#sweet paloma
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Miss Ana,
In true “I saw this Tik tok and thought of you” fashion, allow me to send you this https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMMf5DFSh/
NOT THE CUMBIA EDIT PALOMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 😂
this is why this fandom will always be number one in my heart
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Can we please see what Yue looks like in your modern au?
Lovely astrologist in the making 🌕💜
#dema answers#atla#avatar the last airbender#atla fanart#atla art#tales from the couch#atla modern au#atla au#princess yue#atla yue#yue#yukka#Temporarily at least#It doesn't go beyond shared crushes and a few dates#My girl is so sweet and soft and wholesome and secretly unhinged#All breezy long dresses and weaved sweaters and shiny jewelry and brick platform boots#Her Playlist is 20% Florence + The Machine 30% Paris Paloma and 50% AURORA#Did I already mention that she's a sweetheart??? Yes????#Chronic illness baby#Also LET MY GIRL HAVE PIERCINGS#And face tattoos#They look good on her and this is the hill I will die on
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Life's Sweet Bells
A COD Farm Sim AU with omegaverse splashed in!
Poly 141 x F!OC. Previous. Villagers
Pt. 2: Paloma Meets Price
Johnny and Kyle lied to him.
Horrid little pack mates, he should have known something was up when the pair were unusually quiet during their weekly friday night at the inn.
John knew their newcomer had just arrived a few days prior, not that he had a lot of hope for the poor sod. People have come and gone to town before. Young bucks who thought they could hack it with the sweat off their backs. Most came because of the allure of the peaceful countryside, but quickly left when they realized luxury was a limited resource.
John had sat at the bar, whiskey in hand, something deep in his soul easing at seeing the townsfolk all inside, laughing and happy. They were a pseudo-pack of sorts, not everyone bonded, not like him and his boys, but he remained protective of them all the same. It was sheer fortune that he'd built the pack that he had, beautiful, strong and resourceful as they were. It was an absolute dream to have them all together, safe in their little village. He wasn't particularly keen on adding another, though he supposed it was inevitable.
The town's economy had been struggling since the earthquake cut down on business. Perhaps a new face wouldn't hurt…
Johnny and Kyle’s laughter pulled his attention, the pair playing some sort of roleplaying game at a nearby table, the party bantering after defeating a band of monsters.
“The goblin floats lazily down the river, slowly…like, comically slow, and you know it won't be long before the rest of his hoard realizes he's missing.” Alex narrates, looking amused, (and just a little tired) after overseeing yet another harrowing adventure, all while the boys giggle and high five.
“I LOOK AROUND” Soap blurts, bypassing any structure of the game.
“You don't wanna take a short rest first?” Alex retorts sharply.
“I did not lose any health” Farah cuts in, arms crossed, pointedly looking at Soap.
“Rest mate, you've only got 1 health point left.” Gaz adds.
“Ach fine, I rest. Then, I look around.” Soap laments.
Alex smirks, “We're resting so you can start fresh next week, but before we go” he leans in, mischief in his eyes. “You see a stranger, you know anything about strangers, Mactavish? Garrick?” He looks between them suspiciously.
And this is what really gets John's attention, makes him turn away from the bar inconspicuously. Even Farah turns, schmoozing in close to Alex to fix the pair of men with an additional suspicious gaze, eyes narrowed.
The alphas share a look, a silent conversation happening between the long time friends before they're both shrugging in unison.
Both Alex and Farah throw up their hands.
“Come off it boys, we know you've talked to the newbie.” Laswell calls from behind the bar, her wife Madeline grinning over her shoulder.
John feels just a bit sour. They didn't tell him, they'd met the newcomer.
The pair hem and haw.
“They seem alright” Gaz says, noncommittal.
Soap nods, “Real busy, they've got their hands full out there, for sure.”
“That's a whole lotta nothing.” comes a gruff voice, Ghost perched near the fireplace.
John finally cuts in, his own god damned curiosity too much to bear. He feels a bit like a teenager, wants to know every detail, what they're like, what was their name, what did they look like, designation, etc. He reels it back instead.
“Are they going to stick around is what I want to know.” he grouses, taking another swig. If he were watching a little more closely, he would have seen the playful glint in both of his alpha's eyes.
“Can't be sure.” Gaz replies, hiding a smile behind his drink.
“Maybe you should give ‘em a chat, Cap, see for yerself” Soap chimes in. “Not sure you two will jive though” he adds, staring absently into his mug.
John wasn’t a tough man to get along with, just selective.
He huffs through his nose, finishes off his drink. It would have to wait. He'd already promised to help Nik with a few “projects” in the capital. Maybe the newcomer would be gone by the time he came back, that'd be one less problem to worry about.
~
He’d arrived back late monday evening, leaving Nik to unload his stock while he settled into a desk in the museum reception area, working through his portion of the collections paperwork and local donations. Desk work was never his favorite, but the peace and quiet of the old place, accompanied by the soft patter of rain against the large pane windows would be plenty to lull his weary mind to rest when the time came. He looked forward to crawling into one of his pack’s beds after a long weekend away.
He’d settled in nicely, cigar in hand and hot evening tea, when the heavy wooden doors of the museum open, wind gently rustling the pages on his desk. He doesn’t look up right away, it’s probably Simon, coming by to check in.
What he was not expecting however, was the soft round thing that tiptoes inside. Wet squeaky boots on marble as she blinks at him. She's a mess, dirt smeared on her sweet round cheeks and worn denim overalls, the soaked fabric hugging her soft tummy and wide hips, silvery hair tied back in messy twin braids dripping onto the floor.
He stares.
She stares.
She’s the first to recover, flashing him a sheepish smile, eyes bright behind big round glasses. His heart stutters just a bit.
This was the newcomer?
“Hello! I’m sorry, I must have missed you earlier.” she chimes, seemingly unphased by her own disheveled appearance as she slips closer, slinging a heavy backpack from her shoulders with a soft grunt, the pickaxe at her back clanging noisily to the floor with the action.
Who gave her a bloody pickaxe??
She slings out a hand and introduces herself, wrenching it back quickly to smear the remnant dirt from her hands onto her overalls before extending it again with an apologetic smile.
It’s not often that John Price is dumbfounded, but it was certainly not every day that a big soft girl walks into his museum, especially not one like this. He didn't even realize he’d stood up, snuffling at the air like an old hound, trying to get just a whiff of the pretty thing. She’s an omega, he can feel it in his bones, something just on the edge of his biological periphery that makes his teeth ache. Her scent is nearly nonexistent under the earth and rain, but it’s there, sugary sweet like blueberry pancakes. Something ugly preens in the back of his mind.
Ah yes, this one is staying.
“Are you alright, Captain?”
He’s swift, snapping out of his thoughts to clamp his hand in hers. She’s cold to the touch, hands damp and freezing. Unacceptable.
“Are you alright sweetheart? What have you been doing?” He rounds the desk, keeping her hand aloft, thumb rubbing at her skin in a weak attempt to warm her up as he looks her over.
She had better not be doing what he thinks she was doing.
“Oh I’m peachy! Just doing a bit of mining, time just got away from me is all.” she laughs, nerves apparent in her soft english lilt.
She was.
He bites back an exasperated huff, brows furrowed in displeasure as he scans her from head to toe. She goes still, nervous, like a pup as he comes closer. She’s filthy, but doesn’t appear to be injured, just…clumsy, the ass of her overalls covered in mud from where she’d apparently fallen, several times, but otherwise okay. His brain slows down just a little.
“You were in the mines?” he asks incredulously, her hand slipping from his as she jumps back to life. “And who’d you learn ‘Captain’ from?”
“Yes!” she chirps, she’s beyond excited, dropping to her knees to root through her backpack, the sound of stones and tin clanking around in its confines. ”Soap and Gaz told me all about you, said you were always pretty busy, but I’d catch you eventually.” She pauses her rummaging, whipping back around to point at him ”They speak very highly of you by the way.” she tells him, as if the words were an important message she was tasked to bring to him.
Of course. Conniving little shits, both of them. Trying to sell him false goods. He would have both of their heads later for hogging this pretty girl all to themselves. Telling lies. Though part of him was proud, they knew him all too well, at least well enough to know he had a big soft spot for pretty birds.
All he can do is hum, watching her with no small amount of confusion as she continues to root. It appears she’s never met a stranger, bulldozing over any social formalities unwittingly.
“I’ve read mining used to be a big deal here, a great source of revenue.” she rambles giddily, “I didn’t think I would have much luck but look!” She yanks out an armful of dirt covered items, and bless her, Price doesn’t have the heart to tell her most of it is shit. Common coal and some exceptionally glittery rocks, but more importantly something else catches his eye, green and chitinous.
“Is that a bloody bug?”
“Hmm? Oh yeah! Alex told me you all were looking to make some new collections, and I noticed you didn’t have much in the way of entomology. I thought it’d be a fun thing to start!”
Fun.
Price has spent years of his life, smashing these flying demons deep in the mines, and here she was catching them. As odd as she is, the pure passion in her eyes is incredibly endearing. It was already a miracle that the goofy thing had climbed down there on her own, come out with a bag full of rocks and a bug, all without being crushed, stung or bitten.
He’d known the girl for a whole 10 minutes and already had his hands full.
He would need to have a serious talk with her about going down there again, but in the meantime he had no intention of crushing her spirit. She reminds him of Soap, brilliant and bright as a star, and it brings a fond smile to his lips.
“Quite industrious aren’t you Miss Hadley? Looks like you’ve found quite a bit, I’ll take a better look at these in the morning” he explains, carefully placing her prizes in a bin for later, “I’ll have your payment for the donations sent later in the day. For now, It’s far too late for pretty girls to be out this late, you're soaked to the bone.”
She blinks a bit, as if it just occurred to her, “Oh yes, didn’t think it would rain quite this hard all day.” she laughs a bit awkwardly, recollecting her soggy backpack. “I didn’t mean to disturb your evening.” she grabs her pickaxe (the one he was half tempted to hide and hope she forgot) before angling herself toward the door.
John has to actively bite back the harsh no bubbling up his throat at her escape attempt.
He’s never felt like such a muppet in his life. He needs to feed her, warm her up, but he has nothing here, just some granola bars and breakfast tea, no blanket, she was already shivering.
He could bully her into his home if he really wanted to, it’s just down the road...strip her down and dry her off.
She’s halfway to the door when he breaks out of his thoughts, damn near sputtering like a drowning man. “Wait.”
And much to his pleasure she stops on a dime, yielding easily to his voice. “Not going out there by yourself, absolutely not.” he huffs, stomping over to her, snagging his jacket from the rack beside the door and slinging it over her shoulders. He was being too much, he knows, opening the door for her and covering her with his umbrella as he ushers her to her home, taking the brunt of the rain just to keep her covered. He couldn’t help it, it was instinct, need.
“This is very kind of you” Paloma tells him, voice grown timid, but she stops short, cold little hands giving his forearm a tug, “but we can at least share.” She presses in close, the pair now walking shoulder to shoulder in the cool summer rain. He has to clear his throat to stop the rumbling purr deep in his chest.
“Too sweet for your own good” he murmurs, biting back a grin when she doesn’t hear him the first time. He changes tactics smoothly.
“I said, what on earth were you doing down there?”
“Oh, just trying to give everything a go. I won’t know I like something until I give it a try right? Plus everyone here seems to need a hand, I’m just happy to help.” she smiles up at him. And John really thinks this sweet girl may stick around, not because he wants her too, but because she wants too, with a heart too big to fail. He decides he’ll help her with anything if she just asks. Hell, even if she doesn’t.
They chat idly the rest of the way, boots squelching on the muddy dirt path. He learns she’s quite the reader , and crafter, and a myriad of other things, having shoved her fingers into every pie she’s come across. He tells her about his past as a foreman, his stint in the military, his work with the museum since the earthquake, and it tickles him with how intently she listens, nodding along to his every word.
Before he knows they’ve arrived, the soft glow of her porch lantern guiding them in, and part of him wishes she lived just a little farther away, if only to steal some extra time.
He guides her up the steps, his hand in hers, standing dutifully as she fishes out her key and steps inside. Safe.
He’s only a little flustered when she shrugs off his jacket and swings it back over his shoulders, his height causing her to fumble a little. Shrouding him in petrichor and blueberry sugar.
“Right,” he coughs “You get warmed up, and lock this behind you, didn’t walk you home for something else to get you.” He taps at her door seriously.
“Yes sir.” she chimes, and his stomach swoops. Fingers itching to dig into warm soft skin, he was being tested, he was certain of it.
“John, lovie, call me John.”
“Okay John, be safe” she smiles, waving goodbye with a shy wiggle of her fingers. He has to make himself turn away, waits to hear the click of her lock before trotting down her steps.
John purrs the whole way home.
#I will never waste an op to make price look like an utter goob#yes they're playing dnd its a friday night ritual now#john price#captain john price#price x oc#call of duty#farm sim au#johnny soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#task force 141#poly 141#wildcraft writing#oc: paloma hadley#cod ocs#Life's Sweet Bells
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Sabrina Carpenter
w. Paloma Sandoval & Whitney Peak
#sabrina carpenter#beauty#paloma sandoval#whitney peak#alfredo flores#photography#short n sweet#short n sweet tour#photo dump#pro-royalty
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Oscar Isaac Music Poll
Songs below the cut if you don't know them or just want to hear them again!
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
#oscar isaac#oscar isaac poll#oscar isaac singing#polls#oscar isaac singing poll#Luna de Xelajú#gaby moreno#never had#10 years#Cucurrucucú paloma#the hippo song#hippopotamus#the measure of things#inside llewyn davis#fare thee well#sweet lady death#Youtube
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lots of firsts being experienced in the abrams household 4 better or 4 worse
#ts4#*ts4gameplay#*sunday save#*sunday save gen 2#z#*jay#*paloma#*ruthie#paloma: *literally poops all over her mom*#me: omg what sweet little perfect angel baby ;----;#q'd
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Whenever someone tells me "Yeah, I don't really get the Rolan hype" I send them one of your Rolan fics.
It never fails to get us another member for the Holy Rolan Empire.
Thank you for your service.
thank you thank you it’s an honor just to be here
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I just finished watching The Neon Barbarian & Neon Wings and the way I BURSTED into tears at that last bit
“I like sound of it. Until the next sunrise!….. until the next sunrise.”
BRO-
#IM ACTUALLY SO SAD RN#WHAT THE HELL#also Paloma is so sweet :)#until the next sunrise#FUUUUUUUUU-#escaped audios#neon barbarian#neon wings
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What would I do without my Sweet Baby, Cherry Pie, Butter Cup, Sugar, Little Honey Bee?
#my sweet baby#chicken run#Paloma faith#dawn of the nugget#this song is so cute#ahhhhh#😍#she’s the highest high#the brightest light#Spotify#let me tell you all about my baby
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ANAAALSKDNSOSOSKSKSKS
I knooooow you’ve seen THE photos by now but I just saw someone comment on one of them
“I knew Hoseok was gonna get those ugly ass boots” and now I’m dying 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
Of couuurse he diiiiid 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
lmaoooooo paloma why is this so accurate?
hahaha in my delulu mind the first thing i’m doing when i move in is stuffing those monstrosities in the deepest, darkest closet he has hahahahaha
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What I’ve done to upset the stars
Dick Grayson x Reader
(Idea brought to you by “forsaken” by Paris Paloma)
Your feet dangle over the side of the roof. Looking up, you’re sad to see more clouds. You wish the stars would have come out tonight. But you know the stars were selfish. Stars were free- they were free to come and go as they please. To show themselves and to hide and to shine brighter or duller depending on how they felt. Selfish to live and to breathe and to die and to burn out.
Looking back down, your eyes roam between the colors and the gleam of the city below. The night time sky is illuminated by the city lights. The wonders. The stars of the modern world that ignite the clouds with false light. False pretenses. False hope.
The day had been uneventful, to say for certain. You followed your father’s plans, completed his tasks, obeyed his orders. The dutiful child of a crime lord, too small for major vigilante attention, but large enough that he would be a problem in the coming years. You fulfilled his ideas of a servant to the black market of Gotham, funneling the drugs to and fro. Cocaine, fear toxin, prescription drugs, venom- it didn’t matter what was in those boxes, you never knew. Your father played his hand close to his chest to avoid the direct spotlight on you.
You’re not sure that you wanted it, though. The warmth it would bring you would be like the city skyglow, fake and artificial. The dark nights and city lights to encase you within the shadows and blanket in comfort of a past you have always lived.
You know that you have always wanted to be warm, though. To feel the selfish burn, the intimacy. To be Icarus flying on the clouds and to feel the sun warm your wings and to feel free.
“It’s a little chilly outside to not have a jacket.”
The voice comes from the stairwell to the corner of the roof. Not his usual entrance, but welcome nonetheless. The natural born star. The knight in shining armor. The hero of Bludhaven.
You had tracked down the famous Nightwing so that he could take down your father’s crime ring almost two years ago to this day. You had been giving the vigilante information about trackings and shipments. You had even hand-delivered a package to a spot that you knew would get caught by the blue bird. A setup of your own design, skillfully wrought.
Your father had been furious that night. Accused his own men of being traitors. He had sent you across town so that he could take care of them on his own. At home, he tucked you into bed and kissed you goodnight. He sat on the corner of your bed and told you that he was disappointed in the night’s events. Disappointed in you. He had told you that you deserved to go down with the shipment. To fail so that you might learn from your mistakes. That your failures would stain everyone around you- most importantly the only family you had left.
Maybe you deserved to fail. Maybe you deserved the sun melting your wings to plummet into the cold, dark sea. Deserved the stain that melted wax would leave on your skin. Maybe you deserved no lights or warmth at all.
The sound of Dick’s feet shuffling toward you bring you back into the moment. He stands to your left, looking out at the city skyline with you. The heights and shapes of buildings jutting from the horizon that help to obscure the selfish stars. The moon that no longer watched you.
He turns to you, bright blue eyes and easy smiles; the city lights glowing along his skin. This man that you so easily fell for. Months of planning to take down your father turned into months of talks and sleepovers. Secrets and prayers whispered between the two of you. The hard-learned failure was falling in love with your natural enemy: spawn of crime lord and spawn of caped crusader. A heart beating for Nightwing was a heart beating for Dick Grayson, one and the same but entirely different. His charming looks and honeyed words that convinced you you were special. And you felt like you were when you were with him.
But that thought coats your throat with ash.
Your silence tears the smile from his glorious face. You can make out the wetness of his raven hair, the small water droplets stuck to the curls around the nape of his neck. He must have just come here from a shower. He always knew where to find you, when you wanted him to find you.
“What did he say to you this time?” He says, as if he also knows what makes your bones grow tired.
“It’s not about my father.” You reply.
It’s his turn to stay silent for a few seconds. Your eyes roam his own, hoping that he would find the words you would have too much trouble to get out. He’s beautiful from this angle. Painstakingly pretty in a way that hurts your heart with how much light and warmth this hero had brought to your cold life.
“I’ve told you before that we can get you out of this entirely. I can take you from him and protect you and keep you safe. We can erase your past. Erase anything you might call a failure from his eyes.”
Somewhere between the months of meeting him and falling in love, you and Dick had switched puzzles. No longer were you trying to take down your father- Dick’s first priority was to get you to safety. It was a recent labyrinth to navigate, one that you weren’t sure how it would work. You were more afraid of the plans failing and Dick getting hurt because of a dark past you didn’t know how to grow beyond.
Your father’s words continue to clatter and smash through every neuron in your brain. His words that have shortened “your failures” to “you.” How you have failed him, your family, hell, even Dick. How you will stain those around you. How you were not special beyond what you were to the crime ring. He had warned you that anyone too close could ruin you. And it would be too hard to let Dick get closer and allow you to ruin him.
You stand to face him, your bones and joints stiff from sitting. You had waited a while for him to show, dreading this conversation you knew you needed to have. You would not ruin him.
“We have to end this thing between us, Dick.”
“Bullshit.”
Dick is blissfully brilliant, smarter than you could ever hope to be. He can see through your facade, your self-deprecating issues stemmed from the morals of a heaven-set saint raised in a criminal background. So badly you wanted to be taken away from dark plans, insidious tasks, and evil orders.
“You’re not making this any easier!” You look back to the skies, pleading for something to save you. The selfish stars never listen. You can see Dick out of the corner of your eye. He watches you carefully, painfully. Why can’t he get it? “We can’t keep doing this. This is getting too complicated, too messy. What if you get hurt and I can’t save you and-“
“Then tell me what I need to do to make this easier for you!” Dick interrupts. “Let me help you. Do you want me to stay and help-“ He pauses, thinking over his next words, afraid of what your answer could be. “Do you want to stay with your father?”
“That’s definitely not what I want.” You say quickly, too quickly.
“Then what do you want?” He raises his voice. Dick’s screams wrack your body. It’s unsettling for a fight of this caliber for his raised voice to sound so broken.
“I want to see the stars.” Your eyes burn with your half-assed answer, tears threatening to spill. You know being this petty can only hurt you more. You raise your own voice. “I want to know why they get to shine. Why they get to choose and why I am stuck here!”
“No,” he bites. He pulls on his hair, almost manic. “You want to be a star.” He motions to the skyline. “Don’t you want to shine the brightest? Be more than what your father has made you feel? Be free to do what you want?”
He knows you so well, knows the inner workings of your brain and your thoughts. Knows how you idolized the stars and the freedom they had.
The moon and the stars must have conspired tonight to hide away, to hide in the clouds to watch selfless people do selfless things when all they want to be is to be selfish. You know you could save Dick from the way you would burn his wax and feathers to his skin. You couldn’t watch him fall. You wouldn’t.
He throws his arms back to his side. Dick stands still for a moment, flexing his hands and fingers as he counts his breaths. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, a solemn expression of devotion.
“You deserve to live. This is not living. You deserve to be happy, deserve someone who makes you happy and who can keep you safe.”
You wince, the tears now not waiting for permission. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve.”
You finally look at him, meet his stare: his eyes a mixture of contradictory feelings.
Pain. Desire. Despair. Love.
“Do I not deserve you?” Dick’s question sends a shiver down your spine you attempt to suppress. Of course he notices, he always does, and he continues to press. He takes a few tentative steps toward you. “If you think the stars can choose, then why can’t we? I’m wanting to give you all that you need to shine on your own so that you can shine with me.”
You scoff. “I never asked you to do any of those things. You picked me up and decided that I was what you wanted.”
“I want to give you the stars.” Dick stands too close, inches from your beating heart that you know he can hear; he can feel; he can mirror. He extends a hand, dragging a knuckle across your cheek to wipe away the tears. “But you refuse to let me.” You lean into his hand, closing your eyes. His voice lowers to a whisper. “You’ve always shone the brightest in my eyes. You’ve always been special to me. We can start your life over. You don’t have to be shadowed by the past.”
Dick knew better than anyone, anyone, that your past did not define you- no matter who you were. His own past was tragic and devastating, and in many ways, worse than yours has been. After free-falling through pitch black, Dick’s selfish feet have touched the ground. He has paved his own path for his own life. A star in his own ways. He could do the same for you.
A small whimper escapes your throat. You’re trying to show some resolve here, what little you might have left.
“So why won’t you let me deserve you?”
Your resolve stands tall. “Because you don’t deserve me, Dick.” You step out his reach, wrapping your arms around your body instead. “You’re too kind for this world.” Too kind for me, you want to scream. “I can only be a burden to those around me. I don’t want to stain you.”
You can see Dick’s tears falling now. His arm is outstretched toward you, and you want nothing more than to step into him again. There is an intrinsic part of you that wants to jump, wants to take flight on homemade wings so that the moon and the stars and the clouds and the very heavens could cry out in joy at your freedom. However, your father’s words have a leash on your mind; you know this will only end badly.
And maybe Icarus had done something to upset the stars so that the sun would take revenge. The sun would burn wax and feathers and skin for the selfish beings that were free to do as they please. And you, just like Icarus, would fall from the grace of the light and into the depths. The depths of a city with false light, the depths of a lifestyle with false pretenses, and the depths of a broken heart with false hope. Maybe you had done something to upset the stars, too.
“I will not stop fighting for you.” Dick breaths.
But maybe here the sun was not taking revenge. The sun had gifted you Dick Grayson, this boy wonder, this golden child, this kind man. A kindness that radiated from his every movement, his every being, that it could remind a crime lord’s child that help is there even when you believe you don’t deserve it.
The trails along his cheeks from his tears glisten under the city haze. Maybe you deserved the light and the warmth and the choice and the freedom.
“I don’t want you to stop.” You whisper.
He smiles then, a small one just from the corners of his mouth so that only a small dimple shows on his cheek. It takes every ounce of your being to not close the distance between you and put your lips there, to kiss away the dent, the salty tears, the pain of tonight. Instead, you choose to match his smile.
His shoes turn and shuffle along the roof. The stairwell in the corner opens and closes and you are once again left alone. You sit back down to dangle your feet over the side of the roof.
In your life, your father ruled everything but the heavens, everything but the stars. A crime lord’s child who wanted to fly and to soar.
Dick had shown you that the stars were yours to grab. That you were free to be selfish and to live and to breathe and to die and to burn out on your own time.
If you could fly between the extremes, find what you wanted, you could mirror the stars and shine on your own. And after finding that love and kindness for yourself, you could shine with Dick. This wondrous soul, this shining star, this man who held your heart.
It’s much later when you stand from the edge and walk toward the stairwell in the corner of the roof. You reach the door and stop. Looking up, your eyes widen as the clouds break apart to reveal a midnight sky. With the artificial light from the city below, only a set of two stars can be seen tonight.
You smile and hope the stars can forgive you for whatever you did to upset them.
#dick grayson#dick grayson x reader#nightwing fanfic#dc fanfic#robinsdearest#such a sweet dick grayson#a little hurt/comfort never hurt nobody#this has been on my mind all day#forsaken by paris paloma#sorry its been a while#have been obsessed with the tragedy of icarus#please send me asks or dms about if you like my work or not!! I promise I read them
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more soft Javi you say????
Like, reader helps out on the ranch sometimes when she’s off work early because she just wants to be around Javi, even if he’s busy doing all the stuff he has to do. And she doesn’t just wanna sit around looking pretty (even though it sure is a pretty sight Javi thinks) so she helps out with some more easy stuff. And Javi couldn’t be happier to see her in the place he grew up in, like she belongs there. Like the place was just waiting for her to show up all this time? And he’s so happy to see her feeling so comfortable around it all, not afraid to get dirty and work to keep the place up and running. Doing the work together and it doesn’t even feel like work anymore.
And afterwards, both dirty and sweaty, you end up in the shower together (gotta save that water) his dad still off in town, the house quiet. And Javi secretly loves washing your hair for you, the way you lean back against him at the feeling of his fingertips against your scalp. He takes your hands in his bigger ones, gently cleaning them with a brush so not a speck of dirt is left underneath your pretty nails. Inspecting them from every angle to make sure it’s all gone. And you definitely take the opportunity of a quiet house, slow and passionate, pressed against the shower wall with his broad shoulders and strong arms holding you up when your knees shake too much. Giggles and laughter when he slips, arms wrapped tight around your waist, the warmth of his palms against your skin and his lips leaving kisses everywhere he can reach.
And you do the same for him, washing his hair and massaging his aching shoulders under the spray of the warm water. Gripping his cock in your hands while he leans back against the shower wall, slowly stroking him and watching his face. The tiny twitches in his right eyebrow, his teeth biting into his lip when he tries not to cum too fast. Wanting to be inside you for that, needing to be inside you.
Javi loves looking into your eyes when he slips inside of you, needs to see that look in your eyes. The slight widening at the stretch and then your hooded eyes when he’s fully inside and all you can feel is pleasure and his hands holding your ass up and just Javi, Javi, Javi. You both don’t last long, coming with sharp breaths into each others mouths, foreheads pressed together and his long lashes brush against your cheek. And you don’t need to say a word, the love all around you in that tiny shower. You stay there, intertwined together until the water runs cold.
Chucho finds you in the kitchen later that evening, wearing comfy clothes all belonging to Javi. Standing together at the stove, Javi stirring the sauce from behind you, one arm always wrapped around you. Whispering and laughing and swaying to the music playing quietly from the radio in the corner. Chucho never thought he would see his son being so domestic but it definitely suits him!
You beam at the praise of the delicious food, sitting next to Javi with his hand on your thigh, always wants to be touching you in some small way. Javi knows this is what he wants to do every single day, for the rest of his life.
Lmao we went from her to you at some point but who cares. I need to live on the ranch with Javi ok 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
is all this too much to ask for?! do men like this even exist?! probably not, which is why we all flock to the internet to find love in a hopeless place 😪
the tenderness during shower sex like that has to feel fucking amazing, like, truly an out of body experience. better than the rough fucking our boy is used to lbr
okay but would they live with chucho or have their own house on the property?! i think about this a lot bc like, that's his childhood home but also he wants a place of his own for you guys to live in and (maybe) start a family someday?!
anon you have a beautiful way with words. thank you for feeding me/us 🖤
#📞 next caller!#also ummm this is so thoroughfare coded for any of my lovely amazing followers who are reading it#can't wait to write paloma in his hometown#it's gonna be sooooooo sweet and much needed after we end the main fic
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Life's Sweet Bells
A COD Farm Sim AU with omegaverse splashed in!
Not a long fic (I hope) but just a series of little stories surrounding Paloma, a soft and sweet omega who's recently earned a farm from a long lost inheritance. Paloma begins cultivating her new life, embracing the rewards and challenges of her new town and it's eccentric strangers.
Poly 141 x F!OC
Link for all the "Villagers"
Introductions
Paloma nearly ignored the old ratty letter she'd received in the post. A hand written thing, outlining her inheritance from a long lost relative.
An inheritance she stands before now.
Alejandro, the mayor, a tall alpha with a bright smile, had been incredibly apologetic about the state of the old farm. Rudy, his partner, had explained that the old place had been vacant for some time, and it had only been recently that they discovered the old man’s nearest next of kin.
Paloma, however, was hearing none of it, gazing at the lonely plot of land with stars in her eyes.
The place was beautiful, a humble little cottage nestled in the middle of a quiet rolling forest. Its overgrown, vines crawling up the cobbled stone chimney, weeds taking over the empty field, but she can hear a brook nearby, and the little plot had not only a barn, but a greenhouse to boot. It was all worn, in disarray from by the elements, but it's hers. ‘Paloma Hadley’ now legally scrawled on the deed in swirling black ink.
Alejandro and Rudy had been kind enough to assist her with the small chest of her belongings, and with a promise to check in tomorrow to finalize the last of the paperwork they had left her to her own devices.
The next day passes quickly, with Paloma up to her elbows in dust and grime, scrubbing years of dirt off of the fine hardwood floors. She’d nearly slipped twice, trucking around her little cottage with bright red wellies to spare her socks. Had gone to war with what appeared to be a small village of spiders living in her bathroom, dutifully capturing and tossing them outside in a cup, and nearly fell down her front steps trying to drag the old heavy rugs outside to wash and beat on an old drying line. But compared to how it was before? She would catch spiders every day. Happily.
She didn't have much to her name when she left, just a small bedroom’s worth of items that she’d kept while she’d lived with her parents. She’d had no problem with leaving, and it wasn’t like her old job was paying her enough to have a place of her own anyway. Despite the increasing list of fix-ups and chores, Paloma had already started to cultivate a sense of pride over her new little home.
A home, with lovely rugs and quaint wood furniture.
She’s still cleaning, bopping around her kitchen while a pop song blares on her meager little radio when she just barely catches the knock on her door. She fumbles with the volume, dusting off her hands on her already dingey apron and scuttles toward the door, swinging it open to find perhaps the most handsome man she has ever seen in all her years of life.
He’s almost too pretty, dark curls cropped neatly, with a roguish little scar across his cheek. He’s dressed in a simple button up, short sleeves rolled a few times to highlight the toned curves of his arms, well worn belt with an assortment of tools slung heavily around his hips.
“Evenin’ miss” he greets with a nod of his head, pearly white fangs on full display as he smiles down at her, warm and bright. Pretty and an alpha. He must have been working hard today, having sweated through his blockers if the way his scent rolls through her is any indication. It’s warm and floral, tonka and citrus, with a hint of spice that would have her tail wagging if she had one. It wasn’t every day that she got a whiff of alpha, really anyone for that matter. Most designations kept their scent muted or gone entirely, especially in the city where she’d grown up. It was considered polite work culture to keep one’s scent from intervening from day to day activities, which was more a way for designations to avoid bias in the hiring pool. Only bonded pairs stopped blocking their scent.
Her eyes flick to his neck for a quick confirmation, only to see it covered conveniently (and charmingly) with a soft blue bandana. A new mystery to solve.
Paloma realizes she must have been staring a little too long when he clears his throat softly, making her flinch. Way to be cool Paloma. She has a hard time getting her words out, smiling dumbly as the alpha on her porch chuckles awkwardly. Extending a hand.
“Kyle Garrick, y’can call me Gaz.”
She reaches out without thinking, her fingers brushing against his wrist in her haste to wrap her soft hand around his. If Gaz notices the small social faux pa he doesn’t say anything, simply gives her soft a squeeze before letting go politely.
“Sorry! Wasn’t expecting anyone else today.” she attempts, tucking the loose strands of her hair behind her ears nervously, introducing herself in return as an afterthought.
“‘Course not, didn't mean to intrude. It’s not often we see a new face around here, let alone one moving in. Wanted to bring by a little house warming gift, figured you’d have your hands full with all this.” he gestures.
Gaz presents her with actual tools, a decent sized shovel, hoe, and axe, he even tosses in a small toolbox, and a handful of varying seed packets.
He rubs the back of his neck, “Not sure if you wanted to actually keep up with the old farm, but if you did, these'll give you a start.”
She looks it all over with absolute glee.
“No! This is perfect. Thank you Gaz, really. I don't know what this place used to look like, but I want to pick up where it was left off.” she says proudly, hands on her hips.
She'd already hoarded up all sorts of books and manuals on farming and caretaking. Determined to be as self sufficient as she could.
It was a pipe dream maybe, thinking she could make a living selling produce and cute jams, and she tells him so, shoulders falling ever so slightly.
“It's really not. Been missing someone like you around here since the old man died. The general store and village market's been suffering for it. I think you're just the person we needed around here Paloma.”
His words are so genuine it nearly makes her misty.
“I've got my work cut out for me, but I intend to do my very best” she promises, meeting his eyes with a bold resolve.
“I've got no doubt you will.” he chuckles. “Just so you know, I run the carpentry shop just up the road. If you need a hand, come see me, yeah?”
“Will do!” she waves, watching her first kind stranger take his leave.
–
Paloma takes it easier the following days.
Well
A little easier.
Rudy had explained the old shipping bin on her property, and with her cottage finally, less spidery and grim she had resolved to at least do a little foraging in the bountiful area Alejandro had been sure to remind her of. The move in general had taken what little savings she'd had. And if selling off a few things would garner her some pocket change then she had to do all she could.
It was at least a start.
She was pretty pleased with her bounty around the mid afternoon, having already filled her basket full of varying mushrooms and wild vegetables. At least the ones she thought were edible. She hopes Rudy at least looks it over before taking it.
She's plopped on her rear, fingers stained blue as she works over a healthy looking berry bush (popping a few of the prettiest ones in her mouth in between) when a new voice startles her.
“New to town and already riflin’’ through other folk's gardens I see!”
The loud scottish lilt has her nearly jumping out of her skin. She whirls, eyes falling to yet another handsome stranger.
He's another big boy, white tank top smudged with dirt and loose sprigs of hay, his hair is cropped into a short mohawk, a rabbit's foot charm dangling from a loose chain around his neck. A farriers apron hugs his thick thighs, a fine layer of sweat glistening against his sun kissed skin.
Good heavens, they build them different in the country.
She sputters, trying to haul herself up “I didn't mean to- I didn't know?? I'm-”
“Easy lass, just yankin’ your chain” he laughs, extending a hand to help her up, his grip is firm, and he must overestimate how much strength he needs to pull her soft body up out of the dirt because he hauls her right into his chest.
Her brain reels, getting a nose full of sweet alpha musk, a fun mix of buttery shortbread and soft rose that seems odd clinging to such a macho looking alpha.
His freehand catches her, warm broad palm against the small of her back as she flails again, trying to get distance between them, nearly tripping over her own boots when he settles her again, a warm palm on her shoulder to hold her in place.
She's grateful she grabbed a healthy supply of her own blockers before leaving, at least she wouldn't be perfuming all over the place like a fool. She was embarrassed enough that her encounter with Gaz the day before had her snuffling at his scent on her hand all evening like a lonely puppy.
“Easy there” he says good naturedly, giving her a pat not unlike a horse before pulling his hand away. “Was wonderin’ when you'd come by and see me.” he beamed, pretty blue eyes bright with mischief.
She rights herself, dusting the dirt from her knees. “Is this your property? I didn't mean to intrude, I didn't realize someone was so close…”
She admittedly hadn’t strayed too far from home just yet, she wanted to get at least a little settled before meandering into town. She feels a little bad for not even bothering to see her new neighbor.
He introduces himself as John Mactavish, Soap for short. Explains that he minds the livestock just up the way, ducks and chickens and cows and horses, and that she was indeed on his property.
“Not that I mind of course. Alejandro told me we had someone new, didn't know you'd be such a bonnie thing, s'good to finally have a new face ‘round here.” he teases as they walk together. Soap had insisted he walk her home, had even snagged her basket of berries, holding them hostage, claiming she had too much to carry already with her backpack already sagging heavily against her shoulders.
Soap was a talker, rambling animatedly, introducing her to new names of fellow townsfolk she’d yet to meet, too many names lost on her as they made they’re way down the worn dirt path to her home. Talking with him was as easy as breathing, and while Gaz had been friendly she didn’t feel quite the same nervousness with Mactavish, and soon enough her own chattery energy came out to match his own. It wasn’t long before the pair were laughing and giggling their way under the afternoon sun, swapping stories of past awkward moments and old jobs.
Just from the way he talked, she could tell Soap was well liked, referring to most everyone in town as his friend. It was incredibly sweet how he only had good things to say. And if what Soap was saying was true, Paloma would have no issue getting to know everyone in town, well, mostly, everyone.
“Ach, Ghost, you’ll like him, he’s a tough nut to crack, but he’s good people, my best pal.” he says warmly, setting her basket down beside her front door. He starts to continue before he pauses, taken aback. She guesses in their chattering Soap hadn’t noticed their arrival until she’d let him right to her door.
“My days” he sighs, baby blues surveying her little farm, he doesn’t say anything as he steps off her porch, beelining it for her old barn, making her half run just to keep with his longer strides. He takes it upon himself to survey the building, making a couple rounds around the foundation before wrenching the old doors open with a grunt of effort. She follows him inside, mimicking him by putting her own hands on her hips as they both look around. Paloma isn’t quite sure what she’s looking for, but Soap does, and if anything she’s here for support.
“Ya know, I’ve never been out here before, the old man kept to himself, ya got yourself a good little setup here, hen. Little bit of patching here and hammering there and this’ll do just fine!”
“You think so? I would love to have a few animals, nothing too serious, but the company would be nice.”
“I know so, and tell you what.” he turns to her, a mischief Paloma suspects is permanent in his eyes, “ you come ‘round my place, help me tend to mine, and I’ll teach you a few things, even throw in a few coins for your trouble. That way we both have some company, aye?”
“You’d really do that?”
“‘Course! Just a little while, once you get this place all neat and tidy you’ll have your hands plenty full, and then you’ll be askin’ ole Soap for help.” he teases, clapping her on the shoulder once more, broad palm dangerously close to the tender gland at the juncture of her shoulder.
Paloma nods her head at the charismatic alpha, cheeks burning at the innocent contact. She wasn’t going to turn a prime opportunity down, and hands on contact would be much better experience than fumbling around with a book. It’s not like she was imposing, he offered after all, like good neighbors do, and she’d admittedly grown fond of the playful scot after their little walk together.
“Excellent, I’ll get out of your hair for now bonnie girl, but do me a favor would ye?” he asks seriously, looking her dead in the eye. “Stay out of trouble, your lucky I was alright with you pilferin’ my berries like that but-”
A loud snort tears from her at his teasing, one she attempts to cover half heartedly as more snorts follow, making Soap laugh too, she punches him in the side playfully, trying to catch her breath as Soap’s giggles make her laugh even more.
“And now you’re assaulting me! I’ll have you know I wont tolerate nefarious behavior like this, I’ll let it slide this time girlie, but it won’t happen again.” he proclaims, waggling his finger at her, only making her laugh harder. They part ways in giggles, Soap waving pleasantly as he trots back off into the distance, his sweet rose scent wafting around her in a pleasant cloud.
Paloma’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and for once the heavy weight of carrying on feels like nothing at all.
#they may accidently sound southern#but i do think the english and southern accents follow a similar pattern#sorry in advance#johnny soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#call of duty#farm sim au#wildcraft writing#Life's Sweet Bells#oc: paloma hadley#poly 141
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❤️❤️❤️❤️
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HOME SWEET HOME GGGRRRRAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH
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okay. Arianne (as good a reason), Sansa (boys bugs and men, drywall), Helaena (my mind (now), notre dame), brienne (mulled wine, what have I done, the last woman on earth, cradle), catelyn (forsaken), gilly (underneath), Alicent (labour, the fruits, yeti, it’s called: freefall), Cersei (the last beautiful thing I saw was the thing that blinded me), Daenerys (ocean baby, village song, Lily rice), Rhaenyra (narcissus).
half of all Paris Paloma songs are about Alicent Hightower and the other half are about Brienne of Tarth
#Arya and Asha not included. They’re too Kiki Rockwell-coded.#which for those of you who have not heard the sweet music of Kiki Rockwell is adjacent but not the same#paris paloma
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