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v--143 · 1 year ago

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Coukd you do a lee!minho and ler!chan?

YES OMG I have no idea if I’ve done this duo before but if I haven’t then thank you SO much for requesting it I’m literally in love with their relationship

❕Trying something new❕This is a first-person pov fic!! It’s not long and is more of a tester than anything :) after finishing I realized, at least for my preference in reading, that 3rd person imo is better, but if you like this style more lmk! Keep in mind this is very much a *drabble* so there wasn’t much editing ^^

< Humiliated >

[Lee! Lee Know]

[Ler! Bangchan]

———————————————————————————

I finished off with a smirk at the crowd of Stays in the distance. That solo stage was one of the more intense ones during the concerts, but it wasn’t anything impossible for me to handle. Lightsticks flew up across the crowd and the cheering made my ears fall deaf. It was a beautiful sight to see.. to which I boasted to the members about (obviously).

“Minho!! We love you Minho!! You’re so hot Lino!!” I whisper-screamed into Changbin’s ear. He shoved me to one side as he told me Stays were screaming for everyone, not just me. As if he thought I didn’t know my performance was the best one!

“Yeah pssch but did you see the cheering for meeee? They were going insane! Lee Know! Lee Know!” I giggled as I was once again shoved to the other side of the couch as his hand was placed onto my ribcage.

Nope, none of that.

I quickly rolled off the couch and walked away before being embarrassed. If I’m tickled in front of anyone and it’s found out I’m one of the most ticklish members of the group… no. Not me. That’s too vulnerable, it’s too embarrassing for others to know.

I jogged over to my room and ran into Chan on the way.

“Hi” I said (cutely, of course).

He smiled as he shook his head.

“So you can act all cool on stage, tease Stay with your smirk, and practice your dances for hours until perfection… yet you can’t remember to give me back my favorite sweater.”

Shit, I forgot. And I have it on. Double shit.

“Ahhh I will now! Sorry Hyung I forgot again” I mean, I did forget. I was being sincere, but..

“Oohoh no this is like the fourth time you’ve forgotten. Imagine if- wha- is that a stain?! Lee Know!!!”

I didn’t stain it did I?! I looked down at the spot he was staring at and-

A big orangeish-pink splotch of what I’m assuming was my soup from earlier today looked back up at me. It was right on my ribs, how did I not see it before?!

“Come here.” Chan grabbed me by the arm and walked with me down to the kitchen. He looked pissed. Not actually pissed, of course, but as annoyed as can be. I had other things to do though! And I didn’t want him humiliating me in front of everyone else. I told him I’d have it clean by the end of the day, but he wasn’t having it.

“No, I want it now. And clean.”

“Well I can’t really do that now.. sorry hyung just wait a little bit-“ he didn’t let me finish as he began grabbing an array of cleaning supplies like Clorox wipes, a soft scrubbing tool, a rag, and some

“Yes you can do it now,” he said as he walked towards me, “I’ll help you”

I didn’t even have time to protest before he wrapped an arm around my waist and threw me onto the living room couch. He placed all other items on the floor and placed me on my side. I didn’t like where this was going, I didn’t even understand what was happening yet!

“This is the stain, right?” Chan asked as he pointed to the big splotch on the sweater, which sat above my ribs.

“Obviously dumbass” I replied. Snarky, I know, but I’m confused.

“Okay. Then stay still as I clean it.” With that, Chan grabbed a damp cloth, poured a few drops of soap on it, held my hip with one hand, and began to rub the cloth on the sweater with his other hand.

I don’t think I’ve yelled so loud in my life.

“FUhuhuck wait wahait!!” I yelled out. It’s too intense!!

“Nope, I’ve waited long enough”

What an ass!

“Careful hyung you might get kicked” Hyunjin intruded. I just shot him a glare and tried to cover my side.

“Oh no no no, hands up” Chan said.

I just stared at him (probably definitely blushing). Did he seriously expect me to keep my arms raised, here in the living room, in front of everyone, and not lower them?! He’s a madma-

“He’s too weak for that, hold on” I heard Changbin say. Who was he to help Chan and not me?!

“Ya don’t make this into a big deheheal!! Just let me go wash it and I’ll give it back-” I was cut off by Changbin forcefully grabbing my wrists and holding them barely above my chin, as if to taunt me by making me be so close to covering my sides but unable to do so.

“You clearly need some help figuring out how to keep things clean.. be ready to cover his mouth, Bin.” Chan said.

I had nowhere to go and nothing I could do except kick my legs out until Chan sat on them and began to harshly drag the rag up and down my ribs, digging in the entire way.

“AHAHehahahehaAHA WAhahit!! HahaHAHAE WhaHAHAIT!!” I laughed out loudly as he purposefully dug the rag into my side.

“This stain is a tough one..” he said.

“Noho it’s nOHOT!! AHAHAHA” I screamed as he kept going, “STOP! STOHOhohaHAHA”.

My face flushed red as I saw Chan and Bin simply watching me and laugh. I saw the other members, too, smiling over at me. I felt relieved humiliated.

I’ve never been one to beg anyone for anything. Ever. But..

“PLEHEASE! STOHOP PLease plehehease!! PlehahaHAHAHEA AAHHHHAHA” I yelled out as fast as I could until Chan began to slow down the pace.

“I think it’s mostly off now.. it’ll do.”

I was let go and immediately slammed my hands down to cover my sides, one wet from the soapy cloth. Chan giggled down at me as I quickly stood up and went to find another sweater. Idiot.

I changed quickly and threw Chan’s into the washer, not without a glare at him beforehand though.

#tword community #tword post #tword blog #tword thoughts #sfw twords #tword content #tword skz #skz tickle #kpop tickle #stray kids #stray kids fluff #sfw tickling community #tickle community #tickle fic #t word #ler chan #lee know

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carlos-in-glasses · 1 year ago

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Thank you for the tag @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @whatsintheboxmh @strandnreyes @thisbuildinghasfeelings 🧡💛

Chapter 7: A Boy's Best Friend of Where All This Love Comes From is up on ao3 - so this is some TK and Owen from Chapter 8: Your Heart, As if It Was My Very Own - coming Sunday. Really looking forward to sharing!

“I let you go to Mike’s Superbowl party on one condition,” Owen says, heaving himself out of the chair. “No substances. And you promised.”

“I didn’t, I didn’t.” TK smiles and nudges Owen’s chest. “I’m just tired. I need to go to bed.”

“TK. Look at me.”

“Noooo I’m fine.”

“TK!” Owen grabs TK by his backpack. TK struggles and jerks his arms around until his backpack and coat come away in Owen’s hands. Owen lets both items clatter to the floor – and when the bag smacks the floorboards, there’s a strange buzzing sound.

“What’s that?” Owen asks.

“I don’t know,” TK says quickly, launching for the backpack at the same time as Owen – his blood running cold when he sees the black canvas undulating.

The Oxy has dulled his reaction times. Owen snatches the bag and unzips.

There it all is. A half-eaten Hershey bar. A green tube containing pills (opened). A strip of ribbed condoms (eleven serrated squares out of twelve). And a pink vibrator that is accidentally vibrating and thrusting at its highest setting.

Owen takes the vibrator out of the bag, stares at it moving in his hand like a living thing, and then switches it off with some difficulty.

“I can explain,” TK says once the room falls blessedly quiet but for street noise below.

Owen looks at the vibrator, looks at TK, looks at the vibrator. Looks at TK. “Did you get this the same place you got that?” he nods at the New York University hoodie that TK stole from Mike when Mike wasn’t looking. He put it on over his sweater and under his coat for extra warmth, which he thought was sensible. “Same place you got the pills?”

“And the chocolate bar,” TK admits. “Look–”

“You told me you were going to Mike’s, and you went to fucking New York University and came home with Oxy and a sex toy?”

“Like I said. I can explain,” TK says, even though explaining would mean repeating everything Owen just said. Because that is what happened.

“This is going in the trash. All of it.” Owen stomps away to the kitchen with TK in wobbly pursuit.

“No! I should be allowed to have that,” TK cries, more fussed about the vibrator than the pills at this point, because he had grand plans.

Owen pulls the garbage can out of its hideaway cupboard and dumps the condoms and vibrator into the sack – the vibrator springing to life again among egg shells and scrapped leftovers. Owen stares at TK seriously. Holding eye contact, he shuts the garbage can away while the vibrator carries on singing, slightly muffled. It will keep going until the battery dies.

Open tags and tags below

@lemonlyman-dotcom @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @paperstorm @eclectic-sassycoweyes @liminalmemories21 @heartstringsduet @welcometololaland @fitzherbertssmolder @ladytessa74 @lightningboltreader @bonheur-cafe @chaotictarlos @chicgeekgirl89 @alrightbuckaroo @noxsoulmate @freneticfloetry @herefortarlos @louis-ii-reyes-strand @carlos-tk @redshirt2 @wandering-night19 @inkweedandlizards @inflarescent @jesuisici33 @three-drink-amy @reyesstrand @theghostofashton @rmd-writes @goodways @louis-ii-reyes-strand - if you want to share/haven't already! No pressure ever! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

#wip wednesday #where all this love comes from #flashback fic #cig tagged #tarlos fanfic #tarlos fanfiction

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dsgirl2024 · 10 months ago

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The World You See | Prologue | Hoseok | BTS OT7 x Reader Fanfiction

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CONTENT WARNING

This story has explicit descriptions of death, drug use, alcohol use, addiction, sex, language, mental illness, suicide, and other possibly triggering content.

If this will effect your well being in ANY WAY, PLEASE DO NOT READ!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

ABOUT

Genre ☆ Fantasy / Romance (Fanfiction)

Rating ☆ Mature (18+ Minors DNI)

Pairing ☆ BTS OT7 x Reader

Story Type ☆ Angel BTS (AU)

SUMMARY

You've always seen the world a bit differently than others. It was like your magic power. And maybe that was why only you could see the lights that night. The big, astronomical explosion of lights that rained down to earth in colors you had never known to have existed until now. Little did you know about a divine destiny beyond your wildest dreams, and seven angelic beings brought down from heaven to guide you.

Apparently, the world is ending, and they're convinced that you're the one to save it. All you have to do, is figure out how.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Seoul was extraordinarily cold for an early-spring night.

A bitter sort of chill, one that called for sweaters, hats and for some, a warm coat. The perfect type of night to stay in doors, safe and cozy, curling up on the couch with a steaming cup of tea. A great book in hand, or perhaps a Netflix session to start off a weekend binge.

At least, that appealed to some people.

For others, it was never too cold to live it up--throw on a cute fit and assemble the squad. No matter how low the temperature dropped, the active city at no time neglected a vibrant nightlife. Neon lights illuminated the ground, bleeding saturated colors, and the black pavement glittered as club-goers and bar-hoppers bustled from place to place.

Just as those whom braved the weather, stilettos clacking and hair done-up, someone else had been promised a good time that night.

The time of his life.

One of grandeur and refinement, at the top of the classiest hotel. Where old money mingled with new money, striking deals as they utilized charisma like a weapon--guns loaded, waiting for the right moment to strike. Not ever really enjoying the company of each other, though feigning pleasantries for the sake of the game. The salacious game of shameless business, be it for power, money or love.

And tonight, many had gathered to play. Dressed in the finest attire, their sparkling bodies circled and flirted, sipping on champagne with painted lips and fake smiles. Dazzling, beautiful people, fat with riches, Botox and high societal respect. The creme-de-la-creme.

How ignorant they were.

How oblivious.

Such egocentric, vapid humans, so self involved that they'd hardly noticed the absence of the man whom they came for in the first place.

This was his night. His party. Recognition for all the sweat and tears he'd spilled vying for a spot within their good graces. Validation, that his professional enslavement was all gearing for a brighter future. Oh, the butts he kissed, the demands he dealt with.

The sacrifices he made.

He should be drunk as fuck, enjoying the food, befriending the one percent, charming some women and busting out his sick dance moves. His time had come.He'd finally made it.

So why?

Why, instead, did Jung Hoseok find the tops of his leather-shoed feet dangled off the hotel roof, dangerously toying with a fatal descent?

More importantly, why did he look so...

broken?

Tears streaming, wet and snotty, the tall, elegant man appeared as if the seams to his existence had torn apart. Like his insides were barely contained, spilling from all sides, as he clutched his rib cage desperately. Sniffing, chocking down sobs.

The icy winds whipped violently, staining his skin with raw, pink stripes and the coattails of his black Armani tux flapped like flags at mast.

'Ding' A chime alerted from his suit pocket.

Hoseok's weight teetered unsteadily, grimacing, the sound clearly distraught him. "You've won!" He thought, "Just leave me alone!"

'Ding, ding' It chimed again. Determined.

Hoseok swallowed thickly.

Fishing around in his tux, the man pulled out his phone and looked down at the Kakao Talk ID that popped up on the screen. JustYourPrince had sent him a new attachment. His heart dropped, anxious as he opened it, eyes swiping the image with speed. A strangled groan ripped from his throat.

It was a picture of a blind-folded woman. She was tied up and gagged with a gun pointed at her temple. Her long, black locks abnormally messed, and it had been clear by her bloodied lip that she'd put up a fight. Tears of recognition welled in Hoseok's eyes.

'Tick, tock.' The message below spelled out.

An anguished look distorted delicate features, as Hoseok threw his head to the sky, searching for a sign, praying that God had a sick sense of humor. This wasn't really happening. This couldn't actually be happening.

Not to him.

Not to her.

'Ding'

"I can't take it anymore! Ok? I'll do it! I'll do it, I said! So please, just stop!"

The man didn't want to jump.

He had to jump.

That is to say, there didn't seem to be an alternative option. If Hoseok didn't do what they'd asked, she was going to pay the price for it.

'Friday at midnight. If you don't do it by then, she'll suffer the consequences of your actions, Mr. Jung.' That's what they told him.

It was Friday.

Time was running out.

Looking down, the man's stomach lurched. Woozy from the vertigo, he blinked through the blur, palms sweaty, nails digging, as he gauged the height of the drop. Must be at least twenty stories. The hundreds of bodies below resembled dots amidst the glow of building lights. For a moment, he envied those dots. So insignificant--free to exist in peace, camouflaged by the vastness of society.

'Dong--' 'Dong--' rang the clock-tower bells a few blocks over, a final countdown initiating.

11:59 p.m.

A singular tear dripped off his nose and fell to the streets below. Hoseok sucked in a breath as he watched it vanish from sight, holding in air then relinquishing it all at once. Trembling.

Anticipating.

Wondering, how everything spun so far out of control? It wasn't supposed to be like this. The man's life was in mere adolescence, opportunities just started knocking at his door. He'd worked so hard fortoo long, only to at last receive his reward--and now that reward was being snatched from his grasp. Cruelly. Evilly. The sweet taste of success, drowned by the bitterness of his misfortune.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair at all, but Hoseok couldn't let her suffer. Not for something that was his responsibility in the first place. He refused to allow another person he loved foot his bill, because the last time, it had ended badly. No one was meant to get hurt, but a dangerous game had been played--against an even more formidable foe. One whom he'd sorely miscalculated, and that had been his first grave mistake.

'Dong--'

His second was his naivety.

'Dong--'

His third was his negligence.

'Dong--'

Maybe this was karma--

'Dong--'

--reaping what he sowed.

'Dong--'

As the last bell tolled, Hoseok shut his eyes tight, collecting his wits. Carefully, he turned his back from the ledge, unwilling to witness full force his death to the ground beneath. He'd rather face the sky, instead. That way, he'd be less afraid.

The wind shoved at his chest, demanding and hostile, as if it'd grown impatient, reminding the man of the urgency.

'At midnight.' It whispered.'Tick, tok.'

Hoseok told the wind to kindly, fuck off.

Let him go on his own terms.

Let him go with dignity.

Composed.

Mind clear.

Deep breath.

And then he went, tipping himself over the ledge.

Air rushed his descending person, as gravity dragged him down. Faster and faster, the feeling unlike any he'd experienced before. Adrenaline juiced through his veins like a drug, blood pumping at a frightening speed. It was almost... exciting--fun even, if not for the end Hoseok knew awaited him.

Soon, he would be nothing more than a splattered lump on concrete. An eyesore for pedestrians, and a burden for the poor soul tasked with scrapping his guts off the sidewalk. It'd be quick, though, he was thankful for that.

At least this way, he could free himself.

Free them both.

The thought brought him some comfort.

Then, out of nowhere, a blinding light intrigued Hoseok's eyes to open. He gasped, enthralled by what he saw. Beautiful and terrifying all at once, the indescribable hues of colors gave chase to his falling form. Illuminated beams extended out, weaving and streaking the stratosphere like arms to catch him before he hit the ground below.

Stretching out as far as he could, Hoseok yearned to touch it, curious to learn its texture. Time seemed to slow. Dark hair kissed his cheeks gently, fluttering, as he wondered what something so pretty even felt like? Was it cold? Or did it burn? Sting? Tingle? Drench?

Since he was going to die regardless, it'd be nice to die knowing something like that. Maybe then, the idea of his life cut short wouldn't be so bad, so tragic.

Maybe then, he'd have some hope.

As though his request had been heard, the light sped faster, until suddenly his fingertips grazed the surface. Sizzling. An electrifying current blew through his veins, hot and freezing all at the same time. Flesh quivering, pleasured by the exotic sensation, Hoseok's lips parted in a blissful grin.

Because now he knew.

He knew everything.

Completely at peace and with an accepting look in his eye, the man gave himself over to the light. Permitting his body to be consumed within its glow, before he came crashing down on the sidewalk beneath.

The midnight bell concluded, marking the arrival of a new day. 0:00 a.m.

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PLEASE MAKE SURE TO LEAVE A NOTE & FOLLOW

Every ☆ lets me know you enjoy my story, and encourages me to continue writing! So please don't forget to send a little love my way! Thank you so much for reading, and I will see you all in the next chapter!

Read on WATTPAD

Story Updates ☆Tuesday, Friday or Saturday (2:00-7:00pm EST)

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gabriel-xander · 4 months ago

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Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

11: That Was a Real Rib-Tickler

♪⁠────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take much to persuade Papyrus into letting a human stay with them and NOT report you to Undyne. He had an internal battle with himself about lying, but after explaining your situation a bit, and saying how you just want to live peacefully, he gave in pretty quickly.

Papyrus is sympathetic to your situation (specifically how there’s a crazy monster who really wants your soul), and even volunteered to clean out the Capture Zone so you’d have somewhere to sleep!

Sans then had to stop his brother because no, you cannot sleep in the garage (if you told Toriel… oof, there’s no telling how she’d react). Instead, you can just crash on their couch.

WHAT A BRILLIANT IDEA!

And so it’s the next day after talking to Toriel, and Sans will be returning with you in time for dinner! Their new… roommate? Papyrus is so excited! In fact, while Sans is going to get you, Papyrus will take this time to make you some spaghetti as a great welcome!

…

That’ll be a great surprise for sure.

In all honesty, Sans is a little nervous to meet you. Toriel said you’re nice, but the way Toriel basically threatened him yesterday… It’s like you’re her little princess or something. Sans actually has to watch out for you because if he doesn’t, there’s a real chance you’ll snitch him out. How inconvenient. But if this is what he needs to get to know the new human and determine if you’re a real threat or not, then he’ll just have to deal with it.

Sans is out of range of the camera’s lense that’s hidden in the bush that’s by the Ruin doors. He’s gotta find a way to hide you from it without it being suspicious. From what he knows, it doesn’t have a mic, so that’s one problem out of the way. He could just… He can just stand in front of it with his back turned towards it?

Creeaak…!

The doors slowly push open, so Sans hurries (not really) to move in front of the bush, putting his hands in his sweater’s pockets.

“Goddamn…!” A female voice grunts from effort on the other side of the doors, “These doors are so fucking heavy, what the fuck?!”

…???

Sans debates if he should help you or not, but he kinda wants to see where this goes. The doors are hard to push open because of the snow getting caught in the bottom. It doesn't seem like you're entirely aware of that though.

“Hooooh, my fuck!” The door opens more, revealing [h/c] hair, “Okay, I know I’m not weak, this is so embarrassing…!”

…Okay, he’ll admit that was funny. You know what will be funnier, though?

Oh so casually, Sans uses a bit of magic to swing open the doors.

”WAHH!!!”

A body falls to the ground, getting a face full of snow. A suitcase was still in the Ruins behind you. While you’re busy eating shit, Sans pulls your suitcase so he can close the doors. He looks down at you, holding back a snicker.

Well, you look like a princess with that dress of yours, but he probably shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. With a soft whine, you push yourself up with your hand while the other goes to wipe the snow off your face. Then, you tense up. Slowly, you turn your head to look at his feet. Gradually, your eyes and head travel up until you two finally make eye contact.

You blink, “I… Hello.”

Sans gives you a wink, “welcome to the underground. how was the fall?”

Naur…

He said it…

He said the thing…

That had so many layers with that one line alone.

You put a hand over your mouth, your eyes begin to water from holding back laughter.

“Hey, man.” You squeak, a giggle almost escaping, “It was alright, I-I had better…”

“…you okay?”

You nod, taking a deep breath while standing up, “Yeah, I just—It’s been a long day. Ahem.”

You wipe off the snow from your dress, but give up immediately. ”Anyway, you must be the friend I heard a lot about, right?” You put out your right hand, “I’m [Y/n]. [Y/n] the Human. It’s great to meet you…?”

Sans takes your hand into his pink gloved one-

PPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTT…!!!

“…”

“…” You pinch the bridge of your nose with your other hand, not bothering to hide your wide smile, “…I’d give that… a six out of ten.”

Sans barely holds back a snort, “did you just rate my whoopee cushion fart?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it was really good! But I didn’t feel like it came from the soul, you know? I think it can do better next time.”

Nothing could have prepared him for you rating his fake fart as a first interaction. And…. And such a low score, too!

“i guess i should think about investing in better whoopee cushions,” Sans finally lets go of your hand, “anyway, i’m sans. san the skeleton.”

“Ah, Sans the Comic,” You give him an obvious once-over, “A skeleton monster, though? Gee, I couldn’t tell.”

Sans is… not what you were expecting, yet at the same time, you could’ve guessed it’s how he looked in person. His head is an actual skull, not just that funny little round face he has in the game. Though that’s not to say he ISN’T round–a lot of his sharp edges are, well, not very sharp. His teeth are somehow in a permanent, cheeky smile and his white pupils are just eye-lights, you assume, he summons with magic.

He’s also not as… thick as you’re used to seeing in fanart. You suppose it makes sense since he’s a whole fucking skeleoton, but he somehow has that fluffy vibe to him as well. He’s also taller than you were expecting. Toriel said that monsters are just naturally bigger than humans, and it proves now since Sans looks to be about… what, 5’ 5 (165cm)?

You noticed that when he talks, his mouth (mouth? Teeth? Whatever) isn’t moving.

How spooky.

His voice kind of reminds you of… what’s that Youtuber’s name? Moist Critikal?

“How are you doing that?” You decide to just ask, motioning to your own lips, “You’re talking but your mouth isn’t moving.”

“that’s the cool thing about magic, we can get away with a lot of things that we normally can’t,” He tilts his head up, showing off his neck that’s hidden behind that turtleneck, “i don’t got a voice box, but my magic is my voice.”

“Oh, shit. That’s actually cool,” You shake your head, “Sorry, we’re getting off track. I’ll just be honest, I’m a little nervous about this, especially because I don’t know you. But I hope we can get along anyway and over time, we can become friends. Thank you for taking care of me.”

Caught off guard, Sans blinks at your bluntness. Straight out the gate you tell him that you don’t fully trust him, but still share that you hope that you two can be friends eventually. Your body language certainly showed you were nervous right now. Shifting from one foot to the other, avoiding eye contact, your awkward smile.

“what? you mean you’re scared to be in a dark, spooky cavern with monsters crawling around?” He offers you a wink, “i promised toriel that i’d take good care of you, so that’s what i’m gonna do.”

You tense up. Toriel never mentioned that she told Sans her name. And he’s “not supposed to know” until the very end either. You can also pinpoint the moment Sans realizes his mistake. Unfortunately, you’re a little shit and don’t let him get away with it.

”How did you know her name, bone boy?” You smile slightly, raising an eyebrow.

”heh. so she told you about that too, huh?” Sorry, Napstablook. “i’ve seen a ghost go through the door a lot lately. when i asked him about it, he told me why.”

“Ahhh,” You nod in understanding. “So, you already knew about me before Toriel told you anything. What’s the verdict then?”

Well… You don’t sound upset.

“what do you mean?”

“That ghost, Napstablook, he must’ve told you more than just Toriel’s name and that I existed, right?” You ask, “He’s a great friend, you know. Did he tell you anything else about me?”

“nothing else but praise,” Sans gives you the side eye, “so, what? am in trouble now?”

“Pfft—For what, dude?” You chuckle and shake your head, “You’ve mistaken me for someone who gives a shit about my friends talking about me. Unless Blooky was talking shit, I don’t really care.”

Oh.

So, you’re actually more carefree than he thought. So far… you’re nearly everything as Napstablook (and Toriel) described you. You’ve shown a funny side already, you’ve been pretty polite, and you’re showing good signs of integrity. You’re kind of cheeky and a tease, but it’s not entirely unpleasant.

Sans is just… waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You look around for your suitcase, glad to see it’s right behind you. You went to grab it, but the skeleton put a hand up to stop you. Huh. He’s wearing pink mittens that match his slippers, how cute!

“i can get that for you. i even know a shortcut to get it back to my place ahead of us.”

Ah, his little tricks that go semi-unexplained in the game. You didn’t think he’d do something like that right off the bat. And apparently it extends to things other than himself?

You wince, “Sure. Just, uh… be careful with it. Toriel baked a pie for you and your brother as a thanks. I wanted to eat it by myself, but then she yelled at me.”

Sans snorts as he does a wave of his hand. The next moment you look at your suitcase, it’s already gone.

“did she really?”

“Nah, I’m just kiddin’,” You laugh, rubbing your hands together because you’re a dumb-ass who didn’t think to wear gloves, “That was a cool trick, by the way. I’d ask how you did it, but I’m guessing the answer is just “magic.”

“you catch on fast,” Sans jerks his head to the side, “come on, let’s get going. my brother is really excited to meet you, so we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

You begin walking with the funny skeleton by his side, going at a rather leisure pace even though he said you shouldn’t make Papyrus wait. You hope he’s not suspicious of you; you’ve been trying really hard to stay friendly so as to not put him off. He seems to like the cut of your jib so far, but you can’t be too careful.

“Dumb question, but does he know I’m human?”

“yep. my younger brother, papyrus, is a human hunting FANATIC.”

“Oh! How wonderful! I can’t wait for my ass to get thrashed.”

“ha-ha, i wouldn’t worry ‘bout it. he’s not dangerous, even if he tries to be.”

“Ah, I get it. I get it,” You smile in remembrance of a fond memory, “I have a younger brother, too. Two of them, actually. Only one of them is a total softie though, the other is a whole gremlin.”

Brothers? You have a family? Of course you do, it’s not out of the question. But Frisk never expressed having another family, and if you have siblings…

“i gotta ask, then…” Sans raises a brow-bone, “are you trying to get back to the surface soon?”

To his surprise, your answer is confident and fast. “Not anytime soon, no. Maybe it’s cowardly, but I’m not in a rush to get myself killed. Toriel told me about Asgore and what happened to the children that fell down here.”

“I’m sympathetic about what happened to the monsters, but… I don’t want to die either. So I think for now, I just… Maybe I can just live here for a while. In the Underground.” You tell him the truth, smiling nervously at the fear of being judged, “Ha, who knows? Maybe when I get a little older, Asgore can take my soul then to break the barrier.”

You barely reach the “gate-thingy” when Sans stops walking. You stop ahead of him, turning around halfway to give him a curious look. He doesn’t have eyebrows, but it seems like the bone is malleable enough that he can furrow the bones of his eyebrows. His smile looks a little strained.

“is that really it? you just wanna live here and do nothing?”

”Well, not exactly,” You make a show to put a finger on your chin and look off somewhere in thought, “I’d like to get a job, too. That’s kind of why I’m leaving the Ruins; I need something to do.” You then snort softly while dropping your hand, “I can’t exactly be a doctor anymore, maybe I can go back into my theater nerd phase.”

Sans represses a sigh, taking a step forward to resume walking. with you. He lets you go through the gate first, making sure you don’t suddenly fall since the bridge is over a gap.

He tried really hard to find something wrong with you—anything wrong with you. Something to give him a reason to hold onto his previous skepticism about you and less reason to feel bad about giving you the cold shoulder.

But you’re literally just some lady.

The skeleton would like to think he’s great at reading body language on others. He may not have clear memories about every single Reset, but when Frisk would try to complete a full No Mercy run (they were never able to beat him, so they’d just do a full Reset), Sans was able to tell how many tries it’s been just from the expression on their face. But you?

Your words and body language have been nothing but honest. Yes, you’re showing signs of anxiety around him, but he is a stranger and a skeleton monster so your anxiety is justifiable.

You…

You really are a good human, aren’t you?

“a doctor, huh?” Sans starts casually, his smile becoming a little more sincere, “i heard humans have doctors for almost anything.”

You laugh softly, “Yeah, pretty much. Short story long, the plan was to become a general surgeon.”

He snorts, “short story long?”

“Oh, come on. I’m just trying to make you laugh, throw me a bone here.”

Sans’ grin widens, “tibia honest, that was a little weak.”

“It takes a lot of spine to say that to someone’s face. I think I’m pretty humerus, but you might be too much of a numb-skull to truly appreciate my rib-tickler. Guess I gotta learn how I can tickle that funny bone of yours.”

A FUCKING QUINTUPLE-COMBO!?!?

Curses!! You’re a human with great taste!!

“i can’t believe i just got out-punned. and with puns about skeletons no less,” Sans sighs dramatically.

“Oh, how the mighty has fallen,” You roll your eyes. “What about you, Sans? I think it’s only fair if you tell me a little about yourself.”

“hm, sure. can’t say i got anything interesting to share.”

This is bad. It seems like Sans can’t really hate you after all. That’s fine with him; it might take some time to fully trust you to not be secretly two-faced, but right now? He’s content with who you are.

You, on the other hand… Maybe you were too nervous about Sans. You might’ve accidentally projected some “fanon” stuff on the poor guy. He doesn’t seem as bad as you made him out to be in your head.

By all means, this is just fine by you.

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

@adriixboo

#fanfiction #female reader #reader insert #don't forget fanfiction #sans undertale #sans x reader #undertale #sans

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everlythequestionabletomboy · 1 year ago

Text

UPDATE LOG 4.2.3 MASTERLIST

Beyond this is the things they added to the 4.2.3 upd of DoL

Please send me an ask if you want me to add something or I missed one

Images/stories I still need

SPRITES

PC SPRITE

Bodytypes

Masc., Fem., and Andro.

Chest/breast sprites

Made the breasts have better visibility

Flattest chest size looks flatter on combat sprite

Added breast sprites to lace nightgown, virgin killer, ball gown, evening gown, open shoulder sweater, pink nurse, plastic nurse, skimpy lolita outfits, open shoulder crop top

TATTOOS

Tattoo Parlour

Any unlocked bodywriting can be turned into a tattoo, even if it's not on the PC

Island

New Triangle, Square, and Circle tattoos [look at the Island page for more info]

HAIR

New

All down

Fishtail braid (left, right, twins)

Half-up

Ribbon tail sides

Low tail

Thick ponytail

Reworked

None

FRINGE

New

Short air vents

Side pinned

Dreadlocks bun

Emo/Emo Left/Emo Right

Reworked

Ruffled

CLOTHES

Outfits

Traditional Maid Dress

Victorian Maid Dress

Shrine Maiden Robes

Virgin Killer Dress

Halter Sundress

Leather Dress

Upper

Cat hoodie

Ao dai Top

School cardigan

School blouse

Polo shirt

Color block crop top

Band t-shirt

Boxy t-shirt

Remade Serafuku

Classic Serafuku

Gakuran

Lower

Ao dai trousers

Plaid school skirt

Plaid school trousers

Plaid school shorts

School pinafore

Plaid school pinafore

Wide leg trousers

Straight leg trousers

Yoga pants

Jean miniskirt

Dolphin shorts

Under outfits

Turtleneck Leotard

Under upper

None 😔

Under lower

Tie Side Bikini Bottoms

Highwaisted microkini bottoms

Legs

Sheer Leggings

Stripped kneesocks

Patterned dress socks

Polka dot socks

Sports socks

Rib-knit socks

Rib-knit ankle socks

Feet

Canvas Loafers

ACCESSORIES

Hats

Hairpins (butterfly + star)

Conical hat

Raccoon cap

Fur cap

Bat beanie

Mini pumpkin

Face

Gas Mask

Doggy Muzzle

Eyepatch

Medical Eyepatch

Monocle

Neck

Love Locket

Fur boa

Hands

Work gloves

ICONS ADDED

Locations

Temple garden, moor, farmlands, temp office, altar, secret path, the churchyard, the dilapidated shop, Eden's cabin, brothel stage [pt1]

Garden plots, stream, gloryhole, park fountain, asylum, sea rocks, waterfall, thicket, Great Hawk's nest, and perch [pt 2]

Rainwater pool, Eden's bed, lake campsite, fishing rock, archaeological field office, Remy's Estate, Great Hawk's tower, Ruins,

Animals

Black Dog

Actions

Riding a horse, question mark for inquires, searching for pots in lake, excersizing/hobbling in heels, gliding, entering town, searching for a mark, praying, and renting a stall [pt 1]

Getting in/out/refusing rides, trick or treating, sitting on the school stump, diving, descending/ascending in water, leaving water, and fixing Eden's cabin [pt 2]

Digging, showering, practise shooting, undo bindings, daydreaming, tilling, watching TV, chatting, singing, and plundering [pt 3]

Making tops/bottoms out of seaweed, meditating, relaxing

Events

Trial of purity

Clothes

Patient gown

Items

Milk, breast milk, chicken eggs, truffles, temple pew, dog treat, bronze key, library desk, soap [pt1]

Lichen, cosmetics, small/medium/large/huge exotic/huge decor fish tanks, auto feeder, tank decor, and sewer safe [pt 2]

Antique watch, grass, antique crystal, scrap, stimulants, torch, fertiliser, antique candlestick, rubble, and mud [pt 3]

Spiderwebs [pt 4]

Objects

Salves, sink, computer, rug, broom, dustpan, gift boxes, wolf chew toy, padlock [pt 1]

Cash register, Eden's valentine's day gift, Eden's coatstand, condom vending machine [pt 2]

Tending

Milk

Breast milk

Chicken eggs

Truffles

Ghostshrooms

"Take all"

Shop

Fetish collar icon is updated

LOCATION ART

Pirate ship

Island

Old Church

Sepulchre

Dilapidated Shop

Meadow

GAME MECHANICS

WORLD MECHANICS

Settings

"Split by Gender Apperance" changed to "Set/Ignore Sexual Orientation

Crime

Split into 10 categories; Assault, Coercion, Destruction of Property, Indecent Exposure, Obstruction of Justice, Prostitution, Resisting Arrest, Thievery, Petty Thievery, and Trespassing.

Crimes the PC has commited would be read out before punishment

Can adjust each crime in the cheat menu

Can view the crime stats in the stat menu

PARASITES

Ear Slime

Added an event that prevents PC to wear under lower garments, unless given directly to them

Sleeping event at Alex's farm

Sleeping event if you study at school naked

Alternate abduction event at the dog pound

At Remy's Farm, it would attempt to force you on all fours and eat grass

May force you to have sex with dolphins

Ear slime tasks are now in the Journal menu

Clit Parasite

Alternative masturbation options if PC has a clit parasite

MASTURBATION

Skip Button

Added a skip button that brings you to the next orgasm

PREGNANCY

Alex the Farmer

Avaliable pregnancy candidate [+more]

Crossdressing Fame

Can lower fame more if seen as a female are pregnant

Paternity Test

Option to do it at the Hospital

SHOPS

Hide Option

Can now choose to hide unavailable items in the shop

FEATS

New

Gilded Spear

Lost World

Face of a Guardian

Wild Monarch

Naturalised

Prehistoric Landscape

SOFT BAD ENDNG

The Island

How to enter, how to escape [+more]

Stats

Sensitivity values can be viewed in the "Extra Stats" tab under "Characteristics"

Options

Confirmation dialouge appears when you try to exit/refresh the page [is on by default in ironman mode]. Can toggle it in the Advanced tab

CHEAT MENU

Clothes

Destroy, repair, dry, and drench clothes at once is added

Visuals

Breast and Cum Values have been replaced with sliders

Pregnancy

More additional options for pregnancy cheats

Teleport

Farmland tp is added

ENCOUNTERS

Double Penetration

Unique cum images is added

Anal

Improved xray sprites

Lower Underwear

Able to pull it to the side during encounters

EVENTS

Hitchiking

"Driving Lesson"

Pillory

Rimming and Watersports outcomes

Whipping and buttplug outcomes

Blackjack

Rimming outcomes

Spa

Rimming outcomes

Car Sex

NPCs will ask if PC needs to be dropped off anywhere after

Chalet

Prostitution opt. added

WARDOBE

Wardrobe Outfit Editor

Added a random color option

Filters

Warmth filter is added

LOCATIONS

ORPHANAGE

Whitney can upgrade the Loft

SCHOOL

Mason

Repeatable scene where he unlocks the chastity belt Winter put on you

Untying your bonds before swim class generates slightly random dialouge

Changing Rooms

PCs thoughts of being in the wrong changing room are more diverse, changes based on Crossdressing Rep

PC is no longer rejected immediately when looking like the opposite gender and is given weird stares and comments

Crossdressing Fame/Rep

Chance to lower crossdressing fame after not

THE POUND

Dog Happiness

Added a description of the dogs happiness on the main screen

NPCS/ANIMALS

WOLVES

Wolf Pack

PC is more comfortable naked around the wolves in the wolf pack

Wolf Cave

You can submit to wolves that advance towards you in the cave

BAILEY

Punishment(?)

Will now deliver PC to the tutorial person if PC stays at the orphanage for the first whole week

ZEPHYR THE PIRATE

Named NPC that is found during the Disguised Escape option

ITEMS

SEX TOYS

Fleshy color option is added to sex toys and strap ons

Fleshy color sidebar renderer is added [no idea what that means]

PLANTS

Flowers/Seeds

Plumeria, tendable [view the Island page for more info]

EXTRAS/MISC

ABILITIES

Clothes

Can tie cardigan around waist

Able to lower suspenders

#degrees of lewdity #bailey the caretaker #zephyr the pirate #update log #dol spoilers #dol 4.2.3 update #eden the hunter #soooo many icons #and clothes #they put so much into this update fr

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yourfavetranny · 3 months ago

Text

july 23, 2024 (22:46) from my notes app

---

struggling with wanting to be a man in a non masculine way.

i want to be seen as a man, but effeminate? i want to wear the cute faggy outfits with my tits chopped off. i guess want to be a visibly bi guy in a gay bar.

i want to go to the gym and change in the mens room. the mens bathroom scares me, but i want to be man enough to pass and use it. i want to pee standing up, i want to be seen as a dude but, i dont want to be a robot. i want to laugh and wear colours and have long locs and still pass. i want to look like a man, even if i wear a skirt.

i dont want to be butch, i want to be a man.

but i want to slay and not dampen the "girly" things i like. i like kpop bands and fanfic and music and reading theory and collecting dumb "girly" things. i like pink and cute patterns and cozy games.

but i want to be a man, and wear boy clothing and boxers, get my tits chopped and have bottom growth. i want a deeper voice, and i want to smile. i want to be able to dye my hair, but i also want to be able to wear a sweater and look like a man. i want boy legs and a small waist and arm muscles, but i want to keep my female friendships the same.

i like tote bags and new balanaces and baggy jeans and crop tops and champion sweaters and photocards and adidas smooth moves him and stuffed animals and nerf guns and bratz dolls and snap backs and stickers and everything.

i just want to be a man i just want to be a guy but i dont want to be a loser. i wanna wear bandtees with a flat chest without breaking and bruising my ribcage so bad that i think i actually broke a rib and i cant even tell because id have to admit theres something wrong with me.

i want broad shoulders, i want my leg hair to be thicker but i dont want to stop enjoying everything i enjoy.

i feel like im going crazy, i feel crazy.

i wanted to just do they/them pronouns and make it easier for the people around me when i show up as a non-conforming dude, but i know that i use he/him. i know im just a dude.

apart of me feels like im faking this for attention. but, why do i panic when people ask my pronouns. why do i panic when people ask my name. why am i disappointed when i get called maam. i know. i know why. but i dont want to be trans. i dont want to lose everything.

#tboy #ftm #ftm art #trans ftm #trans man #trans #transgender

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joels6string · 1 year ago

Text

More Than My Father's Son

Joel Miller x f!OC

Chapter 13 - Right My Wrongs

Summary: Joel's trust issues are in full force as his typically stoic self-control begins to crack.

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.9k

Content: NSFW, high levels of violence normal to the TLOU world, angst, fluff, miscommunication trope (it’s Joel Miller…), slow burn, Joel’s traumatic childhood, getting together, smut, canon divergence after SLC, fix it fic

“So this was just outta the goodness of your heart then?” It wasn’t so much a question from Joel, but a hurled insinuation that something sinister was at work.

Chapter 12 || Series Masterlist

“Joel?”

Glass shattered. The old grandfather clock in the corner chimed as the longer hand ticked into place at the top of the hour, the seven bells clanging out for what felt like an eternity. Your hair was tied tightly back into a long ponytail, a sweater that certainly didn’t belong to you hanging off your shoulder in the way that you liked, and pink speckled cheeks glowed in the orange light of the roaring fire on the hearth. Two wide green eyes were fixated on him, the lips he’d tried to memorize the feeling of slightly parted in shock, and when he began to drag his feet to close the distance between you, he stopped halfway.

Maybe you’d stayed here for a reason.

This was your way of letting him off easy. Or letting yourself walk the path of least resistance. He’d been down that road once before. He was easy to leave, he knew that already. Maybe he was destined for it. His final landing place. Alone.

He hadn’t noticed the way his hand was slightly raised in your direction, reaching out for you in sheer unconscious desperation. The thudding of his heart against his ribs was almost nauseating, a rock forming in his throat as he averted his gaze to his boots, noting how filthy and water damaged they were as the dampness of his socks grew colder. He should have looked for a new pair at the swap shop, these had been past the point of no return for weeks.

The final bang rang out as you collided against his chest, your arms wrapping around his middle as you pulled yourself into him, face buried in the blue fabric of the scarf that used to be yours. He’d never given it back. The gasping intake of breath before you let a shrill wail terrified him, your body collapsing as he secured you in his hold.

“Wait…” he exhaled, noticing the room was now empty as his focus finally diverted off of you, your soaked eyes staring at him as you reluctantly pulled away.

Your expression turned from confusion and rejection to comfort as he quickly ripped off his jacket and scarf, pulling you back in tighter now without the barrier of his winter gear. He could feel your heat now, the worn flannel of his shirt quickly dampened by the uncontrolled sobs you were still letting free, your body wracking and shaking in his refuge. You’d never cried like this. In fact, he’d barely ever seen you cry at all save a rogue tear rolling down a stoic face.

“I gotcha,” he cooed, face pressed into your hair, the strands catching on his beard as you nuzzled into his neck even closer.

“Joel,” you whimpered, it was so quiet and meek it made his face burn as he pushed back his own flood of emotions.

Soft, fiery strands threaded between his fingers as he cradled your head, relief flooding through him from his fingertips as the knot in his chest finally released. The way you gripped him should have choked the life out of him, but it had the opposite effect. Feeling returned to his limbs, the constant ache he’d felt for months eased, and his forehead relaxed the tension it’d been holding onto in an attempt to stay grounded. It was like finding land after floating in the sea for weeks, and Tommy’s words rang out once again in his head, “Tell me the ground doesn’t feel more solid beneath those boots when she’s around.” It did. And he could feel it now more than ever.

“I missed you,” you cried into his throat, and that finally had his face twisting and throat constricting.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had said that to him. Not ever. He cursed under his breath as one escaped tear rolled down his cheek and landed in your hair, his arms somehow pulling you closer.

“Yeah, me too,” he murmured in response, his lungs able to expand past the point they’d been constricted to, “And Ellie.”

“Is she okay?”

Soaked, swollen eyes stared up at him as you pulled away just enough to read his face. A dismissive ‘yeah’ lingered on the tip of his tongue at the sight of your distress, the red blotches on your cheeks and the tears caught in your lashes enough to send him to his knees.

“I think it’s best we get you home,” he confessed, and although it wasn’t a straight answer, it was one you deciphered immediately, collapsing back against his chest.

His thoughts had constantly traveled to Ellie when they weren’t focused on you, there had been no reprieve even when his mind wandered. Leaving her was the last thing he wanted to do, especially knowing with you gone he was all she had left, but at least now he’d return with the outcome he never saw coming. She’d have you both back.

“C‘mere,” he pleaded in a gravely exhale, his hands cupping your jaw and gently lifting your head to see your face again, “I thought you were dead.”

The words tumbled out awkwardly, desperately, his forehead pressing to yours close enough that whatever air he was taking in came from you. He felt your fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt at his sides and when you leaned up to nuzzle the tip of your nose to his, his eyes finally pinched shut. Your breath was fanning out against his lips chapped from weeks in the winter cold, your hair tickling against his forehead, and he took in every sensation begging his tired mind to memorize it this time.

“Then why are you here?” you whispered, readjusting your grip and grazing along his waist.

“To bring you home.”

“Dead?”

All he could was nod. He’d needed closure. There was no way rest could have ever been found with you discarded out in the wilderness as if there wasn’t someone out there that needed you, that found solace in your presence in a room and nothing more, someone whose life you’d breathed new purpose into. He couldn’t have that.

“Don’t do that to me again,” he sighed, a smile sneaking onto your face as he used your own words against you now, “Run off.”

“No more running.”

When you slid back into his arms and buried your face in the patches of his beard that crept down onto his throat overgrown from weeks of neglect, he knew it meant more than running in search of a fight. You were crying again, softer this time, your tears still hot as they rolled down the collar of his shirt. It was the aftershocks, the soft summer rain after a blustering thunderstorm, and when your lips softly pressed to skin long untouched, he knew you were his to protect now.

“You need to eat,” you said after a final sniffle, pulling away and wiping your tears with the back of your hand before stroking along his jaw, “You lost weight.”

As your thumb brushed over the dip in his cheek reminiscent of your time on the road, he leaned instinctually into your touch, seeking it out as you slowly let your hand fall away. You didn’t leave him lingering for long, grabbing his hand in yours with a small smile and pulling him into the kitchen full of waiting eyes, Tommy the first to give a knowing grin.

“Just in time,” Lee exclaimed, ladling soup into five bowls that were handed out before she was shooing everyone to the kitchen table.

“So,” Joel began as every spoon but his own began to clink against ceramic, “I appreciate all this, but…”

Despite confirmation of your well-being, he couldn’t let the questions stay unanswered.

“Why is she still here?” he pressed, Tommy sitting up straighter as he recognized the drop in Joel’s tone as a warning.

“We don’t have a map, Joel,” you answered quickly, just as honed into his anger’s cues as Tommy, “And it’s winter.”

“I found her not far from where I found you,” Corbin began to explain calmly, “Thought she was dead, but when I got closer I could hear wheezing. So, I brought her back here. Burning up with a fever, lungs filled with water and fluid. It was a bad case. I had some penicillin left from a few years back. Treated her and she somehow pulled through. Must’ve had something to fight for.”

“We lost our son to pneumonia a few years ago,” Lee tacked on, covering her husband’s hand with her own on the table, “It was nice to be able to help.”

“So this was just outta the goodness of your heart then?” It wasn’t so much a question from Joel, but a hurled insinuation that something sinister was at work.

“You’ll have to excuse my brother,” Tommy interjected, “He’s had a rough go.”

“It’s okay,” Corbin assured, his tone just as even and soft, “Can’t be too careful in this world. Especially with something you care about. Isn’t that right?”

Wood scraping against wood had both yours and Tommy’s eyes knowingly closing, Joel’s heavy steps stalking out before you heard the door close behind him. His sour mood was surprising; while you understand his need for answers, his response to the truth wasn’t what you’d expected.

“I’m sorry about him,” Tommy sighed, his chin dropping to his chest in shame, “He’s…”

“Oh it’s no trouble,” Corbin continued, “He’s overwhelmed, shocked. I understand.”

“He should be thankful, relieved—“

“Well, relief is sometimes overwhelming, isn’t it?”

Tommy and Corbin continued their conversation as you exited, slipping your boots on and finding Joel standing in the dark, the white snow around him reflecting and setting him aglow in the moonlight. You’d dreamed of him for months, just like this, washed in light trickling down from the heavens in the early hours of the morning when the world was quiet, when it was yours. He’d been happy there, swaddled more by your body than the blankets, his mouth swollen and kiss drunk, his face that always held so much tension finally relaxed. But those were only dreams, and the pain of reality had once again returned.

“Joel,” you called as you approached, his head immediately turning to the sound of your voice, “Come back in—“

When his lips crashed down onto yours, bruising and cold, you could feel the words he couldn’t say. The months of panic, the way he’d questioned his will, his reasons, and how he feared the last hour had been entirely in his head, it was all mirrored in the way you desperately matched his motions. Your hands cupped the sides of his jaw, his beard softer than you remembered on your palms, your tongues dancing as whines and groans broke through the winter night’s silence. You begged for a sign it was safe to open your eyes, some guarantee that this was real. For now, it wasn’t worth the risk.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’,” he finally spoke, keeping his nose pressed hard enough against your cheek it bent at the tip.

“Me neither,” you sighed, “Is that Bill?”

The horse’s familiar face flashed through the barn window, Joel finally allowing the corner of his mouth to lift into a small smile as you peered up at him with wide eyes. All he did was nod as you took off in a run up the shoveled path and ripped the doors wide open, your fingers tangling into his mane as you pressed your nose to his. You hadn’t even been sure he’d made it back, though you knew at least Eugene would give it his best shot.

“Hey buddy,” you whispered, a snort of his nose in response enough to have you in tears again.

Joel’s hand was rubbing along your back seconds later, his other patting Bill’s thick neck affectionately, “He’s a good boy. Pulled me outta a few bad places.”

“Hey, you two!” Tommy called from the front door, “Need to talk to you!”

In his agitated state, all Joel could muster in response was a low growl kept trapped deep in his chest. He looked utterly exhausted, his shoulders slumped and eyes sunken in. The dark circles you hadn’t seen since the road had returned, his cheeks just as hollow and his lips pale and dry. He looked every bit the haggard that you knew he felt. There was no way his body didn’t ache, tension contracting tired muscles even in his sleep and his head was throbbing, you could tell by the way his brow knit together in the center and his eyes squinted ever so slightly. He needed to eat and sleep after washing off weeks of panicked travel.

“C’mon,” you urged, “we’ll see what he wants and then go lay down. I have a couch…”

Another tight squeeze was in your future reminiscent of the night in the patrol lodge, but even if you had the space you didn’t think you’d need it. Not tonight.

“Look,” Tommy began when you and Joel stopped in front of him, “I know you two got other things you’re worried about. But we need to bring these people to Jackson. They helped us, we help them. They ain’t gonna make it much longer out here, Corbin’s hands shake so bad he can barely lift a damn spoon.”

“I already offered and they said no,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to stay warm, “Well, theoretically.”

“Well, it ain’t theoretical anymore. Talk ‘em into it. My conscience can’t take the thought of them dyin’ out here alone.”

“We are leaving tomorrow,” Joel tacked on in a firm and menacing tone, “No exceptions.”

“Millie, will you talk to ‘em? Please?”

“Tommy—”

“Yes,” you cut Joel off before he could fire off whatever resistance was brewing, “I’ll talk to them.”

While you understood the younger Miller’s sentiment and urgency, you felt Joel’s agitation more. All you wanted was refuge. The memory of sleeping pressed to his chest and wrapped in his unwavering hold has been the only way you’d found enough peace to rest throughout the last two months, the guilt and remorse of wasting the final days you’d had with him always heavy in your stomach. Your plan had always been to leave when the final frost had hit and you had a sense of where to head, but making it back to Jackson had never been the outcome you expected. It was the die-trying part that had given you some sort of solace. But here he was, weary from weeks of travel for a mission he’d considered doomed from the start and you were being pulled away.

You found your hosts in their kitchen cleaning up as they did every single evening. Lee was humming as she passed the clean dishes to Corbin who set them in their places, and as you went to speak you realized exactly what you were about to ask of them. This was their home. This is where they’d lived their lives well before the outbreak turned everything to ruin. They still had this, with a few modifications. Was there anything worth losing that? You wouldn’t know.

“I know Tommy talked to you,” you began, your fingers wringing against your stomach, “but it is safer in Jackson. There’s food and electricity. You could bake again…and live. No patrols or infected, there’s dances and bingo. I don’t know what it’s like to have a home to leave behind obviously, but we’d take care of you.”

When only sympathetic gazes responded, you nodded, heading back outside to find Joel and Tommy in a heated argument. Every nerve in your body was frayed, you were hanging on by a thread, the thought of getting between the two of them with Joel as keyed up as he was just wasn’t in your cards. Defeated, you pulled yourself up the stairs to the room you’d called yours, a small pile of clothes folded neatly in the corner and a couch with a blanket the same as it was this morning. The clothes belonged to Corbin and Lee’s daughter, the room being used as storage after both of their kids’ departures in the years leading up to the outbreak.

The old springs of the couch creaked as you collapsed, your head falling into your hands. The spaces between your fingers were soaked within minutes, your body shaking again as you tried to keep quiet to avoid breaking down completely again, the only thing you could hear was your labored breathing whooshing against your palms.

“Hey,” a gruff voice heavy with concern broke through as rough, calloused palms gripped your wrists and hands, “Hey, look at me.”

You shook your head, he’d seen this blubbering mess enough for the day. At this point it was embarrassing.

“Honey…” he sighed, pulling you into his arms and you were entirely unable to fight it.

His neck was still cool from being outside with no coat, the chill a relief to your anger-heated cheeks. The weight of his head resting on yours kept you locked in place beneath his chin, your fingers curling into the flannel covering his chest as you finally let that trapped sob escape.

“Why’re you cryin’?” he cooed into your hair, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your back making you feel both ease and more despair.

“Because I haven’t fucking cried in twenty years!” you snapped into his throat, voice hoarse, your lips grazing over his skin.

The floodgates had been opened. Before this—before him—they’d been steel-reinforced, impenetrable, but here as the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest helped calm you, the river ran freely. It was effortless the way he gripped the backs of your thighs and lifted you as he stood, taking your spot on the couch as he settled you into his lap, your body able to fully relax against him. Tension you’d been holding melted away, you were limp in his arms, and you knew he could feel it—the difference and all the weight it carried. The little ball you were curled into used to be saved for the toughest nights beneath whatever sham of a blanket you could find—alone—a safe space within yourself. There was no room for vulnerability, not anywhere in this world. Except for here.

“I need you,” you mumbled, the truth setting something free inside of you.

His fingertips pressed harder into the skin of your side and you could hear his shuddering exhale and the way his throat caught in response.

“I’m here,” he assured, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“I need you tomorrow, too.”

With that admission you lifted your head, honeyed hazel staring at you filled with wonder and fear alike. It held an understanding that he knew what those words meant; it wasn’t only tomorrow, but the next day, and the next, and the one after that.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” he whispered, his fingers brushing the soaked strands of hair glued to your face, your face grimacing as if you were gearing up to protest, “Now, you shot me and I’m here anyway. So, either I mean it or I’m just plain stupid.”

“Joel…” you groaned, not needing the reminder of what you’d done.

“You’re gonna have to laugh about that at some point, darlin’. It’s the only time my aim’s been better than yours. And I’m holdin’ it over your head.”

A small chuckle broke free much to your dismay, the smile on your face pressing against his lips as you grabbed the sides of his chin between your thumb and fingers.

“There ya go,” he laughed as you pulled away, the kiss quick and easy, the urgency that it may be the last washing away, “I need to clean up before that fire goes out. How do you keep warm up here?”

“Little wood stove,” you said, gesturing to the corner of the room he hadn't had a chance to inspect yet, “I’ll get it going.”

Creaking stairs gave him away to Tommy settling in on the couch, “Left you some water in the pot. It’s probably still warm enough to use.”

“Appreciate it,” Joel replied, catching the thin, ratty towel his brother tossed his way, stripping down and wiping weeks of sweat and dirt off his skin in the small bathroom before swapping his clothes to the last clean set in his pack.

Tommy’s light snores were echoing through the living room by the time Joel emerged, and he took off his boots in an attempt to make his ascent back to you quiet enough to let his brother rest. When he reached the top of the stairs his heart skipped a beat as a shrouded figure caught his peripheral.

“Sorry about the scare,” Corbin apologized, his voice distant as he stared at something on the hallway wall in front of him, “She’s already fast asleep. I threw some logs on the fire.”

“I…I can’t ever thank you properly—” Joel began, the sentiment fumbling on his cynical tongue.

“You don’t have to. How old are you? 50?”

“Uh… 53.”

“So you remember the world before all this.”

“Yeah.”

“You had a life.”

“Yeah. I did.”

“How hard was it to walk from?”

He didn’t walk away from it. It was ripped away in cold blood. The image so permanently seared behind his eyes flashed; the blood, her purple shirt, those blue eyes he’d watched flutter closed as he rocked her to sleep for so many years going dull…

“Why do you ask?” he deflected, his eyes flicking towards the door you were hidden behind.

“I’ve lived here for forty years…” Corbin began, “My kids grew up here. That one there,” he pointed to a photo in an old frame right in front of his eyes, “That’s Pete. Pneumonia got him, his lungs were always a mess, couldn’t save him in time. And then Annie,” he slid his gnarled finger over to a young girl no older than Sarah was, “We dropped her off at college in San Francisco in August 2013. Never saw her again. These are the only walls they ever knew. And I wonder if they’re the only walls I ever want to see.”

“I understand.”

“I thought you might,” Corbin chuckled, giving Joel a knowing glance, “Tell me, Joel, is there a copy of The Song of Music in Jackson?”

“Yes sir, I think there is.”

“Well, I’d very much like to see that again.”

You were fast asleep when he crept back into the room, your face barely lit in the dim glow creeping through the window of the stove. The dusting of freckles on your face, the scar he’d watched heal from a bloody gash jagged and pink across your cheeks and nose, a stray section of warm, red hair tinged with white and gray laying across your lashes and brow, your choice of his coat to cover your body with instead of the blanket inches away, it all made him smile. His fingers brushed your eyes clear, tucking the rogue strands behind your ear before leaning down to press his lips to your temple before dragging the old blanket over the top of you.

As much as he wanted to curl up beneath you, beside you, anywhere he could feel your heat, he didn’t want to disturb you. Your day had been long enough, so the floor would do for what he hoped would be one last time.

Chapter 14

Art by @natendo-art 🩵🩵🩵

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #more than my father’s son

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reinathevocaloid · 11 months ago

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My Giramie Fic Rec

(aka most fics available on ao3 atm lol)

But there's only one throne (and other such excuses to stick together) by 3x3

Personally, Yanma thinks there are many ways to go about the seating. It's not really about the seating, is it? You go to jail for two years and the next thing you know your coworkers have hooked up.

Rooftops, Reveals, and Relief by Beanpole_Zora

Gira talks with Jeramie on the rooftop. Everything ends up okay. Or: A fix-it fic for episode 29 because Shugoddammit Toei you can't just do that to me-

of the blurred boundary by 3x3

You needn't lift a finger. A hand, or a lack therof, can come in many difference shapes. or Gira and Jeramie explore each others' bodies.

Getting to Know the Boogeyman by tinyDogboy

A short time after Jeramie announces himself to Chikyuu as King of the Bugnarok, Gira tries to come up with a plan to get some of the citizens of Shuggodam to welcome him. Where better to start than his own home? ( MY RANDOM TUMBLR THOUGHTS ACTUALLY LED TO THE CREATION OF THIS FIC!!! I LOVE IT SM!!!!)

for peace by nightlesscastle

gira husty and jeramie brasieri were engaged. formally. royally. to each other.

Sorry, I'm Not Home Right Now (I'm Walking Into Spiderwebs) by Beanpole_Zora

4 times when Jeramie's spontaneously placed hammocks were unwanted by the kings, and the 1 time it was.

renovation/reinvention by 3x3

Jeramie is there, the day Gira gets fitted for his new outfit- the traditional one, tailored for the king of Shugoddam.

do spiders get sick? by nightlesscastle

a dry autumn night / gira finds jeramie sprawled on his bed, feverish and hot

waiting for the one-two signal by melotuzu

Jeramie breaks away from Gira’s gaze, but doesn’t move from his touch. His stare remains fixated on anything but his eyes—his nose, his cheeks, his lips. “...Better,” he breathes. The ache in his ribs is accompanied by the ache in his chest. “Much better, thank you.” Or, Gira patches up Jeramie's wounds after Dagded's attack.

dive into me by melotuzu

“You were watching over everyone, weren’t you? Not just Shugoddam.” Jeramie raises his hands up in mock defeat, smiling, but unsure what of. “I’ve been found out.” Or, Jeramie finds himself in Shugoddam one night, in search of a dear friend.

Dates Around Chikyuu by Beanpole_Zora

Gira and Jeramie visit the other kingdoms on some of their dates.

Red Looks Good on You by tinyDogboy

Gira and Jeramie have a late night tea break while Gira is catching up on some kingly paperwork.

Of Courtship & Coccinelles by tinyDogboy

Jeramie knows what he wants to convey to Gira, but saying it is an entirely different problem. How can he get Gira to understand his feelings?

Fangs are Peak Character Design by Beanpole_Zora

Gira and Jeramie are kissing when one accidentally bites the other, but not the one you'd think.

The Most Fetching Shade of Pink (is the one dusting your cheeks) by stickers_on_a_laptop

Sweater (Mantle): A garment worn by a child (boyfriend) when its mother (boyfriend) feels chilly

Dimorphism by heavvymetalqueen

“How are you getting on?” says Jeramie, kneeling on the other futon with a grace Gira knows he doesn’t have. “I think i can smell with my fingers.”

Cipher, Decipher, This Phantom Thief Boy by Beanpole_Zora

Phantom Thief Prophet has come to steal from the Husty Estate, but what exactly it is he's stealing is still a mystery…

They never spoke again by Liest

Dagded revealed Jeramie's feelings to Gira.

good morning, sunshine! by chilipepperconverse

Gira, like everyone else, heard stories about it growing up. Your soulmate's first words to you will appear on your wrist once you meet them. Only a lucky few actually experienced it. Or: one very unlucky ex-prince experiences it. And the words on his wrist are NOT what he expected.

Share a Storm in a Teacup by Anonymous

Gira gets a surprise after being unexpectedly invited to one of Himeno's tea parties.

lay with me by chilipepperconverse

Jeramie doesn’t need to sleep, but Gira asks him to come to bed anyways.

Gira's sex ed quest by oogenesis

Gira wants to take his relationship with his boyfriend to the next level, but there's a bit of an obstacle.

I'll add more as I gain more favs!!!

#giramy #shut up anya #fanfic #king ohger

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thestylesplash · 2 years ago

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Pink and Green Check Trousers + Style With a Smile Link up

View On WordPress

#stylewithasmile #40 plus style blog #Fenella Smith green vegan leather bag #Kangol vintage green hat #midlife style blog #Monki pink and green check trousers #New Look pink ribbed sweater #Nike neon pink trainers #over 40 fashion blog #over 40 fashion blogger #Pom Amsterdam pink jacket

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stevenbasic · 2 years ago

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GITJ Post 295: Painting His Apartment, p1

“You missed another spot over there, by the window,” I corrected her, looking up from the paint tray I’d just started to refill and pointing my chin over to the beige blotch peeking through the, uh, new color.

“Omigod haha I did…!” Melissa laughed, blowing a strand of long dark hair away from her face and stepping forward with her roller to squeeze a bit more paint onto the wall. Like I’d been doing all day any time I had the chance and despite my best efforts to resist, I ogled her while she wasn’t looking, this time from behind, in her tight jeans. We had, at her insistence earlier this morning, been painting the meager little studio apartment that I called home in the new, um, color that she’d picked out for me. While I was, uh, getting my finances back on track I’d been living there, at the whim and generosity of my ex-wife who owned the entire building, downstairs office suites and all. The apartment probably hadn’t had a fresh coat of paint in the fifteen years since the place was built, and Melissa was right: it needed it, a change of, urr…color. So, here we were, she and I, spending a rainy Sunday together on a project. It was a nice way to pass time, hang out and, jesus…the woman woke me this morning with a handjob in bed, plus she smelled great. It was nice to feel productive for a change and a secret, lurid delight just to watch such a tall, voluptuous woman move around. Even if she was painting my room to match her favorite lipstick. Pink. Or, as she called it, ‘mauve’.

“No no no, wait,” I directed, seeing her results with the roller, shaking my head as I tried to come to grips with how my place was going to look in a new coat of p-, excuse me - ‘Twilight Blush’. “Here. Refill the roller first,” I instructed, “You should redo that whole little section or it’ll look uneven.” I’d spent some summers as a teen painting houses and sorta considered myself a minor-league authority on all things…painty.

“Haha I’m still terrible at this,” she laughed, turning and crouching down across the tray from me and arresting my gaze with her glittering eyes and sharing her brilliant, dimpled smile. My heart fluttered at her warmth and beauty; even at her most disheveled and casual, Melissa was a knockout. She’d worn a faded old pair of too-short-at-the-ankle jeans which strained to contain her thighs, the crouch challenging their worn fabric mightily as her quads swelled inside them, and a softly pink, ribbed sweater that likewise clung to her every dramatic curve. It was away from the depths of its v-neck that I was currently struggling to keep my eyes as the soft jiggles and swells of her upper bosom beckoned from it.

Refilled with paint, Melissa stood, turned and stretched her tall, curvy body to reach the highest parts of my apartment's outer wall with her roller. I watched slack jawed from behind, once again in rapt admiration of her nearly superhuman figure. Her legs were long, well-muscled and looking ready nearly to burst from her tight jeans from ankles to hips. Likewise the glorious globes of her huge behind seemed all but painted with denim, which was stretched thin over the expanse of her haunches. As she reached high, her trim waist stretched and the dramatic flare of her ribcage and upper back flexed with muscles, dark raven hair flowing behind her shoulders.

"Am I getting everything?" she asked, playfully casual, now looking back over her shoulder and catching me staring. I turned quickly away, dropping my gaze, but her smile told me for sure that I'd been caught. "Keep your eyes on the paint job, mister!" she giggled, biting her lip and wiggling her more-than-shapely rear in my direction. She was a certified gym bunny, I knew that, and proud of the size that the hours at the squat rack had built.

“uhhh…” was all I could manage.

"Do you think it'll need another coat?" she asked, pulling the roller off the wall and wiping a touch of paint from her hands with a rag. She took a step closer and leaned against the unpainted wall aside me, making sure I could see her big breasts in her tight top. God, she was built! And, at my shrunken height I had very little choice but to look right at her chest.

"I'm not s-sure," I answered truthfully, "it all depends on how it dries. Might also look different when there’s more sun." The day was kinda gloomy, rainy outside. Tough for all the girls from the office who’d gone to that crazy women’s rally downtown - which looked like it ended up being surprisingly huge. Melissa and I had turned on the TV and watched a little of the news coverage as we ate the sandwiches she’d brought for lunch earlier. The rallies were going on all over the country, drumming up support and excitement for the New Women's Party that was going to try to get some elections of this coming Tuesday to swing their way. Well, it looked like they had both support and excitement in spades; there were literally millions of women at these things, coast-to-coast, and they seemed, uh, energized, to say the least. How Melissa felt about it was hard to judge; she’d decided not to go to the local rally in the city with her friends this morning, but at the same time I could see the enthusiasm in her eyes when we’d caught some soundbites from some of the speakers describing the changes to women’s (and men’s) rights they planned on making. To me, none of it seemed likely to happen, and the rain at today’s rally looked miserable; inside here I had all the lights on and together we were nice and warm.

Melissa smiled at me, turning her head slightly and setting her shoulders, offering me a better glimpse down her top. "How's it look now?" she asked, with a mischievous smile, pushing her arms together just enough to bloom her full cleavage up into the neckline of her shirt.

"Th-the…the paint job..?" I stammered, laughing, “I-I hadn’t noticed.."

"Oh really?" she teased, and winked at me. "Well, I should get back to it…”

I watched, again, as she set to work with her roller. She was so tall that she could reach floor-to-ceiling in some parts of the room. Others, though, were vaulted a bit; she’d need a chair or the step ladder we’d snagged from the basement again when we got to those. I’d just started teaching her how to use the roller, as she’d never painted a room before. We’d spent the first half of the day prepping the walls and trim and cutting the edges, and yes I had her up on a ladder a bit. She was, honestly, horrible at first but improved remarkably quickly. By the end her cutting lines were as straight as mine and she barely needed the painter’s tape. Quick study, I guess, well-coordinated.

But now we were on to rolling. Since she’d bought just one roller I was resigned mainly to just watch her and ostensibly teach her technique, which was a little haphazard at first. While she worked, we chatted and laughed. As I’d done a few times before, casually, I asked and she explained briefly about her childhood and younger years. She’d always been strangely vague on the topic, but today she was a bit more open about it than she’d been in the past. She talked about moving about the country as a kid with her mother (dad didn’t seem to be in the picture), never staying in one place too long until they landed here, when she was in middle school. But then they started to travel and she’d missed a lot of schooling, it sounded, with the forays to other countries on which her mother would drag her. Huh. I’d never pictured Melissa as the worldly type; she’d always come across as sort of provincially naive. But that would explain, maybe, why she didn’t have a lot of experience in the home-improvement arena. Her rolling, at first, was atrocious. But again, she got better quick, and with her wingspan was able to reach most things aside from- whoooooah..!

“Omigod haha what are you doing..?!?” I yelped, as - after she’d handed me the full roller and put her hands behind my hips - she lifted me into the air.

“Haha you do this part!” Melissa laughed, hoisting me high above her head in the farthest corner of the room, near the one part of the apartment with a vaulted ceiling, where she wouldn’t be able to reach without the ladder. She held me by the hips, had stretched her arms up to full extension, and quickly I was looking down from more than eight feet off the ground. My eyes goggled, shocked at the sudden change in altitude and in flabbergasted awe of her obvious show of strength. Jesus! She did that so easy! I couldn’t help but marvel, How strong is this girl?!?

“Yikes okay…” I agreed, still in shock but immediately setting roller-to-wall, applying ‘Twilight Blush’ to the highest parts of the apartment. With her boost I reached easily and, as my legs dangled helplessly below me, I covered the area as quickly as I could.

“You missed a spot over there…” she instructed me, stepping casually with me to the right a bit, towards the corner where yes a little beige still peeked through. She giggled, and was obviously being playful with me. And, yes, I felt like a plaything, but had immediately felt my cock surge in the old pair of cut-off sweatpants I’d been wearing, even as I painted. Lord the feeling of being picked up like a toy by this giant woman was turning me on!

“I-is th-that better?” I asked, and Melissa stepped back from the wall, to get a better look. She still held me effortlessly aloft, like I weighed nothing, holding most of the weight of me over her head with outstretched arms like I was light as a feather. The thin plastic drop cloths on the floor crinkled under her feet, and she regarded my handiwork.

“Yes I think that’ll do,” she giggled, and gently lowered me to the ground, my roller still in hand, facing the wall to peer up at what I’d been able to do. “Ooo I dropped my phone!” she suddenly exclaimed, and turned herself to back up a step, bend over and - oof! Slam her butt into me!

“Hey!” I yelped, “Watch out!” I’d found myself, now, pinned to the wall, pressed into fresh paint by the accidental yet forceful appearance of her giant ass against my midsection. My right hand held aloft the paint-sodden roller and my left, equally awkwardly but for support, came to rest on her round left hip and started to try to push her away. Nnf!

Melissa paused, having reached her phone on the ground, and turned her head to look over her shoulder at me behind her. She seemed calmly surprised that the simple gesture of her bending over had effectively imprisoned me, trapped me between her and the wall. She felt my effort to push her away and free myself; it didn’t seem to phase her. In fact, I felt the squish of wetness on my back as she, if anything, pressed me slightly more firmly into the wall with the muscular mass of her giant, jean-clad glutes. I pushed against her, as hard as I could now for escape, but I might as well have been trying to move a mountain. Her massive ass had me pinned, from ribcage to navel, helpless. “This wall’s still wet!” I laughed, realizing she had no intention of immediately releasing me, “I’m going to be all pink!” For sure this old t-shirt and these sweatpants were goners, interior latex eggshell all up the back of them both.

Still looking over her shoulder, still regarding me with curious interest, and still with no obvious intention of letting me go, Melissa addressed my complaints. “It’s ‘mauve’ not pink,” she calmly reminded me, “like my lipstick.” I couldn’t feel her trying to keep from giggling, like I might expect.

“Okay okay mauve!” I laughed, still struggling as best I could against her butt, feeling the slippery squish of wet paint behind me, “you’re getting me all mauve!”

She pushed back against me again, making me grunt as air left my lungs. Something in the space between us had just changed, and I could see it in her face as she considered me, our positions, what she’d just done. She pushed again once more, pressing more breath from my body, and then began to roll her hips more languidly into me.

“H-hey…” I stammered, trying to chuckle, “h-having a little trouble breathing here…”

Again, she seemed unconcerned, and I smelled a change in her perfume as her ass proceeded to squash me further. This was…this was interesting to her: I really couldn’t get away, could I? And, what could she do, if she really wanted? I know I was suddenly wondering it myself: could she really hurt me? Break my bones? Crush my ribs and organs? Something about the moment, the blatant difference in our respective sizes and strengths, the obvious physical power she had over me was fueling an electricity between us. Exciting her, starting to frighten me.

When she spoke again, there was a new, husky purr to her voice. “Could Lakshmi do this to you, when she was here?” Melissa asked, reminding me of one of the few girls in the office whose rear end could come close to rivaling her own. Yes, Lakshmi had been up here in my apartment a month or so ago in that figure-fitting orange dress, and she’d nearly made me climax just by sitting on my lap in Josie’s car before the party downtown (and actually had with her hand the next day after). I wasn’t sure - had Melissa known about all that? “Lakshmi has a nice big butt. Some of the girls call her ‘BoomBoom’ now…do you?”

Obviously she had heard something.

“Haha no,“ I laughed, nervously, grunting against the pressure of her overwhelming mass, “You’re the only ‘BoomBoom’ for m- …nnnf!...for me. Just…just please be careful with that thing, o-okay?”

“Don’t try to tell me…” she began, the wry smile on her lips mirrored in her voice, “that you don’t freaking love it.”

“Oh…s-sure…nnf!!...I love being squashed like a bug by the world’s biggest butt.”

“What?!?” she laughed, gasping in mock outrage, and suddenly turned, releasing me from the pressure of her hindquarters but throwing me back against the wall with the strength of her mere left hand, “The nerve!!” Standing straight, now, she looked down at me with an imperious mischief in her eyes and took my face in her right hand. Remember - she was at least 6’4”, and I was barely 5’2”. The moment made my heart stop; she quickly made me feel like a child. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t talk about a lady like that?” she scolded, and turned my head to my right, pressure on my left cheek and jaw. With her right hand she pressed my face, my right cheek, into the wall behind me; I felt the wet paint slick and sticky, and was sure I now had it on my face.

“Hey!!” I laughed, my complaints pitiful, my voice cracking like a teen’s, “STo-op!!”

“MMMhm, nope,” she giggled, making sure my cheek was appropriately smeared with pink paint, paint the color of her lipstick.

I reached up with my free left hand and grabbed her wrist, tried to pull it away. She was so strong! I couldn’t fight back! “C’mon!” I laughed, squirming in her grasp and thinking I could start kicking her but knowing that that wouldn’t be a good look on me.

“This’ll teach you to tell a girl she has a big butt,” she replied, drolly, as she released my face. Immediately I peeled it away from the wet wall as she was taking the paint roller from my right hand. “Now, put your arm out, against the wall,” she told me.

“M-my arm?”

“Yes, that one,” she said, nodding down towards my right.

Tentatively, I raised my arm and laid it - also sticking to the paint, bare as I was from hand-to-shoulder in a short-sleeve tee - against the wall, outstretched. She still had me pinned by my chest to the wall with her powerful left hand. What was she…?

“No!!” I laughed, as I watched helplessly as she took the roller, wet with pink paint, and rolled it out the length of my arm, starting nearly at my shoulder. It left a sticky, pink trail, and then she rolled it back again, from my wrist back to shoulder. “No no no!! Stop!!” I cried, laughing again.

“And now the other,” she directed, heedless of my protests and - as I refused, started squirming my left arm away, she merely caught it with the roller, squashed it to the wall, and also painted it, wrist-to-shoulder, in ‘Twilight Blush’.

“What are you doing!!?” I pleaded.

“I’m just marking you,” she explained, plainly, with finishing touches on my lower arm, “making you mine.”

“You’re painting me...mauve,” I whined.

“It's not mauve…” she corrected me, her eyes flashing with a dark thrill as she bent down at the waist, lowered herself so she could look directly in my face, hers fractions of a breath from mine, “…it’s pink...” At that she took the roller and pressed it to my face, against my clean left cheek, and rolled it a gentle inch upwards. “...and it matches my lipstick.”

And then she kissed me.

Sparks flew, lights exploded behind my goggling eyes as her larger mouth took mine, the power of her ardor forcing my head back so now my hair - my hair! - was stuck into the wet paint behind me. I groaned, immediately, and my toes curled as her tongue took over, her lips eclipsing mine. I allowed my eyes to flutter closed and let her have her way with me. I submitted to her kiss and let her take me any way she wanted, wet paint be damned.

If I was consumed by the kiss, I could tell she was equally swept away, passion building. She groaned into it, rattling my skull. “I want to kiss you so hard that you’ll never get the taste of me out of your mouth,” she said, in a breathless advance, breaking the kiss for a gaze into my eyes.

“yes, d-do it…” I stammered, barely knowing what I was saying, my arms still stiffly outstretched against the wall, crucified, “do it…”

She groaned again and her passion exploded now tenfold into her kiss. Again her tongue was in me, shed dropped the roller, and now her big hands were on my shoulders, keeping me pinned with more force than she needed. She crushed my soft body from the outside and seemed, with her tongue outmuscling my jaw and pushing towards my throat, to want to stretch it from the inside. She heard me whimper under her force, and the noises she began to make - growls, grunts - began to worry me. She was, I admit, so much stronger than me. Her body could break mine, but she didn’t need its brute strength to dominate me. All she needed was her kiss, and she was set on proving it. Lip-locked, she inhaled my breath, stealing it steadily from my lungs until I felt my chest threaten to cave inwards. She then held my air for a few heartbeats and then slowly metered it back, refilling my lungs at the pace she controlled, allowing me air once more, air that she had warmed inside herself, permitted me to have. She drew my breath out again, held it, and then again allowed it back. I was breathing her air, and she was showing me what she could take from me, what she could give. I began to whine, which only inflamed her further.

Soon, though, her mouth broke from mine and her lips began to cover my face - the parts, at least, unsullied by ‘Twilight Mist’. “Could the other girls do this with you, when they were here?” she growled, “Could Marisela take your breath away like I can?”

I realized, of course, that she knew about Marisela, the drunken night in the waiting room. I hadn’t realized, though, what I was hearing in her voice now: she was, she was showing a little jealousy. I looked in her eyes, and shook my head ‘no’.

Still leaned down into me, she crouched at the knees a bit, so we could continue our kissing. “Good boy,” she purred, before she drove her tongue into my mouth again. Now, in this position, her huge, soft chest was squashed into my upper torso, her hands on her knees. We kissed like that for a long moment, the luxurious weight of her breasts making my own knees quiver and pinning me to the wet wall.. She again broke our kiss and looked into me with eyes that would melt glass.

I found that I now had my hands on either side of her marvelous tits, sinking into the firm mass of boob held tautly by her ribbed pink sweater and what felt like a sturdy bra underneath. Her breasts were much wider across than my chest, even more so with them pressed hard into me. They actually had me sort of pinned between them, with her glorious bosom almost touching the wall on either side of me. “God, you’re so big…” I found myself marveling aloud, my gaze now dropped down to the cleavage which blossomed up towards her throat and towards my chin.

She chuckled, giggling. “They do seem even bigger now that we’re pressed together like this, don’t they?” she mused, looking down now herself, proudly, into her own bosom. She then did one of the sexiest things I have ever experienced. She looked me in the eye, arched her back and took a big breath. At the same time, pressing her tits into me, Melissa began to stand up straight. I felt my feet leave the ground and I realized: she was pushing me up into the wall with her tits! Such was the upward pressure against my body, I was so surrounded by her chest, that she didn’t even need her hands! The wall, slowly and wetly, slid down behind me and soon she was standing fully erect, staring me in the eye with a bemused smile, my feet nearly a foot-and-a-half off the ground. My mouth gaped in amazement and my jaw quivered, and she held us there, letting me take in the moment. I was so much smaller than her, so much weaker. I was light, easy to carry and hold, and I was being held aloft by her tits.

Plus, I was hard as a rock.

She’d already felt it, pinned against my stomach, her hand having snuck its way in to grab hold, possessively. She was still looking me in the eye. “Looks like they’ve got you trapped,” she purred, “My boobs.”

“y-y-yeah…” was all I could manage. I was at her mercy.

She cocked her head, regarded me, pondered for a moment. “Could Shanette do this with you, when she was here?” she asked, thoughtfully.

“Uhhh….” I muttered, recalling the titfuck Shanette had given me, here in my apartment, on my couch, my outsized erection slid up into her white tank top while she sat on her knees over my lap. It had been glorious, soft and enveloping…but it hadn’t been this. Melissa had my entire upper body engulfed in her chest, held up like a doll. “N-n-nuh…” I grunted, watching the swells of her breasts squash me, ballooning up past her collarbone.

“Or Randi…could Randi have taken you all in, like I did, even your balls and sac in my mouth. Could she do that when she was here?“ she further pressed, “Or when you were in her car?”

Randi…Randi’s mouth was…jesus, huge. No one had ever been able to do with me what she had…until Melissa came along. Melissa was able to take me all in and then some. She had nothing - nothing - to worry about, with these girls, with my feelings towards them or what they could do. But still she sounded…jealous.

I tried to tell her as much. “M-Melissa?” I began, looking into her eyes again now, my gaze open and honest, “Y-you…your friends, the others- nngh!”

She squashed me, firmly, into the wall.

I’d grunted, but I continued. “They…they don’t mean anything to me, not the way you do,” I said, “you’re…you’re so much more than they are. So much more than any woman I’ve ever known…” How I put that sentence together, in the state I was in and in the position I’d found myself, I’ll never know. But I could tell she heard me, and I added: “You don’t have to…to worry about me, or…us.”

She smiled at me, a strange smile. There were things going through her head I know she thought I wouldn’t understand. “Sweetie,” she began, “the last couple of days…well, weeks…months…my emotions have been, well a little stronger than usual. Happy, sad, angry - haha crazy - they all come and go, so quickly. They’ve been…really intense, since I’ve met you. Sometimes I worry…”

I felt her heart beating, through our plastered chests, and understood what she was saying. These feelings, with her and her strength and me and my…smallness, could be dangerous. She was doing her best to control herself, many times…even now.

“As I get bigger,” she continued, speaking earnestly but plainly, “it’s not just my body that’s getting stronger, it’s my emotions too.” Her breath was coming shallow, hissing through her nose. “I worry, sometimes, that it might….keep getting worse. I want to be with you, so bad, but…but…can you handle that?”

I looked into her eyes, my mind racing. What was she telling me? What was she saying?“Wh-what do you mean,” I finally asked, “when you say ‘bigger’?”

==============================================

Thank you to Joshua67 and his AI assistant/harsh taskmistress for the pic

More GITJ stuff at my Patreon

#growing into the job

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intheorangebedroom · 2 years ago

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Road Trippin’

Summary: you take a road trip along the west coast with your boyfriend.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x French fem!Reader.

Can be read as a stand-alone. This said, I respect you all far too much to try and make you believe this isn’t my two PTMY filthy puppies. Let’s say, for the sake of suspense, that it might be them OR it might be an AU in which they get a happy ending…

ETA (July 22nd 2023): Now that PTMY is complete, I can finally move that baby up to a brand new Drabbles section of its masterlist, because it's always been Frankie & Gabrielle, Gabrielle & Frankie 🧡

Rating: Explicit 🔞 Fluff and filth with a dash of angst because hey, it’s me 😏

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: @wildemaven here it is! Again, thank you so much for sharing your incredible talent with us, for this wonderful idea, and for showing me a different way 🧡 I sincerely hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

As in 99% of what I write, the story is titled after a song, another source of inspiration for me, here RHCP’s Road Trippin’.

Warning: contains some very self-indulging reference to a certain line of dialogue from TF…

Drabble: Road Trippin’

“Frankie, it’s beautiful,” you breathe out, your words immediately engulfed by the deafening noise of the waves crashing on the rocks below.

He nudges your shoulder, letting you know he heard you, and you chase the heat of his body, leaning against his arm and resting your head against the firm slope of his shoulder. The soft, cottony fabric of his hoodie caresses your cheek when you brush against it. You look up at him and it’s another vision that has your breath hitching in your chest. Locks of luscious brown curls perk out from under the hood of his sweater, swept soft and tempting by the ocean breeze over the landscape of his sharp profile .

Your heart leaps out of your rib cage and you quickly return your gaze to the tumult of the ocean. You don’t think you can withstand so much beauty.

“The weather could be better,” he says about the thin drizzle that surrounds you like misty drapes, but you shake your head no.

The subtle pink and blue pastels of his sweater stand out under the overcast sky, the pearl gray clouds highlighting the colours of the nature that surrounds you. Shadows play across the surface of the ocean, deepening its many shades of green, the soft slopes of the mountains evocative of the curves of a sleeping figure draped in emerald velvet.

“Oh no, this is perfect. Everything is perfect,” you murmur, breathing in his scent, woody and musky, with a faint, clean note of your laundry detergent. He smells like home.

Frankie smiles at the clouds, and his swelling heart feels cramped in his chest. He doesn’t think he can withstand so much happiness.

The large, white wagon you’re traveling with is parked behind you, where you screamed at Frankie to stop just before driving over Bixby Bridge. You got so caught up in the scenery you forgot your camera on the passenger seat.

You had always wanted to see Big Sur, and the trip had moved up to the top of your bucket list since you’d come to America. You had told him about this life-long dream of yours in passing, but of course, he had remembered.

And the idea had slowly taken root in his mind as you kept asking him for tales of his childhood and the place where he grew up.

One evening back in January, he had come home from work to find you sitting in the dimly lit kitchen, fiddling with a bottle of British lager, weary and defeated by a particularly rough day of icy cold weather and dealing with unpleasant customers.

The tired but sincere smile you had greeted him with had swept away the last of his doubts, and he had presented you with a half formed plan: flying to San Diego, and road tripping up north along the coast to Monterey. Perhaps even to Yosemite, if you’d like to.

You' ha'd risen up from your chair and jumped up and down excitedly like a kid who’s been told they’re going to Disneyland, and his face brightened up with a dimpled smile, which prompted you to sit on his lap, wrapping yourself around his body and pecking his pretty face with so many kisses he couldn’t open his eyes, his broad shoulders shaking with a breathy chuckle.

You’d agreed to travel in April, to avoid the crushing heat of Southern California, and the two of you had started drawing lists of everything you wanted to see.

Later that night, as you lied in bed naked, tucked in against his warm body with your legs intertwined, you’d ask him, encouraged by the friendly obscurity.

“Will it be ok, for you, Frankie? Going back there?”

He’d kissed the crown of your head, breathing in your scent briefly, before offering a reassuring answer. When in truth, he had no idea how he would feel about it. He hadn't set foot in San Diego, or even California for that matter, since he’d moved to Brooklyn with his sister after their mother’s passing, some twenty-three years ago.

And in the end, it had been just fine. Better, actually, than anything he could have hoped it to be. Seeing you walking these distantly familiar streets, the same ones he had spent hours exploring on his bike as a wandering child, had rewritten the narrative of this past life. Just like you’d done with his time in the army, just like you’d done with his scars, the tangible ones, and the ones only you and him could see.

You wanted a real adventure, you’d said, as real as they come in movies and postcards, camp out in the wild, sleep under the tent, snap a million pictures with your dented Rolleiflex, forget about the GPS and use a roadmap instead, because you were pretty good with these, you’d said. And sure enough, you were. He had had some reservations about the camping part, given how long you spent under the shower every morning, but you’d surprised him with your ability to clean up and get ready in under five minutes in gas station bathrooms.

And with his skills for organisation, a happy occupational hazard of sorts, the road trip was going as smoothly as possible.

Your enthusiasm and candid wonderment were like a drug to him, there was nothing you’d wish he could deny you.

When you’d ask to make a detour to visit Hearst’s castle, he’d immediately agreed. The excitement lit up your eyes as you buoyantly told him of the many tales you’d read about the place. Hearst himself, Marion Davies, Louise Brooks, Buster Keaton, Greta Garbo, Dolores Del Rio, the feud with Orson Welles about Citizen Kane, down to The White Stripes’ Union Forever.

You’d smile at him apologetically for being the most annoying Wikipedia page, but he’d cupped your sweet mug in his large hands and nuzzled your nose, telling you this was the best trip he’d ever been on, after the one you’d taken the previous year in Paris.

“I missed the ocean so much,” you sigh, wrapping both arms around his.

“We don’t live far, we definitely could go more often.”

“Could we fly to Coney Island?” you ask excitedly, tilting your head up.

His laughter rumbles over the waves as he answers, “Right! I can land the chopper on top of the Wonder Wheel, how’s that?”

You push him gently, with a quiet giggle. You know he’s joking but you’re pretty sure he’d try to do it if you kept pressing…

“Did you go often, back when you lived in Paris?” he asks after a pause.

“Any chance I would get. I usually went to Normandie to see the cliffs, by the Channel. It’s my favourite place, it’s really gorgeous. I could spend hours looking at the tide, just get lost in the waves, it’s just so soothing, watching something that existed long before you and that will remain long after you’re gone. Like I could get in the water and drift away, and everything would be fine. But it’s nothing like here. Here is much more… I don’t know, gentle?”

The way you express yourself in sensations triggers something warm within him. He untangles his arm from yours and positions you in front of him, encircling your waist and leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Tomorrow we’ll have a swim, if the weather’s better.”

His warm breath fans the soft hair on your nape and heat flares up in your lower belly. You don’t doubt for a second that this was precisely his intention.

“Did you swim very often, when you lived here?” you ask, and he can hear the arousal in your wavering voice.

“Yea, all the time. I’d ride my bike to the beach and swim for hours. Like you said, the water makes everything better. I would get a thrill swimming as far as I could, until I was exhausted, until I wasn’t sure if I could make it back. But everything would be fine.”

You shiver between his arms at the shared experience and he tightens his hold around you. The two of you get lost in each other’s silence, in the foreign memory of forgotten loneliness.

“That explains the shoulders,” you finally say.

“What’s with the shoulders?” he asks, and his husky tone confirms the mood has shifted.

“You know what’s with the shoulders, Morales. But I’ll show you tonight, anyway.”

—

The night air is cool outside the tent, but inside it’s humid and hot. The blanket scrapes your knees where they rub on it in your swaying movement on top of him, as you try to work in his length, your splayed fingers digging into the plane of his solid chest just like you like it, but it’s useless, Frankie’s restless underneath you, roaming his hands all over your body, cupping your breasts and kneading them greedily, then down to the swell of your ass where he grabs a handful of your flesh and uses it to press you further down on him, but you’re slippery with sweat and he grunts in frustration until you tell him, winded by exertion, “What do you want, baby?”

“Fuck,” he groans, tilting his head back onto the bunched up duvet, and oh god, his neck, his gorgeous neck, the view sends a new wave of slick rushing down your walls, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s fine,” you say, “just take what you need, Frankie baby.”

He sits up and flips you on your back before you can even finish your sentence, and the air is punched out of your lungs when you hit the floor with a muffled thud.

Oh it is fine, you think, as you downright salivate at the sight of his sweaty chest, his golden skin gleaming in the yellow hue from the camping lamp, his dampened locks glued to his forehead and curling around his ears.

He takes hold of your ankles and places them on his shoulders, and you brace yourself on the blanket, knowing what’s to come. Frankie kisses your calf and as he lines himself up, you see how his eyes have gone completely dark, his pupils blown wide with lust and need.

He drives into you suddenly, to the hilt, and you clench your eyes and trash your head back with a hissed “shit”, but he grinds further in, swirling his hips against your ass, rearranging you for him, and for a brief second you recoil, you don’t think you can make it.

He leans down over you, pushing your knees into your chest, folding you in half. Your frowned brow halts his grinding, but the thought remains, he can’t shake it off. He wants to anchor you to his body, fuck his love into you, care for you and pleasure you in all the ways he knows how until you never feel the need to drift away ever again.

Comprehension strikes you when you open your eyes and look at his face. “I’m here, Frankie, I’m here with you, not going anywhere, baby,” you coo, running your thumb over the crease between his brow.

Frankie lets out a deep breath, lets his shoulders sag, softly kisses your palm, and pulls almost all the way out.

It’s passed. The storm has abated.

He leans back a bit, and you can breathe again, and when he resumes his moving, he rocks into you slowly, with shallow thrusts, giving you time to adjust.

You moan with the effort, you don’t think he’s ever been this thick or this hard, and when he places his hands on your forearms for leverage, you grip his back, using the hold to try and control his pacing.

“Alright baby, alright baby, come on now, you know you can take it.”

“It’s a lot, Frankie,” you whine.

“Yea? You’ve taken worse than that,” he smiles cockily and you answer with a soundless laugh because, yes, indeed, he’s made you take far worse than that.

He links your forearms over your belly, holding them with one hand, and brings his other one to your lips, prompting them to open. You take in his fingers, suck on them sloppily, with hunger, and he chuckles.

“That’s it, good girl. Look at you, so fucking filthy, of course you can take it.”

He starts rubbing fast circles on your clit and drives into you a little faster, a little harder.

“This okay, baby?” His voice is hoarse with restraint and you feel the tension shifting in your core as a new rush of slick pools down your folds.

“Tell me how it feels, baby, lemme hear your pretty voice.”

“It feels good, Frankie, fuck I- I’m so full, you feel good, you feel so good,” your voice is waning as your climax draws nearer, your belly pulled taut under your crossed wrists.

He’s pounding into you now, hard and fast and deep, his fingers a steady pressure across your bundle of nerves, and you watch as beads of sweat roll down his neck onto his chest, and you warn him, “Oh god I’m coming, Frankie, I’m coming.”

“I can feel it, baby, I can feel it.”

He presses down on your legs, his hips starting to stutter, but he keeps talking, talks you through it, and you let his voice swipe you and pull you under, let it take you over the edge as pleasure washes over you in violent waves.

The flutter of your cunt tips him over and he comes with a loud curse, and when you feel his body slump over yours, you shift under his weight and he pulls out all of a sudden.

Gently, he takes your limp legs off his shoulders, kisses your scraped knees better, and lowers them on the blanket. When you lift your head to look at him, he is kneeled between your spread thighs, watching his spend leaking out of your swollen folds, heaving, a tired smile curling his plush lips.

Your eyes meet, and he tells you, “Don’t worry, I’m gonna fuck it back in.”

—

Tomorrow you will go swimming together in the ocean. He will gaze in amazement and reverence at your smiling eyes, mirroring the sea and the sky that saw him grow up. He will kiss the burn from the sun off your shoulders and you will lick the salt from the water off his neck. You will sit close to him in the white wagon, tracing the route on the map with your finger, to the north, to the east, to the west, or the south, it doesn’t really matter, because anywhere on earth, with him, will always be the best trip ever.

****

Bonus: some pictures Reader captured along the trip 🧡

Taglist (thank you 🧡): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @nicolethered @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8 @all-the-way-down-here @deadmantis @hbc8 @princessdjarin @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @gracie7209 @mrsparknuts

#frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales / you #frankie morales / fem!reader #frankie morales / reader #frankie morales / ofc #the pilot™️#triple frontier #triple frontier fic #wildmaven prompts week 2 #wildmaven prompts

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materialtintin · 2 years ago

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so. I wrote a haddotin drabble solely based on this image n I couldnt decide where to post it but I'm gonna put it under read more here and then maybe move it to ao3 later on. Enjoy some spring fluff!

Tintin In Pink

Haddotin fluff, 1K, Tintin gets a new sweater and it ignites what they should have seen coming a long time ago.

The image came to Haddock like he was in a dream. He knew rationally that it couldn't be, since he had just woken barely an hour ago to the chirping of magpies beginning to nest in the rose bushes below his bedroom window. But as he stepped out onto the circle beneath the looming entrance of his chateau, the retired sea captain was greeted by a vision that blossomed before him as if he was seeing with color for the first time. In some ways, he was seeing one color in particular with new eyes.

Tintin was kneeled just beyond the pavement of the driveway, having parked further down, and was just about to enter Marlinspike at his usual time on the weekends. He and the Captain had begun visiting each other most weekends when they lived only a few blocks from one another in Brussels, and the routine only seemed to lengthen with each visit now that the gorgeous grounds of the estate was solely theirs to wander for hours. Sometimes their visits led to more adventures that put them far off across the world, but often it's only result was an afternoon and night completely gone by with laughter and music and easy conversation.

There, ruffling the fur of his companion as Milou looked captivated by the sprinkling of blossoms in the air, was Tintin in a brand new baby pink sweater. Perhaps ‘new’ wasn't the proper term, as it was in the exact style as his other more commonly seen jumper, but the softness of the scene before him paired with the shock of seeing Tintin in something other than his usual blue stirred something deep within Haddocks heart. He adored the ginger journalist, more than he had ever felt admiration or appreciation for anyone else, and at this point it would be a slight against Tintin's investigative genius to think the lad wasn't aware of the fact. Haddock wore his heart on his sleeve, and now on his face as his cheeks flushed to a similar shade as the sweater once Tintin finally looked up and flashed Haddock with an open, carefree smile. He rose and walked up to where the captain still stood frozen on the front steps, with Milou following patiently at his heels,

“Good morning Captain! I hope you've been well.”

“Aye, Tintin… you look bonny in that new getup, if I say so myself”

Then it was Tintins turn to blush. His eyes widened and color tipped the tops of his ears, as he met the Captain's gaze and then quickly looked away.

“Thank you, Captain. I wanted to try something new.. I suppose its been to my benefit?”

He moved to push on the double doors of Marlinspike, but was stopped by a large, calloused hand lightly latching on to his upper arm. He turned to face the Captain again to quip about spring fever getting to both of them, only to see Haddock earnestly gawking at both Tintin's face and back to the sweater. Of course Tintin had picked up the pink jumper with the thought of the Captain's reaction to it in the forefront of his mind, but had only expected the sailor to be surprised, or to perhaps rib him a bit about getting out of his comfort zone. Now it was the Captain who seemed completely like a fish out of water, struggling to contort his mouth into any words that encapsulated what a beautiful sight the young reporter was to him.

“Yer like a fresh spring morning, lad. I thought I might… well, I… “

“Oh please, you're flattering me too much! Its just a-”

In a flash, the Captain swept an arm around Tintin's waist, pulling him into an embrace where their sides were fully pressed together. Haddock was still fumbling with words, trying to explain what was in his mind and why his body was reacting faster than it, but Tintin saw more in his swimming eyes and flushed face than any combinations of the older mans colorful vocabulary could express.

“I think you look quite dashing yourself, you old so-and-so.” Tintin said, now with an embarrassed grin pulling his features. The Captain smiled back, though he struggled to form any more coherent thoughts now that his and Tintins faces were so close. He could see the individual freckles across the bridge of the reporter's nose, the hint of darkness below his eyes belying the constant spring in his step. The Captain thought of the days and nights they spent together, all the times he'd seen Tintins expressions flow between joy and stoicism, rage and exhaustion, but the Captain couldn't ever recall seeing the glow in the ginger's crystal blue eyes so close, and so raw.

“Blistering.. typhoons, Tintin. Before we go in, I just wanted to-”

The Captain was interrupted by a pair of soft lips touching his own, softly first with hesitation, and then firm as Tintin felt the Captain begin to respond. The ginger let a puff of air out through his nostrils, suddenly melting into the embrace with the Captain and reaching his arms around the taller mans shoulders for support. Haddocks hands went to the lads waist, as their kiss deepend and the wind scattered white blossoms across the pavement and through the air where they stood. The world filled with all of its dangers and misadventures dissipated, and like a key turning into its lock for the first time, the duo felt the summation of all of their perils and tribulations come to this kiss, the gentlest and most fulfilling moment after surpassing countless dangers. It was as if they had been kissing for the past 100 years, in every former life, and had simply forgotten.

Milou yipped at their feet, excited by the breeze and swirling patterns of blossoms and leaves, and the happiness radiating off his two companions. When Tintin and the Captain finally broke away from each other, they sported a pair of dopey grins. Tintins eyes flit from his Captains face to the spring wonderland around them, watching the large trees around the front of the chateau shake with the light breeze. They held each other in comfortable silence for a few moments, before Haddock slipped his hand down from where it rested at the small of Tintins back to reach for his hand, feeling Tintins smaller hand squeeze his in reassurance.

“Lets head inside, lad. I had plans for the afternoon, but it seems like I completely forgot them.” the Captain murmured into the ginger's temple, leaving a kiss beside Tintins quiff and squeezing his hand back. Tintin chuckled, turning to push on the entrance doors once again,

“Oh, I’m sure we'll come up with something. We -oh! Oh, hello Nestor.”

The stoic butler stood a few feet away from the pair, holding the chateau door slightly ajar and giving both of them a look that could only be described as unamused. He cleared his throat and nodded to Tintins greeting before facing the Captain,

“There’s tea and aperitifs laid out in the main study, but I’d be happy to bring them to the porch if that would be more convenient. It seems to be a lovely day outside.” he replied tonelessly, glancing down at the pairs hands still intertwined before regaining composure and looking at the beet red face of the Captain. The ghost of a smirk played at the butlers lips, but he turned and disappeared into the house before even hearing the Captain's spluttering response about the study being just fine. Tintins twinkling laugh echoed into the front room with the soft thumps of two pairs of feet and four furry legs walking through the halls, the flash of pink color that sparked something new flitting past the windows, with one hand still linked tightly with another.

#haddotin #the adventures of tintin #my wriitng #this def isint my favorite thing ive written but it still ended up kinda long #and i wanted to share #txt #its not spring but it was like 75 on wednesday so im feeling spring fever

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falcqns · 1 year ago

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you'll be alright (no one can hurt you now) chapter five

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Lucy Chen & Tamara Colins, Tim Bradford & Lucy Chen, background Tim Bradford x Lucy Chen

✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Tim finds out if Lucy will be (physically) okay.

✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: canon divergence, Tim Bradford would do anything for Lucy Chen, post Day Of Death, slight angst, mentions of kidnapping and hospitals. tagging @natashasera obv.

don’t forget to read and reblog, and i do not give permission for my works to be posted anywhere other than tumblr. thank you.

Tim sat in the hard plastic hospital chair, still cradling Tamara in his hands. She was awake, and staring up at him, her eyes looking everywhere but his own. He glanced down at her outfit, which consisted of blush pink ribbed pants, a beige knitted sweater, and matching beige knitted socks.

Tamara cooed, kicking her legs out, making her feet hit Tim’s stomach. “You’re so beautiful,” Tim said quietly to Tamara. “Just like your mama.” His left thumb began stroking her soft skin from her eyebrow down to her jaw and back. Her hands scrunched up over her face, rubbing her eyes as she yawned.

“Oh,” Tim commented. “Are you a sleepy girl?” He asked quietly, and moved Tamara slowly so that she was laying on his chest, her eyelids fluttering closed shortly after. Tim smiled as she got comfortable, snuggling in close to his neck. Tim ran his hands up and down her back as he felt her breathing even out.

A few moments after Tamara had drifted off to sleep, Dr Sawyer walked into the waiting room. Tim immediately stood up, his hands holding Tamara tightly.

“Officer Bradford?” She asked, and when Tim nodded she continued. “Lucy has been stabilized, and at this moment, it looks like she will make a full recovery.”

TIm breathed out the sigh of relief he had been holding in since they’d arrived at the hospital and she had been taken back with the doctors. His boot was going to be okay. He wasn’t going to have to learn what it would be like to live without Lucy Chen, something that had been on his mind since he had learned she had been taken. He had been petrified, realizing that without Lucy, his life would be utterly silent. There would have been no more personal talk in the shop (despite his no personal talk in the shop rule, a rule that he had been unable to enforce with Lucy), no more singing along to Taylor Swift or finding out about the latest news and hints about the singer. No more chai latte, no more taco wagon on Tuesdays.

But now that he knew those things would continue, he was overjoyed. He couldn’t wait for her to be healed, released, and back on the job with him for 12 hours a day. But, that day was still a while away.

“C-Can I see her?” He asked, and Grace nodded with a smile on her face.

“Of course,” She said. “Follow me.”

Grace led him and Tamara into the room where Lucy was being held. She looked peaceful, lying on the bed, under heavy sedation. Her eyes were closed, her face was relaxed, and her breathing was even and healthy. The knot of fear in Tim’s chest loosened slightly, seeing proof that she was alive and okay. He held Tamara close as he sat down in the chair next to her bed, and looked up at Grace as she spoke to him.

“The sedation should wear off overnight.” Grace said. “If anything changes, such as her waking up, press the call button and either a nurse or myself will come and assist.” She said, and nodded when Tim thanked her, before walking out the door.

Tim adjusted Tamara as he got as comfortable as he could in the plastic chair. Tamara moved slightly, her forehead wrinkling up as she was awoken briefly from her sleep, but the 3 month old settled down rather quick.

Tim looked up at Lucy briefly, before looking back down at Tamara. He didn’t know how to feel about Lucy, his boot, adopting this baby that she found while on duty. He felt that, despite being off on medical leave, he should have been notified that she was doing this, as he was her training officer. But, at the same time, he knew she wasn’t thinking of herself when she kept Tamara a secret from him, she was thinking about Tamara. He had known Lucy for almost 4 months now, and the one thing he was certain about when it came to his rookie was that she was selfless. She always thought of others first, regardless of how it would affect her.

So no, he wasn’t mad, per say, he was more disappointed that she didn’t trust him enough to be told a secret as big and important as the baby in his arms. But, that would change. He would make sure that she knew, from now on, how much he cared about her. How he was there for not only her, but also Tamara, no matter what, in anyway he could.

Now all she had to do was wake up.

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