quiet, and you've never enjoyed the silence of the city quite as much as you do then, held tight in those arms.

thirteen

stray lights reflect off a visor when they tilt their head, eerily quiet, like death itself. a miniscule raise of their chin is all the warning you get before gloved fingers curl around your forearm, and the world shifts on its axis. a wall welcomes you with a harsh pain, and you bite your tongue not to make a sound. in a rush, your vision goes dark. the smell of leather invades your senses, the sensation of a warm palm over your eyes a sudden shift. the hollering continues, echoing down the narrow alley, but the impact of what you know is fiberglass on asphalt steals your attention. a questions forms on your lips, your own fingers reaching for the hand planted over your eyes only to be pushed aside, pinned to the cold wall by your head. the questions are swiftly silenced by something rough - lips not at all soft, but scarred, with a deep gouge across, leaving the sensation bizarre, asymmetrical. before you can collect you thoughts, the cold fiberglass of a Helmer grazes the bridge of your nose, and the warm leather disappears from your eyes, leaving you blinking at your own reflection in that infernal, abyssal visor. the phantom sensation still lingers on your lips, and they lift a finger to their face in a shushing motion, only then releasing the hand still pinned to the wall.

angel

"what did you do, what did you do" the words are spoken in a panic, two strong hands on your shoulders in attempt to shake the answer out of you. hazel eyes burn into yours, wild and frantic. searching for an answer you can't articulate. a frustrated growl comes from them as they pace, hands running through their hair. your brain doesn't catch up with your movements before you've shedded the telltale jacket off your shoulders, quickly discarded on the ground, swallowed by the shadows falling around you. your hands are on their body before you realize, and the grunt of impact is swallowed by your lips when they tumble against the harsh wall. you feel angry fingers curling into the collar of your shirt, freezing there as voices call out from beyond the darkness. their lips are soft, cold in the frigid evening air, and you feel the snarl in how they mold against yours, if only for a moment before the sounds of angry pursuers vanish and you're roughly shoved back. meeting those furious eyes is a sight, and in the low light you see no hazel, only blown pupils glaring daggers at you.

#asks. #dane. #mona. #angel. #sam. #thirteen. #i've been working on this for a long time #aorry for the massive delay #and different writing styles #there was a long break between the first three and the rest lol #enjoy though! #hopefully #not beta read