#and more importantly. her yard

[cordspaghetti]

couple weeks ago…

[yardiganbear]

tinakitten: I was cold only half the time 🧸

[cemetary-shifts]

73 yards was definitely a very "what the fuck" episode but it is also undeniably a masterpiece. like, i genuinely cant put in words how good it was. and i knew it was supposed to be scary beforehand but nothing could've prepared me for what the episode actually contained. because when you get past the horror aspect of it you notice how well-shot the scenes were, how strange the whole thing was, and how gut-wrenching the ending was. the people in the pub messing with ruby, getting her scared out of her mind. ruby setting a chair up outside of the tardis to wait for the doctor. her being shunned by her mother. finding kate, thinking that she could finally be free of the woman, just to see the moment kate turns on her, too. ruby on her deathbed, saying shes been abandoned by everyone but never alone for 65 years, saying she could make it snow when she was younger, and finally her expression of joy as the woman creeps closer and closer to her. so yeah, it was definitely a "what the fuck" episode, but more importantly an "oh my god" episode

[mickandmusings]

love you, miss you, mean it

*this is a two part series, read part two here!*

**I recommend listening to 'love you, miss you, mean it' by luke bryan. it's a slight inspiration for this story and it's part two. (sorry, my southern roots are showing oops) **

pairing: bob floyd x f!kazansky!reader

word count: 2.6k

summary: before the daggers, before the uranium mission, before even top gun and 'bob', there was just young bobby floyd, finding himself at the doorstep of the kazansky household, year after year, finding family between a father and daughter, and a new understanding of true love.

(based off a request, but i'll post it when i'm finished with both parts, it will give too much away! <3)

warnings: lots of sticky sweet fluff, I accidentally made Ice a single dad??, 'Bobby' as Bob's civilian name, most likely military inaccuracies

-

The very first time Bob Floyd found himself standing on the Kazansky's front door, he was seventeen years old. He had parked his hand-me-down pickup truck on the street in front of the house, crossed the yard in record time, and rang the doorbell. He was standing on the welcome mat in a spiffy black tux, his sweaty palms clutching a plastic box that contained a corsage made of light purple flowers. Bob had no idea what kind of flowers they were, more than happy to leave that to the florist, but he knew they were the same color as the bowtie that seemed to be choking him. He was incredibly nervous, pushing his glasses up his nose in a repetitive nervous habit. His sapphire eyes caught a tall shadow approaching the door, and Bob felt his spine straighten, his heart hammering in his chest. Bob had heard the stories of Admiral Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky, US Pacific Fleet Commander (and more importantly, Y/N's dad) but now, as Iceman stared down at him, he began to realize he certainly lived up to his callsign.

The Admiral's eyes were a cool blue, piercing through the teenage boy's frame as he looked him up and down. He had seemingly only just arrived home from work, still in his Navy attire. His well-pressed, wrinkle-free Navy uniform made him appear taller than he was, a looming presence that demanded respect. The flat, stoic look on his face seemed permanent, only cutting into a small upturn as he spoke.

"You must be the Bobby I keep hearing about."

Bob nods, letting out a measly, "Yes sir," before sticking out a clammy hand to shake Y/N's father's hand.

The Admiral shakes his hand with a firm grip, squeezing Bob's hand so tightly that Bob swore his blood flow had been cut off. Finally, he opened the front door wider to allow Bob in, speaking as he shut the door back into the frame.

"You should probably take a seat, get comfortable. She's been giggling upstairs for hours now, but I doubt she's ready. You'll get used to it, waiting around until she's ready."

Bob chuckles nervously, sitting stiffly on the couch as he watches the Admiral stomp about the kitchen, seemingly making a cup of coffee. The silence is deafening, Bob is too nervous to say anything, but the man's booming voice soon cuts the quiet with ease.

"So, Bobby, Y/N says you're a military brat too, is that right?"

"Uh, y-yes sir, my father, he's in the service as well, my grandfather was too, sort of the Floyd family legacy."

The Admiral nods, absorbing the information.

"What about you, do you have any plans to-"

"Dad!" Y/N's annoyed voice broke the Admiral's sentence. Her heels clack down the wooden stairs, her dress whooshing in the wind created by her motion. Bob turned his attention in the direction of her voice, standing promptly, his jaw dropping as he took in the sight of Y/N. She was dazzling in her pastel purple gown, a slight smile on her face as she spoke. "Stop trying to recruit my prom date."

Y/N and her father shared a look, seemingly speaking without having to say a word before she broke out into a smile, matching the wide toothy grin of her father, before turning back to Bob, a slight pink blush forming across her cheeks. Bob blushed as he saw her walk into the room, making his way over to her.

"Y-You look," Bob swallows thickly, gaining his confidence. "You're beautiful."

Y/N blushes fiercely, straightening the lavender bowtie around Bob's neck.

"You clean up pretty well yourself."

The teenagers' awkward gazing is cut off by Ice clearing his throat loudly, his mug of coffee in his hand as he approached them.

"C'mon, kid. Your grandparents'll kill me if I don't get a thousand pictures of you two before you leave."

Y/N cut her eyes at Bob as he stuck his arm out for her to take, helping her over the threshold of the door and into the yard, the Admiral standing in front of them with his camera ready. They all went through the motions of a typical prom photo shoot-the corsage exchange, the awkward photos in front of the house, the send off.

Finally, she and Bob were down the road in his truck, Y/N smiling in his passenger seat, Bob's shoulders much more relaxed, not feeling nearly as tense in the presence of her looming father.

"Sorry about my dad," Y/N speaks over the music playing in the truck, squeezing Bob's hand where their hands intertwined on the console. "He's just a little protective, and, not very good at small talk." She chuckles lightly.

"No, no, it's fine. He was nice. Intimidating for sure, but nice. Made a joke that you take too long to get ready for everything."

"Of course he did," Y/N smiled and rolled her eyes, leaning her head on Bob's arm. The high school juniors had been dating for a little over six months, but both of them were head-over-heels.

The couple arrived and carried on as usual for teenagers on a prom night-mingling with their mutual friend and indulging on PTO-mom made snacks. As the night wrapped up, the last slow song of the night had Bob and Y/N swaying under the sparkling disco ball in the middle of the gym. Bob's tux jacket had been discarded on a chair hours ago, accompanied by Y/N's heels, both tossed about carelessly in favor of running back to the dance floor. Her head rested on his chest, his hands around her waist sweetly. Neither of them were paying much attention to the song playing, or the other numerous couples swaying next to them. Bob's blue orbs were focused entirely on the girl looking up at him from his chest, his hand moving to brush stray curls that had fallen in her eyes. As he looked at her face, his chest filled with warmth, a funny feeling erupting, one he had never felt before. His eyebrows furrowed, his forehead creasing.

"What's the matter, B?" Her voice came soft, just loud enough for both of them to hear.

"I love you," It came out blunt and honest, with no hesitation. Neither of them had said it before, and he watched as Y/N's face went from one of confusion to one of pure elation, a wide grin forming on her face as Bob lightly pulled her closer, their lips meeting in a kiss more meaningful than their previous ones.

That night, when Bob dropped her off back at her house, with the figure of her father sitting in their living room, he smiled as he helped her out of the truck and closed the door behind her. He walked her to the front door and kissed her again before saying goodnight, a permanent smile etched on his face. He watched her get into the house and waited for the porch light to turn off before peeling out of the driveway, his face aching from his never ending smile.

When he got into his own house for the night, his tux coat thrown over his shoulder, bowtie undone and his feet aching in his dress shoes, he collapsed onto his bed with a content sigh. His phone dinged with a new message, and he smiled as he saw Y/N's name flash across the screen. He opened it quickly:

I love you, too. I miss you already. Mean it.

A blush sprouted across his fair skin, typing back a reply as his heart soared.

-

Over the next few years, Bob found himself on the Kazansky doorstep hundreds of more times-weekend dates, barbecues, birthdays, study dates, movie nights, senior prom, just because, forgetting his house keys in Y/N's room, graduation parties, the list could go on and on forever. He had grown to find the Kazansky household his second home, Iceman's walls slowly melting towards the awkward boy his daughter loved. Y/N's father would allow him to stay over on long weekends and holidays through her first years of college and his of the Naval Academy, letting Bob tag along for family vacations. Bob slowly became an extension of the Kazansky family. Bob learned lots about the Admiral during his days and weeks of being in their home. Iceman loved things that made him seem less and less intimidating from when they first met. Tom Kazansky loved to make homemade banana bread, could often be found dozing off with a book in his hand, leaned back in the recliner closest to the front door, and the Admiral loved rom-com movies with a fierceness only championed by his own daughter. The father and daughter were a well-oiled machine, understanding each other in a way that Bob had never seen before. Bob would observe as the duo would work in fluid motion in the kitchen cooking dinner-knowing what each other was thinking without having to say a word. Y/N tossing her father spices and seasonings as he lifted the spoon to her mouth, and Iceman knowing just how she liked her coffee, her tea, and her favorite shape of ice. They knew one another inside and out, something Bob would often sit in awe of. It was a true display of love for one another, so loved that you know everything about someone, you know what they need without having to say a word.

When Bob had visited the Kazansky's over his final Christmas break from the Academy, he had expected the feeling of closeness and familial love. He found himself in the kitchen with Y/N, an Elvis Christmas record spinning in the living room adjacent. He wordlessly handed her the spoon from the pot he was stirring, her lips pursing as she thought for a moment, handing him a container of salt and other seasonings she knew were needed for the soup. Bob wordlessly adds an estimated amount in the pot before he stops abruptly, realizing what had just happened. His heart hammers, he and Y/N had been dating for nearly five years now, his time at the Academy coming to an end. They had suffered through nearly four years of a long distance relationship-he in Maryland at the Naval Academy, her attending college back in their hometown. They had made it through with phone calls and even letters, long lonely days and nights, and a love for one another that defied odds. He stopped stirring promptly, looking as Y/N was pressing cookie dough onto a pan, her eyes looking up at him.

"B? What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." She smiled at him sweetly, wiping off her hands before placing them on his cheeks. "Do you feel okay? You're really red, you're warm. Do you think you're coming down with a cold?"

Bob couldn't make his dry mouth form many words, finally sputtering out a single sentence:

"I-I need to talk to your Dad."

Y/N's eyebrows furrow, looking at her boyfriend incredulously, as if he had grown another head.

"Um, okay? He's in his office. Bobby, are you okay?"

Bob nodded, leaning down to place a kiss on her head before racing off to the office on the second floor. Y/N only shook her head and continued making her cookies.

Bob knocks on the heavy office door, waiting for a response.

"It's open," Iceman's voice sounds from behind the thick mahogany colored door. Bob creaks open the door, Ice's cool eyes softening as he sees Bob enter.

"She drive you out of the kitchen already, Bob?" His voice was laced with humor. "She's too much like me, taking control of every situation. Sorry."

Bob laughs, "No sir, I just, needed to talk to you."

Ice narrows in on Bob's firmly serious expression, leaning back in his chair and looking at the boy man in front of him. Bob had grown up in the past few years, taller and more muscular thanks to the Academy. He only wore his glasses when required by the military, often opting for contacts when he was home, giving him a more mature look.

"What can I do for you, son?"

Bob's heart hammered in his chest. Was he planning on doing this now? No-he had planned for a lovely dinner, perhaps a walk on the beach before he did all of this. He had certainly, at least, planned on finishing the Academy before all of this, but after their interaction in the kitchen, the complete domesticity of it, paired with his overwhelming love for her, he knew now was the right time.

"Mr. Kazansky-"

Tom interrupts him, shaking his head in a good-natured manner. "How many times have I told you to call me Iceman, or Tom? I've known you for half a decade, I don't think the formalities are necessary."

Bob nods, understanding the man's warmth, but this was different.

"Any other time before this, and after this, sir, absolutely. But I'm coming to you for matters that pertain to Y/N, and I want this to be as respectful as possible."

Tom nods curtly, appreciating Bob's respectful nature, hands meeting in his lap as Bob speaks.

"Sir, I-," Bob swallows. He thought about this conversation a million times over and over as he stared at his ceiling at the Academy every night. "I love your daughter. I have for five years now. She is infinitely kind, and overwhelmingly beautiful. She's far too smart for me to keep up with most days, and she makes even my worst days bright. I think that's truly a testament to your parenting, she's the most headstrong yet considerate person I know. She loves fiercely, and looks after those she loves with the same fervor. She knows me unlike anyone else, and she's quickly become my feeling of home. Her music has taken over my truck, my headphones, and my inner thoughts. Her favorite movies have become part of my repertoire, and her favorite books sit next to mine on a bookcase in my room. Her things are scattered all over my apartment, and she is seeped into my every thought. When something good happens, she's the first person I want to call. When something bad happens, she's the first person I want to call. I want to spend the rest of my life with her by my side. I know this is sort of sudden, but I've spent every night for a year thinking about this, and I-I would like to marry Y/N. I graduate from the Academy in less than six months, and I'll be in aviation school, and I just-I want her to know she's a priority for my future. If I have your blessing, I would like to ask her before I go back to the Academy."

Tom's head nods, standing from his chair behind the desk, causing Bob to stand, Tom's palm meeting his in a handshake, a sign of respect. He suddenly pulls Bob into a hug, a tightness that is only matched by Y/N herself, the infamous Kazansky suffocating hug.

"You've got my blessing, kid."

Bob nods in understanding, pausing as he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He smiles lightly at Y/N's name and several emojis beside her name on the screen.

It's lonely down here. :( Love you, miss you, mean it.

He smiles at their simple loving joke that had survived from when she had first said it years ago. He pockets his phone again, looking up at Iceman with a newfound confidence.

"Thank you, Ice, sincerely. Y/N means more to me than I feel like I could express in words."

Tom's face breaks out into a smile, his eyes twinkling with something that might have been the beginning of tears, but that's yet to be confirmed. He lightly slapped a hand on Bob's shoulder.

"For what it's worth, you've got my permission. But it's not mine that matters, kid, it's hers."

-

part two out now!

[muwapsturniolo]

“I-it was just a thought…”

✗ Nothing but fluff, swearing, mentions of smoking but not weed or nicotine, a sprained wrist, and that's about it.

cred to @bernardsbendystraws for dividers.

also, shout out to both @bernardsbendystraws and @quinnysnursery for being dog lovers

Puka was an eccentric dog from the time you had gotten her. She had more human characteristics and mannerisms rather than the ones a dog would usually have.

She huffed at the smallest inconvenience, loved to sleep, and she just so happened to make the same faces as you would when things get weird. However, your favorite trait of hers was how friendly she was.

She wasn't the type to bark and growl at people, never biting or chasing anyone - She was playful and full of love.

So it made sense when every morning after breakfast, she would sit patiently but excitedly by the door, her tail wagging as she held the white harness in her mouth.

She loved being outside, rolling in the grass, chasing squirrels, and most importantly,

Sitting on the pathway and happily barking at the people passing by.

It was her routine.

It seemed as if everyone enjoyed it, always smiling and waving at both you and Puka, sometimes even stopping to have a small conversation.

Most people would find it annoying or tedious, but you fell into the routine happily.

However, there was one specific person Puka would go haywire for. You didn't know his name, hell you couldn't even tell him apart from his triplet brothers - But Puka knew.

She'd yip happily, damn near dragging you off the porch as she tried to get to him every time he stepped foot outside. There were times when she refused to go inside until she saw him, causing you to be late on multiple occasions.

Just like everyone else, the guy enjoyed it. He'd wave to her, laughing as she barked happily. On some occasions he would briefly look at you as well, sending you a small smile before climbing in his car and leaving.

Eventually, the small smiles turned into waves, the waves then turning into the both of you shouting across the street to make small talk.

"Morning! How's it going?"

"Pretty good!"

They were brief interactions, but you found yourself looking forward to them much like Puka.

Little did you know, he looked forward to them as well.

There was a specific day when Puka was beyond hyper. She had knocked a vase over, made you fall twice, and even tore up the bag of dog food sitting in the corner. You ended up taking her outside, going to the dog park down the street to hopefully blow off some energy. It seemed like it worked, her movements slower and more calm than how it was this morning.

However, that changed as soon as you turned onto the corner of your street. She had barked loudly, scaring you and making you drop your phone. As you went to grab it and scold her at the same time, she bolted forward.

A small yelp escaped your mouth as your body fell forward. You tried to break your fall by extending your arms outward, but that didn't help - You definitely messed up your wrist.

You sit there in pain, cradling your wrist to your chest. It's only a brief second before you realize Puka has run off. You quickly stand up, stumbling as you whip your head around to locate the mini golden doodle.

"Jesus Christ! Puka where ar-" You cut yourself off when you see the guy laying in the grass of his front yard, tangled in Pukas leash as she assaults him with dog kisses.

You quickly run over, apologies falling out your mouth as you use one hand to grab Puka by the leash. "I'm so so sorry! One minute, I was walking home, and then she barks, and before I knew it, she's running like a damn track star towards the fin- Are you alright?"

She blinks softly, her brows creasing as she frowns.

"Huh?"

He chuckles and stands to his feet, brushing off the grass from his pants. "I asked if you're alright. your wrist doesn't look that good." She follows his finger and looks down at her aching wrists. He's right, it doesn't look good. it's swollen and a bit red, you could even some bruising forming.

"Oh...Oh! umm- I think I'm ok? I'm just going to ice it when I get inside." She waves him off, not wanting to make it a big deal.

"I'm no doctor, but I do think you should get that checked out."

"Ok yeah, valid point. I'll do that tomorrow, I'm right-handed and since my right hand is messed up, I can't drive without crashing so I'll probably have my friend ta- I'll take you."

The two of them stare at each other in shock.

The guy shocked that he offered a cute stranger with an even cuter dog a ride to the ER, and her shocked that he was nice enough to even offer.

Trying to play it cool, she clears her throat. "I would accept but, I don't even know your name...Nor do you know mine. Stranger danger as my mom would say, although my grandma says strangers are just friends we don't know yet."

He chuckles at her words and flicks his hair out of his eyes, "Well, your grandma seems to be more open-minded. Although, I don't agree with her sentiment, but it's helpful today. "

He outstretches his hand and gives her a soft smile, "I'm Matt, and although my brothers and I have labeled you Golden girl - The show?" He finds his heart beating a bit quicker than normal as she scrunches her nose and tilts her head.

She looked like a puppy.

"The show? I didn't know that was a show."

"So why label me Golden girl?"

"Because you own a golden doodle and you're always wearing gold so...Golden girl."

She hums softly, the nickname vibing well with her.

"Well, my name is Y/n, but Golden Girl works well too." He smiles and goes to shake her hand, only to stop when he realizes he can't

"Right, hurt wrist. let's get you to the ER."

"Wait! What about Puka?"

His own brows furrow in confusion until he understands she's talking about the dog, "Oh! Uhh..." He looks down at the dog who is panting and wagging her tail happily.

"She can come too, I'm sure the doctors wouldn't mind bringing her in."

With that, the two climb into the car, Matt helping her get adjusted and even buckling her seat belt.

It was a short drive to the ER, the two walking in and telling the nurse at the desk what was going on. Soon Y/n is whisked away behind the double doors, leaving Matt and Puka in the waiting room.

"You know Puka, I've had a small crush on your mom for a while... She's pretty. I just didn't have the courage to walk across the street and talk to her." The dog stares at Matt with a childlike gleam in its eyes.

Matt laughs softly and pets her, "but you knew that, didn't you?" Matt swears he heard the dog snicker, but his attention is brought toward Y/n walking through the doors. She has a folder with paper in her hands, as well as a brace on her wrist.

"Not broken, but it is sprained! Doc says no heavy lifting and to let it rest. Is it bad I'm upset it wasn't broken? I wanted the bright green cast."

Matt stands up from the chair and chuckles, "You're something else Golden girl. Come on, let's go." They walk out of the ER and climb back into the car.

The drive back was full of chatter, the both of them comfortable enough to hold an actual conversation. Soon they are back in their neighborhood, the car parked in Matt's driveway.

"Thanks for the ride, and thanks for not being rude to me or Puka."

Matt shrugs, "No reason to be rude to a cute dog and an even cuter owner." Y/n quickly looks away, loving the compliment but not knowing how to respond.

"I uhh-" Matt clears his throat and eyes Puka who is looking at him with pleading eyes. He swallows harshly before continuing.

"I-I was wondering if you maybe wanted to hang out sometime? W-we could grab food o-or take Puka out..." He trails off awkwardly.

Y/n's eyes widen in surprise, her heartbeat quickening.

"L-like a date?" She questions softly.

He nods and rubs the back of his neck. She was hard to read and he didn't know if her shock was good or bad.

"Y-yeah like a date....I-it was just a thought though so I-it's no big deal if you say no! Like you said, stranger danger an - Yeah."

He stops his rambling as she answers his question.

"Y-yeah?" She nods and gives a comforting smile.

"Yeah... I'll go on a date with you."

It was like the ending of an old-time romantic comedy, the two puppy lovers standing at the end of the driveway smiling at each other,

Ready to take on what could be.

[bahrtofane]

you drag jude to take a nap with you in his backyard. he likes it more than he can admit. 

word count : 700+

watch it : pure fluff, mildly cranky whining jude, still loves you any way 

enjoy <33

—--

"still think this is a good idea ?" jude sighs, closing the back door with his foot and dragging the blankets behind him. 

when you said you wanted to relax and enjoy the sun he was thinking of the pool, maybe even a quick flight to the nearest nice beach. going to a park, hell even just tan. nowhere in his mind did he think you wanted to sunbathe and take naps in his backyard. yet here the both of you are. bellies full from lunch (thank you to his mother for the lovely meal), warm from the sun. not half bad actually. he just likes being dramatic.

he's far too shy to say it outloud, contrary to popular belief, but any time spent with you is good time. no matter what you're doing. if you wanted to sunbathe on the moon hes pretty sure he'd follow. 

"yes i do thank you. it's a lovely day." you beam, smoothing out the blankets and rearranging the pillows just how you like. throwing your phone somewhere near the far corner. you are going to nap dammit. no distractions allowed ( jude not included ). 

he huffs, "why the backyard, there are plenty of parks," squinting up at the sun the breaks between the tall trees that span the yard. 

you shrug, "it's more intimate this way. i don’t want to get all dressed up and deal with people, and i know how tired you get from having to interact with the public. now sit," you pat the space next to you on the blanket. nice and neat against the grass. 

he supposes that it is much more intimate. it's a welcome change from your usual outings. always with security and his agent. here he can be jude, and you are free to be you in every capacity. under the shade, you each blossom and bloom under the suns warm touch. each leaning on eachother. 

he finds it endearing how you thought of him, remembering his likes and dislikes. you really are something. 

but you don't need to know that just yet. he finds complaining rather fun. 

"ants are going to have a field day." jude grumbles, sitting himself cross legged next to you.

you shrug, "they don’t do much honestly. we don’t even have food out anyway."

he hums, "i guess so."

you hunker down belly flat on the soft blanket, stretching your limbs out with a yawn, "well im going to nap." you sigh softly, grabbing a pillow and burying your face into its side.

jude looks at you aghast,"no no no. you drag me out here and then you bail to nap ? absolutely not."

"i need my sun nap time or i die. like a plant." you retort, eyes closed. 

"i need my time with you or i die. like a jude." he shoots back, arms failing as he whines.

you crack an eye open to glare at him, "just try it, "arms open and inviting him next to you. 

he eventually gives in, rolling his eyes playfully as he slides right into your arms. face pressed into the same pillow, he lets you get comfortable against him. sliding your arms to bring him closer, wrapping a leg around his. 

"see? not so bad you big baby." you mumble into his skin, pressing a few kisses into his skin.

"guess not." he mumbles, warm and content in your embrace. 

you're out light a light not even a minute later, softly grasping his arms and face buried into him as you doze off in the sun. just like you wanted. 

there's much worse things he could be doing right now he realizes. a slew of illegal activities, hundreds of bad food to chow down on and make his nutritionist hate her life. the amout of shit he gets from his teamates on his habbits is enough to last a life time. they really should be jumping for joy. 

but more importantly, he could jump for joy. happy and warm, pressed close to his lovers side. cuddling with you on soft blankets in the sun on a warm day is the best option. safe and sound in your arms jude soon finds himself drifting away. he hopes he dreams of you. 

[reevesdriver]

You Kiss Your Mother With That Mouth? (NSFW)

Anon request: "Reader is working on the ranch as a cowgirl alongside Rip and his boys, she’s like a female version of Rip. Filth mouth and she’ll argue with any man she come across if need be. I’m thinking Reader gets into a verbal fight with someone on the Ranch and Beth Sees and asks if she “kisses her mother with that mouth” and Reader responds with “No but i can fuck you with it?” maybe smut??"

Word count: 867

Reader: Female reader

Character(s): Beth Dutton

Warning(s): NSFW / 🔥🔥🔥 / Oral Sex (F Receiving) / Mentions of fighting / Vulgar Language / Misogyny / Homophobia /

Support Me: Kofi

You were up earlier than anyone else in the bunkhouse which was nothing new. By the time you'd showered and dressed everyone else had started stirring so you made a fresh pot of coffee and stepped outside to have your first cigarette of the day.

"Mornin." Rip said as he stepped out and came to stand beside you holding a cup of coffee out to you. You echo his greeting and take the warm cup from his hand. "What's the plan for today?"

"We gotta put the horses in the corral so we can muck out the stables." He says and you nod. "I'll finish this then get the horses moved."

"Don't you wanna wait for the rest of em'." He says motioning to the bunkhouse door.

"It's fine, sooner it gets started the sooner it's done."

"Fair enough."

Finishing your cigarette and coffee you hand the cup back to Rip and grab your jacket from off the rail. Crossing the yard you unlock the door to the stables and flick the lights on making the horses huff and tap their hooves on the floor. The day seemed to go quickly but that's mostly since you'd barely stopped, working kept you fit and distracted but you knew you would be aching in the morning.

You and the other ranch hands had moved the horses, mucked out the stables and slowly returned each horse until there was only one left. Looking to the corral you eyed the last horse who was galloping round and smiled. You entered the corral and the horse crossed over to you, its neck resting on your shoulder as you stroked its mane.

"You getting some last minute fun in huh?" You spoke to the horse which huffed in return. The sound of someone spitting onto the dirt behind you made you look over your shoulder. Fred stood with his hands on his hips staring at you. "You actually gonna do any work Fred or just fucking stand there gawking at me?"

"Nah you seem to be happy doing everything yourself like you own the damn Ranch."

"Go fuck yourself."

"You could fuck me if you weren't a fucking dyke." He raises his voice and before Lloyd and Rip have time to get between the two of you you'd crossed the corral and lurched forward so your forehead connected with his nose with a loud crack.

"Fucking say that again you ginger cunt, go on, fucking call me that again." You spat at him as he held his, now bleeding, nose and tried to stand back up. Rip and Lloyd stepped in and ushered Fred away back to the bunkhouse so he could clean himself up. Spinning around once more you stormed back to the lone horse in the pasture and walked him back towards the stables.

You led the horse into his own stable and worked on filling up his bucket of food as he sniffed at the fresh bedding. "Well I think you've officially made every ranch hand scared of you after fucking Freds face up." A voice brought your attention from the bucket of food.

"I would've done worse if Rip and Lloyd weren't there." You shot back with a laugh.

"I don't doubt that, hell of a vocabulary too, you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"No ma'am, but I can fuck you with it." You report without a second thought. Beths slightly shocked expression made you realise what you'd just said but more importantly, who you said it to. She entered the stable and walked up to you as you tried to apologise.

"Prove it." She says with a whisper and slowly lifts the hem of her dress up until she exposes her bare pussy. "Go on, fuck me with that dirty mouth."

Your knees buckle under you and you drop to the floor, the bedding for the horse offering some padding to your kneecaps. Grabbing Beths thighs you pull her to your face, laughing softly as she stumbles towards you. Your mouth is on her pussy in an instant and her hands fumble as she tries to hold her dress up as well as dig her fingers into your scalp.

Your tongue expertly flicks her clit making her throw her head back in pleasure as a moan falls from her lips. Your breathing becomes deep as you focus on making her cum, you switch between circling her clit with your tongue and lapping at her hole that leaks cum.

Her thighs clamp around your face and you hear a sharp intake of breath as Beth cums on your tongue, her legs shaking slightly at the pleasure and she fights the urge to collapse onto the floor in front of you. You stand with a smile on your face and Beths cunt on your breath, your knees ache but the blushed face of your bosses daughter makes it all worth it. "It's a good thing you don't miss your mother with that mouth." She smiles as she drops her dress down.

Turning she stumbles out of the stable and passes Rip who is entering the building. "Hell of a mouth on that one." She winks as he passes her.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Temporary Stupefaction

Sherlock pulls up the collar of his coat to protect his neck from the icy wind. The night is dark and foggy. Gloomy. It fits his mood. 

John was on a date when Lestrade called with a nasty murder. Sherlock texted and even called John, but he didn’t pick up, nor answered the texts. 

It had been an extraordinary case. John would’ve loved it, despite how easily Sherlock solved it. The cases were no fun when John was absent.

Colourful leaves are twirling around his feet in Regent’s Park. Sherlock is desperate to get home to the warmth of 221B. He forgot to bring his gloves. 

John wasn’t there to remind him. 

Still, Sherlock is hesitating to leave the park and walk the short distance to Baker Street. The flat is probably empty and cold if John’s still out. Perhaps he’s got a leg over and will sleep at that woman’s place. Sherlock is thankful that John never brings any of his girlfriends to the flat.

Small blessings.

The wind and his soon frostbitten hands, decide for him, and Sherlock approaches the black door. When he looks up at the windows, he stops abruptly. Golden light from the lamps and something incandescent, tells him that John is home and that he’s lit the fire. Suddenly John’s figure appears in the window. He stands with his back to Sherlock and he’s gesticulating wildly with his arms.

John never does that.

He’s clearly talking to someone. Sherlock checks his watch. Nearly midnight. Too late for a visit from Mrs. Hudson. Lestrade drove home at the same time Sherlock left the Yard, Molly never visits them, and Mycroft is out of the country as far as Sherlock knows.

Who can it be and why is John so agitated?

He needs more data, and hurries to find his keys and locks himself in as silently as he can. Sherlock tiptoes up the seventeen steps, avoiding the creaky one. John’s voice is loud, but the words are muffled by the door.

Sherlock stops on the landing to eavesdrop before deciding how to proceed.

“How did she know, hm? I’ve only dated her two times.”

There’s a long silence. Sherlock reaches for the doorknob but stops when John speaks again.

“What do you mean I talk about him all the time? He’s the person I deal with the most. It’s only natural, don’t you think?”

What on earth is John talking about? And more importantly; who is he talking to? The responses from the unknown guest, are apparently so low that even Sherlock’s brilliant hearing can’t perceive it.

“I’m not gay, remember!”

Ah, John is talking about Sherlock. His heart cracks every time John utters those words. He startles when John’s voice quivers.

“How did you know that I’m bi? I’ve never told a soul. And before you say Sholto, nothing happened, okay!”

John’s voice rises again when he mentions his former superior officer. Sherlock has always wondered about their relationship. His stomach is in uproar. John has just admitted that he’s bisexual while discussing Sherlock. 

What does that mean?

Sherlock can hear that John is pacing, but he’s stopped talking. He opens the door as carefully as possible and dares to look. John seems lost in his own head. His hands are buried in his hair. He looks a bit like Sherlock does when he’s despairing about a case or useless yarders. 

A quick survey of the room stupefies him. It’s empty apart from John. 

Who the hell has he been talking to?

“Do we have an invisible guest, John?” he asks softly.

John turns to him, his face ashen. He stutters, then blushes. 

“Sh…Sher…Sherlock! What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” Sherlock offers with a smirk.

John snorts and starts to chuckle.

“Yeah, you do. Sorry. I was just…”

“You were talking to…”

Sherlock doesn’t finish the sentence but waves a hand, indicating for John to fill in the blanks.

“No one,” John mumbles, his smile gone.

“I heard you,” Sherlock coaxes, eager to solve this mystery.

He hangs up his coat and walks to the fireplace to warm his hands.

“You forgot your gloves again,” John tuts.

“Brilliant deduction, John,” Sherlock quips.

He rubs his palms together and expects John to reprimand him further, but the flat is deadly silent.

“I was talking to Harry,” John finally says behind him.

Sherlock turns so fast he almost knocks John over. His eyes evidently show the horror he feels.

Harry Watson, John’s twin sister, has been dead for six years.

Before Sherlock can analyse this baffling information further, John grips his hands, warming them efficiently. Sherlock momentarily closes his eyes to revel in the sensation. Warmth seeps through him in a flash and sets in his chest like a burning flame. When he opens his eyes, John is gazing up at him with a look Sherlock’s seen before, but not often. It’s fond and hungry. Normally, it disappears within seconds, but this time…

“Sherlock?” John whispers.

“Are you a psychic, John?” 

Shit! He didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Just a vivid imagination, but who the hell knows? Me and Harry’s bond has always been strong. I don’t think I’ve told you, but as children we sometimes communicated telepathically.”

“You are an enigma, John Watson,” Sherlock murmurs.

Sherlock is completely warm now, and decides to be brave. He pulls John to him by his hands, guiding them around his waist. After he has released them, he lets his own hands cradle the back of John’s head and bends down. When he’s close enough to feel John’s breath on his face, he looks into John’s eyes to get confirmation. They are closed, so Sherlock bends down further and kisses each eyelid, before he finds John’s cheeks, forehead, chin and at long last, his lips.

When they part for air. John smiles and tells his sister to kindly leave them alone.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

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[updownlately]

if you’re gonna waste my time (let’s waste it right)

| leah williamson x reader | hurt/comfort | 3.3k | disclaimer: mentions of anxiety, self loathing, negative thoughts, and depression -this delves into some slightly heavy topics so please read at your own discretion! | a/n: got this ask a while back and an idea struck to me while driving! first fic in a while that i've written in one sitting so let's see how this goes! honestly started off really strong but then idk where we went. anyways, not proofread as usual, but happy reading! take care amigos! and just know that each of you are loved, cared for, and cherished by those around you, even if you don't know it! 🫶

~~~

Fight, flight, or freeze.

They say that every human has these three survival instincts built in.

Instincts meant to protect, to escape, but most importantly, to survive. 

Responses meant to make sure that one would make it out of harm’s way, preferably unscathed. 

Fight, the mechanism that evoked adrenaline. That helped you battle your way through the toughest of encounters. 

That did its best to make sure you were well equipped to tackle any scuffle, minor or major, to the best of your ability.

Flight, the mechanism that helped you run- escape before you couldn’t anymore. 

The one that ensured that you got out before you could be attacked- before you could be hurt.

And then of course, freeze. 

Rooted to your spot, immobile as harm directed itself towards you, one only praying that you could be so still that harm skipped right past you, practically avoiding you as you let it pass. 

Freeze, that left you with a pounding heart, blood rushing in your ears.

Freeze that meant you couldn’t move, body rigid, feet planted, mind stopped in time.

Freeze that kept you stuck. stuck in an endless loop of agony, of shaky breaths, of paralyzing fear.

Freeze, considered the weakest of the three. 

So as you stood there, eyes wide, muscles tense, body frozen, you cursed your mind and body with all that you could, wondering why of the three instincts, freeze was what you had done in order to try and survive.

~~~

There’s something terrifying about the voices that ring in your head.

How they so scarily sound similar to the people in your life, past and present.

Voices reminding you how you aren’t good enough. How you’ve let them down. How maybe if you weren’t there, the world would be okay. That it would move on without a hitch, without a second thought, because when it came to it, at the end of the day, maybe, just maybe, you didn’t really matter anyways.

Voices that sounded like your mother, reminding you of dark nights of you hidden in your room, the harsh words ringing in the four walls of your bedroom, what was supposed to be your safe haven, now tainted with feelings of regret, of disappointment, of outright disgust.

It’d be better if you didn’t exist.

Voices that sounded like your father, angry yells late into the night, enough smashed dishes that left your hands littered with scars that’d never cease to remind you, enough nights spent under your covers silently wiping tears as you prayed that you were quiet enough.

What a waste of air.

Voices that sounded like past coaches and management that knocked you back with each word spoken, each push forward sending you feet yards back, support that felt like hindrance more than anything.

You’d be lucky if you got to play past the little leagues. It’d be a miracle that’s for sure.

Voices that sounded like fans- people that were meant to support you- but you couldn’t force them to. Hundreds if not thousands of comments left, each asking for you to be traded. Hell, they’d take a sack of potatoes if nothing else. 

I can’t believe that we wasted our money on this. Can’t we just, I don’t know, get rid of her? She’s the reason we suck. Maybe if she was half a decent player we’d actually be somewhere in the league.

Comments that repeated your worth. Ingrained it into your mind. Over and over and over again. 

You weren’t good enough.

Sentences that etched themselves into the forefront of your thoughts, always ready to haunt you at the slightest notice. 

You weren’t good enough.

Not now, not ever. 

Not for your own mother or father, never mind your siblings. 

Not for your teammates, nor the fans.

It was a miracle you were even playing professionally in the first place.

God if they took one good look at you maybe they realized how poorly they fucked up by signing you. 

You weren’t a good footballer, barely even a decent one. How you managed to play for this long was a miracle.

They’d notice soon enough though. They had to. They always did.

They’d notice soon enough that you weren’t good enough.

And then?

Then you’d be left with nothing, as you always were.

~~~

You didn’t know when you were led inside to the locker rooms- when that absolutely terrifying moment of being in front of the opposing team’s stands had gone from you taking a corner to being absolutely pelted by random junk. 

From empty bottles (plastic thankfully), to empty food containers, balled-up programs, signs, merch, all being hurled your way, never mind the onslaught of assaults- the stands only repeating everything your mind ever told you, every, single, day. 

You didn’t hear when the ref blew their whistle, nor when the rest of the girls dressed in red crowded you, some chastising the fans along with the away team, others wrapping around you protectively, quickly leading you towards the benches. 

You weren’t there as you were subbed off, your mind still frozen, much like the rest of your body. 

All you knew right now was that you could smell the familiar scent of your girlfriend’s perfume as the heel of your palms pressed harshly into your eyes in an attempt to cease the uproar in your head. 

Breaths getting heavy, you tried your best to calm yourself down.

You weren’t a stranger to panic attacks, and even in your hazed state, you could very well recognize the oncoming situation.

Bringing your arms to wrap around your own stomach in a futile attempt to bring yourself some sort of comfort, you felt your breathing pick up as the sharp lights of the room seemed to get darker. 

Room spinning, the voices in your head louder, you could only bring your knees up to your head, body now practically in fetal position as you rode out the attack.

Even with the hundreds you’d had by now, you hadn’t been able to come up with an effective method to deal with them. 

So you sat there, huddled into a ball, body shaking, mind louder than ever as Leah stood above and watched helplessly.

The blonde had been there in the stands to watch you get abused, immediately making her way down to the pitch because ACL and league rules be damned, that was her girlfriend for fuck’s sake. 

She stood by the sidelines, ready to receive you as the obvious substitution occurred, an arm coming to wrap around you as she led your ghost of a body to the locker rooms.

She watched as you mindlessly sat in front of your locker, not a single word uttered from you, not a single response to the quiet comforting words the blonde had whispered to you gently in an attempt to rouse you from your clearly distressed state. 

She itched to reach out and touch you as she saw you slowly curl into a ball, you getting ever so smaller as she could only helplessly watch, you unknowingly  flinching the second she touched your shoulders in an attempt to comfort you.

It was only when your heavy breathing died down every so slightly, nearly fifteen minutes later if the blonde’s perception was right, that she tried again, slowly coming to sit beside you as she gauged your reaction. 

Seeing your shaking start to slow as well, she slowly wrapped an arm around your shoulder, her own body tense as she watched you stiffen up before you relaxed slightly, letting her pull you into her side as her other hand came to hold your left one.

And long after you had buried yourself into her side, body defeated with the rollercoaster of emotions you’d just experienced, too tired to think of any of the consequences of your actions, you let Leah led you- helping your pull on a hoodie and your jacket and change out of your cleats as she gathered the rest of your gear.

Helpless except able to nod in agreement as the blonde suggested you leave early from the game, you followed her quietly, not a word said from you, as she led you out of the ground and to her car, where you fell asleep within seconds.

It was only when the car pulled up to her house, a place you’d been to many times, your relationship long past new to the both of you, did you rouse, mind still not present and following the blonde.

Leah was good. You trusted Leah. Leah was safe.

The words repeating in your head, you believing they were true like all the other words that crossed your mind, you let yourself sleepily be led up the stairs and up to the ensuite. 

Standing there awkwardly as you slowly came to the situation, the lights in the washroom waking you up, your shoulders sunk as the embarrassment from earlier set in. 

God you were an embarrassment. First a panic attack in front of the English skipper, and now this- you stood helplessly in her bathroom like you were broken, waiting to be fixed.

You watched in dread as the blonde flitted around the joint closet, quickly gathering a change of clothes for you before she stacked them neatly on the countertop, handing you a towel and starting the shower, not meeting your eyes.

What you didn’t know was that she didn’t want to scare you off, intimidate you as her heart ached at the shameful look in your eyes.

“Take a warm shower, yeah? We’ll get you some food after, and then how about a nap?”

Unable to do anything but nod in response, your fear of upsetting the blonde, of anyone really, making itself known, you followed her instructions, locking the door as she left and starting to remove your sweat covered kit. 

~~~

It’s nearly twenty minutes later when you emerge from the shower, your dirty clothes held precariously in your hands, your eyes wide as you see Leah sprawled across her bed, scrolling aimlessly on her phone. 

A small smile unknowingly escapes you as you watch her nearly throw her phone, very much caught off-guard at your appearance.

Smile tightening quickly as you realized it rested on your face, your eyes met the ground, ears sharp as you noted the footsteps headed towards you.

Before you knew it, the mess of dirty clothes was swiftly taken from your hands, your gaze snapping up as you watched Leah take your dirty kit and toss it into her own hamper before turning to you. 

“Alright. I’d rather you eat, but I’m not going to force you to, yeah? We can take a nap, maybe just reset, or if you wanna sit down and watch a movie or a show we can do that too…how’s that sound?”

Feeling your eyes water at the blonde’s gentle tone, feelings still overwhelming from earlier, your sights met the ground again as you meekly nodded. 

Blood rushing in your ears, you felt the vibrations as Leah stepped towards you again, her hands gently taking yours. 

“Nap?”

Taking her chances at guessing which you preferred, the tender tone in her voice had you easily nodding again, tears you’d been trying to hold back now escaping. 

And as the blonde led you to her bed, you winced as the voices in your head picked up once again, mind baffled at why someone was treating you with this much kindness, this much care.

Choosing to ignore them for now, you smiled shyly at the sight in front of you, Leah having rounded the bed to go on ‘her’ side, the skipper tucked into the sheets, arms wide open as she shot you a soft grin, eyes sparkling with glee as she waited for you to join her. 

Gingerly approaching the bed, you hesitantly pulled back the covers, eyes meeting Leah’s every few seconds to make sure you were okay, before entering, unsure of whether you were allowed to hug the blonde (even if a part of you so desperately wanted to do so). 

Your question was answered for you, however, Leah was unable to see you lying down in such a stiff manner, taking matters into her own hands and hooking an arms around your waist and pulling you into her.

And as you slowly got comfortable, moving millimetres every minute until you finally found yourself resting with your head on her chest, arm wrapped around her midsection as her hand came to wrap around your waist, one running through your hair, you let yourself sink into her hold, brain quietening every so slightly as the familiar presence and scent had you relaxing.

It was only when you were on the verge of sleep, minutes later, did you hear Leah’s voice whisper into the air between you two, her lips pressing a tender kiss to your forehead as an apology as she realized her mistake of rousing you from your sleepy state.

“There’s a lot that goes on up there,” with a small nod towards the top of your head, she continued, “but it doesn’t have to stay there y’know?”

Holding her breath as she felt you shift slightly, you turning your body to listen better, she spoke again.

“I’d be more than happy to stay here and listen to you when you need it. Really, any of us would. All of the girls love you and care for you, and despite whatever people might say, you add to the team, yeah?”

Feeling you nod hesitantly at the words, Leah waited as she sensed your jaw move, anticipation killing her as you sounded out the words silently before they left your mouth- and even then, you winced slightly.

“I don’t want to be a burden…don’t wanna waste your time…”

There was something in the way the words quietly rolled off your tongue, no doubt said many times before, the sincerity behind them proving you meant them wholeheartedly- that you believed you were an inconvenience, that broke Leah’s heart.

You weren’t a burden. You weren’t.

She wondered if you’d ever seen yourself the way other’s saw you. If that coloured glass that you saw yourself through was tainted any other colour than black. Whether it was ever yellow so you’d see just how much of a ray of sunshine you were on the stormiest of days, often cheering up your shared teammates with just a single smile as you’d skip into the change rooms.

Or if you ever looked at yourself through the rose coloured glass, the same hue that would coat your cheeks as you’d interact with fans post-game, giving each and every one your undivided attention, making them feel special, and loved, and cared for.

Or whether you ever saw yourself through green, breathing life to even the dullest moments, standing tall, unwavering, as players would try to take you down on the pitch over and over again, you getting back up each time, a force to be reckoned with, one that not even the rainiest of days nor Mother nature could defy.

You weren’t a burden, and the blonde needed you to believe it, because it was the truth and nothing but the wholehearted, honest-to-god truth.

It’s why her honest admission just tumbles out, the words spilling before the defender could stop them.

“If I could hold you all night and all day, I would, without a single doubt or any hesitation.”

Her grip tightening on you as the words are spoken clearly and strongly, her placing a gentle kiss to your temple before continuing.

“If you think you’re gonna waste my time by talking to me when you aren’t doing well, then just know, that listening to you as I try and comfort you and get the chance to hold you in my arms? It’s the best waste of time I’ll ever have in my life. It’s one I’ll cherish till the end of time, because it’s never, and I mean never, a waste.”

Taking a deep breath in, the blonde felt you nod at her words, your own grip tightening around the blonde as you pulled yourself closer into her, closing your eyes in an attempt to believe her the best you could.

Leah could sense your struggle though, not ignorant to the way a small, trembling breath escaped you, frustration clear.

“You don’t have to believe me now, or any time soon really, but just know, it’s the wholehearted truth- and I’ll spend as long as you need reminding you, because you’re good enough. You’re more than good enough, and worthy of love, and a good life, and good things. You deserve love, even though your brain tries to tell you otherwise, yeah?”

When you didn’t say anything, it clear to the blonde that you were silently taking in her words, contemplating them, doing your best to believe them, she let you be, revelling in the silence as took in the feel of you being in her arms, one of her favourite feelings in the world.

The blonde could almost feel you turning her words over in your head, examining them from top to bottom as you inspected them for any indication of a lie, surprised when there wasn’t one.

Content with the way you hadn’t spoken out yet in disagreement, Leah decided to take her chances and bite the bullet.

Proposing her next idea, the blonde held her breath in anticipation, heartbeat slowing dramatically as she hoped you’d agree to her words.

“I’ll always be here to hold you, but I think it might just help if we see a professional, yeah? You and me, both of us, we’ll go, and just give it a crack?”

Feeling your hesitancy this time, the blonde pulled you closer to her gently, turning onto her side as her eyes met yours. 

One hand now carefully resting on your cheek, she placed a loving kiss on your forehead, then your nose before continuing. 

“Three sessions is all I ask. If you don’t want to go after that, then I won’t ask again, ever. But, just give me three sessions, and I’ll be there for each one if you want, and if nothing changes, then you’re off the hook, deal?”

There was an audible sigh of relief that escaped Leah’s lips as you hesitantly nodded in agreement.

Deciding that that was good enough for the time being, Leah smiled softly to herself, more than happy with any baby steps of progress being made.

“Just want you to love yourself the way the rest of us love you. The way I love you…”

The words were punctuated with another gentle kiss on your head, this time her lips lingering as you both basked in the touch, the blonde well aware that physical touch was your love language. 

Nodding to yourself as your girlfriend’s arms wrapped around you at the end of her sentence, heart feeling just a tad bit lighter as her embrace sucked you in, you let out a sigh of relief at the quiet in your mind and warmth in your chest.

Snuggling further into Leah’s hold, you let out a shaky breath as the emotions of the day filtered out of you, you weren’t going to lie, you were terrified for the future- absolutely scared shitless for what it held. But, with Leah by your side, on your team, cheering you on, a spark of hope nestled quietly inside you, filling you with a refreshing breath, a new goal to work towards.

Not now, not soon, but slowly and surely, you’d work your way through this. You wanted to. for your sake and hers.

After all, with your girlfriend to remind you that you were human, someone that could live and not just survive, maybe you could finally teach yourself it too.

[brainddeadd]

https://www.tumblr.com/brainddeadd/764182191222751232/httpswwwtumblrcombrainddeadd7637705318278103

oooo i meant that for luke! i was inspired by jack x grumpy reader! and for the request i was saying jack and her having a good friendship and she close to him so the first time luke sees her smile it’s by jack and luke wants to see her smile again but because of him

The sound of laughter filled the air as you, Jack Hughes, and a few of your friends gathered in the backyard of Jack's family home, your first time visiting. It was one of those perfect summer evenings where the sun hung low, casting a warm golden glow over everything. You and Jack had been best friends for the past two years, your bond built on shared jokes, endless support, and the occasional mischief that always seemed to find its way into your lives.

Jack, the ever-energetic prankster, had just pulled off another one of his ridiculous antics. This time, he had set up a water balloon ambush, soaking several unsuspecting victims in a flash. You doubled over in laughter, your heart soaring as you watched the chaos unfold. Jack had an uncanny ability to bring out your happiest self, but there was something else blooming in your chest that evening, a warmth that felt different.

Across the yard, Luke Hughes, Jack's younger brother, leaned against the porch railing. He had come over to hang out but hadn’t participated in the chaos. Instead, he watched, his blue eyes locked onto you, captivated by the way you lit up in response to Jack's silly antics. The way your smile radiated joy was something he hadn't seen before, and it stirred something inside him—a desire to see that smile more often, and, more importantly, to be the reason behind it.

Luke had always admired you from a distance, appreciating your humor, kindness, and unwavering support of Jack. But tonight, witnessing you so genuinely happy made him realize he wanted to be the one to evoke that smile.

As the evening wore on and the laughter faded, Luke decided it was time to take action. He approached you as Jack rejoined the group, a playful smirk on his face.

“Hey, can I borrow you for a second?” he asked, his voice steady yet playful.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s up, Luke?”

“I have a challenge for you,” he said, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re always laughing at Jack’s antics, but I bet I can make you smile even more.”

“Really?” you challenged, a grin tugging at your lips. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Luke grinned back, his confidence shining through. “Just you wait and see. Meet me over there in ten minutes.” He pointed toward a quiet corner of the yard, where the trees formed a secluded area.

Curiosity piqued, you nodded and made your way over after a few moments, watching as Luke prepared something behind the trees. When you reached the spot, you found him standing with a large canvas and paint supplies.

“Welcome to my art class,” he said dramatically, holding up a paintbrush like a microphone. “Today, you’ll be my muse.”

You laughed, realizing what he was up to. “You’re going to paint me?”

“Well, not exactly,” he replied with a playful wink. “More like I’m going to let you unleash your inner artist while I attempt to impress you.”

The two of you spent the next hour surrounded by laughter and paint splatters, Luke guiding you as you created a chaotic but colorful masterpiece. He joked, teased, and occasionally exaggerated his art skills, making you laugh harder than you had in a while.

As you stepped back to admire the splattered canvas, you glanced at Luke, whose eyes sparkled with excitement.

“See? I told you I could make you smile,” he said, grinning widely.

You couldn’t help but smile back, the happiness radiating from you as you felt a connection growing deeper between you two. “You did. I think you might have a future as an artist.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Nah, I’ll stick to hockey. But if it means getting to see your smile again, I’ll keep trying.”

In that moment, surrounded by laughter and colorful chaos, you realized Luke wasn’t just Jack’s brother anymore; he was someone you wanted to share more smiles with, someone who would make your heart race in ways you hadn’t expected.

And as you looked at the paint-smeared canvas and back at him, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps this was just the beginning of a new adventure.

[envyangelic]

I saw you were taking requests for Randall “Pink” Floyd. Can you do one where they’re lying out on the football field after a party and he tells her that basically all he sees doing with his life is being with her?

Whole Lotta Love

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Randall “Pink” Floyd x reader

-> Warnings: make outs,

-> summary: Pink is worried about a future without you in it.

<—————————————————————>

The summer of 76’ was more than just a summer. It was sweltering days stretched out under the endless heat of Texas and a hum in the air that always sung a tune you knew and loved so. It was nights full of beer and laughs surrounded by people you never knew you could enjoy being around until school was let out.

You hated school as much the next person. But you loved the freedom of it all. The thrill of running around and secretly boozing every weekend. You love the music and people’s true colors when they’re not under the stress of fitting in. Most importantly, you loved Pink.

Parties were always held on the weekends. You loved them so much that you couldn’t even remember half the time what happened. It was another Saturday night after the last 8 you spent away from home. The party was held all night long until the kegs ran out of beer and the yard was full of joint roaches. Nobody had any more of anything on them anymore.

Soon the lights were shut off and every couch was full of passed out teenagers. You jumped into the passenger seat of Pink’s El Camino and started to ride out your buzz. The music of the party slowly became distant as you rode off.

He shoved a tape into the player of his car. It whistled its song as the cool wind blew in your hair. You sat in a comfortable silence with your legs pressed against Pink’s side. His hands danced around your thighs drawing shapes.

Soon enough he pulled into a familiar spot. The school, which was weird because he made his hatred of school very clear. “Why’d you take me here?” You asked with a smile as he turned the engine of his car off. He pulled the keys out and tucked them into his pocket.

“Just follow me.” He opened his car door and grabbed your hand as you scooted out. You tangled your fingers into his hands cherishing the small touch that he provided you.

He directed you towards the entrance of the tall fence that guarded the football field. The same field that he’s played his many football games on. He opens the locked gate just enough for you to squeeze through.

“After you.” You squeeze through the tight space and he follows you taking the lead once again. “What are we doing?” You whisper quietly as he repeats his answer the first time you asked. “You’ll see.”

You trail behind him before he stops in the middle of the green turf and falls on the ground lying on his back. You fall on top of him careful not to hurt him. His runs his fingers through your hair and you press a kiss to his pink lips.

You giggle slightly as holds you tight and grabs your waist. He takes in the way you look. How your hair dangles down and how well your clothes fit you. He mentally takes a picture that he hopes he won’t forget. You lean back staring into his brown eyes. “Are you going to tell me?” He gives you a cheeky smile.

“It’s a great view.” You turn over and lay on your back next to him and he points into the night sky. He’s right. The stars shine brighter than you’ve seen. Thinking about it you’ve never seen the football stadium so empty and lightless. But tonight the stars are shining brighter than ever giving you a show.

“It is. Where’d you get the idea to come here?” He wraps his arm around you. “The first day of summer a few of us smoked on the 50 yard line before getting caught.” He lets out a low laugh while reminiscing about the night.

“And where was I?” You press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Probably drunk with your shoes off trying to walk upstairs at your house without waking your parents.” You playfully punch his side and pull away.

“God, well when you put it like that it.” He stays quiet staring in the sky. You press your body back to his taking in the warmth that radiates from him. For the few moments you stare into the sky knowing that life is good but the summer is coming to an end and soon your adolescence is too.

You glance back to Pink but he doesn’t meet your gaze. He continues staring in the sparkling sky. “What’s wrong?” He closes his eyes and thinks for a moment. It’s impulsively that he decides to share his fearful thoughts with you but he just feels so comfortable with you to.

“What do you thinks gonna happen when we graduate. I mean- school sucks and that’s all we know. You know?” He sighs and runs his hand through his brown curls.

“Where is this coming from?” You ask concerned for his sudden fear of the future. “I’ve just been thinkin’ that’s all. Just nevermind it.” He shuts it down hoping that he didn’t worry you too much. The atmosphere turns quiet once again as you conjure up the words that stir together in your brain.

“No Pink, why’s it bothering you so much?” You push yourself up to look him in the eyes. “I don’t know what will happen in a year from now. Hell, I don’t even know what will happen tomorrow. But.. I need you there with me.” He admits as he finally meets your stare. Even though the two of you started dating around June he feels like a future is incomplete without you. He can’t imagine not being with you. The thought of it makes his heart jump and break.

It clicks in your beer buzzed mind. He’s scared of losing you. He’s scared of a future without you. You want to cast away all his worries in any possible way but the only thing you can offer are words. You wish you could set his mind at ease and make him enjoy the last years of being a teenager but it seems like he’s too set on the future.

“Oh, Pink.” You lean in close pressing slow kisses his cheek. “I’m with you here, tomorrow, even years in the future if you want me to be.” You whisper close to his ear. His eyes half lit as he pulls your face close to him. It seems to calm him a little. Your promise is like a lullaby that puts his nerves at rest. “Good.. that’s all I need.” He connects your lips to his and slowly kisses you.

-> A/N: little short but hope ya enjoy :)

[pearlessance]

32:1 - Idle Threats [x]

Series Summary — Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for.

Chapter Summary — Joel builds the heaven you've granted him.

Pairing — Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings — Explicit sexual content MDNI, brat taming, age gap(32yrs), mean!Joel, religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt, reader has added backstory to progress the plot, themes of forgiveness

SERIES MASTERLIST

[cross posted to AO3]

Blessed is he whose disobedience is forgiven.

Ellie stays at the farmhouse for the first couple of weeks and Joel’s grateful for it. The two of you get along so well that he can even hear you both laughing in the front yard from the bedrooms upstairs. And Joel knows you need it; the laughter, the company, the distraction. 

Because every night, he holds you in the bed you’d taken from Jackson and lets you cry into his shoulder over your loss. 

Maria’s decided to let the both of you come and go from the commune as you please, but she refuses to say a single word to you. It’s her who gives the silent treatment, now. And although you’re aware the traumatic bond the two of you formed is better off severed, Joel knows it must hurt regardless.

“She was all I had for such a long time,” you whisper into his shoulder on the fourth night. “I know it’s for the best but I…I miss her is all.” 

Joel helps you through it as best as he can. He listens to you whenever you’re ready and willing to speak, and remains patient with you when you grow angry and lash out at him over small things that don’t truly matter. 

“It’s okay to miss her,” he says gently. “But I’ll never let her hurt you again. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again, little girl.”

You and Ellie get the front porch fixed up and find a set of old, rickety rocking chairs in the attic in the barn. Ellie paints a meadow of lavender on the freshly painted white siding. She’s showing Joel all the small details, the stems that alternate between the colors of jade and emerald, telling him how she’d painted it first in blue to set the undertone when a familiar truck pulls up the long driveway with a trailer hitched to the back. 

Tommy is a welcome sight, in truth. Because the house needs a lot of work and his brother’s hands will cut the time in half. But, more importantly, his presence will cut Joel’s stress in half, too.

Still, he catches the way you look at the passenger side of the truck with hopeful eyes and watches your face fall when you notice it’s empty.

Tommy hugs you and Ellie and lets out a deep sigh when he wraps his arms around Joel’s shoulders and claps him on the back. “Good to see you, brother,” he says. And it is. “Brought y’all some things. Come take a look.”

The trailer is packed full and so is the back of his truck. You and Ellie tear into its contents, giggling all the while. Most of it came from the white house on the corner in Jackon, Joel knows. Most of it’s yours.

Not much work gets done on the first day. Joel and Tommy work on carrying in the heavier stuff; the weathered, handmade dresser, the round mahogany table with matching chairs, and the box full of kitchen utensils and towels. Joel’s most excited about the generator, though. They bring it out back and vow to hook it up first thing tomorrow morning.

The four of you split the two rabbits Joel caught in his snares and you and Ellie throw strands of pasta at the wall to ‘check if it’s cooked,’ but Joel thinks it’s just for your own amusement because the both of you laugh maniacally every time it sticks to the wallpaper.

You eat together and laugh together and for the first time, Joel feels warm. He feels whole. Complete.

After you and Ellie both go to bed, it’s just Joel and his little brother sitting at the table. Tommy stares hard at the glass of iced tea in his hands and says, “I know it’s, uh…I know it’s just a short drive, an’ Ellie’s got the guest room but is it cool if I crash on the couch for a while?”

It feels like old times. Feels like before. Joel knows there’s something left unsaid in Tommy’s words but thinks he might already know. It’s not his place to force the words out of him, though. So Joel just nods and says, “You’re always welcome to it. You know that.”

“Maria an’ I…we talked. She, uh…told me what happened. Told me the full truth. About what he…what he did to…”

“You see now, don’t you? Why I couldn't let it go on? Why I couldn’t let Maria look at her like that? She didn’t do anything wrong, Tommy. Compared to what we’ve done…she’s innocent.”

An innocent little girl who’s only ever harmed those who’ve harmed her first. Self-defense isn’t malice. It’s not rage or wrath. It’s a learned trait, a taught skill.

Tommy nods slowly and takes a sip from his glass. “I, uhm…need a place to crash for a few days. Some space.”

“Like I said, you’re always welcome here.”

When he crawls into bed that night, Joel holds you extra tightly. Because the moment he snakes his arms around your waist and you turn to face him, your eyes well up with tears as you say, “She’s only sending him with my stuff, Joel. She’s trying to erase me like I never mattered.”

He didn’t see it at first and is a little surprised to admit it. But hearing the words come from your mouth clears the fog in his brain because you’re right. Joel can see the subtle stroke of manipulation when he imagines that house in Jackson you lived in for so long, sitting empty. 

There’s nothing he can do but hold you and let you cry and promise it will be okay, so he does. He tells you he’s here with you, reminds you that you’re a person and not some mistake made on paper, reminds you you’re not erasable. But when your breath evens out and you fall asleep, Joel leaves the bed to open the window for some fresh air to soothe the anger that rises up in him. 

Still, even miles away, even after this big, impactful change of life, Maria has still managed to hurt you in a fresh way. Joel knows he can’t protect you from everything. Knows that being hurt is inevitable, but he wishes so badly that he could take it all on for you. Shoulder the burden to ease your strain.

He’s only just begun creating this life with you and already he begins to wonder if he’s failing. If he’s already failed.

Joel hears your bare feet pad across the creaky wooden floor seconds before he feels the palm of your hand against his spine. You slide your fingers gently beneath his t-shirt and the touch grounds him, brings him back, reminds him he’s doing what he can and that it’s enough. Reminds him that no matter where he goes or what he does, you’re with him. 

His.

You press your cheek to his shoulder and he turns to pull you in close. When you tilt your head back to look up at him, he knows what you’re asking for, knows what you want. He presses his mouth to yours and thinks you taste like sleep and sunshine and solace.

He finds his own sort of peace in your body, in the way you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper, in the way you press your lips to his shoulder to quiet your moans. He tells you he loves you while he’s deep inside you and knows without a single doubt that you’re the one salvation he’ll ever be allowed but knows, too, the sin of taking you has been worth it.

When he finally falls asleep, it’s to the rhythm of your heartbeat. He can feel the steady thump, thump, thump through your sternum that’s pressed up against his ribcage. The vibration of your mercy, your clemency, your forgiveness reaches down to his bones. 

Tommy stays for seventeen days. 

They finish repainting the siding, fix up the plumbing and electrical, patch the holes in the drywall, repair the gate in the back yard, build a water system connected to the river in the woods, and start cleaning out the barn in preparation for livestock. 

You and Ellie make a run to an abandoned hardware store for gardening tools and return with an entire stockpile of seeds and rakes and hand-sized tillers. The two of you are mapping out the size of the garden when Tommy says to Joel in the back of the barn, “Been a long time since I’ve seen that look on your face, man.”

He knows exactly what he means but asks anyway. “What look?”

Joel follows his brother’s gaze that lands on you. He watches, in complete awe of you, as you throw your arm around Ellie’s shoulders and smear the dirt on your forehead against her cheek. She’s laughing and trying to push you away and all Joel can do is smile, feeling himself settle, feeling roots growing from his feet into the very ground he stands on.

Tommy shrugs and uses his shovel to lift more stale hay into the wheelbarrow. “Since I’ve seen you happy.”

At first, the urge arises in him to argue with his brother on this. But then he realizes that Tommy’s right—because Joel has never felt anything like this before. Never changed his course so dramatically to make room for someone else in it.

Not since Sarah was born. Not since he met Ellie.

He swallows and says with his eyes focused on the rake in his hands, “I see so much of myself in her at times. Angry at the world, at what it’s become. She might not remember things like they were before but she’s had to go through hard lessons like we all do and it’s made her do cruel things. Violent, even. That’s not the only thing she is, though. Never been the only thing she is.”

Tommy stares at his brother for several seconds without saying a word. And then he confesses, “Never thought she was in the wrong about it, y’know. About Thomas. But I wasn’t…uh, I wasn’t there. When it all happened, you know. Can’t say much about somethin’ I didn’t know much about. But with what I do know now, I can’t say I’d do anythin’ different. If it were…I mean, if it were our Sarah. If it were Ellie, you know?”

The sound of her name feels less like a knife these days. He finds instead it feels good to hear it, feels like remembering, like healing. And though Tommy doesn’t say the words directly, he understands what his brother’s trying to say. Knows Tommy, too, would kill the man who tried to harm an innocent little girl.

Joel thinks about those men in the warehouse. Thinks about what he would do if it were you in your sister’s place and knows he would’ve killed Thomas even slower than you had. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

Ellie returns to Jackson with Tommy a few days later. It’s a bittersweet moment, in truth. Because Joel knows she needs to do this, needs to get out on her own, become her own person now that she has someplace safe to do so. But he can’t deny the urge that rises up in him to ask her to stay.

He doesn’t, though. He lets her go, knowing she’s safe in Tommy’s hands, knowing she’s safe because Joel taught her to take care of herself. He has full faith in Ellie and he has full faith in the two of you.

There’s still a lot of work to be done. Seeds to plant, rooms to clean out, wiring to the generator, walls to paint and pictures to hang. The two of you settle into a routine.

Somehow, you’re always awake before Joel. And every morning he makes his way downstairs to find you sitting on the porch with a warm cup of tea in your hand and the sunlight casting shadows on your face. You always smile when you see him and stand to your feet to give him your chair. 

There are two of them, but only one ever gets truly used. You sit in Joel’s lap, and he holds you and the two of you talk about your plans for the day. You’ve been working tirelessly in the garden, hanging flowers and herbs to dry over the porch railing, making lists of canning supplies to pick up from Jackson or on your next run. Joel’s been repairing the barn, sawing down trees in the forest and rebuilding cracked beams to restabilize the structure.

On one morning in particular, you let him sip from your cup and say softly, “Thank you.”

He presses a kiss to your jaw and wraps his arms a little tighter around your waist. “For what, sweetheart?”

“This,” you reply. “For the home we’ve built. For…I don’t know. For you.”

“Me?” He doesn’t understand, but he tries to.

“Just for being who you are. For loving me still. Thank you.”

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know that it’s ever been a choice for him. Joel thinks he’s loved you since the moment he’d first laid eyes on you, thinks it was always meant to be his fate to find you. “I always will,” he promises. And he means it.

When the barn is fixed Joel builds you a greenhouse. 

You’re more than happy to assist him when needed, and listen to him talk about this, that and the other. Once, without even realizing, he talks to you about how drywall is made and why it’s sometimes called gypsum board or sheetrock for an entire afternoon. You don’t complain, not even once, and he wonders why but then realizes he’d let you talk about anything under the sun for an entire afternoon, too. 

In June, Ellie and Tommy visit and they bring guests. In the back of the truck is Bonnie and her son Sam, as well as Greg, Mike who has a ziploc bag of coffee grounds,  and his wife, Stella, who carries a plate of strawberry scones. 

There’s also the addition of four lambs and six chickens. 

You greet and hug and thank everyone for coming but when you hug Ellie you let out this girlish giggle that brings him so much joy he thinks his chest may burst with it. The two of you bring the lambs and the chickens to the barn and Sam and Bonnie help you set out feed and fill a trough with water from the stream while Joel and Tommy start a bonfire in the backyard. 

Everyone gives the two of you updates on Jackson. They tell you about how Miley’s made a full recovery and Maria’s due within the next week. They tell you that Kelly and Abel are an item now and they like to flaunt it for all of Jackson to see, that the Tipsy Bison is getting an upgrade after Jesse had discovered a distillery on a run.

You and Joel both are showered in compliments about your new home. About the garden and the greenhouse and the barn. Mike and Joel talk for an hour about Joel’s newest project, inspecting the half-hollow body of an acoustic guitar.

Tommy and Greg leave the group for a short hunting trip and in the twenty minutes they’re gone manage to return with a deer. You roast venison over the bonfire and everyone eats standing with their plate balanced in one hand, talking and laughing.

Joel catches your eye in the cacophony, and for a moment you just stare at each other from across the yard with mirrored grins. You look so beautiful in your pretty sundress and bare feet. There’s a leaf suck in your hair and venison grease on your fingers and Joel fights the urge to kick everyone out early so he can lick you clean.

He loves you more than he’s loved anything in all his life, and it’s this precise moment where he thinks maybe there is no such thing as acceptance into heaven. Maybe the devil and his pretty, perfect Judas possessed enough love for one another to create it on their own with greasy, calloused hands and broken hearts. Maybe he’s been wrong this whole time and he’s never been cursed, never been punished for his sins. 

Because how can he stand here in this home he shares with you, surrounded by the people he loves, feeling the presence of those he’s lost in the wind, and say he’s cursed?

Joel Miller feels like the most blessed man on the face of the planet.

Just before dark, they all pile back into Tommy’s truck with full bellies and smiles on their faces. 

And the minute they’re down the long drive way and the lambs are safely in the barn, Joel’s hands are slipping beneath your dress. He squeezes the soft flesh of your thigh and you giggle into his mouth, kissing him deep, letting him invade your body, your mind, your soul. 

He lifts you into his arms with the intent to take you to bed but then you wrap your legs around his waist and rut your hips against him. Pretty, desperate little girl wants him just as bad and who is he to deny you?

Joel lays you down in the grass, pulls your panties to the side, and takes you right there beneath the summer sun. He pushes your legs up to your chest and holds your knees apart, watching himself disappear inside of you, encouraged by the sweet moans you make.

“Gonna take real good care of you, little girl,” he says, circling your clit with his thumb. And he means it now and forever. No more silent vows, no more internal battles—you’ve become everything. “Always gonna take care of you. Keep you real safe, baby. Make you feel real good.”

Your pussy constricts around him as your orgasm feathers through you and he follows you off the edge at the sound of the words I love you in your mouth.

When he pulls out of you, Joel uses his fingers and pushes his spend back inside. And even though he knows it’s impossible, for the first time in the last thirty years he wishes it would take. Wishes he could get you pregnant, wants to see you barefoot in the garden with a belly rounded with his baby.

But it’s impossible and he knows it. This is enough, though. The two of you and a couple of lambs.

Even though your thighs shake, Joel fucks you with his fingers until you’re writhing again before he helps you to your feet and heats up water for a bath to get you clean. 

Joel finishes constructing his guitar. He plays the chords to Stairway to Heaven from the backyard and can see you begin to sway in the kitchen through the screen door. He plays a little louder and swears he can hear you humming the lyrics and the elation hits him like a fucking freight train. 

Because when he’d first met you, you’d been callous and rude and brash. You’d lashed out at him and Maria and Tommy and anyone else who stood in your way. You’d bitten off every hand that tried to feed you because those that tried had never tried again after feeling the sharpness of your teeth. 

But Joel had. He tried a hundred times and still kept coming back for more.

And now you stand in the kitchen you built together, swaying your hips while canning the vegetables from the garden you watered to feed your family through winter. The sun is shining and he’s playing his guitar and you’re singing.

It took blood and guts and tears, it took a war to get here, to find peace, but you did. Fought tooth and nail for it, bled and lost and died for it.

Joel had done all he could but it was you who held the cards, who had all the strength. Not him.

And you’re singing.

Joel’s eyes fill with tears before the song’s over and when he goes to sleep that night he finds he can breathe a little easier. 

He learns that Stairway to Heaven is your favorite song because you ask him to play it all the time. Joel never gets tired of it. 

On the first day of August, Tommy comes to visit. You come rushing out of the front door, excited for Ellie to see how big the lambs have grown. Only, this time, Ellie isn’t sitting in the passenger seat. But Maria is and she’s holding a bundle of blankets close to her chest. 

You freeze on the last step of the front porch and Joel stands from his chair, on the defense before the truck is even in park. 

When Maria sees you for the first time in months, her face falls and she begins to weep.

No word is said, but you’re suddenly running through the tall grass in the yard and you’re throwing your arms around her and her new baby, an immediate exoneration that Joel’s not sure he trusts.

It’s a girl. They name her Olive. “Like that olive tree in the bible mama always used to talk about. It means forgiveness,” Tommy says.

You’re infatuated immediately. Olive’s a smiley baby, just like Sarah was. She doesn’t cry even once while they visit, while you give Maria a full tour of every room in the house and of the garden and the greenhouse and the barn.

“She’s been wanting to come for a while,” he tells Joel. “Just wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it. It’s been real hard on her since you guys left. I didn’t wanna say anything, cause, well…you know.”

He does know. Tommy didn’t say anything because Joel had no interest in hearing it. No sympathy at all. “Look, I’m…I’m real glad they’re getting to see each other. Even happier to see my niece. An’ you know that Tommy, but…they can’t ever go back. Not to the way things used to be. I won’t allow it.”

Tommy’s eyes soften. “I know that. Maria knows it, too. I’ll admit, I wasn’t always the loudest advocate for you two but I’m glad things worked out the way they did. Glad she’s got you. Glad you’ve got her.”

Tommy takes his daughter from you with some convincing to give Joel a turn.

He cries when he holds her.

She’s so small, so soft and delicate in his arms. Olive reaches a hand up and tugs at the wiry hairs of his beard and he laughs until his stomach hurts. He bounces her in his arms and gently runs the pad of his index finger down the bridge of her tiny nose.

“We should talk,” Maria says after some time.

Tommy takes Olive from Joel’s arms. “I’ll, uh…give you guys a minute.”

Maria sits on one side of the table and you and Joel sit on the other. The tension is thick in the air, so much so he thinks he may be able to cut it with a knife. She clears her throat and opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

Joel wonders how hard an apology could be for something so horrific. If he were in her place, he thinks it would come easily. He knows his face is contorted into a scowl but he can’t bring himself to smooth it.

She tries again. This time, her voice is successful. She looks only to you and admits, “I want you to know that I have never blamed you for the loss of Sarah. I feel that is most important for me to say.”

His jaw ticks.

“It always felt like you did. I blamed myself enough already.” Your voice is so timid and mousy, such a stark contrast to the confidence he’s grown used to.

“I know, and I’m so, so sorry for it.”

A start, Joel thinks.

“I know I didn’t want to believe it at first,” she says. “About…about Thomas. I never would have imagined he’d ever be capable of such a thing, but I…looking back, I see there are things I’ve missed. And I hope you know that if you had just come to me before you…if you had—”

“Careful,” Joel says lowly.

You take his hand in yours beneath the table.

Maria swallows and straightens her spine. “I’m sorry,” she says again, tears welling in her eyes. “I was angry, hurt. My entire world had imploded and then to lose Sarah, too, I couldn’t…” She shakes her head. “I needed you after losing them both. But I was furious with you for not trusting me enough to believe you.”

“You didn’t believe it,” Joel states. “And you made her out to be some sort of villain in front of everyone. Being angry is not an excuse.”

“I know,” she says. “You’re right. And I admit, sending you out on these runs was selfish and horrible. I know it. But I do love you like a daughter. I love you as much as I ever loved Sarah, more, even because of the loss we share. Your absence has been…catastrophic. Please, I…I know I can never take back the things I’ve done but I would like to work towards something. If you’ll let me.”

“I didn’t deserve what you did to me. The burden you put on my shoulders,” you say. The confidence has returned to your voice, the surety. It puts Joel at ease to hear it.

“No,” Maria says. “You’re right. You didn’t.”

“But she would hate us for this.” Your hand trembles in his. You reach your other hand out and lay it on the tabletop, palm up and open. “I have to cut some vegetables for dinner tonight. Would you like to help?”

Maria takes your hand and a tear slides down her cheek.

You turn to Joel then, and ask, “Can you and Tommy bring in some rosemary and thyme from the greenhouse? I’d like a second alone with Maria if that’s okay.”

He doesn’t trust it. Not at first. Because without him at your side to mediate, to keep you safe from the harsh things Maria has proven herself capable of saying, who will protect you from her manipulation?

But then you squeeze his hand in yours and Joel reminds himself that he has faith. Faith in you, in what the two of you have built. He knows you’re capable of fending for yourself. And, more than that, he knows should you falter, he’ll be wherever you fall to pick you back up.

Should you forgive her, he’ll be at your side. And should you decide to keep your distance, he’ll be there just as well.

He finds Tommy and Olive near the barn. The two of them talk over how the conversation went and Joel admits he’s weary of the truce the two of you’ve come to. He holds Olive while Tommy picks a handful of herbs.

When they return to the house, Maria takes the infant from Joel’s arms and says softly, “Thank you. For making me see the error of my ways. For being for her what I never could be.”

It’s going to take time for him. You might be able to forgive her after a long talk and some time away, but Joel isn’t so easily swayed. 

And he thinks Maria knows it because as they’re leaving to return to Jackson that night she nods and says, “I’m really sorry, Joel. To you as much as to her. I’m going to try and make this right. For what it’s worth, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this happy.”

He looks at you as Tommy holds you in a tight embrace, at the way the two of you have such an ease with one another. He looks at Olive and the way she stares up at her mother as if she put the stars in the sky. “It’s not me you’ve gotta make it right for,” he tells her.

“I know. I’m going to do everything I can to prove it,” she says. “You’ve built a beautiful home here.”

When they leave, you melt in Joel’s arms and he carries you to bed and rubs your back as you cry.

But Maria keeps her word. She brings Ellie and Olive to the farm twice a week every week. Sometimes they bring trinkets or gifts or supplies from Jackson, other times they leave with vegetables from the garden or fresh baked bread. She never raises her voice at you, never asks anything of you other than, how can I help? Tommy becomes Jackson’s most frequent runner, but he oftentimes will stop out to see the two of you before he goes anywhere and the farm is his first stop on the way back. 

It takes time, takes a bit more watering and sunlight, but eventually trust begins to take root.

A snowstorm hits in December. It takes out the generator, leaving the farmhouse dark for most hours of the day. Joel tries to fix it but after a few hours in the cold, you tell him to come back inside, that in a few days you’ll take a trip to Jackson to get tools to repair it. 

You make the most of the darkness. You light a fire in the hearth and sleep on the living room floor. You play rummy a hundred times and Joel lets you cheat for every game just to see the smile on your face when you beat him. He teaches you how to play poker and you use walnuts as chips.

He discovers you have the best poker face he’s ever seen. And when he’s backed into a corner, unsure whether to fold or to put in all his walnuts, Joel gives up and throws his cards down, and crawls to you instead. He pushes you back against the mass of blankets and pillows brought down from the bedroom, forces your legs apart, and devours you. He licks and sucks at your clit until you’re crying out for him. Until you’re crying out for God.

He doesn’t know why he chooses this moment, but he does. 

“I want to marry you,” he says with his head between your thighs.

“What? What are you…?”

With his mouth pressed to the inside of your thigh, he says it again. “I wanna marry you, little girl.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, brows furrowed in confusion. “Are you kidding?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. He leans back down and runs his tongue through your wet heat, delighting in the way you shiver and shake with just a single touch. “Want to give you everything.”

“You’ve already given me everything,” you say. Your hands tangle in the roots of his hair. “This is everything. You are everything, Joel.”

He slides his finger into you with ease. You’re dripping for him, slick coating his knuckles and spilling out of you and onto the blankets. “Wanna give you my last name, too,” he says. “Want you to be my little girl forever.”

“I already am,” you say, and it sounds like a promise.

The words make him groan against your skin. I already am. Of course you are. You’ve always been. 

Joel makes you finish on his mouth one more time before crawling up to you and pulling you close. Before he has a chance to lay his head down you’re asking through panting breaths, “Did you mean it?”

“‘Course I did.” He presses a kiss to your hairline that’s dotted with sweat. You stay silent for a moment, and Joel finds that it doesn’t frighten him. Whatever your answer may be he’s content with. Satisfied, happy. As long as he gets to hold you like this there’s nothing else he’d ever need. 

Still, he can’t deny the excitement that courses through him when you say, “Okay. We’ll go to the chapel when we get to Jackson.”

While you sleep, he carves two identical oak rings to perfectly fit on your ring fingers. He stains them black, seals the wood, and fries eggs for breakfast to present them with. He asks if you’d rather wait and put them on during the ceremony or if you want to do it now. 

“We should do it now, don’t you think? Just the two of us.” 

He puts yours on for you around a mouthful of scrambled eggs and a smile so wide it hurts his cheeks. When you place Joel’s ring on his finger, it doesn’t feel out of place or foreign on his hand. It feels like taking off an uncomfortable piece of clothing after wearing it all day, like kicking your feet up and laying your head back. It feels like coming home.

The moment is intimate and he knows he’ll always remember it, always hold the memory close. He finds himself missing it even while still living it, finds himself wanting to stay in this little happy bubble with you forever.

After breakfast, you’re readying yourself for the journey to Jackson. Bundling up in warm clothes, tightening boot laces, filling canteens. But then the front door is ripped open and on instinct, Joel grabs his rifle from the side of the bed. 

“Joel!”

Tommy’s voice is frantic. The both of you are at the bottom of the stairs in a second. 

His brother lets out a sigh of relief and doubles over with his hands on his knees. “Oh, thank God. I thought the storm might’ve taken out the farm.”

Joel doesn’t understand it at first. But when the three of you climb into Tommy’s truck and head to Jackson, he realizes just how fortunate you’d gotten. 

Less than a mile away, there are downed trees on every side of the street, thousand-year-old trunks severed in half. The abandoned buildings between the farm and the commune have been demolished, splintered into a thousand tiny pieces. 

Somehow, you’d been left untouched. The generator was the worst of it.

For the first time, he wonders just how safe you really are. He’d brought you to the farm, away from Jackson, to protect you. But there are things he can’t fight against. Beasts he has no business battling. He wonders if the two of you should abandon the home, the heaven you’ve created in order to ensure your safety.

You’ve gotten lucky twice now. He knows there won’t be a third time.

You reach through the space between the driver and passenger seats and grip Joel’s hand in yours. He can feel your ring press against the palm of his hand and it grounds him, pulls him out of his head. With your free hand, you hold the cross necklace you’ve never taken off since he’d given it to you in that church and say, “I know you don’t believe in God much anymore, but I think something has been looking out for us.”

At the chapel, Tommy stands beside Joel and Ellie stands beside you. Dina takes pictures on an old Polaroid camera. Half of Jackson sits in the pews and there’s so much joy and laughter in the day that Joel wonders if he deserves it. 

But then you look at him, slide your hand into his, and press your cheek to his shoulder. You say, “I love you,” as if it’s the simplest, easiest thing you’ve ever said. As if it’s second nature. You don’t fight it, don’t hesitate or second guess. You say it because it’s true. You, an innocent, love him.

Joel Miller thinks he might be worthy of forgiveness after all.

[part nine]

taglist; @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @elliesr1fle @pascaltesfaye

[masterlist]

[babymetaldoll]

"Little Miss Reid, entrepreneur" (Spencer Reid x fem!reader x their daughter)

Summary:  Spencer and reader help their little daughter with her very first lemonade stand, and the whole BAU family gets together. Requested: Nope   Warnings: This might be too fluffy: Reader discretion is advised. Category: Hardcore fluff . A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, I hope you enjoy it! Promp: Character helps their child with their first entrepreneurial venture... a lemonade stand. They weren't expecting half the damn FBI to show up.   Masterlist

Summer vacation was an interesting time at the Reid’s house. With both Spencer and (Y/N) having only two weeks off from work, they had to plan in advance and schedule all their activities, to make sure they had enough time to do everything their kids wanted to do with them during the break. Raven was already five years old, and Vicent was already two, and both Spencer and (Y/N) really wanted to make it up to them for always being away, solving cases with the BAU. 

That’s why that year, their “Summer fun plans” included a trip to the grand canyon, visiting lots of museums, going to a water park or two, and most importantly: helping Raven with her first lemonade stand. 

The little girl was obsessed with the idea of running her own business ever since she had visited her cousin Henry, and he had a little lemonade stand outside his house. Uncle Will had explained to her that that was Henry’s way to earn some money to get a new bike, and that was enough to plant a seed in the little girl’s brain. 

- “Dad, remember when you said I couldn’t get a pony ‘cos they are too expensive?”- Raven asked her father later that night, after reading a bedtime story together. 

- “Yes, they are too expensive and we don’t have enough room to keep a pony here. Why do you ask?” 

- “‘Cos… you know how Henry wants a new bike and he has a lemonade stand to save money and get it?”- suddenly Spencer knew exactly where his daughter was going with that question. 

- “Yes, I know.” 

- “I was thinking…”- Raven made a pause and looked at her father, who was trying not to laugh.- “I know I can’t get a pony, but what if I have a lemonade stand and save a lot of money and you take me to Barnes and Noble and I get to buy all the books I can afford?”

Spencer never saw that plot twist coming. Of course, there was no way he could say “no” to his kid. Raven was very smart and she knew her dad would be thrilled with that idea. So, after a long logistic debate with his wife, and a talk with Nono Rossi, Spencer and (Y/N) scheduled a day. That Saturday, Raven was having her first lemonade stand in David’s front yard. They decided to do it there ‘cos it was a more family neighborhood than their street. You don’t usually see kids with lemonade stands in front of an apartment building, do you?

While (Y/N) went grocery shopping with their kids and got everything they needed to make lemonade, Spencer asked for professional assistance from a Lemonade Stand professional: Matt Simmons. 

- “So, did you ever sell lemonade as a kid?”- Matt asked Spencer as they set all the materials and tools in Rossi’s backyard. 

- “No, never. I really wasn’t into outdoor activities, as you might imagine.”- Spencer replied and Matt chuckled. - “But once one of my neighbors set one, and my father forced me to go and buy a cup.”  

- “Why did he force you?”- Matt questioned, confused. 

- “He wanted me to have friends my age. When I was seven, my best friend was the librarian.”- Spencer explained and looked around - “So, where do we start?” 

- “Did you get spray paint?”

- “Yes, all of Raven’s favorite colors.”- Spencer grabbed a few cans and tossed one to his friend. Rossi walked over and left a cooler filled with cold beers. 

- “I’ll leave this here, and in case you need me, I will pretend I can’t hear you while I spend my morning reading in my studio with the AC on.” 

- “Thank you for letting us do this here, Rossi.”- Spencer smiled at him as he shook one of the spray paint cans. 

- “Anything for mi principessa.”- David replied and waved as he walked back into the house.- “Good luck, kids!” 

Spencer had been right: Matt Simmons was a lemon stand pro. In two hours they had a green and lavender stand made with four wooden crates. One rod on each side of the stand helped hold a banner (Y/N) had made the night before that read “Raven’s Lemonade” and on the front, Spencer hung another banner that read: “Lemonade: ¢50” 

- “All set!”- Matt smiled proudly and tapped on Spencer’s back a few times. - “How do you feel?” 

- “Excited, pleased with our work… nervous?” 

- “Why are you nervous? Your kid is going to be thrilled!” 

- “I know, but… what if no one shows up? She would be broken-hearted…”- Spencer sighed at the thought of his baby pouting, and Matt shook his head right away.

- “There is no way that could ever happen here. Not under this heat and not in Rossi's neighborhood. Elderly people are very supportive.”

- “Hey!”- Rossi argued, overhearing Matt’s comment on his way out. - “Who is elderly?” 

- “Your neighbors!- Simmons explained right away, trying not to laugh.   

Raven Reid yelled and jumped with excitement when she saw her lemonade stand. She ran around Rossi’s backyard, nearly hyperventilating. She hadn’t been so excited since Santa brought her the telescope she wanted. 

- “It’s so pretty, daddy!!”- the little girl jumped into Spencer's arms and he caught her with a bear hug.

- “I’m glad you like it, birdie.”- he replied and kissed her chubby cheek. - “Did you and your mom get lots of lemons?” 

- “Yes, and some lemon bars too, in case someone is hungry.”- the little girl explained. 

- “Good idea, boo. Did you thank Nono Rossi for letting us set the stand in his front yard?”- the little girl shook her head and Spencer quickly set her down.- “Go tell him thank you.”- and off the girl went, running and yelling “Nono!” on her way into the house. Spencer stared at her as he stood in the middle of the backyard, putting all the tools Derek had given him a few years earlier back into the toolbox. His heart felt full of love knowing he could give his kids the childhood he never had. 

- “Hey there, Bob the builder.”- (Y/N) walked out to the backyard and smiled at her husband. - “This looks amazing.” 

- “Thank you.”- Spencer whispered and felt her lips on his immediately. 

- “Raven is ecstatic, she wants to start making lemonade right now.” - and just in time, they heard the little girl’s voice calling for her mommy. 

- “You heard the boss.”- Spencer whispered and kissed his wife one more time. Meanwhile, I’m gonna move this outside to the front yard.” 

- “Great, Pen said she was gonna come and help around four, so we should be ready on time.” 

When (Y/N) said Penelope Garcia was going to help, she pictured her friend slicing lemons and making lemonade along with her in Rossi’s kitchen. She never imagined her friend was going to… well… be Penelope Garcia, and take things over the top, as usual. 

First, Garcia didn’t slice a lemon, she might as well have chopped the entire tree: she got to Rossi’s with homemade lemon cupcakes, lemon cake, lemon tart, and lemon cookies (lemon shaped, of course, and covered in yellow frosting). She had so many trays with goods, Luke was forced to help her. He picked her up and gave her a hand carrying everything over to Rossi’s. 

- “Oh… my… good.”- (Y/N) whispered as she stared at the number of treats her friend had baked, piling on Rossi’s kitchen island.  

- “I know, I might have gone a little over the top, but once I started, I didn’t know how to stop.”- Garcia apologized and smiled guilty at her friend, who only had one worry in her mind. 

- “Ok, now I’m scared. How are we going to sell all this?”- (Y/N) asked, but Garcia dismissed her fears and shook her head immediately. 

- “Don’t worry about that! I’m sure Raven is going to do great. We’ll charge a dollar for everything, so she won’t get confused with math.” 

- “She is Spencer’s daughter”- (Y/N) chuckled as she spoke- “Math is not the problem. But Pen, I’m just scared no one is going to show up and she’ll feel discouraged. I don’t want my baby thinking she failed.” 

- “Nonsense! It’s a lemonade stand, everybody loves a lemonade stand!”- Garcia replied and grabbed a fresh lemon- “Now, let’s make more lemonade!”

Raven ran out of Rossi’s front door carrying a stack of paper cups and a bag of paper straws. Right behind her, her mom carried a big glass dispenser filled with fresh lemonade. Raven’s little stand was ready and open to the public. A glass jar on the top of the counter was ready to be filled with the profit of the dar. Spencer stared at his daughter and took a few pictures with his phone. Garcia and Luke carried some of the sweets to start the sale, and Rossi opened his wallet.

- “Are you my first customer, nono?”- Raven asked, making her mom and dad chuckle. 

- “I am, mi principessa. Can I have a cup of lemonade and a cookie, please?”- Rossi placed a dollar and 50 cents in the jar, and Raven’s eyes shone with joy as she poured her first order. 

- “I’m gonna need a lemonade too.”- Luke said as he paid and waited for the girl to give him a cup as well. 

- “Enjoy, uncle Luke.”- the little girl said and turned to her little brother Vincent, who was playing on a blanket on the grass their mother had set for him. - “Vinnie? Do you want some lemonade? For you, it’s on the house.”- the little girl grabbed her brother’s sippy cup and filled it with lemonade, as her parents filmed the entire moment on their phones. 

JJ and Will showed up a few minutes later with Henry and Michael to support Raven’s little business. The kids played on the street with their skateboards, as Raven sat behind her stand, waiting for her customers. 

A few of Rossi’s neighbors walked toward the lemonade stand, and Raven was shining. Her parents sat with little Vincent on his blanket and watched from a safe distance as their daughter took care of her paying customers. Meanwhile, Luke and García walked to the backyard with Rossi, Will, and JJ to enjoy the pool.  

- “Fresh lemonade, get some lemonade”- Raven said to everyone who walked down the sideway and passed her stand. Everybody stopped and bought something for the little girl, she looked adorable while selling her products. But at a certain point during the afternoon, no one was coming. And Raven looked at her money jar feeling discouraged. 

- “Mama… what if no one else comes?”- the little girl walked toward her parents and sat on (Y/N)’s lap. Her mother wrapped her arms around her and kissed her cheek a few times, making the girl chuckle. 

- “Come on, it’s still early. It’s been what? just one hour? I promise by the end of the afternoon you are gonna be sold out of all the things you have in your stand.”- (Y/N) smiled and kissed her daughter’s cheek one more time before she stood up and walked back to her stand to wait for her customers. Spencer waited until Raven was far from them and turned to his wife. He didn’t have to say anything, she knew what he was thinking. It didn’t need saying. The two of them shared the same fear.   

But after just a few more minutes, something weird happened. Anderson parked his car in front of Rossi’s and waved at the Reid’s as he walked to Raven’s stand and ordered a lemonade and a slice of lemon pie for him and his boyfriend. And less than a minute later, Andi Swan’s car parked down the street, and she showed up with her husband to get a lemonade and a lemon cupcake. Not only that, but Matt Simmons, his wife, and all his kids showed up, excused themselves for being late, and ordered lemonade and lemon cookies for the entire family. Raven was on fire, and her parents were… confused to say the least. 

Where were all those people coming from? The cars kept parking: Ashley Seaver showed up with her kid and husband and got lemonade and lemon cake for her family. She hugged (Y/N) and Spencer and introduced them to her family, while more FBI agents kept showing up. 

Alex Blake parked and nearly ran to the Reids as her husband followed close behind. Kate Callahan showed up as well, with her kids and husband, and soon after, Tara Lewis came along. Raven got to ask her mom for help to serve all the customers, and soon Pen and Luke showed up with more sweets and to refill the lemonade jar. Somehow, what had started like a simple lemonade stand ended up being an FBI get-together family party.  

(Y/N) turned to Spencer and the two of them stared at the scene in shock. Pen and Luke walked to them and Garcia smiled and waved at everybody. 

- “What did you do?”- (Y/N) asked her friend and she simply giggled. 

- “I might have sent a few emails to everybody at the Bureau and some former agents telling them your little Birdie had a little entrepreneur of her own, and encouraged them all to come.”- Garcia explained and smiled innocently. 

- “Everybody is here! We only need Elle and Hotch and we’d have the biggest BAU reunion ever!”- (Y/N) looked around in disbelief and chuckled. 

- “You are forgetting me, little mama.”- (Y/N) froze and turned around slowly. That voice. She could never forget that voice. Derek Morgan stood in front of her, holding Savannah's hand and a stroller with their little boy: Hank Spencer Morgan. 

- “Derek!!”- (Y/N) jumped and ran to hug him, as he chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. 

- “Mrs. Reid! I missed you so much!” 

- “I missed you too!”- (Y/N) said and turned to Savannah, who opened her arms and wrapped her in a hug.- “And you are gorgeous!!”

Spencer stared at their reunion with the biggest smile on his face, holding Vincent in his arms. 

- “Is that my little nephew? You haven’t sent pictures of him this week! He looks so much bigger! What are you feeding him?”- Morgan joked and looked at Spencer. - “You look like you could use a nap, boy wonder.” 

- “Two kids are more work than chasing serial killers”- the young doctor replied and chuckled as Morgan hugged him, tapping his back a couple of times.- “I missed you.”

- “Me too, brother.”- Morgan replied and smiled at his friend- “But I’m sorry to say I’m not here for you, I’m here for my little princess. Where is she?”- Derek walked to the stand, waving at their former colleagues on his way until he reached Raven and held her in his arms. 

- “Uncle Derek! You are here!!”- the little girl yelled and wide opened her eyes - “You have to help me with my stand!”

- “That’s what I am here for! Lemme see what your old man did here…”- Spencer stood behind his friend and waited for him to inspect the construction. 

- “I’m proud, you used the right nail for the wood.”- Morgan said, nodding. 

- “Of course I did.”- Reid replied, almost insulted 

- “Who helped you?”- Derek asked, and before Spencer could deny getting any help, his daughter explained.  

- “Uncle Matt said he had plenty of experience with lemonade stands, so he helped daddy.”

- “Simmons?”- Derek chuckled and turned to Reid.- “You two did a great job.”

- “Thanks.”- Spencer smiled and turned to Raven. - “So, what is your uncle Morgan going to have, birdie?”

- “For you, lemonade on the house, uncle Derek.”- the little girl said and handed him a paper cup. - “But if you want to eat anything, you are gonna have to pay, ‘cos auntie Penelope said we had to split the profits.”- Morgan tried not to laugh, but failed, as Raven stared at him, waiting for a reply. 

- “If that’s the case, I’m gonna have one of everything, thank you very much.”- and the little girl’s face lit with excitement as soon as she heard those words. 

The afternoon ended, the FBI agent returned to their cars, and the BAU family moved from Rossi’s front yard to the back. David, Derek, and Luke prepared a barbecue, the kids played in the backyard, and (Y/N) and Spencer put away the lemonade stand. Nothing was left, not even a cookie. The sale had been a complete success. 

- “How much did she make?”- Mrs. Reid asked her husband, who held the money jar and shook his head.

- “Over three hundred.”

- “Wow… she is gonna go crazy with the books.”- and as (Y/N) said those words and finished cleaning the last jar that was left in the sink, Spencer stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her. 

- “Thank you.”- he whispered in her ear and sighed. 

- “What for?”

- “For giving me everything I ever dreamed of.”- (Y/N) turned around and stared at her husband for a few seconds. She then leaned in and kissed him sweetly. 

- “Eeewww!”- Raven said as she saw her parents kissing as soon as she walked into the kitchen. - “Uncle Derek is right, you are always kissing.” 

- “Hey! Come here-” (Y/N) commanded with a smile and the little girl giggled as she walked to her parents.- “It’s a good thing your parents are always kissing, and we are also always kissing your chubby cheeks!”- and as soon as she delivered that line, both Spencer and (Y/N) started kissing Raven’s cheeks. 

Summer was soon going to end, but those happy memories were definitely going to last forever.    

[jellolegos]

could you talk more about rhaenyra's sword? i saw your comments on twitter and thought they were really interesting!!

of course! I love to talk about hotd :)

Mandatory disclaimer: what didn't fit in the twitter 200 characters is that I am by no means an expert, and I think this would fall even further outside of my research area than the late mediaeval palaeography stuff did, so just my layman's take :)

Something I noticed thanks to the BTS videos that were circulating this week is that the crossguard is much stubbier on the sword Rhaenyra picks up than on Blackfyre and Dark Sister.

vs.

On rewatch, their sword is clearly more reminiscent of a Merovingian (or Frankish) sword, than any of the other ones we've seen.

(An example from the BM, Sutton Hoo)

Merovingian/Migration Period/Carolingian/Viking swords all carry this distinctively shorter crossguard, evolved from Roman spatha. They usually have an equally stubby pommel, which grows to be more standardised in the period of Frankish export with 3-5 lobes, transitioning from Merovingian/Migration period to Carolingian/Viking swords. The lobes are obviously not applicable to the show sword since it has decorative dragon wings, but you might be able to see the resemblence of a weighter and wider pommel when compared to other swords we've seen in the show.

(HotD heirloom, a 'Viking sword' from the BM)

Since we also got confirmation that it is Valyrian steel, if we can assume the sword evolution in HotD parallels Western Europe, then we know that this sword predates Dark Sister and Blackfyre and pre-dates the Valyrian conquest.

(an illumination of a wielder of a Frankish 3-lobed pommel sword in the Stuttgart Psalter vs. Visenya's longer crossguard sword in the show manuscript)

Why does it matter?

I wish I had a more articulate way to put this but it feels like another example of Rhaenyra's tension between her inheritance derived from Valyrian heritage and her struggle to make manifest that inheritance, employing Valyrian aesthetic over a practical combat weapon. We see both practical swords (if memory serves, one of those is Harwin's?) with wider crossguards and this heirlooms on the table, but she reaches for this one specifically.

Importantly, we actually see why those stubby crossguards fell out of favour in the fight between Jacerys and Aegon in the training yard. In the scene the wider crossguard allows Jacerys to catch and thrust Aegon's sword to the side. Although the inward taper on Rhaenyra's sword might have served a similar function (allowing someone to 'catch' a blade), the stubby (and, like in real life, decorative) crossguard would have likely resulted in the wielder losing an arm. Therefore we know that Rhaenyra's heirloom would be at a disadvantage in real combat.

Thus, we are presented with two themes of her sword: it is ancient and deeply Valyrian, and it is almost certainly useless (think someone brandishing a flintlock).

I find the sword design a totally enchanting detail and one that really enriches her arc for the season. Through the sword choice, along with her gravitation to Visenya, her adoption of an increasingly Valyrian dress code, and the messianic themes in the scene with the dragon seeds, we see Rhaenyra struggling with assembling a patchwork of diplomatic and martial authority over a shoddy semi-divine Valyrian blueprint in an ultimately futile fight toward the Iron Throne.

I love Rhaenyra as a character deeply for it, and love the show for making those choices, what a beautiful and subtle way to flesh out some of the tension between all of those competing factors.

I think the obvious caveat is that this analysis assumes 1) HotD sword evolution is the same as Western European sword evolution and 2) that this design is intentional. The former obviously cannot be 100% true, there were no Roman spathas lying around in Valyria just as there were no dragons in Aachen. I don't know that we can assume the latter is true either, I'm not entirely sure it was intentional and I'm not sure if they had a set mediaevalist or similar to consult on the swords, I think there were enough mistakes in the manuscript to make me think not... but I could be wrong!

Admittedly, I think this can veer into 'the curtains were just blue' territory, and I debated whether or not I wanted to post that twitter thread at all. But what I will say is that I think analysis of art (be it props, colouring, lighting, etc.) can be a venerative exercise as much as an intellectual one. I want to, in my own life as much as possible, push back against passive consumption of media, so if it's overanalysis then it's overanalysis! Honestly, hearing different interpretations on the same media is the best part of fandom, so maybe it was intentional maybe it wasn't, but how fun is it to try and understand it anyway.

There are 22,000 of you now, so maybe this will find the right ears: KEEP THIS AS RHAENYRA'S SWORD FOR S3, ITS A GREAT CHOICE :) (or if you are hbo's propmaster, dm me and tell me I'm right!)

[setmeatopthepyre]

Hey so I'm either delusional or onto something or both but the three calls in 08x06 kind of work perfectly as references to bucktommy's storyline as a past/present/future.

Past: Misdirects (07x04 throwback) Call 1: The mom in the urn. This scene was actually originally shot for 07x04 from what I can gather, and it fits perfectly in that episode's theme of misdirection. First, the audience (and the first responders) assume the actual live mother of the caller is being kidnapped. Misdirect: it's the dead mom's ashes in an urn. We then assume the husband is worried about losing his mom's ashes. Misdirect: it's actually the urn that's worth a ton of money.

This call fits right in with the other storylines that episode, most importantly the one that leads to Buck's bi awakening and Bucktommy's first kiss: Buck & the audience think Buck is jealous of Eddie spending more time with someone else, but it turns out to be Tommy's attention he's actually after. This is how they meet, this is their past.

Present: Spilling guts and breaking up (08x06) Call 2: The messy messy divorce. A married couple are fighting out a divorce in a lawyer's office. The husband keeps sneezing whenever he lies, causing him to pop his stitches and literally and figuratively spill his guts. The messy truth comes out, and despite this there's a touching moment where he lies that he never loved her. The wife and Buck have a one-on-one talk in which she tells Buck "He lied, he really did love me." and Buck says "I'm sure he did. Does." To which she replies, "Saying he didn't love me is the most beautiful lie he's ever told." It still ends in a messy split with hurt feelings.

Here we have a pretty clear reference to what's happening and is about to happen in this very episode between Buck and Tommy. The messy guts of both of their pasts pertaining to Abby have or will be spilled. The breakup takes both of them by surprise. To quote the lawyer(?) the husband in this scene was having an affair with: "One minute he was fine and the next was like a bomb went off." The audience goes through quite a similar journey. Where the scene opens with one lawyer saying that the process "doesn't have to be painful", we leave feeling absolutely eviscerated.

Future: Pushing away & lifting up (??x??) Call 3: The boy in the pipe. We have an older brother being annoyed by the fact that his younger brother constantly wants him to read to him. When the younger brother asks again, the older brother lashes out and tells him to go away. When he realizes his mistake, the younger brother has wedged himself into an exposed pipe in the yard, underground and in the muck where no one can reach him. When the 118 show up, it's determined that the only one who can pull the younger brother out, is the one who pushed him away and inadvertently caused him to be down there in the first place: the older brother.

So yes, this call is clearly set up to make Chimney realize how having another kid would mean Jee-yun has another person looking out for her and vice versa. However, the specific backstory/build-up of the older brother pushing the younger one away doesn't relate to Chim's situation at all. It does sound a lot like Buck & Tommy's break up, where both parties clearly love and care for each other (though in a different way than familial, clearly) but one still ended up pushing the other away - and, I assume, regretting it. This could be foreshadowing a future in which Buck is down in a dark place (heartbreak), with only one person who is exactly the right fit to save him: the very guy who put him there in the first place.

[mollywog]

"I do the cakes," he admits to me.

"The cakes?" I ask. I've been preoccupied with watching the boy from District 2 send a spear through a dummy's heart from fifteen yards. "What cakes?"

"At home. The iced ones, for the bakery," he says.

He means the ones they display in the windows. Fancy cakes with flowers and pretty things painted in frosting. They're for birthdays and New Year's Day. When we're in the square, Prim always drags me over to admire them, although we'd never be able to afford one. There's little enough beauty in District 12, though, so I can hardly deny her this.

In addition to hope, Peeta brings beauty into their drab surroundings, but more importantly [to Katniss], he brings her sister joy.

Bonus