#and they said peaches grow on trees...

[qpiiee]

in winter you always want something hot to warm you up, for example...

[nexus-nebulae]

fuck yes i got my island up to 3 stars two hours before saturday KKS COMIN HERE TOMORROW BAYBEEEEE

[hairyjocktf]

As a small twenty year old in college, I just wish I could get the peace and quiet of the outdoors. Can you make me a big hairy lumberjack?

You woke up this morning to the blaring of your alarm. Monday always felt way too early. After grabbing your phone and silencing it you rolled out of bed with a resounding thud. You were so tired of the hustle and bustle of school and work and life in general, it was just never ending. With a huff you dragged yourself into the bathroom, passing your reflection in the mirror. You stopped for a second, gazing over your thin body, wishing it could be something more. There was no time to dwell on those thoughts though, and you turned on the water and hopped into the shower. Hot water cascading over you, you reached for the new body wash you’d just bought. ‘Man Wash: Cedar & Pine Scent’ it said, something the other day had compelled you to try that over the normal wash you usually got. You lathered up, the scent of trees filling the shower. There was something relaxing about that somehow, and you stood there lost in it for a moment before rinsing. It was a 3-in-1 with face wash, so you figured you might as well use it there too. That gave you a hefty dose of that cedar scent directly by your nose. 

You realized it’d already been ten minutes and hastily switched off the water, stepping out of the steamy cocoon before grabbing your towel to dry. The mirror in front of you was entirely fogged up as you slipped the towel around and around, but as it cleared something caught your eye. Holding the towel loosely around your waist you stepped closer to the glass, staring at your reflection as it became more visible. It looked like there was something dark on your face. You bent over the counter to get a closer look, staring at what looked like dirt smeared across your upper lip. You wiped the condensation off the mirror and leaned in even closer. It was hair, soft but dark hairs had suddenly sprouted across your upper lip and it looked like on your chin too. You tilted your head around to make sure but it really did seem like they’d just sprouted suddenly. Then your jaw dropped.

As you stared at your reflection you could see thick brown hairs popping out along your jaw, spreading from your chin outwards. The hairs pushed out quickly, climbing up your cheeks engulfing the peach fuzz that was there before. Your wispy mustache thickened up as thicker, darker hairs sprouted between older soft ones, spreading and connecting with the rest of your burgeoning beard. Hairs poured out of your face, itching as follicles were pushed into overdrive cranking out a thick rug across your cheeks. The hairs grew thicker and wirier, tangling together into a solid mass pushing out. It quickly passed an inch long, then two, then three. Your face had vanished entirely behind a curtain of masculinity, and you could feel the itch of new hairs popping out on your neck as it worked down. In shock, you raised your hands and thrust your fingers deep into the beard, scratching at the hairy mass that had appeared within seconds.

You didn’t have time to admire this feat, as moments later you suddenly bowled over, feeling like you’d been kicked in the stomach. You collapsed onto your ass on the bathroom tile, looking down at yourself. Your belly began to grow, pushing out. Your eyes went wide as it hardened with muscle, it wasn’t abs but it showed real strength. You felt the gut, your fingers prodding the layer of thick hard muscle underneath a slight bit of fat. The intense soreness that underlaid your new musclegut spread up, and you watched as your chest pressed out into thick pecs. The mounds pushed and tightened into refined muscle, before softening slightly into huge pillows adorning your chest. Your traps sprang next, putting on size, followed by your shoulders as they puffed into serious boulders. You could feel muscles bulking up all over, the soreness gradually replaced by ecstasy as your body exploded with mass. Your back widened, your arms grew into full-on gun shows, hands thickening to match, your quads and calves doubled in size, even your ass plumped up. It felt like your back was cracking on repeat as it stretched upward, your legs pushing out equally to add another three inches to your height. Not to be outdone, your feet popped as they grew another few sizes.

You laid there, back against the wall, panting from the intense growth. Though it happened in front of your eyes you could scarcely believe it as you squeezed your huge muscle tits in your hands. Sweat was pouring down your huge frame, muscles fatigued severely from inflating so much. That was when the itch returned. Starting in the center of your chest, you looked down to see a thick dark hair push through the skin. You reached up to grab it, feeling the coarse strand between your fingers as you feel more pushing up against the rest of your hand. What started as a few hairs quickly grew into a patch, spreading out as more hairs cropped up over your luscious pecs. A wave of stubble pressed out over the expanse of muscle, shoots of dark hairs elongating into thick strands that gained some curl as they grew. Within seconds your chest was buried in a continuously growing rug, new curls and swirls developing as more hairs grew in.  The itch crept outward from your chest, bringing with it a tidal wave of growth. Your collarbone vanished beneath the carpet as wiry strands connected up to your beard. Your shoulders itched from the fur coating taking root, your traps similarly felt the growth. Your bulging biceps and triceps got their own dusting, and your thick forearms became the site of the most luxurious forest of hair, thick strands popping up across the backs of your hands and knuckles.

The feeling of fur erupting across your body was electric, the uncomfortable aspects of itching drowned out by surges of pleasure. Your pits were next to feel it, an increase in sweat leading the way for the blossoming of what were surely to be the most masculine pits around. The bare skin tingled as thick, wiry hairs burst forth, quickly growing into a dense tuft to catch all the sweat dripping down. The hairs tangled together, spreading out over a wider and wider tract, escaping your pits entirely to connect to your chest rug and arm hair. New hairs pushed out between the older ones, until even scratching at the area couldn’t yield the skin below. Your gut itched as the carpet on your chest swiftly moved down over it, burying it beneath layers and layers of fur.

Your groin itched as your sparse bush exploded in size, hair pushing out and spreading like wildfire. The hairs surged up to connect with the rug on your torso and down over your thighs. Your balls ached as they swelled before becoming hidden behind a dense carpet. Your pubes grew denser as more and more hair squeezed out, climbing up the shaft of your growing cock. You could see the rug advancing down your legs, coating your thick thighs and calves in hair, before your feet pushed out a generous covering of hair, with tufts on the toes. Your ass itched as both cheeks darkened slightly as a fur coat enveloped them before racing up your back, the wide expanse itching as hairs conquered the open skin.

Your mind suddenly felt foggy as the stress of school faded, replaced by the desire to get out into nature. What were you doing cramped in this tiny apartment? You got up off the floor and looked again in the mirror, a scrawny student no longer in the reflection. Instead was a tall burly man, bursting with muscle and absolutely coated with hair. It felt right. You walked into your closet to find it now full of flannels and jeans, your work clothes. You pulled on the dirty jeans and threw on the flannel, only buttoning it about halfway. Your work boots were waiting by the door, and you slid them onto your newly grown feet. You grabbed your keys and headed out the door, not eager to be late to work again. You were a lumberjack, after all, the world depended on the wood you provided. It felt good, and you grinned as you hopped into your truck and sped off past your old campus, heading into the forest.

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

as sweet as a peach

Paring: Innocent!reader x dads!friend!Nat

Summery: You and the friend of your dad happened to have a pretty close relationship

Warnings: SMUT, clit play, dom!Nat, sub!reader, masturbation, dry humping, oral, praise kink, degradation kink, slut shaming?, pervy!Nat?, Nat fingering a peach, age gap (legal)

Word count: 1.4k

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

Masterlist

ꕀꕀ ─── ⋆⋅ ✨🌞✨ ⋅⋆─── ꕀꕀ

“Those peaches” She reached out for one of the sweet fruits hanging from the old tree “Can I eat them” she smiled at me, a smile she wore like a mask to hide her true evil intentions. “Uhm… sure go ahead” I still couldn’t look her in the eyes, to big was the fear of what the older women might make me feel in the deepest pits of my stomach “Are you still in school sweetheart?”

“Do you want a bite bunny” She wiped over her mouth with the back of her hand as she reaches the other one out for me to take the peach. The forbidden fruit I shouldn’t dare to try but I was dying to do so. I took a bite, the juice dripping from the conners of my pinkish lips “It’s delicious isn’t it” her voice was softer trying to make me feel safe and secured in her presence. I fell for those feelings. I wanted her to make me feel safe and sound “It’s really sweet” I broke the awkward silence as Natasha got behind me, her veiny hands caressing my hips “You are gonna be a good girl for me right” she breathed against my ear making shivers run down my neck right to my core, making me feel a feeling that I had never experienced before. I hummed in response and I could feel my cheeks heating up. Her hands found their way future down, over my skirt right to the end of the fabric making that weird feeling inside me grow and grow. “I think I gotta go now” my voice came l more shaky then I had intended. Before Natasha could say anything I had already freed myself and ran off feeling as if I would melt if she had her hands on me a minute later. Leaving Natasha standing there utterly confused.

Sweat runs down my forehead as my hips keep rutting against the pillow between my legs like I was a bitch in heat. Soft whines and whimpers falling from my lips as I tried my best to make this feeling stop. Why did she have to make me feel that way? My hips got faster as I grew wetter and wetter and I felt my release coming in sight. I was in a trance only realizing how far gone I was when I moaned her name. I didn’t realize what I had done until I could hear the screeching noise of my door opening. I tried my best to cover my nude form with a blanket but it was to late. Natasha already had that smirk on her lips as she quietly closed the door behind her locking it “I’m so sorry- I- I” I tried to stutter something out “It’s okay bunny, you’re a girl with needs” she approached my bed with slow steps like a predator its prey “I can help you with your little need down there. Just say yes and I will make it all go away”

My eyes were still avoiding her tall form trying to hide my ever growing blush. I wanted her, I really did but could I do this with the friend of my father? “I want your help” my voice was still shaking. Natasha kicked off her leather shoes and crawled over to me taking my chin making me look at her. She kissed me passionately still hovering over my smaller form she pushed her tongue inside my mouth dancing with mine remained her dominance over me. Her wet kisses move down my neck searching for my sweet spot. She proceeded to nibble and softly biting at my skin. She strong hand pushed me back down onto my pastel pink sheets making sure I stay put. She sat up next to me unbuttoning her linen bluse revealing a red lacy bra “What do we have here uh?” She said in a teasing voice as she pulled the blanket from my exposed body her eyes landing on the wet patch on the pillow “You poor girl. All sticky and hot down there and nothing helps let me take care of you bunny” I nodded shamefully making her chuckle.

Her hands slipped over my stomach to my vulvar. Her hand finding its way to my erected clit pocking out of its hood. She began to rub over the slippery bundle of nerves making me yelp. Her fingers being a stark contrast to the rough fabric of my pillow who made my clit so sensitive . I could help but let out whimpers and whines buckling my hips only for them to be pressed down by the older woman “Na Na Na those stay down bunny” she said in a teasing voice. The older women had won all control over me, making me be at her mercy “‘M gonna eat that little pussy of yours. Let’s see if you are as sweet as a peach” she groaned as she got between my legs. She licked a bold strip from the end of my cunt right to my overstimulated clit. Swirling her tongue around it before sucking it. Making me scream. She immediately pulled away pressing her hands over my mouth “Be quiet for me bunny we don’t want your dad to find you here right? Whoring yourself out like the little slut you are” Her words weren’t hurtful, they were arousing me even more. I wanted to be her slut, her whore.

I nodded my eyes screwed shut as she kept licking and sucking at me making me see stars. The coil in my stomach grew and grew. Until Natasha bit down on my clit softly making me squirt all over her neck and chest. She chuckled lightly after helping me through my orgasms “Who would’ve thought my sweet bunny is a squirter” My checks redden and I look at Natasha my arousal still dripping from her chin to her chest “I- I didn’t mean to” She cleaned her mouth with the back of her hand “Oh sweetheart, don’t be sorry that was incredibly hot” she lightly caressed my lower stomach “Now lets get you cleaned up”

:)

[peaches2217]

A little-known fact about power-ups: their effects never disappear completely. Even when the magic runs its course or is forcibly cut short, there will always be some physical imperfection that remains with you as a reminder of the power you held. That said, imperfections are so miniscule that it takes years of regular power-up usage — or several months of intensive daily usage — for any such effects to manifest to more heavily obvious levels. As most people don't use power-ups more than a handful of times in their lives, it's only natural that this fact remains obscure.

Even Peach spent most of her life oblivious to this (which makes her feel quite silly, because not only has she used power-ups plenty of times before, power-ups are the Mushroom Kingdom's main exports). Her first exposure to this concept came from — where else? — Mario.

She had already called Mario her dearest friend for the better part of two years when she first saw his hands up close. She'd noticed before that he rarely removed his gloves in her presence, and when he did, he would immediately stuff his hands into his overall pockets, but she'd never thought anything of it. The first time she asks him to remove the gloves for her (he fell from a tree because it's Mario, of course he'd fall from a tree, and she wants to make sure he didn't sprain anything breaking his fall), he's hesitant to comply, but ultimately relents.

She quickly sees why: there's patches of red on the backs of his hands, devoid of hair and pulling lightly at the surrounding unaffected skin. His fingers and palms are calloused, which she already expected, but they're discolored as well, darker in some spots and lighter in others. He must have been in some terrible accident, she theorizes. It looks painful.

It's not that bad, he assures her! He's just used one too many Fire Flowers over the years. He hasn’t gained any new burns since attaining Firebrand, which grants him heavier resistance to fire, so what he’s got isn’t all that difficult to deal with. It’s just… unsightly. Luigi’s hands are similarly marred from abundant Ice Flower usage, he reveals: his fingers are permanently pale and the rest of the skin is varying shades of purple and red, remnants of frostnip. Mismatched hands for mismatched twins!

Peach spends several minutes tracing Mario’s burns with delicate fingers. It’s not at all unsightly, in her eyes, just fascinating and honestly even a bit beautiful.

The closer they become, and the more she sees of him, the more she sees those remnants of the innumerable power-ups he’s used. His hair seems to grow faster for a few weeks after using a Super Leaf or Super Bell, especially his facial and body hair. He’ll shave thoroughly and an hour later he’s already got a five o’clock shadow. Sometimes he just gives up and decides to live with a beard for a little while. He’s not too fond of the Metal Cap or Gold Flower because he feels stiff for days after using either. He’s paranoid that his joints will eventually turn to solid gold if he uses those powers too much, which would be super duper cool if only it wasn’t also super duper painful.

His entire body is covered in stretch marks. He already had some on his stomach and thighs since he’s so heavyset, but all the growing and shrinking and restabilizing he’s subjected himself to via size-changing Mushrooms has left blanching trails embedded into him from his neck to his knees. Using an Elephant Fruit will usually net him a few more, and he swears up and down that his skin gets a little thicker with each usage as well. That one’s purely theoretical on his part, but lotions and hand cream don’t seem to absorb as well as they once did.

Peach could spend hours marveling at his body. She loves trailing his stretch marks with her fingertips, or rubbing her thumb in tiny circles over patches of burnt and rehealed skin, or combing her nails through the hair on his head and his body and his face. Some people earn medals or badges when they perform heroic feats, but Mario earns something that Peach finds much more precious: “imperfections” that make him all the more unique and all the more lovely. All the more him.

[apomaro-mellow]

Previous part

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The first month, Jason didn’t notice much of a change. There was something…off about his wife’s scent, but he tried not to smell his wife too much. Since their last coupling proved successful and Steve was finally with child, he was set to see the doctor once a week. Jason had no need to attend these appointments. Steve was able to come and go as he pleased, his stomach had yet to grow to be an obstacle. And every time he returned, he came with good news.

Jason didn’t think weekly doctor visits were entirely necessary, but he was not a man of medicine. And if there was one thing he appreciated, it was how happy and satisfied Steve seemed now. He no longer whined after him like a bitch in heat, for one thing. He seemed content in his hobbies now and rarely bothered Jason at all. It was such a shame then, that they had to take a trip that kept them away from Dr. Munson for two whole months. 

But it couldn’t be helped. They had to go and visit with his parents and they lived in the country. And his mother wouldn’t let them go until she was certain the city wouldn’t be harmful to the baby. 

Steve was fretting the entire way back home and the moment they returned, he went to his room. Jason left him to it, settling in the sitting room with a drink and only got curious when he saw that Steve seemed preparing to leave again.

“Where are you going? Sun’s nearly down”, Jason said.

“I haven’t seen a doctor in weeks”, Steve said. He had changed from his traveling dress to something more fresh.

Jason frowned. “Are you unwell?”

“Not that I can feel, but this is a delicate process, husband. I might feel fine, but the pup could be affected by the trip.”

“Will the doctor even still be in at this hour?”

“He’ll be tending to me in his home. He has the proper tools there as well.”

Jason took a sip of his drink and leaned against the railing of the stairs. “He is a good doctor, isn’t he?”

“Indeed”, Steve smiled.

“Madame, the carriage is ready.”

“Thank you, George.”

“What time shall I expect you home?”, Jason asked.

“I shall return for dinner, though I may be a bit late. If I straggle, don’t wait on me dear”, Steve urged. He gave Jason a parting kiss on the cheek, then donned his hat before leaving.

The sun was already behind the trees. And Eddie had already told him that if he needed him at a late hour, to go straight to his abode. Steve had never been to the Munson residence before. It was quite quaint and modest. He was well equipped with house staff and one opened the door for him, telling him that the doctor would be home soon.

When Eddie returned home, he could smell traces of the lovely Mrs. Carver the moment he entered. Peaches dominated the omega’s scent, but now there was a creamy element to it. The sweetness of being pupped up. He came upon Steve, fluffing and re-fluffing pillows on the couch.

“You haven’t made your nursery nest yet”, he surmised.

Steve turned, dropped the pillow back onto the couch and rushed into Eddie’s arms. His true mate and the real sire of his pup. He scented him without abandon and Eddie let him. His staff knew how to make themselves scarce and how to keep secrets.

“Are you still wearing a corset?”, Eddie asked, looking down at his torso.

Steve blushed. It was a bold question, whether from a lover or a physician. But he nodded. Pregnancy was no reason to get sloppy with his appearance.

“It’s not good for the babe, love. Let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

That something more comfortable ended up being a maternity dress, colored in a soft purple. When Steve reappeared in it, Eddie sank to his knees and nuzzled his growing belly, releasing a gentle rumble. 

The months passed and when Steve wasn’t going to the clinic, he was visiting the doctor in the evening. Jason couldn’t argue with the results. Steve grew each day and was already fond of their unborn seed. But he was beginning to grow suspicious. It was true that having a child was supposed to ease hysteria. And Steve no longer held any traces of it. But he seemed to have become completely disinterested in Jason.

Before, Steve trailed after him, asking about his day, his workings, his family, all but kneeling at his feet for attention, emotionally and physically. Now, Steve awakened with him, kissed him on the cheek and then went off to…well to do something, Jason wasn’t entirely sure what he got up to in the house when we went off to work. They still had dinner most nights but where Steve had once gazed at him, hungry for his eyes and the news of the day, he now kept himself occupied with his food.

Sometimes he even brought reading material to the table and wasn’t that just an insult! Jason cleared his throat and felt his blood heat when Steve didn’t look up from the book he was reading. Jason cleared his throat again, louder this time.

“Yes dear?”, Steve replied, eyes meeting his.

“What did Dr. Munson say about the baby?”

Steve smiled. “Healthy and well. And due in spring. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Yes. Quite wonderful. You’ve become quite familiar with him.”

“The pup?”

“The doctor”, Jason deadpanned. “How long have you been on a first name basis?”

“Since your commendation, I suppose. All of his clients call him by first name eventually, he can be very informal.”

“I’ve been getting that impression.”

Steve went back to his reading, taking bites between pages. Jason spent time after that, watching him closely. His wife had changed into a completely different person and it had all begun with that doctor. Jason would decide whether he liked it or not once he figured out why it had happened. And of course, he shared these worries with someone he had confided in long before Steve.

Hortense charged a pretty penny, but she was good at what she did. Which was doing the jobs that were too much for a wife to complete. Using her body in ways that were improper for a woman of reputation. She was not just a bedwarmer, but an ear to the problems of her clients.

“You’re an omega”, Jason said one night after a coupling. “Is such a switch possible?”

“You said yourself that your wife was suffering from hysteria. Are you not happy that the suffering has ended?”

“But why? Is can a child make someone change so quickly?”

“In my experience, such a switch typically comes because their needs are being met elsewhere.”

“Steve wouldn’t. He hungers only for my knot.”

“Only yours?”, Hortense urged. She had no horse in this race. If Mrs. Carver was unfaithful, it was of no matter to her. Mr. Carver would come to her so long as he had the money to. If he left an unsatisfied wife at home, it was none of her business.

That got Jason to thinking. Was Steve no longer chasing after him because he was trailing after another?

----------------------

Steve could tell something was on Jason’s mind, but he didn’t care. He was having a pup with an alpha who cared for him. No, not just that, loved him. It was clear in the moments outside their passionate nights. It wasn’t just that Steve went to his house to roll in his bed. They talked. More in the months that they’d known each other than the years he and Jason had been married.

He learned that outside of medicine, Edgar had a love of literature, something he had passed on to Steve. Steve told him how he’d longed for children. He yearned for it so much, he’d readily accepted the Carver’s proposal because Jason was a well known tomcat. Steve had thought with marriage, his visits to the brothel would stop and his attentions would turn to his wife. 

But Jason continued to go out at least twice a week, leaving Steve alone. He didn’t have to care about that anymore though. Not when he had Eddie. He was coming over today in fact.

Jason was at work and Eddie had the day off. Steve was six months into his pregnancy and he felt it as he came down the stairs.

“Mrs. Carver, you should be in bed”, Eddie said as he entered the house, removing his coat and hat.

“I had to greet you at the door, Doctor, it’s only polite.” He was wearing another maternity dress, this one in red.

“Disregarding your physician in the name of propriety? Now what would your husband think if I allowed you to keel over under my watch?” Eddie met Steve at the bottom of the stairs. He turned him right around and started back up while ordering a maid to bring refreshments to the nursery. It would be his first time seeing the accommodations made for his future pup in the Carver residence.

When Steve showed it to him, he wasn’t surprised at the lack of warmth. The crib was very lavish. And the rocking chair in the corner looking very comfortable, cushioned pillow already in place. But it missed the mark. Eddie’s arm was around Steve’s waist as he took it in.

“In my professional opinion, this pup will want for very little.” 

And he knew this because Steve had already built a true nursery nest in his home. The maid came up with a tray and left it there. Eddie closed the door behind her and only once they were completely alone did he fully embrace Steve. He nuzzled his neck, covered by his collar but right where Jason had bitten him on their wedding night. Eddie always gave special attention to his bite. It was a clear challenge to the one who had left the mark and it made Steve’s heart thump every time. 

Eddie kissed him soundly on the lips and then led him over to the rocking chair.

Somehow, having Eddie buried underneath his skirts made his ministrations all the more mind melting. 

When Jason entered his home, he was none the wiser to the fact that Dr. Munson’s head was deep between his wife’s legs. He thought he heard something and went upstairs to investigate. He opened the door in time to see the doctor kneeling before his wife, hem pulled up to Steve’s knees.

“Jason!”, Steve gasped, scandalized.

“My apologies!”, Jason slammed the door shut with himself on the other side. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Steve’s upper calf before bedtime. 

When the door opened again, it was by Dr. Munson, who smiled warmly. Jason didn’t return his smile.

“You’re home early dear”, Steve said, still sitting in the chair.

“So I am. I didn’t realize the good doctor would be visiting.”

“Mrs. Carver wanted me to see the nursery”, Eddie said. “He values my opinion very much.”

“You deal in nurseries now as well”, Jason looked him up and down.

“I deal in many a thing, Mr. Carver. And I am always available for my best patient”, Eddie turned to smile at Steve.

Again, Jason felt like he was being mocked. “A jack of trades. You know what they say about that.”

“I assure you, I’m a master of one or two things.” Eddie winked before excusing himself. Only then did Steve jolt up to escort him to the door. “Don’t strain yourself, Mrs. Carver. As a matter of fact, you should be in bed as often as possible.”

---------------------

Steve realized he had been distancing himself from Jason because for the first time in a long while, his husband reached out for him. Steve was seven months pregnant. He spent as much time as possible horizontal. He was lying on a chaise, a pamphlet in his hand. Debates were going on about the rights of omegas and it had piqued his interest. That was where Jason found him.

“We should go on a trip. Just the two of us.”

Steve looked up at him. That was one thing that was different between Edgar and Jason. His Eddie was always kneeling before him, either to be on the same level or at his feet. Jason was always looking down on him.

“A trip? In this condition?” Steve couldn’t believe he had two months left of this. To travel when he felt full to bursting, what was his husband thinking?

“My mother was right about the city, it’s not the best air for you. And the pup”, he said, almost like an afterthought. “We’re going to the sea.”

“The sea?” Steve almost raised his voice then. They were in the thick of a frigid February and he wanted to go to the coastline?

It wasn’t until they arrived at their destination (a house that Steve’s family kept at the coast), that Steve realized this was an isolation tactic. He’d barely had time to tell Eddie and when he did, Eddie slipped a small vial to him.

“Just in case, my love. If it is between yourself and that man, please, choose yourself.”

Steve didn’t ask what it was. The less he knew, the better. It was on their third night that Jason showed his true colors. They were both reading, sitting across the room from each other. Thunder roared outside.

“I think it’s time we talked about our marriage.”

Steve looked up. Lightning flashed by the window. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know why I married you?”

“...Because…our sires both wished it. You were to inherit the Harrington land and assure its upkeep. I was to provide the Carvers with an heir. Which I have.”

“Is the pup mine?”

Steve heard either thunder or his heart. He swallowed. “Who else could it possibly be?”

“You’re not the type to run around. But you could be led astray-”

“You’re talking about me? You go out every other night to the harlots of-”

“At least Hortense is loyal to me. She has been a confidant and a friend and I know if I were to marry her-”

Steve cut him off with a bark of laughter. Not only was it loud, it was the most uncouth bout of laughter that he’d ever shown his husband. Eddie made him laugh like a child in private. This was more biting.

“Hortense?” Steve, like the other wives, knew where their husbands went in the night. Knew who they spent these nights with. It was an unspoken agreement. The streets took care of their husbands’ needs but they always came home to lay their seed with their wives and carry on the line. Steve knew Hortense was too smart to give up her business, her independence, just to become Jason’s wife.

“You sound like you know her”, Jason leaned back in his chair.

“I know her work. Jason, my dear, I know she takes care of you. But what will people say if you marry a woman like that?”

“They will say it’s an improvement. From an amateur whore to a professional.”

Steve snapped his book closed and did his best to stand with some grace. His belly made it less easy than it would have normally been. “I’m going to bed. Perhaps your sense will return to you in the morning.”

Jason followed Steve as he stormed out, grabbing his wrist just as he began to ascend the stairs. For a terrifying second, Steve thought he might pull him down, make him crash onto his front. His free hand went to his pup and he cried out. Where was his alpha? His true mate? The one who would protect him?

“Do not forget yourself. The only reason I’ve yet to slit your unfaithful throat is that baby. The moment it is born, I am returning you to your parents.” Then Jason all but threw Steve’s arm from him. “Disgraceful.”

Jason stomped back to the other room and Steve rushed upstairs. He went to his luggage and pulled out the vial. He held it to his chest. He thought about his child. A little, innocent babe, growing up either in a loveless home, never knowing the truth of their father. Or worse, never knowing their mother because Steve was either trapped in his childhood home or deep under ocean waves.

For the first time, he dreaded Jason coming to bed. He stayed up all night, waiting for it. When the sun rose on another dreary day, Steve felt just a little bit of relief. But his resolve had only strengthened as the hours went on. He hadn’t let go of Eddie’s gift all night. He got out of bed, dressed for the day and made tea for himself and his husband.

Steve returned to the city alone.

-------------------------

People held great sympathy for the Widow Carver. To be so young and to lose a husband so suddenly. And with a child on the way. It was a miracle he didn’t lose the pup in his grief. Thankfully, he had his trusted physician, who moved to stay with Mrs. Carver full time. He was there, morning, noon, and night, to care for Steve.

And just as predicted, come spring, he welcomed a beautiful baby girl. Louise was the apple of Steve’s eye. Of course, Steve was still wearing the color of mourning, even when giving birth. When it was over and the small, secret family was alone, Eddie pressed a kiss to both of their foreheads.

“You’re a vision in all black, my love.”

“Please, I know I’m a mess”, Steve protested weakly.

“From the exertion of bringing a new soul into this world. Like a goddess of life and death.”

Those that visited observed that Steve stayed true to his mourning. He kept wearing all black (which happened to be Eddie’s favorite color) and rarely left his home (why would he with a new pup to tend to?). All the time that Dr. Munson spent, looking after the widow, it surprised very few people when he officially asked for Steve’s hand in marriage.

Some even praised him, saying how charitable he was to offer such a thing and take in a widow and an orphan. Eddie was more than happy to do it. Some would even say eager. Steve wore black at their wedding as well. It was just barely a year after Jason’s untimely passing, after all. 

“Will you ever go back to work?”, Steve asked one day. Louise scuttled on the floor between them.

“Well, I’m set to inherit both the Carver and Harrington fortunes. I dare say I won’t have to work another day in my life.”

Louise babbled and Eddie got on the floor to be on the same level as her. “I could spend the rest of my days just watching you, little fig.”

Steve didn’t know happiness like this was possible. A husband who both loved and desired him, a pup to dote on. And all thanks to one fateful trip to the doctor’s.

Hortense only noticed a slight dip in her earnings for about a week before she found someone to fill in Jason’s spot.

[callsign-rogueone]

field work

Sawyer Henrick x reader part three of Sawyer and Peach’s story words: 2.5k 🏷️: no book spoilers. more mentions of James being a mysoginist creep but it’s not actually shown (yet), these two are still in denial, and they will be for quite a while. hey, that rhymed. anyway here is your crumb of gf content for the week! sweetheart or love next, probably.

“And here I thought all Lucerans knowing each other was a stereotype,” Rhiannon muses over her drink.

“Oh, it’s not that we all know each other,” you say with a grin, “it’s that we can always find each other in a crowd.“

“And you always get along like wildfire?” Ridoc asks. 

You blink for a moment, silent, but Sawyer answers for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing gently. “That might just be a ‘her thing’. She’s never met a human, or a horse, that she couldn’t befriend.”

“Infantry not included,” you snort, recovering from your momentary blip.

“Okay, I have to know — why’d you turn him down the first time?” Rhiannon asks. “Like, before he started being a creep, I mean. I’m with you 100%, whatever it is, I’m just curious.”

“He’s rude to everyone but me, even his friends. They only hang out with him because he's the top dog over there, even though it’s clear his daddy bought him his leadership position — his boots are too clean.”

She tilts her head to the side, not quite following. Ridoc pulls his leg up, inspecting his left shoe.

“It’s a figure of speech,” you laugh, waving a hand at him. “Means he’s not a worker. He’s one of those rich-boy types, always prattling on about honor, and serving his country, following in daddy’s footsteps, which he’s decided includes making me his sweet little housewife who will follow all his orders and produce him a litter of sons that will all grow up to look and act exactly like him.”

Everyone’s jaws drop.

“He said that to you?”

“Not those words exactly, but yes. He thinks all Luceran women are sweet and submissive and only ever aspire to be mothers and housewives. As if I’m not here to study for a career that’s going to keep me on the front for the next ten years. I’ve told him that, but he seems to think that I’m playing hard to get or something, and I’ll change my mind if he keeps asking.”

Sawyer’s fork bends in his grip, but he quickly rights it again before anyone other than Violet can notice. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I know the value of housework and homesteading. I’ve helped my mother do those things for years. It’s hard work, and it’s important. And I do want a few children eventually, but not half a dozen, and certainly not with him — with someone that respects me, and who will raise them with me as a partner.”

“I’m glad you know what you want,” Rhiannon says, looking directly at Sawyer.

“At least I won’t have to see him this week. It’s my turn for the foraging assignment, so I’ll be spending my workday in the woods.”

“Doing what, exactly?” Sawyer asks.

“Collecting ten kinds of herbs that have medicinal properties, and preparing them into various salves and things for one third of my final grade.”

“Fun,” Ridoc says dryly.

You shrug. “I don’t mind it. Being out there reminds me of home. And it’s nice to not be cooped up in the infirmary all the time.”

—————————————

You nearly trip over your own feet as you see the giant red mass in front of you. You’ve seen hundreds of dragons flying overhead or across the bridge in the rider’s quadrant, but you’ve never been this close to one before — not a friendly one, at least.

You back up two steps, giving it more space, and it follows you, stepping forward. Every expletive you know flows through your mind in a continuous stream. 

How Sawyer befriended one of these things is beyond you. At least you won’t have to worry about failing this assignment if it roasts you alive.

Just don’t look it in the eye, don’t talk to it…

Your back collides with something solid — a tree trunk. You’re cornered. All you can do is shut your eyes as tightly as possible and make one last prayer to Amari, hoping you’ve done enough good deeds in your twenty-three years to have earned a decent afterlife.

Ten seconds tick by, but nothing happens. 

You crack an eye to see its head directly in front of you. It’s just… sniffing you? You must pass inspection, because it takes a step back, not making any move to harm you. 

You force yourself to relax, deepening your breaths and waiting for it to go away, but it stays in place, still examining you. You suppose you’ll have to be the one to leave — you’re probably in its territory. You take a step to your left, touching your hand to the tree trunk to make sure you’ve cleared it before you start to walk backward.

It chuffs like an irritated horse, stepping closer again — clearly not done with you.

Oh, come on.

You can’t help it. “I know I’m not supposed to talk to you, and I know you can’t talk to me, but I don’t understand what you want,” you blurt. 

It cocks its head at you, and you know you’re doomed. These things can probably smell fear, and you’re absolutely terrified.

Shit, shit, shit.

You backpedal quickly, making an attempt to smooth things over. “Okay, I think we got off to a bad start here. I’m sorry for trespassing. I won’t do it again. It would be really great if we could just…”

You fall silent, hearing a group of people headed toward you, their voices carrying through the trees easily. One of them has a fresh wave of nausea and anxiety flowing through you — James.

Forget the fire-breathing beast standing in front of you; the three human men approaching are infinitely more terrifying, capable of much more intricate and abject cruelty than any being on this planet.

You slip your hand into the pocket of your jacket, feeling for the handle of the knife Sawyer had given you and settling your fingers into the grooves. It’s been a comfort to you thus far, but you’ve never had to use it before. And what good will it be against three fully armed infantry, when you’re alone in the middle of the forest?

But you aren’t completely alone. 

The dragon has turned its head toward the voice, hackles raised; clearly agitated. Maybe you’ll have time to run if they distract it — but you couldn’t bring yourself to abandon the boys to die, even if they’ve been bothering you for nearly two months now.

It unfurls a massive wing, placing it in front of you, and bares its teeth in a snarl. You can't see the looks on their faces, but you can hear them shriek like little children, bolting in the opposite direction.

You hold your breath until you can no longer hear them running. “Thank you,” you whisper, even though the boys are far gone by now.

It… nods? 

You take a moment to collect yourself, your heart still racing as you process the events of the last five minutes. A red dragon showing up at the exact right time to protect you from James, taking its time sniffing you and letting you be this close, letting you talk to it… This cannot be a coincidence. No way.

“Sawyer sent you, didn’t he?” 

Another nod.

You sigh in a mix of relief and exasperation. “I love that boy dearly, but he just does not think things through sometimes. I was fully convinced that you were going to kill me. You’re terrifying — no offense. Or maybe that’s a compliment to you guys. I don’t know.”

A chuff that almost sounds like a laugh. 

“Either way, thank you again for scaring that guy off. I can’t stand him, or his friends. They give me the creeps. The idea of being out here alone with them…” you shudder just thinking about it, but shake it off quickly, managing a smile.

You slip Sawyer’s knife back into your pocket, digging out your crumpled list of herbs to find. “I don’t think they’ll be headed this way for the rest of the afternoon,” you say, too polite to tell him he can leave. He makes no move to, anyway.

Alright, then. You wouldn’t mind having him watch over you while you finish up, just for peace of mind. And he probably knows the area better than you do, having lived here for years. You honestly aren’t sure how to get back to the school from here. You can see the bell tower, but it’s distant enough to make you nervous.

He stays a few giant steps behind you as you work, keeping an eye on you when you go somewhere he’s too big to follow. 

Chamomile, echinacea, calendula, feverfew, valerian, mint, lemon balm, sage, thistle, centella…

“That’s everything,” you sigh in relief, wiping your hands on the soft cloth you’d taken out with you. The school looks considerably closer now, the path you’d started off on back under your feet. “Thank you again. I felt a lot safer with you around. After I realized you weren’t going to torch me, that is.”

He puffs out another almost-laugh. 

You’re quiet for a moment. “You chose well. Sawyer’s a great guy. I’m proud to call him a friend, and I’m glad he has someone like you by his side. Take care of him for me, please?”

He closes his eyes, giving you a slow, almost solemn nod before he takes a few steps away and launches himself into the air, ruffling your hair and robes with the gust of wind it produces. 

You can hear the bells chime — ten. You’d spent nearly an hour with him, and another before that on your own, getting yourself lost. You have plenty of time to work before you need to get to your evening class, and Sawyer should have a break in an hour or so. Maybe he’ll come see you, and you can lovingly tell him off for having his dragon scare the pants off of you, and then thank him for it. 

————————————

There’s a soft knock on the doorframe. You can’t stop the smile from crossing your face as you look up to see Sawyer, still in his usual all black. 

“How did it go?”

“Just fine,” you answer. “I got everything I needed. And I met a friend of yours.”

“Oh?” he asks, wondering who it could be; you’ve already met his squadmates, and he doesn’t really count anyone else as a friend besides them. And aren’t you supposed to keep your patients’ names secret?

You hum in reply, still plucking the leaves from the stems. “Big tall guy, red skin, lots of teeth…”

His eyes widen as he realizes that Sliseag hadn’t stayed as far away from you as he’d instructed. 

“You told me to protect her, not to watch idle.”

Sawyer ignores him. “I’m so sorry, Peach, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay. He ended up scaring off James and his twin idiots, and we had a lovely, if rather one-sided conversation.”

His heart might give out. “You talked to him? He let you?”

“The first time was an accident!” you defend. “He cornered me, and wouldn’t let me leave, and I couldn’t figure out what he wanted, so I asked. And then I realized he was yours, and we chatted while I picked all of this. Yes or no questions only, of course, since he couldn’t respond to me with words.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You’ve always been good with animals,” he concedes. “I guess that includes dragons, too.”

“I’m offended to be put in that category.”

Sawyer ignores him again. “Wait, why were dumb, dumber, and dumbest there?”

You can’t help but laugh at the nicknames he’s assigned them, even if they’re a little mean. “Infantry are always in the woods playing soldier. That’s all they ever do. Nolon warned us about it earlier in the year.”

“Do you have to go back out there again?”

“Only if I fail this assignment,” you say quietly, looking down at everything you’ve gathered.

“I’m sure you’re going to do great. I’m absolutely positive. When will you know?”

“Tomorrow morning I’ll see if I get a passing score. Some of the preparations have to sit overnight, or dry out for a few days, so the rest of the points will be calculated then.”

He can tell you’re anxious about this, from the way your voice has quieted. “Hey. You’re going to do amazing, because you are amazing,” he says, giving you a gentle squeeze. 

You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

He’s glad that you can’t see how red his cheeks are in this position. “Alright. I shouldn’t keep you from your work, future Head Healer. The world hangs in the balance here.”

You laugh. “When did you decide that I’m going to be a Head Healer?”

“Just now. I can’t think of anyone better for the job, when the time comes.”

“You don’t know any other healers.”

“I know Sarah,” he defends. “And she’s still threatening me every time I come in. I don’t think her bedside manner is the best.”

“You say that like you’re scared of her, mister dragon rider.”

“She can be quite descriptive with her threats.”

You sigh softly, still leaning into him. “I missed you, you know.”

“You saw me yesterday.”

You elbow him gently, knowing he’s purposely acting obtuse. “I meant before that. Before our paths crossed again. I really missed spending time with you like this. I hope we can keep in touch next year.”

He rests his chin on top of your head, squeezing you gently. “I hope so too. Who knows, maybe we’ll even be stationed together.”

“Maybe. I hear wingleaders and their executive officers get to choose.” It’s your turn to warm with embarrassment at the implication — that he would choose whatever base you’re at, just because you’re there.

“They do. Rhi is definitely going to be the wingleader next year. Maybe I’ll still be her XO. But even if I’m not, I’d do whatever I could to stay with all of you.”

Your heart sinks a bit at the last few words. All of you. You like his squadmates, and they’ve always been kind to you. You’re glad they have his back in the air. You aren’t a jealous person, either. So why does it sting that he holds you equal with the rest of his friends?

“You alright?” He asks softly.

You hum. “Yeah. Just tired. After I finish this, I have a two hour class, and then I’m going straight to bed.”

“You should eat first.”

“I should do a lot of things,” you sigh.

He pulls back to look at you. “I mean it, P. You, of all people, should know how important nutrition is.”

You crack a smile. “I do know. I just like seeing you get worked up about it. It’s cute.”

He sighs. “What am I going to do with you?”

What indeed, you think. What do you want him to do? Better not go down that path.

“Alright. Finish up and get some rest. And food.”

“And food,” you agree. “Promise.”

“Good girl. See you tomorrow?”

You just nod, unable to form a coherent response — and muffle a tiny scream into your hand as soon as he’s out of sight. What the hell just happened?

[anticidic]

Even more kitsune!dazai headcanons because I am completely Normal about yokai AU:

He likes to tickle Chuuya with his tails. Chuuya will be passed out, and suddenly something soft as a feather is tickling the underside of his nose, and he's awakening with a loud sneeze. And Dazai's nowhere to be found at the scene of the crime

Kitsunezai having no concept of modern day money, or he just simply doesn't care, and will use illusions and persuasion tactics to flat out steal things. He'll present that nice kimono Chuuya had been eyeing as they strolled through a local festival, and then Chuuya tries to suppress his outrage at the fact Dazai's gonna get himself and both of them in trouble for stealing.

Dazai: "If they're displaying it in a stall, that doesn't mean it's free?" Chuuya: "No!"

He's a fiend for fruit, especially peaches, but he's picky and specifically wants fruit plucked straight from the trees because it kindles a familiar memory of being back home on the mountain where all the fruit trees grow with the season. He tries to grow a fruit tree by Chuuya's place, fails because he doesn't realize how much maintenance was needed for a tree to thrive, and instead they go fruit picking during the different seasons. And Chuuya has to keep an eye on Kitsunezai to make sure he doesn't snack on the berry bushes without paying

The ears on top of his head perk up when he's curious, fascinated by something, or in a particularly good mood. And they droop to the sides when he's sad.

Chuuya brought up the idea of clipping Dazai's nails when they got too long and sharp after Dazai accidentally tore holes in the sleeves of his kimono putting them on, and because Chuuya learns how sharp Dazai's nails are when Dazai runs a finger across his cheek

Dazai loves being pampered after a bath and uses the excuse that he needs Chuuya to dry his tails for him because he can't possibly reach and dry them all. Chuuya doesn't want Dazai dripping water all over the place, and he starts with towel-drying each individual tail, then uses a blowdryer to reach any spots he missed.

...then turns out Dazai's tails turn frizzy and the fur sticks out after using said blowdryer. Chuuya bites back the urge to laugh, Dazai looks devastated as he smooths down his tails

Dazai gifting Chuuya ornaments and accessories of all sorts made from the flowers that grow on the mountain by his shrine. Chuuya amassed an impressive collection of mountain hydrangea flower crowns and bracelets.

Sometimes Dazai will shift into his fox form and squeeze into spaces only he can reach or will hop up on high counters he knows Chuuya can't reach. To get a rise out of Chuuya. But sometimes he'll do it to be cuddly and curl up beside Chuuya on the couch and be like a personal little heater when it starts getting cold out.

As a fox, Dazai once went digging in the grass around Chuuya's place, and concerned neighbors knocked on Chuuya's door about an unknown animal digging holes all over the place

[semisolidmind]

Ok I have a question and if I asked this before sorry my memory sometimes bad.

So you said peach's died on the journey with her husband's. How did she die? And did they get revenge for her. Also at this point you would think peach's is there soulmate but peach's not liking it.

And dose she have a Mark of how she died as a brith Mark?

And what was Macaqa and sun frist meating with peach's like?

I really love your work

(tw, slight mention of blood and gore)

went on a bit of a tangent :)

reader was killed during a demon ambush. everybody was busy fighting the demons, and while reader was hiding, one of the demons escaped the warlords' notice. she didn't even have time to scream. it killed her, and then took and ate her body.

macaque was the first to realize her absence, of course. reader wasn't able to make much noise as she died, so he just thought she was scared, but... imagine his horror when he can't hear her heartbeat. he quickly dissapears into a shadow, leaving the fight behind. he checks where reader was hidden, and finds only a small puddle of blood. his breathing quickens as he follows the blood a ways further into the woods. he can feel his rage and anguish growing.

there, in a clearing, a rogue wolf demon seems to have just finished its meal, it's tongue licking the excess gore from its teeth. shreds of reader's clothing lay scattered at its feet, along with her satchel and book.

macaque bears his teeth in an enraged snarl and roars at the stupid beast. struck by grief, he falls to his knees, pressing his hands to his face as tears gather in his eyes.

the sound of his anguish echoing against the trees was enough to summon his brother; wukong, covered in the gore of his slain enemies, appears at his side. the king takes quick stock of the situation, and comes to the same heart-shattering conclusion as macaque.

she's gone. she's gone and this wretched creature destroyed her.

reader is dead.

the rage he feels rivals the burning of the stars.

the two bring down the full fury of their combined might upon the wolf demon. the warlords drag out their dismantlement, tearing the stupid creature apart peice by peice. once the offending beast is little more than a visceral stain on the ground..

...the brothers hold one another, attempting to ground each other through the torrent of their pain. they've lost their one, their only.

their dear reader, their beloved peach....she's dead. all because they took their eyes off her for a second, all because they were made to come on this cursed journey. were they not charged with protecting that blasted monk, they could have prevented this. wukong and macaque come to the same conclusion; they will not soon forgive the ones who brought them here.

the monkey demons gather reader's things, holding them as gently as glass...it's all they have left of her. not even a body to bury back home on their mountain.

the other pilgrims need only see these items and the baleful, enraged, tear-stricken looks on their companions' faces to know what must have happened. wukong and macaque say nothing as the monk says a prayer for her.

the two leave for a while.

they don't come back for three months.

when they do return to the journey at the behest of the heavens, they are reserved. withdrawn. they keep to themselves, only intervening when the pilgrims are in danger they can't solve themselves.

———

the monkey king and the six-eared macaque complete the journey. they refuse their new titles; the rage that simmers in them is far too great for the roles they've earned.

the monkey warlords go home. they grieve, properly this time, alongside their subjects.

the next few hundred years are especially brutal for any enemies of flower fruit mountain and it's king. without his queen, he forgets what it means to be merciful.

———

many centuries later, wukong finds a little monkey demon boy, seemingly sprung from the same stone he did. wukong adopts him, names him xiaotian, and teaches him to become a ruthlessly efficient warrior.

the child grows up hearing the occasional story about the mountains' queen, a once-mortal woman who held his father's (and uncle's) heart in her hands. his caretakers can't bring themselves to speak about her often, but they speak softly and fondly when they do. he hears stories of her adventures on the mountain; how she made friends with her subjects, worked in the kitchens and orchards, and cared for the mountain's children.

both wukong and macaque tell xiaotian that reader would have loved him dearly.

the small shrine in the palace temple (a satchel, a heavy book with nothing written in it, a few scraps of bloodied cloth displayed next to daily offerings of peaches) and furniture in his father's room (the combs, hairpins, and perfume bottles untouched but lovingly dusted) don't tell him much about who "reader" was—but the stories from the people who knew her do.

he wishes he could've met her.

———

when the boy reaches a certain age, he asks to go stay in the mortal world. his father reluctantly agrees.

xiaotian goes to the city, battles the dragon girl mei, befriends her, and allows her to teach him how the city works. she takes him to a noodle shop belonging to one of her friends, a gruff but earnest pig demon named pigsy. there, he meets mei's other friends; a gentle blue giant named sandy (and his cat, mo), a studious yet freeloading human named tang—and a friendly human woman who works at the shop...

...who happens to be nicknamed reader.

[lunajay33]

Missing🖤

Summary: You and Daryl got separated at the started and now you’ve just been wandering hoping to find a secure place will you find Daryl again?

Pairing: Season 2 Daryl Dixon x f!reader

•Masterlist•

You and Daryl have known eachother since you were kids, growing up right next to eachother, along the way feelings grew and you got together right before graduation, you became a teacher and he worked at a mechanic shop, life was nice and simple together, you were even thinking about having a family but then things change, the world ended when you were teaching and you haven’t seen Daryl since, you search everywhere for him until eventually you had to leave down because of the walkers and venture out on your own, hoping you meet him again

Along the way you came across a barn, you scavenged for food finding some cans and as you looked out the window a horse was grazing the field, you packed up the rest of the food and ventured out finding a saddle approaching the horse steadily trying not to spook it away, thankfully it was friendly and approached you with ease letting, you strapped the saddle around her and hopped up, leading the horse as it trotted north

You’d be alone on your own for about 5 weeks now and it’s been lonely, you just wanted to see Daryl again just needed for him to hold you, you were on the horse walking through trees when a clearing opened up showing a farm house with people walking around, you were a bit wary since you’ve run into some shady people along the way but for some reason you were drawn to this farm, you lead the horse, you named Pixie, slowly as to not scare the people

As you and Pixie walked up the dirt road people started to gather, you hopped off Pixie holding her rope and waiting for the others to do or say anything and not just ogle you

“Who are you?” A man in a police outfit asked

“I’m y/n, I’ve been alone since the start, until I found pixie here” you said as you pet her shiny black hair

“Where’d you come from, who’d you find this place?” Another man asked he seemed a little crazy

“I’m from outside of Atlanta, I’ve just been wandering until I found something, I lost someone at the start and I’ve just been looking for him”

“Sorry to break it to you, he’s probably dead”

“Shane!” The officer glared at the man

“I still have hope, but do you guys have room for one more, I know how to hunt and I can help out”

“Of course, we could use another hunter, got one out hunting right now”

“Thank you”

The officer who introduced himself as Rick, showed you around introduced you to everyone even the owner of the farm, the sun was setting by the time all that was done

“We don’t have anymore tents we’ll have to go out tomorrow and get you one”

“Oh that’s no problem I can sleep out with Pixie” it was the normal for you now

“You sure?”

“Yeah it’s no problem…….shouldn’t your hunter be back by now?”

“Yeah oh there he is now” he said looking over you shoulder at the dirt road

A man with a crossbow and plaid shirt with ripped sleeves, you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere, you sprinted off towards him your heart racing, tears streaming down your face

“DARYL” you screamed as he looked up dropping his crossbow just in time to open his arms and wrap himself around you as you threw yourself into his arms

“Is it really you peach?” He asked in such disbelief it broke your heart

“It’s me, I can’t believe I found you I thought I’d never see you again, I looked everywhere for you I waited at our house hoping you’d come back but……I had to leave I had to find you” you said quickly your eyes not believing you found him having to tell him everything you’ve been thinking these 5 weeks without him

5 weeks may not seem like a lot but in the apocalypse there was no guarantee about anything so everything was precious

You held his biceps as he traced his fingers over ever features on your face completely forgetting others were around you both

“So I’m guessing you two know eachother?” Glenn asked

“She’s my girl” Daryl stated not taking his eyes off of you

“Thee Daryl Dixon got a girl?” Andrea laughed, you turned and glared at her

“You bet your ass I’m his”

“And ya ain’t ever leaving my side again”

[antiquepearlss]

Southern Headcanons

Old Corona lowkey gives off southern small town vibes so here’s some southern Varian + Quirin headcanons because I’m not projecting at all.

Starting off strong with a classic- Varian loves sweet tea. He makes it homemade and it’s 90% sugar and it’s most of what he drinks. Quirin isn’t a big fan, but he’ll drink it occasionally when Varian makes it. Same with Lemonade; Varian loves it, Quirin is neutral.

If Quirin isn’t working, he’s relaxing in a rocking chair on his front porch.

Varian is the type of person to watch tornadoes instead of seeking shelter. Quirin has to physically pick him up and drag him to the basement.

There’s a creek in Old Corona that the children all frequent. 

Most of Quirin’s diet is biscuits and gravy. It’s the southern old man meal. And southern fried steak. And fried potatoes with gravy. Also coleslaw, and fried green tomatoes, because again, old man.

Varian likes fried chicken and waffles, peach cobbler, pulled pork, chicken and dumplings, and cornbread. He ate coleslaw once and died a little inside.

Neither of them are big fans of catfish or shrimp, they’re just not big on seafood. Ulla was a fan, however.

Neither of them have thick accents, but with certain words it shines through. It also shines through if they talk fast, or for Varian, if he gets really excited. Or it comes out at random moments. Eugene and the girls make fun of him for it, Rapunzel thinks it’s cute, Lance thinks it sounds cool

Quirin has Bible verse decor in his house. He’s not even religious. Those just kind of materialize on your walls the first time you say y’all.

Quirin and Ulla had an apple themed kitchen.

Quirin absolutely has said “bless your heart”

Ulla wore gingham, a lot.

Varian has mason jars. Everywhere. And also reuses those butter containers. He managed to get them to contain acid.

Old Corona has a lot of potholes.

Varian’s favorite place to go as a kid was with his father to Rural King. He loved looking at the machinery and the baby chickens.

Varian knows how to use a riding mower and is quite skilled at it. He tried to teach Eugene (his city kid cousin) and he crashed into a tree.

There is little to nothing to do in Old Corona except for the occasional festival.

Oktoberfest goes hard there.

Quirin isn’t the most social but he does have the southern hospitality down. He’ll invite you in for lemonade or tea. He’ll just, barely talk. (He strikes me as the type to be quiet and awkward in small/intimate settings.) He also brings new neighbors homemade food.

Neither Quirin nor Varian care about sports, but they watch football to feel included. Sometimes they’ll root for opposing teams just for the fun of a playful rivalry with eachother, even though they have no idea what they’re talking about.

Quirin likes old country music. Varian claims to dislike country music, but listens to it sometimes. He never heard the end of it from the girls when they found out he loves Cary Underwood. Ulla had a collection of Dolly Parton vinyl that was passed down to Eugene for….some reason.

Quirin also likes some bluegrass and very much enjoys the blues.

Again, Quirin is not religious, but church on Easter used to be a must. Mostly because it was the only time he and Ulla could get Varian to wear a suit, and he looked adorable in one. (Now all Quirin has to do is ask Rapunzel to make Varian nice clothes and he’ll wear them gladly.)

Ulla planted a lot of magnolias in their garden. And hydrangeas.

Old Corona has a lot of block parties and just, spontaneous potlucks. 

If Varian wasn’t with his parents he was probably with the resident Old Person in Old Corona. He didn’t have many friends growing up, but older people loved him.

Quirin watches Andy Griffith.

Old Corona has one gas station and it has the best slushies. Whenever Rapunzel visits they go there.

Eugene kinda hates Old Corona. He’s a city boy. Rapunzel likes the open-ness.

Old Corona is the prettiest in the Fall.

Varian conveniently spills acid on nearby confederate flags.

[aewon]

pretty girl, you're like peaches.

jungwon x f!reader genre: fluff warnings: none wc: 669

inspired by peaches by kai

this is for @okwonyo celestial ballet event! im sorry it's so short! we love u jiah wiah

You never liked peaches growing up. They were too sweet for you.

That was until you learned your crush, Yang Jungwon, loved peaches.

You started doing everything possible to get his attention, using peach-scented shampoos, conditioners, body washes, lotions, and perfumes. 

It never seemed to work.

Still, you persisted. Then came that fateful day when he finally gave you his attention.

“You smell good, like peaches,” he said, smiling at you with adorable dimples.

You thanked him, smiling enormously yourself.

After that, Jungwon started to talk to you more.

You were ecstatic. Your plan was working!

Jungwon started learning more about you, as you did him, and you two hit it off.

As you sit underneath the peach tree in your backyard, your doorbell rings.

You get up excitedly. Jungwon was here!

You invited him over to your house for the first time, and butterflies erupted in your stomach.

He looks dashing as you answer the door, his beautiful smile being the first thing you see. 

“Hey! I'm so glad you invited me over. I've been wanting to see your house to find out we only live like 10 minutes apart.”

You laugh, “I know, it's crazy.”

You give him a small house tour before leading him outside to your backyard.

“You have a peach tree? That's so cool. Can I have one?”

You extend your hand upwards, picking one off a branch and handing it to him. “You can have one whenever you want.”

He rinses it off with the garden hose before biting into it. He sighs in delight, “It's perfect, just the right amount of sweetness.”

Jungwon then looks between you and the peach before reaching his hand out to you, “Do you want a bite?”

Shoot, you didn't think he'd offer, you think to yourself. 

“Can I be honest? I don't like peaches.” You give him a sheepish smile.

He makes the cutest confused face, “I could've sworn you did. You use peach-scented everything!”

You sigh, “The truth is, Jungwon, I only started using peach-scented stuff to get your attention. I like you, and when I learned you liked peaches, I took it as an opportunity.”

It's silent for a moment before Jungwon begins to laugh.

Oh god, he thinks I'm a loser.

You pout, lightly hitting his chest, “It's not funny!”

He stops laughing after a solid minute before looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Y/N, if you wanted my attention, you should've just talked to me!”

“I wanted to! But I was nervous, and I thought you'd blow me off.”

His face softens, “I wouldn't do that. Besides, why would I blow off the girl I like?”

Wait, what?

“You like me?” You ask, pointing to yourself.

“Yes, Y/N, I do. I have for a while. I started liking you a few months ago. I always thought you were pretty, but when you lent me those chem notes, I knew.

Then we started talking, and I fell more in love with you. And I know love is a big word, but it's genuinely how I feel.”

You stare in shock, processing his words in your mind.

He begins to shuffle his thumbs, waiting for your response. 

“Jungwon, I love you too. I love everything about you. I'm sorry I didn't come forward, but now, I feel relieved.” 

He steps forward, putting down his now-finished peach core and taking your hands into his.

“Will you be my girlfriend? My little peach hater,” he says affectionately as you giggle.

“I will! Kiss me?”

His lips meet yours, and believe it or not, you don't mind the taste of peach. It's sweet but not sickeningly so. 

As you pull away, his hands meet the sides of your face, holding it delicately.

“I know you hate them, but to me, you're like peaches, soft and sweet. I'm so lucky.”

You pull him into a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck as his wrap around your waist. “I'm the lucky one.”

[jawz]

i’ve been thinking a lot lately about the way my ethnicity affected the way i was gendered as a child, my drive to transition, and even my detransition…

as a hispanic growing up with my white mom and white stepdad and white brother and white extended family in scandinavian hell (minnesota), i always felt different, always felt wrong. (my parents divorced as a baby, and my dad and his family, cuban and italian, all live in florida.) my neighborhood wasn’t so bad; it was way more diverse than the metro area itself. growing up i had mixed friends, i had friends with curly hair… but us trailer park kids were only a fraction of the population of our schools and district. a sea of blonde hair. there were times in elementary school i would literally pray to god to make my hair straight, make my eyes blue. grown-ups touched my hair and always asked “is it naturally curly?”. my classmates urged me to straighten it and by age 13 it was part of my ridiculously time-consuming “feminizing” beauty rituals.

much earlier, by the age of 8 or 9, i already had thick, dark hair growing on my legs. other kids, boys and girls alike, called me “gorilla girl”, faked gagging when i wore shorts, insisted i was actually a boy. that one became more and more common as i came into my personality: bold, class clown, competitive with the boys. (always wanting to charm the girls, but i didn’t recognize that back then.)

my mustache was there by 8, as well. just a little peach fuzz above my lip but dark enough to notice. are you even a girl? my mom would spread wax over her own face and soon began waxing my stache as well. it hurt so badly. i put up with it because she said it would make the kids stop teasing me. of course i was a girl- she was a woman and she had peach fuzz too!… but i felt self-conscious at the fact that my body hair was so much more noticeable, even as a child. my mother’s hair is very thin, straight, lighter brown; her complexion is warmer than mine, pink where mine is olive, green and yellow. i worried you could see the strands about to burst through. i was worried that to be a girl- a woman- i must hide parts of myself every day. i must cover the shoots of grass, the weeds that reveal that i’m not fit for society, that whisper i’m wild and untamed.

it wasn’t actually until i was 18 at least that i actually started to consider myself latino. i had sometimes said ‘hispanic’ growing up, as that’s what my family in florida called themselves; they referred to themselves as “spanish”, which i found out was not quite true after compiling my family tree and discovering that those ancestors emigrated from havana. in their minds they were white: “descended from spanish royalty” (as if!!)… i had spent my youth constantly trying to claim solely whiteness, confused as to why everyone was asking me “are you mexican?” “are you jewish?” “are you middle eastern?” - even though inside i think i knew. i knew my family didn’t look like me. i resented my surname being changed to Lind when i was five, my stepdad’s name, in order to give me the same name as the rest of them. despite my apparent envy of swedes and norwegians i knew it wasn’t my name; i still stood out terribly. i glared at myself in the mirror every day, i never could move past how the kids at school said my eyes were the color of shit, that my hair looked like pubes, that i must have had a sex change without being told because that would explain the mustache, the aggression…

by the time i was fourteen i was entirely primed to accept an alternative explanation to what was “wrong” with me. my sexuality was becoming more and more apparent but before i could ever come out as lesbian or even bi, i had discovered what it meant to be trans. i was so immediately certain that this was the key, THIS was why everyone said i didn’t fit in, THIS was why my behavior wasn’t girly, THIS was why i wanted to date girls. it was 2011, still deep in the “brain sex” era of the trans community, and i was sure without a shadow of a doubt that i was physically female, mentally male. all that needed to be done was to “correct” my body and bring it in line with my brain. despite the fact that very few people knew what transition actually was back then, i genuinely assumed it would make sense to everyone else, too: they had told me i wasn’t ‘really’ a girl so many times i had no trouble believing it.

transition, of course, did not suddenly de-latinize me LOL. first i became a total Other, outside of both the minnesotan ethnic norms and the gender+sex norms; eventually, with hormones and surgery at a very young age, i was able to pass as a boy, but by the time i could grow actual full-on facial hair, i realized i was still the pan-latin american enigma to people around me. multiple times someone would call me “sanchez” as some sort of attempted insult or joke. police looked at me differently than they had before. shop owners followed me, accused me of shoplifting. and sometimes, the white girls i dated told me that i was way cooler than all the boring white boys they knew. one girl even called me “exotic” to my face. it was, apparently, a compliment.

when i was 21 i heard that my girlfriend had referred to me to others as “a POC who identifies as white”. it felt as though she didn’t even know me at all. i’d never claimed either of those things to her.

moving to the west coast (socal specifically, where being latino/a is not considered ‘abnormal’) illuminated a lot of the bizarre and unnatural racial expectations of my midwest upbringing; i think by this point i was beginning to realize what so many things from my childhood had meant. that they weren’t really saying i was a boy. they were saying we don’t like girls who look like you, and we’d rather not have you included in our category.

it took me another three years to fully reckon with this. by the time i decided to detransition i had a much better understanding of the circumstances of my life; conversations with close friends who are also latina and have walked similar paths to me, heard similar insults, similar “compliments”, opened my eyes to the fact that i was not alone. i no longer feel weird for thinking the race/ethnicity boxes on government forms are hopelessly reductive. i know who i am and who i am not.

(around this time, i happened upon some old pictures of my dad’s side of the family. beautiful and glamorous women: adela, my uncle’s mother, the piano player; melanie, my aunt, the wife, hostess, and addict; lauren and andrea, my cousins, the restauranteurs; stella, my dad’s mamma, the widow and matriarch. and on all their faces, thick dark eyebrows, and, yes, that ever-familiar peach fuzz. i swear it healed something in my soul. despite my lack of beauty and glamor, we are not so different after all.)

that’s not to say all things are easy now. i’ve spent three years living as a GNC woman and if that wasn’t enough to confirm most all of my hypotheses on people’s perceptions of me, i don’t know what is.

detrans spaces (like most trans spaces) are overwhelmingly white- or at least that’s who dominates conversation. i see SO much downplaying of the things that naturally hairy women go through societally. i see trans allies who purport to be “okay” with detransitioners, saying “what’s the big deal? if you took testosterone you can just go off it and get laser hair removal!! :)” as if laser isn’t expensive as hell, painful as hell, and also WAY more of a process for a woman with dark curly hair than it is for one with straight blonde hair lmfao!!! i see detrans women obsessed with removing all traces of hair from their bodies (even though most of them clearly don’t have a neverending five o’clock shadow like some of us do! my lower face has a constant blue-green disturbance under the surface which makes female spaces incredibly daunting) and insulting the rest of us for being ugly and hairy and making no effort to look like women or what the fuck ever. basically, a lot of people who claim to support us are just racists and essentialists and believe that sex is visual and not biological…🤨

anyway… i guess my main takeaways from all this are:

1. please stop acting like detransition is an entirely internal process and that it’s easy for all of us to be seen as our sex again (some of us like. actually transitioned and passed as the opposite sex), or that potential physical interventions aren’t incredibly invasive and difficult

2. stop assuming all transition and detransition journeys follow your own experience of lifelong whiteness and hairlessness

3. it is a distinct experience to be regularly de-gendered or denied your sex, PRIOR to ever thinking of yourself as literally trans. many trans/detrans people had this happen to us (we were once the vast majority of trans people). but many did not, and generally shock others when they begun breaking gender norms. i really think people from the second group often have trouble understanding that for the first group, changing gender expression is basically a bandaid over an abscess… we have lived entire lifetimes being denied our sex, being told our bodies are not “truly” ours, that there is someone else inside trying to break out. kicked out of the bathroom, the changing room, alienated from single-sex peer groups. transition just flips this experience and instead separates us from our preferred gender group, reinforcing the feeling that we have no place, anywhere.

race/ethnicity, being homosexual or bisexual, mental illness stigma, disability, and low economic class all play an additional role in this. stop perpetuating this and denying us our biological sex.

[neesieiumz]

orange peel theory || a cherub’s apple drabble.

read full fic here

based on the trending orange peel theory. 1.3K WORDS

heart banner by @todorosie , orange banner by @cafekitsune

THE SUN SEEPED into the windows, dulled by the thin curtains around it. Even with that, it awoke you, your eyes slowly prying open. the first thing you noticed was the weight that kept you pressed up against a warm body. A smile threatened to form on your face, now hearing the soft snores of your husband beside you, as he kept you close. His large arm wrapped carefully around you, his hand resting upon your stomach. Where the love between the two of you coalesced.

18 weeks along, four and half months, yet everything had changed but stayed the same.

A long sigh left your lips as you stretched, your spine and other bones popping, releasing the air that gathered in between the crevices. Quietly, you pulled your husband’s arm away from you. It was a routine, you using your pillow, soaked with your fragrant as a cheap replacement to let him sleep some more.

Your husband is a tired, hardworking man.

Reaching for your drawer, you pulled out a thin nightgown to cover your naked body. As you shimmied into it, a shiver almost froze you in your tracks. Letting the dress fall onto your body, you pressed a hand against your swollen stomach.

“I know, I know, I’m hungry too, give me a second Peach.”

The two of you undoubtedly dubbed her Peach, ascribed to the day you found out you were with child. Kento had planted the said fruit tree within your private coven on the Orchard Grounds, next to the pomegranate trees you had planted for your family that had long passed. A sign for new things to come, for new things to grow.

Your cold feet slipped into your slippers, as you strode towards the door to your bathroom, and after a quick two minutes, your mouth now clean, as fresh as dew-misted mint. Slipping out of the bathroom, you no longer heard the soft snores but rather heavy breathing, indicating your husband was going to wake up soon. out of your room, into the office area. Before you knew it, you had finally slipped into the kitchen, to satisfy your and Peach’s desire for food.

A soft whistle left your lips as you glanced at the options in front of you, “what to eat… what to eat…”

A flutter of blinks, a pondering hum, and then a, “yeah, ice cream for breakfast sounds amazing Peach. You absolutely read my mind.”

However, just as you grabbed the sweet treat from the freezer, spoon and bowl in hand. It was inevitably swiped out of your hands. A whine left your pouty lips as you turned around, seeing the naked, hairy chest of your husband, his outstretched arm holding the tub of ice cream up and away from you.

“No fair, give that back!” you tried to reach, stretching up on the tips of your toes to give that back.

Low grumbles rumbled off of his chest, watching, in the corner of your eye as he shook his head. His other arm came up and around you, “what did I tell you about ice cream for breakfast, my love?”

You only pointed further, crossing your arms, “it wasn;t for me, It was for Peach.” you mumbled, leaning back into his chest.

He let off a low hum as he squeezed you slightly, to keep you close as he put the ice cream back before closing the top door fully. With a now free hand, it came up around you, holding you close as he began to just simply sway you. Heat bubbled at your chest, the warmth of his touch washed away all the contempt of being pulled away from your ice cream. You felt his neck strain, before giving you a long smooch on your cheek, before moving right to your plump lips. It was soft, easy but oh so delicious. He tasted mint, cool to the touch, evidence of him brushing his teeth before making his way out here. He was very adamant about dental care before kisses, especially with Peach growing within you.

Giggles left your mouth, spilling into the kiss, “good morning, Kento.” you mumbled, your eyes fluttering open to look at his closed ones

You felt him smile against your lips, before letting go slightly, “good morning, darling.”

A chill ran down your back at the sound of his morning low-tones, you ignored the way something pulsed within you. Instead, you turned around, his hands still locked together, now around your hips instead of your protruding abdomen, sliding your lukewarm hands up around his back, resting on his back shoulder blades.

“Anything you wish for breakfast?” he asked you, the two of you locking eyes, “except for sugar-filled ice cream?”

Another pout.

Kento saw your lips downturn, your mood souring slightly at the sound of his ban on ice cream, before a sigh left his lips, “okay, ice cream one hour after breakfast, and not too much.”

A squeal left your mouth, “yes,” you hissed, taking a step back to look at your belly.

The two of you decided on a breakfast that didn’t inspire a flare of nausea within you. A savory toast, with avocado, at least Kento’s will have it. You’re not a fan of the unsweet “fruit” and Peach is definitely not a fan of it either. So yours will simply have turkey bacon and egg on it. You also wished for vanilla yogurt, to hold you over until your ice cream treat, paired with your three favorites. While Kento cooked down the eggs and breads the two different types of toast, you wanted to help, grabbing a bowl, and putting different fruit within it, to chop up the French toast.

While chopping up the strawberries, after rinsing the blueberries, those were usually the two fruits you had with your vanilla Greek yogurt. Your eyes suddenly floated towards the bowl of oranges sitting right beside your husband, just as he was plating the two pieces of toast loaded with avocado, eggs, and bacon. His one plate, while yours was resting on the counter beside the oranges.

“Kento,” you started, “can you hand me two oranges, I want to add them to my greek yogurt.”

He hummed, confirming that he would. You thanked him, before continuing to chop up the last of your strawberries, wishing to sprinkle a little sugar on them before putting them in your bowl of Greek yogurt. Suddenly, you heard porcelain grating against the countertop.

Glancing down, you saw oranges resting on a small plate. They were peeled, and pulled apart as well, each slice resting on its curved, flat side, all facing the same way. You couldn't help the smile that appeared on your face, eyeing the mint garnish on the side of the plate as well.

“I didn’t ask for mint you know,” you said, picking up the plate and sliding them into the bowl, mint included.

“Whenever you have oranges with your yogurt, you inevitably have some mint leaves added to it,” is all he said, holding both plates in his hands.

Walking past you, he placed a short but sweet kiss on the top of your head, before walking towards the dining table. Your smile never went away as you mixed the fruit into the yogurt, before separating it into two different bowls and bringing it toward the table. Brown eyes landed on your walk, just as he placed the bowls down, taking two long strides towards you, taking the bowls out of your hands, before placing each other in their correct spots.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased him once more, taking your seat at the table.

The morning went as such, with such sweet memories and many more to come. Peach’s joy came out in bouts of kicks as you ate the Greek yogurt. The taste of the oranges with hints of mint came especially sweet to you, glancing at your husband who ate away at his food as well.

[impala-dreamer]

Like He Owns It

A Story from The Top Gun Universe

~Working late sometimes has its advantages, even if it seems like all you’re getting is annoyed…~

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader

1776 Words

NSFW, Snark and Sex, Fun times. | Originally Published to Patreon Sept 2023

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

He walked in like he owned the place, ignoring the sign on the door clearly stating the bar was closed. 

A burst of hot air accompanied his entrance, battling the air conditioning and making Y/N look up from the till. Shadowed by the night and haloed by the few neon lights still on above the bar, he looked like a romantic lead plucked right out of a Hallmark movie.

Y/N hated Hallmark movies. 

She sighed and shoved the register closed with her hip. “Sorry, we’re closed.”  

Hangman sucked his teeth and grinned. “Yeah, I can read.” 

“And yet- you still walked in.” Y/N narrowed her eyes, trying to appear unimpressed by the sharp, sunkissed jaw and flash of white teeth. 

“I said I can read, not that I care.” 

Rolling her eyes, Y/N grabbed a damp rag from the sink and made a show of buffing the beer taps. “I’m busy and we’re closed. What do you want?” 

Green eyes scanned her body and Y/N felt every second of it. Annoyed but slightly excited by his observation, she leaned over to catch a spill on the bartop and gave him a peek down her tank top. 

He sucked in a quick breath and wet his lips with the tip of his pink tongue. 

“Hello?” Clearing her throat to regain his attention, Y/N asked again, “What do you want?”

Hangman straightened up and rolled his shoulders, pulling her gaze to the thick muscles under his shirt. “I was in here earlier,” he explained. “You might have noticed me.” 

She had, but she wouldn’t admit it. “I see a lot of flyboys around here.”

He grinned and held his hands open as if showing himself off. “But none like me.” He winked.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “They literally all look like you.” She sighed, feigning annoyance and utter exasperation while hiding her growing interest. “For the last time, I beg of you- what do you want?” 

Feeling slightly dejected, Hangman looked away and sucked his teeth. “Sunglasses.” 

“What about them?”

“Lost them.”

Y/N puckered her lips in thought and swept her eyes over the bar. “Not here. Sorry.”

Three strides forward had him against the counter. He set his hand down and drummed his fingertips over the dull lacquered wood. “Mind looking in the lost and found?” he asked with a soft look. “They’re my favorite pair.” 

Y/N laughed. “You think we have a lost and found?” 

“Sure. What happens to all the stuff people leave behind?” 

She nodded in understanding and reached below the bar, pulling up a small black garbage can. “Behold- The Lost and Found. Help yourself.” 

Jake tongued his cheek and narrowed his eyes. “You’re a real peach, you know that?”

“Am I?” She leaned in and set her forearms on the bar. 

His eyes flew to her cleavage. “So far, yeah.” 

“Maybe I’m just irritated and I wanna go home,” she offered. 

A tiny smile twitched in the corner of his lips. He leaned forward and mirrored her pose. “And what’s got you irritated, sweetheart?” 

Slowly, Y/N licked her gently parted lips and moved in closer. She stared into his green eyes and pushed her tits out for him. “Well…” 

He held his breath as his blood rushed south. 

“Right now…” 

She lifted her chin as if she meant to kiss him and his eyes glazed over with desire. 

“What’s irritating me…” 

He leaned closer, pulled to her like a magnet. 

“Is you.” 

Y/N slapped her hands on the bar top and pushed away, leaving him hanging in the air like a kite whose tail got stuck in a tree. 

He shook himself and grit his teeth. “Look- Just… help me find my sunglasses and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“I already told you, I haven’t seen them.”

When she turned back, she found him with a pathetic look on his chiseled face and a slight pout on his lips. 

“Please?” 

Y/N relented. “Fine.” 

Maybe she was overly tired; maybe his puppy-dog eyes had worked on her. She didn’t know which, but whatever it was, she knew the faster she found his glasses, the faster she could get home. 

They checked behind the bar, only once bumping heads as they looked beneath the sink.

They scanned the bathrooms, finding nothing but each other in the connecting hallway. 

She looked by the piano, he investigated the big booth in the back. 

Wherever they turned, they came up short. 

“Are you sure you left them here?” she asked, spinning around with her hands on her hips, clueless and out of ideas. 

Jake was on his knees at the far end of the pool table, surveying the underside. “I’m positive.” 

Y/N followed his voice, her eyes sweeping over the green felt. “I just don’t know where-” A glint of metal tucked into the back corner pocket caught her eye and Y/N rounded the table to grab it. “Well, looky here-” 

His head popped up just as she snatched the glasses. “Nice! Thanks.” He reached for them, but Y/N teased them away. “Hey!”

“Hey, what?” A playful smile pulled at her lips. “Finders keepers.” 

He sat back on his heels. “I don’t think so.” Again, he tried to catch her hand but she hopped up onto the pool table and held him at bay. 

“Nuh uh… Mine now.” She put them on and grinned. “Don’t be upset. They look better on me anyway.” 

Jake bit back a smile. “So you have noticed me.”

Y/N gave in. “Hard not to. You run in here every night and command the room like some kinda royalty.” 

He sat up on his knees. “Maybe I am.” 

She pulled the aviators down onto the tip of her nose, looking at him over the mirrored lenses. “King of the jerks, maybe.”

He held back a chuckle and set his hands on the table, caging her in as he pushed up between her legs. “You think I’m a jerk?” 

Her breath got caught as he slid upwards. He didn’t touch her, but she could feel his heat; smell the day’s work and faded aftershave on his neck. “Um…” Her snark fell away as he stood up fully, his lips flying by hers like a jet around the tower. “You are-” 

“You don’t sound too sure anymore.” He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth and her attention was locked on the flash of white on pure pink. She shivered and he dared to lay his right hand on her hip. 

“P-pretty sure…” Heart pounding, eyes fluttering, she held perfectly still as his left hand ran up her thigh. 

“Pretty sure you don’t really care right now, do you?” 

A lust-drunk laugh fluttered in her chest and Y/N tipped her head back, looking up at him through delicate lashes. “I do not…” 

“That’s good because-”

His words died in her kiss. Y/N grabbed a fistful of his collar and dragged him in, licking between his lips before he could process what was happening. 

They were matched one for one and he loved every second of it. 

Y/N snaked a hand around the back of his head, scratched at his scalp, made him moan into her mouth. 

“You are such a jerk-”

He palmed her tits, rolled his hips up into her, pulled a shocked gasp from her lips when he pinched her nipple. 

“You’re a goddamned peach…” 

Her shirt landed on the booth behind him.

“I think I dislike you very much.”

His jeans knocked the pool cues from the wall. 

“Feeling’s mutual.” 

Her bra hooked onto the hanging light above the table; his boxers slid across the floor. 

Jake laid her back with a trail of kisses that plotted a wet line down her body and Y/N melted into the hard table. She clawed at his massive arms and spread her legs wide. 

“This is really bad for the felt,” he joked, sliding back up to nibble at her ear. 

Y/N tugged at his blond hair and rocked her body up against him. “I’ll send you a bill for any repairs.” 

He laughed. “Deal.” 

Jake pushed up onto his tiptoes and nudged his cock against her slit. She shivered and leaked for him; squirmed down onto his swollen head. His calves strained and he bit down hard into his lip trying to get the angle right. 

“You havin’ issues?” 

He scoffed. “Never.” 

Y/N hummed and pushed him back. He stood there shocked for a moment until she hopped down and bent over, offering her backside. 

“Well?” she teased, spreading her legs and pushing her tits down onto the table. “You gonna fuck me or what?” 

He clicked his tongue. “So classy.” 

“You know it-” 

The moment he slipped inside, all pretense fell away. Every snarky comment, every cocky smile died down as her body clamped down around his thick cock. 

Y/N held on while he pistoned inside of her, jerking his hips with one goal in mind. 

“You’re… pretty good at this,” she moaned, bucking back onto his cock when he slowed. 

A giant palm cracked against her ass. “Peaches, I am the best.” 

She wanted to snap back, give him something to dwell on later, but her mind blanked when he snuck a hand around her body and tapped her clit. Her jaw fell slack and her eyes rolled high. 

“Fuck!” 

“I may be cocky,” he growled, rubbing faster, “but I’m not selfish.” 

Every muscle tightened up and Y/N held her breath as the pleasure peaked. Her legs shook and he gripped her hips, holding her still while he fucked her through it. Each jolt of orgasm made her cunt squeeze him harder, and soon he was thrusting like an animal; all technique and fancy tricks vanishing while he chased his release.  

He came with a tight-lipped moan that trickled down her back like warm honey. Y/N squirmed against him, making sure he gave up every bit he could. 

A moment of silence overtook them and Jake gingerly pulled out. She felt a mess leak down her thigh and she laughed. 

“Man, I’m glad I worked late tonight,” she mused, still high on bliss and aching. 

“Me too.” 

Jake reached around and plucked the glasses from her face, returning them to their rightful spot. She turned to see him: naked and glistening in the dim bar lights, offering a sleek smile and a lazy salute. 

“America thanks you for your service, Miss.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and tried uselessly to hide her blushing grin. “Anytime, Lieutenant.” 

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[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Sweet

Summary: You were in charge of the bakery of Jackson, baking all day long with a little help from Ellie. What you didn't know is that Joel Miller had a sweet tooth. And let's just say even the funghi apocalypse did not change saying: the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 3.3k

Rating: T

Warnings: fluff, mentions of food, a little making out, that once scene with the sugar from gone girl but it's Joel

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You enjoyed these quiet moments when the small community of Jackson was still asleep. The sun wasn’t even up as you walked the familiar way from your small house on the edges of town towards the town centre. 

You still couldn’t believe how surreal living here was, after years of living scared on the road, even though you had been here for almost a year now. 

You felt safe here, and that was the biggest luxury you could have since the outbreak. 

Maria had found you hiding in an abandoned lodge hours from here, nearly delirious from hunger and hydration. 

You don’t remember how you got here exactly, you just remember waking up in what you learned later was the town's jail with Maria watching you like a hawk. 

Apparently you had fought them pretty wildly when they found you and you only had Tommy Miller to thank for them not killing you. What he saw in you was a question you still asked yourself.

But Maria noticed that she did not have to worry about you pretty quickly. And when her husband learned that you used to help in your fathers bakery before the Outbreak… Well let’s just say the empty building next to the bar had been renovated within three weeks to make room for a bakery and you had been baking everything from bread to sweets ever since then. 

Your days didn’t have to start so early. But you cherished the quiet, the alone time you got whenever you walked through town before everyone woke up. 

Ever since you started baking for the town all kinds of ingredients and appliances showed up whenever patrol was out on a run. You had your usual baked goods and pastries you made for the daily with ingredients you always had on stock. If someone wanted something special you did that too. You’d never forget last year when Tommy had brought you fresh strawberries to make four cakes with it. 

By now you had a little garden at your home with all fresh fruits. Even a peach and an apple tree was slowly growing in your yard. Okay, it wasn’t even up to your hip but it was getting there and in the meantime you could count on Tommy Miller’s sweet tooth to bring you whatever he found when he was scouting outside of the walls. 

Your little bakery was quiet, the radio playing some Queen CD you had found in the library as you kneaded some dough to make some new loafs of bread. Humming along you jumped when the door flew open with a yelled “Good Morning.”

You took a deep breath, shaking your head, a smile sneaking to your face before Ellie even walked towards the back to find you. 

“Jesus kid, one day you are going to give me a heart attack,” you scolded her. She stuck her tongue out towards you as she grabbed her apron. 

“You’re late,” you said. 

“I know. But I have a good reason!” she grinned and you only noticed the bag she was carrying now. 

You tilted your head to the side, narrowing your eyes with a smile playing around your lips. 

“Joel got back in back late yesterday and I tried cooking for him.”

“So you were late because you were putting the fire out from burning down the kitchen?” you teased.

She gasped, her eyes widening in mock offence. 

“Rude. But I’ll let it slide. I didn’t burn the food. Well, not much but Joel brought me some new comics to read and I kinda forgot the time.”

“That’s the good reason?” you asked. You began to cut the dough and form some loafs. 

She shook her head, beginning to unload the bag. 

The first thing you saw seemed to be cream cheese. 

“Had to pick that up from the farm,” she explained. “That’s why I was late.”

“Okay…” you nodded. 

She pulled another three big bags with what looked like a brownish powder. 

“Joel found this and said I had to talk you into making… Cinnamon… rolls?”

You gasped. Rubbing your hands off your apron you walked over to her, opening the bag and the familiar scent of cinnamon hitting your nose. 

“How did he even… Wait, Joel told you to talk me into making cinnamon rolls?” you asked surprised. 

“Yup.”

“Joel Miller?” you checked. She nodded again. 

“Huh okay,” you nodded, surprised. 

Of course you knew Joel Miller. Not just because he was the new main attraction (pun intended) of the town, no he could almost compete Tommy on the first place of Jackson’s biggest sweet tooth. Not that you would know about it if it wasn’t for Ellie telling you that basically everything she took home after helping you was almost inhaled immediately by Joel. 

You hadn’t met him in person very often yet. Ellie and Joel had been in Jackson for almost two months now and he was busy helping out wherever he could. He had a skillset that was very valuable in times like these. 

One day Tommy had brought Ellie with him, introducing you to her and she… she never really left. On weekends she helped you out in the morning like today, while during the week she hung out with you after school. If she wasn’t here, she was with Joel. 

Which made you not really knowing much about the man a little strange. He only had been to the bakery once, probably to make sure you weren’t a bad influence on his kid (though you would say it was very much Ellie who was the bad influence here, not that you would say that out loud). 

You had met him at Maria’s birthday party only two weeks ago where he kept in the back and nursed a bottle of beer until leaving quietly without saying goodbye to anyone. 

You knew Maria was not his biggest fan, though the question of why has not been answered yet. Not that you had a right to know in any way. 

To you he seemed like a man hardened by the world you all were living in. He’d protect his family until his last breath. Ellie only ever had great things to say about him (apart from moaning about him making her do daily chores around the house like every teenager) and Tommy seemed even happier since Joel was in Jackson. 

Of course you saw the way people looked at him, you weren’t blind. 

He was tall and had broad shoulders, the warmest brown eyes you had ever seen, leaving not only you to daydream about those arms and hands and what he could do with them. 

“So, Cinnamon rolls?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her, your nose still inhaling the scent.

“Yes. God, it must be at least 20 years since I’ve had some.”

You grabbed two of the packages, putting them away. 

“We gotta finish those loafs of bread first. Then we can start on the rolls.”

“Can we do a whole tin of these cinnamon rolls for Joel?” Ellie asked, walking back to join you at the counter after she had washed her hands. 

“Sure. I don’t see why not,” you shrugged, rolling the dough to form more loafs of bread. 

“Cause it’s his birthday and Tommy said he hates his birthday, cause ya know it’s outbreak day and…. Well stuff happened there…. And I… I want him to be a little happy?” she said and you nodded. 

Outbreak day was bad for everyone. It was the day you lost your whole family. You had just turned 26 and had been visiting home for a week after moving away for a job. You were at your father’s bakery, finishing icing for a wedding cake for the next day when your father attacked you. 

You had killed him in tears to save your own life and nothing had ever been the same ever since. 

“I already said it’s okay, Ellie. Come on. Let’s bake the best cinnamon rolls of the apocalypse,” you joked and she giggled. 

You ended up not only making four loads of cinnamon rolls that were gone the moment word got out you had made them, but also a little vanilla sponge cake with cinnamon frosting, helping Ellie to carry the cake and one load of cinnamon rolls home. 

She insisted it was okay for you to come home with her, she couldn’t carry it on her own anyway. 

Opening the door, she yelled for Joel immediately and you chuckled as you followed her inside and into the kitchen. 

It only took a moment before you heard footsteps and Joel Miller walked into the kitchen. And what a sight to behold he was. Wearing dark sweatpants and a thin white shirt, his hair unkempt. You had the suspicion that he had just woken up from a nap. His eyes found yours first, confusion washing over his face before he looked behind you to find Ellie.

“Look what we made you!” Ellie said proudly, revealing the little cake with one single pink birthday candle on top of it which she had lit. 

A genuine smile sneaked on his face as he slowly walked over to the table where Ellie had set the cake down. 

“For me?” he asked and Ellie nodded eagerly. 

“You gotta blow out the candle if you still can, old man,” she winked at him and he huffed a laugh, his head turning towards you for a second.

“Make a wish,” you said with a smile and he nodded before he blew the candle out. 

“Taste the frosting! I didn’t know anything could taste so fucking good,” Ellie pushed a spoon into his hand and he shook his head with a smile as he sat down. 

“I should go,” you said and Ellie looked at you with wide eyes, as if she only just remembered you were still there. 

“Noooo come on. You gotta stay. Enjoy our hard work and eat a piece of cake,” she grabbed another spoon and walked over to you, grabbing you hand and pulling you with her towards the table. 

“Yeah. Stay. Can’t let you leave without having a taste of your hard work,” Joel said and gave you a small smile. 

You took a deep breath, his eyes not leaving yours as you finally nodded and sat down next to him. 

“Plates?” he asked. 

“And have me clean the dishes again? Fuck no dude. Dig in,” Ellie said and you chuckled at the expression of pure defeat on Joel’s face before he sighed and dug his spoon into the cake. 

Joel became a frequent fixture in your life after that day. 

He picked Ellie up after her shift at the bakery and made suggestions about how to improve the bakery. He suggested having some place to sit outside to enjoy a piece of cake in the sun.

“You know, like a coffee shop before the outbreak,” he says with a far away expression on his face, as if he was thinking about something in particular. 

A week later there was a bench outside of the bakery with a small table, built by him and for you. You thanked him with a peach pie and a kiss to his cheek that had him hide a blush. 

Him and Tommy even brought an espresso machine into your bakery that they intended to fix. How they would provide coffee beans for their espresso was beyond you, but you knew if the Miller brothers wanted something, they would find a way to get it. 

Ellie started to spend even more time with you. 

She would visit you at home and help with your little garden. When you walked her home after Joel would have dinner ready more than once, inviting you to join them. And who were you to say no?

There were little touches when you passed by. His hands brushing over your arms, your back, your waist. Whenever you were looking for him, his eyes would already be on you, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

It was interesting seeing how different he was in his home in comparison to outside in town. 

He’d walk you home after dinner, so he knew you’d make it back safe even though both of you knew you were perfectly safe anytime in Jackson. 

Joel seemed to look for reasons to spend time with you, and you were not complaining. At all. 

It had been many many years since you were interested in someone and someone in you and you were enjoying having the attention of Joel Miller. 

He’d hug you good night, telling you to be safe and that he’s looking forward to seeing you the next day. 

Spending time with him became your new favourite thing, and you were pretty sure Joel liked it too.

Yet you felt like something was holding him back. 

And you’d learn about it weeks later, after he had invited you for dinner, for your first official date. 

You learned about his daughter who was killed on outbreak day. About how he lost a part of himself that only started to come back after he had allowed himself to care for Ellie. You learned about Tess and how he regretted never being brave enough to tell her how he felt about her before she died. 

“I’m scared that once I allow myself to care about someone, they will be taken from me,” he whispered as you sat in his arms, your back against his chest as you shared a glass of wine in front of the fireplace.

“I think we’re all scared Joel,” you said, your hands on top of his. 

“How couldn’t we be? Fucking funghi took over and ended the world as we knew it before. But that’s the thing. We don’t know how long we live. And I probably sound like a shitty  motivational speaker but it’d be a shame not to live every day like it could be the last. To not tell the people you care about how you feel about them,” you said and felt him pull you even closer, his nose nuzzling into your hair as he sighed. 

You had fallen asleep not long after, waking up early the next morning when Joel had to leave for patrol. 

His eyes had lingered on your lips as he told you to stay however long you wanted, before he kissed your forehead and helped you up on the couch where you fell asleep again. 

You were late in the bakery that day, thankful for Sean who had joined the community a week before who was already finished with all the baked goods for the day when you finally made your way to the bakery at noon. 

You thanked him, sending him home early before you got behind the counter and started decorating some cookies he had made for a kid's birthday the next day. 

The sun was setting when the door opened and Joel walked in. He smiled at you and you offered him a cookie which he took, moaning when he tasted it. 

“Got something for ya,” he said and you noticed the bag he was holding. Interested, you walked over to him as he held it up. 

“What is it?” you asked with big eyes. 

“Found a plum tree on the new route today,” he said and you grinned. 

“You got me plums?” you grinned and he nodded. 

God you wanted to kiss him so badly. 

You were startled when you heard a crack, Joel’s arm wrapping around your middle protectively, shoving you behind him before either of you knew what was happening, your head whipping to the side just in time to see the cupboard behind you on the wall crash down on the counter, your eyes widening when one of the bags of powdery sugar you had made the week before opened and seemed to cloud the whole room in a white cloud of sugar. 

You turned your head to look up at Joel, eyes widened with shock, a giggle fighting its way out of you. Joel was still looking at the damage behind you before his eyes were on you when you laughed. 

“I might have to file a complaint against the carpenter that hung those,” you hummed and Joel shook his head with a chuckle.

“You better.”

“It was your brother,” you said. 

He rolled his eyes and sighed. 

“Of course it was. Gonna fix that up myself for ya, darling,” he said. You smiled, only now noticing that his arm was still wrapped around you. You turned, stepping around him so that you were facing him. Carefully your hand reached out, your fingers rubbing over his temple, where you only noticed now some sugar was sticking to his skin. He hummed, his eyes closing for a moment as you swiped it away, bringing it to your lips. Licking them clean. 

“You have sugar all over you too,” he whispered and you sucked your bottom lip in, hiding your smile as his warm brown eyes took in every little inch of your face. He tilted his head a little, one of his hands coming up, two of his fingers rubbing over your cheek before he rubbed them over your lips.

Sugar, he was rubbing sugar over your lips.

Your lips parted as he tilted your chin up. 

“Always wondered if you taste as sweet as I imagined,” he hummed before he closed the distance between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours. 

You melted against him, your hands running up his back until your fingers were in his hair as you guided him down towards you. 

Joel hummed against your lips as he slowly walked you back until your back hit the counter. Parting from your lips he looked at you with dark eyes, before he helped you up on the counter, your legs crossing behind him as he stepped between them. 

“Dreamed so long about this,” he brushed his nose over yours and you smiled. 

“Me too,” you hummed, playing with his hair as one of his hands came up to cup your cheek. 

He kissed you again, his lips moving against yours, making you dizzy. His hand slipped under your shirt, making you shiver as his fingers slowly ran up your spine. 

You parted your lips for him, his tongue slipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss until you were both out of breath. You could feel him hard against your core, his hips moving just right against your clit, making you moan against his lips.

The door behind you opened and you both froze. Slowly you tilted your head to the side, finding Tommy grinning widely at you both. 

“I’m just gonna take his and…” he helped himself to two cupcakes and turned around, walking back towards the door. 

He stopped, stepping to the side to turn off the lights, giving you a wink before he closed the door behind him. 

You let your head fall against Joel’s shoulder as you both laughed. 

“I’m never gonna hear the end of that,” he sighed, shaking his head as he chuckled. 

“Maybe we should take this somewhere else,” he said and you looked up at him. He kissed you again, both of his hands now on your ass as he rolled his hips against you.

“Lead the way,” you whispered against his lips, shrieking when he picked you up from the counter and carried you towards the door.