#I had one basket and the cats were obsessed with it

[vashti-lives]

My cat tree needed some new posts so in addition to doing that I cleaned and recovered it over the weekend and Theda was so mad the whole time.

All of my cats were confused, but Theda was mad. I stole her cat tree!! Mother is evil!!!!!! Every time I added a new layer she had to climb on it, regardless of it was screwed down yet.

She’s finally at peace again. In time I may be forgiven.

[loveanddeepdick]

sweetheart

obsessed!pervy!roommate!geto x f!reader

cw: roommates with tension to lovers, pervert geto, he’s kinda insane lol.., tracking, obsession, piv sex, kinda angry sex, creampie, possessiveness, panty stealing/sniffing/licking, NOT PROOFREAD IM JUST HORNNNYYY 😜😜

notes:part of my obsessed!geto series hehe, not completely the same as my hcs, but it kinda just combines all of them as best as i can 🫣

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

“care to explain, suguru?”

you were holding up three pairs of your panties, dangling it in the air in front of geto as he’s standing in the doorway of his room.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

you’d moved in with geto nearly three months ago. you thought it was too good to be true, the rent was a little too cheap and the apartment looked somehow nicer in person. you knew suguru, he was close friends with satoru who’d been nothing but kind to you your whole time in high school and now in college as well.

suguru’s aura seemingly changed after the first month of you two living with eachother. you felt his eerie, purple eyes boring into your space and your eyes. you felt the air around you almost tense up when you mentioned guys. it was like he was gripping your soul sometimes.

of course, he knew you were looking back at him as well. when he got out of the shower and his towel was clinging onto his abs. maybe even when he came back from the gym and untied his slicked back hair while his black locks fell onto his muscular shoulders.

one night on your birthday when you both came back from your birthday dinner, he’d given you a special present, a small heart locket. he held his breath as he stood behind you, clicking it into place as he watched how every hair fell from its root in your scalp, how smooth your nape was, how your delicate hand held your hair out of the way.

he had hid a small, unnoticeable tracker inside the locker, tucked away in small details carved into the heart. the way you were carved into his.

he was whipped for you

however, naive of the deeper issues that were lying under your nose, for the past few weeks, you noticed that your underwear had been going missing at a concerning rate. it’d gone from reasonable to unexplainable and it pissed you off. honestly, you wouldn’t have even expected it was geto until he slipped two days ago.

you’d been running around the apartment, checking under tables and in drawers for your missing undergarments that you set out on your bed as you prepared a bath. you groaned before calling out for him

“sugu, have you seen my underwear?” you yelled while pacing the living room, hoping he’d hear you from his room.

“no, i dont even go near your bed”

you huffed, turning away before taking out an old one from the bottom of your underwear drawer until it hit you.

how would he know it was on your bed if he didn’t go in?

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

there you were, snooping through his closet when you found exactly what you were looking for, your missing panties. you picked up a fraction what was hidden away in his closet and called out for him while you held them up. he came quickly, stopping at his doorframe as he watched you with the stolen undergarments.

you knew he wasn’t stupid, i mean, he had kept it going for so long. maybe he let it slip on purpose , maybe he wanted you to catch him.

“shiiit, looks like your laundry got in the wrong room,” he chuckled, wiping the shocked expression off his face before stepping into the room, “lemme put that in the laundry basket for y—“

“hell no!”, you shrieked, pulling your panties away, “you’re the reason why they’ve gone missing!”

geto bit the inside of his cheek before sighing and throwing his hands up, “you think they just grew legs? yes, it was me. think about it, sweetheart, who else would it be? the boogeyman?”

your jaw dropped at his words while he quietly laughed at his own joke. he’s perverted and corny. you hadn’t expected such a straightforward response from him. did this man have no shame? he stared at you while you were trying to find the words.

“cat got your tongue? i like you, sweetheart,” he lowered his hands as he grinned, his eyes traveling to the little locket he gifted you, “hope you’re not mad at me, i mean, i’ve seen your browser history, m’not the only person with some fucked up kinks—“

you threw your panties to the side before walking up to him. fuck it. grabbing him by his plain black shirt, you pulled him down and crashed your lips against his. he smiled against your lips, leaning into you before you pushed him away again.

“you asshole! you’re so weird, stealing my underwear when you could’ve just opened pornhub,” you huffed, wiping your mouth and chin with your sleeve.

“running away so soon?” he smiled as you turned away. you wished you could punch him in the mouth.

“yes.” you flatly stated as you try to push past him. he caught your wrist, pulling you back into his chest as he wraps his arms around your torso.

“don’t go, sweetheart. i know you want me,” he leaned in, taking a short sniff of your hair before he rested his chin on your head.

“i don’t want—“

“then pull away. i’ll stop everything, leaving you alone, and pretend nothing happened,” he mumbled, pulling away and holding you by your shoulders. his eyes bore into your face as your eyes wandered elsewhere, ignoring his gaze.

“use your words, baby,” he whispered, his hand coming up to cup your face as you unconsciously lean into him.

“i-i do..” you admit, looking down in shame.

“aww, baby, s’okay..” he chuckled, bringing you back into his arms as he squeezed you, “i know, i know.. don’t be embarrassed, i’m sorry for taking your panties,”

it felt like he was babying you but you couldn’t help but reciprocate his actions, slowly returning the embrace. you look back up to him, his eyes already on you as you go on your tippy-toes, capturing his lips.

“i want you, sugu”

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

geto wastes no time, throwing you gently onto the bed as tugs your pajama shorts off, prying your legs open as he smiles as the small damp spot on your panties. embarassed, you try closing your legs but he keeps them open, clicking his tongue in faux annoyance.

he dips his head in, pressing his nose up against your little clit, rubbing it a little as you whimper. he sharply inhales, whining from your scent before his tongue darts out to taste your slick on your panties.

“s-sugu!” you yelp, jolting from the feeling of his tongue and how shameless geto was being

“shh, shh, jus lemme do it,” he whispered, his tongue darting back out to lick back and forth from your clit to your clothed pussy. he pulled back finally, to admire how sheer your little panties had gotten before he pressed his nose in one last time, whining as he inhaled the mess he caused.

he stood back up, gesturing for you to sit up on the edge of the bed, guiding your hand to his crotch. you look up at him for approval before he nods, your hand cupping his erection before unzipping it, his black boxers doing nothing to hide his huge cock.

there was a small trail of black hair making your mouth water, a stairway to heaven, or maybe hell. you cautiously pulled his boxers down, his hard cock springing out as his tip slapped against his tummy.

geto hissed as his cock finally spring free, watching you wrap your hand around it. he couldn’t believe his eyes, he’d been fantasizing about this for weeks, seeing his little roommate beneath him, seeing you finally accept him in.

the moment you wrapped your lips around his cock, he couldn’t do it anymore. he already felt like he was going to cum in your mouth and he’d be damned if his first time in you wasn’t in your little pussy.

pushing you down again on the bed, he yanked your panties off, giving your clit a small spank as you gasped.

“please, sweetheart, lemme cum in your pussy first. we can do whatever you want after,” he whined, pumping his cock as he lined himself up to your wet pussy.

you nodded frantically, reaching down to the bottom of his abs and trailing to his neatly cut pines above his cock. he groaned, his eyes rolling back as he pushed inside you.

“f-fuck.. yes, baby, fuck, i’ve been wanting this for so l-long..” he groaned, loosing himself in the feeling of your wet heat.

“be—shit! be quiet suguru.. just fuck me!” you cried

his head snapped up, his cock hardening impossibly more as he moved his hips, suguru’s girthy cock pushing all the way up and kissing your cervix. he loved you this way. being able to submit yet put him in his place, he loved you.

“fuck, fuck, baby, you feel so good!” suguru’s head dipped down, his eyes widening almost maniacally as he watches his special necklace bouncing in tandem with your tits.

he reached down, running his hands over your chest and the necklace as he pounded your pussy mercilessly. suguru moved his hand down, running your clit with his thumb as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy over and over again, making a translucent white ring of juices form around the base of his cock.

his tip was dragging over your g-spot in an almost euphoric way as he groaned profanities in your ear. he ran his tongue along your collarbone, licking up to his neck to leave marks on your neck.

“say it, sweetheart, say you’re mine” he pleads with you, his eyes furrowing as he grabs your face gently, making you look at him.

“i’m yours, sugu..” you mumble, drunk on his cock as your drool on his hand.

“use your big girl voice, baby, ‘can’t hear you”

“i’m yours! all yours!” you cry, “f-fuck, sugu i’m gonna cum!”

his pace quickens, continuing to hit your g-spot until all you could see was white.

“cum for me, sweetheart, cum all over my cock.. fuck!”

you unravel on his cock, squirting all over his cock, making him cum as well. his cock shot warm ropes of cum deep into your sweet pussy as he paused, not pulling out just yet. he leaned back, admiring you as he rubbed your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm before giving your tits a small spank as well.

“good girl, good fuckin girl.. you’re all mine now, sweetheart”

[trashpandacraft]

What are your cats' names? I love them very much 🥹

you are my favourite person. thank you so much for asking this and giving me a chance to talk about my cats, my precious terrible babies.

we have three cats, as you can see in this photo of them supervising me watering the garden yesterday.

the brown tabbies are brothers, and are two years old. the grey one was adopted at the same time, but is younger—about eighteen months. they're terrible. i adore them.

this is darcy. he's impossibly beautiful, so full of beauty that there's absolutely no space left in that precious little head of his for anything as trivial as thoughts. look at those eyes. his mind is absolutely empty.

darcy enjoys hanging his chin over things, feather toys, helping me manage any wool products that i'm using, sunbeams, yoghurt, tearing apart cardboard boxes, and being lightly thunked along his sides. does he like being pet like a normal cat? not really. what he loves is when you aggressively rub his sides up and down like you're trying to towel off a very wet dog, or when you play bongos on his ribs.

darcy is our babiest boy, and also the fanciest and most beautiful boy. he doesn't walk, he prances. his tail is an enormous peacock plume. his mouth is so so so pink. he's also our most timid boy—very friendly, but very cautious, especially when it comes to anything physical. big jump? no thank you, darcy will simply hop down to the floor and take the long way. he's our longest and probably our sturdiest cat, but he does not care to put that to the test.

this is bingley. you may notice, in these photos, that he's missing the paw on his front right leg. this is because he put every single one of his ability points into soft and didn't leave any for paw. he feels like this was a reasonable trade, and is entirely unbothered by its absence.

bingley likes sofa, plush fishie toys, biting and biting and biting his siblings, cotton, being tall, getting onto the bed by jumping directly on my face, and trucks and machines of all types. you have a spinning wheel? this guy is obsessed with spinning wheels. garbage is being picked up? he is tearing into the office so he can watch it out the window. toddler-ass behaviour, frankly.

darcy and bingley are brothers, and when we went to the shelter, we were told that they were a bonded pair, and that darcy relied on bingley for a lot of social cues. this was, at it turns out, 100% correct. darcy is timid and anxious and very reluctant to trust his own abilities; bingley is confident and loud and knows absolutely no fear. this cat has opinions, and by god he's gonna tell you about them. bingley makes the biggest jumps, and is the cat who figured out that he could jump from the knee-high cat tree to the top of the more-than-two-metres wardrobe. i'm honestly glad that he's missing a paw because i feel like if he weren't a tiny bit nerfed, he'd be A Threat. he is also far and away our smallest cat, even though he sometimes makes himself look quite large in photos.

this is goblet. goblet is rightfully called silver—my child named him, thus the thematic disconnect—but i have to admit that i've almost never called him that. you see, when we got him, he was very young, and he had hilariously oversized eyes and ears, which made him look like a goblin. a very small goblin. a goblet, if you will.

goblet likes food, the plastic bottle caps from sports drinks that he fishes out of the garbage, being in things (baskets, drawers, cat beds, etc), headbutts, having his belly rubbed, and sitting with his front paws tucked up very politely.

he's our most skittish boy—if there's a loud noise, he's gone—but also the snuggliest. which is great, because he's also the most trustworthy when it comes to craft supplies. if i pull out my knitting, there's like an 85% chance that he'll appear on my lap within ten minutes or so, and then he'll just hang out there. i've used his limbs to tension yarn before and he just purrs. he's sort of middle of the road on the bad life choices scale—too skittish to have bingley's eyes closed, three paws, can't lose attitude, but more confident than darcy. he's also the smartest cat.

additionally, he has weirdly, freakishly grippy paws. he's not polydactyl, but he very much uses his dewclaws like thumbs. he really holds on to things. it's messed up but also very charming, because he holds on to everything.

anyhow, thank you so so much for sending me this ask and giving me an excuse to tell you way more than you wanted to know about my cats!

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

I'm so obsessed 'SbITILYP' it makes my day whenever it updates! I wonder when Hiccup will be able to get his hands on some roses, especially the protagonist's reaction to receiving flowers?

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 26

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,983

Berk is a whole new place and you just might have opened up a whole new door for yourself. It’s probably a good one.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Reader’s POV, Hiccup’s POV, unedited

<Previous - Next>

You kept your eyes glued to the ground.

The leaves of a plant that were scattered across the floor were somewhat recognizable, though you couldn’t place where you’d seen them before. 

Today, though, there seemed to be an excess of them littering the paths around Berk.

You followed a beige dirt path up from the fields, staring at the ground as you carried up a short woven basket full of wheat. It was your day’s payment, the farmer having felt very generous with his store of things.

You didn’t really have a kitchen area, but you weren’t going to refuse a gift. Maybe you could trade with Mrs. Ingerman for something later. It was worth a try.

It had been a while since you’d been into town, having skirted around it for the majority of the day. It’d been a while since you’d seen anyone important, much less Hiccup, and the more time elapsed, the more you avoided, the more antsy you got.

It was noon, and you could feel the sun through your sleeves, a warm thing that made you want to melt into a puddle, like a cat. A nap would be very nice.

It was much quieter than it had been in a while. Things in town had been busy since the Outcasts had been taken into custody. Mildew had been arrested and subsequently exiled and the Outcasts, Alive the Treacherous especially, had been awaiting trial, locked away in the dripping, jailed caves under the Great Hall.

Things had also been very, very quiet and very, very intense. The air was stiff with tension and just about ten times the number of words left unsaid. It was a world of difference compared to the quick gossipy phrases usually exchanged in town.

There was something going on today, though you didn’t care, ready to enjoy some you-time by the cliffs by the coast doing simple jobs and laying in the grass.

Did that have anything to do with the leaves?

You perked up at the call of your name as dirt became wood plank, glancing back towards the fields but not lingering long enough to make out many details. 

You could tell easily, though, that it was Hiccup.

His voice, nasally though it was, set your heart beating like a whole stampede of bulls was pounding dust and you were just about to get trampled encierro style.

“Can I walk with you?” He asked.

You paid only vague attention to his voice in an effort to keep calm, a line of sweat running down your face and hitting the dirt.

There was a strained quality to it; it sounded like he was trying to keep normal. It wasn’t strained in a way that made you believe he was upset so you didn’t worry, more as if he was holding his breath, though for what you had no idea.

Was this how he felt?

“Maybe… Keep looking?” Hiccup hedged, “I’ll follow the path with you, so you dont trip.”

You nodded.

You walked into town like that, eyes on your feet.

The ground turned to wood turned to dirt a few times, your boots tapping and padding against both.

You picked up a leaf once or twice and kept them flat in your palm.

You adjusted your basket twice, though at Hiccup’s insistence, you kept your eyes focused on the ground.

Until you spotted something.. Out of the ordinary.

Something bright red, saturated as the most visible shade of blood drifted down onto the path. It was round, though slightly light at one of the edges, which came to an almost blunt point.

You squinted down at it, bending further with fingers outstretched.

Your fingertips brushed against dirt as you scooped it up, before taking a step as if you were going to keep walking, and then stopping again.

The flesh of it was soft, with what felt like a film on top that was almost like satin, though the flex and feel of it was much different. It felt as if it might split under your nail if you pressed into it, which you nearly did, holding it between the crook of your pointer finger and your thumb.

It was… A petal.

“So…” Hiccup started, coming to a slow stop beside you, “Notice anything different?”

You turned up and looked at him, the sun was inviting and cozy on your cheeks as you pulled them out of your own shadow.

And then you started.

And you dropped your basket, its bottom landing against the ground with hardly a pat.

What you focused on wasn’t Hiccup himself, but more what was behind him. Something you’d missed as you’d walked with your eyes focused on your feet like you were Sherlock Holmes, which you felt funny about now.

It was flowers. 

Roses. Everywhere. 

…Mostly. 

“What…” You said, for the first time.

There were some other species planted throughout donned in multiple different colors, planted alongside houses in various states of bloom, some with thin pipes made of wood connecting to a larger, thicker one, lifted over the lot.

Some in blues and small, wild whites were hanging from planters above, both shelves nailed into the sides of huts and sturdy metal pots with holes in the bottom hanging by tightly woven and painted rope with small strings dangling from the sides.

You could tell that quite a few plants had been the kind repotted from fields and nooks out in the forest, herbs and farm foods planted closer to huts and lined by stones for the sake of convenience, and suddenly a whole lot of things made sense. 

Nearly magenta pink thistle with its spiky green body, hanging purple bluebells, and pink lavender-esque, black spot dotted heather -even one pink Foxglove plant with its many hanging lantern-like flowers sectioned away from the rest in a small metal cage- peeking out from around corners and around huts.

The rose bushes lay large and mostly flowering in large planters, fenced-off using small pikes, fallen leaves and petals bleeding into the space all around, marking your path from the fields all the way to the places in the clearing they’d been planted. 

Up on the hill, you could just barely make out a small rose bush planted just by the pen up by the Chief’s hut.

You had to turn wildly, tracing them back with your eyes, “What…?”

You said it again.

Pale, dry dirt still made up the majority of the clearing, yet leaves and bushes lined the sides of buildings, spilling over upturned, dark earth which dotted the open space, marking boot and dragon tracks across. 

Small carvings of Vikings like gnomes were dotted around the place, arranged in a way that seemed more respectful and worshipful of their depictions than fanciful.

Off in a corner, a small stone fountain in multiple layers, with a little sign which, after many recent, sleepless nights thinking about boys with brown hair and green eyes and stupid freckles and large teeth, you were certain said ‘prototype.’

Vines grew from some thin wood rods to match the metal rods sticking out from the dirt standing, taller than most of the houses, which seemed to be a lot like lightning rods.

“It was a volunteer project,” Hiccup interjected quickly at your silence. 

In your periphery, you could see him step forwards slightly. Jerkily. 

His hands were close together, closer to his torso than away.

“This is…” You started. But you didn’t have the words to express just how you felt. Not yet, when you hadn’t even finished processing the life in front of you.

You inhaled deeply, so quickly your lungs hadn’t time to work it or for you to really feel satisfied by it as you turned yourself bodily, ogling the sight. 

His Dad, the Chief, and the Riders, the Twins egging each other on with dirt gloves, Astrid standing still and attentive as if to involve herself somehow in the conversation the Chief was having with Spitelout, both Chiefly hands pushing back red hair and resting against a mighty back.

Some serious talk about the Outcasts, it looked like, from the way Spitelout was shouting. It seemed that even during the good times, the Chief stayed alert and Spitelout stayed on edge, but there was a softer quality to it here, one that said ‘of course’ and made it seem more funny and fitting than worrying.

“Hey!” You heard the small Larson kid shout as he chased after a girl with bright blue ribbons in her straw-colored hair which held two thick braids together. 

Your attention was briefly drawn towards the indignant shout.

It was then that the Chief briefly turned his attention towards his son, causing your focus to snap back and forth between him and Hiccup with a loud, “Hiccup!”

Hiccup shook him off with his head, despite the fact that you were sure he’d approach, but the look on his face seemed to beg you to keep taking in everything. 

There were dragons lounging on the treetops, all of the Riders’ dragons plus Thornado, off in the far distance, napping on a roof, yellow, which had been covered in soft, grassy plants and clovers, a viking below shouting up at him with a shaking fist.

Stormfly was bobbing her head like a chicken, sitting at the head of a mounted head, which tipped and cracked dangerously under her weight. 

Barf and Belch were off causing chaos, wiggling their heads over a crown of kids while Meatlug was being pampered with fish from a shaded barred and scratched by her rider.

Everyone seemed surprisingly not displeased by the change. 

You could tell who’d helped with the planting by the dirt caked onto their hands and under their nails and by how close they were to the various shovels and buckets piled along the clearing.

Some Vikings had ripped sleeves, others were sweating, arms over their heads to block out the sun, trousers rolled up and helmets displaced off to the side in the shade by huts and under benches. 

Even Mrs. Thorston had come down at one point, harping at other various Vikings and sending googly eyes and comments the Chief either didn’t hear or pretended not to towards his back

You weren’t sure how you missed the sound of chatter, deep and thick all around you.

The two blonde ladies who’d roped you into beadmaking before stood side-by-side, your laundry partner standing tall with crossed arms, gloves dirtied from digging, staining the crooks of her elbows.

She was sewing, needle held over a worn, dirty smock, a dark brown dress and boots packed underneath.

She nudged your laundry partner in the shoulder, pointing towards you with the hand holding her needlepoint.

You even caught a glimpse of the brown-haired fisherman keeping to the more empty alleys and shaded sides of the village clearing, looking as if he’d kind of enjoyed the festivities but also very overwhelmed.

You knew Vikings easily took in the down time given before the storm hit. It was human nature, and with the time to work off restless energy, it seemed a taut line had been released, the air filled with laughter and the bustling, joyful and indignant arguments of children.

The flowers mixed with the paints on the huts and the traditional wood-carved builds on Berk’s homes, which had in fact only grown more complicated since the fall of the Red Death, Berk looked absolutely beautiful. Like everyone here had been born into some sort of eternal festival, and you had just been transported into it; a human in a world made by people who existed beyond reality.

“How did you-... You convinced them to do all of this?” The ‘for me,��� went unsaid. You were too scared to say it, afraid that if you did, the illusion might break and this would all turn out to be a pretty lie, and a pretty lie it was.

You slowly looked back to him, your waist carrying the bulk of your turn.

Someone had just finished clapping him on the back, having must have had at least some exchange of words while you were turned, sharing congratulations as they passed to a hardy woman with a large pitcher of something probably cool and a few mugs. Was it Gobber? 

You couldn’t tell.

You didn’t know Hiccup was such a landscaper.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Hiccup said, arms behind his back and stance wide as he shifted his weight on his feet, “They loosened up to the idea after I brought up what they’d do to cover the pipes.”

You noticed the dirt on his elbows, the lack of twine on his sleeves and the splashes of yellow and red paint on his cheek that told you that the color on the houses had looked brighter and more plentiful for a reason.

“I, ah,” You said, stepping closer; leaning closer until you stopped just right in front of him. You could have said something about root damage, maybe, or, or… Anything that would have come out coherent in any sort of way. 

But instead, you felt static, and there was nothing to lead you but the fresh feeling in your chest and the prickling in your toes, intense in a dizzying way that nearly threw you off balance.

“You… Planted all this, for me?” You asked, astonished. Against your will, your face began to heat up in a way that must have looked obvious; you felt blotchy and out of place and absolutely light, airy on the inside in a way that brought you both closer to the moment and into the third perspective. 

You were here and with Hiccup. 

Were you going to do it? You weren’t sure where the question had come from, dazed.

He was looking at you with wide eyes as you grabbed his shoulders and leaned closer, closing your own so hard they must have looked like they had been pinched, though you were incredibly aware.

For a moment, it felt like the whole world was watching, paranoia and embarrassment filling your back, each hair on your neck raising in tune with the number of eyes focused on your spine.

You didn’t have to see to know it, though you spotted people stilling and staring in your periphery.

You weren’t sure whether you did or didn't purse your lips though you knew Hiccup was watching, his shoulders stiffening under your hands.

What if you read this all wrong and you were about to embarrass yourself in front of everybody?

…What were you going to do? Were you really going to try and kiss Hiccup for the first time in front of all his friends and family?

Your back and neck felt hot as if you were sweating, heat fluttering and writhing and squirming in your stomach, rising in a quick crescendo though you knew it wouldn’t be until a few moments yet that you’d feel the first bits of moisture against the small of your waist.

It was too much.

You were brought back into yourself with a jump like the cracking of a stick, able to feel every raw edge like a breeze on an exposed nerve or an out-of-place note in sharp.

“I can’t do this!” You squeaked and slapped your hands over your eyes as you quickly turned and ran away, face burning with embarrassment.

“Wait-!” Hiccup stood, dazed for just a moment, watching your cramble away, running sightlessly back onto the path away from the village through the minor crowd that had gathered there. 

He felt slightly robbed, hand extended. It was very, very hot out and his insides burned in a way that, put together, made him feel on fire in a way that was nearly unbearable.

He stepped over a rose, the rose, a nice enough red one he was sure you hadn’t noticed. The petals had been slightly crumpled and ripped as he’d pulled it from his coat, hastily shoved in when he’d seen you walking up to the village from the fields. 

 It had fallen from his hands after his hands had fallen to his sides as you’d stepped closer with-

Hiccup stared intently at where you had run off to, brows furrowed, feeling very determined.

He needed to catch up to you now.

“Woah,” Tuffnut said, voice dragging distantly, standing in awe a few measures behind him, as people began to laugh and gossip, “That was lame.”

It seemed Hiccup was the only one who’d taken it seriously, the other Vikings happy to play and gossip while what seemed like the most pivotal moment of his life happened right in front of them -No, he was not exaggerating.

His prosthetic creaked as he whipped around, calling for his dragon, “Toothless-!”

He ignored the excited murders beginning in the background, heart racing. 

You’d been… very close.

His dragon was there, giving him as much of a look as there was possible for him to give, as if he himself was somewhat embarrassed by the whole event.

Hiccup gave him a look of his own, wordlessly asking his dragon, ‘So what?’

Hiccup didn’t know what he expected from him as Toothless turned and started trotting away, snorting and grawping as he disappeared into a heavily planted alley, just before he jumped up onto one of the many ramps covering Berk lining the rear ends of some of the houses.

“Aw, come on-” Hiccup started before very quickly running after his dragon, like he did way back across rooftops when dragons were nothing to him but bloodthirsty monsters, arms outstretched, nearly tripping as his foot caught on a tuft of grass, “Toothless!”

[sanb3rry]

strawberry picking w/ eren (∩˃o˂∩)♡

a/n: i've been daydreaming about this sm so enjoy ♡ also theres probably typos, lolol.

it started with you running up to eren when he got out of his last class, “let’s go strawberry picking !” you said as you shoved your phone in his face, “hi babe, i'm good and class went pretty well, how about you?” you rolled your eyes. “welll? are you gonna come with me?” you batted your eyelashes at him.

“‘course im coming, i’d go anywhere if it meant you’d be there too” he replied as he lead you down the hallway. you kissed him on the cheek, “love you” he smiled at you “love you more, i’ll pick you up at 3 tomorrow”

weekend had come by and you were fixing your hair and got a text from eren saying he was outside. you took the keys and your phone and locked your house.

"you look pretty" he commented as you got in his car. "thank you" you smiled at him. once you got there, you immediately got a basket for yourself cause eren didn't want one and got inside the greenhouse.

"it's steamy in here" eren commented, "mhm, yea." you nodded. you took his hand leaded him to an aisle, "look at these they're so cute." you squealed as you saw the strawberries.

"cute?" eren asked, confused on how strawberries can be cute. "yes, they're so cute, i just wanna eat them up." you cooed. "you're adorable" he remarked. "shut up.", he chuckled at your flustered state. you picked strawberries and put them in the basket that eren insisted to hold.

“c’mere” he called. “hmm?” you turned to him and you saw him pick a flower from the strawberry bush. “it’s pretty just like you.” he said as he carefully put it in your hair. you felt your face get hot and it somehow got hotter when he pecked your lips.

“you’re pretty too.”

“yea?” he smiled, “yea.” you kissed him again.

as you finished picking all the strawberries you went through them to pick out any bad ones that you put in accidentally. “why are we doing this again” he asked, “cause i want to make sure they’re all perfect” you answered. he hummed in response, “look at this one, it looks like that cat you obsess over.” he showed you the strawberry that freakishly resembled hello kitty.

“woah! it looks like so much like her,” you took the strawberry out of his hands and observed it. “and we both know you know her name.” you looked up at him. “maybe i do, maybe i don’t.” he shrugged.

you both finished picking out the bad strawberries and went to go get them packed. “we picked so many.” you said as you saw all the boxes. “yeah, should i give one to armin?” he asked, you nodded.

after you got done with everything, you two got in his car to leave. “what are you gonna do with these?” eren quizzed. “i’m gonna use them to bake cupcakes! you should come over when i do.” you replied with excitement.

he chuckled at your enthusiasm, “hm, alright. i’ll be sure to be the best taste tester ever.” he said. “if you want to get a taste of them, you better help.”

“i’ll be sure to help by taste testing” he responded, whispering the last part. “what was that?” you questioned.

“nothing.” he laughed.

© sanb3rry2023

[headakeinatincan]

Had a thought it is NOW a NEED-

So, Bruce has got a meeting one morning right? Video call from home, in the living room and he's forgotten all about it. So the people he's supposed to be talking to call him, but obviously he's still in bed, so instead I'm seeing Alfred The Cat just climbing on the keyboard and somehow answering the call, hitting mute, the screen is black on Bruce's side but fine on the other.

An other option is some meta or magic user that thinks the Wayne's need to be ' exposed ', because no family is so happy all the time, or are really that good of people. Maybe some goddess who is trying to help. I don't really care HOW, just that there is a way to see in without anyone knowing.

Right, now the part I'm obsessing over for no apparent reason.

I need a very tired and stressed out oldest sister / mom / second dad / big brother, Dick Grayson to be the first person anyone sees. I need him in an over sized t-shirt and shorts or sweats it can be anything just make it look like he didn't have energy to wear anything else.

Then we have him doing chores, dirty clothes basket on his hip, picking up things left on the floor. And I love Alfred, but I would like him to be wearing down a bit, more tired and it just being harder on him to do things then it used to be, so we have Dick taking up the work around the place.

And this little bit were Alfred is asleep in a chair with a cup of tea next to him, and Dick has that moment were he checks that Alfred is still breathing, (ya know what I mean?) And lets out a breath of relief and he pulls up the blanket over Alfreds shoulder and takes his cup to the sink.

I want a Dick Grayson being so obviously ADHD it's painful, sweeping the floor and not being able to remember he already did that, so he's checking a list of chores and it has a date on it, but he can't remember what day it is so he's looking at the calender but he forgot what he just read, so he goes back and forth between the calender and the list before he remembers to bring the list with him and-

I need it witnessed. I need everyone to see he is the caretaker for everyone, the one who wakes them up because they just wrapped up a case and they've been up three days without sleep ( Dick included ) and are still dead on their feet. I need him carrying Damien to the kitchen, and handing Tim and Bruce coffee and feeding them and reminding them of things they have to do that day, I want Jason and Tim and Damien to playfully call him mom, but on some part actually mean it.

I want sweet moments of care and laughing and hugs, I want him to be the one the kids come to when they need help or are sad or injured and them knowing he'll make everything better because he's big brother and that's what he does.

I want forehead kisses everyone waits in line for, I want I love yous' being as easily said as the next heartbeat, I want unspoken hurts between Bruce and Dick that aren't acknowledged because it's to painful,and the kids don't need to know, and it was so long ago they really didn't mean anything that was said so isn't it better to just forgive and pretend?

I need acknowledgement of all that is given to a family that does not know the weight of being the favorite and the role model and the good child,( but did he get a choice in being those things?) I want the horror and relief of being SEEN for the first time in so long, I want him to be told it's ok not to be strong all the time, that he can rest for a while and that he is already everything he needs to be.

I can't write for nothing or I would do it myself but I CAN'T please tell me someone else wants this kind of thing

[tellmealovestory]

Pumpkin Spice

Summary: A modern AU where Eddie doesn't understand the pumpkin spice craze.

Warnings: A few swear words.

Spooktober Masterlist

“Wanna remind me what was so damn urgent that we had to drive over here in the middle of the night for?” Eddie grumbled as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes. 

There were a few things wrong with what he just said such as it was six p.m which could hardly be considered “the middle of the night”, but you let it slide as the automatic doors whooshed open and you breathed in that familiar target scent as the fluorescent lights shined down on you. 

“I just need a few things,” you said vaguely, debating if you should take a basket or a cart. Definitely a cart you thought, you were on a mission tonight and you had a habit of going a tiny bit overboard in this store. “Besides, you could have stayed home, you know. I didn’t force you out of our bed or force you to drive me here.” You gave him a pointed look to drive your words home, but he chose to ignore it all with a roll of his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, but if I didn’t go with you you’d come home with the whole store shoved in the back of the van and probably a few stray pets too.” 

“One cat, one time and if I remember correctly you’re obsessed with that cat.” 

You have Eddie there and you both know it. Standing by the carts you both exchange a goofy, loved up smile ignoring the customer behind you who’s trying to get a cart that you’re both blocking. Stepping out of the way you gestured to the endless aisles of possibilities, heart dancing a rhythm in your chest as you think up all the things you need and can buy in this wonderland. 

“I’ll meet you back here in say an hour? Good?” You don’t give him a chance to say anything, but when you give him a parting glance over your shoulder you giggle when you see him sputtering because you both know letting you alone in Target is a horrible, awful idea, but you both also know that trying to stop you is an impossible task.

True to your word an hour later you’re pushing your overstuffed cart back to the meeting spot where Eddie’s waiting rather patiently for someone who spent the drive over grumbling about this outing. 

“Hi!” you chirped, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as you begin to push your cart towards the checkouts all while hoping that he won’t notice your purchases. 

“Got everything you nee-” he started, before stopping as his eyes began to roam over your purchases. He picked up a bag of marshmallows, but not just any marshmallows pumpkin spice marshmallows before he tossed them back in and picked up a jug of pumpkin cider. It goes on like this for a few minutes, him pawing through the cart, picking up and discarding items before he finally meets your gaze. 

“Uh princess,” he started a little slowly while he tried to figure out a way to put this delicately. “You think you got enough pumpkin stuff? Maybe a little too much?” 

You scoffed because there’s simply no such thing as “too much pumpkin” and you’re quick to tell him that.

“There’s hardly any pumpkin in this cart!”

“Jesus christ woman the whole cart is full of pumpkins!” He screeched as he began to get started on his rant. “Do you really need pumpkin cheese? Or pumpkin pringles? Kool-aid? This is an abomination!” He shook the container of pumpkin spice kool-aid in the air and you shouldn’t laugh because clearly this is important to him, but when the first hint of a laugh escapes your lips it’s impossible to stop the rest of them and soon you’re doubled over the cart, tears springing to your eyes and yet even with that you refuse to give in and admit that it is too much pumpkin.

Eddie is still on a roll though he’s stopped digging through the cart. “You are an insane person,” he muttered with a shake of his head and a twitching smile. “Fucking bat shit insane you gotta know that, right, princess? No normal person would think this is okay.” He gestured wildly at your cart and all you do in response is shrug your shoulders. 

“You got that out of your system, Eddie? Are you all good now? Done judging my culinary delights and perfectly picked out prizes? Or do you have more things you wanna critique cause I don’t know if you know this, but this,” you paused in your own ranting as you pointed a finger down at the cart, “is me controlling myself. I could have gone more overboard and you know what? It’s early yet, stores still open for a few more hours I think there’s a few more things I wanna gra-”

“Nope, uh uh, princess, I learned my lesson letting you run wild in here and we’re done now. Somebody needs to be the adult in this relationship and put a stop to this. Gonna fucking write these companies and tell them how wrong they are,” he muttered as he grabbed the cart with one hand and takes your hand in his other like you’re a runaway child that he has to keep tabs on and maybe he’s not so wrong about that. 

Walking towards the check out he’s still muttering about companies that have taken this too far and how you’re still a madwoman and he only stops when you squeeze his hand and give him your sweetest and most innocent smile. 

“If you promise to stop talking I’ll share my pumpkin shaped reese's cups with you,” you tempted with a winning smile and as his shoulders cave in you know you have him. “And I might even be convinced to let you use my cinnamon pumpkin spiced trash bags.” 

For the life of him Eddie can’t tell if you’re joking or not about the garbage bags and the cart is too full for him to paw through everything to find out the answer to that, but with the smirk dancing on your lips and the other pumpkin scented and flavored things he’s seen he’s leaning towards you’re being serious. 

“Goddamn. Madwoman,” he seethed between his teeth, but just as quick as the venom pops up it disappears when he sees your smile and the amusement flickering across your features. “You’re lucky I love you, but we’re not using those garbage bags, you’ve gone too far with that one.” 

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

Do you have anything to say about my baby, the Honda CR-Z?

(Please excuse the low resolution, I wanted to introduce it with a pic from my collection and this was the only stock one I had)

Oh, the CR-Z... Pepperidge Farm here remembers obsessively following its debut on Top Gear Magazine! Pepperidge Farm and not many others, it seems, as in present day the CR-Z seems to be as relevant in today's car world as basket weaving. Wait, no, less.

In fact, coming up with an answer to this question was the most I thought about the CR-Z in almost a decade.

But thought I have, so here's your answer:

I don't get it.

I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like it! I am on record as a serial Honda liker -hell, to those who think it counts I own one- and I see no reason this one should buck the trend (although I've always felt it would look better with something between the headlights to stop it looking so big-snooty, as the bumper below does a good enough job of exemplifying that I won't bother rendering something better).

It's just that... I don't know what the point of it was. And looking at its sales that seems to be the experience of most vertebrates.

(To be fair, U.S. sales started in August 2010 and production ended in 2016 with the following years's sales just being stock clearing - but still, pretty bleak picture.)

It's not like we don't know what Honda were going for, they told us plainly: it's a sporty hybrid car, light on the wallet but heavy on the fun. And Honda would know of sporty compacts - what were they producing as the CR-Z rolled out?

Oh. It's the most hated of all six Civic Type R generations. Hm.

It's a joke, "most hated Civic Type R generation" is a bit like saying "most normal Kia Soul commercial".

If that car looks unfamiliar to you yankees, however, that's because y'all got different looking Civics for a while, such that your sporty Civic was this, the Si - seen here in the bewinged Mugen trim.

The Si is meant to sit below the Type R, but, since America wasn't getting the Type R, the yankee Si and non-yankee Type R were free to get the same 200hp from the same venerable engine (one day I'll go over all that makes the K20 so great) and the usual great handling, courtesy among plenty things of a limited slip differential. Wait, why is that not a link? Ah, right, I've never explained differentials... well, for now you can just trust that it's a cool type of differential that helps maintain grip when you're giving it the beans. Wait. Is it "giving it the beans" because you're stomping the gas pedal? Surely not. What is it from? Let me google this... Okay, sources seem scarce and shaky but apparently the idea was that if you fed horses beans they wou- wait this post is about the CR-Z. How did we get here? I swear this NEVER happens.

In short, Honda knew, and has always known, how to make proper sporty cars and give them great engines, whatever their size. So can it possibly have been a surprise when this thing came out and, forget motoring journalists, even the more talkative stray cats were meowing that the CR-Z did not have the engine grunt to back up its sporty pitch?

And look, if anyone here will say a car with as little as 120-130hp cannot be worth bothering with, it won't be a diehard of the Mazda Miata, which sold well over half a million units no more powerful than that. But that's a car that focused on open top enjoyment and getting a lot out of a little, just like the 60s European spiders it threw back to. What did the CR-Z throw back to?

Well that'll be the CR-X.

Introduced in 1983, the CR-X was a coupe version of the Civic of the time (hence its 1987 update corresponding with the Civic's). And just like the Civic in question, it is most fondly remembered for its sporty, proper-fun Si guise (pronounced "ass eye", because eye me dat ass) and the even sportier SiR that yankees never got. Which makes perfect sense, considering its main appeal against the Civic was the sportier looks.

Sure, since the CR-X left us North America got a Civic coupe in its stead, but am I going to pretend this thing looked half as good as the CR-Z that was about to join the lineup?

Not for free I'm not.

So now, imagine the stellar engine and manual transmission from a Civic Si/Type R, but now with electric assistance for even more power AND fuel efficiency, all in a car hundreds of kilos lighter, significantly shorter -thus more agile- and with the sleek CR-Z looks.

Then keep imagining.

The CR-Z never got an Si or Type R version, it was just left to sit there with its 122hp (later begrudgingly upped to 130) that, forget the contemporary sporty Civics, compared unfavorably to its 30 year old predecessor.

The CR-X was the sportier Civic. If its successor gets walked not just by the Civic but even by the CR-X itself, what's the point of the resurrection?

However, I concede there's an objection to this argument: this graph.

These are the US sales figures for the second generation CRX (which I think dropped the dash?), and, if you were to be able to parse it, you'd notice that the sporty Si version made up about a third of the sales - meaning most buyers forewent the sportiness in favor of the lower cost of the standard DX model or the High F-iciency of the even slower HF model. So if those versions sold well, why shouldn't the CR-Z have?

Well, if you ask me: image is more than looks.

This blog -and other affiliated entities- touched on the concept of race wins on Sunday bringing sales on Monday, and the same phenomenon happens with cool sport versions. Today's Corolla is a much cooler car in the eyes of the people who see in it the underlying foundation of its extraordinary GR version, and this phenomenon is most amplified the smaller the gap -or perceived gap, at least- between the version you're admiring and the more modest version you could realistically be interested in. I strongly believe that many people bought the dog slow CRX HF because the CRX Si ingrained within them the idea that they were buying something cool.

And Honda, as we touched on, had the perfect engine to dump into the CR-Z to make a wicked sport version. Hell, they could even have just given its regular engine forced induction - and we know it because the CR-Z Mugen RZ did just that!

Here at last was a perfectly respectable sport version that, while still underneath the Civic's best power-wise, was more than good enough to make car enthusiasts give a damn about the CR-Z. And what did Honda do with it? They limited the production to 300 units and only sold them in Japan. Take a fucking drink.

I cannot fathom why they would do that. It's not that they couldn't homologate the power additions or whatever, because a. that doesn't justify the limited production run and b. the supercharger (or at least a supercharger, not sure if it's the same) was made available in the US in the form of a dealer-fitted optional extra. Not by selling a supercharged special version altogether, no no, that may cause the public to -gasp- notice and care.

What was the point? Were they deliberately trying to keep the CR-Z's image one of an efficiency-focused... sleek hatch-coupe with minimal backseats?

Wait what?

Dear God, yankees, what have you done to Honda to get done so comically dirty?

Is it just that they thought y'all too big to fit back there?

That makes it even crazier!

Why in tarnation would they think people would care about a sleek, three-door, two seat, manual... efficiency-oriented hybrid?

Oh, right. Because they made the first generation Honda Insight. Which I myself love.

This was even sleeker and more hardcore than the CR-X: it was as light as the lightest ones despite the electric powertrain, it did without backseats entirely, it was the most aerodynamic production car that had ever been built... but all this wasn't about performance at all. It was about milking every drop of your hard-earned fuel for every single fucking inch of forward movement it was worth.

And it sold very well! I mean, look at the yearly sales figures!

Look how much America loved it! In a year of production that started from December it sold around a third the units the CRX sold in a full year!

So imagine what the production numbers were like for the year 2000!

huh?

Oh you mean these are the total sales. Like, all the first generation Insights ever sold in its entire six years and change of production. Oh. And it totals to like 17.000. Which is around how many CRX Si they sold in a year in North America alone. Hm.

Yeah, it suddenly makes a lot more sense how the second generation Insight was a Prius wannabe.

In fact, now that I look at it... that back looks familiar, doesn't it?

Wait...

Wait!

Well, now suddenly the car makes a lot more sense. And actually, come think of it, let me check the sales figures for the Mk2 Insight...

Considering, again, the CR-Z's US debut happened in August 2010, they match up pretty well, and it would be a pretty reasonable sales split if we were to consider them the 5 and 3 door versions of the same car.

Now, this may make it seem like it wasn't such a failure after all, and it did well in the segment it was actually intended to compete in. But let's give some context on how good those Insight sales figures are.

Yeah. Yeah no. The second Insight just wasn't a hit either.

But at least, now I can say I get the car. The Insight was pretty big and... uncool, so the CR-Z was a good way to offer that same hybrid efficiency to people who wanted a more compact, sleeker package - though perhaps not as extreme as the first gen Insight. Unless you're a yankee, I assume.

The name still doesn't make sense.

I mean, it would if I could see Honda seeing CR-X as just... a body style, and its resurrection of it akin to resurrecting, say, the Civic Shuttle.

(It was the only side picture I had saved.)

And Honda's press material made another point to this end, that I wasn't aware of.

So sure. Point taken. The CR-X was shaped by the quest for efficiency, so it follows that its successor would be efficiency focused as well.

But that's not how the CR-X is remembered. In everyone's minds, the CR-X is cemented as the sporty version (that Honda sold, mind - this is not like with the Supra, whose reputation was defined by modders). And the weirdest thing is, they don't just know that, they bring it up.

And indeed, they call the CR-Z's role "quite different from the original Insight coupe's" - they want this car to "change the current perception of hybrids" by blending hybrid efficiency and sportiness. They rightly sell its looks as sporty, take great pride in the manual transmission and explicitly state it's for driver engagement, over and over talk about 'enthusiastic' owners and 'enthusiastic' driving and 'enthusiastic' engine note etc etc. They brag about how much of a difference their Sport mode makes. They call attention to the valves per cylinder. They constantly remind of how (unlike the Insight) it has the legendary V-TEC. (If this is the first you hear of it, ask about it in the tags).

This is the press release for a sports hatch.

But when time came to give it a sports hatch's power? Japan got 300 units, North America got a dealer-fitted kit with a numbered plaque two years before the car's nixing, and we had to hope to never have a flat tire because Europe didn't get jack.

Was it to avoid stepping on the toes of the sporty Civics, because if the sporty CR-Z's potential buyers will otherwise just get a sporty Civic then why make two models to get the same amount of buyers? If so, I'll tell you why: because that was the only chance of moving regular CR-Zs, which surely must have been a worthwhile pursuit if you made the damn thing.

Was it the fear of a power-focused engine resulting in fuel economy so underwhelming it would undermine the model's eco premise? If so, heyo, you have electric assistance, which means you can either get more speed out of the same engine marking a win for the hotboys or get the same speed out of a more efficient package - and in both cases you're showing a hybrid powertrain bringing something to the table, which is how you actually "change the perception of hybrids" in the minds of people who consider them synonymous with boring.

I'm not saying my counters are bulletproof or that there is no argument against a hot CR-Z. I'm just saying that if there is, it's an argument against the regular CR-Z also. Because if the CR-Z was never to be something worth considering over anything that could be called sporty, then they should never have bothered to begin with - at least, if they were going to aim it so squarely at "the enthusiastic drivers".

In short,

Honda sought to make a sportscar - be it to sell the car itself or to sell a concept like "we're committed to preserving driving enjoyment even into electrification" or "hybrids are cool, so buy a hybrid, and please don't whine if we ever need to make a hybrid Type R or whatever thanks". And I'm always down for Honda building a sportscar. It was Honda that wasn't, for whatever reason. And so there the CR-Z stood, waiting until its passing for a sportier engine that would show the world how cool it was. But it never came. And it bugs me. Because I find it a shame. Because I remember reading of the Mugen prototype and waiting with bated breath for the production version that we ultimately never got. Because I still would love to see them about more than I do. Because I wish the second generation that apparently was in the works got to see the light of day.

Because, even after all these days of thinking about Honda's strategy and learning all we went over, and perhaps because of it,

I still don't get it.

Links in blue are posts of mine about the topic in question: if you liked this post, you might like those - or the blog’s Discord server, linked in the pinned post!

[sombrashe]

Heat

content afab gender neutral reader, chubby reader, no plot, toxic undertones, nipple play, cunnilingus, non-safe sex, kinda breeding kink

I'm so sorry. I was a complete dick, and I know a stupid text won't fix what I said. I just need to say this to you because you deserve better. I would love to be able to come over and talk about this. Apologize for real, to your face.

He had been ignoring your texts for days now, a direction you're not used to. You sigh as you stare at your message, the green bubble causing your stomach to turn. Throwing down your phone, you're annoyed. If you two were really broken up this time how were you supposed to get your stuff?

I'm at war with the wo-

You snatched the phone from its sunken position within a discarded blanket. The text was short, a simple let's talk and you grin giddy as you run through the routine. Making up always started with you dolled up and ended with bruises on your knees. Hair done, lip gloss shining against your plump lips, and a loose pair of jeans for easy access and you're ready to go.

Tugging on a plain color hoodie you rush out the door and obsessively check yourself at every red light. Staring at yourself with sad eyes you consider some lines before settling on the I'll leave... since you don't want me here option.

Clicking the metallic button you hear the faint ring of the small apartment's doorbell. The heat makes you tug on the collar of your hoodie but you can't remove it just yet. Looking nonchalant you give the vertically privileged man a friendly smile.

"I won't take too much of your time. I was wondering if I could also pick up my things while I'm here?"

You made sure to sound gentle, giving him the illusion of choice.

"Whatever you need." He tilts his head scanning you before taking a step off to the side.

"May I?"

You gesture towards the coat rack which was tucked snugly between the wall and the front door. He nods and holds his hand out ready to take the article of clothing from you. You peel off the hoodie making sure to catch your shirt with your pinkie so the mossy green bra you choose specifically for this moment would be shown off.

The smile plastered to his face doesn't leave even as he gathers your hoodie into his arms and tosses it onto one of the arms of the rack. He rests his hand on the small of your back and leads you towards the sandy couch which sits immaculately matching the rest of the living room set. You take a seat furthest from him, your knees pressed together as you smooth out your thighs.

He waits a beat before turning on his heel and confidently walking through the few rooms the apartment provides. He returns about ten minutes later with a moderately sized basket filled with miscellaneous items all of which belonged to you. Taking the basket you rest it on your thighs feeling the pinch of wicker through the denim.

A beat and the softest voice you can muster. "Did you want to talk?"

He never did, and neither did you if you were being honest. This cat-and-mouse game was so much more fun.

"Not really." He shrugs and stares at you with storms brewing within his irises.

You sigh loud enough to sound sad, "I should go. I don't want to be a bother." You love this part.

On cue, he reaches out and wraps his ring- fingers around your elbow. Keeping his fingers pressed into your skin he takes a seat. Your knees are so close to touching. God, he was too far.

"Stay a minute. I can order pizza?"

He scoots closer and you turn your knees towards him feeling the way your bare knees brush against the baggy jeans he wears low on his hips.

"Pizza sounds nice."

He hums in agreement. His lips turn up in a small smile and you get a moment to admire the way his cheeks dimple. Leaning closer you place your hand daintily against his thigh.

"I've missed you."

He mumbles ever so sweetly against your glossed lips. System of a Down serenades you as you both close the atom of a space between you. His lips move in sync with yours, years of this off-again-on-again bullshit has given you two plenty of time to know just what makes the other tick. His rings press into the bone of your jaw as he angles your head up.

Breaking the kiss he licks a stripe up the tendon of your neck. Pausing he bites down on the opposite tendon and watches as you hiss. Wasting no time you rest your fingers against the back of his head and shove him against your delicate flesh. His nose presses painfully against your skin and you can feel the heat of his breath.

"If you're going to bite, then fucking bite, Kyle."

He's halfway on your lap, your basket knocked over and scattered across the milk spill of a carpet. He presses his knee against you as he hums against your skin. Pressing kisses against your neck and jaw he replaces specific kisses with bloody marks. Your fingers never leave the base of his skull. Lapping at your wounds he only pulls away once the blood has stopped staining your skin. His breathing is collected, his demeanor calm compared to your heated skin and soft gasping breaths.

"C’m on, Bug."

He towers over you as he stands with his hand out to help you up. Finally, Placing your palm against his he drags you to his bedroom and down onto the mattress. You each spend a moment taking turns planting kisses and removing articles of clothing. First your shirt then his, his pants then yours until you're the only one left in nothing but your underwear.

You lean back ignoring the ever-present complaints from your frazzled brain. Cupping one of your breasts you rub your thumb over your perk nipple and let out a whine. He was only a step away and closes the gap between you within a blink. Cupping the back of your hand with his palm he forces you to squeeze your hand tightly down before letting go at your digression.

He lets out an airy breath as he bumps his forehead against yours. His eyes jump from yours to gaze hungrily at your chest. Pressing hot kisses down the skin of your neck and ends up exactly where he wants to be. Moving forward he forces you onto your back, his face eye level with your chest the entire way down. Once you're settled he takes his time pressing open-mouthed kisses to the very tops of your breasts, following each and every mark. Each one gets its moment with Kyle, his eagerness only evident with the way his hands twitch against the soft expanse of your stomach. Moving in a clear pattern he spends a few moments tracing his lips and the tip of his nose across your areola licking softly at the pigmented skin. Once he feels satisfied with the teasing he's subjected you to he takes the longest on your gorgeous perky nipples. He can't help the low groan that ripples across your sensitive flesh. He laps at those tiny buds for what feels like hours. Your moans and whines for him only spur him on to take more and more time with you.

Pulling away from your white hot flesh he admires the way your arm is thrown over your face only exposing your bruised and puffy lips. Running his thumb over your bottom lip he gently removes your arm from its relaxed spot and presses a small kiss to your temple.

"Need your eyes on me while I make you cum."

His words send a sharp shiver down your spine which settles restlessly against your lumbar. You watch with pent-up energy as he moves from your chest down your stomach leaving wet kisses in his wake. You absentmindedly spread your legs and fight back the urge to immediately snap them closed as he lets out a guffaw. His teeth are on wide display as he marvels at the growing wet spot sticking to your underwear.

He brushes his thumb across the mark and sucks a breath in through his teeth. Dragging the digit across your matching set you avert your eyes to ease the growing heat resting within the hollows of your cheeks. You grow impatient at his teasing, no words spoken, only the brush of his thumb and the hollow pleasure that never goes anywhere.

Finally, finally, finally, he gets to the point and slips that same thumb under the edge of your underwear feeling the slickness as he brushes his calloused thumb against your sensitive bud. You shutter and let out a soft mewl spurring him on further. He hooks his other thumb under the elastic and tracing your skin with his nails he hooks his knuckles under and over to pull the last remaining article of fabric keeping you two apart over your plush thighs.

The chill from the fan above sends goosebumps over the expanse of your exposed skin. Kyle traces over a few of them and tilts his head watching his finger. He always spent moments pressing and pinching the fat that spills around your frame. He enjoyed the way you rolled so perfectly around his fingers, his rings leaving marks in the soft flesh. Sometimes he would sink his teeth into the fat around your thighs, but luck was on your side today and you wouldn't have to worry about the feeling of raw flesh being pinched by your jeans.

Breathing softly making sure to exhale directly onto your labia making you shift trying to grow more comfortable with the heat searing between your legs. Reaching down you loosely grab at his curls, his hair had grown out a bit since the last time you saw him. Using the blunt ends of your nails you gently rake them down and across his scalp hoping to encourage him. He picks up the pace and with a sigh an emotion you don’t get to see often crosses his face. He spreads your lips apart using his thumbs and bares his teeth in a wide smile.

He takes a moment to just admire you, his excitement evident by the way he shifts on his knees. Using the tip of his tongue he gently ghosts in across your clit. With a small breath, you relax further into his grip and give yourself over to the pleasure bursting through your limbs. His shadow of a beard brushes against your hairless thighs. The burn that would come with him between your legs was something future you could deal with. Right now you only have one thing on your mind. Pressing the flat part of his tongue fully down on your clit now has your eyes fluttering as a lopsided grin ghosts over your face with every lick. He spends most of his time working your clit. Using the smooth part of his teeth he gently scrapes it against your darkening clit causing your kees to snap together disorienting him for a moment. With a quick flex of his arms, your knees are pinned beneath his arms and his finger starts to replace his tongue.

At every switch, he moves his way down until his tongue is pushing between your walls. He draws shapes against your insides as you wiggle beneath him. Your breathing is uneven as your walls flutter around his erratic tongue. His unoccupied hand keeps a bruising grip over the flesh of your thigh making your movement sluggish in comparison. Soon you feel that familiar coil of heat building up in your abdomen. He grins against your cunt and looks up at you through long eyelashes. With a huff and a, “Fuck, Kyle!”, you're cumming against his tongue as he lets out a soft whine lapping you up like a starved man. Once he pulled away, only at your insistence, he ran his thumb across his bottom lip and licked your very essence off. He looked absolutely gorgeous, eyes dark and lips shiny. You worked your way onto your elbow and shifted him closer to you. He walked his arms up to position beside yours and you pulled him in for a gentle kiss. One that lasted only a few seconds, time spent gently pressing your matte lips against his before darting your tongue out and helping clean him up a little.

He grips your plush hip and leaves bruises in his wake. You gently scratch your nails down his shoulder blades. Feeling every inch of his back before ghosting the backs of your nails back over his skin leaving goosebumps behind. Leaning back he rolls his shoulders and gives you an eager smile, his eyes gleaming as he tilts his head.

“You ready?”

You smile and shift alongside him. Letting him use his militant muscles to pull and twist you further down the bed until your legs are awkwardly hanging off the side. You try lifting your legs and resting your feet on the side of the wooden box spring. Instead, you're left slipping and huffing as Kyle watches with small laughs before he swoops in and saves the day. Keeping his fingers wrapped around your ankles he bends you at the knee and shifts your ankles up and over his shoulders. Giving your butt a little wiggle he gives you a sharp smile in contrast to your warm one. He was so so so close, but you needed him closer. Reaching down between the two of you, you take the opportunity to brush your fingers over his swollen tip. Moving your hand further he watches with interest as your stomach folds to allow more leeway. Smearing droplets of pre cum around your fingertips you slide them down further until your palm is like a platform for his cock. Guiding it downwards, you pull it away from his abdomen until his tip is nudging your hole.

You bite your bottom lip for a second before wetting it and give him soft eyes, eyes so unlike others that he sees daily. Eyes full of adoration and shiny now with lust. His heart picks up speed and he has to force himself to look away. You were so much for him, but he couldn't think even for a moment he could live without you.

“Kyle.”

“I know, I know.”

He went through the motions. Freeing your hand, he wrapped his own fingers around his length. Guiding it past your lips and up across your swollen clit a few times. Listening to your huffs as you keep from snapping at him. His smile faint as he finally gives you what you've been wanting… no needing this entire time. He pushes past your walls and settles comfortably, a kiss away from your cervix. Giving you time and allowing himself a moment to stare at you; The way your hands covered your heated cheeks, the feeling of you trying and failing to not squeeze the life out of him, the feeling of your heartbeat beneath his fingers as he presses against your ankles pulsepoint. Finally, those hands fall away and they're instead directed towards him. One hand held out in a silent attempt to meet his while the other snaked its way down between your thighs and pressed ever so softly against your clit. You suck in a breath and he chuckles, he hasn't even moved yet, and look at how worked up you were.

Shifting your ankles to a higher point of elevation, he reaches forwards linking your non-dominant hands together. Slowly he slips out of your suctioning pussy watching until he can see the very beginning of his swollen tip before snapping his hips against the swell of your ass. He does this over and over again forming a pattern that has your teeth clenched and eyebrows furrowed. Squeezing your fingers he slowly starts to build up speed as the lewd sounds of your soaked pussy fill the small space of his room.

“God, fuck. Bug. ‘re you g’nna cum for me? Love, lovey, fuck! I’m close.”

His accent felt like nails scratching at your scalp the way you tingled. The way it dripped off his tongue and fell against the shell of your ear has you weakly wiggling against him.

“Kyle.”

You managed to choke out his name. Two fingers working tirelessly against your clit. He loosens his grip against your ankles and lets your knees fall to the side and over top of his chelidons. His hips stutter and snap against your thighs as he slowly untangles in front of your eyes. His hair sticks to his forehead as his chin lowers. Your eyes snap closed as the coil in your stomach snaps as you cum against his cock. You're so lost in your own feelings of euphoria you don't realize he came until after your high finally cools enough for you to open your eyes. He's staring at you with lidded eyes, his hands absentmindedly petting the lower part of your stomach. You push at him with the bottom of your foot feeling exhaustion start to settle in your limbs.

“Can I spend the night?”

He gives you a short snort as he pulls away from you completely. The soft wet sounds of him pulling out of you has your cheeks heating up despite the tiredness. Yanking you up you let out a grunt as your feet hit the ground. Your knees jiggle for a second as you struggle to make it out of his room and into the cold tiled bathroom. Going to the bathroom you spend a moment fixing yourself in the mirror. Cold water to help the puffiness and a little borrowed face wash to remove the lip gloss that stuck to your chin and mouth. After drying your skin you stretch and make your way back into his small bedroom. Not even bothering with any clothes you simply crawl into his bed and under the plush covers. His giant cushy bed was your favorite part of his house, his military lifestyle allowing him to deck his small apartment out to the nines. Yawning you relax against the oversized blanket overlapping the both of you.

[draconic-ichor]

The Cat, The Sun, and The Moon

Chapter 6

Fnaf fanfic

Sun/Moon x female oc

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, obsessive behavior, angst, bruises, sickness, medication use, mucus mentions, infection, hospitals, delirium

Summary: Tabby’s lungs were weakened in their escape from the fire. When a small cough starts to appear it may signal something much worse than allergies…

Feedback appreciated, 18+. This was getting a bit long so the spice is saved for next chapter!

After the ‘bad day’, Moon was much more reserved. Whatever progress he had made to come out of his shell had seemingly vanished. He took up movie watching much more frequently, to the point Tabby subscribed to a streaming service just for him.

He’d watch, optics dimming to almost black, and with that common scowl he would frequently wear.  His responses to Tabby reverted as well, mostly answering her with one word sentences or just not answering all together. Tabby gave him space.

Tabby sat on the edge of the tub, legs within to shave. She only truly needed to shave about half the skin now; even with that fact she didn’t save any time given that extra care had to be taken to avoid the scar tissue that twisted around her legs. Since she shaved with her night shorts on and an old tshirt Sun was allowed to hang out in the bathroom with her.

He was curiously shifting through the toiletries that littered the sink.

The sink was a sore subject between them: it being the epicenter of a previous small fight. Tabby was a messy person, but it was a calculated chaos to her mind. Sun was the opposite, enjoying organization and stacking objects around, that fact Tabby letting go in most of the house. But when it came to her makeup she put her foot down. While she was at work, Sun ‘organized’ the bathroom sink, while also throwing away any outdated products.

Tabby wasn’t amused.

In the wake of that little incident Sun was not allowed to interfere with her sink messes. He was allowed to peruse, just don’t move stuff around.

Sun picked up the bottle of mouthwash, the bright, candy colored liquid within captivating him. He opened the lid, faceplate turning over the top. Outside of detecting smoke or blood, he truly didn’t have a good sense of smell at all, that being replaced with his sense of taste.

He tipped his head back, drinking a swig. As soon as the liquid passed his mouthparts, disappearing into that mystery cavity, he began to make choking and sputtering sounds of displeasure.

“Maybe don’t actually drink that, big guy?” Tabby raised an eyebrow to his antics.

“Why does it burn?” He asked, sitting the bottle down to flap his hands.

“It’s not made to be drank!”

“But it looks so fun and is made for your mouth!” He protested.,

“Just to slosh around a spit out!” She argued, a giggle to her voice, “You don’t actually eat the toothpaste either.”

He frowned, looking almost guilty, making her burst out laughing.

“How many inedible things have you tried in here?!” She snorted.

Sun looked even more like a naughty child, rays dropping as she laughed harder.

He pouted a bit as she finished up, drying off her legs to then add the towel to the overflowing laundry basket.

“I guess I need to do laundry again…” she sighed, hand on her hip.

Sun brightened, asking, “Can I help?”

Tabby took a second to think it over before answering, “Well, it’s still in the apartment…and you have different clothes and stuff now.” She thought, “It should be ok.”

“Yeah!” Sun celebrated.

The laundry machines were located in the apartment’s basement, multiple coin operated machines lining one wall. Tabby pulled Sun down, instructing him to keep his rays fully retracted, before pulling his hood up over his head. It wasn’t perfect, but she was hoping from a distance people would think him just a lanky human.

They carried the large baskets of dirty clothes down to the basement, Sun helping separate them into loads when they got there. Once all three washing machines were going he fiddled with his own hands awkwardly.

Tabby was playing on her phone, oblivious.

“Star?” Sun asked.

“Hm?”

“What do we do now?”

She closed her phone, shrugging, “We gotta wait.”

“You wait here the whole time?” He looked upset.

“I don’t trust my stuff alone here.” She put a hand on her hip, “Do you know what some people would do with my stuff.”

“Take it?” Sun ventured.

“If only just that…” she sighed.

“W-What else would they do?” He asked cautiously.

“There’s men out there that want women’s panties.” She explained, “Especially ones that have been worn before.”

“Why would they want those?”

“It’s a fetish thing.” She whispered back, leaning on the washer.

“…oooooh.” Sun frowned. He was still for a moment fiddling with his hoodie before asking, “How do you know about that?”

“Oh, everybody does.” She waved away the question, smiling nervously.

M: She’s made approximately 586.64$ selling used panties in the past.

S: HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?!

M: heeeheeheehee

Sun’s optics narrows at Tabby making her blush deeper.

As the clothes spun around in the dryer, Sun groaned audibly. “This is taking fooooorever!” He whined, faceplate to the sky.

“The joys of laundry.” Tabby sighed, adding wistfully, “Hopefully, one day we can have a real house with our own laundry room.”

Sun tilted his head, “Us there too?”

“Only if you want to.” She smiled.

Sun nodded, feeling warm inside. He suddenly sobered, thinking.

“We agreed to tell each other things right…?” Sun’s voice sounded guarded.

“Yes?” Tabby put her phone down.

“Well…” Sun rubbed his shoulder, looking away.

M: Don’t.

Sun closed his optics, steeling himself. “Moon has been upset for a while.” He finally blurted.

Tabby stood, face concerned.

“He uh…really misses his hat.” Sun explained, “He was very attached to it…something special to him. And…”

“Oh no, his hat!” Tabby suddenly realized. In the chaos after the fire she’d completely forgotten.

“Yea…he’s been a bit on edge about it.” Sun nodded, quickly adding, “That doesn’t excuse the…outburst…but it may have contributed to raised emotions.”

“Well make him a new one!” Tabby announced, “I have so many clothes I never wear, some of them must be the right colors.”

“Really?” Sun’s face brightened, rays spinning.

“Sure!” She smiled back, “Can you sew?”

“I can learn.” Sun nodded, excited, “He will be so happy.”

~

Sun was sat cross legged on the floor, carefully looking over all the clothes Tabby had dumped on the floor.

“Are you sure, Starlight?” Sun asked worriedly, touching over the pile of clothes before him.

“Yep!” She nodded, “I haven’t worn this stuff in forever…”

“Okay…” Sun gave a little nod back, starting to sift through the pile.

Tabby sat next to him, asking after a moment, “What would he like? We can do anything.”

Sun paused, eyes going far away. She waited patiently as they spoke. Blinking, he came back. “A darker blue base with stars, like before, but if possible he’d like the stars to be metallic.” Sun put a curled finger to his chin, eyes narrowing with concentration, “He’s also a fan of a furred brim.”

“Well I definitely don’t have any real fur but…” Tabby stood, going back to the closet, thinking.

Sun pulled a blue hoodie from the pile, holding it up.

S: This blue alright, Moony?

M: …yes

S: Swell!

“Look!” Tabby announced, spinning round to show them her find. She held a cat eared hat covered in a soft white-grey faux fur. “We can use this for the fur!” She beamed.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s from my scene kid days…” she shrugged, “Moon will get much better use out of it.”

“Thank you!” Sun lit up, adding that to the blue hoodie, “Now we only need the stars and maybe something to line it to give more stability…”

They shifted through the pile, Tabby adding certain things to a box as they went, for donation. Sun found a pair of pants of a more substantial material to use as a lining. As they reached the end, Tabby spired something metallic, pulling free a shirt with shiny gold shelves.

Sun gasped, hands to his face in a showy display of excitement, “That’s perfect!”

“I thought I had some gold stuff somewhere.” She smiled, handing it over.

Over the next few days, during Sun’s allotted free time, he practiced sewing, just on scrap pieces of fabric at first. Being what he was and given that the task was fairly repetitive, he picked up the skill quickly; moving on to cutting out shapes from the chosen clothes.

Moon was more the one to hack into devices or record others without their knowledge; digging his fingers through all the data he could, like a sick hobby. But Sun was also capable of such things, in smaller, more easier to to justify to himself  doses.

He particularly excused the small video files he’d collected over the recent weeks. Small clips of Tabitha doing mundane things, mostly. Sun noticed that she would carefully cover most of her legs whenever going out; be it with stockings, thigh high socks or pants. She would only show her legs within the apartment, even though it used to be common for her to wear clothing with exposed legs in the past. So it wasn't her usual attire choice.

It had to be because of the burn scars that now decorated her legs like a patchwork, Sun ventured to guess. She was self conscious about them.

But…

Not here.

His optic followed her as he sewed, noting the contentment she held in his presence. Did she forgo covering up her concerns because of a level of true closeness or was it merely she did not view him to the same standards of a fellow human?

He looked back to his project, thinking.

She refused to get naked in-front of him, seeing that act as being intimate. So by that logic she viewed him as enough of a person to illicit embarrassment from ‘inappropriate’ interactions for their current relationship status.

He hummed a bit.

The fact alone she called their interactions a relationship was good.

He looked up the definition of relationship: the way in which two or more concepts, objects, or people are connected, or the state of being connected…..

People.

The way two people are connected…

M: Think any harder and you’ll blow a fuse…

Moon scoffed in their shared headspace.

S: Well then, give me your illustrious insight.

M: If you still need to think if she cares about us as people you need more help than I am qualified to give.

S: I need a great many things you are not qualified to give.

Sun gave a sharp smile to himself, fingers never slowing in their task.

M: Well then you better stop thinking a hole in our head and do something about it.

S: It's not that easy. Especially not after your little stunt. These things take time.

M: uuugh

S: You aren't even talking to her, making things more difficult for us both…

Moon was silent, retreating back, ashamed.

S: I’ll do what I do best, and clean up after your messes.

Sun hissed in their mind.

“You ok?” Came a worried ask, snapping Sun back to the present.

He blinked his optics, seeing Tabby giving him a look. “Of course, Sunshine!” His voice was just a bit too forced, “Why do you ask?”

“You just looked…off?” She murmured.

“Just concentrating.” He held up the hat a little, wiggling it for emphasis. He shut Moon out silently.

“Okay….” She didn’t sound convinced, “Don’t strain yourself though, ok?”

“The only thing I can strain is my patience.” He smiled, “Don’t worry.”

“Hmmm.” Her eyes narrowed, but she thought it better not to press. Sun could be quite threatening if he wished to be, could get that look about him with an overly enthusiastic smile.

~

“It’s finished!” Sun announced, holding out the hat to Tabby.

Tabby took it, looking it over. There were a few places where the stitches showed on the stars and the bell was a bit oversized but it made it all the more perfect.

“He’ll love it!” Tabby smiled, trying to hand it back.

“No, no.” Sun tilted his head, a soft smile, “I want you to give it to him…”

“Are you sure?” She looked over it again, thumbs rubbing over the fur rim, “…He hasn’t wanted to talk to me much.”

Sun had been careful to shut Moon out in preparation for the surprise, that fact giving him courage to say more. “No…” Sun’s smile faded, “He wants to talk to you so badly.”

Concern shadowed her, an understanding filling her eyes. She bent forward a bit, tilting her head toward him. Sun mimicked the movement, softly bonking his forehead against hers.

“So will you?” He asked, optics opening. Their eyes were so close. His optics cast a soft glow over her features.

“Yes.” She smiled, face lighting up even more.

Sun’s fans kicked up audibly, making Tabby giggle. He pulled away, embarrassed, Tabby catching a small puff of steam escaping a crack in his exoskeleton.

They didn’t have to wait long, night rapidly approaching. With Sun having shut him out right after their argument, Moon had assumed something was wrong.

His optics blinked worriedly at Tabby as he came online, realizing she was standing right in front of him. His gaze shot around the darkened room to get his bearings, posture anxious.

But Tabby didn’t look cross.

No.

She looked…happy? Excited even?

He loosened the stiffness in his form, tilting his head curiously, first to one side then the other with a ‘click’.

“We have a surprise for you!” Tabby announced, stepping closer.

Moon finally noticed her hands behind her back. His fans kicked up loudly.

Tabby revealed the surprise, holding out a folded fabric bundle.

Moon cautiously took it, moving it about his hands to loosen it open. He froze, optics wide.

A new hat, finished and in his hands.

His fingers felt over the fabric, his movements causing the bell to make sweet tinking sounds.

“Do you like it?” She asked excitedly.

Moon’s thumbs felt over the fabric again, optics blinking up to look at her now. Her smile turned gentle, seeing him trying to swallow back emotion.

Moon carefully lifted the hat, clipping it to the special clamps that kept the hat in place and would allow it to shift with their transitions. The bell gave a soft tink as he situated it to his liking.

He finally looked complete, hands coming back down to worry together. Optics shifted around, awkwardly, unable to look at her.

Tabby bounced a bit, giddy. She surged forward, hugging Moon. Moon froze, his fan kicking up loudly. He looked down, face plate painted in surprise. Tabby squeezed him, face pressed into his chest.

Moon’s hands slowly moved to hug her back, hold melting into something closer as he realized she was genuine.

“…Starlight?” His voice was hardly over a whispering rasp.

“Hm?” She didn’t move.

He made a swallowing sound before speaking, “I…am dangerous..”

Tabby made a snorting sound, looking up without breaking contact. “You and every other man.” She said so matter of fact. There was something hidden and dark woven into the words, it made a pang shoot through Moon’s chest.

He held her a bit tighter.

Moon listened to the pittering of rain on the windows, optics trained on Tabitha’s sleeping form.

He was recording her, like he did most nights, this time it was from a place of growing concern. His sharp toothed smile had fallen, head tilting to the side. With every exhale her breath wheezed from her lips, sounding like a failing voicebox in a way.

M: ….Sun?

S: Yes?

M: She’s wheezing when she breathes.

S: How long has that been happening?

M: For a while…but it’s been getting worse the last three nights. Has she been coughing or anything during your time?

S: A bit, yea.

M: And you think that’s ok??

S: Well no! But I figured it’s from the fire?

M: shit…

S: Don’t.

M: I can say whatever I want now, tightass.

S: You’re so immature.

M: Back to the real issue. I’m sending the recordings of her sleeping from the last few nights to you. When should this be brought up as a problem?

S: She's very adamant about not wanting to see a doctor. I’ll review the tapes and look through our files but we really only have general first aid…

M: uhhhg…

S: ?

M: We are useless…

S: No! I’ll think of something!

M: Sure…

The room was illuminated for a split second, not long enough to elicit a transformation but enough to make the animatronic tense. Rolling thunder followed, making Tabby stir.

“Moon?” Her voice was thick with sleep. The glow of his optics emanated from the corner, stone still.

She’d started to get used to his nightly presence, it spooking her less and less every time.

Lighting cracked outside again, making her jump. When her attention went back to Moon his head was turned 180 degrees, regarding her silently.

Thunder rolled overhead, drawing a wince from her.

“Scared?” His voice rasped.

“I didn’t used to be.” She admitted softly.

Soft clicking was audible as his head smoothly rotated back.

“Little kitten, scared of rain and thunder.” He jeered, smile sharp.

She rolled onto her side, pulling the blankets closer as another crash of thunder rattled the windows. “Come here?” She reached out, voice a soft question.

His smile faltered, blinking at the offered hand. Had he had eyebrows they surely would have been furrowed.

After a moment of stalemate she withdrew her hand in defeat. Feeling foolish as she rolled the opposite way, no longer facing him.

The bed suddenly creaked with added weight, Tabby sitting up, surprised. Moon sat on the edge, watching her. She hadn’t heard him move over the pounding of rain.  A smile reached her face, scooting over to give him more room. She patted the space beside her as if he were a cat.

Moon moved slowly, as if the bed itself would break from under him. Ever so carefully, he laid down beside her, still as a board as his faceplate pointed to the ceiling.

Tabby got comfortable, her modest bed putting her along his side. An optic was trained on her, glowing iris tilted to the side as far as it’d go so not to move his head.

She watched him back, cuddling into her blankets.

“Sleep.” He finally instructed, sensing her heartbeat lowering.

Her eyes were growing heavy before he’d spoken, not needing any persuasion.

“Thank you.” She murmured, sleep overtaking her.

He didn’t respond, but remained there until morning.

~

“Tea?” Tabby questioned, looking down at the hot cup before her.

“Yes!” Sun smiled widely before turning to pack her a lunch for the day.

“But why tea?” She pressed, used to coffee.

“It’s good for you.” Sun answered simply, turning his faceplate only slightly away from his task.

She sipped the hot liquid, grimacing at the herbal taste. Just as it started to sooth her scratching throat a cough rattled through her. Tabby had to quickly sit the cup down, hacking into a paper towel.

Sun watched, concern painted over his features. “Maybe take the day off, Sunshine?” He ventured, “Take it easy?”

She shook her head, catching her breath. Finally able to talk, she argued, “I’m fine, just a little cough.”

Sun made a sound, optics narrowed.

Her face grew stern, pointing at him, “Don’t you scan me!”

His optics narrowed further as she voiced her irritation more loudly.

“Hmmmmm.”

“So what’s so wrong with me Dr. Smartypants?” She asked sarcastically.

“That’s Mr Dr. Smartypants, thank you!” He corrected offendedly, wilting to answer more seriously, “And I don’t…know…”

Tabby snorted, “See, I’m fine.”

“My scans are for general health concerns.” He informed, reaching over to grab the soiled paper towel from the counter. His voice became earnest as he opened the towel, revealing a green sheen to the mucus, “But that color isn’t ‘fine’.”

“Gross.” Tabby grimaced again, pushing him away.

“Mhm.” He huffed, balling up the paper towel before disposing of it.

“I’ll take some allergy meds before I leave.” She shrugged, heading towards the bathroom to finish up.

That night Moon could hear her coughing from her office, face falling with worry. He wandered in, seeing her wrapped up tightly in a blanket.

He padded closer, realizing her desk held a mountain of used tissues and her face was red.

“Sick.” Moon frowned, hand coming up to feel her forehead.

Tabby made an upset sound but didn’t move away from his touch.

Moon’s frown deepened, “Fever.”

She didn’t fight him as he urged her to her feet, leading her to the bedroom. Moon helped her into bed, sitting next to her protectively.

“I don’t work this weekend…I’ll just rest and get better.” Tabby sighed.

Moon didn’t look convinced, standing to leave the room for a moment. He returned with medicine and a glass of water.

 He resumed his place beside her, helping her sit up to take the medicine.

She cuddled up beside him, needing extra pillows to keep her head elevated. Moon reached out, brushing away her bangs from her face. Tabby blinked up at him.

“Pretty.” He smiled, voice scratchy, “Pretty Star.”

She gave a weak giggle, “I look so gross right now, I’m sick.” She said the words like facts, but Moon looked at her in full belief of his previous statement.

He ran his fingers through her hair again, smoothing it back, eyes half lidded. “Still pretty.” He murmured.

Tabby feebly smiled, easing into the contact as sleep threatened her. She reached up, taking his hand. Moon froze, optics widening. Tilting her head up a bit, she softly pressed her lips to the back of his hand, still feeling the cracks under the silicone.

Moon’s fans kicked up as she let him go, relaxing into bed. He stayed beside her.

As she fell into a fitful sleep from the coughing Moon filed away the sounds of her breathing: labored, with a strained wheezing sound to follow.

The first day of the weekend, Tabby spent most of it in-front of the computer, hacking into tissues and drinking the many cups of tea Sun would bring. The medicine eventually couldn’t soothe her symptoms, and by the second day she didn’t leave her bed…

“Here, you need to eat.” Sun helped her sit up, carefully placing the tray before her. Tabby blinked down into a hot bowl of soup.

“We didn’t have soup.” She wondered, looking up at him.

“I made it.” He answered gently with a soft smile.

She blew on a spoonful, trying it. Her face brightened as much as her poor state would allow, gushing, “It’s so good!”

Sun continued to smile, sitting on the edge of the bed. There was a tight worry hidden under the smile, eyes betraying him.

He watched her eat, relieved she still had an appetite.

When she couldn’t take another bite, exhaustion taking over again, she lay back on the bed. Sun moved the tray to the floor, shifting back to tuck her in.

Her breathing came out with little wheezes, dark circles under her eyes.

“The soup was so good.” She smiled weakly, trying to look at him. Her eyes were so heavy, “You are getting good at cooking.”

Sun reached out, caressing her cheek, gently moving to smooth back her hair. The touch was loving, soothing Tabby to close her eyes and rest. Sun repeated the movement, his concern finally cracking over his face when she was asleep.

“She’s getting worse…” he whispered.

Moon wasn’t as in practice as Sun with such matters, although neither truly had any direct experience with sickness. He stayed by her side constantly, despite that.

He lowered his temperature in an effort to soothe her fever, causing his systems to slow and become sluggish. Having to enter into a partial rest mode, he lay beside her with a cool hand over her forehead.

The morning brought another issue: she was scheduled to work.

Sun scanned her, seeing her vitals were even lower. There’d be no way she could go in, and he wasn’t even sure if she could even make the call herself. The sickness was starting to cause small bouts of delirium to weed into her.

Sun paced, phone held up to the side of his faceplate, waiting as it rang.

“Yes, Hello.”

“I’m calling for Tabitha Penn…..Yes.”

“She will not be able to come in today…..Yes……Yes, I apologize.”

Sun spoke to the other on the phone, keeping a professional tone:

“She is very ill, and has a high temperature….yes.”

“Who am I?” He echoed the question, mind racing for a moment. He glanced at the bed, Tabby seemingly asleep.

“This,” he lied, “This is her husband….Yes. I apologize again for this inconvenience.”

“Thank you for the understanding.”

“I will…thank you.” He sighed, hanging up the phone.

Sun closed his optics, worry thick in his rigid posture. As he tapped the phone against his faceplate in thought a sound roused him. He blinked, turning back towards the bed.

Tabby smiled weakly to him.

“Hey starlight.” He came to the bedside, kneeling down, “I called work for you, you just rest. Everything is taken care of.”

“You said you were my husband.” Her voice slurred, fever causing slight delirium to fog her mind.

Sun started to apologize but her next words stuck him silent.

“I’m your wife.” She giggled, “That means you like me.”

“I like you.” He nodded, voice soft. He smoothed her hair from her face adding, “And you are very sick.”

“I like you too.” She reached out, taking the sleeve of his hoodie in a weak hold, “You are so nice and funny. I’ll be your wife. It’s ok.”

Sun pet her gently, “You are just sick. You need to rest.” He urged.

She was already nodding off from a mixture of the medication and his soothing touch, murmuring, “Even when I’m not sick.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll love you.” She whispered.

Sun’s hand froze, optics widening. Tabby was out, wheezing breathing deepening.

She’s just sick….

He told himself, leaning forward to softly press the mouth of his faceplate to her forehead.

Things didn’t improve in the night. Moon laid beside her, playing soft tunes on his music box, unsure of what else to do as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

By the morning she stopped waking up entirely.

“She’s so much worse.” Sun held his faceplate, “We have to do something.”

He looked towards her phone, hearing Moon protest in his head.

“We don’t have a choice, she needs help.” Sun argued, moving towards the phone.

“Arav….It’s Sun.”

“Please…We wouldn’t have contacted you unless it was an emergency…..It’s Tabitha.”

“She’s…she’s very sick.” Sun explained, “We can’t drive…please can you take her to a hospital…please. We didn’t know who to call.”

“Yes…”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He chanted, relief heavy in his tone.

Arav was there within the hour, the seriousness of the situation truly crushing him when Sun showed him to Tabby’s room.

Sun helped him get her down to his car, careful to retract his rays and keep his hood up. As he placed her in the seat, he squeezed her hand, heart breaking he couldn’t go with her.

He stayed on the sidewalk until the car was long out of sight, feeling useless…

~

“It’s a bacterial infection in her lungs. She has to stay overnight but if she’s awake by tomorrow then she should be able to come home with antibiotics.” Arav explained, “Can you take care of that when she’s back?”

“Yes, we can take care of all of that.” Sun nodded.

“They are giving her fluids right now, I’ll let you know if I find anything out.” The man promised. He had stopped by the apartment on his way home from the hospital. Still not fully understanding the depths of the animatronic’s personhood, the fact they called him alone earned more respect in his mind.

“Thank you….” Sun looked down, “Thank you for helping her.”

“Tabby has been a good friend…in her own way.” Arav shrugged, “I’ll do what I can.”

 

The silence in the apartment was deafening. All tasks quickly completed and the cage-like area that was their new boundaries meticulously cleaned without anyone flesh and bone to make any messes. Sun reverted back to the corner, curling in on himself and forcing a partial rest mode. He kept certain systems on alert, for any calls or news.

Moon fared no better, wandering from room to room aimlessly in the pitch darkness. He listened to the muffled sounds of other tenets, scratching at the places the baseboards met the walls. If Sun felt restless then he was utterly agitated.

On the second day, they finally got news: she was coming home.

Sun saw Arav’s car pull along the street in front of the apartment, almost tripping over himself to run out onto the balcony. He watched him go around, opening up the side door, Sun began to flap his hands excitedly with the first little flash of pink hair.

Tabby walked out onto the sidewalk, a bit shaky but standing on her own.

Sun about fell off the balcony as he leaned over the edge, calling out happily, “Star! Starlight! Staaar!” Waving like mad.

“I think someone missed you.” Arav chuckled, grabbing her bag from the back seat.

“Oooh I don’t know…” she jested to Arav, watching Sun flap his arms wildly to be seen.

“Now she has to take these twice a day with food and this one once a day with water.” Arav instructed, showing each pill bottle respectively. He pulled out a discharge pamphlet with even more detailed information.

“Got it!” Sun gave him a thumbs up, smile never wavering.

Arav was careful to make sure Tabby was in the bathroom before speaking again, “She asked for you, you know?”

Sun tilted his head, curiously.

“Yea…” Arav admitted, “Quite a few times. But I don’t think she remembers much. She had that infection for a while.”

The animatronic nodded, mirth faded a bit.

“But…she was in pretty good condition all things considered.” He sighed, eyes drifted to the closed bathroom door. True concern burner in his dark eyes, before he looked back to Sun, “Keep it up, I guess. Taking care of her.”

“It’s our job.” Sun smiled.

Arav nodded, looking worn out. He said quick goodbyes, declining to wait for Tabby, citing that she needed rest.

Sun looked at the door long after it closed, something in his chest feeling both heavy and light at the same time. He didn’t break out of his trance until the bathroom door clicked.

“We missed you so so so so much!” Sun chanted as he hugged her tightly.

“Careful.” She warned gently, making him quickly loosen his hold.

Sun apologized profusely, moving to look her over. She took off her coat, revealing some heavy bruising in the crook of her arms from previous ivs. Tabby gave a weak smile as Sun began to fret over her anew.

“Sun.” She sighed, when he didn’t hear her over himself she said a bit more pointed, “Sun!”

“Oh, sorry.” He took a step back, worrying his hands together.

“It’s ok.” She soothed, but added, “I’m gonna go lay down though, okay big guy?”

He jumped a bit with realization, “Yes, yes, yes….of course.”

He followed right on her heels as she went into her bedroom, head clicking back and forth. Tabby placed her phone on the nightstand, taking care to plug it in before sitting on the bed. She started taking off her shoes and long socks, pausing after to look up at Sun.

His idle swaying stopped in its tracks.

“Could you…turn around for a second?” She asked, a blush to her cheeks.

“Oh!” He jolted in realization. Never one to do anything in half measures, he spun around on the tips of his toes, crouching slightly and covering his eyes showily. The pose was reminiscent of what he would do when playing hide and seek. It made Tabby crack a small smile with amusement. She stood, turning her back to him, just to be sure, peeling off her clothes. There was already a set of pajamas ready on her bed for her, she thankfully took them.

Hearing a little click of gears she warned, “No peeking.”

The clink was quickly echoed as he moved back to the original position.

Finally dressed she crawled into bed, sighing, “Ok.”

Sun instantly jumped to attention, shifting to look at her. He came up to the bedside, reaching out to smooth down her hair.

Tabby leaned into the contact like a cat, closing her eyes a bit. Her body ached, exhaustion tugging at her mind.

“Sun?” She murmured.

“Yes, Sunshine?” He smiled.

Tabby shifted closer to the wall, out of his reach. Sun tilted his head, face a mixture of hurt and confusion.

It was short lived as Tabby patted the newly opened spot in the bed, asking a bit bashfully, “Would you want to cuddle, maybe?”

Not needing to be asked twice, Sun instantly crawled into the bed beside her. His movements were eager as he got comfortable beside her. Unlike Moon, Sun took no time before shifting to cuddle her, pulling Tabby close to his chest.

He was incredibly warm, heat radiating from his metal exoskeleton. Tabby relaxed into him, the warmth a soothing balm to her aching body. She could hear his fans whirling loudly, tiredness threatening to drag her under.

Sun resumed his petting, the movements soothing her into sleep easily. Once she was out he pulled her even closer, curling a bit protectively around her. His faceplate pressed into the crown of her head, eyes closing happily.

[kilesplaysthings]

A Day in the Life of a House Husband

Here we go! I said I would write it, and here it is. Domestic!Rio is such a cute idea so I had fun with this. I went way too overboard with this tbh what with my obsession with pre-modern domestic work. I'm currently intrigued with it, reading a book at how cooking and cleaning evolved through history lol so sorry if this seems to drag, but I'm quite pleased with it haha As always, I hope people enjoy this and thanks for reading!

7:00 am

The morning dawned bright and shining for the young newlywed couple. It was Monday, the start of a new week. While they would easily have chosen to stay cuddled in bed together, they knew full well that money didn’t earn itself. Like every other day before they were married, they would have to get up and get to work.

“I’m heading to the bookstore, Rio!” Emma said as she slipped on her shoes by the front door.

Rio turned her way as he finished drying their breakfast dishes. Emma’s lacy apron covered his shirt and trousers so the soapy water wouldn’t soak them.

“Have a nice day, darling!” He called out in response.

Surprisingly, she trotted back over to him. “Will I see you for lunch?” She asked.

He grinned, his sky-blue eyes shining. “Of course! I’ll pack the most delicious food for us!” He assured her as he bent down closer to her.

Emma giggled, knowing exactly what he wanted. With a grin of her own, she leaned up to plant a sweet kiss on his lips.

“Good bye till then!” She said.

“Yes, I’ll see you later.”

And with that, Emma left for a day’s work at the bookstore. Even though they were married now, Rio made it perfectly clear that there was no reason she had to give up her job she loved so much. They had decided that there would be days that he would go to work with her and there would be days that he stayed home to look after the house. Between the two of them, he was the better cook and after serving as an attendant it was obvious he also was a meticulous cleaner – both things bookwork Emma didn’t exactly excel at. Not only that, but there was really only one worker needed at the bookstore for most of the time, the owner had told them. Emma, with her vast knowledge of book learning and quick thinking with numbers usually was more than capable of managing the store’s book keeping and stock by herself. As such, the owner didn’t mind if Rio only worked parttime and their little system worked just fine even now that they were married.

With Emma gone and the dishes now dried and put away, it was time to start the day with cleaning the house. Even though this wasn’t exactly a paying job, Rio would be quite busy, which he liked.

“Right then!” He exclaimed with his hands on his hips. He glanced over to see their cat Ginger sitting in the nearby windowsill by their small dining table. The orange tabby’s golden eyes stared sleepily back at him as he basked in the warm sunlight.

“Time to get to work!” He told the cat. He emptied the dirty dishwater into a slop bucket and carted it outside to dispose of onto the lawn. Heading back inside, he took off the apron, hung it on a hook in the kitchen closet and began the chores of the day.

Their house wasn’t very big but Monday was the busiest day of the week; he liked to get a lot of chores done earlier in the week rather than later. He would tidy up the house, scrub a lot of the iron ware, do the washing and go to the grocers. There was also the routinely dusting and sweeping that he liked to do every day. He decided to start with their bedroom.

The bedding didn’t need to be cleaned this week. He had changed the sheets and mattress cover already the week before. All he had to do was ensure they were tucked into the mattress and smoothed out neatly. He fluffed the pillows (making Emma’s extra fluffy) and placed them neatly back in their place. Discarded clothes and night garments were picked up and placed in a basket to add to the rest of the washing that would be done later. Then, with extra precision, he ensured that Emma’s brush and toiletries were placed neatly on her vanity table – a nice wedding present from one of the princes that wasn’t too lavish or useless.

He opened the window to air the room out and noticed Ginger getting comfortable on the bed.

“Thank you for waiting until after I was done for once,” he said to the cat who merely yawned in response. Seeing the cat falling asleep gave Rio hope that he wouldn’t bug him too much while he was cleaning.

Once he swept and dusted the bedroom, the small sitting room at the front of the house was next. He again opened the windows to air the room out. He would be dusting here as well, so it was important to have the windows open so the room wouldn’t get too stuffy. A dust feather in hand and a kerchief tied around his lower face, he got to work dusting the mantlepiece and the wooden bookshelf that were the focal pieces of the little room (once again, another wedding gift, from Chevalier of all people). It always astonished him how much dust could gather even in a small space with only a few items spread about.

Next came the fireplace. Using a coal scooper, he scraped the fireplace clean so he could polish the grates. The soot and ashes were placed in a separate basket to recycle along with the other rubbish around the house. As he finished, who would appear but little Ginger, brushing against him in a greeting.

“Hey you. Are you done sleeping already?”

The cat responded with a meow.

“Know what I’m doing? I’m getting ready to polish the grates with this!” He brandished a small bowl of black stuff and three scrub brushes.

“Blacking polish! Mix some graphite powder with lampblack and water, and here we are! It’ll make our fireplace shine!”

The cat sniffed it and walked away, not caring for the smell.

Humming an airy tune, Rio began scrubbing. First, he used a roughly bristled brush to get the iron clean from any excess soot and ash. Next, he used a smoother brush to apply the blacking polish, and finally he used the finest brush of the three to get the iron shining.

8:00

Rio continued his humming as he took some dried tea leaves and sprinkled them on the rug in the sitting room. It would help the rugs smell nice before he swept. Going into the kitchen, he placed his blacking polish on a counter and removed his kerchief. The kitchen didn’t really need dusting but he opened the windows to keep the room airy for his later cooking. Hanging above the sink were many dried flowers and herbs, which he liked to grind into a sweet-smelling powder. He would place them in small bags and spread them around the house to keep it smelling lovely. Emma quite liked the smells they gave off so he was happy to keep applying them daily.

Taking a wiry broom from the kitchen closet, he did his sweeping. Both front and kitchen doors were opened so he could sweep the dust and dirt away outside. Ginger trotted outside once the kitchen door was open so he could go play in the garden and chase squirrels. Once the floors were swept satisfactorily, he grabbed the mats and beat them outside with a wooden paddle so as to get all of the dirt and dust off of them.

All the while, he kept humming and singing to himself. He would hear lots of different songs when he would go to the main square of town to shop or socialize and one in particular kept popping up in his head:

Oh she is my dear, my darlin one

Her eyes are sparklin, full of fun

No other, no other

Can match the likes of her.

She is my dear, my darlin one,

My smiling and beguiling one.

I love the ground she walks upon,

My darling country girl.

The song made him think of Emma and he couldn’t help smiling. Putting the paddle and brush away, he decided to give the stove a good polish before moving onto the biggest chore of the day: the washing.

He pumped a good amount of water into a metal tub and placed it on the stove which he would heat up. As he waited for the water to boil, he used a pocket knife to slice some soap into chips to add to the water. He had made the soap himself, getting advice from one of the local housewives on how to mix ash and fat, setting it in salt to use instead of spending a good amount of money for store-bought soap.

The water was soon hot enough and he set the tub, along with a separate tub of water for rinsing, outside to be ready to wash their clothes. Since there was only the two of them, the laundry never piled up too much, but the cleaning process was still rigorous. He had to make sure their clothes were spotless, after all.

8:30

Emma’s clothes were a particular chore in and of themselves when it came to the laundry. Since some of her clothing had lace, he had to pick apart the seams so as not to damage the materials. He would sew them back together later once dried. Once they were ready, he began the washing.

First went the soap chips, worked into the water to make a good amount of suds. Then in went the clothing. He took a larger paddle and stirred them around, soaking them into the soapy water. The paddle was forked so he could lift the clothes up and dump them into the rinsing tub. A wash board was then used so he could give their clothes a good scrub. This process was repeated a good couple of times. It was back breaking work, something he was glad to do with his strength in Emma’s place.

9:30

The washing was finally done an hour later. Rio was relieved that it was a sunny day, as he could spread the clothes out to dry on the clotheslines. It wasn’t long before all of the weekly laundry was pinned on the lines and hanging out to dry.

But his list of chores wasn’t done yet. Next came his favorite part, the gardening. Yes, he and Emma had grown a small garden behind their house and he always enjoyed caring for it. Most of the garden was herbs and flowers, but he did grow a couple of vegetables. He had been inspired by, again, neighboring housewives who introduced him to the art of canning vegetables. It saved time and money, both very necessary, especially in the winter months.

“Oh look! The primroses are blooming nicely!” He said to Ginger, who was lounging in the tree they had in their garden.

“Hmm..” He studied the other flowers. “Might need to work on the chrysanthemums..”

Trowel and shears in hand, he spent the next hour or so making sure their garden stayed fresh and blooming. He filled a small watering can to keep the plants healthy and made sure to weed out anything intrusive to their plants.

“Tomatoes are getting nice and red,” he remarked under his breath. “Strawberries are looking good too. Perhaps I’ll pick some for our lunch!”

10:45

“All right, let me do this and then I’ll get lunch ready,” he told himself. He washed his face and hands free of the dirt. A bundle of flowers sat on the counter and he used scissors to trim the stems.

“Emma will love these!” He said happily. Soon he had two or three vases filled with water and bouquets of primroses, chrysanthemums, daisies, and, of course, roses were placed about the house for her to see when she came home.

With that pleasant chore done, he was ready to prepare the lunch. He thought some sandwiches and a salad would be fitting. That meant baking bread and fetching some vegetables and salted meat from the cellar. Preserving food could be difficult, so he had taken it upon himself to dig a root cellar behind their house. The cellar was dug deep into the ground where the earth stayed cooler and was a great way to keep food from spoiling. There was an ice man who sold ice in town, but that could get expensive and Rio only set money aside for ice once in a while.

First came the bread, since baking it would take a while. Like a good home maker, he kept all his ingredients stored neatly in jars tucked away in the small kitchen closet. Bowls and other cooking utensils were placed on easy-to-reach shelves or hung from hooks. Their kitchen wasn’t anything grand like in the palace, but Rio kept it neat and uncluttered the best he could.

He soon had the dough made and placed on a wooden tray. He just had to wait for it to rise and then into the stove it would go. He stoked the fire with a pair of tongs to make sure he would get a good blaze going for the bread. With that ready to go, he went out to the root cellar to get the rest of the food needed for sandwiches.

“The pork’s about finished. I’ll use up that for the sandwiches and get more when I go shopping,” he decided as he descended into the cellar. Rio kept the little room relatively dark to ensure the room kept an even, chill temperature.

The stored meat was placed on stone slabs, wrapped in paper packaging and coated with salt. The vegetable and fruit jars were on wooden shelves. Various other foodstuffs were stored in crates that had ice packed in the bottom. There was also ceramic jars of butter and milk stored here.

Gathering everything he needed (including some strawberries which he picked from the garden), he headed back into the house and began chopping up vegetables for a salad. It was crucial to eat greens as much, if not more so, as it was to eat meat. He had to make sure his Emma stayed healthy.

He gave a little poke to the squishy dough and decided it was time to put it into the stove oven. He slid the wooden tray in and shut the iron door.

11:30

The salad now finished, he packed it with the strawberries and placed both into a large basket. It would serve a double purpose since he would store his purchases from the grocers in there once he and Emma were done eating lunch together. The aroma drifting around the kitchen told him the bread was just about ready too. Out it came, a little black around the edges, but nice and fluffy-white inside.

The bread gave a satisfying crunching sound when he sliced it for the sandwiches. A slice of meat and cheese, with a leaf of lettuce, and he had four little sandwiches ready to be packed. What with the smell of the bread and the sight of the meat and cheese, Rio’s mouth was beginning to water.

“Add my delicious dressing for the salad and we’re all set!” He proclaimed. He held a small jar of brown liquid that was a homemade dressing he had learned to make not too long ago. It was an oil and vinegar concoction with spices added to give it more taste.

“I hope Emma’s hungry! I know I am!” He told Ginger, who had come back inside at this point. He hauled the basket up over one arm and went to the front door to slip his shoes on.

“See you later, Ginger! Watch the house for me,” he told the cat. The orange tabby trilled at him before sitting down in one of their chairs.

Rio closed the door behind him and made his way to the town center square. He took one last glance behind him to make sure the laundry was still hanging on the lines. They were firmly clipped in place. With that worry put to ease, he was ready to go meet Emma for lunch.

“Good morning Rio!” One of the nearby ladies greeted him. She was in her front yard trimming some rose bushes.

“Good morning Mrs. Rosseau! Your roses are looking marvelous!” He complimented her brightly. A gentle breeze stirred his golden hair as he walked.

“Why thank you. I think they’re quite a lovely color myself. Are you going out to meet Emma?”

He beamed. “I certainly am! I packed a lunch for us!” He held up the basket to illustrate.

“How thoughtful you are,” She simpered, placing a hand on her cheek. “Oh, I know! How about a rose to give to her? I’ll let you pick one!”

His eyes shone even more. “Will you? Truly?”

She giggled, older housewife though she was. “Of course! Tell me which one you like.”

Rio looked at the several blooming flowers. They varied from pale pinks to deeper shades that rivaled the loveliest peony.

“How about that one?” He pointed to a rose that was quite the vibrant pink. It reminded him of Emma’s rosy cheeks when she blushed for him.

“I had a feeling you would choose that.” The lady smiled and with a snip of her scissors, the rose was his.

“Thank you, Madame.”

“It’s my pleasure, Rio. Drop by sometime with Emma. We’ll fix a nice dinner for you two.”

“I will be happy to! I’m sure Emma will also! Have a good day!”

And so, his walk continued. Rio was quite the favorite with the neighboring housewives. They invited him to all sorts of gatherings, from teas to walks in the nearby park. He didn’t mind it. Older folk always had words of wisdom to give and the ladies gave him insight on how to run a house and also on how to be a good husband to Emma.

Speaking of which…

“Oh, hello Rio!” Another lady called as he walked down the lane. She was in her lawn as well, but was standing over what looked to be a broken wheelbarrow.

“Mrs. Moreau! Good morning! What are you up to?” He asked.

“Oh this old thing is giving me trouble again. This time the wheel’s come off.”

He frowned. “Is there something I could do to help?” He wondered.

“Depends. Are you good with tools?”

He smiled a little. “I think so. I can at least lend a hand.”

The older lady nodded and gestured for him to come over. “I can use all the help I can get. I really should invest in a new one. This old thing is getting rusty too.”

“We’ll see what we can do. If your husband owns a wrench, that would help.” He set the basket down on the front steps of the house before following her to a shed in the back.

12:05

“Thank you so much, young man. It looks almost good as new!” Mrs. Moreau patted Rio on the back while they stared proudly at the now erect wheelbarrow.

“We just need to get rid of that rust and it will be!” He told her.

“Quite right. You know what to do?” She asked.

He decisively nodded. They went into her kitchen.

“Take a cup of vinegar, a fourth cup of lime juice, and a half cup of salt; then mix it all together and there you have it! Rust remover!” Rio exclaimed as he handed the lady the bowl of their concoction.

“Just so! You’re getting the hang of this ‘house wife’ business.” She winked at him.

“I do my best!” He said proudly.

“And as a reward, here.” She took a round dish off of her windowsill. “I just baked this elderberry pie. Share it with Emma.”

“Why thank you, Mrs. Moreau! Are you sure - ”

“I will take no arguments. You’ve earned it by always helping us ladies out.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Madame. Have a good rest of your day, all right?”

“You too, dearie. Be on your way now!”

Rio didn’t need to be told twice. He carefully placed the pie in the basket and resumed his walk. He had a feeling he was running late so he tried to walk a little faster.

“Rio! Rio!”

Another barrier now stood in his way. Two children came running up to him as he got nearer to the town square. A boy and a girl, they approached him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Hello Marie, Jean. What are you two up to?”

“Can you help us?” The boy named Jean pleaded. “We were flying a kite and it’s caught in a tree!” He pointed to one of the trees that were planted along the road leading to town. A red paper kite was stuck on some of the higher branches.

He tried his best not to heave an audible sigh in front of the children. After all, he couldn’t just leave them after they came to him for help.

“Very well. I’ll have it down in no time!” He again set the basket down and clambered up the tree. The kite was stuck on a rather high branch, so it took him a couple of minutes to reach it.

“Almost… Got it!” He exclaimed as he tugged it free of the branches. He looked down to see the two hopeful faces of the kids below him. “Here! Catch!” He told them as he tossed the kite down.

The two children caught it together and gave him some of the biggest smiles he’d ever seen.

“Thank you Rio!”

“You’re the best, Rio!”

“Aw, no problem guys.” He hopped down from the tree and brushed some leaves out of his hair. “Be more careful with that next time.” He advised.

“We will!” “Bye!”

Seeing how thankful the two of them were and how happy they were to have their kite back made Rio smile. But only for a moment when he realized...

“I’m gonna be late!” He exclaimed. He snatched up the basket and now made a dash for the center of town. Emma was most definitely waiting for him by now. He hoped she hadn’t been waiting for long, hungry and wasting her lunch hour.

There she was, sitting on the ledge of the big fountain that was located in the very middle of the town square. She sat with her legs crossed and a book in her lap, reading away.

Well, at least she hasn’t been bored, Rio thought.

“Emma!” He called to her. The young woman’s head shot up and she beamed a great smile at him when she saw him approaching.

“There you are! I was getting worried!” Though she didn’t look too worried at all.

“I’m so sorry I’m running late. I was making good time before...”

Emma set the book aside and propped her elbows up on her knees. She set her chin in her hands as she tenderly watched him.

“Let me guess. Some of the ladies stopped you on your way and asked for your help in one thing or another.”

The young man sheepishly smiled. “Guilty as charged. I hope you haven’t been waiting very long.”

She shook her head. “Not so much. I am hungry though!” She eyed the basket.

“Say no more!” Rio eagerly set the basket down on the fountain between the two of them. He began opening it when he spotting the rose lying on top of the wrapped food.

“Oh yes, and as a reward for waiting so patiently...” He held the rose out to her. “For you, my love.”

Emma’s eyes widened and little and a small smile came over her face. “Rio...” She took the flower and held it up to her nose. A lovely blush spread over her cheeks, matching the rose’s color.

“Thank you, it’s lovely.”

“You’re most welcome.”

The two shared a smile before the sound of both of their stomachs rumbling brought them back to the present. They couldn’t help but laugh.

“Right! Food! Let’s eat!” He said and quickly brought their meal out of the basket. Napkins were spread out onto their laps and they started with the sandwiches, followed with the strawberries and salad, and ending with the pie.

“If you being a little late from helping our neighbors means we get such delicious desserts, I don’t mind you being late every day!” Emma joked as she took another bite of pie. She hummed happily as she chewed. The pie was still warm and melted in their mouths.

“It does make a good incentive!” He agreed while munching on strawberries.

1:05

The two of them had enjoyed a pleasant lunch, eating and sharing how their mornings went. All too soon, though, Emma had to go back to work. Rio offered to walk her back to the store, wanting to be with her for just a little longer. Hand in hand, they made their way to the little book shop around the corner.

“Want to share the pie with the owner?” Rio asked before Emma went back inside.

“Oh certainly! He’ll appreciate that and it will make a good afternoon snack,” she said.

He handed the rest of the dessert to her and sighed. “Well, I’ll be back this evening to walk you home.”

She smiled. “I appreciate that. Are you sure it’s not too much trouble..?”

“Of course not,” he assured her.

She frowned a little, looking down at the ground. “Well, if you say so… I know it’s a lot to ask of you, especially since you also do a lot of the house work…”

Now he was the one to frown. He stepped a little closer and gently grasped her chin to make her look back up at him. “Emma, it’s never any trouble for me. Neither is staying home to look after the house. This life with you is far greater than anything I could ever ask for. I don’t care if we live in a small house and have to do everything ourselves. I am happy; happier than before we were married and when we had to live in the palace. I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”

That mad her smile again and she wrapped her arms around his neck to hug him.

“Thank you Rio,” she whispered before giving him a sweet kiss. He was more than happy to kiss her back, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Of course. Now you’d better get back to work. I’ll be back this evening and we’ll get supper going. All right?”

She nodded and kissed his cheek once more before heading back inside. Rio let out a lovelorn sigh and shook his head. His Emma was all too sweet. He couldn’t wait for her work to be over so he could take her home.

The rest of his time in town was spent in the market place, where he picked some fresh produce and meat for supper. They had discussed what they should eat for dinner over their lunch and the consensus had been on mutton; they were able to splurge a little.

The grocers and butchers were always very friendly with Rio, as he helped them with various odd jobs occasionally. There was still the usual haggling of prices, but he was always treated fairly and made sure to always be honest with them in return. Once he was finished with his purchases, he loaded his basket up and headed back home.

2:00

Up until the time he went to get Emma, Rio would finish his chores by placing the rubbish baskets out by the front door for the rubbish men to pick up later that evening. He would then collect the now-dried laundry to fold and put away. The more perishable groceries were kept in the root cellar until he and Emma were ready to cook together.

Once everything was finished, he would take some time to relax in the sitting room and catch up on the reading he and Emma were doing together while Ginger more often than not slept on his lap. A favorite past time of theirs was to choose books to read and recommend them to each other if they enjoyed them. It made for some fun conversations in the evenings during and after supper.

Once the little clock on the mantlepiece struck five, he would shut his book and head back out to go get his wife. Their walks home were always nice, holding hands and enjoying the evening air together. He was looking forward to having her back home, cooking supper and cleaning up afterwards together.

“It’ll be a good evening, and when we’re ready, I think I’ll show her just how much I appreciate her tonight,” he said to himself with a satisfied smile.

Yes sir, he would be quite the devoted husband tonight, in every sense of the meaning.

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

🍓 ?

Thank you for the ask!

🍓: How did you get into writing fanfiction?

My first dabble of fanfiction was in elementary school when I got super into Warrior cats lol. My friends and I made up fanclans and this whole elaborate interconnected storyline that I would type out onto a Word Doc and save in my own little folder on our family computer’s desktop.

I didn’t know that fanfiction was what we were writing until middle school when everyone got into One Direction fanfiction on Wattpad (I wasn’t very into it myself). However, I DID write Fruits Basket self-insert fanfiction which was arguably worse. I wanted to be in that world so badly that it was fulfilling a fantasy to write myself into the story.

Even at that time I didn’t read much fanfiction. I got into Voltron in high school and became OBSESSED with klance and that’s when I actually started to consume fanfiction and got into ao3. I wrote a single klance one shot that I quickly orphaned and that was the extent of my fanfiction writing experience up until 2022.

I was deep into my Haikyuu hyperfixation and watched When Harry Met Sally with my family when I thought “this would make a good premise for a sakuatsu fic…”

And thus I wrote 40k words over 4-5 days lol.

I recently reread It Had To Be You and I could definitely tell it was my first lol. I was in a deep state of hyperfixation for it and stayed up until like 3 AM every morning to finish chapters. I had taken the semester off of school at the time for academic reasons so I could afford to lose sleep over it.

Writing that first fic and seeing how many people enjoyed it was what really sparked my love of writing. It inspired me to write more and actually pursue this as a hobby and it’s only made my writing better! I’m very grateful for everyone that’s read anything I’ve written ❤️

ask game here

[ahungeringknife]

Never Been 2

April 12-13

Altair stood at the top of the stairs that led up to the fortress, leaning against the banister looking down at the training yard. Datholos on his shoulder was a falcon, panting slightly in the heat of the day. Then in a flash they were a skittering gecko that crawled down his chest and around into the folds of his hood, clinging to his neck. He glanced over as someone joined him against the banister. “Zain,” he said as greeting.

“Freak,” Zain said back.

“Weirdo,” Altair snipped out and Zain grinned, pale teeth cutting his face in two. Zain leaned his shoulder against Altair’s as they looked down at the yard. Some of their year mates were doing forms against dummies. They didn’t talk and Altair didn’t mind Zain’s closeness. Freaks had to stick together after all. Basket fluttered down on Zain’s other side as a dull pigeon. Datholos chirped a gecko croak against his neck.

“I need your help,” Zain said after they stood looking at their brothers for a minute or two.

“With?”

“Some of our older brother’s are talking bad about Basket,” he said, not looking at Altair. Altair in turn wasn’t looking at him. “What sort of self respecting man has a male dæmon?” he spoke quietly, violently in a way that made Altair’s heart hammer with excitement.

“Ones with good taste?” Altair asked quietly and nodded casually at their brother Sadeem who Altair knew Zain was mildly obsessed with other than his own roommate. Altair quietly didn’t talk about Zain’s interest in Malik. Sadeem was good looking, Altair guessed, but had a boyish face and hadn’t grown out of his baby fat.

Zain elbowed him in the ribs in annoyance. “Rat ass,” he said but Altair didn’t miss the way the tops of his cheeks were more ruddy than before like he was suddenly sunburned. At least Altair never did anything that embarrassing. “Khalam told me he heard some of his yearlings planned on getting me alone.”

“He report it to the monitor?” Altair asked casually.

“Like that’d do anything,” Zain rolled his eyes.

Altair leaned against the banister. “You hardly need my help to beat some guys up,” he said truthfully. Back when they were kids Zain used to get into fights all the time. It was why Basket sucked at touch inspection. Zain couldn’t keep his fight response from triggering his dæmon. It hadn’t happened yet but Altair was waiting for the day when Basket bit someone.

“Yeah but I know you enjoy it,” Zain said.

“Mmm,” Altair hummed in agreement. “When?”

“It might be before dinner? Khalam said they’d catch me when the common room was empty and that’s the best time.”

“Should we bring knives?”

Zain chuckled. “No. I think just kicking the shit out of them will be enough,” he grinned. “Just bring your strong arm, yeah?” he asked as he thoughtlessly pet Basket across his breast.

“That’s all I got,” Altair assured him and then they shared no more conversation and returned to watching their brothers of interest.

---

There’s blood pounding in his ears and a mad grin on his face. Tobias’ tunic was in his grip still but the journeyman is unconcious, his face bruising like a horrible blooming flower. Altair dropped him onto the carpet with the rest of the trash. Only then could he hear the low growling noises of Datholos and Basket as big Savannah cats bullying the last conscious dæmon.

“Phew!” Zain cried, leaning back. Altair looked at him as he pushed his pale brown hair back out of his face, hood down. He had the same manic grin etched across his mouth as Altair. “That was fun, huh?” he asked Altair.

Altair exhaled and stood up. “Some way to spend an evening before dinner,” Altair agreed.

Zain went over to the still conscious dæmon and without hesitating picked them up by the talons as they were an eagle now, eyes wide and wild. From the ground his human gasped and rolled over as if in pain.

‘Come here,’ he thought to Datholos. In an instant she was a lark flying back to him and as she collided with his neck became a great crawling spider that hung against his jaw. The dæmon in Zain’s hands squirmed and shifted several times but he held onto it. Altair watched not a bit distrustful.

Zain held the dæmon up to his face. It was panting hard, terrified, hating being held and touched. “Make sure Amaar and his stupid friends know if they want to start shit to at least come to put up a fight,” he told the now terrified kitten he was holding by the scruff of its neck. “And I don’t need Altair’s help to beat his ass into a pulp.” And with that Zain threw the dæmon towards their person. Mid throw it became a bird and landed on them, becoming something small and invisible that scurried under their clothes.

“Yeah but you liked the help,” Altair said mildly.

“I think you had more fun than I did,” Zain said and came over to Altair.

“Who doesn’t like beating the shit out of bullies?” Altair asked.

“For real. Us freaks gotta stick together, you know?” Zain asked and put an arm around Altair’s shoulders.

“You’re a whole freak different than me,” Altair said.

“Yeah yeah,” Zain waved him off. “Let’s go get dinner, yeah? I told Malik to save us a seat.”

“That’s just because you’re too chicken shit to sit next to Sadeem,” Altair teased him quietly. Zain’s face turned red in embarrassment and he shoved Altair, walking off. Altair chuckled and he and Basket had to quickly follow after him.

[astridbeckett]

.*･｡ﾟ ━ ( daisy ridley / cis female / she/her ) i think i just saw ASTRID BECKETT on the subway. the 29 year old EVENT PLANNER has been living on cornelia street for THREE YEARS. astrid’s friends know her to be determined, compassionate, and imaginative, but she has a reputation on cornelia street for being obsessive, stubborn, and a perfectionist. when i see astrid, i can’t help but think of strings of fairy lights, sticky notes everywhere, never a stray strand of hair out of place, faint laughter lines adorning tired eyes, and the clinking of champagne flutes ! in fact , i sometimes i think i hear NEW YEAR’S DAY when i see her walk by.

THE BASICS

Full name: Astrid Fey Beckett

DOB: October 26

Zodiac: Scorpio Sun, Cancer Moon, Aquarius Rising

From Burlington, VT

SO, YOU WANT TO GET TO KNOW ASTRID...

Astrid was an only child for the first 3 years of her life. Then, along came Iris. She'll be the first to admit she wasn't thrilled about having a baby sister, but once Iris was actually around, Astrid loved her. It was like having a Baby Alive doll but even better!

The girls got closer as they grew older, Astrid preparing Iris for milestone moments in advance so they wouldn't be scary. Astrid leaving Vermont to attend college in New York was the first time in a long time that she'd ever been apart from her sister for an extended period, so she made an effort to call weekly and text constantly.

While in college, Astrid picked up a job at the campus library, mostly assisting with check-outs, booking study rooms, preparing meeting rooms, and re-shelving books.

After graduation, she transferred to an assistan librarian job with the public library system, thanks to a letter of recommendation from her former supervisor.

This bitch loves organization and solid schedules. She may need sticky note and/or phone reminders sometimes, but overall, she has her shit together.

I'LL BE CLEANIN UP BOTTLES WITH YOU ON NEW YEAR'S DAY

Welcome to Astrid's life on Cornelia Street.

After tiring of her normal routine, she transferred yet again to a new library branch, this time in Greenwich Village. Most of her friends at the time were either library patrons, former co-workers, or college friends who moved miles away.

New towns are an opportunity for new friends, right? Astrid had always been somewhat of a social butterfly, but her schedule didn't allow for much socialization outside of after-work drinks and weekend get-togethers.

Who would have guessed a New Years party would change Astrid's life? Read all about it here. New best friend and platonic soulmate, new living situation (hello, roommate!), an entire career change, etc — all because she cleaned up the remnants of the party with a stranger the morning after. Honestly, though, she couldn't be happier.

Since quitting her 9-5 and starting her new job as an event planner with [MUSE B], they've coordinated quite a few beautiful weddings. Is it a little obsessive to start planning the New Year's parties in October? Maybe, but it's one of her favorite ways to spend her birthday and it ensures her clients the best experience possible.

MISC. / OTHER

Find Astrid's stats page here.

Astrid is bisexual & biromantic.

She has a collection of flower crowns in a basket at the top of her closet that she's purchased at renaissance festivals, which she attends every year.

This bitch loves fairy lights, and has strings of them throughout her bedroom. They're also one of her favorite decoration requests from brides.

Her favorite colors are purple, rose gold, and sky blue.

Flower preferences: wisteria, baby's breath, lavender, hyacinths.

Unfortunately, all of her favorite flowers are not pet-friendly, so she's given up her dream of being a cat mom.

She collects crystals & her favorite is currently amethyst.

about the mun

hi! i'm gianna (27, she/they) and i reside in the hell state that is florida in the EST timezone. i'm open to all kinds of plots, so please feel free to message me here or on discord at any time! i also write aurora 'rory' thorne who is muse a in the anti-hero skeleton. 💛

[call-sign-shark]

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD… SHARK’S ABOUT TO DIE. Okay okay I just finished editing Hey Bunny pt. 2 and was about to go to sleep when I got your notification and I just had to read the whole thing, and now I’m like trying not to squeal cause my partner is sleeping next to me and my cat would also be scared. I’m so excited and I liked it so much that it’s going a be long-ass comment so… Sorry for that. Also sorry if my rambling doesn’t make sense but it’s 3AM here.

First of all I adored the way you traced back Arthur and Y/N’s childhood, with the depiction of him being her fierce protector since they were kid and that he was always two steps behind her. The childhood crush that turned into an obsession is perfectly illustrated by the short flashback of Tommy and Arthur in France. Even in the midst of war, he can’t stop thinking about her and already goes crazy because of his obsession. The image of him on the ground holding his aching head between his hands is powerful.

What I particularly appreciate here is the escalation of horrors, cause you portrayed Arthur kinda soft and adorable at first — like almost falling on his own feet while he runs behind Y/N. Or helping her with the basket. Or his worries about her losing weight and having to work so hard. He was quite endearing, if one forgot about the disturbing evidence you’ve scattered in your wonderful prose. I especially think about how he’s blinded by his vengeance, to the extent that Tommy allows him to complete it for the sake of his brother’s sanity. Little he knew, it will only make him sink deeper into madness and obsession.

The character of James is also very interesting, since he’s presented as an unlikeable character who might be abusive, and who has an very rude way of behaving (such as poking the window with his cane to call his wife when he sees her talking with Arthur). But to be true your wonderful writing skills left me questioning reality: was she really abused by James or do we see her wounds through Arthur’s eyes, who convinced himself she was a lady in distress and that he needed to save her? I don’t know if I’m being right or it’s intentional since hints at James being abusive are numerous, but I can’t help to wonder since Arthur is an unreliable narrator. Also I love how you kept Y/N’s feelings very platonic. It strengthened his désillusion since she’s never done anything to make him think she was interested in him.

Literally speaking, your wonderful one shot is filled with beautiful sentences and incredibly great images. Kudos for the depiction of Arthur walking to her just like a preying animal. I think my favorite line is “He looked at you like an animal caught with a prey freshly killed between his jaw” (approximative quote since I’m on my phone) That was so evocative, so well-fitting that I smiled like an idiot. You know I just love the comparison of Arthur with dangerous carnivorous animals. Similarly, I am in love with the focus you brought to little details such as the way he washes his hands from the blood or how Y/N observe the blood under his finger nails.

The sparkle of desire stirred by violence and by his obsession was also a very great scene — and it seems canon despite it being a dark portrayal. The way he goes for her neck, kissing her with passion and truly believing she would do likewise was a great dive into his twisted psyche. You said my Yandere!Arthur was frightening, but god you did a better job and now I’m afraid (and slightly aroused but don’t mind me). That being said, the use of gifs was a brilliant idea and made the story even more immersive. Especially the last one with Arthur burning papers.

That last scene sent shivers down my spine. Not only it was traumatizing and so tragic for Y/N to see him burn her tickets for a better life before proposing to her, but the image of Arthur and his brothers standing in the dark is HORRIFYING. I don’t know why but the detail that got me scared was John’s cigar burning and the way he just casually laughed at the whole situation.

Alright I’ve probably forgot a lot of things but dear Lee, this gave me a dopamine rush. Also, this reblog is already too long 🤣 But know that this one shot was exquisite and I can’t describe how much I loved it. Top 3 of best Arthur’s story for sure. Thank you so much for sharing!!

Say Yes to Heaven

dark!Arthur x female reader

Summary: Your childhood friend, Arthur, is deeply upset by the way your boyfriend is treating you and decides to take matters into his own hands in order to save you. However, his protection soon grows into an unhealthy obsession. 

Author’s Note: An idea I had to explore dark!Arthur in a different way. 

Warnings: drinking, drug use, unreliable narrator, mention of domestic abuse, mention of blood, yandere tendencies

France, 1917

“Arthur, stop pacing, you’re making the other lads nervous,” Tommy commanded, stamping out his cigarette.

“I can’t help it, Tom,” Arthur replied, biting his lip anxiously, taking another swig from the small bottle the doctor had prescribed.

Tommy wrenched it from his hands. “Stop it, man. You don’t need that stuff.”

Arthur clenched his jaw in frustration, turning his head away as he replied, “I do though. Need to forget I’m here when she’s back home…with him.”

Tommy shook his head in disbelief as he poured away the opium and bromide solution. Might keep Arthur from wanking about her, but it didn’t give him the readied solider he needed, he thought with a roll of his eyes.

“Nah, you don’t understand what could happen to a girl like her if I’m not there to protect her,” Arthur asserted.

“Then see to it when you get home, but don’t get yourself killed worrying about some girl who seemed happy when we left,” Tommy huffed.

Arthur’s eyes went wild at the suggestion, pushing his brother up against the trench. “You think she were happy with a piece of shit like him who don’t know how to treat her? Or have you forgot what men like that do? Like dad was with mum?” he asked, lower lip trembling.

Tommy sighed seeing there was no use arguing. “I didn’t say that, did I? I just said to make it home alive.” Then he pushed his older brother from him, watching his sibling crash to the ground, holding his aching head. Tommy knew if vengeance was what his brother wanted, he would have it. Arthur was never one to let go of a grievance. 

—————————————-

Birmingham, 1919

“Esme, I need the black star list,” Arthur said in a low voice, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet as he might before a fight, ready and eager for the first punch. She barely looked up as she pushed the slip of paper across the desk, unaware of what it meant to him. He immediately scanned the list for the name of his foe, heartbeat thundering in his chest with the anticipation of a righteous victor. However, it was not to be his day. 

When Arthur realized the name he sought was not on the list, he emitted a low growl of displeasure. “He fucking owes, I know he does,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Something wrong, Arthur?” Esme asked, looking up from her work in confusion.

Thinking for a moment he shook his head. “Tommy’s made a mistake, but I’ll make it right,” he assured her.

“What do you mean?” she asked with furrowed brow, but Arthur was already out the door.

——————————-

Arthur’s agitation was momentarily quelled by the sight of you walking down Watery Lane, the morning sunlight streaming through your hair. Your angelic face gave him pause, but only long enough to notice what he swore was a fresh bruise blooming just below your right elbow. His heart clenched as he noticed you wincing under the weight of the basket you carried and he was instantly transported to childhood. When you were eight and he was ten, he would rush out into the street to help you carry a bucket of ale home to your father. He knew the punishment for spilled beer and he couldn’t allow it to happen to someone so soft and delicate. Your large doe eyes urged him to treat you carefully, offering his protection whenever he could.

Approaching carefully so as not to startle you, he removed his cap to greet you. A wide smile overtook his features when you acknowledged him, a feeling of warmth radiating through his chest from a simple glance from you.

“You alright there, darlin’?” he asked with a softness reserved just for you. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” you replied brightly. As he stood twisting his cap nervously in his hands without anything more to say, you bid him goodbye and continued down the street.

“Where are you headed?” Arthur asked eagerly, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rushed after you. He was enamored with you, openly staring at your beauty, and it made you blush. Arthur had a crush on you since you were kids which you found endearing. You couldn’t understand how others could be frightened of him in the slightest, despite your friends’ constant warnings a Shelby brother was dangerous company.

“I have to return to the shop. I shouldn’t keep James waiting,” you said, thinking of how busy the morning rush could be. 

Arthur furrowed his brow, as he remembered the scorching heat of the ovens and the callouses on your hands. He hated the thought of you having to work so hard. As his shoulder bumped against yours, he felt your bone poke back against him and worry began to consume him. He wanted to ask if you’d eaten that morning or in the last week, but thought better of it.

“How’s business?” he asked instead.

“As well as can be expected when people are still recovering from the war. James was a great help after father died though,” you praised, shifting the basket to your other arm with a grunt.

“Let me help you with that. Looks heavy, love,” Arthur commented, trying to be useful.

However, by that time you were standing in front of the shop. James peered out the front window at you, raising his cane to tap against the glass. “I have to go now, Arthur, but thank you for walking with me,” you said quickly before disappearing inside. Arthur looked up and scowled at the man in the window, taking note of the object most likely used to mark your skin. “Fucking cunt…” he hissed, clenching his fists at his side.

————————————————-

“Are there any other orders of business?” Tommy asked before attempting to close the family meeting.

“Yeah, I’ve got somethin to say,” Arthur spoke up, voice coursing with urgency.

“Well, what is it?” Tommy said impatiently, squinting cautiously through the smoke from his cigarette to study his older brother.

“When do we go after James Miller, eh? It’s been six bloody months,” Arthur sniffed disgustedly.

“James Miller? He has no outstanding debts,” Lizzie said, opening a file in front of her and scrunching her nose as she followed a column of names with her finger. 

“It’s not about money. It’s about reputation, Lizzie. Ain’t that right, Tommy?” he said, looking to his brother expectantly. “The Peaky Blinders keep order round here now and James Miller ain’t playin by the bloody rules.”

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose as he began to see where the conversation was heading. “Arthur, we’ve been through this already. Y/n hired James Miller as a legitimate employee. Who are we to tell her how to run her fucking bakery? Who gives a fuck?” he said, stamping out his cigarette and turning to grab his jacket off the chair.

Arthur stood a bit too quickly, nearly overturning his seat in his haste. “I give a fuck because he’s taken what isn’t his! Making her work night and day and taking all the profits.” He grabbed Tommy’s arm to make his brother look him in the eye as he stressed, “He’s hurtin’ her too, I know it.” 

Tommy took note of the pain in Arthur’s eyes. He was well aware that there were nights Arthur drank himself into a stupor, rambling about his love for Y/n. As far as he was concerned, she was the only woman in the world and he would fight to the death for her. If allowing him this one victory might bring Arthur’s mind back to business, Tommy decided to agree.

Tommy clamped a hand over Arthur’s and gave a short nod. “Alright, brother, if you’re certain. I’ll let you handle it the way you see fit.”

“S right. By order of the peaky fucking blinders,” Arthur said, savoring the words as he spoke them, knowing justice was forthcoming.

———————————-

“Open up, by order of the Peaky Blinders!” John called, nearly kicking the door in before James could open it. 

“Come here to harass me again have you?” James asked, face red with fury, picking up his cane and waving it at the younger Shelby brother.

“James, stop!” you shouted, rushing out to grab his arm. You placed yourself between him and the peaky blinders as you asked in a small, frightened voice, “What’s this about?” 

Arthur gulped as he saw you, hating to have caused you distress. “We don’t mean ya no harm,Y/n,” he said, holding up his hands. You studied his black gloves with suspicion, but decided to trust him based on the pleading look he now gave you. He looked genuinely sorry for the intrusion and you thought the least you could was listen. 

“Alright, come in,” you said, opening the door toward him.

Arthur shook his head gently before asking, “A word alone, Y/n?”

James gave you a dire look, but you silenced it with a hand to his shoulder and a kiss to his cheek. “It’s alright. I’ll be fine,” you promised, grabbing your shawl and heading down the steps to meet with Arthur as John stayed behind guarding the door.

“Arthur please tell me what’s happening,” you begged as you walked with him.

Arthur stopped by the alley and reached for your hand tenderly. As he did, your shawl slipped, revealing a burn on your lower arm which you quickly covered. “You don’t have to do this, Y/n. I can help ya,” Arthur offered, stroking his thumb over your knuckles. 

“Do what, Arthur?” you asked. He looked so forlorn, but you had no idea why.

Arthur’s head turned back toward your shop as his eyes flashed with sudden hatred. “Be with him!”

You took a step back to see if he were actually serious before realizing, Arthur Shelby was jealous. “Because I love him…” you exclaimed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Look how he treats ya!” he said, jerking his chin toward your injured arm.

“That’s a burn from a hot pan, Arthur,” you explained quietly. 

“The hell it is! Why you covering for him?” he grunted. Then he softened as he took your cheek in his hand. “You can tell me, dove. Just cause he was here when your dad passed, don’t mean you have to let him take over. I know I was gone fighting a long time, but I’m home now. I want to be here for ya now…please,” he said, pouring his heart out in a way he didn’t think possible.

You listened intently, thinking of all the times he’d been two steps behind you, your fiercest protector since you were small. However, it was nothing more than a form of sisterly affection you felt for him and you realized you’d have to tell him of your feelings sooner rather than later.

“Oh, Arthur, I know you worry. You always have, but I’m not in trouble, you see. I’m in love and we’re getting married,” you said with an encouraging smile. You searched him for a response, but he remained stone faced before you.

Then suddenly something unexpected happened. Arthur’s features contorted into an expression of pain and his face and neck turned to a deep shade of red as he fixed you with a perplexed look. Unable to contain his humiliation at your rejection he shouted, “There’s no ring on your finger, Y/n. You’re lying to me!”

Your eyes grew wide at the change in him and you shook your head violently. “No, no, of course not! We haven’t the money. That's why I don't have a ring.”

Arthur’s hands snaked upward toward your wrists, restraining you with a punishing grasp as he pushed you further into the alley and up against the cool brick. “You’re lying,” he repeated, hot breath fanning over your face as he moved impossibly close. “You don’t love him,” he said as though he were trying to imprint that fact into your mind.

Tears began to well in your eyes from the shock and the pain of his hold. With quivering lip you looked into his eyes as you whispered a frightened plea. “You’re hurting me, Arthur. Please stop.”

The spark was quickly extinguished and Arthur relinquished his hold, backing away and running a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots as he shook himself. “Fook! Fook! God, I’m sorry.”

You wrapped your shawl around yourself tightly as you mumbled, “Goodbye, Arthur,” and scurried away, unsure what to make of the situation.

Arthur stood in the alley for what seemed hours, pacing and plotting, his mind never leaving you. None of what he’d heard could be right. You would come back to him, he was sure of it.

———————————-

The heat from the kitchen was dissipating slowly to mix with the chill of the late evening air. James had gone to take out the rubbish bins and you were waiting for his return as you finished the cleaning. It was another long day and you felt yourself slipping into a soporific state even as you stood cleaning. 

Willing yourself to continue, a sudden gust from the open back door blew a solid sheet of rain into your face, causing you to blink and sputter as you fumbled for the door, rain pouring across the threshold. As you grappled with the edge of the door, an unsettling crash came from the alleyway and you turned in a tight circle, looking for James. Instead of your boyfriend, you caught sight of Arthur Shelby, or at least you thought it was him, from his profile. He stood at the corner of your house, washing his hands in the run off from the eaves, scrubbing them clean of what you weren’t entirely sure.

GIF credit @peakykestrel

“Arthur?” you called out in a shaky voice.

His hands froze at the sound of your soft voice, one covering the blood which stained the other. He couldn’t let you see what he’d done, though he knew you’d find out soon enough. Dipping his head low to slough the water off his flat cap, he gazed back up at you with wild eyes like an animal caught with prey still in its jaws. 

“Y/n, what’re ya doin’ out here? Thought you’d be in bed by now,” he managed, voice rumbling low like the thunder rolling through the city. 

“I heard a noise,” you explained, eyes coming to rest on a broken piece of wood at the bottom of the stairs. It was hard to make out in the dim light, but it appeared to have the carvings of James’ cane and you felt your heart lurch. Arthur’s head tilted at a precarious angle to follow your line of sight, eyes flicking back up to yours and causing a shudder to course through your whole body. Your hands twisted nervously in your apron, feeling very small under his intense scrutiny.

Hiding his hands behind his back, Arthur slowly paced toward you in a stalking motion that made your stomach churn with dread. You shivered as he motioned for you to enter the house. “S too cold for ya out here, love,” he whispered in a voice that sounded far too placid. Then you felt his large hand at the small of your back, shooting electric sparks straight to your feet. Only then did your limbs begin to move in halted jerks with Arthur steering you into the sitting room. 

You allowed him to guide you, feeling the grip he held on your elbow as he sat you in a chair by the fireplace. He took care to light it for you before taking a seat opposite you. Then he removed his coat and hat as if to show he had further business to discuss.

Despite the warmth that surrounded you, you shook violently as you asked, “Arthur, what have you done?”

Arthur leaned forward as he removed a flask from his pocket. Taking a long swig of whisky from the silver container to fortify himself, he exhaled sharply, “What should’ve been done a long time ago. I took care of him.”

“No, no…” you begged, catching sight of his bruised knuckles and bloodied shirt fully for the first time. 

He rushed to your side to cradle you as your head fell into your hands, rocking yourself as you wondered how you would go on now. 

“Let the fear go, love. He can’t hurt you anymore. I’ve got you now,” Arthur whispered into your hair as he cradled your limp body. Running a hand over your hair with his damp hands, he felt a surge of pride course through his veins and it was intoxicating. He had you in his arms as it should always have been. 

Feeling a stir of desire, he pressed his face against your neck, kissing you with feverish passion. You recoiled from him in horror, pushing against the side of his face with the heel of your hand. Panting and heaving, you tried to shove him away, but he was much too strong. Finally he pulled away to look at you, rigid and frightened in his embrace.

“Please don’t look at me that way, love,” he begged, capturing your face between his large palms. “I did what I did for you…for us. He was hurtin’ ya. I couldn’t let that go on,” Arthur mused, staring into the fire.

“Arthur, I told you, I loved him. We were happy…,” you said through tears, now streaming down your face. You pulled his hands from you and studied the blood that still remained, trembling at the sight of it around his wrists and under his fingernails. You bit your lip harshly and closed your eyes to steady yourself from being sick at the thoughts running through your mind of how he’d killed James. 

Arthur turned to look at you, “You’re confused. He weren’t good for ya, but I am,” he said earnestly. “I can give you a good life. Treat you like a queen, I will if you’ll be my wife. Say yes,” he asked, eyes shining like two bright stars. “To everything I can give ya.”

You took in a shaky breath as you fell back into his arms broken and defeated, how long could you deny him, you wondered? He was a delusional madman and you had to find a way out. 

———————————————-

Two months later…

“Oh my God, I can’t thank you enough,” you said through tears, hugging your friend.

“Promise me you’ll go live a good life in America where that prick can never find you,” Celia said with more than a hint of malice. She’d been working tirelessly to secure passage for you by railway and steamliner as well as a new life in New York and now that everything was in order, you would be on your way the following morning, never to set foot in Small Heath ever again. 

You packed a bag and went to bed with visions of your new life dancing before your eyes. Life had never felt so peaceful, knowing you were taking charge of your terrible circumstances. 

You woke before dawn, pushing yourself out from a cold bed you’d barely slept in and hurried downstairs to collect your case and papers. However, the documents you needed were nowhere to be found. An icy chill clamped over you as you searched, knowing something wasn’t right. Had you left them with Celia in your haste? With only an hour to make it to the train station, you rushed out of the house to see her. However, you didn’t get far.

Arthur stood out front with John and Finn, papers in hand. “Going somewhere?” he asked in a conversational tone that belied his devilish intentions.

“Arthur…” you gulped. “What are you doing?”

“Could ask the same of you, love?” he said. “What’s all this, eh? Having a holiday without me?” he asked without a hint of amusement, shaking the papers he held in his hands. 

“I…I was going to tell you about that,” you lied.

“Were you now?” he asked thoughtfully, head turning from the papers to dig into his pocket for something which you quickly realized was a lighter. 

You ran toward him screaming “No!” with outstretched hand, as he set the papers ablaze before your very eyes, all hopes of a new life burning before you.

GIF credit @cinematv

“I had my eye on you since we was kids, Y/n. I said she will be mine and nothing will keep us apart,” Arthur said, crushing the papers in his gloved hand. “Nothing,” he reiterated as the ashes fell at his feet. John laughed as the embers of his cigar fell to the ground, joining the tattered remnants of your dignity. 

“We’ll have heaven here on Earth, my darling. Just need you to say yes,” Arthur proclaimed, reaching for your trembling hand. He pulled a ring from his pocket and slipped it onto your finger as you shook with fear. "Say yes to heaven," he whispered once more before you fainted.

-------------------

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[kooktrash]

hi :D ty for doing spooky requests.

can i request something like: witch!reader x jungkook.

reader is very obsesses with jungkook.

but jungkook is s1 else’s boyfriend. and that s1 is s1 reader wouldn’t want to mess with. (you can ignore this btw)

but still reader couldn’t let go of her little crush on jk. (she would if she could). so reader decided to just admire/watching him from afar silently instead.

and everyday reader would sitting on the tallest branch of tree and watching jungkook doing his works silently. example: shirtless!jungkook chopping off woods. 😏 (they’re living in the wood)

you can decide the ending for them.

i hope u have a good day! 🫶

I’m gonna do it as a list cuzzzz why not. also I wasn’t sure which route to take so I just did a little fluff???? it COULDVE been more yandere but listen 😭 it just ended up being fluff

little witch | jeon jungkook drabble

okay but think about small village in the woods au where Jungkook is like the town’s golden child. he’s nice, good looking, helpful… the list literally goes on

it’s no surprise that you fell for him early on, since you were a child. he was just so sweet and his smile was gorgeous and his voice so melodic. everyone had a crush on him but you definitely took it too far. it wasn’t your fault that he was so unapproachable that you had to admire from afar.

sure, he was always nice when he’d see you somewhere in the small farmer’s market filling your woven baskets with goods. he always said hello when the two of you would find yourselves walking in the same direction

he’s only unapproachable because of her. Her who has been Jungkook’s closest friend for a long time, always trailing after him, always latching on his arm. probably the one started the rumors that they would wed.

still, you couldn’t stop your little crush on him. you just had to keep your distance considering she had no problem confronting anybody who got too close to him. like today; you’ve managed to keep good distance from him. you haven’t seen her but maybe that’s bc you’ve been hiding in a tree

your spying tactics have def escalated lately, more bizarre since you’ve been avoiding seeing him in the market. and the look today was amazing. a shirtless Jungkook cutting lumber in what he could call his backyard. in reality it was just a neck in the woods only a few yards away from his cabin and yours too

you had only been watching him for thirty minutes but you swear you’re not a creep. you were doing a little sketch and it just so happened to be about him. you had just finished adding shade to his backside when you heard her voice.

“Jungkookie! Why don’t you take a break? I’ve just picked some fresh strawberries.”

well that just ruined your day. if she catches you up here she’ll just tease you about something and embarras you

crazy enough, this was not the first time you’ve hidden somewhere to watch him. sometimes you’d be around a corner in the market watching him take lumber to some of the elders who couldn’t cut any. sometimes he’d offer bread to a stray child or show them magic tricks like a coin behind the ear

unlike you he was praised for everything he did. you were merely called a witch even tho you didn’t think you were. nobody trusted you or wanted to be around you so you didn’t have friends. the only nice one had been Jungkook

handsome and kind and unavailable jungkook who knocked on your cabin one stormy night much to your dismay. he was drenched in rain clutching something under his wool

“Y/n, sorry to disturb you I know it’s late but I need your help”

you hadn’t even known what to say, he had never come to you door, you had no clue he knew you lived next to him

you didn’t say anything caught completely off guard. even in rain he looked good, still kind and pretty smile. you moved to the side letting him in and suddenly all the hanging herbs and spices in jars seemed ridiculous. the black cat sleeping on a book and the cauldron tucked away in the fireplace seemed bizarre.

he was nervous too mostly bc you were so quiet. “so… i heard you can help with injuries? i accidentally hurt myself earlier and—“ he lifted his shirt, a gash down his torso not deep but long

you bit your lip, well this was an excuse to stare. but still. you had a feeling any second she would barge in here and tell him you’re a freak. you left him for a second going to the kitchen opening up a jar. his nose scrunched at the smell but he tried not to say anything

“w-whats that?” he couldn’t help but ask when you crushed some dried berries and mixed it with what was in the jar. it was a dark green color, “swamp mud, helps with scratches”

“s-swamp mud?” he asked before wincing arrival the first cold touch of the paste. his muscles tensed like the skin around the cut was burning but you told him to leave it on for a few more minutes

he’s always known you. a sweet and shy person who kept to themselves and often times he found himself wanting to greet you. just let you know that you could always talk to him but you never do.

of course she always tries to tell him you’re a witch and a freak but he doesn’t believe it to bad. if she knew he came tonight she’d be missed but it was his decision. he knew if anyone could do something about the gash it was you, a healer

he watched you back away from him, tucking yourself into the window seat as the rain hit the windows harshly. the black cat coming by to curl around his foot while he felt embarrassing bare in front of you. you just seemed so innocent and gentle, he felt bad for the way the town treated you.

“what’s her name?” he asked about the cat. “salem and they go by he”

he smiled a little, the cat goes by he. before he could ask another question you were leaving to the kitchen again. a bucket of water and a rag in your hands as you pulled a stool in front of him

at this proximity he was able to get a good look at you. he hadn’t known minutes passed instead of seconds. he sees you sometimes in the market but you always keep your distance. usually he’s the one who has to stop with a hello and even then you don’t always talk. whenever he’s with her you don’t even look his way but in truth nobody does. why? he’s not sure but every now and then when he catches you in the woods smiling down at a bunny or bird it makes him smile. she always tries to tell him you’re a freak and stalker but he doesn’t believe that.

“does it hurt?” “huh?” “the cut” “oh, uh a little?”

actually not at all but he didn’t think when he responded. “alright, we’ll give it another minute or two.” he nodded wondering why he said it still hurt but he pushed the thought aside. instead he thought about your soft scent of rosemary and elderberry. up close he can tell you’re very pretty. well, he always thought you were pretty but right now it was different. he used to think you were cute with the shy smiles and soft voice but up close he can tell you’re just naturally pretty

she always tell him you’re obsessed with him. that you’re a freak who watches him in the woods. you’re just a loser with no friends. but he never listens, he has seen you in the woods before sketching in some book but he thinks it’s sweet. anytime he’d be cutting lumber and he’d catch you up on some tree branch sketching away he wouldn’t say anything. he didn’t want to scare you away but he always wondered what it is you sketched

after some time you didn’t ask him again if it hurt but if you would have he would’ve lied again. instead you dipped the rag into the warm water and began to wash away the dried paste. he prepared himself for the pain but there was none so instead he watched you

“there.” “what?” “it’s healed.” “oh” why was he disappointed? you left him to go back to the kitchen and as he looked down the gash had turned into scarred tissue but healed. you came back out with a little jar of the paste, “put this on before bed and soon the scar will fade.”

you sent him on his way before he could even say thank you and he was back in the rain with a jar in hand

the next time you saw him it was in the woods again. you were down by the swamp collecting more mud, unaware of Jungkook passing by with her. he stopped the second he found you crouched down on the floor, the end of your dressed costed in dirt and grass. she pulled in his arm, “let’s go to the market for some bread. hurry before y/n sees u—“

“y/n!” he left her there cutting through the meadow to the thicker marsh side. you looked up seeing him there before looking behind him where she stood glaring. immediately you got up turning to leave before she confronted you about Jungkook talking to you

he visibly frowned watching you walk away. “Jungkook just leave the witch alone. she’s a fre—Jungkook!” and he’s running after you calling your name but he couldn’t find you anymore. hw turned to her, “don’t talk about y/n like that anymore. she is sweet and kind”

you stayed in your cabin for a couple days. just enough time for Jungkook and her to stop looking for you. the other day by the swamp he probably told her how you helped him and was ready to chew you out for it. so you avoided them both. you haven’t even gone to watch him cut lumber but it was for the better. your obsession with him would turn into something more and you can’t dream about something you can’t have.

Jungkook knew your shy nature though and even if he didn’t see you out of the cabin in a couple days he had a feeling it had something to do with his friend. you must’ve heard her call you mean names and it scared you of. he didn’t want to scare you off. he wanted the opposite actually. so what did he do? he went out into the meadow where he could pick some herbs out for you. he had a feeling you weren’t into flowers or sweets so maybe he could try and coax you with things he knows you’ll like

so what happened? little jars of spices, rosemary, thyme, lavender, even that healing swamp mud, all packed nicely for you. set in front of your door everyday with the little notes here and there

it was ironic actually. you used to watch and obsess over him and now he’s the one watching and obsessing over you. making sure to be as loud and obvious as possible when he passed by your cabin or in the market he’d follow after you. he’d cut more lumber than necessary as an excuse to drop it off at people’s doorsteps, making sure to knock when he got to yours. the kind little witch who used to obsess over him was now his own growing obsession.