#but literally its not that much like its not enough for a pot of people to live on

[guinevereslancelot]

bringing lilac boquets for my coworkers not because i like all of them but because i suffer from incurable are you mad at me disease

[avocado-writing]

hi!! I read your fics and I love your writing style! I was wondering if you could do something with a human reader, maybe she works in a bookshop or she’s a teacher? And it’s all cute because he finds her genuine??? Maybe some angst because she finds herself in danger? Idk sorry I’m rambling I just wanted something with a human reader 🧍🏻‍♀️💐

the place where the pages meet

logan howlett x bookseller!reader

4k words, rated explicit.

cocky!logan; awkward!reader; excessive book references; threat of physical violence (quickly averted); anti-mutant language & sentiments; smut (oral - reader receiving, penetrative sex). minors dni. thank you @saradika-graphics for dividers!

The sky is heavy with the promise of rain, and you suck your breath in through your teeth. It’s fifty-fifty on days like these: either people will seek shelter in your little store, or they’ll scurry away with the fear any purchases they make will get soaked and ruined.

God damn it, what kind of fool opens an independent book shop in New York?

You’re the kind of fool, apparently. Still, it’s your home, both figuratively between all the old paperbacks and literally with your tiny apartment on the top floor. Barely more than a studio, but enough for you. A piece for yourself carved out of this world. 

Outside it starts to pour. You sigh. Well, at least you know you’ll get one visitor today.

Charles, your dear friend and long-time financial supporter of your store, had called earlier to let you know that the usual face wouldn’t be coming to grab his order. It’s a shame, you like Ororo, enjoy sitting and sharing a pot of oolong with her on quiet days. Also she could have chased away this terrible weather for you. Ah well. 

“Who can I expect?” you’d asked. 

Charles had laughed, a warm and friendly sound. 

“Ahh, you’ll know Logan when you see him.”

You don’t know what you’d do without Charles. Between orders of rare books for his personal collections and en-masse copies of classics for the kids, he pretty much keeps this place running for you. Bless that man, honestly, because you’re not sure where you’d be without him. 

The sound of someone pulling up outside has you putting down your book and turning towards the shop window. 

A pickup truck parks up by the kerbside and you watch the man in the driver’s seat emerge into the rain. He cuts a fine figure, tall and strong, but you don’t get a good look at him until he walks through the front door. 

Oh no, you think, he’s handsome. 

Leather jacket now pocked with raindrops, very obvious white vest beneath it showing off his broad chest. He shakes like a dog to get the moisture out of his hair as he stamps his boots on the doormat, pausing only briefly to scrutinise its no admittance expect on party business slogan. 

“Logan?” you ask. He looks up and when his eyes first meet yours? Oh, a fire is sent down your spine. 

“Yeah,” he confirms, looking around to take in the place. You can’t tell if he’s impressed or not. He has a remarkably neutral face, careful, the sort of man who doesn’t want to give anything away about himself. 

“You’re… here for Charles’ books?”

He’s sauntering over to the counter now. Cocks an eyebrow. It goes right through you. Fuck. 

“That’d be me.” There’s a beat. “Why, you think someone’d try and steal them?”

“People can steal books!” you say, defensively. 

“People named Logan who you’re clearly expecting?”

You bristle, because he’s got you. Something flickers over his face for a second: a smile. 

Oh no, you think, he’s handsome and he’s an asshole.

Huffing, you fish the box out from under the desk and groan with effort as you lift it up. Logan takes it from your grasp as if it weighs nothing at all. Your fingers touch as you do. You try to ignore it.

“Thanks,” he says, easily.

“Mm. Mind the rain. It’d be a shame if you slipped.”

A proper smile crosses his face then, but he turns away too quickly for you to let it sink in. The bell on the door chimes as he heads back out into the rain.

Well, you hope you never see him again.

By the same time next week, you’re really hoping you see him again.

You’ve sort of not been able to get him out of your mind. He was kinda prickly, sure, but a welcome break from the mundanity of your life, and pretty good looking to boot. It’s probably just a pipe dream. You’re sure it’ll be Ororo again, and you can go back to the easy pattern of seeing your dear friend. That’s okay. You’re fine with it. Who needs a handsome man? You have your books, you have your store, you’re happy.

Yeah. You’re happy. 

Imagine your surprise, then, when you hear a motorbike outside your shop.

You must be blessed with street parking, because Logan pulls up right outside again. Same jacket, same well-worn jeans. He catches your eye through the window and you’re sure they glisten. You pretend to be engrossed in your book but it’s not fooling anyone, the words swim into soup on the page as you see him approach.

The door goes; he approaches the counter. Closer this time, you can smell him. Tobacco and leather. Fuck it’s good.

“You should wear a helmet,” you say, trying to be flippant. Logan lets out a single, solitary note of a chuckle from deep in his chest.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for your concern, though.”

You feel your cheeks heat up and try to hide it by looking for Charles’ order again. It’s a single book, a first edition you had to go through the backwater book depositories to hunt down. You’re the best at what you do, though, so it was no real problem. It’s why he always comes to you.

“Here you go. Let him know I’ll try and find the sequel if he’s interested, too.”

“Sure.”

Once again your fingers touch as you hand the book to Logan. No. No, this is too quick! You want to keep him here for a little while longer. He looks so out of place between the wonky shelves and hanging plants, it’s just perfect.

Your mouth tries to say two things at once: can you tell Charles I’ll have his other order ready same time next week, and, do you like to read often? 

Instead what comes out is, “can you read?”

You must wince when you ask the question, because Logan stands there transfixed. Baffled, just for a second.

“Can I… read?” he repeats slowly. 

I’ve failed you, I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t stop your mouth in time, says your brain.

“I didn’t mean… of course you read… I just… I didn’t want to assume… maybe you didn’t like books… erm…”

“Yeah, I read,” he says softly, as if you are an old dog and he is putting you out of your misery. You fucking wish he would. Jesus Christ, it’s like you’ve never spoken to another person before.

You can’t find a way to recover this. Your cheeks are on fire. You’re going to explode and burn down your store. Oh authors, you are so sorry for using all these works as kindling.

You expect Logan to turn on his heel and walk out but he… doesn’t. Instead he takes a step back so that he can look at the shelf nearest to the desk. Runs his fingers across the spines before picking one. It’s slim, no more than the width of his finger; he puts it on the counter and fishes his wallet out of his pocket.

In the Miso Soup by Ryū Murakami. You ring him up, punching the price into your old cash register, give him his change. His palm is soft as you drop coins into it. 

“See you next week,” he says, stashing both his book and Charles’ inside his jacket. 

“Okay,” you say, amazed you’re able to get any words out, and watch him walk away again.

He does see you next week.

The sun’s out, so he’s sans jacket, and oh fuck you can see how his arms are like treetrunks. The way this man has you reacting is unhealthy. You try and focus on the hardback in your hands but all you can picture is those veins which are bulging on his biceps, begging you to come and get to know them better.

“You’re always reading huh?” 

His voice makes you jump a little, you’re not expecting him to be so close. You look up. He slides his sunglasses up into his hair. Fuck it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Would you trust a bookstore owner who didn’t read?” you ask, bristling with the need to defend this little shop and your place in it. He holds his hands up in the universal sign of peace.

“Not an insult, just an observation.”

You sink back from attack mode, walls still a little high, but definitely coming down.

“How did you get on with the Murakami last week?”

Logan takes a moment to consider this, trying to piece his answer together in a way which won’t offend you.

“I liked it until the last chapter.”

You sit up in your chair. 

“Yes! A lot of people say that. It feels like it ends sort of abruptly, but if you just appreciate it for what it is, it’s a good book.”

He smiles a little as you speak. You fucking love talking about books, to a degree some people find absurd. You don’t want to babble though, so you force yourself to end your observations there.

Logan nods at the book in your hands.

“What are you reading now?”

You lift up your book so he can see the cover: A. S. Byatt’s The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye. 

“It’s very good! Byatt has such a wonderful way of writing. I love fairy tales and there’s such a wonderful voice in this one. They made the titular story into a movie a couple of years back, it’s quite good actually, it has Tilda Swinton in it.” You’re floundering. Don’t stray too far from the normal lines of conversation. Mouth, for fuck’s sake stay on course, begs your brain. It doesn’t. Instead you ask, “do you… like Tilda Swinton?”

Logan raises an eyebrow and you know this is a man who has never once had to consider the question of whether or not he likes the actress Tilda Swinton. 

Mouth still talking. MOUTH STILL TALKING, your brain screams. It’s true. It is. You were too busy being horrified to notice.

What your mouth says while being unchaperoned is, “There’s a little single-screen theatre nearby doing a showing of it this week, actually, do you wanna come with?”

DID YOU JUST ASK HIM OUT. DID YOU JUST ASK HIM OUT?!

Logan doesn’t seem to know what to make of that. He seems just as shocked that you’ve asked as you are. But then, just as you want to cast yourself into the street so that a passing garbage truck might take pity on you and sweep you away, he smiles. It’s slow, but it makes him look so much hotter.

“Sure, why not.”

Oh mouth you genius. I shall never doubt you again.

“Oh, okay, great! Uhh, are you free Friday?”

“I can be. What time’s the screening?”

“Seven. Meet me here at six-thirty?”

“It’s a date.”

Fuck, it is a date, isn’t it. It’s a date!

Logan stands there, awaiting something. You’re confused for a beat, then go up on your tiptoes, aiming your mouth towards his.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture… Charles’ book, honey.”

Hmmm, okay. Still time for the earth to just swallow you whole then, actually.

You sort of don’t expect him to turn up. You wouldn’t go on a date with you, all awkward edges and uncomfortable words. And he’s… the coolest fucking guy you’ve ever seen. 

Of course he won’t turn up. Of course he won’t. 

He turns up. 

He’s waiting for you outside the store, leaning against a lamppost, dressed in flannel and smelling like subtle cologne. You can’t help lighting up when you see him and hope you’re dressed suitably - your nicest pair of dungarees and a tight-fitting jumper. 

“Hey! You made it,” you say. 

“‘Course I did,” he replies with a little smile. Oh, you’re giddy. 

“C’mon, it’s not a long walk. It’s a nice night too.”

He lets you chatter as the two of you make the brief journey, content to have you talk his ear off about business and books. He’s happy to answer any questions you ask him about himself: what he does for a living, how he knows Charles, if he’s got anything else on his to-read list. The two of you skirt around the most obvious thing: if he lives at the mansion, he’s definitely a mutant. You can’t quite get the courage to ask him about it. Seems easier to just let it lie, so you do. It’s not that important anyway, you think, you like Logan, with or without any extra bits. 

When you arrive at the little hole-in-the-wall cinema, he gets the tickets and the popcorn and the drinks. You do your best not to feel absolutely pathetic by his side. Surely everyone here knows you’re punching above your weight with this absolute grade A specimen of a man? You’re so busy looking around the foyer to make sure nobody is staring that you almost don’t realise when he takes your hand in his.

“You with me, honey?” he asks, soft, low. You swallow thickly and nod because for once, you can’t find the words.

It’s not a very full screening, which is just fine, because you’re happy to be alone with Logan in the dark. You share a bucket of popcorn and a secret little thrill runs up your spine every time your fingers brush together. When that’s finished, he puts his arm around the back of your chair and you snuggle up against his side, cursing the damn plastic cupholder in the middle forcing you to keep a distance. 

One hundred and eight minutes. They’re not enough. You want to be here forever. But eventually the credits roll, the lights come up, and Logan has to pull his arm back; you hope the reluctance in the withdrawal of the gesture isn’t just your imagination. 

“What did you think?” you ask, standing up and stretching. Logan follows suit, mulling over the question. 

“It was… cute,” he decides. “I can see why you like it.” 

You beam. 

“I can lend you the book if you want. It goes into way more detail about the main character’s life at the start, it’s very stream-of-consciousness but I really enjoy it? It’s different to the other stories before it but definitely worth reading. I think that…”

You’re outside now, under the streetlights, fingers tangled easily with his, and when he stills you’re pulled to a stop too. 

“Hmm?”

He drops his grip on your hand so that he can put one under your jaw, tilting your head to get a better look at you. Your heart beats violently. He can definitely feel it. He knows. You don’t care. Fuck, he’s so near. 

“You talk a lot, huh?” he asks. It’s not unkind, the smile on his face is one of fondness, and all of your skeleton turns to jelly as you fucking melt under the affection in his gaze. 

“Please shut me up,” your beg comes out as a whisper, and he does. 

His lips are rough against yours, guiding, but sweet. The hair on his face tickles your cheeks. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him down to kiss him with more enthusiasm. This is not a public-appropriate display of affection, and someone honks their car horn at you both, but it just serves to make you laugh against his mouth and keep going. His hands slide onto your hips and hold you tight against him. Possessive. Wanting. Covetous. 

“You know,” he says when he pulls back for air, still running his lips along the line of your jaw to the hinge beneath your ear, “when Charles told me I should go and get those books, he said I’d like the person who runs the store. Didn’t expect you to be such a gorgeous little thing, though.”

You, gorgeous! Logan thinks you’re gorgeous! You could do a fucking cartwheel in celebration. You don’t though, you’d probably give yourself a concussion. 

His hand goes to his pocket and his brow furrows and, for a second, you panic. Has he started regretting kissing you already? Another quick kiss calms that down though, settling the simmer of worry in your stomach. 

“I think I left my wallet in the theatre. Hold on, I’ll grab it, then I’ll walk you home?”

“Only if you come in with me,” you breathe, and once again your mouth has taken the reins on that one. Logan huffs a laugh, a little incredulous, but mostly pleased at your gumption. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Okay.”

He leaves you standing there, feeling all tingly. This is happening. It’s fucking happening! Sometimes the stars align for a book nerd and a handsome guy wants to come up to their studio apartment. You thank Jesus, Buddha, Arthur C. Clarke - whoever is listening, they fucking deserve it. 

“You gonna fuck that mutant?”

The voice sends a chill down your throat. 

The trio of guys standing behind you do not look friendly. The biggest one, the one standing in the middle, sneers at your panic, crossing thick arms over a broad chest.

“Well? I asked you a question.”

You screw your courage to the sticking place, puffing up a little. 

“Don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you spit back, hoping that vitriol will deter them. It does not. Instead, they close in, hyenas around a cadaver. 

“Never had a human dick you down good enough, huh? Need a little help? C’mon baby, we’ll show you.”

He reaches out to grab your arm. You let out a noise of panic. 

At the same time, Logan’s fist collides with his face. 

The guy is sent stumbling back, spitting out a globule of blood. His friends step away with panic in their eyes. Logan moves in front of you, his bulk your shield, three metal claws extending from between his knuckles. 

Yeah. Mutant, huh?

“I think you were just leaving, pal,” says Logan in a voice which doesn’t bear messing with. The man bares his reddened teeth. 

“The fuck do you think you are, mutant scum--?!”

He lunges for Logan and the breath is sucked from your lungs when you see he’s pulling out a fucking knife, but another punch sends him flat on his ass. The blade clatters across the street and into the gutter. His friends grab either one of his arms and half stand him up, half drag him away.

“Shit, it’s not worth it—!” is their conclusion as they disappear into the night, shouting back expletives, blood trailing from their leader. Logan shakes out his fist, flexes his fingers; claws retract. He turns to you, slowly. 

“You okay?” he asks, hurriedly checking you over. You nod. 

“Y…yeah. Shaken.” you confess. 

“C'mon. Let’s get you home,” he sighs, and from the cadence of his voice you can tell he’s worried the night has been ruined. You place your hand on his bicep. 

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you still… will you still come up?”

He softens. 

“If it’ll make you feel safer, sweetheart.”

It does. 

And that’s how you find him sitting on your well-loved couch in between your needlepoint pillows, looking around your tiny home as you make a pot of coffee to share. 

“Jesus, you’ve got more books in here than in the store,” he mutters. 

“Well, some of them I couldn’t part with. I like them too much. And, as you pointed out, I am always reading.”

You look around at the shelves stuffed into your flat, the dozens of them holding hundreds of novels, plays, poems. You love them all dearly. They all hold a special piece of your heart, you can remember where you were when you read most of them. (Downstairs while manning the desk is often the answer). 

“Oh, even this?”

You can hear the smile in Logan’s voice. He’s holding up a copy of Fifty Shades. You scoff, rolling your eyes. 

“Christ, I read that as a professional courtesy to the art of bookselling. Got it for fifty cents at a thrift store. It’s crap. If you want some good erotica I can recommend…”

The sentence lingers unfinished. Logan raises his eyebrows. 

“You can recommend what, huh?”

The coffee is ready. You can smell its rich scent enveloping your little apartment. An idea forms. Creates a heavy anticipation on your tongue. Your brain screams at you. 

Locked. Loaded. Fire, mouth, fire!

“… then I’d recommend you take me to bed,” you say.

Logan stares, eyes wide. You’ve had an immediate effect on him. His pupils dilate. 

“I… honey, after earlier, I’m not sure if you should…”

You cross the room and sit on his lap, an easy feat when his legs are so thick and inviting. His sentence stops as you press your mouth to the pulse in his neck. Kiss. 

“I’m a consenting adult,” a kiss on his cheek, “who’s invited you into their home,” a kiss on his brow, “and is asking you to take them across their painfully tiny apartment and fuck them. If you don’t want to, that’s okay, but Logan? I’ve been game ever since you first walked in from the rain.”

He looks up at you to double check that you’re telling the truth, then kisses you with such ferocity that you squeak. 

You do not make it to the bed. 

He undresses you there on the sofa in the middle of your bookshelves, between Brontë and Austen, beside Carter and Rushdie. Your clothes end up in a messy little pile on the coffee table. It gets kicked and the pile of literary magazines slide to the floor as Logan moves to take off his shoes, letting you drag his jeans down and off of him, cupping his cock in his boxers.

Fuck. Thick, heavy, large, you want all of it. All of him. 

He leans you back against your kitschy little pillows with book quotes on them and pulls your dungarees off, an act both ridiculous and endearing. He catches your knee in his hand and begins to kiss up your thigh towards your underwear.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he presses a kiss to your sex over the fabric. He grins up at you from between your legs. 

“That was the plan.”

He fucks you with his mouth like a man starved, luxuriating in the little sounds you make for him, pressing fingers inside you without any effort at all. You cum all over his knuckles embarrassingly quickly. He looks sorta smug. 

“Baby, when was the last time someone took care of you…?” he asks, licking a stripe along your sex to taste what he’s done. You huff. 

“Too long. You gonna fix that?”

It’s a challenge and he takes it as one. You strip off his shirt, making sure to get a good feel of his muscles as you go, kissing his pectorals and abs just because you can. He slides inside you with one thrust, one of your legs in a crook at his hip; the other with its ankle resting on his shoulder. He starts moving and the couch shakes but all you can do is cling on for dear life to the crocheted blanket. 

“Holy shit… so fuckin’ tight… aren’t you just the most gorgeous thing…” he hisses. You reach up enough to tangle your fingers in his hair and drag him down for a kiss, sloppy and charged with heat. His hand moves in between your legs and you cum for the second time that night, hissing with satisfaction as he spills inside you. 

You collapse onto the sofa together, your heavy breaths harmonising. When he pulls back to kiss you this time it’s softer. With intention. With reference. 

“Uh, you know, they’re showing To Kill a Mockingbird next week. Maybe dinner beforehand, if you’re interested?”

He laughs affectionately and you can feel the rumble in his chest.

“Sounds good. You’ll have to lend me the book first.”

Fuck yeah. You’re never doubting your mouth again. 

Taglist: @falsewordz@malfoys-demigod@belilwen@mildly-salted@tvwebs@childeslegstrap@getmeoutofhell@s1eep-o@just-a-beatlemaniac69@yrthr@momopad@sugarplumz100@captainjinkx@madspads@acrosstheunivcrse@yeethaw13@na-is-salty@florduarte@hunterispunk@starfleetteddybear

[archangeldyke-all]

okay i’ve seen people talk about werewolf sevika but what about werecat sevika like she gives off such cat vibes she’s an introvert who so would love sitting by her window or on her porch watching things also i’ve always headcanoned that she literally purrs when you scratch her head so werecat sev just makes sense to me

YES i fucking LOVE THIS

this is what i think sevika would look like in cat form btw hehehehehe (send me cats u think sevika would look like too! i want to see all ur ideas)

men and minors dni

it all starts with a loose lab-cat. singed had pumped the thing with shimmer and underestimated its strength. he returned to the lab the next morning to a broken glass cage, quickly followed by hissing and hollering coming from the bar.

sevika stepped on the cat's tail where it had been sleeping beneath a table. in return, the cat sunk it's claws into sevika's calf-- four deep scratches running down her leg-- dripping half blood red, half shimmer pink.

singed told her she'd be okay.

he told her to go home and sleep it off and that she'd be fine.

singed is a fucking liar.

the next full moon, sevika turns into a cat.

not a panther, or a lion, or a fucking tiger or something cool. a fucking house cat. and a tiny one too.

she didn't tell anyone. who could she tell? singed would just try to strap her to a lab table and start experimenting on her. silco would probably just laugh. jinx might be her best bet if she wanted answers, but she fears that jinx would do something horrible like pet her or something.

so she just... deals with it.

the more full moons that pass, the more used to it she gets, and the more she can transform herself at will without the moon's powers.

she kinda likes being a cat. it's useful as fuck in the undercity, with all it's steep walls and drop-offs. it gives her crystal clear vision, even in the deepest darkest streets; it gives her great instincts, even in her human form, and...

there's nothing quite like finding a stray beam of sun and curling up for a few minutes to snooze on a peaceful day. both in her human and cat form.

which is how she meets you.

you live on a high floor of a big apartment building in the lanes. it's miserable climbing up and down the stairs multiple times a day, but the nice thing about it is you're high up enough to get some direct sunlight in your home for a good few hours a day.

you don't have a cat-- your landlord would kill you. but you keep a two little pots of catnip and catgrass growing on your fire-escape, a little tin of water and some tuna or chicken when you've got scraps to spare.

you've got a few cats that come to visit you a few times a week, all varying levels of friendly.

the white stray visits every afternoon to snack on your plants, sometimes bringing a skinny orange friend along with her. you let them be, watching fondly through the window as they groom each other.

there's a fat tuxedo cat that you know has an owner somewhere in the neighborhood, that seems to know when you set out food scraps-- always there in a flash to gobble them up. he's friendly as hell, meowing incessantly at your window until you open it up for him and let him come in to get pets for a few hours before returning home for dinner.

there's a new litter of calico kittens you've caught sight of. you think there's five or six separate kitties, but you can never keep track because they grow so and change so much between your sightings of them.

and then there's your newest visitor.

she's a unique cat, silver eyes, only three legs, her left front leg missing completely. there's blue scratches running down her left side, shimmering in the sun when the wind blows her fur away enough for you to see them.

and she doesn't eat any of your plants, or drink any of your water. most of the time, you come home and find her sleeping in a ray of sun. and every time when she wakes up and realizes you're home, the cat will jump up on your windowsill and simply watch you; her tail twitching occasionally in the wind, purring loud enough for you to hear through the little window as her silver eyes follow your every movement inside.

.....

sevika's fucked.

she's so, so, so fucked.

she's been fucking stabbed, twice, and she's loosing blood so quickly that she's starting to see spots.

the men who stabbed her are chasing her, and she's leaving a trail of blood right to herself. no matter how fast she runs, she's not going to lose them.

she's so woozy that she almost forgets that she's got fucking magical powers. she ducks into an alley and quickly transforms, before sprinting away. that takes care of those idiots beating her to death-- but it doesn't change the fact that sevika's dying.

she doesn't know where to go.

the last drop is way too far for her to get there before she bleeds out. she's got no friends in this neighborhood-- and people down here don't have the spare time, money, or sympathy for a dying street cat.

wait.

she knows someone who likes street cats.

someone sweet, and pretty, and always smiling and talking to her like she can speak human language. she can, but she knows your other cat visitors can't-- and it just makes her like you all the more- - the idea of you talking to some clueless cat, just like you talk to her.

she makes it to your fire escape just before her three legs give out.

and while her vision starts to fade completely, the clouds overhead move and a beam of sun shines down on her, the smell of your cat plants wafting over her as the wind blows.

well, sevika supposes. if i'm gonna die i guess this is the nicest place to do it.

you come home and find a dead woman on your fire escape... which isn't a total surprise in this neighborhood.

it's only when you go out to prod at her that you get really freaked out-- because she's not dead, just barely breathing.

you scramble to pull the woman inside your apartment, spreading her out on your bed and nearly throwing up at the sight of two deep stab wounds in her sides.

you've got some shimmer stored in your medicine cabinet in case of emergencies, and you quickly slide the liquid down her throat before scrambling to find something to stitch her side together with.

you aren't sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing when she starts blinking awake, groaning in pain and weakly trying to shove you away from her wounds.

"hey hey hey, wake up." you say, shaking her shoulders. she grunts and scrunches her face up. when her eyes blink open, your stomach twists.

you've never seen eyes that silver besides on the cat that comes to visit you. they're different on a person. much more attractive.

"uh..." you say, trailing off for a second suddenly realizing that the woman beneath you is very naked. and now that you're looking at her, the blue scars on her left side seem awfully familiar. you clear your throat. "uh, wake up." you say again, gently smacking her cheek.

she gasps awake when you start stitching up her second wound. "fuck!" she shouts. and then, she seems to process where she is. "fuck." she says.

you gulp. "uh, i'll get you a blanket." you offer.

sevika nods numbly as you-- the woman she's been shamelessly peeping on for the past year-- stumble out of your bedroom.

"i thought you were dead, honestly, and then you started moving and i got really freaked out. gave you some shimmer-- i hope you don't mind." you ramble as you walk back into your room, throwing a blanket over sevika. "is there anyone i should call for or...?"

"you're even prettier up close." she says. then she cringes.

fuck she didn't mean to say that. it must be the blood loss. and the shimmer. and your pretty eyes.

"uh..." sevika watches as you start to back away like you're scared, and she huffs before she gathers all her energy and transforms into her cat form. "what the fuck?!" you squawk as the woman in front of you disappears in thin air.

and then, a little lump under the covers starts to move.

and the three legged silver eyed cat comes crawling out, two new wounds on her side.

"what the fuck?" you ask, immedietly reaching forward to pet the cat in front of you. you don't consider that the cat is a woman-- it's your natural instinct-- you see a cat, you pet it.

but then the woman's back and your hand is in her hair and she's blushing all the way down to her tits which you can see because she's still naked.

"wha--"

"i'm sevika."

"hi, sevika." you giggle, slightly hysterical. sevika's blush gets even darker. "i'm--"

"i know." she cuts you off, then bites her lip in embarrassment and presses her head harder against your hand, like she's a cat. well, you suppose she kinda is. "i... sorry for stumbling into your life like this. i thought if i died as a cat i died in real life." sevika shrugs. "guess the whole nine lives thing is true, though."

"i don't--"

"i can leave, if you give me a pair of sweats or someth--"

"no!" you squeak. sevika smiles, and now you're embarrassed. "i-i mean... you're injured. you should stay until you're better..." sevika raises an eyebrow at you. "plus... you're kinda cute."

she grins. "as a cat or...?"

"fuck off." you giggle, crawling into bed beside her. "you've fucking... been watching me for a year! it's only fair i get to interrogate you, too, you creep."

"i-i'm not a creep!"

"you've seen me naked!"

"you didn't seem to mind at the time..." sevika pouts.

you can't believe how ridiculous this whole fucking situation is. sevika's blood drying into your mattress underneath the pair of you, but her skin is becoming more vibrant as the shimmer works through her system, flashes of pink sparkling in her silver eyes. she's practically purring as you scratch her scalp. you burst into laughter, and sevika grins up at you.

when you finally catch your breath, you shake your head and look down at the only sorta-stranger beneath you. "so, what are you... a werecat, or something?"

sevika groans before bursting into laughter with you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

[flippinpancakes64]

The Cullens with a reader who loves plants

All of these are a pre-established relationship but other than that it's completely open to interpretation

Edward:

An enabler

The first time he visited your room (that you knew of or not) he immediately saw all of your plants

The perfect easy gift

Most men give flowers, this man gives succulents

If he hears in your thoughts that one of your plants isn't doing so well or if there's one that you really want but can't afford it/ don't have space, suddenly you have a new plant

His room becomes your personal greenhouse

Not like he uses it for much else anyway

When you move in, he asks Carlisle if he can build you a greenhouse

Spares no expense

If he had his way your greenhouse would be bigger than the actual house

He will read so many books on proper care for plants and follow your instructions to a T

Man said its ficUS

Alice:

She loves seeing you happy

And if little cacti and bright flowers make you happy then she is all over them

She accidentally got a couple visions of you going to the same store and buying more plants before she really knew you

She saw it enough that she already knew that you loved them before really getting to know you

I feel like she used to have some plants but doesn't really anymore

Will buy a whole Home Depot's worth tho

Enabler yet again

When you move in she obviously helps you bring all your plants too

As a welcome present she buys really pretty matching pots for all of them

When she buys you new ones she also buys another one of those pots

Side note but I feel like her favorite plant is probably the lily of the valley

Jasper:

Is a little shocked when he finds out

He's never met someone with so much of one type of thing

Like yeah Edward has a lot of CDs

And Alice has a lot of clothes

But this is excessive

He can't even see the walls of your room

Wonders briefly if you're some type of creature that needs all of the extra oxygen that plants can cycle in order to live

He doesn't say anything though

He likes you, you like plants, so he will like the plants too

Is a bit skeptical when you move in and want to take all your plants with you

He already has to share the space with Alice and her huge closet and now there will be literally over a hundred plants?

There simply is not room

He'll try very gently to suggest that maybe you get rid of a few

That goes about as well as expected

So he just lives like this now

He isn't actually upset though

He's happy that you're happy

Rosalie:

Sorry not sorry she's an enabler

She doesn't need to go to the grocery store

Yet somehow once a week there is always a new plant in your collection

When you ask her she says she saw it while she was grocery shopping and thought you would like it

I have a feeling she cannot take care of plants though

You gave her a succulent once and it died

Literally a week later it was dead

She doesn't know what happened

You don't know what happened

All you know is that she is not allowed to touch your plants

She thinks they are gorgeous though

Will help you build a garden or a greenhouse once you move in

She likes to go out there and chill when you're not around

She loves the big leafy ones

And any with hanging vines

Emmett:

He's like the dad with the dog meme

Except with plants

He literally has never given them a second thought

Until you of course

Now he's over here like "yes I do like the pink pot better than the blue one for your money tree"

In all seriousness I feel like he'd have a HUGE green thumb

When you move in he's instantly offering to make a garden for you

Well, he says it's for you anyway

He's the one out there 90% of the time digging holes and planting bushes

He has a damn forest out there now

And I guess a couple of your plants too

Jk jk

He really took to it though

If you thought you were obsessed

He's even worse

Carlisle:

He thinks it's nice :)

Sort of in the "oh that's nice that they have an interest" sort of way

He's a firm believer that hobbies keep people sane and rounded individuals

And what's more grounding than the literal Earth and things that grow out of it

He'll never admit it is a lot though

Esme is the one who likes to decorate a lot

His office is filled with more utilitarian things, not so much decoration

Doesn't mean he doesn't like it, just that it's not what he does

He will say though, when you move in and he starts to notice some plants sitting on some of his shelves, he likes the color it brings to the room

Is another one who will happily buy you whatever plants you want

He won't take care of them though

Not because he doesn't want to or doesn't care, but he knows this is your thing

Esme:

She is a total plant girly

She does most of the interior design wherever the Cullens go, of course she takes care of the plants too

There are a couple plants in the house in the movies

I think those are hers <3

Obviously tho she does not have as many as you

But she will make it work

Y'all instantly bonded over your shared love

Another one who will buy you whatever plants you want

She can't help it when she's the one who wants them too

She would LOVE a garden

I think she would find growing vegetables and herbs to be really fulfilling

Even though she has no need for them

Maybe she'd sell them or give them away or smthn idk

But I also think she would love the quality time that working on a garden together would be

so romantic

Vampire! Bella:

Sort of indifferent idk

She thinks it's a bit odd but she has definitely seen weirder things

She does come from a family of pretty eccentric people

Overall though I don't think she would mind

She might use them as a way to get closer to you or as just another means of hanging out

If she notices it's gotten too quiet and she wants to hear you talk more, she might ask about a random plant just to get you talking again

Or she would suggest going to a plant store to hangout

I think she would be helpful though

Water, sunlight, make sure they don't die

She can do that much at least

She doesn't understand the appeal but she doesn't make fun of you or belittle you for it at all

Everybody has their interests

She doesn't mind

[immajustvibehere]

Amidst a Crashing World (2/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Summary: Arthur stops by at your cabin again and you serve him a home-cooked meal.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

! d/n stands for dog's name. So go ahead and pick a female dog name of your choice!

This is still a little bit of exposition, but I promise...way more fluff in the chapter to come ;)

Link to my masterlist

previous chapter

4700 words

Two weeks after Arthur had initially stopped by at your cabin for the first time, he decided to go again. But when he arrived in the early afternoon, he found the cabin empty. It wasn’t abandoned, he assessed, as he peeked through the window. There was a dirty cup on the table and a big pot on the stove looked as if its contents were cooking, as the lid sometimes wobbled a little. Arthur noticed an addition to your wall. In between your drawings that you had nailed to the wooden wall, you had pinned your own bounty poster. It was the same that Arthur had shown you the last time, though he was sure he used his to light a fire later that week.

He wondered why you had put it up there, since you had complained about the sketch not doing you any favour. Arthur agreed by the way, not that the sketch made you look ugly, it simply didn't look like you.

The horse tracks in front of your house were fresh and Arthur figured you had left only a few hours prior, probably for a grocery run. So, he waited.

He leaned on your fence and sketched your cabin. Then he sketched the nature surrounding it. When that was done, he explored the forest behind the house, mentally mapping the berry bushes and animal tracks he found. When he came back to your cabin, you were still nowhere in sight, so he plucked another tomato from your plant and then decided he'd head to the pond that's only a five minutes’ walk away. Apparently, he’d have enough time for a wash, and it was right to say that he needed one anyways.

It was an unusual hot and humid day, especially for so far in the North and close to the mountains. Arthur suspected he had taken the sticky air from the swamps with him. The sky was clear, though it smelt like rain. Arthur went into the pond stark naked, the water didn't even reach his chest, but he still started to scrub away with a little piece of soap that he kept on his travels. The path that led to your house wasn’t frequently used, he could tell by how far the grass had overtaken the earth that was occasionally trampled by horses or people. He didn’t particularly worry that people would sneak up on him or that anyone would walk past for that matter.

Arthur was busy with washing his hair, scrubbing days' worth of sweat and dirt out of it, so he didn't hear your horse approach. You had been quick to recognize the man in the pond and your grin grew with the shrinking distance between you. Arthur's head plunged under water about every other second to get the soap out of his hair. He didn't hear your first "Hey!", but when you whistled, loud and shrill, the man looked up surprised.

At first, Arthur’s attention was drawn to a Labrador Retriever standing at the pond’s edge, its tail wagging as though it anticipated this strange man to toss him a stick. Slowly, Arthur’s eyes went up and so he found you, leaning forward in your saddle with a cheerful grin on your face. You looked...different to when he last saw you. Your clothes were well cared for, even your jeans were cleaner than any he had seen in a while. A revolver was casually tucked into the waistband of your jeans. Arthur had probably been right about the grocery run, because your horse bore the burden of loaded bags.

It took only moments before Arthur’s face turned red. The poor man found himself taken aback, and before he could do as much as utter a word, you yelled: "Don't go killin’ all of my fish with that stink you’re carrying!" And then you rode on, the dog faithfully trailing behind. Arthur remained still in the water, feeling a mix of embarrassment, confusion and a hint of amusement…if only it hadn’t come at his expense.

Fifteen minutes later, he was dry and dressed and walked back to your cabin. The door stood wide open, and he saw you stirring the big pot. It smelt deliciously like stew.

Though the door was open, Arthur knocked gently, so he wouldn't startle you by entering. You gave him a quick smile before you turned to the pot again.

"I, uh...I hadn't expected-...", Arthur had thought it a good idea to apologize, but he wasn't sure why, so he halted. Then he noticed that you had prepared the table for two.  

"Oh, I didn't know you were expecting someone", he commented, slightly surprised.

"Oh yeah", you turned around with a playful expression. "Don't know if ya've seen him. Naked fella in my pond. I thought he might stay for dinner", you said cheekily. You really hoped he would stay. It was a far reach, but you were curious as to why he had returned.

Arthur took a moment to process your words. He stood still until he had pieced a meaning them together. A smile appeared in the corner of his mouth, mixed with some confusion about your hospitality. Last time you held him at gun point to make him leave...but now, it was like you had hoped he'd be back.

"Just...you might want to take the saddle off your horse. Half an hour, and it will be raining", you said, taking the bowls and filling them with stew.

"Rain?", Arthur walked to the door and looked into the sky. It was as cloudless as he remembered it to be. Though the air held a sticky humidity, and a decent wind swept through the trees behind your house, there wasn’t a single cloud in sight.

"Trust me. I've lived here for a year. The clouds are still behind the mountains, it's deceptive", you grinned, placing the bowls on the table. Arthur's eyes fell on the stew, and he felt his mouth water. This smelled and looked better than anything he has had recently, and he’d prefer to dig in right away. Unsaddling his horse would take a while and...as if you could read his thoughts, you interrupted them: "Can't eat it yet anyway unless you fancy getting your tongue burned off."

"If it ain't raining in an hour, I might take ya in for that 15 dollar bounty", Arthur threatened playfully. You only crossed your arms and mumbled a "Try me."

Arthur had all his stuff in the house in record time and the stew was still steaming when he sat down opposite of you. You had added two slices of bread next to his bowl and a bottle of beer. It was the bread that he took first, and he looked at you surprised.

"'s still warm", he commented.

"Yeah", you smiled, "Client of mine baked it fresh today. It was the last job before I headed back, so it's still warm."

"Client?", Arthur asked, but his full attention was now directed towards the stew. He dipped the bread to soak up some of the savoury juices and had to suppress the urge to sigh contentedly as he took a bite. It was undeniebaly delicious. Indeed, better than anything he had tasted recently.

"You think I make my money robbing and stealing people?", you asked with raised eyebrow.

"Mhm", Arthur nodded, not bothering to offer a verbal response as he was occupied with the food before him.

"I'm...a barber of sorts", you said, "You remember, don't you?"

Yes. He did, now that you mentioned it. You were quite talented with scissor and razor and frequently did the girls’ hair. At one point, even Dutch had trusted his hair to you for some minor trims. It was also useful to pickpocket people, he recalled Miss Grimshaw justifying your worth for a mission once.

"Only I stopped robbing people while doing their hair. It's mostly elders or women from Annesburg. Their husbands work in the mine, and they are in a bad state as it is. I'm cheap, but I do my work well and I have plenty of clients."

"Turned yer life around, then", Arthur mumbled, genuinely feeling a sense of happiness for you.

"Yes. So I hope you don't mind me asking why you've decided to march back into it", though you spoke kindly, there was a sharp edge to your voice.

"Wanted to tell ya that Dutch...I told him yer trail was cold and I couldn't find ya", Arthur explained. A hint of embarrassment crossed his features, prompting him to sit up straight as he noticed he had been slouching over his plate. He cleared his throat, "I think he believed me."

"Thank you, truly", you answered. A huge weight lifting from your heart. So, he did protect you, you wondered.

Arthur asked for a second serving of food, when a thunder rumbled so loud, that the dog jumped up in protest. "Told ya", you mumbled. A few seconds later, the rain began to pour down.

Neither of you said anything until Arthur had nearly finished his second serving. A little small talk followed about the dog, which was calmly lying close to the stove. You had an agreement with the farmer nearby, that you switch taking the dog. Sometimes he needed him for protecting the herd, at other times, you borrowed him for hunting. For the next week or so, he’d live with you.

After this had been discussed, silence ensued again. Then, out of nowhere, Arthur said: "I'm sorry for back then. When ya came to me and told me about yer feelings and I- ehrm."

"You don't have to be sorry for not feeling the same way."

"That ain't it. I was…having a rough day and I…my answer wasn't what yer deserved", Arthur said gloomily, his spoon scratching over the plate to gather the rest of the stew.

Then, he continued: "I really try being an honest man but that night…hell…ya can't even call me half a man the way I let ya down." Arthur chuckled sadly, as if he was remembering the moment.

"What're you saying?", you sighed.

"I'm sorry. 's all. I know I hurt ya a great deal and this wasn't what I wanted."

You nodded in acknowledgement.

"That night, I sat with Hosea and Reverend and we was talking ‘bout Mary…that's why I was a bitter…stupid boy when you approached me."

"Oh. How is she?", you asked drily.

"Mary? I saw her in Valentine a while ago. Needed my help for her brother or something. Not sure how that turned out because I walked away. I was just an errand boy for her."

Arthur was more often the errand boy than he realised. For example, getting you back to join the gang was an errand and had Arthur spent even a minute thinking about it, he probably wouldn't have done it. You exhaled: "Why are you telling me this?"

"I think you deserve to know."

You wanted to let your head drop into the stew. How grateful you were for the little piece of bread dough that you had been rolling and kneading with your fingers for distracting purpose. Otherwise you might have peeled chunks out of your table, because of how tumultuous you felt. Suddenly, the silence was deafening. All you heard was the rain pouring down on your little shack. It violently dripped through the roof in one corner and into the bucket that you had provided there.

Both of you had finished your meals. With a swift motion, Arthur took out a pack of cigarettes.

"D'ya mind?", he asked, already placing a cigarette between his lips.

"Only if you don't share", you said softly. Arthur offered you the pack and you picked out a cigarette. The man struck a match and held it over the table, patiently waiting until your cigarette was lit, not bothering at all that he nearly burnt his finger when he got to lightening his own.

Arthur stood up and walked to the window, a waft of smoke trailing behind him.

"Jesus...", he mumbled as he looked observed the torrential rain. Darkness settled in and visibility worsened with the downpour.

"It won't let up until later tonight", you said, shaking your head knowingly. Observing Arthur lost in thought, he pondered for a while longer in front of the window. Eventually, his gaze shifted to the wall and your heart fluttered as he seemed to thoroughly analyse your sketches.

"You've taken up drawing?", he inquired.

"Days can be long and lonely", you replied.

"Not with her around, they ain't", he added. You were confused at first, but smiled when Arthur knelt down to pet d/n. She happily acknowledged him, her tail wagging energetically.

“What is it with the bounty poster?”, Arthur asked. His hands were busy with navigating through the dog’s fur. You saw how much d/n enjoyed it, as she leaned into the pets. You had collected on of your bounty posters shortly after Arthur had visited you. Why? It was just a terribly corny way of remembering Arthur. The moment he had walked up to your door, you knew that months of trying to forget or get over him had gone down the drain. You might as well acknowledge that you love and want to remember him. But you couldn’t admit that, of course.

“Just to remind me what I’m worth”, you smiled bitterly, “15 dollars.”

“I’m sure you’ve done stuff that deserves a higher bounty”, Arthur cheered.

“Oh yea. I just don’t bother leaving clues behind”, you answered. Arthur didn’t say anything, again. His thoughts seemed to wander, until he pushed himself up on his knees and stated:  "I suppose I should get going then..."

"What? You take baths twice a day now?", you teased. The idea that you would send anyone away in this weather was ridiculous. Arthur looked at you puzzled as if he hadn't understood that you were inviting him to stay.

"It's alright if you stay tonight. I won't have you ride to town in a storm", you explained. Sometimes, plain words are the way to go, you figured. Especially with Arthur. Even though the last time you spoke plainly, it hadn't worked out for you.

"And ya won't try'n kill me in my sleep?", Arthur chuckled and nervously scratched his neck. He was still unsure about staying, despite the premise of getting soaked to skin wasn't nearly as inviting as staying in your cabin, which was still filled with the smell of the stew. Arthur wouldn’t be able to take one more bite, but it smelled homely and comfortable, nevertheless.

Arthur continued: "Last time you threatened to shoot my kneecaps off so-"

"Well, last time, you were an intruder, not a guest. And the news you brought today pleased me way more than the one you gave me two weeks ago."

So, it was decided then. Both of you quickly assessed the sleeping situation. Arthur would spread his bedroll, which had stayed dry - thanks to your warning - at the opposite side of the room from your bed. It was a dry corner and close to the fireplace. You only had one extra blanket to offer, which Arthur accepted gratefully. As it grew darker outside as well as in the cabin, you lit a candle which remained on the table and two lanterns. One of them you put on your bedside table, the other one was taken by Arthur and he simply put in on the floor next to him.

It wasn't that late yet, but you had been on your feet all day. You were exhausted and the steady rhythm of the rain was lulling you right to sleep.

There was no "Good Night" or "Thank you for letting me stay". Neither of you said anything if it wasn't necessary to discuss for logistics reason.

"Want me to blow out the candle before I go to sleep?", Arthur had asked and you had said it would be fine, it was small anyways and would only last a few more hours. The table in the middle of the room pretty much hid the sight of one another, but you still saw that Arthur was scribbling away in his journal, before sleep took over.

You awoke at some point in the night. The rain was still as violent as before, but the candle on the table had gone out. Arthur was asleep, you figured, since he had turned off his lantern. Sometimes, you imagined you heard a snore, but it was really impossible to say with the noise of the weather.

For some reason, you were wide awake. You felt the desire to say something, you wanted to whisper Arthur's name and have him wake up to tell him something. What exactly, you weren't entirely sure. You wanted to thank him for the earlier apology. Strangely, you realised as you stared into the darkness, it had provided comfort you had desperately yearned for. But you knew it was ridiculous to wake him for such a thing, so you simply turned around, facing the wall rather than the direction in which Arthur was sleeping, and forced yourself back to sleep.

Arthur only stirred the next morning when a beam of sunlight pierced through the window. The lingering smell of coffee was something he noticed, even before he had decided it was time to open the eyes and face another day. Given his lifestyle of frequently changing his sleeping place, he sometimes woke up confused. Normally it'd take a few moments for him to remember where exactly it had been that he had fallen asleep. This time, however, his sight fell on your bounty poster on the wall, and he remembered where he was.

Standing up with a grunt, he noticed that you weren't in the house. He also noticed that the early morning had gone, and the sun was already on its way to its zenith. You had gone outside, leaving the door open. In contrast to yesterday, the air had cooled down significantly and Arthur even felt a slight chill as his body adjusted to waking up.

There was a can of coffee on the table and two mugs, one dirty and one clean. Arthur figured that you have had your share of the brown liquid and the rest was meant for him. He thought for a second but decided to put the coffee into the dirty cup, though you apparently had used it this morning, Arthur figured that it'd save time doing the dishes. There was also a pan of milk porridge on the stove and since it also looked like half was missing, he figured that the rest was for him. But he'd rather make sure.

Cup in hand, Arthur walked out of the door. The sun was blinding, the grass wet but green. He saw you immediately, as you were in front of the house, brushing the wetness out of his horse's coat. Your horse stood next to you, looking a offended that you chose to care for Arthur's first.

"G'd morning", Arthur said.

The raspy voice made you smile and look up. Good Lord, the man looked…heavenly. His hair tousled, his shirt all over the place and sleep still lingering in his expression. Yet, with every passing moment, the sun worked its magic, gradually rousing him from his slumber.  You hated how much loved his appearance. You even despised yourself for hoping this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him like this.

"Morning to you, too. Saw the porridge?", you asked, barely spending time on checking the man out but rather focusing on his horse.

"Wasn't sure if it's meant for me", Arthur admitted and lead the cup to his lips. The coffee wasn't boiling hot anymore, but it had a fine temperature to enjoy and still gain some warmth from.

"Oh, I wanted to finish all of it but got sick of it pretty quickly. That's why I collected some berries, uhm", you pointed towards something, and Arthur followed your finger, finding another mug that was filled with some berries, "You can have the rest. I already ate some."

"Thank you", Arthur said, picking up the small mug and shaking it to have a proper look at the blueberries. His thank you sounded generous and kind, you thought.

Arthur walked back inside. He didn't remember the last time he had eaten breakfast. Like, proper breakfast. Not only coffee or a dry piece of bread. He loved the porridge you had made and enjoyed it even more with the berries. It didn't matter how much stew he had eaten the day before, shortly, coffee, blueberries and porridge had been devoured.

"Y/n", Arthur walked out. His hair had flattened a little and he seemingly had found time to arrange his shirt, "I'd fix that roof of yers, if ya let me."

You looked up surprised from your horse, which now enjoyed the same treatment Arthur’s had.

"You don't have to...I don't want to keep you...", you said, almost mumbling the second part. It wasn't true, because you did want to keep him around. Hell, for the first time in a year, you hadn't felt lonely tonight. Making breakfast felt like it had a meaning, if there was someone around to share it with. The last couple of months, you had barely bothered for trivialities like that.

"I want to", Arthur affirmed.

"Then I won't stop you", you smiled. Arthur turned away to walk to the little shed next to your house, but you added a question before his attention was fully on your roof, "Do you mind if I braid your horse’s mane?"

Arthur saw your big grin, and hell he couldn't deny you anything. If you had asked to keep his horse for good, he might have said yes.

"Won't stop ya", he replied.

The day was filled with chores. After you had tended to both horses, Arthur's now adorned with braids in its mane, you got around to cleaning the aftermath Arthur's roof fixing had inside the cabin. Then you said you were off to fish, taking d/n with you. It took you almost an hour to catch two decently sized fish and when you returned, you found Arthur working on your bedframe. It had been askew as long as you remember and you had gotten used to it, but God, your stomach fluttered when you saw him, expertly working the little saw that had rusted away in your shed.

"Not content with my furniture, are you?", you snorted as you laid the fish on the table.

"Sorry, I jus' thought...", Arthur stuttered and looked up.

"It's fine", you laughed, "Thank you for attempting to fix it."

"I'm not good at those things...or a little out of practice at least", Arthur admitted, stood up to have a look at his handiwork. The bedframe looked even, at least.

"Looks better than before", you smiled kindly. And if the bedframe was to break in two when you first sit on it, it wouldn't matter much. Arthur had cared enough to try and fix it.

His eyes now fell on the two big fish. He looked outside, to find the sun has wandered further than he would have expected, suggesting it was early afternoon.

"I should get going...", Arthur mentioned, more to himself than to you.

"You are telling me this after I caught TWO fish?!", you turned around, arms crossed. It had caught you a little bit off guard. Fishing had allowed some time to daydream and in that hour you had already prepared all the questions you wanted to ask him when you served him lunch. So that came like a punch in the stomach.

"Not because I don't want to stay", Arthur uttered, and you found his expression rather gloomy, "I told everyone I''d be back today...we're gonna hit a big score in two days’ time and I expect they want to go over the plan with me..."

"Oh..."

For a moment you thought about telling him that you'd help with the score, no matter what it was. Honestly, any excuse to be with him, be with other people. But you knew it probably meant running right back into Dutch's trap.

You watched sadly how Arthur gathered his belongings. His hat had found a place on the wardrobe and his jacket was neatly sprawled across the chair. In the span of one single night, everything had found its place like he had meant to stay for longer. But you knew that this was merely wishful thinking. Besides, even though you found your feelings for the man come back, you had to remind yourself that he hadn't reciprocated those feelings before and probably never was going to. Yet, he was a friend and a companion, and that, you reasoned, was enough.

You helped to saddle his horse, Arthur inspected the little braids you had worked into his horse's mane.

"Looks real fine", he mumbled.

"Thank you", you grinned, "I'll do your hair next time if ya ask kindly."

"What? With braids?", Arthur responded, looking at you with a comical expression.

"Sure", you grinned, watching as Arthur completed the final adjustments to secure the saddle and his belongings on his horse. He chuckled warmly at the proposition, as if the idea seemed somewhat absurd, yet there was a chance to convince him otherwise.

"Over my dead body, darl-", Arthur swallowed the last word as if he remembered it wasn't a good idea, "I'll stop by again."

"If you do, send word to Annesburg first and I'll have a meal ready", you said with a smile.

"Sure”, Arthur’s eyes fell on d/n as she excitedly circled him. She wasn’t sure if she was meant to say good-bye or if the saddling of a horse meant that she was to go hunting, but she was happy when pet her again.

“Good girl”, he scratched the dog behind the ears, “Take care of her, will ya? I don’t trust her being able to defend herself when a boar comes to steal some tomatoes off her precious plant.”

Despite it being your dog that he addressed so affectionately, you couldn’t help but blush. However, as you glanced to your tomato plants, you noticed a significant number of fruits missing. Yet, you forced a smile on your face and whispered a “son of a bitch” under your breath.

Arthur sighed happily and mounted his horse.  

"Good luck...with the score", you said.

"Thank you. It's Hosea's plan so I don't think we'll need much luck. But I'll take it", Arthur tipped his head and steered his horse away from your little cabin, not without a feeling in his chest that he'd rather stay.

When he had left you far behind, he began to undo the little braids. It wasn't exactly his style, though he couldn’t deny that they were beautiful. Before unravelling each one, he'd take it between his fingers and let it run through them, as if this was an excuse or a way to satisfy the urge to do the same with the fingers that had woven them. When Arthur realised this, he felt like a fool.

"You’re a moron...", he mumbled under his breath. He wasn't sure if he wanted to stay at your place because he envied the way you lived. That you had managed to escape from Dutch's crazy plans which became crazier every week. Or that your cabin was in a secluded and picturesque spot. He could see himself living there by himself. Or with you.

And yet, he had to open the braids because if anyone from the gang saw them, they might recognize your handiwork or realise that Arthur hadn't gone for stealing some pocket money out of idiots’ pocket. By lying to Dutch, he had prevented you to come back and take part in whatever insane score would be next. Arthur was proud of having you kept save, he knew it was the right thing to do. After robbing the bank in Saint Denis, the gang would have more than enough money to make an escape…maybe then he would be able to come back to you.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Next chapter: here

taglist: @photo1030

taglist for this series: @pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @twola @shiokitsune @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463 @yyiikes @renwai @walk-in-sunshine @rdrlady @ivybeeloved @trinswhimsys @reddedmiller @chiefqueefsosa @sauvignon-velvet @mrsarthurmorgan7

Thanks and kisses to @little-honeypie because we've been cooking this shit up together <3

[elizakai]

you guys i can’t take this anymore i need to release steam from this pot of killer and dust thoughts that’s on the stove

listen. if you don’t know by now. one of my favorite things to do is bridge narratives between fanon ideas, and canon truths hehe

Killer and Dust. The accepted dynamic is basically killer being a pestering little shit and dust being over it.

THATS GREAT ON ITS OWN it’s funny etc

but think about their ACTUAL characters for a moment. they are two sides of the same coin.

⬇️

i don’t want to hear any of that old fandom “they are literally the same” shhhhh. nuh uh dear friend, they commuted the same (general) action💥

their motives and situations are very different however! which is important when it comes to understanding a character

They both played into an opposite role in their world if you ask me.

Killer partners with chara, filling the role of the player. he’s a lot like flowey actually.

(in killers world, while he is still a pawn of this sick game, he gets manipulated after all, he has taken on the ROLE of the player. everyone else are the pawns.)

dust is against the anomaly of dusttale, which is that worlds player.

dust is a pawn. a pawn that is defying the player of the game

(in the same way that killer is still pawned, dust still uses his fellow “pawns” as a means to “win” the game, meaning he’s also playing)

(but again, i’m speaking role wise)

Killer and Dust’s dynamic doesn’t have to just be haha funny, it has some actual merit and potential to their characters.

Killer is constantly looking for new forms of entertainment. something new. he’ll get bored, and if he’s bored he’ll have to look at himself. killer is very much a character representing disassociation avoidance and to an extent, escapism (huh. like someone playing a video game?)

Of COURSE he’s gonna poke at people. it’s INTERESTING. it gets a REACTION. he gets to have that small power trip of being in control, after feeling like he lost control this is something that’s probably addictive to killer.

meanwhile dust…well. killer acts like his own anomaly in a way. he prods at him, toys with him, he’s leering and he takes pleasure in any reaction dust gives. dust probably would resent this feeling without really knowing why. he feels like some toy, and he’d probably be inclined to even interpret a genuine interaction this way.

this honestly makes dusts inclination to shut off or dull down any emotion make more sense. be as unremarkable as possible, and you’ll be left alone, right?

isn’t that…kind of what sans does? he’ll repeat same lines of dialogue and such when he reallyyy doesn’t have to. he’s being uninteresting. (and no he doesn’t need to remember everything magically for that to be possible. in game he will poke fun at past conversations and dialogue so he’s clearly aware enough)

Killer wants a response, so dust doesn’t give one.

killer wants control and feels like this is a challenge, dust feels cornered and defensive

if they had existed in the same world, it would have been killer vs dust in the end either way.

it’s a big old game of cat and mouse until someone snaps. they need to be given the opportunity to understand their similarities

even in an interpretation where they are in a healthier relationship, in whatever capacity, i think these mindsets would be conflict they may have….

to killer , on one hand he may be OFFENDED by his lack of response. he may be EXCITED, it’s a CHALLENGE. he might take dusts resignation as a sign of submission, which would give killer a HIGE power trip.

he might. genuinely just be trying to have fun?

it could be ENTIRELY lighthearted, and it’s still…rather toxic, considering where that mindset branched from

and we know dust won’t be inclined to say anything. he probably doesn’t understand his own feelings to be frank💀 he just feels gross and intimidated and cornered so he shuts off and sees killer as oppressive , and grows resentful regardless of intent, as these feelings only feed into his crippling self hatred anyways

….thats all for tonight-

[gilverrwrites]

Hello could you please do some captain boomerang headcanon fluff, I don’t see enough of it on here.

AN: I can and I will. Good fluffy vibes only today, however, if you would like a reality check, please watch the video linked at the end.

Rating: General (however, wanting for swearing)

Please remember: Everything you're worried about, is going to turn out ok.

Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Request Info

He’s not much for texting, much prefers sending voice notes. These can range anywhere from simple good night/good morning notes, the longest, most pointless, probably drunken rambles, jokes he stole came up with, or professions of love.

When he texts, it’s always in 90s/early 00s style and full of emojis that don’t quite mean what he thinks they do.

Cn’t w8 2 c 👀 u 🫵l8r 👄❣️🪃 X 🌫️ Gud nite mu 🫥 u4e lol 😜 🩵🪃 xXx RUOK 4 d8 l8r??? 🌷💦 CUL ❤️‍🔥🪃 X

Has your name saved in his phone as the most ridiculous nickname you can think of, probably also with a bunch of emojis.

Dependant on your personality, petnames would include a few of the following: Darl’, darlin’, babs, babes, baby (pronounced bah-bee), sweets, hon, peachy, lovey, peanut, or doll.

Whatever your least favourite is, he will use the most cause he loves winding you up.

Swears at you, a lot. But its affectionate.

He’s not used to people doing things for him, so he is massively grateful when you do like menial domestic labour for him.

You sewed up the hole in my jacket? You’re THE best, I can’t believe you would do that for me. You did my laundry? WTF? You didn’t have to do that (he’s been wearing the same unwashed boxers for 2 weeks, someone had to) how can I ever repay you babes? You cooked for me? (It’s literally a pot-noodle) You’re an angel, I’m not welling up, shut it.

He’s really good at like, enhancing 'easy' food. He’ll add egg and chives and stuff to his packet noodles, makes the best cheese and vegemite toasty, knows just how much oil and extra cheese to add to a frozen pizza, and has mastered box mix cupcakes. His favourite is chocolate.

Uses a 5 in 1 shower gel, if and when he showers, and you cannot tell me he doesn’t blast lynx africa and/or paco rabanne 1 million so he smells woody and spicy.

However, if you have fancy smelly products of you’re own, he will use them. Gonna treat himself with a good scrub and some large helpings of your shampoo and conditioner (this one’s got multiple products for their hair, posho!)

Doesn’t matter if you use products intended for a specific skin/hair type, it’s getting used.

As a nice bonus he likes doing it cause it means your smell lingers on him when you’re not together.

Won’t admit it but he also really likes it if you burn candles and/or incense.

If you’re close enough in size, he will steal your clothes. Especially socks cause he is always wearing holes into his own.

Gets all gooey and excited when you wear his clothes, especially if you’re small enough that they look oversized, and are visibly his.

If you’re inclined to wear flowy summer dresses, he’ll go feral. Also, a big fan of linen shirts/blouses and short shorts.

When he’s dressed causal he lives in shorts and filp-flops, even in the midst of winter. Or if he’s not leaving the house he’ll just wear his boxer shorts.

Is gone for long periods of time (prison, hiding out etc) so is very clingy when you’re back together, and doesn’t really have boundaries.

Will walk in on you in the bath shower to use the toilet, or to just sit and talk to you. If you ask him nicely, he will wash your hair. Might not do a good job, but he will do it. Has his arms wrapped around your waist at all times while you’re trying to do chores or are out shopping. If he wakes before you (a rare occurrence) he will just lay on his side, watching you sleep. Might get impatient and attempt to subtly wake you by gently brushing your side or nose, or gently shaking your body.

Normally sleeps way into the day, and snores, loudly. Often wakes with a hangover. And will practically beg you to make him a bacon an egg.  

Loves almost any and all brekkie food, bacon, egg, hash browns, pancakes, you name it.

Is not a cuddly sleeper. Like he can fall asleep cuddling, but he will start rolling around, splaying his arms out, kicking his legs. Huge bed hog.

Says his favourite films are action, gangster, or like bro style comedies. Think like: Road House, Indian Jones, Kill Bill, The Gentleman, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, The Hang Over.

If you put on a horror, drama, or rom com, he will not watch it with you.

But he will find things to do in the general vicinity. Or straight up do the dad thing of like standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed. If he’s not sat with you, he’s technically not watching it.

So like, which one is actually her dad? They don’t tell you but the writ- No no no, don’t tell me, I’ll figure it out, Don’t go in the basement, there’s never anything good in the basement, oh she’s only bloody gone and went in the basement! But… Barbie doesn’t love Ken. I’m not cryin, I just got allergies, shut up an’ watch your dumb girly film.

Has a stolen tattoo gun,wants to get matching tattoos, has pro for everyone of your cons. Ideally, he just wants names/initials in hearts, but will settle for more symbolic tattoos. Like a boomerang to represent him for you, and something similar for you.

Keeping any gift you’ve ever given him for life.

I made you a friends ship braclet. Eh, ya know its not my normal kinda jewellery. You don’t ha- No, fuck off, I’m gonna wear it forever.  

Would still love you if you were a worm. Hasn’t the foggiest what he would do with you. But he would love you.

Obviously gonna teach you how to use a boomerang. Even if you already know, he’s gonna show you the right way. Gotta make sure his bab is protected. (Don’t tell him that you find them impractical and are unlikely to ever use one when in need, he will sulk.)

Aforementioned video.

[magicxc]

Square Up

Pairings: Survey Corps x Reader - things they do that annoy you

Word Count: 1029

Warnings: none

A/N: You know what really grinds my gears? When people are cruising on the road at 8am. Bitch move over, I’m literally late for work 😭 

Lol that being said, here’s some everyday routines where I think the guys would be most annoying. 

Headcannons Masterlist

Eren - leaves the big pot to soak.

You’re thankful for the help you really are, but you’d be even more thankful if Eren didn’t half ass the job. Albeit some of those food stains are really stubborn and just refuse to move, but every time? Not even! One day you had put on a pot of water to bring some potatoes to a boil, eager to stuff your face with the fluffy goodness of your handmade garlic mashed potatoes. And sure enough when dinner was long gone there the pot sat atop the stove, unwashed, because it needed “to soak.” You get it, Eren hates doing the dishes but you might actually cry the day you walk into the kitchen and meet the sink empty. You've complained about it on occasion but truth be told it doesn't bother you as much as it used to. He's even gotten creative and started hiding the pots in the oven and you can't help but giggle, closing the door so as to keep his "secrets" hidden.

Levi - adds water to the empty soap bottle to make it last longer.

Levi lives a somewhat frugal lifestyle and it has everything to do with his upbringing. Thankfully he’s a lot less stingy than he used to be, but this habit in particular has been the hardest to kick; and you just about pull your hair out every time. It's not even like there's not enough soap to spare. It's mostly him getting the most use out of the lingering soapy particles as he can. Surely it no longer serves its protective purposes, no matter how sudsy the results are? You've  since learned to keep an extra bottle of personal soap in the cabinets for such a time, bringing it to the countertops once Levi has exhausted all efforts with the previous one. 

Erwin - loud eater.

It’s not even an Erwin thing to be honest, it’s a people thing. Slurpers, suckers, gulpers, they can all get it. Cause why? The only people who can actively change the way they eat are the open mouthers, so you don't even waste your time with the Commander. Some background noise on the tv or radio can help you through most meals, but it doesn't stop your skin from crawling at the idea or pause in noise volume. 

Connie - leaves a swig of juice left in the carton. 

This one blows literal steam out of your ears because what was even the point. If an 8 ounce glass of orange juice was just poured and there’s 2 ounces left, just finish the damn thing. You’ve heard excuses ranging from he didn’t want to because then he’d feel bad for not leaving you any to he simply wasn't thirsty enough the last gulp; but none of those ever make it better. Connie still does this but makes an extra effort to hide the carton in the deepest part of the fridge for when he’s ready to finish its contents. 

Jean - revs his engine loud as hell.

At first you thought it couldn't be helped until one day you had to borrow Jeans car to run a few errands. Then it all clicked. This mf wants to be seen. He wants people to know it's his engine with all that horsepower beneath the hood. He wants any chance he has to show off his sleek ride that he’s worked so hard for. Unfortunately it's all at the expense of your eardrums and now you only ride with Jean out of necessity. When you do ride with him, however, you make sure to roll all the windows up, not that it helps much.

Onyankopon - uses all the hot water after a shower. 

While it is annoying you don't mind this one so much during the summer time or the night time. But it just about drives you nuts in the morning and during the winter months because not only are you now running late for work waiting for some hot water to kick in but if it doesn't in time, now you have to suffer through a cold and uncomfortable shower. You've since started looking up the benefits of a cold shower but none of them has outweighed your comfort. So you've started showering before him, dashing into the bathroom as soon as you even think he's about to get in there.

Reiner - sets his alarm but never hears it. 

This one really does you in. You're not the lightest sleeper but you can definitely hear when an alarm is non stop ringing. You sometimes envy the deep sleep that Reiner manages to engulf himself in but then slowly remember that it's borderline dangerous. The only reason you don't throw a bitch fit is because y’all have similar work schedules, so the alarm also works in your favor. But he's definitely gotten the occasional pillow to the face or slap to the arm; not that he ever feels it.

Armin - gotta take a pic of every meal.

It's all about presentation with Armin. You can cook a pot of ramen noodles and he’d grab his camera if you fixed it up nice. Y'all are at dinner and the waiter brings the food by? Can't dig in until he has the perfect shot. Usually you don't mind, but his perfect shot takes at least four different angles and your stomach gets louder by the minute. You haven't found a way around this one just yet, so you instead endure the torture.

Floch - watches his tv with the volume level on ignorant. 

Why must the house sound like a surround sound movie theater you’ll never know. Action movies you understand. You'll even bite for thrillers. But anything else? It’s definitely up for debate. You can literally step outside on the curb of the street and still hear the entirety of the movie playing. You assume the loud noise is so he can submerge himself in the plot of the film but you’re running out of different ways to tell him to turn that shit down. The new rule now is nothing on the screens past 7pm if he can't watch it at regular volume.

Tags - @eveningatthemoviesnetwork

[dogandbooks]

Why Tumblr should love Kamala Harris

Based on things from her memoir The Truths We Hold

I am currently reading Kamala's book (which is excellent, by the way) and I feel like some people would appreciate her so much more if they knew this stuff.

Her parents literally met as part of the civil rights movement in the 1960s

She was brought to protests as a toddler, in a stroller, and her mom once had to run for safety while pushing her after counter-protest violence broke out

The first protest she organised herself was when she was still a child, to be permitted to play soccer in front of her apartment building. She won

She spent her weekends while at Howard University protesting apartheid in South Africa

She chose to become a prosecutor and then a district attorney and attorney general, and then politics, because of all the things she had protested and been an activist for - because someone on the inside needs to be there to meet the outside pressure and make the changes happen: 'When activists came marching and banging on the doors, I wanted to be on the other side to let them in.'

In her first campaign she would meet voters by standing outside grocery stores using an ironing board as a portable standing desk, with her campaign sign duct taped to it

'The job of a progressive prosecutor is to look out for the overlooked, to speak up for those whose voices aren't being heard, to see and address the causes of crime, not just their consequences, and to shine a light on the inequality and unfairness that lead to injustice. It is to recogise that not everyone needs punishment, that what many need, quite plainly, is help.'

She changed the law so that people who paid to have sex with children could be charged with child sexual assault

She asked the question 'What if we gave people education, training and support instead of prison sentences?' and then created a programme to answer it with success by every single metric, including reducing reoffending from 50% to 10% and saving at least $40k per person per year of taxpayer money. And graduates of her programme got their records wiped to help them succeed long-term. It became a nationwide model programme.

She supports legalising pot - and also doing the research to understand its effects properly

'We also need to stop treating drug addiction like a public safety crisis instead of what it is: a public health crisis.'

'It's one thing to say black lives matter. But awareness and solidarity aren't enough. We need to accept hard truths about the systemic racism that has allowed this to happen. And we need to turn that understanding into policies and practices that can actually change it.'

She advocates for police reform to counter systemic racism and brutality

She acknowledges that intense pressure from outside opens up space on the inside for change- citing the example of the Black Lives Matter movement on making body cameras mandatory - 'the movement created an environment on the outside that helped give me the space to get it done on the inside. That's often how change happens. And I credit the movement for those reforms just as much as anyone else in my office, including me.'

This is just from the first two chapters. I'll add more as I keep reading.

@wilwheaton this feels like something your followers would enjoy?

[skania]

OnK Chapter 149

I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me because I’m always complaining about Aka’s writing, but…

And I mean it when I say that I expect nothing 😭 This was literally my first ever OnK-related reblog and its tags are more relevant than ever lmao

These, too:

#honestly I didn’t think too hard about any of this during my first read #because the romantic endgame seems so obvious that it kind of discourages guessing lmao #but re-reading these chapters has made me appreciate Aqua’s side of his bond with Akane a lot more

Back when I first got into OnK, I mentioned that Akane was the entire reason I kept reading the manga. I didn’t care about the romantic subplot, found Aqua/Kana extremely obvious and predictable, and Aqua plain boring.

It’s only during my second read that I paid close attention to Akane’s interactions with Aqua and I ended up playing myself into both, caring about Aqua and shipping him with Akane lol

This chapter has made me realize that despite everything, I'm not emotionally invested in whether they end up together or not. I’d prefer it, obviously, because Aqua truly is at his most interesting whenever he’s around Akane, and their dynamic has the best development in the manga (so far).

But it’s just like I said before: If they don’t end up together, that’s just Aka’s loss, not mine. I’m just here for Akane 😂

And as an Akane fan, I feel like the best thing for me to do right now is to just take a step back and watch things unfold, because Aka will do whatever he wants regardless of how any of us interpret his manga lol

So instead of posting the long post I originally wrote about this chapter when the leaks came out, I'll just share a a clown gif because in hindsight it was silly of me to expect Kana out of all people to have any sort of meaningful insight into Aqua 🤡

And a couple of things that caught my eye because I can't help myself:

Kana didn't even see Aqua and Akane have any sort of meaningful moment, just those two standing in each other's vicinity was enough to make her throw herself a pity party. How many more times is she going to pity herself and give up? How has Aka not tired of writing her this way? Where did her development from the Scandal arc go? 🤡

So Chapter 147 featured Kamiki thinking Ai doesn't love him and Kana thinking Aqua likes her. It even had a helpful "Cut 139: Misunderstanding" panel and everything. Will this mean something? Who knows!

Kana used guilt-trip! It was super effective!

Oh the irony! Poor Akane looks like she's been hard at work convincing herself that she's over Aqua. And you know what? I cheer for her and respect her energy 100%. I'd rather see her doing her mightiest to help him without any ulterior motives than to have her crying for him and hoping to get back with him every other chapter lol

Akane calling Kana out for her pity-party and for being cowardly was so cathartic that if I didn't already stan her, I'd have become a fan right now 😭 It also means that Aka is 100% aware of the way he writes Kana, so when will she finally be allowed to grow?

Kana's praise to Akane made me so sad though because yes, Akane is pretty and she's talented and she's kind. That's sweet of her to say. But that's not what made Akane someone special to Aqua: it was the way she understood him. The worst part is that Kana ends her praise by saying that Akane is a "goody-two-shoes" but... that's the opposite of how Akane views herself. She sees herself as someone who's not decent and not normal. So it's no wonder that while she gets flustered (it's her dear kana-chan praising her), she seems to get a bit sad/frustrated afterward. After all, for Akane it's probably the opposite. Men would prefer a decent, normal, bright girl like Kana - Aqua included.

I wish someone would tell Akane that she is too ignorant of her own charms and that she doesn't have to act like an adult all the time. Truly the pot calling the kettle black! Sadly, unlike Kana, Akane seems to have no one in her corner in this manga. Aqua was the only one there and the poor guy is barely even a character anymore lol

Overprotective mother or controlling ex-girlfriend? Take your pick!

The English translation left something pretty important out in these panels. Akane doesn't just say "if you have a girlfriend", she says "if you have a precious/important girlfriend". This distinction is very important because it goes to show that... as expected, Akane doesn't think she was an important girlfriend to Aqua. It's like she didn't count and Kana would be the real deal. Oh, Akane...

Which takes me to her very silly, very convoluted yet very predictable plan (in true Aka fashion).

When Akane thinks “I know exactly what you hate”, I imagine she means that Aqua hates hurting and endangering those he cares for. So I'm guessing Akane thinks that if she plays matchmaker and quite literally throws Kana at him, someone he has a soft spot, then Aqua won't be able to go through with his revenge because that would mean breaking Kana's very fragile heart.

In other words, it looks like Akane is going to try and use Aqua's guilt-complex against him and her weapon of choice is love. But not her love, obviously, because as far as she's concerned, her romantic love already failed to save him.

Granted, using Kana's romantic feelings to her advantage is kind of... well, wrong. To quote Akane herself, [Kana] is neither her pet nor her property, but a person. But I'm guessing that Akane may be falling victim to the same loophole she got caught in in Chapters 96 - 98. She thinks she knows what's best, so she's putting her own beliefs aside for the time being.

Kind of like Aqua, actually.

And, ironically, it's Aqua himself who first realized how easy Kana is to use.

So! All in all, I'm here for Mastermind!Akane but I hope that Aka will actually make it worth our while. Will Kana realize that she's about to be used as a chess piece in this Proxy War? Who knows, characters in this manga seem to walk in circles, only being allowed to grow when it fits the plot 😂

Last week we wondered whether Aka would subvert expectations or go the predictable route, and down the predictable route he went. His way of making it less predictable is by including a twist in the form of Akane's ulterior motives, but will this be enough to allow this ol' used trope to lead us someplace new? I guess we'll have to keep reading to find out, but given the quality of the writing lately, I'm not expecting much lol

[danafeelingsick]

Hii I have an idea for 26 (kinda literal). Sickie is (almost?) non-verbal but v affectionate. So when caretaker wants to check if sickie is nauseous, caretaker will try to hug sickie or pet his belly. Sickie loves to be hugged by caretaker, but not when he feels sick. And ofc there must be a bad accident/illness one day.

Novemetober 2023 Rescheduled

@monthofsick

Prompt list | Masterlist | AO3 collection

Day 26. Nonverbal illness indicators

Word count: 1,1k~

CONTENT WARNINGS: descriptions of vomiting, tummy ache, tummy rubs, sickie is non-verbal (non-specified), sickie and caretaker are partners, implied relationship, A & B, caretaker is A and sickie is B, they/them pronouns for both

AN: i'm just going to pop back in with this and disappear again. i hope you like it! :) i love your requests and sorry for the wait!

“Morning, B…”, A greeted sleepily.

Sitting in the middle of the living room, B acknowledged them with a small nod, their eyes focused on the tv.

A found it odd they wouldn't turn to greet them properly, but chalked it up to B being sleepy and made their way to the kitchen to get their breakfast started. It was still odd, considering all they were watching was one of those variety shows A knew they didn't care about.

Sure, they hadn't thought much of it when they woke up and found the bed empty, B nowhere to be seen. They must've gotten up early, and didn't want to bother A on a day they could afford to sleep in. That had to be it.

B wordlessly scooted to the side, letting A take a seat on the sofa. Judging by the empty bowl they had seen inside the sink, A was fair to assume B had already had breakfast. Still, they left a bit of fresh coffee on the pot, just in case.

“Whatcha watching, B?”, they asked, setting their mug on the side table.

Eyes still locked on the TV, B grabbed the remote and brought down the program’s summary. Sure enough, it was some variety show in its millionth season, A was sure that B hadn’t a clue who any of these people were.

“And… you're enjoying it?” A raised an eyebrow, chuckling slightly. B simply shrugged. “Nothing else you wanted to watch?”

B held out the tv remote, willing A into taking it. This time they turned to finally look at them, and A quickly took notice of B’s frowny expression. Sure, they had the right to be a little grumpy that early in the morning, especially with such a nosy partner like A, but that just didn't seem like it.

“Oh? Are you sure you don't want that?”, A joked and B purposely wrinkled their nose, shoving the remote in their hand. A chuckled again, this time with a hint of relief that B was willing to play along. “A shame, I was *so* invested”, they added, leaning back.

It didn't surprise them that their partner hadn't found anything to watch, as soon as they started surfing past the channels, they grew bored. B, on the other hand, looked as if they were paying close attention to the few seconds they were allowed on each program.

A knew they would tell them if there was anything they wanted to watch but, after several minutes, B just seemed to withdraw into themselves. They leaned forward and crossed their arms firmly, their face pinched in a frown. It could've been A’s imagination, but it did seem like they had grown a bit pale.

“B?” their partner scooted closer, trying to take a better look at them. “Is there something wrong, honey?”

Despite B shaking their head vehemently, they curled into themselves, arms wrapped tightly around their stomach. A noticed they were shivering, their eyes squeezed shut and felt their heart drop. B looked like they were about to cry.

“Baby, are you in pain?”, A asked again, and gently pulled their partner closer. A slow touch on their back became a hug, and soon B was nestled in against their chest, fighting to hold back tears. “Is it your stomach?”

B hesitated, letting out a noise like a muffled sob, which prompted A to plant a kiss on their head, murmuring sweet reassurances. Their hands replaced B’s over their tummy and began gently rubbing it, trying to get them to relax.

“Does it hurt here?”, A asked, fingers slinking under the fabric. B shook their head again. “No?”

They felt B’s abdomen almost wince under their touch, as just the pressure of their fingertips was enough to cause them pain. There was a faint bubbling just underneath the surface, making A think the cause of B’s discomfort could be a simple indigestion. Although, their stomach was visibly upset, which threw A off when B denied feeling any pain.

A was about to ask again when they felt B’s hands began to pry their own away, trying to pull away from them. It was a process, B looked desperate to get away from them, but also seemed to be hesitant in applying any force to A’s fingers.

They understood it quickly and held their hands up, just as their partner hiccuped. In any other situation A would think nothing of it, but this time the sound was wet, almost suffocated by gagging. B scurried away from them, managing to lean over the edge of the sofa before they broke into a shallow retch.

A was only able to see their back as it began to heave, the sound of liquid splattering on the floor clueing them on what was happening. They felt awful for not realizing it sooner, but pulled themselves up, running to be by B’s side.

“B…!”

The poor thing continued to heave, fists holding onto the sofa as their stomach emptied itself, their whole body still shaking. A held them by the shoulders, going to brush their hair out of the way when they noticed the fresh tear tracks down B’s cheeks.

“Oh, honey… it's okay, I’m right here with you. I'm not going anywhere”, A reassured them, wiping their face with a thumb.

B shuddered, their face scrunching as they burped out a stream of stomach contents. A glanced at the puddle soaking into their carpet, noticing the bits of pale breakfast cereal and curdles of milk, and quickly looking away. They could do without that sight for now, instead focusing on B as they continued to spew more of it.

“There you go… get it up”, they encouraged, rubbing the side of their arm lightly, slowly so as to not overwhelm B even more.

B coughed as the spell began to taper off, drooling out threads of slimy bile still clinging to their lips. A held them as they worked through the last bits of bile, the sounds were grating to their ears, but A knew they were having it much worse.

“Shh… there you are”, A murmured, reminding them of their presence.

B sniffled, looking at the mess they had made. They couldn't hold back the tears any longer, everything just felt awful, they felt so sick.

“Hey, shh… it's okay, there’s no need to cry”, A told them, resting their hand on their back. “Come here, do you think you’re done?”

B nodded slowly amidst the tears, and leaned into A, letting them pull them into their chest. They hugged them tight, like they meant from the start, rubbing B’s back as they continued to sob.

“Honey, you should’ve told me you were sick”, A said, petting B’s hair. “Nevermind that now. We’ll move to the shower whenever you're ready, okay?”

B nodded, breathing in and out as they tried to calm themselves down.

[aspiringnexu]

Something I've never really understood is people comparing Star Trek and Star Wars. Not only because the genres are so different (sci-fi vs sci-fantasy) or the fundamental difference that is the absence of Earth entirely in the Star Wars universe (Star Trek is meant to be about a recognisable, if improbable, future, whereas Star Wars is a Space Opera a Long Time Ago and Far Far Away).

But the biggest difference I see is that the two are set in fundamentally different times.

Yes, yes, I know that's obvious. I literally just pointed out the 'Long Time Ago' bit, but bear with me.

Star Trek is set in a time where exploration is still the order of the day. The Alpha quadrant is still being explored, new species are still being discovered. The Beta and Gamma quadrants are the big new frontiers. The Delta Quadrant has one very hazily mapped squiggly line with a few gaps thanks to Voyager but even that small portion was chock full of New Things. The Galaxy is still divided and unknown with new stations and trade routes popping up all over the place.

Meanwhile Star Wars is old. Real old. By the time of the Clone Wars the Republic has gone through different eras. There was a golden age. It has come and gone already. Sure there are still the Unknown Regions but it is fairly fucking rare to come across a brand spanking new space-faring race or rival government. Coruscant as the heart of the Republic has not been outright attacked for a millennium by the time of the CW. The galaxy is such a hot mess of a melting pot that only the truly reserved and isolationist species are rare to see. Humans have been buggering about and propogating so much that now its impossible to tell where they actually all came from because Alderaan? Naboo? Corellia? All major human hubs, but you could say the same about dozens of other planets, and as far as anyone can tell, at least some of the near-human species are almost definitely genetically related to humans so there has clearly been enough time for some natural evolution after the space travel.

I just find it so interesting that people try to compare them when they are at fundamentally different stages of galactic development. Its like comparing the Wild West to the modern day. The galactic governmental structures and attitudes are so amazingly different and that is to the franchises' strengths.

Star Trek is about, at its most basic point, exploration.

Star Wars is about, again at its most basic, adventure.

Sounds similar? They are similar, but whereas in Star Trek the New Things are new, in Star Wars they're new to those characters, or at least new to the audience.

Kirk and Spock are exploring the unexplored.

Luke and Han and Leia are having adventures in an already clearly established society. They forging new paths in an already defined environment.

They're both also, coincidentally, fighting evil Space Fascists but that's just par for the course. I think something about space just Does That. The Void inspires assholes to go 'I can conquer those stars!' only for said stars to pull an uno reverse in the shape of a blond kid with little to no self-preservation skills but a knack for flying spaceships.

Something something space something something sci-fi.

TL:DR Star Wars and Star Trek are different on so many levels but the most interesting one is the fact they're represent galactic civilisation but at different stages. The 'fun, exploration, everything-is-new!' stage, and the 'established society including rampant corruption, unfortunately' stage.

I love 'em both.

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

The Strawberry, The Sheriff, and the Cartel Sheriff Beau Arlen (Big Sky) x PI!Reader

Chapter One: Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!

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~Before we Begin~

A/N: this is part one of an ongoing series. If you like the story and would like to be part of a tag list: please let me know, either through dm or comments. Still looking for a beta reader, dm if interested! :) Icons are by me! As always, any and all interaction is appreciated!

I really love Big Sky, even for all its faults. And to be honest, I was genuinely hoping for a season four. Since we aren’t getting that, I’m writing this. I’m no expert on PI/Detective work, but I’m doing my best. This is a work of fiction after all.

Anyway, I don’t want to spoil anything, so I’m not going to give any background and let the story speaks for itself. :)

Content/Content Warning: Nothing too crazy yet, but I’d rather a 16+ audience on this series for what might happen later. References to drugs and kidnapping. Cursing. Canon typical violence will occur.

~Without further ado, Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!~

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Who commits real crimes in Montana, anyway? I guess I’d always figured that there wasn’t enough of us to do so in the first place. But, as it turns out, no place is too small for shitty people. Go figure.

Part of me has always hoped for a big case. Something high stakes, something that might actually make me think. I had always been resigned to the throes of missing pets and cheating partners. Maybe a B&E or a purse-snatching here and there to spice things up. Sure, those are still crimes, but a kidnapping tied to a cartel?

Now we’re talking.

Wait. That sounds bad. Of course I feel bad for the victims, I’m not a jackass. It’s just that this is where things in my career finally get interesting. Where if I solve the case, I’m solving something bigger than Whitefish. Which would really make me feel better about myself, if I’m being honest. I don’t really feel like I’ve made a difference with any the cases I’ve solved. Sure, it’s good to see Mary-Jane get her cat back or tell Kathy-Lee that James was in fact cheating on her and seeing her so liberated after breaking up with him. But none of that is bigger than Whitefish, where I’ve been since I was born. I needed something important, something big.

And this certainly is that something big.

Something big enough that I’ve had to travel almost seven hours from my hometown to Big Sky. Bertha, my truck, needed to get out of the house anyway. But seven hours… damn. Especially considering Whitefish could be renamed ‘Small Town’- I don’t think I’d had driven more than two hours till then.

Something big enough that literal drug cartels were involved.

No one would expect Montana to have so many ties to cartels. It’s so random, right? I mean, who even thinks about Montana in the first place aside from hikers and outdoorsy people? I know I wouldn��t if I didn’t live here. But I guess that’s the draw for these weird mob families. There’s not much of a radar to be on up here.

Big Sky had barely cleared out the Bhullar family maybe six months ago. A friend of mine, a fellow PI named Cassie Dewell, had told me all about it. She had been involved; her friend Undersheriff Jenny Hoyt had been one of the major players in taking them down. But in the end, as I understood it, the family had more or less taken themselves down. Serves them right.

But when one pot empties you’ve got to fill it with something new, I guess. That’s where I come in.

See, I’m a PI because I couldn’t be bothered with the how rule-abiding proper detectives have to be. Rules don’t get things done in the justice system, in my opinion. I’ve seen too many people either go down or get off when they shouldn’t because of it.

Rules are good guidelines, but just that- guidelines. Something to guide you, but not something that’s always right. If you want to get things done, you need a little more independence.

But with that independence comes cases that folks in the Sheriff’s Department wouldn’t even have come across their desks. Like the cheating, or the missing pets. So be it: I get paid more; and anyway, sometimes the “dumb” stuff is what’s best to get you ready for the “good” stuff.

María Almería had been the one to reach out to me. Her and Felix, her husband; as well as her three kids, Anna, Josue and Carolina; are neighbors of mine. They’re good people, and I’m pretty close with the family. I like them a lot, from the parents to the kids.

Usually I get hunches about people- its why I’m good at my job. When Kathy-Lee asked me to investigate her husband, I could’ve told her off the bat that he was cheating. Not because I’d explicitly seen him, but for whatever reason I could read it on him. It’s like a sixth sense.

That sense must’ve been dormant every time I went to the Almerías’, though, because I had never once gotten a bad vibe about Felix. María’s husband was always kind, a good father- his kids would attest to that, a good husband- María never once had anything bad to say about him, and he actually carried his weight around the house. Cleaned dishes, did laundry… yes, the bar is low, but he is certainly better than most of the fish in the world’s hellhole of a sea. Not to mention that he was always genuine: never a bad word about anyone or anything, not even about cockroaches (those damned things are my mortal enemy). And you could see that genuineness his eyes, which are usually what gives someone’s story away if you know how to look at them.

Honestly, he was the last person I was expecting to go missing. I couldn’t even fathom the thought of him having enemies. With most people in cases like these, there’s at least one aspect about them that makes their disappearance make sense. Maybe it’s in how they act, or maybe it’s in the people they were most often around. I could rule out the first one: Felix has never had any senility issues, nor would be one to be prone to just run away from his family with no explanation. But that leaves the second option, the harder one.

When you know your client and the person that’s gone missing, things are immediately both easier and harder. Easier in that you know the client, and they know and trust you. Sure, that’s not every case, but in this case I was 99% sure that María nor her young children had anything to do with his disappearance. You’ve always got to have that slight doubt though, even if it’s just one percent. That’s detective work rule #1.

But in the same breath, it also makes it harder- the expectations and the stakes are higher. And also, you realize just how much you don’t know about people.

I had exhausted my every resource in Whitefish for a week, but there was absolutely no trace of Felix. María had even called him in missing to me before she could to the police- damn the wait 48 hours rule- and yet I still couldn’t get the jump on the blues.

The story was that María had taken her daughters clothes shopping while Josue was staying over at a friend’s for a sleepover. When they came home, Felix was gone. However, his phone was sitting on the table and his wallet and keys still on their kitchen counter, and the idea of him not taking any of those things was preposterous. He was one to always have them on him. That was why she called him in as missing after he didn’t return for a few hours. Her and her kids’ alibis checked out with both me and eventually the Whitefish Sheriff’s Department.

While researching Felix I had come across the name Bobby Ramirez. They had been in a news article together, set in Big Sky. And something about this Bobby, even from the pictures, didn’t seem right. His smile was just a little too crooked, his eyes betraying something stronger than mischief.

When I had asked María about his next of kin, she had said there was no one. But this Bobby looked so similar to Felix, to the point that I just had to ask. Apparently Bobby Ramirez’s real name is Roberto Almería, and he’s Felix’s estranged brother who lives in Big Sky. Never would’ve guessed.

Apparently the brothers had had a terrible relationship because, in María’s words, Bobby is “a nightmare.” I didn’t really get much more information than that, but the look in her eyes told me more than enough, along with the fact that she was visibly trembling. And the last time she saw him, before she even had kids, he had talked about going into a lucrative business (presumably drugs- fentanyl, maybe?) and promptly dropped off the grid. He’d asked Felix to join him and he had given a hard no, and I guess the falling out was so bad that the kids didn’t even know they had an uncle on their dad’s side. Once she had even gotten the feeling that Bobby could be involved in this, she begged me to back off. Even though her beloved husband was at risk, she begged me to back off. But I couldn’t: this family had shown so me far too much kindness in the past for me to just give up on Felix.

Bobby Ramirez apparently owns a repair shop in Big Sky. Bob’s Motors. Super creative, I know. It’s been open for about ten years- probably since around the time of the falling out. But from the shitty reviews online I have a good feeling it’s a front, since it’s still open, and the best lead I’ve got. María had mentioned that Bobby was in with a weird crowd, and that he was friends with Kory Jefferson. That’s where the presumed drug involvement comes in.

Kory, or KJ as he’s known on the streets, was and is bad news. He’s managed to weasel his way out of at least five arrests despite being a part of multiple drug cases. You know how? By being a CI for the police against his own employers in exchange for full immunity. It’s honestly impressive how many times he’s gotten away with the stunt, but I guess people wrongly figured him to be unimportant. Bobby being tied to him and Felix going missing just as KJ was buying mass property in Big Sky… it’s too much of a coincidence not to investigate.

Hence, the seven hour drive in the truck I’ve had fifteen years. Got it at the end of high school, a gift from my dad. But she was only supposed to last ten years. Emphasis on supposed to, cause my intention is to run her until she drops dead.

Thankfully my dad was a mechanic and he taught me how to fix just about any problem with the engine and the car in general. So, just like a truck that’s actually within its warranty, the only thing I usually have to worry about is me being a dumbass.

And a dumbass I am.

I had wisely decided to test the limits of the infamous last bar of gas- look, I only had to stop once so I was thinking maybe I could make it.

I thought wrong.

“Whoops,” is what I most definitely did not say when my car actually stopped just a few miles beyond the “Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!” sign. What I really said was a string of profanities so colorful and vulgar that I genuinely would rather not repeat them. I had smacked the hazards button, and then stepped outside and kicked the tire with enough force to almost break my toe, because one dumb decision wasn’t enough for me that day.

So yeah, that’s about where we are right now. I’m standing outside of my car with one hand on my hip and the other holding my phone, weighing my options. The nearest gas station is naturally twenty miles away, and one thing’s for sure is that I’m no marathoner. It would probably take me until tomorrow to get there. On the other hand, I could do the normal thing and call a tow truck. But if there’s anything my frugal mother taught me, it’s that you shouldn’t pay for anything unless you absolutely have to. I don’t necessarily agree with that, but it’s sort of ingrained in me, and in this instance, I don’t really want to call a skeevy tow trucker.

Of course; there’s always the third, very rational option: I turn into the Hulk and push the truck. Obviously that’s the most plausible of the three.

Just as I’m getting ready to be a normal person and figure out a towing service to call does a sign of life appear. Up until now, somehow, literally nobody had passed through this road. It’s another truck, burgundy and bulky.

I wave, my face still stuck in a scowl as the driver approaches. It rolls to a halt near me on the opposite side of the road, before the hazards flash and the driver steps out.

“Car troubles, I’m assuming?” a strong Texan drawl greets me.

“You’re assuming correctly,” I smile sarcastically, taking in the stranger. He’s handsome, classically so, and he sure does fill out those Wranglers. Looks straight out of a Clint Eastwood movie, sans the cowboy hat.

“What seems to be the issue?” he cocks his head cordially, taking a step closer. Normally I’d be one to back away, but I don’t have a bad feeling about this guy. He’s wearing sunglasses, so I can’t read his eyes, but something tells me I don’t have to.

“Ran out of gas,” I mumble, more than a little embarrassed to be admitting it out loud.

“Hey, we’ve all been there,” he assures me. “Do you want me to take you to get gas?”

“I don’t usually step into stranger’s trucks,” I tell him warily. As kind as he seems I can never be too sure. Ever.

“Well if it helps any, I’m the Sheriff around these parts.” He pulls his jacket to reveal more of his belt, showing off his Sheriff’s badge pinned to it. He taps it once, for emphasis. Oh, wait, this must be… “Beau Arlen,” he introduces, interrupting my thoughts. He outstretches a hand and I shake it. His hand is huge compared to mine, callused but still soft somehow.

“Your reputation precedes you, Sheriff Arlen,” I tell him, letting go of his hand.

“That so?” It’s endearing how he perks up at that.

“I’m friends with Cassie Dewell,” I explain.

“Oh! Cass is the best! How do you know her?”

“I’m a PI- we all know each other.”

“Huh, y’don’t say.”

“What, you sheriffs aren’t like that?”

“Can’t say we are.”

“Shame,” I say melodramatically. He chuckles.

“Can’t all be PI’s, now can we?”

“True that.”

“Soo, that ride?” he tilts his head towards his truck.

“Yes, thank you,” I say sincerely.

“Anytime.” I follow him back over the middle line of the road to his truck, where he opens the door for me and offers an arm to help me step up. Huh, chivalry. Refreshing.

He stars his truck and drives a little down the road to make a u-turn before presumably heading towards the nearest gas station

“So what brings you to Big Sky?” he asks, making small talk.

“A case, actually… it’ll probably be on your radar soon enough. I’m thinking cartel, not a hundred percent sure yet.” I decide to keep the details to myself; there’s just too much at stake here.

“Another cartel? In this county? Y’know the last one ended with the boy killing his pops. And the pops had left the kid for dead too. Not to mention that the daughter was a pain in our ass, moonlighting as a real estate agent… but don’t get Hoyt started on that Tonya ‘cause she still can’t stand the sight of her… sorry, I’m ramblin,’” there’s a faint blush on the apples of his cheeks, and it’s adorable. But frankly I don’t mind his chatter, he’s nice to listen to. I like how he gets lost in his own stories.

“No worries, I like listening,” I shrug. My dad always said ‘listening lets you hear the things you wouldn’t’a heard if you weren’t.’ It’s sort of a ‘no shit’ phrase, but it’s true.

“There’s a first- Cass and Jenny like to get on me for talking too much,” he muses, no offense in his voice.

“That’s ’cause they don’t know ‘too much.’ I once had a client who told me his entire life story from birth to present day,” I reminisce, not even hyperbolizing. “I learned all about the std he got from a prostitute back in the 60s at Woodstock, and about his five wives: Maryanne, Georgia, Gina, Kevin, and Sade.”

“Kevin?” he laughs incredulously, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look at me.

“Yep. That was during the eighties though, so apparently it doesn’t make him gay,” I laugh, knowing how ridiculous it sounds.

“Wait, what was the STD?”

“Chlamydia,” I answer, without missing a beat.

“Wow, you have a good memory, huh?”

“Just for cases.” Which is true: in my daily life I would probably forget my head if it wasn’t attached to the rest of my body. I genuinely couldn’t tell you what I ate yesterday, but I do know that at 11:25 am I booked the motel I’ll be staying at. You know why I know that? Because I had just made the KJ break. See?

“That’s damn useful in your line of work,” he compliments.

“Yeah.” We ride in silence for a little bit because my dumb ass can’t hold a conversation. It’s not my fault that my only friends are my mom. Well, and Cassie Dewell, I guess, but I don’t see her all that often.

“Okay, so the accent- Texas?” I ask. Trying to bring back the conversation.

“Born and raised,” he confirms, emphasizing his drawl. I smile at the effort. I like his drawl, it compliments the deep and roughness of his voice.

“Cowboy country, nice,” I say.

“Hey, not all of us are cowboys!” he defends playfully.

“The first thing I thought when I saw you was ‘cowboy,’” I tell him matter-of-factly.

“Touché,” he laughs. “Truth be told I was literally raised on a ranch, so I can’t really be talking. Y’know, I had a really nice dog named Juniper. She herded the cattle, while I would pretend to “help.” By “help” I mean stand towards the side, scared of getting stomped on cause I weighed little more than a plastic bag from the grocery store.” More stories- I have a feeling he could write a book.

“Puberty must’ve hit you like a truck,” I mused, referring to the last part of his story.

“That or the gym,” he laughs.

“You a gym rat, Sheriff?”

“More or less,” he takes one hand off the steering wheel to flex his jacket-covered bicep. I wolf whistle, and he laughs. He’s a very large man, from his stature to his statuesque physique.

“Is there even a gym around here? I feel like I’m in the middle of nowhere, and I’m from fucking Whitefish,” I joke, referring to the fact that the only signs of life we’ve encountered are the gorgeous trees bordering the open road.

“Preaching to the choir,” he smiles.

“So, why’d you stick around, then? I heard you were just an acting sheriff,” I inquire, wondering why the cowboy-or anyone, for that matter- would want to stay here.

“I’ve got my ghosts in Houston,” his voice turns subtly melancholic, telling me not to pry. So I don’t, knowing the feeling. “But back to your question, there is a gym,” his tone returns back to its lightheartedness.

“It’s abandoned, isn’t it.”

“Well, there’s me. And uh, me. And sometimes Denise, who I think just wants an excuse to see my ass,” he laughs.

“Denise Brisbane? From Dewell and Hoyt?” I only know the name, nothing more.

“Yeah, she’s sweet- she cooks for me too, even though I’m a grown ass man.”

“Someone’s got a fan club,” I tease.

“Population one,” he retorts.

“Well maybe I’ll see you or you and Denise there at some point.”

“I’d like that… hey, you’re not joining the fan club are you?” he raises a brow from behind his sunglasses.

“In your dreams, Sheriff,” we both smile, and sit back for a second, the silence less awkward this time, at least for me.

“Y’can call me Beau, y’know. If you want to, anyway,” he tells me, breaking the half a second of quiet.

“Mk, Beau it is.” I like the way his name feels coming out of my mouth. And what a fitting name it is… he is objectively gorgeous.

“Hey, I just realized I never got yours,” he says suddenly.

“Huh? My what?” I say confused. Look, the road trip’s got me exhausted.

“Your name,” he clarifies.

“Oh. It’s Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N- that’s a really nice name,” he compliments.

“Thanks,” I can’t help but be flattered.

“Where’s it from?”

“My dad- it was the name of some book character.”

“Cool! That’s a lot more creative than how my kid got named,” he laughs.

“You have a kid?” I ask, mildly surprised. Not that I think he’d be a bad dad after the half hour of knowing him, but just because since I don’t have kids I don’t usually expect people my age to either.

“Mhm. Emily- she takes after her mom, though.”

“You’re married?” I don’t see a ring, that’s the only reason I’m asking.

“I was.” There’s that melancholy tone again… something tells me there’s more to this cordial cowboy than meets the eye.

“Well in any case, Emily’s a pretty name for what I’m sure is a beautiful daughter,” I say, changing the subject.

“You callin’ me handsome?” he teases.

“All I’m going to say is that your mama was real on the nose with the name… Beauregard.” I decide to mix the compliment a little bit.

“You really think that’s my name?”

“No,” I confess, giggling.

“Good, I was hopin’ I didn’t come across as a”-he shudders comedically-“Beauregard.”

“Cmon, it’s not the worst name,” I chide.

“Well it’s certainly far from the best,” he retorts, and I shake my head with a smile. “Alright, we’re coming up on it now.”

I look up ahead, taking in the sight of this gas station that’s literally the only building in sight. It’s a bit on the dinghy side, half of the letters in the neon sign don’t work, so it says “De Ass Ton” instead of Del’s Gas Station. Go figure for this town.

But wait…

“What the fuck?” we both say in unison, taking in the sight before us.

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Until Part Two, dear reader! <3

[sparkplgggrrrrrrr]

Modern day Affogato AU

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✦ Characteristics:

For the sake of confusion, we’ll call this AU version of affogato „corpogato” because he runs a big ass company, obviously named Affocorp because he’d NEED his name plastered everywhere in the cacao kingdom, but in the modern day it would be called “The Cacao Republic”, as I believe it would be a communist country. The Cacao Republic is based off South Korea and Modern China. With the two cultures blending, representing the choco and coffee cookie descendants being in a cultural melting pot. This is not to be orientalist or mix two completely different cultures or ideas. The cacao republic faced a similar cultural revolution to China, heavily industrializing in its later days, and cacao’s leadership costed thousands of lives even if it wasn’t intentional. Many cacao residents suffered under said communism. For the conditions of these people, I referenced my own family’s experience in communism and stories I’ve read in books.

Affocorp is this mega corporation that started out as an unethical pharmacy, based on canon affogato’s link to medicine malpractice. At the time this pharmacy was called Affolabs, founded when Corpogato was just thirty. He has a master’s degree in pharmaceutical chemistry, so he is well aware of what substances do what, but he isn’t too concerned of the harm. The scientists backing him were apart of a union he started in secret, composed of underpaid scientists with a vendetta against Dark Cacao. Soon enough, they practically became his most loyal subjects.

Affolabs created pills that were advertised as pain medicine and antibiotics, but they were either placebo or hallucinogenic. Some even made the symptoms of ailments worse so they bought more. This “get rich quick scheme” seemed to work pretty well for the soon-to-be corporate giant, because corpogato got the “BRILLIANT” idea,, to look at other avenues of manufacturing. Keep in mind, this man is fucking evil. He’s not a misunderstood villain, he’s not morally grey, he’s EVIL. VILE. FOUL. PUTRID. So, he looked at the rise of online clothing shopping, and how people were just looking for affordable clothing. Taking advantage of this opportunity, he found a poor community, and took advantage of their labor. He set up a sweatshop, one of horrid conditions, set in the coldness of the northern cacao countryside. These workers had a terrible life ahead of them. Corpogato made their lives miserable, only working for a few coins an hour., yet the clothing was labeled as ethical, made from choco bamboo fibers or recycled material.

While he ran this hellscape, he set up his clothing brand extension: Affoexpress. Affoexpress was very much like what you think of when you imagine fast fashion. Think of it like Shein, Zara, or Romwe. Affoexpress, little by little, gained popularity, before exploding in sales with many cacao residents for its affordable prices. Many cacao residents are in poverty or at least close to it, because cacao cannot for his life manage the republic’s money, leading to a command economy. Corpogato jumped on this shit immediately. He took advantage of his preexisting close ties with cacao to “take his place.” He essentially began to expand the branches of his companies to manufacture more and more products until eventually he could make it so people could ONLY buy his products. As this plan took motion, he centralized his companies, it was now Affocorp. Each of his other companies were now just branches of Affocorp, so he could now keep a watchful eye on all of them. Corpogato had a stiff hold on his employees, he had practically a cult following on social media, and a quite literal cult underneath the layers of Affocorp. The cult in secret was very ritualistic, made up of Corpogato’s early team of scientists, who have slowly been brainwashed into unwavering loyalty. Affogato now with government power, as he did take advantage of his closeness with Cacao, bought properties, and housed his most loyal subjects. They viewed him as their savior, getting them out of the grasp of poverty, “saving their career” and now they repay him by practical worship. Corpogato made it get to a point to where they started to view him as a prophet of sorts, as Corpogato slowly laced their food and residential running water with the very substances they created.

Affoexpress started to sell more than just clothing, they began to sell cheap electronics and mini appliances. In order to do this, corpogato had to set up more and more factories, contributing to the growing air pollution of the cacao republic, leading the cacao citizens to go to his companies for medicine and masks to wear for protection from the air.

He essentially made the cacao people rely on his affocorp for every day life. Under all of this was something more sinister if you thought it couldn’t get any worse, corpogato was looking at oil drilling in secret, because once you get ahold of oil, you get ahold of the world.

_____________________________________________

Design choices:

His cult emblem, its central to his body because it is central to his existence, he cannot keep on if his cult cannot.

He was given soft curls as it was remnant of his milk ancestry.

His jacket was based off of his Silla Era hanbok in his canon design.

I imagine affogato has weak knees, as he probably grew up malnourished with a genetic disposition to low iron from a very young age, which can lead to various health problems. So his staff is likely functional, and that’s why I gave him a dripped out cane.

These pants are based off of the “Baji” or pants of the hanbok.

His eyes were tilted further to the center of his face to have a more direct stare, like he’s staring into your thoughts. I also gave him little blush marks because he’d likely apply that to appear more approachable and harmless. I also gave him a wrinkle thing that most older cookies have because this man is probably pushing 50.

If you use the sprite anywhere credit would be kewl

[pjisskullourful]

TO WORSHIP

🛐 Ethan × reader

NSFW🔥 adultsonly, love expressed in the filthiest fashion

° Ethan Torchio/female reader insert

wordcount:: 5,227

° “I love you no matter what you’re wearing, you are literally always the sexiest person in the world to me, always.” He told you. “But this confidence that you’ve got right now is absolutely irresistible. I just want to lay you down on that bed and see how much higher I can get this mood of yours.”

° commissioned by the absolutely magical& wonderful jace(@punk-gremlin) 💋 [there are 3 commissions in cue! secure your priority spot here!!]

° [ITA:] amore: love

AKA you buy new negligee & ethan really really REALLY likes it, really AKA your boyfriend finds a new, less verbal way of complimenting you AKA worship but make it unholy

The negligee was an outlier amongst every item of clothing that you owned. You weren’t used to how the lace and thin material felt against your skin. And you definitely weren’t used to how it looked in the mirror.

Ever since you had been old enough to have control over the things that you wore, you had been dressing in a manner that compelled people to call you a tomboy. You had never had any reason to take it as an insult. It was true that you selected clothes for their practicality, rather than taking the supposedly ‘prettiest’ option. You didn’t want to hear that you looked cute, your preference was to be told your outfit was cool.

Girly garments had never held much appeal for you. So when you had received the gift card for Pot o’ Honey on your birthday, your first thought was to spend it on the sex toys that the lingerie shop also stocked. You bought your underwear at department stores, that was how you got comfortable, yet affordable items.

But when you had stepped into the specialty shop, you had seen the discount rack before the toys. And hanging at the front was a short purple slip. With the fact that this was your boyfriend’s favourite colour present in your mind, you had approached and checked the price tag. When you saw the amount was less than half of the original price, and it could be covered by your gift card, the wheels in your head had started to turn.

You had been attracted to how different it was, especially to the scrubs that it felt like you were in 24/7. Walking away from the slip would have been sticking to the routines you had deemed safe. But Ethan had been helping you with spontaneity, showing you that unknown things didn’t always lead to disaster.

You had imagined that looking different could help you feel different. You wouldn’t look like a diligent, but drained, nurse. You could look like someone with different (more fun) priorities.

Before you had been able to talk yourself out of it, you had taken the lace-decorated slip to the counter. You set your sights on surprising Ethan, and didn’t give the other intimidating thoughts enough attention to grow.

Just try it, this was almost like a mantra you kept in your head. And it had been very effective in the past.

The apartment had been deserted when you arrived back, shopping bags in hand. Ethan was busy with Victoria today, giving you the chance to try on the negligee in complete privacy. If it looked absolutely awful, you would be the only one to know of the failure.

But it wasn’t a failure. You truly didn’t hate what you saw, eyes wide as you noticed how long it made your legs look. There was something pleasing about how the patterned lace decorated your tits. Unlike when you were dressed for work, you could see your waistline, its feminine curve.

It was new, and exciting as a result. In the past, you had worried that you wouldn’t look like yourself dressed in sexy lingerie. You had thought that you would have the appearance of a person wearing a costume, clearly playing a character to fulfil someone else’s fantasy. But that wasn’t the case with what you were currently seeing in the mirror.

You brushed your hair back from your face as you really took in the reflection. You were trying to figure out the best occasion to unveil this sexiness to your boyfriend. It had begun as a present for you, but you were thrilled for it to be his treat.

You were still standing in this spot when you heard the front door open. You froze, Ethan was supposed to still be at Victoria’s house, she had been planning to cook dinner for him. But it was late afternoon, much too early. You were too blindsided to know what to do.

You pondered running into the bathroom before he could see you. You could remove the nightie and secretly stash it away until you were ready for a grand reveal.

But you didn’t do this, you didn’t make any movements to hide. You were proud of this independently-sourced spontaneity. The way that you were feeling was good enough to share. The confidence was new, powerful and clear, you didn’t want to hide that from him.

You pushed your shoulders back, turning to face the open bedroom door fully. “Change of plans, amore?”

“Yeah.” He called back, still out of sight to you. “We were getting snappy with each other, so we figured that me sticking around for dinner might give us time to say stuff we could regret. Better for me to just leave.” Judging by the sound of his voice, you guessed that he was taking his shoes off in the entryway. “But she gave me money to order whatever I want from Uber Eats, so she’s still giving me dinner for my troubles.”

“I’m sorry it got tense.” You said. This wasn’t completely unheard of between the bandmates, for all of the time they spent together, friction could occur. Sometimes they bickered just like siblings, but you had seen them make up even quicker than things could go bad.

You weren’t entirely surprised that the day had ended on a sour note, due to his mood seeming less than pleased when he messaged you around lunchtime. In the process of helping her construct the flat-pack wardrobe, he had pinched a finger between two heavy pieces, complaining that it would need care from his favourite nurse. He wasn’t one to often complain, so you had offered to kiss it better.

His voice began to gradually get louder, suggesting he was getting closer to the bedroom. “It’s okay. I think she was embarrassed that we had to modify the wardrobe in the first place…”

This was a polite way of phrasing that she had accidentally bought a piece of furniture too tall to possibly fit in her home. He had been needed to saw off the bottom section, making the wardrobe fit to the house’s measurements.

“...so she was being extra sarcastic and catty to cover that up, or protec-... huh?”

It seemed that the sight of you made him forget his words. He stopped in the doorway, his eyes quickly moving all over your body as he tried to gather all of the available information. A smile lifted the corners of your mouth as butterflies rushed into your tummy.

“You look amazing. I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m very firmly supporting it and I would love to get involved.” He said, making you laugh. “Where did this come from?”

“You remember that gift card I got on my birthday, from Cami?” You asked.

“Remind me to thank her next time I see her.” He said. “I’m not making this weird, am I? I just, you’ve totally stunned me. It’s not even surprise, my mind is blown and you’ll have to forgive me for not knowing how to act.”

“You’re acting just fine.” You said, the pride swelling up inside you. “Not weird. Well, no weirder than usual.”

His admiring of you kept him from responding to your teasing. “How do- you look like you feel good.”

“I do. I wasn’t sure how I would feel, but it’s great. I think I look like a bad bitch.” You said.

Slowly he started to properly come into the room, approaching you. “No, you’re always a bad bitch, that’s your natural state. But this is a different side. This is bringing out something different, something ethereal.”

You believed him at once. The way that he was looking at you reminded you of when you had first met. You remembered how everyone in the room had been ready to pay attention to him, but you were the only one he was looking at. It had been more than a quick glance, you had caught and kept his eye. He had been so interested, looking like he wanted to memorise you.

He drew you in with that stare, enchanting rather than intimidating you. And you were feeling that even stronger now. It was passion before any touching had occurred.

“Thank you, I’m really glad you like it.” You said.

“Saying that I like this is quite the understatement, I love it.” He said. “In fact, if I could be honest and kind of crass about it- I was tired after leaving Victoria’s, a little sore and grumpy. But seeing you like this makes all that bad stuff go away. I’m definitely not tired any more, suddenly my dick is awake.”

You grinned as he held your elbows in his hands. Once close enough he nuzzled his nose against yours, his body heat starting to touch your skin.

“Babe…” You breathed, tilting your head to give him easier access to your mouth.

You pushed his loose hair back from his face, then eliminated the remaining distance between the two of you with a kiss. You draped an arm around the back of his neck as he relocated both of his hands to the small of your back. As your mouths worked together, you moved in closer to him.

“You shouldn’t get too carried away just yet. I’ve heard there’s a boo-boo on your finger that desperately needs to be kissed better.” You said.

He secured some more kisses before responding. “I couldn’t care less about a stupid injury right now.”

“Really?” You asked. His hands gripped your back with a more noticeable amount of strength as he began laying kisses down your neck. “Because I was gonna ask if you got hurt anywhere else, like your dick? I could kiss that better for you, really thoroughly.”

He looked at you, his brow furrowed. “Hold on, I can’t comprehend what you’ve just told me.” He covered your mouth in some quick kisses. “I’m malfunctioning…” He put on a robotic tone of voice. “Girlfriend too sexy, rrr…”

You laughed as he wrenched you even closer and you were breathless when your mouths met again. His arms tightened around you and he teased his tongue against your lips briefly.

“I love you no matter what you’re wearing, you are literally always the sexiest person in the world to me, always.” He told you. “But this confidence that you’ve got right now is absolutely irresistible. I just want to lay you down on that bed and see how much higher I can get this mood of yours.”

You were aware of how warm your cheeks had become, while your heart kept pounding harder. “You can do that.”

“I can?” He asked, a wide smile coming onto his face. “I want to make you feel as good as physically possible.” He put his fingers under your chin so he could guide your lips to his, a fleeting kiss this time. “Let’s move this over to the bed.”

He interlaced his fingers with yours and started to move you away from the mirror. All of this was so unexpected, his lust colliding with you and knocking you off-course.

And it was all happening so fast that you scarcely had time to think. None of your reactions were planned. Instead you were running purely on your instincts, acting according to what felt good.

It felt like you hadn’t had a chance to stop and catch your breath ever since he had approached the bedroom, setting his eyes on you for the first time. As he directed you to sit down at the edge of the mattress, you didn’t anticipate getting to fully catch your breath anytime soon.

More kisses were exchanged as he lowered himself down to the ground directly in front of you. He knelt and you parted your legs, creating space for him. You ran your hands through his long hair, the potential hanging in the limited space between you.

You attempted to prepare yourself for the moment when his passion overflowed, you didn’t envision him being able to hold himself back for very long. You shut your eyes as he kept kissing you, going from your mouth to your throat, then down to your mostly-uncovered chest. At the same time, he was running his hands up-and-down your sides, the fabric riding up and caressing your skin with him.

“Is it comfortable?” He asked, his eyes studying your face, perhaps looking for hints of something that you hadn’t expressed yet.

“Yes, amore, very. This is the kind of thing that some people wear to sleep in, so they’re designed to be comfortable.” You said.

“Good, so I don’t have to feel guilty for asking you to keep it on.” He said. “Because I’m not done enjoying you like this, in case I hadn’t made that so clear by now.”

You giggled before he covered your mouth with more kisses. His hands left your body and you were aware of the subtle change in his position. But you were unwilling to end the kiss to gain any more information. You just concentrated on how he lightly sucked your top lip.

You were still craving more when he gently pulled back. You noticed how he had taken the chance to pull his hair back, capturing it all with an elastic.

His eyes left your face, going down to your lap. You moved your hands to caress him, trailing the tips of your fingers along the nape of his neck.

He picked up the hem of the negligee and moved it up, exposing your panties to him. He began to bow his head down into this area. You kept running your hands over his skin, reaching your hand under the collar of his shirt to keep feeling him like this.

His lips met the skin of your upper-thigh. He moved slowly, one kiss following another, each in a new spot that took him closer to your cunt. You felt more of those wonderful butterflies in your tummy.

He didn’t go all the way up, stopping before he could reach the crease where leg became crotch. He looked up at you, instead of lavishing his attention on your other thigh.

“You’re so beautiful, you look like a goddess right now.” He said and your heart did a happy little somersault. “Can I worship you like one?”

Now you were the one at a loss for words. You had never had something like this said to you before. It was grander than any compliment you had ever heard.

You were too amazed to be able to figure out what this meant he had in store for you.

But you trusted him, nodding your head. “Yes, amore.”

He looked down, covering the inside of your other thigh with kisses. At the same time he reached his hands up, securing the material of your panties between his fingers. He started to pull these down and you lifted your butt to assist this. He dragged his lips higher on your thigh, his mouth opening so you could feel the heat of his breath. His hands went to your hips, firmly holding you here.

He reached the top of your thigh, then started to kiss his way inward. This unhurried path took him to your pubic mound. You began to rub your fingers along the back of his neck as he explored this area slowly with his mouth. You heard his heavy, dreamy sighs as his fingers remained tight on your hips. You watched the top of his head, feeling vulnerable but so secure.

He ventured his way lower, kissing and savouring every inch of you. Until he got to the spot where your labia majora concealed your clit. He used his fingers to ease them back, revealing his target.

He didn’t rush you to the next level of teasing. It felt like the natural progression for his kisses to now come to the hood. It was a gentle way to redirect your focus, inviting you to notice the responses that could be evoked from his lips encapsulating this peak.

You let out a soft moan when he began to suck on it. You felt the lovely start of pressure as he took the stretchy skin into his mouth, holding it with his lips. Your heart lifted and you dragged your nails against his skin.

You could feel a needy fire igniting in your gut as his tongue progressed to playing with your clitoral hood. The awakened nerve-endings reacted even more and you pressed a little harder with your nails.

He released your clit from his mouth. But this was only for a moment. There wasn’t time to catch your breath before he was kissing, then sucking on it again. He did this several more times, seeing how much he could get from this stimulating cycle, before moving on.

His next goal lay lower, at your entrance. He kept his steady fingers on your labia as he subtly repositioned his head. His tongue moved in a pleasing upward stroke. He hurried to repeat this, consistently gliding his tongue over this area, sampling the moisture your lust had already created.

You were feeling more than just a fire in your gut when he filled his tongue into your cunt. Now it was like steady-flowing lava, warming more of your insides. And you knew it was just a precursor (the strongest thing you could feel right now).

“Fuck, yes.” You whispered as he didn’t hesitate to push his tongue in deeper. You tilted your pelvis, one of your hands snatching for the messy bun that currently captured his hair. “I appreciate it when you wanna call me sexy and all of that. But this is so much fucking better.”

He acknowledged this with a moan, rather than taking his lips off of you for even a fraction of a second.

Instead of giving you any words, he worked his tongue against one side of your cunt. With the right amount of pressure, he massaged your inner-wall. You felt yourself growing more sensitive as you heard him make a slurping noise, his attempt at minimising the mess spilling over his lips. He switched the position of his tongue, affectionately tasting the other wall.

That lava moved slowly into your legs, encouraging them to lose their strength, and melt as he flicked his tongue up. He steadily wiggled it, his face pressed flush to your cunt.

He withdrew his tongue and swore under his breath. But he didn’t pull any further away. As you were feeling the tingles through your cunt, he brought his tongue back up to your clit. Your throat clenched when you felt his tongue move in swirls around the hood.

The mane on this man, you thought appreciatively as you gripped his hair into your fist. There was more than enough for you to hold onto as you sought support. Maybe in a clearer state of mind, you would have given him some sort of compliment. As it stood, the best you could manage was gasping his name.

He laid his hands upon the tops of your thighs, fingers splayed as he held tension in his impressive arms. It was a hint that you weren’t allowed to try closing your legs, even by only an inch.

He kept his tongue moving in those circles and you were ever-conscious of all of the blood that was surging into your clitoral hood. It made your whole body ache.

Before you could settle into this level of stimulation, you were feeling something new. One of his hands had left your thigh so that he could use a finger to work your pussy open. He pushed it in between your walls, still swirling his tongue on and around your clit.

Now the lava was pumping through your veins, all of your body ready to be consumed by this desire. When he started to pump his finger you slumped backwards, even more weak than before. He established a rhythm as your back reached the mattress. Your chest was rapidly rising-and-falling as more needy noises fell from your mouth.

He leaned forward, staying consistent with your pussy as you laid in this new position. His pacing in your pussy didn’t falter for even a fraction of a second - this hinted to you just how set he was on securing your ruin. You savoured the excitement, lifting your hips and starting to move them, joining his momentum. As your cravings reached a new (almost unbelievable) level, you put both of your hands to the back of his head, holding him exactly where you needed.

“Yeah, yes-yes. You’re really great at this whole worshipping thing.” You said, little moans that couldn’t be held back made some words sound different to your typical pronunciation.

He slightly separated himself from your cunt, slurping as he withdrew his tongue. He kept his finger in motion and you continued to feel the heat from his breath on your wet skin as he spoke. “Yeah? Am I making you feel good?”

“Fuck, yes.” You rasped, uninterested in stilling your hips.

“Tell me about it.” He said before covering your clitoris in kisses.

You choked back a sob. “You’re the best, the absolute best at eating pussy. It never, never gets old.”

“It doesn’t get old for me either.” He said. “I could probably spend fuckin’ days down here.”

“Ethan…” You whimpered.

“It tastes so good, and giving you pleasure like this- nothing is better than it.” He said. His finger didn’t stop pumping, while there were unpredictable flicks of his tongue against your needy clitoris. “I would love to tease orgasm after orgasm out of you. I can just imagine that incredible feeling of feeling it building in my mouth, on my tongue and drawing it out, over-and-over-and-over.” His tongue skimmed up again. “Until we both just pass out, I guess.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that you would do that.” You said, before remembering his tendency to take things a bit too literally at times. So you rushed to share an additional point, relaxing your hold on his head. “But you don’t have to, you don’t have… we can just concentrate on one orgasm.”

He quickly kissed your clit. “Yes, let’s concentrate on that.”

You felt more pressure in your pussy as he added a second finger into you. He moved the digits in an amazing rhythm, prompting your body to start clenching.

“Oh God, Ethan.” You cried. “I wanna come for you, I wanna come so bad. Please.” Your hands gripped his head with as much intensity as earlier. “Pl-please.”

His mouth covered your clitoris, treating it to tireless kisses. Some of these lengthened into sucks, which were followed by very brief releases. You rode the sensations higher-and-higher as he seemingly gave you everything that he could in this perfect combination of mouth, tongue and fingers.

“Please make me come. Please- like only you can.” You whined.

You were well and truly chasing your climax now, every inch of your body filled with lava thanks to his efforts. You had gotten reckless with how you were snapping your hips into his face. You gave all of your strength to these collisions.

And you were rewarded each time. The impacts radiated through your entire body, your system overloaded as your climax felt close enough to touch.

“Oh, Ethan.” Your nails pressed against his scalp, your hold on his head desperate now. “I’m- fuck, fuck.” Your eyes rolled back as you convulsed, while he alternately remained so consistent. “Yes, yes, yea-...”

Your jaw dropped open as you felt the source of the lava turn into an eruption. The climax arrived with so much daunting power that your mind went totally blank.

It was beautiful, it was perfect. (If you had a Hall of Fame for your orgasms, this would surely earn a place among the elite.). And it was all that you knew.

Your heart was still racing as you gradually began to come back into yourself. Tingles played through your body and you were yet to stop trembling.

You blinked your eyes open, making a sluggish attempt at reconnecting with reality. You found that he had finally joined you on the bed. But he wasn’t lying with you. He was reclined beside where your legs were splayed out, his eyes on your body with as much dedication as before.

You smiled when he spotted you looking. “Damn, Ethan…” If there were more eloquent things to say you didn’t know them, not yet.

He began stroking up the inside of your leg. “Was that magical enough for my goddess?”

“Oh, definitely. Magical, mystical, a religious blessing- just to sum it up.” You said.

“I was thinking…”

Your laughter interrupted him. “Well there’s a massive difference between you and me. ‘Cause there really isn’t much thinking going on in here right now.” You pointed to the middle of your forehead.

“There was that thing you said about cunnilingus being better than me telling you that you look great.” He said.

“Cunnilingus is better than most things, am I right?” You joked. “It’s more direct than words, far more intimate, too. Not that your compliments are ever unwelcome.”

His touch on your leg had gotten firmer. “No, it’s good for me to know your stance. Maybe going forward I should deliver all of my compliments directly to your pussy, we can just get straight to the point.”

You smirked, ready to laugh at your own punchline. “As opposed to beating around the bush?”

“Exactly.” He said, unable to fight back a little chuckle.

He rolled over to position himself closer to you, resting his front on the bed. You tried to maintain eye contact as he kept his head raised. He was still rubbing your leg and you couldn’t miss the way that he continued to stare, it seemed there were still things on his mind.

“For example…” He began as he wrapped his fingers around your thigh. “Maybe I could compliment you like this…”

Calmly in control, he moved your leg. He lifted it up, pushing until the top of your thigh could reach your tummy. You bent your knee, resting the leg here as his hands went to the other. He copied the action, raising both of your legs and exposing your cunt to him.

“Amore.” You said as you watched him settle into this space beneath you.

“Yeah?”

“Isn’t it your turn to be complimented?”

“Hush, it’s about you right now.” He said, using a hand to brace himself as he lowered his face closer to you. “And it’s okay if you can’t come again, I just need a taste of all of this wonderfulness.”

You were still recovering from how thoroughly he had just rocked your world. And before there was time to get your feet back on the ground, he wanted to whisk you away again.

It was more than you had expected, but you had no protests to make about staying in this state of bliss. You wondered if he would react as zealously each time you brought the teddy out in the future. You would have to be wise with how you used the lingerie’s power.

You supported your raised legs by holding onto the backs of your thighs. He introduced a new wave of heat into your body as he dragged his tongue across your pussy. In one thorough swipe, he went up from your entrance. You couldn’t help sighing as you felt the tingles strengthening again.

He seemed to be savouring every lick, moving slowly for maximum coverage of your labia. You believed that he hadn’t yet gotten his fill of your cunt. The way that he truly dedicated himself to your pleasure never failed to inspire awe in you, it was beyond anything you had known with past partners.

Your heart was swelling as you felt yourself floating away from reality. His tongue glided across so much of your cunt and you noticed that he was concluding every motion with his eyes on your face. His deep eyes did more than just look at you, he was beholding you. You considered that this wasn’t just about the teddy.

He pushed his tongue up with some more pressure, enabling him to get between your labia. The sensitivities didn’t need any time to be built, your heart quickly moved towards your throat in your excited reaction.

You felt how weak you already were, and knew he could increase this. You laid your head back on the mattress, letting him continue his careful and concentrated task.

He quit his swiping up-and-down, now keeping his mouth at your entrance, lapping at the wettest part of you. He slightly dipped inside, swirling his tongue for an exciting moment.

He withdrew to trace his tongue along the curves of your labia minora. He expressed his delight over your taste with a happy hum, which vibrated against your skin.

It made you think of someone enjoying a delicious meal and you smiled as you mimicked him. He made a noise that almost harmonised with yours. It might have felt silly in another context, but you let it serve as a testimony to both of you sharing the same goal. His humming was interrupted by him drawing a deep breath, then noisily licking his lips.

When he resumed, he laid his tongue down upon your clit. You gripped your thighs tighter as you felt the pressure increasing at your clit. You couldn’t help squirming when he started to wiggle his tongue against it, immediately taken with this massage.

“Mm?” His tone pitched up at the end, making it seem like a question.

“Mm-hmm.” You responded keenly.

There was no escaping the sensations, they were hitting you right at your core, bringing out shivers. Your breath got caught in your throat as he manipulated the hood with his mouth.

“Fucking… yes, yes Ethan.” You celebrated, feeling everything coming to a new peak.

He opened his mouth, resting his upper lip on your clitoris as he extended his tongue down. He dragged his tongue along your slit a handful of times, making you feel a fluttering in your inner-walls.

He brought the tip of his tongue up to your clitoris again, swiftly rubbing it from side-to-side. It ripped the strength from your body, cutting through the giddy tingles to dominate your experience.

You heard him humming more, appreciating your responses. But you were too excited to match him on it this time.

With an unexpected buck upwards, you came undone for the second time. Gasping for air, you fully surrendered to the release.

You whined, panting heavily as you let your body go limp at once. You didn’t have to ask him to take a break, maybe he sensed that you couldn’t take anymore right now. He withdrew from your cunt, going silent as you tried to pull yourself back together, not moving yet.

You were next aware of him moving into the space beside you. Your eyes fluttered open to see him lying down, facing you. He draped an arm across your tummy and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“So, does this shop have a reliable website?” He asked. “Or do I have to go in to buy you a bazillion gift cards?”

»»————-　♡　————-««  

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[dirtyhecker]

i'm sure this has been done already in the hours since these images came out, but i think i've got these companion bedrooms sorted

this one is definitely Bellara. everything we've seen of her so far, with the gyroscopey magical stuff, and that one concept art of her with that exact statue head, makes it seem obvious that this is her room. it also looks like she's into art, given all the paintings, and area rugs? what's with all the rolled up rugs, Bellara. i like her little daybed, and i wonder if her vallaslin are supposed to be for Ghilan'nain, given the halla decoration on the wall.

this one has to be Neve. she's got a whole detective conspiracy wall back there, sans the red yarn. there's some real organized chaos going on with the stacks of books, and the scrolls all over the place. i'm pretty sure there's a pot of tea on her desk, and i see several half-burned candles, despite the several magical lamps and pendant lights, not to mention the enormous windows and ambient Fade-light. i wonder if it gets dark out where they are? also her chair looks very fancy, but i don't see a bed anywhere.

this is Taash's room. they've said she's a gym bro, and there is a weight lifting thingy to the right, in front of that pillar. it's weighed down with sacks of flour, it looks like lol. i wonder if its functional, or just static decoration. i also see crates of weapons, and maybe some kind of forge in the bottom right? and right behind that is a pretty barebones bed. maybe she gets cold, because her bed is surrounded by fire. idk what's up with that table on the left, but everything else looks pretty sparse.

this one i think is Harding's room, but only by process of elimination. the metal bars in the window give dwarven vibes for some reason, but i also see a couple elfroot plants. there's a ton of plants, actually, all over the place, but i don't recognize the others. and there's that sad bedroll on the floor, though the rest of the room looks like my kind of place tbh. maybe it's from years spent as a scout, camping in the wilderness. i suppose this could be Bellara's room instead, but i doubt it.

i thought this was Lucanis' room, even before someone pointed out that it was a larder. i know the devs have said he's a good cook, but i didn't think he'd literally want to sleep in a pantry 😭 this makes me think he's just trying to be as unobtrusive as possible or something. there's also zero personal touches, like i zoomed in and that plywood cot is just surrounded by candles. are you okay buddy??

this one seems like Davrin's to me. he's said to be a monster hunter, and there's like a chandelier made of dragon horns or something up there? and a huge spine? plus multiple skulls of large beasts. i don't see a bed but i think it might be in that far corner next to the hearth. also there's a ton of wood carvings. so many. mostly bears and what look to be bobble-headed nugs, and at least one dragon. if Griffon Dad gives me a nug carving i will cry.

lastly, this has to be Emmrich's room. if the giant skeleton statue on the left wasn't enough of a clue, then idk what to tell you. there are basically the exact same ones in the necropolis, but much bigger. this does look like a laboratory, and an extremely well-organized one at that. i imagine Emmrich's bed is up that spiral staircase somewhere. i keep mentioning the beds because i need to know that these people are actually sleeping between quests, ok.

anyway, that's my professional analysis. i love you, goodbye.