#Ahh the suns nice. What a nice day……….how did i get here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notroosterbradshaw · 1 year ago

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about: just some smut to fend off jetlag. i love sleepy Bradley, I make no excuses that I feel he does his best work in the early hours of the day. This was supposed to be a drabble… it’s not anymore. Sorry.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.

masterlist.

The morning after the night before when Bradley met your family for the first time, you'd flown across the world to surprise your dad for his birthday and really, it luckily coincided with Bradley's time off. When you mentioned heading home for your old man's special day that usually kicked off your family's holiday season, you almost fell out of your seat when he said maybe it was time he met the fam face-to-face, not just making small talk over FaceTime. It almost didn’t seem fair that he was subjected to meeting everyone this way, but alas… here you were the next morning, jet lag kicking in while wrapped protectively in Bradley’s strong, golden arms and washed in the relief your family fucking loved him. You weren't overly surprised.

Bradley's quiet, unassuming charm was just who your mum wanted you to end up with, he was into golf and surfing, so your dad and brothers thought he was the bee's knees. Your sister on the other hand...

You had to fend her off more than you would have liked. You were confident in your relationship with Bradley, knowing he'd never allow anything to happen. "You're coming across a little desperate," you hissed after one or two drinks, which mortified her, and she apologised, admitting she was just happy to finally get to meet the guy who'd swept you off your feet. "Yes, my feet," you reminded her. When she pointed out how possessive you sounded, you didn't deny it. But she got it and gave you space for the rest of the evening.

Ahh, sisters.

Bradley felt your body writhe in the gentlest of movements against his and he sighed. Sleep hadn’t come easy for either of you and compounded with the food and booze you’d indulged in the day before, neither of you slept much. “You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered at God-knows-what-o’clock.

“What time is it?” You asked softly.

“I dunno, baby. Sun is barely rising,” he admitted. “Can’t hear a peep in the house.”

Which was nice because yesterday was intense. Everyone was so excited to meet your new American boyfriend (fairly, it’d been about eight months, give or take with a few deployments), the incredibly handsome navy pilot whom you’d met one evening at a naval bar while travelling. You’d caught his eyes behind his sunglasses while he played the piano, the crowd around him as swept away with him as you were. The first half-smile in your direction, as he sang, had done you over in a way not one single person on the planet had before.

He'd charmed you instantly. He still charmed you constantly.

“Did you get any sleep?” you asked, biting back a yawn.

“Not really,” he peppered tender kisses into your shoulder blade and smiled into your skin as you pressed back into him, the oh-so-quiet moan made for his ears only waking him from his dreaded fog as well. “I’ll try and get a kip somewhere today. That fuckin’ flight murdered me.”

“You were happy to fly economy,” you muttered. “I know you’re used to tight quarters, but fuck Bradley. It was 15 hours."

“I know, I know I fucked up. I was looking at upgrades overnight. I’ll use my discount and stuff; we can do it flying home.”

“You sure?”

“Sue me for wanting to save a buck,” he sighed, with a tired, deep chuckle. “Flight was so full; people may as well have been sitting on the wings.”

“It’s Christmas. People travel.”

“You don't say,” he affectionately gripped your waist, rolling you to him and kissed you. “Good morning, I think," he nuzzled your nose against his and asked if you wanted some water or anything.

You shook your head, rolling back and snuggling into him as he adjusted his arms around you again, his nose buried in your hair. "I think Dad is gonna expect you for at least nine holes today."

"I think so, yeah. Grill me and make sure I'm good enough for his little girl.” He murmured and if he was honest, he was the teeniest bit nervous. He’d never really been in relationships long enough to meet families… and who would he introduce anyone to, except for Mav?

"I think you'll be fine."

"He probably wouldn't be if he knew what a deviant I've turned his smart, beautiful baby girl into.”

You giggled quietly as you could feel the soft ends of his moustache curve into a smirk against the nape of your neck. "He'd send you back on the first flight to LA."

"I would believe that," he said softly.

"I think yesterday went really well, Bradley," you confided quietly to him.

"You think? I was on my very best behaviour," he teased you.

"Yes, you were," you admitted. Not that he ever wasn't. Bradley was instilled with a remarkable set of manners. He was chivalrous and courteous to a fault, incredibly sweet and at times, pensive, even shy. Almost make believe that you were lucky enough to share his time. You wriggled back against him, and you could feel the hard-on straining through his boxer briefs. "Down, boy."

"Can't help it," he sighed. "You know what you do to me with that ass. I know what you want. You're not that transparent."

You bit back your pleased smile as his wandering hands travelled down your side, fingertips toying with the hem of his old Navy tee that was now your bed shirt. At home, you were nude sleepers. At your parents' home during the holidays? You showed decorum and respect and you both hated it, preferring skin-on-skin of the other but alas, anyone could walk in at any time.

“Have a thought about how we might be able to fuck this jetlag off…”

“Oh, yeah?” at this point, you’d do anything and with Bradley’s travel for work, you hoped maybe he might have some insight. You had planned to just power through and try not to be the world’s most exhausted asshole.

"You just move your thigh a little this way..." he murmured, his palm cupping your hamstring and you pressed back into him, grinning softly. “And I just slide up in here – ”

“Confident of you, don’t you think?”

“You’re always wet for me,” he whispered against your skin. “Unless you deny it.”

“Never…” you told him, reaching back to wrap an arm around his strong neck. “I just can't keep it down with you. Why didn’t you convince me to get the AirBnb?”

He loved how vocal you were during sex. Your moans, the hisses, the way you'd bite your lip when you were so close. That groan as you came, or the little squeal when you were too sensitive was burned into his brain as his favourite sounds in the world.

"Just lemme hold you then, it's okay, sweetheart," he grumbled. “I’ll live if you can.”

“Asshole,” you muttered as he chuckled.

“Do you want a blowjob?” You nervously offered, turning back to him and he looped your thigh over his hip and perched you above him with such little effort on his behalf - you loved how strong he was but you knew what was waiting for you, Bradley made no secret he was turned on and you loved that you were able to have him on a knife-edge at all times.

The one per cent, he’s told you once before.

You’re so sweet to him as you slowly dragged your hand into the waistband of his boxer briefs, revealing more and more skin, cock springing free, slapping against his toned, tanned Adonis belt. Long, thick and dripping with precum already and he almost blushed at how eager he was.

“I’ll never say no,” he replied, “And I know you might be uncomfortable here. Your dad is right across the hall, baby."

“But my daddy is right here…” you immediately corrected him, and he smiled darkly to himself. You didn't use that term lightly, you couldn’t nfi fed to him he had the ability to bring out your innermost feral when you least expected it and he would do his utmost to encourage it (if you were comfortable).

“Jesus,” his head was swirling, trying to keep calm and not blow his load the second you bared your tongue to him but there was absolutely nothing sweet about it. He was a preening mess when you went down on him. The night you'd told him you weren't overly experienced in blow jobs was the greatest night of his life, coaching you through what he liked and watching you perfect your generous technique time and time again.

These days, you loved giving Bradley head. He gave you confidence, he made you feel sexy and not like it was only about him on the receiving end. He’s whispered and encouraged, and when it all got too much, he told you he was close. He was neither here nor there on the whole spit or swallow thing… until you and your preference but he was never left empty-handed.

"Shh," you hissed. "Not a sound."

That one thing you did for him that absolutely made him come undone. And he'd bury his face in your pussy all day if you allowed him to show you how fucking grateful, he was for all the pleasure you presented him. Your sweet, tight wetness that he would eagerly drown himself in if you’d let him.

Your honeyed tongue delicately tasted the flawless head of his cock, lapping up the precum as Bradley's eyes rolled back into his head and his big hands reached to knot into your hair as you went to work, swirling your tongue and looking up with your big, scheming eyes, knowing you had him at his most precarious.

He was a weapon in his training, his mind and body were always primed to do what was asked of him, but you were the exception and it scared and excited him.

He could feel himself getting so close to painting the back of that beautiful mouth, and while it pained him to say it, the way your eyes softened told him he’d made the right choice. “Come on, baby, I want you.”

You gently pulled away and asked, “You don’t want me to finish?”

“No, I wanna fuck, baby. Watch you lose control.”

“Okay,” you said, your soft hand trading with your warm mouth to tenderly pump and tease him.

“Gimme a sec. I don't have condoms close,” he whispered. “They're in my luggage.”

"Just pull out, sweetheart," you enticed him, wanting to feel all of him. It was so infrequent you fucked without protection, and of course, you both preferred it that way but after a pregnancy scare (or not, neither of you was really sure) a few months back, you'd both decided to stop tempting fate and ensuring there was a stash of condoms at his place, your place... the goddamn Bronco – Bradley understood that it was your body and you didn’t want to be on the pill. A condom was the least he could do, and he knew it.

Bradley helped you move up his body and rest you above him. "Are you sure?" he kissed you, your gleaming teeth lightly stinging into his bottom lip with an affectionate nip.

“I trust you,” you told him. "Cum where you need...”

Truth be told, he wanted to cum deep, but he licked back a wet smile and he moved to his knees to pull his navy tee over your head, bearing your beautiful breasts to him, full, round, nipples begging for attention. “On your back, baby,” he urged, guiding you under him, anticipating how wet you were for him, legs splaying open unashamed. He rested the head of his cock on your weeping cunt, his fingers spreading your bare lips and sweeping your slick across your clit, fascinated by that little peep of desperation from you. Your head fell back against the pillows, bliss sweeping through you as he sweetly pressed one finger into you. “Drippin’,” he reported, pressing in another finger and his thumb rubbing tenderly against your throbbing clit. “Gonna gush for me?”

You probably would, Bradley’s ability to drag absolutely everything out of you blew your mind each time. “Need your cock. Fill me up, Bradley.”

Pushing in, one delicious inch by delicious inch, licking his full lips as your back curved to take him as deeply as possible. He buried his face in your breasts, holding one in his calloused palm, eyes fluttering closed as he traced, left wet, open-mouthed kissed and tenderly bit the other, and the groan you let you made him clamp his palm over your mouth. “You’re so wet, baby,” he stared deeply into your eyes as he evened his breath with the first few rolls of his slender hips. "But you're gonna wake your parents if you don’t control yourself."

"Let them fuckin' hear," you muttered behind your hand (you’d die if they heard you though) as he chuckled and began his ruthless assault on your senses, one thrust at a time.

"You're too good to me," Bradley reminded you in disbelief.

"All for you," you confided, as you watched the beads of sweat break across his brow as you dug your nails into his well-worked traps, willingly knowing it would leave a mark courtesy of your fresh manicure. You raised your hips to meet his deep, plunging thrusts, fucking into you strong and deep. He felt incredible, you don't think anyone had loved on you as Bradley Bradshaw could. So thorough, and never one to leave you hanging.

Too long, too sore? He'd pause and tenderly withdraw to hold you, reassuring you that it was fine, and your comfort was paramount. Too sensitive after coming too hard, he'd give you time to recover, finding other ways to bring you pleasure.

It was nice to be considered in your relationship, in your sex life especially. In the past, you'd been made to feel like a machine, if you didn't cum, partners still could, and you'd just deal with it. For a long time, that stuck with you and having someone consider you like Bradley would almost seem too good to be true at the start.

But that consideration never lapsed. He was make-believe and you fucking hoped if this man and everything he brought to you was a dream that you’d never, ever wake up.

Desperate to keep himself controlled, Bradley reached for the headboard of your old bed, gripping it for dear life as he tried so damn hard to avoid coming. He loved fucking you raw, and since birth control was completely your choice, you two had to stop playing this dangerous game. Because one day? It would beat you both.

"I need to cum, Bradley," you whined to him as he nodded, chewing his lower lip, and putting your delicate fingers in your mouth, not losing his rhythm. He knew. He knew how close you were.

"Lemme see you touch yourself, baby. Get those fingers - " he gasped as you clenched around him. "Get 'em nice and wet and play with that sweet, tight pussy. Lemme see you fall apart.”

Before, language like that would embarrass you, but with Bradley, it only spurred you on. It was incredible the ways he’d helped you grow and mature as a friend, partner and lover. As instructed, and in the low early morning light, Bradley’s breath hitched, watching you touch yourself and you couldn’t help it, the beat of his cock against your g-spot, your fingers pressing rough circles into your clit and you started to come.

“Yes, baby. Yes,” he urged, moving his mouth to your ear, whispering his sweet encouragement. “You feel so good, just a little mo – ” he forced his mouth against yours, kissing your pleasure to him, to keep the noise down. He wrapped his hand under your hip, lifting your waist to push harder into you as you trembled below him, your pussy clutching his cock, spasming as he shuddered against your lips. “Yes, baby.”

“Jesus, Bradley, fuck me,” you begged as his hips speed up like a piston, thrusting hard into your swollen, sensitive pussy, his hand clutching yours away from your strained clit and pressing intensely in your place, hoping to drag your orgasm out and as you fell, lifeless, back against the squishy pillows, pussy pulsating, Bradley grunted low he was coming and after his final few thrusts, he quickly withdrew and unloaded, stroking himself until he was spent, pearly ribbons of cum decorating your belly and breasts.

He collapsed beside you, taking your cheeks in his face and kissing you wildly. “I love you. I love you, baby,” he kissed you again, and though you were spent, you returned his affections, because truly… you loved Bradley Bradshaw with your entire being. It was going to take a lot to change that. “Are you okay?” he asked, chest still heaving as he breathed, his pointer finger tracing through the mess he made on you.

“I’m good, sweetheart,” you assured him as he gave you one last, final kiss.

“Think that helped with your jetlag?” he teased.

“Makes me want another round,” you admitted as he chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

“Of course you do,” he pressed a kiss into your pulse and lifted his lips back to yours, holding you close and just like horny teenagers, enjoying making out for a few moments in the afterglow. “Where’s that shirt gone?” he asked, peering over the side of the bed, and cleaning you up. “Jackson Pollack painting here.”

“Be less proud,” you told him as he snorted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he pressed another kiss to your lips. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Perfect, but let me go pee,” you whispered as Bradley kissed you long and deep, he nodded into the kiss but was not quite ready to leave you leave him.

“Go, clean up, baby,” he helped you up from the bed, your legs precarious and meandering like Bambi. “Careful,” he sighed, wistfully. But he knew it already, you were thoroughly fucked, just how he liked it.

A few hours later and thankfully, a few more hours of sleep, your alarm woke you, the sun much higher in the sky and the heat of the day starting to rise. You’d showered and told him to come down when he was ready, you’d help your Mum with some brekky.

“You want eggs?”

“Anything,” Bradley admitted. “Famished.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” you cupped his face in your palms and kissed him lightly. “Don’t rush.”

“Okay,” he gave a small grin but didn’t much feel like lingering. After a quick shower, he dressed, annoyed he didn't pack any golf gear, at minimum the shoes that you gave him grief for every time he wore them, but maybe he'd treat himself and buy some at the course today. He rifled through his bag, clutching the velvet box in his palm tightly, convinced more than ever that this was real, this was happening and soon, he'd hope to have you wearing his mother's engagement ring too.

Slapping on his CVN-71 cap, he knew you went a bit feral when he perched it backward. May as well leave you with good thoughts while he was out and about, asking your old man for your hand on the golf course. And if it went badly, it was also something to identify him when the authorities found him if your dad said no.

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skylarsblue · 8 months ago

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★Sugar Cube★

★Red Dead Redemption★ ★Fem!Reader cause I was having a fem! day, use of Y/N(sorry), fluff, a tiny bit of hurt/comfort at the end, silly drunk Arthur at the start, I don't think there's sexual tension here but I could be wrong. The autism has overtaken me and he is all I think about, the depression wave is only kept at bay by this man.★ ★The border in the story is @fairytopea 's, if you'd like me to remove it I will :3★

The world rocked back and forth, a haze over the rolling fields of grass. Arthur slumped his head down a bit, looking at trees passing by. He had to be running, he was pretty sure walking didn’t make the world move so fast. This speed was extraordinary! Since when could he run so fast? He used to be quick in his youth, but nearing forty, his knees had really aged poorly. But here he was, zipping down a dirt road with agility, wind blowing past his face. With such grace too. Then, suddenly a bump, and he felt himself tilt dramatically to the side. Two long blinks and horse hooves hitting the ground came to his ears. He looked forward, seeing his trusty steed he’d been bonding with the past week dodging a tree to continue up the path. Arthur groaned a little and pulled himself right, then he leaned forward, weighed down by his own head. It was bumpy, but he rested his cheek on the horse’s neck, humming in a moment of peace when feeling the horse’s fur rubbed against his stubble. It was soft and warm. He always liked that about horses.

“Heheh, nice horsey.” He slurred, patting the horse’s side. It snorted, slowing down to a prance as the trees became thicker. Arthur continued petting the horse’s fur when it occurred to him that he was saying ‘it’. “Ah you’re not some random horse. Nah nah, I named you, right? Uh…what was it…” He mumbled, looking at the light brown color of the Clydesdale horse. A dusty color. Arthur gasped, a bit choked by his own saliva. “Dusty! That’s what I named ya! Ahh, Dusty you’re the best horse this side o’ the country.” He laid against her again, listening to her snort again, which made him let out a fit of giggles. Deep, short laughs that erupted from his chest. He looked around at the trees, and despite his fuzzy brain, he was able to pick out a landmark.

“Buh, camp. They're gonna make me go do some…stupid…tedious chore or somethin’.” The honey-brown haired man pouted. He huffed out a breath as Dusty went under a broken, spiky tree, approaching a lantern lit spot full of tents. The sun was setting. Dusty stomped past the horse ties and more toward the middle of the camp, catching the attention of some of the gang.

“Arthur Morgan, what the hell are you doin’?!”

Arthur winced at the shrill yell. He blinked slowly, looking in its direction, finding Miss O’Shea stood with her hands situated on her hips and a scowl ever present. He sat up slowly, hands grabbing the saddle so he wouldn’t fall, given how wobbly he was. “Heeyyy, Miss O’Sheaaa. Evenin’.” He nodded, though his head didn’t really come up afterward. The woman scoffed and tossed her hands up in exasperation, falling back to her sides with a smack sound. Lenny snickered from his place at the table. “You have fun at the saloon, Morgan?!” Javiar shouted to him. The man nodded again. The men laughed as O’Shea yelled for him to get down. He almost did until she called him a moron.

“‘Ey! I ain’t no moron! I’m quite smart, I’ll have you know.” He pointed, only for the loss of a stability point to send him leaning forward again. Dusty brayed as he landed against her neck once more. Arthur heard some more laughs from the picnic table but he didn’t open his eyes again. “Arthur Morgan, get your sorry ass off the horse.” She said again, and Arthur replied with a discontent grunt. “‘er name is Dusty, first o’ all. And two, no. Cause you called me a moron.” He replied defiantly, ending his sentence with a small hiccup. O’Shea blinked in awe at the utter sass as Arthur flipped his head over to keep from looking at her.

“Dutch, will you get your boy?” She motioned at the horse. Dutch chuckled around his cigar and held up his hands. “What makes you think he’ll listen to me? He’s a brat when he’s drunk.” He shrugged.

“Who’s drunk?” A sweetened voice asked. Walking around a tent with a bucket of water settled on her hip. “Arthur’s bein’ a brat.” Miss O’Shea huffed. Y/N set the bucket down and looked toward the horse, watching the rough and steely outlaw hum a tune while petting his companion, giggling quietly to himself when Dusty stamped a hoof into the ground and huffed. She laughed quietly behind her hand, watching him hug Dusty and mutter slurred praises. “Ah, I see, he’s drunk.” She nodded. “Drunk and ornery. We need him somewhat put together by tomorrow, so he needs to sleep this off, but the moron won’t get off the damn horse!” O’Shea shouted back at him. “Dusty!” He called back, more concerned about the respect to his horse than himself. Y/N giggled and shook her head. “You’re never gonna get him to listen with all that hollerin’. The way to get a stubborn boy to listen is to sweet talk’im. Lemme try.” She patted O’Shea on the shoulder before walking up to the Clydesdale.

“Arthur, hun, can ya look at me?” She asked. In an instant, he turned his head to look at her, and a goofy grin appeared across his face. “Heyyy, how’re you?” He asked. Y/N smiled up at him, feeling a sense of fondness bursting in her chest. She’d always been fond of Arthur, perhaps to the point of blatant favoritism. She didn’t really hide it either. While she might’ve been generally kind and helpful to the gang as a whole, it wasn’t hard to see when she gave him special treatment. When washing or fixing clothes, she’d take his without him asking, while she’d put up some resistance with the rest. When a petty argument broke out between him and someone else, she’d only really get onto the other party for saying something untoward, while Arthur’d get something half-heartedly scolding. “Let’s try to keep the peace, m’kay? Why don’t’cha go sit down and relax?” While someone like Micha got chewed up like a dog with a bone. Though, honestly, Micha probably had it coming most of the time.

She never outright denied her general adoration for the man, though she never explained it either. Maybe it was because he’d been the one to find her, help her out of the mess she’d been in. Or maybe it was because he was so helpful to her, to everyone. Or, perhaps, she just thought he was pretty. Could’ve been all of the above, really.

“I’m doin’ fine. You look like you could be doin’ better.” Y/N replied. He waved a hand with a light-hearted scoff. “Nah I’m fiiinne.” He went to get off the horse, dismounting with a wobble. He held his hands out in front of him to catch himself, and she readied to catch him if he went backwards instead, even if he was probably too heavy for her to carry. Thankfully, he stood upright, and pivoted with a smile. “See? Fine.” He said, as if he’d actually proven something. Y/N tilted her head and fought off some giggles, unlike the men at the table watching it all. “Sure, Arthur. How bout we get you lied down, hm?” She suggested, gently resting her hand on his arm to help keep him steady. Arthur shook his head and waved his hand dismissively again.

“Naaah nah, y’all got work to finish, I should help.” He said. Y/N sighed, her free hand coming to rest on her hip. O’Shea rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I told you. Ain’t got no sense when he’s drunk.” The woman complained. Y/N held up a hand, silently telling her to settle down and give her a moment. If there was one thing Arthur was, it was a real bitter life. All iron and blood-soaked palms, tarnished leather and black coffee. It was how he’d been raised, and while it wasn’t something he’d grown to dislike, something being familiar didn’t necessarily make it pleasant. Y/N had seen peeks of something softer.

How tender his voice was when calming a horse, or how careful his lines were when he sketched a landscape, and how gentle his gaze got when left with a moment of peace. All these little moments of softness to help some part of him to stay alive, keep himself from turning into nothing but a selfish, shallow husk. But keeping it alive on his own had to be tough. Y/N had always been the caring type, even when it got her into dangerous situations. She’d grown less naive, but not less sensitive, and that need to let life flourish was something she held onto dearly. Be it a garden or a man who probably hadn’t had a hug in Lord knows how long.

“I think it’s real nice you wanna help, but ain’t you been doin’ a lot recently?” Y/N asked. Her voice was softer, sweeter, and it caught Arthur’s attention almost immediately. “Uh, well…” He trailed off and leaned into her hand, now giving a gentle squeeze to the tense muscle of his shoulder. “All that runnin’ ‘round, pickin’ up the slack. All kinds of stuff you barely got thanked for. Don’t’cha deserve a little rest? Even just a nap?” She asked. His shoulders loosened the more she spoke, like he was being lulled to sleep with a lullaby.

The blue eyed man hummed quietly, then began to nod slowly. “Yeah…Yeah I do a lot, don’t I? I guess a lil rest wouldn’t hurt.” He mumbled. Y/N smiled and slid her hand down to his, holding it carefully, despite the rough calluses and scars. With a cautious pull, she began to lead him, stumbling toward his tent. “I think you’re exactly right. So why don’t we get you situated for bed, hm? Maybe I’ll talk Dutch into gettin’ you some extra hours in the mornin’.” She said. With a look over her shoulder, she grinned proudly at the onlookers. That being the boys at the table, Dutch, and Miss O’Shea. All either with smiles of their own or agape mouths. She snickered before turning her attention back to Arthur, helping him duck into his tent and meander up to his cot.

He sat down with a grunt. “There ya go, ain’t that nicer than standin’?” She asked, reaching to remove his hat from his head. Arthur gave a noncommittal noise back, blinking slowly, trying to remove the haze in his vision. He was very sleepy all of a sudden, and his limbs felt oddly heavy. After dusting some dirt from his hat and setting it down, she pushed the strands of hair that’d fallen in his face out of the way. His hair had grown a bit, starting to reach the lower part of his neck. He let out a shaky exhale when her nails dragged over his scalp, and the sound brought a sorrowful feeling to her heart. It was something so small and quick, and yet it had such an effect. She hesitated to pull her hand back, playing it off as her fixing his hair a bit more as he fought to stay awake. “How bout we get you ready for bed, hm?” Y/N whispered. He peeked up at her, eyelids heavy and barely open to gaze at her features. Even in the dark her face made him feel warm, fuzzy, much like the alcohol he’d imbibed. He gave her a slow nod, yawning as she untied the handkerchief from around his neck. He helped the best he could, using the toe of his right boot to kick off the left one, then repeated the process for the other one. “Think you can manage your belt, hun?” She asked. He looked down at the golden buckle, as if actually considering if he could manage it, before he nodded and gave an affirmative grunt. She laughed under her breath as he struggled for a moment, picking up his boots in order to move them aside, lest he trip over them in the morning.

He managed, with a mild struggle, to get his belt undone and off. She took it from him and set it aside, being sure to remove his gun. He always kept it beside his bed or under his pillow, and she was going to honor that personal rule. “You need anything else, sweetheart?” Y/N asked, approaching him once again. She stood in front of him, close enough to touch, though his hands remained in his lap. She was dimly lit by a burning lantern in the far corner, running low on oil. His head felt heavy, but he forced his chin upward to look at her more. He opened his mouth, though words didn’t leave it. She smiled so sweetly, tucking his bangs back, watching him melt under it.

“Poor thing, all rusty steel and splitterin’ wood, ain’t no one takin’ care of you. You gotta be exhausted.” She said, letting his chin fall into her palm, supporting the weight for him, much to his endearment. He closed his eyes as she stroked his cheek with her thumb, undeterred by the roughness of his stubble. “Ain’t ever been rich enough for sugar.” He grumbled, words still a bit garbled, tongue tied from liquor. She clicked her tongue sympathetically. He unintentionally leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest on her sternum. She shifted her positioning for him to be more comfortable, hands coming up to the back of his head and neck. He just about groaned when she lightly scratched his scalp, and oh how delighted she felt at it. Though how much he’d been deprived of this hurt her heart, the fact he was letting her make up for it felt all the nicer. She’d take bittersweet as a middle ground.

“Arthur.” She cooed his name, getting a grunt in response. She moved her hands to help him tilt his head up to look at her, met with a sleepy gaze, black pupils overtaking the blue she’d come to favor. “Tell ya what,” She began. “Whenever you get sick of the bitter world, and you want a little break, you come tell me. You can get all the sugar ya want, ‘kay? Everyone deserves a little sweetness here and there.” She offered. He stared at her, limp in relaxation. He hummed. “Ya sure?” He asked, feeling her gently guide him off of her and down to the bed. She propped his head on the pillow, putting his hands over his torso. “Mhm, absolutely positive.” She affirmed, covering him with the quilt rolled up at the end of the bed. She gave him another scratch to his temple, seeing as he liked it so much. His eyes fluttered closed, sighing. “Mm, alrighty, I’ll keep that in mind.” He replied, words hushed. “Good, now get some rest, cowboy. You’re gonna need it.” She cooed again. He was out quickly, allowing her to admire him for a moment. He was plastered, she doubted he’d remember any of the conversation they’d just had. But she wouldn’t mind repeating it to him anyway, since she meant it wholeheartedly. Perhaps a little selfishly, she pecked his forehead before leaving his tent, not missing the unconscious smile it got from him.

He hadn’t forgotten. Not the core parts of the night, anyway. Even when he’d woken up with a blasting headache thumping behind his eyes, trying to piece together everything. He remembered the majority of her words, and he couldn’t forget the feeling of her warmth, and the delicate way she spoke. And it humiliated him for the entire morning, but even when he was visibly ashamed she was sweet.

He’d sat up on his cot and put his head in his hands, grumbling to himself about how stupid he was. Flushed across his cheeks and up to his ears. Maybe if he asked John to help him, he could dig a hole and bury himself in it, the man owed him anyway. He called himself a fool, only to hear a giggle that forced his heart to a stop. With a wince, he glanced to the side between his fingers. Of course, there she stood, illuminated by the morning sun, holding a steaming cup of coffee. “A foolish decision doesn’t necessarily make a fool, Mr.Morgan. It’s several foolish decisions that make a pattern, then, that makes a fool.” She said, stepping into the tent. He slid his hands off his face and hesitantly took the cup she held out to him. She was trying to make him feel better, he knew that, and damn it worked.

“How’s your head feelin’, cowboy?” Y/N asked. He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. He could feel his heartbeat in the sockets, and the sunlight certainly wasn’t helping. He heard her chuckle as he sipped at the drink. It’s warmth nothing compared to hers, and shamefully, he wished to feel the heat of her palm on his face again, sober this time. “Asked Charles to grab some tea when he and Hosea had into town today, always helped me with headaches when I had it. I’ll make you a lil if it doesn’t settle soon.” She promised. He thanked her quietly, feeling her pat his shoulder. His tongue felt like metal in his mouth, weighing down the words he needed to use. He swallowed as she pivoted to leave, and he felt his chest tighten as she did.

Y/N paused when he coughed a little too poignantly. She looked over her shoulder, finding him fidgety and shy as he looked at the ground. “Yes, Arthur?” She asked, turning to look at him again. How sweet it was when he could only manage a quick glance before his cheeks flushed again. “I uh, ahem, last night…” He started, bouncing his leg slightly. She nodded and motioned for him to continue. He took in a deep breath. “You uh, you offered uhm…” He was so bad at words, it was one of his many faults. Either he spoke before he thought, or he used the wrong word and messed up the entire sentence, or he’d choke on whatever he wanted to say and they’d get sick of waiting, making him lose an opportunity. She had patience though, and let out another breathy laugh. Fond and kind, not mocking.

“I offered you sugar, yes. I said you could ask, whenever ya wanted, and I wouldn’t mind.” Y/N reiterated. He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at the coffee in the little mug in his other hand. “So, uh, does that offer-” “It still applies when you’re sober, mister. Don’t worry.” She confirmed. Arthur swallowed. It felt like syrup, thick and encompassing, making him sluggish. He was still aware of the spiking pain in his skull, and while he knew it was his own fault, he would’ve loved relief. Even if he didn’t deserve it, to feel her nails gently pet at his head again sounded like heaven. He was a man of pride, and as mean as he could be, all rough and guarded, he still had a boyish sense of timidness when asking for something so nice. But she offered, and he wasn’t sure when he’d get another chance. He’d been told before he needed to get better at knowing when he waited too long, and when he went too quick. Now, he hoped he was picking right.

“I uh…this coffee’s kinda harsh.” He held up the cup a little awkwardly. Y/N blinked before her expression softened, and he felt like ice under the heat of a fire as she walked back to him slowly. “That right?” She asked. Arthur cleared his throat and nodded. “Little harsh on the headache ‘s all.” He replied quietly. She tilted her head before her hand rose up, finding its place on his temple. With a little pressure from her thumb, she rubbed small circles, and it helped ease the ache. “So you’d prefer somethin’ a little sweeter, huh?” She asked. His shoulders loosened, and like the night before, his eyelids grew heavy. He nodded slowly, sighing when she lightly scratched at his scalp. “I got’cha.” She whispered, using both her hands to help combat the headache, even rubbing around his eyes, where it hurt the most. At this rate, he might not even need the tea she’d offered. However long she stood there, he relished all of it, the coffee growing colder by the second. When her hands finally stopped, coming to rest on his shoulders, his headache hadn’t vanished but was far more tolerable.

“How’re you feelin’?” She asked. Arthur stared up at her sleepily, face lax, and if you’d asked her, she’d say he seemed drunk again. “Better.” He confirmed. Y/N grinned, giving the muscle of his shoulder a light squeeze. Then her name was called. She winced and looked back at him. “I gotta help fix that wagon Micha’s idiotic ass broke.” She huffed, and he snickered. “I’ll be alright. Thank ya.” He replied. Y/N couldn’t stop grinning, and she was certain her expression showed her adoration, not like she was trying to hide it. “Alrighty then. Just lemme know if ya need anythin’.” She rose her hand to his hair, mussing it up this time. He groaned and went to fix it, listening to her giggle as she left the tent. He caught a glimpse of her right before she disappeared from line of sight, sighing when she was gone. He was a little too familiar with the ache he had to follow her.

“Shit.” He sighed, raising the coffee to his lips again. This time, he winced at the taste. Maybe he wasn’t as into bitterness as he thought he was.

From that day on, he progressively got more and more needy for a shot of something full of sucrose. It was subtle most of the time, mostly to avoid all the teasing the rest of the gang would undoubtedly give. But he’d started to ask even when others were around, and oh how it helped, even on the worst day.

On the third day since he’d arrived drunk off his ass, he’d muttered something about he and his horse missing sugarcubes on hard days. He’d been battered around by mother nature trying to get fish for that night’s dinner, laughed at by Javiar because a trout jumped out the damn river and smacked him in the face. Then Dusty caught sight of a snake in the grass on the way back, turned too quick, and had him slide off the side into the dirt, scraped up his elbow and dent the bill of his hat.

She’d heard him and paused what she was doing, turning to him with that gaze full of sympathy. She used her foot to pull over a stool beside her, motioning with her head for him to sit. When he did, she carried on with her task, but did her best to keep her hand somewhere on his back, caressing light circles in his shoulders as she recounted how grateful she’d been for what he’d done the past week. Unashamedly inflating his ego, and oh how it helped, having him leaning on the table as he listened to her praises.

Then a week passed and he’d gotten caught in the rain, without his horse. It’d been his fault for thinking a walk was a good idea when he knew the clouds in the distance spelled out a storm, but he’d been so sure he could’ve made it back in time. Of course, he didn’t, and he arrived back into camp soaking wet and muddied. The rain had turned to a light sprinkle but he was dripping water and scowling. He’d nearly punched Micha’s jaw off when the man took joy in his misery, until he caught sight of Y/N sewing a hole in Karen’s tights under cover. She saw his sorry state, and just like before, gave him a smile. An aura of ‘you poor thing’ that made him want to curl up in her lap. As if he wasn’t a grown man with more than a few bounties to his name.

He’d trudged over with an expression more akin to a pout than a scowl. She looked up at him as he stood, dripping water. “You know, before the storm hit, I cleaned some of your clothes. Should be dry by now. I even had some of that scented soap left, lavender.” She said. Arthur sighed and nodded, he hadn’t said it, but she knew the ‘thank you’ was in his mind. He went off to his tent, finding the clothes she was talking about laid out and ready for him. The anger that’d built up began to dwindle as he changed into them, hanging them up along with his hat before he made his way back to her.

She looked up from sewing and smiled. She grabbed the stack of clothes she was tasked with sewing and moved them aside, offering up the space beside her. He sat down close enough, their knees touched, sighing when she patted his leg. “Good job today.” She said. Three words, and it made him sink down, eased and peaceful. He muttered his gratitude and listened to her hum a tune, sound mixing with the sound of water hitting the earth.

By the second week, he’d grown accustomed to asking a little more blatantly. Asking if she had anything sweet after dinner, if she knew how much sugar cost at the shop, if she knew of anything candied to chase down the burn of some whiskey. Each time, she’d reply casually, but sneak in her tender touches and merciful gaze. She’d give him a once over and always knew just how much sugar to pour into his cup. On days where he only needed a little, she’d give him encouraging praise and a pat on the back, enough to keep his chin held high. On worse days, she’d overload it, allowing him to lean his head against her as she distracted him from his day with recountings of her own. Oh, and petting his hair, he always seemed to like that.

It’d really gotten more obvious to the gang. Leading to some teasing and hushed conversations, mostly the girls asking if they were sweet on one another. Arthur had flushed bright red, though it’d been hidden by a light sunburn, and waved his hand. Talking over them to make it clear he didn’t wanna hear it. While Y/N, mysterious as always, had shrugged with a cheeky grin and sauntered off. Really, it wasn’t hard to realize why they’d ask. Tilly said she’d seen Y/N look at him like he’d helped raise the sun every morning, Mary-Beth replied with Arthur’s pension for drawing her when he thought no one was looking. A whole page spread dedicated to her, she claimed. Though, none of them were quite foolish enough to try and nab his journal to look and confirm. But, Karen did like the sight of it. As brazen as she could be, she’d always loved romance in books, and she wouldn’t lie and say that the interactions weren’t entertaining.

She slipped her theories to Dutch when she overheard he’d be sending Arthur into a town just past Valentine to check around, see if he could find anything useful. He wasn’t sure who to send with the boy, even if Arthur was pretty capable on his own. Dutch wasn’t one for match-making, and he didn’t like meddling in romantic affairs, not when there were important things to look after. But, Arthur had been good to him, and it wasn’t like Y/N hadn’t done well with all the tasks he’d given her. He couldn’t see the harm in getting them a little alone time. Maybe it’d do Arthur some good.

Thing was, getting there was fairly easy, if you ignored the run in with some men that Dutch had pissed off half-way through. Or the mini dust storm that hit them suddenly. All of which culminated in them getting into town as the sun was setting, something that pissed Arthur off immensely, since he had stuff that needed buying. Chances were the shops would be closed by now.

“Could rob’em.” Y/N whispered as she tethered her horse outside a hotel. Arthur paused the process of rolling his sore neck to look at her, eyebrow raised. “I thought you preferred payin’ shopkeeps.” He replied. “I was kiddin’, Arthur. There are better places to rob and people more deservin’ of losin’ money.” She gently smacked his arm with a snicker. Arthur grumbled, adjusting his hat. “I’ll get the room situation handled, just see if anyone’s open.” She said. “Yes ma’am.” Arthur held up his hands, beginning to walk across the street. “And I mean it! Pay fairly!” She shouted to him whilst she made her way to the hotel door, getting a hand wave in response.

“Good evening, ma’am.” The man behind the counter greeted her. An older man with a thick handlebar mustache. “Evenin’. What’s the price of a room, sir?” She asked. “Two beds is five dollars a night, a single is two dollars.” He replied. Y/N winced and considered her options for a moment. She imagined Arthur wasn’t too picky, but she worried maybe it’d be a little uncomfortable. But, if he really did feel that way, she could simply sleep in a chair. She shook off her worries and nodded. “A single then, please.” She replied, getting a nod. She grabbed her money as he grabbed the key. “Ah, do you have baths? How much do they cost?”

“About 25 cents, a dollar for a wash girl.” The man replied. She shook her head and slipped him forty cents. “I have a friend I’m stayin’ with. His name’s Arthur. Blue eyes, stubble, black hat, covered in dirt. Can’t miss’im.” She smiled. “If you could tell him I paid for a bath and the room, I’d appreciate it. Lord knows he’s earned it.”

The man nodded and pointed back to the bath rooms. Y/N thanked him again. She didn’t plan on staying in there long, just a quick rinse. She preferred not dragging outside into bed with her, gritty sand and dirt didn’t make for a good bed mate. She was out and set up in the room before Arthur arrived, she figured he’d found an open shop, maybe bargaining. He always said haggling was easiest when someone was tired or drunk, and it was best to strike a deal whenever possible. Just so long as you could be away fast enough before they realized how short the straw they drew was.

Her assumption was correct. Arthur managed to buy what Dutch told him too, had his bag heavier than before, weighing on his shoulder. The man bit back a wince when he raised his arm, rolling his shoulder, hoping it’d loosen the muscle. It only caused a sharp stabbing pain to pulsate from under his shoulder blade. He held his shoulder with his opposite hand and pushed into the hotel, finding the keeper about ready to leave. The man looked him over once and then gave a smile. “Arthur?” He asked, making the cowboy’s brows furrow. “Yes?” He replied suspiciously. “Young lady came in and paid for the room, and a bath. You made it just in time too, was about to close up.” The keeper explained, placing a key on the desk. Arthur picked it up and blinked. “A bath?” He asked. “She said you’d earned it. No wash girl though.” Arthur shook his head at that, mumbling a quick ‘thanks’ before making his way back.

The steam that rose from the water wafted in the air and beckoned him. He would’ve been fine washing up in a river, he’d done that plenty, since warm baths were a luxury. But it never stopped being nice when he could get one. He told himself to thank Y/N when he could, feeling the warm water help ease the tension in his back. That knot in his shoulder hadn’t left though, and relaxing almost made it worse. He hissed through his teeth but tried to set it aside, enjoy what he could. But when it came time to wash his hair, he found it hard to lift his hands that high.

He had a high pain tolerance, he’d been shot and stabbed plenty of times, but that didn’t mean he liked pain. If he forced himself, he could’ve done it, but it felt like another stone thrown at him when he’d already been in a rock slide. One last little thing to mess with him, make his day a little worse. He grumbled to himself, rubbing at his shoulder again, cursing the air. He glanced up from the bubbles in the tub when he heard light steps down the hall, then a light knock at the door. He frowned and furrowed his brows. He didn’t pay for a wash girl, and given the time, they’d probably all gone anyway.

“Arthur? You in there?” Y/N’s voice spoke from the other side. His scowl turned into a mix of shock and shame. “Uh, yeah.” He said, coughing away a voice crack. He sank down a little more in the shield of bubbles when the door cracked a little, just enough for her head to poke in. “You took awhile, I was worried somethin’ happened. How long you been in here?” She asked. He shrugged. “Couple minutes.” He replied. He watched her gaze narrow, as if she was struggling to see, trying to make something out. “You ain’t washed your hair yet?” Her question made him sigh and flush pink. “Got a damn crick in my back, hurts to lift my arm. I’ll be fine, just gotta bare it.” He brushed off casually.

“Wh- Gosh, no. You don’t need to go hurtin’ yourself worse than you already are.” Without a moment of hesitation, she stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. She’d gotten ready for bed, white night gown flowing around her ankles, hair undone. “I’ll wash your hair, sit up a bit.” She motioned. Arthur’s chest felt tight, like his ribs were bars and a rowdy prisoner banged against them, his heart the criminal. “I can’t ask ya to-” “You ain’t askin’, I’m offerin’, sweetheart. You’ve had a hard day, least I can do is help get all that dust out of your hair.” She cut him off, rolling back her sleeves, settling down on the stool. He swallowed. That heavy syrup sensation had returned to the back of his throat, catching words that threatened to break past the barrier of his teeth. Once she was settled behind him, she caught him staring over his shoulder, and sent him a grin.

With a motion of her hands, he sighed, lamenting. It’d been a long time since he’d felt so…boyish, immature maybe. So embarrassed by something like this. He’d had baths in rivers in plain sight of the gang, had a few wash girls do this exact job before, all that never bothered him. Why was it because of her that he felt so shy all of a sudden? He wasn’t the shy type, he didn’t think so anyway. Arthur picked at his nails under the water as she wetted his hair. She used two fingers under his chin, tilting his head back a bit so she didn’t get soap in his eyes. “Relax, Arthur. I ain’t waitin’ to tear your throat out.” She whispered, hushed words sent the hair on his arm standing up. He forced his muscles to loosen as best he could, though forcing didn’t do much good.

He stayed awkwardly stiff until he felt her fingers drag through his hair. Like she’d touched his brain directly, flipped a switch, he eased more into the bath with a sigh, leaning his head back into her palms. She bit back a quiet giggle, scrubbing lightly. “Hair’s gettin’ pretty long, you should let me trim it when we get back.” She said absentmindedly, being sure to drag her nails over his temples and behind his ears. She bit her bottom lip to fight off a laugh again when he let out a little groan from the back of his throat.

“Ya hear me?” She asked. “Huh? Oh uh, yeah, sure sure.” He replied, voice thick and low with tranquility. She kept her loving teases to herself, let him enjoy the moment, she certainly was. Maybe it was because she knew he appreciated it that it felt so fulfilling. Could’ve been that she just liked feeling useful, needed. Whatever the reason, she relished in it, taking her time. Just to make sure she got out all the muck.

Of course, she couldn’t milk it for that long. Eventually, she had to rinse out all the suds, ring out the excess water. He kept quiet but missed the treatment when she stood up. “Need anythin’ else, hun?” She asked, leaning into his line of sight. Like before, he looked up at her lazily, like he’d been floating in the clouds moments before. “Hm…no, I’m alright. Thank ya.” He nodded. She nodded back. Arthur looked back down at the bath, knowing he’d have to get out soon. He heard her step away to leave, glancing up again when she was at the door. “I’ll see you in a bit.” She said before leaving him alone once again. He stared at the door for a while, swearing the room got dimmer when she left, less warm too. He huffed and rubbed his face with his hands, slowly exhaling between his fingers. Cursing to himself.

When he left the bathroom, now in clothes from his bag, hair still damp, he meandered up the steps. His body felt heavy, and if it weren’t for the stabbing throb in his back, he’d be looking forward to dropping on the mattress. He opened the door to the room, met with a lamp on and the quiet humming of a familiar tone. He stepped in and shut the door, finding Y/N with a book in hand whilst sat upon a singular chair. He looked around the room and caught her eye once he was done surveying it. “One bed?” He asked. “It was cheaper. Figured you wouldn’t mind, but if you do, I’ll sleep right here.” She replied. Arthur scoffed. “I ain’t havin’ you sleep in a chair. I’ll sleep there-” “No ya won’t. You’ll take the bed, mister. I’m not negotiating.”

Her tone was firm and she pointed a finger to get her point across all the more strongly. Arthur let his bag slip to the floor, staring at her in disbelief, before he let out a breathy laugh. “Fine. But I’m still not havin’ you sleep in the chair.” He replied, walking to the bed in order to sit down. She tossed her hands up after marking her place in the story. “Alright, ‘suppose I can agree to that.” She laughed, only for her smile to fall when he grunted in pain. “You okay?”

He looked over at her and nodded. “Fine, just my shoulder ‘s all.” He answered. She stared at him for a moment longer, watching him tug at the collar of his shirt, trying to cool himself down. It was the height of Summer, even the nights were getting humid and uncomfortable. “Hot?” She asked. “It’s this damn shirt. Only one I had clean, but it’s made for Winter. I’d take it off but,” He motioned in her direction, much to her amusement. Crinkling her nose, she snickered and shook her head. “You act like it’s some kinda curse. You can sleep shirtless, I won’t mind. It’s not like skin’s gonna kill me, Arthur.”

“Didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable ‘s all.” He retorted. “Well I ain’t, but you certainly are. Go ‘head. It’s not problem to me, but you dyin’ of heat stroke might be.” Y/N motioned with her hand and he tapped his fingers on his knee for a moment. He muttered something before taking her advice. She did her best to remain respectful, though she caught a couple glances, nothing too distasteful. Her face fell again when he hissed about his back again, and when he tossed the shirt away, a series of pops emanated from the muscles, making her wince in his place. “You sure you’re alright?” She asked, standing up, leaving her book in the seat.

“I’ve had worse. It ain’t pleasant but I’ll live.” The man said with a light cough, rolling his neck, that too popped rather loudly. He felt her hand come up to replace his, exhaling when she applied pressure to a specific point of soreness. It hurt, but in the way a stretch in the morning did. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she looked at his sorry state. It always made her ache, especially if it was something she couldn’t help fix.

Arthur wasn’t a good man, she knew that. But it wasn’t like she could judge. He’d never been anything but good to her, did right by the gang as best he could too. Every day she swore he did something else that went either unnoticed or un-thanked, and that killed her. Sure, there were probably men more deserving of kindness, people who didn’t rob and shoot to survive. But she hadn’t fallen for them, hadn’t ever met a man like that of which could compare to Arthur. When God came to judge the man’s soul, she’d gladly plead his case through the bars of the pearly gates. He’d been through enough, and when her mind ran away from her into a place darker than the night, she could sense it wouldn’t be ending any time soon. That hurt to think about. To worry about an unforeseen future likely full of strife of all sorts, things she’d probably have no say in, no ability to save him from.

But she had him safe for a night. In a place with walls and locks on doors, in her sights and close enough to touch. She couldn’t fix every problem he had, but she could make this night a little easier, surely. It was the least she could do.

“You trust me?” She asked. Arthur glanced up at her, a bit confused, but he nodded. She patted his shoulder. “Gonna seem a lil awkward, but just trust me.” She motioned with her head to the mattress. “Lie on your front.” He blinked a few times rapidly, clearly more confused than he was a second prior, perhaps a bit bashful. Y/N snorted and shook her head. “Easy, cowboy. Nothin’ like that.” She reassured. Arthur tilted his head back, tucking his tongue into his cheek as he glanced her up and down. After a short staring contest, he sighed and tossed his hands up a bit, doing as he was told.

“If this is how you plan on killin’ me, I commend your patience.” He commented, cheek set on a pillow. He heard her laugh, and it helped ease the tension in the room. He knew full well she wasn’t going to hurt him, he was just talking to fill the room with something else to focus on, given how uncomfortable it felt. Mostly because he wasn’t sure what was happening. He jumped when her weight ended up around his waist. “Easy, I told you it’d be awkward, but I need you to trust me here, sweetheart.” Her voice said, patting his arm. Arthur scoffed a little. “Pardon me for bein’ caught off guard, ma’am.” He sassed, getting a light thump to the back of his head, which he complained about.

“Hush. And keep your arms down, won’t work if you’re puttin’ stress on’em.” Y/N answered. He let his arms fall, grumbling about her being bossy, before he felt the heel of her palm press against his shoulder blade. His mouth curled into a hurt scowl, inhaling between his teeth. She rubbed a slow circle and hushed him quietly, instructing him to breath. It hurt, but the muscle began to loosen. She could feel the knot of tension under the skin, clicking her tongue sympathetically, it had to hurt like hell. “Okay. I need you to follow my instruction, ‘kay? I want you to take a deep breath, all the way until you can’t fill your lungs no more.” She whispered. Arthur did as told, not really sure where it was going, but he wasn’t up for questioning.

“Good, now, exhale it all. Until your chest is completely empty. Go slow.” Her words helped make him sleepier, more relaxed, which she knew good and well. It was why she was whispering. As he pushed out the oxygen until he was straining to keep doing so, with all her weight, she pushed into his back with her palm. A loud pop sound echoed off the walls with the quick following of a loud groan into the pillow he laid on.

She lessened the pressure and rubbed his shoulder again. “Did I get it?” She asked. Arthur didn’t give words, but let out an affirmative noise, face buried in the pillow. She smiled as he seemed to sink into the mattress the more she worked out the tension. She wasn’t content at just the shoulder though, so she moved over to the other side. Using her knuckles to trace around the bones. Every now and then, she’d stumble across another little knot, working them out with dutiful care.

“You fallin’ asleep on me, Morgan?” Y/N asked after some silence, pulling at the muscle in his lower back. Once again, he simply gave a noise. She snickered when she caught a yawn he let out. When he let out an appreciative noise when she worked at his waist, she chuckled again. “See, no one realizes how much strain we put on our lower backs until you’re in a position like this.” She commented lazily. “Mhm.” He replied. Y/N couldn’t stop smiling again, her cheeks were starting to hurt. She glanced down when she felt a warm touch on her leg, finding his hand turned toward her, lightly holding her ankle. She melted as his thumb carefully caressed the bone, a silent bit of appreciation. She knew full well she couldn’t left it there, but the moment was so sweet, and not easy to come by.

He blinked slowly when she leaned over him, tapping his temple. Her weight was off of him, something that kept him from dozing off. Arthur lifted his chin, looking at her in his peripheral. “Mind flippin’ over, hun?” She asked. He yawned again, nodding slightly. He moved from his stomach to his back, too relaxed to make a cheeky comment about her sitting back down. He rubbed his eye tiredly as she picked up his opposite hand. “Ya know, if someone asked me if you were drunk right now, I’d say yes. You look like you’re gone, mister.” She teased, pressing her thumbs into his palm before dragging the pressure down his wrist. Arthur let his other hand drop down, his vision a bit hazed over. “Might be.” He mumbled, barely opening his mouth to speak.

He smiled slightly when she laughed. He felt the pull of his tendons as she pushed his hand back, cautious to not over do it. “Sorry.” He commented unconsciously, the word slipping out without much thought. Y/N looked at his face with her brows furrowed. “What for?” She questioned, moving her hand up to his bicep. He flinched when the soreness became apparent under her touch. “My hands. Ain’t too nice for holdin’ I know.” He said. “Now why would you think that, Arthur?” She asked, squeezing the muscle that connected his neck to his shoulder. He tilted his chin out of the way as he thought of how to word his answer.

“You got dainty hands, all soft and nice. Mine…mine are all scratched up and tough. ‘s gotta feel like gravel at this point.” He explained. Y/N scoffed, taking his other hand in her own to repeat the process. “Oh shush, that ain’t true. They’re a workin’ mans hands, that’s all. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with’em.” She replied. “They ain’t kind like yours either.” Arthur retorted, making her pause for a second. She shook her head with a sigh, working out the tension in his scapulae muscle. She stopped and moved her hand to his jaw instead, prompting him to look at her.

She looked inviting in the warm lamp light, accentuating the curve of her cheekbones and the color of her eyes. How warm she was, and he could smell the hint of soap. “Robbin’ or not, you’re a good man, Arthur. Maybe not all the time, but you ain’t a monster either.” She said. His face showed he wasn’t buying it. He eased further when her hand dragged up, pushing his hair back. “No I ain’t.” He whispered back. Y/N clicked her tongue and grabbed his cheeks with both her hands, leaned close and eyes intense with the need to convey her point. “Arthur Morgan, look at me.” She demanded. He listened, even if it felt difficult to do.

“I don’t care bout the law’s definition, and I’m well beyond the words of the Holy Ghost. I don’t care how many men out there hope for you to hang, and I don’t care how much blood stains those hands of yours.” She stroked his cheekbone and up beside his eye, running over the lines that had formed in his skin, brought on by years of expressions. Mainly laughter and grins, things she savored every time she saw them. “The Arthur I know is a loyal man, a workin’ man, a brother and a mentor, a leader and a guard. He fights for what needs to be done and earns his keep, and then some. Your hands might be gun wielding but they’re also caring. When you draw in that journal, or when you pet your horse, pat Jack on the back like he was your own blood.”

His eyes had widened by now and his throat felt like it was being gripped, a pressure building up and threatening to break like a damn. It was so much to take in, too much, but looking away felt like blasphemy. He might not have been a man of worship, not to God, not anymore. But to sin against her might be what damned him, and he wasn’t ready for that. He never would be.

“You might be a bad man, but you ain’t been nothin’ but good to me. Whether you like it or not, you will always be a good man to me. And I’ll be damned if I let you go a day not knowin’ it.” Y/N finished, her voice a bit choked by now. She managed to keep her tears down, but her eyes got misty nevertheless. Arthur rolled his jaw and clenched his teeth, at loss for what words to say. She fixed his hair again and sighed. “Am I clear?” She asked. He stared, fidgety, before he sat up suddenly. She felt his arms wrap around her waist tightly, his forehead resting on her shoulder.

Y/N took a moment to process before she relaxed, bringing her hands to him once again. Her cheek rested on his head, scratching his scalp, the other hand resting on his shoulder. “You haven’t answered me.” She commented. Arthur squeezed her for a moment. “Loud ‘nd clear, ma’am.” He replied, voice a bit hoarse but not any less genuine. She smiled and turned to peck him on the temple. “I’ll keep tellin’ you til it sticks. Mark my words, Arthur Morgan. I’ll keep that bitter man you think you are at bay.” She promised. He managed a choked up chuckle against the fabric of her nightgown.

“I’ll hold you to that, sugar.”

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption x reader #fem reader #female reader #fluff

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writingoddess1125 · 11 months ago

Note

How does buggy and Shanks handle their daughters s first period?

Oh Honey- it was a fucking disaster 🤣

I have the Shanks one right here if your interested but I'll do a Buggy one as a quick story!

Press Here if you Love Buggy <-

Old Man Series Masterlist <-

• Buggy didn't really grow up around girls- So he is inexperienced with periods and such till he started dating you.

• "Where is Bubbles?-" Buggy muttered to himself, noticing immediately that Ari was missing. He looked to see you were with Ali and disapeared to the back to find his missing daughter.

• But since he knew the time would come, he had the conversation with you ahead of time about what to do when that day comes.

• It was Ari and Ali 11th birthday party. Of course he threw a big party, like he did for both sets of twins-

• Buying them all matching nice clothes, stocking up on the best of everything and even going as far as the dock in a place with lots of kids so there were plenty of playmates.

• This was no different from the other parties, the sun just starting to set and the live music was blaring as his ship was packed with people.

• However one thing was off'

• "Ari?...Bubbles?...." Buggy called out, looking around the lower deck to see if he could spot her. After a moment he stepped towards the bedroom that the twin girls shared and heard it-

• Rushing in quickly at hearing his daughter crying he came in to see her face buried in her knees and sobbing.

• Crying?

• "Uhhhhhh Shit"

• "Bubs?-" He stared at her, Her looking up up at him with wide eyes. That's when Buggy sees it- Blood. Staining her pale pink dress to high hell and some on her exposed legs

• Which ment...

• "No No! its fine! It's actually normal!" He said loudly.

• "Get out!" She cried, Lunging forward and slamming the door on his face.

• "B-Bubbles it's alright! Sorry I didn't knock uh-" Buggy stuttered trying to figure out his course of action now.

• "Go away! Im sick!?" She sobbed from behind the door- Buggy panicking himself as he tried to think.

• "W-What?!- How is this normal!?" She sobbed hysterically.

"It means-" Buggy sighed as he sat on the floor with his back against the wall. "It means your growing up Bubby-" He said softly, Ari sniffled and wiped her cherry nose.

• Buggy stood there for a second, Hearing her cry. Before sighing heavily himself to calm himself- "Can I come in Ari?" He said softly, sending his hand off to get the supplies he knew you kept in your bathroom.

• After a second the door cracked open and Buggy stepped in slowly, Seeing Ari now seated again still in tears.

• Buggy entered a bit awkwardly but leaned against the wall as he daughter cried.

- "What does this mean?" Ari whimpered, sniffling into her knees.

"I dont like it-"

"Ahh noone does. But thats just part of life" He said a bit sadly. His hand returning with a bag which he tucked to his side at the moment.

"It is your period Ari, it means. That your a woman, like your mother" He started, internally cringing at having to have this talk with her. She looked up to him, as he started to explain- Clearly both of them embarrassed about the situation as Buggy tried to be as mature of an adult about it.

"Oi! The party is just starting Whats going on?" Bee yelled out, Banging on the door. Buggy opening his mouth to yell at his sons to fuck off- but he was beat to him.

"So this is gonna happen for the rest of my life?-" She clarified, Buggy nodding calmly knowing damn well she didn't like that answer.

"Yep until your old and wrinkled like me-"

Ari sighed irritated at this- Groaning in frustration. Buggy could only nod at her reaction-

"Yep. Once a month.. That is why we got these-" He said calmly as he brought the bag out and passed it to her.

"There are instructions inside and I can go get your mother to run down how some of that shit is u-"

"Hey!" Bee called out, smacking the door making father and daughter duo snap back from the conversation. Buggy hand quickly flying up to lock it so the boys didn't barge in- He knew this was already a sensitive situation for Ari and she didn't need her brothers getting in.

Dee starting to argue with Bee about leaving the two- clearly more socially aware.

"GO AWAY!" Ari screamed, making even Buggy jump a bit. Clearly having his lungs it seemed even if she was typically very resevered. He heard the boys scramble away pretty quickly after that. Buggy sighing at this-

"Come on Princess- Let's get you all washed up and we can get you a new dress okay?" He said sincerely, his little girl nodding as he helped her up and escorted her to go use the shower in the master bedroom.

• Buggy quickly gets you to come down from the party, giving a quick run down of the situation to you and sends you off to the bathroom with Ari.

• He knew he couldn't find an exact match and that Ari really liked this dress it being matching to Ali who was still partying upstairs.

• Buggy now tasked with figuring out what to do about the damn dress! He searched through his daughters closet to find something similar for her to wear but failing-

• "You dyed it?" She questioned gently taking it from his hands- feeling the fabric was still ever so slightly damp as well. Knowing he must has used all his strength to dry it as quickly as possible after his quick dye.

• "Think damn it!" He hisses, Looking around at what to do. Before it clicker and he runs to the supply room of the ship-

• You and Ari stepping out into the hall after a while. Ari freshly showered and in comforble clothes- clearly upset and not wanting to go out in her long pajamas for everyone to see and question.

• "It's okay honey-" You try to reassure but Ari face was sour and clearly uncomforble. You sighing and rubbing her back to comfort her.

• In moments Buggy rushed towards you two, you raising an eyebrow at your husband who haf splatters of black over his face and clothes.

• Buggy smiled down at his grumpy daughter-

• "Feeling better?" He asked, getting a shrug in response. He expected as much.

• "Well, if you're still in the partying mood since it is your birthday afterall- I fixed your dress!" He said cheerfully. You and Ari looking surprised at this since their was no way to completely remove such a heavy blood stain-

• Grinning as he pulled from behind his back the dress, now a deep dyed Purple color.

• "Well, Dark dye covers red stains so- Yeah" He said with a grin.

• Ali didn't her own period till a year later 2 weeks before their 12th birthday and at this point Buggy was prepared and mentally almost ready.

• Ari eyes well up with tears and she hugs him tightly. "Thank you Dad!"

• Buggy smiled at this and hugged her back. "Of course Princess, Now go get dressed. Your missing your party!"

• Ari smiled, now clearly happy as she rushed off to her room to change out of the provided PJs and into her new dress.

• You smile at Buggy, Proud of him for handling this so well. Kissing his cheek that didn't have the dye on it "Great Job Honey"

• After that Ari returns to her sister, The two going about eating, Opening presents and more.

• The rest of the party goes off without a hitch-

•Much to Buggy's relief-

• However sends you to handle it anyway-

#x reader #one piece #one peice x reader #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #dad buggy #girl dad

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willyoubemycherryy · 9 months ago

Text

❥𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑎 𝑜𝑓 𝐽𝑜𝑒 𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑧’𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑙 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑔𝑓．．．٩(◕‿◕｡)۶𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒔!

Warnings: innocent victimless pranks😇, disturbing his peace, some suggestive lines here and there, she’s a headache but one he loveeees getting folks😂💕

“𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒚, 𝒊 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒊 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐...𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚...”

._(✿ ❤︎︎‿❤︎︎)(っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )(≧◡≦) ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡•..~

Its been about a week ago since Joe had attacked your poor cheek and persons with his cutesy bullying….

And you’ve been making good on your vow to get him back.

By inconveniencing him in every way you could.

Letting your intrusive thoughts win every time, It had gotten so bad that even the boys on the team knew about it.

Shorty especially got a kick out of it.

Like that time when Joe came to practice with red lips all over the ass of his shorts, kissed personally by yours truly.

“That color’s workin for you Rantz!”, he teases as some of others whistle when they catch on. Joe, however, is confused.

“What are you talkin’ about?”

The very mature answer he gets, comes in the form of various obnoxious kissing sounds.

They’re on their way to the boat when he catches one of his coaches try and fail to hide their smirk before he notices his reflection out the corner of his eye in the water. Breath catching in his throat, he’s flushing the same shade of red when sees it.

The deep red, lip-shaped stains all over the seat of his shorts. He had so many questions but none of them about who left them.

He had some clues as to why but not how. Unfortunately, that was only the beginning.

From leaving marks on his persons without him catching on, getting him riled up then leaving, pinching his butt and messing with him by insisting you didn’t know what he was talking about when he called you on it; to spraying the inside of his backpack with your perfume and watching him freeze in class the next day when he opens it and your scent, along with a few choice memories tied to it, hit him in the face. Looking away quickly when he snaps his head up at you.

And you deserved an award for how well you’d play good girl. Wiping the smirk off your face with record speed, assuming the look of utmost innocence before looking up at him through your lashes. Pouting, “why I’d never, honest.”

To prove that you definitely would, Joe decided to test you. Doing everything you like in a day and seeing if you’d tease and flit away or jump him like you usually did.

You were both out in the water after the sun had gone down and you were sitting in his lap while he tried to “teach” you how to row.

Blanks weren’t the only thing about to get filled.

Until, you push away from his wandering hands and lips to sit as far as you can.

Pinching your lips in as you smile, “well look at the time. Guess we should be heading back now..” and that’s when he gets it.

“You’re still mad huh? That’s why you’ve been actin’ up so much.” Of course you let him off the hook. It was so you could get him back.

Then since the jig is up…

“Duh I’m still mad! You laughed at me for like 10 minutes straight! You…you bullied me,” dropping your voice at that last line, so he can hear the pout.

Smiling, Joe shakes his head with a huff amusement. There’s his dramatic girl. Making sure the oars are secure, he reaches across and pulls you back into him.

“Alright sweets. I shouldn’t have laughed like that. That wasn’t very nice of me, to you, who’s never bothered me.” You definitely have bothered him and on multiple occasions but he’s being sweet and a little sarcastic which is your weakness. You’re just too fond of him. Breaking into a grin, you giggle prettily. Making his heart swell in adoration as he looks at you.

“Forgive me?” Obviously. You throw your arms around his neck, nodding happily.

The war was officially over.

“Good. Now, was the lunchbox with ‘from your big sexy girlfriend who wears the pants in the relationship’ written on top of it necessary?” Ahh yes. You may have went a drop overboard.

But if it’s one thing you are: it’s shameless and unrepentant. Blushing, you nod again.

“Absolutely necessary”.

Pecking his full lips and pulling away with a wink.

Cheeky. What was he going to do with you?

Grabbing the oars with you snuggled happily in his lap, Joe starts to row you two back. Feeling content that out of everyone you could have been “inconveniencing” with the loveliness of your presence, you chose him.

It’s that thought with the feel of you cuddled all over him that has him grinning ear to ear all the way back.

♡︎ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ, ᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴏʟʟᴀʀ😌

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #fluff #joe rantz #joe rantz x reader #the boys in the boat #masters of the air #mota #x reader

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hopepetal · 1 year ago

Text

Part One | Part Two (you are here!)

Read part one on ao3!

Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! :)

@applestruda

On his first day of being more than just a guy, Impulse slept in.

He’d always been a light sleeper, so it was surprising that he hadn’t at least woken when the others had started getting up and coming out of their tents, but Impulse just chalked it up to being tired. Maybe summoning demons took a lot of energy. He wouldn’t know– he never finished reading that book from the library. Not that he needed it anymore, with a real demon in his head.

It was a nice day out. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and Impulse could hear more. It seemed that allowing the demon into his head had given him enhanced senses. It was more than a little disorienting at first, but he figured it would get easier with time. Almost like sword fighting, in a way. Daunting at first, but easier as he trained and worked at it.

As he made his way toward the picnic table they all ate at, Impulse was greeted by Scar and Mumbo, who had clearly just woken up as well. He settled in across from Scar after grabbing some food– Pearl had made some sort of oatmeal for herself and decided that was what the rest of the knights would be having as well, judging by the quantity. She didn’t have to prepare food for the rest of them, and Impulse had said as much on many occasions, but she had shrugged and said that she might as well, since she was up the earliest. It wasn’t as though she did it every day, either.

Scar grinned at Impulse as he sat down, leaning back from his half finished food. “Well, look who decided to wake up! Any later and we’d have started to call you Grian!”

Mumbo glanced up, dark eyes wide. “That’s not true, really,” he clarified, and Impulse chuckled.

“Nah, I get it. I’m a little surprised myself,” Impulse admitted, stirring his oatmeal absentmindedly, “but I guess there’s a first time for everything, right?”

“Indeed there is, my good man!” Scar stood up, doing a big stretch before plopping right back down on the bench. “Ahh, that felt good.” He glanced over at Mumbo, who was hunched over his bowl. “You should stretch more,” he advised, “it’s good for you.”

Scar wiggled his eyebrows, his smile growing. “Then why don't you ask Impulse for a spar? If you're so fit and healthy, you could take him on, right?”

Mumbo’s cheeks flushed a pale pink. “I do stretch,” he protested, “I’m very fit and very healthy!”

Mumbo dropped his spoon. “Oh– well, I– you see, um…”

Impulse laughed. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Scar. I’d be willing to spar with you, if you would like.”

Sighing, Mumbo looked up at Impulse. “Well, I suppose… would you like to spar with me? Later today?”

Impulse nodded, grinning widely. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Mumbo. How about we spar in a bit, so it’s not too hot for us?”

Mumbo shot a glare at Scar, but it was light hearted. “Sounds lovely, Impulse. I guess I better go get ready, then.” He stood, picking up his empty bowl and reaching down to scoop up his dropped spoon. “I’ll see you in a bit!” he called as he walked away, Scar and Impulse watching him go.

Scar turned back to Impulse, who had continued eating his oatmeal. “Well, I can’t wait to see how that turns out. That is, if I’m able to watch.” He scooped some oatmeal into his mouth, taking a moment to eat before continuing. “Cub wanted to meet up with me at some point today, and I was going to head over after I finished eating. If it doesn’t take too long, maybe I’ll get back in time to watch the fight.”

Impulse nodded, humming softly. “He wanted to check in about the, uh…?” He glanced up at Scar, who nodded. “Yeah. How have you been?” he asked tentatively, watching for Scar’s reaction.

Scar shrugged, seeming unbothered. “I’m alright. It’s been… not difficult, I guess, but I just…” He sighed. “It’s been rough. I still get a little spooked when using vex magic. A lot of anxiety in general, I guess, but I’ve been working on it.” He gave Impulse a small smile. “Takin’ it day by day, y’know? That’s all you can do.”

“That’s all you can do,” Impulse echoed, nodding his head. “I’m glad to hear you’re at least doing alright. We’re here for you if you need anything, alright? You’re not… alone.” He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. Did he truly believe the words he was saying, or were they just empty comforts?

Scar seemed to take it well, though, and his smile became more genuine. “Thanks, Impulse. You too, okay? Ya got any issues, you come to one of us. Or all of us! Whichever you want to do.”

Impulse laughed. “I’m good, but thank you. Say hi to Cub for me, alright?”

Scar stood up with his empty bowl and nodded. “I will! If I don’t make it back in time, have fun beating Mumbo!”

“Oh, have some faith!” Impulse called after Scar, and then he was alone.

It was only then that he realized Scar hadn’t had Jellie with him. Maybe she was out hunting or something. Did magical familiar cats do that? He’d have to ask Scar later.

Impulse finished his oatmeal in relative peace and quiet, before taking his bowl and spoon to go wash and place on the drying rack. As he was doing so, a familiar voice whispered to him, startling him enough to make him nearly drop what he was holding.

Hello.

“Void’s name– hi! Uh, good morning…?” Impulse greeted, carefully placing his bowl and spoon on the drying rack. “Sorry, I wasn’t really expecting you. Have you been there this whole time?”

Mhm! You have some lovely friends, the demon commented, but I don’t think it would be wise for me to really be around… some of them.

For a moment, it was as if Impulse was looking through his own memories– a misty image of Scar sitting across from him during breakfast appeared in his head. It was more than a little disorienting, and Impulse blinked several times. “Huh… what did Scar do?” he asked, confused. “He’s a really nice guy, he’s friendly and good with people.”

The demon hummed thoughtfully, as if trying to come up with the right words. Let's just say we magic folk don’t always get along. You understand, right? I’m a demon, so obviously assumptions would be drawn, and then it just gets so messy.

Impulse thought about it for a moment, before slowly nodding. “Yeah, I get that. I don’t really like keeping secrets from my friends, though.”

Have they not done the same, though? The demon asked innocently, I mean, secrets are a natural part of life. You don’t have to tell everyone everything.

Impulse pressed his lips together. “...yeah, actually. You’re right.” He thought about it for a few moments, before shaking this head. “I don’t want to think badly of them. They have their reasons.”

Just as you have yours! I’m sure they’d understand.

Impulse glanced up at the sky. “I should probably go get ready for my spar with Mumbo. Thanks for the, uh, chat? I guess?”

I’ll be here! Have fun, be careful!

Impulse didn’t rush getting ready, but didn’t dilly dally either. Soon, he was ready, and headed out to the sparring area to greet Mumbo.

“Hi, Impulse,” Mumbo greeted him with a nervous air, “I was just finishing up with my um, my stretches. You know, Scar taught me a few really good ones, if you’d like to– oh, goodness, can you tell I’m a little bit nervous?”

Impulse simply laughed, shaking his head. “It's been a while since we sparred,” he noted with an easy smile as he stretched. “I was wondering when you were going to ask me again.”

Mumbo laughed anxiously. “Yes, well, constantly losing wasn't too good for my pride. But I'm ready now, and raring to go!” He let out a weak cheer. “Who knows! Maybe I'll even win this time!” He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as much as Impulse.

“Maybe!” Impulse cheerily agreed, “I've noticed you've been practicing!” He picked up his sword, spinning it in his hand once. “Alright, get ready,” he warned Mumbo, shifting into a battle stance. He waited for the other knight to ready up before making the first move.

Mumbo had improved, that was for sure. Not that Impulse hadn't been expecting that– he'd seen how hard the man was working. It made him proud, seeing how far Mumbo had come. “Good!” he shouted as Mumbo blocked a particularly tricky attack, a wide grin on his face. The other knight only responded with a panicked noise, though the slight smile on his face told Impulse he was alright.

“This is–” Mumbo got out breathlessly– “much harder… than you make it… seem!” He parried Impulse, keeping a semi-defensive grip on his sword. It had been something Impulse had worked on with Mumbo before. Because he was so tall, there weren’t as many opportunities for him to use the most defensive grip possible. With a bit of tweaking, however, they had found a stance and a grip that worked the best for him, and continued to work on that with every spar.

Impulse blocked one of Mumbo’s attacks with a laugh. “You’re doing great! Just stay focused, and don’t overthink it. Remember the basics!”

Mumbo nodded, his eyes shining with determination. Impulse was reminded of why he loved helping out the other knights with their swordplay so much during spars like these. It was honestly incredible to see how each individual person uniquely used their skills and strengths to wield the same weapon. It filled him with genuine pride to see how his friends slowly began to flourish in something they weren’t naturally talented in.

It also reminded Impulse of his own journey. The highs and lows of it all, the trial and error, the relentless drills and training and repetition that brought him to where he was today. He was good at what he did; one of the best, even. And it always brought him joy to see others follow the same path he had.

Mumbo was tiring much more quickly than Impulse was, which he had expected. While Mumbo had been training more and working on honing his swordplay, endurance was another issue entirely. The kind of strength needed for endurance wasn’t just something that could be learnt overnight– no, endurance was something that had to be built up towards over your life, with constant practice and training. Impulse always took care to watch his friends during sparring matches, making sure they weren’t going to overwork themselves or get injured. He was good at spotting the point at which exertion turned to exhaustion and easing up on the attacks.

Or so he thought.

With a strength that hardly felt his own, Impulse struck at Mumbo, knocking him to the ground. The tip of his sword just barely brushed against Mumbo’s pale skin, like scissors against paper. For a moment, they remained like that, Mumbo’s gasps for air the only sound breaking the silence as he stared up at Impulse.

Then, whatever had come over Impulse let go, and he stumbled back from Mumbo with a soft huff. “Oh my gosh. Mumbo, I am so sorry, I don’t know why– I didn’t mean to hit you as hard as I did. Are you alright?”

Mumbo let out a shaky laugh, carefully picking himself up and brushing himself off. “I’m alright, mate. Little shaken up, but fine.” He looked up at Impulse with a nervous smile. “It’s fine! Really! Accidents happen all the time! Oh, gosh. I think that signals the end of the spar though.” He laughed awkwardly as he picked up his sword– he’d dropped it when he’d fallen. “I don’t think I could've lasted much longer, honestly. I was getting pretty tired.”

Impulse looked Mumbo over quickly, making sure there weren’t any injuries. “Yeah, I… you did really well, though,” he finished lamely. “I can’t believe I did that, I usually only get that heated in my matches against Pearl,” he admitted, somewhat ashamed. “You aren’t hurt?” he asked, just in case he’d missed anything in his quick check.

“Just a bruised pride!” Mumbo said, “and maybe an actual bruise or two, but nothing bad.”

Impulse sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Thank goodness. I’m glad you’re alright. That won’t happen again, I swear.”

Mumbo waved him off. “Ahh, don’t worry. Like I said, accidents happen. Especially when we play with very sharp, very dangerous toys.”

“These are training swords, Mumbo,” Impulse reminded, “but yes, that’s true.” He took another moment to relax, the thrill of battle still singing in his veins. “I’m going to go take a quick walk to cool down. Good job today. You’re really improving, and I’m glad to see it.”

Mumbo nodded, smiling. “Um, thank you! Thank you very much. I’m gonna- I’m going to go check on Grian. See if he’s awake and all.”

With that, the two parted ways, and Impulse was left wondering what exactly had happened.

I know.

“Was it you?” he asked the demon, trying to keep any sort of accusation out of his tone. “I didn’t– that didn’t feel like me.”

Well, it kind of was? the demon admitted, but it wasn’t on purpose. I know you’ve already noticed the whole enhanced senses thing, but now that we’re bound, I’m also giving you strength. I didn’t really think to tell you about it, but I’m really very sorry. I thought you would be able to control it.

Impulse sighed. “I… I don’t blame you, it’s my fault for not expecting something like this. I just… I don’t want to hurt my friends. Thank you for telling me about this now, though.”

Accidents happen.

“Yeah. They do.”

The rest of the day felt much less jovial and carefree than the previous one. Whether the mood had been dampened by the accident during training, or Impulse was just worrying too much, things seemed to be a little more dull.

Scar returned from Cub’s to learn of the spar, of which he teased Mumbo relentlessly for losing. Soon after, Grian appeared, claiming nightmares to be the reason as to why he’d slept in so late.

“It’s weird,” Grian complained to the gathered knights over lunch, which was really his breakfast, “I’ve never really been one to have nightmares, but they just wouldn’t stop last night.”

“Sounds like you’re just making up excuses for sleeping in,” Pearl commented, to which Grian rolled his eyes. “Just go to sleep earlier! It works for me!”

“Well, sorry I don’t want to hit the hay before the sun’s even gone down,” Grian snarked, and the two began their usual light hearted bickering.

Later in the day, Impulse pulled Scar aside. “Hey. I was wondering where Jellie was? I didn’t see her with you this morning. Does she go out hunting, or something?”

The familiar perked up at the sound of Scar’s voice and bounded over, before stopping just a few feet away. She gazed warily at Impulse, and Scar frowned. “Well, that’s weird. Jellie, c’mere!” he repeated, and Jellie somewhat reluctantly followed his orders, jumping into his arms and curling up as she usually did. Scar looked back up at Impulse, smiling. “Here she is! The beautiful lady herself!”

Scar shook his head. “I just hadn’t summoned her. She’s somewhere around here, I think… but she doesn’t really go hunting? Not unless she acts on her animal instincts, because she’s a spirit and doesn’t need food.” He looked around. “Oh, there she is– Jellie! C’mere, pretty girl!”

Impulse laughed. “Alright, thank you Scar. How was Cub, by the way?”

“Oh, he was great. He says hi to you, too.” Scar rocked Jellie in his arms like one would a baby. She seemed to be okay with this– as okay as a cat could be with something, at least. “We just talked about some stuff, the usual. Magic this and that, y’know?”

“Sounds like a blast,” Impulse commented, to which Scar nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s so cool! Cub just knows all these cool things, and he’s so smart–”

Aaand Scar was rambling again. Impulse did his best to pay attention to everything the other knight was saying, but got lost somewhere along the lines of “...and then these big chompies came up from the ground!” which, in his opinion, was a perfectly valid place to get lost at. He had no idea what “big chompies” even were.

That night, the knights set up a campfire to sit around and chat. Although it was a lovely night, with a clear sky and warm air, Impulse found himself growing… not exactly restless, not exactly tired, but something akin to a mix of both. He excused himself for the night, and figured that going to bed a little earlier than usual would be good for him. Pearl was usually right about things like that.

Impulse fell asleep, and dreamed of twisting bridges high in the sky.

#my writing #boatem knights au #impulsesv #pearlescentmoon #grian #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft fanfic

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thatdeadaquarius · 2 years ago

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Admiiinnn do you write for platonic sagau?

Me wanna request my son (Razor) ue.

Because most of the fics I've read is just the creator falling on Mondstadt but never other places! I want them to fall on Wolvendom and maybe meet the wolf boy 🐨

I imagine he doesn't know/able to describe what he's feeling (not understanding human emotions and stuff because he grows up with wolves and all). But he really likes this feeling of peace and feeling like he belongs! So he'll stay with this random person that just dropped out of nowhere, and teach them how to survive in the wild too!

Unlike the overly-obsessed-head-over-heels acolytes, I think Razor will be like a worrywart bestfriend. You're his lupical now! It's his duty to protect other lupicals!

Days with him will literally be so fluffy ueueueu imagine we teach him how to cook things besides meat and puppy-paw hash browns (and teach him how to season them too! Good food always relies on taste after all). He'll just be like a little sibling that saw a very cool trick for the first time.

Aaaaa I wanna braid his long hair with flowers ue...

a request. A REQUEST. FIRST GENUINE REQUEST!! WOO!!!

AND A PLATONIC ONE?? 🥺 FOR THE BOY??🥺🥺THE MOST BOY IN ALL OF GENSHIN IMPACT???!!💖💖💖 YOU 🤝 ME = OUR LOVE FOR LIL ELECTRO FERAL PUPPY BOY

U get a whole slice of cake for that one. 🤲🍰💜

DUDE i totally thought abt (idk if u read it but its floatin around here smwhere,,) including Razor in the first Sagau idea post i made about Blunt Language reader vs. Teyvat's flowery language

TYSM FOR THE REQUEST!! I WILL DO MY BEST FOR THE BOY 💜✨️🐺

This gif encompasses everything i feel abt razor

Almost a part 2? But more like Bennett ft. Razor

Welp, you could've landed somewhere worse.

Like, accidentally-activated-Andrius-challenge worse.

You vowed to urself that if u ever got isekaied, or magicked away, or whatever else, u would not be those stupid protagonists who acted like they didnt know where they were

Or didnt adjust quickly to their new surroundings, esp if theyre life depended on it

U got this, u know exactly where u are rn. >:)

...

..Well, maybe not the exact location, but Wolvendom was pretty hard to mistake for anything else

The moon is full, and it looks to be about midnight or so,

A wolf howls.

...a little too close for comfort...

But hey, the lamp grass irl was so cute and pretty omg! <3

And it lit the ground nicely when u were nearby :) what a helpful aesthetic plant, so cool

Seeing a hilichurl camp further away, u slowly backed off into the woods away from the path u landed on (woke up on? Its unclear)

And up onto a small flat cliff thingy, filled with small lamp grass

U figured u werent getting anywhere tonight, i mean u rlly can't see jackshit rn, unlike in Genshin where the moon was almost as bright as the sun 💀

So ur just sittin on ur ass, wondering how tf ur gonna build a wolf-proof shelter when a bush shuffles nearby

...On ur little platform, how did u not hear whatever it was before now??

Too late now, bc u saw smth silver, and welp

U knew there were wolves, (its wolvendom)

But since u never saw any in game u kinda assumed they were like Earth wolves and were unlikely to get near a human like u-

Turns out u were probably wrong- the silver flashes in the bush- u get up and brace urself to run screaming and begging on ur knees for Andrius to take u in like-

...?

...Razor?? 😐😑😐

...

RAZOR!! :D!!!

It's the Best Boy™️!!!!!

The bestest boy ever sticks his head out of the bush

!!!??? His head tilts like a puppy in confusion ur heart💘

"...Lupical??" He says in the most confused ass tone youve ever heard

🥺

"Oh! Yes! Hello," you introduce yourself, "Can you help me? I got kinda lost here, but I don't really have a home to go back to,,"

Razor stands out of the bush, shaking his head back and forth like a dog, his hair nearly whips u in the face lmao

You: "AHH- uh- so, do u know somewhere I can go??"

Razor: "Mhm. Here. Razor like you, feel like Lupical. Stay?"

He asks, his eyes bright and shiny (not the puppy dog eyes)

Well, u figure if he can literally be raised by wolves and still be alive, so can u

(U figure itd be hard to convince Diluc to let u stay w/ him, and u dont have money for an inn in Mondstadt.. u dont even kno abt Springvale... wolf woods it is)

Plus, maybe u can help him out a bit! (it always did irritate u in game that nobody rlly checked on him/helped him live better >:/ )

"Oh! Y-yeah! That sounds great, are u sure ur family's- uh- other Lupical, r ok w/ that?" U hella dont wanna have to wrestle other wolves just for some raw food bc yall gotta share 💀

"Yes, come, I teach!" :D

___

AND SO BEGINS UR ADVENTURES WITH RAZOR

Bbyboy got ur heart in a vice gripe lol

Turns out he lives in a cave, that wasn't rlly available in game

His bed is just kinda,, moss and leaves, maybe one fur pelt

So obv u start gettin chests and get money to buy him better stuff!

Plus monsters drop money too (the slimes just bring u money?? W/o u having to defeat them?? Whos paying all these monsters anyway, where do they get this money-)

Also bc i HATE that u r just a regular ass human in other SAGAUs, imma keep it canon and say u can still upgrade Vision Users/Allogenes + all the regular game mechanics besides time manipulation, including quest log and inventory (bc that still exists here fuck regular sagau BS)

(bc how would u prove ur the Creator otherwise? How would u live up to that if u didnt have powers?? Isnt that the whole point of why they think ur the Creator???!! Did I miss smth here-??)

So ofc u give the boy the comfiest bed of pillows and furs and handmade quilts (Springvale's very talented and friendly turns out :)

And new clothes!! :D new outfits pop up on his character screen!! (It just kinda,, hovers like a hologram screen in front of him when u click a button u see hovering over his chest at all times)

U also teach him how to comb his hair.

(J. F. C. I dont even wanna think. abt how bad it is, a kid raised by wolves, in the woods w/ little human contact?? ill leave that to ur imagination)

He really loves the lamp grass flowercrowns u make him :) <3

Also yes.

We have to talk about it.

U got him soap.

And perfume. (That are still scented but not enough that he hates it thank fuck-)

Razor seems like he'd react to everything with either worry for ur safety (BEST BOY EVER) bc sm stuff u do is unfamiliar to him,

OR just like u said anon, like a little sibling u showed a magic trick to for the first time <3333

Like?? U can?? Use salt?? Pepper??? On food??? That u have cooked???!!!

Omg, his grubby little hands snatch that shit outta ur pan so quick 😭😭

He's literally scarfs down anything u make him

Oh god the wolves.

If u thought Razor loved ur food, the Lupical pack is on a whole different level.

They're such sweet doggos bc ur technically Lupical now too (Razor gave u a tooth necklace like his :] )

!!! PUPPY PILES !!! 🤲🐺💖💜✨️✨️✨️

And theyre never violent, even their play fighting is pretty tame

But the food.

Ur seasoned. New recipe. Food.

The first time u made a new dish with salt alone

It was a fucking free for all. (including Razor😭)

So now u have a schedule of who gets what when (as insisted and aided by Andrius himself, it got so out of hand,, paw??)

Congratz u got a pack of little siblings now, w/even the "will be bribed w/any food u give them" feature too

Razor loves u sm, he feels so safe around u!!

He usually cant articulate it, but u can tell by how he clings to ur arm whenever yall go into human towns so he wont lose u,

Or how he'll offer u some of his portion of food always (even if u made it)

and he's happy to do all these new things w/ u !!

(i sure as fuck know id get bored af if i was just,, in the woods,, all day everyday,,, not even a book to read,,,)

So needless to say he joins u for nearly everything u do

Esp monster hunting/grinding for his artifacts + weapon + stuff

Razor sees it as his job to look out for Lupical, esp if his favorite (besides Andrius) has to leave pack territory

Also yes, u DID meet The Andrius.

He was. So much. Bigger. Than you. Expected.

The game doesn't do him justice.

He's literally the size of a fucking school bus.

Also, apparently Razor didnt rlly know what u were, mostly bc he just feels ur comfort and safety, no words needed

But Andrius does, and he immediately explains how Teyvat sees u and even does a wolfy bow with his head lowered onto his front paws (ahdkala Andrius pls ur a gOD GET UP)

He's also surprisingly helpful and nice to u, very polite big doggo, a good leader (alpha??)

Lisa is hella grateful for u and all the help/care u give the bestest boy ever

(even tho u did give her the stink eye at first bc,, why didnt she teach him how to take care of himself? And even if he didnt want to join human society at least make sure he's in liveable conditions?? Hes not even an adult???)

But at least she also agrees he's the bestest boy ever, she always brags about how quickly he learns language (both writing reading and speaking) to anyone she knows

Which did endear u to her a little more (plus she apologized for not looking out for him more, or at least asking someone else to/check up on him)

U kinda think she (and the rest of Mondstadt) dont really realize ur some kind of Creator god,

Mostly bc u dont really stay in Mondstadt long, just to get essentials and see what it looked like in person (smtimes to visit Bennett and Fischl :D )

(U mostly only know that bc Andrius claims its so, hes very insistent too)

But ur spending most ur days with Razor anyway so it doesnt matter to you two whether ppl know what u can do

Razor was practicing his writing one time (bc u also help him out at home/Wolvendom when Lisa isnt)

And he carved "Razor loves Lupical and [You]" into a tree near yalls cave

:')

🎵 JESSSSUSSS CHRISSSSTTT THIS IS TOO LONGGG

BUT I DONT FEEL LIKE EDITINNGGGGG🎵

I didnt know where to end it i got sucked in dont LOOK at me-)

Uh anyway i hope this was adequate!! Sorry this was ungodly long!! I will limit myself in the future 🥲

Tysm again for the request and if u read this far LMAO!!

Cheers,

🌒🌊🌧Aquarius ♒️ 💧🌌🌘

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reidslovely · 2 years ago

Note

Suggestion: Peter has feelings for a reader, but he acts like he doesn’t care because he’s so scared,,, Pure angst!

ahh!! finally got around to this cute little idea. it's not much but it's honest work.

please reblog/comment if you like this post!!

Being in love with someone for years is hard. Hiding it was harder. Especially with an individual who was as sensitive as Peter was. He remembers the exact day she moved into the neighborhood, it was only a handful of weeks after Uncle Ben died. He was still working on his own struggles, he was angry and bitter.

But never around her.

She was annoying and pestering in the best way possible, she got him out and did things with him. Even if it was just studying in the backyard, the sun did him somewhat well. Peter listened to her ramble about books she had read as they walked through the bookstore, him offering to carry the ones she picked out. He played the music she enjoyed in his earbuds when they’d share them on the walk or subway ride back. Every form of Peter was in love with her.

Seventeen year old Peter who was torn between two girls? In love with her.

Bloodied Peter who was in pain and afraid to go home? He was in love with her.

Peter who had convinced himself he was a killer and undeserving of love? With the way she held him, how could he not fall in love with her?

It was astonishing to him how she hadn’t caught on. As a teen he thought his love and affection for her was perfectly clear, he was a bit annoyed how she wasn’t catching on. However, the older he got and the more he lost he decided it was for the best. To love her in secret, be her protector in the shadows. Watching her fall in love with everyone but him hurt less that way, if he acted like he didn’t care.

“So..?” Her voice pulled his gaze off the robotic equipment in front of him and to her scantily clad figure. The dress was a deep purple and hung in the right places, he swallowed hard before nodding his head looking back at the project that awaited him.

“Nice.” He nods, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She huffs and adjusts her dress in the hallway mirror, shifting between pulling the neck of the dress higher and lower. Peter’s gaze danced back over to her fully while she wasn’t paying attention.

“Who's the lucky bachelor this weekend?”

(Y/N) glanced at him in the mirror, and for the briefest of seconds he saw something flash across her face. She slid her jacket on and dropped their mirrored eye contact. “His name is Eddie. He goes to ESU and he’s a journalism major and works at the Bugle right now.” “Mhm he sounds nice, not douchey at all”

“Well he’s more interested in me than any of the last few guys have been.”

Breathy laughter through her nose shows her annoyance. He drops it. He wipes his hands on his pants and makes his way over to her, he stands behind her in the mirror and for the smallest part of a second they look like a couple. He thinks about what if he is missing out on, he thinks of what their future could be.

Peter hugs her to his chest with one arm. Cheek pressed against the top of her head. “Be safe. Call me if you need me. I'll get there as fast as I can.”

“I know, you always do.”

A knock on their front door pulled the two of them from their moment of what if. Peter opened the door and found himself standing up straighter coming face to face with a somewhat familiar face.

Very douchey.

“Is (Y/N) here?” Eddie asked looking around Peter who was quick to block his view.

“She’s finishin’ up. What are your intentions tonight Brock?”

“Nothing more than being a perfect gentleman, Parker. I’ll have your girlfriend back on time I promise.” Eddie laughs, (Y/N) rushed from the hall, her bag in hand smiling at Eddie. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” She nodded excitedly, hugging Peter goodbye before shutting their door in his face.

Similar to how he would as a child Peter threw a tantrum. He pushed the robotics project off the coffee table. Throwing himself down on the couch kicking the table moving it half across the room scuffing the wall. Again, similar to a child he must have fallen asleep after his tantrum because he woke up to his senses tingling, the hair on his body standing on end. He sat straight up looking around the room. This was bad.

The door pushed open and Peter jumped up, (Y/N) stumbled through the door looking at Peter with tears in her eyes. No words had to be spoken, he engulfed her in his arms patting her hair down.

“I know bugs, I know.” He sighs sitting her down on the couch. She clung to him, tears wetting his neck. “You’ll find the perfect person one day.” He assures. “I found him a long time ago..but you don't want me.” Peter knew what she meant, and he wishes he didn’t. He wishes he could trust himself to love her fully and the way she needed to be. Instead he wraps her legs around her holding her close, knowing it’s only hurting them more as he covers them up.

_________

tags: @helloheyhihowdyheya @a-lumos-in-the-nox @messymissy @sincericida

making a new taglist go to my intro post to find out how to be included!!!

#tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter imagine #andrew garfield #tasm peter #tasm peter smut #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter 3 #tasm peter imagines #tasm peter fluff

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subwaytostardew · 10 months ago

Text

Update: Ginger Island content

Now there's more than just the bare minimum and their bar dialogue! Kade filled out the other dialogue keys for Ginger Island! Here they are!

▲ Ingo’s Resort Dialogue ▲

"Resort_Entering": "I have always been told I need to rest my cab! Now I get to do so! This place is breathtaking! However... I do wish the seas were less choppy... I felt as if I was being subjected to a Seismic Toss!"

"Resort_Leaving": "Alas, I must return to the mainland and to home station. As nice as this place is... I cannot help but worry about the work that needs to get done. They say to rest and relax, but I find it quite difficult to do so. Still! It was a nice day off! I would not mind returning to this terminal! The boat, on the other hand... Oh dear."

"Resort_Shore": "Ahh... now this is quite the sight! Oh! Perhaps I could build a sand sculpture? Oh... What do I plan to build? Why, a train of course! EHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Resort_Chair": "(Ingo seems to be fast asleep. He is snoring quite loudly. The book on his face does little to nothing when it comes to volume control.)"

"Resort_Umbrella": "Owch. Owch. YOWCH. Nuuugh... @... I'd hate to be a bother, but you wouldn't happen to have any sunscreen on you, would you? I'm afraid I am ill-equipped for how bright the sun is here. It appears my cab has gotten burned in the process..."

"Resort_Wander": "Ah, this place is quite relaxing... But what of all the paperwork that sits unfinished at the station? Oh dear...

No. No. Tut. Tut. Ingo. Do not derail. You are here to relax!

AH, @! Y-you hadn't overheard me, have you? Eh... eheheha... My apologies, but I am simply trying to remind myself that work can wait. After all, I'm here to relax! I heard many good things about the island here! To think this region has so many hidden wonders beneath its prickly thorns..."

"Resort_Bar": "Bravo! Mister Vincent was indeed correct about the delectability of Cranberry Candy! He has quite a refined palette for such a young passenger- especially when it comes to that of fruits! Perhaps I will take along some cargo for him and Miss Jas before we depart back to the valley... Surely, that will steer them away from my personal supply of sweets..."

▽ Emmet’s Resort Dialogue▽

"Resort_Entering": "Mmm... I did not like the boat ride. Trains are better. Maybe we can make a train come here! That will be much better. Yup."

"Resort_Leaving": "I am Emmet... I am now verrrry behind schedule. But I am well-rested and refueled. Ready to work on the railroad all the livelong day again. Yup. The beach is nice. But trains are better! Remember that! ... Stupid boat."

"Resort_Shore": "The water is verrry wet. The sand is also verrry wet. It sticks to me like glue. I do not like that. As nice as the beach is. Tracking dirt and cleaning sand from one's cab is not fun.",

"Resort_Chair": "(Emmet looks to be busy sorting through a photo album. It is full of pictures of the shoreline and sea creatures that are around.)"

"Resort_Umbrella": "Ow. Ow. Ow. I am Emmet. Ow. I did not apply enough sunscreen. Ow... This sucks. Yup. I burn verrrry easily... Ingo does, too. There is a reason why we do not usually make detours from our usual tracks. I miss the subway tunnels. The sun cannot cause damage there.",

"Resort_Wander": "I don't know why I came here. I am Emmet. I have a lot to conduct at the station.$3#$b#Is this what a vacation feels like? I do not like it. There is too much work to be done. I will be verrry behind schedule. You. Why are you here, @? Aren't you busy, as well?",

"Resort_Bar": "The Tropical Curry is verrry good! A little... spicy... though... I had to ask for less spice. It is still spicy. Because of the peppers. But I like the pineapple bowl. They are like Pinap Berries but not spicy at all! They are verrry sweet. Pinap Berries are verrrry rare in Unova. Yup. It is a shame. They taste good. I wish I could eat them more. I could just eat a pineapple. But I like curry. It reminds me of the Galar region. I ate some with my friend- Piers- back in Pasio. It was verrry good! I missed it. He didn't make it spicy."

I made one whole island animation for the twins. Here are the frames and a gif with their towel sprites!

Of course Emmet would kick his feet around. Ingo, I was a little more inspired for. I was thinking that he would fall asleep in the position he would have as a passenger: legs crossed, one hand in his lap, the other holding a (nonexistent) handrail. He probably goes "choo choo" in his sleep. Emmet just doesn't sleep.

▷ Station Steward Thylak

#subway to stardew #subway to stardew terminal station #Ginger Island #submas #Ingo #Emmet #Still working on Emmet's 8 heart event..... it'll take a while because... double battles... +10 option paths a turn...#I'm getting my ass kicked

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dingochef · 2 years ago

Text

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Angst with a Happy Ending, Stalking, P in V, oral (female and male receiving), Semi-public sex, light spanking,

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: The jackass you wrote off last night seeks you out for an apology. At least you get a baseball game out of it.

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: I'm just here for the baseball.

You're coming back from your morning run, endorphins pumping through your body, when a text notification from an unknown number flashes across the screen of your phone.

Unknown Number: Hey, it's Jake the Jackass from the bar last night. Just wanted to apologize again and thank you for the apparently needed ego check.

You: Glad I could provide some much needed grounding. How did you get my number?

Unknown Number: Lydia ended up back here with Rooster last night. I asked her when she briefly emerged from their sex den.

You: Ahh sweet traitorous Lydia. Anyway, I accept the apology. Bye and have a nice life.

Unknown Number: That's abrupt, lol. Let me try to redeem myself at least. I've got two home plate tickets to the Padres game today. Interested in joining me?

You consider the offer, a free ticket to a game and something to do this afternoon. In an unusual fit of impulse you grab your phone and reply.

You: Sure, why not. I'll meet you at the entrance opposite the convention center at 12:30.

Unknown Number: Sounds great, it's a date. See you then.

You: It's not a date, it's amends. Especially if I buy the beer.

You don't receive a response. you save his number in your phone as Jackass, Jake in the last name first format.

Jake the Jackass has such a nice alliteration to it. Looking at the clock you've got just enough time to clean up, shove some food down your gullet, and catch the ferry from Coronado Island over to the stadium.

It's a beautiful day that happens more often than not in San Diego when you get off the ferry and walk towards Petco Park. You can see Jake waiting from a distance, he's easy to pick out with the ramrod military posture, sun lightened blond hair waving gently in the wind, and those ubiquitous aviator sunglasses. Are they contractually required to wear them all the time?

You're about 50 feet away when he spots you and you can see the smile bloom in his face in recognition as you approach. He opens his arms for a hug and to your own surprise you reciprocate the gesture. The warmth of his hand seeps through the light cotton sundress you chose for today and almost sears where your bare skin meets his. With the sensible sandals you're wearing he's almost a foot taller than you and you feel very small, yet safe in his arms. Again you get the woodsy smell of his aftershave and think how nice he smells. He pulls back and says,

"I wasn't sure you were going to come. Thought you might want to finish grinding my ego into the ground."

You laugh and reply,

"I keep my word. Besides I figure anyone who's enough of a glutton for punishment to try again is probably worth a second chance. That and a tiny soft spot in my heart that decided at least I get out to a Padres game. It's hard to find someone to go with sometimes."

You start walking towards the turnstile to enter the stadium.

"Lydia and Beth, not big sports fans?" He asks.

"Hardly, the funny thing is that I work with a whole lot of dudes who love baseball, but I just can't imagine spending time with them outside of work without them getting the wrong idea."

"What idea would that be?" He asks waggling his eyebrows.

You point at him,

"That one. For some reason I can't just hang out with a guy from work without them thinking it's more than just someone to hang with and watch some baseball. They try to make it more and it gets real awkward at work when I don't reciprocate. I dated one guy from work and it got pretty serious before it went down in spectacular flames."

You make explosion gestures with your hands.

"Ended up leaving that job, it got so bad, but that led me to your job at Lockheed Martin so it works out in the end."

You take a deep breath, you usually don't reveal that much personal info so early. You know you have trust issues. Jake's brows have furrowed into what you read as anger when thinking about some long ago asshole. For some reason the thought of him wanting to kick some guys ass for you makes you feel fuzzy, then you can feel your feminist brain sigh in disappointment. Sensing the mood has shifted too far towards serious, you laugh your nervous laugh, and point over to the concession stand and ask,

"You got drinks last night so it's your turn. What do you want?"

Jake surprisingly goes along easily with your offer and says,

"Stone Hazy IPA."

Most guys seem affronted that you want to pay your fair share for a date, another ex had called it emasculating when you bought dinner or drinks and for the fact that you made more money than him. You pick a lighter lager from Ballast Point along with a bottle of water.

You've settled into your seats, drinks in tow just as the pregame announcements start. The national anthem plays and you see just how ingrained military habits can be when Jake rises automatically to that perfect posture and removes his sunglasses and raises his hand over his heart and sings surprisingly well along with the music. His voice is mellow and deep and just a charming amount off key in a couple places of the song. An image of you lying your head on his naked chest and feeling that voice reverberate flashes through your brain. Quickly, you shake it away to applaud the end of the anthem and the first pitch.

"These seats are great," you offer to keep the conversation going. You're just far enough down the third base line that we've got a good view of the batter, but still close enough to action that we can hear the catcher trash talking the batters.

"How'd you score these?"

"One of my buddies has season tickets, but got called out to a new assignment and knew I was going to be in the area so he gifted me the rest of the season since he can't use them."

"Nice friend, if you've got these seats all season, I might be more likely to hang out with you again."

"Aha, so the way into the Ice Queen's heart is through baseball, who knew?"

"I've got a few passions in life, you just have to dig a little deeper to get to know them. So, I've got a question, how are you so well acquainted with Frozen? You’re not exactly the market demographic for Frozen. Are you a secret super fan of Disney?"

He laughs,

"Not a secret super fan of Disney, although the Lion King did break my little 10 year old heart. First time I cried at a movie. I've got two nieces who are eight and five. Right in that target demographic. I babysit them occasionally when I'm back in Texas."

"So what does the Seresin family situation look like?" you ask.

"Painfully middle class white, my parents have been married since the beginning of time, met in college. Had my brother pretty early, and a few years later I came along. Dad was a doctor, my older brother is too. Mom had a Physics degree from UT but never had a chance to use it as she stayed home with us and didn't work. Grew up in Austin as the all American family."

"Wow, high achieving family. Imagine being the disappointment as a fighter pilot."

"Who says I'm the disappointment? Mike is just a doctor." He says in mock offense.

"What does the…I don't even know your last name. I just saved you as Elsa Ice in my phone."

You give him a mock glare, "Matthews, so you can correct that now. To be fair I saved you as Jake Jackass in my phone. We'll see how the day goes to see if you upgrade that status. The Matthews family is also painfully bland and white. My Dad retired from the Navy after his service in Vietnam, came back to Michigan and met my mom at a house party at Michigan State. Dad's an automotive engineer and Mom taught high school math for many years. Grew up in a Lansing suburb. I'm the oldest, I have a sister who's 3 years younger than me. She's a tattoo artist in Chicago."

"That's at least a little bit interesting, do you have any of her work on you?"

A mischievous smirk creeps onto your lips as you respond,

"Yeah, I've got a few pieces of hers on me. She's the only one I'd ever let tattoo me. I'd show you, but that would probably earn me a public indecency ticket."

You slyly wink at the last sentence and enjoy the way Jake slightly chokes on his beer as the thought registers.

After a slight coughing fit, Jake regains his smooth demeanor. "As you informed me last night you've got a PhD in aerospace engineering from Stanford, did you go to Michigan State for undergrad?"

"Nope, love my family dearly but I needed some distance so I went to Notre Dame. "

He laughs and you can see those charming laugh lines peeking out from the sides of his aviators. "I get that, I've got some family legacy in the Air Force and wanted to earn my place on my own merits, not on my last name."

"You go to the Naval Academy then?"

He nods in the affirmative,

"That must have been anarchy when you made that choice."

He chuckles at the memory,

"Nearly gave my grandfather a heart attack and almost got my ass beat by uncles and cousins. But I kind of enjoy being the black sheep."

"Yeah, my dad blew a gasket when I got into Notre Dame. He thought he was going to have to pay for it all, private out-of-state tuition made his mind melt, but luckily I got an athletic scholarship that covered most of it."

"What sport?"

Before you can reply there is a high foul ball headed towards your seats. You're seated closer to home plate than Jake and you instinctively stretch your arms up to try and catch the ball. It's coming closer and you can see that it's going to sail over your head. You, for the millionth time, curse your shortness. Suddenly you feel strong hands on your waist and you're being propelled up high enough to catch the ball. You catch the ball with a satisfying thud and whip your head around to see how you're presumably flying in the air. Jake is holding you as high as he can above his head with his long arms. His muscles are rippling but not trembling, the thought of how he could hold you up easily while fucking you against a wall flashes through your brain and a flush of heat rolls down your body and straight to your pussy. You almost drop the ball at the thought as he returns you to the ground.

"I didn't expect that, the foul ball or the complimentary flight."

He shrugs,

"It was all you, I just gave you the boost."

"Well, thank you. I've never caught a ball at a game. This is going to be an excellent addition to my desk on Monday, it'll inspire so much jealousy among my coworkers."

The game continues on at the easy pace of baseball, plenty of time to talk but not miss the action. The Padres are playing the Milwaukee Brewers so it gives you a chance to talk about your mom's roots in Wisconsin and the family legacy of cheese making.

"So, you’re telling me that you’re the first person in five generations of your mom's family not to work in a cheese factory. That is so Wisconsin it hurts." He can't stop laughing maniacally at the thought. you give him a mock punch on the arm as you roll your eyes. "I might be changing your name in my phone to Elsa Cheese Queen." He is laughing so hard that he takes his aviators off to wipe at his eyes.

"Oh my god, you’re turning into a lobster. Did you put any sunscreen on today?"

"No, thought didn't occur to me."

"What is it about guys and sunscreen? Nobody remembers, here I've got some in my purse."

You pull out a small tube of sunscreen and pull his hand over to squeeze some on his fingers. He attempts to slather it on his face leaving a few big globs along his jawline.

"Here, let me help you with that."

You reach out and blend the sunscreen along his jawline, your fingers graze over a hint of stubble. Your apparently overactive and very horny brain sends the thought of feeling that stubble tracing up your thighs. You let the thought linger and quickly hand the tube to Jake and stutter out,

"Now do me."

You mentally cringe at the innuendo, "My back," you quickly amend and turn in your seat to present your back to him. You can feel the cool lotion spread across your back with calloused hands, he gently moves the thin straps of your sundress to make sure he doesn't miss a spot. Horny brain is already piecing together scenarios where that is your bra strap and is followed by exploring lips. Rational brain manages to squeak out a thank you and retrieve the sunscreen from Jake. You settle back into your seat and Jake rests his arm on the back of your seat. You let it stay.

The game ends with the Padres winning 8-4. You're shuffling out of the game and your stomach growls. In another one of those moments of impulse you'll attribute to your horny brain you ask,

"Are you up for a bite to eat? I know a good tapas place a few blocks from here."

Jake is visibly surprised at your invite, he smiles as he replies,

"Yeah, that sounds great. I must have grown on you if you're wanting to spend more time with me. I half expected you to bolt the minute the game was over."

He smirks and cracks that toothpaste smile that you immediately rename the panty dropper.

"Ah yes, like a cute little fungus, you've grown on me. You’re not so bad, once you drop the smug idiot act."

"Fair, I can work with that…so does this mean you’re asking me on a date?"

You pause and lower your sunglasses, it's your turn to be smooth for once in your life.

@mayhemmanaged

"Why yes, Jake Seresin, will you go on a dinner date with me?"

Chapter 3

@callmemana

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

#top gun fanfiction #hangman fanfiction #top gun maverick #hangman x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun smut

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ikamigami · 6 months ago

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Ahh okay I get your point now, that's on me. I will say, though, that even a "mild psychosis" is a lot for someone who's never experienced psychosis, so I think it's a little unfair to say he's still fully responsible here. It might also be intentional that he's using his mental state as an excuse to be a dick, not a writing flaw but a baked-in character flaw.

Though, overall, I think the reason it's as loose and hard-to-tell as it is, is just because the show is unfortunately not great at portraying this stuff intentionally.

Yeah, you're probably right..

It's just a little bit upsetting to me.. especially because of how majority of fans are reacting to this..

And how they were reacting to Sun's psychotic episode back then.. or even now.. when they say that he was more stable than Moon is when he wasn't..

This is what I tried to explain.. because I like Sun a lot (who could tell lol) hence why it's a bit upsetting to see that people just misinterpret his state like that.. (and it's also a bit upsetting because of my personal experiences)

But I think you're right about Moon having psychotic episode and that he isn't fully responsible.. I just should rephrase it - he is more responsible because he's more aware than he would be if he was more detached from reality.. but he isn't fully responsible.

I just wish people would stop excusing him.. it's just wrong imo..

And like I said this constant using of words like delusions and such.. just feels odd to me.. because showrunners weren't shoving this in our faces when Sun had psychotic episode..

But overall I agree with you. I just don't want people to think that Moon's psychotic episode is a pass to kill someone and I don't want people to associate mental issues with being violent and murderous..

I was very worried when they made Sun kill Bloodmoon because I was scared that people will just misinterpret it and many did..

Because I saw that Sun was in poor mental state long before he killed Bloodmoon.. and I didn't want for people to see Sun killing Bloodmoon as "mentally ill people kill others"..

Maybe probably that's why some people thought that Sun was more sane than Moon is because they don't want to connect murder with mental issues.. which is a good thing but Sun had psychotic episode and he was very detached from reality when he killed Bloodmoon and went after Eclipse..

I should word things better for sure but I'm sometimes too defensive with these topics because of how people are quick to justify someone's awful behaviour because they have mental issues..

At the end I'll say that Moon probably might have persecutory delusion and has mild psychotic episode.. but I think that he's main drive isn't his delusions but rather his existential crisis..

And I also agree that Moon using his mental state as excuse is probably the baked-in character flaw..

I'm glad to have this exchange with you. It helped me realize some things and I hope that you also see my point of view. Thank you for this input, dear anon ^^

Have a nice day or night 💗

#anon #anon ask #ask answered #sun and moon show #sams #sams moon #tw psychotic episode #tw delusion #but i'm not excluding the possibilty that moon can have a virus which makes him more violent and murderous #sams sun #tw murder

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roboticspacecase · 1 year ago

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thatagenderfreak said: BillDip where Dipper is exploring the forests around Gravity Falls and finds a dilapidated old cabin during the day, but when he goes back after the sun goes down it's well taken care of and Bill invites him to dance maybe? I don't know, I wrote a thing with a cabin like that and I just really like the setting, honestly. Lol.

Ahh this is such a neat concept! I love ethereal stuff like this!

Plenty of Dipper's days were spent wandering around. Whether it be pacing back and forth in the house with a book in his hands, or hiking through the woods near the home he spent his summers and now lived in, Dipper could never keep still. Not unless it was to finally pass out after days without sleep, that is.

He had taken one of those naps earlier that day, wasting away the sunlight and waking up when only a sliver of it was left. Not too hot, and still light enough to see where he was going. The perfect time to go out for a hike.

With a backpack filled with a water bottle, sketchbook, and snacks, Dipper meandered out of the house and into the woods. He had travelled through every path over the years, though the wonders of the forest never ceased to amaze him. From the odd animals and creatures that scurried through the bush to the streams of water that seemed to flow in different directions every time he passed them, everything there offered a sense of magic that never grew old.

Rich green moss covered the rocks that lined the pale dirt paths, and Dipper decided he'd take the one he knew the best. By the time he would be heading back, the sun wouldn't offer much light, so he would need the familiarity to help guide him home.

Dipper took in deep breaths of the fresh air while he walked, enjoying how the crispness of it cleared his head. Soon he would take out his sketchbook and find something to doodle in it. But, before that, he would need to find a good spot to sit down and draw.

Not far from where he was, an old, dilapidated cabin sat in a small clearing of trees. Dipper had been there plenty of times before, always in the middle of the day so that he didn't accidentally hurt himself climbing around it. It was a bit darker than he would have liked it to be for exploring, so he resigned himself to only stay long enough to get a decent drawing done and not do any snooping around the place.

By the time he made it within a few yards of the place, Dipper could tell that something about it was... Different. Something in the clearing was giving off light. He slowed his eager steps, inching closer and closer while the sun sunk further and left him in the strange glow.

Dipper didn't have a chance to call out and see if someone was there, maybe a camper or lost hiker—he had run into a handful of those before—because as soon as the building came into view his jaw went slack.

A soft, classical melody came from the no longer broken windows, bouncing off the walls that were somehow completely intact and echoing out into the trees. The once dead patches of grass danced to the gentle breeze, no longer hindered by chunks of rubble.

"What... Is happening?" Dipper dared to come closer, still gawking at the windows, where he could see old but nice furniture inside.

"A beautiful night, that's what is happening."

The sudden voice had Dipper stumbling back with a yelp, holding his chest. A tall, extremely well-dressed man had been leaning against the side of the building, stepping out into the light with a chuckle.

"Holy shit, I didn't see you there." Dipper took in a shaky breath, eyeing the man. "You... Who are you? What is this place? I've been here a million times, and it's always been... Well, a pile of rocks, not a whole cabin! There's no way you did all this since the last time I've been here. How would you even get the tools out here to do this?"

The man shook his head, laughing as Dipper spoke. "You ask too many questions. This place is as it's always been, and always will be."

"But- No, that doesn't make sense. It's never been like this before, how can it 'always be' if it's never been this?" Dipper crossed his arms, staring the blond stranger down. He had seen plenty of strange things in his lifetime. Most of which were in that very forest. But none of those things could ever explain something like this away.

"Another question? You should stop asking so many of those, I don't think you'll like, or even get, any of the answers I'll give." The stranger walked closer to Dipper, extending a gloved hand to him. "I love this song. Won't you dance with me and forget about all those questions... Oh, silly me! I haven't asked for your name. You can call me Bill."

Dipper raised a brow at the man, alarm bells ringing in his head. While he didn't seem all that dangerous, his gut still told him not to trust Bill. "Uh, you can call me Dipper. As for the dance, I don't think that's a great idea. Not only is it getting dark, I also can't dance. Like, at all. Your toes will get stepped on."

Bill let out a hearty laugh, wiggling his fingers at Dipper. "Come on, you don't have to be good at dancing to do it. Just go with the flow and enjoy yourself, Dipper!"

All of this was too weird for Dipper. He couldn't think of a single, logical reason for any of it. The building, the lights, the music, or why this strange man wanted to dance with him so badly.

Still, passing up the chance to stick around and find out a few answers to his questions didn't sound too bad.

"Fine, alright, we can have one dance." Hesitantly, Dipper reached out and touched Bill's hand.

The music suddenly grew louder and a bit faster, and as Dipper was yanked closer to the man, he could feel his outfit go from his usual shorts and T-shirt to something much fancier. He looked up at Bill, though he wasn't able to ask how the suit appeared on his body because the stranger began pulling him around, moving faster than Dipper could keep up with.

"See? Isn't this more fun than asking a million questions?"

Dipper nearly tripped over his own feet, having to cling to Bill to keep himself from falling. "Not really! I'm not- I told you, I'm no good at dancing. I'm just going to fall."

Bill paused for a moment, wrapping both arms around Dipper and smiling down at him. "I won't let you fall, Dipper."

His icy blue eyes bored into Dipper and the smooth, calming tone of voice left Dipper gawking again, though this time he couldn't help but be more relaxed.

"That's it, there we go! Just let yourself go with the flow. The sooner you let the questions go, the sooner you'll find the answers."

Dipper nodded slowly, moving his feet again once Bill started to move.

Despite Dipper's clumsy steps and need to lean on Bill, the two fell into a comfortable rhythm, swaying to the song over the plush grass. Dipper did his best to do as Bill said, not letting himself think any more about the why's or the how's of the situation and only focusing on how nice it was to dance. And, much to his surprise, it sort of worked.

The less he thought, the more he realized that it didn't really matter why this was happening. It didn't make any sense, and, for once in his life, it didn't have to. A lovely night of dancing, enjoying how it felt to be held in Bill's arms, was all that should matter. It had been ages since Dipper had sought out any sort of romance, and having this mysterious man guide him through the steps of a dance he'd never fully know, was about as close as he would get to a date these days.

"Look at that, you're a natural!" Bill lightly brushed a hand against Dipper's cheek as the music slowed, his steps also coming to a stop. "This has been wonderful, Dipper. I think it would be nice to see you again, someday."

Dipper snapped out of his love-struck daze, blinking up at the man. "But when-" He stopped himself, chuckling. "Right, no questions."

Bill laughed as well, stepping back from him. "Since you're learning so fast, I guess I can reward you with a bit of an answer to that last question." He snapped his fingers, Dipper's outfit going back to his normal clothes. "You'll find me when and where the time is right. Maybe it will be tomorrow, or in a week or two. Though, tonight has been lovely, so I do hope it's soon."

"Yeah," Dipper hummed with a smile. "Me too."

The stranger smiled back at him, and within a flew blinks, Dipper was left in the blue, morning light, alone in the clearing with the old ruins of the cabin. It hadn't felt like they had danced for that long at all, but as Dipper walked back home, he didn't let it bother him. In his heart, he knew he would see Bill again, and regardless of how or why he had met him, he knew he would enjoy whatever time they got together.

#billdip #i sorta got lost in the sauce with this too lmao #i listened to moonlight sonata while I wrote it so #idk it seemed to fit lol #dipper is an adult in this btw idk if that came across super clearly #he just had to look up at Bill because Bill is tall af in this #drabbles #my writing #also sorry it took me so long to get to this prompt i have had so much going on i don't want to be an adult anymore

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thesconesyard · 5 months ago

Text

Where the West Begins

4. Strange Hoofbeats

It was a long day. The sun beat down and McCoy’s head still pounded, even after more than a few cups of Christine’s extra strong coffee. McCoy stood up straight and stretched his back.

“Take it ye liked at least part of yer gift,” Scotty chuckled next to him as they worked.

“I could do without the headache,” McCoy laughed back. “But both were nice.” He flexed his hands in the new work gloves. His own had been wearing thin across the palms and Scotty was right, he would like to keep his hands from getting too rough.

The sound of hooves reached them as they worked.

“Who’s going out?” Scotty wondered aloud.

McCoy shook his head. “Those are coming in.”

Scotty stopped for a moment and listened. “Aye ye’re right. Did someone go after breakfast?”

“Dunno,” McCoy said with a shrug.

“Maybe a visitor,” Scotty. “Maybe Mr. Herndorff coming to talk to Jim.”

“Could be.”

Soon the people from the Enterprise ranch were expected in the city for Khan’s trial. Herndorff from the neighboring ranch had offered to send a few men over to look after things until everyone got back.

“No, Miss Gaila said I was to give it straight into Dr. McCoy’s hands and no one else,” said a frustrated voice coming near.

“Alright,” Chekov said, sounding annoyed. “I think he and Mr. Scott were over this way.”

McCoy and Scotty looked up as Chekov and another young man came around the corner.

“Ahh, Doctor, Mr. Mitchell has a letter for you,” Chekov said.

McCoy frowned, but moved forward as the other young man held forth an envelope.

“Miss Gaila was adamant that only you take it sir.”

“Well, tell her thanks. Job done as asked,” said McCoy, still looking down at the envelope and wondering what Gaila, who ran the saloon in town, could be sending. He looked up at the man and nodded.

“I’ll be on my way then. Gentlemen,” Mr. Mitchell nodded his head and turned around.

“What is Gaila sending ye?” Scotty asked curiously.

At once McCoy knew what the letter was.

“Oh!” He stuffed the envelope inside a pocket. “Probably something from Geoff she wanted to pass on,” he replied, trying to keep his voice casual.

Scotty frowned at him, but turned back to their work. “Ok.”

It took until after lunch before McCoy was able to get away from everyone and open the envelope. He had offered to help Christine and Uhura with the dishes and afterwards had gone to a peaceful corner of the house.

A reply came to your letter. I’ve got it locked up safe. I thought you’d want to keep other eyes from seeing it, seeing as how secretive you were. When you want it, come on in. —Gaila

Trepidation went through the doctor. What would the reply say? He sighed and then nodded determinedly to himself as he stood up. Quickly he stepped into the empty kitchen and opened the stove. The coals were banked and he held the letter in until it caught fire. He watched the flames spread up the edge of the paper for a moment, then closed the stove again and headed back out to work.

Scotty was curious, McCoy could tell, but he didn’t ask. Wouldn’t ask maybe, McCoy wasn’t quite sure. Either way McCoy gave it a few days before he headed to the pasture and whistled for Honey.

Jim had set Scotty and Chekov working on fences in the north pasture and McCoy hoped he wouldn’t be missed for a while. He saddled up Honey and headed towards town, nerves still twisting in his belly on what the reply letter might say.

Gaila’s was nearly empty when McCoy arrived in town, though he knew as the afternoon wore on it would fill up. The owner wasn’t in sight as McCoy walked in, so he strode to the bar.

“Dr. McCoy,” the bartender greeted him. “Haven't seen you in a while. Can I get ya something?”

“No thanks,” McCoy said, waving a hand. “Is Miss Gaila in?”

“Yes sir. I’ll let her know you’re here.” With a quick nod of his head the man went along the bar and down a hallway where McCoy knew the woman had her office.

“She says to come on back Doc,” the bartender said when he returned a minute later.

McCoy thanked the man and headed down the hallway. Politely he knocked on the open door frame and waited until Gaila called him in.

“It’s good to see you! Was wondering when you’d come in. Have a seat.” Gaila pointed to a chair by her desk.

“Thank you,” he said as he sat.

“Let me just get…” Gaila turned around to a safe behind her. “Didn’t know how secret you wanted it, but you did say lives could be at stake.” She rifled through a few papers. “Here it is.” She closed the safe then turned back around.

McCoy took it carefully.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Gaila said, getting up from her desk. “Just come on out when you’re done.”

McCoy nodded and thanked her again as the door closed. He looked at the writing on the envelope. His name, addressed in care of Gaila, in tall thin letters. Slowly he opened the envelope, nervous about the contents. A single sheet. He double checked the envelope before setting it aside and unfolding the letter with his heart pounding against his chest.

Once. Twice. A third time he read the message.

His racing heart slowed, and McCoy stood, smile slowly spreading on his face.

#where the west begins #star trek #leonard mccoy #montgomery scott #scones #sequel to #when the cactus blooms #mystery letter hmm

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sky-drgn · 2 years ago

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Dance With Me

Clavis Lelouch x reader Pronouns: None, reader described as wearing a dress Genre: Fluff Warnings: Spoilers for Clavis's 7th wonder Word Count: 1,341 Prompt: 8 Rainy Days Part of @aquagirl1978 and @violettduchess Spring Showers Spring Flowers challenge! Thank you so much for hosting the event! This was really fun, despite Clavis giving me writers block multiple times LOL Edited~ Still could be some grammar/spelling mistakes!

As morning came, the sun did not. The clouds from the rain that fell during the night lingered in the sky. The heavy rain that fell while the castle slept left the gardens soaked. The scent of rain-soaked roses would be left lingering all day, longer if it decides to rain again.

Prince Clavis hated the smell of rain-soaked roses, hated seeing them. The memories the scent brought back were never fun ones to remember so clearly. Still, he put on his smile and went about his day.

As much as he tried, Prince Claivs couldn't fool everyone with this smile. Prince Chevalier, who knew exactly why, who had been there through it all; Cyran who had been told, at least, in passing; and his lover, you, who had been told one rainy night, but not the specifics of why, much like Cyran. Chevalier merely took note of the weather and adjusted Clavis’s work accordingly, more or less depending on the day, Cyran tried his best to help in his own way, but you didn’t really know what to do. Newer in his life compared to his older brother and most trusted knight, you were still trying to figure out how to fill in the cracks in his smile. Without knowing the exact reason the rain-soaked roses had such an effect on him certainly didn’t help. Especially as someone who has always liked the rain.

On this particular day, Chevalier decided it was better to give Clavis more than usual. Have him focus on all the things he needs to get done, instead of the scent of damp roses that had filtered through open windows in the hallways. Cyran always hated to admit how the focus on the extra work seemed to help, but he did his part to help anyway, this did mean extra work for him too.

Meanwhile, you spent the late morning making Clavis’s favorite snacks. The earlier morning was spent doing your work with Sariel. You made sure to make extras for anyone else in the office, but your main focus was on your lover. His favorite tea to pair with the snacks. Every little detail about the early afternoon tea would be focused on Clavis and his favorite things.

“Ahh, my lovely lover knows me so well,” Clavis said seeing the arrangement you brought up to the office.

“I had some extra time, so I thought I’d make something nice,” you said. It was only half true. You had asked for the afternoon off, but it had been planned for you to have less work that day behind the scenes. It’s how you were able to finish your work in the late morning, faster than expected of you.

“But did you really need to bring any for my brother?” Clavis said as if the man in question wasn’t sitting right there. Chevalier didn’t seem to mind as he said nothing nor did he look up.

“It would’ve been rude not to, knowing he’s here too.” You responded honestly.

After a bit of a break, you decided it was best to leave to allow Clavis to get back to work. Yet you stopped by a voice other than your boyfriend. Chevalier was telling you to stay to help Clavis sort through papers to get his work done he does have extra after all; Chevalier planned for this.

As the hours passed by, you helped Clavis work. The clouds in the sky parted allowing rays of sun to peak out from the clouds. When Clavis was nearly done, he thanked you for the help and advised you to take the rest of the day off. You’d already finished your work, he could handle the rest. Knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, you pressed a kiss to Clavis’s forehead - Chevalier was focused on wrapping up his work, one small kiss wouldn’t hurt. Your lover froze for a moment but smiled as he noticed you were already gone before he could tease you. He decided to let this one pass. He knew what you, Chevalier, and Cryan had been doing all day. Clavis was truly grateful for everything you’ve done today and every other time it rains. (Chevalier as well, but he would never even dare admit it, even to himself.)

As you made it to your room you realized that despite the sun shining over the gardens it had started to lightly rain. You’ve always enjoyed the rain. Especially sun showers. Ever since you were young you’d go out and play in the rain or read a book by the window to the calming sounds of rain in the background.

With Clavis never explicitly telling you the reason for his great dislike of rain-soaked roses, you wondered if your want to go out with him was one you should ignore or not.

“Clavis!” You said happily having just left your room to look for him. “Come dance with me? Please.” You grabbed his hand excited to go dance with him, if he's willing.

Clavis noted you changed into the new sundress he’d gotten for you a couple of weeks ago. The plans to wear it on your next date in town kept getting moved around with work, more work, and the weather. You look amazing in the dress, as he expected. “Dance? Wh-”

“Don’t think about it, just come dance with me, please?” You asked, cutting him off.

“How can I possibly say no to such a request?” Clavis agreed with a soft smile.

The third prince let you happily pull him out to the gardens, the rain-soaked roses hitting his senses immediately, but you tightened the grip on his hand keeping him with you. “Don’t think, just follow me,” you said looking back at him for a moment. And he did. You looked incredibly happy, you looked like you knew exactly what you were doing.

And you did. You lead Clavis down the cobblestone paths of the garden to the open area by the lake. Yes, there were bushes around it, but there were rose bushes all around the gardens. Avoiding roses in Rholdiate was nearly impossible.

Slipping your heels off, you pulled the third prince towards the grass and twirled underneath his arm to face him, resting your opposite hand around his neck with a laugh.

It was rare you left Clavis speechless, but this was definitely one of those times. The sloppy and awkward yet smooth dance you led him in was one you clearly enjoyed. The way you giggled as you spun under his arm again and again, the rain flowing off your dress as you did so. The way the sun shined on your face as you dipped back confident Clavis’ strong arms wouldn’t let you fall. The two of you getting soaked from the rain, yet you didn’t seem to mind; it seemed like you loved it. The setting sun only lit up your smile in a way it hasn’t before.

As the sun dipped further into the horizon, the rain seemingly picked up. Yet your happiness didn’t fade with the sun, nor did Clavis's. The scent of wet roses seemed to disappear the longer the two of you had danced, despite the smell only growing stronger. Still, Clavis found himself genuinely smiling as he focused solely on you, on the dance.

The rain had completely stopped now, giving way to the light of the full moon. Clavis had joined you in your bed after a much-needed hot bath. Carefully helping each other wash out the cold rainwater. Even now he can still feel the warmth on your skin as you hold each other close.

The next morning brought with it clear blue skies as the sun lit up the gardens. The third prince watched as you looked out the window fondly. Water dripped off the rose petals and leaves as the sun started to dry them. Clavis realized that while he will never like the smell of rain-soaked roses, he wouldn’t mind dancing in the rain with you again.

IkePri Master List

#ikemen clavis #ikepri clavis #ikemen prince #ikepri #clavis lelouch x reader #prince clavis x reader #fluff #clavis fluff #clavis lelouch fluff #prince clavis x you #clavis lelouch x you #spring showers spring flowers ccc #prince clavis 🥰🥰🥰#sky's writing ⛅

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litfeathers · 1 year ago

Text

The Fabulous Adventures of Mister Rabbit and Missus Wolf

Here, have some cute parental Witteclaw shenanigans.

Inspired by the legendary @pinkgolfcart and this goddamn masterpiece.

————

Every second that ticked by was pure torture.

Every minute felt like hours.

It was impossible to get comfortable.

Everything was simultaneously too hot and too cold.

And the pain…

Evelyn winced and wiggled in a plush bed, pulling a blanket over her restless body before immediately shoving it back off with a frustrated huff.

She groaned and pulled a cool dishtowel back over her eyes as she tried to stay as still as possible.

“Being pregnant and about to pop is the worst possible time for a migraine. Just…relax…everything is nice and dark…ohhh, that’s better. It doesn’t hurt so long as things are nice and quiet-”

“EVELYN!!! EVELYN, LOOK!!!”

“OH SHIT, OWW OWW OWWWWWWW!” she hissed with a violent twitch.

“…oh, sorry, I’m just excited. Let's try that again, nice and soft this time.”

The enthusiastic voice cleared his throat.

“Evelyn, look!” he whispered.

She winced, slowly removed the dishtowel from her eyes, and glanced at the doorway.

A pair of small wooden carvings were poking their heads around the doorframe, peering in at her with a pair of fangy wooden grins.

“I made a few more toys for the baby!!! Look! This is Mister Rabbit, and this is Missus Wolf!” Caleb announced proudly, poking the upper half of his face into the doorway as he waved around the two carvings of…well…a rabbit and a wolf.

“Adorable,” Evelyn murmured, spinning a quick spell circle to cool off the towel some more before setting it back onto her eyes. “That’s actually quite cute, Caleb.”

“How is the headache?” he asked softly, padding into the room and kneeling by the bed as quietly as he could.

“Monstrous,” Evelyn whispered. “And I’m so uncomfortable. Three days. Only three days left…”

“Oh, Eve,” The bed shifted slightly as Caleb leaned onto the mattress to check on her. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I’ll be fine,” she murmured. “Stop fussing.”

“Are you sure? Do you need soup? A healer? More blankets? A massage? A book? Some alcohol-free apple blood? A nice-”

“What I need is rest and quiet, dear.”

Caleb frowned, slowly lowering his head to rest his cheek on his arms as he watched his wife for a moment.

“I’m so sorry you’re uncomfortable,” he said, a tiny bit of guilt starting to creep into his voice as he glanced at her round stomach.

“The nature of being with child is being uncomfortable,” Evelyn said with a soft laugh. “I’ll live.”

“Oh. I know, It’s just…”

“What?”

“I have been feeling a bit guilty.”

“What? Why?”

“Because…I’m…sort of…the one who did this to you?” Caleb said with a wince.

“I’m doing this because I WANT to be doing it, you silly loon,” Evelyn whispered. “We both wanted this. Quite badly, might I add. And it will all be worth it when we get to meet her. Now stop fretting! You may keep me company, but…shhhh!”

“Ahh. Sorry. I know I talk a lot. And I know I can be intense. And-”

“Caleb!”

“Oh, right. Sorry!”

After some tossing and turning, Evelyn finally slid into a fitful nap.

Her husband reached out to stroke her cheek as she slept, his eyes shining with utter adoration.

————

Evelyn woke up some time later, so disoriented and out-of-sorts she felt like she had slept for centuries.

But her eager husband practically kicking down the bedroom door immediately reassured her it was indeed still the Deadwardian Era.

“She’s awake! Good evening, sleeping beauty!”

“It’s…ugh…already evening?”

“Well, the sun’s still up, so…good almost evening is more accurate. How do you feel?”

“A lot better, actually. Not one hundred percent, but the worst is gone.”

She wound up and chucked the damp dishtowel across the room.

“Screw it. I’ll get that later,” she said with a big yawn and stretch.

“Oh no you don’t! I’ll get it.”

“…my hero.”

“Are you in too much pain to be hungry?” Caleb asked, tossing the towel over his shoulder. “I’m completely starved!”

“Yes, I think I can manage to eat. But didn’t you have supper already?”

“No, I waited for you!”

“Oh, sweetheart…"

“Don’t worry. I already put on a roast. It will be done in about an hour,” he said proudly. “Hopefully you like it.”

“I’m sure I will. I always do. An hour is perfect. That will give me time to return to the land of the living.”

“Good! And I know exactly what my adorable wife needs while supper cooks!” Caleb said eagerly.

He slid to the bed and leaned in with a slow, devious grin as Evelyn warily glanced up into his looming face.

“Oh, no,” she whispered.

”SHE NEEDS…” Caleb purred, slowly disappearing below the side of the bed.

“Caleb...?”

“She neeeeeds…”

“Caleb, I SWEAR…”

“SHE NEEEEEEDDDDSSSSSS…”

“Caleb, please.”

“She needs SOME EVENING ENTERTAINMENT.”

“…oh no.”

“Oh? It looks like an acting troupe has rolled into town! How fantastic!”

“...for fuck’s sake.”

“And our players are putting on a production of The Fabulous Adventures of Mister Rabbit and Missus Wolf? Even better!”

Evelyn let her head fall back to the pillow and gave the ceiling the most deadpan, completely done stare she had ever given anything in her entire life.

“Just get it over with,” she sighed.

Caleb slowly poked up over the side of the bed, a huge mischievous grin on his face.

He started walking the toys back and forth across Evelyn’s stomach, complete with sound effects and dialogue.

“Tra la la la la la, tra la odelay!” Caleb sang. “This is Mister Rabbit! What shall he do today?”

“Oh no. Not the songs.”

“Wahey Wahoo hullabaloo! And here is Missus Wolf! What will she do?”

And a completely done Evelyn laid there like a dead log, listlessly letting her husband use her whole body as a living stage, her face getting more and more deadpan as the “play” went on.

“…and then the rabbit goes ‘aaaa noo don’t eat me Missus Wolf! I’m an innocent man!’” Caleb wailed in a squeaky falsetto. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“This is my life, I guess,” Evelyn mumbled. “I chose this. I did this to myself.”

“I can tell you’re enjoying it!” Caleb whispered smugly.

The corners of his wife’s lips twitched.

“Ahh! I see that smile! There it is, peeking out at me like the sunshine from the clouds after a week of nothing but rain!” Caleb gasped dramatically, leaning in close as he paraded the toys across her collarbone.

Evelyn groaned and sat up slightly. “Dear, could you just-”

“Oh. Sorry,” Caleb said softly, pulling the toys back. "I didn't mean to annoy you, I just thought-”

“Give me Missus Wolf,” Evelyn said, deep and deadly serious.

Caleb’s face brightened in a wide grin.

“Rowr, I will get you, Mister Rabbit! How dare you, raiding the Mayor’s garden? Villain! Thief! I shall make you pay!” Evelyn growled, waving the wolf at the rabbit. “According to the town charter, page ten, article nine, subsection twenty-five, it clearly states thou shalt not munch on thine neighbor’s greens!”

“You just made that up! There’s no subsection twenty-five!”

“Oh, are we suddenly a lawyer? LOOK EVERYONE, WE HAVE A LAWYER HERE!”

“But…but…but…”

“That does it I’M GOING TO EAT YOU.”

“AA NOOO spare meee,” Caleb squeaked, throwing the back of his hand to his forehead as he fell to the bed next to Evelyn. “I am innocent! INNOCENT, I TELL YOU!”

“RAWWWRRRRR!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

They violently slammed the toys together over and over, giggling and growling in each other’s faces until they were nose-to-nose and showing teeth (and to be honest getting way too into it).

With a final mighty toothy snarl, Evelyn shoved the wolf at the rabbit and pretended to rip it to shreds while Caleb shrieked in pain.

“I win,” she gasped with a satisfied grin. “I don’t think Mister Rabbit survived the disemboweling. But if he did, the beheading surely finished him off.”

Caleb nuzzled her flushed cheek, breathless with laughter.

“Well, that was fun! Would you like a quick walk before supper? Are you up for it?” he huffed. “It looks like there might be a beautiful sunset. Let’s go to the top of the hill to watch it!”

“Alright.”

He held out his hand and gave Evelyn a brilliant smile.

“We’re going to have so much fun playing with her. I can’t wait,” he said softly. “Although…we might need to go a little bit lighter on the outright violence for a while.”

“She’s a Clawthorne. She’ll love it.”

They burst out laughing again

They left the house hand-in-hand, going slow for Evelyn’s sake, fingers entwined and holding on tight like they never wanted to let go.

————

“MUM!!!”

A tiny strawberry blonde witchlet frantically tore down a set of stairs and into a cheerfully cluttered living room, clutching something to her chest.

“MUM! MUUUUUUUMMMMMM I’VE MADE AN AMAZING DISCOVERY! LOOK!” she yelled.

“What have you found, Ava?” Evelyn asked, putting aside a book to smile at her daughter.

“Toys!!! They were in the bottom drawer of my bureau, under the blankets! May I play with them?”

“What?…oh. Let me see them first, please?”

“Here, Mum!” Ava said, handing over two carvings. “Do you know where they came from?”

“Oh, Titan. Yes, I do,” Evelyn said softly, clutching them to her chest before turning to give Ava a watery smile.

“This is Mister Rabbit,” she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly as she placed the toys back into her daughter’s outstretched hands. “And this is Missus Wolf.”

Ava grabbed the carvings, eagerly pouring over and touching every little whittle and painted detail with tiny fingertips.

“I love them!!!” she cooed, laying on her stomach to start parading the wolf and rabbit on the living room rug. “They’re so cute!”

“I’m sure Da would be very happy to know you like them,” Evelyn said softly. “He made them for you before you were born. I looked for them for years. I’m so glad you found them.”

“DA MADE THEM?!”

Ava squealed and clutched the carvings in a hug.

“THEN I LOVE THEM EVEN MORE!!!”

She started playing again with even more gusto.

“May I play with you?” Evelyn asked.

“Yes!!!”

“Now, this is how you play,” Evelyn said, dropping to her knees and gently taking Missus Wolf from her daughter to walk it across the floor. “Grr! Mister Rabbit, I shall make you pay for stealing the Mayor’s prized dragon’s tooth lettuce! I shall make you pay…by EATING YOU!”

The witchlet gasped.

“Ava, you must now protest this injustice and declare your innocence!”

“Nooooo! I’m an innocent man!” Ava wailed, deadly serious. “AA, NOOO, spare meee!”

She glanced up at her mother with a wide gap-toothed grin.

The grin slowly slid off her face.

“Mum? Why are you sad? Did I play Mister Rabbit wrong? I’m sorry.”

“No, sweetheart. You just…you played him perfectly.”

Evelyn scooped Ava up and pecked her on the forehead as the carvings looked on from the floor, their fangy grins just as sharp as they had been when Evelyn had first seen them poking around a doorframe.

“…you played him absolutely perfectly.”

————

I just think it’s important to mention that Caleb was singing some sort of Redwall type nonsense at the start of the play (I’m talking about this sort of thing lmao).

Thanks again for letting me use your comic as inspiration, Lune! I had a lot of fun with this!

#Witteclaw #Calyn #The Owl House #Caleb Wittebane #Evelyn Clawthorne #My Scribbles

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