#so far i like the miniseries better | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugarcoated-lame · 8 months

Text

Life’s A Beach | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Single Dad!Bradley x Reader

This is the second installment of my single dad Bradley miniseries | part one | library blog

Summary: A few weeks have passed since meeting Bradley and Caroline, and what better way to spend time with the adorable father-daughter duo again than a day at the beach?

WC: 6K

Warnings: all of my works are 18+ minors DNI, shirtlessbradleyshirtlessbradleyshirtlessbradley, reader wears a bikini but there are no descriptions of body size/shape, mentions of food/eating, mutual pining, like one tiny mention of smut towards the end if you squint, I don’t really think there’s much else this is literally just straight up fluff, dilf Bradley just being the absolute sweetest, this part is much longer than the first bc I already had it written and then couldn’t help myself from adding almost 3k words while editing oops, once again I suck at titles and summaries :)

a/n: the header for this chapter was my first attempt at making a mood board, I hope y’all like it :) I love Dadley Dadshaw™️ and little Caroline so much, I couldn’t stop smiling while writing this chapter of pure fluff! If you enjoy it, please comment/reblog feedback is always appreciated. Thank you for reading! <3

•

You’re checking yourself in the mirror for probably the twentieth time when your phone buzzes with a text alerting you that Bradley is outside. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time this morning trying on countless swimsuits in an attempt to find the perfect one.

It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon and with Bradley having the day off, and Caroline done with school for the weekend, he’d invited you to join them for a day at the beach. Since meeting them at the mall a few weeks ago when you’d helped reunite the father-daughter duo after the little girl had gotten lost, you’d maintained pretty regular communication.

The two of you had been texting almost daily, chatting about your days and getting to know each other a little better, and you were delighted to find out that Bradley did not, in fact, have a wife. He’d send you silly pictures of him and Caroline that never failed to make you smile even after a shitty day, and left you wondering how someone could still be so attractive while making the stupidest faces.

He told you a bit about his job — as not just a pilot like his daughter had told you when you met, but a fighter pilot, a naval aviator — and you told him about yours. You talked about your respective hobbies, favorite movies and your tastes in music among other things. Anything and everything that had come to mind, really.

Talking to Bradley was always easy. And there was definitely a bit of flirting. Okay, maybe a lot of flirting.

You’d also talk to Caroline too. She and Bradley had FaceTimed you a few times over the weeks and she’d update you all about how she was enjoying preschool so far, telling you that her daddy cried when he dropped her off on her first day — though, Bradley insists that he didn't — and about the new friends she’s made, before always asking when she’d get to see you again. You’d promised her, soon.

You’ve been pretty swamped with work, but you’re excited — if not a little anxious — to see them again. Though you hadn’t gotten another chance to see Bradley in person since that first day at the mall, your crush on him had grown exponentially. He was funny, charming, an amazing father to the sweetest little girl, and not to mention incredibly good looking.

Even through an iPhone camera, Bradley always looked so effortlessly gorgeous, his boyish smile and pretty eyes never failing to give you butterflies. You’d have to actively try not to swoon all the times he’d called you ‘sweetheart’ or said you looked pretty over FaceTime.

You could tell the mustached man liked you too, if his shameless flirting was anything to go by. He was too charming for his own good and he never seemed to fail to paint a blush on your cheeks. So, you want to make sure you look good when you join him and his daughter at the beach today.

You’d settled on a black bikini, the longline triangle top big enough to cover you up with enough cleavage to still be sexy, and the bottoms a little high waisted, the side strings pulled up high on your hips to accentuate your curves. You’d let your hair fall loose and flowing, and put on a light dusting of makeup.

After receiving Bradley’s text, you quickly throw on a matching black cover-up that ties at the front, your favorite pair of shorts and some flip flops, grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

Bradley’s waiting for you, leaned up against the side of his classic blue Bronco in a white and baby blue floral Hawaiian shirt — which you’ve learned over the last few weeks that he seems to own quite an array of, a pair of dark gray swim trunks that show off his muscular calves, and a pair of aviators shielding his eyes from the early afternoon sun.

His tanned features only seem to glow in the bright light of the sun, and as you watch Bradley’s face light up with a grin when he sees you, sandy curls blowing in the slight breeze, you have to clench your teeth to keep your jaw from dropping. God, he’s gorgeous.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

Bradley pulls you into a hug as soon as you reach him, and you happily wrap your arms around him. Inhaling his delicious scent and relishing in his warmth as you tell him that you’re doing good, before asking how he’s been too.

“I’ve been good, thanks. You look beautiful.” Bradley compliments you with a growing smirk once he releases you. You’re going to have to get used to the blush that seems to permanently reside over your cheeks whenever you are in his presence.

“You look– good too…” You trail off shyly, lips lifting into a sheepish grin as you push back some strands of hair that had blown in your face from the breeze, looking down at your sandal-clad feet.

Flirting with Bradley was much easier over text. You’re just thankful that his eyes are currently covered by his sunglasses, unsure if you’d be able to handle his deep, honeyed gaze on you right now without your knees buckling.

Bradley chuckles at your shyness, he loves how easily he can make you flush.

“Come on, I know someone is very excited to see you.” He places a gentle hand at the small of your back and leads you to the passenger side of the Bronco, opening the door for you. Your skin tingles with warmth where his hand had touched you as you climb into the passenger seat and Bradley closes the door for you.

Immediately upon entering the truck, you’re met with a high-pitched yell of your name. You turn around to see Caroline, all tucked into her car seat, sandy curls tied up in pigtails, and a tiny pair of aviator sunglasses that match her dad’s over her eyes. She really is Bradley's mini-me and you don’t think she could get any cuter.

“Hey, sweet pea!” She’d told you when you called her that on one of your FaceTime calls that that was her favorite nickname because peas are her favorite vegetable.

“You ready for a beach day?” You inquire happily, to which Caroline replies with a toothy grin and excited squeals of affirmation. She lifts her little aviators up onto the top of her head as she talks excitedly to you, while Bradley chuckles and begins to drive.

The two of you spend the entire drive to the beach chatting animatedly, Bradley chiming in here and there, but mostly just enjoying listening to the way you happily field the kind of questions and roundabout rambling that can only come from a four-year old.

He swears that his heart is going to explode out of his chest seeing how great you are with his daughter. How much Caroline already seems to love you, and how much you seem to love her too.

***

Upon arriving at the beach and finding a spot for the Bronco in the moderately crowded lot, Bradley quickly leaps out of the driver’s side to open your door for you, eliciting a bashful smile and quiet ‘thanks’ from you as he takes your hand in his much larger one to help you down.

When your feet are safely on the ground and he’s closed the door behind you, Bradley makes his way to the back door to help Caroline — who is bouncing her little legs and practically vibrating with excitement – out of her car seat.

The three of you make your way up to the beach, Bradley carrying a large cooler that he procured from the trunk. And while you try your hardest to not drool over his impressive arms, you hold a large tote that’s filled to the brim with a blanket, towels, Caroline’s countless beach toys, and an umbrella sticking out of the top in one hand, and Caroline’s smaller hand in your free one.

It’s only a short walk, and the second your feet touch the sand, Caroline’s little hand releases yours as she bounds ahead of you and her father in search of a good spot to set up.

Bradley lets out an exasperated sigh and lifts up his sunglasses, sharp eyes trained ahead to follow his daughter’s bouncing pigtails as she runs along the busy beach. “God, she’s really gotta stop doing that.”

Holding back a giggle — because you know firsthand that Caroline wandering off is a fairly common occurrence — you look up at Bradley with a sympathetic pout.

“Yeah, but if she didn’t do that, you never would’ve met me.” You shrug matter-of-factly, lips tugging up at the corner on their own accord.

Bradley can’t help but chuckle at that.

“I guess that’s true,” the playful smirk growing on your face draws a matching one onto his lips. “But, sooner or later, she’s gonna give her old man a heart attack.”

You join him in his laughter as you continue walking toward the empty spot where you see Caroline has stopped, bouncing on her feet and waiting for the two of you with an adorable toothy grin.

“You’re not that old.” With a playful roll of your eyes, you lightly smack his shoulder.

Once everything is set up – the blanket laid out along the sand and held down at the corners by the heavy cooler and the tote, the large beach umbrella creating a nice bit of shade, and Caroline’s various toys already scattered about — Bradley kicks off his flip flops and reaches up to begin unbuttoning his Hawaiian shirt. Dropping his aviators onto the blanket along with it, leaving him in just his dark gray swim shorts with his torso bare.

Whoa. You thought he was hot with his clothes on, but you nearly went into shock upon seeing him without them. You knew Bradley was obviously in shape — you could see that even under the Hawaiian shirts and soft looking Navy tees he always wore over Facetime – but you didn’t know he was that muscular.

All golden skin and rippling muscles, broad shoulders and strong arms. Almost ridiculously toned abs and thick thighs leading down to shapely legs, Bradley looked like he was sculpted by the gods. Though he was a father, he certainly did not have a ‘dad bod’. You guessed that his elite naval training must be to thank for that.

In the hopes of distracting yourself — and to stop yourself from frothing at the mouth over Bradley’s physique, you decide to focus on applying the sunscreen that you also found in Bradley’s beach bag. You remove your cover-up and shimmy out of your shorts, already enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun blanketing the newly exposed skin.

Holy shit, Bradley has to stop himself from saying out loud as he catches a view of you in your bikini.

The way that the black fabric fits your body perfectly, just a hint of your plush breasts visible in the triangle top and the high-cut bottoms with little strings that cinch in at your waist accentuating your curves in all the right places, has Bradley’s heart beating faster and his cheeks heating up with a flush that he knows is not just a product of the bright sun.

He feels like he might start drooling at any moment as he takes in the sight of your skin – so much skin, and he wants to know if it would feel as soft as it looks, under his fingertips.

He watches in awe as you begin to apply your sunscreen, delicate hands smoothing over planes of skin, and Bradley wishes he could replace them with his own. He needs to stop ogling you before his swim trunks begin to show the evidence of just how much you’re affecting him.

When you’re finished lathering yourself in sunscreen, Bradley’s heart starts clenching in his chest for a whole different reason as you offer to help Caroline apply hers. She accepts your offer without hesitation, head nodding a mile a minute and that big grin that never fails to make Bradley’s heart melt on her sweet little face, and he swears she’s never taken to anyone — not even the Dagger Squad — so quickly.

He gazes on, eyes with wide adoration as you kneel down to meet his daughter’s height, gently – and oh so patiently – rubbing the cream onto the baby-soft skin of her arms and legs as she jumps and squirms around, her golden brown curls bouncing, the impatient four-year old ready to take off like a tornado down the beach.

Bradley can’t help but admire the sweet smile that overtakes your face and your soft laugh as Caroline scrunches up her adorable little button nose while you apply the sunscreen to her face, and he swears his heart grows three times its size when he hears the giggles bubbling out of his little girl’s mouth as you playfully pinch her nose and let her know that you’re done.

“What do we say, Caroline?” Bradley asks his daughter before she has a chance to run off in her excitement. His tone is slightly stern and his hands are on his hips, though a smirk is tugging at the corner of his lips as he squints against the bright sun to look at his daughter who returns his gaze with a wide-eyed, almost caught-out expression.

“Thank you!” Caroline turns back to you and wraps her arms around your neck in a quick hug that makes your heart melt.

Before you can hug her back, she races over to her dad and hugs her arms around his hips, her little head resting on his taut belly as she looks up at him with those big, brown puppy dog eyes that rival his own.

“Can we go in the ocean, Daddy?”

When Bradley lovingly strokes the crown of her head and grins down at her, you swear you could cry from how adorable the two of them are. “Of course we can, Bug.”

Then, Bradley lifts his little girl off the sand – and she looks so tiny in his arms – and you can’t help but giggle at the two of them as he leans down to blow raspberries on Caroline’s tummy through the fabric of her ruffly lilac bathing suit, high-pitched squeals and shrieking giggles leaving her as she flails in his hold, breathlessly yelling, “Daddy, stop!” while he continues to tickle her.

“Alright, alright. I’m done.” Bradley chuckles, only stopping when one of Caroline’s flailing limbs nearly hits him in the face. He presses a kiss to one of her flushed cheeks, and then the two of them are looking at you with matching grins.

“You comin’, sweetheart?” The term of endearment makes your heart flutter. You glance between the two of them, holding back a laugh at the four-year old that’s buzzing with excitement in her father’s arms.

“I think I’m just gonna relax here for a bit and soak up some sun, but you two go ahead!”

Bradley looks down to where you sit on the beach blanket with an appraising look as you smile at the two of them, a hand hovering above your squinting eyes to shield them from the sun, and you could swear you catch his eyes trailing down the line of your body for just a second before returning to yours. “You sure?”

“Yeah, you two go! Enjoy some father-daughter time.” You nod, a pretty smile on your face, and the playful wink you send his daughter has Bradley’s swim trunks feeling the slightest bit tighter again. Yeah, maybe a few minutes apart from you would do him some good.

Little does Bradley know, your reasoning for staying back is similar to his for not arguing with that. You need a moment to yourself to refrain from doing something stupid – like trying to lick his abs or climb him like a tree – if you have to be up close to him and his gorgeous body for one more second.

You relax onto the blanket, your face hidden under the shade of the umbrella as you watch Bradley take off toward the ocean with Caroline still in his arms, the little girl giggling the whole way there.

You watch on adoringly as Bradley plays with his daughter, chasing her around on the wet sand and scooping her up in his strong arms, spinning her around and dunking her partially into the water. The two of them run through the waves, splashing each other, all smiles and laughs the entire time.

In just the brief time that you’ve known them, it’s very easy to see that Bradley’s daughter is his whole world.

When they return a while later, Caroline sprints ahead of her dad to reach you on the blanket where you’re already waiting with a smile to hand her her beach towel that has cute little frogs printed all over it.

Bradley reaches the two of you a few moments later and your arm freezes mid-air as you reach up to hand him a towel as well, too distracted to even ogle over his glistening, wet skin as you notice the red shade that’s beginning to take over the skin of his cheeks and his broad shoulders.

“Bradley, you’re all red! Did you put on any sunscreen?” You question with a breathy laugh, though Bradley can see the concern in your eyes as he takes the towel from your outstretched hand and begins to dry the water droplets on his tanned skin.

Before he can respond that he had, Caroline chimes in. “Daddy says he burns if he even looks at the sun!” She exclaims through her giggles.

You laugh along with her for a moment before fixing him with that cute, sympathetic pout again that makes Bradley’s heart flutter in his chest.

Before he knows it, you’re reaching into the beach bag for the tube of sunscreen and standing to be closer to his height – though he’s still got quite a few inches on you.

“Here, let me-” You squeeze some of the sunscreen out onto your fingers, and then your delicate hands are working the cream into the skin of Bradley’s face and his cheeks are, again, warming even more and not because of the sun.

His skin tingles where your light touch had been, and Bradley thanks whatever gods are out there that Caroline jumps in and insists that you build a sandcastle with her before you get a chance to start working the sunscreen onto his shoulders. He doesn’t know that he could handle you touching him any longer without saying or doing something stupid.

“Thanks, sweetheart. I think I can take it from here.” Bradley’s tone is flirty as he holds a hand out for the tube of sunblock, fingers grazing yours, and his lips turn up in a smirk at the flush developing on your own cheeks as you nod back at him. And he can’t suppress the quiet chuckle at the stumble in your steps as you make your way back over to Caroline to get to work on your sandcastle.

After applying the sunscreen to his own shoulders, Bradley sits down in the sand to join you and his daughter.

“Daddy! We’re building the world’s biggest sandcastle!” Caroline exclaims, filling up her bucket with sand. “It’s gonna be bigger than you!”

Bradley lets out a throaty laugh, “Yeah, I’ll bet!” He looks to you and the two of you grin at each other conspiratorially. “Can I help?”

Once the three of you have built – and demolished, a la Caroline jumping straight onto it – the “biggest sandcastle she’s ever seen”, she and Bradley convince you to get in the water with them.

You all play a game of tag in the shallows, Bradley stopping to lift his daughter out of the water every so often when there was a large wave, before you and Caroline decide to gang up on Bradley to splash him with salty seawater until he’s soaked and looking at the two of you with a pout that you want to kiss right off of his lips.

Then, Bradley’s pout quickly morphs into a mischief-filled grin, a matching one growing on his daughter’s face as you look between them, the two of them seeming to have a sort of silent conversation.

“What are you-” Before you can finish asking the question, you let out a yelp as a strong pair of arms wraps around your waist and lifts you into the air, both Bradley and Caroline laughing like hyenas as the four-year old begins splashing you with water, and you can’t help but laugh along with them as you squirm under Bradley’s very strong grip.

All too soon, Bradley’s arms are releasing you, but he keeps a steadying hand on your waist as he settles you back onto your feet. His whiskey-hued eyes peering into yours and you can only gaze back, left a bit breathless, your skin set alight with butterflies where his large palm had been even when he’s no longer touching you.

“Daddy, I’m hungry!” Caroline announces, tension in the air dissipating as she jumps up and down between the two of you, tugging on the hem of her dad’s swim trunks.

You can breathe again as Bradley chuckles at her and finally shifts his gaze away from you, pushing back some of the wet curls that are stuck to her forehead. “Yeah, me too. Lead the way, Bug.”

The three of you make your way back up to your little setup on the beach, the little girl tugging you along with a hand wrapped in yours.

Bradley produces a few little packs of apple slices and the three sandwiches he’d packed earlier that morning from the cooler, peanut butter and jelly – Caroline’s favorite, as you’ve learned over your many facetime calls with the father-daughter duo and giggled at the four-year old’s jelly-covered face, where you let them know they were one of your favorites too.

“Bon appetit.” Bradley chuckles, holding out one of the plastic wrapped, diagonally cut sandwiches to you, a slightly sheepish smile coming over his mustached lips. “I know it’s not much, but-”

You cut him off with a shake of your head before he can finish his statement, and meet him with a sincere grin. “It’s perfect.”

He hands Caroline the one sandwich that has the crusts cut off and a packet of apple slices, and then pulls out an ice cold bottle of water for each of you, and a juicebox for his daughter.

While Caroline sweetly asks you to put the straw into her juicebox for her, Bradley pulls out one last thing from the cooler that has your heart leaping in your chest when you turn to notice him place something down in front of you.

A bottle of your favorite iced tea. Something you’d never explicitly mentioned to him, but that Bradley had noticed you always seemed to be drinking on your video calls with them. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet you feel like you could cry at the sweetness of it.

Bradley’s chest swells with pride as you pin him with a bright smile, eyes full of adoration. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Bradley sends you a wink that sends your heart into overdrive as he takes a bite out of his sandwich.

Bradley admires the two of you as he sits and eats his PB&J. His daughter is once again talking at you a mile a minute in that adorable, roundabout way that only little kids do as you follow along enthusiastically with a smile, you gently wiping jelly from Caroline’s face with a wet napkin and making sure that she drinks her water when you notice her cheeks getting a bit flushed.

“Just like her daddy.” He listens to you tell Caroline with a playful shake of your head, and the wink you send in his direction has Bradley swearing internally that he’s going to die, and he can’t help but think that he’d be more than happy to do this all the time.

After spending a while longer on the beach – you and Bradley sat on the large blanket chatting and watching Caroline play and build her own little castles with her pail and shovel, the three of you jumping in the water one more time, and you hiding your snickers behind your hand while Bradley tries to convince Caroline that it is not a good idea to bury him in the sand – the sun is just beginning to set.

And though he doesn’t want this day to end, Bradley decides it’s time to head home when he notices his four-year old rubbing her eyes and starting to yawn every couple of minutes.

You help him pack everything up and then the three of you make the trek back to the car, Caroline half asleep on her dad’s broad shoulders, while you walk close by Bradley’s side in a peaceful silence.

Caroline falls asleep almost instantly once Bradley gets her settled into the Bronco in her car seat, and you can’t help but coo at the adorable little girl when you turn back to look at her from the passenger seat.

The drive back to your apartment is a peaceful one, the sun still setting and bathing everything it touches in its dying golden glow — including Bradley — and you find it hard not to stare at his exquisite side profile as he bops his head along to the classic songs that play quietly from the radio as the two of you chat idly, low enough to not wake up the sleeping little girl in the backseat.

When the Bronco comes to a stop in front of your apartment, the sky has almost fully darkened and neither you or Bradley move for a long few moments, neither one of you really wanting to say goodbye, not quite ready for this perfect day to end yet.

Bradley clears his throat and turns his gaze to you with that boyish, mustached grin that sends butterflies coursing through your system and the smile you meet him with is an easy one.

“Thank you for coming today,” Bradley’s voice is quiet, raspy and deep and heat pools in your tummy as he continues to speak. “Caroline had a blast. She really likes you.”

His statement has you glancing back at the sleepy four-year old and beaming with adoration when you turn back to reply, “I really like her too. And, I had a great time. Thanks for inviting me.”

Bradley’s smile turns more playful as he nods his head, his honey brown eyes peering deep into your own as he quietly speaks again. “I really like you too.”

With the pulsing in your ears from your heart practically beating out of your chest, it takes you a few long seconds to reply and all you can manage to get out is a whispered “Yeah, me too…”

Your voice trails off and and your smile turns sheepish, gaze tilted down toward your lap to hide the obvious flush you know is blooming on your cheeks.

Bradley’s grin only broadens, eyes full of mirth at your sudden shyness.

“Can I walk you to your door?” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine and you don’t really trust yours to be steady with him looking at you like that, so you simply nod in response.

After Bradley checks behind him to see that his daughter is still sleeping soundly in the backseat, he unbuckles his seatbelt and quietly hops out of the Bronco. He quickly makes his way over to the passenger side to open the door for you and help you down from his truck.

With one last look through the window at Caroline, Bradley locks up the Bronco and you begin the short walk to your door. The two of you are trailing along the concrete path slowly, Bradley’s palm hovering at the small of your back to guide you and warming your skin through the thin fabric of your cover-up.

You hesitate when you reach your front door, leaning your back against the hardwood to face Bradley, still not quite ready to cut your time with him short.

Peering up at him through your lashes, you thank Bradley before letting him know again, “I really had a great time today.”

“Yeah, me too, sweetheart.” You could swear he’s really trying to kill you every time he uses that nickname. “We should definitely do this again sometime.”

Your voices are both still quiet, as if to not disturb the peaceful, but intense atmosphere that’s built around the two of you.

“Yes, we should.” You nod your head, bottom lip caught between your teeth as Bradley’s eyes peers into yours, pools of molten honey searching your expression.

Whatever he’s looking for, he seems to find it. One of his big hands reaches up to cup your cheek, large palm splaying across the smooth skin and long fingers reaching into your hair, and he loves the way you instantly lean into his warm touch.

Bradley just admires you for a long moment, his heavy gaze trailing down from your pretty eyes to your plush lips, further to where your chest is rapidly rising up and down under your sheer cover-up as your breath quickens, and then back up again to see the look of want in your dilated eyes.

When he can no longer take the tension that’s been building up between you all day, Bradley takes a step closer, leaving only a few inches between the two of you. He leans down and the hand on your cheek guides your lips up to meet his in a kiss that’s sweet, but firm, and all-consuming.

Your lips move softly against his, one of your hands lifting up to wrap around the wrist of his hand that still cups your face. His pulse under your fingertips grounding you as you sigh into the kiss, and you think you could get lost in him.

His lips, gentle and languid as they press against your own, the hairs of his mustache tickling your skin, and the comforting scent of him surrounding you — the spicy cologne that still lingers on his clothes, a hint of sweat mixed with the fresh, beachy scent from a day spent on the sand and sea, and something that’s just Bradley.

When Bradley deepens the kiss, lips moving more fervently against your own, your resulting whimper has him crowding you against the door, no longer an inch of space left between your bodies as his broad chest presses against yours, his free hand coming to grip at your waist.

Bradley’s tongue trails the seam of your lips, begging for entrance that you grant him without resistance, swallowing his deep groan as your free hand reaches up to his hair. Your fingers tangle into the strands, his waves extra defined from the salty sea water, fluffy from the beach and now, you.

As your tongue glides along with his, Bradley’s strong hands now both squeeze at your waist, trailing down your sides until they reach the backs of your thighs. He effortlessly lifts you into his strong arms, never breaking the kiss, and your legs wrap around his waist as the weight of his body presses you harder into your front door.

Things continue on like this — for minutes or hours, you’re not quite sure as you completely lose yourself in the feeling of Bradley’s kiss — only getting deeper, hungrier, more frenzied. Your lips never parting from Bradley’s despite the burning that’s beginning to grow in your lungs, thighs clenching around his hips in search of even a hint of friction to curb the arousal that’s building in your core.

Bradley finally pulls away when the lack of oxygen gets to be too much. Your lips chase his, the little whimper you send him when his mouth is no longer on yours, going straight to his cock that’s pressed against your hip, straining against his already-tight swim trunks, and his head is spinning from the way your lips trail down to press gentle kisses to his jaw.

He wishes he could take you inside your apartment — to your bed, and he would have, but it’s then that he remembers his four year-old daughter is asleep in the backseat of his car.

Bradley’s forehead presses against your own and he breathes in deep before exhaling a deep sigh to steady himself. After pressing one last peck to your lips, he sets your feet back down on the ground. He takes a step back to look at you, hands hesitating to leave your waist as he doesn’t want to stop touching you yet.

Your expression is dazed, lips are swollen and eyes blown wide, your heaving chest matching his own as you take the oxygen back into your lungs, and Bradley can’t help but pull you in one last time with a hand on the back of your neck to kiss you breathless — again.

When he pulls away this time, Bradley hardly gives himself a moment to catch his breath before he pants out, “Can I please take you on a date?”

You nod your head near-frantically and you laugh just as breathlessly. “I was starting to think you’d never ask.”

Bradley chuckles, gazing down at you in adoration, his thumb that reaches up to caress your cheek and his next words draw a blush to your cheeks.

“Believe me, I’ve wanted to for weeks. Since the first day that we met you.”

You turn your head to press a sweet kiss to Bradley’s thumb.

“You could have. I definitely would’ve said yes.” You reply with a bashful smile.

“Yeah, I’m a bit off my game. I haven’t really done this in a while if I’m being honest.” Bradley admits a little sheepishly and you nod along, encouraging him to continue.

“I haven’t dated much since Caroline. She’s kinda become my whole world.” He scratches the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward and hoping you don’t think that’s pathetic.

You take his hand in yours and smile at Bradley, eyes shining bright in what can only be described as admiration.

“You’re an amazing father, Bradley. You're so dedicated to Caroline and that’s one of the things I love most about you.”

You give his hand a gentle squeeze as you gaze up at him, leaning up on your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his sun-reddened cheek. “And I definitely want to go out with you.”

“Thank god.” The pair of you let out relieved laughs at his words. Bradley’s hands reach out for your waist once again. “Come here.”

Bradley leaves you with one more passionate kiss that ends way too quickly for either of your liking and a ‘Goodnight, sweetheart’ that paints a blush on your cheeks.

After making sure that you’re safely inside your apartment, Bradley strides back to the Bronco, unable to wipe the grin from his lips. With a glance in the rearview mirror at his baby girl still sound asleep in her car seat, he begins the short journey back to their home, a goofy smile on his face for the entirety of the drive as he thinks about how he’s going to take you on the perfect date.

•

Thank you for reading! x

Don't forget to comment/reblog if you enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated! I've got one more part planned for this little series, it's not written yet but I hope to get it out to you guys soon <3

tag list: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91 @memoriesat30 @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 @foreverrandomwritings @lt-spork @princess76179 @gigisimsonmars @kidd3ath @averyhotchner @sammyrenae68 @tv-fanatic18 @one-sweet-gubler @kmc1989 @avengersfan25 @fictionalmenloversblog @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @praline357 @girlsclub2004 @misshoneypaper @diorrfairy

also tagging some people who reblogged/commented on part one: @bitter-post-millennial @rhettabbotts @hangmanssunnies @milestomaverick @becks-things @indynerdgirl @perfectprettypisces @annathesillyfriend @southpawbitch @colourfulsuitwonderland @wildxwidow @roger-that-cap @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @valhallaas @mayari-tala @teacupsandtopgun @dorothychxca @fangirlvoice @jjenjoysthings @kmc1989 @rosiahills22 @je-suis-prest-rachel

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x y/n #Bradley Bradshaw x you #rooster #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x you #top gun fanfiction #miles teller #dad bradley #single dad bradley #my writing

516 notes · View notes

feyascorner · 2 months

Note

suggestion for a funny but fluff fic or miniseries: Modern day Baldurs gate /faerun, were Ascended Astarion and GN Consort reader have lived a couple of centuries together and are still acting like newlyweds / deeply in love and just obsessed with each other. (but also dress gothic/victorian or like they don't belong in the current timeline.)

Would be funny if its written from the perspective of a new servant or a party guest- Maybe they mess up using medieval words when trying to describe modern things and the POV person is not aware they are vampires.

idk Dracula investigator reporter style- Thoughts?

anon you're such a genius for this1!!! THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE UGH I TWEAKED IT A BIT THOUGH W THE PERSPECTIVE PART I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND <33 (also this is not proofread)

A ball in this day and age is uncommon.

At first, Alfira was skeptical. Especially considering the party's hosts were famous for being---a rather eccentric couple. Inviting but strange at times. Dressing in garbs similar to the pictures Alfira has of her great great great grandmother, it was natural that they'd stick out like sore thumbs in high society. But with the pay proposed to her, Alfira could dare not decline playing her instrument at the party. Even more so when she realized how exclusive the party really was.

She'd been invited to stay at their obnoxiously large mansion alongside the other servants for the week preceding the event, and while the sensible decision would be to practice her piece, her naturally curious nature got the better of her. And now, she hides an entire notebook under her pillow regarding all the peculiar things about the couple.

'No. 1: They rarely show their face during the daytime. Perhaps they simply don't want to expose their skin without a concerning amount of sunscreen? Everyone online raves about how bad the sun is for your skin nowadays.

No. 2: The kitchen is completely off-limits to everyone but the head chef. It reeks anytime I go near it, so I don't mind.

No. 3: He calls them their consort. Weird. Is that considered affectionate with rich people?

No. 4: We're not allowed to take our mirrors outside of our rooms. This one I really don't understand.'

The list goes on for ages.

Alfira's observations are ones done from across rows of other recruits or servants, given how rare of an occasion it is to see either of them. Though, she's noted that where one is, the other isn't far away. They're practically attached at the hip, and even if she's a complete outsider, it's easy to tell how smitten they are for one another.

And with how well she was being treated (the food and rooms alike) under their care, Alfira began to feel a sort of guilt for suspecting so much. They surely didn't deserve such obsessive note-taking when all she could see was the way Astarion pecked your forehead before lending you his arm, only gentle laughter ringing in the air.

Perhaps the two of you were truly just a happy couple. A strange one, sure, but happy.

The day of the event comes in no time. Despite the lack of preparation, Alfira manages to play her main musical piece with minimal slip-ups, and continues to leisurely play as she watches all the wealthy guests. The ballroom bustles with people, and because she knows that she isn't acquainted with anyone here, her eyes are naturally drawn to a crowd in the center of the room where you and Astarion are greeting the guests. As usual, your arm is locked tightly with his.

In a room full of dresses and suits, the two of you still somehow manage to stick out. The intricate designs on your attire aren't all to blame, because Alfira swears she sees a sort of aura around the two of you.

It must be a trick of the light, though, surely.

When Alfira and the other musical hires begin to play a slow dance song, you eagerly pull your partner to the dance floor. The dance comes to easily to the two of you, eyes so loving as they're set on one another that Alfira nearly feels jealous. The other single guests seem to feel the same way as Astarion leans into your ear and grins with a whisper.

Alfira squints.

'No. 32,' she notes in her head. 'He has sharp teeth.'

Once the dance is over, she thinks her hand may very nearly fall off. But when she sees you and your partner approaching in her direction, the pain is immediately forgotten as she straightens her back, eyes wide when you offer her a smile.

"Alfira, right?"

"Y-yes! That's me."

"I apologize I couldn't greet you sooner," you place your free hand on Astarion's arm. "We were so swept up in the preparations we didn't get to welcome the truly important guests."

Alfira blinks. A guest? She's not a guest.

You huff. "You really do look just as I remembered you to be! Right, Astarion?"

"I don't particularly remember the bard from then to be frank, my love," he responds, as if Alfira isn't standing right in front of them.

'No. 33,' she notes again. 'He's kind of a jerk to anyone else.'

But more importantly, a bard? She's a musician! Not merely a wandering bar entertainer with a bloody lute and a corset to go along with it. It's even stranger that you seem so familiar with her, even though she's only first talking to you right now. Is she finally losing it?

"Sorry, have we met before?" Alfira blurts.

"Ah," you laugh. "Apologies for my informality. We have, but I doubt you'd remember."

What does that mean?

"Although it pains me to tear you away from such a fascinating conversation, my love, we should greet the others," Astarion chips in, and Alfira inwardly sighs in relief. "Good day, bard."

That damn word again--

As Astarion leads you away back toward the crowd with you pressed close to his side, he smiles down at you while you whisper something he finds humorous up to him. Alfira realizes she's never been that close to either of you, and fears she may have missed her chance---as strange as the encounter was.

However, she does notice one thing about the couple as you walk away.

Both loving sets of eyes are the same piercing shade of bloody red.

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion x you #bg3 companions #bg3 tav

191 notes · View notes

deramin2 · 9 months

Text

I don't know how to really express this except to come across as a "kids these days" scold, but so much of the criticism of queerness in Good Omens would simply not be a thing if kids these days watched more 20th century queer media. Or more complex indie queer media in general.

People seem to want a show that's like the straight stories they grew up with but gay. Or the gay fanfiction they grew up with. But that's not really the tradition it's coming from. First off the novel was released in 1990. Queer film classics of the time are Dead Poet's Society (1989) and Torch Song Trilogy (1988). The TV miniseries Tales of the City (1993) wasn't made until 3 years later and it was so far out there it never had a huge audience. Philadelphia (1993) is also 3 years out and was basically the first big studio queer film. The first fluffy queer Hallmark-style romcom wasn't until Big Eden in 2000, a full 10 years after publication.

Queer stories from the time it was written were about complex and often fraught relationships between people who the world was trying to force apart. There is an incredibly strong tradition in queer films of relationships with no guarantees they will work out both in the face of their personal baggage and the weight of the world. Take a film like Torch Song Trilogy that's about the two great loves of Arnold Beckoff's life over 9 years and how homophobia shapes them. Both externally (especially Allen) and internally like Ed struggling with his bisexuality and being terrified of being publicly out. Written and starred in by Harvey Fierstein, who identified as a gay man at the time and only came out as nonbinary last year.

The Boys In The Band (1968 play, filmed 1970 and 2020) was a monumental moment in Broadway history where finally there was a play about gay men in their own words where no one died and very strongly showed that homosexuality doesn't make people miserable but homophobia sure does. But that homophobia also throws their personal lives into constant turmoil and none of them are in happy relationships, although Hank and Larry are devoted to each other in their own fucked up way.

"Relationships are complicated and hard to make work and sometimes a struggle against the odds" is an aesthetic of classic queer film making. Partly it was influenced by the Hays Code (although independent films were not bound to it), partly influenced by the rampant queerphobia in society at the time that was inescapable. But it's also an aesthetic choice to resist the banal and unrealistic relationship depictions of straight media. There are actual stakes to the relationship. Queer people were actively resisting a world that said "Romance is seeing someone across the room and instantly falling in love with each other and little conflicts happen along the way but ultimately they're destined to be together and everything is happily ever after." Recall that "stalking as romance" was a completely inescapable trope in 1980s straight romance films, and every goddamn movie was being turned into a romance film.

So queer people in film and television when they can make what they please have a long tradition of saying instead "People don't always realize the feelings they've developed for a queer partner right away. They may have reasons for denying those feelings that are both a reflection of the cruelty in society and of their own insecurities. People struggle with where they belong and their relationships reflect that. Loving someone doesn't mean they don't also drive you crazy and you might fight with them constantly. But that doesn't negate the love or that feeling that even if things aren't okay, they're better with that person around. But maybe that person can't stay around. The world may be against you. And also maybe you don't just want that one person in your life. Soulmates is a very flawed model. Sometimes the strongest love is a struggle with yourself and the world and your person. You have to overcome yourself first. Happily ever after is a lie. You may be happy for a while, and hopefully for a long while, but everything ends. And you have to be ready to love again. Also your platonic bonds are just as important and life-altering as your romantic ones. Sometimes those platonic bonds include fucking if you want them to. Real life isn't a bunch of platitudes and world-altering moments, it's daily work to better yourself and the world around you. Especially when things just fucking suck. But also remember to have fun and fuck the haters. People who don't support you can eat rocks and you should yell at them more to shut the fuck up."

That is a fundamentally different outlook on what a "good relationship depiction" looks like. Personally, I thought I hated romance movies and then I started watching queer romance movies and discovered I love them and watch them all the time. Because it turns out what I hated was relationships being shown that had nothing at all to do with reality and privileged incredibly toxic ideals. Finally there was complexity, there were stakes, and there were people who had to truly want to be together enough to fight the world for it and not because they happened to be there. There were people actually talking out their problems and looking for resolutions. (And sometimes that resolutions was "I can't fucking deal with this bullshit anymore and I'm out.") For the first time it felt real.

I'm an aroace trans gay man. Nothing about relationships or being in relationships has come easy to me, and the whole paradigm of straight patriarchal romance depictions makes absolutely no sense to me. It's completely alien. Queer romance stories actually feel human.

And that's the tradition Good Omens is coming from, even as it's being retold in 2019-2023 and hopefully beyond. Gaiman's work has always been based in that queer media paradigm. (I've been remiss and daunted and haven't read Pratchett but from what I do know his work also seems to sit more in that world view.) It's a beautiful cinematic tradition and it's baffling to me that people would resist it instead of embracing it for being honest.

And that's when I turn into a crotchety old man complaining about the youth not connecting with the history of their beautiful culture and instead begging for assimilation into a shithole allocishet media landscape that doesn't actually want them except for their money and has nothing at all interesting or valuable to say. But it's very funny (annoying) to me when people claim Good Omens is someone against queer culture when it's so thoroughly bathed in the best of queer media's storytelling traditions and what people are asking for is straight media with the serial numbers filed off. Like, stop being boring please and know literally anything about the culture the adults in the room lived through and were influenced by. The world didn't begin in 2015.

EDIT: I also want to add that in straight media arcs are linear. Traditionally in queer media arcs are cyclical. Queer media very often depicts people going around in circles relearning the same lesson over and over as they inch towards it sinking in. But every time they go through the cycle they gain just a little bit more enlightenment and slowly move towards a better place. From the comments this is an immensely important distinction. People don't actually have cathartic moments where suddenly all their past bad programming is shed and they saunter forward a new person with none of their old baggage. In reality people fall into the same patterns over and over even though they have had every opportunity to learn better. "People magically get better" is a trope of straight media that's an outright and frankly dangerous lie. Again, Good Omens follows the queer tradition not the straight one and it's depicted 6,000 years of that cycle. The world didn't end, and the wheel keeps turning, as it always has and always will. That's so fundamental to queer storytelling traditions I forgot to even mention it.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens spoilers #go s2 spoilers #good omens discourse #queer media #queer history #discourse #I have been a crotchety old man against the youths since middle school to be clear #if you don't know where you've been you have no hope of knowing where you should go next #I didn't sit all the way through deeply homophobic Brokeback Mountain or Tár just to hear people complain that honest rep is bad rep #This is also why I'm a critchety old man about most Critical Role Shadowgast haters #Liam and Matt have not only watched but copiously reference older queer media and Shadowgast is so clearly that tradition

418 notes · View notes

moonlightspencie · 10 months

Text

… Angels Roll Their Eyes

Description: A new recruit to the BAU catches Reid’s eye. Unfortunately for the both of them, she has a past with someone very close to him. Are they willing to keep secrets just to keep one another? (TWO-PART MINISERIES)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, reader gets a minor injury, sexual references/content (i’ll accept 16+ because its definitely not more than pg-13 material but writing anything sexy makes me feel weird if i know teenagers are reading it)

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: READER’S POV!! this is where the bridge kicks in teehee. (also savannah is more of a minor character at this point, nobody really knows she and derek are together)

Devils Roll the Dice… (click for part 1)

I walked up to the figure illuminated by vending machine lights. His head was down as he looked through the options, not really intending on buying anything at all. I slowed my steps on the approach, just barely catching his attention before I was right next to him.

“Hey,” he said quietly, giving me a soft smile.

I grinned in full, not bothering to hide my feelings. Nobody was around, anyways.

“Hey. You come here often?”

He laughed. “Only this once. Waiting around for this girl who said she’d meet me here.”

“Sounds like she’s into you.”

He nodded. “I think so.”

I grabbed his hand, attempting to pull him closer. He took the advantage to bring me in instead, my back against the hard plastic of the machine’s display. Rather than kissing me then and there, he leaned in, lips unbearably close to my ear.

“I feel like we’re sneaking around past our parents,” he said quietly.

“You never got that ‘teenage dream’ experience. Maybe this is your second chance.”

He smiled. “Maybe.”

His lips pressed to mine, silencing our whispered words for good.

We were far from teenagers at this point, but he was still a dream. I found myself feeling giddy at every turn, completely ignoring the impending doom that loomed over our relationship.

We both knew we weren’t trying hard enough to hide it. Neither of us knew what would happen when it finally came to light.

Until that happened, we’d pretend it wasn’t in the cards at all. Summer love was still sweet, even being far removed from the romanticism of anything resembling the movie-loves I’d grown accustomed to religiously watching. This was somehow better. Maybe because it was more realistic. Probably because it was always more thrilling to live it out.

I smiled into our kiss, feeling his wandering hands trying to get themselves under my legs to lift me up. Sadly, we never got the chance.

We heard footsteps coming down the hall quickly, breaking apart and trying to look as nonchalant as possible as we mindlessly gazed at the snacks inside the machine.

“I’m thinking M&Ms,” I noted, almost laughing.

Spencer hid a smile. He clicked the right buttons right as our visitor reached us. The little package dropped, our secret still somehow concealed from a slightly-confused Aaron Hotchner as he stood behind us waiting for his turn.

“Night,” I said, giving a slight nod.

“Goodnight.”

Spencer followed behind me, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious that he didn’t have some cheap snack of his own in hand as we walked past. I rationalized that he looked too tired to notice, anyways.

We wound up back in my room, giggling with each other like kids at a sleepover. I made him do a face-mask with me while he made me listen to a lecture on how the hyaluronic acid in the formula provided moisture for our skin. I gladly listened with a smile on my face, and he happily accepted a hundred kisses as I wiped his face clean afterwards.

We laid on my bed, mindlessly talking about whatever came to mind. He took my hand in his, running his thumb across the back of my hand in repeated motions as we talked.

“What do you say we stop hiding us?” I asked at last, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve established myself on the team at this point, I think.”

He was quiet for a moment, still running his thumb over my hand.

“I don’t know. I think it’s better that we keep it quiet.”

I paused, taking in his response. I’d hoped that after a while we wouldn’t be hiding anymore. As much fun as it was to sneak around, it could be utterly exhausting. But, if he still wanted to, I’d agree.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he questioned, turning his head to look at me.

I looked back at him, giving him a small smile and a nod.

“Yeah. If that’s what you want, it’s fine by me.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I sprung up a moment after, standing at the foot of the bed. I grabbed my phone, clicking around on the screen as he propped himself up to look at me. I held out a hand to him.

“Dance with me, pretty boy,” I sang out, hitting shuffle on one of my playlists.

He quickly obliged, not wasting a second in worrying about whether or not he could actually dance. He knew I’d be there to guide whatever movements he didn’t know how to do yet.

Whispers of ‘are you sure?’

I smiled at him, admiring the way he payed way too much attention to how he moved. I made it a goal to loosen him up. After a minute, he was letting me guide, leaving his body to its own devices. He was really better off for it.

I can see us lost in the memory

We swayed along to the song, silently praying it wasn’t some kind of sick foreshadowing of how our summer would end. I pretended not to care much about the lyrics. He pretended not to listen to most of them.

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

Cause you were never mine

“Do you think that’ll happen to us?” I asked, still smiling past the gravity of the question.

“Of course not,” he answered with finality.

Wanting was enough

For me it was enough

To live for the hope of it all

I took his hands, the both of us spinning around in circles with smiles on our faces that were real and genuine despite a nagging feeling that something might be wrong.

I knew mine had a lot to do with very real feelings I was scared to talk about. I was too afraid to think about what may have filled his head. It was really none of my business, anyways, so I cleared my head of it all. Wanting was enough. I didn’t have to doubt that. It had been enough for two months so far. That had to count for something.

Weeks later and it was August. That lingering question of “will it last” was ever-present in my head. I just kept pushing it down. Fuck compartmentalization. That question was locked in a dungeon, chained to a wall, and I intended on keeping it there until we were either burning to the ground or eloping in Vegas.

Those seemed like the most viable options, anyway. An extremely-attached, yet no-strings kind of situationship could really only go one of two ways.

I almost wanted him to hate me at that point. It would certainly be a thrilling end if he revealed that he never cared about me and was only doing all of this to screw with my head. Almost like he was a spy, trying to uncover whatever boring substance made up my psyche.

I knew that was… Slightly less realistic, though.

I probably shouldn’t have been thinking about it so thoroughly, especially since it was merely theoretical. It would have caused a lot less mental work. It also might have prevented me from being off my game.

I had a habit of being a bit clumsy when we weren’t in life-threatening situations, but messing up while we were on a case? Unbearably embarrassing.

I looked up as my arm hit the wall to stop me from falling over my own two feet, disgusting to find that an exposed nail head had given me quite the scratch. It looked pretty gnarly, and frankly I was thanking my lucky stars I’d already gotten a tetanus booster after my last injury. However, I probably couldn’t go much further with my arm bleeding. Especially if they didn’t necessarily need me. It was one man they were going after, and we didn’t even know if he was in this house.

I voiced to Hotch what had happened, and he told me to leave if I was safe enough to do so. JJ and three officers occupied the house anyways, so I booked it out of there.

I cleaned myself up as well as I could with the first aid kit in the car, planning on doing a better job when I got back to the precinct. The house we were in turned out to be a bust anyways. Our unsub was still in the wind. He clearly hadn’t even been in the house in weeks. It was wildly frustrating.

Until Miss Penelope Garcia called in to save the day as she always did. She let JJ and I know that the others were currently heading across town to an apartment that she was certain housed the unsub and our most recent victim.

“Finally,” I sighed, leaning my head back in the seat.

JJ was quiet, and I looked away from my driving to see her. She smiled at me when I turned my head.

“What?” I questioned with a laugh.

“Can I ask you something?” she inquired, sitting up a little more straight. “It’s a little personal.”

I quirked a brow. “You can ask, but I reserve my right to remain silent.”

She laughed. “Alright. Fair enough. Uh, I’m just wondering about you and a certain team member.”

I swallowed. Uh oh.

“Okay?”

“I’ve just— I’ve heard rumors, and I wanted to ask you directly about them rather than letting the rumor-mill run.”

I nodded slowly. “What have you heard?”

“Word on the street is that you and Morgan used to be an item.”

Oh.

“Ah,” I replied with a chuckle. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we were a thing. But that was a while ago, and I’m pretty certain we’ve moved past it.”

“Right, yeah,” she nodded. “You know, he has a secret girlfriend now.”

I smiled, glancing at her. “Really?”

She nodded again. “Yeah. He’s been trying to hide it, but Garcia loves to talk.”

I laughed, thinking of the bubbly, well-meaning woman. She had a hard time with secrets, though she tried her hardest.

“That’s good. He deserves to be happy, he was always a great guy,” I said.

“Just gotta look past all of the mindless flirting and the jock-persona,” JJ noted jokingly.

I hummed in agreement, turning down the road that would lead us to the precinct at last. It was a good thing, too, since my arm was really starting to irritate me now. My discomfort must have been obvious, as JJ looked at me once again.

“You okay?” she questioned. “That cut on your arm looks pretty painful.”

I looked at it, noticing there was some bleed-through on the bandage. I sighed, not looking forward to cleaning it up.

“I’ll live. It just itches pretty bad right now, and it’s fairly sore.”

“I can help you when we’re back at the station. You shouldn’t have to do that alone.”

“Thanks Jayje,” I said, resting a hand on her arm briefly.

She covered my hand with her own, giving me another smile. It felt like she could see through me on occasion. She had quickly become one of my closest friends on the team, which took me a little by surprise. She seemed a little too unironic-girlboss when I first met her, but the second Penelope helped me see her true colors… We were fast friends.

I almost found myself telling her about Spencer and I on multiple occasions, but always ended up thinking better of the idea. That moment was one of the times I almost said something.

Of course, I thought twice about it, but she gave me that look like she knew what I was thinking.

I found an out when we pulled into the precinct, and took up her offer to help me with properly fixing up my arm. We made light conversation as I tried like hell not to focus on the stinging pain that occurred every time she probed at the cut.

We did whatever we could to help after she was finished. At least until the rest of the team showed up. But, to my delight, we rounded out our night by heading home and going straight to the bar.

I didn’t often let myself get well and truly drunk. Especially not when I was around Spencer. I knew I had been staring at him once I downed my sixth shot, but by the third mixed drink he was pulling me out of the bar. He threw out some kind of excuse that he was tired and I needed a ride home.

“What’s up with you?” he asked after bidding a goodnight to everyone else. “You’ve been acting weird, and now you’re getting wasted.”

I was annoyed by the comment, but there was concern in his voice over everything else. I leaned into him as we walked towards my car.

“I just wanted to have some fun, Spencie.”

He sighed, continuing to help me walk until we reached my vehicle.

“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, helping me into the backseat of the car.

I slumped over into the seat as he did, just barely letting him put the seatbelt around me and click it into place. He was fairly quiet as he did so, which really only furthered my concern. Even drunk I knew well enough to see that something was off with him. He shut the door, and I let myself drop against the seat, listening as he opened and closed the driver’s side door.

I glanced up, seeing him adjust the mirror to keep an eye on me in the seat rather than the road. It was dangerous and stupid. And so sweet it made my stomach flip.

I let my mind wander as he turned on the radio, thought he kept it low, and started driving. I thought of him and the summer we’d shared thus far. Three months is nothing in the grand scheme of life, but it felt like everything when I was with him. He felt like everything in that time. I hated keeping him a secret so much.

Maybe I shouldn’t have drank so much.

I let out the tears I was holding back, sniffling as the snot starting trying to weasel its way out of my system. If I was going to cry like a baby, I wasn’t going let myself get all gross and grimy. That’s where I drew the line. I’d make sure at least some of my dignity was preserved.

He looked at me in the rear view mirror, brows furrowing.

“Y/N?”

I sniffled.

“Yeah?” I managed, knowing I sounded absolutely pathetic.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft. “Why are you crying?”

I met his eyes as he continually glanced at me in the mirror. I had to have looked ridiculous, laying on the backseat with tears streaming down my face for seemingly no reason.

“I’m fine.”

He deadpanned. “You’re sobbing in the backseat of your own car.”

“I’m fine,” I said again through tears, voice coming out much more whiny than I’d intended.

He said my name as a warning, seeing through my… untruth. I felt more happy calling it that than anything else. I looked at him, admiring his pretty face through the mirror as he looked on at the road ahead. Maybe it was a good idea for him to practically drag me out of the bar. I could be a messy drunk, and I definitely would’ve outed us by wanting to be messy with him in front of the team if I’d drank any more.

Keeping secrets sucked. It was stupid and annoying. Especially when he was so hot.

I whined out loud at the though, squeezing my eyes shut.

“What?” he whined back, a laugh on his lips.

“I’m sick of this.”

“Sick of what, baby?”

I sighed, wiping away tears that kept on rolling.

“Keeping secrets. I don’t want to have to keep hiding this just to keep you.”

He sighed to match mine. “I know.”

“I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Honey, we don’t have much of a choice.”

“But I’m going to explode if I can’t kiss you in public anymore.”

“No, you won’t,” he said, looking at me again.

I pouted. “I will.”

“You’re drunk, baby. We’ll get you into bed and you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“Will you come to bed with me?”

He smiled softly. “Of course.”

I felt the car starting to slow, and though my vision was a little blurry, I saw the green light ahead turn to yellow. I looked at him again, a small smile coming to my tear-soaked face.

“Spencie?”

He hummed in question, not yet looking at me.

“Can I tell you something really stupid?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

I paused for a moment, letting my inebriated state wipe away any inhibitions I may have had otherwise. The car stopped at the light at last. I smiled softly.

“For what it’s worth, I love you,” I mumbled. “And it’s the worst fucking thing you could hear right now.”

I hoped he’d say it back, though part of me expected him to pretend he hadn’t heard me at all.

I definitely didn’t expect him to look at me through the mirror with a devilish smirk.

“I know you do,” he stated. “And it’s not the worst thing I‘ve heard by a long shot.”

I bit my lip to hold back a smile as he pulled away from the light. We ended up back at my apartment, Spencer still helping me stumble the whole way there. I pushed him back against the door as soon as we were inside, but he held my wrists to stop me from feeling him up. I pouted.

“Ow,” I said, pulling my injured arm from him.

“You okay, princess?”

I nodded, quiet. He simply looked at me, certainly not believing me.

“Why are you doing that?” I questioned.

His eyes widened. “W-why am I stopping you?”

I nodded silently, still pouting.

“Baby— You’re drunk. I’m not doing anything with you while you’re drunk.”

I dropped my hands, whining as I leaned my full body into his. He wrapped his arms around me, walking— more so waddling— with me until we reached my couch.

“I just wanna kiss you,” I grumbled into his chest, letting him drop me onto the cushions.

I stared up at him, trying to look alluring. I probably just looked a little out of my mind.

“I love kissing you, but not while you’re so drunk you can’t even stand up by yourself without almost tipping over,” he said, smiling softly as he crouched between my legs.

He leaned up, softly kissing my forehead. He kept my face in his hands, looking at me. He let one hand drop, running it across my arm. I pulled back again, feeling the discomfort in my arm from my earlier injury.

He furrowed his brow, looking down at my arm as it was covered by my sleeve.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded. “I’m fine.”

“You pulled away twice when I touched your arm.”

“It’s okay.”

He sighed, grabbing my arm and gently moving my sleeve up over the bandage. He let out a sharp breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” he asked, trying not to be annoyed with my concealment. “When did you get hurt?”

I deflated. “Today.”

“How?”

“I got cut. Fell into a nail in the wall.”

He ran a hand over his face. “You should’ve told me.”

“Why?”

He glanced up, furrowing his brow. He was clearly annoyed with me, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel terribly about it.

“Because I want to know when you’re hurt.”

I swallowed. Okay, that made me feel a little guilty.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is. That’s a pretty big bandage.”

I was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“It’s my job to worry about you.”

“No, it isn’t.”

He quirked a brow. “Why not?”

“We aren’t even like… A real couple,” I said, closing my eyes. “All we do is sneak around and you don’t ever want to tell anyone and I just don’t think that we can keep acting like it’s gonna last forever if we can’t even tell friends about—”

“It’s not my fault you dated Derek first,” he said, cutting me off.

I scoffed. “He doesn’t even care. That was forever ago and he has his secret girlfriend now anyways.”

“You wanted to keep this secret in the first place.”

“Well I’m sick of it,” I yelled. “I’m sick of keeping secrets and I’m sick of you not caring that I’m in love with you.”

“Not caring?” he asked, voice raising as he leaned back on his knees.

“You didn’t even say it back when I said it.”

“Because you’re drunk! How am I supposed to know if you even mean it?”

“Because I do!”

I groaned, my head dropping back against the cushions. My buzz was starting to wane, and I wished it would hold on a little longer.

“You were crying in the backseat. We said we’d talk about this tomorrow when you were sobered up. Why don’t we stick to that plan?” he said after a moment.

“Why can’t you just tell me how you actually feel about me?”

“I don’t want to say something and have you not remember it.”

“You’re so annoying,” I grumbled.

He rolled his eyes, standing abruptly. I readied myself for him to leave. I knew I was being childish, but I was tired of keeping everything bottled up. I wouldn’t blame him for dropping me then and there.

But, he reached out a hand.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

I looked up at him curiously, not yet taking his hand.

“You’re staying?”

He nodded. “Of course. I don’t want to leave you like this.”

I reached out, letting him help me up. We walked to my room, quietly undressing. I climbed into bed, watching him as he finally tugged off his pants, leaving him in just his undershirt and boxers. He shut my door, turned off the lights, and got under the covers with me.

He reached out for me under the sheets, tugging me against him. I sighed, resting my hand over his arm.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“It’s okay. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I woke up to a horrible headache, and a nauseous feeling that I was convinced would probably never ever go away. I was 100% certain I would never drink again ever in my life. It was a set rule that I made very quickly.

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked.

My next rule was that nobody was ever allowed to speak to me again.

I broke it immediately.

“Like crap.”

“Here,” he said, a stupid smile in his voice from the one word.

I opened my eyes to see him offering me a couple of little pills and a glass of water. I took them, grateful, even though I wanted to tell him to leave me alone in the dark for the next few months. Thankfully, he let me lay in his arms until the medication kicked in and took the edge off of my stupid hangover. I was at least thankful we didn’t have work that day.

My head was buried in his chest when I felt his lips against the top of my head. He rubbed my back, coaxing me back to the real world. Unfortunately I’d been a mess in the real world the night prior and did not want to deal with the aftermath.

“Baby,” he said quietly. “Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” I hummed, leaning back a little. Just enough to see him. “Medicine helped.”

“Good,” he smiled. “I was a little worried. You drank a lot more than you usually do last night.”

“I know. I was a mess.”

He smirked. “A little bit.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, brushing hair out of his face. “I’m sorry we argued.”

He was quiet for a second, then perked up a little when his phone dinged.

“You hungry?”

“I really don’t want to go out, love.”

He laughed softly. “I know. I ordered in while you were laying down.”

“You’re a dream, Spencer Reid.”

We tumbled out of bed, Spencer insisting on preparing everything after he thanked the delivery person at the door. He made me sit at the table and wait for him, not allowing me to do anything at all until all of the food was laid out. He delighted in it.

“There,” he said, setting down our drink at last as he sat next to me. “And you tried saying I didn’t love you.”

My eyes widened, not expecting him to say anything, but especially not like that. He looked at me.

“What?” he questioned.

“That’s how you’re going to tell me?” I asked with a laugh.

“I thought you knew anyways,” he shrugged. “I do love you, you know?”

I felt heat in my cheeks at that, a smile on my face that I couldn’t control. He smiled right back at me, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand.

“Do you really think we’ll last past summer?” I asked, hoping he was feeling honest.

He sighed, the smallest grin on his face.

“It’d be a cruel end if we didn’t.”

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction

430 notes · View notes

ivystoryweaver · 3 months

Text

On My Knees Part 3/3

previous | miniseries masterlist | my masterlist

Note: This can be read on its own - you'll just have a touch more context with part 2 especially

Content: f!reader, nsfw, language, hand job, nipple play, allusions to masturbation, reference to oral - f.rec. unprotected p in v, not beta'd

Word Count: 1.9k

PREVIOUSLY on On My Knees...

"I guess I better get on my knees and beg you not to get me fired," you whisper, your nose crinkling with a smile.

He gasps as you climb off his lap, kneeling beside him. You reach between your bodies to tauntingly stroke him before your fingers find the buckle of his belt. "Can I?"

"Oh god, yes, please," he quickly nods, working with you to get his pants open.

Meeting his eyes one more time, you ask, "Are you sure? Once I start I don’t think I'll be able to stop."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Maybe you should feel embarrassed that Steven made you come on your office floor without removing one shred of clothing from your body.

But as his cock springs free of his trousers, you lick your lips at the sight of him.

He catches you staring, wondering if this has all gone too far - beyond a wild makeout on your office floor where you came undone for him. Now his cock is right there and you're staring and frozen.

"Th-this alright, love?" His voice softens considerably as his hips shift in anticipation - yearning to be touched, to be fucked, even, but afraid it won't happen.

"Steven..." you gasp, your chest heaving with anticipation, with attraction, with raw want. "Is it too soon to...I want to..." You can't believe the utter mess he's made of you. Forget a brief, wild moment of passion - you want that throbbing, thick cock inside you now.

Reaching for your hand, he pulls you back to the present moment. "Want to what, darling? I'll give you anything you want just please... please touch me."

That lights a fire in you, sending you scrambling across your office carpet back onto his lap, your mouth crashing into his.

With one hand, you grab his jacket and with your other, you wrap your fingers around the pulsing length of him. He groans into the kiss, his hips responding to your fondling caress instantly.

He wants to fuck your hand - he needs friction. You're glowing and satisfied and he's losing his mind.

Maybe you'll let him stay like this, kissing you as you grip him - stroke him - and he can get some goddamn relief from more than his fist in the shower, imagining you just like this…

hungry for him, allowing his touch - his kiss. Too many nights, he's panted your name in his bed, wishing he could kiss his way between your legs and taste the core of you - praying that it could be him making you blossom for him. That he could be the reason your slick coats his lips and drips down your thighs while he eats you out.

You're stroking him tenderly now, but it's not enough. He needs more. After weeks of wishing he was the kind of man who could bend you over your desk, gripping your hips as he molds your desperate cunt to the shape of his cock, he has to have you.

If he could hear his name on your lips...

'Please, Steven, fuck me, fill me up..."

He’s wondered what your flat looks like, knowing you live alone. The thought of it somehow thrills him. Your sheets - drenched in the scent of you. He could only wish that you might plunge your fingers in and out of your sweet hole, furiously rubbing your greedy clit - or maybe stuffing your pussy full of a toy while wishing all along it was him -

'Steven, oh god, Stevennn...'

But you're kissing him and stroking him tantalizingly and he's growing desperate.

Your touch is featherlight. Not tentative - it's sensual. Your fingertips dip down to trace taunting circles over his balls while your tongue torments his own.

"Gods, please," he finally utters, tearing his mouth from yours, his hips messily stuttering as he desperately attempts to create more friction within the smooth palm of your hand.

Those words sound so sweet coming from his mouth and your core clenches, dampening your panties even more if that’s possible after your earlier pleasure.

Rubbing your nose against his almost affectionately, your mouth curls, satisfied that he's panting and chasing more from you.

"What do you need, baby?" You whisper. "This not enough?" You know it's not enough. The alluring tangle of your tongue with his has him chasing after anything you'll give him.

Slowly, cruelly, you withdraw your touch from his cock, pulling an actual whine from his plush, wet lips.

This apparent power switch feels incredible.

“Maybe we should stop. We are working, after all…” Now you’re just being cruel.

A desperate moan rumbles from his chest as he struggles to think coherently. He thought you wanted to go further - maybe at least to touch him - let him come. Gods, he needs to come. How can he dry hump you to orgasm - hear those sweet sounds and see the desire behind your eyes and then stop cold …

Well - you’re the boss.

You’ve climbed off the floor and crossed behind him to the other side of the office. Shaking his head, he struggles to his feet, figuring he misstepped somewhere - was too needy.

“Steven.”

You absolutely purr his name, drawing his racing mind back to the moment. He eases around, stuffing his cock back into his trousers when he sees you standing there in your bra and panties, having shed your blouse and pants when you crossed behind him.

“Had to lock the door,” you smirk, slinking toward him. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth. “Don’t tell my boss?”

Steven gulps, his eyes hungrily raking down the shape of your body. “F-fuck you’re beautiful. Want you so bad.”

You almost make another joke about him getting on his knees and begging, but no more jokes. You want him. Urgently. And he’s right here -flushed cheeks, kiss swollen lips, eyes wild and hungry - gaze boring into yours. You rush at each other like a film. Like something surreal.

He gathers you possessively closely, and steals your breath with the fire of his kiss.

His pants are still undone so you shove them down, with a lowly growled order for him to take them off while you push his jacket from his shoulders.

His long fingers - the ones you’ve stared at, wishing he would push them inside you - press into the curve of your back. Fingertips find the hooks of your bra and you whimper as he pulls the straps free of your shoulders. He pauses long enough to finish riddling himself of his shirt you’ve unbuttoned, kicking his pants off his ankles after his shoes.

Your loosened bra slips down your arms allowing your breasts to spring free.

This is happening. You’re fucking Steven Grant in your office. And it’s not just shoving skirts up and pushing panties aside. You’re completely bare to one another with the unforgiving fluorescent lights illuminating every flaw perfection.

He shakily exhales, wetting his lips before the two of you collide, stumbling your way to the sofa nearby.

He eases down and pulls you by your arms into his awaiting lap - your soaked panties providing the only flimsy barrier between you.

His hands are everywhere as your forehead drops to touch his. His warm breath tickles your face before he kisses you again, so deep, you forget to breathe for a long time, feeling heady and desired and even romanced, despite the clearly naughty series of events unfolding here.

His palm spreads over your back again, while his other hand slides up the softness of your tummy to cup underneath your breast. He caresses you like a lover rather than squeezing you like the other stupid teenager-brained assholes you’ve dated.

His thumb brushes over the stiffness of your nipple - his lips curling in satisfaction as you mewl and arch into his touch.

“You like that,” he whispers. And you hum as he brings both hands to your breasts, working you gently, teasing your nipples. Your head falls back, inviting him in for a taste. His hands slip back around to trace the shape of your back once more.

“Can I suck you?”

Your cunt clenches at such an unusual question - you’ve never really had anyone ask you for permission to suck your tits.

“Yes,” you whisper, even as he’s dragging his tongue teasingly over your stiff peak. He goes on like this for a minute and you realize he’s taking back the power because suddenly, you find yourself grinding down on his bulge like an animal in heat, chanting "please, Steven…" as he sucks you like he’s drinking from you.

“Knew you would sound so pretty if I ever got my hands on you,” he rumbles against your neck, sucking a mark there, pulling a whine from you at the loss of his mouth on your tits.

“I hate you,” you almost giggle as he kisses his way back to your mouth, smirking as he does.

“I’m sure you do,” he teases, “seeing how you’ve soaked right through those panties.”

“Take them off then,” you challenge, gripping his broader-than-they-looked shoulders, standing just long enough for him to yank them down.

His mouth goes dry as he finally sees you completely bare to him - tits gorgeously wet from kissing and sucking - the lightest sheen of sweat on your chest and stomach.

He’s shifting uncomfortably, palms running down his thighs, cock at full attention, weeping mercilessly, purple and fit to burst.

Locking eyes with him, you place one knee on either side of his lap, your hands still gripping his shoulders. Rocking your hips forward, you drag your folds over the tip of his cock - back and forth, letting him feel you. You’ve already come once and you’re desperate to fuck him. Your slick is dripping down his length almost embarrassingly, but you don’t lower yourself, despite how badly you want to be stuffed full of him.

“Please,” he whispers, hands grasping at the curve of your hips. “Can I have you? Fuck, please, please…”

“Yeah, baby,” you breathe, easing down tantalizingly slowly on his length. “Want this cock so bad, Steven.”

Your cunt squelches and he moans desperately at the sound of it, and of your filthy words.

“Fuck, you’re thick,” you hiss, shifting your hips to get him all inside you, shivering as his whisper tickles your ear.

"Darling...you're perfect." He grips your hips and drags you back and forth, thrusting up into you.

"So good, Steven," you pant, your head falling back in rapture as he fills you so fucking full. His hand claw their way up your back, pressing your breasts against his chest before his fingertips dig into your shoulders.

Hot breath falls on your neck, pulling a moan from your throat - the sounds around you growing louder. Skin obscenely slaps against skin as your cunt squelches, greedily milking his cock.

"Mm so close, love," he almost whimpers. Fuck, he sounds pretty like this. "Want you to come for me again."

You're so wildly turned on that it's no tall order. His hand grips the back of your neck, his forehead touching yours. The intimacy of sharing his breath contrasts the hungry slap of skin as you bounce on his cock.

His other hand slips between your folds, rolling your swollen clit between his thumb and finger. White hot pleasure sparks from your molten core, arching your back in ecstasy, euphoria rolling in waves all the way to your fingers and toes.

"That's it, love. Ohhh fuck," he groans as your cunt clenches his cock, your slick, wet channel sending him careening off a cliff of pleasure with a few final thrusts before he releases himself inside you.

You hold onto one another for dear life, sweating, sated and breathless. You start to come back to yourself as Steven whispers how beautiful and perfect you are, littering your cheek and throat with soft kisses.

"Was this your plan when you brought me that piece of birthday cake?" You finally tease, still catching your breath.

"Not exactly," he chuckles, holding you close. "But since you liked it so much, I'll bring you another dessert tomorrow."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven Grant-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

updates blog - @ivystoryupdates

#moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #on my knees fic #oscar isaac characters #moon knight ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ #mcu #Steven Grant x you #Oscar Isaac fic #moon boys #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant x f!reader

129 notes · View notes

mikareo · 5 months

Text

⌗ SEASONS OF LOVE ₊ ˖ ་. a 呪術廻戦 miniseries

“ ࣭⸰ ★ SERIAL ROMANTIC ; gojo satoru x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . episode one ! ꒱ . . . word count; 1.2k ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᯇ remember when we first met?

⊹ ⠀⠀ you might possibly be the least helpful person in the world when it comes to making a hinge profile...gojo can attest to that.

contains; gojo satoru x fem reader, university (year 2) au, fluff, gojo's a dick, swearing, best friends to lovers, love triangle

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀pm or send ask to join/be removed from taglist,, ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀link to miniseries masterlist

"y'know, i'd appreciate it if you could help at least a little bit."

gojo can feel your hard glare targeting him, piercing into his skull like a red laser beam, yet still chooses to ignore you. he doesn't understand why you can't just finish unpacking later. you're kind of being a buzzkill. yes, he'd be a better friend if he continued to help you unpack your boxes and organize your cluttered dormitory; but he's got more important things to do. things that require his complete and utmost attention. things that are life or death on a college campus. things that will make or break his entire young adult experience...

...things like finishing his hinge profile!

"i promise— wait no. i pinky promise i'll put all of your shit away later, just tell me which photos to pick for this prompt, i'm stuck." he's begging and pleading for you to focus on him, which isn't unusual when dealing with a narcissist such as himself. c'mon. c'mon. gojo knows exactly how to win you over. it really isn't that hard. all he has to do is beg and whine a little, give you some puppy dog eyes, and you'll do whatever he says! there's no way he's actually going to put all of your clothes away; that'll take like...forever.

with an eye roll in response to the cheer of joy gojo lets out, you set your boxes to the side and lay beside him on the carpet. he can feel your nose tickling his neck as you lean close to see his screen, and he wonders why his heart skips a beat. eh, it's probably nothing.

"this is so dumb, satoru." you point to his screen, your finger directed at his favorite prompt so far.

don't hate me if i: have blue eyes

"okay, wait!" he flicks your forehead, laughing as you pout, and clicks on the 'add image' prompt. "it's like a thing now! girls hate guys with baby blues like mine!" being handsome is so hard nowadays.

if he asked anyone at jujutsu university who the biggest player on campus is, they'd name him off without blinking twice. while only being a freshman last year, gojo managed to become a household (or a dorm-hold?) name that'll be talked about for years after he graduates. there may be a possibility he's either flirted or made out with every girl in his graduating class, not including you, all in one school year. without the use of dating apps, he went on a total of eighty-seven first dates from august to june; albiet seeing a few girls more than a few times for some special alone time, if you get what he means; and he had the absolute time of his life and needs to recreate that thrill again.

"you don't need an app to get girls, you get plenty already."

ugh why do you always have to rain on his parade?

"obviously i don't need an app, but it's way more fun this way." he argues, "imagine if i hit a hundred first dates before may. i'd break last year's record."

"and why are you getting so butt-hurt about my dating life?" he's treading into dangerous territory. the two of you never talk about your romantic experiences, considering you never want to talk about them with him. "it's not my fault you had a total of...hm what was it? zero dates last year?"

"just find a fucking photo and get this over with."

yeah, your love life is off limits...

a chuckle rumbles from his throat as gojo continues scrolling through his camera roll, searching for a photo that screams 'boyfriend material'...or to be more specific 'one night stand material'. while he's searching for a photo that'll make girls want to sleep with him, he doesn't notice that his brightest smiles only appear in the photos with you. then again, he never notices you; and if he ever did, it's unlikely he'd date you anyways. you're his best friend. he doesn't want to ruin that. he can't ruin that, because then he'd have to imagine a life without you in it.

a particular picture stands out from the rest, and you choose to point it out. it's the two of you in your high school uniforms, standing side-by-side beneath the cherry blossoms after your third year graduation ceremony. his hair is slightly shorter and his height hadn't reached its full potential yet, but you look absolutely adorable— almost like a kitten that he's protecting from the no-good boys of the world (technically he belongs in that category, but that's besides the point).

"do you remember when we first met?" a soft hum is murmured in his ear and gojo finds the sound quite comforting.

he thinks for a moment, completely blanking as the memory escaped his mind, and takes a random guess. "middle school? english class?"

the look of disappointment on your face immediately tells him he's wrong.

"look it was a really long time ago, i know that at least." no amount of excuses will make up for his awful recollection, but he tries nonetheless. gojo satoru is a shitty friend. that's just how it is. you both know it and he tries his best to be better for you, however, he can't help the way he is. some boys are born to be boys. "i'm trying my best—"

"it's alright, just stop."

you're so upset.

"there are more important things to remember, really it's fine."

why are you so upset?

"i'm sorry," he mumbles. this feeling of guilt isn't familiar to gojo and he can't help but hate it. "i'll try to remember."

what is it that you were trying to reminisce about? he wants to know but he shouldn't pry any more, you're clearly done with the conversation and want to move on with a concentrated thinking face gracing your features. you look pretty. woah. you look really pretty. he's never thought that before. why hasn't he noticed before? suddenly, the thought of however many hinge girls want him isn't very appealing and he just wants to make you smile again. you're so pretty when you smile. his heart is beating ten times faster than usual and he's urging it to calm down, but it won't.

...maybe that's a good thing, though.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀pm or send ask to join/be removed from taglist,, ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀link to miniseries masterlist

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

233 notes · View notes

j4gm · 7 months

Text

SPOILERS!!! REFERENCES AND EASTER EGGS IN F&C ep. 7: THE STAR

Let's see what this episode has in store.

This is an alternate universe where Simon was killed by vampires before he found Marceline. Even the scientific parasite in his breast pocket looks like it has been drained of blood.

Our Simon demonstrating his survival skills. We never got to see him dealing with vampires in his own universe, but presumably he ran into them a few times and is familiar with their weaknesses.

These kinds of vampire minions last appeared in the Stakes miniseries. They are a lot more varied in design now. Also, the architecture of this world is interesting. It looks like gothic palaces have been built into the roots of decaying skyscrapers.

Bonnie's crew has several of the familiar vampire hunting tools from Stakes, including stake launchers and garlic bombs. They also douse some of the vampires in holy water, which was previously shown to harm demons in the episode Dad's Dungeon. This is the first time it's been seen working on vampires.

Marshall Lee has a Hambo mirror decoration. In the prime universe Hambo was Marceline's toy teddy bear, given to her by Simon.

Martin is an interesting choice for Bonnie's crew. In this universe it seems like he never had a son, since the humans presumably never left Ooo for the Islands. It also seems like he's a better person here, willing to risk his life to follow Fionna's noble lead. He has the same jacket as he had in The Visitor, which several people identified when we first saw Fionna wearing it in the trailer.

The cat on Bonnie's mug is Timmy from the episode The Pajama War. The fact she broke it is surely the most heartbreaking loss of this episode :(

The other member of the team is Huntress Wizard, who looks to be a human in this universe for some reason. I don't think Huntress Wizard was originally human in the prime universe.

Baby Finn snuck into this universe, and by the end of the episode was left to be raised by self-repairing battletank single gay dad PepButt. I'm sure he'll turn out fine.

The Cosmic Owl has been flagged up on Scarab's arrest list for "profiteering". Perhaps his neglect of his duties during Hoots has been discovered, or perhaps this is a new crime.

There are loads of new genderswapped characters in this scene. I've already reblogged a post listing all the ones we've spotted so far, so refer to that for details. The most significant is Ms. Abadeer. According to the credits, her first name is Hana.

Even Billy has been slain by vampires.

Princess Bubblegum calls Fionna a dillweed, her go-to insult from the episode Hot Diggity Doom. It's good to hear some Adventure Time swearing from time to time despite the liberties they're taking with the TV-14 rating.

Enter the titular character! Like the other members of the Vampire Court from Stakes, Marceline has taken a new name from the ranks of the Major Arcana of a tarot deck: The Star. Huntress mentions that she is the last member of the court, having outlived everyone beside the Vampire King himself. The fact she can fly suggests she killed and sucked The Fool's soul despite him being a fellow member of the court.

She is seen using her soul-sucking demon powers, inherited from Hunson, on Martin. She also demonstrates that she has no problem drinking blood in this universe, despite the fact vampires can eat the colour red.

Bonnie and The Star have such an interesting dynamic in this episode. It seems like fate is seeking to entwine them, but this has been twisted into a relationship of mutual hatred. Yet The Star is furious when a minion suggests she kill Bonnie, and Bonnie fails to take an opportunity to kill The Star later on. Something is keeping these two immortals in an eternal dance, even in a universe where they are arch nemeses.

A lot of this series has centred around Simon's relationship to fatherhood, and realising that he is a better dad than some of the others he's met will likely end up being a key moment in his recovery.

I believe this section was boarded by Hannah K. You've probably all seen her famous Bubbline stakeplay drawing. This scene must have been fun to draw.

I really enjoyed the parallel of Gary and Marshall getting their climactic kiss while Bonnie and The Star fell together to their deaths, demonstrating that the girls' fall was just as gay as the boys kissing, but in a very different way. We also know from interviews that Gary and Marshall's relationship is supposed to parallel that of early Bubbline in the prime universe. Perhaps Princess Bubblegum got Marceline out of a bad deal with Hunson Abadeer, shortly after their first meeting at Marceline's concert, and that's when they first hit it off.

The dream in this episode's credits features Marceline's house; a home that neither The Star nor this Marshall Lee have ever known.

#adventure time #fionna and cake #easter egg posts

360 notes · View notes

snowdropluck204 · 20 days

Text

Join The Digital Age - Spencer x Streamer! Fem! Reader

So I had an idea of what Spencer would be like reacting to various different video games, what better way to react to games than with a significant other who is a know twitch streamer/gamer type! If people don't like the streamer route, I'll probably change it to just a casual gamer thing! This will probably be a fun little miniseries I write while I'm working on my longer Spencer series so the chapters on this might not be super long... Anyway! Enjoy! Xxx Divider: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Stardew Valley

Spencer pov

Coming home to (y/n) has been the highlight of my day for the last two months, since we moved in together. I knew vaguely what she did for a living, she told me she was a streamer, and apparently, quite a popular one. There have been multiple times, whilst out on a date, or just going to the store to pick up groceries, where (y/n) has been recognised, people freaking out over seeing her in person and wanting a picture, or a hug (I was quick to tell her how many germs she could get from hugging a stranger).

I thought it was nice, I knew roughly how much money she made, she always helped with rent, even if she didn't need to, she randomly bought me presents, whether they were cardigans, fidget toys for when I was on a case, or books that I had justified as too expensive to purchase for myself. She spoiled me, and if I was being honest, I was really enjoying it...

Living with a person for even a month, you walk in on various things, some are perfectly innocent, like when I walked in, exhausted after a week long case in New York. I had text (y/n) to let her know I was on my way home, it was late so I was expecting her to be in bed by that point, but she was up, in the kitchen, cooking dinner and waiting on me. Other things I had walked in on, like accidentally barging in on her in the shower (she still thinks I did this on purpose) were... Less than innocent.

One thing I had never walked in on, was (y/n) during a stream. Now her followers knew about me, in that they knew their favourite streamer was in a relationship and had recently moved in with him, they questioned why her background of her set up had changed so drastically, but they didn't know who I was as a person. (y/n) wanted me to keep my privacy as long as we could manage.

But she wasn't in a very secluded space, there wasn't a huge amount of space in my apartment, but we had made room in the living room for her desk and computers, I joked that it reminded me of Garcia's office, they would get along great. So when I entered our place (still gives me shivers calling it 'our' place), I hadn't text her to let her know I was on my way home, hoping to surprise her with take out and a few snacks for a movie night.

I walked in and was frozen, her face was lit up by three separate monitors, one showing her stream chat, one showing her set up prognosis and one with a pixelated game that I had never seen her playing before. She was a sight... She was all smiles, in comfy clothing, laughing at some of the messages, thanking people for following or donating and generally just being the happy ball of sunshine that I fell for in the first place.

But now I realised, her followers could see me entering the apartment in her camera...

(y/n) pov

I smiled as I tended to my animals and crops on my little farm. Hearing a familiar jingle, I looked at the chat monitor, to see that someone had donated five dollars, an automated message from an account called Babygirl79 being read by a chat bot, 'Hi (y/n)! I love your streams, Stardew is by far my favourite game so I was super happy to see you streaming it! Hope you have a good day!'

I smiled, "Aw, thank you so much Babygirl! Be honest, did you just send me that message so I would have to say baby girl on a live?" I giggled, "But I hope you have a good day too!" I went back to my game, making some small comments, but really just trying to keep the cosy, quiet atmosphere that came from playing this simple little farming sim.

Now, I had moderators for my chat, they were working through all of the messages and highlighting any that they wanted me to see in particular, but I still flitted my eyes over to that side of my desk every so often, responding to any messages that caught my gaze, so when I saw repeated messages of, 'Who's that behind (y/n)?', I got kind of nervous.

I turned my head sharply, seeing Spencer, trying to clumsily amble his way into the apartment without disturbing me, now that he realised that I was on stream and he was being recorded. I laughed, seeing him in all his fumbling glory, I turned back to the camera, "It's okay you guys, that's my boyfriend, he lives here." I mentioned sweetly. "Don't bother trying to find him on socials, he doesn't have any, he's a special lil cinnamon roll who doesn't like technology..." I whispered.

"I heard that!" Spencer guffawed from the kitchen, setting down what looked like Chinese food. I chuckled in response, raising a brow in a joking way to my face cam.

"Spence, if you want to, you can come over and say hi?" I offered, knowing that if he felt uncomfortable, he would say no. But surprisingly, he shuffled over, standing rather awkwardly behind my chair, resting a hand on the back rest.

"How many people are watching you playing a video game?" He asked, ever curious. I smiled at him softly, a silent 'hello' and 'welcome home', before answering.

"Right now? About a thousand people, but now that update 1.6 has come out, there's probably going to be a flood of people new to the game..." I mentioned casually. Spencer's eyes widened.

"How do you talk in front of so many people all the time?" He asked, gobsmacked.

I laughed, "You tell me hon, you just did!" I told him, seeing his cheeks reddening at the idea. "But honestly, I just try to be myself, I enjoy the games I play, especially this one!" I told him, and the camera.

Spencer watched the screen as I gave Linus a coconut, seeing the heart pop up above his head, "What exactly are you playing?" He asked quietly.

"It's a game called Stardew Valley, it's essentially a digital farm that you take care of, you can grow crops, adopt animals, make a butt load of money and products and talk to all the NPCs!" I told him with a smile, as I moved my character over to the mountain mines.

Spence tilted his head, "NPCs?" He asked.

"Non-player characters, AI from the game with a set list of dialogue and events." I told him, he nodded along as I explained. I explained that you can befriend and even marry the NPCs, by giving them gifts, how each gift has a different reaction from different villagers and the basic quests of the game.

I looked over at the chat, seeing all the messages, 'Spencer is so cute!', 'They're so cute together!', 'Would love to see them playing together!'. I chuckled at all the comments, mentioning briefly that Spence was a technophobe, leading to his comment of indignation.

Little did I know that later that weekend I'd be teaching him how to play the game, he went out and bought a laptop so he could sit at my desk with me.

Hope this was okay! I know it's short, but I hope you guys liked it, from the response of the poll, it looks like The Last of Us will be the next game we do! Also, should (y/n) meet Garcia?? Love you guys! Xxx

#cute #love #fanfiction #romance #x reader #comfort #open requests #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #fem reader #streamer reader

67 notes · View notes

batmanisagatewaydrug · 29 days

Note

out of curiosity, is there anything that Tom King has written for/about Batman that you do like?

Nate I'm gonna be so real with you: I like a lot of the spaghetti that King throws at the wall when he's writing. unfortunately you hardly get time to say "hey, that's neat" before he's loaded the spaghetti into a cannon and starts firing it at you at speeds calculated to kill.

an example that I think about absolutely goddamn constantly is King's original character The Help, from the abysmal miniseries Killing Time. The Help starts out as a cool idea: an older, extremely prim killer for hire who prides himself on his professionalism and is less than impressed by the costumed freaks that are just starting to rise to prominence in Batman's early days. he's known and feared by younger criminals, he's prone to critiquing the fighting style of his enemies up to and including offering them pointers, he's aggressively polite, etc. he's fun!

except he can't just be fun, he has to have trained every other famed combatant in the DC universe. yeah, he's better than Canary and the Question and Lady Shiva. oh, and did we mention he knows Ra's? yeah, Ra's actually initially wanted The Help to be his successor, Bruce is just his second pick. King doesn't really do subtlety, you know? he just hamfists his shit in and uses the existing DC lore to prop it up until his story ends up looking like that prokopetz post about how Supernatural ends up being about fighting the devil's more evil cousin Phil because the writers didn't know how to do anything but escalate.

the worst offender by far, TO ME, is his issue of One Bad Day, wherein King decides to take on the incredibly loaded legacy of the Killing Joke and handles it with all the tact of a musk ox by using it as a cheap device to prop up his Hannibal Lecter-esque Riddler. oh, that whole thing with the Gordons? yeah, that wasn't actually the Joker's idea. the Riddler came up with the actual plan, the Joker just carried it out. isn't that scary? isn't that fucked up? don't you want to take the Riddler seriously now? welcome to his twisted mind.

to me it seems like King is a pretty okay ideas guy but can't stop shooting himself in the dick when asked to follow through, which would be funny if the bullets didn't keep ricocheting to hit my favorite characters.

66 notes · View notes

sagesolsticewrites · 2 months

Text

The Stache Fic

Anto grows a mustache. You like it… a lot.

a/n: Happy Saturday, y’all 😊 How are we liking Manhunt so far?

Warnings: mature content (oral (f receiving), swearing, Anthony Boyle’s JWB Mustache (genuinely how the fuck did he make a Civil War-era stache look hot. I’m upset. Anthony how dare you.) (This is an 18+ fic! Minors begone!)

Word count: 1.5k

Masterlist

“Got it!”

Your boyfriend drops the dramatic pose he had pulled with a laugh, his smile widening as you turn your phone so he could see the result.

“Oh that’s goin’ on Insta for sure,” Anthony declares with a grin.

“Just remember to give me credit,” you tease with a playful poke at his arm.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else, darling.”

He grins at you from across the table, the midmorning sun turning his brown eyes the prettiest shade of amber.

Your eyes latched onto the one new part of his appearance you hadn’t quite gotten used to yet.

The mustache he had grown for his latest role— a period drama miniseries on Apple TV.

“What is it, darling?” He asks, stroking the aforementioned facial hair nonchalantly.

“Nothing,” you say, pressing your thighs together.

You were out for a nice brunch with your boyfriend, you were not going to disrupt it by getting turned on by something as silly as a mustache. Even if it did look… very, very good on him…

You don’t realize you’re almost melting in your seat, bottom lip caught between your teeth, until Anto’s fingertips graze yours from across the table and you snap back to reality in time to see his eyes darken.

“Nothing… you sure about that, sweetness?” He says, and the way his eyes flick down to your lips then back up let you know you’ve been caught. “Y’know, I don’t think I’m quite that hungry anymore.” He says, briskly snapping his menu shut and setting it aside. “I’m thinking we should head home.”

“What—? Honey—”

He ignores your protests as the two of you stand, tossing a few bills onto the table to pay for your drinks and leaving you to give frantic apologies to the waitresses as you rush out.

“Anto, my love, what about breakfast? You need to eat—

“I’ll be fine,” he assures you as he leads you to the car.

“Besides,” he adds, scanning you up and down with a predatory look as he leans to whisper in your ear, “I’m sure I can find something much better to eat at home.”

A shiver runs through you at the implications of that, and you find yourself scrambling into the car despite your now-wobbly legs.

When you arrive home, you barely have time to toss your purse on the counter before you’re slammed against the now-closed door.

Anthony’s hands are firm on your hips, his body pressed flush against yours though his mouth remains frustratingly just out of reach.

“I know you said you liked the mustache before, angel,” he murmurs softly, “But I don’t think you were clear on exactly how much you liked it.”

He steps back for a moment, scanning your face as he taps your hip twice— a check-in.

You tap the back of his hand twice in return; you’re very okay with this, you want to keep going.

His mouth twitches up into a smile— as does that damn mustache— before stepping forward to cage you in once more.

“So,” he continues softly, pretty brown eyes locked on yours, “you gonna tell me?”

A soft whimper escapes you at the heat in his tone, and you find yourself rambling.

“Fuck, I like it so much, Anto, I like it so fucking much.”

“Hm.” He scans your face carefully, then lowers his mouth to hover just above your bare shoulder where the strap of your tank top has slipped off, “So you’ll like it when I do… this?”

His lips brush your skin, the coarse hair on his top lip adding to the sensation in ways that has wetness pooling between your thighs.

“Yes,” you breathe, “yes.”

“And this?”

His lips land on your neck next, and you once again respond in the affirmative as he leaves a series of pretty purple marks on your skin.

“What about this?”

His lips brush along your collarbone down to the tops of your breasts peeking out from the neckline of your shirt, accompanied by the light scratchiness of his mustache.

You gasp, nodding frantically as you momentarily lose the ability to form words.

His hands find the hem of your top, peeling you out of it in one swift motion. If you thought you were losing it at his lips on your neck, you were entirely unprepared for the feeling of his mouth latching onto your nipple, that fucking mustache brushing at the sensitive skin around it.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you keen, throwing your head back as his tongue swirls around you.

He pulls away with a pop to tend to your other breast, your legs turning to jello at the heated look in his eyes as you moan his name, your fingers raking through his soft curls.

Once you're almost completely weak in the knees from his ministrations, he pulls away and you barely have time to suck in a breath before his mouth crashes onto yours.

Your groan turns into a gasp, quickly swallowed by his mouth, as he effortlessly lifts you into his arms. Your mouths clash hungrily as he carries you to the bedroom, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct.

“Fuck, Ant—” you groan as he lays you down on your bed, hovering over you as his lips travel deliciously over your body, peeling off your shorts and panties as he goes.

“What is it, angel?” He hums, pressing kisses to the valley between your breasts.

“Need your mouth on me,” you whine, trying to grind up into him to release the pressure in your core.

“My mouth is on you, darling,” he says, and you can feel the smug bastard smirking as he scatters kisses all along your stomach.

“I— shit, not— you know what I mean, Anto, please.” You beg, his lips traveling even lower to brush against your hipbone, his mustache tickling your skin as he moves.

He hums, his mouth moving lower, lower, lower…

You whine, fisting the sheets, as he stops just above where you want him.

“I like hearing you beg, sweetness.” He murmurs against your skin in a low tone that has every part of you turning to pure liquid, molten chocolate eyes meeting yours, “I think you should do it again. Just so I know exactly what you want.”

With a desperate moan, the words come tumbling out of you.

“Fuck, I— I want your mouth on my pussy, baby,” you whine, squirming under the heat of his gaze and the heat of his mouth pressing chaste kisses up and down your thighs, “Want you to eat me out, please.”

“Good girl,” he mumbles against you between kisses, working his way back up your thigh, “That’s all you had to say, darling.”

There’s a flash of something predatory in his eye, and then his mouth is on you— really on you.

His name leaves your mouth in a cry as he dives in, licking deep through your folds, that fucking mustache tickling at your most sensitive parts.

You gasp, hands flying to his hair as his thumb comes up to circle your clit, licking into you like a man starved.

He lets out a groan as you tug at his roots, his hand that’s not preoccupied with making you cum digging into your thigh to keep you still.

“Fuck, you taste fucking amazing, sweet girl,” he gasps against you, breath catching as you try to tug him impossibly closer, “Shit, you really wanted this, huh?”

You can only whine in response, rendered speechless by the tension building in your core. Anthony lets out a soft chuckle at your wordlessness, making your hips buck up at the feeling.

The only sounds in the room are Anto’s murmurs of praise and your gasps and whines and moans, until his tongue brushes a soft, spongy spot inside you and your world goes white.

You come back to yourself a shuddering, gasping mess, gripping your boyfriend’s hair like a lifeline.

Realizing the strength of your grip you quickly let go, chest heaving. Anthony presses a quick kiss to your overstimulated clit, making you jump, before lifting his head to face you.

A soft “fuck” escapes you as you take in his face: pretty mouth glistening, mustache damp with your release.

He climbs back up to lay next to you as you both catch your breath.

“So,” he asks, a cheeky grin lighting up his face, “you like the mustache, huh?”

“Shut up,” you swat playfully at his chest. “Yes, I do,” you say genuinely, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

“I’ll keep that in mind for when I’m between projects,” he laughs, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. “How about I go and make us some breakfast? As an apology for dragging you out of brunch.”

You shake your head, nuzzling into his neck, “Let’s just stay here for a bit.”

“Alright, my love,” he replies, smiling as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, “Whatever you want.”

#this man has actually ruined me #who does he think he is getting me to write smut about his fucking mustache dkhgksh #anthony boyle #anthony boyle x reader #anthony boyle fic #anthony boyle smut #manhunt apple tv #manhunt 2024 #manhunt #my writing

62 notes · View notes

babybluebex · 2 years

Note

could you write an imagine with joe at the dior fashion week and he brings his partner in the spotlight for the first time and the paparazzi and the people watching get so excited and loud because his partner ( the reader ) has never been seen with him and they have been together since way before stranger things because joe keeps his love life private x

yess omg so cute, and he looks so good today it's criminal (fem!reader)

Never had you heard your name called so many times in the span of a single minute. In front of you was a wall of photographers, all trying to get your best side, even if you yourself weren’t sure of what side that was. You could already see the headlines: Joseph Quinn Debuts Longtime Girlfriend At Paris Fashion Week.

You had never really been interested in going to Joe’s fancy events or anything— in truth, he never used to be invited to fancy events. The biggest thing he had ever done was the BBC Les Miserables miniseries, and you had only just started dating back then.

Then, suddenly, the role of Eddie fell into his lap, Stranger Things happened, and your sweet Joe became a cultural icon. The past few months had been the Summer of Eddie, and you were endlessly proud of your man for all that he had accomplished. You hadn’t gone to any events yet, mainly because you were scrambling to keep hold on your anonymity for as long as possible, but, eventually, you knew you had to give in.

Joe had spoken about you in interviews briefly, nothing too invasive. The world knew your name, and people had managed to dig up an older picture of you attending the Catherine The Great premiere (one of the only events you had ever gone with Joe to), so they knew what you looked like; you had been shocked to hear that people wanted to know more about you.

So, in order to satiate the world until you were comfortable becoming a true public figure, Joe had been sprinkling in information about you during interviews: “Oh, my girlfriend hates mushrooms, she won’t touch them”, or “I wish my girlfriend was here, she would love Brazil”, or even “My girlfriend said she liked Eddie’s hair, so I may have to grow it out for her”. But nothing was enough, and people wanted more; hence, your presence on a rainy Paris afternoon.

“You alright?” you heard a quiet whisper from beside you, and you turned to look at your Joey. God, he was handsome, all done up in a full-black Dior suit, the neck open to show just the slightest bit of chest hair. You had protested the haircut he had been given last night, whining about “Aw, your curls! They were getting so long!”, but the trimmed hair suited him.

You nodded, pursing your lips as you gave the cameras a thin smile. You honestly could have been a little better— your dress didn’t fit quite right, the strap loose on your shoulder and threatening to fall every time you moved your arm, but you wouldn’t dare complain. You were in Paris, at a Dior fashion show, with the love of your life. It was an absolute dream, despite the impending wardrobe malfunction.

Joe’s eyes were big as he watched you pose for a moment, his arm tight around your waist, and he drew you in closer and buried a kiss in your neatly-done hair. “You look a little…” he started against your head as the flashbulbs popped in front of you. “Uncomfortable.”

You sighed, keeping the smile on your face. “It’s a lot to get used to,” you told him simply.

“It is, isn’t it?” Joe chuckled lightly. “But you look gorgeous, and you’re doing so well.”

“Thanks,” you replied. “I’m just nervous.”

“Yeah,” Joe agreed. “It doesn’t get much easier. But you’re a natural.”

You took a step closer to Joe, intent on setting a kiss to his cheek, but your dress had other ideas. The strap slipped off your shoulder for just a moment, not even far enough to really be an issue, but Joe was quick to see it happen. In an instant, he stepped forward, shielding your body from the cameras with his own, and his hand swiped out to push your strap back up. “Alright?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he guarded you.

“Yeah,” you replied, adjusting the strap back to its usual place. “I’m good.”

Joe waited until you stopped fiddling with the strap before stepping back into his place, and a relieved smile washed over you. “Just making sure you’re okay,” he told you, and you leaned in and finally kissed his face. The clicking of the cameras got louder as you nestled your lips against his scruffy jawline, and you whispered, “There’s the money shot.”

“Huh?” Joe smiled, his hand flattening against your back.

“That’s the pic every news outlet is gonna use when they talk about me,” you returned, and Joe nodded as he understood.

“How about this?” he asked, and he drew you in closer to press a kiss to your mouth. It surprised you a little, a squeak leaving your mouth as your boyfriend kissed you, but you tugged him closer and kissed him back for just a moment before you broke. “Now they’ve got a few options.”

“You’re so goofy,” you told Joe, and he gave you his big smile, that award-winning smile of his. “But I love you.”

#bex answers #shelbysbitchh #bex's drabbles #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn rpf

727 notes · View notes

dannnnnny666 · 5 months

Text

Complete Lego Ninjago Rewrite - Spoilers

Hello Ninjago fans!! After watching a few videos about problems people have with Ninjago, I got the urge to rewrite all of Ninjago, which include the Pilot, the 15 seasons, Day of Departed, the Miniseries, and the Lego Ninjago Movie. I am not going to rewrite Dragons Rising, the Mini-movies, comics, books or video games because that would be too much work and I haven’t seen any of them but if you would like to go ahead. I will be making this on ao3 and each chapter will be one episode, I am still trying to decide if the pilot should be one or two.

However, the reason I am making this post is because I want to know what I should add or remove from the series to make it better. Ideas that I have so far, in no particular order, are:

Make Nia a more third dimensional character in the first few seasons

Change the reasons that Jay and Cole gain their true potential

Give actual reason why they can't use some abilities again; like spinjitzu, elemental dragons, their ultimate potential, etc

Make the ninja have a reasonable reaction to what is happening to them, not just making funny quips or having temporary effects that only last a few seasons episodes but long term effects that develop their character.

Have Cole come out to his father in s1 ep9, The Royal Blacksmiths, because one (1) that episode can be interpreted as an allegory to coming out so why not go all the way and two (2) there are about 4 blink and you miss it queer things that happen in Ninjago (a lesbian couple dancing in s12, 2 guys kissing in s14, a pride fall on Sally’s van in s15, and a rainbow crosswalk that sometimes shows up) so I am going to add more representation.

Fix Lord Garmadon in s8 and onwards

Make Misako less redeemable (she toters in between extremely neglectful and trying her best so much but I think being neglectful would give Lloyd a bit more spice and would let her realize she was wrong and give a bit of character development)

Let Garmadon and Vinny date

Let the girls have more problems then just guy problems

Fix plot holes

Have the inhuman parts of Lloyd be foreshadowed

Let Morro come back

Let Lloyd turn into a Oni for a bit to fight the Overlord in s15 and have him not be able to stop

Fix season 3

Fix season 11, mostly the first part but the second too

Make a sensible timeline and have how long each season takes so we have a reasonable age each character is by the end of Ninjago

Make The Lego Ninjago Movie follows the rules that were previously made in the series. I don’t care if it is supposed to be in the universe of the Lego Movie, the series had rules on how everyone's abilities worked and you erased them. The mechs can stay though they were cool.

Those are all the ideas I have but I want to know about any other ideas, problems or solutions that anyone has about Ninjago. I want to rewrite the series in a way that shows that while I think some things need to be fixed, I still love it. I will be starting with the pilot and s1 so I mostly want to know people's ideas relating to those episodes but all ideas are welcome.

Masterpost

60 notes · View notes

averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

Text

Heart of the Ocean 💙 | Teen Wolf Miniseries Part 1

Takes place in between 3A & 3B of Teen Wolf

Teen Wolf Masterlist | part 2

Characters & Pairings: Hale/McCall Pack x supernatural!reader (female/platonic), eventual Peter Hale x reader (romantic), reader x male!oc ( past romance) & reader x supernatural!reader (platonic). Characters in this imagine: Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Isaac Lahey, Derek Hale, Peter Hale.

Content Warnings: light angst, profanity, references of historical event disaster, mentions of death, blood, murder | afab!reader (she/her pronouns) | wc: 3.1k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Suspicious deaths were a common occurrence in Beacon Hills—especially after things seem to be actually looking good when a previous problem is fixed. Now Scott and the pack are having to investigate a string of murders happening that not only reek of supernatural, but linked to an renowned event they’ve learned in history class.

Note: I’m hyperfixating on Titanic as of late so I have a lot of ideas involving AU’s and retelling with various fandoms. I just did a TGM au with Bradley Bradshaw and currently have a Twilight one in the works so expect a lot of Titanic in my works when I’m not writing requests.

————————————

Riddles were a tricky little thing. And when used in a malevolent way where to find the answer to a solution one must crack the code, riddles can become a person’s worst enemy.

And the one laying on the table of Derek’s loft was becoming their enemy.

Murders, which was becoming a common occurrence lately in Beacon Hills, were happening where the people were nearly drained of their blood by cutting their throats and wrists before letting them hang upside down. Stiles' father was overwhelmed with stress. Not to mention he was having to come to terms with the reality his town was a beating heart for supernatural creatures. Like how his sons best friend since childhood was a fucking werewolf.

And while it was presumed a human serial killer was responsible for the murders, the pack had an inkling it was more sinister. Investigating on their own they found more suspicious reasons to believe it was supernatural.

Only problem, they had no clue who or what it was.

They were all gathered over the table—save for Peter who was nestled on the couch. Stiles was rubbing a thumb over his lip, becoming frustrated as he was usually on top of solving riddles. Lydia was beside him, deep in thought as she read over the paper silently.

“He just left this here?” Scott glanced at Derek, who was standing with his arms crossed on the opposite side of the table.

“Right outside the door. Like he wanted us to find it.”

“And you heard nothing?” Stiles’ question earned him a glare. “Super hearing and you didn’t hear someone stabbing a piece of paper into your front door?”

“If I did you think I would’ve let him leave the damn note?” Derek spoke harshly.

“Riddle.”

“—knowing all it is is a distraction so he can kill more people.”

“It’s not just a distraction,” Allison interrupted the two bickering, staring hard at the note. “It’s an order. He’s asking us to find someone.”

“Yeah,” Isaac scoffed, “who we have no idea is.”

“Read it again,” Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair. With a huff, Stiles took the paper in his hands, clearing his throat before reading aloud for all to hear.

Have you figured it out yet?

Were my clues not enough?

You’re thinking too hard now,

Let me show you it’s not so tough.

Our faces the same,

As they were the day we changed.

Only the eyes no longer its color,

A price for the exchange.

You’ll find it almost disheartening,

When you learn of what we do.

Our nature is uncanny,

But it’s not so far from you.

Find the one I’m looking for,

And I’ll stop the chaos and the pain.

Are you ready?

Here’s your hint.

Time is of the essence,

So you better make it quick.

Wearing the Heart of the Ocean,

She’s closer than it seems.

For I seek the one I turned,

Who was on the Ship of Dreams.

Silence fills the loft, everyone thinking hard of what it could mean. There were so many clues but so vague it was difficult to puzzle them together.

“Well we know it’s someone supernatural,” Isaac hummed, attempting to lighten the situation.

“Yeah we got that genius,” Peter muttered.

“And he’s looking for a woman,” Allison added, ignoring Peter’s sarcasm. “Someone he turned. And was on a ship?” It comes out more like a question, “that could mean a lot of things.”

“Could it be a werewolf?” Scott turned to Derek

The man shook his head, “I don’t think so.”

“But the thing about the eyes—.”

“Many shapeshifters' eyes are like ours. That doesn’t mean it’s a wolf. Plus he said they’re not wolves.”

“How do you know?”

Derek rolls his eyes as though it were obvious, “he wrote, ‘our nature is uncanny, but it’s not so far from you,’. If they were wolves he would’ve said so.”

“Maybe another Kanima?” Allison suggested, “the master looking for his puppet?”

Stiles cuts in, narrowing his eyes on the last verse, “Why would he bold the first and last line of the last clue—these ones,” he places the paper flat on the table. Lydia, the closest to him, leans in as his finger points to the verse. “Heart of the Ocean and the—.”

“Ship of Dreams,” she finishes, voice going low as realization hits her. All eyes turn to her, confusion in their gaze until the name leaves her lips. “Titanic.”

“What?” The question came from Scott, but all were thinking the same. There’s no way she was talking about the most famous shipwreck in history.

“Titanic,” Lydia repeated, this time more confidently. Her own finger came up to point where Stiles' finger had been. “They used to call it the Ship of Dreams.”

“Titanic?” Isaac’s tone was full of doubt. “You mean the ship that sank a century ago?” He couldn’t help but add, “And the movie Leonardo DiCaprio dies in.”

She rolls her eyes, “I don’t recall any other having the same name.”

“The anniversary is coming up,” Derek starts to say, deep in thought like it was all coming together. “It would make sense.”

“Wait—hold on,” Stiles lifts a dramatic hand. “We’re talking about THE Titanic—like Isaac said—that sank a hundred years ago. A hundred,” he repeats to show his point. “Anyone who is alive—even if they were a werewolf or shapeshifter or whatever the hell you want to call it,” he glances at each of them, “would pretty much be on their last breath of life. If this woman were a newborn baby at the time she’d be at least one hundred years old by now.”

In the debate none had noticed Peter moved from the couch to the window. The chuckle leaving his mouth caught their attention. Stiles makes a sound, “I’m sorry, do you wanna share with the class what you obviously know that we’re missing?”

“Our faces are the same,” he says the opening line of the second verse, only drawing confusion and annoyed looks from the others. “As they were the day we changed.” The man pauses, letting it sink in before continuing, “If the woman he’s looking for was on Titanic then she likely was an adult. Considering he turned her, probably by saving her from freezing to death or drowning, and she wears the same face she did the night she was turned…” Peter steps away from the window, now facing the group.

“She’s not aging. At all. Meaning…..she’s immortal.”

The silence following his confession is eerie, eyes flicking over each other to see if they were reacting the same. Immortal. Though the term was familiar it felt almost foreign. Never had they dealt with someone immortal. Unable to die and was walking the Earth acting as though they were human. Now Beacon Hills had two in its possession. They needed to work fast and the riddle only had pieces of the puzzles.

So who—or more like what, was immortal?

"What are you getting to?” Scott narrowed his eyes, Wanting a straightforward answer to what they were dealing with.

Peter clasps his hands behind his back, slowly inching forward,” It’s not shapeshifters you’re looking for.” He takes a step closer, “or a Kanima and its master.” Another step, “or a dark Druid.” Another step brings him right next to Derek, eyes flicking to the paper. “There are few creatures blessed with immortality—or cursed if you look at it another way. But most of them are born with it. Take Gods and fairies for example.”

“Oh my God—those exist?” Stiles feels his mind implode, “Are we about to fight Gods?”

“No,” annoyed at being interrupted Peter rolled his eyes. “I just said those are immortals that are born with their powers. And I don’t know if they exist, I’ve haven’t met one yet. Anyway, this one—.” His finger touches the riddle, “was turned. And likely the person who did was too.”

“So what is it then,” Scott was becoming impatient. And who could blame him really. For all they know it someone was already being drained of their blood at that very moment. “What’s the immortal that’s turned not born?”

“Come one,” he scoffs, like he couldn’t believe they hadn’t figured it out. “Ever wonder why the victims were drained of their blood?” The one question had everyone's face become colorless. “Has Stiles's father not caught on the wounds were made after they were dead?” Why their throat was slashed….but had two little puncture holes on either side?” Peter glances around at every person, catching the nervousness of their gaze as though they already knew what he was about to say but wished it wasn’t.

“The creatures you’re looking for…..are vampires.”

The rest of the night the pack was gathering as much information as they could about the passengers aboard Titanic—all 2,240 of them—while also trying to figure out any other clues within the riddle. They still couldn’t believe it was a vampire responsible for the murders. And that he was hunting someone he created who, still to their shock, was a passenger aboard Titanic.

And with 2,240 people on the ship during its ill fated maiden voyage…they were in for a long night.

“Okay so we know they’re vampires—our killer is the one who turned the woman he’s searching for into a vampire. She was on Titanic when it sank meaning—,” Stiles wrote furiously across the notepad, the riddle next right beside it. “He was on it too. Now we could narrow this down several ways. Either by searching through the passengers class or going through who survived because as Lydia pointed out,” the hand holding the pen points to the redhead, “RMS Carpathia recorded the names of the survivors before they reached New York.”

Either method was good, but there was a problem with the latter. As Allison pointed out, “but what if they never knew she was there? I mean having a newly turned vampire on a ship filled with people is a recipe for disaster.”

Derek nods, agreeing with her, “Her eyes would’ve made it obvious.”

“How so?” Asked Isaac.

Peter is the one to explain, “Vampires in our world are different from what you see on TV. They aren’t these pale, corpse-like, individuals who look like they belong in the morgue. They’re rather human-like if they’re equipped with a special glimmer that allows them to come off as mortal.”

“Glimmer?” Lydia raised a brow, finding the word a bit comical given the creature they were dealing with.

“We’ll get to that. But any vampire who’s newly turned will have red eyes—blood red eyes.”

“How fitting,” Stiles couldn’t help but groan. “So what, are you saying she’s likely wearing contacts to hide her eyes.”

“Possibly,” Peter hums with a shrug, “wouldn’t be surprised if she is. This day in age makes it easier for vampires to conceal their nature. But considering our little vampire was turned in 1912…her creator probably hid her on the Carpathia—or as outrageous as it sounds, swam her across the remainder of the Atlantic ocean.”

Derek closes the book in front of him, detailing the events of the RMS Carpathia rescue of Titanic’s passengers. “However he saved her can wait,” he leans his hands onto the table, “We need to figure out the last clue of this riddle.” Moving the riddle to him, Derek reads, “Wearing the Heart of the Ocean, she’s closer than it seems.”

Lydia bites her lip, typing away on her laptop. “If I didn’t know it any better…it sounds like he’s trying to reference a piece of jewelry. Probably a necklace or something.”

Peter rubs his jaw deep in thought, “That could be the source of her glimmer.”

“The necklace?” Stiles wonders aloud.

“Usually most vampires would prefer a ring or bracelet,” he waves a hand, “It’s small and concealable. Very easy for a Druid to enchant the item and allow the vampire to give off the effect to other supernatural beings they’re human. Prevents them from being obliterated by the sun. That’s their glimmer. Sealed within the jewelry to act as a camouflage. So long as they have it on,” he shrugs lightly, “you’d never know what they truly are.”

“And she’s been passing off as a human in Beacon Hills. For God knows how long,” Lydia opens a separate browser, hands hovering over the keyboard. “If her necklace has a name like Heart of the Ocean it shouldn’t be too hard to find. We find the Heart of the Ocean, we find her.” Her words have Allison come over beside her, realization crossing her face.

“Isn’t that the name of the necklace Rose wore in the movie?” Right as she finished her sentence, the image popped up on the screen of said necklace after Lydia typed the name into Google. “So it was real after all?”

“Appears to be,” Lydia was just as amazed. Stiles leans over her other side, eyes bulging at the sight of the large blue heart-shaped diamond surrounded by tiny little white ones.

“That’s gotta be worth a billion dollars.”

“350 million to be exact,” Lydia reads off. “At least today it is. Back then it was worth probably not even a quarter of that price—but still big for its time.”

“So…” Isaac taps his finger to his mouth, glaring up at the ceiling from where he was seated, legs perched on the table. “We’re looking for a vampire—probably at least 120 give or take a few years—who is passing off as human because of a magic necklace worth more than our entire lives. Wonderful.”

Scott takes a glance, letting out a whistle, “That had to have belonged to a first-class passenger. I’d say we start there.”

“On it,” Lydia begins to search records of the names aboard Titanic with First-class tickets. While she’s doing that the pack gathers to the makeshift board Stiles had created, adding notes to it as they go.

Stiles tapes the new information on the necklace to next to the verse on the copy of the riddle they made. “Heart of the Ocean a.k.a the magic necklace making the vampire appear human. To be honest, if someone were wearing a necklace that extravagant in Beacon Hills it’d be noticeable.”

Scott agreed, “She’s probably keeping it under her clothes. I mean I would. Lydia, did you find anything on who it belonged to?”

The redhead makes a huff, “from what the article says,” she clicks on a link, “it belonged to American socialite Y/n L/n as a gift from her husband Theodore Ford on their wedding day. He had it custom made overseas on a trip to France.” Lydia’s eyes widened at the next line, “She was the niece of John Rockefeller and he was the nephew of Henry Ford.”

“Good God,” Stiles made a sound, many of the others showing a similar reaction. “What a match made in heaven…and money.”

“Great,” Peter plops onto the couch, “our vampire was a once billionaire socialite—well maybe not billionaire. That’s a far reach. Since she was only the niece of Rockefeller and her hubby was a Ford she probably only had a snippet of their families fortune.” The man rolls his neck, hands clasped on his lap with his legs kicked up. “She shouldn’t be too hard to find then. All we need is a picture.”

Derek gives his uncle an annoyed look, “We don’t if it’s her or not. Maybe the necklace was stolen by her creator and that’s how she got it.”

“What else does it say?” Allison turns her attention back to her best friend. In her head she couldn’t help but feel there was something missing. That they were so close to the answer.

Lydia continues on, “It says here that they married in 1901–Y/n aged nineteen and Theodore aged twenty-one. They had a son, Benjamin, born 1905 and Theodore died six years later in 1911 from a car accident.” She scrolls down a bit, brows furrowing a tad and makes a sound of ‘eureka!’ “Y/n was gifted two First-Class tickets for her and her son aboard Titanic by her uncle John Rockefeller. They boarded the ship during Titanic’s first stop to Cherbough, France….survivors of Titanic recall last seeing Y/n place her son Benjamin into a lifeboat before being denied entry since it had reached maximum capacity,” a feeling of heartbreak fills the redhead, soon followed by defeat as she reads “It is believed Y/n L/n drowned as the ship submerged beneath the surface on April 15, 1912, as her body was never recovered as one to have perished from hypothermia in the freezing waters. Nor was she listed on the records of survivors on RMS Carpathia. Her son Benjamin was soon taken in by her mother where he remained in New York City until his sudden death in 1918 by influenza.”

A moment of silence passes as they take in the information. For Allison and Lydia, they couldn’t help the sadness for the woman they didn’t even know. To have to say goodbye to your child, likely promising them you’d get on the next boat and would be reunited shortly, only to never see them again.

The redhead suddenly straightens her posture.

“What is it?” Scott hears her heartbeat quicken. Worry takes his features when Lydia appears as if she saw a guest. Everyone else looks the same when she brings a hand to her mouth. “Lydia?” There’s a slight tremor in her hand when she pulls it away.

“She’s closer than it seems.” She whispers the line from the final verse. Tone filled with near distraught.

Allison takes a hesitant step forward. From where they were all standing they could also see the light of the screen hitting Lydia’s complexion. Whatever was on it was hidden from their view. “Lydia…”

“I-I thought it meant that by finding the Heart of the Ocean we’d be able to spot whoever was wearing it. That we’d have to maybe knock on every door in Beacon Hills until we find whoever is hiding it—as stupid as that sounds. Because who in their right mind if they knew they were being hunted would just hide in plain sight? But….” her breath picks up, slight horror and astonishment as she stares back at the screen. “He knows where she is—h-he wants us to find her, because she can lead us to him.”

“Lydia….” Stiles slowly draws closer to her. Peter moves to stand from the couch, expression unreadable and as was Derek’s.

But Lydia’s eyes never move from the screen. “The riddle—it was just his game. He knows exactly where she is. He has to. Because she’s been under our nose all along—closer than we could’ve imagined.” Finally the redhead looks up to the anxious eyes of everyone, revealing the shocking truth with the slow turn of the laptop.

“She boarded Titanic as Y/n L/n,” the screen shows a sepia image causing Allison to gasp, Isaac to mutter ‘holy shit’, Stiles to drop his marker, and Scott to feel his stomach drop. Derek and Peter shared a look, Derek more anxious than his uncle. “But she’s been living as Loretta Andrews.”

There on the screen, listed as the socialite Y/n L/n and wearing the jaw-dropping necklace called the Heart of the Ocean, was a woman whose face the teenagers had seen every Monday to Friday for the last three months. Who looked no older than the age of 30 like in the picture and had arrived in Beacon Hills shortly before the spring semester.

Their English teacher, Loretta Andrews.

319 notes · View notes