#Sugar Camp Branch

[felassanis]

Obsessed with The Dark Urge just being...unsettling.

Like in those first few weeks of travelling, they're just...weird. Just overall unsettling to be around.

They likely can't remember their name, so they just come up with one on the spot that definitely sounds fake. Like they just looked around and saw a tree and went "I'm branch"

Or they're literally just "I'm The Dark Urge" and someone will point out that's not a fucking name.

They get...weird about blood. Always coming out a fight more drenched in it than they reasonably should be. Their hands shake like they're on some sugar rush. A splatter will land beside their mouth and they'll just...slowly lick it off.

They just say odd shit. "I've always wanted to smell my own burning flesh" and cue the side eye. "im only ever truly happy when I'm killing" and "when I first met you, I thought you'd make a perfect pretty corpse," and don't always seem to realise that what they're saying IS ODD.

They don't smile. It's like their face wasn't meant to sustain a smile. So when Astarion or Karlach makes them smile or laugh it's the most painful and awkward fucking thing ever. Like someone drew it on upside down.

They are not put off by the smell of burning dwarf.

I love the idea that being a Bhaalspawn, one made my Bhaal himself there's something...off with their appearance. Maybe they have sharper teeth than what their race usually has. Maybe if you're close enough to them and stare hard enough you realise oh their eyes aren't dark brown they're red. Why are they red?

And then. There's waking the camp up at night with the sounds of screaming. But they insist it's nothing.

[ronearoundblindly]

The Right Partner (2/3)

Steve Rogers x lab tech!Reader

Take My Whole Life, Too, Part One (see previous or series)

Summary: Your honeymoon with Steve Rogers begins.

Warnings for vague smut (don't worry, I make up for it in pt2), cuteass!Steeb being extra, unrealistic adorable sh*t, and my complete lack of shame about it. MINORS DNI. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist instead, but this one isn't for you! WC 3.1k

It’s bright and loud.

Well, there is light—a pale blue that gnaws at your heavy eyelids—and the song of birds.

The birds are, frankly, irrationally aggressive even for late morning.

You groan and turn over toward the inside of the tent, hoping for an hour more of darkness, maybe two.

Dehydrated. That’s what this heavy, sluggish feeling is. You should have had twice the water you managed to drink yesterday. No one would fault you for having other priorities on your wedding day though.

Your fingers branch out to find the bed empty.

From your exposed shoulder beyond the comforter, you gauge it is quite chilly here wherever you are. You didn’t even ask Steve if he found out what state (or country) you two landed in. Who cares? You burrow deeper, peeking over the thick quilted seam to see—

“What are you doing?”

Steve’s back is to you when you hear a metallic clatter in the utility sink. He whips around in just his boxers, raising a hand to cover his mouth and garble out “nothing.”

You’re prone and below eye level to the countertop, so you sit up to look while Steve poorly hides his sin by leaning over the surface.

He swallows heavily.

“You want some tea,” he rushes to ask in a failingly casual tone. “I’ve got water heating.”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you jump up to stand on the mattress, knocking your head against the springy ceiling, and step down. “Are you eating our wedding cake without me?”

“You wouldn’t even give me some yesterday,” he whines, placing himself protectively between your approach and the confection. His guilty brows raise with sincerity.

“Oh, please! You got cake, and then you—” you poke his bare chest, glancing at the now quarter-demolished top tier “—you complained it wasn’t your flavor!”

“But…” Steve simply points. No other words come to mind based on his still-stunned expression.

“Fine,” you chuckle, relaxing to stretch your large sweater over your chilled hands and thighs, “I won’t tell anyone you’re nothing but a little sweets-thief. Hot tea sounds lovely though.”

“Allow me,” he smiles and leans in for a kiss, tasting of sugar and lemon like the night you got engaged, the night you first…oof. After just one reminder, the sweater is suddenly plenty warm.

“Thank you.”

The flood of mental images rushes from your brain, down your body, to your full bladder.

Next stop: the bathroom.

While he sorts out your morning boost, you chug a bottle of water to help with the rough, sluggish feeling weighing on you. No soreness though, which is good.

Steve returns triumphant with a camping mug and steeping, steaming wakeup juice, and you give him your own soft peck on his cheek.

No doubt he continues his dessert for breakfast the instant you step out to use the facilities aboard the jet. Good, he deserves all the cake, as much as he wants, whenever he wants.

The tiny mirror isn’t as scary as you thought it would be, but you do have to rummage around for a few straggling hairpins. A splash of cool water on your face just before you emerge is more refreshing than expected, too. The day is fresh, you are fresh, and your marriage is fresh.

You cradle the mug in your palms, making to leave, when your gown catches your eye hanging at the locker closest to the ramp, right beside Steve’s uniform.

Yesterday feels like the most wonderful, blinding blur.

All the military men (and women) wore their first uniforms, and you have to admit it created a sharp-looking bunch. Geeta’s uniform was only from nine years ago, Wilson’s just over fifteen, Rhodes’s nearly thirty, and of course, Steve and Bucky’s come in at eighty years old. Not shockingly, their uniforms were replicas, but the boys were very picky about the details.

Gracie, Natasha, Ro, Pepper, Tony and Bruce all kept their fancy dress within the same neutral palette. Morgan and Felicity were flower (leaf) girls. Standing at the alter as a bride, a groom, and their ‘besties,’ you amassed a punk, a jerk, a nerd, and a Booboo.

Your subdued red, white, and blue gown made the boldest statement of the day.

You were so worried yesterday morning. You thought the statement would read as if you were devoting yourself to an ideal, harping that you are in some ways ‘Misses America,’ but it’s more than that. You didn’t want to walk down that aisle and sign over who you are, to belong to someone else, even someone as magnificent as Steve Rogers.

Then you saw his face.

That man belongs to you as much as you belong to him. The look of pure, undiluted, delighted adoration nearly knocked you over. You’re lucky you made it through your vows. You melted inside to help your poor, fumbling Sketch with his own speech. Bucky winked once you finally got his buddy to the important bit.

Then that kiss.

Gosh, all this time you thought maybe the desperate heat of your first kiss in an evacuated AvIn hallway couldn’t be recreated—much less topped—but you were wrong. The boning in your bodice is the real hero, that’s for sure. Girl’s gotta have good support when it counts.

Speaking of being weak for a man, you think, sipping at hot tea, better get back in there. That, plus your legs are freezing.

A polaroid snaps the instant you cross the zip-up threshold, along with praises of your beauty. You blink rapidly but smile.

“What’s that?”

“Your wedding present,” Steve beams. He fakes a frown at your following ‘we weren’t doing presents’ look. “Not big ones. They’re just for fun.”

He picks up another Canon film camera, a hefty black and silver thing from his hard-sided suitcase, and hands it to you.

“Thought they’d be nice for the trip.”

You weigh it in your hands, eye the Polaroid, then switch with Steve.

“That one’s more of an artsy-fartsy Sketch thing,” you say, stepping around him with your new toy, rushing to grab toasty sweatpants from your own bag.

As you bend over to pull out the garment though, you hear a mechanical click and whip around.

Steve still faces away from you, but his head is slightly turned and he softly whistles, so of course, you lift your Polaroid and snap a picture of his ass, too. He wrinkles his nose, looking over his shoulder with an unhidden smile. You shake out the photo card provocatively while he suits up for the fireside in a sweater and jeans.

He glances at the developed shot and, seeming satisfied, plants one more kiss on your forehead.

He hums as he holds up his picture of you entering the tent, thumb tracing the line of your hip exposed like it was on the glossy magazine pages after your bear debacle.

“Yes, ‘m out there distracting all the wild animals,” you joke.

“It’s working,” he mutters. “Hungry, Misses Rogers?”

Yeah, you think, but you’ll need fewer clothes again. Instead, your stomach gurgles in response.

“Why? Do I finally get some cake?”

“Just a taste.” He kisses your lips, which you lick immediately after. “But I was thinking more like eggs. The fire’s ready.”

Your stomach growls louder. “Shhh, peanut gallery.”

Steve puts a hand over your stomach, chuckling. “At least she’s honest.”

The light pressure of his wide palm lingers even when he steps out to the camp ground. It triggers a potent flash of life with him.

You’ve spoken about kids and it will happen (or at least you’ll try) in due course, but he’s come home from missions with doubts about bringing children up in this world. What matters to both of you is having each other, and you know he’d be enough good and love for your lifetime. Even though you can always revisit the issue, that deep flutter ravages your gut while you watch him cook breakfast.

With another hunger pang, you remember how your stomach voicing her opinion is one of the reasons you’re together. One, solitary growl started the first real night of hanging out with Steve. Without it, he wouldn’t have shared a leftover meal (and cake—hint, hint, buddy), he wouldn’t have let you in his apartment, he wouldn’t have driven you and your car home the next morning, and he wouldn’t have given you some of his own clothes to wear.

You pull the sleeves of his sweater over your chilling hands and bury your nose in the fabric, inhaling deeply.

You wonder which one of those incidental, accidental moments was the tipping point, whether removing just one experience of you would have stopped Steve from seeing you, stopped him from loving you.

After a while, you pick up the polaroid. You can see his ease through the lens. Steve is in his element, chatting away while preparing a meal, planning what you two can do together next, complimenting how you look in his sweatpants and meaning it so profusely that his eyes light up whenever he looks your way.

You thought you caught it on camera, all of him, all of his happiness, but the shot isn’t close enough to do it justice. Your heart will just have to remember.

Yes, Steve Rogers on his own is more than enough. He is the gift. He’s your treasure.

You can’t decide what you want to do next, but a strong shiver running through you gives a hint: get warm.

Eggs are a good start.

When the food is done, Steve refills your tea and makes his own.

You snuggle up into the covers of the bed again, leaning your head into the dip of Steve’s sternum, using your furnace husband to full effect. The birds aren’t so annoying now. The air is so crisp and refreshing, laced with the smell of Steve’s skin. The rise and fall of his chest is so soothing as you sip and ponder the future.

Steve fiddles with the dials on the vintage camera above you. That’s the last thing you remember before waking up again, this time wrapped in his warm, toasty arms.

For once, he hasn’t woken up yet. He’s stretched, out-cold and perfectly content, unmoving as you wiggle out of the covers.

He never rests in the middle of the day, so you have to capture his sleepy form, eyes still tucked beneath the comforter, keeping the light out for just a little longer. He’s so beautiful.

Your husband is so beautiful.

Steve desperately wants to take the wedding presents for a spin out in the woods, so the afternoon is entirely consumed by a hike.

The Polaroid makes too much noise for wildlife and can’t focus on the tinier details among the branches and leaves, so you settle for jotting down some fanciful descriptions that come to mind and watch him sneak closer to birds, bugs, and color-changing foliage.

He gets so distracted with excitement that you two walk much farther than intended. Steve insists on carrying you the last few miles of your return, and you spend the entire piggyback ride with your chin tucked over his shoulder, your cheek against his neck, quietly discussing what you’d like to change in your lives now that you’re officially married.

Nothing. The answer is nothing.

Nothing needs to change because you two are the exact same people as forty-eight hours ago. Perhaps the rings on your fingers mean more for your life, but they just transmuted the love already in existence to matter.

Steve’s bright blue eyes go dreamy with philosophizing.

Your husband is beautiful, smelling of fresh air and optimism.

Steve refuses to miss another sunset, so you two lay in the hammock before lighting your evening fire.

You snuggle and chat, teasing each other, telling stories. You watch the Milky Way bloom to life above you.

Something Steve never figured out was how the Team knew about his plan to propose. He’s been going over it and over it, but he can’t see where he gave himself away. Steve says, when he asked Bucky yesterday in the men’s ready room, Bucky smirked.

Apparently, Steve, only once while you two dated, told his friend “there’s an order to these things,” and that was enough. Buck knew Steve’s intentions immediately, watching for the signs, the clues. Everyone understands that for a long time now Steve has resented his birthday is a holiday—not in a disrespectful way, but it annoys him that the day is already a big, loud affair,—and the whole group guessed (correctly) Steve would rather replace the symbolism with his own meaning.

“And hey,” Steve rumbles, faking Tony’s nonchalance as he quotes the billionaire playboy, “if you chickened out, fireworks are fireworks.”

His added shrug for effect shifts you and rocks the dangling net.

“Almost did, didn’t you?” you chuckle. “Chicken out?”

Your husband’s whole body tweaks harshly.

“You know I was scared shitless, Keeps! Almost fainted.”

“Or at least fell off your one knee…”

His hands fly up to scrub at his stubbled face, pinning you. “Oh! It was so bad,” he groans.

You sit up carefully in the wobbly fabric of the hammock, barely suppressing more laughter, and pound a flat palm at his chest. “It’s ok, soldier. You got the job done. We got there in the end.”

Steve’s hand covers yours, his peaceful smile glowing in the soft starlight.

He reaches to cradle your cheek, sweeping a delicately callused thumb over your skin.

“I almost can’t believe it,” Steve says quietly.

“Believe what?”

He could mean the beauty of the sky, or that Tony knocked it out of the park with your escape of a honeymoon, or that he didn’t croak instead of getting through all those mental and physical hurtles to be with you. You’re just not sure. Personally, you’ve ‘almost not believed it’ since the Captain America started talking to you, so it’s hard to judge.

Steve doesn’t answer right away. His voice grows even softer. “Happy. That’s all.”

Your heart breaks and mends in an instant.

“You can’t believe you’re happy?”

He goes shy, ducking then raising his gaze even higher towards the treetops. He clears his throat before admitting, “I lead…an unusual life. Not many would want this.”

“I dunno. Seems pretty nice to me,” you giggle.

“Yes, but—“ he pulls you into his chest and squeezes “—I get no guarantees. Not like others. We couldn’t even set a date. We could have been waiting years to get married.”

It’s your turn to shrug.

“You got something else to do?”

“No,” he sighs, “just more of this.” He nudges your body closer and closer to his, until all your arms and legs are tangled together. “As much as possible. I only meant…I love you.

“I love you, and I don’t think I had any faith left that I would find you.”

You. Not someone like you. Not someone for him.

You.

Even without a fire, even without sunlight, even without shelter surrounding you, Steve provides everything you could ever need: heat, comfort, safety. He provides, and it’s only right that he should have the favor returned.

Happiness. That’s what this is. Happiness that wasn’t guaranteed. Happiness that wasn’t expected. Happiness that was hard-earned.

Your muscles shiver and your skin tingles, all with need of him. “Sweetheart,” you whisper, clawing at his sweater.

He knows. He sees. He feels it, too.

When Steve lunges to kiss you though, the hammock swings with your combined weight and tries to topple you.

You giggle and squeal, flipping out and onto the ground with zero grace, and he follows.

Steve crawls over you, starlight and the glow from the tent painting his face in primary colors.

“Here, Mrs. Rogers?” He fakes shock. “In the dirt?”

“You fucked me on that picnic table just last night,” you joke, a dark, taunting edge to your voice which he matches.

Steve leans in again. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t.”

He holds your gaze, his focus flickering to your lips while the crickets’ song roars around you.

It sounds silly after all you’ve done to get Steve out of his shell, but what you crave most in this moment is the familiar, traditional love-making that he offers best. His tenderness leads you on a merry dance not unlike long wilderness walks. He’s consumed by discovery and attention to how you feel in that very second. To him, you change as frequently as the landscape. He yearns to explore what’s the same, what’s new.

Steve never phones-in sex. He never just goes through the motions. Somehow, he makes an art of reevaluating your body, your pleasure, each and every time. He’s the proof vanilla is an infinite flavor.

But…

That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the chase.

Steve is leaning in to kiss you when your knee raises to his chest, halting his progress. You bite your lip and scramble to the ‘door’ of the tent. Obviously, he lets you win because he could easily have snatched you into his grasp.

Steve’s laugh stays close, but he follows all the way to the bed.

There’s something to be said about a good ol’ fashioned undressing, garment by garment, that dance of who leads and how much they touch the other as each piece of clothing falls away. Steve’s become a very good dancer.

Nothing is rushed. Nothing is missed.

He doesn’t combine the acts of maneuvering you and dragging open mouth kisses along your skin. He moves you, and then he lingers.

Time spent mapping you is time well spent to Steve Rogers.

You’re drunk on him. High on him. It’s an out-of-body experience that has you watching his broad back curve sharply while he thrusts and traces your collarbone with his tongue, noticing your toes seize up from force of your first orgasm, and admiring how fine his ringed finger looks laced in with yours and pinned over your head.

No one leaves the tent. The evening fire never gets started.

After a long and sweaty fuck in the bed, you’re filthy, gathering food for Steve who’s hungry, following you around with wipes. It’s comical how thoroughly you try to take care of each other.

No. Sit still. No. Let me just grab this. No. Fine. Together?

You two finish the top tier of cake after cleaning off…because Steve Rogers is the most stubborn, beautiful, and optimistic husband.

[Next Part]

[Main Masterlist; Fools Rush In Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[nyxhaven]

Beneath the peaches (halsin x gn tav)

As Halsin's concern for Tav's absence deepens, he embarks on a search through a vast peach orchard, the worry gnawing at his heart. However, what he discovers beneath the shade of an ancient oak tree is far from what he expected. Amidst the lush surroundings, a playful rendezvous unfolds, filled with laughter, flirtatious banter, and moments of stolen affection, all against the backdrop of the beautiful orchard.

(SMUT 18+ minors DNI. s!ze d!fference, breed!ng, oral (halsin receiving) teasing, loving)

(had this on repeat while writing😣🙃.)

Halsin's initial worry had been a heavy weight on his chest as he paced the camp mid-day, inquiring with his fellow companions about Tav's whereabouts with a furrowed brow, but no luck. It felt like an eternity since he'd last seen them. double-checking Tav's tent still nothing. he noted a small footpath that leads down the backside of the hill. His heart lightened when he ventured out of camp and stumbled upon the breathtaking sight of the seemingly endless peach orchard.

The leaves above cast dappled patterns of sunlight and shade as he wandered through the orchard, Halsin enjoyed seeing every part of nature, a reason he’s been so happy traveling with Tav. The canopy of leaves made the whole place feel like a hidden sanctuary. Halsin's relief swelled as he finally spotted Tav, their form a small silhouette against the massive tree.

Tav was nestled comfortably under the shade, sprawled out on a soft blanket with one leg bent at the knee, engrossed in a weathered tome. Halsin couldn't help but smile at the sight of his beloved, their hair catching the sun's golden rays.

Approaching quietly, he bent down and pressed a tender kiss to Tav's forehead. "My heart," he whispered, his voice a gentle caress. "I've been searching for you. It's been too long since you've graced our camp with your presence."

Tav's eyes lit up, their smile radiant as they closed the book. "Darling, you know I can't resist a good book and a quiet spot when the world gets too loud."

Halsin settled down beside Tav on the soft blanket, his fingers brushing against their hand. Their bodies lay close, fitting together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Tav's laughter was like music to his ears, and the worry that had clouded his mind earlier now felt like a distant memory. Halsin lay with Tav as they read aloud to him.

Gazing up at the colossal oak tree, Halsin spoke with sincerity, "The beauty of this tree reminds me of you. Strong, enduring, and a source of endless wonder."

Tav chuckled, their fingers tracing patterns on Halsin's arm. "Flattery will get you everywhere with me, my love."

As they continued to chat, their banter turned into a playful flirtation, their words filled with affection and desire. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant calls of birds added a symphony of nature to their conversation, deepening the connection between them.

Halsin's eyes sparkled as he plucked a ripe peach from a nearby branch, the sweet fragrance of the fruit filling the air. "I think the Oak Father would appreciate this offering from his bountiful land."

Tav accepted the peach with a smile, and with the skill of a seasoned adventurer, they sliced it open with a dagger. "And I appreciate you, darling." Leaning in, they offered Halsin a piece of the peach, Halsin's lips brushing against Tav's fingers. he pulls his finger back, and a small string of saliva and sugar breaks. Tav leans into the golden embrace of Halsin. Their kiss was sweet, tasting of juicy peach, Halsins armed snaked around Tav's waist pulling them onto his lap and straddling him. His hands held the back of Tav's head pulling them in. Tav's small hips sit in his wide pelvis. The size difference between them was shown in the intimate moment.

Halsin's large hand wraps help Tav's head snuggly. His legs bend coming up to hold Tav on his lap as they make out. Tav pulls back from the kiss resting his weight back on Halsin’s hips, placing their hands on Haslin’s barrel chest Tav takes a breath. Halsin pushes his back out of his face taking his shirt off. “sorry love these clothes never help anything you know that.”

Tav waits for Halsin to take his shirt off before holding their arms up. Halsin gets the idea and undresses tavs top. the warm summer breeze flows down the line of peach trees cooling off the sweat beads down Halsin's body. Tav can’t help but stare at Halsins bare chest and how his hair all trails down his body past his navel into the bush of hair peeking out his waistband.

Halsin's large biceps wrapped around Tav flipping them, Halsin lay on top of Tav, Holding himself up on his elbows. his hair falls in front of his face. Halsin grabs the peach and takes a big bite letting the sugary nectar drip down his lips and chin. Tav licks the trail of nectar off his face placing a kiss on his lips.

Tav isn’t unaware of the growing bulge in Halsin’s pants but likes to tease Halsin by prolonging anything as long as they can a small bit of foreplay they enjoy. Halsins is always so quick to give in to nature's instincts. Halsin lays deep hickeys on Tav's delicate neck. Tav’s moan purs as Halsin’s sweet lips pressed to their skin.

Halsin's neediness urges him to grind his bulge along Tav's thigh. Tav bites halsins bottom lip pulling their face away “Don’t be too impatient, be patient for me and I’ll make sure my cub gets rewarded.” Something about Tav's words sends halsins breath into the next gear panting wanting more, his eyes begin to glow a bright yellow the same golden light that shines through the canopy above you. “calm” Tav whispers, caressing halsin’s cheek and temple.

Halsin's eyes fade back to his natural soil brown. Tav slightly giggled blushing a fair red. “What's the matter my heart.” Halsin wonders.

“Nothing, just seeing you get heated up like that is cute. I’m so proud of you for staying under control.” Halsin's cheek turn a merry red from the praise. “now

lay back down for me please.” Halsin follows the command and lays on his back. Tav gives him a look at his pants that those are not staying on. lifting his hip, Tav pulls the waist of his trousers down. springing out, halsin’s cock slaps against his skin, his musk of the day's travels waft in up in the air. Tav's mouth salivates at the sight of halsin’s erection. Halsins cock was thick and olive-toned with a set of strong balls on him. surrounded by a full bush of dirty blonde hair.

Tav lays between his large thighs, licking from the bottom of his shaft up to the under of his tip. Halsin’s legs wraparound tav holding them in place. Tav licks, kisses,

tempts but never actually yet takes halsin into their mouth. placing his head on their lips tracing it along the bottom lip up to the top. laying his cock in their face. “my god it’s like half my face.” tav teased knowing Halsin’s doing everything he can in him to keep calm and not beg. Throbbing at this point, precum soaks the tip of him.

“you’re just being mean at his point.” Halsin whines.

Giving in Tav takes the head of him into their mouth. Starting at the underside of his crown and dragging his tongue around wetting the tip and collecting the precum, before bobbing on the penis. using their hand tav jacks the shaft off halsin off while focusing on the tip with their tongue. removing their lips with a pop. Tav takes a big bite from the peach before using its juice to place sticky sweet kisses along the shaft and balls of halsin. rec tracing their steps with their tongue. they take halsin into their mouth fully.

Halsin feels the stick kisses so tenderly on this hot summer's day, As Tav takes him into their mouth halsin feels a sudden sense of being star-studded. his hips begin to rock into Tav's mouth pushing himself in. “good job, just a little more.” he says pushing in till his nose is pressed into his pelvis. letting out a deep roar of pleasure. Halsin releases the first wave of his orgasm pumping warm semen into the back of Tav's throat.

“That's right my heart, swallow it…all of it”

Tav pulls back swallowing the first of Halsin’s load, Tav is in a sense all loving pleasure is ready for more. Halsin grabs the small frame of Tav and flips them onto their back, resuming the position they started in. Halsin's figure moves downwards. He forms his hand into a sharp claw before using its talons to gently cut away your trousers. gods how much Halsin hated the confines of clothing.

Tavs sighs as their clothes are cut away, thinking not again. halsin’s large hands spread across their hips. delicately holding them. he wraps his legs around his hips pulling them closer he leaves small nibbles and love marks down their chest. marking them as his, he wants your companions to know what he can do.

"Mark me. Mark me so everyone knows who I belong to." tav says purring to halsin’s touch.

His cock still hard and ready he teases Tav's hole the same way they teased him dragging it along their folds, rimming your hole with his head. still sticky from your lips he enters you, stretching you out taking his time, halsin knows he’s large.

A loud moan escapes Tav's lips as they grind their hips trying to get deeper, Tav closes their eyes riding the wave of pleasure as Halsin starts to set a strong pace.

"Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me."

Tav opens their eye to Halsin thrusting in them as he ties up his stray hair behind his head. grabbing your leg he lifts it to his shoulder. going in further, Tav moans loudly as Halsin places sweet kisses on their neck continuing to fuck Tav, Tav's breath quickens, and their knees begin to buckle, Halsin holds their lower back for support as he stretches Tav out. a strong breeze blows again cooling the sweat built up between you too a nice respite during the moment.

Halsin leans back, pushing his hips in more bringing himself to his hilt inside Tav, a small bulge in your stomach appears as Halsin’s large member thrusts into Tav, and a sudden rush of pleasure comes over Tav making their orgasm come crashing in, a flurry of moans slips tavs mouth. “Wait—uh—do…do that again.”

Halsin follows, slamming into tavs pleasurable spot. another orgasm follows through Tav. “don’t hold back” Halsin whispers.

halsin’s breath becomes more haggard, barely out together. his hands clench your hips as he slams a final couple of times releasing himself into Tav. filling tav with warm fluid. he pulls out spilling his fluids out of Tav before pushing them back in with his twitching cock. halsin plays with his overstimulated cock pushing his cum back into Tav watching their knees buck at the pleasure. another small load pulses from Halsin soaking the outside of tavs hole in my semen from the druid. Halsin and Tav cleaned up and laid under the tree together. before halsin remarks "I wanna go again." or "One more time! Please!"

“we’ve been gone a while let’s make our way back to camp eat dinner see the others and maybe tonight” Tav suggests chuckling

As Halsin and Tav stumbled back into camp, their clothes in disarray and their hair an unruly mess, Gale couldn't resist a chuckle. "Well, it seems like someone had a wild time out there," he quipped, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Astarian, grinning mischievously, added, "I see you've been having your own kind of adventure. I hope you remembered to bring back some souvenirs." Both of them blushed but couldn't help but join in the laughter, knowing they'd just returned from an entirely different sort of escapade.

A/N: so I just needed! to write this, I have the next gale fic lined up already! like always dms are always open, i’d love to take request.

[thestormynobody]

Sunrise Eight

You awaken in a clearing; which doesn’t seem quite right. Weren’t you doing something? You were…right? Keeping watch maybe? You failed that one if that’s the case. It’s also blindingly bright as if it were midday. Surely someone would have woken you up by now? If you were to reach Bambouche in a reasonable amount of time you needed to keep to the travel schedule. Odile was pretty clear about that. So then why—?

The party bustles around camp. They smile and greet you but it sounds distant like you’re hearing their voices from underwater. Maybe you’re still groggy? The trees bear in on you. It feels cramped and yet everyone seems impossibly far away. Isa and Bonnie are talking but you can’t make out the words. Odile has her back to you.

A shadow falls over you and you look up. Mirabelle.

“Good……………………..more like………….afternoon?”

“....What?” Your head hurts.

"Were you……That's just like you…..at a time like this"

“Mira— I don’t—? What are you saying?” This isn’t right. Where are the others? They were just here but you don’t see them anywhere.

"I guess that's....some rest while we can! …..ready for tomorrow"

Wait. No. That’s—

“So we can finally face against the King!”

No.

Mirabelle goes rigid and her expression blank and in a voice that isn’t hers:

“You’ll be going back! Back to when everything started!” “I know you thought your quest is over, but it can’t be!”

No.

“Somethings broken, somethings failing, rotting!!!!

No No No NO NO NO NONONONONONONONONONONO The trees are gone. Mira is gone. There are only all too familiar black walls and the smell of burnt sugar.

you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach you feel a tug on your stomach—

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Woah!!!! Sif!!” Isabeau just barely manages to catch hold of the collar of Siffrin’s cloak before they tumble out of the tree they were sitting in. Their arms flail wildly, their eye wide. Isabeau manages to haul them back onto the tree branch. “You okay there bud?”

They just stare at him wide-eyed for several long moments. Their whole body was shaking slightly.

“....Sif?”

“.....”

“Siffrin, are you with me?”

“......”

Slowly, carefully he reaches his hand out. He hesitates for a moment then gently touches their shoulder. “Sif. Hey. It’s okay.”

They blink. Once. Twice. “I-Isa?”

He offers them a smile tinged with worry. “Scared me there for a second. Gotta be careful sleeping in trees. You…” he trails off as they reach their hand up to where his own hand rests on their shoulder. For a moment he wonders if they’re going to move it off of themself. Should have asked. Instead they just kind of rest theirs over his as if confirming it's real. He can still feel them shaking slightly.

“You’re real…right? I need you to be real.” Their voice is small and strained…desperate.

Oh Change, that could just about break his heart. Throwing caution to the wind he pulls them into himself; hugging them tightly. “Yes, I’m real. I’m here Sif. I’m here.”

They collapse into him.They breathe in. And out. The two sit quietly for a bit. Allowing Siffrin some time to center themself.

“Nightmare?”

They give a barely perceptive nod.

“Wanna talk about it?”

They immediately shake their head no but then seem to think better of it. “I thought I was back in the loops.”

Oh. Yeah. That makes sense. “I can understand why you panicked….this isn’t the first time is it?” He’d seen how tired they looked. Noticed how often they offered to keep watch. He hadn’t pressed them on it before but in hindsight it made sense they’d have nightmares after everything they’d been through. He still didn’t have many of the details but he knew enough to know anyone would have come out of that situation with a fair share of trauma.

“No, it's not the first time…” they mumble into his chest.

“I wish you’d told me! I could’ve helped!”

“They weren’t so bad at first. I knew I was dreaming the first couple times. I didn’t-—want to bother anyone with it.”

“Sif—” Change can be hard. He can’t expect Siffrin to have completely shifted their mindset overnight. He knew firsthand how hard it is to talk to people when you feel like your problems make you a burden.

“I know!” They realize how loudly they spoke and more quietly repeat: “I know. I’m trying. I just— didn’t think it was a big deal. I thought maybe they’d go away the further out we got from Dormont but—”

“Instead they’ve been getting worse.”

“...yeah.”

There must be something… “Hm…Oh! How about this? We come up with some kind of codeword. Something you didn’t hear in the Loops so if you wake up thinking you’re back we can prove that you’re out?”

“Like what?”

“Waffles.”

They blink up at him looking mildly befuddled “Why waffles?”

“I like waffles!” A small smirk plays across his lips “Are you saying my suggestion is…wafful?”

“Pfft…hahahaha—” they laugh as if it was the funniest joke they’d ever heard. It takes them a moment to regain composure. They catch their breath, “Stars..”

Success. “Alright, alright, how about….sunrise? Cause um— it's a new day after the bad ones?”

“I may not need it every time but maybe-I can ask how many sunrises it's been since the loops sometimes?”

“Of course”

“.....how many has it been?”

“Eight.”

“Eight.” they repeat softly. One day the number of sunrises it’d been since the loops will out number the number of loops. That day was a long way off but it was a start.

The two sit in silence for a bit til he feels them squirm a bit and realizes he still has them trapped in a hug and quickly releases them. “Ah! Sorry Sif!”

“S’okay, just lemme move into a more comfortable position.” They scoot so they’re beside him then lean against him.

He tries not to appear too flustered about the fact they are actively choosing to remain in very close physical contact. He was not expecting this though it is not unwelcome. They still hadn’t really talked about what exactly they were. Friends? Well obviously. Something more than that though? Maybe???? Now was hardly the time to bring it up though. Sif still needed time, and he was willing to wait as long as they needed him to.

He rests his arm around them. A safety net so they don’t fall again. “You can get some rest if you need to. I’ll take over keeping watch and if you have another nightmare I’ll be right here.”

They don’t protest this proposal and instead shift even more so they are practically laying on him. “Mmkay…” they say sleepily. They’re quiet for a long moment. Long enough he thinks they must have fallen asleep but then they say: “....thank you Isa.”

“Of course.” The two of them look out into the night sky. The stars were especially beautiful tonight. He watches as Siffrin lazily traces a pattern in the air between a few of them. Following their gaze he can just about make out a shape. Though he’s not sure of what.

“...it's a constellation. The little bear. You use their tail to find your way home…”

He starts to ask them what they mean but he realizes they have fallen asleep. Well. That’s okay. He looks out into the sky. It was no wonder Sif loved them so much. They were really quite pretty.

One day they’d talk about feelings and patterns and futures. But for now. There were stars.

Ok, so its probably a stretch to say this is Isatmonth prompt: Isabeau when I was already writing this before hand but hush Siffrin having nightmares post loops is a pretty common headcannon but I wanted to throw my hat in the ring so here we are. Huge props to Mos2.5 and Bethany from Isatcord for helping me workshop the keyword and to Nube for helping me with grammar. Commas my enemy....

[sinsandsweetness]

💿I think merle would commonly run off with his partner back in the atlanta days, saying they’re gonna go “hunt” but he just ends up shoving his partner against a tree and grinding up against them almost desperately

Congrats on the 1k T !

thank u bb <3

Leaves are crunching under your boots no matter how light you try to keep your footing. You’re not nearly as experienced as the two hunters you’ve been staying with. Well… sharing a tent with. Seeing as the world ended months ago and your apartment is more than likely a pile of dust and cement in the middle of the city.

With every crunch of a tree branch, the younger Dixon brother shoots you a death glare. Having warned you already several times to keep quiet. To shut the hell up. You’re trying. Really.

“Alright, that’s it,” Daryl finally speaks up, brows pulled together in a scowl, “we ain’t ever gonna catch anything with you bein’ so damn loud. I’m goin’ on my own. I’ll meet you two back at camp.” He stalks off in the other direction, trying to get as far from your inexperienced and uncoordinated limbs as possible.

“He’s just cranky cause he ain’t had a real breakfast in a few days. You’re doin’ just fine, sugar.” Merle pats you on the back, an attempt to comfort the involuntary, sheepish look you’ve got settling on your face.

“Besides,” Merle looks around the woods, in the direction that his brother ran off too. Deciding he’s out of earshot and you must be in the clear, “did us a favor gettin’ rid of him,” the hand on your shoulder doesn’t leave. Instead, he takes a few steps towards you. Pushing you til your back hits a tree with a quiet gasp.

His head dipping down to kiss below your ear before you even have time to process what’s going on.

“Merle,” you hiss, hands going to grip at his biceps regardless of the reluctance in your voice.

He hums an acknowledgment that he did in fact hear you. He just doesn’t have it in him to care.

“Merle we’re- fuck- we’re in the woods-“

“So? Ain’t nobody around but me and you, sweetheart.” His hands are on your waist now. Suggestion clear in his voice with a grin on his face.

It’s a lie. There’s a whole lot more out there than just you and him. His brother, the rest of your group, and not to mention those dead things walking around.

But even as that thought passes by, you can’t help but tip your head back at the feeling of him pressing up against you. Breathing out an apprehensive sigh as his knee nudges its way in between your legs and he continues to kiss his way up your jaw. One hand keeping you secured against the white oak, and the other one gliding around to the back of your neck, fingers tugging gently on your tresses.

His mouth finds yours and you’re quick to return the kiss. Tongue tracing over his own as you grab at his collar, pulling him even closer.

“Ten minutes,” you mumble against his lips, “that’s all you get.”

You can feel him smile against you, satisfied by his little victory. Already, the tent in his jeans is grinding against you. Desperately chasing any bit of friction against your own body, your legs instinctively parting to invite him in. The hand on your waist snakes its way between you to tug on the button of your jeans.

“Better get these off then, shall we?”

[dreaming-in-4d]

In the Moonlight - Minsc x Tav

Author's Note: I am not a gamer. I haven't played BG3. I have been watching a walkthrough so I know the story up to Cazador's defeat.

I fell in love with Minsc's character immediately. I'm a sucker for himbos. Minsc has this oblivious innocence that I want to maintain but also completely destroy.

Warning: contains brief nudity (like anyone who played the game actually cares)

It was nearly midnight when Minsc was stirred awake by his rumbling belly. He reached into his haversack and retrieved a portion of his rations; he passed off a small piece to Boo. While eating, he looked to see that Tav was missing from their bedroll. He looked around and couldn't see them anywhere else in the camp.

His diminutive companion scurried over to the empty roll and began sniffing about. Minsc took notice that most of Tav's effects remained. Where could they have gone? Were they kidnapped? Had the whole camp been affected by a silencing spell?

After examining the bare bed roll along with the space around it, Boo gave a powerful squeak. This signaled that the determined rodent had caught Tav's scent.

"Well done, my friend," Minsc spoke in praise.

Taking advantage of Boo's keen senses and his own skills as a ranger, the man tracked a path into the forest. Twisting and turning through the brush, Minsc followed Tav's trail until coming upon a clearing with a fresh watering hole at its center. Their were small waterfalls flowing down from a smooth rock formation.

A silhouette lied beneath the clear waters. Moments later, Tav's bare body broke the surface. The water went up to their waist. The wetness of their skin glistened in the moonlight. They ran their hands through their hair and puffed out their chest.

Minsc stood by and looked in awe. He had never seen anything so beautiful in all his years. Tav waded in the water towards a low-hanging branch where they had hung up their clothes. Minsc ducked behind a tree, hoping it was large enough to conceal his stature.

Tav had laid a small towel across a nearby boulder. They retrieved the piece of cloth, dried off their body, and dressed themselves.

"Are you planning on spending all night back there, sugar?"

Minsc flinched as he heard their voice, his face flushing bright red. It seems he had underestimated Tav's passive perception. He stepped out from his place of hiding, the skin on his cheeks, ears, and shoulders tinted in crimson.

"Minsc apologizes," the embarrassed male spoke, "Minsc saw that you had been missing from the camp and was afraid that you had been taken from us."

Tav gazed at Minsc with soft eyes, gave a light chuckle and said, "Well, I appreciate your concern."

Minsc felt his heart flutter. "Uh, but now Minsc can see that you were merely out for a late night swim."

"Yeah, I'd been having trouble sleeping so I decided to take a dip for a while."

"Minsc noticed...and you noticed Minsc." You laughed a little. "You--You're beautiful."

"Aww, that's so sweet of you." Tav gave him a little nudge; they were definitely teasing him.

"M-Minsc and his friend should return to camp," the flustered fellow suggested. Tav agreed and the pair made their way back to the others.

[kinderartifact4]

The assigned/reassigned species for a branch off of my TD Magic AU!

This specific AU is about a group of immortals that opened a woodland pocket dimension, and built a camp for those who have no where else to go, a sanctuary.

Humans are quite irrelevant in this AU, except Zoey, so anyone who was human in my main Magic AU has had their species changed. In fact, humans are quite horrible in this AU, hunting down anyone who is not like them.

Most of the characters species were kept the same though.

Anyways, here are the assigned species.

-

-

Camp Founders

The Immortals

Chris- Hije Demon

+He’s definitely a horrible influence on the younger children

Chef- Golem

+Used to be a Rock Tokë demon

+He wasn’t originally immortal

Blaineley- Neko

+She dresses kinda fancy for someone in the woods

Don- Satyr

Dhritil- Neko

+Camp Mage; he’s very skilled in a lot of magical practices, he’s had a lot of time to learn

+Helps the more magically attuned camp residents learn and practice magic

+He’s the second best with the kids

Kai- Shapeshifter

+Immortal by default, did not become immortal in the same way the others did; he’s technically dead, the dead can’t age

Aveni- Centaur

+Unicorn subspecies

+Camp medic

+She might be the last of her subspecies

+Alongside Dhritil, she’s one of the best with the kids, because she actually used to have a kid of her own

Ashrith- Angel

+Ash does not live at the camp anymore, but he does visit

+He lives in the same area as his brother’s descendants

Changed species; Gen 1

Alejandro- Demon

+Primarily Zjarr and Ajror

+De-Winged

+Presumed dead by his family and the entire demon kingdom

Sierra- Drider

+Widow Subspecies

DJ- Centaur

+Shire subspecies

Cody- Harpy

+Blue Jay Harpy

Heather- Akull Demon

+Akull Nobility, or she used to be

Courtney- Neko

+Learning non-magical medical stuff from Aveni

Leshawna- Zjarr Demon

Geoff- Satyr

Harold- Harpy

+Cardinal Harpy

+Didn’t get glasses until he arrived at the camp

Beth- Halfbreed

+Elf/Angel

Katie- Ujë Demon

+she knows sign language, she has to use it to communicate underwater

Changed species; Gen 2

Dakota- Elf

+Elven Nobility

+She does not live at the camp

Brick- Drider

+Redknee Tarantula

Lightning- Centaur

+Zebra subspecies

+He does not live at the camp

Staci- Mer

+She does not live at the camp

Mike- Neko

Changed species; Gen 3

Jasmine- Harpy

+Golden Eagle Harpy

Rodney- Centaur

+Clydesdale horse

+He does not live at the camp

Sugar- Naga

+She does not live at the camp

[ratinayellowbandana]

For the prompt thing if you’re still up for it: hoodie

Happy writing!!

please pretend I'm not answering this ask from september in december. I hope this is worth the wait. it might be the fluffiest thing I've written in years.

word count: ~1.5k

also on ao3

Imogen hadn’t expected to be at the barn so long. She was meant to be home two and a half hours ago, and the twist of guilt in her stomach is difficult to ignore. That and the pangs of a skipped dinner provide an altogether dreadful end to a dreadful day. 

The weather suddenly turned brisk after an unseasonable warm spell, and Imogen’s fingers are cold-bitten. The horses, most of whom she finds to be altogether well-behaved, were getting on her last nerve. Barring Leonard, naturally, who is always a bit spicer than the rest. The cranky old gelding is never really one for people. Imogen can’t blame him, either. The chill irritates his joints, though, and there’s only so much his grain supplements can do.

Imogen steered clear of him as best she could, leaving his care to one of the other stablehands.

The barn was busy today, flooded with children on school holiday and parents desperately needing them to get out of the house to burn off some energy. Let the sugar-fueled kids loose on someone else’s property and let someone else parent them for a while. Unfortunately, it made Imogen’s life harder each time she had to remind an ebullient child not to run around the horses while the parents chatted by the barn door, unwilling to dirty stroller wheels and designer slippers.

Imogen loves her job; she really does. She’s a barn manager at a property a few miles outside the nearest city. Far enough away that she can pretend she’s back home in Gelvaan and close enough to commute from her apartment. It’s a lesson barn offering day camps, event hosting, and boarding. It even has a small pond and arboretum that they decorate for the holidays. The evergreen branches fill with twinkling lights, and the sculpture garden is adorned with festive additions. 

Their walking path through the holiday decor attracts a decent crowd in the wintertime, and they get a relatively steady stream of tour groups. Imogen loves being able to teach the children about animal welfare. The looks on their round, city-raised faces as she leads a thousand-pound animal from its stall is priceless. Especially the little ones who look between her and Flora, her most unbothered mare, with awe and reverence. Those are Imogen’s favorites, the ones who want to be here so badly they would burst–Do you want to pet her nose?–if it wouldn’t frighten the animals.

She doesn’t even mind the toddlers who take fistfuls of mane in pudgy hands and squeal with joy–Yeah, honey, the horse does say ‘neigh!’–though she pleasantly reminds them to use their gentle hands. 

It’s the families who expect the world to bend to their every whim that have Imogen feeling just a bit murderous during what should be a joyous time of year. But those are the families who will pay by the hour for private lessons and board the ponies their children will visit once a month. They’re Master Faramore’s ideal clientele, which means they pay Imogen’s salary. So Imogen plays nice. 

She was supposed to have a relatively easy day, but one of her staff members called in sick, and another conveniently forgot to mention he would be out of town, so Imogen was left to pick up the slack. Normally, she wouldn’t really mind–these things happen, and she likes working with the horses, anyway–but with two days until their biggest publicity event of the year, she is being pulled in five directions at once. 

The Winter’s Crest Parade is huge for the stable. A few years back, Imogen finally convinced Faramore to let her test an initiative to fund riding lessons for kids who couldn’t afford them. A thing like that would’ve changed Imogen’s life growing up, and after months of begging and promising, no, it really wouldn’t cost him anything if they fundraised, Faramore agreed. The parade was a valuable opportunity to highlight the beneficiaries and promote the program. The stable trailered the most bomb-proof horses into the city along with the old red and white barouche and walked between the high school marching bands and scout troupes, waving at the crowd. 

The event attracted nearly forty thousand tourists last winter, and Imogen hopes this year will be the same. Preparation was well in hand. They’d pulled the cart out of the storage barn and cleaned it up last week. Today was supposed to be all-hands-on-deck oiling all of the tack.

Every time Imogen settled in with her sponge and her hair tied back, something came up. 

A haggard parent of a, in Imogen’s opinion, bratty ten-year-old attempting to lecture her about which pony her daughter wanted to ride for her lesson–

We assign the lesson horses based on skill level, ma’am–

The influx of visitors wandering the property– Please don’t climb the trees!

And the restless horses– Leonard! Don’t you dare bite at–

Imogen was bone-weary by the time the barn closed to the public, and the remaining staff went home for the night. She couldn’t bring herself to ask them to stay late so close to Winter’s Crest, and with the warning signs of a headache brewing on the horizon, isolating herself was doing everyone a favor, really. 

Her feet dragged her across the concrete floor and into the tack room, where she flopped onto a pile of saddle pads. She indulged seven minutes of self-pity and pre-grieving for the ache in her back before picking up her oil and cloth to condition the leather harness straps. Just one more, she promised herself a half dozen times until her fingers grew stiff, and she finally registered the time.

Which is how she finds herself climbing the narrow staircase to the apartment she shares with Laudna two and a half hours after she was due back. Laudna, from whom she had three missed texts when she finally remembered to check her phone.

Today, 6:08pm: Will you be home soon? I’ll start on supper, so it’ll be warm when you arrive.

Today, 6:54pm: I hope you don’t mind I ate without you. I wasn’t sure when you would be back. There’s a bowl keeping warm for you in the oven. [IMG_2136.JPG]

Today, 7:26pm: I hope everything’s all right. Let me know when you’re on the way?

Imogen responded immediately, lips tight with the guilt of making Laudna worry. 

Today, 8:32pm: Shit. I’m so sorry, Laud. Got caught up in work and didn’t notice the time. Be home soon.

She fumbles the key in the lock and winces at the noise in the quiet hallway. She removes her muddy work boots and leaves them on the shoe mat, careful not to dirty Laudna’s preferred pair of black flats. Pushing the door open, Imogen is greeted by the clean, piney smell of the candles Laudna likes to light in the evenings. Says it makes her feel like she’s out under the stars, even in the city. Imogen’s stomach growls at the lingering scent of whatever Laudna cooked wafting from the kitchen.

She can hear soft music playing from the living room. Setting her keys in the bowl in the entryway, she pads down the corridor until she can see the couch. A record spins on the vintage gramophone Laudna had found at an estate sale. Her face had lit up, and she talked the appraiser’s ear off until he’d given it to her at a substantial discount. Imogen had watched the encounter with pride and no small measure of adoration. 

Laudna is curled on the sofa, a novel fallen to the side. Perpetually chilly, she is bundled beneath two blankets and, Imogen notes with a fond smile, Imogen’s hoodie. The pale blue hood is drawn up to warm her ears. Her head is quirked at an awkward angle against the headrest, and Imogen knows she’ll have to move to the bed before long unless she wants to wake up sore. Laudna’s breath comes in slow puffs, sending a few loose strands of hair fluttering across her closed eyes. A mug of tea cools on the coffee table. 

Imogen steps closer and crouches near her head, careful not to startle her. 

“Hey,” she says softly, brushing strings of black and gray from Laudna’s sleep-smoothed face. Laudna stirs. “Im’gen?”

“It’s me. ‘M so sorry I’m so late; I got stuck at the barn.”

Laudna hums. “Did you eat?”

“Not yet.”

Laudna’s brow furrows. “Imogen,” she scolds halfheartedly, voice still hushed and creaky with sleep, “There’s food in the oven.” 

“Thank you, darlin’.” Imogen presses a kiss to Laudna’s forehead and cherishes the way her nose scrunches as she burrows deeper into her blankets. 

“Join me when you’re done?”

“I’d love nothing more.” 

[thedelicatearcher]

LUCY GRAY GOING CAMPING WITH LIKE NON OUTDOORY READER

She like makes her own bug spray and shit for reader and like makes sure they're comfortable and shit 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

OH SPARK I LOVE THIS

going camping with lucy gray <3

the first time lucy gray takes you to the woods, you are not prepared for it. deeply in love with the covey girl, you eagerly accepted when she invited you to camp in the woods.

she always talks about how it's her favorite place, the one place where she feels free to be herself. it’s where she can go into the lake and swim her worries away, where she can play her guitar and sing the vulnerable songs she doesn't dare to sing at the hob

when you opened your front door to leave, she was already there, ready to go. she grabbed your hand and led you to her favorite place, a bag full of her stuff and necessities on her arm.

you could make a list of all the mistakes you inadvertently made, the first one being that you didn't dress appropriately. you wore shorts and a sleeveless shirt on a cool afternoon, mosquitoes gluttonously attacking your exposed skin as you walked together through the forest. your skin itches and goosebumps cover your body.

your girlfriend, being the outdoorsy and prepared woman she is, pulled out her homemade bug spray. "sorry darlin', should've sprayed you before coming, but your pretty self distracted me," she said as she sprayed your exposed skin. "let me know if it keeps itching so i can take care of you, yeah?" she added, her eyes filled with concern, before you nodded and gave her a reassuring kiss.

"you cold too, hun?" she asked after noticing the goosebumps on your skin, quickly taking off her cardigan and offering to you. “don’t you dare say no, you know you need it,” she insisted. noticing the worried look on your face and your reluctance, she quickly reassured you “i’m not made of sugar. i’m used to the cold.”

after twenty minutes of walking, you arrived at the lake. your second mistake was wearing those pretty flats you had bought, adorned with little brown beads the same color as lucy gray's eyes, hoping to impress her. however, the ache in your feet disappeared as soon as you saw the beautiful landscape before you. a vast pond of clear blue water dominated the scene. it was obvious not many people knew about the lake, being a secluded place far from the town.  surrounding it, there was a beautiful meadow, the grass peppered with herbs and blooming flowers, making it an ideal spot for camping. 

she insisted on setting up the camping tent first, so you could swim for a long time without worrying about the sun setting and leaving you in complete darkness with no shelter. your third mistake? a lack of building skills. it wasn’t a complicated task, simply placing large sticks strategically to form the right structure and then draping them with the large fabric. 

she assigned you the duty of clearing the terrain, moving big stones and branches to make space for the blanket that would serve as the floor of your tent. not used to being outdoors, every time you picked up a branch, your heart skipped a beat whenever a bug came dangerously close to your fingers. your hands ended up coated with dirt, and, not knowing what else to do, you wiped them on the nearest cloth you found. “darlin’!” she scolded you, giggling at your antics, “those are for the tent.” 

she spread the large blanket on the grass, and then it was time to position the big sticks. “be careful, sweetheart,” you warned her as you held the sticks in place, “don’t feel like being banged on the head with a metal stick today.” she let out a loud laugh as she positioned the poles, your sense of humor being a big reason why she agreed to go out with you. 

after placing a last metal stick in the middle to act as a spine and covering them with the fabric, the tent was ready. you put your things inside, then came out and undressed until you were in your underwear, planning to swim in it. “let’s go, darlin’,” she grabbed your hand and you both ran to the lake, taking a dive from the small wooden dock.

you spent the rest of the day swimming, alternating between racing each other, playing mermaids, or simply floating, with only your voices and the chirping of birds filling the air. after hours in the water, you finally admitted you were getting tired and headed back to the meadow, with lucy gray following behind. her stomach grumbled, and she pulled two sandwiches from her bag. you ate together, enjoying each other’s company, your heart fluttered at her bright smile when she laughed at your jokes. 

soft rain began to fall, so you took shelter in the small tent, cuddling up to fit inside. as she was the big spoon, with her chin on your shoulder and her arms around you, she could feel the fast beating of your heart. “you scared, hun?” she asked softly, ready to provide any comfort you needed. “no, just have a pretty girl with me,” you replied, turning to smile at her and give her a sweet kiss on the cheek before turning back and closing your eyes. drifting off, you felt comfortable; the unknown outdoors were scary, but you felt safe next to her.

[ghostherlig]

gothic western drabble 2

they won't leave me alone- so here's another bit of them being silly with each other <33 ft old western slang and phrases bc i forgot how much i love old timey phrases

The marksman just wanted to rest after all that transpired.

Doing anything with Johnny was exhausting, but travelling followed by fighting, followed again by travelling, and then setting up camp was beyond exhausting with Johnny.

"Wanna snort?" The actor smiled, his usual charm cranked up to a hundred now that Kenshi was tired beyond belief. Despite the canteen held out in a more than friendly hand, Kenshi raised a brow at him, as if Johnny had been speaking in tongues.

"What?" He breathed, Johnny chuckling at his confusion.

"Sorry, sugar, do you want a drink?" He corrected, and Kenshi pursed his lips as he snatched the canteen, Johnny hissing another laugh.

Kenshi took a swig, sighing in relief and dumping some of the water over his head, the heat of the afternoon still lingering into the evening.

"You act like I was tryin' to clean your plow," The actor rolled his eyes, the marksman tempted to throw water at him. Instead, he rolled his eyes in return, Johnny laughing.

"I don't even know what you're saying to me half the time," Kenshi grumbled, taking another swig of water, sighing and letting his head fall back against the tree.

His eyes had fallen shut, letting himself cool off. Despite his closed eyes and tense demeanor, Johnny still stepped in front of what little sun was left of the day, Kenshi peeking an eye open.

"Now you know how I feel when you grumble to yourself in Japanese, Takahashi." Johnny teased, pinching the tip of Kenshi's nose, the marksman making a noise of discontent and slapping his hand away, pushing himself up to stand.

"Don't start with that, Carlton," Kenshi warned, and Johnny put his hands on his hips, looking behind him at some imaginary audience while pointing to Kenshi.

"And here I thought he wouldn't care a continental," He joked, the marksman groaning at his antics, tossing the canteen back into his chest once he had screwed it shut.

"What's so difficult about speaking normally to me?" Kenshi sighed, exasperated with Johnny's words.

"I am speaking to you normally! Well, normally for here, anyway," He amended, and Kenshi sighed.

"私がこれまでに下したあらゆる決断が、私をあなたへと導いたのです。" He complained, throwing his hands up in the air before reaching up to grab his hat from where he had placed it on a branch.

"Well, you sound dreadful pretty like that, darlin'," Johnny smirked, trailing right behind the marksman, Kenshi flushing at the obvious staring Johnny was doing below his belt, "Fine as cream gravy." The actor mumbled, and Kenshi was tempted to turn around and slap him.

"Quit staring at my ass." The marksman spoke instead, clear and concise, and he heard the footsteps stop behind him.

Kenshi turned, Johnny looking like he was struck by lightning, face flushed and mouth hung open.

The marksman took his opportunity to get Johnny back just a little bit more, taking a step forward. One hand landed on Johnny's waist, the other palm up, Kenshi's fingers extended to close Johnny's mouth.

"You'll catch flies, darlin'," Kenshi mimicked Johnny's accent, the actor blinking like he'd just been struck.

The marksman's hands retreated, giving Johnny a pat on the shoulder and an annoyed smile before he continued back to his tent, Johnny sputtering and chasing after him again.

Maybe travelling with the actor wasn't so bad.

(the japanese was done using a translator (linked bc i think it works better than google does), but it's supposed to say "Every decision I've ever made led me to you, you absolute moron."

also, the phrase "clean your plow" means to beat somebody up, and "fine as cream gravy" just means "very good" or "top notch")

[saedii-gilwraeth-simp]

Okay but it seems my AC hyperfixation is Jericho+Corae, who are a fucking side couple that don't really matter all things considered but I think about too much. so idk have this thing that has been bouncing around my head like a damn pinball while I have been in my sad girl feels this week

TW: Kinda NSFW, but not graphic

Also, I make the rules so Jericho lives, fuck it

~~

~Jericho~

The night is cool around him when he finally finds Corae. She sits against the trunk of the giant lias in the meadow just outside camp, knees to her chest. Her silver hair is shining in the places where Evaa's light peeks between the leaves, the only reason he could spot her there.

He ducks under the low-hanging branches to come and sit beside her, close enough to feel her body heat, but far enough that he doesn't touch her. She doesn't speak to him and eventually he decides to get it over with.

"Corae, I'm sorry," he says, and she glances at him from the corner of her eye.

"You don't have any reason to be sorry," she answers, "I had no right to be upset with you for wanting to go home," she turns her eyes away from him and he feels it like a shot to the chest.

"Corae," he whispers and she turns to look at him again. He can't read the emotion on her face, but her eyes are some mixture of sadness, anger and disappointment. The same things he feels when he thinks of leaving her. He takes her hand from where it sits on her knee. "You know I have to go," she nods, a grim smile appearing on her face.

"I know. I understand." And that's the problem, isn't it? She understands, better than anyone he had ever met. She understands all of him, the duty and the honour and the selfish part of him that yearns for her more and more as he's learnt all of her too. The part of him that could stay under this tree with her for forever.

He reaches a hand over and traces the curve of her jaw, the scar hidden in the shadows, the dimples in her smile. He looks over her face, trying to memorise every inch.

Finally, with an overwhelming feeling that tonight be the last chance he'll ever get to do so, he leans in and kisses her. She makes a tiny surprised sound against his lips and he feels the same way.

This is their first kiss, and he kicks himself for not having changed that sooner. Corae's lips are soft, so soft, as they press back against his and make him feel like he is simultaneously floating and being lit on fire at the same time. She smells like flowers, and tastes like the warm sugar of kirraviis. Her silver hair falls in a curtain around them as he tilts her head so he can kiss her deeper.

Her tongue presses against his and he doesn't hesitate to allow her to explore further as she grips his shirt in one hand and presses closer to him.

"Corae," he whispers as they break the kiss to breathe finally. He rests his forehead against her own and watches her as her eyes finally flutter open again. "Corae, I love you," he admits, unable to squash the words down any longer. She smiles at that, somewhere between joy and sadness.

"My answer will only make it harder for you to leave tomorrow, Jericho," she replies and he knows what she wants to say and he knows she is right.

"Tell me anyway, so I know that this was real, even after I'm gone," she watches him for a beat.

"I love you, Jericho Jones," she finally says and his heart beats fast and heavy in his chest as she kisses him again.

Neither of them says much of anything after, but they kiss, and their hands are gentle as they map each other.

And dammit, he knows that it will hurt like hell to leave, but he wants them to have no regrets. Corae seems to be thinking the same thing, and pulls him with her as she lays back in the grass, letting his lips move to her jaw and neck and his hand to her legs, pulling the hem of her dress higher as her hands reach for his belt.

What comes next is slow, both of them trying to hold on to this for as long as they can. He holds her tight as he presses into her, and her hands cling to the back of his shirt, her legs wrapping around his. Her head tips back into the grass as he thrusts into her and he buries his face in her neck, breathing her in and trying to memorise every iota of how Corae looks and feels in this moment.

How her breath stutters right before she comes, her torso bowing under his hands as she clenches around him. It's so unexpected that he can't do anything but follow her down, stars whiting his vision and his hips thrusting messily into hers.

The can only breath in the silence of the night after. He can't bring himself to move, to part them, and Corae doesn't move either, her hands pressing into his back, her legs tangled with his. She turns her head to press her lips into his hair, and his face presses to the silky material of the sleeve of her dress.

His mind races, thoughts of what they could be. He thinks of a life for them, a home and a wedding and maybe a few babies they could raise together. Of having a thousand more nights curled into her like this.

And then he remembers that their people are at war and that he has to leave her tomorrow.

His throat tightens and his eyes cloud and he can do nothing but cling to her tighter. She wraps her arms around him, and the hand she runs into his hair tells him that she knows, she knows.

They lay together, awake, until the sky lightens with the dawn and he has to leave her.

~

~ Corae, 21 years later~

The dawn cracks through the curtains of their bedroom and Corae scrunches her eyes shut tighter against the sharp sun rays, turning over so she can fight for another few minutes of sleep.

Her face presses between the bare shoulder blades of her husband, who she feels start a little with the feeling of her rolling into him.

After a second, he rolls over and wraps around her, kissing her shoulder.

"Mornin', Cor," Jericho whispers into her shoulder. She grunts in response and he chuckles a little, before pulling his arms back. "Coffee?" Jericho asks and she nods, perking up a little at the thought of the Terran drink of which she had became a bit of a fan.

She had pulled herself into a seated position in their bed by the time he came back, passing her a mug of black coffee. He kisses her cheek and sits on his side of the bed and sipping his tea.

"Thank you, love," she says and takes a sip.

"Well I waited 20 years to marry you, I can't have you ready to divorce me less than a year in," he grins and winks at her.

Corae shakes her head and kisses his cheek.

"Oh, so I should give it two years then?" He laughs at that.

"Oh, no, Ciriltari, you're stuck with me now," he goads, making her raise her eyebrow at him.

"Jones," she corrects and he blinks at her, before putting his mug down and taking hers to put on the bedside table.

Corae giggles a little as he lifts her to sit on his lap. He kisses her lips and then the scar on her jaw and then her neck, before pulling her sleep shirt off her and running his hands along her bare waist.

"You're right, it is Jones, however will I make it up to you for making such a grave mistake?" Corae grins, flashing her dimples and wrapping her arms around her husband's shoulders.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of an appropriate form of apology, won't you?" Jericho smirks.

"Oh, I have one in mind that I think you'll find particularly penitent," he says, before rolling her into the sheets and capturing her laugh with his lips on hers.

~~

Tyler actually got his dimples from his mum, and you will never convince me otherwise.

[balcon1es]

Casey Jr.'s first word was ‘Weo.’ 

His second was ‘Cashee’ or ‘Raff’ or ‘Bifurcated Time Branch’—depending on who you asked.

At 36 months old he was their tiny poet. The Kraang was rearing its head, its mouth still smoking from the detonating hockey puck when Cassandra tucked his leg back into the fold of her baby wrap, unsheathed her stick's retractable blade, and asked, "What shall we do to the big bad annoying Kraang?" and out came his first, fully-formed sentence.

"TAKE ITS BRAINS!"

Donnie said, "What."

Leo said, "What."

Raph said, "NO?" and Cassandra said, "Yucky—but sure." 

SCHLICK went the Kraang. Mikey added, "that's what you call a butterfly cut, kiddo—what did you just say?" 

Casey howled, "TAKE ITS BRAINS."

No alien brains were taken (though Donnie would've liked to, very much). But Casey had a knack for putting the soul of the thing into words.

The first day they'd run out of sugar, he passed around flat stones he'd plucked from a river and declared, "DESSERT!"

Mikey sniffed at it. "What kind is it?" he asked, not unkind.

"A cuppycake." 

"Ah, a cupcake?"

Donnie—dismally unfunny after they'd officially ran out of coffee rations, and then cigarettes—scoffed. "What would you know about dessert. Do you even know how frosting tastes like?" and Casey pointed at a passing cloud, then pretended his heart burst into tiny, lovestruck pieces. 

"Like BWAH," Casey said, giddy.

Later, he'd fish the truth out of the air again; the last time Leo and Raph fought like this they'd been teenagers. Not imposing figureheads of a rebel group. Teary-eyed, Casey chased after Leo all the way out of the camp, wrapped his arms tight around Leo's knee, and dug his feet in.

“You need to come back and, and, and hug each other real tight or else—! Or else your arms will forget forever."

"Forever." Leo touched his throat; it hurt from all the yelling. 

Casey's lower lip wobbled. "And ever."

Kid was right again, of course. The days rolled into weeks, into seasons, into the Year We Don't Like to Talk About, and his arms had forgotten; he'd dropped the hug on the way here, maybe, got distracted by some ugly three-headed Kraang and tripped on a punchline, and Raph was gone in the morning. No one there for the final sendoff.

Casey didn't get the concept. At six years old, the kid could perform triple axels around any fresh recruit, but he still couldn't sort out his tenses. Said "I eated!" or "I beated your ass, sensei!"; his past and present verbs tangling like fishing lines.

Kid had a point, Leo thought. What was the difference anyway? Leo missed Raph. Misses Raph. Is missing Raph. Will miss Raph, for the rest of his days, in perplexing ways that will continue to surprise him, like the sunrise outside the canyon. How it rose and rose and rose and rose.

Halfway up the ascent, Leo's knees buckled. Hadn't the future dissolved in that instant? Ten years, he'd promised Mikey. This time we play for keeps. Still: the end of the world, ecosystem degradation, no brother to haunt him; dystopia after dystopia. Something inside him was blackening. 

"Had a bad dream," Leo said, shivering as the kid grabbed his cheeks.

Casey said, “Well, have a better one!” 

prev | read on ao3

[alienaiver]

Who do you ship me with? (Don't automatically pick my favorites, please 😋) You can choose fandoms I don't know yet too.

ill go for some different fandoms !!!!

in bnha im going with......

sato rikido! i think your lovely nature would compliment his as well; and i bet he would do his absolute best to find alternative ways to bake something without sugar or any other ingredients so that you'd be able to ingest snd enjoy his baking!! he would loooove to try and bake tons of things. some of them would end up disappointing for you both, but he loves how you always find anything, even the tiniest thing to compliment; like the crust, or the consistency of the batter!!! he'd love date nights with cuddles and movies about the big questions of life with happy endings but that makes both of you sniffle a little during the sad parts. he'd be very flustered when you met his parents, and even tho its HIS own parents, you'd end up speaking for both of you during the dinner because hes just such a smiley, nervous wreck who nods and stutters !!!

for haikyuu.... that was a tough one solely because of all the lovely options! 👀 but i have to go with fukunaga shouhei !!! 🥺 he'd end up wooeing you with his dry but perfectly delivered jokes and nicely personal pick-up lines. he'd spend a long time making them personalized to impress you! in the beginning theyre a bit hit or miss, sometimes even accidentally insulting. but he ALWAYS makes up for it with a little silly choreographed dance and your favorite drink from the convenience store !!! its very precious and silly, and he completely fell for you when you delivered a witty pun to one of his jokes during a training camp. he was heart eyes for a while in secret (everyone on the team knew) before he decided to give it his shot!!!

im also assigning you a d. gray man husband !!!

this wasnt too hard actually, bcos i think youd make a really adorable pair! im pulling bak chang along, and he'd be a stumbling, stuttering mess introducing himself to you. he doesnt completely trust me that ive told only good things about him to you, because hes a silly goose with various (lazy) morales even tho he has such a high position. tho fret not, when needed he is a good branch chief!!

his dates are a little bit chaotic as he tries to woo you because of the nature of his job, but he never skips on any of the romantic tidbits! theyre just sometimes cut short. after he's successfully (at least he hopes theyve been grand enough to impress you) he spends a lot of time finding you secret hiding spots where he can just. be himself, comfortable and relaxed around you, talking about anything and nothing in particular. hes never had a normal childhood or youth or big experiences outside of the branch, so he enjoys listening to your story from the outside world and what mischief you mightve done as a kid. its a lovely change of pace for the both of you, and you love seeing this relaxed side of him, that he only shows you!!! hes not big on taking care of himself, but he will always make sure youre well fed, well rested and comfortable 🧡 (he even skips work if youre sick to take care of u!!! but he kidnaps you LMAO from the sick ward because otherwise won would find him there and drag him back to work 🤡)

[mutasmutosarchive]

in the summer breeze

janAUary : role swap

pairing : final boy!walker x slasher!mavis

word count : 997

tags : @eternally-smitten , @bioexorcizm , @felixrichtershubby , @sugar-and-pearls (let me know if you want to be tagged in the future!)

Walker knew that he shouldn't be doing this, some little part of his brain told him that he should have been inherently repulsed but as his legs carried him through the forest underbrush. The summer heat was a lot, a light layer of sweat coated his tan skin as he walked away from camp. The chatter and bustling life slowly was swallowed out by the forest as he made his way. He didn’t get much time to slip away in the day as there was always something to do between looking after renters or just general maintenance of the place he worked. But moments like these were always nice for him. It sent a shiver up his spine with excitement as he lurked forward in the woods.

His jeans brushed against the brambles and briars as he walked, long legs carrying him forward as he moved into the heart of the forest. The birds chirped and the movement of small creatures scuffling about provided the much needed reprieve from the loud noise of other people. He brushed a hand through dark blonde hair as he walked, his cowboy hat slightly pushing up before there was a snap of branch that had him stop. He felt a crawling feeling creep up the back of his neck, his hair standing on in. His body froze in its spot as his breath hitched before a warm breath fanned out against the back of his neck. “Lost little rattler?” A soothing voice ran in his ears that left a delighted shiver run down his spine. Walker couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his face, his dimples popping as he slowly turned to face the deer skull masked individual. They stood just as tall as him, a little bit taller in those boots that they wore beneath the clothing. It was clear that even them had swapped out the winter and early spring furs for something more breathable. He could smell some of the blood on the clothes, he wasn’t sure if it was human or animal but with the way it seemed smeared against the handle of the ax at her hip, it was most likely the first option. There was a sweet giggle that had him weak in the knees. A wrapped hand moved to push the mask up a little bit as the figure leaned in. Chapped lips met his in a light kiss, the taste of raspberries washed over them as the figure pulled away but not enough to have a gap between them. He knew he shouldn’t be here with her. He had seen what she was capable of but the tug towards her was irresistible. She had never laid a hand on him or any of the other workers, in fact seemed like some other earthly entity that prowled around the lake and cabins. He remembers when he first ran into her. Blood splattering heavy clothing as a rusty ax was roughly slammed into the chest of the attacker a couple of summers ago. An unlikely savior that had no issues with the way blood coated their body or clothing. The way that haunting deer mask had turned to him before he passed out only to wake up in the back in the main lodge with that masked savior and the campground owners. Things changed so quickly, the owners offering him a permanent place to stay on grounds and manager position. The owners explained the purpose of the creature or maybe woman, he still wasn’t totally sure if she was something non human or not, was a protector. That she had taken a liking to him. They had entrusted him to stay and keep anyone else unaware of the hunter. It wasn’t hard. He had been the only one to survive that dreadful night thanks to the hunter, the deer masked individual coming in the dark of nights or days where no other soul could see her to visit the man.Those chapped lips weren’t the first time he had felt them but they felt as good as the first time. Murky blue eyes had opened as he looked at the mask and how it had been slightly lifted. He reached out, his hands reaching out to lift that mask off. He rarely got to see her without it, only times ever being when he had shared a bed with her. That was only recently and he couldn’t get enough as he saw those dark hazel eyes as they stared back at him.

Walker held that mask as he looked at her. Pale skin that had darkish scars that fluttered over her hips like a bobcat had taken a shot at her face. Dark bags under her eyes that only made those hazel eyes pop as they blinked idly at her. Walker took in a deep breath as he looked at the hunter in the natural beauty they possessed. He didn’t know where he had gotten lucky in life to marvel at someone like her.

“Hey there, doe.” He spoke. His southern accent twisted in the air that made a lopsided grin come to the hunter’s lips as she looked at him.

Walker felt like his heart and practically collapsed in on itself as he saw that grin. The way those lips pulled against her teeth, the sharp canines that had left marks that he wouldn’t ever want to replace. It was like the sun, so warm and welcoming but could be so bad for you with too much exposure but he didn’t care.

He knew it was wrong, the rational part of his brain knew it was wrong to love a monster like them but he loved her. He knew that he did as he leaned back in to kiss her in that small sun warmed thicket enjoying that moment of peace. She may have been beautiful but she was deadly, just like the forest itself, something that Walker had come to love dearly.

[takami-takami]

MUSIC POSTING AGAIN but I just FINALLY listened to Hot Sugar's most recent album and I have to scream about the direction he's taking things. So so so so so happy to see him branching off like this. I've been listening to Hot Sugar since I was in high school and his music is criminally underrated.

Anyway stream Hot Sugar, here's one of my favorite songs of his. His music is so fucking good. Go listen to it with the best headphones you got.

[angrybutpolite]

About the ineffable coffee

While we are on the topic of annoying coffee debates. People seem divided into two camps: NOTHING or EVERYTHING. We are in the world of shades of grey, black and white makes us lose focus. There are multiple facets to this extremely important debate. 

*cracks knuckles*

So let's talk alternative interpretations, nuances and symbolism, shall we?

(I have jumped down every rabbit hole I could find and even dug some new ones. My google search history is seriously messed up right now).

The coffee… 

MEANS NOTHING (Occam’s razor, right?)

The coffee means nothing, it’s just filling, Metatron needs something to talk about. He could just as well have been talking about bath salts (but that would have been weird). 

My verdict: Not likely, considering all the time that is spent in the episode on Metatron acquiring and talking about the damn coffee. Time is precious in film and TV, and nothing, absolutely nothing, is superfluous in Neil’s world.  

RED HERRING

The coffee is just coffee, but Neil is trying to distract us from something else. 

My verdict: Likely. 

SYMBOLISM

The coffee is just coffee, but Neil is showing us that Metatron is manipulating Aziraphale and asking us to pay attention. 

My verdict: Less likely. (Don’t get me wrong, I think that Metatron is meddling big time, but I doubt that Neil would be using the coffee to tell us that)

MUNDANE MANIPULATION 

The coffee is just coffee, and its purpose is manipulation. Metatron is manipulating Aziraphale via gift giving. There is a whole branch of psychology that centres around how we can manipulate others this way. 

You should read this magnificent analysis of Metatron’s step-by-step manipulation here. 

My verdict: Extremely likely. It fits Metatron’s persona and bias to a tee. Metatron thinks other beings are simple and easy to predict. 

THE COFFEE IS SPIKED

The coffee contains something that is supposed to make Aziraphale more malleable and easier to persuade. 

Clues: 

The coffee is front and centre in this part of the episode.

The coffee content is described several times.

The coffee cup features in the intro.  

There’s flagrant inconsistency: 

33:16: Metatron’s order to Nina: “A large oat milk latte with a dash of almond sirup”

35:36: Metatron’s description of the coffee two minutes later: “(...) oat milk latte with a hefty jiggle of almond syrup.” 

At 35:53 we are reminded that angels are not immune to drugs when Metatron says: “I have ingested things in my time, you know.” There are multiple interpretations of this one: 

Metatron knows first-hand that celestial beings can be under the influence.

Neil is reminding us that unexpected things happens when celestial beings ingest mundane food and drink.

Metatron consumes things/beings if he pleases. (“I will eat you if you don’t play nice”) 

Metatron is playing Azi by relating to him (see manipulation link above)

Elements of the spiked-coffee-theory: 

Coffee

Coffee has little/no biblical symbolism.* 

*Huh. There is apparently an entire academic debate about whether or not coffee is indirectly mentioned in the bible, but for my own sanity, I’m just saying it is hardly, if ever, mentioned. Besides, Crowley chugs it like it’s water, so that’s an argument against any mystical properties.

Oat milk

Oat milk does not exist in the bible (lol), but grains do. Grains, particularly wheat, are heavily burdened with symbolism. Key words: god’s favour and grace, devotion, obedience, death of the ego, pursuit of salvation, rebirth and… resurrection.  

Almond syrup - the holy version

Almonds are also heavily steeped in biblical symbolism - they signify divine favour, the holy virgin and purity.

That’s the celestial drink - mocktail if you will. However, there’s another alternative: 

Almond syrup - spy version

Another interpretation of the almond syrup is of course cyanide, which is sometimes described as having a smell of bitter almonds. That would explain the suddenly hefty doses of sugar in the coffee to mask the bitterness. This also ties in with all the Clues and the spy references. I’ll even dig the rabbit hole a bit deeper and observe that Metatron, whilst in the queue, seems to be chewing on something. Cyanide capsules had a hard casing, f.ex glass. They needed to be cracked for the poison to be released.  

Why cyanide? Well, episode three shows us that unexpected things happen when celestial beings ingest chemicals. Laudanum, that drugs or even kills humans, gets them high instead. Cyanide could possibly do something else? 

...anyway

Accoding to the theory, this cocktail of poison and/or holy favour, ego death and purity, possibly seasoned with Metatron’s own “miracle” (No! Not that! Bah!),

...drugs Aziraphale into following Metatron’s orders. 

Arguments against the spiked coffee: 

Aziraphale has spent almost his entire long lifetime - several millennia - falling in love with Crowley and out of love with heaven. Distancing himself from celestial actions and propaganda. Would three sips of spiked coffee undo this?

Even when Crowley is high as a kite on an entire flask of laudanum, he is still cognizant and makes seemingly rational actions (well, ish). 

Metatron tells us that he knows what happens when celestial beings ingest food and drink. Why admit openly that he is trying to drug Azi? (TBF, that could be his supreme ego showing)

If you buy into the idea that Megatron has been meddling throughout the season (ref. The Epic Essay - read it if you haven't), it nullifies the rest of it. Why bother, if Metatron can just drug him?

It's a CHEAP quick-fix with little/no setup. Metatron could have just showed up with that coffee two minutes after the miracle alarm went off in heaven. Season 2 would have been a one-episoder.

My verdict: The spiked-coffee-theory is not likely, because it is so damned obvious. Neil is shoving the coffee mug in our faces. There is manipulation, but it is most likely the good, old-fashioned psychological one. 

CONCLUSION

I am leaning towards the coffee mug just containing coffee. (And Metatron being a manipulative AH). Neil is doing some prestidigitation of his own. At best, the coffee theory only works if it’s a component of Metatron’s meddling. It does not have enough legs to stand on.

Final comments: 

With regards to the inconsistency, I think that ties in with Metatron’s meddling. Neil is showing us that Metatron is a sloppy storyteller and does not pay attention to details. 

Oh, and also, the coffee distracts us from the fact that we do not know everything that Metatron and Azi talked about - coffee or death - read more about that here. 

But, what do you think? That’s more interesting than what I think, anyway.