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mothdruid · 1 year ago

Text

The Physics of Love - Part Three

series masterlist | part one | part two | part four

pairing.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x afab!reader (nickname Nova)

word count.

3.2k

warnings.

this content is meant for those who are 18 and older, fluff, kissing, alcohol consumption, lots of science talk in this part

authors note.

ahhhhhh!!! they kissed!!! fianlly!! i was smilling like a silly goose the entire time i was writing this chapter. it made me so freaking happy. also, Cranbrook is a real place and you totally check it out if you're ever in that area of Michigan! also no, this story is not based in Michigan, i just needed to think of a cool museum i like to go to.

starboy: I’m at the front of the Institute.

A smile grew on your face as you drew closer to the Institute. Bob had texted you only a few minutes ago. No matter how many times you had been here, Cranbrook never ceased to amaze you. Whether it be the seasonal display, the new mineral added to the collection, or even the ice age display they had, it was all fun and captivating.

You slipped your phone into your coat pocket, making your way to the front of the building. There wasn’t many people around, seeming how it was the middle of the day during the week. The two of you had decided to skip out on one of your tutoring session this week to make it work. Between Bob’s grad experiments and your full time schedule, it was hard to find time.

You had suggested doing it during the weekend, but Bob explained that he didn’t want many people around. It left you confused, curious as to why he didn’t want others around. There were only two things that you had thought of. One, he has social anxiety, and two, he disliked kids. And maybe even a third possibility of kids just plain out making him nervous. No matter what the reason, it didn’t bother you.

All morning you couldn’t stop daydreaming about your date today, which both of you were hesitant to call it that. Excitement was bubbling in you, the promising thought of being able to captivate him. Being able to explain all of the minerals to him, breaking down all of the make ups off them, what element made them appear a certain color, all of the things you loved about mineralogy. But some of that excitement was wrapped around the idea of him explaining the stars to you.

As you were coming around the almost barren fountain you saw him. You put a hand up high, waving to get his attention. He was wearing a denim jacket, burnt orange beanie covering most of his hair, a soft gray sweater underneath the jacket, and all of it complimented with black jeans and basic vans. It was all so him that your heart started to flutter. He smiled and gave you a small wave back.

“Hey,” he said once you got a little closer.

“Hey, I hope you didn’t have to wait too long,” you pushed your hands into the pockets of your long wool blended coat.

“Oh no, not at all,” Bob shook his head no.

The both of you sat there for a second, smiling a little awkwardly. Bob eventually broke the silence.

“Ready to check it out?” He asked, nodding up towards the front doors.

“Yeah,” you said with a smile.

The two of you headed up the small bit of stairs to the front doors. Bob quickly made his way up the steps, opening the door for you when he got to them. After thanking him, you both stepped inside the foyer. Bob held the next door open for you, his hand gracing the small of your back. A heat crept into your cheeks, nervousness pooling in your stomach. Even though you were excited, you could barely believe this was happening.

Bob went to the counter, talking with the employee behind the desk. You waited for him only a few steps away, just looking around. It wasn’t anything new, but you still loved the presence this place had. When you looked back over at Bob he making small talk with the employee, accepting one of the maps of the institute before heading back over to you. He adjusted his glasses a little before flashing the map.

“I got this just in case,” Bob smiled at you.

“Do you think we really need that?” You asked as the two of you headed across the lobby like area to a small set of stairs.

“Probably not, but it never hurts.”

The two of you stepped up the stairs, headed to the first section of the museum. Your favorite section. The mineral gallery.

Glass cases adorned every wall with more glass cases jutting out to create sections. Glimmers of light bounced off the minerals already. There were a few benches placed around in the clear areas. Two specimens were placed in the center walk way. The first specimen that was out in the open was a massive fossil, one that was still embedded into the rock it was found in. The second specimen was an enormous rock, half of it broken to display the clusters of amethyst crystals inside.

Bob felt a flutter in his chest when he watched your eyes light up, lips turning upward. You immediately headed down the center walk way, rounding the corner of a glass case into a small section. Bob took his time getting over to you, making sure to look at a few of the cases on his way over. He knew all of the minerals existed, but seeing them all in person was still astounding. All the colors and different types of crystalline structures they came in. Even though he was a space nerd, this always made him appreciate the earth a little more.

“What did you find?”

Bob turned away from the intriguing silvery gray mineral to see you peering around the corner of a glass case. It made his heart warm seeing you so comfortable. He was always so used to seeing you in a school setting. This was a nice change of pace, something he could get used to.

“I was looking at this,” he beckoned you over with a nod of his head.

You took a look at the mineral he was pointing at. A smile grew on your face as you took a few steps towards him.

“Muscovite,” you said while looking at him, “it a really weak mineral, flakes off in layers.”

“It looks pretty,” Bob looked back at it, taking in the layered effect of the mineral.

“Wanna hear something crazy?”

“Hmm?” Bob looked at you, ready for the fact you were about to tell him.

“Muscovite is used in a lot of make ups, especially the shimmery ones. They bust it up into a fine powder and boom, shiny glittery like substance.”

“Minerals are everywhere in our lives, even when you don’t think about it,” Bob looked at you we a small smile.

“Science is everywhere,” you replied.

“The essence of life is science,” Bob added.

The two of you continued your exploration around the mineral gallery. Bob learned about your favorite mineral, and you urged him to pick a favorite mineral. The both of you took pictures of each other with your mineral, setting them as your contact pictures. Bob couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled this much. There was just this infectious passion that flowed through you about every mineral. Even when you told him that ‘gold was overrated’, it felt only half-hearted like you didn’t want to actually say it.

All of it made Bob’s heart flutter and do back flips. He had met people who were passionate about science, but you were a lot cuter than most of them. The way your eyes lit up when you looked at one you loved. How sometimes a look of focus would consume your face while looking at one. It made him feel warm and fuzzy.

Once you two had looked over every mineral, you moved to the next section of the institute. It was now time for Bob to explain everything to you. Well, almost. The first section was meteorites and space rocks. Bob could tell you weren’t as excited about these minerals as the previous. But it was different.

“I mean, obviously space is going to make neat things. It just seems more exciting when it’s from earth,” you explained.

“How so?”

The two of you were standing close, shoulders almost touching as you two looked down at the collection of meteorites in a glass case. It took almost everything inside of Bob to not brush his shoulder against yours. Little did he know, you were hoping he would.

“I don’t know. I’ve been on earth my whole life, so seeing the cool minerals it can produce. Things that are so rare. It feels almost impossible that they came from the same place I’ve lived my whole life,” you paused for a moment, “space is so unknown, it’s like obviously something neat would come from it. Space has nebula’s for fuck sake.”

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He looked over at you and smiled, your gaze still focused on the meteorites.

“Yeah, nebula’s are pretty cool,” Bob said.

You broke your gaze for the little black rocks, meeting his eyes. There was this look in his eyes, one full of adoration. Those blue eyes always made your heart melt. They were like beautiful orbs of kyanite, deep but yet light at the same time. A hypnotizing shimmer drawing you in.

The two of you stood there staring at each other for a moment. The world around you starting to fade, both of you only focused on each other. Both of you had been waiting for weeks for a moment like this. Every soft brush of hands while passing an assignment back and forth, late night texts that elicited giggles and smiles, all the early morning coffees he started buying you. You could stay here forever in this moment.

There was a door off to the side, one that led to the constellation room. Without warning the door burst open, two young kids running out. It broke the two of you out of your moment. The kids came running around, coming close behind you two. Bob put his hand around your back, pulling you close to him and keeping the kids from running into you. Two parents followed out the door, trying to catch up to the kids.

One of your hands moved to his chest, steadying yourself against him. The fabric of his sweater was soft against your fingers, almost distracting you from how close you were. All you could do was stare forward, afraid of what might happen if you looked at him. Something soft touched your cheek then moved to touch your jaw slightly. His hand was softer than you imagined. It was guiding you to look at him.

“You okay?”

Your brain went blank, forgetting every word you had ever learned. All you could do was study his face. You had never been this close to him. It felt like you were looking at someone completely new. You were starting to wonder if he could feel the heat in your cheeks or the intense thumping against your rib cage. Eventually you nodded, letting him know you were okay.

A smile pulled at Bob’s lips, eye crinkling a little bit. His thumb brushed over the skin of your cheek lightly. He was assuming that this was all okay, especially if you weren’t pulling away from him. It felt like a good sign at least.

“Do you want to check out the constellation room?”

“Sure,” you said, finally being able to speak. “Are you gonna speak all space like when we get in there?”

Bob chuckled, leaning a little closer to you in the process. There was this boyish grin on his face, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Only if you want me to.”

Your faces were only mere inches away from each other. Someone could simply bump into one of you and the inevitable would happen. The fateful kiss that the both of you were secretly hoping would happen by the end of this date. Was it a date? Neither of you had officially called it that, or at least to each others faces. Mickey had definitely heard Bob gush about you accepting his invite, to which he only called it a date twice.

“I’d be more than happy to hear you talk space to me.”

Bob’s hand loosened from around your body, grabbing your hand instead. He guided you over to the door, opening it for you. But you didn’t let go of his hand, instead turning around and walking in backwards so you could watch him. Bob couldn’t get rid of the smile on his face, nor did he want to. He happily followed you through the short hallway, watching as you remained backwards and walked through the blackout curtains.

The room was almost pitch black. Little projected constellations covered the walls and ceiling. All of them were labeled, tiny projections of their names near them. You had barely any idea of what all of them were. The constellations you had learned during your freshman astronomy class had faded. Only the Big Dipper and Ursa Major stood out to you. But you were more than excited to have Bob tell you about them. After all, he did let you tell him about Muscovite being in makeup.

You tugged at his hand, pulling him a little closer to you. Bob happily stepped closer to you. The two of you had slowly wandered towards the middle of the room. Bob squeezed your hand, his free hand coming up to adjust his glasses lightly. Neither of you could make out the others eye color. All that was there was little glints reflecting in your eyes.

“Which one is your favorite?” You asked.

“Favorite constellation or star?” He replied, earning a barely visible eye roll from you.

“Both,” you said playfully.

Bob paused for a moment, looking around the room for his specific favorites. It wasn’t too hard for him to find them, his trained eyes knowing the exact shape of the constellation and exact brightness of the star. The constellation was the first one he found.

“There,” Bob turned your body the right way to see the constellation.

His chest was practically flush with your back. His left hand grabbed your left shoulder, pointing at the constellation with the other one. Sudden;y you felt hot breath on your neck and ear.

“Do you see it?” He whispered.

It was hard to focus on the constellations with Bob this close. But you found it, with the help of his pointing. You turned your head barely, eyes flicking down to where his lips should be for a second.

“Yeah,” the word almost came out as a whisper.

“It’s called Delphinus,” Bob’s eyes were trained on your face now, “it’s the shape of a dolphin, representing Poseidon’s messenger Delphini.”

“Is your favorite star in that constellation?”

“No,” Bob started to turn your body with his. Once he found it he stopped the two of you. “There.”

You saw the star immediately. It was a bright star, brighter than some of the other projections. The name attached to the constellation it was a part of was Lyra. The dusty old astronomy cogs in your brain started to turn.

“The swan,” the words passed your lips before you could think.

“Yeah, but the star is Vega,” Bob’s hand drifted down from your shoulder to your back, “the fifth brightest star in the sky. A lot of people over look it cause it isn’t the brightest, but it’s two point one times as massive as the sun. The sun just happens to be older. Plus, I like the bluish white light it gives off.”

Even though it was still dark in the room, it felt like Vega had brightened it up since Bob had explained it. You turned to him, who was still impossibly close to you. There were only a few layers of clothing separating your bodies, but nothing separating your lips. His lips were soft as they moved against yours. It wasn’t anything intense, but it was everything you had been hoping for in a first kiss with him.

Little fireworks were going off in your mind. His hand was resting at the small of your back, applying just enough pressure to keep you pressed into him. Your hands came up to rest on his chest, the denim of his jacket and wool from his sweater rubbing your palms. The wire frame of his glasses was bumping into your nose as the kiss continued. Lips melding together, two beings that were destined to be together finally connecting. It was a perfect science.

“I’ve been waiting to do that,” Bob whispered while resting his forehead against yours.

“Me too,” you replied, biting your lip with a smile.

The rest of the date went just as perfect. It was full of hand holding and giggles, the occasional photo being taken by one of you. Bob happily took a picture of you squaring up with the taxidermied grizzly bear, which became your contact photo. You took one of Bob with his hands up and fake yelling in front of the T-Rex, earning contact photo status as well. You had a hard time deciding on his contact photo, torn between that one and one of him in the black light space room. The goofy one just seemed more him to you.

Neither of you had planned on going to dinner afterwards, but it happened anyways. Since it was last minute it wasn’t anything too nice. A simple bra that was full of people having fun. It helped relieve the small bit of anxiety about it all for the two of you. Bob nursed a draft Blue Moon while you sipped on a draft papaya Cider Boys. You shared a tray of loaded nachos, order of soft pretzels, and plate of deep fried green beans.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you laughed, “you stole a street sign sophomore year?”

“I was really drunk,” Bob replied, “but it wasn’t only me. Without Mickey and Jake it wouldn’t have happened, I don’t think I would have even gone out that night if not for them.”

“Do you still have it?” You asked, then shoveled a heavily covered nacho into your mouth.

“Jake does,” Bob smiled at you before taking a swig of his beer.

“Your friends sound fun,” you held your hand in front of your face, not wanting to flash him the food you were chewing.

“They are,” Bob looked at his beer for a moment, “they are a lot of things, but without them I wouldn’t be here. Here in this very bar with you.”

“Oh really?” A playfully questioning look covered your features while you drank from your cider.

“Really,” Bob adjusted his glasses, “Mickey was the one who encouraged me to, well,” Bob gestured between the two of you and around the table.

Your face lit up, smiling brightly then biting your lip. It was something truly special, hearing that Bob had talked about you with such close friends. Your roommates were the only people that knew of him, but they were your closest friends, so it made sense. Thoughts of meeting his friends and introducing him to yours started to fill your mind. Were Bob’s friends like him? They didn’t sound to be like him. But it made you wonder.

“I’ll have to thank him if I meet him,” you replied.

Bob smiled and nodded, taking a drink of his beer. Him not saying anything worried you a tiny bit. Was what you said too much? Was it assuming something this wasn’t?

Bob noticed your worry immediately, even if it wasn’t that obvious. He set his glass down and reached across the table. The warmth of his hand encapsulated yours. You met his gaze, finding something soft and welcoming in it.

“They are, they’re a lot sometimes,” Bob told you.

“Trust me, mine are too.”

tags:

@wkndwlff

@thedroneranger

@callsign-sprout

@redbarn1995

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd fluff #tutor!bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x afab!reader #bob and nova #the physics of love

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merrycrisis-if · 1 year ago

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here's song vomit hehe<3

qiu?:

Nothing Without You - Tanerélle

If You Love Me (Really Love Me) - Brenda Lee

Florence + The Machine: Stand By Me & Never Let Me Go (Never let me go? Y'know that part where the MC begs Qiu to not let them go <3)

Wait by the River - Lord Huron

Not Done Yet - SOJA

Sanctify - Years & Years (Acoustic) (wlw? mlm? oh to be fruity in a conservative place)

Honeybee - The Head and The Heart

pls don't perceive me, this is way worse than eye contact ~Thanks!~

Ahhhhhh thank you x 100000!! So many gems in here!!!

Florence + The Machine and The Head and The Heart have been bands that I listen to whenever I wanna dwell in heartbreak emotions, so—I'm absolutely with you on those.

Also really enjoyed Wait by the River (which crazily, I'd not heard of before this—madness!)

And most importantly?? Sanctify - Years & Years!!!! God. Why'd you go and do that to me. It's perfect for Qiu, especially perfect for same-sex Qiu. Like——

Give me your confession, saying Lately, life's been tearing you apart Now Walk through the fire with you 'Cause I know how it can hurt Being cut in two, and afraid

??? Already amazing, and then the chorus comes—

So don't break (break) Sanctify my body with pain (pain) Sanctify the love that you crave (crave) Oh, and I won't, and I won't, and I won't be ashamed Sanctify my sins when I pray ... etc. etc.

Then the random verses continue to be so delicious?? Excuse me?? Also the recurring motif of fire, first walking through it (external conflict e.g. Qiu's mom, societal expectations) and then having it consume [you] from the insside (internal conflict, Qiu's own feelings)???

You don't have to be straight with me I see what's underneath your mask I'm a man like you, I breathe the rituals of the dancer's dance Oh, oh And there's fire in you And you know it's gonna hurt, being cut in two And afraid

Yeah anyway. Sorry, I promise Merry Crisis is not becoming a music blog. I'll stop now. But thank you.

#merry crisis #if #interactive fiction #asks #more song recs #y'all are smashing it out of the park with these recs #Qiu

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hernakedmuse · 2 years ago

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hi! maybe u could write something where reader and Tim are close friends at first and then one night she sees her ex at a party with another girl and she’s so upset. Timothée comforts her and then says they should make her ex jealous by dancing, flirting, cuddling. Y/n keeps looking to see if her ex is watching at first but then she really starts to fall for timothee and realizes he’s the one she wants so she kisses him and he takes her to the nearest room and they’re confessing feelings for each other and it’s beautiful 🤩

Omg my first anon request, this is so rad I'm literally a nobody!!! Ahhhhhh thank you for requesting me, I hope I got this right ♥.

Disclaimer: kind of obsessive Timmy, around 2k words of not proofread.

I looked up to see my very beautiful best friend straddling my waist, but it wasn't going like how I fantasized almost every night and day. She was wearing my Bauhaus shirt that's been missing, her luscious thighs exposed to my pleasure, and it took everything I had to not slide my hands up the expanse of them, we're touchy but not THAT touchy.

She was holding a plastic, bloody, Halloween knife in my face and an attempt at a merciless expression on her doll-like face.

"Uh…is this how you ask how you like my eggs?" I joked.

"You jerk!" She hit my bare chest with the party city weapon which hurt more than you'd think.

"Ow!"

"You hid my doll!" She whined, she didn't know but her whining always got me hard and that wasn't great especially since I had morning wood.

"Your Dalton doll?"

Dalton was her dipshit ex boyfriend. They met at a club, she said they had an instant connection and was hopeful since they were the same sign. I want to gage his eyes out and pour acid on his dick.

I've wanted her for only since we've met, she thought I was asking her friend out, when I was trying to ask her out and I ended up going out with her friend instead, and well she figured out after a month that it was Y/N that I wanted and promised not to tell.

But Dalton.

The douche who dumped her because she quote wasn't driven enough. Who the fuck says that to someone? Especially someone you were in a relationship with. I wanted to push him off the Brooklyn Bridge and see if he could fly.

She came to my place in tears, crying that she wasn't enough, calling herself stupid and useless and going nowhere. A stark difference for when she first met the wannabe rock star.

He had a band and she was at a show seeing her friend's band play. I wasn't there that night, if I was I wouldn't have let that happen. He was lead singer of some band, doing well enough that they ended up getting signed, and with that he dumped her. Said she spent too much time supporting him, promoting his band, and making t-shirts. He asked her if she wanted to do anything else with her life, she's a dog sitter and he made her feel like a piece of crap under his shoe for it.

She cried in my arms all night when he dumped her. It took her three hours to convince me not to kill him by choking him with chicken wire.

We were at a party last night, and we saw his band there, the classic rock wannabes that performed at the Grammys. He acted like he never knew her, he looked right through her like she never existed, like they didn't spend a year together, like it wasn't the worst year of my life.

We left the party early and Y/N got so drunk, and had gotten her own Dalton voodoo doll, planning to lay many curses on him. I had to calm her down. I thought she forgot that I got rid of that thing.

My silly, whimsical girl. I wish she wouldn't waste her tears on him.

"Let's go out tonight, Pete wants me to try this new club downtown. It's very exclusive, probably won't see he who shall not be named." I attempted soothing my little tempest, rubbing her back.

She narrowed her eyes in thought and suspicion, slowly lowering the knife. "We'll get so dressed up, you love dressing up."

She looked around. "Will you let me dress you up?" She asked almost childlike. I laughed and sat up, causing her to shift in my lap. "Anything you want."

Her eyes lit up a little and she dropped the knife before climbing off of me, and I missed the weight of her.

''You're forgiven, I'll make some breakfast!" Just like that she was fine.

Tonight arrived faster than I was prepared for, and we did go all out. She gave me a little facial, her stroking fingers felt wonderful on my face and I loved having my head in her lap. The lavender mask was nice too. Apparently I have combination skin.

She did my makeup, it took her mind off of the D word. She enhanced my lips with lip liner and gloss, my eyes with eyeliner and highlighter touched my cheekbones, nose, chin, lips, and head. Y/N painted my nails black and dressed me in leather pants, combat boots, and a black sheer shirt. My favorite part about being her Ken doll was all the touching. I know that's creepy but I don't care.

I wasn't prepared for her to come out like that.

I was waiting in my living room and she came out in a tight, black, sweetheart dress with razor thin straps. The dress was practically strapless, enhancing her cleavage and only ended right below her thigh. She grabbed her red heart shaped purse and my eyes went down to her thigh highs black, leather boots.

My heart was beating so fast and I felt like my lungs were going to collapse. "Fuck, y/n–"

She did a seductive little pose. "Is it okay?"

I nodded. "Good, I'm so ready to get fucked up tonight!"

The club was cool, there were 4 levels and the fourth floor was VIP to an already exclusive club.

I ordered myself an espresso martini and got y/n her favorite, a French martini. A club mix of Lana del Rey's blue jeans was playing, men and women's eyes were on my girl and I put my arm around her waist to end their starving stares.

She swiveled her hips provocatively and bounced up and down to the beat, I downed my drink and began to dance with her when she stopped. "Mouse, what is it?" I asked her using the special nickname I had just for her.

I looked her in direction, what rotten luck, it was Dalton, and he was grinding against one of the new Victoria's Secret models. "You know what he used to tell me all the time?" She asked in a monotone voice.

I grasped her hip, knowing I won't like the answer.

"I'm too big, my thighs are too jiggly, I have too many dimples, my arms aren't toned." She sounded casual when she said this but when I turned her around to face me the tears were pouring. I want to put his face in a fucking blender I swear. How the fuck could he say that shit to her? I clenched my jaw so tight I swear I was gonna break my teeth.

"He's worthless y/n, no I'm serious!" I snapped, causing her eyes to widen. "You look like a girl out of a 1960s playboy issue, the kind you'd find stashed away in your grandpa's bathroom. You're not only adorable and smart and funny, I mean you say shit like 'panic at the costco'!" She laughed through her tears. "You're also so supportive, and imaginative, you aren't afraid to show exactly how you feel, you breathe life into everyone you meet, you know more about dogs than anyone I know and you're hot as hell. He's not good enough for you and we're gonna show him that."

Her eyes widened. "Wait-you think I'm hot- what do you mean-"

I interrupted her stuttering and dragged her in the middle of the dance floor. A sexy song came on and I slid my hand up her soft thigh, her eyes widened but she let it happen pressing into me, as I gripped her thigh lifting it so she wrapped her leg half around me. I rolled my hips forward as if we were fuckin, her dress rose and her red painted lips fell open as her hand moved up my chest.

I bucked my hips and moved my body against her. She wiggled her hips nice and slow as she draped her arms over my shoulders, fingers sliding into my hair , our faces so close we were just a kiss away. It was hard. I was hard. And I knew she felt it. Because she grinded down on it and my nostrils flared. I looked over her shoulder and smirked at a glaring Dalton who pissed off his lingerie date. I mouthed 'fuck you' , and to my joy he looked livid.

I went back to enjoying y/n, she smells so good like sex and vanilla. I rubbed my nose lewdly on her neck. She turns her head to see her ex, remembering the purpose of this sex on the dance floor. "Timmy, he looks so mad do you see him?"

She looked back at me for a response and gasped at the intense look on my face instead. She stares at me with something akin to desire and realization, before leaning in closer.

I moved my mouth closer but remained far enough to let her decide her fate. And fuck she chose well. She pressed her mouth against mine and I could breathe again.

I lifted her a little and dragged her off the floor as I sucked her mouth and kissed it open. I slammed her against the wall between heated bodies and licked her mouth, she parted her lips and sucked on her tongue as grabbed her waist and her ass, pinning her with my body. We only stopped kissing so we could breathe.

Her pupils were dilated and my ringed thumb rubbed her lip. "Timmy, don't kiss me like that if you don't mean it. Don't ever do that again!"

Tears filled her eyes and she attempted to rub from me but I grabbed her hips. "Mouse, you better correct me if I'm wrong, are you saying–"

"I've always…it's always been you, but I thought…"

I laughed with relief. To risk sounding like a loser, this was like a dream. My best friend is like my ideal girl, we never argue, we like the same things, we complain about the same things, I hate and love everything with her. She wasted her time with polluting toxic wastes of human beings just to tell me now it's always been me.

"Fuck me slowly with a Chainsaw, was I really thay blind? I blame my obsession over you and not believing anything this great could happen. You're better than any dream which makes it scarier than any nightmare….when did you know?" I rambled, my hands couldn't stop roaming her body.

She sniffled with a smile. "It was that Gregg Araki film, Doom generation, and I didn't have my favorite candy, you ran out to get it for me. I had a crush on you but I fell in love with you at that moment, like I'm talking hoarding your socks and watching your saliva in your mouth as you drink Starbucks, kind of obsessive love."

I pulled her hand with me, I pushed people out of the way and into the bathroom and locked the door. I lifted her onto the sink and claimed her mouth with mine. "I'm so disgustingly in love with you, it's gross and filthy. I love you so much I fantasized about killing Dalton for hurting you and not appreciating you. I want to be your person, mouse." I was almost in tears and she cupped my face so gently. She kissed my eyes and nose. I kissed her mouth and tasted her tears. "I want to be gross with you." She whispered into the kiss.

"Let's go home." I sighed, kissing down her neck.

"Yours or mine?" She raked her nails through my curls, I could drool from how good it felt.

"Ours. Move in with me."

"Tim–"

"I told you I'm gross."

She tilted my head up and licked up my chin to my lips. "It's okay, I love gross. Disgust me please." She said softly before looking into my eyes.

I didn't hesitate, I'll never hesitate again.

#anon ask #anon request #timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #timothee x reader

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sonosvegliato · 1 year ago

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you always rb fic recs but what’s YOUR favorite fic? one that you will reread forever?

*sweats* I know you just said one but I've been meaning to do this for ages, to contribute to the greater good of this fandom, but the problem is I go so far down the bookmark/history rabbit hole I get sucked in all over again. Me and my bookmarks are like a squirrel and its acorns; I save 'em up then forget about them and years later it's like I've been blessed with a flood of good fic food.

been a number and a name by WynterSky and everything else by them. I love this fic. I love this author. I feel lucky just to have stumbled upon any of their work---their 1990s Tim/Kon work lives in my heart and I'll highly suggest it to anyone to give it a shot, even if you're not a fan of ships or TimKon. My bookmark note: CREAMY ORANGE POPSICLE OF FICS TRY TRY TRY

The Power of Family and This Stalker I Found by JackHawksmoor. Bookmark note:

hands in my hair mcfreaking incredible can i learn to write adrenaline scenes like this is there a course where is that course also i need to learn how to bedazzle a sash for this author a sash of wow so everyone knows wow WOW if anyone goes through my bookmarks click this one click this one i promise your circadian will be so messed up but you will like it you will mcfreaking enjoy the blurry word at hour 2 you will drink from the fountain of wow i feel like i'm on a rollercoaster like legit like stomach in my ribcage throw up out of excitement and also fear i've never actually been on a big kid rollercoaster ahHHHHH pacing flipping tables i don't know man I DON'T KNOW this is without words this is beat my fists through the fourth wall fall into the fifth dimension into the white water rapids that's where the fountain of wow comes from

READ THIS FIC

Anything by Vamillepudding. I am not subscribed to many authors, mostly because I'm forgetful, but I did remember to subscribe to them---and whenever I get a little alert my heart goes rahrahrah. Extremely talented writer.

Anything by incogneat_oh. One of the first authors I ever read; I found them over PINTEREST over a screenshotted tumblr post. I had no idea who this Tim character was, but thus my life was changed forever. Story in particular was Just Like You, but I read everything---and they have LOTS. God bless.

Obedience by Sohotthateveryonedied. I read lots from them, but Obedience I read very early into my tumble into Batman and it just sort of floats into my head from time to time, the way some fics do.

The Next Life by spqr. Another one that floats around the brain. Bookmark note: STUPENDOUS

contemplate the beauty of the earth by downwithtyranny. I'm a bit biased on this one, but it's short and sweet and pleasantly different. And written by a very smart person who I know for a fact picks up roadkill off the side of the road and fixes them up nice and pretty for study (if you ever meet a real-life-not-a-medical-doctor-biologist, you're in for a treat). Bookmark note:

Human achievement at its finest 👏 👏👏

s c i e n c e r u l e s

And for the holiday season---only you will have stars that can laugh by silverwhittlingknife. Though I did go through all their works---SUPERB Dick characterization.

#batfam fic rec #batman fanfiction #mostly tim drake #dick grayson #and jason todd #I hope this helps someone the way fic recs always help me #feel free to rifle through my bookmarks #ao3 fanfic

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yeyinde · 2 years ago

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Lev!!! you cannot just post that masterpiece and dip. I cannot breathe. I'm grinning like a fucking baffon in my room and thank god it's sunday or else I sure would've call in sick. I'm not kidding. I have no self control and I would've read this at my workplace and God, I don't want to picture me squirming in my seat with a 60yr old woman sitting 2 feet away.

the way you write, smut or not, you include these tiny little details that people wouldn't notice, not even in real life, not even during that particular moment of ecstacy and somehow make it even more smuttier(?). it's never in and out with a grunt here and growl there with your works. it's a whole fucking experience and I have to have a mini freak out and mentally prepare myself before I read any of your work. your single fic is better than many published books I've read.

God, I would love to sit inside your brain and intercept every single one of your tho(ugh)t processes, analyze why you decided to put one particular word over another and such (also I was picturing Price on all fours until you mentioned that he was on his back. what's your thought process there?).

anyway, I'll rb your fic after I have an another proper meltdown so that I can get access to some coherent thoughts and the ability to string words together.

p.s:(I would very much like to deck that one editor that told me fanfic is not real writing and shove this masterpiece down their throat)

p.p.s: I get anxious when I send ask without anon ( don't know why) but I really wanted to send that pic cause that's what it looked like when you posted it.

p.p.p.s: (this is the last one promise) were you listening to purity ring when you wrote it? why that song? sorry for the long ass ask.

OMGGGGGGG for some reason, this does not show up on tumblr mobile - which is what I primarily use unless I'm posting a fic! So I am so so so sorry it took so long for me to reply!!

And AHHHHHH!! This is too much for me, honestly! You're way too nice about the rampant filth I write!!!! I had so many emotions reading this that I can't even begin to process ANY of them!! THANK YOU!!!

As for some of the questions posed:

With Price, I tried to be as true to his character (or the way I perceive his character) as I could be when I wrote this. I know it's just smut, and pegging smut at that!, but I like realism in whatever I read and since I usually write stuff that I like, I needed to include it. It had to make sense to me. I don't think Price would do this with just anyone, but if he mentioned it - he wants it. He was fairly confident through the whole thing, whereas MC was freaking out. I liked the contrast between their characters.

I don't think he'd be inclined to be on his knees for the first time. It would be something he needs to build up to before he gives up that aspect of himself. This was already quite a heavy experience, and so. It just made sense to me that he'd be on his back, with MC over him so he can watch their expressions, and take in the experience as it flickers over their face.

It's also infinitely more intimate, which is what - in Price's head - was the goal?? Like, it was a hot moment, but it was also fostering more trust, and taking a deeper plunge into their relationship. It delves into this a bit more at the end when MC finally has a moment to step away from "JESUS I AM "BALLS" DEEP INSIDE CAP PRICE RIGHT NOW" and look at things with a wider perspective.

It also gives him a modicum of control as well. Which, I think is the basal aspect of his character.

That's quite wordy for what this fic is, OMG. That's sort of what I volleyed back and forth in my head before writing this one.

And I was listening to Purity Ring!!! I rediscovered them through Letterkenny and this song is quite intense to me. The lyrics are just so PERFECT. All of my fics have connecting songs to them that either set the tone when I was writing or explore a different facet of what I want to convey through the lyrics. Usually, it's just atmosphere, but for Fineshrine - it was both!

Ahh, I get so nervous when stuff gets so wordy!!!!! Sorry for the spiel!

This was such a lovely message, and I am so gutted I only found it now. Thank you so much! It genuinely baffles me when people take an interest in my thoughts behind the smut, but this absolutely made my entire week. I will not stop thinking about this - I just know it. AHHHHHH. You're way too sweet!!!!

#OMGGGGG #gonna cry #gonna need #at MINIMUM #5-10 business days to let this one sink in #captain john price

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seoafin · 2 years ago

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where to begin!!!! im in my stsg phase again and youre like 1 of the 3 authors who wrote my favorite stsg stories and i had to go back and reread them for the 1000th time and i refreshed ao3 and surprise surprise!! you have a new series and i nearly screamed … anyways not to sound obsessed but i literally refresh the stsg reader tag 24/7 thinking only of your series like ive never caught up with a fic series that quick… but i’m just so glad your wonderful brain is conjuring up another Amazing soul crushing series involving those two gremlims ahhhhhh

and let me just say ive been scrolling through your blog + tags abt stsg and just literally obsessed!!! nothing else is on my mind besides your writing its so bad!!! plus i discovered you wrote a previous fic that i Absolutely LOVED but never found but i shouldve known bc the writing was just soo impeccably Amazing and so you (its the only where nobara goes to lengths trying to get answers of readers relationship w stsg..) (actually the best fic ever like id die on this hill defending its glory and how much more side stories can come out of it..plus megumi’s protective personality around reader makes me squeal!!!) (pls protect reader from stsg’s annoying asses omfg)

anyways your characterization is just perfect i cant put into words… and now that i’ve found you have a tumblr where you answer questions regarding your characters and about your stories .. like that is not healthy for me!!!i swear ive got so many questions whether its about the trio, poly relationship and how the dynamics work and side scenarios where i feel worth mentioning like!!! can i just mention how happy i am to discover your tumblr to share with you how much i adore your writing and i hope to share with you my own thoughts abt your amazing craft!!!! GAWDDD (also can i rec you one of my other fav stsg story from this really awesome author too? id really like my favorite writer to read one of my favorite pieces to get your thoughts on it bc i love it so much)

- 3 (name for inbox hehe)

omgggg i am soooo flattered wtf 😭😭😭 the encouragement i've been getting on ddao is crazy hopefully i do not disappoint!!! i know people don't really like miscommunication but I do. i love me some good seemingly one sided pining. i love when men pine. i think men should pine more. that being said thank you so much for your kind words <33333 and as for recs, you can always rec me something but i can't make any promises that i'll read it since i like to read fics on my own time (when i have time) but i can always keep it in mind!

#also ive been meaning to rewrite that fic for so long LMAO #i never posted it on ao3 for a reason so i am pleasantly surprised you enjoy it!!!!#giving u a BIGGGGG kiss your ask made my day!#im sorry im grinning like a maniac rn KIS KISS #3 anon #ddao.fb

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galesdevoteewife · 1 year ago

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Ahhhhhh, YES!!!

There has been an essay lying in my draft for so long, yet this one here is perfectly written. I think the draft drawer can be the tomb for my wordy scribble now, just let me carve its gravestone.

| Rambling thoughts on Gale's relationship with Mystra

If there's anything I would like to add on top of the already elaborated and well-illustrated picture: aside from all the chosen's boons, Mystra's love must have given an intoxicating vanity boost for the 'proud as a peacock' wizard. Imagine how he humbled all his rivals and made them envious, with the goddess's hands on his shoulder... That certainly felt GOOD. I personally have never thought of Gale as a 100% innocent victim. Nor do I see Mystra as too much of a person; while her capacity for sentimentality is unknown, she is a blend of the natural spirit of the universe, an once-human thousand-year-old deity (who shed tears and could be emotional at times), and another once-kindhearted-human, young goddess. I see it more as Gale was dating a sentient sun, or talking wind, or conscious dark matter, just in a dress, with long hair and boobs. To think Mystra's command was never about Gale's life. What she wanted has always been the destruction of the Absolute and Karsus's Crown. After all, how much could a perished mortal means to the universe? In Gale's introduction, he uses 'miscalculation' to describe his folly, and the way he talks about Mystra in the cursed land... I believe Gale knows his goddess and probably (at least to some extent) wasn't unaware of the risks he was taking by 'seeking to cross her boundary.' He was playing with the fire of a goddess, and he KNEW. What he didn't know is the truth about the orb and therefore he lost. Everything.

A conversation between player and Gale. I do suspect Gale is designed as an Icarus-coded Karsus's successor. I ponder how his attempt for the orb went unnoticed by Mystra, when reading Karsus's book is a firework to Elysium. Did she allow his folly to happen? Or perhaps something the orb did?

Mystra even let her little butterfly (I am in love with the metaphor. That's how Mystra sees him, isn't it?) bargained and offering the cure if he manages to serve her well. She was willing to let all the bad blood be bygone after all had happened...Gale DID think about killing her, or at least challenging her when he learned about the crown. I would say she does adore him and was in a forgiving mood.

In BG3, I think Larian originally wanted to portray Mystra as a 'reward,' a hard-earned one. I didn't feel she was a fickle, cold-blooded goddess in my gameplay; in fact, I found her quite tolerating, despite I was only ever romancing Gale or playing as Gale. I was surprised when I finished my uninfluenced, vanilla runs, went online, and figured out how much hatred there is towards her. Maybe it's because the ex-lover part triggers a lot of feelings and expectations?

Sidenote: This just gets me thinking, how many have struggled in this fantasy world, and their prayers have never been answered. To hear Wyll saying "Mystra wants to meet Gale? Impressive. The only thing a god has ever offered me is a cold shoulder." To hear Asarion saying he tried every divine, and "None of them answered"—for two. hundred. years... Wyll wouldn't even look at whatever good deal Mizora pulled out from under her dress; if Tyr ever made an offer. What wouldn't Helsin do if Silvanus offered to cure the cursed land? Shadowheart was promised by her goddess with the 'blessing' of amnesia and pain...(and a spear and some powerful abilities of course)

Yet Gale is the one who gets to bargain, pout and plead while he knows the goddess, the universe herself, is listening because he is literally seeing her and having a conversation. I do think he is the beloved one by fate. His fall hurts so tragically because he was once standing so high, close enough to reach the stars. But most have never dared to imagine even the possibility of attaining the height, because they are too occupied struggling in the puddle...

Note[1]: A very interesting post pointing out how Gale could be Icarus-coded. His last name Dekarios even sounds like the combination of Daedalus (Icarus's father) and Icarus. Sus. ↀ ↀ

Note[2]: A beautiful post/idea about what if Gale and Mystra was attracted to each other because he could make her human, once again like in the old time...offff thinking of it gives me feelings...

Note[3]: With all being said, it doesn't mean I love the wizard any bit less. Quite the contrary, I am so amazed and in love with the depth of his backstory! All the multifaceted layers only ever made him my favorite character in the game, really.

What a successful character to trigger so much thoughts and feelings. Good job to Larian!

Thoughts on the thunder wizard again.

Genuinely, I find Gale's relationship with Mystra to be fascinating when you consider all its facets. Unhealthy, imbalanced, definitely poisonous, but also very, very intricate with a lot of blurred edges to it. One of those things where you're both like "wow, what the hell, that's horrible" but also "that makes perfect sense for their characters, and while I would NEVER, I know why they would, and why it happened."

You've got a wizard who doesn't know what real love is, who thinks he's finally being shown it by the person he adores most. His greatest fantasy, his most potent joy, his most heartfelt aspirations, and they were all offered to him.

And he wants to see what all she's hiding from him, because of course he does. She's the keeper of all things forbidden to him. The empire of Netheril reached magical heights that will never be touched again, and all that knowledge is beyond her curtain. She loves him, right? Surely, if he proves himself enough, she'll let him grasp that power he so desperately wants.

And not even in the power-hungry sense! All that magic Mystra's locked up was accessible during Mystryl's reign. Think of all the answers to theories about the universe that are back there. Every question of "can this be done, and what would it do" would be answered, if he could just bargain hard enough.

She loves him, right?

Surely, if he proves himself enough...

And then, on the other hand, Mystra. Once Midnight, her human personality has been subsumed by the goddess of magic and her duty to the Weave. She has a responsibility to magic, she IS magic.

Then along comes this mortal boy who knows how to handle her Weave. Who doesn't try to wrestle with and dominate, who sings to it. He handles it with such ease and grace—it's not just that he could be Chosen, but he deserves it. To put her Weave in the hands of someone so intrinsically in tune with it, who understands its potential with a wonder like no other. Few enough can handle the raw power that comes with being Chosen, but this one? This one is perfect.

And he adores you. And you adore him, like one would a beautiful butterfly that's landed on their finger. And he's willing to be devoted to you in all things, not out of transaction like most of your worshipers are, but out of love for you, your craft, your magic. You're so deeply and utterly charmed by him.

And it's not like Mystra hasn't walked this path before.

She gives him what he desires, because what he desires is her. And, in a different way, she desires him. She wants him to be her representation in the world. She indulges his adoration with her own presence, and takes indulgence herself in mortal comforts. He's never satisfied with her answers, but who could blame him? She keeps a whole world away from mortals, because she knows what such unfettered power might bring about (again).

And the wizarding prodigy's ambition is lit (again).

And the height of power is reached for (again).

And she stops him (again, again, again).

She does care for him. She doesn't want to see her little butterfly burn himself, and she doesn't want to be the one to ruin those wings.

But then he's not a butterfly. He's a mortal, wielding a weapon of murder, of her murder, and he's brought it to her doorstep because she told him "no." And he's cut himself on it, he doesn't know what it is, but it's hurt him—and it's only a fraction of the hurt it could do to her. How dare he want her help after threatening her?

(He didn't mean to.)

(He only wanted to help.)

(He only wanted. How human.)

She doesn't help him. If he wants to pursue Karsus' weaponry, it's his responsibility, his hubris, that led him to injuring himself on it. She's furious. She's hurt. She's cold.

(What fools these mortals be.)

But then, there's a greater threat to her. Something that could drown the Material in Karsus' failings. And that little boy, who nicked himself on the sword he lifted, still wants her help.

It's a fair trade, isn't it? She'll forgive him, let him into her domain again, if he accepts his punishment and goes into battle for her. He picked up a sword, it's appropriate that he learns to use it in her name, right?

If he was telling the truth, he wouldn't hesitate. If he really wanted to serve her with the Netherese Orb, he would jump at the opportunity to do so. He would have to give up a few petty things in the process, ("petty," she calls mortality, as if family and home mean nothing, as if friends and love are finite. Because to her, they do mean nothing. Because to her, they are finite.) but it isn’t atonement without sacrifice, is it?

It's the tactical move. She's not above hurting one man to save a nation. It's not even the first time she's done it.

(Dornal Silverhand sends his regards.)

If he loves her, he'd die for her, because she'd let him into her paradise. If he doesn't love her, he won't, and she was justified in removing him from her grace.

He doesn't love her. Not anymore.

Does he hate her enough to try to take his dues?

Ambition has always been man's greatest folly.

#gale of waterdeep #galeology #not mine #this is it #Thank you OP #yes yes yes yes yes #Especially love the line: “He sings to it”#beautifully precise #Excellent post #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 datamine

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gothsuguru · 5 months ago

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hii <3 i saw your post, and first of all you should be proud of yourself for stepping out of your comfort zone and into a new art medium! i know it might seem tedious and frustrating in the beginning, and instant results are way more desirable than slow progress, but please be kind to yourself and understand that practice truly does make perfect! you've got this !!! <3

secondly, there's entirely too many tips to memorise now-a-days, and trying to learn them all is overwhelming, — so i think the best way to improve is by watching youtubers such as @/AngelGanev! his shorter videos where he helps improve beginner artists’ art pieces are educational whilst also being really entertaining at the same time, which (imo) makes it easier for the tips and tricks to stick!

another thing, i know you're probably gonna dislike this Imao cause its a pretty overwhelming suggestion, but studying!! skeletons!!! helpsss! i promise!! think of it like this: if you try to write an essay about a book that you haven't even read, because you lack important contextual knowledge from the book, your essay will lack depth and will be poor quality. the same goes for anatomy!! you can't draw a proportionate body if you lack the knowledge of where the proportions are actually supposed to be (speaking from experience 😭)

this is all i'm writing for now because i don't wanna clog your askbox too much, but please Imk if you have an questions, i'd be happy to help :D please keep on trying, you can do this!!! <3

AHHHHHHHHHH FIRST OF ALL YOU ARE SOOOOOO SWEET & HELPFUL THANK YOU SM!!! and omg that’s too real……. i’m impatient and also Not disciplined so that combo PLUS trying to learn art is beating my ass 😭 but you’re right i should keep at it and just LEARN properly bc i tried to learn ages ago but i never really did the work of Properly Learning anatomy/face shapes/color theory etc but i wanna change that now!!!!!

AND OOOOOH I’LL CHECK HIS VIDEOS OUT!!! THANK YOUUUUUUU <333 i’m a v visual person so hopefully that can help me out! omg…….. tell me why i didn’t even think about skeletons that’s a good idea i should probably learn how to analyze that too 😭 THANK YOU SM FRIEND!!!!

and please feel free to hop into my inbox as much as you want omg i need ALL the help i can get 😭 if you have any other tips i’d love to hear them!! <3 :3 MWAH!!! ILYSM

(& hehehehe since you said i can ask more questions i just may do that rn 🤭 IF YOU DON’T MIND OFC!!!!)

- HOW DO YOU DRAW A HEAD & FACES??? i swear when i do it it’s so ugly and wonky and not at All the face shape i’m trying to go for 😭 same w actual facial features like woah…. Someone Take This Apple Pencil Away From Me

- do you happen to know where i could learn how to draw heads/expressions/bodies? do you rec pinterest or books or videos? bc everything i’ve seen so far isn’t the Style or Vibe i’m going for 😭 basics are so hard too like damn

y’know what since i’m a beginner i’ll just ask these ndndndnd i can learn abt colors/shading/lighting a bit later methinks i just need to get the basics down 😭 BUT TYSM FRIEND AHHHHHH I APPRECIATE YOU SM 🥰🩷

^ me but switch out gojo for yourself :3

#asks #anon #YOU ARE SO SWEET I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU #am hugging and smooching you on the head rn :3

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thisisanude · 6 months ago

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AHHHHHHH

i hate feeling jealousy its truly so embarrassing and never happens to me like really rly at all but i am jealous of her bf its crazy its fucked up i feel like a bad person for feeling that way especially bc hes so nice and means so well and deserves the best but im so soosooossoooo AHHHHHA HAHHHHHH like why does he get to live with her and hangout all the time and shower with her and touch her im fucked im soooo fuckedim cooked i am literally socooked. the way that i have a bf too that i love doing all those things with. like i actually genuinely do love hanging out with my bf and showering and touching and i would prob like living with him. but i wish i could live with her again so bad. so its like actually so fucked up its beyond fucked.its just not right. why cant i have both. i hate that monogamy is so normalized bc i literally would love to be polyamorous but i rly dont want the judgement that comes from that or even to ever bring that upto my bf ever EVER cuz i real dont think hed be down. i jsut. i would be happier having a bf and gf both. and she can have a gf and bf. AHHHHHH why cant our bfs just be like accessories that live with us and take care of us and hangout but are also ok with us hanging out more. THIS IS FUCKED THISI IS SO FUCKED UP OF ME TO THINK!!!! i am a bad person. i cannot believe the thoughts i have frequently i wonder if theyll pass. i got a bracelet that says on the inside of it its whats on the inside that counts. i feel like most of the time i consider myself a good person with good intentions but lately ive been having an identity crisis because of this. i can never ever EVER tell my bf how i truly feel. i cant tell her either, or any of my other best friends. its really upsetting to just have to live like this. yet part of me never wants it to end its so bittersweet because it feels so good to hang out and do things that are like REAL CONFUSING but then there are so many bad things that come with that its like AHHHHFuck !!!!! but i feel so guilty because its like wow iwant todo all these things with her but i dont want to break up with my bf and i dont know what it would even be like dating each other bc that would just be too weird weve been friends for too long. why cant we just be extra special best friends that fuck a lot and live together but like still do all the things with our bfs that we normally would. like were neighbors with them. and they come over a lot and hang out. i wish i wish i wish i wish i could just get what i wanted. im so pathetic lololoolollol i dont think she is thinking that much about this if at all. i wish i could read her mind. i wish i could read her sisters mind. i wish i knew what they talked about if anything at all. something tells me her sister knows something that i dont but would love to. PLEASEEEEE AHHHhaudskjxck i need to be grateful for allthat i have i am so grateful for it all. i am i really am i promise. grass is always greener i guess. or maybe im going through a really gay phase. i wonder how my life wouldve gone if i had came out to my family when i was 16. i really wonder what i would be doing right now. i .... think things would definitely be different but im not sure how different.

#mine #gay #a #love

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sugarcoated-lame · 1 year ago

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oh my gosh, what an emotional rollercoaster !!! Did I cry my way through like half of this chapter? Yes (happy tears I promise). aaaah I’m so happy that Baby Bradshaw-Seresin is finally here, this chapter was everything I could’ve wanted and more!!

On his run that morning, he had thought about it. If he had woken you. Asked you for your number, asked you on a date. He had thought about the way you had joked the night before and the instant connection. But then he came home and realized who you were. It was all downhill from there with the way he had treated you.

He should have just woken you that morning, asked you if you would go to dinner with him. There are so many things he would do differently now. He swallows as he climbs into the driver’s side of his truck and wraps a hand around the wheel just to notice how much he’s trembling now.

Seeing him reflect on the night they met and wishing that he’d just treated her better back then and asked her out… my heart! 🥺 I keep saying it, but Bradley’s character development and growth throughout this series is just truly incredible

August third. It hasn’t ever been important before, it will be every day for the rest of his life. It’s his son’s birthday.

Bradley doesn’t have anybody, Maverick never had anybody. You’ve got two parents out there somewhere who are willing to let you go through this alone. He swallows softly at the thought and lifts his hand, brushing it tenderly over your head as he leans closer.

Mav being there for Baby Seresin and assuring her was so sweet and just melted my heart!!! 🥹 And I loved that moment with Baby Seresin saying she wants him there when Bradley tells him to leave!

oh my goodness did you have me worried for a minute there, my anxiety was through the roof, but i’m so, so happy that both Baby Seresin and Thomas are okay 😭

Bradley swallows the lump in his throat. Four and a half hours of labour without any tears. Twelve seconds of watching you with your baby and hot tears are stinging his eyes.

“I’m serious,” He tells you softly, watching you blink tiredly. “I’d have nothing if it wasn’t for you. I was bitter and mean, and you were way too nice to me. It’s because of you that we have him. I’m so, so grateful.”

I’m right there with ya Bradley, there are tears in my eyes too!!! 😭😭😭

Maverick feels the lump in his throat grow as he realises that it isn’t his best friend.

KATIE HOW DARE YOU!! I will forgive you for tugging on my heartstrings like that tho because that little moment at the end with Mav and Bradley made my heart so happy. Bradley’s letting him meet the baby put the biggest smile on my face and I hope that this is the beginning of them being able to heal and mend their relationship!

AHHHHHH BRADLEY AND BABY SERESIN ARE PARENTS!!!!! it’s insane seeing Bradley go from immature, douchey frat boy to being a DAD! It was so beautiful and genuinely brought tears to my eyes seeing how much love they clearly both have for each other and baby Thomas. This chapter was everything, it was absolute perfection and I couldn’t have loved it more!! I just love their little family so much already and I’m so excited to see more of story!! 🥹🧡❤️🧡

My Future in You | 2.5 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing, extreme inaccuracies on hospitals and the entire birthing process but this is fiction so we move. WC: 4.7k

…

Bradley spins the padlock, humming as he does, twisting the lock and pulling open his locker. That run was awful, his instructor has been breathing down his back and Bradley had fucked up two consecutive manoeuvres. He’s sweaty, and tired.

It’s nice out, though, and you’ve been so couped up recently that it’s driving you crazy. If he’s done early enough he could take you out. It’s the middle of summer, there are tons of properties not far that host drive-ins.

You’d probably like that.

He reaches for his bag first. Towel, clothes, soap — the necessities. Under that, is his phone, which he picks up absentmindedly, without checking. Immediately, it starts to buzz in his hand. He turns it over as he walks towards the showers, seeing an unknown number flash up on the screen.

Instinct tells him to answer. He taps the button and cautiously brings the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“There you are, you son of a bitch!”

Bradley blinks, frowning slightly. His stomach drops.

“Jake?”

“No, no! Don’t you dare fucking speak, where the hell are you?” Jake rants on the other end of the line. Bradley’s brows furrow as he plugs a finger into his ear to try to hear. He knows for a fact that Jake gets one call a week, and he hasn’t ever wasted that call on speaking to Bradley.

“What? — I’m at work, what’s going on?” About fifteen other pilots just piled into this room behind him, it’s hard to hear, even with the way your brother is screaming.

“My baby sister’s about to have your kid in your dumbass uncle’s car is what’s going on! — I’m so serious about this, Bradley, if you fucking let her down today, I will kill you — I promise you that I will actually—“

“Uncle? Jake, slow down, I’m grabbing my keys. Where the fuck is she?” Bradley turns on his heel and shoves his way back through the steam-filled locker room, pressing the phone closer to try to hear. It has been hours since he was able to check his phone and the thought makes his throat tight. He can’t think of how many times you would have tried to reach him, how scared you must be.

It’s the entire reason you’re here, away from everything you have ever known; so that he could be there for you. And he isn’t. He might have missed it. He could have let you down all over again.

“She’s on her way to Sacred Heart Hospital! Do you know how many fucking times she tried to call you?” Before Jake even gets to finish his second sentence, Bradley has started running, hoping that he doesn’t turn a corner and knock hot coffee into someone important.

Jake continues to rant on the other end of the line but Bradley’s far from even listening. All he can think of now is when he woke up the night after halloween and saw you laying in his bed, wrapped in his jersey. You had looked so comfortable that he hadn’t wanted to wake you.

“Are you fucking listening to me?”

Bradley swallows, fumbling to get the key into the ignition and balance his phone between his ear and his cheek. “Look, Jake… I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you when I can.”

Jake starts to protest, but Bradley hangs up anyway. His heartbeat thuds in his ears as he backs out of the parking spot. August third. It hasn’t ever been important before, it will be every day for the rest of his life. It’s his son’s birthday.

Maverick winces at your bedside. He has been told by nurses six times now to just sit, that it could be a while before a doctor can see you. But, he won’t. He has been standing to the right side of your bed for over an hour now. He has been acting on autopilot, he barely even knows how he got you here. It’s the one thing that has kept him alive in his career so far, probably. Instinct.

He watches as you double forwards, gritting your teeth, whimpering in pain.

“It’s alright, you’re going to be just fine.” He says quietly. Your hand darts out and your fingers link between his, squeezing hard at his shaking hand. As much as he’s certain that your grip is going to bruise, he just exhales slowly and smooths his thumb over the back of your hand.

He didn’t even know your name this morning.

“Alright, Miss Seresin,” The snap of a surgical glove alerts the both of you, looking up quickly to see the smiling woman in the colourful scrubs entering the room. “My name is Lucy, I’m just here to do a quick check on how things are progressing. How does that sound?”

Still gritting your teeth, you’re too busy holding your breath and waiting for the pain to subside to answer her. Maverick makes a pained sound at your side, exhaling deeply as you finally let go of his hand.

“Mhm.” You manage out.

Lucy offers you a sympathetic smile as she pulls up a stool at the end of the bed. Maverick turns his attention towards the ceiling as she settles between your legs. You make a soft sound, closing your eyes. You wish that your mom was here holding your hand, rather than Bradley’s last standing family member.

“Okay, you’re still at six centimeters,” Lucy hums. You drop your head back against the pillow and groan in frustration. You’ve been at six centimeters for an hour and a half. Maverick squeezes your hand softly as Lucy grabs your chart from the end of the bed. “How would you rate your pain at the moment?”

“I don’t know. Does it get worse than this?” Your voice trembles as you speak. After sobbing hysterically into both Bradley’s voicemail and to Jake’s commander, begging him to put Jake on the phone, you’ve been doing your best not to cry again. It seems to make Maverick uncomfortable.

“Can you give her anything? — An epidural, or whatever?” Maverick presses.

Lucy presses her lips into a line as she pushes herself to her feet and sets the chart back into its place. She gives a small shake of her head. If she knew anything about Pete Mitchell, she would know that ‘no’ isn’t a word he often agrees with.

“Why not?” He urges, brows knitting together as he drops your hand and straightens up. You glance between him and her.

She sighs softly. “With pregnancies that have complications, we tend to advise against epidural. It could put more strain on his heart, we would have to monitor very closely.”

“So monitor it closely. If you’re so worried, why has she been sitting here for an hour on her own?” Maverick challenges her. Lucy looks towards you and wrings her hands together.

“Pete, stop.” You breathe out.

“I can get the doctor to discuss it with you. It’s still an option at this point, but—“

“I don’t want it.” Your answer is instant. It’s the most confident you’ve sounded all day. Maverick’s head whips around and for the first time, you catch sight of Bradley in his eyes. It’s not a genetic thing, just more of a temperament. All of those hours spent together, Bradley’s quizzical, developing mind. He’s been copying those mannerisms subconsciously since he was in the first grade.

“But—“

“I don’t want it. We’ll be just fine without it.” You decide calmly, smoothing your palms over your swollen stomach for one of the last times. Pete opens his mouth at your side, he almost argues with you, but he stops himself. This isn’t his kid, or even his family — Bradley has made that clear. So, pressing his lips together, he just nods.

Bradley can feel all of the eyes on him. Maybe it’s because he’s in uniform, maybe it’s because he is walking so fast that when he collided with a doctor two minutes ago, he knocked the poor guy straight on his ass and just kept walking. His eyes widen as he spots the reception desk finally.

“Seresin. My, uh — my girlfriend is having a baby. Her last name is Seresin, she should be here.” Bradley breathes out. The nurse looks up at him and smiles. She sees a lot of stressed out, first time dads. This isn’t unusual.

“Alright. What’s your name, honey?” She smiles.

“Bradley Bradshaw.”

“I’ll tell her you’re here, I’ll come get you as soon as she says it’s okay. Why don’t you get some water, just take a breath?” She reaches out and pats the hand that he has resting on top of the counter. Bradley swallows, managing to give her a stiff nod.

She’s gone for less than two minutes, but Bradley’s pounding heart just makes it feel like it’s an eternity. She can see it on his face when she walks back towards him that he’s terrified. So, she just offers him a smile and nods for him to follow her.

At first, Bradley doesn’t even notice that there’s anyone else in the room. All he sees is you, sitting up in the bed, your hair pulled back and tears in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He rushes towards you. You whimper as he wraps you in his arms, grabbing onto him tightly. He leans down and kisses the top of your head. “Jake got through to me, I got here as soon as I could.”

“I was scared you wouldn’t make it in time.” You whisper into his chest. Bradley turns his head and kisses your temple, nodding. He opens his mouth to agree, and then takes notice of who is standing at the other side of your bed. His uncle. He hadn’t taken much notice of what Jake had said on the phone.

He stands up straight and stares, silent for a second. Maverick has learned by now to just keep his mouth shut.

“I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from my family.”

“Bradley, don’t. He got me here, he stayed with me.” You frown up at him. Bradley just stares over you, looking at the man who has let him down again and again for as long as they have known each other.

Maverick takes a slow step back, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’ll go. I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”

“No, Mav—“

“I don’t want him here. He doesn’t need to be anywhere near—“

“I want him here.” You answer back, scowling up at your boyfriend. Of all the stupid arguments that the two of you have had, Bradley knows better than to pick a fight with someone who is in active labour.

Even so, Maverick has spent more than two decades going against Bradley’s wishes. Making him eat his vegetables, refusing to let him drop out of little league, almost ruining his career. He needs to give his nephew some leeway here, if this is going to work.

“I could go to your place. Get you some things, give you two a minute. I’ll come back, sit in the waiting room. If you want me, I’ll be right outside.”

“No.” Bradley deadpans. You shoot him a look, then turn to offer Pete a small smile.

“Can I text you a list? I have it all written on my phone.”

Maverick nods. He still has your keys from earlier, and honestly, he’s grateful to be out from Bradley’s glare once he leaves the room. You’re grateful that you aren’t going to have the two of them fighting while you’re trying to do this.

Bradley’s scowl fades once he’s certain that Maverick is far enough away. He turns around and perches on the side of your bed, draping his arm around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head.

“How are you feeling? — Did they give you anything for the pain, yet?” He asks softly, smoothing his free hand tenderly over your stomach. You scrunch your nose slightly and turn to frown at him.

“No — Bradley, you smell disgusting.”

He stares back at you, blinking slowly. “Honey, I ran a red light to get here. Showering wasn’t my top priority.”

“No, I know, but — could you maybe put your arm down?”

His mouth twitches, giving an amused shake of his head as he unwraps his arm from around you. He entwines his fingers with yours instead, giving your hand a soft squeeze. “What do you mean they haven’t given you anything? — Do you want me to talk to someone?”

“No, no. I can’t have an epidural, it would put him at risk. I’m going to do it without.” You’re quiet as you explain it, just waiting for Bradley to freak out like Maverick had wanted to. He’s quiet for a minute. You brace yourself.

He strokes his thumb softly along the fabric of the hospital gown. It takes him a minute to finally lift his head and look you in the eye. He exhales slowly.

“You’re sure?”

“You couldn’t change my mind if you tr— ah.” You wince, sitting bolt upright and holding your breath. Bradley barely even notices you squeezing his hand. He feels sick, watching the way your entire body goes rigid with the pain. He has read that this can take like eight hours the first time, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to sit through eight hours of watching you suffer like this.

That being said, there’s nothing he can do but be here. An hour later, he’s already on the verge of tearing his hair out as silent tears roll down your cheeks while you sip on water. He has suggested the epidural twice more since your first conversation, you’ve refused it twice.

The contractions are more regular now. You’re trying to keep him calm, knowing that he’s freaking out even more than you are, but they’re close enough together now that you haven’t spoken in a while. You knew this was going to hurt, but the last ten minutes have been agony.

“Okay, Miss Seresin, just here for another quick check.” Lucy strolls back into the room smiling again, shooting a quick look to the new man standing at your bedside. Bradley glances between you and her, fighting to ask her where the hell she has been. She sits between your legs once more. You sigh in discomfort. The thing about not having an epidural — you can feel everything. “Oh.”

Bradley looks at her. “Oh?”

“She, uh — We’re just about there. That was fast, you’re sure this is your first?” Her smile has faded for the first time. You stare at her face. She looks scared. You feel like you’re going to throw up.

“She’d notice if it wasn’t, wouldn’t she?” Bradley bites. You swing your arm out and smack him in the stomach. Lucy stands up quickly.

“I’m going to grab the doctor.”

You’re quiet as she hurries off, turning your head and looking up at Bradley. He watches your lip tremble and reaches out instinctively, stroking gently at your cheek. He wipes a salty tear from your skin.

“She looked worried.” You whisper to him.

He leans down, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your mouth as he squeezes your hand. “You’ve got this. You’re going to be just fine. This whole time, you’ve been so strong. Just a little longer.”

Squeezing his hand, you lean closer and rest your face against his arm.

“I’m so fucking scared.”

“Nothing’s going to happen, to either one of you.” Bradley kisses the top of your head, his eyes sting. He closes them and inhales the familiar scent of your hair. There’s no way in hell he’s going to cry in front of you. “Just a little longer and he’s going to be here, this is all going to be worth it.”

He doesn’t know that for sure, there’s no way that he can, but it’s enough for you to believe it. Besides, there isn’t a lot of time to be caught up in the fear. Once pushing starts, there’s only one thing on your mind and that’s getting this over and done with.

Bradley isn’t sure what he was expecting labour to be like, but he wasn’t expecting so many people. There are six people in this room and Bradley isn’t sure exactly what any of them are here for specifically. His main focus is you.

Each time you push, your body goes tense, you grit your teeth and you hold your breath. He’s sure that you’re going to pass out any minute now.

“Okay, another big one. You’re doing great.” The doctor instructs. Bradley shoots him a furious look. A nurse at your side is quick to rub your shoulder and tell you to breathe. He leans in close and kisses the top of your head. Once again, you grit your teeth and push hard. Bradley feels like he can’t breathe himself.

This time, you don’t hold your breath. Instead, it’s all forced out of your lungs at once as you scream out, digging your nails into Bradley’s palm, hot tears spilling onto your cheeks. The second that you’re done screaming, there’s no getting your breath back. You inhale too fast and sob back out an exhale. Again and again as the nurse at your side tells you to slow down.

“Alright, and again.” The doctor sighs.

Your eyes flicker to him, and Bradley snaps. He can’t stand the pain in your expression, and he can’t stand that doctor’s fucking tone. “Again? — She needs a break. She can’t go again.”

The abundantly calm older lady between your legs simply lifts her head and looks up at him through her glasses. She has been delivering babies longer than either one of you has been alive. “Son, there’s no time for a break right now. This baby’s coming. Rather than yelling at me, focus on her.”

Bradley’s jaw ticks as he settles in closer and brings your knuckles up to rest against his lips. He winces, blinking back tears as you have to go through another tough push. Your head falls back against the pillows in a moment of brief respite.

He studies your face for a second. Up until this exact moment in time, as he’s wiping tears from your cheeks with his free hand, Bradley had seen the two of you maybe having another kid. Right now, he’s certain that he’ll never put you through any of this again.

“You must hate me right now.” He whispers, giving a soft shake of his head. Honestly, he doesn’t really expect you to answer. He barely expects you to hear him. He definitely doesn’t expect you to laugh.

Your face is hot, and blotchy with tears. Your entire body is exhausted and trembling, and you’re laughing at him. Sniffling, you blink through the tears, “I’ve hated you more than I do right now, it’s okay.”

He can’t help but smile, brushing a few strands of hair back off of your face, then leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’ve been thinking a lot, about the future, and about our family—“

“Don’t you dare fucking propose to me right now, Bradley. Don’t.” You growl. The nurse at your side just can’t hold it in. Bradley frowns at her as she giggles and rubs soothingly at your back. He kisses your knuckles and closes his mouth.

You’re right. He’ll finish that speech another time.

“Here’s his head.”

Bradley looks swiftly away and stares at the ceiling. The death-grip that you’ve got on his hand is the least of his worries. The thought alone is enough to make him dizzy. Jake’s going to kill him if he passes out. He inhales slowly through his nose and leans in again, resting his forehead against your temple as you cry out.

“There we go, that’s perfect. Keep going, he’s almost here.” The doctor’s tone never lifts above a breezy cadence. She’s beyond cool, finally glancing up to offer you a small smile.

He sticks to your side, kissing your temple. Your chest heaves. There’s not long to go, you’re almost done. But, the end is the worst. It really does feel like you’re going to black out. You don’t know how people have been doing this for so long, or why some of them choose to have so many kids after this pain.

You half expect to give up, to break down crying and begging for your mother before it’s all done. You’re right on the verge, whimpering into the sleeve of Bradley’s flight suit. And then, it’s over. The doctor exhales deeply and hums.

He takes his first big inhale and promptly wails into the air.

The doctor has him in her hands when she looks up and catches sight of the two of you before her. You’re clinging onto his hand and he’s pressing as close to you as he can without crawling into the bed. There’s a fearful, awestruck look plastered across both of your faces as you stare in the direction of the scream.

She smiles at the two of you. You’re going to be just fine.

“Would you like to cut the cord?” The doctor asks Bradley calmly. He regrets yelling at her now, but she doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge.

Bradley blinks, then shakes his head. “No, I don’t want to hurt him.

She chuckles, then shakes her head. “You won’t.”

He does as instructed, rolling his sleeves up, and quickly cleaning his hands and arms. He’s the first one that gets a look. As he sets the scissors back down, he turns his head towards you with a look on his face that you haven’t seen before.

Blinking back tears, Bradley smiles softly at you. And then he’s all yours. They set the baby down on your chest, starting to clean and dry him off right away. Bradley moves to your side once again, brushing your hair back off of your forehead.

Still wailing, you whimper quietly as you stare down at the infant. Ten fingers, ten toes, a good set of lungs on him. Bradley’s lips press softly to your forehead as you reach out, hands trembling, and trail your fingers featherlight along the length of his spine.

His plush, pink lips tremble as the wailing starts to subside. Bradley strokes tenderly at the nape of your neck with his thumb, rendered silent as he watches you with him.

“Hi,” You breathe out, hugging the towel closer to him. You inhale deeply, then exhale through your nose. A nurse smiles as she reaches around you to place the soft knit hat on top of his head. He’s warm enough now, you want to keep it that way. “Hi, baby boy.”

Bradley swallows the lump in his throat. Four and a half hours of labour without any tears. Twelve seconds of watching you with your baby and hot tears are stinging his eyes.

You get five minutes with him before they have to check his vitals, his weight, his height. As much as your arms feel empty without him there, you want those results. You want him to be fine. You want to see him in that bassinet beside your bed tomorrow night.

Blinking, you look up at Bradley. He scoffs as your mouth falls open.

“Allergies.” He mumbles, crouching down to kiss your mouth as tears dampen his cheeks. You reach up and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, turning your face into his neck. You feel him relax into your touch. He kisses your shoulder, sniffling.

Both of you let it be quiet for a moment. You won’t be getting a lot of that once you’re at home, not with that boy’s vocal chords.

“Thank you,” Bradley mumbles into the crook of your neck. He pulls back from the hug just slightly, brushing the backs of his fingers along your cheek. He sighs, then nods seriously. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t ask me to do it again.” You joke, watching his tearful face shift into a grin. He sits forwards and kisses you. You close your eyes as he trails his fingertips along your arms.

Your lips quirk up into a soft smile. If Jake could hear some of this, he would probably start to like Bradley again.

Exhaustion starts to set in, but there’s no time to sleep when there are doctors and nurses fussing over you, and then he’s being bundled back into you again.

Your eyelids are heavy as you turn your head and look over at Bradley, sitting in the chair beside your bed. His flight suit is tied around his waist and his t-shirt is draped over the back of the chair. Your baby looks tiny nestled into his arms.

You fight to keep awake as your always calm doctor walks into the room once again and sits down between the two of you.

“Seventeen inches, four pounds and ten ounces. Congratulations.” She tells the two of you with a small smile. Bradley doesn’t look up at her, smoothing his fingertips through the soft, dark hair on your son’s head. She looks at you, then at Bradley. “He’s strong. He’s doing well. We’re going to move you to the neonatal intensive care unit so that we can keep an eye on his feedings. We need to get that weight up, keep him warm. But, I’m not concerned.”

You swallow softly. “The tests and everything… he looked okay?”

She stands up and takes two small steps towards you. She rests her hand softly on your forearm, giving you a sincere nod. “Aside from his weight, he’s perfect. Does he have a name?”

Bradley finally lifts his head and looks, offering you a small smile. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and nod at her. “His name’s Thomas.”

It breaks your heart when it’s time for him to go. The thought of him being without you on that ward. Bradley holds you while you cry, and truthfully, he feels like crying too. It’s been a long day. You’re all emotional.

He stays with you until you fall asleep. Then, half-awake himself, he heads off to see your son. It’s the first night that he gets to say goodnight to the both of you.

Bradley stops as he closes the door to your room behind him. He stares at the man asleep in the waiting area, drooling on his hand as it props his chin up. He knew Mav had gotten here a while ago, someone had brought the bag in. Bradley just figured he would have gone home by now. Exhaling slowly, he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides.

“Mav?”

The older pilot startles awake, blue eyes wide and blinking quickly as he tries to figure out where he is. It takes him a moment to figure out who is in front of him. Tall, flight-suit, mustache. Maverick feels the lump in his throat grow as he realises that it isn’t his best friend.

He looks Bradley up and down. He looks older now than he did a few hours ago, not just because he’s tired. Because Maverick isn’t looking at a little boy anymore.

“There’s someone you probably want to meet, huh?”

…

tags: @chaoticweirdogeek @alanadetigy @itsmytimetoodream @oldnatgwenaccount @khaylin27 @bioodforbiood @luckyladycreator2 @mizzzpink @cherrycola27 @unordinare @shanimallina87 @heli991113 @ghxst-heart @momc95 @asteria33 @lilyevanswhore @diamond-3 @galaxy-moon @jostyriggslover96 @forgiveliv @shawnsblue @little-wiseone @lovemesomevesey @alm33 @averyhotchner @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @slutford

#Bradley thinking about how he’ll never put her through this again #sure jan #and baby seresin yelling at him not to propose while she’s in labor LMAO I love them #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #top gun maverick #my future in you #mfiy #faves #fic recs

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rancidpancakebatter · 2 years ago

Text

In the Name of Good | Prt 1 -[P.P.]

Pairings: Dark!Yandere!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Prompt: "what are we going to do about this?" you're caught, red-handed, and peter's next move could destroy your life forever. unless… you can convince him otherwise

Summary: Peter is acting strange and curiosity kills the cat

word Count: 6k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+

Swearing, Somnophillia, Murder, Mentions of blood, Mentions of emesis, Animal Abuse/harm (Murder Triad stuff)

( Part 2 | Masterlist )

A/N: AHHHHHH! I'm so sorry I'm late I saw this like 30 minutes ago and whipped this up. Anyway, congrats to @liz-allyn and I'm honoured that you would wanna read anything I write. This is for you :))

Also, there is a literal murder scene in here so read at your own discretion. Perhaps I should cut back on the true crime after this. It's separated from the rest of the text and in italics so you can avoid it if you wish not to read

Peter Parker was the kindest man you knew. You grew up down the street from each other. Your parents moved into his neighbourhood when you were 7 years old. You sat in the front yard with a popsicle as the adults passed you by, carrying many heavy boxes. Across the street, you saw the curtains move. A mop of brown curls ducking as soon as you looked.

Peter had never really had friends before. Always been more of a loner. Aunt May had been preparing cookies all day and promised to take him over when “the new neighbours look more settled.” But he was impatient. He watched as you sat across the street, red popsicle dripping down your chin and fingers. He was fascinated by it. He liked the colour and the way it danced down your arm, enchanting.

You quickly became best friends, walking to school every day and playing at recess together. Peter didn’t treat you differently because you were a girl, he didn’t treat you like you were dainty. He would encourage you to jump off the swings with him. He would do nerf battles with you. He would rough house too.

Peter was your best friend and you loved him unconditionally. In middle school, you had your first crush: Noah Myers. Peter didn’t like him very much but you were head over heels for this boy. He called you pretty and drew you flowers that you would keep in your locker. He asked you to the spring dance and you were so excited to go. Peter and Aunt May took you dress shopping and it was so much fun, until he ditched you to dance with some other girl, an eighth grader no less. You could never compete with her.

That night you cried into Peter’s shoulder and he told you he would make him pay. You weren’t sure what he meant by that, and you never did. Noah showed up to school for a week and then disappeared. People said he moved others said he transferred schools but no one knew for sure.

By high school, many people thought that You and Peter were dating. Your relationship could be seen as co-dependent but you didn’t really care. He made you feel safe. There was hardly a secret between you two. He regularly spent the night at your place and his bed was always open to you. He was there for every milestone; you couldn’t imagine anyone else you would want to share those moments with.

That was until senior year. He started getting distant, he wouldn’t answer his phone for hours at a time and would never explain why. You thought maybe he had a girlfriend, but who? The thought alone made you feel like you were putting your heart through a vegetable spiralizer. It’s true that you weren't dating but you liked his attention. You had never thought of sharing it. Maybe that was selfish of you.

This went on for weeks and you were starting to get restless. What was he doing? What was he hiding? You stayed by your bedroom window on a Tuesday afternoon, watching his house. What you didn’t realise was that Peter was watching you too. He always did. He would watch you through his camera lens from the comfort of his bed. You knew he took pictures of you, you had seen them tacked up on his wall. He explained they were candids and you thought nothing more of it. His sweet, gullible, little lamb.

You didn’t see the stash he had in a book under his bed. He had cut out the pages to make room for your beauty. You had never thought to be reserved around Peter, sometimes changing in front of him. It was a cruel tease that you thought so little of him. He would watch you after school, as you studied, cleaned your room, and did your little workout that drove him crazy.

But today was different. Today you were looking right at him. You didn’t realise this of course, but you were. Why were you watching him, or trying to at least? Had he raised your suspicion? Had you been following the news? He knows Aunt May has warned him about going out at night. He wonders if someone had given you the same talk.

Hello, little lamb, he thought, What is it you want to know? He had to play his cards right. He could make himself visible, see what you might do. He could stay hidden and enjoy knowing you were looking for him. He could call you, pretend to be busy, see if you falter. So many options, so many choices.

Peter liked having choices. He likes making choices for others. That’s something he relished in you. You were so obedient, so willing to act on his will. It might be the only reason he hadn’t been caught. Knowing that it might come back to you made him careful. He had to protect you, keep you safe from the dangers of this world.

Like the dog on Kalamasis Street that tried to bite you. That stupid mutt scared you, snarling and barking at you. It had threatened you and he couldn’t stand for that. He felt joy in the missing fliers hung around the block. He pointed one out to you, just to see what you would say. He swelled with pride when you declared “Serves it right. I just hope it doesn’t come back to finish what it started.”

Peter couldn’t tell you that he knew it wouldn’t. Not yet. He had to make sure you were ready. He had to know that you would accept him and all his flaws. He had to know you would stand by him. He couldn’t lose you, neither of you would survive it.

You were patient, he’ll give you that. Three hours passed with you sitting at your window sill before you called him. He watched as you fumbled with the device in your hands, mulling it over. A choice. You chose to call him.

“Hey Petey, you home?” You sounded chipper but you didn’t know he could see the worry on your face. The way you picked at your nailbed nervous about his answer.

“My car’s out front right?” he chuckled, delighting in your desire to see him.

“Can I come over?” he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. You were so cute.

“Of course, little lamb, you’re always welcome over.” You smiled and he took a picture. You were so perfect, the way you were leaning over the window sill, your breasts pushed out in that thin tank top you had on.

He watched as you made your way across the street, backpack in hand. You had made another choice: to spend the night. Peter was conflicted with himself. He wanted to go out tonight, but having you in his bed would make it difficult. Not because you would catch him, you never did, but it might distract him.

You loved spending the night at Peter’s. It was the best rest you ever had. Maybe it was because his home was homier than yours. His came with an Aunt May, homemade dinners, and a bigger bed. It didn’t matter how much you complained, your parents refused to get you anything bigger than a twin. You think it’s because they’re not as on board with Pete spending the night but you don’t care. You just share your twin and your parents will either have to get you a bigger bed or sleep knowing you and Peter have to snuggle to fit.

Pete meets you at the door and basks in the smile that spreads across your face. You make your way to the dining room table where you begin to work on your homework. Peter joins you and you enjoy the quiet, it feels nice just to be with him. You suddenly feel stupid for getting so jealous over a girl who probably didn’t exist.

You didn’t notice Peter watching your every move as if trying to memorise the choreography of your mundane mannerisms. The way you twirled everything that entered your hand, a pen, a pencil, a straw. The way you would let out three quick puffs of air when you got stumped on something. The way you crossed and uncrossed your legs in thought.

Being “normal” around you was hard, even though his normal around you was already odd. He decided to take advantage of his time with you, hoping perhaps he can satiate himself with you and not need to go out tonight. He let out a dramatic puff of air, catching your attention.

“I can’t focus.” You leaned on your hand pouting.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You were always so willing to serve.

“Can you sit on my lap? You’re too far and it’s distracting.” You got up without a second thought. Physical closeness with Peter was something you were so used to. Whether it be holding hands, cuddling, or sitting on his lap, that was just expected.

You sat on his thigh and it took everything in him not to grab your hips and slowly start grinding you against him. He wondered what you would sound like, what sweet noises and pleas you would make for him. He wondered if you had ever done something like that. He imagines you grinding against a stuffed animal he had given you. What would Mr Whiskers say if he could talk?

You were so oblivious to him and it both excited and angered him. It excited him because he knew he could get away with quite a bit. But it angered him because he wanted you to be his, all his and no one else's. He remembered the guy from your econ class then.

You had worn a skirt Peter had bought you to school today. You loved anything Peter picked out for you and wore it with pride. It was definitely too short for dress code but you were such a sweetheart no one dared scold you. That guy didn’t care how sweet you were.

Peter watched as he trailed behind you in the halls, just staring at your ass, making obscene gestures that his lackeys would laugh at. He had to pay. He couldn’t get away with that. Ogling at what wasn’t his. You none the wiser, too sweet and kind to know what he meant. Peter had to protect you, his little lamb.

It was nine o’clock, time for bed. Peter preferred to stay up but he could never say no to you. You dressed in your pyjamas and Peter watched, he watched as you pulled your shirt off exposing your perfect back to him. He wanted to kiss and lick up your spine, have you mewling, begging for more. You unhooked your bra and for a moment he was jealous of the Smith’s poster on the wall that got to see them. It’s not that Peter hasn’t seen them, it’s just always been through a viewfinder, two planes of glass and a street away.

He always slept in his boxers and you never thought anything of it. It never occurred to you that maybe that was too intimate between friends. He was in his home and could sleep as he wished. You got in bed as Peter went to get you some water. He always did this. Made sure you had plenty to eat and drink. Every time you spent the night he gave you a glass of water and made you drink it all, he was just so kind.

While fixing your drink he tried to focus on you. He tried to convince himself that a night with you was better than a night out, but all he could think about was that fucking guy. He had gone through the yearbook and found him. Blake Walsh was the son of Debera and John Walsh. John owned a landscaping company and after a little digging, he found their address. He couldn’t not go out tonight. Not after what he did to you.

He stirred your glass, making sure the sleep aid fully dissolved. After inspecting it closely he was pleased with his work. You smiled at him as you accepted the water, downing it in seconds before rolling over and patting the place next to you. Peter wasted no time climbing in after you. It wasn’t long before sleep overtook you. Peter waited patiently for your light snores before moving. He had a busy night ahead of him.

First, he petted your face, moving the hair out of the way. You didn’t even flinch. He had been worried he hadn’t used enough melatonin, you were starting to build a tolerance over the years so he had to give you more, always careful to not use too much. He didn’t want you to be suspicious. He ripped the blankets off of you and rolled you onto your back.

He took in your sleeping form, nipples peaked through your thin shirt due to the sudden coldness, your exposed hip from where it rode up, your shorts bunched. He wanted to ravish you. He checked the clock, 10:30. He had to finish his night by three. It would take him at least two hours to take care of Blake, but he always underestimated.

He had thirty minutes to enjoy you. He began by slowly pulling down your shorts, listening carefully for any disturbance from you. Once your shorts were off he buried his head between your thighs. He thanked whatever deity was out there for giving him this gift of heightened sent. God, you smelled so good he could almost taste you. He couldn’t help himself, he laid his tongue flat against your core through your cotton panties. He relished in the little squirm you made.

He allowed himself a few more licks before he couldn’t stand it any longer. He was rutting against the bed, his hard-on leaking precum onto the sheets. He pulled his boxers off and sat back at the head of the bed. He slowly lifted your hand, kissing your knuckles before spitting into your palm. He listened carefully, monitoring your heart rate and breathing pattern as he went. He slowly wrapped your fingers around his member, it twitched in your hand.

He started stroking himself with it, your skin was so soft. He bit his lip as he sped up your movements. He stared at your innocent face, he wondered what you would look like falling apart from his hands. Maybe one day he’d know. It wasn’t long before he was cumming, heightened senses making him sensitive. He carefully licked your hand clean before going to the bathroom to clean himself up.

He got dressed and went to his closet. He had made a lock for it, much similar to his bedroom door, but this one was a combination lock. Aunt May was never in his room much and if she asked he had a collection of porno mags he would pull out and pretend to be ashamed of. He was sure she would let it go after that.

He grabbed his go bag and headed out the window. He had gotten into a routine of sorts for his adventures. First, he put his car in neutral and pushed it down the street to the stop sign. Anyone who saw him would just think he was a teenager sneaking out, nothing more. With his newfound strength, it was quite easy to do. Secondly, he would arrive a mile from the location. His endurance was much better now and running was easy, as was scaling houses. This brings us to three, find a point of entry/distraction.

When he first started he was more of the blitz attacker. Finding someone on a night run and ending it there, no planning, no flair, just a rush. But now he was getting good at this. He surveyed the house for a bit, it was quiet, and there didn’t seem to be any security measures. He could work with that. He saw a light on in one of the rooms, upon closer inspection he realised it was Blake’s. He was up on his phone, not seemingly doing much.

He found a doggie door in the backdoor and hopped around in silent glee. If he could pull this off he could get two kills tonight.

__________

He shimmied through and began listening for bodies. He heard something on the ground floor with him. He crept around the kitchen and opened a small door. It was a laundry room and there in the corner was his prize.

A beautiful golden retriever, none the wiser to his presence. He knelt beside it and it started to stir. He quickly clamped his hand around its mouth squeezing enough for it to yelp. He snapped his neck, taking its collar in his pocket. He lifted the dog over his shoulder and made his way under Blake’s window. He threw a couple of stones at the window and it wasn’t long until Blake opened it.

He was surprised to see Peter, even more, surprised to see him holding PopTart over his shoulder.

“Parker, what the hell are you doing here?” He whispered loudly.

“Hey, is this your dog? I don’t think she’s doing too well.” Peter bit back a smile. It was almost too easy. He watched as Blake began to panic before rushing away from the window.

Peter heard him open the front door and dropped the dog before scaling the side of the house to get a better view. Blake looked around briefly for Peter before falling to his knees in front of his dog. Peter watched as Blake began to shake her more and more before crying out.

“You know,” Blake’s head shot up at hearing Peter’s voice looking around before finally seeing him clinging to the side of his house. “You should really lock your doggy door.”

Blake said nothing as his brain continued to process. Peter lept off as he balled his fists together, knocking blake on the head. He picked them both up, one on each shoulder, “Really, any old creep could get in.”

__________

Peter returned to you at two am exhausted but very happy. When you woke up the next morning in his arms you were none the wiser about his escapades. Aunt May made you breakfast before you carpooled to school. You teased Peter for being such a morning person when you still felt groggy. Peter only chuckled, offering you some of his coffee and you took an appreciative sip.

You had a great day and Peter did too. He seemed extra affectionate, hugging you from behind, kissing you on the cheek. You appreciated it after feeling neglected for a month. You couldn’t remember the last time Peter seemed so happy.

That didn’t last when you walked in together on school Thursday. Peter immediately took notice of the extra cops in the school. He walked you to your locker and stared them down over your shoulder. They didn’t seem to suspect him. Why would they, they couldn’t know, right?

In English, he noticed a mob around Gwen Stacy. He took his seat listening in, “Yeah, my dad said Blake is missing. They think he might have run away or something. His window was open and his dog is missing too.”

He heard someone ask if she thought he was murdered, “My dad won’t tell me anything else but I’m sure he’s fine.”

Peter knew he wasn’t, Peter knew where he was. He was gone, unable to hurt you again.

That night at dinner May seemed on edge. “(Y/n), I know your parents are out of town but I would prefer it if you spent the night here.”

You looked at her confused and Peter shared your expression. “Mrs Parker, you know I’m never one to turn down an invitation. Are you worried about me being alone?”

May took a sip of water, and Peter recognised this look. She was worried but didn’t want to worry anyone else. Always the protector, never the protected. “I know it’s probably nothing but with those murders in the park and that kid missing…it has me worried. I don’t want you in that house alone. If anything happened to you-”

“Nothing would ever happen to her.” Peter hadn’t meant to say it. He hadn’t meant to snap like that. He felt anger rise in his gut at the insinuation, that May thought he would ever hurt you. Of course, she didn’t know that she had implied that, but he did and it angered him.

He melted a little when you rested your hand on his. He looked into your sad eyes and let himself be swaddled in your tone. “I know you would never let anything happen to me, okay Pete? I’m not going anywhere.”

You were so sweet and kind. To you, his outburst was out of fear. The fear of losing anyone else. You had held him as he cried over Uncle Ben, listening to his last voicemail on repeat. You had consoled him as a child when someone told him his parents hadn’t died they just didn’t love him enough to stay. You had been there for him, and he was determined to do the same.

That week you stayed at the Parker’s. You opted to just change at home as it was just across the street, instead of trying to pack all those clothes. Peter always accompanied you. He took the time to pick out your outfits and raid your panty drawer. He was a sick fuck and he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself.

By the following Friday, Peter was getting restless. Spending every night with you was nice but he needed to get out again. His brain was foggy and he couldn’t focus on anything, even you weren’t helping.

That night when braiding your hair Peter grew curious. He wanted to tell you but he couldn’t, not yet. “So what do you think happened to that Blake kid?”

You were quiet for a minute and Peter worried you might not have heard him. “I think I chase boys away.”

That definitely wasn’t the response he was expecting, “What?”

He tied off the end of your braid and turned you around in his lap so you were facing him. You rested your hands on the back of his neck, head turned unable to look at him.

“It’s like, any guy that might like me just…disappears.” Peter raised his eyebrows, shocked you could even piece that together. You hadn’t said anything before.

“What do you mean?” Peter knew exactly what you meant but needed to know how much you knew.

“Well first it was Noah, he left me at the dance and then left forever. There was Micheal who flirted with me for a bit and then three days before our date just vanished. And now Blake, he just complimented my skirt. I’m not even sure he was into me but it was enough and now he…he ran away.” Peter could hear your voice breaking and moved to grab your chin. You didn’t fight as he raised it, levelling your gaze.

“Hey, it’s their fucking loss, okay? You are the most amazing person I know, anyone would be lucky to have you.” You sniffled and he continued. “Besides, none of those guys are worth a shit. No one is compared to you, little lamb.”

He placed a gentle kiss on your cheek before tucking you in and curling into your side. It wasn’t long before you were asleep and Peter snuck out to go to the park.

You woke up in the middle of the night. You felt cold. You realised then that Peter wasn’t in bed with you. You went downstairs to get a glass of water. Maybe Peter was right to give you water before bed, he didn’t tonight and now you couldn’t sleep.

You called out softly for him, but he didn’t answer. Was he not home? You checked the clock on the stove: 1:45. He shouldn’t be out. You made your way to the living room window and were surprised to see his car wasn’t there.

You were worried making your back upstairs. You climbed back into bed, tossing and turning unable to sleep. That’s when you noticed his closet was open. It was never opened. You stared at the small crack in the door, it called your name like a siren’s song. You told yourself you were only going to grab a hoodie, you were cold. You weren’t going to snoop.

You wish you never had. You wish you could go back to before you knew. When you first opened it you saw chalk on the wall. A bunch of tally marks. You thought it was odd. Then you noticed there were no clothes in here. The shelves were lined with odd trinkets, rings, a shoelace. You noticed a ziplock baggie with hair, a date hastily scribbled on, and you began to get nauseous. You noticed a dog collar, the tag glinting in the moonlight. You flipped it over and your heart fell to the floor.

It was from the dog down the street. You remembered seeing the same name and collar on the missing sign. The address lined up too. You began digging and you found more collars, more jewellery, even keys.

You found a bloody baseball card in the same bag as a dog collar. You turned it over, PopTart Walsh. Your hands shook as you realised what you were looking at. His trophies. There were so many, this had to be going on for years. You turned to the chalkboard and began counting the tallies.

“900” You gasped dropping the collar with a loud clatter. You hadn’t heard him come in.

“Well, it is now. Technically, there are 899 tallies there, but after tonight,” he held up a pair of headphones already bagged and dated, “It’s 900.”

You took slow steps back and he matched each one, hands turned out. Your back met the wall and you squeaked as you realised you had backed yourself into the closet.

“Woah there, little lamb, be careful. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” His smile looked sickening in the moonlight. You had never felt fear like this before. You had started crying, cheeks feeling itchy as each tear dried.

“Aw, you poor thing. Why don’t you come on out of there and we can go to bed.” His tone was the same as always, gentle and soothing. You didn’t like it anymore, it seemed false now. Now that you knew he was anything but gentle. But what could you do?

You took slow steps forward feeling your heart drop with every pace towards his open arms. He held you tightly, pinning your arms to your sides, as he nuzzled your neck with his nose. You felt sick, you hated that his touch still made feel special. After everything you’d seen, after everything you know, you still find yourself melting into his embrace.

Peter feels your heartbeat start to steady and pulls away slightly. He cradles your face, your hair stuck between his palms and your cheeks. He tuts as he wipes your tears with his thumbs, “Why aren’t you in bed, little one?”

Your breathing was still quick but you tried your best to answer. “I- I was cold. You were gone. I got- I got scared.”

You felt your eyes start to water again and Peter fixed you with a soft smile. One that would usually make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Little lamb, you have nothing to be afraid of.”

He observed you for a while, trying to decide his next move. You knew now. The cat’s out of the bag and one of this size certainly can’t be swept under the rug. This was going to change everything.

“You have a choice,” His tone was low and silky. You shuddered as his breath ran over the bridge of your nose. “You can try and run, but I assure you, you won’t get very far.”

Your stomach dropped at his words as if the gravity of the situation finally hit you. You were in danger. You were in danger because your best friend was a serial killer and would kill you to not get caught. Peter had never threatened you before. Not even jokingly.

“Or, you can be a good little girl and wait for me.” Your blood ran cold at the nickname. It wasn’t one he used often. You could count on one hand the amount of times he had used it in the 10 years you’ve known him.

You nodded your head and he tutted again, “Words, darling.”

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, “I’ll be good.”

Peter seemed satisfied by your answer and rewarded you with a kiss on the forehead. You sat on his bed as you heard the water start to run. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the closet door. The more you looked into the inky blackness the more it seemed to pull you in. Your head hurt. Suddenly you couldn’t breathe. Wild thoughts began to race through your mind.

How long had this been going on?

Were you dying right now?

Had he poisoned you?

Was he going to kill you anyway?

Had he really killed 900 people?

Before you realised what you were doing you felt the morning dew on your bare feet. The sensation shocked you back into your body. You left. You weren’t a good girl, you had left. And now Peter was going to punish you, probably in a deadly capacity. You considered turning back, but the thought of looking in that closet again almost made you hurl on the Parker’s front lawn.

You made your way across the street and went up to your room. You didn’t bother locking the door. If Peter wanted to get to you, you doubted a locked door would stop him. You raced up the stairs and into your ensuite bathroom.

You felt like a wreck, Your head pounding as your stomach expelled everything it could. You rinsed your mouth out and began brushing your teeth, wanting to rid your mouth of the bitter taste of bile. After rinsing your face you turned back to your room. You climbed into bed facing the window, you didn’t see any movement yet. Everything seemed still at the Parker house. For a moment you thought you might have dreamed it. Just a moment though.

“You ran away.” His voice was stone, sending shivers down your spine.

You curled into yourself as if that would somehow save you, “No, I didn’t”

You heard his footfall on the carpet, he was right behind you now, “Arguing isn’t going to help you, little lamb.”

You felt his hand grip your shoulder. It hurt as he ripped at it, pulling you to face him. The shadows of the room painted him in an eerie light. His hood was pulled over his face, only his mouth illuminated by the velvety glow of the street lights.

“I couldn’t-” You took a deep breath, suddenly feeling breathless again. “I couldn’t stay in there. I felt like the darkness was going to swallow me up.”

Peter’s demeanour changed, it was like your words flicked a switch. His countenance changed to one of pity. You weren’t sure you liked it. He sat by your legs before bending over and picking you up. It felt unnatural, the strength he had, the way he lifted you like it was nothing.

He tucked you into his chest, stroking your hair. “Poor thing, I’m so sorry you had to see that. I know you weren’t ready.” You stayed silent, unsure of what to say.

“I’m sure you have questions,” he left a quick peck on your scalp, “ask away.”

You thought for a moment before opening your mouth, “Have you really killed 900 people?”

He chuckled, the rumbling shaking your body, “No, that’s just how many things I’ve killed. I started the tally not long before you came along. It’s mostly bugs and animals. I’ve only killed 9 people.”

You almost laughed at the absurdity, only 9. As if ending a human life wasn’t such a big deal. It wasn’t much only 9. You asked the only question you could think of next. The one you were burning to know since you first realised. The one you feared the most. “Why?”

Peter was silent for a moment, seemingly thinking through his answer. “Many reasons. I like it, for starters. It feels good. Most of them deserved it, well that’s not true I suppose. Those Joggers didn’t do anything wrong but Noah and Michael and Blake,” he said the last name with so much venom you winced.

“They deserved it.” He was quiet for a minute and you thought maybe he was done. You shifted to look at his face. You had begun to hate yourself in this exchange. You shouldn’t enjoy sitting in his lap like this. You shouldn’t think he’s pretty. You shouldn’t fantasize about his pulling you close into an earth-shattering kiss. But you were and you hated yourself for that.

He moved a fallen strand of hair from your face before resting his hand there, “I didn’t mean to kill Noah. I really didn’t. But I can’t say that I’m sorry for it either.”

“You seem pretty sure of your actions. I wouldn’t expect you to be.” He chuckled again at your words. You hated yourself for the pride blooming in your chest at making him laugh.

His face fell again as he sighed, “When Uncle Ben died I was devastated. He was killed…all because he couldn’t mind his own business. As I watched my uncle bleed out I was horrified but also…excited? That’s not the right word. I watched as the blood left his body and I felt, I dunno, alive. It was like his life was being poured into mine, and it was beautiful.”

Your brows knitted together as he spoke, it was terrifying to hear him talk like that. “I was given powers and I knew what I had to do. I had to avenge him. That’s why his life force was given to me, so I could kill the fucker that got him.”

You nodded your head slowly, that was really the only thing Peter had said that made sense. His righteous anger was justified. “Did you? Did you kill him I mean?”

Peter’s smile stretched, pulling out the dimples in his face, “Yes, I did.”

You mulled his words over, growing confused again, “You said you got powers? What kind of powers? Why- Why do this?”

Peter threw his head back as a laugh ripped through his chest. You braced your hands on his biceps in fear. “Oh, little lamb, I have been chosen by the universe, given the strength of a god, given the power of a god. This is what I was meant to do.”

You shook your head, not wanting to accept that Peter was made for such horrors. “Why not use your powers for good?”

He tilted his head like a puppy, brows furrowed and mouth pulled into a pout. You thought for a moment that you had gotten to him, that maybe you had turned him to the light. “I’m using them to protect you. What better good is there?”

You shook your head burying it in his chest. He was doing this for you. It was your fault Blake was dead. It was your fault those joggers in the park would never go home to their families. It was all your fault. You began sobbing gripping his jacket in your shaky palms. Peter shooshed you, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” He pulled back the blankets and let you sink into the mattress. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed in behind you, holding you close to his chest. “Sleep now, it’ll all be fine in the morning.”

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au-starss · 3 years ago

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AHHHHHH IM SO IN LOVE WITH YOUR LATEST AYATO x FLORIST!READER FIC 8RUGIBHDSFDKNJMSD if it's not too much to ask, may i request a second part or a sequel to that? wherein ayato proposes to them and just AHHHGYSUDBCHXNSDXZ

‘𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲..’ 𝗽𝘁. 𝟮

𝗔𝘆𝗮𝘁𝗼 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗲𝘂𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗹

𝗔𝘆𝗮𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁

—

𝗵𝗲𝗵𝗲𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲! 𝗯𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝘆𝗮𝘁𝗼. 𝗶 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗹𝘆

𝗖𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝗶𝗼 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀

𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝘁. 𝟭 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲

“Can you please just tell me where we’re going? Please!” You ask once again. Ayato only laughs and continues to guide you.

“Patience, my darling.” He says softly, holding your hand to lead you down a hill. “We’re almost there. I promise.”

It all started when Ayato came out, asking if you wanted to go somewhere with him. When you asked where though, he responded with “it’s a surprise”.

That’s what led you to here. Being led by your lover in what seemed to be a forest, eyes completely covered.

After a few more minutes of walking blinded, Ayato finally stops you. “Alright, we have arrived. Are you ready?”

You nod your head and Ayato removes his hands. Looking out, you see an array of some flowers that no one has seen for so long. There were ones from Sumeru and Mondstadt. So many local specialties that would all take months to import.

“Oh my- Ayato, how long did this take you?!” You asked, bending down to admire the Cecilias next to you.

“It wasn’t easy.” He admitted, kneeling next to you. “Finding this spot, getting the flowers, other arrangements. But..”

He brought a finger to your chin, lifting your head to look at the sky. Up above, the trees cleared way to show the beautiful night sky. Stars aligned all over while casting a powerful glow onto the flowers.

You couldn’t help but smile as you stood to look at the scene better. Your eyes gleamed against the shine of the stars, a scene Ayato found so attractive. It was all so beautiful. And your chest continued to warm at how much thought Ayato put into this beautiful moment.

He truly was one of a kind.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” You whispered, not realizing your lover was still kneeled down.

Ayato smiled up at you. “There is, one more surprise for you, my love.” He spoke. He took your hand, turning you to face him.

Looking at the man below you, you see a new look gleam in his eyes. “[Name], I know being with me isn’t the easiest task, with my enemies and daily affairs and work loads, but I’m forever grateful you gave me a chance. I love you so dearly. As for your surprise..”

His hand slowly reaches to his back pocket, carefully pulling out a small blue box. Your eyes widened when he opened the box, revealing a gorgeous ring.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured by this decision. We won’t be in any rush to get married. We’ll do stuff on our own time. Everything will be for us. [Name], my darling, will you marry me?”

An overwhelming feeling of happiness overtook you. You will never forget the smile Ayato provided, the reassurance he gave in this moment. He was everything you could want and more.

“I will most definitely marry you.” You tell him, your hands moving to cup his face.

His eyes show shock for a moment, before they show adoration. He stands in front of you, and pulls you in to gently kiss you.

The whole scene seemed like it was out of a movie. Kissing under the stars as an engaged couple, surrounded by gorgeous flowers. The two of you holding one another close, afraid to even try and let go.

“[Name] Kamisato.. I love the sound of that.” Ayato whispered after the two of you parted. You give him a laugh in return.

“It is a little catchy.”

Ayato takes the ring from it’s box, carefully sliding it on your finger. It flowed beautifully in the moonlight. Neither of you could stop smiling. It seemed like an euphoric dream.

And it was happening. The two of you were gonna get married. A lasting bond of eternity, as if you already promised each other that.

𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶 𝗿𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 :)

𝗖𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝗶𝗼 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #ayato kamisato #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years ago

Text

Of Kings and Beasts - Sixteen (Final)

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Fluff,

Word Count: 2.3K

A/n: Everything is ending and idk what to do with myself now AHHHHHH ENJOY THE GRAND FINALE

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! 18+!!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, glaring at the trickster while your husbands stand on either side of you.

This is the power trio that was spoken of when the Kings announced their marriage.

This is what was pictured.

A woman, equally fierce as them, yet able to tame the wild beasts roaring inside their chests.

It took some coaxing, but now that woman stands strong and tall in place of the timid girl who used to take up this space.

“Well, isn’t this a sight. Never in all my years did I think you would be reunited.”

Loki’s voice is slightly strained but just as venomous as ever.

“I did a good job, you must admit. And I would’ve gotten away with it too, but I underestimated you, (Y/n).” You take a step forward, tugging away when both your husbands reach for you.

“You will address me properly or not at all.”

He only grins up at you.

“Who’s the traitor? The one you had working here? The one who attempted to have me killed?”

Steve and James both stand behind you, watching in surprise as you conduct the interrogation with just as much certainty as they would’ve, if not more.

“I already told you, your counsel was weak. There were many who didn’t agree with the choices of the Kings. Even more who didn’t trust Orlen to provide a proper Queen. I guess they were right, weren’t they? Orlen didn’t provide a Nobel princess the way they promised. No, instead, the great Kings of the West were gifted nothing more than a bastard!”

Steve steps forward, ready to defend your honour, but you hold up a hand.

“How were you able to alter James the way you did? How did you get close enough to physically alter him?”

He huffs out a breath and grins at the brunet wickedly.

“Ah, I almost forgot about that. How is your... condition, your majesty? Better, I trust? It must be, now that Doctor Banner can no longer continue his experiments.”

Your brows draw together in confusion, as do Steves, but it makes sense to James.

Doctor Banner is the only one they would trust enough. The only person he trusted. And every time he'd go to see the doctor, his ‘condition’ would get worse.

“Ah yes, you realize it, don’t you? You see what happened. Doctor Banner is a good man. A trustworthy one. But his mind is weak, unprotected. Easily distracted. It took nothing to make him do my bidding. But with the... snow incident,” he gives you a look, “I couldn't be near the Palace without raising suspicion. My hold on his mind gradually weakened until he was in control again. And when that happened... well, I couldn’t just let him live.”

You shake your head in disgust.

“All this pain... this death... You killed your own brother just-”

“He’s not my brother!” He shouts, glaring daggers at you from his bound place on the floor.

His chest heaves with anger.

“He was never a brother to me! I was nothing more than a conquest! A trophy of a war that my side could never have won! I was a shadow. Living in the shade of his greatness. Forever. Another stolen relic to show just how strong his Kingdom is until he needs to pawn me off, the same way you were.”

His voice sounds so broken. So fragile and small. But you stay strong and stand your ground. He killed one of your only friends. His sob story won’t change your mind.

“They took me from my home, stole me, just to tell their children horror stories of the monsters that were my people! They made me believe I was cursed, that I was a monster because I was different. Because different blood ran through my veins.”

“I never wanted the throne. Not at first. All I wanted was to be seen. To be recognized as his equal. But no matter what I did I could never compare. Nothing I did would ever be good enough! Nothing! Do you know how that feels? To never be enough for anybody?”

His words reopen wounds that you never properly tended to, and you nod.

“You forget, Loki, that I do. Better than most.”

The Kings bristle at your words, taken aback by the tenderness in your tone as you kneel before the prisoner. The traitor. The murderer.

But there’s compassion in your heart that knows no bounds.

“There has never been a time in my life where I have been enough. My existence was enough for my father to hate me, have my mother killed. I have been mistreated with every turn, yet I arose stronger. I became more than a shadow.”

His eyes are so full of tears as he looks up at you, and your heart truly goes out to him. But that doesn’t change what he did.

“You had a chance at redemption. The possibility of a lesser punishment. But you refused. Now, the King is dead at your hands. You’ve committed multiple acts of treason, but you will be punished in Asgard for your crimes.”

You push yourself to your feet and look over your shoulder at James.

“How is Doctor Banner? We’ll need him to confirm or deny Loki’s story.”

The trickster only scoffs.

“My fate is sealed. What benefit would lying have?”

You ignore his comment and motion to the door, leading the way up the spiral staircase that only a few months ago terrified you.

“He’s still recovering, but he should be able to speak.” You nod, turning to look at Steve as you finally enter the warmth of the hallway, far enough away that Loki can’t hear nor influence you.

“Loki’s powers over the minds of your people will end with him. Any traitors within the country will be flushed out. I’m sure there are many who are skeptical about Orlen’s willingness to hand me over and the truth of it is that I am a bastard, which is why it was so easy for him to give me away.”

There have been many secrets within your marriage, but now it’s all out in the open and there's no room to hide.

Steve takes your hand gently and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“Whatever you were in your past doesn’t matter. What matters is who you are now. Who you decide to be. And I hope that you decide to be our wife.”

You smile up at him then over at James, who only nods his agreement and places a gentle kiss onto your cheek.

“We have not been kind nor fair, but we do truly love you, (Y/n). You are everything we’ve ever wanted and so much more.”

“I love you both as well. There are many issues within our marriage, but at the end of the day you are my husbands and I love you. Nothing will change that.”

You cast your eyes down, your mind travelling to Thor.

“I’m going to Asgard. To be there for the funeral, for the trial. Thor... gave his life for me. I will not sit here and twiddle my thumbs.”

The two exchange small smiles and James nods.

“We know. A horse is being prepared as we speak. You’ll ride ahead to help prepare the funeral. We’ll be only a day behind with the prisoner.”

Your heart fills with warmth.

Although they haven’t always been kind, this is a step in the right direction.

A direction towards something better. Something good.

~*~

The funeral is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

It’s regal and elegant and so very beautiful.

His body is surrounded by different herbs, flowers, and other gifts given by the people, and his sword is in his hands laying on his chest.

He floats in a small boat down the river towards the waterfall, the sunset illuminating the night only just.

An archer lights an arrow then shoots, and his boat is quickly engulfed in the orange glow.

Only moments later, several other boats become lit, holding the bodies of the fallen warriors who fought in an unnecessary battle.

Tears fall silently down your cheeks as you watch Thor’s boat slowly drift over the edge of the waterfall, disappearing out of sight.

Two warm hands find your back, one belonging to each of your husbands as they comfort you silently.

Slowly, the sky lights up with lanterns being raised in both memory and mourning of the King, much like your people did for you when you were presumed dead.

Lanterns fill the sky far and wide, mimicking stars, and in the solitude of his cell, Loki cries for his brother.

Cries for the only semblance of family he’s ever had, now ripped from him by his own doing. His own selfish goal.

But come morning, it won’t matter for him.

The lights glow in the sky for hours, and even after they’ve faded from sight, you don’t move from your spot on the balcony.

Your time with the blond king wasn’t the most enjoyable, but it started with him being a friend. One of the first people in either Kingdom that you could truly trust.

And now he’s gone.

Your heart weighs heavily with the loss of your friend, and you stay standing by the balcony, overlooking his beautiful kingdom.

“He wouldn’t want you to mourn so, Your Majesty.”

You turn as Brunnhild walks in, draping a thick cape over your shoulders.

“It’s hard not to,” you whisper.

She nods, taking a stance next to you and huffing out a sigh, her breath crystallizing in the cool air of the night.

“Asgard has no heir. No one to take the King’s place. What will happen?”

She's quiet for a long moment before looking over at you.

“He does have someone. He chose someone. He chose you.”

Your heart skips a beat as you turn to look at her.

“Me? But why? And when?” She smiles softly.

“Twice, he did. When he made you his wife, and again in battle. He decided that you were to be queen. The title is yours, as is the Kingdom, if you should want it.”

Shock settles inside your gut beside the despair, and you ponder this for a long moment.

You? Queen of your own kingdom?

The bastard of Orlen. The shunned princess. The wife with no place.

All your life you’ve longed for a place where you belong. A place of your own.

Never did you think it would be offered to you in the form of an entire kingdom.

“I... I’ll need to give it some thought,” you admit softly. She only nods, straightening up.

“The decision is yours. The Valkyrie will support you no matter what it is that you choose. Remember that.” You nod, and then you’re alone again, though not for long.

“Are you alright, darling?” You only hum, your eyes focused on the moon rising high in the sky.

“I will be.”

Steve and James come up beside you, Steve resting his arms on the rail while James leans against it and gazes at you.

“Loki is to be executed in the morning. You... you don’t need to be there if you don’t want to.”

You do. You want to be there and watch as he finally gets what’s coming to him.

After all the pain he's inflicted, death is something far kinder than he deserves.

But Thor would not wish him to suffer, so he shan’t suffer.

“I’m going to be there.”

The two nod, respecting your decision.

“Come to bed, (Y/n). You need sleep.”

You let out a soft breath then nod, following the two of them to bed.

They hold you tightly, gluing your broken pieces back together and making you whole again.

For the first time in so long, you’re finally whole.

~*~

“Your Majesty, they’ve arrived.”

You look up from the document on your desk, smiling brightly at Wanda then following her to the throne room.

Sure enough, there they are, standing tall and regal in the colours of Acadia.

“Your Majesty,” they greet, both bowing deeply.

You roll your eyes, walking up to both of them and giving them each a soft kiss.

“I've missed you. The summer has been long.” They nod, Steve’s eyes dropping down.

“You’re absolutely glowing, darling.”

James nods his agreement, putting his flesh hand atop your bump.

“Soon enough we’ll get to meet our heir. Whomever they may be.” He presses a kiss to your stomach then smiles up at you.

“What you’ve done with the kingdom has been... incredible. Thor would be proud, (Y/n). I just know it.”

The mention of your friend has your heart aching, but you smile despite the pain.

“Thank you.”

You like to think that Thor’s been guiding you, supporting you and helping you through the stresses of ruling a country.

It’s far harder than you thought, but having a place in the world... after never having a place. It’s worth it.

And the distance has only made your relationship with the Kings flourish.

The two great Kings of the West and their Queen, rulers of the continent.

The two beasts and the one woman who can tame them.

Fin

#royal!au #bucky x reader royal au #stucky x reader royal au #Dark Royal AU #king!bucky #king!steve x reader #king!bucky/reader #king!steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader dark au #steve x reader dark fic #stucky x reader dark fic #bucky x reader dark fic #Steve rogers x reader dark fic #bucky barnes/reader #Stucky/reader #stucky x reader au

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yeyinde · 6 months ago

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AHHHHHHHHHH i'm gonna get for you this, istg.

the seamless switch from listless longing to a frantic desperation is one of those things i just never tire of. i love it. especially when they try to hide their yearning behind feigned indifference, pretending not to care, only for it to fall to pieces the moment the other person shows up. and you did it so perfectly. especially weaving John into everything happening around her, as if her longing was given a voice through Soap, Laswell. impeccable.

the smut was blistering.

“You try to keep your pussy off my face and I’ll give you a licking you won’t like anywhere near as much,” John warns, and then pulls you down onto his face without further ado.

PROMISE???

“God, you look so pretty like this, honey,” he coos when he’s got you under him, pinching your cheeks between his fingers until your lips go plump and pursed.

love this beyond words. the way he treats her, playfully, casually despite this air around him. like. him threatening to spank her (a threat we know he's good for) only to then do this is the reason i find him so gripping. it's the duality of him. multifaceted. and maybe a little reserved because she ran once, and i think that cut him deep. so there's this gradual pacing back to some sense of trust again that peaks out from time to time and i adore it. you're so incredible at keeping all these treads nice and tight. they all go somewhere. they all pay off. i love it. the cyclicity of your writing is unparalleled.

and the way everything flows is incredible. her finally admitting her feelings (but refusing to say them; God bites the lip when you want it most to part. Isn’t that just the nature of life?; this is how love suffuses into the girl: you wake up gasping to find it staring down at you - both giving so much insight to her internal thoughts on how she views love; not something to answer the door to, something that is behind her control, that is in the hands of someone else; that takes. and most importantly, how she views herself) feels so natural. so earned.

this passage is a perfect testament to their relationship, imo:

You feel like a creature turned inside of itself. All high yips, sharp pangs of pleasure, an ache in your hips that you know instinctively will worsen by morning, and a deep seated, unquenchable need. He mates you like a beast in heat, jaw clenched and brows furrowed; when your eyelids slip shut, he growls at you to keep them open, and you do only to find him staring down at you with that indelible, maddening intensity of his.

her, feeling bewildered and overwhelmed. all turned around. and him - intense. drive. conquering. so so so perfect.

and the POETRY??? HELLO??

i was going to add my favourite passages but like. it'd the entire last half of the fic!!!! it's incredible how you weaved it all together. it was gorgeous to read, as always, but it felt justified and deeper considering where her headspace was. brilliant.

Maybe new love flounders again against the rhythms of the old, the song of you now sleeping beneath an alder tree, thickening with lemon and honey.

not only is this beautifully written, but it felt so hopeful to me. compared to her in the first few chapters to this is a masterful character arc. ahhhhhh. and then. and then.

i just really love cliffhangers, you know. i love when the build up to a confession is robbed, taken away. and then all you can do is pick up the pieces again, but they're sharper this time. and you end up cutting yourself and everyone else on the things you didn't say. actions have consequences, and all that. i have so many thoughts about this. so, so, so many!!! but i'm going to chew on them until the next chapter because i love everything about this, and i am beyond excited to see where this goes.

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 15)

first chapter >> last chapter

Sleep eludes you. You toss and turn that first night, not used to sleeping on your own. Every sound makes you jump. When the sky goes black and the bushes rustle with the breeze, you have to double check the locks on the doors no less than three times, fastening it with the wooden bolt just to be safe.

Without John around, the world is twice as loud; crickets chirp raucous melodies, buzzing so loud that sometimes you swear there must be one on the pillow right beside your head, and, in the distance, an owl hoots at an interval so irregular that each screech tugs you back from the brink of sleep. The house groans as it settles into itself; the first time you hear it, you spring upright in bed, heartbeat erratic, certain that it’s the sound of someone coming up the porch steps.

You collapse back onto the mattress with a huff when you finally recognize the sound for what it is.

You don’t sleep well that night. Dawn finds you awake before its arrival. The songbirds keep you from drifting off back to sleep when the first wispy rays of sunlight creep over the horizon, and you lie in bed until the possibility of sleep is well behind you. That makes you huff, bitter over the loss.

Again, the day is slow to come over you. It seems almost reluctant to really get going, the sunlight clear and the air brisk but the day itself slow moving. An early morning chill forces you to don heavier garments than usual.

After breakfast, you take Buttercup into the paddock to run around, watching her from the edge of the pen, humming to yourself under your breath.

Most of the morning is spent cleaning and doing chores around the house. You muck the stables, feed the horses, scrub the dirty laundry on the washboard before hanging it up on the line, weed the garden, and promise yourself that next week you’ll work up the energy to boil linseed oil to polish and oil the furniture. As it is, you stagger into the kitchen around midday for lunch, sticky with sweat.

Kate comes up the path on horseback not too long after that, a large swooped hat perched precariously on her head. She has to hold it in place by the brim to keep it from flying off. You watch her from the window at first, drying your hands from the quick wash you gave them after finishing your lunch.

“I ought to start making new friends,” you quip when she takes a seat next to you on the porch swing.

“Sick of my company already?” she laughs.

“Well, a girl’s gotta have options.”

She snorts at that, tipping her hat lower on her head to shade her eyes from the sun. It has the effect of cutting a wide shadow across her face, leaving only a swath of white teeth exposed.

Her beauty has always come as an afterthought. Tanned, freckled skin, and hair like golden wheat. But you look now and you see something different than the woman you’re used to seeing, and it dawns on you that what you’re seeing now is a version of Kate divorced from the idea of her that you’d always had in your head. Almost fuller; more robust.

You tear your eyes away only when she catches you staring and cocks an eyebrow.

She coaxes you into saddling Buttercup up and accompanying her on a trail ride. Part of you resists initially, still wounded from your last ride, and when Kate presses you for more information, you reluctantly divulge, recounting the events from the weeks prior with a tremble in your voice. She nods only once while you speak, keeping her comments to herself. That she must have already known doesn’t surprise you; she’d insinuated as much only the other week.

You’d be wise to not keep secrets from Kate in the future, you realize. Best to keep someone as omniscient as her on your side.

After some encouragement, she talks you into a leisurely stroll and even helps you dress Buttercup in the stables. The dizzying spell of apprehension settles over you like a heavy fog up until you blink and realize that the two of you have been riding beside each other in silence for the better part of a half mile.

The fear doesn’t entirely evaporate, however. Any sudden dip in the terrain or unexpected noise from Buttercup makes you start. You take several breaks to breathe and walk around. At the top of a hill, you ask Kate in a voice verging on shrill if you can take a break and dismount before she’s even answered you.

“She can sense if you’re on edge,” Kate reminds you, nodding to where Buttercup grazes in a nearby patch of grass.

“Well, I can’t help that much. I am on edge.”

She tips her head back to look at the sky and sighs before looking back at you. “Sit down for a bit then. It’s not a race.”

And you do, for a spell. You sit and rest with your back against the trunk of a tree that branches high above you, the canopy blotting out any sunlight save for the tendril thin strands that sink through like stones in water.

You’re striking a delicate balance between the needs of the flesh and the needs of the soul. What the soul wants is to push itself beyond the boundaries that formerly enclosed it; after a lifetime of servitude and desires suppressed, even a simple trail ride feels momentous. What the flesh wants, however, is to shade in the shade until the urge to retch wears off.

The walk takes the two of you by a farm with a large, fenced-in enclosure. A couple houses sit around the enclosure. The smell of the livestock is pungent at first and your nose wrinkles as you approach the farm, but you adjust after a time.

Recent weeks so far from home have spoiled you; back in the city, the pungent stench of waste and manure was commonplace, the sour cloak of tobacco stinking up the alehouses and alleyways as much as the parlors and lounges. You’d adjusted to it back then as well.

The grazing cows rumble and low behind the fence. It’s a pleasant bucolic scene, one lifted straight from a painting that you swear you’ve seen before, though the artist’s name escapes you.

Looking out into antediluvian pastures sets your heart at ease. When the farmer wanders out of the barn to greet the two of you, the two of you join him and his wife for coffee in the big house.

For a brief period of time, it’s like stepping out of your body; there’s no impetus to get a move on, and inertia doesn’t set in like a rolling fog leaving you stranded in no man’s land. Nothing like the late evenings lying in bed in your aunt and uncle’s apartment, staring up at the pockmarked ceiling and praying for something to change.

You, simply, have a coffee.

After bidding them farewell, the bulk of the afternoon is spent at Kate’s house, a tiny plot of land just outside of town surrounded by fields of ochre prairie grass. You’re wiped by the end of the ride, sweat running in rivulets down your back. While Kate brings the horses into her little stable to let them rest and eat, you fill up the porcelain bowl in her bathroom with water to wash your face.

It’s quiet. You help with a few affairs around the house and you learn, to your own internal amusement, that Kate hums through her chores. Soap stops by in the early evening to drop off Kate’s mail and stays for supper, glad for the company. You watch bemusedly as he scarfs down three corned beef sandwiches with ease, mildly nauseated by the way he talks with his mouth full.

“Can he even breathe?” you hiss to Kate while Soap is busy shoveling food into his gob.

She nods, unbothered by the display in front of her. “You should see him when he’s actually hungry.”

You pale when he belches, pushing your plate away from you.

“Ye tell yer man when he’s back what a good job I’ve done, Mrs. Price,” he says, licking a leaking trail of sauce off his thumb.

“Won’t the town still standing be sufficient evidence?”

“Aye, but it’s sweeter comin’ from the missus, ye dinnae think?”

Incorrigible boy. You shake your head, acquiescing even if only to get him to shut up. That mollifies him, gets him crowing about the raise he’ll get, or the commendation. You think he’ll start going on about lofty aspirations towards sheriffdom, but he never quite gets to that point. You wonder if the rest of your life will be similarly composed of assumptions that fall flat when you look at them too hard.

He takes you home at the end of the night as a favor to Kate, who watches you from the door until she disappears into the faraway. You only have to yell at Soap twice to slow down when he tries to goad you into a faster gallop.

You sleep better that night, but only just. This time, it’s the empty spot beside you on the bed that bothers you. His pillow is cold when you reach over to touch it. Your hand lingers on the pillow; there’s a passing thought that maybe the warmth of your hand will transfer into the pillow and trick you in sleep. You have another passing thought that maybe somewhere out there, wherever John is, he’ll feel a phantom hand creep across the bed to cup his cheek.

The blooming flower of daylight comes again to wake you up and the cycle starts anew.

The chores never end, but there’s some comfort in routine. Regularity breeds familiarity. Any contempt has long been bled out of you, almost without you even noticing.

The days pass slowly. A horse-drawn carriage. A robin nestled in the branches of a pine tree sings at evening twilight. You look up to find it stark against the dark green needles, the fir’s red heart.

A neighbor comes by with fresh strawberries that you eat from the bowl out in the sun, lying down in the grass by the paddock. You suck the juice out of a big one when you bite into it and it drips messy down your chin. When the achenes fleck off, you wipe them off on your dress.

Though you half expect Kate to come by, she never does. Perhaps she’s busy in town. You remind yourself that the brevity of your friendship can hardly measure up to competing priorities. Minding the shop, for instance, or stopping by to check on other acquaintances.

And then the waiting ends when you see a dark shadow on the horizon that you recognize all at once as a man on horseback headed towards the house.

Elation clambers up your throat. You very nearly shout at the sheer sight of him, but at the last second, you manage to reign it in.

You wave at John from the porch when you can finally make out the face of the man riding up the path. Despite the euphoric wave that washes over you at the sight of him, you feign composure, keeping your butt planted on the porch swing until he dismounts and heads down the path towards you.

There's something striking about watching him from a distance. Like Kate, you see him now from a new angle, an added weight to him. When he lumbers up the porch steps, you don't just see the man that dragged you to the court house and forced you to marry him, but a man in his prime. Square, masculine jaw; thick thighed. Something in your belly stirs when he rolls his shoulders back, accentuating the breadth of them.

When he reaches you, he grips you under the arms to pull you up, but your arms wind around his neck without any coaxing, meeting him halfway. Every inch of your body presses into his, and he smells and feels exactly as you remembered.

“Been missing you like hell, sweetheart,” John rasps into your ear.

“Missed you too,” you mutter, lips smushed into a kiss against his cheek.

And you did, didn’t you? You can say it for once without worrying that you’ll fall apart.

The two of you stumble into the house in a daze. Your hands are already trembling well before you fist them into John’s hair to drag him into a kiss. Desperation claws up your throat, need choking you when you go to tell him how much you missed him. You missed him bone deep.

He pulls away briefly, chuckling when you whine. “Darlin’, can I at least get cleaned up? I’m a mess.”

His beard has grown since you last kissed him, the mutton chops more pronounced now. It scratches your lips and cheeks when you tug him back down for a deeper kiss. He can clean himself later as far as you’re concerned. You’ve gone three days now without your husband and you can’t go a second more.

You can feel his smile when he breaks the kiss again. “Honey—”

“No,” you cut him off, a whine threading your voice. You tighten your arms around his neck, pushing your bosom into his chest. “Please, John, don’t make me wait; I can’t—”

“Alright, alright,” John sighs, and then hunches slightly to fit his hands under your thighs and hike you up his body until your legs wind around his waist. “Poor girl. Never seen you this needy before. You missed me that bad?”

“Yes,” you answer succinctly, already pressing kisses into the sweaty skin of his neck and his cheeks. His arms shake when he laughs.

He nearly trips up the stairs when you suck at the salty skin of his neck.

John smiles amusedly when you whip your dress off, nearly getting tangled in it before letting it pile on the floor by the bed.

In a different time, your eagerness might embarrass you, but you’re well beyond that now. It’s impossible to hear that distant voice in your head shrieking modesty when your husband watches you indulgently and unbuttons his shirt so slowly that you nearly bark at him to hurry it up. And then you actually do when he goes to fold his shirt instead of simply tossing it to the floor.

He laughs; it sends frissons of heat down your spine.

It’s unclear who pursues and who is pursued this time. All you know is that you either push him onto the bed or he pulls you down with him, clothes long since stripped and piled onto the floor. Your hands sink into the meat of his chest when you sit astride his lap, wet folds grinding on the hard shaft jutting up between his legs. John hisses through clenched teeth, already worked up, fit to burst. You wonder if he tended to himself at all on his trip, whether he even had time.

The hands tightening around your waist tell you that, whether or not he did, it’s inconsequential now when faced with the thing he’s been wanting most.

Your instinct is to lift your hips and line his member up with your sopping entrance before sinking down, but John surprises you by shifting up the bed and dragging you with him, not stopping until your pussy is hovering over his mouth.

It’s easy to panic over that, easy to grow skittish. You start when the flat of his tongue runs up the seam of your cunt, the only thing keeping you from tumbling off the bed altogether being the big hands clamped around your hips.

“You try to keep your pussy off my face and I’ll give you a licking you won’t like anywhere near as much,” John warns, and then pulls you down onto his face without further ado.

Your back arches at the first lick, his tongue burrowing into your hole, softened by the slick leaking out of you. His lips and tongue work you over until you’re a shivering, coiled mess on top of his face, hands braced against the wall and toes burrowing into the mattress.

A stiff tongue stabs up into your hole. The groan he lets out at the taste of you vibrates through you, making you clench around his tongue.

You’ve never been much of a drinker, but you feel drunk now, grinding on his mouth. Hands running through his hair. Blissed out, sex leaking, throbbing. Shameful noises pouring out of you unbidden, your inhibitions packed up and long gone by now. His upper lip glistens with your juices and when his eyes blink open, they’re nearly black with desire.

The hands on your bottom holding you over his head grip into you good and tight. He readjusts his hold on you whenever you try to pull off his face, yanking you back down and digging his fingers in harder, the tips wedged between your cheeks. You practically yowl when a finger prods at your back hole, worrying over the puckered flesh.

The time for gentle words is far beyond him. When you glance down between your legs, his hair is matted with sweat and disheveled, a flush high on his cheekbones. Blue eyes peer out through slits, locked on the dripping mess between your thighs. His nose presses hard into your pubic bone when he pulls you down onto his waiting mouth, lips parting and tongue sawing over your clit. That part you can’t see, but you feel the wet slide of his tongue over your slit.

You come with a finger lodged knuckle deep in your ass and his tongue rolling over your clit, coaxing it from you. Your whole body pulses and shivers. Chuckling to himself when you go dumb during it, slumped over him and panting hard. Tears dripping down your cheeks that John cleans up himself with his tongue when he drags you back down his chest and rolls the two of you over.

“God, you look so pretty like this, honey,” he coos when he’s got you under him, pinching your cheeks between his fingers until your lips go plump and pursed.

When he drags you into a kiss, his tongue still tastes of you.

He takes you on your back after that, knees over his shoulders and bending you in ways you didn’t think possible. Whatever control he had before is gone now. He thrusts in to the hilt the second he gets you flat on your back, taking three days of frustration out on you, near punching your cervix with the head of his cock.

“There we go— fuck—” John growls. “C’mon, squeeze me tight, honey; make me come in your pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

“Nngh, John—John—” you gasp.

“Just a little, darlin’—shh, c’mon, just take it. Like that, yes—that’s it.”

A dark urge flutters under your skin, blinking its eyes open. You stare up at him through half lidded eyes. “Gonna come in me and give me a baby, John?”

His eyes go black. “I’m gonna fill this tight cunt right up, you keep talking like that.”

You reach up to rake your hands through his hair. "Please give me a baby, John. Give me it, please."

His hips snap forward, knocking the breath out of you. He pounds into you with renewed vigor, lost in it, your nipples tagging his chest with every thrust.

If you could peel back your skin and tuck him into your ribcage, you would. He’s already in you anyway; everywhere it counts. Leathery musk wafting under your nose, sweat-slicked skin, his spend deep in your cunt and leaking out around his throbbing cock, the heat steaming off him and warming you from the outside in and inside out. His come spurts into you hot and viscous, so deep that you swear you can taste it at the back of your throat.

In the aftermath, you curl up against his chest and he traces a finger lazily up and down your spine.

“You’ve been so patient with me.” You don’t know what prompts you to say that, but you know it’s been sitting in your chest and waiting for you to put it to words.

His fingers pause in their ministrations, his hand resting flat on your back. “Patient?”

“Don’t play dumb, John. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Got some nerve accusing me of playing dumb,” he chuckles softly, leaning down to butt his forehead against yours.

You nearly go cross eyed. Doe eyed. Treacle tart soft in your chest. You wonder if you’ll look back on this someday in fear and awe, and think that is the very moment when you finally let him in.

This is how love suffuses into the girl: you wake up gasping to find it staring down at you.

You’re brave enough now to ask what it is that you need. The world flashes briefly before you: in it, you see every possible version of a girl, how she goes from animal skin to teeth glinting in the night. She is perforated and vibrating; lacunae as the voice drips back into the sea, papyrus crackling hot in the fire.

Maybe new love flounders again against the rhythms of the old, the song of you now sleeping beneath an alder tree, thickening with lemon and honey.

“I’m going to…—you know I’ll tell you. I just need time.”

“Darlin’, I know. There’s no use for rushing things. It happens when it happens,” John murmurs. He drops a bristly kiss on your forehead.

“…And if it doesn’t happen?”

He shrugs. “Then it doesn’t happen.”

It’s a shock when love finds you because you don’t expect it. You’d open the door to anything else in a heartbeat, but it’s love that finds you cowering under the stairs.

Love is not something you’ve ever touched, not even grazed. You recognize the insidious rot of lust or the gnarled grip of possession, but love? That has yet evaded your attempts on it. Not that you’ve ever given it a good go.

But now, when you think of it, it looks at you through blue eyes.

You sleep on it. You don’t contemplate when it’ll happen only because you know it’s inevitable. Your lips have already grown loose. When he eats you out in the early morning hours after a good night’s sleep for once since John left, you have to swallow back the wails of I love you, I love you, tell me you love me, please, please.

Your lips part, lax. Only sinking your mouth down over his turgid length after he’s made you come keeps you from accidentally saying the words. The soft, grunted fuck he lets out at that empties out any thought in your head.

Desperate times, desperate measures.

If John knows, he jealously guards your secret. Would take it to his grave you think. Just for him and you to know. Any temerity from the night before is squashed in the light of day, and you sit across from him at the table during breakfast wishing that he could hear the words in your head, if only so you didn’t have to say it out loud.

God bites the lip when you want it most to part. Isn’t that just the nature of life?

John leaves you off at the general store as always, dropping a peck to your lips before heading out on his way, but when you wander inside, you find Miles behind the counter instead of Kate. That dims the excitement in your chest a tad. It’s no fault of his, but you’d hoped to regale Kate with the revelation you’d had the night previous, omitting some of the lewder details. Instead you’ll be forced to wait until she’s back in town. When you ask Miles when abouts that’ll be, he shrugs, unable to give you a definite answer.

“Visiting a friend, she said,” he tells you, and you blink like you don’t know exactly what that means.

Her absence leaves you in a lurch though, little else to do but wander around the store. You’d leave entirely and try to find something else to occupy your time, but you feel a bit foolish coming in just to leave right away, though you’re sure Miles wouldn’t care either way. Still, you tell yourself you’ll linger for a few minutes before heading out to the library or down the road for a coffee at the inn.

The bell over the door jingles, but you pay it no mind.

You linger in the aisle with the fruit preserves and canned fish, gazing into the bottles. Tins with hand-drawn labels, branded packaging. On another shelf, you find oyster crackers, National Biscuit Company on the label. Nabisco. If Kate were minding the shop, you’d pop your head around the aisle to ask her what corned beef brand she used the other day.

The sound of spurs jangling from behind you makes you frown and turn your head.

A hand clamps down over your mouth, muffling the yelp that leaps instinctively from your throat, and you go shock cold when the blunt muzzle of a pistol wedges against the small of your back.

“Bet you thought you were clever gettin’ me out of town, didn’t you, girl?”

Your eyes widen.

#this is so so so so so so so good #the subtext in this chapter is making me spiral and i (yet again) need to go and reread from the beginning to see it all unfold in real time #incredible #the imagery the prose the characterisation the arcs #everything is an absolute highlight in this #fic recs

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