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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year ago

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Hotter Than Texas | Part III

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

A/N: Thank you for all the lovely messages about this series! I'm so happy y'all are loving it and are excited to see it continued <3

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

WC: 2200+

Part I | Masterlist

“You got a girlfriend, Brad Bradshaw?”

Bradley looks over at you, sitting in his passenger seat in a green sundress, fiddling with a charm on your bracelet. “No,” he replies rather hoarsely, unsure how to interpret your question.

“Why not?” you continue, your tone light and carefree, as though you’re just asking about the weather.

“I dunno,” Bradley mutters uncomfortably, returning his attention to the road.

You look up at him abruptly and he throws you a brief glance; just long enough to see the concern on your face. “Think about it,” you suggest.

Bradley sighs, making a concentrated effort to check his blind spot before switching lanes – like driving could distract him from this conversation. Why doesn’t he have a girlfriend? He’s never really thought about it so, clearly, it hasn’t been at the top of his priority list. “The last girlfriend I had was in college. Didn’t last long, either,” he says, hoping this might appease your curiosity enough for you to change the subject.

“Hmm.”

He looks over at you again, wondering what you’re thinking. Wondering if you might consider this little detail a red flag. “I haven’t really met anyone I wanted to spend all my time with,” he says. Until now.

“Interesting,” you muse, leaning back into your seat as though you’re satisfied with this response.

“Is it?” Bradley asks, his gaze inadvertently coasting over your bare thighs every time he glances at you.

You shrug mildly, your fingers once again toying with your bracelet.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Bradley asks, feeling temporarily bold.

“Mmm,” you deliberate, dropping your hands into your lap and slanting your head back against the headrest. “We’ll see.”

Bradley furrows his eyebrows, now watching you more than he’s watching the road. “What does that mean?”

“It means, we’ll see, sugar,” you respond absently. Then, suddenly, you spring up in your seat. “Apple orchard ahead!” you exclaim, pointing at the sign on the side of the interstate.

Bradley, more confused than ever, blinks between your outstretched arm, the billboard, and the road. “You want to pick apples?”

You give Bradley a look and say, “They’ll have pie!”

“Oh!” Bradley chuckles. “Say no more.” He makes a few lane changes so as not to miss the fast-approaching exit.

“We can have the pie for lunch,” you say, glancing at the clock on his dash.

“We can stop for lunch and then get pie,” Bradley proposes, hoping to once again enjoy the pleasure of your company at a restaurant.

You consider his offer and then counter with, “We can have some pie, then have lunch, and then have some more pie.”

Bradley laughs. “Sold.”

…

About an hour later, Bradley is sitting with you on a small dock overlooking a creek, the open pie box positioned in between the two of you.

“That’s a fresh pie,” you comment, sticking your fork into the flaky crust.

Bradley grins at the top of your head as you lean over the box to take a bite. For some reason, your obsession with pie supremely amuses him. “You’re fucking adorable,” he says before he can stop himself.

You freeze with the fork in your mouth and then slowly blink up at him, your eyes searching his for a moment before you sensually draw the fork out of your mouth and then lick it for good measure. Bradley nearly has a heart attack. You smirk at him playfully and then get to your feet. “You think?” you ask, as though you want to hear him say it again. You bend over slightly and lift your leg to remove a sandal.

Bradley watches you gracefully step out of your shoes while beads of sweat collect under the collar of his t-shirt. How could he have let that kind of thing slip?

“Fancy a dip, Rooster?” You eye him mischievously.

Bradley gulps as you bunch up your sundress, exposing more of your legs than he should ever get to see, and dip a toe into the water. The current bubbles around your foot.

“It’s cold!” you squeal, lifting your foot out of the water with a laugh.

Bradley chuckles, getting up as you hop in your excitement on the edge of the dock. “Careful,” he cautions, holding his arm out in case you fall. “Don’t slip.”

You plunge your whole foot into the water before promptly removing it with a splash and a yelp.

“Come on,” he says. “How cold can it be?”

You giggle, taking a hold of his arm as you once again lower your foot into the creek.

Bradley lets his hand close gently around your elbow, steadying you while your toe makes circles in the water.

“How deep do you think it is?”

And before Bradley has a chance to respond, you make your way to the bank and take several steps into the creek, squealing as you go. Bradley shakes his head with a laugh as you wade further in.

“What’re you waitin’ for, handsome?” you call to him when you’re about knee deep in the water.

Bradley, who’s pretty sure he’s going to be replaying that line in his head for the next week, strolls up the dock toward the bank. He slips off his shoes and stands on the slope for a moment, letting the water lap at his bare feet.

“It’s freezing, right?” you exclaim giddily.

Bradley shrugs as he finally enters the – admittedly frigid – water. “It’s nice,” he says. “Refreshing.”

You snort as he strides toward you and, when he’s close enough, you dip your hand into the water and splash him.

“Hey now,” he cautions. “Don’t start something you wouldn't want me to finish.” He’s deep enough now that the bottoms of his shorts are skimming the surface of the water.

You giggle and splash him again – harder this time.

Bradley shakes his head, lowering his hand into the water. “Just remember,” he says, “you asked for this.” And then he glides his hand along the surface, sending a cluster of water droplets in your direction.

You screech, covering your face and, not a moment later, start a boisterous aquatic attack, showering him with icy water and completely impairing his visual field. The skirt of your dress floats in the water like a lily pad as you retreat deeper into the creek.

Bradley, who’s now soaked from head to toe, peels off his t-shirt and tosses it onto the dock. Then, he follows you deeper. “You’ve been warned, princess,” he says, gathering a wave of water and sending it in your direction.

You scream as the giant splash drenches you entirely. You stand still for a moment, accepting your fate, and then you wrap your arms around your shoulders, shivering as you glance up at Bradley whilst water drips from the tip of your nose. “I’m all wet!” you shriek.

Bradley laughs, finally approaching you. “What did you expect?”

“That you’d let me win!”

Bradley eyes you with a smirk. “Let you win? Honey, you don’t know me at all.” Bradley can’t remember the last time in his life he’d used so many pet names, but, looking at you, they just keep rolling off his tongue.

You pout at him, your lashes dripping water every time you blink. “I’ll get you back when you least expect it,” you say.

Bradley chuckles. “Your lips are turning blue,” he says, noticing that your teeth are starting to chatter.

You let Bradley lead you out of the water and, once you’re back on the bank, you start to wring out the bottom of your sundress. The wet material sticks to your curves invitingly and Bradley begrudgingly looks away.

…

“Want me to drive for a while?” you ask, approaching the car.

Bradley looks over at you with an amused smirk as he pulls open the passenger door. “Nope,” he responds.

“You don’t trust me with your precious Bronco?” you ask playfully.

Bradley chuckles, shaking his head. “I just don’t mind driving.”

“Neither do I.” You shrug.

Bradley ponders for a moment before replying, “Next time.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Planning another road trip with me already?”

Bradley feels the unwelcome – but vexingly predictable – stutter of his heart as you continue to hold his gaze. He tightens his grip on the frame of the door he’s still holding open because he can’t very well sink his hands into you. Not only are you much younger than anyone Bradley’s ever dated, you’re also Hangman’s little sister, a reality so unfortunate that it almost feels contrived. Of all the girls in the world, why does he have to be so utterly infatuated with you? After a few seconds of – we’ll call it deliberate – silence, he grins. “If you’ll have me,” he says.

You smile. “Fun,” you say, drawing a little closer to the passenger door – a little closer to Bradley. “Where are we going?”

Bradley gulps uneasily. “Anywhere,” he says, his voice raspy and uneven.

You graze your teeth over your bottom lip and Bradley could swear that the heat of the afternoon sun is about to melt his very bones. “I’ve always wanted to take the scenic route to Alaska,” you muse, pursing your lips.

Bradley watches you unblinkingly. “Let’s go,” he says.

You let out a peal of laughter and slap him lightly on the chest. “Can you imagine?” you exclaim.

He can. “It’s a bit in the opposite direction,” he says somewhat ironically. “But anything’s better than the desert,” he concludes, slowly shifting his weight after standing very still for a very long time.

You smile at him sympathetically, as though you can tell he’s suffering greatly. “Rain check?” you ask softly.

Bradley, who is absolutely sure that there isn’t a single organ in his body left uncooked, comments facetiously, “Does it ever rain here?”

…

“Let’s stop for some coffee,” you say about half an hour after getting back on the road.

If Bradley didn’t know any better, he’d think you might be finding excuses to extend the trip. “With a pinch of salt?” Bradley teases you, but obediently merges onto the offramp.

“I’m thinking of switching majors,” you say quietly, as though you’re unsure whether you really want to share this information.

Bradley glances over at you as he pulls up to a red light. “Sounds like you might need something a little stronger than coffee.”

You snort loudly and then let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m thinking you might be right, darlin’.”

Bradley’s heart races as he pulls into the lot of the first bar he sees. Frequenting watering holes is absolutely on the list of things Bradley should not be doing with his colleague’s baby sister. But you seem like you need to get something off your chest. And Bradley can’t imagine a more ideal way to spend an evening.

The tavern is low-lit and crowded, and you shift slightly closer to his side upon entering. Bradley instinctively places a hand on your back, like it’s meant to be there or something. He guides you through the packed bar toward an empty table near the back and waves down a server before taking a seat across from you.

He slides you a cocktail menu and watches you peruse it without saying a word. When the server arrives, you order a paloma.

Bradley orders a whiskey neat and fixes you with a weighty look once the server departs. “You want to talk about it?” he asks.

You shrug. “We can.”

Bradley continues searching your face. “Do you want to?”

You sigh and look down into your lap. “Nobody knows yet,” you admit. “I’m halfway through my junior year so switching would really set me back.”

Bradley nods sympathetically. He knows all about being set back. “What are you thinking of switching to?”

“Psych,” you respond hesitantly.

Then the drinks arrive and you fall uncharacteristically silent. Bradley takes a sip of his whiskey while you down a quarter of your cocktail in one gulp. “You want my advice?” he asks. “Or are you just sharing?”

You meet his gaze distantly. “My parents are gonna flip shit,” you says monotonously, as if you haven’t even heard his question.

Bradley smirks at you. “It’s their job to overreact,” he says. “They just want to protect you.”

You absently run your finger around the rim of your glass. “My brother’s gonna question my judgement. Say I’m making a mistake.”

“Your brother has questionable judgement, himself,” Bradley points out.

You let out a small chuckle. “I wish I knew both outcomes before making a decision.”

Bradley could sure relate to that feeling. “Sometimes, you just have to go with your gut. It may not apply here, to be honest, but this guy I know – one of my superiors – he uh, he has this motto: ‘Don’t think, just do.’ I’m not saying yours has to be a split second decision. But, if it were, and you had to decide this minute, without weighing the consequences or talking it over with your family, what would you choose?”

You blink up at him soberly and state, “Naval Academy.”

Bradley’s eyes widen stupidly as he processes your words. “That” – he croaks, then clears his throat – “that’s not psychology.”

You suck in your cheeks and solemnly shake your head.

Part 4

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments shortly!

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maenefa · 1 month ago

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Is it just me or does Arwen get the Anne Hathaway treatment sometimes? She’s so inoffensive that people look for reasons to dislike her. She’s too passive, too perfect, too sheltered. Probably a haughty, entitled bitch underneath the good girl routine.

Arwen is an underwritten female character, and that means that people tend to fill in the blanks with negative interpretations. I’ve been guilty of this myself! It’s tempting to pit her against Eowyn: the action girl vs. the pampered princess. But the more carefully I read, the less convincing I find certain criticisms of her. So here are some takes on Arwen that I don’t agree with anymore:

1. Arwen was extremely sheltered.

It’s true that Elrond sets conditions for Aragorn to be able to marry Arwen. (I’d argue that this was very reasonable, and Elrond was asserting his authority over Aragorn as much over his daughter.) But otherwise he doesn’t seem to be very controlling or overprotective. Arwen travels freely between Rivendell and Lothlorien whenever she feels like it, even though her mother was captured and tortured by orcs while making the same journey. This paper contains a good example of the impulse to overstate Tolkien’s sexism while pitting Eowyn against Arwen:

“…we travel with Eowyn, but Arwen moves only at the order of her menfolk and only when she is to be wed.” (pg. 20)

This author is so determined to prove that Tolkien doesn’t allow his women to travel that he ignores Arwen’s canonical freedom of movement. When we first meet her in Rivendell, she has just returned from a long visit to Lothlorien. In the Appendices, Elrond calls her “Lady of Imladris and of Lorien,” acknowledging that she is an adult woman who spends a lot of her time living far away from him. I find it significant that Elrond originally tries to keep Arwen’s existence a secret from Aragorn, but he can’t prevent her from coming back from Lothlorien unannounced. Here is another quote from the same paper about Arwen’s arrival in Minas Tirith at the end of LotR:

“All of the challenging matters are dealt with in her absence; when all is peaceful, then she appears—fashionably late and carefully chaperoned by her father.” (pg. 60)

“Carefully chaperoned” seems uncalled-for. How carefully chaperoned is Arwen when she is meeting Aragorn alone in the woods? Why is it that when Frodo travels through the wilderness, it is an exciting and dangerous adventure that changes him as a person, but when Arwen does the same thing, she is merely being transported from Point A to Point B like an Amazon package? Why don’t her travels count as interesting life experiences??? Hmmm?

It’s valid to complain that Arwen is excluded from the main action of LotR, but we should be careful not to be more sexist than Tolkien himself. In fact, Tolkien insisted that elves are somewhat androgynous and elf women are strong and capable. In general, elves are less vulnerable than Men to cold, hunger, and hardship, and they have a stronger connection to nature—all of which must be true of female elves as well. Arwen is not that different from Luthien and Aredhel, who also moved freely through wild landscapes (and married strange men they met in the woods).

2. Arwen only falls in love with Aragorn because he looks like an elf.

In the Appendices, Galadriel gives Aragorn a good scrubbing and dresses him up nice, and Arwen apparently falls in love the moment she sees him looking so handsome and elvish. (“Then more than any kind of Men he appeared, and seemed rather an Elf-lord from the Isles of the West.”) So she must be superficial and gullible, right?

This is where I kvetch about the Tale of Aragorn and Arwen and how deceptively simple it is. Don’t be fooled! There are two factors that make it a little tricky: call them the “brevity of the narrative issue” and the “Barahir issue.” First off, Tolkien admitted that when he writes in the register of an archaic chronicle or legend, he condenses certain things: “The legends of the foundation of Númenor often speak as if all the Edain that accepted the Gift set sail at one time and in one fleet. But this is only due to the brevity of the narrative.”

Secondly, the Tale is narrated by Barahir, the grandson of Faramir, which invites us to question its objectivity. There is an extremely visible seam between the first part of the Tale, which relies on Aragorn as a source, and the narrative of Aragorn’s death, which centers Arwen’s perspective. (She’s the only one left to tell the story at that point, of course.) The final sentence (“Here ends this tale, as it has come to us from the South”) makes it clear that Barahir is not intended to be an omniscient narrator.

There’s a frustrating lack of detail about Aragorn and Arwen’s courtship in Lothlorien, which makes perfect sense if you imagine that Aragorn is the source of the narrative. Of course he would be stingy with the details! All we’re told is that they spent “a season” wandering around together… weeks in which their initial attraction must have grown into real love, but which remain personal and private in Barahir’s history.

Why did Arwen really fall in love with Aragorn in Lothlorien? She certainly wasn’t impressed the first time they met. Aragorn was only 20 years old at that point; he was a BABY. At their second meeting in Lothlorien, Aragorn is 49 and “somewhat grim to look upon.” He has grown and matured and done impressive things. Arwen sees the greatness in him: “Dark is the Shadow, and yet my heart rejoices; for you, Estel, shall be among the great whose valour will destroy it.” Yes, he does clean up nicely, but Arwen knows that he’s not an elf, and that she’ll have to give up her elvish life if she wants to marry him. When the hobbits meet him, he has a “rascally” appearance and streaks of gray in his hair… Arwen can hardly be mistaking him for an elf lord all the time.

3. In general, Arwen only seems to connect with mortals who are elf-coded.

In addition to Aragorn, Arwen is associated with two other mortals who are described as having “elvish” vibes: Frodo and Elanor (Sam’s daughter). You could take this as Arwen being a snooty person who can only relate to people if they are elves or at least elf-like, but I think this misses the point. Arwen’s connection to Frodo is deep and poignant. Tolkien makes this extraordinary statement in one of his letters:

“Her renunciation and suffering were related to and enmeshed with Frodo's: both were parts of a plan for the regeneration of the state of Men.” - Letter 246

The mysterious connection between Frodo and Arwen is established early on, before the Council of Elrond: “….then suddenly it seemed to Frodo that Arwen turned towards him, and the light of her eyes fell on him from afar and pierced his heart.”

This meaningful look is never explained, but it is finally paid off at the very end, when Arwen gives Frodo her place on the ship to Valinor. Sauron has been defeated, the King has returned, everyone is rejoicing, but even in her happiness Arwen is deeply concerned about Frodo. She seems to understand better than anyone else that Frodo has been wounded in a way that will never heal, and she does everything in her power to help him.

Arwen is a ridiculously empathetic and self-sacrificing person! She gives up her immortality to marry Aragorn, and then immediately thinks, “cool, so can I give my ticket to eternal happiness to someone else?” What does this poor lady have to do to prove that she isn’t self-absorbed???

There’s also the detail that Sam’s daughter Elanor becomes one of Arwen’s maids of honor. In European courts, a maid of honor was traditionally a member of the nobility who acted as a companion to the queen while helping her with her duties. Elanor may be very pretty for a hobbit, but she is still a hobbit, not an elf or even a human, and she comes from a working class family on top of that! And yet Arwen takes a liking to her and invites her to join her court in Gondor. It’s hard to reconcile that with the idea that Arwen is aloof, awkward or snobbish.

4. Aragorn was the only mortal she truly cared about. She didn’t understand why the Numenoreans fell or have any sympathy for them until Aragorn was dying.

So I think this is the brevity of the narrative creating problems again. If you read closely, it’s evident that Arwen’s lifespan is connected to Aragorn’s. (Tolkien confirmed this in his notes in The Nature of Middle Earth.)

When Aragorn decides to die, he is not just leaving Arwen a widow, he is ensuring that she will follow him very shortly. Arwen knows this! As she begs him to change his mind, the narrative explains: “She was not yet weary of her days, and thus she tasted the bitterness of the mortality that she had taken upon her.” Not yet weary of HER days. The mortality that she had taken upon HER. She is not just grieving for Aragorn, she is reeling at her own impending death! Aragorn’s last words to her suggest that he knows she will die soon: “In sorrow we must go, but not in despair” and “we are not bound forever to the circles of the world.” Sure enough, as soon as Aragorn dies, Arwen ages rapidly and it’s implied that she turns into an old woman: “But Arwen went forth from the House, and the light of her eyes was quenched, and it seemed to her people that she had become cold and grey as nightfall in winter that comes without a star.”

Frankly, I think Arwen is entitled to curse God or say whatever crazy shit she wants to. She’s grieving Aragorn, but she’s also frustrated and hurt at the way he’s ignoring her wishes and making a one-sided decision to end his life AND HERS. Her emotions must be all over the place. And yet she shows only the faintest hint of exasperation with Aragorn, and her bitterness at God is expressed as pity for the fallen Numenoreans. She’s way nicer than I would be.

If she formerly scorned the Numenoreans as wicked fools and didn’t understand why they did such awful things, does that necessarily mean that she didn’t grieve for Faramir or Eowyn or other people that she had lost before Aragorn? I don’t think so. Tolkien’s own position on the fallen Numenoreans was basically “they were horrible people and you shouldn’t feel bad for them,” so Arwen’s “scorn” was likely a normal attitude among the elves and maybe even the Dunedain. (Aragorn considers it a privilege to be able to give up his life, rather than clinging to it like the corrupt Numenorean kings.) I think it’s normal for Arwen to be experiencing a new extreme of emotion in such a painful situation, such that she goes to some dark places that were outside her understanding before.

Tolkien had a favorite quote from Simone de Beauvoir (of all people!) which he said was helpful for understanding LotR:

“All men must die: but for every man his death is an accident and, even if he knows it and consents to it, an unjustifiable violation.”

I can’t think of any character in LotR that this applies to more perfectly than Arwen. Intellectually she may have accepted mortality, but in the moment of Aragorn’s death, she realizes, to her horror, that she doesn’t feel the same way he does about dying and she never will. Her tragedy embodies all of Tolkien’s painful ambivalence about death: “For if this is indeed, as the Eldar say, the gift of the One to Men, it is bitter to receive.” The gentle cynicism of “as the Eldar say”—oh man, I can’t tell you how much this endears Arwen to me. Rest in peace, babygirl, you were a saint for putting up with Aragorn.

#arwen #lotr #tolkien #aragorn #frodo #elrond #lotr meta #tolkien meta

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kykyonthemoon · 11 months ago

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One Summer Day

A road trip, a summer festival, childhood popsicles and Zayne. You have captured the essence of summer in your hands.

── .✦ Zayne x Female Reader (MC)

── .✦ Tags: R16 - MNDI, suggestive themes, summer, vacation, festival, use of Japanese culture and words, fluff, sweet, established relationship.

── .✦ Word count: 2k6

── .✦ Ky Ky's notes: This piece is inspired by Zayne’s text (Top Prize) after completing his story in Adventure above the Clouds event.

Misty Invasion Fan Art Contest Entry - Please support me on X!

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

You stood under your porch with all enthusiasm, feet tiptoeing up and down, eyes fixed on the impending cars. When you recognized Zayne's familiar transport, the smile on your lips immediately spread like flower petals.

“Why are you out here? Didn't we agree to meet inside first?" Zayne inquired as he assisted you in loading the luggage into the back of the car.

"I saved Doctor Zayne the trouble." You responded. That was only half of the truth; the rest was because you were so eager to begin this journey that you rolled about in bed all night thinking about it. This morning, you awoke before the alarm went off. Because your luggage was little, you went downstairs to wait. That way, neither of you would have to waste any more time and could depart right away.

Zayne grinned as if he understood what you were saying and opened the car door to invite you in. Then he sat in the driver seat. The first song on your pre-selected list began to play, and with all your impatience, the three-hour long journey to the predetermined destination began.

Not long after the vehicle drove away, Zayne noticed a rustling close to him. You were opening the package for a snack you had recently enjoyed. Zayne laughed as his car came to a stop at a red light. He turned to face you and said:

“We've only been gone for five minutes and you're already hungry?”

You took a piece of snack and fed it to Zayne, replying:

“For you.”

He obediently took a mouthful while still staring at you, who was beaming with your snack bag. A few curls of hair had fallen on your cheeks, and he tucked them behind your ear. Zayne used the chance to gently stroke your face.

"Someone was so happy that she was unable to rest last night, right?"

You hastily checked the rearview mirror of the car. Aside from appearing too eager, a closer look would expose the weariness from lack of sleep around your eyes.

"Are you sure that person isn't Doctor Zayne?" You commented. Even though he had caught you red-handed, you would continue to deny it.

"Then there were two people who could not sleep last night." You were not prepared for Zayne to admit it so soon. You spotted his brilliant smile just as the green light went on and he shifted his concentration to the road ahead.

Zayne stated that if you were weary, you could take a nap in the car and he would wake you up at the destination. Nonetheless, you were determined to remain awake the whole journey. Every time the car came to a halt at a red light, you swiftly fed him some snacks. Zayne, in return, clasped his hands around yours. You would occasionally hum along to the music being played and see that Zayne was enjoying it. Was it the song or your voice? His fingers on the steering wheel moved gently with the rhythm, as did his head and neck, as if he were swaying to the melodies. But every time he recognized you gazing and was about to say something to tease him, Zayne claimed to be in the dark and made an insignificant remark: "Your taste in music is acceptable."

You burst into laughter. When you were together, he must have heard those songs so many times that he knew them by heart. Zayne frequently took you on outings, but this one was different. He won a lottery at Akso Hospital, resulting in a two-day, three-night vacation for a couple. Although you guessed that everyone had given Doctor Zayne the jackpot after seeing how hard he worked day and night, you were nonetheless overjoyed to be able to accompany him like this.

Zayne was the one to plan everything ahead, always had been. However, you were constantly thinking about all that may happen, while you were both thrilled and anxious. This vacation marked a significant step forward in your relationship; how could you not pay attention to every little thing? You wanted all to be perfect so Zayne could enjoy an unforgettable getaway.

But such things might have to wait a little longer. Your eyes began to close around halfway through and after you had consumed all of the treats. You had a strange feeling Zayne was adjusting the seat to make you more comfortable. He softly touched your palm, saying something like, "Yet someone insisted that she wasn't sleepy..." Then you fell into a deep slumber.

After a series of short, strange dreams, including one where Doctor Zayne transformed into a big cat, you were awakened by a cold touch on your cheek.

“We're here.” Zayne's voice rang out, and all of your weariness vanished as you saw the small, lovely village stretch out in front of you, embracing the foot of the mountain. You hastily exited the car. The fresh wind carried the welcome aroma of grass and trees, making you feel delighted.

It was already past midday when you arrived at the resort. After a light meal, Zayne and you checked in. It was a modest room only enough for a couple with complete facilities, including a tatami-covered floor and a sleeping mattress for two people, known as a futon. The room was simply designed, yet it felt airy and close to nature. Zayne claimed that his prize included the most adorable suite at the resort, which was not an exaggeration at all. Large wooden and matte paper doors opened into the serene alpine view that surrounded the room. Outside was a steaming onsen, and the afternoon sunshine falling on the bottom shimmered like precious gemstones, so it was inevitable that it would be the first thing to attract your attention when you arrived. There was nothing better than being able to soak it up at night and gaze at the stars.

However, you briefly resisted the impulse to soak in it right away because when you opened the wardrobe, you discovered two folded yukata sets waiting for you and Zayne. It was no surprise since you overheard him discussing your clothing size with the resort personnel prior to your arrival. You turned your head back to peer at Zayne, who was averting his gaze, but his brilliant expression indicated that he had planned all of this for you.

The yukata he had chosen for you was light blue, embellished with white jasmine pattern. You enthusiastically tried it on yourself. But even with a handbook in the room explaining how to wear it, you struggled and failed to put it correctly. You sighed and requested assistance from Zayne on the opposite side of the folding screen which divided the dressing space in two.

“Doctor Zayne… I must have done something wrong…”

“Wait for me.”

His voice sounded out. A second later, he emerged from the opposite side of the screen. Zayne put on a yukata that was a much darker shade of blue than yours, dotted with a silver swallow pattern. As soon as you saw him, so perfect in the kind of outfit he had tried for the first time, you lost your breath. It was not until Zayne came closer to fix your dress that you recovered your composure.

“You've put on the wrong layers.” He said gently. “Let me fix it.”

Thus you stood motionless, arms wide out so Zayne could effortlessly alter your attire. Layer upon layer, one by one. It was not surprising to you that he was so skilled, given that this was your first time wearing a yukata together. Because, for you, Doctor Zayne's hands were a divine tool capable of assisting you in all you lacked. After your outfit was complete, the same hands assisted you in combing your hair and placing a jasmine flower on your head.

“How do I look? Has Doctor Zayne overdone it a bit?”

You inquired while glancing in the mirror. Behind you, he grinned pleasantly. “Not at all.”

You carefully brushed the fabric jasmine blossom Zayne had just placed in your hair. True, he had put a lot of thought into this trip. You turned around to look at him, mumbling a "Thank you" before rewarding him with a kiss on the cheek.

When the two of you arrived at the street, the sky was already tinted with dusk. You softly held Zayne's hand and moved in modest steps. You were not entirely comfortable with the geta that went with your attire. He wore a pair similar to yours, yet you were the only one who struggled.

The festival in this little community grew busier at night. Laughter breathed life into the desolate mountains and hills. The street was illuminated by lanterns, and both sides of the sidewalk were lined with vendors offering crafts, traditional games, and foods with inviting fragrances. As a result, after every few steps, you drew Zayne into a food stall to try it out.

You ate so many dishes that your tummy was full, leaving no room for supper at the resort. However, when you arrived at an old popsicle stall, you pleaded that Zayne try it with you.

"This is just like when we were kids, right?" You gladly accepted the popsicle from Zayne's hand. He sat next to you on a bench along the woodland edge, away from the festival noise. The aromatic popsicle looked quite good. You took a large bite and felt numb to the brain.

"Ugh…" You shouted. Zayne instantly reached out to rub your head and temples. He softly said:

"For what reason are you so hasty when there's a popsicle? Are you still a three-year-old?"

You pouted, stared at him and snorted loudly. Zayne softly squeezed your face and added:

“Slow down. With me here, you don't have to worry about your popsicle melting."

"Sure." You nodded. Your gaze fell on the mint-flavored popsicle in Zayne's fingers. Then, as fast as lightning, you leaned down and took a mouthful.

"You—" Zayne protested, but it was a bit too late. You giggled as your head became dizzy from a fresh brain freeze.

He grumbled and proceeded to rub your head. After consuming the popsicle, you stated:

“That's my revenge on you for pinching my cheek! How dare you?”

Zayne clicked his tongue and shook his head playfully. "It seems that no matter how old you get, the way you eat popsicles still remains.”

After that, he placed his thumb in the corner of your lips, softly wiped away the smeared cream, then lingered there forever. His gaze was unable to depart your slightly opened ruby lips. Zayne leaned down to taste the popsicle flavor that persisted on the tip of your tongue.

“Hmm… This flavor combined with mint… It isn't bad at all…”

After the festival, you chose to wrap up the day in comfort by soaking in the onsen outside your bedroom. You removed your yukata and wrapped a towel over your body before stepping out into the warm night, which was filled with luminous stars above. Zayne was already soaking in the hot spring, the moonlight casting luscious honey dews on his bare back as he turned toward the chamber. You approached delicately and sat down to soak your feet in the warm water first.

Zayne turned back to gaze at you. Iridescent drops poured from his hair and flowed down his dominant chest; every muscle fiber that was usually hidden underneath discreet layers of clothing was now displayed before your eyes, even the scars running along his arms. Suddenly, you realized that the water in the onsen was hotter than intended.

“How are your feet?” Zayne questioned as he approached you. The water solely reached his waist, where he was covered in a towel. You replied:

“I feel better now. Those geta are probably not for me.”

The sensation of Zayne's hand on your submerged feet startled you. He took your slightly red foot and gently rubbed it while keeping it under the water. He repeated the same thing with your other foot.

“By doing this, you will feel more comfortable,” said Zayne. You nodded firmly, eyes still fixed on his body. While he was massaging your feet, you kicked the water around, causing him extra soaked. Nonetheless, he simply wiped any water from his face and glanced at you in a patient manner, shaking his head slightly.

You giggled and continued to swing your leg harder. This time, he gently squeezed your ankle and said:

“Just now, someone complained about her feet hurting and insisted on being carried back here. Is she fully recovered by now? If that's the case, she doesn't need my care anymore."

His hands eased on you, yet you quickly wrapped your legs around Zayne's waist and pressed him closer. The bottom of the onsen seemed slippery, causing him to suddenly slide forward. He placed his hands on the ground so he would not tumble on you. His hot breath invaded your left ear. His body emitted a faint aroma of warm wood. Before your eyes, the water-soaked crook of his neck was revealed. Your nose gently rubbed against it.

“Who said she doesn't need your special care anymore?”

You nuzzled him, arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer. Zayne's breathing became heavier. He maintained his balance, although it was difficult to remove himself from you while you were this close to him. The sweet fruity scent emanating from you was which he had become accustomed to these past few days.

“You're using that lotion again…” Every syllable that escaped his mouth was like fire pouring into your ears. You said quietly:

“Since you seem to appreciate it so much, I…”

Before you could finish your sentence, Zayne seized your waist and lifted you off the onsen edge. You could only lean your body absolutely into his chest, legs clamped securely around his waist to keep from falling, despite the fact that he held you extremely firm in place. Zayne pushed his face against your neck, hungrily devouring the sweet scent flowing from there. His lips pressed lengthy, scorching kisses against your neck, shoulders, and chest.

"Z-Zayne…" You tenderly called his name. Your hand on his neck softly pushed him away. The thin smoke from the onsen veiled your vision, rendering everything as surreal as a dream. In the lake's heat and humidity, drops of perspiration and water ran from Zayne's temples to the back of his neck and torso. But no matter how much you resisted, he would not let go of you.

You lightly nipped his red ear. Only then did Zayne shift away from you, his expression showing astonishment mixed with a little hurt. Had he just done something that made you unsettling?

"Let me down first…" You murmured. Zayne held you with one arm, with the other hand softly drawing circles on the area of your back which was exposed from the towel. He tilted his head and whispered into your ear:

"This is also part of my special care. Are you certain you don't want it?"

His radiant eyes fixed on you, anticipating. You pursed your lips hard before deliberately pressing yourself closer to his body.

“Of course… I want it…”

The corner of Zayne's mouth curled up slightly. He walked to a deeper part of the onsen, allowing both of you to plunge into the water, which became hotter with each touch. He kissed you. It began gently, like calm water; but over time it grew more intense, as if he was slowly melting with you. You always possessed the ability of exposing his deepest emotions and desires. Only you.

For, if he could control it, then it was certainly not love.

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revelboo · 6 months ago

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He's here! A little shaken but in great condition! Another fun assembly~

I love the tiny mega vehicle...

Another TFO Star! My tracking fell off the face of the earth 4 days ago 🥲 He’s somewhere.

But aaaaaah!

No Strings Pt 2

Rainmakers x Reader

• Sliding you down into the box with the rest of your supplies since he’s almost sure you can’t climb back out, he heads back to his own transport ship. Can hear you chirping at him from inside the box, distressed at not being able to see out? “Sorry, but I’m busy right now,” he murmurs. Because he’s not sure he can pilot, keep a hold of you, and suppress his outlier abilities all at once. Not entirely sure what his toxic nature might do to something as soft as you are, but he can’t imagine it’d be good. Hears you rattling around in the box, chirping insistently and he reaches to tip the box, startling you as you slide, indignant eyes staring up at him when he fishes out Swindle’s little bottle and subspaces it so you don’t get into it by accident.

• Listening to the big monster grumble at you, his voice is low and gruff when he reaches back in and rubs a servo against your jaw. And the urge to swat him is there, but staying on his good side seems like a good idea for your continued survival. Stumbling when he withdraws his hand and the box rocks back down flat, you find and yank a blanket free to wrap around yourself, turning your attention on the rest of the stuff. And holy crap, is that a fun sized bag of Reese’s cups? Your captor had been force feeding you gray, tasteless bars and water. And he’d had candy the whole time? Another reason to hate him. Ripping open the package, you stuff one in your mouth and start digging through the rest of the supplies.

• Setting the ship on auto once he’s free of Swindle’s ship, he looks in on you and stifles a growl. Because he’d left you alone for barely a klik and you’d gotten into your training treats. Big eyes stare innocently up at him as you chirp your sweet nonsense at him and shove another treat in your mouth. So much for not handling you. Scooping you up, he shifts you to a thigh, gently tugging at the blanket you’ve wrapped around yourself and you tug back, giving up when he almost lifts you off your feet trying to get it away from you. Little shoulders hunching when he brushes a servo against soft skin, examining you. “I can’t believe Cybertronians are fragging you guys,” he says, venting softly. “You’re too fragile for that, aren’t you?” Tapping his servo against you to make you chirp and grab him. Of course, you’re just a gift. A little pet to hopefully distract Nova from his new duties. And the restrictions placed on their whole Trine as high-risk former Decepticons. Peace or no peace, outliers are an endangered species now. Monitored and tracked. Controlled. Touching the little leash dangling from your harness, he carefully unhooks it and you look from it to him. “I don’t like being caged or bound, either.”

• Deciding he’s not going to molest you, you turn and crane your neck toward the control panel. Breath catching when you see the window above you and the huge world you’re approaching. That’s not earth. You’d guessed that you’d been beamed up, that they were aliens, but having it confirmed sends tremors through you. How far from home are you? How can you get back when they can’t understand you? He’d taken the harness off, though and you flinch when he drapes your blanket over your head. Aware that those red optics are watching as you wrap it around yourself, because you’re so sick of being cold and naked.

• Head resting in his hand, Nova Storm scrolls through the list of rules and restrictions being levied on his trine. At least they’re not being outright imprisoned, but this isn’t really a lot better. Hearing the door to their shared habsuite opening, he vents. “We’re to report for monitoring implants within the next solar cycle,” he calls out, head lifting to see if it’s Ion Storm or Acid Storm returning. “Where were you?” Because sneaking off now? If it was noticed, their energon allotment will be cut. Again.

• “I thought we needed something to liven up our habsuite,” Acid Storm murmurs, shifting the box with you in it in his hands. He’d been toying with names the trip back, finally settling on Rain Storm since you’re as soft as rain. Hoping the name will help endear you to Nova as part of their trine, because they need something. Their purpose, their hopes and even their freedom slowly being stripped away. Watching Nova’s optics narrow, he reaches in and pulls you out, setting you on your tiny feet on the desk and Nova leans back with a frown. “It’s cute right? I named it Rain Storm.”

• There’s another one, almost identical to the big green one who’d taken you, but almost a burnished golden color. Twins? Can giant, alien robot monsters be twins? Looking from the new one to yours, it’s the frown on Goldie’s face that you fixate on. Because those alien faces are eerily human and you’re almost positive this one isn’t happy with you or Green. What happens to you if he won’t let Green keep you? Do you go back to the cage and the porn vids? Or do you just get turned loose on a strange alien world to fend for yourself. Terrified at that thought, you wonder closer to Goldie. Not knowing what they want from you, what’s expected, you reach and touch the back of his hand. “I really, really don’t want to go back to the cage,” you whisper, smiling weakly. “You’re warm.” Pressing your palms more firmly against him, because he’s a lot hotter to the touch than Green is.

• “Rain Storm,” Nova mutters, staring at those tiny little hands on his. And looking at his brother’s hopeful expression, there’s no denying him. You can’t be that much trouble. Chirping up at him, you bare tiny teeth at him in what almost looks unsettlingly like a smile. “Please tell me this thing isn’t sentient.” Relaxing when Acid shakes his head, because getting caught keeping another sentient as a pet? They’d lose what little freedom they have. “Alright, but you’re cleaning up after it.” Turning when Ion Storm returns, arms loaded with energon cubes and their brother pauses spotting the organic, wings lifting. “Come meet our new pet,” Nova says tiredly.

#transformers x reader #rainmakers x reader #acid storm x reader #nova Storm x reader #Ion Storm x Reader

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minibloggers111 · 11 months ago

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Nilkamal Bubbleguard offers durable and returnable transport packaging solutions for safe and efficient shipping. Our containers provide superior protection for your products while minimizing environmental impact.

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shubhamblog555 · 1 year ago

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Returnable Transport Packaging Solutions | Nilkamal Bubbleguard

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googlystan · 1 year ago

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Efficient Returnable Transports Packaging Solution

Discover Nilkamalbubleguard's efficient returnable transport packaging solutions.

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nelkcats · 2 years ago

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Help is just a click away

Danny was bored, it's not something new, the Infinite Realms were not the epitome of fun and the portals had been closed after the fight he had with his parents. It was safer that way, no one could get hurt, humans or ghosts.

That didn't mean the halfa couldn't miss them: his family, his friends, or the life he had before. All he had left were the ghosts, which was fine, but it wasn't enough. He felt unbalanced, unwell.

Clockwork told him it was because of his obsession, his obsession to help and protect was being fulfilled but only halfway. He had enough ectoplasm to last a lifetime but Danny was a human too, he needed to see the stars, to help people. He needed it desperately.

Clockwork noticed this and seeing that the boy could not return to his original dimension, he gave him permission to travel to the DC universe as long as he was careful. It was unlikely that they would attack the halfa there, they were all "special" and Danny would go unnoticed. But the boy still wanted to help.

So he formed a small business. He created a simple app and granted help to anyone who made a request. From saving a kitten from the trees to transporting very heavy packages.

It worked wonders and lowered his stress levels greatly. Danny thought he could get used to it, until people started making stranger requests and before he knew it, the so-called "Justice League" was at his door. Of course, he escaped, although that probably didn't help sell his innocence.

#dpxdc #immortal danny #he was bored #and missed his dimension too much #and felt incomplete #He missed his dimension too much #even if everything had ended terribly #Clockwork became his guardian #and tried to encourage him as best as possible #but it was obvious that Danny needed to satisfy his human side #so he allowed him to go to the DC dimension as long as he returned to the Realms frequently #Danny started his business almost for free and in a short time he felt better #until he was asked to save the world and stop a couple of military ships #He fulfilled the request without much problem #but apparently it caught the attention of the League #Danny escaped because he didn't want to be found out #Clockwork warned him that he would not let him enter another dimension if he drew attention and put himself in danger #dp x dc #dc x dp #The League is very worried #a supposedly harmless app became popular #simple requests were made most of the time #but someone desperate asked for something much more complicated #and the person in charge of the app managed to fulfill it #Jason wonders if he should ask for the Joker's death #Not all requests are accepted but maybe if he ask insistently

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oceantornadoo · 9 months ago

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nightmares and daydreams (best friend!johnny x f!reader)

some fluff for you all because i'm feeling sentimental...

not vegetarian friendly

you woke up in a sweat, the safe house clock blinking a red 0358 in the quiet night. you put a hand to your chest trying to calm down after your bad dream, a typical nightmare of a mission gone wrong. after a few minutes, the snores of your fellow task force has failed to calm you down, leaving you desperate to get back to sleep. abandoning your bed roll, you crept your way over to your best friend, the one who could make it all better.

johnny didn’t stir when you pushed back his blanket, already half-awake after the sounds of you waking up. he welcomed you in without protest, tucking you between him and his bed roll, legs tangling as you rested your hands on his chest. “‘s wrong?” he murmured sleepily in your ear. "bad dream about the mission." he hummed, pulling you in closer with his leg so every part of your bodies were touching. your heart rate was already slowing down, even more as you nosed the juncture of his neck, reveling in the scent of his body wash and natural musk. "tell me about it."

you opened your mouth to talk, but were rudely cut off by a whooshing in the air, followed by a pillow hitting the back of your head. "hey!" your anger was half-hearted, words coming out in a half-giggle. "shut yer bloody traps, sergeants. tryin' ta get some shut eye." ghost was at his most grumpiest when his sleep was interrupted, so you decided to pick your battles wisely. johnny let out a chuckle, closing his eyes once again as he curled into you. "sleep, bonnie, an' tell me 'bout it tomorrow."

when you woke, sunlight was streaming through the curtains. it was unusual for you to get to sleep in so much on a mission, usually operating in the early dawn. confused, you turned around the small house, noting packed bed rolls neatly lined up near the door. there was a smell of something delicious in the air, sizzling and meaty and...bacon? you shot up at the thought of not having to eat another MRE. johnny was outside, squatting over a portable grill, cooking bacon in the morning light. you quickly dressed and packed up your meager belongings, always prioritizing a quick exit if necessary. after brushing your teeth, the only real self care you could do in the middle of nowhere, you made your way to the outside campfire.

"mornin'." johnny was cheery, energized even after you interrupted his sleep last night. "bacon?" you padded over to his cooking area, noting a paper plate stacked with cooked bacon. "snagged it durin' rounds while ye were sleepin'. figured ye could use a pick-me-up before transport." you nodded, stealing a piece of bacon from the plate. it was warm and deliciously fatty, a welcome change after two weeks of packaged meals. you moaned at the taste, noting how johnny shifted with pride as he finished cooking the last piece.

"you know me too well. thanks, johnny." as the words leave your mouth, you question the truth of it. how he knows this about you when you've never even had a proper breakfast together, always whatever mess hall can scrounge up or something tactical. you've given up on guessing how he gets his intel, and shrug off the unsettled feeling as you find a nearby log to sit on, soaking in the last moments of peace before returning to the battlefield.

he plopped down next to you, manspreading as usual while balancing the plate on his thick thigh. such a purposeful move - making you touch him everytime you wanted a piece of food. "you're awfully toned down this morning." johnny knocked you with his shoulder. "ye told me i talked too much last week, bon. make up yer mind." you bit back a smile, eating another piece instead of answering.

"what happens when ye hav' a bad dream an' i'm not there?" the question was oddly deep, something you two never touched. "you mean if we're not on the same mission?" he shook his head. that already happened occasionally, being split up based on your different skills. this was different. "on leave. what do ye do?" you bit your lip in thought. "i guess...i'll put on a show. or just try not to think about it. takes me a while though, sometimes." he wasn't looking at you anymore, instead turning his gaze to the backyard and beyond. the safehouse was oddly in a beautiful area - backed by a lake, remote with. few entry points. the sun was peaking through the clouds, like it was a regular weekend at your cabin and not the start of another kill-or-be-killed mission.

"could be like this instead. if ye wanted." your brows knitted in confusion. "like...in a cabin? that seems like a lot of work for just me when i'm gone all the time."

"less work f' two." the bacon must have been drugged. that had to be the only explanation for him bringing this up. "two as in?" he snorted, taking the empty plate off his leg and making to stand. "steamin' jesus, lass. gonna make me spell it out f' ye? the two of us."

oh. oh. he was standing now, reaching back with a hand for you. you took it, standing slowly as if in a trance. he brushed off a crumb of bacon from the corner of your lip, thumb moving from your cheek to his mouth as he sucked it slowly. "i think i could do a cabin. potentially. but you'd have to be a very clean roommate." you didn't know why you were trying to push this platonic mirage as far as you could. over everything, he needed to remain your best friend. "sure, bon." he tapped your ass to get you moving, the sound of price's jeep coming up the drive. "whatever ye want t' call it. 's long as yer in ma bed after nightmares."

more best friend!johnny here!

to the anon that sent in a bsf johnny ask, i will get to it soon!! <3

#johnny mactavish x f!reader #johnny mactavish #soap imagine #soap smut #soap #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #tornadothoughts #soap call of duty #soap x fem reader #soap x you

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