[knightsmaugjawn]

Shark Photo not mine.

[ My game list ]

Voice of cards: the isle of roars tumblr link to own guide game playthrough exprience hints tips no spoilers

Animal Crossing New Horizons Free Update (nov 2021) items list nook miles tumblr link

Pokemon Shining Pearl & Brilliant Daimond pokemon egg steps count tumblr link

Pokemon day 27feb2022 mystery online & code gifts tumblr link

[key201303]

The idea.

Pairing: Boy dad!Chris x Boy mom!reader Word count: 3388 words Warnings: none! Plot: After visiting Leon's apartment to meet baby Sammy for the first time, Chris comes home unusually quiet. His mind is still stuck on the image of Leon holding his two-month-old son like it's the most natural thing in the world. At home, you immediately notice something is off. Chris isn't his usual self, he's distracted, distant, and far too thoughtful for someone who just went to see a newborn baby. As the night unfolds, his behavior only becomes more confusing: quiet reflections, lingering touches, and a softness he doesn't quite know how to explain. When you accidentally discover what he's been searching on his phone, everything he's been avoiding suddenly becomes impossible to ignore. And for the first time, Chris starts to question what kind of future he might actually want. A/N: Heyy! Here is the first chapter!! Hope you guys enjoy it ❤ P.S: As you may have noticed if you followed 'Little Kennedy', the schedule changed and might be changed again. I got a new job, and I'm still trying to figure out the schedules so I can keep posting. I'll keep you updated ❤ Taglist: @picaroh @newlybiscuit @mmjazzbar @plumeria1(let me know if you want to be added!) Masterlist --- Next chapter

The apartment was quieter than usual when you stepped inside. No low murmur of the TV, no sound of Chris moving around the kitchen, not even the familiar heavy thud of his boots somewhere near the couch. Just silence. You frowned slightly as you closed the front door behind you, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. The lights in the living room were still on, casting a warm glow across the apartment, but it felt oddly empty without him there. “Chris?“ You called out. Nothing. Your eyes immediately drifted towards the kitchen counter, spotting his keys missing from the bowl near the fruit basket. One of his jackets was gone, too. That explained it. Still, it was strange. He usually texted. You walked further inside, setting your bag down before noticing a folded piece of paper sitting beside the coffee machine. The handwriting alone gave it away instantly, messy, rushed, all sharp lines pressed too hard into the paper. You picked it up.

Went to Leon's. Be back before dinner. Love you —Chris.

A small smile pulled at your lips. Of course, he had. Leon's wife had been practically begging you to come meet the baby ever since Sammy had been born two months ago, though Chris had somehow managed to avoid it every single time. Work excuses, missions, 'bad timing'. The usual. Apparently, they had finally succeeded. You leaned against the counter, rereading the note for a second before letting out a quiet laugh under your breath. The idea of Chris Redfield holding a two-month-old baby was almost impossible to picture. Almost. You could already imagine the stiff posture, the panic hidden behind his serious expression, the way Leon was probably making fun of him the entire time. Shaking your head fondly, you folded the note again and placed it back where you found it before heading towards the bedroom to change out of your work clothes. Still, somewhere in the back of your mind, curiosity lingered. You wondered how Chris was handling it.

Meanwhile, in Leon's place, Chris was fighting to survive the cuteness aggression of the little boy. (Read interaction here)

You heard the front door unlock a little after nine. At first, it was just the familiar sound of heavy boots against the floor, followed by the soft clink of keys being dropped into the bowl by the entrance while he removed his boots with a tired sigh. Then came silence again, long enough for you to glance up from the book resting in your lap. “Chris?“ You called from the couch. “Yeah.“ His voice sounded distant, distracted. A second later, he appeared in the hallway, shoulders tense beneath his dark jacket, exhaustion written all over his face. There was something strangely blank about his expression, like his mind was still somewhere else entirely. Your brows pulled together slightly. “You okay?“ You asked. “Mm.“ He nodded once, already shrugging off his jacket. “Long day.“ It wasn't technically a lie, but you knew Chris well enough to hear when he was avoiding something.

Still, you didn't push. Instead, you watched him disappear into the bedroom before hearing the bathroom door close moments later. The shower started running soon after. You tucked your legs underneath yourself on the couch, eyes drifting towards the hallway thoughtfully. Usually, after seeing Leon, Chris came home irritated in an almost affectionate way, complaining about Leon's jokes, about how chaotic the apartment was, about how sleep-deprived he looked. Tonight, though? Nothing. Just silence. Nearly twenty minutes later, Chris finally reappeared. His hair was still damp from the shower, short dark strands falling messily over his forehead. He'd changed into gray sweatpants and an old black t-shirt that clung slightly to his shoulders, the fabric still wrinkled from being pulled on too quickly. Chris was still unusually quiet. You noticed something was clouding his mind the second he dropped onto the couch beside you, staring blankly ahead like he was somewhere else. “So?“ You asked softly. “How was Sammy?“ A small smile appeared on his face before he could stop it. “He's…” Chris exhaled quietly. “He's tiny.“ You laughed under your breath, but his expression never changed. If anything, he looked almost thoughtful. Emotional, even. “Leon looked happy…” He admitted quietly after a moment. The words caught you off guard slightly. Chris wasn't looking at you at all. His eyes stayed fixed somewhere around the TV in front of you, his arm resting along the back of the couch behind you while his thumb tapped absently against the rough fabric. “He looked exhausted, too, didn't he?” You teased slightly. That finally pulled the faintest huff of amusement from him. “Yeah,” he murmured. “He did.“

Silence settled between you again, soft and comfortable at first. But then it stretched. And stretched. You glanced towards him carefully. There was something different about him tonight. Something subtle you couldn't quite place. Not upset, not angry, just… distant. Like part of him had stayed behind in Leon's apartment. “You sure you're okay?“ You asked more quietly this time. Chris blinked, finally turning his head towards you like he'd almost forgotten you were there. “Yeah,” he said automatically. You raised an unconvinced eyebrow. His gaze lingered on you for a second before he sighed softly, leaning back further into the couch. “I don't know,” he admitted under his breath. And somehow, hearing him say that so honestly made your chest tighten a little.

By the time the two of you started making dinner, you were sure of one thing. Something was definitely going on with your husband. It showed in the little things at first. The way he stood leaning against the kitchen counter longer than usual, staring blankly at the vegetables you'd just handed him like he'd forgotten what he was supposed to do with them, the way you had to repeat his name twice before he finally looked at you. “Chris?“ He hummed in response. “You're holding the knife upside down.“ His eyes flickered downward. “…Right.“ A quiet laugh escaped you as he corrected his grip, though concern still tugged at the edges of your chest. That was not normal. Chris was always focused, always aware. Even after exhausting missions, he carried himself with a kind of automatic alertness that never really disappeared. But today, for some reason, everything was different.

You moved around the kitchen beside him, opening cabinets and grabbing ingredients while soft music played quietly from your phone on the counter. Usually, cooking together ended with Chris teasing you, stealing bites of food straight from the pan, pulling you against him whenever you walked too close. Tonight, he barely spoke. And every time he did, the conversation somehow circled back to Sammy. “Leon looked terrible.“ He muttered while stirring the pasta absentmindedly. You snorted softly. “Well, newborns don't exactly let you sleep.“ Chris hummed quietly. “He still looked happy.“ There it was again. You glanced at him carefully. Chris stood in front of the stove with rolled-up sleeves and damp hair still falling over his forehead, his broad shoulders tense beneath the black shirt stretched across his back. But his expression had softened into something unusually thoughtful. Almost vulnerable. “You really liked him, huh?“ You asked gently. His mouth twitched slightly. “He didn't want us to leave.“ The answer was so immediate, so oddly sincere, that it caught you completely off guard. You blinked once before smiling despite yourself. “Oh my God,” you laughed quietly. “You're attached already.“ Chris rolled his eyes faintly, though there was no real annoyance behind it. “Don't start you too, he's two months old.“ He defended quickly. “He doesn't even know what's going on.“ He added. “Neither do you, apparently.“ That finally earned you a proper reaction. Chris looked over at you with a tired look that almost resembled amusement before shaking his head under his breath. Still, the moment faded quickly. Too quickly.

A few minutes later, you caught him staring again. Not at anything specific, just thinking. You lowered the heat on the stove before turning towards him fully this time. “Okay,” you said softly. “Seriously. What's happening in that head of yours?“ Chris blinked like you'd startled him. “Nothing.“ He said quietly. “Chris.“ His jaw tightened slightly. For a second, you thought he might actually tell you. But then he looked away again, dragging a nervous hand across the back of his neck. “I'm just tired, I barely had time to recover from the last mission.“ He murmured. You didn't believe any of the words coming from his mouth.

By the time dinner was ready, Chris finally seemed to relax a little. Not completely, but enough that the strange tension from earlier slowly started melting away into something softer, quieter. The two of you ate on the couch instead of at the table, plates balanced carefully on your laps while some random movie played in the background, neither of you was actually paying attention to. At some point during dinner, Chris shifted closer without saying anything. Then closer again. Until one of his thighs was pressed against yours and his arm hooked lazily around your waist like he physically needed the contact. You tried not to smile too much at that. “Full?“ You teased softly, taking another bite from his plate. Chris hummed distractedly against your shoulder. “Mhm.“ His voice vibrated lightly through you, warm and low. A few seconds later, you nearly dropped your fork when you felt him press a quiet kiss against the side of your neck. You turned your head briefly, suspicious immediately. “What do you want?“ That earned you a sleepy huff of amusement. “Nothing.“ He said, pressing another soft peck on your shoulder. “Liar.“ Chris only tightened his arm around your waist, pulling you a little closer against his side until your back rested partly against his chest.

The clinginess would've been surprising on any other day. Chris wasn't cold, not with you, but physical affection from him usually came in calmer, quieter ways. A hand on your lower back, fingers brushing yours, a kiss pressed to your forehead while passing by. But tonight he acted like he couldn't get close enough. Every few minutes, his hand found you again. Your thigh, your waist, your fingers, your hair. Like he needed the reassurance that you were there. You set your plate down on the coffee table eventually, before turning slightly towards him. “You're being weirdly affectionate.“ You pointed out with a small smile. “I am?“ Chris looked genuinely confused for a second. You barely nodded in response. “Hm.“ That was all the response you got before he leaned down and kissed your temple. “Chris.“ You said, his lips lingering on your skin. “What?“ He muttered against your temple. “You're still doing it.“ A small smile finally appeared on his face then, tired and unfairly soft. “Maybe I missed you.“ You narrowed your eyes immediately. “You saw me this morning before I left for work.“ You reminded him. “And?“ You laughed quietly under your breath, shaking your head before settling closer against him anyway. The second you did, Chris relaxed. Actually relaxed. You felt it in the way his shoulders loosened beneath your hand, the way he exhaled slowly against your hair before resting his chin on top of your head. Silence settled between you comfortably between you after that. For a while, neither of you spoke. Chris just held you close on the couch, absentmindedly tracing circles against your side while the movie continued playing unnoticed in the background. And despite how soft the moment felt, you still couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed tonight. You just didn't know what yet.

The apartment had gone quiet by the time you started getting ready for bed. The dishes were done, the lights dimmed low, and the movie from earlier had long since ended somewhere in the background without either of you noticing. Chris was still sitting on the couch when you disappeared into the bathroom to wash your face, though he'd pulled you into his lap for a few minutes before letting you go with a reluctant sigh that made you laugh quietly. Clingy, definitely clingy. You smiled faintly to yourself while brushing your teeth, still thinking about the way he'd kept touching you all evening like he needed constant reassurance that you were there. It was sweet. Strange, but sweet.

By the time you stepped back into the bedroom wearing one of Chris' old shirts, the apartment was almost completely silent. A vibration suddenly broke the quiet. You glanced towards the bed automatically. Chris' phone lit up against the mattress where he'd apparently left it charging earlier. You weren't trying to snoop, really. But as you moved closer, the bright screen caught your attention before you could look away. A message from Leon flashed briefly across the screen. Sammy finally fell asleep. You gave him too much attention, old man. You huffed a quiet laugh. Of course, Leon would say something like that. Still smiling to yourself, you reached for the phone instinctively, planning to bring it back out to Chris before it buzzed again. The screen lit up fully this time. And your steps slowed. Because underneath Leon's messages… The browser tabs were still open. Your eyes flicked across the screen once. Then again.

How to know if you're ready for a baby.

What changes during pregnancy.

Best ways to support your pregnant wife.

Your breath caught slightly. For a second, you genuinely thought you were reading it wrong. But then your thumb brushed the side of the phone accidentally, opening another tab.

Newbron sleep schedules.

You froze completely. The sound of footsteps approaching the bedroom barely registered before Chris suddenly appeared in the doorway. And stopped. The second his eyes landed on the phone in your hand, his entire body went still. Silence filled the room instantly. Thick, heavy. Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs as you slowly looked up at him. Chris looked almost horrified. Not angry, just caught. Like this had been the one thing he hadn't wanted you to see yet. Neither of you spoke for a few long seconds. “Chris…?“ You said quietly, finally breaking the silence. His jaw tightened. You watched his throat bob once before he exhaled slowly through his nose, gaze dropping briefly towards the floor. And somehow, that tiny reaction told you everything. Your voice softened immediately. “Why were you looking at this stuff?“

For a moment, Chris didn't answer. He just stood there in the doorway, shoulders tense beneath the gray fabric of his shirt, while the silence stretched between you. Not awkward, just fragile. Like one wrong word could break whatever this moment was becoming. Slowly, you set his phone down on the bed beside you. “Chris,” you said softly this time, gentler. “Talk to me.“ His eyes finally lifted to yours. God. You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him look so unsure of himself. Chris faced bioweapons, terrorist attacks, and impossible missions, but this? This seemed to terrify him.

He dragged a hand over his jaw before looking away again, exhaling through his nose. “I didn't mean for you to see that.“ The honesty in his voice made your chest ache immediately. You took a small step closer. “It's okay.“ Another silence. Chris glanced towards the phone briefly before speaking again, slower this time. “I don't even know why I was looking at it.“ That, at least, was a lie. Maybe not completely, but enough. You could hear it. Your voice stayed soft anyway. “Yes, you do.“ His jaw tightened again. You watched him struggle with the words in real time, like he was trying to organize thoughts he'd never allowed himself to say out loud before. Finally, after what felt like forever, Chris spoke. “…Seeing Leon with Sammy today just…” He stopped. You waited patiently. Chris swallowed once before shaking his head a little. “I don't know.“ A sad smile tugged at your lips. “You've said that a lot tonight.“ That earned you a small huff of amusement from him. Barely there but enough. He walked further into the room, then, slow and quiet, until he stopped directly in front of you. Close enough that you could feel warmth radiating from him. His blue eyes dropped briefly to the floor again before he admitted quietly. “He looked truly happy.“ Something in your chest softened instantly. Not because of the words themselves, it was probably the fifth time he said it, but because of the way he said them. Like happiness was something distant, something he wasn't sure belonged to him.

You reached for his hand carefully, threading your fingers through his. Chris held on tighter almost immediately. His expression stayed distant, thoughtful. After a long pause, his thumb brushed slowly against your knuckles. “I never really thought about any of this before.“ He admitted quietly. “Kids, family…” Your heart squeezed painfully. Not because you were surprised, but because you understood exactly why. His entire life had been survival mode. Missions, loss, responsibility, moving from one disaster to another without ever stopping long enough to picture something softer for himself. Something permanent. Chris looked down at your joined hands, wedding bands shining in the soft glow of the moon. “When Leon handed him to me…” He let out a faint breathless laugh, almost disbelieving. “He was so small.“ You smiled softly. “And you got attached in five minutes.“ Chris let out a quiet laugh. “He grabbed my finger.“ You couldn't help the wider smile pulling at your lips. But when Chris spoke again, the amusement faded from his voice completely. “I think it scared me.“ Your expression shifted a little. “Why?“ He was quiet for so long you thought he might not answer. But then, he said it. “Because I liked it.“ The confession hit you harder than you expected. Chris looked genuinely vulnerable standing there in front of you, fingers tightening slightly around yours like he regretted saying the words out loud already.

“I know the kind of life we have,” he continued quietly. “I know what comes with it.“ His eyes finally met yours again. “And I never thought…” He hesitated, throat tightening slightly. “I never thought I could have something like that.“ The room felt painfully still. You stepped closer without thinking, your free hand resting gently against his chest. “Chris.“ His expression cracked a little at the sound of your voice. Just enough for you to see the exhaustion underneath. The fear, the desire. Everything mixed into something you've never seen before. “You know what I saw tonight?“ You whispered softly. Chris frowned slightly. “I saw you come home and look at me like you were terrified to even think about wanting something good for yourself.“ His breathing slowed. “And honestly?“ You murmured, brushing your thumb against his chest. “That broke my heart a little.“ Chris closed his eyes briefly. The next thing you knew, his arms were around you. Strong, warm, almost desperate. He buried his face against the side of your neck as he held you close, exhaling shakily like he'd been carrying this weight around ever since leaving Leon's apartment. Your arms wrapped around him instantly. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You just stood there together in the quiet bedroom while Chris held onto you, like letting go would somehow make the feeling disappear.

Then, finally, against your skin, his voice came out low and rough. “Do you think we'd be good at it?“ Your chest tightened so hard it almost hurt. You pulled back just enough to look at him properly. At the uncertainty in his eyes, at the softness behind it. And you smiled. “Yeah,” You whispered. “I really think you'd be a great dad.“ Chris stared at you for a second like he was trying to memorize your words. Then carefully, he leaned down and kissed you. It wasn't rushed nor desperate. It was quiet, tender, full of something new neither of you had named yet. And when he rested his forehead against yours afterwards, you realized something had changed tonight enough that, for the first time, Chris Redfield allowed himself to imagine a future beyond survival. A future with you. Maybe even a family. And somehow, that scared him a lot less now.

[key201303]

Mission: Baby

Pairing: Boy dad!Chris x Boy mom!reader Plot: Chris never thought he'd want a family until one visit to Leon's house changed everything. What started as a quiet thought slowly turned into late-night worries, tiny baby clothes, and a boy named Piers who became the center of his entire world. A mini series following Chris Redfield through fatherhood - from the moment he decided he wanted to be a dad to the day his son called him his hero. Warning: Pure tooth-rotting fluff (specific warnings will be made for each chapter). Calendar: Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 9pm (GMT +2) A/N: Heyy! I couldn't get over baby fever so easily, so here I am once again with this daily dose of fluff, this time with Chris ❤ And yes, he did call his son Piers in honor of Piers Nivans, you're welcome 😭 Taglist: Let me know if you want to be added!

Chapters

The idea (Monday, June 1st) Tested positive (Wednesday, June 3rd) Overprotection (Friday, June 5th) First heartbeat (Monday, June 8th) He's here (Wednesday, June 10th) First night (Friday, June 12th) First fever (Monday, June 15th) Calm and Catastrophe (Wednesday, June 17th) Nightmares (Friday, June 19th) Like father, like son (Monday, June 22nd) School project (Wednesday, June 24th)

[tintoxtinto]

💀+🐈

[churchofjoemiller]

We've been blessed with more new/old pics from 2025

[silverlullabies]

Simon “I purposely antagonize the missus so she yells at me” Riley is currently getting reamed a new one in the middle of base, and Gaz- poor unfortunate soul- walks right into the middle of it.

You’ve got Ghost pinned in place with nothing but your voice. No hands on him, no weapons, just fury and sharp words.

Kyle slows. Stares. Immediately regrets having eyes.

And yet he can’t look away.

He drifts over to Soap, who’s posted up nearby like this is a cinema and he paid for premium seating. “Uh,” Gaz says quietly, because volume feels disrespectful in the presence of whatever that is. “What’s all that about?”

Soap doesn’t even glance over. “That’s his missus,” he says, like he’s explaining the weather. “And he must have done some thin’ truly bad this time, ‘cause she’s been going at him for twenty minutes.”

Gaz’s brows shoot up. “Should we… help? Get him out of it?”

Soap makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a snort. “Help? Mate, look at him.”

Gaz looks.

Really looks.

Ghost’s shoulders are relaxed. Not braced. Not defensive. His weight’s pitched forward, like he’s drawn to you by gravity. Half lidded eyes, head tilted, body language screaming more, please while your words get sharper.

Gaz swallows. “He’s… enjoying this?”

Soap’s grin turns positively feral. “Turns him on. Si’s exactly where he wants to be right now.”

Gaz stares at Ghost like the man just sprouted another head.

And Ghost, like he can feel the judgment, flicks his gaze over, catches Gaz watching, and doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. If anything, his eyes crinkle like he’s smiling under the mask.

[stydixa]

THE ADDAMS FAMILY (1991) Dir. Barry Sonnenfeld

[ohclaire]

Thinking about quietly possessive Simon Riley who has decided you’re his even if you don’t know it yet…

He’s always been loyal to those on his team, encroaching into possessive territory in even the best circumstances. He learned early that if he found something good, he needed to claim it fast and hold on tight or it would be taken from him. So when he finally had a team that didn’t treat him like a freak…he got protective. And you just ended up being the final nail in that coffin.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he does have a soft spot for people who are good. Good like Johnny, like you are. For too long he was only surrounded by the scum of the earth, people who took without any regard for the people around them, any regard for him. You weren’t like that. You were all give. Too much sometimes. People who take, love people like you that they can exploit. And thats where he comes in. To keep you safe.

To do that, though…he needs to stake a claim.

He started easy, purposely swapping your jackets so you would walk around with ‘RILEY’ proudly displayed on your back. You were confused on how the mix up occurred, but when you couldn’t find your jacket, he insisted you use his in the mean time. He wasn’t planning on recovering yours anytime soon.

He was always watching from a distance whenever someone talked to you. Across the mess or on the mats, anyone approached you and suddenly nothing else he was doing mattered. You couldn’t understand when people would see something off to your side only to run away from the conversation moments later. Whenever you checked, you only ever saw the soft eyes of Simon. He never let you see the glare.

He got bolder. Eventually throwing his arm around you whenever possible. Casually, at first—at least that’s how it came off to you. Everyone else, however, knew he wasn’t big on physical touch. To them, it was radical. To you, it was just Simon. You liked the support his presence brought, knowing he was watching your back. Feeling him. He liked that too, of course, but he liked that everyone started avoiding you more.

And when you got hurt, he unabashedly told the infirmary that he was your fiancé to get in to see you (and changed your emergency contact while at it). You didn’t need to know about that, you were just happy for the company in the hospital.

Eventually, the questions came—to him of course, no one dared approach you now. So, whenever someone asks if you’re dating, he tells them yes.

You’re the last person to know that you apparently have a boyfriend.

[perotovar]

PEDRO PASCAL as CLINT FLOOD Freaky Tales (2025) dir. Ryan Fleck & Anna Boden

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drabble Roulette: Not the Type to Ask

Warning: nothing explicit.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Mob!Steve x wedding guest reader

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Wow,” you utter as you look up at the grand chandelier.

You’re so dumbfounded by the sheer extravagance that you stop without thinking. You’re jostled by the other guests as they try to get past. Oops, you’re not the only one here.

You step out of the way and take it all in. You’ve never been to a wedding so fancy. Your sister had a backyard wedding and your best friend forwent the whole debacle for the courthouse. Speaking of, it was so cheesy of Riley to skip out on you.

You can’t help but feel even more out of place. Solo and lost amid the sea of mostly strangers. You’re super excited for Clarissa. Oops, she goes as Clare now. You keep forgetting. Back in college, she hated when anyone shortened her name but she said her fiance, now husband, prefers it.

You don’t think you could change that much for a man. Or anyone. You have a hard time sticking to anything really. You’d be like a puppy that doesn’t know their name yet.

You reel in your wandering thoughts as you approach the table with the seating plan. You look at the diagram then up at the dining area. There’s so many tables and chairs and still room for dancing. Holy guacamole.

As you search for your name, a man steps up next to you. He leans in slightly to read the chart. Another man bookends you and you squirm between them, panicking as you struggle to find your name. The letters all move around as you search for your place in this elaborate affair.

The man to your left leaves but the other lingers. You peek over and find him staring at you. You blink. He’s tall, blond, blue-eyed. You noticed him in the wedding party. The white rose on his lapel confirms his role. A groomsman. He wears sleek black, cut perfectly to his figure.

He doesn’t say a word before he turns away. That was strange. Or you’re just awkward. You look down and your eyes zero in on your name. Thank the fates!

You memorise your table number and set off to find your seat. You’re with the second and third cousins. You know because Clarissa used to complain about Mindy, sat to your left, opposite the empty seat left by your absent plus one.

It’s all very proper. The guests find their seats. The bridal and groom’s party sat either side of the table set above the rest. The two seats of honour remain vacant as bodies continue to shuffle in.

The chatter stirs around you and deepens your dejection. You know it’s all in your head. You’re just a nervous mess with no courage.

The voices quiet as the pluck of harp strings cuts through. The bride and groom emerge from the double doors and strut proudly to the centre of the floor. Oohs and ahs escape several guests as Clare reveals a second dress. If you ever take that plunge, you don’t know if you could do all this.

The music shifts and a man announces the bride and groom. As they begin their first dance, the lights dim. You watch, twitchy as you long to take out your phone and shield yourself in a mindless matching game. That would be rude. It’s just so awkward sitting there staring at them as they dance so intimately.

When the dance ends, the bride and groom take the microphone to welcome their guests and to your relief, announce that dinner will be served. Well, at least the food should be good.

Your glass is filled with wine before you can decline. You’ll stick to water but the complimentary alcohol is a nice gesture. The first course is tiny mushroom tarts that kind of smell like a basement. So much for the food. Well, the lobster bisque is alright…

After dinner, your attention is snagged by the man with the microphone again. He once more congratulates the couple then hands off the microphone for the first speech. First? How many could there be?

Eight. Eight speeches. Each longer than the last. By the end, you taste the wine. It’s too bitter.

When at last, the talking is done, the father/daughter dance has you ready to nod off. It’s all very nice but it’s taking forever. Then the mother/son dance. You wonder how anyone can stand all these people just staring at them.

When that’s over, the dance floor is opened for all. Guests stream out as the music picks up tempo. You once more curse Riley for ditching you.

You sit and watch the dancing. It’s not too bad. You hear whispers of the cake being cut soon. That would at least be worth it. What are you even thinking? You’re here to support Clare.

You glance over at the married couple’s table. The groom stands amid his groomsmen. How odd. They look very suspicious, as if conspiring.

There’s little things you’ve noticed. Whispers between them, hands shaking a bit too many times. Well, maybe it’s just been a while since they saw each other.

You look down at the dark wine and turn the glass. It would be rude to dip out. And you do want some of that cake. You glance over at the eight-tiered monstrosity. It looks too much even for the hordes here.

Your vision of the perfectly scalloped icing is suddenly blocked. The chair next to you slides out and a man sits calmly at your side. Your eyes refocus on the same blond man who stood beside you at the seating chart.

He takes the name card from in front of you and reads it aloud. You watch him, more nervous than curious. He slides the tented cardstock into his pocket then holds out his hand.

“Steve Rogers,” he introduces himself.

You pause then shake his hand. “Hi.”

He squeezes and doesn’t let go. He stands and you look at his grip on you. You frown.

“Pretty girl like you should get at least one dance,” he drawls as he tugs you up to your feet.

“Uh… I don’t… know how…” You counter weakly as he easily guides you away from the table.

“Just follow me, sweetheart.”

He brings you out to the floor as the music slows down. He turns to face you and places one hand on your side as the other leads your hand to his shoulder. He holds you close as your face flushes with heat.

“Ummm,” you blink furiously.

“I’ll lead,” he leans in. “You just relax, doll, and I’ll take care of you.”

You do your best not to step on his feet. You glance around and notice the eyes following you. No, not you, him. You peek down as your toe scuffs against his.

He brings his fingers up under your chin and forces your head up. He keeps you close as he stays on time with the music, swaying with you. He leans down to look into your eyes.

“Doll, don’t look no where but here.” He growls. “It’s only you and me.”

[beentainted]

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: when big bad joel miller can't find the guts to ask you out, he jumps to the obvious next best option: threatening every other man who would dare to do so.

warnings: fluff; 1 mention of joel being taller but that man is just big; so much bantering; idiots in love.

word count: 1.4k

"What is your goddamn problem, Miller?!"

You barely registered the few heads that turned at the sound of your voice, barely registered that you were all but shouting in the middle of the street, your mind only focused on the two familiar figures you rushed to like a woman on a mission.

Tommy's head snapped towards you from where he stood, previously talking to his brother. His eyes went wide as you approached, drifting to where your boots stomped towards him with enough force to kick snow. His relaxed expression shifted to one way too similar to the one kids make when they're in trouble.

"Not you, Tommy." You blurted once you were close enough, then turned to his brother, one sharp finger pointing directly to the center of his chest. "I'm talking to him."

Joel's eyebrows lifted, almost high enough to touch his hairline, a puff of air forming around his lips as he let out an annoyed huff. Tommy released a sound that might be a choked laugh, then raised his hands in mock surrender, already starting to move backwards like he was stepping away from a bomb.

"Alright, I don't wanna be around this." He said, then whistled innocently as he turned to walk away. You noticed that he didn't go far, though, slowing his steps just near enough to still be able to hear you. Nosy ass.

You turned back to Joel. Pure, blinding rage turned your veins to lava. You almost didn't hear yourself above the blood rushing in your ears.

"Don't bother acting surprised. Dina already told me everything." You seethed, faintly recalling the girl's nervous confession just a few minutes earlier.

You loved Dina, you really did, but if there was one thing she wasn't any good at, it was keeping secrets. And as if the universe couldn't form a bigger coincidence, she was exactly the person who crossed your path this morning when the realization that something was wrong finally crept into you.

It had been happening for weeks now. The cute guy from Tipsy Bison who you had been flirting with the past nights suddenly starting to avoid your gaze from across the room. Bill from the flower shop only reponding you with a curt nod when you commented on the weather. Christ, yesterday some guy you looked at while walking past immediately turned to cross the street like you were infected.

And when you complained about it to Dina, she just lowered her head and tried to hide the slightlest curl around the corner of her lips, like she was really fighting back the urge to say something funny. The second you noticed it, you were on her.

It took you some interrogation to get there, but Dina eventually gave in once she realized you weren't going anywhere before she told you everything she knew. A few minutes holding her under your glare like you were the fucking FBI, and the poor girl didn't stand a chance.

Joel's expression shifted into realization at the sound of her name. He didn't need you to tell him what exactly did Dina let out, he already knew what crime he was being charged of. There was no need in denying it now.

His chest rumbled with a groan as he crossed his arms across it. "That fucking big mouth."

"Yeah, so now here's what's going to happen:" You stepped closer, your breaths mingling in the chilling morning air. "You will apologize to those poor, innocent men that had done nothing but be kind to me and take back whatever threat it was that you held over their heads. And, for whatever reason you though you had to, you won't try to mess with my personal life ever again. Do you get it, Miller?"

Once you were done, your heart pounded so loud inside your ribcage you were afraid Joel was going to hear it. For the first time, you grew aware of the fact that you could hardly look any intimidating to him right now. His eyes traced down at your burning cheeks from where he towered over you, arms still crossed over his stiff chest, shoulders so broad they blocked your view from the street behind him.

You tried to keep your composure, spine straightening a little, your finger moving back up from where it had lowered to press against his chest. You gulped around the lump forming in your throat, and his eyes slowly followed, stopping at the spot where your skin moved.

"I said, do you get it?"

"I get it just fine, sweetheart." His voice came out almost too low, like he was in a trance. "Might not hear as well as I should but I'm not deaf just yet.

Joel's eyes finally drifted back up to yours, and you managed to even your breath a little, chest heaving a little less frantically now. He held your fiery gaze then, and you saw a flicker of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I have a condition, though."

That took you off guard. You didn't know why, but you didn't expect Joel to fight you on it. Probably because you didn't think much about it before you made the decision to confront him on sheer impulsivity.

You eyebrows knitted together as you silently urged him to continue. You almost wished you didn't let him finish, such was the force that the words hit you when they left his mouth.

"I want you to go on a date with me."

You choked on air. The coughing fit that followed had tears gathering in your eyes, your chest fighting to bring air back into your lungs. Joel's arms fell to his sides, almost like he was going to reach out to touch you. You lifted your palm to keep him where he stood, trying to gain yourself a minute to process what your just heard.

"I—" Your voice came out hoarse once you could finally speak. You cleared your throat and tried again. "I'm sorry, you what?"

"Don't act like you didn't hear me." Joel retorted. He went on like the words were already on the tip of his tongue, like he was dying to get them out. "You go on a date with me, and if after that you still wanna go back to those chicken, lazy assholes then that's fine. I'll take back every word I ever said to 'em. But you're goin' out with me first."

You blinked once. Twice. Your feet were glued to the ground, your lungs gasping for air as if your body suddenly remembered to breathe. Your brain scrambled to find something to respond, stumbling on the first dumb thing you put your mind on.

"Well, I also have one condition, then."

That smirk deepened then. Joel took a step closer, head tilting like he couldn't dare to miss what you were going to say next. "Yeah? What is that?"

"I'm choosing where you gonna take me."

It sounded more like a threat than anything else. You struggled to hold onto what you did best when it came to Joel: bickering the shit out of him. The next option was to let him see how you really felt inside—startled and boneless and so fucking content with where this was heading—, and you weren't ready for it just yet.

Joel scowled like you personally offended him.

"You ain't choosing shit." He chuckled like it was the most dismissive thing you ever said. "Might've been a while, but I still know how to fucking date. Just be ready at seven."

You flinched in surprise, though it was something Joel would so obviously say. No, you were surprised with the reaction it got from you. Your stomach flipped with what could never be mistaken with anything other than excitement. You needed to get away from Joel before you did something stupid like kissing his goddamn mouth.

"Alright then." You clipped. "Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

A muffled snort sounded from somewhere around you, like someone was trying to hold back laughter. You thought it might be Tommy. You didn't care.

"Don't be late. God knows you like to do that." That goddamn smirk. Hanging from the corner of his lips like it dared you to do something about it.

"Now you just made me want to do it more." You said as you turned to walk away, your defensive posture never faltering. "I'll see you later, then."

His smirk grew into a full on grin. "See you later, sweetheart."

"Stop calling me that." You hissed back from behind your shoulder, just to have something to get back to him.

But if anyone that passed through you on the street as you walked back home were to say something, they would tell you all about how the smile twitching at the corners of your mouth might as well just lightened up your whole face.

[tanya-gavva]

I’ll post one of my favourite here too ❤️‍🩹

[ap3orus]

I didn't have the time to make a proper New Year art, so here's a little sketch. Happy New Year!

[aariellaaaa4]

𝐨𝐟𝐟-𝐭𝐡𝐞-𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 !

𑣲 summary: everyone thinks you’re single. no one ever suspects the clumsy man with the kind eyes.

𑣲 cw: established relationship, secrecy, kissing and just fluff!!!

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

no one asks about you and Clark.

because the idea never occurs to them.

they always ask about you, of course — the star reporter. the byline everyone reads twice, the one who asks questions that are sharp enough to make politicians sweat and billionaires stutter.

you’re gorgeous in that effortless way.

but Clark? Clark Kent?

Clark is..Clark.

sweet. polite. clumsy at times.

he moves through the Daily Planet like a held breath. apologetic smiles. sleeves rolled up. bringing extra pens to meetings.

“so.” someone — an intern — says one afternoon in the bullpen, leaning against your desk. “still single?”

you hum thoughtfully, “depends on the day.”

everyone laughs. they always do. the idea floats away, unexamined. they miss the way Clark’s eyes find you anyway, steady as gravity, like the room rearranges itself so he can keep you in view.

you steal moments the way children steal sugar packets.

standing too close in elevator rides. constantly leaning over his desk to check things over. shared smiles that look accidental but aren’t. he watches you like he’s memorizing a constellation — not to own it, just to know it’s there.

everyone assumes you’re unattached. too busy. too ambitious. too luminous to be tied down. they speculate about dates with CEOs, one-night stands, the occasional mysterious source who must be more.

later, after hours, metropolis quiet and gold-lit, Clark waits for you by the elevators. jacket folded over his arm. tie loosened. sleeves rolled up just right.

the doors close and you kiss him immediately.

it’s unhurried, familiar, soft in the way only secrecy allows. Clark’s hands find your waist like they’ve been aching all day to do it. he smiles into the kiss — wide, boyish, utterly undone.

“you’ve been telling them you’re single again,” he murmurs against your lips.

“i’m laughing it into irrelevance, there’s a difference.”

he laughs softly, “hm. that’s why you’re star reporter, i suppose.”

no one ever guesses the man at the printer, glasses slipping down his nose, the one who’s late every other day. no one guesses Clark Kent as the man who gets you in his bed, every night.

authors note: this was originally supposed to end in smut but i’m scared to post smut cus what if it sucks 💔💔 also im so mad em dashes are associated with chatgpt ughhhhh i lowk wanna change my theme… or should i be loyal lmk. bye loves <3

[nephritebabie]

the cycle of life

[nocturnexc]

[fuzzy]

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀ DESPERADO , ⠀ ⠀ CLINT FLOOD ⠀ ⠀ sitting in an old 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑜 , a man whose heart is hollow .

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀