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bananafiction · 6 months ago

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The Weight of Silence Part 1

Olivia Benson x Genderless Reader

2k words

The precinct hummed with the low buzz of voices, the rhythmic clicking of keyboards, and the shuffling of files as the Special Victims Unit delved into another case. You leaned back in your chair, stretching your tired arms over your head, stealing a glance at Captain Olivia Benson’s office. The glass walls of her office provided a clear view of her, head bent over a pile of files, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her desk lamp cast a soft glow that framed her in shadows, giving her an aura of authority and elegance.

You had been Olivia’s lieutenant for years now. Together, you’d seen more horrors than you cared to remember, stood in the thick of crimes that shook the city to its core, and brought justice to those who couldn’t fight for themselves. But through it all, you had stood by Olivia’s side. It wasn’t just a professional relationship—it was a bond forged in fire, through trust, respect, and something more, something neither of you dared to acknowledge.

There was an undeniable chemistry between you, something you could feel in every shared glance, every brush of her hand against yours, and every quiet moment spent side by side, piecing together the details of a case. It lingered like a shadow between you, this unspoken tension that crackled in the air, and though you both pretended it wasn’t there, everyone in the precinct knew.

“Lieutenant, we got something.” Fin’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

You turned toward him, grateful for the distraction. He held a tablet out to you, a frown pulling at his lips. “Take a look at this.”

You took the tablet, your eyes narrowing as you read over the autopsy report. The victim, a 16-year-old girl named Lily Sampson, had been found three days earlier in a dilapidated apartment building on the outskirts of Manhattan. Bruises covered her body, and the evidence pointed to a particularly violent sexual assault. The medical examiner had just confirmed that the DNA found at the scene was a match for a known predator—a man by the name of Gavin Ross, who had slipped through the cracks of the justice system more than once. A chill ran down your spine. Ross was bad news, and if he was involved, this case was far from over.

Olivia emerged from her office, her sharp gaze landing on you. She seemed to sense the change in the room, her posture immediately shifting to one of alertness. “What do we have?”

You passed her the tablet. “It’s worse than we thought. DNA came back, and it’s a match for Gavin Ross.”

Her eyes darkened as she skimmed through the report. “Ross… Damn it. I thought we’d locked him up two years ago.”

“We did. He got out on a technicality. Bad evidence collection on a prior case,” you said, your voice laced with frustration. “And now we’ve got a dead teenager on our hands.”

Olivia clenched her jaw, her eyes flashing with anger and determination. “We’re not letting him slip through again. Not this time.”

Her resolve was one of the things you admired most about her. No matter how dark or twisted a case got, she never gave up. But with cases like this, you knew it took a toll. She bore the weight of every victim, carried the burden of every injustice like a cross. You saw it in the way her shoulders tensed at every new revelation, in the tired lines that had begun to crease her face.

“Let’s bring him in,” Olivia said, her voice firm. “Fin, Rollins, see if you can get an address on Ross. He’s slippery, but he’s got a pattern. Check the usual haunts.”

As the team dispersed, you caught up to Olivia. “Do you think we’ll get him this time?”

Her expression softened for just a moment, a fleeting crack in her armor. “We have to.”

Hours passed in a blur of dead ends and frustration. Ross had gone underground. Fin and Rollins had come up empty at every location they searched. You could see the tension building in Olivia’s shoulders, the weight of the case pressing down on her. As the clock ticked closer to midnight, the squad room began to empty out, officers heading home or grabbing a few hours of sleep before the next shift. But you and Olivia remained, as always, locked in the hunt.

You sat across from her at her desk, the two of you going over case notes, when Olivia suddenly slammed a file shut, frustration bubbling over. “We’re missing something,” she muttered, rubbing her temples.

You watched her carefully. “We’ll find him, Liv. We always do.”

She looked up at you, her eyes softening at the sound of your voice. There it was again, that unspoken connection—just beneath the surface, always there, always waiting. “You should go home. Get some rest. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

“I’ll go when you go,” you said, your voice gentle but firm.

A small smile tugged at her lips, the first one you’d seen all day. “Stubborn as ever, huh?”

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “It’s one of my many talents.”

The brief flicker of amusement in her eyes warmed your chest, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced by the heavy burden of the case. Olivia’s hand moved to the file in front of her, fingers tracing the edge of a photograph of the victim, her eyes distant. “She was so young,” she whispered, more to herself than to you. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

You stood and moved around her desk, standing beside her. You didn’t say anything—there was nothing to say that would make it better. But you placed a hand on her shoulder, offering silent support. She glanced up at you, and for a moment, something passed between you, something raw and unguarded.

Her gaze flicked to your hand on her shoulder, and you quickly pulled away, clearing your throat. The tension crackled in the air like static electricity, the pull between you undeniable. But, like always, it was left unsaid.

Before either of you could say anything more, Rollins burst through the doors of the squad room, her face flushed with urgency. “We’ve got something. A tip came in—Ross was spotted at a motel down in Hell’s Kitchen. We’ve got units headed there now.”

Olivia shot to her feet, all traces of fatigue gone. “Let’s go.”

You were already moving, adrenaline pumping through your veins as the three of you rushed out of the precinct, sirens blaring as you sped through the darkened streets of Manhattan.

The motel was a run-down, seedy place tucked away in the shadows of Hell’s Kitchen. The kind of place where people disappeared. As you approached, your heart pounded in your chest. This was it—your chance to bring Ross in before he slipped away again.

“Units have the perimeter secured,” Rollins reported, her voice low as the three of you approached the motel doors, weapons drawn. “He’s holed up in room 214.”

Olivia nodded, her face a mask of focus. “Let’s do this.”

You took position beside her, exchanging a quick glance. In that brief second, the rest of the world fell away. It was just you and her, two parts of the same machine, moving together without needing to speak. The trust between you was absolute.

Olivia knocked on the door, her voice authoritative. “NYPD! Gavin Ross, open up!”

Silence.

Your grip tightened on your weapon, your pulse quickening. Every second felt like an eternity. Then, suddenly, the door flew open, and Ross bolted.

“Stop!” Olivia shouted, but Ross didn’t listen.

You sprang into action, chasing him down a narrow alley behind the motel. The sound of your footsteps echoed in the confined space as you closed the distance between you. You could hear Olivia right behind you, her breath labored but determined.

Ross darted around a corner, but you were faster. You lunged forward, tackling him to the ground. He struggled, but you pinned him down, twisting his arm behind his back as you slapped the cuffs on him.

Olivia was beside you in an instant, her eyes blazing with triumph. “You’re done, Ross. You’re not getting away this time.”

Ross spat at her feet, but Olivia didn’t flinch. She stood tall, her presence commanding as always, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. This was what you did, what you both did—together.

Back at the precinct, the team was abuzz with the victory. Ross was in custody, the case was wrapped, and Lily Sampson’s family would finally have justice. It was a rare moment of celebration in a job that so often ended in heartbreak.

As the adrenaline began to wear off, you found yourself back at Olivia’s office. She was sitting at her desk, her expression thoughtful, but there was a quiet satisfaction in her eyes.

You knocked softly on the doorframe. “Mind if I come in?”

She looked up, a small smile playing on her lips. “Always.”

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. There was a comfortable silence between you, the weight of the case finally lifting. But just as you began to settle into that brief moment of reprieve, your phone buzzed. The precinct’s alert system flashed across the screen—a new development. Something big.

Olivia’s phone buzzed at the same time. She looked at you, her brow furrowing. “What is it?”

You glanced at your phone. “Ross’s prints came up on another crime scene. It just came in.”

Olivia’s face darkened, the weariness of the day replaced by a sharp edge of concern. “Another crime scene? When?”

You scrolled through the alert. “Two days ago. The body of a woman found in a park in Queens. Her face wasn’t recognizable, but the prints match Ross.”

A heavy silence settled between you. You thought you had him, thought this was finally over, but it seemed Ross had been busy before you caught him. Another victim. Another life lost.

Olivia rubbed her temples, her voice low but full of resolve. “We need to talk to him again. If there’s another victim, we can’t afford to wait.”

You nodded, already standing up. “I’ll grab the case file on the new victim. Let’s go make sure he doesn’t slither out of this one.”

The precinct was quieter now, the late hour thinning out most of the officers and detectives, but as you and Olivia moved with purpose toward the holding cells, it felt like the weight of the world was on your shoulders. Cases like this were never clean, never simple. They stuck to you, left scars that couldn’t be healed.

When you reached the interrogation room, Ross was slouched in his chair, his wrists shackled to the table, his face twisted into a smug smile that made your stomach turn. The guy had no remorse—he never had. He glanced up lazily as you and Olivia entered, his expression daring you to do something.

Olivia didn’t waste any time. “We found your prints at a second crime scene, Gavin. Two days ago. Another woman dead. You think this is over?”

He shrugged. “You got me on one, Benson. But two? You sure about that?”

You exchanged a quick glance with Olivia. This was typical of predators like Ross—never give anything up unless they had to. His cocky demeanor only made the tension between you and Olivia grow thicker, the unspoken frustration of dealing with another monster who thought he could outsmart the system.

Olivia stepped closer, her voice low and dangerous. “We’re sure, Gavin. And so is the DA. This isn’t just about Lily anymore. You’re going down for both, and we’ll make sure you rot in a cell for the rest of your miserable life.”

Ross’s smirk faltered slightly, but he leaned forward, his eyes glittering with something dark and twisted. “You really think you know me, Benson? You think you know everything I’ve done?” He chuckled, a sound that made your blood boil. “There’s more. And you won’t even scratch the surface.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched. You could feel the anger radiating off her in waves, but she didn’t give in to his provocation. Instead, she motioned for you to step outside with her.

Once in the hallway, you could see the tension in her posture, the way her fingers drummed against her side. You knew what she was thinking—this case was spiraling, and the more you learned, the darker it became.

“He’s taunting us,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but her frustration clear.

You nodded, your mind racing. “He’s hiding something. We need to dig deeper—check for other unsolved cases, anything that fits his MO.”

Olivia turned to you, her eyes intense, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to slow. You were standing closer than usual, the small space between you filled with that ever-present tension. Her eyes flicked over your face, lingering for just a moment too long.

You swallowed, feeling the pull, that undeniable chemistry that had been simmering for years. “We’ll get him,” you said, your voice softer than intended.

Olivia held your gaze for a second longer before nodding, her expression softening just a fraction. “We always do.”

The next day passed in a blur of information gathering and connecting dots. You worked tirelessly alongside Olivia, poring over files, cross-referencing old cases, and piecing together Ross’s movements. What you uncovered was chilling.

There were at least three other unsolved cases over the past year that matched Ross’s MO—each victim a young woman, each one lured to an isolated location and murdered brutally. The cases had slipped through the cracks, but now, with Ross in custody, it was clear he had been hunting for far longer than anyone had realized.

You and Olivia sat across from one another at a table covered in photos, maps, and reports. Your shoulders brushed occasionally as you leaned in to point out connections, the closeness sending small shocks through you. It was nothing new—this proximity—but lately, it felt heavier, more charged.

As you pointed to a spot on the map, showing where one of the victims had been found, Olivia’s hand brushed yours. Neither of you pulled away immediately, and your eyes met, lingering just a beat too long. There it was again—that unspoken electricity that had crackled between you for years.

You cleared your throat, pulling your hand back and trying to refocus. “If we push the DA, we might be able to tie Ross to these other cases. Build a stronger profile.”

Olivia nodded, her voice a little quieter than before. “You’re right. Let’s get the detectives on it.”

But even as you both continued to talk strategy, the air between you felt different. Something had shifted in that moment of accidental touch, something that neither of you wanted to fully acknowledge.

It was late again, the precinct emptying out as you and Olivia prepared for one final push. Ross had been formally charged for Lily’s murder and the second victim, but the investigation was far from over. You both knew there were more victims, more pieces to the puzzle that needed to be solved.

You found yourself sitting on the edge of Olivia’s desk as she reviewed the updated case files, the soft light from her desk lamp casting a warm glow over the room. There was a comfortable silence between you, the weight of the day’s work settling into your bones, but there was also something else—something that made your chest tighten every time you looked at her.

Olivia glanced up at you, her lips curving into a small, tired smile. “You’re still here.”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice. “I said I’d go when you go.”

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze holding yours for a moment before she spoke again. “You always have my back, don’t you?”

There was something in her voice—something softer, more vulnerable. It caught you off guard.

“Always,” you replied, your voice equally soft. The word felt heavier than usual, like it carried more than just professional loyalty.

Olivia leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. The tension that usually held her so tightly seemed to slip away, and for the first time that night, she looked almost relaxed. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the intensity of her words hanging between you. For a moment, the case, the precinct, the entire world seemed to fade away. All that remained was the two of you, the unspoken bond that had always been there but had never been acknowledged.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but before the words could come, the sound of your phone buzzing on the desk shattered the moment.

You both blinked, the spell broken. Olivia sat up straighter, her usual mask of composure slipping back into place as she glanced at your phone. “Looks like you’ve got a message.”

You grabbed the phone, glancing down at the screen. It was a notification from Fin—Ross’s lawyer had arrived at the precinct, and they were prepping for another round of questioning in the morning.

Olivia stood, her expression shifting back to business as usual. “Looks like tomorrow’s going to be another long day.”

You nodded, slipping your phone into your pocket. “Yeah. Guess we should call it a night.”

As you both gathered your things, the tension between you returned, heavier than ever. But just like always, it remained unspoken.

As you walked out of the precinct together, the cool night air hitting your skin, you stole one last glance at Olivia. There was something in her eyes, something you couldn’t quite read, but before you could dwell on it, she gave you a small smile.

“Good night,” she said softly.

“Good night, Olivia,” you replied, your heart aching with everything you couldn’t say.

And as you both went your separate ways, the weight of silence followed you, lingering in the air like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

#law and order svu #svu #law and order fanfiction #olivia benson #mariska hargitay #olivia x reader #olivia benson x reader

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historicalbookimages · 2 months ago

Photo

🍍 Illustrations of the natural orders of plants with groups and descriptions. London: Sampson Low, Son, and Marston, 1868.

#biodiversity #old books #nature

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soft-persephone · 3 months ago

Note

I saw your fic between Alex Cross x reader x John Sampson and I was wondering if you could write the three of them more. Your writing is fantastic.

Thank you so much! My heart is quite literally melting. I am nothing but a pudlle. please, its too much! 🥺🫣😳

Anon I stressed over what I could possibly write that could somehow follow up part one, and then I felt guilty because it took me so long to figure it out and I didn’t want you to think I was avoiding/ignoring you, but it all hit me today.

So enjoy this fic I wrote in between my downtime at work. I hope you like it just as much as part 1!!!

Some Things Never Change 2

MDNI //WC: 5k// Explicit descriptions of sex, oral both m and f receiving, threesome, Alex and John talk you through it, sick and twisted childhood games, but in a good way, // masterlist //

You startled.

Two loud raps from your door echoed through the quaint house.

It’s previous owners, your grandparents, long gone but not forgotten was left to your father, and he planned on selling it, but at the tender age you were, begged him to keep it and give it to you, and as a father who never failed to give you your heart's desire, relented.

You still had an apartment in the city, but you didn’t want to be found at the moment. Drooling into the parlor couch cushions and curbing off a hangover as you drifted in and out of sleep was the evidence

So the fact that someone was knocking at your door and stirring you out of your sleep had you less than enthused to get up.

Wiping your face, you count to three under your breath and swing your body upwards into a sitting position.

You sighed and stood, not stressing to let whoever at the door know you were coming.

Because who told them to come in the first place?

You opened the door and blinked. “Alex?”

“Hey.” He drawled in a way you always loved, dropping his fist that was daring to make a second attempt to alert his presence. “Thought you might want some breakfast.”

He held a plate wrapped in foil in his hand.

You stared at it before slowly moving a hand towards it.

“Uhm. . .” His fingers brush along yours as he hands it over. He dips his head in an attempt to catch your gaze, but you avoid it.

Not to avoid him, but because your brain starts to catch up with you, leaving you to begin to wonder what you look like right now as you place the plate on the entryway table. What day is it? Do you smell like alcohol? Or. . . worse.

You should apologize.

But as you turn your head to look at him, you’re floored.

Those deep brown eyes that tower over you, gloss over with an emotion so strong it fills the air and becomes tangible, an emotion you understand, an emotion that pangs you with tinges of guilt as you feel it and let it fill you.

He steps forward and you step back. He shuts the door behind him with a swing of his foot. A hint of a smile graces his face as he wordlessly acknowledges the old creaking scream it had when you both were younger is gone.

“It’s cold,” he says in a low voice,” igniting the emotion in the air, letting it stick to your skin like the snow that clings on his brow, sticks to his boots, and flitters off his coat, “and you don’t have on no clothes.”

You smile and laugh softly at that, hating the way it sounds, for existing.

It should have killed the tension, but he reaches out. His large hands slide along your waist, trailing under the fabric of the t-shirt, reaching under the fabric to the bit of skin above the hemline of your panties. You can’t tell if he’s falling into you or pulling you closer, but your brain moves on autopilot. Despite your bare legs and semi indecent state, it commands you to pull at the collar of his coat and slide it off his shoulders. Your toes curling up on their tiny tips to kiss him on the cheek.

A courtesy, even hungover, you never fail to do, but in your focus to fight the tension in the air, you miss the look on his face and the glint in his eye as he tilts his head and envelope your mouth with his, demanding you to feel it to let it take over you, and immodestly, you surrender.

You never could say no to Alex.

He takes over. Sliding out of his coat and forcefully putting it on the rack. The slide of his tongue stops its pleading languid exploration of your mouth and becomes more urgent. The breaks between each surge of his lips becomes shorter and less frequent. Your lungs burn desperately, but you bear the pain and pursue your desire, your soul burning for more of him.

He grabs you by your thighs and lifts you onto the entryway table, shoving everything on it to the side, and finally letting you breathe. His mouth trails kisses down your jaw and with your first breath you moan.

In one desperate kiss at your collar, his teeth brush along your skin, tingling your senses. His path to your chest is stopped by your shirt. With parted lips and furrowed brow he grabs at the hem of your shirt, beginning to fling it off of you when the door swings open, the frost of the chilly air bites at your toes, desperate to cool down the the desire and longing of you and Alex’s creation, but it ultimately fails.

But it’s no match for what follows it inside as he swings the door shut.

“Lil Bit.” John’s voice rings low in the air. It rumbles like the soft rolling thunder before the rain patters down, deceiving what is expected from his size, not crashing and booming in the way people expect, when he loses his temper. “What have I told you about not locking this door?” He scolds.

“It’s not that type of time John.” Alex lowly replies.

But you don’t care about that or why, more upset with the step he takes back and the way he helps you down off the table.

You keep your eyes on John. He smirks, wrapping his hand around your face. The leather creaks as his fingers dig into your cheeks and his palm presses against your chin.

The emotion in the air dissipates, becoming something appropriate between a group of friends, losing its spark.

John gives Alex a look and he nods.

John remains still before finally nodding back in affirmation.

You thin your lips, ignoring his gaze as it quickly flickers to you.

Yes, you knew what he was silently asking and telling Alex, but you refused to acknowledge it, too raw from your conversation earlier today. Still reeling, you weren’t in a place to keep apologizing for your feelings.

Whatever happens should happen.

But John knew the truth even if he didn’t know how you were feeling even if you wouldn't say it, refused to even.

He knew how reckless you could be on a spiral.

“We gonna keep this out here or are we gonna take it up to the bedroom.”

Licking your lips, you finally acknowledge him.

“Okay.” You mutter softly, making your way upstairs. You don’t have to check if they’re following you or not.

The sounds of shuffling boots thud at the front door. As you make your ascent you can hear the rustling of their clothes coming off their bodies as they discard them, not caring where they land. A problem to worry about later.

As you finally sit on the bed littered with old memories in a updated room filled with just as many new ones, Alex silently shifts behind you, beating you to it and sliding your shirt off for you.

He wanted to do it.

He always did like unwrapping presents. He practically liked it more than the present itself. The slow reveal, the process, the time and care someone puts into it. The mini bite size mystery of it all.

John wastes no time. With large warm hands he firmly turns you over, pressing the small of your back into the bed, he spreads your legs open. As he removes your panties you wince into the sheets as his breath dances along your clit. He envelopes your pussy with his mouth. The warm contrast of it, the heated swipe of his tongue as he delves into you, and the way he yanks the flimsy fabric off of you makes you cry out with a whimper.

Your hips grind along his face, Chasing the heat of his mouth and the scratch of his beard on your sensitive skin, and he lets you. Following after your rhythm with two of his fingers as he eats you out. The soft wet sounds feel even louder and more encompassing in Alex’s silence.

You move to smother the sounds into the sheets but Alex stops you, cupping your cheek with the palm of his hand.

You turn your head up and bat your lashes, wanting to see him, fearing a judgment to match his silence, but you're stilled by the warmness. The complete awe and desire that fill his gaze.

He slides his thumb along your bottom lips before dipping it into your mouth. You attempt to wrap your lips around it, eager to please, but with a gentle firm grip, he pushes his thumb against your tongue. “Look at you.” He says low, his voice thick with desire.

He mindlessly parts his lips in the same slow movement as his thumb parts yours, leaving you at his mercy.

A grin slowly morphs his features as his eyes dart from your mouth to lock with yours.

John adds another finger and you close them, letting out a choked sound at the stretch, a sudden gush of your arousal follows, flooding his fingers, making it just as easy as before to fuck yourself on his hand. The grinding of your hips stutters, slowing down, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Smoothly, desperately, you glide your hips up and down his fingers.

John’s free hand clasps tightly on your thigh, the small bed of his nails digging into the plump skin and he stops the grinding of your hips, the pursuit of your high. Slowly, he plants one long kiss on your pussy, pushing his tongue deep into you, his beard doing more than creating a friction as he did. Your hips reflexively try to move away, but with his firm grip on you, you can’t.

“John.” You cry out.

“You like how he does that, huh?” Alex starts.

The bed dips as he makes his descent towards you, his hand sliding down your neck from your cheek. He presses against your sternum, slowly turning you onto your side, so that you can lay against the pillows near the head of the bed.

John follows the movement of you. With a strong grip on your thigh, he keeps your legs spread as you move to the side. In a single wet slurp his mouth was off you, the air of the room makes you wince as he and Alex move you in unison, but he hasn’t moved far. The steady pants of his breath between your legs had your pussy throbbing, caving in on itself, confused on whether it needed a break or something inside.

“You want him to do it again?” Alex tilts his head at John not waiting for you to respond, and he starts his slow torture to pull you apart once more. He pushes one finger into you and wraps his mouth around your clit for the second time.

You keen as Alex closes the distance between him and your body. His lips trailing from your collar on downwards.

The fire at your core ignites once more, this time more burning than the last. Your hips start their chase, even more desperate this time for release, but as John curls his finger inside of you while eating you out, you whine, speeding up, practically bouncing on his face, his fingers, but with a wontonous grace he lifts your leg higher and presses his face more firmly against you, giving you more than what you can ask for, and stopping your movements.

Alex’s lips grace your collar with a searing embrace, his lips hot, he murmurs into your skin, “you move your hips on his face like you're used to it.”

Each kiss became more urgent, sloppier as his teeth nicked at your skin with each one heading towards your chest. With gentle cruelty he wraps his mouth around one of your breast, sucking hard until your nipple pebbles in his mouth. Your back arches, pushing your hips further into John who matches the movement with a second finger.

“You’ve done this plenty of times.” Alex coaxes you, “you can take it.” He says as you whine, before moving to your other breast. “Give her another finger, John.”

And he did, stuffing you full and lapping you up with his tongue like a man starved.

Too much, it was all too much to be back where you started and twice as sensitive. Alex pressed his palm against your tummy, holding you firmly onto the bed, firmly keeping you in place and John dives deep into your pussy once more with his tongue sliding hotly against that one spot. The feeling of his beard you once chased suddenly unbearable, the scratch too harsh.

You whimper through your orgasm.

Alex cups your face once more to keep your head up and your mouth open, making your sounds fill the little room you shared so many times as kids.

“Just like that, Bitbit.” Alex coos in your ear from above. . “Let it out. Let it all out. Forget about Marcus. We got you now.”

You were never baby or baby girl. You were Lil Bit. . .. their little Bitbit.

Once done, John removes himself from you, finally letting your thigh go. You gratefully fall into the bed.

John stands to his full height, shoving off his briefs. Your eyes flutter, unable to take his gaze, unable to bear the sight of his thick heavy dick.

Has he always been the big? You don’t remember being so intimidated by his size before Marcus.

You look up for a reprieve, but Alex stairs down at you with crossed arms, his dick straining hard against his briefs, the sight leaving you to decide to close your eyes. Your limbs were weak, your body settled in its position, a wave of comfort and content washes over you. You could just—

“Uhn-uh,” Alex firmly pats at your cheek, jolting you awake, “you ain’t going to sleep now. You need to finish what you started.”

A lie.

You hadn’t started anything, but you were too weak to argue. You weakly grab his hand and settle it against your face to stop the slapping. You rub your thumb against the back of his hand to let him know you were awake.

“What you want John?” Alex speaks to him not tearing his eyes away from you.

“Think I wanna see her take you in her mouth like she used to.”

Alex hummed, his eyes almost rolling back at the thought.

“It has been a while since we’ve done something like this, hasn’t it?.” Alex’s tone was almost playful, calm and conversational. “How could I forget?”

John grunted softly, not not a chuckle. You were too weak and his voice was so low, the sounds so similar. He always liked to put extra bass in his voice. If you weren’t in the state you were in, you would have called him out on it.

“How ‘bout you, Sugar?”

Alex puts hand on his chin, tilting his head in thought before pointing at him.

“I think I want to see her grind on your dick like she was on your face.”

“Sound good to you Bitbit?” John graveled.

“Mm.” You slurred out a mumble of incoherent sounds. Trying to look at him, either of them.

“I know what she wants.” Alex spoke for you, moving his hand as he spoke.

“I think she wants you to kiss her.”

You hated how your body immediately responded, rushing with a surge of energy to influence a new budding of desire throughout your being. How your eyes fluttered open and focused on John with no difficulty. The burning of your core that told you how much you wanted it, and the dipping of your hips and arch in your back told him.

John titled his head, his face not revealing anything to you that said he would do it. Looking cool and laid back, like he wasn’t standing bare in front of his best friend with his second friend naked in the bed between them.

“I don’t know,” he looked at Alex, ignoring you, she’s not saying anything so it’s hard to tell.”

You held back a whimper. You hated this game and you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

“I gotchu,” Alex’s hand was suddenly on you. Brushing along your skin from your side to your breast. He thumbs at one of your nipples, making you squirm. “See how her back is still arched from when I asked, how she all of a sudden isn’t sleepy no more? How she won’t stop looking at you?” Alex started teasing your other nipple. Unable to hold it in any longer, you release a high keen, weakly whimpering under him.

“That’s how you can tell how bad she wants you to kiss her.”

John hums in mock affirmation, the bed dipping further as he settles over you.

“Is that true Lil Bit,” he teases, “all you gotta do is ask.”

“Oh she’s not gonna ask.” Alex’s grin is cruel. “Probably because, and I’ll admit– Lord, bless my soul, but I said some awfully hurtful things last night, and now I think she’s too scared to ask you for what she wants.”

“Ohh, Bitbit.” The rumble of John’s voice as he leans over you is sinful. Your pussy throbs at the sound. “You don’t need to be scared. I’m still the same John,” he placed a hand on the leg hat has the marks of his nails on it. He tenderly brushes his thumb along the soft bruised skin of your inner thigh, “I’ll give you what you want. All you have to do is ask.”

“Come on Bitbit.” Alex leans down to kiss your temple. “John knows you don’t love him. He knows you aren’t going to beg him for something real. I didn’t mean it.” Alex’s voice is soft and warm. He kisses you behind your ear and you understand.

I’m sorry.

You open your eyes, unsure when you closed them and look at John. His gaze is heavy, not just with desire. Understanding slowly graces his features and they fall into something serious not completely discernible to you, but he breaks the spell for you, not leaving it up for guess.

“I thought you wouldn’t want me anymore.” You blurt out in a soft voice. Unlike them you can’t let your actions speak for you when you're at your breaking point. You have to say it or the emotions will break you. “I thought you’d think that I want more and I’d never ask you for that, but sometimes I feel that way and I don’t want—but I can’t help it and—“

John closes the space between you, shutting you up with a kiss. His beard tickles along the skin of your cheeks and chin. His hand gripping your face, the way his mouth firmly envelopes yours, and the hot wet swipe of his tongue has a moan force its way through your body, shuddering beneath him, tasting yourself on his tongue, it makes you squirm, your pussy ache, but you can’t stop. Pressing your tongue against his for more, eagerly taking what he gives you and all that you can on your own.

He breaks the kiss, exhaling along your lips, but you can’t stand to be apart, to let it be over. You swipe your tongue along his bottom lip before taking his mouth in yours and you do it again and again and again— and he lets you.

Alex snakes his hand into the roots of your hair and pulls you back into his chest. Craning your neck in his grip, he kisses you from behind. You give him the same attention you give John, except you bite his bottom lip between your teeth. He attempts to push his tongue further in your mouth than John ever did, silently creating a competition to one up him.

And what a close competition it was.

You moan and he removes his grip from your hair.

“Face down. Ass up. Keep your mouth open.”

With weak legs you obey, unable to move as quickly as they do. John slaps your ass right before you could move it up, making you yelp.

“Don’t be mean.” Alex drawls, as he carefully gathers your hair and gently grasps it in a firm grip, so it’s out your face. He then takes his other hand to grab your jaw to keep your mouth open, “not when she’s been so good.” With one languid thrust, Alex pushes himself as far as he can.

John plunges into your pussy with little resistance, the sudden fullness makes you keen around Alex, the sound muffled around his dick.

John starts pounding into you in slow hard thrusts. The wet smack of his hips into yours has you losing focus on sucking off Alex who was only half way in your mouth, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“You better move those hips to match each one of those back shots before I stop being nice.” You squeeze around John at his words, and he lets out a groan.

“Fuck, Alex.” He pants. “Don’t talk to her like that, or you’re g-gonna ruin it.”

“Uh-uh, I said that’s what I wanted to see, and I wanna see it.”

Whining, you turn your attention towards moving your hips back to meet John’s, letting out a short whimper over Alex’s dick with each one. Who seemed to be enjoying it just as much as he pumped what couldn’t fit into your mouth with his hand.

“Ohh just like that Bitbit. You’re taking John so good.” He moaned.

You couldn’t do both. You couldn’t focus on hollowing your cheeks and take as much of him down your throat as you could and keep throwing it back. Your pussy starts to ache, having enough your hips do their best to lift off of him as quickly as they could and still keep a steady rhythm. John didn’t like that.

Thrusting harder, he grabbed your sides, pulling you back and helping you meet each one.

You moan around Alex, drool dripping down your cheek as he tries to thrust further into your mouth, but your throat squeezes too soon, pushing him out.

He swears under his breath.

“Help me out John. I think Lil Bit needs some encouragement.”

John roughly grabs your ass, letting his nails dig half moons into your skin. He massages his thumb along your other whole, gently kneading it around the rim. You keen, squeezing him further inside you.

He pushes his thumb inside you with a hiss.

At the sudden intrusion you open up, your pussy bottoming out, allowing John to somehow fuck even deeper into you, and with the drawn out moan you let our around Alex at the foreign feeling, it gives him enough room to plunge all the way past your lips for his tip to hit the base of your throat.

“There you go Bitbit. You just needed some help. You're taking us both so well now.”

Alex moans as he slowly fucks your throat, letting you get used to the feeling. He slides his hand from your jaw to your neck, feeling himself slide in and out as he shallowly fucks your throat.

“Tell her how good she’s being John. She needs to hear it from you too.”

“So good. Bitbit.” John slowed down as he spoke, letting you feel every inch of him as he slid in and out of you, going all the way out until you could only feel his tip and rolling his hips until you were full of all of him.

“So wet,” he grunted, “tight as always.”

His thrusts became quicker and so did Alex’s, rushes of his precum trickled down your throat.

They both moved rougher, faster, and all you could do was whine, whimper, and take it.

“Tell her to take it, John.” Alex pant, grabbing the back of your head with both hands.

“Don’t give out now,” John reprimanded in a low strong voice, your walls throbbed around him, “take it. . . .Take it just like that, Bitbit.” He continued, driving you crazy. “Don’t waste a single drop or you’ll have to make it up to us.”

He thrust harder into you, Alex was already spilling down your throat, you hollowed it out, desperate to keep it all down.

Alex cradled your head against him until he was done. The neatly trimmed hairs at his base tickled your nose. He wiped the stray tears from your cheek as he did. “You did so good. So good for us.”

“Does he state like you remember?” John huffed. He pulled you closer to him now that Alex was done.

Your whimpers filled the room as he repositioned his grip on your hips, his fingers digging.

“Don’t be like that Bitbit.” He pushed your head down into the sheets and shoved your hips up. “You were so good for Alex. I know you can be good for me too.”

The pace he set was brutal. His thrusts as he matched your hips were powerful enough to leave bruises. You mewled as he did, drool pooling into the sheets as held you down.

You gripped the sheets by your head. You’d be surprised if your knuckles weren’t split with the force. The slamming of his hips hard enough to rock you off the bed.

With a low groan he leaned over you. His chest pressing your back into the mattress as he came.

He moaned above you. The vibrations of it rattled against your skin. You squirm, hips canting foward subconsciously to escape the fullness, much too sensitive.

But John held you firmly down. His hips following yours, keeping his dick firmly inside of you.

His cum fills you up to an unimaginable degree.

Has there always been this much?

A dumb question. He wasn’t called Two-John for nothing. He had enough for two men at least, proving his namesake.

He steadily lifted himself from you. Not sure why you moved your head up, searching his lips. They brushed along his as he moved to kiss you on the temple. That’s what he was trying to do, you vaguely remember always wanting him to kiss you instead, but this time you took what you wanted.

He huffed a silent laugh into your face with a light smirk.

Humming, he grabbed your chin and held your face still so he could finish what he set out to do and kiss the side of your head.

Satisfied he let go and lifted off the bed.

Alex threw him a towel.

“I know you’re tired, but you need to move with me.” John tapped your thigh, making you yelp. Not that it hurt, but it was surprising.

You did your best, but you were practically useless, but he was a smart man, figuring it out and managing to clean you off with the warm towel.

He tossed it back to Alex who threw it into the bathroom across the hall and tossed John another one.

“You too.”

John smacked his teeth, but otherwise didn’t complain.

“One more time.” Alex softly coached you into a more comfortable positioning in the bed so he and John could lay next to you.

An odd sense of Deja vu, or would nostalgia be a more appropriate term, washed over you.

Many times you all had been tucked into bed just like this. Either by your Granny or Nana Mama, giggling throughout the night until someone threatened to get a switch or belt.

“So it’s over with Marcus.” John drew circles into your skin. His hand brushing warmly against your belly. The warmth of his hand stirred at the feeling of Alex cum still oddly warm within you. Your pussy faintly throbs at the thought.

You cleared your throat. “It was mutual.” Your voice was softly horse and weak, fucked out. “. . . If he showed up right now. I think I’d take him back. I think I regret it.”

Alex wraps his hand around your chin and pulls your face up into a kiss as he dips his head down to meet your lips.

When he broke it, he stared into your eyes, understanding.

John weakly trailed his hand to your neck, softly tapping at your chin, so soft you almost missed it, but you didn’t, you couldn’t. It was not possible.

Answering, you turned over, placing a hand on his chest as you reached up to caress your hand softly at his beard.

“Come here.” He relented, commanding you softly.

Obeying, you closed the distance, tasting yourself on his tongue once more.

He also understood. Breaking the kiss, he settled his forehead on yours. He holds nothing against you.

He didn’t say it, but you could tell. You could feel it. Emotion swells within you and tears threaten the corner of your eyes. Before you could settle back down into the bed, and hide them from John. Alex reaches for your face once more and pulls you back into him, kissing you with more fervor than he had done previously, not letting go until you made a soft wanting noise in his mouth.

Then John follows, making sure to take your breath away and your knees buckle, despite laying down.

Alex frowned, his face drawn into a pout, that any other time, you would have called adorable, but at the moment, a menace was the only description that came to mind.

John would kiss you, and then Alex would again, trying to one up him. Not liking to be upstaged and hating to back down from any challenge, John would kiss you again. And the cycle would repeat itself over and over and over again.

You hated this game too.

But this time, you didn’t have to fear being caught by Nana Mama or your Poppa, so you let them continue until they tired out— or you,for that matter, but it was hard to get tired when Alex would try to taste every corner of your mouth or how John’s beard scratched deliciously against your face. Because as much as you’d hate to admit it. You missed the attention, the high it gave you.

The undeniable longing for their touch and the yearning for their love and embrace free of guilt and shame was something you didn’t know you had missed as much as you did, so you would hold onto this moment for as long as you could.

Because who knows when you all would get another chance.

#alex cross #cross #amazon prime #alex cross x reader #john sampson x reader #aldis hodge x reader #isaiah mustafa x reader #aldis hodge #isaiah mustafa #x black reader #fanfiction #2024 #fanfic #black writer

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currentfandomkick · 9 months ago

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So. Back after getting sick and mostly recovered, and able to write again. This one has been editted a few times, and yes the visit continues to next part. Skulker narrates again as Sampson is difficult to write—yes she’s getting more narration at somepoint i hope, but our fave gorilla is not cooperating, and Danny is not awake.

Masterlist Here

Enjoy the contained(?) chaos.

Danny’s awful hospital visit pt 1

Danny was tired. So, so tired. But he had to patrol. Taco’s antics didnt stop his other rogues from existing or causing problems. But whatever power that be who chose mercy? He was sooo making fudge for tomorrow, and setting up an altar.

All hail ‘no one else on patrol’ god(s). May their pillows be their preferred temperature at all times, their food just right and the ambiance absolute. Or whatever.

That pull was back, the one he always got by the portal and let it lead him home.

He barely clocked the heat from the water or pressure change. Just bounced a bit before going to Sleep Spot and curling up.

Some Asshole grabbed him and he bit them. Not hard enough to take off a limb, sadly. He was too tired for that.

Then he was in Warm Arms like Dad, but Dad isnt purple…

Whatever, Nocturne take the wheel. he’s sleepy

There was some jostling, but nothing he couldn’t sleep through.

Then he was being pulled. And there was screaming and yelling but he didn’t understand ANYTHING.

His head hurt. His tail hurthurt.

His eyes got too hot in Sampson’s arms and he Wailed.

The yelling stopped and he clung to Not Dad But Close Enough.

There were too many people in there.

But they stopped making sounds. He curled back into Not Dad’s arms and went back to sleep as Safe Soft was talking somewhere and would keep him safesafesafe

—-

Skulker was true to his word, and recruited Ember, Kitty and Johnny 13 in distracting the ectopus assaulting the Whelp.

Seeing Ember’s Bandmates throwing ectoblasts outside of trickshots and dares was an oddity. And a good reminder of why one does not enrage a performer: their fans and allies come in droves of untrained and un-to-semi-tapped potential destruction.

Skulker was preoccupied with keeping Sampson invisible in the Aquarium to observe their skills firsthand, despite requesting their aide.

The Whelp floated in, shrunk to a small, finned creature who’s tail was far too fancy for his liking as he flopped into the water.

One of the nursing sharks swam with him and her calf, nudging him to something Skulker didn’t see.

He moved to stop them.

Sampson snarled and hit her chest. She became especially loud he moved to grab the brat, and it was a miracle the Whelp didn’t hear them.

He tried to glare back at her, only to get a face full of protectLOVEmineSoncherishSafesafesafe

Right…he had to wait for the mother to give the go ahead before nabbing the overgrown Newly Dead. Liminals.

The crashing and slips of tentacle from the far walls were far from comforting, but there wasn’t a ghost in existence dumb enough to test a parent regarding their young. Not that he’d come across and survived.

Sampson circled the tanks with low huffs as she inspected the one with the whelp hiding in the rock crevice she could not get into, given the who-knew-how-many-galleons tank and her inability to breathe underwater, unlike her fishy son.

Once Sampson deemed it ‘safe’; she moved to the closest part of the tanks and banged her chest until her fist flew through it. She moved through the glass slowly compared to the Whelp, but she is still learning to use more than just her strength if he wasn’t mistaken. A few moments later she came out cradling she her sleeping son, mertail hanging limply and softly biting his forefins, despite her best efforts to move his teething elsewhere.

Ember’s guitar rocked the building as Skulker guided Sampson out and kept them invisible. The last thing the whelp needed was someone connecting Topo’s assaults with all of his identities and alter egos.

Skulker increasingly regretted not getting to mount this Taco on a hospital wall for the time being. Especially as the ectopus made another wild grab, only for shadow to phase through him and get hit with a falling beam that stuck.

Safekeeping the Whelp first, debate ending the ectopus later. Hunting a ghost that hasn’t even had their first shedding this viscously, to the point of soul regressions, was beyond poor taste… what are the chances the hospital would help him press charges in the Greater Courts over this? Low. Very low…

Kitty’s warcry brought him back to reality. Johnny and Shadow tailed Taco with Ember hot on his heels.

The sight soothed some of his wrath. The whelp is a bastard, but no new ghost deserves a third of what Taco is putting Phantom through, stressed to soul regression…

And the ectopus has the gaul to keep going.

Leading Sampson to the Whelp’s haunt wasn’t as difficult when she remembered to stay invisible. Key word: when.

The Whelp managing to turn them both intangible in his sleep was an unexpected boon, especially when passing a group of living teens.

The mention of the Whelp’s darker frightmate hunting down whatever killed Sampson and the ‘baby mer’ were not his problem.

Managing to get into the Whelp’s familial haunt was annoying as usual—but he is far better at dodging than the whelp and the amateur hunters who can’t even skin a Newly Dead.

Pathetic, but not unexpected from living non-liminals playing with the Realms.

Getting into the basement to the portal was rather simple given the whelp’s sister distracting her parents with some essay of hers. And the thumbs up she gave him…

He had a feeling for all she can’t get a ghost’s name right, she will be just as much of a problem once he gives the whelp his necessary skinning.

Carbon existences, he’d never understand them and their ‘physical needs’.

The portal felt odd with the Whelp. A deathwail and a choking sensation stuck itself to his real body, not his prosthetic.

He shook it off, only to see Sampson flying through walls in the Zone. That was a nightmare to wrangle and direct.

“Sampson no—that is not the way to the Healers! This way, follow me or so help me I will carry you to the hospital and let you explain the whelp’s condition!”

Sampson bared her teeth before acquiescing. forced the time being at least. Wandering off was expected, but unwelcome. After the diagnosis they could do that. Not before.

Who knows if she’ll wander into a portal with the whelp? And that would be as good as an ending sentence for those two.

Skulker almost cried when the hospital specializing in pre-shed ghostlings came into view, and understood the what was going on before he could try and explain.

“Nurse Practitioner Amira, another Unshed—mentioned Phantom may be forced to come here soon, i take it you are his Chosen Parent?”

“Not me,” Skulker threw his hands up. “This one, Sampson.”

Amira smiled a bit too sharply for a moment. “Ah. A liminal of another species, in charge of the unshed halfa… can she understand ghost speak?”

Sampson snarled in response, while rocking the Whelp.

“Understood. I can take the halfa into an examine room. Are you available to translate as needed? Liminals are more difficult to understand.”

Sampson glared at him.

He caved. “I am available for this visit, future ones uncertain. I do have a haunt to manage and others i need to tend to, besides the whelp.”

Masterlist here

Tags: @skulld3mort-1fan @theizzyof3malec3 @brattysleepyreader @sebas-nights @elidaweirdotaku0520 @bianca-hooks123 @the-autistic-spider @laurcad123 @just-lurking-here-dont-mind-meh @atinygracie @stars-obsession-pit @wanderwithwings @aibhilin-atibeka @lovelesslittleloser @shadowkatt99 @pastelpigeonparadise

If someone can tag @just-lurking-here-dont-mind-meh, @atinygracie and @wanderwithwings thanks 🙏 for some reason some usernames refuse to tag on my end/let me confirm the tag.

#long post #dpxdc #dcxdp #mer!danny #reincarnated danny #topo is a menace

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thegriddleharkmusicblog · 7 days ago

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List of songs on my Spotify playlist

Some people have requested to see the songs on my playlist so(this took longer than I thought it would) also not all of these necessarily “fit” some of them I just like to imagine griddlehark AUs to, I’m going to sort these some other time and probably take some out but it’s 10 pm here

I Hate Everything About You, Three Days Grace

Sk8er Boi, Avril Lavigne

Best of You, Foo Fighters

THE LONELIEST, Măneskin

Savior, Rise Against

Sugar, We're Goin Down, Fall Out Boy

Dear Maria, Count Me In, All Time Low

Atlantis, Seafret

Sweater Weather, The Neighbourhood

Line Without a Hook, Ricky Montgomery

Let Me Down Slowly, Alec Benjamin

There You Are, ZAYN

Stitches, Shawn Mendes

Only Love Can Hurt Like This, Paloma Faith

die first, Nessa Barrett

They Don't Know About Us, One Direction

Ghost Of You, 5 Seconds of Summer

Unconditionally, Katy Perry

Walk Me Home, P!nk

NAVE

Don't Give Up On Me,Andy Grammer

All of Me, John Legend

In the Name of Love, Martin Garrix, Bebe Rexha

better off without me, Matt Hansen

Clarity, Vance Joy

Hold My Girl, George Ezra

Don't Blame Me, Taylor Swift

Take Me to Church, Hozier

Another Love, Tom Odell

Soldier, Before You Exit

So Far Away, Martin Garrix, David Guetta, Jamie Scott

Find My Way Back, Eric Arjes

Him & I (with Halsey), E G-Eazy, Halsey

Work Song, Hozier

Bleeding Love, Leona Lewis

I Won't Say (I'm In Love), Susan Egan(the one from Hercules)

Fire On Fire, Sam Smith

Grenade, Bruno Mars

The Drug In Me Is You, Falling In Reverse

Mercy, Shawn Mendes

All I Want, Kodaline

Haunted (Taylor's Version), Taylor Swift

Control, Zoe Wees

What A Time, Julia Michaels, Niall Horan

Too Good At Goodbyes, Sam Smith

lovely (with Khalid), Billie Eilish, Khalid

If I Would Have Known, Kyle Hume

Running Up That Hill, Kate Bush

Love Is Gone - Acoustic, SLANDER, Dylan Matthew

idfc, blackbear

Nothing Breaks Like a Heart, Mark Ronson, Miley Cyrus

Half A Man, Dean Lewis

Make Up Your Mind, Florence + The Machine

What Is This Feeling?, Ariana Grande, Cynthia Erivo

If We Have Each Other, Alec Benjamin

Meet you at the Graveyard, Cleffy

The One That Got Away, Katy Perry

I Think I'm In Love, Kat Dahlia

Happiest Year, Jaymes Young

I Don't Wanna Live Forever, ZAYN, Taylor Swift

Dusk Till Dawn (feat. Sia) - Radio Edit, ZAYN, Sia

Back To You, Selena Gomez

Happier, Marshmello, Bastille

The Story Of Us (Taylor's Version), Taylor Swift

Dress, Taylor Swift

Allies or Enemies, The Crane Wives

A Match Into Water, Pierce The Veil

Disease, Lady Gaga

Red (Taylor's Version), Taylor Swift

Skyfall, Adele

In The Stars, Benson Boone

Before You Go, Lewis Capaldi

Say You Won't Let Go, James Arthur

Built To Be Bad, Grace Gachot, Alex Sampson

Rewrite The Stars, Zac Efron, Zendaya

All | Wanted, Paramore

Breathe In, Breathe Out, David Kushner

Daylight, David Kushner

Sweet Oblivion, David Kushner

Treat You Better, Shawn Mendes

Hold Me While You Wait, Lewis Capaldi

Arcade, Duncan Laurence

Wait for lt, Leslie Odom Jr.

We Hug Now, Sydney Rose

Love In The Dark, Adele

The Moon Will Sing, The Crane Wives

You're Somebody Else, flora cash

Indigo, Sam Barber, Avery Anna

Only If For A Night, Florence + The Machine

Separate, PVRIS

I miss you, I'm sorry, Gracie Abrams

Let Her Go, Passenger

Fight or Flight, Conan Gray

Go Tonight, Krystina Alabado, Emma Hunton

This Is Love, Air Traffic Controller

Not Dead Yet, Lord Huron

I'm Your Man, Mitski

Kiss With A Fist, Florence + The Machine

Francesca, Hozier

Going to Marrakesh, The Extra Glenns

River, Bishop Briggs

Here’s a cookie if you made it all the way down here 🍪

#griddlehark #gideon the ninth #gideon x harrow #harrow the ninth #the locked tomb #lesbians #sapphic #wlw #wuh luh wuh #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #tlt #music #Spotify #I need more fanfics

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heaveninawildflower · 1 year ago

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Botanical illustrations by Elizabeth Twining taken from 'Illustrations of the Natural Orders of Plants.'

Published 1868 by Sampson Low, Son, and Marston.

University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign

archive.org

#botany #botanical illustration #scientific illustration #plants #flowers

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music-as-a-haunting · 2 years ago

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time for me to answer the question thats been plagueing this fandom (me) for centuries (minutes)

How Often Did the M*A*S*H Crew Attend Mulcahy’s Services?

Colonel Blake

Henry would attend for holidays and whenever he felt he had a personal crisis. Lorraines affair, his second child, those were times where Henry would be on the front pew trying his best to focus on the sermon (and failing, groaning with his head in his hands and distracting the father terribly).

Colonel Potter

Colonel Potter is almost always there Sunday morning, 5 minutes before so he can nab his usual spot (even though everyone knows not to sit there). The only times he doesnt make it (besides emergencies of course) are those rare, beautiful mornings where his body practically pulls him up and onto Sophie for an early morning ride.

Major Freedman

Sidney tries to attend a service whenever he’s in town, mostly because he enjoys Francis’ unique perspective in his sermons, but he also has a self described intellectual fascination with all different religions. He has all different religious scriptures in his office in Tokyo, he brushes up as often as he can so he can better relate to his religious patients.

Majors Houlihan/ Burns

I put these two together because they only go together unless the other is sick or indisposed, in which case the former doesn’t go at all. They attend regularly unless they’re preoccupied… 😉

Major Winchester

Charles never cared for church, he almost never goes unless he’s truly bored out of his skull- or on holidays. When he lived with his parents in Boston he would make excuses to why he wasn’t able to attend, a habit he curiously continues with Pierce and Hunnicut even though they couldn’t care less. All about keeping up his image, I guess?

Trapper/Hawkeye/BJ

Another case of both parties going or neither going at all. Trapper and Hawkeye wouldn’t go unless they could tell Francis was low in spirits, both trying to lift him up by attending and singing the hymns as over-the-top as they could. Hawk and BJ keep that tradition alive, but BJ drags Hawkeye to a few additional services when he can, too.

Klinger

Klinger LOVES going to church even though he isn’t religious. He gets to show off his best outfits, sing his heart out, and (most of the time) spend quality time with Mulcahy, Potter, and Radar. He only doesn’t go when he’s too hungover or tired from excessive weekend debauchery but he keeps a lid on that since he loses most of his money gambling on Fridays.

Radar

Radar didn’t go to church as often when Henry was in command, though he still attended at least once a month as a promise to his mother. He goes more often now that Potter is around because of that paternal bonding he doesn’t even realize his subconscious is seeking. He also genuinely likes sticking around to ask Mulcahy questions about the bible. He loves some of the larger than life books of the old testament- people like Sampson and Androcles remind him of his favorite comic book heroes which Francis invokes to help him relate to the scripture.

#m*a*s*h #mash #mashposting #hawkeye pierce #charles emerson winchester iii #max klinger #trapper john #sidney freedman #charles winchester #colonel potter #sherman potter #radar o’reilly #margaret houlihan #frank burns #bj hunnicut

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historicalbookimages · 3 months ago

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🍍 Illustrations of the natural orders of plants with groups and descriptions. London: Sampson Low, Son, and Marston, 1868.

#biodiversity #old books #nature

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soft-persephone · 4 months ago

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Roughest Rough Drafts of a John Sampson Fic

No rating // WC: 1k, give or take. I didn’t count // masterlist // AN: rough drafts for a fic I’m working on. Can’t get the intro just right, so enjoy two options I didn’t go with! Stay tuned for the real one! // real one

ONE

Imani sighed, watching her breath form a white cloud of powdery condensation before her.

The apartment townhouse building felt intimidating.

She turned on her heels for a quick walk to clear her head or maybe she could—

“I know you not leaving already.” A low familiar voice called out.

“Hi Alex.” She said in defeat.

“Well don’t you look nice.” He appraised her with a nod, “to think all that hides under your dickies and carhartts.”

She huffed at his compliment, crossing her arms and refusing to give him the satisfaction.

Imani had gone all out on her outfit, as she would, anytime she had too.

She wore a silky bodycon number, not too tight or inappropriate, but that didn’t stop the curves of her hips, her thick thighs from popping or the dress complimenting the shape of her waist just as much. Her long white coat rested snugly on her shoulders.

She clutched tightly at her coat to ward off the cold.

“How could you think of leaving?” Elle huffed, interrupting their latest spat, “You have to thank all your new donors!”

“I already called them one by one,” she groaned, stomping her feet, “why do we need a party to do it all over again!

“Because it opens the door for more.” Ellen said smoothly.

“Oh is that how that works, now.” Alex said to her coily.

They leaned into one another sharing a brief but rather heated kiss.

She wanted to say something smart like, can you guys move so I can get inside or something like that, but her and Elle were past that level of pettiness. . . Maybe.

It was hard to tell.

Elle was so hellbent on focusing on her career, putting herself first, and emphasizing she didn’t need a man, but did a complete 180 once Alex came back into her life.

She couldn’t hate Elle for it too much. He’s nice looking and just an overall good man, more than a good father. Anything and everything. He was the total package.

They don’t really see eye to eye, but if Imani was being honest, that was more on your friend’s end than Alex, but she’s never cut any of her men some slack, and nothing you could say, or what anyone could say for that matter, will change her mind, but Alex pushed through that and made it work until she trusted him.

Good for him and good for her.

“You coming or you planning on staying out here all night?”

“Come inside Mani, listen to Alex.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes.

And then there was that.

Saving her energy she followed without a word, but on any other day for any other occasion, she would have made a big deal out of Alex telling her what to do and Elle urging her to listen.

“You guys made it!” Jonesy kissed her and Elle on the cheek. Alex held out a hand for him to shake, but Jonesy pushed his hand away, going straight for the hug.

“Oh we know each other better than that, Alex.”

“Uh, yeah.” Alex patted Jonesy on the shoulder, politely putting an amount of space between them.

“Your coats can go in this closet here.” Jonesy pointed, “Make yourselves comfortable. You all know your way around the place.” He flashed them with a smile and a slight wave, “I’ll let everyone know when dinner is ready.”

“Wow you look so nice!”

“Don’t you look pretty!”

“You really stepped out tonight girl!”

Imani was over it.

Everyone was being extra nice, treating her like some lost doe eyed soul. She’s gone to therapy, she’s dealing with it, and she’s even ready to move on. Everyone else needed to follow suit.

Imani was fine and tired of everyone treating her like she wasn’t.

“It’s just such a shame how he was murdered like that.”

You purse your lips at the random white man donor you purposely forget the name of. “It is.”

“But you used your grief and pain to start this foundation to give back to people just like him. I’m so glad to be a part of helping you reach out to the homeless in your community.”

You smiled and nodded as he went on his white savoir guilt trip rant.

“And without Detective Alex Cross, you never would have gotten justice or answers.”

Alex and Elle had made their way back to you to chat, not knowing that some stranger was throwing your trauma back into your face for shits and giggles.

“I’m going to get some air.” You gave them a tight lipped smile before making your way to the balcony.

“Fuck, I could use a smoke.” You muttered to yourself over the balcony, looking out that the city.

“Is that in reference to a ciggerette or something else?”

You peered over at the man who asked.

His out of date shoulder length hair and odd fitting white tux jacket trimmed in black made him stick out amongst the well polished crowd, but you were not going to judge him, especially when by looking at him, you could tell he had something you wanted.

“Depends,” Imani eyes him trepidly, “what you got?”

He only had one joint in him. Not ideal, but she would take what she could get.

It was a little stronger than what she necessarily wanted, but bigger can’t be choosers.

The tightening feeling in her chest subsided, she felt like she could finally breathe again.

She eyed the moon and what little stars were visible.

Thoughts of escaping to a secluded countryside intruded her mind.

“Hey I know you.” The stranger interrupted her short fantasy of escape. “You were the girl that was with that homeless guy.”

“He didn't die homeless!” Imani clipped, “he had a home”

“You can’t keep carrying that shit,” he ignored her outburst, “ he passed the joint once more and she took it gratefully.

He dug around in his mysterious pockets once more and pulled out a little plastic baggie. .

“Here,” he shoved them in her hand, “you need them more than I do.”

“There was some weed, mushrooms and. . . Pills? “What are these?” Imani held one up, the light of the moon made them glow. They were magic. She was sure of it.

“They’ll help the pain go away or it will show you your truth to deal with it yourself.”

“How can you be so sure?” Imani blinked, the pill still glowed in the palm of her hand. The magic hadn’t faded.

Before he could reply, a rich velvet voice called out, “ What’s going on out here?”

Stranger scurried off without a word.

Imani turned to face the new man, letting out a puff of smoke in the direction of the wind so it wouldn’t blow in his face and the smell wouldn’t linger.

He looked down at her casually, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets.

His neatly short cropped fro went well with the equally as neat beard on his face. He held a gaze of light disapproval she’s seen Alex give his kids when they were acting out.

Was he treating her like some child?

“I’m not afraid of you.” She called out.

“You should be.” He smirked lightly.

“What, you a cop or something like that?”

He took the joint out of your hand, putting it out on the rail before flicking it over the balcony.

“Aye, what the fuck!”

“Or something like that,” he eyed her, “detective.” He nodded his head as if contemplating, “close enough I think.”

He took the bag out of her hand.

Imani squinted in displeasure, but it wasn’t until half a beat later that she actually moved to stop them.

Shit. That weed was strong as hell.

She pushed through her foggy brain enough to grab at the material of his shirt.

“Give them back. I need those.” She wanted to say something more tactful, but her mind was loose, and now, whatever thought she had would fly out as is. “It’s not even illegal. I’m obviously not underage.”

“As much as I liked to believe that, I’m sure you got at least ten more years of being carded. Can’t be too sure these days.”

Her brow furrowed. Was that a compliment? That could be a compliment? Why was he complimenting her about how young she looked?

She fisted at the material of his shirt, a strange sensation probed at her wrists. What the fuck?

“Why are your nipples so hard?”

“It’s freezing out side.” Was the only explanation he gave as he pried her hands off of him.

She nodded, accepting his explanation, but then she looked at him and remembered he had a coat on, and after he just touched her, she now knew that he had on leather gloves as well.

“How are you cold if you have on a coat?”

“Get inside.” he motioned toward the door with his hand.

Imani’s drugs might be gone, but there was something comforting about his presence. His voice is low and warm, demands unobtrusive and somehow. . . Relaxing despite the reality of her situation.

Wait.

“Are you taking me to jail?” If not, can I have my drugs back?”

“If you behave,” he started slowly, “I’ll think about it.”

She grabbed his wrist as he stomped inside. He was walking so loud.

“Stop, everyone’s going to know if you keep walking like that.”

“You’re fine,” he huffed at her with a unreadable expression, “that’s your mind playing tricks on you. The weed is making you paranoid.”

“I’m not paranoid!” She hissed up at him. “Your just being too much of a cop.”

“Mhmm. Right.” He said nonchalantly before presenting you to Alex and Elle.

“Mani, where were you?” Elle brushed your shoulder with a hand. “You’re freezing.

“Seems you met John already.” Akex commented with a raised eyebrow, before dapping up your jailer.

“You know this man?” Imani couldn’t stop herself from blurting as she pointed up at John, as he was apparently named.

Her other hand tightly grasped his wrist as her arm was wrapped around his. He allowed her to stand closely into his space. She wasn’t exactly sure why she had to, but he was probably grateful for the warmth she was giving him, despite the fact he had a coat on.

Oh, perfect opportunity.

“Do you know why his nipples are so hard even though he has a coat on?” Imani questioned seriously.

Alex put a hand on his chest as he laughed.

“Aye,” John’s cool facade faded instantly, “keep your voice down! We're inside!” With his free hand he twisted your ear tightly and pulled.

She moved close to him to avoid the pain, letting her cheek rest against his chest.

He let out a short grunt of disapproval before switching tactics.

He pinched her side that was unguarded and vulnerable, making her jump.

Imani puffed as she nuzzled into his chest. He was warmer now, much warmer. Both hands free, she wrapped them around him, brushing her hands down his back to rest on his waist.

How muscles looked so hard and felt so soft will forever be a mystery to her.

“You both look quite close for two people who’ve only known each other for an hour and a half.”

That sounded an awful lot like. . .

“It’s been an hour and a half since we’ve been here?” Imani turned her cheek, letting the opposite rest on his chest so she could lay on him and still talk to Elle and Alex.

“No it’s been two hours for us.” Elle corrected. “John was late.”

Jonesy tapped a glass, getting everyone's attention, dinner was ready,

There was technically assigned seating, but in Imani’s current state, her dislike of her spot was not subtle. Luckily, she was not mean about it. Following John she sat next to him, scooting her chair to sit as closely to him as possible.

“I think I—“

“I didn’t take your seat, I just dragged my chair from over there to right here, scoot yours down.” Imani explained with a smile.

The woman gave her and John a look before taking her seat and scooting it pointedly away from them.

“This is not behaving.”

Imani straightened, her face drawing into a pout.

Dinner was chill.

You were so so hungry.

And so was John?

Imani unintentionally went plate for plate with John.. If he got extra of something, she got extra of something. At some point it became a mutual understanding, if he asked for someone to pass down a certain dish and put it on his plate, he’d put some on hers as well before passing it back up.

After all that, they both still had room for dessert.

The thought of dessert made her think of treats which reminded her of her drugs and the fact that the man she was sitting next to held them hostage in his pocket.

She reached over to his pocket to see if they were there, but he swiftly grabbed her hand and put it in his lap, leaving her to eat dessert one handed.

It was fancy and strange in structure but very delicious. Shemade a mental note of the flavors to recreate into a smaller Togo pastry one day for her shop.

“How long have you and John known each other?”

Imani squinted, dubiously confused, but she feel how her shoulder nestled against his and how John restraining her hand in his lap, may make it appear like they were holding hands.

Her head throbbed lightly, not quite used to the weed she had smoked hours ago. Her high subsiding and everything becoming a little clearer. For one, the way everyone was sneaking glances down the table at them.

“We met here, like. . . three to four hours ago.”

John nodded silently in affirmation before sharing a look with her afterwards and she had to thin her lips to suppress a laugh.

Because why would he just sit there like that and nod.

“You two seem,” the woman paused, twirling her fork, “closer than that.”

Imani and John shared another look and stayed silent, much to Elle and Alex’s dismay.

“You feel better.” John’s voice flooded Imani’s senses with something warm, warmer than the coat he was ushering onto her shoulders.

She scoffed softly, her voice losing its bite in her sober state, “I was always fine.” She huffed into the cold as they walked out the door. “Just a little high is all.”

“Little is understatement.” She studied the condensation in the air as it left his mouth.

He stood an appropriate distance away from her.

She wasn’t high anymore

TWO

Imani took a few bites of the pastry she just made. The presentation and look was exquisite, but her main concern was flavor. It looked elevated, but the texture was off, so the flavors didn’t quite matter.

She jotted down what she could try next time to improve on the current flaws, but if what she did manage to figure out flavor wise, she wasn’t confident in either. Maybe she’ll try ubbe or something with sweet potato, hell maybe both.

“Mani?”

Imani looked up from where she was standing. The little tall round table was littered with her note. She quickly stacked and sorted them out the way.

“Elle!” She beamed at her friend and embraced her in a warm hug, “what are you doing here at this time? Shouldn’t you be busy, paving a way for the youth in our community?”

“Oh stop,” Elle shook her head at her, “your work is just as important.”

Before Imani could continue with more pleasantries or continue the flow of casual conversation in an attempt to catch up with her friend, she noticed Elle staring at her.

She followed her line of sight to her jacket.

Imani swallowed without a comment schooling her features as she fight to stay still.

“You’re wearing Deonte’s Jacket again.”

“I work with a lot of college kids. They think it’s really cool when I wear this sort of stuff.” Imani hoped her smile seemed natural and not forced.

She crossed her arms into the oversized dickie jacket to calm her nerves..

Ignoring how Elle’s eyes sharpened as she looked her up and down, noticing her equally as oversized matching dickie pants.

“What are you wearing that’s actually yours?” Elle urged, She leaned into her, lowering her voice.

Imani averted her eyes away from Elle’s and crossed her arms.

“I was just thinking about him today and figured I wear this. I promise it’s nothing too serious.”Imani exhaled through her nose, taking a beer and looking in Elle’s eyes, hoping she was being understood, “I’m fine.”

Elle took the opportunity to look her over once more.

“Okay.” She nodded.

Imani thinned her lips.

#Alex Cross #Amazon Prime #two John Sampson #2 John Sampson #John Sampson x original character #x fem character #x fem oc #x black original character #x black oc #x black reader #x black fem reader #isaiah mustafa #Isaiah mustafa x black reader #James Patterson

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keeperesque · 1 year ago

Text

hi, this is my dog! her name is magnolia mae and she's an elderly chihuahua-dachshund mix (estimated between 12-15 years old). she's a rescue we received from my roommate and best friend's late cousin about 5 years ago.

long story short, our sweet girl has been experiencing some severe and concerning health issues (extremely low RBC, WBC, Neutrophils, and Platelets), and she needs to have her bone marrow tested. this is extremely expensive (at least 1,200), and we're hoping to get some help. if you'd like more information on what's going on with her, that will be under the cut. otherwise, please consider using either of the below methods to help us take care of our sweet old girl!

ppal.me: @/daisyd0nati0ns (replace 0s with Os)

kof!: @/keeperesque

don't tag as d0nat!ons/etc, etc..

when we moved across the country during late 2020 to be with my wife, we brought her, as well as my elderly cat sampson and my two older rabbits, indie and digit.

2023, however, has not been kind to any of our pets. in february, we lost sampson to kidney failure - it was sudden and utterly heartbreaking. a month later, my wife found that digit had passed away in her sleep, and indie was put down shortly after due to health complications we could not afford to properly treat. since then, we've been extremely diligent with maggie's health - she eats special food for her kidneys, has vet appointments scheduled every 6 months, gets twice-daily walks, takes medication for her thyroid, and receives plenty of love.

unfortunately, starting with an emergency visit in september, maggie's been having severe problems with her blood - specifically an extremely low platelet count (33,000-55,000, normal levels are about 200,000), white blood cell count and neutrophils are extremely low, and she's extremely anemic. while she's on some medication to keep her stable, we aren't sure how long that will last, and it's taxing on her body.

after ruling out infectious diseases, we need to take her in to have her bone marrow looked at. the procedure, at the low end, will cost around 1,200, and up to 1,600, depending.

i also have pdfs available for anyone skeptical of these claims or who want proof of treatment.

we're not sure if we'll be able to save her, but we would at least like to know what's happening so we can make an informed decision on how to proceed, instead of watching and waiting for the worst. anything over the price of her procedure will, of course, go towards related expenses, such as treatments or end-of-life care.

if you read all of that, thanks. again, please consider helping us out!!

ppal.me: @/daisyd0nations (0 is an o)

kof!: @/keeperesque

have an extra maggie pic :)

#not peach #please rb and stuff #really anxious abt posting this but we are kind of desperate atm #i don't rlly talk a lot about my personal life online anymore fjkdlfs #so this is weird #and with her being so sick lately i don't have a lot of reasons to post pics 'cause it's jsut her sleeping in her beds mostly...

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ladyk8tie · 2 months ago

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Pandoran Pregnancy - Part 4/Final

Summary: Mini-Series detailing the coming of Miles' and Riley's child

Trigger Warnings: Description of labor (Non-graphic), Still-born fear.

Word Ct: 2.6K

Masterlist Previous / Next

Labor Pains and Family Photos

Riley chatted quietly with Miranda as they walked laps around, hand resting on the back of her hips in a meager attempt to relieve the pain in her lower back. It and her abdomen had been especially achy through last night into today. She rubbed the front of her belly absentmindedly. This was some precious time she savored being out of her quarters. The first few months of being on bed-rest or under house arrest, she’s accepted and even understood. The risk of loss had been much higher during the end of the first and part of the middle trimesters.

But the risk had dropped the closer to term she got. And every provider agreed she needed to go out more. Except Miles wouldn’t let her. Unless he was with her. If not him, then Miranda. Or Lyle. And today was one of those days. Miles was taking a group of new SecOp arrivals for a training tour and Riley needed to get out. One PriMessage and fifteen minutes later, here they were for the last hour.

“And so, I told Pearson that he can go fuck himself if he thinks driving an AMP is easier than being a sampson gunner” Miranda continued her story about argument she had with Pearson, said sampson gunner, as Riley looked at the people scattered about. From across the gym Riley waved back at Mitchell Fike, feeling a sharp pain spread across her abdomen.

“FUCK” Shouting out, she nearly doubled over form the pain, only to feel Miranda’s arm under her own, propping her up. Feeling wetness travel down her legs, she started counting. 1. She vaguely felt Miranda move her to a bench on the wall, as she tried to focus on her breathing. 16.

“Riley!? What’s wrong!?” Miranda asked, choosing to kneel in case Riley fell over. Riley looked over, brows furrowed, taking a few deep breaths as the pain subsided.

“40. Yeah” Riley breathed out before laughing at Miranda’s incredulous look, “I believe it was a contraction, and my water broke” Riley stood back up, pulling against Miranda to help her.

“We need to get to medical. I’ll call the Colonel” Miranda said beginning to guide Riley to the doors of the gym. Riley rolled her eyes, pulling her arm from Mirandas grip, and coming to a complete halt.

“We should wait actually” At Miranda’s annoyed look Riley elaborated, “We’ll need to time the length of both the contractions and the how close together they are” Riley rested a hand on her swollen abdomen laughing at her friends unmoving gaze

“I promise this is not me avoiding medical” Riley started walking forward again, “But if it will make you-" Riley pointed at Miranda “-feel better, then we can meander over there. But we will not bother Miles until I’m much closer” Putting emphasis on the word not, she opened the door to the gym.

“WHERE IS HEEEE?!” Riley cried out, “I CAN’T DO THIS” She curled up on her side on the medical bed as another contraction ripped through her. She felt Miranda’s hand on her back. Pulling on the bed rail, she grit her teeth against the pain.

“I called him an hour and a half ago. He should have been--” Miranda was abruptly cut off by Riley grabbing her by the shirt collar and yanking her down. Her friends eyes widened at the scowl written on Riley’s face.

“IF YOU TELL ME THAT ONE MORE TIME, I WILL MAKE YOU HAVE THIS FUCKING BABY!” Riley growled in her friends face, before letting go to let out a low groan while rolling back onto her side, missing the eyeroll Miranda gave her.

“Mrs. Quaritch, you really need to push on the next on contraction” Doctor Moore encouraged, placing a hand on her forearm. Riley pulled her arm away, shaking her head and pressing her face into the bed. Unaware of the concerned look the nurse gave her and Miranda, she heard the doctor move from in front of her and start having a quiet conversation with someone.

“Miles” It came out as a whimper. Feeling Miranda’s hand rub her back, she let any tears she might have fall. She did not want Miranda. She wanted her husband. The father of her child. She needed him. Where the fuck was he? He promised he wouldn’t go out as far as he usually does so he could get back. So why wasn’t he here? Why?

She knew she needed to push. She really did. She was fully dilated. But she just couldn’t have this baby without him. He needed to be here. She needed him. Letting out a guttural moan as she resisted the urge to push with another contraction.

Distantly, she heard a rough voice yelling at people. She let her heavy body sag as she panted, the contraction leaving her.

Feeling a calloused hand brush hair off her sticky forehead, she lifted her face off the sheet. Greeted by the apologetic blue eyes of her husband. He was crouched next to the bed she reached out and gave him a flick on the forehead.

“Where have you fucking been, you asshole!” She glared at him, “Zee called you a fucking hour ago” She was angry, but that didn’t stop her from running her fingers over his temple where she hit him. “I can’t do this, Miles” Well, now she just sounded pathetic.

“I’m sorry, Baby” He ran his hand down her arm, grabbing her hand in strong grip, wiping at her damp cheeks with the other hand. “Let’s have this baby, then you can scream at me and curse me out all you want. Deal?” He stood, pulling her into a sitting position.

“Deal” She nodded, the words scratching the back of her throat. He climbed up behind her, pulling her heavy body back against him. She sagged into his large chest, pulling one of his arms across her chest.

“Alright Mrs. Quaritch, you need to push with this next contraction” Nodding at the words of nurse Moore, Riley bore down, white-knuckling Miles’ arm, as another contraction coursed through her. “Good, Mrs. Quaritch, We can see the head” She heard Doctor Moore speak as the contraction dissipated.

She panted letting her head fall back onto Miles’ shoulder, relaxing her grip on his arm, with her eyes closed. He brushed her hair back out of her face, feeling him press his lips to her temple. She opened her eyes to the sound of Doctor Moore.

“Next contraction, Big push” Doctor Moore stated as the Riley felt, once again, like her body was getting ripped apart. Grabbing onto Miles’ hand, she squeezed tightly.

“FUCK THIS FUCKING SHIT” Riley cried out, everything felt like it burned. She fell back as all the pressure suddenly ended. Miles kissed her temple between telling her how great she did, as the doctor and nurses started moving to the side with a small body. Riley’s heart began to pick up as she noticed the stark silence.

“There’s no crying. Why aren’t they crying?” Her attempt to check on her baby was thwarted by her husband pulling her back. No one responded as they all gathered by the bassinet. She felt the tension in her husband’s chest, the hard set of his jaw. “No, stop, what’s wrong? Somebody say something” She pushed at his arm across her in desperation, failing to hold back the tears.

A high-pitched cry filled the room, as all the medical personnel seemed to sigh all at once. Riley let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Feeling Miles’ body relax she rested her head on his shoulder, the tears becoming joy. Doctor Moore turned around, a small little blue blanket in her arms.

“You have a son, Mr. and Mrs. Quaritch” Riley reached out, as Doctor Moore placed the bundle in her arms. She gently bounced her son in her arms cooing slightly, and one of Miles’ large hands ran over the top of his head.

“Now, ‘Doc’, you wanna tell me why my son wasn’t breathing” At Miles’ growl, Riley placed a soothing hand on his cheek. She glanced at him to see him glaring at the doctor and rolled her eyes.

“He had some mucus in his mouth and nose blocking his airway. We just had to suction it to allow air into his lungs” Doctor Moore wiped her hands with a towel as she answered. “Other than that, he’s perfectly healthy, Mr. Qua—” “Colonel” Riley lightly flicked Miles’ for his interruption, tapping his cheat lightly with one hand, while Moore took pause. “Colonel Quaritch, Your son is perfectly healthy” She gave them both a slight smile. “Now, one of the most important decisions you’ll make. Have you picked a name?”

Riley looked up at Miles, mirroring the smile on his face before she looked back down at her little boy in her arms. She nodded, turning back to Doctor Moore. “Yeah, we have, but we’d like to tell the rest of our family first. Can you send them in?”

Doctor Moore nodded as she exited the room. She was quickly replaced by Miranda and Lyle fighting each other to get through the doorway. Miles and Riley both laughed at the two of them as they straightened themselves out, while Mitchell and Jamie followed more with more civility. Miranda came to stand where she could see the baby’s face, while Lyle took a spot at the end of the bed. The other two stood on the opposite side of Miranda. Miles kept his arms wrapped around his wife and son, but the smile never left his face.

“Damn, Madam, I don’t ever think I’ve seen the Colonel smile” Jamie poked fun before quieting down at the glare from Miles. Riley laughed at his reactions before focusing back on her baby.

“We’d like you to meet the newest member of the squad. Miles James Quaritch Jr.” Riley cooed smiling down at the little baby in her arms. As the rest of her found family smiled and cooed, choosing to keep their distance for fear that Miles might break their fingers if they go to close for his comfort.

Miles laid back on the sofa, his long legs draping off the end or simply not even fitting, as Riley was nestled between them. Her own legs didn’t fully fit on the sofa, hers hitting his being the only thing keeping her lower half off the floor. The movie they had been watching continued in the background as her weight sagged fully into his torso, the soft sounds of her breathing telling him she had fallen asleep. He placed his hand on his son’s back just above his wife’s, assuring himself the boy was still breathing, and keeping him from slipping off his mothers chest and hitting the floor.

He let himself focus back on whatever movie his wife had chosen for them. It was a young person’s movie, or at the very least rated PG. It was goofy as hell is what it was. But Riley has insisted on them watching non-violent or graphic movies with Miles junior in the room. He didn’t disagree per se, but he believed that their son was so young that he wouldn’t even understand.

He let out a contented sigh, as his wife breathed deep on top of him. Running his free hand down her bare arm, he chuckled lowly when she shivered, shifting away at the touch. Her head tucked further into the crook of his shoulder. He stopped when Miles Jr. started to stir at her movements, not wanting to wake his son or wife, neither having gotten much sleep the last weeks since his arrival. Miles Junior didn’t sleep through the night yet, waking up every two hours or so.

Riley was always getting up with him, feeding and settling him before crawling back into bed. It wasn’t that Miles didn’t get up to him, he did, often sitting up with her or getting her water from the kitchenette, as she worked to settle their son. A few times he had told her to lay back down, getting up himself to rock their son. But Riley was exclusively breastfeeding, at least for the first months, making it difficult for Miles to help.

His body jerked at a sharp knock on the door. At the sound of soft fussing, he realized he had jolted his wife, who remained asleep, and son who was far more sensitive. Rubbing a gentle hand of the tiny boys back, he soothed him back into sleep. The buzzing of his MiniPad turned his attention to the table. He tried to move as little as possible as he reached over to grab it. Tapping in, he saw an unread PriMessage.

1 Unread Message: Wainfleet, Lyle

Wainfleet, Lyle: Hey, Colonel, It’s Z-dog and I, can you let us in? Sent 13:36

Quaritch, Miles: It is unlocked. Be quiet, Miles Jr. is sleeping. Sent 13:37

Jostling was heard behind him as Lyle and Z-dog came in the door. Z-dog shushed Lyle when he closed the door a little harder than he should have. The hushed voices grew louder as the pair drew closer to living room before stopping abruptly. Miles craned his neck back to look at the pair of idiots.

“Don’t just stand there starin’. Sit” Miles gestured with his head for them to come all the way in. Z-dog made her way over to the coffee table, placing a set of meals before sitting on the floor and grabbing one. Lyle had chosen to sit in one of the other chairs in the room, his gazed having left the trio to try and figure out what was playing on the T.V.

“What is this?” Lyle gestured, leaning back in the chair. Miles glanced over, rolling his eyes as Lyle became engrossed in the movie.

“Riles chose it. It’s called elements or something” He shrugged slightly, keeping the rest of his body still. He glanced down at the coffee table in an attempt to see what meals the pair had brought them.

“How are Riley and Junior doing?” Z-dog piped up, pausing in stuffing her face. Miles turned back to the pair on his lap. Rubbing a hand gently on his wife arm, a small smile formed.

“They’re doing alright. Miles Junior gets up every couple of hours to feed. And with Riley wanting to breastfeed for the first months,” He rubbed his sleeping wife’s arm with his free hand, “So is she”

Miles’s head snapped around at the sound of a camera shutter. Landing a glare, as Z-dog failed to hide their MiniPad before he could notice.

“What are you doing, corporal?” He snapped slightly, a frown etching into his features. Z-dog’s cheeky smile disappeared, replaced by wide eyes and a hint of fear.

“Nothing, Sir” The words flew out her mouth, as he continued to glare at her. Letting out a huff, he jerked his head in the direction of the door.

“I think we should reschedule, with Miles Junior and Riles being asleep” Z-dog nodded packing up her food and shoving a meal into Lyle’s hand as they both moved to the door. “I’ll have Riley text you when she wakes up” Z-dog whisper-shouted an okay as she shut the door.

Leaning over, Miles grabbed his MiniPad off the back of the couch.

Z-dog paused in the hallway, pulling out her MiniPad from her jacket pocket.

1 Unread Message: Quaritch, Miles

She hesitated opening the message. Dreading whatever punishment he might’ve decided to enact.

Quaritch, Miles: Send me that photo. sent 14:15

Miranda let of a breath of relief, before sending the picture she had sneaked.

Zdinarsik, Miranda: *attachment* sent 14:18

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A/N: Thank you all for being so patient with me.

Taglist: @theluckychemist @roman0writes

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