#drizzle the duck

[sunflower-farm]

Summer 5th - More Birds! 🐣

Shane mailed me some stolen Pepper Poppers

Robin upgraded the coop its so big now theres an incubator also

Lemon Drizzle poked her head into the forest corner :) I love how theyre starting to explore :)

I went to Marnie’s and bought a duck (Key Lime Pie) and a blue chicken (Blueberry Tart)

I gave Kent a cheese because it was in my pocket and he liked it

Got my pickaxe back off Clint

I went fishing at the beach and got some magma geodes and a rare disc from chests (and lots of Halibut from the rod)

I didnt make it to bed though I passed out on the rug lmao

Photo of the Day:

Lemon poking her head out :)

[splattershotpro]

I didn't realize "super duper lucky lucky duck" was this season's rare title. I got it at the shell out i guess lmao because I have it, I just don't remember getting it at all

[rafeandonlyrafe]

golfing incident

words: 1.3k

warnings: reader gets hurt (but its not bad), established relationship, fighting/arguing (but its not bad)

“whats wrong y/n?” topper asks, placing a cautious hand on your shoulder as you are sat slumped down on the passenger side of the golf cart, a frown cemented onto your face.

“i don’t wanna be here.” you complain. you usually don't mind golfing with rafe. he drives you around and you get to watch and spend time with him, but when you agreed this morning to go, you didn’t realize that the day would turn dreary, sky a light gray with rain clouds threatening to spill at any second.

“baby, we will play a short game and then i’ll take you home.” rafe says, sliding into the driver side. 

topper hops in the back before rafe takes off, trying to tune out your conversation, not wanting to be part of whatever argument is going on.

“i wanna go home now.” you whine.

“don't be bratty, come here.” rafe holds his arm out, and you duck under it to press yourself into his side, burying your face in his shoulder as he navigates the cart with one hand. you are happy and warm against him, but too quickly rafe arrives to the first hole and gets out of the cart.

you cross your arms as you watch him, not cheering like you usually do.

“honey, if you keep frowning like that you are gonna give yourself a headache.” rafe says after topper takes his shot.

“i already have a headache.” you say. its only starting to develop, but you can feel the headache taking over. “and it's from you forcing me out here.”

rafe sighs, driving to toppers ball. once he’s off the cart and lining up his shot, rafe pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “i love you babygirl.”

“whatever.” you roll your eyes, but can’t resist rafe, even when you’re upset at him. “i love you too.”

“you gonna be good for the rest of the holes, yeah?” rafe asks.

“can i sit on your lap and drive?”

rafe sighs, but nods, willing to agree to anything to make you happy while he finishes the game.

you are satisfied with being able to steer the cart around while rafe has his arms wrapped around your center, but when it starts to drizzle, your attitude is officially back.

“this is miserable.” you whine.

“two more holes and then we are done. do you want me to make you a hot chocolate when we get home?” rafe asks, leaning in to you as he watches topper take his first swing of the hole.

“yeah, with whipped cream though.”

“and marshmallows.” rafe knows exactly how you like it, giving you a kiss on the cheek before going to take his swing. he curses when a sudden gust of wind blows his ball astray towards a patch of trees.

“thank you mother nature.” you call out, making rafe glare at you.

“its like you want me to do bad.” he rolls his eyes, still pulling you onto his knee to let you steer him to his ball, topper hopping onto the back just in time for you to take off, wishing he would have told rafe he had plans instead of having to sit awkwardly through your fighting.

“i do want you to do bad, then maybe you will stop playing this stupid game.” you don’t really mean your words, and rafe knows that too, the weather has just got you pissy, and once he gets you home and warmed up, you will coyly apologize and give him lots of kisses to make up for it. 

you slide off rafes lap as he gets out to hit his ball. you rest your chin against your fist, watching disinterestedly as he swings, his arms stretching back before hitting the ball forward, sending it right into a tree trunk he meant to miss, causing the ball to come right towards you.

“ow!” you let out a shriek when the ball hits you in the head, right in your hairline.

“fuck, baby!” rafe shouts, running quickly back over to the cart where you are holding your head, tears already pouring down your cheeks. “are you okay?”

“it hurts!” you whine, blinking as tears continue to fall.

“im so sorry.” rafe pulls you onto his lap, this time facing him so that your chest is pressed up against his. “im so fucking sorry, baby.”

you sob into rafes shirt, keeping your hand pressed to your head as you cry, rafe attempting to soothe you by rubbing your back, but when he sees its no use, he shuffles you so he can drive to golf cart with your curled up into him.

rafe doesn’t even acknowledge topper, but he’s glad to silently slip away as rafe quickly carries you inside the country club.

“mr. cameron! what’s wrong?” one of the staff asks. 

“can you get me a bag of ice? golfing incident.” rafe explains, and you try to quiet your cries, not wanting to embarrass yourself anymore than you already have, but it really does hurt as your forehead throbs. “we will be in the private dining room.”

rafe carries you further into the club while the employee gets you something for your head. you enter a room you have never been in before, with a grand table set up in the center, but rafe moves to the side of the room, sitting down on the sofa facing the window.

“here you go, sir.” the worker hands rafe a bag of ice as well as a towel. “can i get you anything else?”

rafe whispers something to the staff member that you can’t make out over your sniffling. he nods and then leaves with the door swinging shut behind him, just you and rafe in the room.

“sit back baby, let me see.” rafe says, and you manage to straighten out your back. you bring your hand away from your head, placing it on rafes chest to help balance yourself instead.

“is it bad?” you question.

“no, its not too bad. just a little red. might have a bump.” rafes eyes are soft and sad as he looks over you. he gets the ice wrapped in the towel before pressing it to your head. you instantly sigh at the relief. “i really am sorry.”

“its okay, you didn't do it on purpose.” you say. “you’re not that good at golf.”

“hey.” rafe complains, but he smiles, glad that you’re feeling well enough to make jokes.

“but” you continue on. “it wouldn’t have happened if you wouldn’t have dragged me out here in the first place.” you give him a pointed look.

“okay, you’re right.” rafe concedes, glancing over your shoulder out the window as the skies open up, rain now pouring down. “it is miserable out.”

you are about to respond when the same staff member walks in. you smile at him kindly before burying your head in rafes shoulder, too embarrassed to make eye contact, but you can hear him place something down on the table next to the couch.

“thank you.” rafe says, reaching under your thighs to his pocket, pulling out his wallet and tipping the man. 

“thank you, mr. cameron.”

once he is gone you look up, seeing that rafe had requested a hot chocolate to be brought. “oh, rafey.” you smile, before realizing that they also brought a blanket to cover up with.

“here.” rafe shuffles you around so you can rest your ice pack against his shoulder, then your head against it that way your hands could be free to drink the hot chocolate. he drapes the blanket over both of your knees as you snuggle into his side again.

“maybe the country club isn’t so bad afterall.” you chime as you sip the warm liquid, looking out onto the beautiful sprawling green golf course as raindrops fall from the sky.

rafe smiles at you, placing his hand on your thigh underneath the blanket. “i’m glad you think so baby.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @bejeweledreverie @rafeinterlude

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Happy Halloween!🎃Here's a treat for all you Jonathan Crane lovers out there:

Face Me...

Dr. Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow x Female Reader (NSFW 18+ only smut)

Summary: You work at Arkham Asylum in Gotham and Dr. Crane has been stalking you for a while, but you are leery of him and have been avoiding him outside of professionalism at all costs. One night though as you are leaving work, he tracks you down at your car to see just what you're so afraid of.

Word Count: ~4,426

Warnings: Semi-rough car sex, non-con elements, forced oral (male receiving), dirty talk/language, slight degradation, hair pulling, slapping, stalker behavior, talk of virginity loss, birth control, Dr. Crane being kind of a creep in general

Note: Reader does not know he is actually Scarecrow! And images above are sourced from Pinterest. This story is based only on Cillian Murphy's version in the Batman films and is my interpretation of the character; I don't own him or any part of the franchise, this is just for fun.

Tonight was swathed in misty sheets of rain in the gritty darkness lightly tainted by the glow of streetlights as your car, parked a few blocks from Arkham Asylum, beeped to unlock and you slung your purse over your shoulder, sighing after a long day and wanting to get home to a hot bath and a drink or two. But a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach at a shadow from your peripheral vision made you hesitate and you squinted through the hazy shower that was tapering off to a light drizzle, dampening your hair.

A suited man, height on the shorter side, was stopped no more than twenty feet away and a jarring jolt rushed to your bones when you saw the street light glint off his narrow framed glasses and you paused, hand on the car door. He was utterly silent and you were unnerved by his stiff posture and oddly clenched fists, half thinking to jump in your four-door-sedan and peel out of his presence, but he then walked forward causally, those hands relaxing and slipping into the pockets of his black slacks.

"Good evening," he called out, stepping into view under a streetlight with a smirk and you clenched your jaw, crossing your arms defensively as he slowly approached, that sick smile never sliding off his features that were - you'd have to admit - frankly handsome... No, beautiful was a better term.

"Why are you stalking me, Dr. Crane?" you asked with edginess to your tired voice. It was late and you didn't even live in Gotham City, you just commuted here for work.

"Stalking? Oh no, I am simply observing," he replied smoothy, but it came off as more snappy and insincere.

"Right... Don't you have somewhere to go?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah, home to my apartment miles away. It's been an exhausting day and too late to be out on the town, so if you're proposing anything, I can't take it tonight."

"It's always a long, late night in Gotham."

He moved within a few feet of you and you swallowed nervously, but remembered a man like him could smell fear, so you put up a brave front.

"So when do you finally fuck off and leave me alone? It's unprofessional to follow someone without their permission, you know. Keep this up and I'll need a restraining order."

"But you always avoid me during work and now you reject my offer for simple company?"

"Company late at night at my car in the rain? And aren't you technically my boss? We aren't friends and I don't know why you're so interested in me, but I don't think you should be. I'm not looking for a man like you. Right now I'm just looking for a nice glass of red wine honestly."

"Really...?" he drew the word out to almost a parodying tone and you pursed your lips.

"Yes, really. Now I bid you goodnight, Dr. Crane." You opened the car door fully, ducking and stepping a foot in when the door caught and you looked up to see him holding it in a firm grip. He was stronger than you expected.

"Stop denying it, I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention. Stop hiding and face me once and for all," he insisted darkly.

You took a breath, desperately trying to calm your beating heart and yet the horrible feeling that this evening wasn't going to end on a dull note persisted.

"Don't hurt me, I'll-" you started to warn and his eyebrows shot up with a shake of his head.

"Call the police?" It sounded like mockery from his mouth and you scowled as he continued, his pale hand sprinkled with rainwater sliding up and down the car door frame.

"Hurt you, hm? Well, only if you want me to." He chuckled and you stared at his slightly floppy dewey dark hair and raised eyebrows.

"Why the hell would I want you to hurt me?"

"You tell me. I do know you secretly want something else, don't you? Something more... erotic?"

You scoffed angrily, hating how he was worming his way past your exterior and into attraction, but you couldn't let it happen.

"Take a raincheck. I'm going home." You tried to shut the door but he was still holding it in a death grip, knuckles white and veins bursting out the back of his hand.

"Stop fucking around, I don't have time for this sh-" you cut off your sentence with a yelp as Dr. Crane shoved you inside the backseat of your own car and you landed flat on your back as he came inside to hover over your vulnerable body, wetting his pink lips.

"Please! Don't do this!" you cried out of panic and he leaned back, breathing heavily.

"Don't go anywhere," he warned and you struggled to sit up, throwing your purse up front and he slammed the side door shut, getting more comfortable in the backseat, which you were not pleased about.

"This is MY car, get out," you commanded, but he was as cool as a cucumber as he cleaned his glasses with a cloth from his suit jacket.

"I just want to talk one on one, which we never do outside of the usual board meetings and it can be so boring, always about psychiatry and stats and police reports and this patient and these crazies and-"

"Oh sure you just want to talk. I'm not some kind of naive idiot to the desires of the opposite sex," you rolled your eyes and he scoffed, settling back on the seat with a cross of his legs and looking up to the car ceiling.

"It's so cold and wet tonight, shame we aren't someplace more cozy," he muttered and you awkwardly crawled into the driver's seat with your keys and fumbled to insert them in, starting the ignition.

"What are you doing there?" he asked mildly and even that sounded passive aggressive. God, he sure was insufferable.

"Turning the heat on because you're whining about it. I just wish you'd get out of here, completely violating my privacy."

"This is a public street you're parked on, isn't it? And is this how you treat all passengers?"

"I never have any passengers," you remarked bitterly and Crane leaned forward, putting his hands on the back of the seat and peering around to you as you glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"Indeed. I know you're mostly a loner with almost no friends and orphaned from family or maybe you've lied and they aren't dead and are only estranged... Either way, no one cares and no one understands how you spend office hours in a facility full of the most criminally insane but you do it for the money and to quench your curiosity because deep down, you know - you know you're a freak too who sees no normal in what you have deemed a, oh say... corrupt kind of world."

You swallowed at his assertions and unfortunately fairly accurate reading.

"I don't need sympathy from you of all people," you snapped, putting the heat to full blast. It was freezing tonight and the defrost was battling the condensation filling up the windshield.

"I'm only trying to understand you myself, it's my job to psychoanalyze."

"I'm not one of your patients or experiments," you told him in disgust.

"Every human being is an experiment in the eyes of their creator, which is me for you because I happen to be the one who hired you in the first place. Without me, you would not have a job and therefore I created you in that respect," he replied in absurd smugness.

"Then what am I? Frankenstein's monster?"

His eyes flashed and he adjusted his glasses reflexively.

"I wish. No, you're my first prototype I have yet to diagnose."

You shut the heat off once the internal temperature was fairly toasty and cracked a window down a fraction for circulation. A beat of silence befell until he suddenly climbed into the front, dropping into the passenger seat confidently, and you realized how lithe he was, how easily he fit into spaces not designed for someone with such an overshadowing, all-encompassing ego.

"Now what are you doing?" you asked exasperatedly. He didn't answer and you hated the way looking at him was making your heart flutter despite your anger and the alarm bells ringing in your brain. Something about him was always... very off and you never could quite place your finger on it, he was a blind spot, but it was undeniable. Which was telling considering the people you were exposed to every day.

Crane reached up and removed his glasses entirely with a swipe to set them on the dash and your breath caught with that simple action. You admitted how he was very visually pleasing without those lens obstructing his intense blue colored orbs were. You glanced down and fiddled with the keys when he suddenly snatched them up out of your lap and pocketed them into his own pants with a manic expression.

"Hey, give those back!" you yelled and began to wrestle with him, arms flailing as he held his own above his head, palms up and empty.

"You want those? You have to do something for me first."

"I-Okay, what is it?" You dropped your arms and glared at him suspiciously. He smirked once, speaking with a tremor of excitement.

"If I was civilized, which I'm admittedly not, I'd ask you out on an old fashioned dinner date and then walk you to your door, give you a nice polite kiss and send flowers to your desk on Monday. But I can't wait anymore for that saccharine romantic scenario, so we'll get straight down to business. I want to fuck your brains out, right here in the car."

You blinked, rather stunned.

"I... I-I no, I can't, I mean that's-"

And here was where your confidence utterly failed as he suddenly lunged and grabbed you to pin you down inbetween the passenger and driver seats, head flung upside down almost to the backseat floor and legs helplessly kicking towards the windshield.

"Please, don't do this!" you yelped anxiously.

"Don't tell me you're a virgin who has never had a dick in you before," he whispered, misreading your fearful hesitant expression. Actually, you'd had sex once with a lame boyfriend back in college and since then, avoided the dating and hookup scene, content just to masturbate when you could.

"Oh, fuck, I should've guessed. What a shocking discovery," he wrongly concluded rather sarcastically and you cringed, twisting your head away from his warm breath and ridiculously good looks.

"This makes it all the more interesting, then," he murmured with a feathery caress to your cheek and you flinched, giving him a kick and successfully wriggling out of his grasp to curl up against the door in the backseat.

"I've been waiting a long time for our encounter," he mused, utterly unfazed at the negative reaction.

You immediately went to open the door, ready to run for your life if he became overly threatening, but he hit the button that locked all the doors. You manually unlocked your one door - thank God for that safety feature - but his deadly voice made you freeze.

"Are you quite sure you want to do that?"

"T-This is my ensured vehicle and y-you are violating every right of mine by t-taking over like this," you stated, but your voice was shaking like a leaf through the words.

"That's it, you are afraid of me..." he whispered slowly and the pure delight with pride in his voice was unmistakable. You turned to look at him directly, unable to hide and deny anything any longer.

"I think you are being very inappropriate right now," you admitted nervously.

Crane moved to join you in the backseat, but you felt stuck even though you could technically open the door and make an escape. There was no way he could really stop you, was there? He didn't have a weapon on him, did he?

"If you were really frightened, you would have bolted by now," he said as though reading your thoughts and you gulped, realizing he was right.

"Dr. Crane, I-" you were broken off by him abruptly grabbing your face and kissing you, his tongue sloppily forcing its way into your mouth and you naturally reciprocated while inhaling his sharp stinging scent of expensive cologne. He pulled back with a gasp and a mischievous spark in his eyes that made something awaken deep inside.

"You kissed me," you said in a stunned voice.

"That's precisely what I did, Y/N," he answered with another touch of smugness and you closed your eyes, knowing you were in too deep now. He was going to take this all the way and you felt helpless to stop it. Did you even want to stop him?

"I knew if I exposed myself enough to you, you'd finally stop being immune," Crane told you with a sort of self-righteousness as he ran his hands down your back and shrugged your coat off before moving to your front to remove your blouse carefully, button by button.

"I hate to see such pretty tits contained and so oppressed... Let's free them, shall we?"

He unclasped your bra and removed it, tossing it to the floor and you shivered, goosebumps peppering your bare arms and neck.

"Aww, is it too cold?" He made a pout and privately you wanted to smack those stupid lips right off his condescending face but it was if you were under a spell of a sudden, entranced by his actions and his hypnotic eyes. He trailed his fingers down from your throat to your nipples and you hardened at the stimulation, closing your eyes in regret. Dr. Crane was turning you on, dammit.

"Better than I could imagine..." he breathed, taking in your appearance for a minute while groping your breasts, squeezing, and you gritted your teeth as he teasingly tickled you under your arms, making your breath hitch and a stupid giggle slipped out.

"Sensitive, are we? I promise I won't hurt you."

You leaned back, casting a fretful look out the windows in case of onlookers, but the street was empty and the glass was streaky with rain, creating a thickly translucent rippled covering not unlike a shower curtain.

"No one knows," Crane stated flatly in response to your paranoia while untying his dress shoes and pushing them under the seats. You just nodded, taking off your own and then unzipping your pants the same time he undid his own. His tight dark grey briefs were bulging with his cock and you hesitated, absolutely unsure of what to do when he completely stripped and out popped out his erect glistening-at-the-tip penis in full view.

"Take it in your mouth," Crane ordered abruptly, pushing you down beneath him.

"Um, no I think that's disgus-" Your voice was cut off as you nearly choked; he roughly shoved his cock so fast into your parted mouth. The silky end of his tie tickled your nose as he inched closer, and clearly this was much more enjoyable for him than it was for you as he groaned in building ecstasy and you kept your mouth closed around it, afraid that if you moved, you'd gag or get hurt. He forced your head up a little and bobbed, but you could feel a dribble of precum seeping down your throat and now you reflexed, yanking yourself from him with a loud noise and banging the car door open to cough and spit violently out onto the pavement below.

"Get back in, do you want someone to see us?!" Crane hissed and you felt a sharp tug on your hair as he pulled you back. You shrieked and self defensively twisted to slap him straight in the face. He gasped from the unexpected blow, falling back and banging his head on the opposite window as you spat, wiping your lips of his mess.

"Can't take it like a common whore, can you? Feel like being a goddamn difficult bitch, don't you? Think you're better than me, do you?" he seethed, rubbing his cranium and you huffed.

"I thought you'd just put your dick in me, not that bullshit."

"It's called oral and many women in fact enjoy it."

"How do you know, you've done that before?"

He had a strange expression when he replied briskly.

"I've read up on the concept, you know."

"You've studied about women and sex. Amazing. Is that what you do on your lunch break or...?" you almost laughed, but the way he was staring at you wasn't in a joking manner. He had the look of an inmate one straw away from a full psychotic behavior break down. Basing from your training, you decided to distract his frustrating anger and talk nonchalantly to calm him down.

"Okay, I'm kidding around, I get it, and I don't mean to hate or spite you. Remember when I was initially employed at Arkham, fresh out of college, and I met you for the first time? I personally thought you were extremely cocky and looked waaay too young to be a top psychiatrist in such a grand high security institution. Now I can say with certainty that while you are, um, creative in your methods with the inmates and I do admit I find you very terribly attractive, I have to say Dr. Crane... I still think you're an arrogant son of a bitch."

"Call me Jonathan," he replied, unimpressed by the insult and wrestling off his tie.

"Well, Dr. Jonathan, you sure are a pretty piece of work," you replied with ample attitude and he was fed up, dumping his jacket and shirt from his body and twisting the tie in his fingers. He held it up and a muscle spasmed in face, jaw clenching and enunciating his cheekbones.

"You want me to choke you with this?"

"I'd really prefer you didn't and it would be very nice if you weren't such a dick forcing your sex on me," you answered matter-of-factly.

"Lie down or I'll fucking fire you from your position, understand?" he snapped loudly and was extremely serious as you glared, but then reluctantly laid back obediently on the seats just to avoid complications and he came down swiftly, carefully aligning to position his penis at your entrance. He cautiously touched the moist head to your vaginal lips when you held up a hand onto his chest, stopping him.

"Now hang on doctor, don't you want to warm up first?"

"I'm obviously already warmed up, Miss Y/LN."

"But I don't have lubricant on me, so you're going to have to get me naturally very wet for penetration because right now I'm dry as a bone," you warned for your own protection, but hardly expected him to listen.

"Don't tell me how to do it," he replied, snippy.

"I'm serious, you can't just stick it in there; it will be just as hard for you as it'll be for me and I don't want to end up seeing a gynecologist."

"So you aren't a virgin after all?"

"I had my hymen broken with a loser in the past," you told him and he raised one brown eyebrow, creasing his forehead with a few fine lines.

"Then how should I start, Miss doctor?"

You wordlessly took a hold of his index finger and guided it to your opening and he pressed lightly, feeling pooling liquid.

"You little liar, you're already discharging," he whispered disapprovingly and he massaged your clit in slow jerky rhythm. You nodded in approval, losing your control as he slipped a finger in and moved around enough to make you clench a bit, trapping his digit.

"How does that feel?" he asked almost clinically and you closed your eyes, urging him to put in another finger. He did and you almost orgasmed when he extracted much too soon, sighing.

"This isn't much fun for me," he whined and you made a face, shifting position to spread your legs wider, putting your arms up and accidentally smearing the fogged window with your fingertips. You looked utterly submissive, practically begging to be fucked, to get it over with (so you convinced yourself).

But for all his aggression to trap you in your own car for penetrative sex, Jonathan was now becoming oddly timid as he hesitantly closed the gap between you, realigning his bare body to yours.

"Wait, have you done this before?" you asked suspiciously and he was sheepish in answering.

"I told you, you are my first prototype."

"Shit, you're the virgin here?!" You laughed as though this made this experience any less stressful or partially contrived.

"Do you masturbate?" you then asked and he rolled his eyes.

"What kind of man of do you think I am?"

"Is that yes or no?"

"Doesn't matter, Y/N. Now, let me ask you a more important question: are you on birth control of any type?"

"I..." you hesitated to answer because if you told him 'no' would he go any further? You had pills at home as a precaution, but neglected to ever take them, assuming you'd be remaining single. But you had no intention of getting into a full relationship and certainly not being impregnated by this man.

"I left them at home," you finally answered truthfully.

"I have something for that then," he assured and you stared as he leaned back and rummaged in the pockets of his clothes on the floor. He produced a tiny pill container and dropped a pill into your open palm. You didn't ask why he was carrying around birth control pills, but assumed he had indeed been planning this for a while.

"Don't want any unnecessary side effects of something that I'll have to end up terminating anyway," he muttered bitterly as you popped it in and climbed into the driver's seat to swig some water from your plastic bottle in the cupholder, feeling grateful that at least he didn't administer that Fear Toxin he was always messing around with in the asylum.

"Now can we get started?" Jonathan asked impatiently and you took a breath, easing the front seat down so you were lying parallel to him. Jonathan clamored on top of your naked flesh and straddled you, his cock rubbing up against your thighs, then vaginal area and you squirmed, clutching onto his back. He pushed in gradually, but densely, and you whimpered at the stinging pain and then the growing pleasure bubbling around his cock within your walls and you clenched hard, much harder than you had with his fingers.

"Oh... Fuck, Jonathan..." you groaned and he bounced up and down lightly, thrusting with slaps of skin and you felt your bottom sticking with sweat to the leather seat as he kept at it for several minutes, gripping your hips and nearly plowing you apart. It hurt, no getting around it, and he wasn't privy to what you were feeling as he seemed entirely in his own zone, racing for his pleasure until you moaned loud enough to cause him glance down, realizing you were getting close to free falling off the edge.

"C'mon, you're so close with that pretty little pussy of yours, almost..." Jonathan breathed in your ear and as he hit the spot, finally the climaxing orgasm came with a bang and it was so intense, probably fueled by adrenaline and stress more than actual love, that you emitted a high pitched shrieking whine which trailed into a low moan of relief while it tapered off and he grunted, somehow thrusting even further. Yes, you had minimal experience, but had never ever been penetrated this far before and you dreaded how much longer he could rail you, but thankfully his own orgasm came with a grunting groan as he spilled into you and you held on, digging nails into his shoulder blades and nearly biting his neck. He panted heavily in your ear and his tickle of breath made your stomach flip.

He laid still on top of you for awhile, cock twitching and warming your insides. The windows were fogged up completely and the cold was now non-existent with the heat you and him were creating out of friction alone.

"You enjoy yourself?" you whispered hoarsely to Jonathan as his breathing slowed sluggishly and he looked like he was falling asleep, so you shoved him off your aching body and he blinked, rubbing his forehead.

"Yeah, that was satisfactory. Maybe I should bump up your paycheck."

"I'm not a prostitute, but thank you."

He smiled lazily, eyes rather unfocused, and you pulled your seat up with the lever, reaching for his glasses on the dash and handing them back to him. He, in turn, retrieved the car keys from his pants and tossed them back to you with a clanging jingle.

Casting a look around your car, there were streaky handprints on the fogged glass, thin swipes of fingers and imprinted palms decorating the back windows and you reached over to one and drew a heart outline in a patch of blank space. Jonathan's own finger speared through it, making a arrow.

"Very romantic," you commented sarcastically and moved to join him in the backseat as he started to draw a creepy face reminiscent of a familiar spooky icon (a clown? Maybe a scarecrow?) when he stopped and checked his watch.

"I need to go," Jonathan coldly stated out of the blue and began to hastily gather up his clothing, awkwardly dressing before he stepped outside and zipped up his pants, and inhaled the late October city air, somewhat out of breath. The rain had stopped and the skies were clearing, the full pearly white moon slicing through the curtain of storm clouds, and you drew your blouse around yourself with a shiver before sliding into underwear, realizing you'd never look at Dr. Crane the same since this intimately raw experience.

"So I'll be seeing you around tomorrow...?" you wondered aloud and although you meant for that to be purely work related, he clearly took it the other direction.

"Oh, I'll be seeing you." He smirked knowingly and then slammed the car door closed in your face, leaving you sore and to reel from whatever the hell this twisted specimen of a man just put you through. Did you like it?

Maybe.

Thanks for reading 🖤 First time writing for Jonathan Crane, so I hope this was halfway decent!

[yuellii]

When reticent rainfall restricted the outings of the common-folk, Neuvillette tended to blame himself for causing these complications.

But storms in the Court of Fontaine symbolized sadness; and such sadness, he noticed, matched so simultaneously with his own demeanor. Rain always resembled the frown on his face—downpours always dawned from his despair. The weather was only a weaving track through his withering tears.

So why, now, was it beginning to pour when he caught sight of you patting the head of a Melusine?

The sight was what those old romance books would describe as heart-warming; endearing, too. Your hand ruffling through her little head of hair ( especially one that he speaks his morning greetings to every day ) was a sight akin to sweet Fontainian desserts. Who would’ve thought that you’d grace him with your appearance during his morning routine? Such a pleasant occurrence—and yet, he still feels cold rain begin to land at the top of his head.

“Oh no!” you exclaimed in quite a silly manner, talking to the Melusine whilst not noticing his eyeful presence from the sidelines. “It’s drizzling, let’s take cover aside the building!”

A twinge of guilt settled in the Chief Justice’s stomach immediately, blaming himself for the rain. To make matters even more confusing, he just couldn’t figure out why rain was beginning to fall in the first place. Were these droplets not the resemblance of his tears? Pitiful feelings of sorrow from the Hydro Dragon—was this gloomy weather not the definite denotation of that?

“Don’t worry, my body is accustomed to water!” the Melusine waved off. Then, she tossed her little guard hat to you, ushering it into your hands. “But your body is not, so please take some cover!”

The working Melusine clearly liked you; Neuvillette’s heart might have skipped a beat. Rain started falling a bit harder.

“Oh, Monsieur Neuvillette!” the little Melusine suddenly waved, calling him over. You looked surprised to see him yourself, but he tried his hardest to rid of this sudden nervousness. Somehow, for some reason, it was taking him a bit of adjusting just to walk over to you. He sweared he’s never felt like this before. “Good morning!” the Melusine brightly smiled.

“Good morning,” he responded shortly, slightly ducking his head in a makeshift sort-of bow. The man joined the two of you underneath the overhang of this quaint shop, standing across from you such that the little Melusine stood in between.

The little one turned back up to look at you. “You know, the Chief Justice greets all the working Melusine’s every morning!”

“Every morning?” you repeated, almost like you were talking to a young girl.

“Every morning!”

There’s a gentle smile on your face as you look down at the childlike excitement radiating from the Melusine between you. And despite all this energy coming from the little guard, Neuvillette found it impossible to take his eyes off of you, instead. How kind you looked, staring down at her as you listened carefully to her words—Neuvillette might’ve been entranced.

“The Chief Justice is a very good man,” you spoke down to the Melusine, “isn’t he?”

“Very much so!”

Neuvillette could feel his chest tighten once again. The currently light drizzle suddenly had a random burst of a downpour.

He cleared his throat, “Thank you.”

You hummed, finally looking up at him. “The rain is quite peculiar today, isn’t it?” His cheeks suddenly warmed from the way you looked at him. He couldn’t quite tell what was different this time, for you always looked at him like this—such a look of normalcy. Every time he came to see you during work, you looked just the same. Just another human; But now, he might’ve felt a bit insecure. Archons, perhaps you made him a little sick. He did not reject your attempts at small talk, however.

“What makes you say that?” he asked in response.

“It’s still sunny, good Monsieur.” And when he looked up to the sky, he found that you were right. Water only fell from a few, light clouds. Otherwise, bright blue skies could still be seen. Following his gaze to the lightness above, you continued, “The rain seems to be a bit happier today.”

Happier… Happy rain…

Was it possible to cry from happiness?

He’s never heard of such a thing.

“Maybe the legendary Hydro Dragon is crying from joy right now!” the Melusine perked up, agreeing wholeheartedly with your comment. You immediately laughed at her statement, finding some measure of endearment in her enthusiasm.

And when you looked back down at the Melusine with such a kind expression—an expression that trapped all air in his lungs—he might find himself agreeing with you, too. “Crying joy,” you repeated with a smile in your eyes. “Oh, I bet he is.”

[clockwayswrites]

Constantine & Danny, Cyan & Magenta, Walking through a puddle & Rumble of thunder. @jacksnervesofsteel, @ayzenigma

Gotham was miserable tonight.

This wasn’t a surprise to John. Gotham was always miserable. It was damp and muggy, smelling faintly of the sea no matter where you were and of death if you were in the wrong area.

John was often in the wrong area. It came with his business. He was sure that by the end of the night every pore would be rank with the smell of death. There were lemons already waiting in his shoddy motel room for him.

(John had learned through experience it was easier to by the lemons before he smelled like death.)

It wasn’t that John liked smelling like death, but like he had said, it came with his business. From everything that he had been able to gather, his business tonight was a cult and a nasty one at that. To make everything worse, it had it had set up in Gotham. Location didn’t always mater, but Gotham was one of those special places like the Bermuda Triangle or the Paris Catacombs; it was bathed in history and mystery and blood. He tried not to think about Gotham unless he had to.

Tonight he just hoped he’d get out of there without calling the attention of the Bats.

John found an awning to duck under to get out of the rain for a bit as another low rumble tore through the sky. The metal grate across the door rattled, as if echoing the thunder, as John leaned into it. The whole street was shutdown already even though it was hardly past ten. That suited John. Easier to not have witnesses. Much easier to not have easy sacrifices.

The cigarette was reassuring as it settled between his lips. Course his damn lighter wouldn’t light. He flicked futilely at the wheel.

Someone was getting close.

John could hear them.

There was that telltale squash of rubber soles through water, the sound different enough to stand out past the drizzle of rain. John readied a spell on his fingertips, cupped behind his palm keeping the damp off his cigarette. If he was lucky whoever it was wouldn’t even see him and just move on by.

“Looks like you need a light.”

But when was he ever lucky.

“Yeah, lighter is being a right bastard,” John answered casually. He glanced up over his hand and into blue eyes so deep they felt endless.

“Here, take mine.”

“Naw, mate—”

“Take it, I’ve gotten my use out of it.”

Refusing gifts was often unwise. “…sure, thanks.”

Constantine glanced down at the silver lighter sitting in the guy’s hand and then past it and down into the puddle under the stranger’s feet. From the reflection of the water, a skull grinned back at him. There were no more deep, blue eyes, just green glowing out from the skull. Sometimes it was eyes. Sometimes there was skin and muscle and eyes. Crackling electricity scattered over the bone, rending the flesh from it as quick as it grew back.

John jolted as a too flesh hand pressed the lighter into his.

“Take it, Laughing Magician,” the skull said. John’s gaze jerked up to the stranger who just grinned at him. “You’ll need it tonight.”

“What—”

The strange man backed up a step. The skeletal reflection backed up with him and was out of sight.

“Try not to die, John. That would be messy.”

“Ta, mate,” John said half on auto pilot.

He watched the man until he was out of sight.

Gotham was miserable tonight.

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

🥞 Lucifer's Pancakes 🥞

FIRST OFF. . . He would bring you breakfast in bed after a night of him showing you how much he loves you. . . If you're catching my drift — and what better to be on that tray other than PANCAKES!?

He has a perfected recipe — the box stuff is good, but he doesn't use it unless it's an absolute emergency. It's not as good as his, so he avoids it the way Alastor avoids teeth whitening strips. AND THAT'S OKAY!

He would do shapes based on his mood, your mood, the holiday/anniversary.

His favorite to do for your birthday, anniversary, and Valentines Day was heart shaped pancakes.

He'd do duck shapes when he felt like doing it, or if you specifically requested them. He perfected almost any shaped pancake you could ask for.

If you're sad, he makes smiley faces with chocolate chips or whipped cream on top (or both if you're super sad).

HE'S ALL FOR PANCAKE ART!

Sometimes he'd throw fruit like blueberries or strawberries if it was the vibe of the day.

Sometimes he'd throw something like m&ms in the pancake mix if that ended up being the vibe.

Maybe even something like banana nut pancakes? 👀

He wouldn't be opposed to making pancake breakfast tacos/sandwiches. He thinks they're yummy and it's the best of all breakfast worlds.

But of course, I can't forget just the classic round pancakes, perfectly brown on both sides with a pad of butter and a perfect drizzle of maple syrup.

I like to believe that he goes up to the living world a couple times a year just to get some good ol' Vermont maple syrup because it's just BETTER. . . You know?

He's not opposed to other syrup, but he has a specific taste for making the pancakes the best they could possibly be.

He's prone to making pancakes at MINIMUM twice a week on specific mornings neither of you are busy.

They're his safe, go-to food when nothing else sounds good.

He loves you just a little more than he loves pancakes.

Who can blame him? They're fluffy, buttery, warm, sweet, and they're customizable. There's a pancake for everyone!

And now I want pancakes 😃

[diorsluv]

feather , part 1

“ not another take ”

series m. list next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, markestapa, luca.fantilli, and 78,682 others

yourusername after 19 years of being my brother, jamie still takes the worst photos

view all comments

jamie.drysdale I WAS TAKING 50 PICS PER SECOND.

→ yourusername AND I WASN’T READY FOR ANY OF THEM.

→ jamie.drysdale you’re so ungrateful

→ yourusername love u too

trevorzegras is he ruining your trip?

→ yourusername oh my god he’s been annoying me nonstop for the past theee days

→ jamie.drysdale stop spreading rumors

→ yourusername YOU WOKE ME UP AT FOUR IN THE MORNING TO ASK ME IF I WANTED MCDONALDS FOR LUNCH

→ jamie.drysdale THE EARLY BIRD GETS THE WORM

username4 ur so stunning

username66 MY IDOLLL

markestapa come back to michigan we miss you 😞

→ yourusername YOU miss me????

→ markestapa good lord HE said he misses you a lot

→ yourusername idk who “he” is markie, ur gonna have to specify 🤔🤔

→ edwards.73 he’s WHINING

→ dylanduke25 he just collapsed onto the ground

→ mackie.samo i can hear him crying from the other side of the yost

→ jamie.drysdale WHO IS “HE”??? yourusername DO YOU KNOW WHO “HE” IS??? WHY DOES HE MISS YOU HELLO?

→ yourusername calm ur tits bro ✋

username1 what’s going on in mark’s replies..

lhughes_06 when are you coming back 🙏

lhughes_06 leave cali and come back 🙏

lhughes_06 imysm please come back to michigan 🙏

lhughes_06 i’m so lonely without you i need you to come back 🙏

lhughes_06 THOSE COMMENTS WERE NOT ME I SWEAR

→ yourusername awww i can’t believe you missed me that much

→ lhughes_06 NO PLEASE RUT STOLE MY PHONE YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME

→ rutgermcgroarty dude i’m deathly sick rn i physically cannot have stolen his phone

→ jackhughes aw moosey long distance isn’t working?

→ lhughes_06 WHY ARE YOU TARGETTING ME WHAT DID I DO

_quinnhughes are you flying up here when we play the ducks?

→ yourusername YOU KNOW IT

→ jamie.drysdale i’m trying to convince her not to i promise

→ yourusername i wouldn’t miss a chance to spend time with my huggy wuggy bear

→ _quinnhughes blocked.

username29 jamie’s an amazing photographer

liked by jamie.drysdale

username93 LUKE’S COMMENTS LMAOOO

→ yourusername he wants me to clarify that it “wasn’t him” (you shouldn’t believe him)

yourusername

liked by adamfantilli, lhughes_06, _alexturcotte and 92,177 others

yourusername guess who’s who??

tagged: edwards.73, markestapa, luca.fantilli, rutgermcgroarty

view all comments

mackie.samo how come i wasn’t invited 🙁

→ yourusername I’M SORRY THEY KIDNAPPED ME SO I COULDN’T INVITE YOU 💔💔💔

→ mackie.samo it’s okay we can still have our annual cookie baking session

→ rutgermcgroarty COOKIES?? CAN I JOIN

→ mackie.samo NO it’s us two only 😠

→ yourusername mack’s the boss, sorry rut

username47 tag yourself i’m the skeleton mark’s hugging

→ username22 how’d you know it’s mark wtf

→ username90 i’m the yellow glasses ethan’s wearing

jamie.drysdale of course you go and do this as soon as you get back

→ yourusername DON’T JUDGE

adamfantilli luca’s the second right one on the right photo isn’t he..

→ yourusername YES HOW’D YOU KNOW??

→ adamfantilli i could smell the stupidity

→ luca.fantilli WOAH WOAH?? WHAT DID I DO?

→ yourusername FANTILLI FIGHT ⁉️⁉️

→ adamfantilli mom got mad at me because YOU left the house messy before we left to catch our flight

→ luca.fantilli your room was the only messy room in the house stop lying

username65 friend group goals

liked by yourusername

username7 wtf i wanna do this with my friends

username74 FASHION ICONS

trevorzegras come back and watch us play lil drizzy ❤️

→ yourusername first of all never call me lil drizzy again

→ yourusername second of all i’m going to the nucks game when you play BE PATIENT 🙄

next chapter notes ) this was actually so fun to make im excited to make moreeee 🫣 also the official nickname is drizzle i’m calling it rn bc drysdale=drizzle=drizzy=drizz AND I KNOW IT SOUNDS STUPID BUT I SWEAR YOU WILL COME TO LOVE IT

[hoenoredone]

A TYPICAL DATE

tags: sfw, fluff, headcanons, enstablished relationship characters: gojo, geto, nanami, naoya, inumaki, yuuta, noritoshi

GOJO SATORU

cat café

he's a cat dad and you're never going to convince otherwise. because of his job it's quite difficult for him to keep a pet in the house, he feels too bad leaving it all alone for days at the time (do not worry, the ball of fluff would have an automatic feeder and a self cleaning litter). so he gets his fix at a cat café. it's perfect, really: he can pet all the cats, and you can eat and drink to your heart's content while seeing him all happy and giddy.

GETO SUGURU

dinner and a movie

he's a wanted simple man, he's perfectly content setting the table while you stir fry the meat he had left in the fridge to marinate for the whole day. he'd fry up some popcorn after dinner and drizzle them in butter and salt. he loves it when you rest your head on his shoulder, especially if the movie turns out to be boring. he lets you fall asleep and does his best not to wake you at the end of the film. when nanako and mimiko make fun of him the day after for carrying you to the bed bridal style, he can only smile and ruffle their hair.

NANAMI KENTO

petit pâtisserie

he has a sweet tooth, sorry i don't make the rules. he doesn't like sickeningly sweet pastries, but a french press coffee and a slice of opéra cake are perfectly within his taste. he watches you eat an english scone with strawberry-rhubarb jam and clotted cream and sip on your darjeeling tea as he listen to you talk about whatever is on your mind. he notices some crumbs on your lower lip and tries to discretely let you know, but you're too absorbed in your own world to notice. so he gently wipes them away for you and notices a slight blush dusting your cheeks.

ZEN'IN NAOYA

michlin star restaurant

it's really not a date, it's more of an interview. he doesn't date just to date, he dates to marry. he needs to be the perfect heir for the zen'in clan, he needs a wife and a child. so he takes you to an incredibly expensive restaurant and grills you with questions. at the start it's not the most pleasant experience, but as the date goes on (if you answer his questions correctly) he loosens up and lets you speak freely. he doesn't even realize it, but he feels like he has a lot to prove, so once he decides that it's worth it he orderes his favorite wine (coincidentally the most expensive one) and shoos the waiter away to pour you a glass himself.

INUMAKI TOGE

arcade

please he loves the pinball machines, literally spends hours on them. you take turns at the claw machines to try and win each other a plushie (that riceball looks just like him? how?) and lose almost three thousand yen. he watches you play a shooter game and gets playfully annoyed when you don't listen to his tips. almost spills his coke all over one of the machines when you finally win your first game of the night. he offers you karaage to celebrate and you almost choke on the sauce when he imitates the panicked face you had during the game.

OKKOTSU YUUTA

picnic at the dog park

can he pet that dog? can he please pet that dog?? you bring the food and a table cloth, and he brings plates, cutlery, drinks and two different brands of dog treats. you could swear he spends more time looking at the dogs run around and telling you all about the specific breed than actually eating. a big fluffy maremmano runs towards him and almost knocks the picnic table over, but yuuta is ready: he grabs a duck skin treat from his pocket and hurls it to the other side of the park, but not before having pet the dog's head and having called him a good boy.

KAMO NORITOSHI

japanese tea house

he enjoys the quiet of the tea house's garden because he's not a kamo there, just noritoshi. he used to be partial to sencha tea but you insisted on ordering something different every time, and he's glad you did because he's a creature of habit, without you he wouldn't have discovered he actually prefers hojicha tea over anything else. he lets you order whatever you want, from dango to daifuku, even dorayaki once, but warabimochi remains his favorite.

[hier--soir]

sun don't set

ellie williams x f!reader

rating: sfw, not explicit summary: life in the little house is calm - quiet. days pass in a blur of fruit and sunshine and companionship. slow mornings, afternoons, and evenings. ellie is slowly rediscovering her love for music, and on that journey, she writes a song about you. warnings/tags: late twenties ellie, set years after the events of tlou2, no spoilers or discussions of plot points in tlou2 - except perhaps the description of an old injury but the way it happened isn't described, established wlw relationship, food and eating, brief description of skinning animals for food, soft soft soft ellie. word count: 1.3k masterlist a/n: this short little thing poured out of me after a nice sunny day and it's maybe one of the softest, sweetest things i've ever written. a slice of life type thing based on the happy ending i hope ellie got x [ALSO the song ellie sings is ronnie's song by odie leigh]

The little house lives in the basin of a valley, circled by sycamore boughs and juniper bushes.

A shallow stream trickles close by.

In the mornings, you eat berries drizzled in honey, sipping warm tea while watching the water. The air is still and quiet, filled only with the sounds of the dribbling brook and teeth sinking into ripe fruit. The first rays of sun arrive and they are safe and warm against your skin, and time moves slowly. Gently.  

You sit on the patio in chairs that she built. Ones that creak and whimper as your weight settles upon them; rickety wood and worn old nails. On the armrest, hers or yours, fingers catch and hold. Thumbs and indexes and pinkies looped together.

In the afternoons, she peels an orange. Spindly fingers tear thick skin, pulling apart perfect segments of flesh – one for you, one for her, one for you, one for her. Together you bite and chew and swallow, jaws and mouths and teeth working in sync. In the silence, you relish the feeling of tasting this together. That burst of juice across your tongues. Wisps of pulp that catch in the cracks of your incisors.

When it’s warm you splay out on the grass, stretching and purring like two cats in the sun. She’s a calico, splotches of white and brown and beige, and you’re a tabby, mottled streaks of burnt orange – wiling away what’s left of your nine lives together.

In the evenings, she returns from her walk. Some days empty handed, others with rabbit or duck or deer trailing behind her. On those days you sit with your knees pressed together, sharp knives peeling back hair and skin and feathers. You eat as the air turns cooler and the sun sets over the hill, an almost endless—always wondrous—burst of oranges and pinks that taint the sky before it turns to black.

Often, you turn in first. Tuck yourself away inside the little house, swathed in blankets; keeping her side of the bed warm. Alone, she reaches for the guitar. Takes it outside and closes the door behind her, so that those soft melodies won’t carry to your ears. With heavy eyelids, your ears pique and strain, eager to listen. But she must stray further than the patio, for you never hear a thing.

Time passes and she joins you soon enough. Her long limbs coil around yours beneath the covers; cold toes press into the skin of your calves. Her hand on your back, those fingers tracing a tickling portrait. The tip of your nose rests in the base of her neck and you breathe in the scent of pine and rosemary and honey on her skin. In the darkness, sinking into her warmth, you feel tenderness thicken the lining of your throat. And together you sleep; at peace knowing that another morning awaits you.

Ellie found the guitar in your fourth year together. Deep brown, layered in dust, the sound hole and fretboard decorated with cobwebs. She didn’t say a word as she slung it over her back and carried it the entire way to the little house. Didn’t offer any explanation when she stashed it away in an empty room. And when you caught her one night, long after sunset, wiping away the dust and tightening the strings, you didn’t ask any questions. Didn’t ask if she was thinking about him – you already knew the answer.  

“It’s hard,” she told you one morning, lips and chin shining with berry juice. “Learning how to play again. How to play… like this.”

Your fingers ghost over the palm of her left hand, splayed on the armrest of her chair. Tracing lines and scars on pale skin until you reach the shortened stumps of her ring and pinkie finger.

“Sometimes the hardest things,” you pick up her hand and lay a soft kiss to each finger, lingering a little longer on those two. “Are the things most worth doing.”

She hums a short response, eyes trained on where your lips touch her skin. Then her hand cups your jaw and brings your face to meet hers, and she smears the taste of blueberries into your mouth.

It’s not until a morning in your fifth year together that you hear it for the first time.

She wanders in from the chicken coop, white and brown eggs cradled in the well of her palms. The wind tousles that short auburn hair, loosening it from behind her ears, and carries her voice through the door to you.

“She’s my… I’m… she’s a coffee cup, I’m tea.”

Your fingers still against the page of your book, and you glance up as she walks through the door, still murmuring under her breath.

“What’s that?” you smile.

“Eggs?” She holds them up, eyebrows pinched defensively—secretively.  

“Ellie,” you laugh. Dog ear the page of your book and tuck it away on the kitchen counter. She nestles the eggs carefully into a bowl and sidles up beside you, hooking an ankle neatly around yours.

“It’s nothing,” her nose brushes against the apple of your cheek, lips chapped and dry from the morning air as they lay a kiss to your jaw. “How do you want your eggs? I’ll make a fire.”

Months pass after that, and you hear it as she bathes. Hear it as she hangs your socks on the clothesline.

“She’s the salt,” she sings faintly. “And I’m the sea.”

Hear it as she builds her arrows, hunched over the table, tired fingers fiddling. Hear it grumbled through a mouthful of mint as she brushes her teeth.

“She’s a dog, and I’m her fleas.”  

One day in Summer you walk together, following that little stream all the way to the lake. You hear it then too. Softly, under her breath, your hand held loosely in hers as the sun turns her shoulders pink.

“If she’s creamer, then I’m jooooe,” the voice you love purrs, her thin lips pursing and parting as she drags out the vowel. “Sun don’t set, wherever we go.”

And then one night, as the two of you sit admiring the sky and all of its pinks and blues and yellows and oranges, you abandon your chair for hers. Slink two steps across the patio and into her lap, welcoming the way her arms drape around your shoulders. She kisses the bone at the top of your spine, the sloping side of your neck, and watches the sky from over your shoulder.

And then she sings quietly, her voice a delicate and hoarse thing against the back of your head.

“She’s a pistol.” A breath in and a breath out. “I’m a bow.”

“Is that from your song?” you ask, voice a hushed whisper. Scared to break the softness of the moment; the sunset trance that rests in a warm shroud over the patio.  

“Hmm?” she murmurs. You feel her lips trail the shell of your ear, the edge of your jaw. You shiver and go lax in her lap.

“Will you sing me your song?” you say louder, eyes focused on the waning horizon.

“My song?” Ellie laughs. One of her hands slips from your shoulder to play with the hairs at the nape of your neck. Twisting a strand around her finger and tugging gently. “It’s your song, babe.”

“Well, I’d like to hear it,” you murmur, and you can hear the smile in your own voice. “Properly, I mean.” Feel the heat that rises in your neck at the mere thought of it. Your song.  

“What about…” she says, fingers thrumming a beat against your stomach now. “What if I sing it for you in the morning? I think it’ll be warm. Sunny. We can see if those strawberries you planted are ready to eat.”

You consider it for a moment—her lips stained pink; eyes bright as she croons your song in the morning sunshine.  

“With the guitar too?”

A pause.

“With the guitar,” she agrees.

You nod once and turn to kiss her. Smile into her mouth.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Strawberries and my song in the morning.”

thank you for reading! x

[sunflower-farm]

Summer 6th - My Birthday 🥳

I didn’t mention it last year but yeah 😅 my birthday is Summer 6th

Demetrius wants a pufferfish

I got my geodes crunched at Clint’s and gave a lot of stuff to Gunther - he gave me some crazy wall art that I don’t have space for

I went mining and found a layer with lots and lots of mushrooms it was pretty cool

Photo of the Day:

Look at my Baby Birds!!

[ddejavvu]

Hi! If you’re ever in the mood, maybe could we get Hangman going into a florist shop (maybe to get his mom flowers or something idk) or a bakery and meeting reader who works there and she is just overall really sweet and he pretty much falls head over heels

The man that he has to shoulder past in the doorway makes Jake assume that his breakfast voyage to the new bakery on the coast will be a disastrous one, but one glance from you has him reconsidering.

Your eyes are trained on him from the moment he lumbers through the door, but Jake chooses to think that's because he's so impossibly handsome rather than because he's the only person there. You smile at him with all of the warmth of the pastry oven beside you, but none of the bite of its flame, and he steps up to the counter feeling like he's been sun-kissed.

"Hello, sir." You offer, and your voice is sweet like the glaze drizzled over the cinnamon rolls in your window, "What can I get for you this morning?"

Perhaps if you were different - harsher, maybe, sharper - he'd have asked for your number. But you seem too sweet for a savory one-liner, and he bites his tongue until his spit bleeds hot to restrain himself.

"Uh, just a blueberry muffin and a black coffee-" It takes every ounce of self-control not to call you sugar, the word ironically sour on his tongue, "-please."

"Warmed?" You pause from tapping his order into your computer, gazing curiously at him. He blinks, once, twice, then realizes you mean his muffin rather than his rapidly beating heart, nodding disjointedly.

"Alright," You smile, movements smooth like dough that's been expertly kneaded- not that Jake needs to be thinking about kneading you right now, "I'll have that ready for you in a moment, sir. Uh- military discount?"

You eye his bulging biceps pointedly, spying a tan neckline beneath the zipper of his jacket. His face melts into a dopey smile like butter over pancakes, and he tries keeping his voice similarly smooth when he nods, "Yeah."

"Thank you for your service," You nod before totaling his order up, and even if it's a phrase that's programmed into you, memorized just as diligently as the recipes you bake by, he finds that it means more from you than it ever has from any passing stranger.

He lingers at the counter while your system loads his payment, and keeps his head ducked towards the pin-pad though his eyes wander to your busy form.

You brew his coffee easily, and place his blueberry muffin into the oven with enough care that not a single crumb of the topping falls off. You give it fifteen seconds, then package it in a plastic box, retrieving his coffee and setting it on top. You hand him his two items, one on top of each other, and it means that your fingers linger on the babse of the container and the lid of his coffee cup longer than they need to, just to be sure he's not going to drop the precariously balanced meal.

"Have a nice day, sir." You beam at him with more of that celestial warmth, and the tinkle of a bell means that Jake has to step aside to let a new customer order. Otherwise he thinks he might linger, feet stuck to the floor and elbows growing achy as he leans them against the counter to talk with you while you work. He files the plan away for later, a recipe for a first date, and takes his leave, though not before throwing one last glance at you as he opens the door with his back.

Maybe it's wishful thinking, but he's fairly certain you're looking at the new customer a little more like a stale croissant than the sugary feast you'd seen in Jake.

[ninsletamain]

Happy B-day to one of the sweetest people I know @quarantineddreamer! Much love from myself and @frostbitepandaaaaa!

We hope you enjoy your gift! A certain someone told me you’d like an X-Files AU. (:

“I think you’d have better luck interviewing the victim, Andor.”

Cassian turns around, undeniably relieved to see his partner, Special Agent Jyn Erso, perched on the bottom stair of the half-rotted stoop. She blinks up at him from under the brim of her almost comically large umbrella. Her eyes are knowing, her expression as lucid as ever. She had, no doubt, witnessed the entire debacle between him and the local law enforcement on her short trip from the car to the sway-backed and moss-fringed front porch of their newest crime scene investigation.

“Ah, that’s not my job, Erso, that’s all you,” Cassian tosses back archly. Jyn rolls her eyes and he comes to join her on the bottom stair. He assumes that she does not wish to venture inside the rotted, sodden prairie Colonial until absolutely necessary (and perhaps is wanting to dodge the ire of the local sheriff that Cassian had just pissed off in almost record time).

“Lay it on me, Andor. What is it this time?” Jyn asks, trying to sound bored but he knows better. His partner likes to evoke the straight-laced, no-nonsense career woman but Agent Jyn Erso is also the most accomplished forensic pathologist and scalpel wielder in the FBI… perhaps in the whole damn country. And one doesn’t reach such lofty acclaim by being squeamish. She had also quietly denied several career opportunities over the years that could be considered, well, more sane, in favor of chasing lights in the sky and slicing and dicing in backwater morgue bays.

Had stuck with him. But he tries not to think about that part.

He ducks under the umbrella and they venture out in the weedy front yard in tandem. Jyn makes no effort to accommodate his seven inch height advantage and Cassian does not expect her too. The rain is a dismal, steady drizzle and much of his back is damp within a few steps.

“The victim— 34, male— looks to have been frightened to death,” he announces as if commenting on the shitty weather.

“Cassian,” she groans, stopping to look at him like he had just expressed his desire to join the circus. He knows that tone well. It’s also never a good sign whenever she uses his first name. “Frightened to death?”

He nods, trying, and apparently failing, to keep the amusement off his face because Jyn’s eyes close and she sighs mightily as they continue on their way. “You ever heard of the Boogey Man, Erso?”

“There’s no such thing—“

“Look, I’ll leave it to you, Dr. Erso. Once you get the autopsy done and dusted then you can call me crazy.”

They reach the car and Jyn pulls the door handle on the passenger side. She drove here, but she is not fond of driving— especially when there is a perfectly good man to do it for her— and Cassian is always happy to oblige her in her few glints of prissiness.

She closes the umbrella, shakes out the rain and swings her sensible kitten heels into the car. “Cassian, I’ll save us both some time.” She leans precariously close to him, elbow on the center console of their little rented Cabriolet. He freezes in the midst of fastening his seatbelt (after having to push the seat back what felt like a good four feet). Her hair is damp and a bit wild despite the shelter of the umbrella (her hair always gets frizzy in the humidity— he thinks it’s unbearably cute) and he can smell her perfume. His heart stops in his chest.

“You’re crazy,” she pronounces sagely and falls back into her seat.

He puffs out a laugh, shakes his head, and fires up the car.

[kaciidubs]

Stupid in Love

❣ Summary: Perhaps they call it falling in love because you never truly stop falling. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 813 ❣ Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, Hyunjin fell hard for you, genuinely just fluff and love ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Hyunjin is referred to as Hyune, Reader is referred to as My Love, I suggest listening to 'Stupid in Love' by MAX, featuring Yunjin, it's what inspired this whole thing ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Hyunjin was smitten.

Truly, utterly smitten, infatuated, head over heels, down bad, and stupidly, stupidly in love.

Love was a concept that was both foreign and familiar, something he knew he’d felt before but in the same breath, something he had no working experience with - which only seemed to make things worse.

Love wasn’t black and white turning to color, it was his already extensive color palette expanding with new, vibrant hues and shades he hadn’t been able to create on his own.

With you, he felt like he was walking on clouds, dancing in the drizzling rain as the sun shone through the droplets to cast the most beautiful, vibrant rainbow across the blue sky. At the same time, he felt like he was a newborn deer discovering the world on new, wobbly legs, going about everything with an air of curiosity and wonder that had his heart leaping at every turn.

Complex and simple, it made his head spin as he tried to make himself understand the feelings he was experiencing, though the only suitable conclusion he could ever come to was the simple fact that he was in love with you.

You, who giggled when he stumbled over his words while introducing himself.

You, who agreed to go on a date with him a mere three weeks after meeting, on the only condition that you would plan out the date.

You, who he found himself calling his girlfriend within the blink of an eye, and in the next blink you were both two years and a few months deep, and going strong.

You, you, you.

“...and I figured making chocolate covered fruits would be better than attempting to make an entire cake from scratch, even though Felix swore he and Seungmin could bake with their eyes closed - I’ve seen their lives before! There’s no way they’re baking anywhere near my kitchen.”

Hyunjin blinked, his subconscious floating back down to earth as he watched you wander through your kitchen with no clear goal in sight, simply rummaging through cabinets as you spoke.

Truly, he wished he could remember what spurred this conversation - he loved the sound of your voice, and it felt counterintuitive that his wandering mind would distract him from one of his favorite sounds in the world.

However, his disappointment would disappear as fast as it arrived as you turned to him, a dazzling smile holding your lips and dancing in your eyes.

“So, what d’you think we should do for valentine’s this year, Hyune?”

It would be your third Valentine's Day together, and though you both celebrated each other often, the day of love was reserved for grander gestures to keep the social tradition alive.

Pushing himself away from the island counter, he sauntered over to you before wrapping you in his arms, swooping in to steal a feather-light kiss from your lips; pulling back just enough to bask in the sight of your lidded eyes gazing up at him.

“Let’s get married.”

You ducked your head, an astonished laugh bursting past your lips, “You- What?!” Endless giggles shook your shoulders as you looked up at him once more, winding your arms around his shoulders, “Hyunjin, really!”

“Yeah, really.” He pressed, a lovesick smile curving the corners of his lips, “Let’s get married, we can go to Vegas and get it done right then and there.” Of course, he knew his suggestion was mostly in jest, but his sentiments were as true as the sky being blue.

He wanted to marry you, if not now, then sometime down the line - he wanted to be your last love.

Humming as if contemplating his offer, you tilted your head, “How about matching tattoos first? I have a feeling neither one of us would want a Vegas wedding.”

“Oh?” Now it was his turn to tilt his head, a strand of black hair tickling his forehead, “And what type of wedding were you thinking about, my love?”

“I don’t know…”

The tone of your voice was sing-song-ish - facetious, leading, and sugar coated - and he was hanging on with a bated breath.

“I was thinking… Paris?” Your teasing smile threatened to break into a full on grin as his eyes widened a margin, before they narrowed with mirth.

Arms tightening around your waist, his lips found yours in an instant, “Matching tattoos,” he hummed breathlessly, before catching your lips in a slower, deeper kiss, “then matching rings.”

Nodding, your fingers danced in the hair at the nape of his neck as you blinked up at him with adoration, “I definitely wouldn’t mind sharing your last name, Mr. Hwang.”

Hyunjin grazed his nose along yours, reveling in your smell, your touch, you, you, you.

“I’ll give it to you as fast as I can, Mrs. Hwang.”

Hyunjin was smitten.

Truly, utterly smitten, infatuated, head over heels, down bad, and stupidly, stupidly in love with you.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes , @caitlyn98s , @ch4nn13luv , @ihrtlix , @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997 , @maximumkillshot , @y-ur--i , @acker-night , @dreamescapeswriting , @specialstay , @s00buwu , @tinyelfperson , @jj-stay , @katsukis1wife , @inlovewithmusician , @keen-li , @armystay89 , @main-character0 , @vampcharxter , @ddyskz , @prettymiye0n , @bbgnyx , @ivyisnotokay, @bahng-chrizz , @milknhoneyracha , @hann1bee , @palindrome969 , @newhope8 , @softkissfelix , @luvyev , @luminouskalopsia , @kpopsstuffs , @luvyev , @starquokka , @wolfs-howling , @laylasbunbunny , @zaethefangirl, @broken-glowsticks, @j-onedrabbles, @dawninnie, @dwaekkistar, @junglyric, @piercedddriver, @sometimesleeknows,

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part seventeen preview

"You're not focused. Keep your feet planted and your eyes on me."

Sparring under pregnant, dark clouds is proving to be just as miserable as one would think. The rain is a steady drizzle, not having let up for even a second since last night, and you curse this country for its shitty weather. Everything is uncomfortable; your hair, clothes, socks. You've tried not to say a peep about it until now. If only you'd gone to school in the States somewhere; maybe you could have made camp on a beach, and warm sand would be sticking to your skin instead of swollen raindrops. 

"I'm focused. It's just hard to see in the rain."

Clumped eyelashes rim your vision. Before you can so much as blink, Ghost punches your gut and you nearly slip on a patch of mud from the force of it, but he catches you by the sleeve to stabilize you, leaving the two of you face-to-face.

"How come I can see just fine?"

"I don't know." You answer, placing your hand atop his calloused one, and he allows you to pry it off. You step back, rubbing your eyes before planting your feet firmly. "Maybe because you were a military sergeant and are used to working in bad weather?"

He swings again. This time, you duck. "Lieutenant."

"Huh?" You straighten. 

His brows elevate, disappearing under the damp balaclava. That thing cannot be comfortable. "I was a lieutenant, not a sergeant."

"Oh. Is there a difference?"

[senualothbrok]

Content

Summary: After seeing everyone at the reunion party, Gale wonders if you regret choosing him over Astarion.

Word count: 1.4k

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Unascended Gale x Tav. Unascended Astarion. Mild hurt/comfort. Fluff.

AO3 link

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“That-” The bed dips as he collapses beside you. “Was a lovely evening.”

It is instinct now, to nestle yourself into him, to nuzzle into the nook where his neck meets his shoulder. To interlace your fingers with his.

His words are lightly slurred, drowsy from wine, heavy with pleasure. He is so warm. A light drizzle has begun outside. You lie still, listening to the gentle patter of rain on the sea.

“Everyone looked so happy,” you say. “Did you see Wyll and Karlach?”

His grin is so wide you can hear it. “I can’t say I didn’t see that coming.”

“Even Lae’zel.” You laugh. “She told me she was having a nice time. She used the word nice.”

Gale chuckles. Your body moves to its rhythm.

“Shadowheart wants to stop by again next month.”

“That would be marvellous.”

“Did I show you the duck that Halsin gave me?”

“Yes, my love. More than once. I think you showed everyone at the party.”

You sigh. “Even Jaheira and Minsc looked well. Well, Minsc looked like an escaped prisoner, but I guess that’s his version of thriving.”

“It’s heartening to see that some things never change.” He runs his fingers through your hair, slow and soft. Your eyelids begin to flutter. “And that some things do. Astarion, for instance. He seems remarkably well, doesn’t he?”

Your eyes spring open. You shift your head slightly.

“He does.”  

“He and Tara took to each other like flies to a carcass. For almost half an hour they traded casual insults about my beard, my lack of organisation, and my life choices in general. It was most entertaining. For them.

You trace your fingers over his chest. There are the faintest indents in his skin where the mark of the orb used to be.

“Some things never change.” 

“Indeed.” He kisses your forehead. “Just like the good old days, I suppose, when we were two suitors battling for the prize of your precious affections.”

You look up at him with an arched eyebrow. “Is that what I was? A prize to be won through a contest of manhood?”

He rubs his nose against yours. “Of course not. Your love is a gift, one I never dreamed I’d deserve.”

He goes on before you can protest.

“I think he may still hold my good fortune against me, though. Despite being a changed man. A leader of seven thousand spawn, even.” There is pride in his voice.

In the silence that follows, you bask in that pride. You too are indescribably proud of Astarion, how far he has come, the life he has made for himself.

“No regrets, then?” Gale asks.

He disguises it as a jest, a throwaway comment. But there is a stiffness in his chest, a hollowness to his tone, that he cannot conceal from you.

“Regrets?”

He shuffles. As he tilts his head, you see a crease on his brow.

“Do you regret your choice? Now that you’ve seen Astarion again, in all his glory?”

It is the briefest of moments. You hesitate. And he sees it.

He moves back.  Doubt darkens his features. Desperation quivers in them. He searches your eyes.

You had wanted to brush it off, dismiss it as absurd. Reassure him that you had never entertained any doubts, that you had never been uncertain about your choice. But that would not be true. And you had promised, when you had sworn your lives to each other, that you would always tell the truth.

You had promised each other that you would not sacrifice your own needs on the altar of the other’s approval. Those days were over and gone. You had vowed to always tell each other the truth about what you wanted, what you needed, what you felt. No longer would you ignore or deny who you were out of fear that the other would withdraw their love.

Your marriage had been built on that promise. You could not disregard it now.

“You can tell me.” He nods. There is turmoil in his gaze, but also kindness. And love. So much love.

You place your hand on his heart. You take a deep breath.

“After we ended things, I worried for Astarion. For a long time, I thought I had broken him, even more than he already was. I thought, after all he’d been through, for me to leave him like that…”

You remember the cold tentacles of guilt that latched around your heart, the weight of the shame that crushed you.

“I thought that I could help him. I wanted to be there for him, when no one else had been. He said I was the only one who had ever been kind to him, the only good thing he had experienced in this godsdamned shitty world. To have left him, after all that… I thought I had destroyed him.”

You remember all the sleepless nights, the dreams, the nightmares.  You know, with such certainty, that Gale will understand. You have cradled him in your arms, after all, when he has woken stricken and confused, calling out Mystra’s name. Some things do not need to be explained.

The tenderness of Gale’s gaze gives you strength to continue.

“It was exhausting, to feel like I always wanted him to be something he wasn’t. He resented me for it, for trying to change him. All the times I had to talk him down, justify my decisions, tell him that it was worth it to be kind and compassionate, to help people without expecting anything in return. I’m a Paladin, for gods’ sake, and the number of times I had to explain my oath…” You shake your head. “I felt like I had to make myself smaller, to be a different person, for our love to survive.”

Your voice breaks. “It was too much, anyway, to be the one to save him, to be his only hope.”

There is uncertainty in Gale’s frown. You see the question he holds back.

“It was different with you, Gale. You were a good man long before we met. Even being cursed with the power to obliterate an entire city couldn’t take away your kindness. Your goodness. Even that couldn’t make you bitter or cruel.”

Gale’s face has softened, but he averts his eyes. He looks contrite, when he has no reason to be.

“I admit that I’ve had some concerns.” He grimaces. “When you’re frightfully out of practice, and competing with someone with such clear expertise in matters of seduction…” He clears his throat. “It’s difficult not to wonder.”

“It was never like that.” You hand moves to cup Gale’s cheek. “And seduction, sex – that’s different from…well, making love, forgive the cliché.”

You have discussed intimacy before with Gale, but you have never discussed how things were with Astarion. You do not want to hurt him, but you owe him the truth.

“Sometimes, touch was hard for him. Being close. Showing love. And I understood that. But sometimes, I needed to be touched. To be held.”

It still surprises you, how easy it is to show Gale your heart and all its scars. How safe you feel in the knowledge that he will never run away from them.

“I felt so, so selfish for that.  And for a long time, I blamed myself, for leaving him, for choosing happiness with you.”

The tears come without warning. You brush them away, but they do not stop.

“I could never regret this life with you, Gale. But I did feel guilty. Ashamed. Now, after seeing him, knowing how happy he is, knowing how truly well he is, being able to hug him…” A laugh bursts from you, bright with relief, shaky with tears. “I don’t have to feel that way anymore.”

When he smiles, it is like the light of a thousand stars radiating through you.

“My love,” he whispers. “If I’d known that you were carrying this burden with you all this time, I would have asked you this question sooner.”

He reaches for you and holds you to his chest. You can feel the beating of his heart, echoing through you, boundless as the night sky.

“Choosing you was the best choice I’ve ever made,” you breathe.

His lips caress your hair, your ear, your neck, the tears which fall down your cheeks. His tongue melts into yours as your limbs entwine with his. You give yourself to each other, as you have before, as you will again and again. And for the first time in as long as you can remember, you are content.

----

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