#going to get my little treat and then get to work but i am significantly calmer. For Now DJKDHD

[bravevolunteer]

survived a last minute important presentation 🎉

[always-just-red]

Hi!

Can I request a fic where the reader starts realizing they have feelings for Sylus and gets so nervous around him that they can’t resonate anymore?

And Sylus thinks that the reader is scared/disgusted by him again so the reader is forced to confess their feelings to not create a bigger misunderstanding

Thanks!

- 🌻

The moment I got this request I was like HELLO— sunflower anon, you just get me 😌 Anyway! Am back from my break and I hope everyone’s ready for some Vulnerable Sylus™️, because I have got him hot to go!!!

A Gentle Touch

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You really can’t let Sylus into your head this time— he’s living there rent-free already.

Genre: Angst + Fluff (& some Luke and Kieran shenanigans because they were not feeling the angst)

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, injury detail, mentions of possible trauma, humour, some intimacy at the end 😘, Luke and Kieran are having the time of their lives

| Word count: 3.2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

If you asked, Sylus would tell you.

You catch glimpses: dark, sharp flickers of something monstrous, maybe even infernal. Blood, everywhere— thick in your mouth and your nose. All over your hands. You feel it, too: a yearning, so intense, and you couldn’t say whom it belongs to. Then there’s death. Searing white. Bottomless black. In the middle of all of it— crimson eyes like dying stars.

Every time you resonate, it envelops you, is laid out bare before you: a nightmare you’re caught in the centre of but forced to watch from outside. An other, a spectator. It’s a show, just for you, but it isn’t quite ready yet; someone’s still rehearsing their lines.

If you asked, Sylus would let you see it. It’s a power you have over him, a constant, self-sacrificial: you want it? It’s yours. So you don’t ask. You never ask. Like words mumbled in a haze of wine or sleep, you let him hold onto it. His hands are open, yes, but you don’t have to take.  

Besides, you have your own, world-changing little secret, and he’s going to see it too.

He’s slumped in front of you, blood sheeting down from two bullet wounds just below his shoulder. He catches his breath— one, two— before he peeks over this desk you’ve overturned for cover. You should be peeking over as well: should be counting your enemies, scouting your next move.

Instead, you’re looking at him and holding back. One minute ago you had no idea where he was, how he was, and it’d been eating away at you from the moment you got separated. Now he’s with you— he found you— and the relief is desperate, gushing; it has to escape somehow. It drips: forbidden daydreams, one after the other, like…

How you want to hold his face and urge him to speak so you can just hear his voice.

How you want to press a hand to his heart and feel the beat of it beneath your palm.

How you want to kiss him, want to taste the blood on his split lip, because this is your story, isn’t it? Messy. Violent. Defiant.

He looks at you, that same blood carving a thin line through the pale of his chin. It drops down onto his silk shirt. “What are you thinking about, kitten?” he grins. His best guess: “This is a fine mess we’ve gotten ourselves into, hmm?”

It’s a fine mess he got you into. “Yeah.” You make yourself look away from him, glancing over the desk to assess how much worse the situation is getting. The answer? Significantly. 

Sylus chuckles, drawing your eyes back as he reloads his gun. “Don’t say I never treat you to anything, sweetie.” He fires a few rounds towards the encroaching danger.

Voices go up across the room. Gunshots ring out, louder. Sylus slinks back down, wincing, holding his shoulder, and his fingers turn red. He deftly undoes the first few buttons on his shirt, peeling it back so he can examine his wounds. His jaw clenches; the punctures aren’t closing over fast enough. It’s too much blood, too quick, and he’ll—

He catches you staring. There’s a sheepish sincerity in the way he smiles, as honest and vulnerable as the holes in his shoulder. He holds out his hand. “Time for an energy storm, don’t you think?”

“No,” you snap. “Save your energy. We might need it later.”

“Oh?” An eyebrow perks up in interest, and it’s just like him to spot a double entendre in the midst of all this chaos.

But you’re staring at his chest through his open shirt and you’re such a hypocrite. “Things might get worse,” you explain.

“Worse?” he repeats as bullets fly over your heads, striking the wall across from you and scattering plaster over the floor. He watches it crumble. “Paint me a picture, kitten— what would worse look like?”

Even Rafayel might struggle with that particular creative prompt.

“Come on,” Sylus insists, using the excuse of your silence to push his hand closer to you. “Now’s not the time to play coy.”

“Sylus, I really don’t—”

He grasps your hand, his fingers locking with yours and squeezing tight. Your heart jumps at the touch. It strangles the protests in your throat and stays there, strung up by anticipation and dread.

You’re feeling so much that it takes you too long to realise nothing is happening.

Sylus’s eyes are fixed on your connected palms. He’s squinting, concentrating, and when that doesn’t work— when your hand is paling in the vice of his— he loosens his grip, his thumb feathering over yours as he mumbles a quick: “forgive me.”

He doesn’t let you go. You can still feel him, all of him, imploring to just let him in.

You don’t, and his eyes meet yours, for a moment— like another bullet has bitten through his flesh. Your mouth drops in fake surprise; you’re always so innocent when you pull a trigger on him.

This time, there’s no wound you can push your hands against in a guilty effort to staunch the bleeding. You have to apologise. Have to stitch it up with every word you’ve been guarding, saving, and it isn’t supposed to be like this. “Sylus, it’s not what you think. I—”

Something metal clatters across the floor behind you, bounces like a failing, stuttering heartbeat, then explodes.

…

“Good news, boss! We figured it out!”

Sylus groans, looking up from a report he’s not really been reading as two figures crash into his room. Not good, he thinks, as Kieran flings himself into the nearest armchair. Whatever this is, it’s not good. Luke settles on its arm.

With a sigh, Sylus removes his reading glasses. They stay, hooked on a finger, as he pushes his hair back like he can feel a headache coming on. His eyes flutter closed, and when they open, the twins are both leaning forward, bristling with excitement.

“Ask us,” Luke whispers in a way that makes Sylus think he might not realise he’s speaking out loud.

Another sigh. “What did you figure out?”

Kieran whips out a tired-looking notepad from behind his back. He clears his throat— “ahem!”— then starts to read: “Reasons why Miss Hunter was not able to resonate with you. Number one...”

“How did you find out about—”

“Sshhhh,” Kieran interrupts, putting a finger to where his lips should be. Sylus’s eyes widen in indignation, and Luke comes to his twin’s rescue, silently indicating Mephisto with a few tips of his head. The crow shrinks down on his perch.

“Number one,” Kieran repeats, matter-of-factly. “Your height.”

“My… height?”

Luke nods solemnly as Kieran continues: “humanityandconquer.com/power-dynamics describes tallness as a ‘natural advantage when trying to dominate a smaller individual.’ You are very tall. Try crouching when you speak to Miss Hunter.” He glances over the top of his notepad. “If you approach her at her level, she’ll know you mean no—”

“Nope. Next,” Sylus dismisses, waving his hand in a fast-forward motion. That headache is coming on.

“Reason two,” Kieran acquiesces, gaze falling, “your eyes.”

“Oh, for gods’ sake—”

“They’re red,” the twin pushes on, “and red means danger. In fiction, red eyes are symony—” he stops, spells it out— “synonymous with the supernatural. Vampires especially. Plus, lots of bad stuff is red.” He’s going off-script. “Blood. Fire. Sunburns.”

“Sunburns are pink,” Luke muses.

“No, like, bad sunburns, y’know?”

“Oh right, yeah.” There’s a shrug of agreement.

Sylus’s will to live is hanging by a thread, and they really don’t have a care in the world, do they? It must be nice. “Thank you,” he murmurs, “for your little investigation. If that’s all, I would—”

“Reason three!” Luke chirps, wiggling the same number of fingers, and Sylus’s head lolls back against the sofa.

“Miss Hunter is struggling to separate this version of you from your first impression,” Kieran says.

Sylus looks up. “What?”

Luke is rubbing his hands together eagerly, like they’ve finally gotten to the good stuff. “Well, you remember how you and Miss Hunter met,” his twin explains.

Words won’t do it justice, apparently, because the man begins to act it out. He reaches to grip Luke by the throat and Luke pretends to choke, fingers clawing at the grasp. Then Kieran stands up— throws Luke down into the chair and pins him there with his foot before snatching up his hand.

“See what I mean?” Kieran asks over his shoulder. “I mean, it must have been pretty traumatic. You kinda tore her away from everything she knew. Forced her to use her power, et cetera, et cetera.”

Sylus has gone quiet. He’s vaguely aware that the twins are moving, saying more, but he can’t hear it. He feels sick. Then he feels something different: someone poking at his arm. A hand is waved in front of his face, but he doesn’t react.

“Oh, we so got it,” Luke whispers conspiratorially behind him.

“Hell yeah we did!” Kieran whispers back.

There’s the sound of them high-fiving, and it spurs Sylus into action. He’s up out of his seat, out of their shadows, and then the door as well— long before they can stop him. He needs to breathe. He needs the cold night air and the quiet, and his strides drive him towards it, but not fast enough.

He’s about to use his Evol. To let himself evaporate so he can be whole again somewhere else, somewhere easier, but then he stops. He’s by an open door, glancing in at a decadent living room, where you’re sprawled over a black leather couch. This isn’t easier. This hurts, and it hurts more as he forces himself to close the distance between you.

You’re still asleep. You’ve been unconscious ever since that grenade went off, and it’s for the best, really; getting out of that place was… messy. Sylus’s shoulder still aches, the blood on his shirt now crusty and dark. Some of it’s his. Some of it’s yours.

He’s not sure why he’s still wearing it.

The twins did a pretty good job of patching you up, but— looking over you— he would have done better. It was his role, after all. His duty to you, or maybe just a reason to get close to you. He couldn’t do it today. Couldn’t touch you, no matter how noble the intention. And a little part of him was glad for the excuse; his hands always shake.

A blanket is half on your legs, half on the floor, and Sylus stoops to collect the edge of it. He draws it over your shoulder, adjusting it around your arms— at rest by your face. He’s close, now, and he…

He can’t help himself. When has he ever been able to help himself? He lifts his hand slowly; he wants to kiss you. Even though your blood is still drying on his shirt and it’s all his fault.

…

Someone’s hand is on your face.

The touch draws you back into consciousness, tender, careful, then suddenly sharp. “Ah,” you hiss. “Sylus?” Always first on your mind and your lips.

“Not even close,” quips the shadow above you.

“Kieran?”

“Bingo.”  

You use your hand to block some of the room’s light as you open your eyes— a birdlike silhouette taking shape through the gaps in your fingers. “Where’s Sylus?” you ask, teeth clenching as the twin applies a thin strip of surgical tape to a cut on your cheek. “Is he ok?”

“Sheesh, relax. He’s fine,” Kieran tuts, then seems to reconsider, “well…”

“He’s brooding,” chimes a voice from behind you. “Out on the balcony.” Luke.

You rub at your eyes, still drowsy with sleep. “Why’s he brooding? What did you do?”

“Told him he traumatised you,” they speak in unison.

“What?! Why would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true,” Kieran shrugs. “That’s why you and boss couldn’t, you know…” He twinkles his fingers.

Resonate? Ugh. You slide your feet onto the floor, sitting up straight for a solid second before you bury your face in your hands, omitting a few, pained whines. This is such a mess, and it only got worse while you were asleep. First that stupid grenade, now the twins.

A hand pats at your back. “There, there,” Luke soothes.

You turn to glare at him. His hand retreats.

Forget it; you have to find Sylus.

…

You step out onto the balcony, head full of apologies you’ve had all of a minute to prepare, and it isn’t enough. It felt fitting, in the middle of a shootout— everything was allowed to be frantic and from the heart. Here it’s calm, and if you ruin something— break anything— it’s going to be obvious. There’s no other violence to blame.

Sylus must hear you join him, but he doesn’t turn. He’s leant forwards against the rail, one arm folded upon it, the other outstretched: sporting a glass of liquor that hangs from the tips of his fingers and that he swirls gently, his gaze far away.

The twins really weren’t kidding.

“Hey,” you greet, and it’s sort of pathetic, but you don’t know what else to say.

“Hey,” Sylus returns, “are you—” he looks back at you over his shoulder— “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you smile warmly. “I mean, the twins are giving me a headache, but that’s, like, standard.”  

He smiles back: a courtesy. You’ve seen him grin through almost every type of pain imaginable, but this one is new. Think about what Luke and Kieran said. What he must be thinking. “Sylus, I—”

“You don’t have to explain,” he stops you, turning his body towards you. “Honestly, I’d… rather you didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he chuckles, masking a deeper hurt as he lifts his glass to his lips. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

You are; you hold his gaze as he takes a deliberately slow sip of his drink. He smirks, surrenders at once and admits: “I’m really not that strong, sweetie. That’s why.”

“What if I want to explain?”

The smirk falters, and his eyes make their own, sad, silent confession. If you want to explain? He’ll let you. He’ll stand here, listening patiently while you call him a thing of nightmares. While you break him, bit by tortuous bit, by reminding him just how frightening he is.

He turns back to the view, shrugs, but none of the tension leaves his shoulders. “Go on, then.”

“Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

“You don’t scare me, you know.”

His hand tightens around his glass. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Pity me,” he grimaces. “I don’t need it. I know what I am. I’d just… forgotten what I was to you.”

Your captor. Your monster. Except that was a lifetime ago and he’s been so many more things to you since then. Tell him. “Sylus…”

“I felt it,” he snaps, because your voice is still so reluctant, and he’s going to save you the trouble. “When we tried to resonate, I felt it— your fear— just as deep as it used to be. I heard that same voice in your head, the one saying you wouldn’t let me in, couldn’t let me in, so don’t tell me I don’t scare you, sweetie.” The term of endearment tastes sour, you can tell. “I know how you feel. I know—”

“I like you, Sylus.”

“…What?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. “I like you,” you say again, and your heart is beating too quickly for eloquence, so you just have simplicity. “You don’t scare me at all, Sy. I care about you. A lot.”

Sylus stares at you, his eyes wide. There’s no confidence. No smile or drawn-out breath of relief. He sets his glass aside on the railing, gaze leaving yours for a moment, and you get the feeling he needs that moment as much as he needed the drink itself.

Then he looks at you again. Asks in a way that makes you ache: “do you mean it?”

Look at him. Your throat stings. “Of course I mean it.”

“Say it again.”

“I mean it, Sylus. I care about—”

His lips are on yours and the rest of your words are lost in his mouth. You, you say with the way you kiss him back, soft and slow, like you’re relishing something that might slip away. You, you insist— your hand finding his face, his hair, as he kisses you deeper, and you, you, you, when he doesn’t stop.

“Is this alright?” he murmurs, his fingers around your chin and his thumb tugging at your bottom lip.

“Mmm,” you confirm, equally breathless.

He laughs as he withdraws a little, still caressing your face like you’re something of a dream. “You’re not making this easy, kitten.”

“Worried you might traumatise me again?”    

It's a low blow. He scoffs. “Luke and Kieran said—”

“Luke and Kieran once bought arts-and-crafts feathers for Mephisto because they thought the colours would make him, and I quote: more aerodynamic.” You pinch his ear playfully. “I can’t believe you let them get to you.”

“I know,” he groans, lifting your hand so he can press chaste kisses along the line of your knuckles. “Not my finest moment.” He guides your palm to his cheek— leans into it as he leans into an idea. “They said you hated my eyes,” he pouts.

You can’t help giggling. He frowns. “I mean— aww, no,” you scramble, but you’re still laughing. You can’t stop. “Your eyes are… yeah. So pretty.”

“You had to think about it?”

“There were just too many adjectives, y’know? I was struggling to—”

He kisses you again, saving you: crushing your laughter with his own, lightheaded smile. His hand finds yours as his lips move against you, your fingers interlocking as you resonate— chasing an instinct, a need to be impossibly closer— and you let him see everything. Feel everything.

It’s a mad tangle of opposites. Heaven. Hell. Life. Death. You don’t know what any of it means, but it’s yours and it’s his and it doesn’t scare you half as much as it should. Sylus breaks your kiss. He pushes his forehead against your own with a sigh of contentment, and it doesn’t scare him, either.  

Savour each second. Think of some better adjectives, while you still have the time.

He’s going to earn every single one.

…

✨Epilogue✨

Inside, staring out through the floor-to-ceiling windows that separate the room from the balcony, Luke and Kieran stand, looking awfully smug.   

“Mission accomplished,” Kieran nods, flipping closed his notepad, aptly titled: 101 Ways To Get Boss Laid! (There are only, currently, fifty-two.)

Luke’s arms are folded. “We’re like, the best wingmen ever.”

Kieran is silent. He repeats carefully: “Wingmen. Wingmen.”

The beaks of the crow masks gradually turn to face one-another. There’s a mutual epiphany, and both twins almost fall over laughing.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - kidnapping, manipulation, mentions of physical abuse, and prolonged imprisonment.

You learn quickly that Nanami is significantly more bearable with he's playing house.

It should've been more obvious, in retrospect. If you hadn't been so terrified, so desperate not to fall into your captor's domestic delusions, you might've been more able to catch on more quickly, to realize how much softer he was when you treated him like a loving husband, rather than an obsessive stalker who had the nerve to roll his eyes when you asked if he had anything for you to wear that didn't involve bows and frills. You were slow on the uptake, but then again, he wasn't the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve.

His reactions weren't exactly more pronounced when your aggression started to fade, when you realized that he could barely take care of himself, let alone another person. You were skittish, eager to get in and out of the kitchen before he came home, and he was stoic, offering little more than a nod of his head and a muttered 'thank you' when he came home to find a bare-bones meal on the table or his constantly neglected apartment just a little cleaner. It took weeks for him to come to you directly; his suit jacket in one hand and spare button in the other. It should've only taken a minute to mend, but your hands shook so badly that it'd ended up taking ten. He watched over your shoulder all the while - smiling so softly, you'd been able to convince yourself that it was just your imagination.

You pretended that you didn't mind being with him, that the idea of being his stay-at-home hostage didn't make your skin crawl, and in exchange, he let you watch an hour of T.V. once a week, told you how your family and friends were dealing with your sudden disappearance. It wasn't a fair trade, but it was a trade - his domestic bliss for a handful of basic privileges, his happiness for the illusion of your freedom. When you can build up the courage, when you've recovered (or, recovered as much as you can, anyway) from the last time he bent you over his knee, you press for more. And sometimes, it works.

"I missed you," he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His strong arms are wrapped around your waist, his posture hunched to accommodate the disparity between your heights, and you can feel warm breath on your skin, his deep voice reverberating against your throat.

"Welcome home," you say, because he doesn't like it when you lie and 'I missed you too' might've been the most dishonest thing you could've said. "You should sit down. I just started on dinner, and--"

You pause, cursing under your breath. Nanami is tired enough or kind enough to take the bait. "Make me a list." He pulls you that much closer before straightening his back and kissing your cheek. "I'll run to the store. It's the least I could do, for the only person who manages to keep my head on my shoulders."

You let a second of silence lapse between you, then another. "You know," you manage, eventually, just as Nanami starts to detangle himself from you. "Most couples spend as much time together as they can."

You can practically hear his smile. "You want to go shopping with me?"

"...am I allowed to?"

"Of course." He says it like he hadn't kidnapped you. Like he hadn't kept you locked in his sterile apartment for the better part of a year. Like he hadn't taken you by the neck and promised he'd be the only man to ever touch you again every time you questioned his intentions.

There's another kiss, this one to the corner of your jaw. Just when you think your heart might beat out of your chest, he adds, "As soon as hell freezes over and curses go extinct, I'll take you wherever you want."

You might've cried, if you didn't know how much he loved wiping away your tears.

Sometimes, it works.

Most of the time, though, he chooses to remind you whose game you're playing.

[asterias-record-shop]

tempting little devil — (j.m.)

The summer before you get your dream job, you concluded you wanted to learn how to ride a horse. You had trouble finding the right person to teach you – until you accidentally ran into a horse trainer and ranch owner at the store while getting treats for your students before you left your job. It turned out that riding a horse wasn’t the only thing he could teach you.

You had big plans for your last day of school celebration with your students, especially because it would be your last year at the elementary school. Goodie bags had already been stocked to the brim with small toys and candies, and you gave them each a book wrapped in soft blue wrapping paper that made you think of them.

As you looked through the candy aisle, you sighed when you saw the last party pack of candy on the top shelf of the aisle. It was stupid for them to put the candy somewhere completely out of reach of any average sized person, so as you looked down at your heels that barely gave you about two inches, you started to balance yourself on one of the bottom shelves before a hand reached over you.

This wasn’t happening.

As the hand grabbed the bag of mixed candy that would surely give your students the perfect sugar high in your last class with them, you balanced yourself on the ground before turning around, about to snap at the person before the person outstretched the bag of candy toward you.

“Saw you havin’ trouble, doll,” he hummed, tilting his head. “Didn’t want you to fall down with those heels on.”

You paused, staring up at the man that seemed significantly older than you, wellbuilt and with slightly unkempt graying hair and beard, with scars on his right temple and on his neck as well. He was handsome, extremely so, with a dark maroon button down and some jeans with some work boots being covered by the cuffs.

“You alright doll?” He tilted his head, and his words finally snapped you out of the slight trance you were in.

“Sorry!” You quickly apologized, taking the bag of mixed candy. “Sorry, I just…” you laughed, shaking your head. How were you supposed to explain that you thought he was so attractive that you couldn’t stop looking at him? “I thought you were going to take it…”

He laughed loudly, shaking his head as he rose a brow. “You thought I was gonna take your candy bag? Trust me, doll, I don’t want the candy,” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking over your cart. “Wow… throwin’ a party?”

You laughed sheepishly, nodding as you put down the bag of candy in your cart. “Yeah, I am… tomorrow is the last day of school and I have a big party planned for my students because I’m not going to continue teaching.”

The man hummed softly. “Oh? Why not?”

You shrugged. “Needed a change of scenery… and I got an offer to work at my dream job, so it really does work out… besides, I have the rest summer off now, so I can do something I’ve really been wanting to do!”

You weren’t sure what exactly came over you to tell him so much, but he didn’t seem bothered by it as he smiled slightly, nodding. “And what’s that doll?”

You giggled sheepishly — it wasn’t some big thing that would change the world or something. “I want to learn how to ride a horse.”

It was odd when you saw him smile slightly, nodding his head. “Well you’re in luck then, doll.”

A look of confusion formed on your face as you tilted your head slightly. “How so?”

“I used to be a horse trainer,” he said, pushing his hand into his back pocket and pulling out a folded leather wallet, opening it and slowly taking out a card. “Now I own a ranch about half an hour out of town. And I rode a bit in some rodeos.”

You laughed slightly, nodding. “I definitely did get lucky.” As you looked down at the call, you smiled when you saw his name. “Joel?”

“Mhm, that’s it doll,” his voice was slightly gravelly as your stomach began to twist at his words, and he offered his hand. “Joel Miller.”

“I-I’m Y/N,” you took his hand, swallowing as he shook firmly. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too, doll.” His lips stretched out into a smile, chuckling as he squeezed your hand slightly. “Need help reachin’ anythin’ else?”

A smile formed on your face as you swallowed slightly, nodding your head. “I’m probably gonna need help with the rest of the goodies.”

“Lead the way, darlin’,” he hummed, smiling as he put his hands in his thick Ariat jacket.

You turned, putting your hands on the cart and slowly pushing as he followed you. “Thank you for your help, I really appreciate it.”

He laughed slightly, shaking his head. “Trust me, darlin’, I don’t want you to fall tryin’ to climb up shelves and hurtin’ your pretty self.”

When summer came, you were at Joel’s ranch probably more than you’d like to admit. He invited you out to the ranch for dinner and horse lessons more times than you could count, and you basically fell in love with his dog Molly.

You learned that his daughter Sarah had left for a summer camp a week before you met him. She was a competitor in some sort of horse riding circuit that Joel introduced her to, and the summer camp was getting her ready for one of the competitions that she planned on competing in.

When you got to the ranch for what felt like the hundredth time ever, you slowly got out as Molly ran towards you. A giggle escaped your mouth as you lean down to cup her snout, wiping at your cheeks as she started to lick your cheek. You laughed as you stood up, humming as you made your way toward the arena where Joel was giving his horse Chestnut a lap around.

You were dressed in some flared jeans and a button down shirt that Joel had given you because you showed up in a tank top to help with the heat. When he saw you, his lips formed a slight smile as he walked toward you with Chestnut.

“Hey darlin’.”

“Hey,” you giggled as you walked toward him, tilting your head. Joel let the lead slowly slip out of his hand as he opened his arms for you to hug him, letting you press yourself into his large chest and tuck your face into his neck while you wrapped your arms around him. His chest was so warm and he smelled like pine, hay, and a slight tinge of sweat. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, doll,” he smiled back, humming softly as he pulled away and softly stroked your cheek. “How has your day been?”

“Good,” you leaned into his rough and warm hand, shrugging slightly.

“Nothin’ special?”

You paused, thinking with a slight purse of your lips. “Well… I got to see you,” your giggle makes him smile as you lean your cheek on his chest and continue to look up at him. “That’s special.”

“You’re makin’ me blush, darlin…” he mumbled as he softly tilted your head up with two of his fingers under your chin. “Seein’ you is the best part of my day, doll.”

You only hummed softly, tilting your head into his hand as you let your fingers rub against the soft fabric of his button down. “Is it?”

“Always,” he mumbled as he reached his hand up to hold your wrist, pulling your fingers to his lips and softly kissing your knuckles. “Why do you think I keep inviting you back?”

“Mmm, I don’t know…” You whisper, biting your lip. “Keep telling me why.”

“‘You’re such a lil’ devil,” he growled out as he leaned down just enough to graze his lips to yours. “A fine… tempting little devil.”

You giggled as you leaned up enough to softly kiss his lips with a soft hum, finally taking what you had been wanting as you pushed your hand into his hair and pulled him lower. Joel let out a loud groan as his hands held your hips and pulled you closer, pulling your body flush against his as you softly tugged on his hair.

His lips are rougher than you thought they would be, not that they were very chapped but more so how rough he was kissing you. Joel held your hips with rough hands in a strong grip, pulling your hips into his own as you lifted yourself up onto your tiptoes.

“J-Joel…” you whimpered softly, swallowing as you tilted your head back. “Please…”

“Oh darlin’, you ain’t gotta beg me for nothin’,” he murmured as he gave a firm tap to your ass, making you gasp as he kissed you again. “I gotta put Chestnut back in his stall. Go inside…” his hands firmly held your ass as he let his teeth graze your lips. “You know where my room is… you get in there and you get ready for me and I’ll make sure a pretty darlin’ like you feels the best you ever will.”

You nodded as you inhaled deeply, swallowing as you rubbed his chest. “Yes.”

“Good girl,” he praised you with a soft kiss to your lips, moaning softly. “Such a good fuckin’ girl…”

You slowly pulled away, turning around to walk back in before his hand pulled you back to kiss your lips again. He was already addicted as you cupped his face, moaning into his mouth as he leaned forward enough to make you lean back and his grip get stronger to support you. He tasted like mint and apples, the first from brushing his teeth and the second from stealing a piece from what he fed to the horses.

“God fuck, darlin’, you’re just irresistable,” he murmured against your lips, letting his fingers thread through your hair as he trailed his fingers down the side of your neck to trace the collar of your- his button down. “You know how irresistible you are?”

“I’m findin’ out,” you mumble back, shaking your head slightly as you tilted your head slightly for him to push his fingers down between the buttons of the shirt you wore. “Go. I’ll be inside.”

“I may have to take a shower,” he whispers, shaking his head. “Think I stink.”

“Maybe a little bit,” you mumbled back in response, but then you shrugged slightly. “I can… take a shower with you… if you want.”

“As much as that tempts me,” he let his hands leave your body with a soft groan, shaking his head. “I wanna fuck you properly… I wanna watch your hands tug against my grip and hold the bed sheets so damn tight that your knuckles cramp up… I wanna hear the bed bangin’ against the damn wall as you make fuckin’ perfect noises under me.”

Just his words made your stomach twist and turn, squeezing your thighs together as you tried to control how fucking horny he was making you. You nodded as he firmly squeezed your ass, biting his lip as he nodded to you. “Go.”

His words were an order as you turned around, your fingers still on your lips that were tingling slightly from how rough he was kissing you, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it as you walked up the porch that wrapped all around the house that you fell in love with. You had gotten Joel to put furniture and such around where the two of you had spent nights staring out at the sunset with Molly sitting between the both of you.

As you walked inside, you tried to move around Molly to get upstairs to his room, groaning softly as you went up the stairs.

“Oh Molly… don’t do that, come on Molly, go downstairs! Go! Go Molly, go!” You tried to encourage the large, almost toasted marshmallow looking dog.

She just stares at you, her muzzle wide and smiling at you as she barks up at you.

“Molly! Baby! Go!”

She whines softly as you rub between her ears making her smile again, barking before running off down the stairs. You walked into Joel’s room, smiling at the horse pictures and illustrations around the room. It was obvious that Joel didn’t do this himself, and when you saw the picture of him and his daughter, you couldn’t help but smile as you grabbed the picture and softly stroked the glass.

He looked so happy.

You slowly put the picture done before you kicked off your boots and laid back against the bed. You let your hands slowly unbutton your shirt as you arched your back and slowly lifted your chest to take off Joel’s shirt before unclasping your bra behind your back. It was possible to take it off, but you don’t, staring up at the ceiling as you let your fingers trail over your stomach.

The thought of them being Joel’s fingers make your stomach twist as you rut your hips into the air with a slight whine. You were so desperate, moaning as you let your fingers slowly unbutton your pants and lifting up your hips to slowly slide them down your thighs. At the feeling of the cold air hitting the wet spot on your panties, you gasped, groaning as you tilted your head back and let your fingers push down between your thighs and rub your cunt through the fabric that covered your heat.

You were so caught up in that feeling, distracted from the fact that the door slowly opened, Joel merely covered by a towel wrapped around his waist. He came in front of the bed, slotting himself between your parted legs as he dropped down to his knees, carefully trying not to kneel on your clothes. He pushed himself between your legs, a gasp escaping your lips as you felt his hands slowly wrap around your thighs and pull them over his shoulders.

“J-Joel-!” You gasped as your hands moved to the back of his head, inhaling shakily as his nose drags up your slit, groaning softly.

“Goodness… you’re so fuckin’ irresistible, you know that?” He groaned in between your thighs, letting his fingers hook through the soft violet fabric, slipping it to the side. “Goodness… how did I not do this earlier?”

“Joel wait-”

Your words go completely ignored as he opens his mouth widely, letting his wet tongue slather saliva all over your dripping cunt. The feeling makes you squeal, hips rutting up into the air as his large hands pull your body lower to keep your body close to his mouth. “You taste so fuckin’ good…”

You don’t even fight back, groaning as you threw your head back and tried to prevent your thighs from tightening too much around his head as they quivered. One of his hands moved his fingers from your thighs, letting them drag up and down your slit lazily as he let his spit lather all over your clit. He lets his tongue point and flick against your clit, his fingers rubbing against your entrance as he let his mouth open widely and groan into your sex.

The feeling made your eyes roll back as you pulled him further into you, groaning as your back arched and you attempted to keep him as close as you could to your cunt. When his fingers pushed into you it felt like you lost your mind, finally looking down at him to see his eyes closed as he let his tongue trail all along your entire sex.

“Fuck, you taste so good, darlin’,” he groaned, letting his fingers languidly push in and out as he let his tongue flick against your clit again. The feeling of his tongue against your clit made you whine as you fixed his face in between your thighs, his nose brushing against your skin as he began to suck at the sensitive bud.

You started to squirm, desperately trying to keep his mouth on you as you groaned loudly. When his fingers got faster, you began to whine, moaning loudly as you let your hips roll onto his digits, whimpering as they got rougher.

Your stomach began to twist and turn into knots, incoherent noises coming from your mouth as his tongue dragged from your clit to where his fingers were, his other hand coming down to rub your clit with his thumb. The feeling was so close, so so close as you continued to rock your hips, moaning.

As his digits began to scissor and flex inside of you, your eyes rolled back, unable to control the convulsing of your stomach as you moaned loudly and felt your high inch closer. His tongue flicked against your entrance, rolling his fingers inside of you as your hips began to rut unconsciously into his fingers, a soft sob escaping your lips.

When the knot in your stomach finally snapped, you sobbed even louder as you bucked your hips repeatedly, groaning as you tugged on his hair. Joel groaned into your cunt, his tongue flattening to lick the entirety of your cum off of your pretty pussy.

Your hips continued to buck as you moaned, panting as you softly stroked his hair, watching as he slowly rose up and let his towel fall to the ground. You weren’t sure if the soft curls of chest hair stuck to his body was from sweat or the shower, moaning as he pulled your legs around his waist and hiked them onto his hips.

“Got damn, pretty girl,” he mumbled softly as he kissed your lips, his mouth soft against yours and his hand stroking your cheek as the other guided his blunt cock tip against your entrance. You whined, his tip much thicker than his fingers were, moaning as you bucked your hips forward, gasping as he pushed into you. This was not something that you would’ve expected to happen today, being dicked down by a man who had been teaching you how to ride horses for the past two months.

But for fucks sake, you really did want to show him how well you had learned to ride.

“Darlin’,” you felt his fingers softly flick at your cheek, gasping as you quickly looked up at him. “Where’s your head at?”

“J-Just…” you gasped as he began to roll his hips, kissing your cheek softly as he puckered his lips to your skin. “Th-Thinkin’... about putting my riding skills to use.”

Your words made him pause as he laughed slightly, groaning as he pulled your pelvis into his, twisting making you scream out. To steady yourself, you immediately placed your hands on his chest, groaning loudly as he let you sink down onto his cock.

“Do it then,” he urged you, biting his lip as his large, rough hands spread over the expanse of your thighs, holding them like he was holding the reins of a horse. “Show me your ridin’ skills.”

Your eyes rolled back as he slowly helped you roll your hips, a loud groan falling from his lips as he bent his knees to help raise you just a little bit. The added height made you gasp loudly, your fingers spreading across his chest as you slowly lifted yourself up by raising your hips on your knees, throwing your head back.

“There you go my pretty cowgirl, ride my cock,” he groaned out, languidly thrusting his hips upward to assist you as though you were riding the back of a bucking mustang. “Fuckin’ hell, cowgirl…”

He groaned out, words drawled as your toes curled, his thick cock hitting all of those perfect spots inside of you. Your spongy walls clamped down on him so tightly that he could barely pull you off of his cock, resulting in pathetic rolls of your hips to get his hard cock to press deeper into you.

“C’mon, you can do better than that, cowgirl,” he groaned out, throwing his head back as he fixed himself underneath you, finally bucking his hips fully into you. “I taught you better than that.”

You yelled out as his thrusts picked up speed and strength, knocking you forward as you yelled out into his neck. “J-Joel-!”

“Hush,” he groaned into your neck, his hand traveling from your thigh to your ass to pull your hips lower into his. “Just let me use your perfect fuckin’ pussy…”

You choked as you held his shoulders tightly, groaning mindlessly as he continued to buck up into you, panting as he groaned into your ear. “J-Joel, wait-!”

You weren’t sure what you were begging him to wait for. This was something that you wanted for so long, to feel his thick cock inside of you and his hands on your body, his mouth sucking what felt like hundreds of hickeys along your neck as he kept you down against him. His hands held your ass, hips thrusting into you as you eagerly chased after your high with pathetic bounces in his lap.

“God fuck, darlin’, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he moaned out, throwing his head back as his hands tighten on the fat of your ass. “Tryin’ not to fill your perfect pussy up with cum and keepin’ my cock in you so you feel so fuckin’ full…”

Your mind blurred at his words, his proposal so infinitely tempting that you felt your hips speed up, rocking into his at an unforgiving pace, so quick that it made your stomach twist and your mouth open to let out all the incoherent noises to show how much pleasure he was causing you.

Moans of his name and screams of pleasure came from your mouth, soon enough getting to the point where your eyes rolled back into your head and incoherent groans of pleasure continuously fell from your mouth with what seemed like no end.

You felt used in the best way possible, the inability to even move or rut your hips but Joel taking over in every way possible – ruting up into you, guiding your hips with a strong hand on your hip, his mouth sucking hickeys against any inch of skin he can get to, and his other hand groping and massaging your tit was making your mind blur.

You felt your stomach start to twist, whining as his thrusts got more inconsistent, never missing that spot inside of you that made your toes curl.

“Fuckin’ hell, darlin’, I’m going to cum.”

You could only nod desperately, shaky hands holding his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin.

“Beg for it,” he could barely get out his words, clenching his teeth together as he held back cumming there and then from the feeling of your nails digging into his skin. “Beg for me to cum inside of you.”

You whined, shaking your head. How could you say what he wanted you to say when you could barely speak?

“Say it,” he slapped your ass, a yelp falling from your lips as you finally came back to earth. “Speak.”

“I-I want it!” You sobbed, the desperateness of your orgasm finally processing. “I want to cum, I want you to cum inside of me-!”

That was all that he needed to let himself thrust into you sporadically, never controlling himself as he groaned into your neck, finally letting himself cum. You sobbed as you felt his cum spurt inside of you, moaning loudly as you threw your head back and giving him the perfect opportunity to tuck his head into your throat and kiss at your neck.

You groaned loudly as you came from the thrusts that got him through his high, his cum spurting into you being the final push to make you cum.

Your mind was blurry and spinning, sighing softly as you leaned your head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

He kissed your hair, humming as he kissed down your temple and to your lips. “I love you too, darlin’. And I guess I just figured out that you need no help ridin’ me.”

I do not ever give consent to my work being published on other platforms or being translated at any point, even if it is a request. If my work is on any other platform, it’s without my permission. Your media consumption is not my responsibility.

© asterias-record-shop

[sencubussubs]

My University Success Story

Hi lovelies,

Here is my university success story which isn’t just “i manifested it and i got in” (which is still super great btw but i think this success story is a good reminder of how irrelevant the 3D and logic is). I initially got rejected!

Well my university system is different so i didn’t get rejected but rather i performed so badly that i got an extremely high ranking number (700+ high). (lowest ranking numbers get in)

At the time my manifestation journey was um.. not great. I was especially dealing with an sp manifestation that i kept spiraling over and over and i basically was losing all hope in my manifestations in general. (i kept successfully manifesting contact and then driving myself crazy) I was SO absorbed in the 3D and let it control everything. i treated the 3d as my only validation, i wavered constantly, i went in and out of believing despite the fact that i had consciously manifested SO MANY THINGS, i am talking an ipad pro 4th gen and apple pen, my iphone 13 green (the one from my ‘don’t settle’ post.) Like i was making everything SO difficult for myself.

When i got rejected from this university, i was honestly a little gobsmacked and just done with everything. I was preparing my stuff for my back up uni that i was dreading to go to, i was doing room viewings & everything. I was so done with it i just decided i was going to get into my uni because i internally REFUSED to go to my back up uni or not go to uni at all. At the time i didn’t know manifestation was as could be as easy as deciding. But by deciding and refusing to budge internally, as well as having one of the uni’s lecture hall (that i actually have every single one of my lectures in now!) pictured on my vision board, the 3D moved for me what it had to move to reflect my internal shift. And two weeks later, about a month after rejecting me, they accepted me.

Everyone was surprised because with my ranking there was absolutely 0 reason for me to be accepted, even if other students dropped out for their other options. The course is too small and selective for my ranking number to ever come close to letting me fill a spot. I performed badly on my mocks and even worse on my final exams - the predicted grades they had rejected me with were significantly higher. I have no connections to the university, nothing. Despite every logical reason for me not to get into my course - including literally being rejected - here i am. I am currently at the start of my second semester at the uni :)

With this success story i wish to remind you how logic and the 3D/ circumstances have no part in manifestation. I internally refused to accept the outcome the 3D was showing me and stayed faithful to my outcome - i didn’t even know this was manifesting at the time, i was just being stubborn - and as a result it manifested.

My 3D kept showing me a different outcome, every weekend i was visiting rooms on the other side of the country for my back up uni choice, my mom was constantly talking to me about the back up university, other people were constantly bringing it up - and still here i am.

You don’t need to know why and how it is going to work out, just stay faithful to your outcome. In some cases it’ll come naturally, some manifestations just come out of thin air like this one.

I believe in you, now choose to believe in yourself too.

Choose to remain disciplined and faithful to yourself.

Love,

Saph

[mantequillamcwhoremick]

A penny for your thoughts on the Dikinbaus episode? 👀👀👀

Omg okay so I definitely have to rewatch it like 10082927 times but just to go off of my late night 'delirious from excitement' watch, I am absolutely ECSTATIC at the way the episode treated Butters and gave him a well deserved win.

Butters has evolved a lot over the course of the show, he used to be a 100% naïve and innocent boy who was absolutely clueless about everything mature or terrible going on around him and it was always a very hopeful thing for me to watch him keep going and loving life despite how much the world tore him down on all ends. In a way, watching old seasons makes me miss the old Butters, but if Butters had just stayed the same for the next 20 seasons, he would hardly feel like a real/three dimensional person as he does now.

The changes and mood swings he's gone through, as well as the resilience he's started to build up were weird to watch at first (*COUGH* s20) but then they've started making more and more sense, especially taking into account the Post COVID special and the two wildly different paths his life could go.

That all being said, Dikinbaus was an absolutely satisfying cathartic episode as a Butters enthusiast, because he's just finally embracing things he's genuinely good at and demanding justice from someone who's arguably taken advantage of him the most in the entire show: Cartman.

It's kind of like Butters' version of Wendy's "Breast Cancer Show Ever" episode, where she's often been disrespected in a sexist way by him and no one (no teachers/adults) ever really did something, so she took matters into her own hands. Cartman is always screwing Butters over by letting him take the fall for his schemes, making Butters spend money on his behalf, and Butters has let him get away with it for so long, and so have Butters' parents (and everyone else but I especially blame the adults bc yknow).

This makes Dikinbaus kind of a kickstarter for Butters' "Fuck you, Eric!" moment at the end of Post COVID: The Return of COVID, which is nice to see because in the "Worldwide Privacy Tour" episode earlier in the season, Butters' behavior (after his parents sent him to rework his "brand") reminded me much more of Vic Chaos. It's nice to see these two versions of Butters' future reflect in present episodes, and I'm excited to see more of it in future episodes.

I've been rambling about Butters only but tbh I found the Kenman dynamic in this episode hilarious too. It makes me kind of mourn the respect Butters had for Kenny though, bc I'm sure that after this episode it must've significantly gone down, but honestly I was just happy to see Kenny have some fun even if it was at Butters' expense. Let him be a dumb immature kid fr

The only issue I had with the episode for now is the commentary on mental health days at work and the underlying "today's youth is sensitive and too lazy to work" message, which lacked nuance and just kinda felt like old people complaining. It would've been okay if they'd kept it only to Cartman, kinda like the "there's queer people, and then there's Mr Garrison" thing, but they brought Kenny & other kids into that narrative too so it made me feel a little eh about the commentary. But oh well

Sorry anon, you gave me a penny and I'm throwing a whole thesis on you but I still thank you a lot for asking and letting me ramble. Kisses to you :>>

[doberbutts]

Hi, it is a me with yet another dog questions since you seem to have relevant experience!

I just got a chihuahua puppy from the humane society (somewhat unexpected; PUPPY was expected but Chihuahua wasn't, long story) and he and my big 90lb German Shepherd have been getting along very well through crates and pens, but I'm afraid of him getting squished by accident if they hang out together directly. How do your chis and the dobermans get along? What safety precautions do you have going? Anything I should know as a new chi owner? (I'm guessing early tooth maintenance is a must, based on my last small dog, and we have a coat for cold mornings due to being uninsulated by nature)

thanks :)

Oh, congrats on joining the tiny dog army! Glad to see my propaganda working in action 🫡

As far as safety goes, I don't allow offleash or unrestricted access (ie, without a gate) until I am 100% sure that the significantly larger dog will be appropriate. When Tater is 2.5lbs and Fenris is inching towards 80, I simply refuse to chance him stomping her in play because I'm pretty sure he'll break every single one of her ribs.

For a very long time, the smallest dog in the equation gets to control how an interaction goes. This helps teach the big dog how to read signals and also to stop and think before acting. I remove the problem immediately if there is stomping, pouncing, or chasing behavior. For an older big dog, I teach the big dog to lay down and let the little dog approach for interaction rather than the other way around.

As far as how they get along- initially it was rough, because Fenris likes to pounce and the chihuahuas do not like to be pounced by such significantly larger animals. I did apply the use of an ecollar as I had tried a few other methods and he did not seem to be understanding the idea of "stop chasing down the chihuahuas to stomp on them all the time" so instead Thor reached down from the heavens to whisper into his ear the divine message of "STOP CHASING THE FUCKING CHIHUAHUAS". All that other work we did however began to shine through after a few sessions with the ecollar, and now he does not chase the chihuahuas. We went from the chihuahuas hiding whenever they saw him coming, to them being willing to approach and interact with him of their own volition.

He is still pretty obsessed with them but he is an obsessive dog in general. He is friends with Fae and they play wrestle as long as he remembers not to punch her. She will approach and instigate biteyface, and they cuddle together on the couch. She's always been my big dog in a tiny body, so it makes sense that she's pretty OK with him now that he's not actively hurting her (accidentally).

Tater does not like him but Tater takes a very long time to warm up to any big dog. Except Creed whom she loved right away, Tater used to hate Sushi and never got over her hatred of Phoebe. She is- sometimes- willing to use the favored dog bed if he is on it. More likely she will march up to him and bat screech at him until he moves off what she has deemed her spot. He very much wants to be friends with her so he will pull out all of the "please play with me I am such a cute puppy baby" tricks and she wants nothing to do with it. Earlier today she was tolerating him licking her ears- until he started to lick hard enough to knock her off balance and then she was done with him. She's just very small, and he is very big compared to her.

She does eventually warm up to a big dog- she wanted companionship and Fae was on her throne (the couch) and Tater can't get up there by herself so she came to sit and doze next to Sushi. She used to treat Sushi the same way she treats Fenris right now, so I think with time she will be less annoyed by him, but she still doesn't actually *like* Sushi more than she just tolerates the fact that Sushi shares the house.

[ijwrite]

Female Orc x Female Reader Part 3

It only took a day for you to be healthy again, which was not just a relief to Hakla, but to yourself and your bees. You would probably never tell her, but the rivalry she had with the bees was one of the most entertaining things you had seen in a long time. And little Qarak was growing so fast too. He was constantly trying to walk, and getting frustrated when his little feet couldn't balance his body. He was still a little menace though, you couldn't take your eyes off him for a second before he was gone. He was currently sitting beside you in the garden, snacking on a carrot as you removed weeds. Hakla was slightly off in the distance, throwing weeds in the compost pile. You smiled to yourself. Life had been good lately. Your animals were healthy, your garden were flourishing and most importantly, Hakla and Qarak seemed happy. You felt a little hand smack your side, and looked down at Qarak. He folded his hand repeatedly in the way you thought him.

"You want some water little man? Okay let's go" You lifted him up and brushed the dirt from his pants. You had the idea to teach him some basic signs to communicate before he learned to speak.

"I'm just getting him some water, be right back" you said to Hakla, who hummed in acknowledgement. She had started to trust you more, and seemed much more at ease. She no longer slept with the axe near her, especially after you had made a bed for her. You had felt bad about the way she slept in a cot on the floor, and despite her protests about a proper bed, she slept much more soundly now.

After Qarak had gotten his water, he started fussing. You knew it was time for his midday nap, so you put him in the little crib. He fell asleep surprisingly quickly and you left the hut to continue your work.

Hakla was still outside, looking intently at one of your berry bushes. She reached out for it, but quickly retracted her hand once she heard you approach.

"There should be some of them that are mature" You plucked a bright red berry and held it out to her.

"They taste really good. Especially in pies"

She took it slowly. You plucked another and ate it. She ate hers too.

"You can eat when you want something, you know? That's why it's here" You went back to weeding. In the corner of your eye, you saw her pluck some more berries.

"You sure? Won't we need them for the winter?"

"Nah, I planted the berries purely as treats. You just eat till you can't"

You smiled again. She sighed heavily.

"It is not often I have had sweet things. They mostly gave us bread and meat"

She put the whole handful of berries in her mouth. You straightened up.

"They?" You asked. She tensed. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I won't pressure you" it would be a lie to say you weren't curious, but Haklas comfort meant more than that.

"They were the ones I got away from. They were to sell Qarak" She grumbled. You nodded silently. "They made us fight each other. For fun. I got free" She looked down at you.

"I am glad you did. I am happy that you are here" You tried. "My life has been significantly better since you and Qarak entered it" This time, she slightly smiled back.

She truly had a beautiful smile, even when unsure, it seemed to lighten your soul just a bit.

More months went by, and soon it was little Qaraks first birthday. He was getting better at both communicating and balance. He could not talk or walk yet, but he was already much bigger than when you first saw him. As his birthday gift, you decided to make him a swing in one of the large trees at the outskirt of the farm. You actually didn't know the exact day that he was born, since Hakla only had a rough estimate of the time. But that didn't matter, a birthday he would get. So you woke up Hakla and Qarak with the smell of fresh baked fruit pie (which you guessed they both enjoyed, seeing as they both got their entire faces covered with sweet filling).

After you had cleaned the mush of Qaraks (and Haklas) face, you told them to follow you out behind the cottage. A little aways, you had hung your homemade swing yourself during the night (you thought the hardest part would be to crawl up the tree in darkness with the rope, but the real challenge was getting out the house without Hakla waking up. She would be awake at the slightest noise, and you didn't want to ruin the surprise) and happily told Hakla;

"I tied it to a strong branch, so you can swing with him!" proudly gesturing to your work. Hakla just looked at it for a minute and you wondered briefly if you had overstepped.

"You made this for... him and me?" She asked with the thinnest voice you had ever heard from her.

"Well, yes. I hope it okay. I think I made some squirrels angry when I hung it up, and I-" you were interrupted as she hugged your close to her with the arm she didn't use to carry Qarak.

"Thank you" she whispered.

"Of course" you answered.

[c0wgurlz]

Trouble On My Left, Trouble On My Right

Chapter 1: Sweet Caroline

Kayce Dutton x Reader/OC - Friends to Lovers

He grabs ahold of the belt loops on either side of my hips. “I just-” he shakes me, “I’m tired of people treating me like some wounded animal or-or like some bomb just waiting to go off. You’re the one person who-,” he licks his lips, “you’re my person. Please don’t do that to me.”

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UPDATE: CHAPTER 2

I'm a long-time fic writer and an even longer reader, but this is my first attempt at writing for Yellowstone. If ya'll have any notes on characterization or just anything in general, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thank you for reading xx.

As always: I do not own Yellowstone (2018) or any of its characters. This work is not monetized.

THIS FIC IS CROSSPOSTED TO AO3. It is not posted to any other site. I am lookingcold on AO3 and that is all. I do not give permission for my work to be posted by others to any other platform.

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I was no stranger to the Yellowstone Ranch, but bumping my way along its seemingly never-ending dirt drive, I still couldn’t help but feel out of my depth - like a little kid made to ride a bike with no training wheels. Its sprawling pastures surrounded by the towering mountains, standing at attention like century guards, intimidated me, and I had spent nearly every day of my childhood gallivanting around the property. I can only imagine how outsiders feel the first time they dare to mosey onto the ranch. Now, all this isn’t to say that I wasn’t looking forward to returning to Yellowstone, I undoubtedly was, but being there at the (somewhat) wisened age of twenty-seven felt significantly riskier than it had at the naive age of seventeen. The Yellowstone was trouble, and I had spent the last ten years of my life trying to stay out of it. Putting myself right back into its clutches went against every instinct I have.

Still, I was excited to see the people I had come to know as family. When my daddy died when I was only twelve, Mr. John treated me like one of his own, and when my momma remarried a man who was known for his fiery temper and love of the drink, he took me in as his own. My daddy and Mr. John had been best friends, so truly I think he felt as though it was his duty to care for me, but I like to believe he loved me all the same. And I loved him back. He taught me everything I could ever need to know - plus some. Helped put me through college. Even supported me when I wanted to take on the pageant circuit - although I don’t believe he minded the extra bit of shine my winning of Rodeo Queen added to his reputation. Hell, I even loved his ragtag group of kids, Jamie included if you can believe it. They were my family, and I wouldn’t have traded them for the world. Except I did, because Yellowstone was trouble, and I couldn’t let myself get caught up in that. And neither could Mr. John.

Sneaking up on Rip was somewhat of a talent I had cultivated over my long years spent on the ranch. I’m proud to say that I’m still the only son of a bitch who can do it. And that’s why I park my truck a good half mile down the road from the corrals. There’s a small hill in the dirt drive that obscures the shoulder of the road as you approach the house, one that Kayce and I used to hide away in, smoking or drinking, trying to stay out of trouble while getting into it. I park my truck on that hidden shoulder, closing my door as quietly as I can before approaching the road. As I walk, I stick as close to the fence line as possible, relying on the looming fence posts to provide me with cover. I know that if I can make it past the corrals unseen and circle around the back of the barn I’ll have Rip jumping a foot in the air before he can even catch a whiff of me. Lucky for me he’s locked in on what I can only describe as clownery, supervising some gangly kid as he works to stay on a bronco. Taking my golden opportunity, I creep through the barn, hushing whinnying mares as I go, before sidling right up to Rip’s left side.

“Now that kid has got balls of steel,” I comment, hands splayed across my hips, head nodding in appreciation.

I wish I had the words to appropriately describe Rip’s reaction. With a little hop and shout, Rip whirls on me, hand splayed across his chest, breath thundering in shock. “Jesus, what in the fuck do you think-” And that’s when he realizes who exactly he’s about to chew out. His eyes go wide and a grin starts to stretch across his weathered face. “Well as I live and breathe, if it isn’t sweet Caroline herself, gracing us with her beauty.” He takes a step towards me. “Come ere ya little menace!”

Before I know it I’m wrapped up in the warmest, most comforting bear hug on earth. If Mr. John had been like a father to me, then Rip had been like a big brother. My protector and confidant - and the target of my and Kayce’s many pranks.

“Where have ya been?” He jostles me around. “Haven’t heard from you in over a year, and haven’t seen you in well over that. Too busy for us old cowpokes?”

I hold onto his hands, squeezing them. “Well I haven’t been ignoring ya’ll on purpose, I’ve just been a bit busy. I -” And that’s when Mr. John comes ambling down the lodge steps, casual and collected as ever.

“She’s been in Oklahoma, working PR for the rodeo circuit. And based on what I hear, she’s pretty damn good at it.” Before I know it I’m embraced in a fierce hug, and if I didn’t know better I’d say I heard Mr. John sniffle. “It’s good to see you, honey. Welcome home.”

Rip looks between myself and Mr. John, confused. “You mean Caroline’s back working the ranch? We ain’t got any beds left in the bunkhouse.” At this, he turns to me, “Not that I’d expect you to sleep there but I know how stubborn you can be about doing what’s right.”

Mr. John cuts him off. “No.” He responds gruffly. “She’s not here as a ranch hand, she’s here as my PR specialist.” Casting Rip a pointed look, he murmurs, “Ya know with all the problems we’ve encountered lately I thought we should call in an expert to help with damage control, and who better than family.”

Rip nods gravely, a closed expression covering his face that I don’t particularly like the looks of. “Well if that’s what she’s here for then I’ll leave you two to talk privately. I’ve got wranglers to wrangle and supper to check on.” He turns to walk away, but pauses, angling his body towards me. “If you need me, Caroline, for anything, don’t hesitate to shout.”

He looks so serious, so grim, I feel the small, unsure age of eleven all over again. “Ok.” I nod, my voice coming out thin and reedy. “I will.”

“I mean it.” He’s firm. “Anything.”

“I know Rip.”

With that, he gives a final tip of his head to Mr. John and I, stalking off to holler at the gangly kid - Jimmy.

“What was that all about?” I turn to Mr. John, big-eyed and pale.

Looking resigned he says, “You know Rip, he’s just protective of you is all, and he knows I’m about to ask a lot of you, get you involved in stuff we normally would try to keep you out of.” He shakes his head, knocks one of his boots against the other. “But you’re my last resort honey, you have to know that. I wouldn’t drag you into trouble if I thought I could help it. Honest.” His voice is so sincere, soft in a way it rarely is. I would have believed him anyways, but now there’s no doubt in my mind. I have to do right by Yellowstone, by the Dutton family, by my family. I have to stay, wade through the trouble, and bring everyone out on the other side.

“Tell me everything I need to know.” It comes out harder than I expected, harder than I’ve ever heard my own voice. It makes Mr. John look up. His features turn steely, matching mine. We’re in this together now.

“Walk with me, let me show you where you’ll be lodging. I’ll fill you in.”

Ten years of keeping clear of trouble down the drain, but I owed Mr. John, owed Yellowstone, a debt, and I wasn’t about to not repay it.

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To say that what Mr. John had shared with me was shocking would be an understatement. Land and cattle disputes I had expected, helping Jamie and Beth campaign - sure, I figured (well maybe not Beth), but murder? Can’t say that was anywhere on my radar, or anywhere in my wheelhouse. If I’m being honest with God and myself, if it weren’t for my love for Mr. John and the Dutton family, I would’ve turned the job down. Any PR specialist with a brain would because what the Duttons needed was a criminal defense lawyer, not some cowgirl who’s good at turning nasty scandals into marketable flattery. But I do love the Duttons, and I love Yellowstone, so from the looks of it, if this ship goes down, I’m going with it.

Mr. John must think it wise to give me time to mull over the absolute bomb he’s just dropped on me, because after he breaks the news and confirms that I’m still willing to stick around, he goes silent, his face settling into a contemplative furrow, the same as mine. It isn’t until the foreman’s house comes into view that I break the silence, slightly bewildered.

“We making a pit stop or something?” I gesture to the house in the distance, halting my gait.

Mr. John breezes past me, only turning his head back to answer my seemingly stupid question. “No darling, I’m showing you to your lodging, like I said I would.” Darling is reserved for when I’m being a moron, honey as a term of endearment, and cowgirl for when I’m about to get what’s coming to me. I’ve not even been back an hour and I’ve managed to collect two of the three, and I’m not too keen on collecting the third.

I wait until he looks away before rolling my eyes. That would’ve earned me a ‘cowgirl’ for sure. “Well, who died and made me foreman because I sure as hell don’t have the beard or buckle to pull it off.” I hustle to catch back up with him, bumping his shoulder against my own, knowing I’m toeing the line between a chuckle and a swat. Thankfully I’m gifted with the chuckle.

“You know I keep waiting for your beard to come in, but I remain disappointed.” He shoots me a wink. “But no, I don’t want you as my foreman as much as you don’t want to be my foreman. No worries there.” He side-eyes me. “Kayce’s taken over from Rip, so this is his place now. I just thought you’d want to be out here with your partner in crime rather than cooped up in the lodge with an old fart like me.” I know he’s aiming for casual as he explains my living situation to me, but if my many years spent living at Yellowstone had taught me anything, it was how to read John Dutton. And right now, I can tell he’s up to no good - more so than usual.

“Right, because living in that big snazzy house would be so terrible. I think you’re just trying to keep me and Beth apart. Too scared to live under the same roof with us both. Can’t say I blame you.” And while I really wouldn’t blame him for not wanting to live with me and Beth - if she’s a terror alone, with me she’s a terror and a half - I have a sneaking suspicion Beth and I’s potential reign of terror isn’t the true cause of his decision. But I sure as hell can’t let him know I’m onto him.

He chuckles again, in an almost relieved sort of way. “You’ve got me there. I’d rather keep my sanity, thank you kindly. So no, I quite frankly don’t want to live with you and Beth at the same time. And truly, I just thought you’d be more comfortable out here.” He sighs. “You’ll be wrapped up in our mess during all your waking hours, I don’t want to take away the little bit of peace you’ll get during your sleeping ones too.”

I frown. “Mr. John, I-” I begin to protest.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. You’re in the foreman’s and that’s final.” Mr. John’s swinging the door open now, and the house is everything I thought it would be growing up.

High ceilings reveal exposed wood, and the humble home is lined with windows, letting in ample natural light. In a way I feel like I haven’t left the outdoors at all, the house is simply an extension of the forest that looms behind it. As kids, one of the few places Kayce and I weren’t allowed to wreak havoc was the foreman’s house. Mr. John always berated us whenever we’d beg to go inside, saying, “A hard-working man deserves some privacy, some peace and quiet. You better leave him and his home well enough alone or I’ll skin both of your hides.” For once we listened, neither of us too keen on getting our butts busted.

“Plus, I imagine Kayce will be mighty happy to learn he’s got his best friend back. It always was ya’ll’s dream to set up camp in here. Now you get to live it.” His statement breaks me out of my reverie.

“I’m sorry, you ‘imagine’ Kayce will be happy? He doesn’t know I’m here?” And so the other shoe drops. Mr. John always did hold out hope that Kayce and I would end up together. Said we’d be a power couple. Combine my business sense and charming small talk with Kayce’s grit and knowledge of the ranch and we’d be unstoppable. Let’s just say he was never too shy about his meddling. And while I did have a small crush on Kayce growing up, and I’d like to think he had one on me too, we were always both too awkward to entertain anything other than a close friendship. Naturally, we experimented the way kids do, having had a drunk kiss or two and having done our fair share of skinny dipping, but by the time we were in our late teens all romantic feelings had fizzled. That doesn’t mean we weren’t closer than we’d ever been though, thicker than thieves and troublemakers to boot. We practically lived in each others’ pockets. You wouldn’t find one of us without the other. I was crazy about Kayce and he adored me, but it was never anything other than platonic.

“Mr. John, I can’t live here if Kayce doesn’t know about it. You said so yourself, the foreman’s house is his getaway, a place for peace and quiet. I’m not taking that from him.” Hands planted firmly on my hips and lips pursed, I shake my head adamantly. “I’ll find myself a place in town or-”

“Caroline, no, you’re staying-”

“Or I’ll see if my cousin Amy has a spare room, we were always close and-”

“Caroline.” His voice is firm, if not a little irritated. “I said no. Kayce needs you here, you hear me? You’re staying here and that’s final.” This last part is spoken a bit softer, but firmly all the same.

Now Mr. John might not be my real daddy, but I’ve spent my whole life obeying him all the same, and this time is no different, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to plead my case. “Mr. John, I’ve missed Kayce too and I know he’s going through a lot right now, but he doesn’t need me.” I sigh. “And I couldn’t possibly put out his family. I mean, this place is small enough as it is. And Tate’s what, nearing eight now? He needs room to play and run around, I’ll only be taking up already limited space.” Giving a half-hearted shrug, I turn to head back toward the door, but Mr. John’s heavy sigh has me doubling back.

“Caroline honey, I wasn’t going to tell you this because I don’t feel like it’s my place, but when I say Kayce needs you I mean it. He and Monica split a few weeks ago, and with everything else going on he’s in real bad-”

Back turned to the door, I hear Kayce before I see him. “Dad, for the last time I’m not interested in meeting who you’ve got running for AG, so if you could kindly show her out I’d greatly-”

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I know I said Kayce and I had never been anything other than platonic, but you’d have to be blind not to see what a looker the boy is. God damn is he beautiful. I mean he always has been, but the years have been more than kind to him. Seeing him now damn near takes my breath away. The last time I laid eyes on Kayce he had just returned from the navy, eyes weary and hair cropped close. He had looked exhausted, almost dead in the eyes. Now though, he looks like a field set ablaze by the setting sun, all bright and aglow with something unnameable. Almost dangerous in his beauty. He must get over seeing me for the first time in five years before I get over seeing him because before it feels like I can even blink he’s across the room and I’m a foot off the ground, wrapped tight in his arms. I never knew I was missing part of myself until this very moment, with Kayce’s face pressed into the crook of my neck and my hand fisted in his hair. I swear I feel more settled in myself than I have in years, like I’m sinking into my bed after a long day, or eating a warm meal after I’ve spent all day working out in the cold.

“Caroline.” It’s a soft whisper in my ear. It almost sounds reverent, like a prayer.

“Kayce,” I murmur back, something private only he can hear.

I suppose he remembers we aren’t alone because before I know it my feet are planted firmly on the ground once more and I’m no longer wrapped in his embrace. Instead, he lets one gentle hand linger on the small of my back, almost hesitant and unnatural in its hovering. Grinning, he turns to Mr. John. “Dad what is-” his gaze shifts to find mine. “Caroline, what are you doing here?”

My lips part preparing to answer, but no sound comes out, just a whisper of an inhale followed by a beaming smile. I think it’s important to say once again that my feelings for Kayce are strictly platonic, but my God if a woman can’t get lost in his whiskey-brown eyes.

I’m broken out of my trance by an awkward cough. Both Kayce and I turn to face Mr. John, who looks a bit too pleased for my liking. Smiling wryly he drawls, “Well I think I’ll leave you two to catch up. Caroline, I’ll have one of the boys bring your truck up. No sense in you hauling yourself all around sundry.” Making his way outside, he pauses on the porch. “I expect to see both of ya’ll at supper. Don’t be late.” He saunters down the porch and down the path, not looking back when he hollers, “And Kayce, wash up! You smell like shit.”

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“So, you’re here to clean up the fucking mess I made then.” Kayce looks the most dejected I’ve seen him in years. Like a puppy dog that’s been kicked and put out in the cold. “Dad dragged you back to this godforsaken place because of me.” His fists shake where they’re clenched atop his knees. He tosses his hat onto the coffee table and rakes his hands through his sweat-dampened hair. “You know, I was so relieved when you got out of here. I was so scared this place would ruin everything good about you, set you up in flames like it does everything else.” His calloused hand clasps mine. “Why would you come back here? After everything that happened, after-” He takes a moment to collect himself, teeth gritted together, shoulders tensed. “After what Caleb- after what he did-”

“Kayce don’t.” I know what he’s trying to get at, and I won’t have it talked about. Not on my first day back. When I said I loved Yellowstone, that I was happy to be back, I meant it. But there are memories that this place carries that I’d rather forget, and I’m not about to let my reunion with my best friend turn sinister over one of those memories - over the mention of some asshole cowboy that belongs to the past. I want that memory to die with him. Placing a comforting hand on his back, I try to console him. “I’m a big girl. Believe it or not, I’ve grown into my britches and I know what I can handle. Plus,” I give his back a hard pat, “you really think I would let this place ruin me? I’d like to see it try.”

“Caroline..” He shakes his head, eyes glassy. “You-”

I cut him off with a quick rap of my knuckles against the coffee table, rising off the couch with an air of finality. “As for why I came back, well that’s simple. I love you Kace.” I lick my chapped lips, find a spot on the wall to focus on. “And I’m- I’m never going to abandon you when you need me.” I extend my pinky in the form of a promise, a relic left over from our childhood. “Come hell or high water remember?”

He straightens up, gaze ungluing itself from the floor only to meet mine. Kayce was always taller than me, but I don’t remember having to crane my neck up to meet his eyes the way I do now. His pinky wrapping around mine is a distant sensation in the back of my mind. “Come hell or high water.” He steps back, scratching his temple awkwardly. From a man to a boy with one simple gesture. “Uh, there’s only one bathroom so we’ll have to take turns. I don’t know if you need to shower, but you can go first, everything you need is in there, but I mean- you probably brought your own stuff so never mind.” He mutters below his breath, “God Kace,” and picks invisible lint off his shirt.

I laugh, bright and airy. Growing up Kayce was known for his ruthless pranks, and when I wasn’t his accomplice I was his primary victim. So to miss such a golden and rare opportunity to make fun of him would be a crime, his emotional turmoil aside. “No need to take turns bud, I don’t need to shower. Just got to freshen up a bit, throw on some makeup, brush my hair.” I start a slow saunter down the hall, sporting a feline grin. Kayce follows close behind- my shadow. Turning to walk backward, I poke him sharp in the chest. “How about you, Manure Man, hop in the shower while I do my makeup. We can keep each other company, catch up on each other's lives.” My back hits what I assume to be the bathroom door. I sigh. “After all, we don’t want to keep your daddy waiting. I for one don’t want a smack upside the head and I reckon you don’t either.” Angling my body so it faces the door, I reach for the nob and look at Kayce imploringly, my eyebrows raised, daring him to chicken out.

He suppresses a grin, tongue poking at his cheek. “Now you know that’s not exactly proper and I know that you’re trying to embarrass me, so you can go ahead and drop the act Miss Caroline.” Calling me on my shit, he leans into the door frame, his arms boxing me in on both sides.

Of course he knows I’m trying to embarrass him, anybody with eyes could see that. What he hasn’t caught onto is that I’m appealing to his competitive nature. If I keep poking at him long enough, there’s no way he won’t cave. If I know Kayce, he’ll take being excruciatingly embarrassed over losing against me any day. “Not proper? Sweetheart, I’ve seen you in your birthday suit more times than I care to think about, I don’t think standing in the same room as you while you shower will be the thing that sends me to hell.” I duck under his arm, grab my makeup bag from where I’d left it in the living room, and duck back under, swinging the bathroom door open as I go. Throwing my hair into a ponytail, I lock eyes with him in the mirror. His skin is flushed pink all the way down to his chest and he gnaws at his lip. Like I said, from a man to a boy with one small gesture. “Unless you’re too much of a chicken.” I shrug. “Then I guess we can take turns.” I aim for nonchalant, fingers crossed that he’s not catching on to my instigating.

Kayce’s eyes immediately narrow. Good, he’s taken the bait. “I know you’re not calling me a chicken.” His arms drop and he closes the door behind him.

Snickering, I breathe, “I’d only call you a chicken if you were acting like one, so tell me Kayce - are you being a chicken?”

He turns the shower on in lieu of an answer, eyes never leaving mine in the mirror. “I wouldn’t even know what a chicken acts like Caroline, having never been one, so no I don’t reckon I am.” At this, he flings his shirt off, and I hear his belt buckle clink shortly after, and then a thud as his pants hit the floor. The only thing that remains are his underwear and I hold his gaze steady, daring him to lose our little game. I can’t hear his underwear hit the floor, but I see the hunch his shoulders form as he bends to take them off. When he stands back up straight, he must see the devious gleam in my eye because he drawls out a suspicious, “What?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head, pressing my lips together. I fiddle with the hem of my blouse. It’s a frilly white thing with thin straps and a gathered waist. One of my favorites truly. Too pretty to risk getting makeup on. I pull the shirt gingerly over my head, not worried about appearing sexy, knowing my plain bra isn’t much to look at. I begin to sort out my makeup, lining products up along the counter. “I was just thinking about how I don’t want to get makeup on my blouse. That’s all.”

The rustle of the shower curtain opening and closing is Kayce’s only reply. Check and mate Dutton.

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Despite my reasoning for us sharing, Kayce and I don’t catch up with each other in the bathroom, in fact, he doesn’t speak a word to me until I’ve completed my makeup and he’s finished his shower.

Brushing my hair slowly and methodically, lost in my own thoughts, I almost miss the sound of the shower turning off and the rasp of the curtain as Kayce steps out. He’s wrapped in a comically large towel, but his hair still drips steadily onto the bathmat, saturated with water. The embarrassment has leached from his face and his downtrodden expression from earlier has returned. “So dad told you about me and Monica?” He perches on the closed toilet, sagging into himself, sniffs. “Old bastard.”

“What makes you think that?” Laying my hairbrush down, I turn to prop my hip against the counter and cross my arms, face as neutral as I can make it.

Kayce looks at me from under long, damp lashes, his jaw set. “Caroline, we’ve pushed a boundary or two in our decades of friendship, but I know that if you thought for one second that you’d be stepping on any toes or be disrespecting my marriage in any way, you wouldn’t have started whatever all of this,” he gestures around the bathroom, “little game was. So what did he tell you?” His hands are shaking again, but rather than clenched shut, this time they lay open, palms up, almost pleading.

“Kayce.” I kneel down, encasing one of his weathered hands with both of mine. “All he told me was that you and Monica had split not too long ago, nothing more. And he didn’t even really want to tell me that, I kind of forced his hand. I promise you.” I stand back up and ruffle his still-damp hair, trying to bring some levity back to the situation. “Although I really don’t understand all the secrecy bud, you had to hear all about my messy divorce- and over facetime of all ways. I’m not- I would never judge you Kace.”

Rising to his full height, Kayce fidgets with one of my belt loops. “I know you’d never judge me, Caroline, it’s not your judgment I’m worried about.”

“Then what are you worried about,” I murmur.

He grabs ahold of the belt loops on either side of my hips. “I just-” he shakes me, “I’m tired of people treating me like some wounded animal or-or like some bomb just waiting to go off. You’re the one person who-,” he licks his lips, “you’re my person. Please don’t do that to me.”

“Oh Kayce, you really think-,” I laugh, “I just gave you shit in the most ridiculous way, knowing well and good you’ve been put through the wringer, and you think I would treat you like some wounded thing.” I bend down to retrieve my shirt, toss it onto the counter behind me. “I realize I have a bad habit of babying you, and I don’t plan to stop any time soon, but if you think for one second that I won’t give you hell any and every time you need it, well then you’re mistaken sweetheart.” Propping his hands on his hips, Kayce looks down, kicks his bare foot against my booted one.

“Now, nobody said anything about me wanting you to stop babying me.” He grins shyly at me. “Every good cowboy needs a pretty lady to soften him up a bit, ya know.”

I feel my breath hitch as his fingers wrap loosely around mine, I’m suddenly hyper-aware of the damp towel that seems to slide lower down his hips by the second. Have I mentioned how beautiful this man is? Have time and space away from him turned my brain into scrambled eggs? Why in the hell do I feel a flush creeping down my neck? Dear God, and I have to live with this man.

I smack his chest, like any sane woman who suddenly finds herself attracted to her best friend would do, and try to hide my nerves behind a too-loud laugh. “Well as long as you don’t expect this pretty lady to harden you up too, I think I can manage that.” Slipping my hand out of his hold, I grab my blouse and make to leave, but not before I catch sight of the scarlet blush that paints his face and ears. One foot in the hallway, I call back, “Now hurry up and get dressed cowboy, wouldn’t want to keep daddy waiting.” Closing the door all I hear is a muttered, “Jesus,” in response.

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I wait out on the porch while Kayce gets ready, slouched down on one of the steps, elbows resting on my knees. The absolute quiet that surrounds me, save for the chirp of a bird or the rustle of leaves as the breeze blows, feels like a balm on my soul. I’d forgotten what it was like to feel this way. Content, at peace, like the whole world could be falling down around me but I’d still be alright, because this place, this land, will cradle me, protect me, like a momma does for her baby. I spent so long, years of my young life, running from one thing or another. Running into the arms of the wrong people, the wrong places. Yellowstone wasn’t the only place I found trouble, and while I was able to make a name for myself, to come out on top, the years I spent fighting for myself, fighting myself, have taken a toll on me. Never really thought the ranch would be my respite, but fighting for the Duttons feels like a goddamn breath of fresh air compared to what I’ve had to claw my way through in the last decade. This is my home, trouble or not.

The door creaks open, then shut, and I crane my head back to greet Kayce. “Took ya long enough, beauty queen.”

Unphased Kayce shoves his hands into his pockets. “Your face looks goofy upside down. And I can see into your nose.” He swaggers past me, down the steps, and onto the path. “Might want to invest in a nose trimmer.. beauty queen.” Fantastic. We’re back in familiar territory. No more warm damp skin, or slouchy towels, and thank god no more tugging at my belt loops or crowding me against the counter.. abs on display, broad shoulders at eye level… Yeah no, childish insults are great! Much more comfortable, way less confusing. I’m more than happy to engage in some lighthearted bullying with my completely platonic, non-romantic, best friend.

I must take too long to respond because Kayce doubles back, coming to stand at the base of the stairs below my feet. Looking at me funny, eyebrows scrunched and lips upturned, he asks, “You good? Wasn’t even that good of a burn to be honest. You’ve taken worse.” Actual concern begins to creep into his features, so before he can get himself worked up into a spiral of guilt I hop up from the stairs, dust off my backside, and punch him square in the gut.

“Oh don’t you worry ‘bout me, I’m fine. I was actually just thinking that I probably should buy a trimmer, keep things ship shape. And you know,” I glance back at him deviously, “now that we’re living together, there’s bound to be quite a few spa nights in your future. I could use it on you as well, really get my money’s worth.” As he falls in step with me, I expect him to protest immediately. When we were kids, I asked to pretty him up practically every day, told him I did boy activities with him so it was only fair he did girly things with me. In all our years of friendship he only caved once, the night I got my first period, told me I shouldn’t have to become a woman alone. He let me put a full face of makeup on him, paint his nails, and even braid his hair. No complaints, no making fun, just supported me in the only way he knew how.

So he surprises me when he inquires, “What exactly would a spa night include? Like what are we talking here? Fancy robes, overpriced lotion, cucumbers on our eyes?” His face is entirely serious, sincere in its curiosity. Man, it's easy to forget how much growing up changes a person.. how much marriage changes a person.

I stutter. “I- I mean, it can really include whatever you want it to? I normally take a bubble bath, shave my whole body- not that you’d want to do that, and then I go ham with some lotion, put on a face mask and hair mask, maybe whiten my teeth or trim my nails. Just depends.” I shrug. Kayce and I have talked about everything under the sun, but I never thought in a million years we’d be discussing my self-care routine.

He looks at me, eyebrows furrowed, contemplating. He kicks at the dirt a bit, tips his head to either side and then with an unexpected air of finality says, “Okay. I think I’d like to try all of that. I’ve never done masks or whitened my teeth before.” He stops, looking suddenly reluctant. “Wait, none of this hurts right? Like it’s relaxing?”

I place my hand on his back, half to prompt him to keep walking, half to comfort him. An easy laugh escapes me. “No, none of it hurts. And it is very relaxing, especially when you have a good bottle of wine on hand.” I wink, trying still to reassure him.

Worries assuaged, he winks back. “Well if there’s good wine involved, I’m in. Do you have the stuff with you already? Could we do it tonight?”

This time I stop in my tracks. If I was shocked before, now I’m flabbergasted. “You really want to do all that tonight?” He starts to look self-conscious so I clarify myself. “I mean, I’m more than happy to host a spa night, don’t get me wrong, but I just figured you’d need to warm up to the idea.”

Kayce walks a half step in front of me, avoids making eye contact. “In all honesty, tomorrow’s going to be a rough day. I don’t know if dad told you, but we’ve got to negotiate with the rez, the governor, and the sheriff tomorrow. Try to find some way to sweep everything under the rug, not let my fuck-ups tarnish the ranch’s reputation.” He removes his hat, runs his hand haphazardly through his hair. I know he asked me not to treat him like some wounded thing, and I won’t, but boy does he look it. “So, yeah, I just need something to take my mind off of the impending shitstorm I’m about to deal with. And I know you’re dying to gussy me up.” He flashes me a smile. “And if you’re happy, I’m happy, so a spa night it is.”

I sigh, feeling out of my depth. In all our years of friendship, I so rarely had to be the strong one. That was always Kayce. And while I’ve certainly toughened up in the time we’ve spent apart, I still feel so unprepared to tackle all of this. I’m scared I’ll say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, misstep in an unfixable way. More than anything, I’m scared I’ll let Kayce down. “Your uh- Mr. John did tell me all that actually, but I hadn’t thought about how emotionally draining it’ll be. A spa night sounds good Kace. And we can even put on a horror movie, even it out.” I shrug, still feeling out of my depth.

Kayce doesn’t reply, but he does show me the barest hint of a smile, just the slight upturn of the corners of his lips. His smile says, “we’ll make it through this, we have to.”

[boilyerheid]

one thing I haven’t seen being talked about in regards to the writers and actors strikes (solidarity forever) but that I really think is important, is the fact that the advertising industry and the film and television industry... are all the same thing. 

oh no not ADVERTS not EVIL CAPITALISM which I am NOT SUSCEPTIBLE TO fuck those people I would never do that 

etc

except people working on commercials - crew, cast, creatives - are treated SIGNIFICANTLY worse than those at the higher level of network drama, because adverts are ‘gross’ and simply don’t generate the same level of give a shit from the general public that shows do. you might hear if someone gets injured on the set of a warner bros film, but on a commercial? you wouldn’t give a fuck, you don’t know who they are. but we are the SAME INDUSTRY just paid significantly less. and yes, I write commercials and work within the whole spectrum of the film industry, that’s how I know.

advert writers move into shows. show writers write ads. actors and directors and producers and crew do both. and it’s all because WE need to get paid. taika fucking waititi directed amazon’s tentpole christmas commercial in 2022 and got paid a bomb - go and look it up. that lesbian daniel craig spot for belvedere people memed on? A COMMERCIAL. 

just because in your little brains ‘advertising’ is the quickest shortcut to ‘capitalism’ to ‘evil’, do not forget that 99.9% of ALL professional film crew, writers, production staff, and actors also work in ads to make ends meet. the current actor and writers’ strikes are fantastic and I hope they fucking WIN, but they’re just the start if you actually want the hellish landscape of filmmaking to change. 

we are also threatened by AI, we are also subject to insane lack of safety regulations on set, and we are not supported by the general public because there’s a perception that somehow Art and Ads are separate. I’m a trans creative and I spend most of my career fighting for my LIFE to keep making queer commercials just so some can slip through the net while bud light keep abandoning us. do you know how fast I’ll be cut and jobless if AI rises to a useable/acceptable tool like the unions are protesting against? it’ll be before any background actor is.

AND I had more to say - ad scholarships are a major path to queer people getting into the industry. uwu forced diversity yeah but what happens when that’s gone?? THIS IS HOW YOU GET US INTO ENTERTAINMENT.

support us all, or you don’t really support any of us.

[mommieswithmuscles]

Dom!Abby x Sub!Reader

Free Palestine, don't support Neil

No Minors and No Men

CW: Girlcock Abby, sweet!Abby, cum eating, oral sex (both), vaginal penetration, cream pie, cum as lube, vaginal fingering, mommy kink

Title: One Thing

"Awe babe, you didn't make the bed this morning." Abby pouts at the disheveled sheets and messy pillows. "You told me you would."

"It was one thing I missed. I'm sorry baby." You totally spaced you told her you would make the bed before she left for work. You spent the day on the couch with junk food and trash TV after your nap, waiting for Abby to come home so you could make dinner with her.

"It's ok baby. Let's make it together." You could tell she was disappointed, but you try not to let it get to you as you pick up some pillows from the floor. Her work clothes are tossed in the hamper as she now sports a tank top and boxers.

Her large hands tuck the sheets as you go behind her to tuck the duvet. You both arrange the pillows on your designated sides before she pulls you into her chest. You share a kiss before she pulls away. You chase her lips and steal three more.

"Come make dinner with me." She guides you to the kitchen. The ingredients were laid on the counter ready to go. It's quiet. Chopping and scraping, the clicks and fire of the stove, sizzling in the pans filling the air. You're lost in your head and don't register Abby in front of you until you're in her arms. You flinch. She lets you go. "Baby?

"I'm sorry."

"What's wrong?" She holds your face in her hand, eyes latched to yours.

"The only thing you asked me to do was make the stupid bed."

"I know, and I admit I am a little disappointed. But I'm not mad. It was nice spending that time with you. You can try again in the morning." Her eyes bore into yours, making you turn your head. She holds you tighter and keeps the eye contact. "No, don't look at anything else. I'm here."

"I'm stupid."

"You're not." She kisses you. "You're an airhead."

"I fell asleep after you left and forgot."

"See? You didn't purposely not make the bed. You're not being a brat. You made a mistake. It happens. You're only human."

"I would rather you be mad than disappointed." You drop her gaze.

"Why's that?" Her thumbs trace your jaw.

"Can handle it better. Dunno how to deal with disappointment." Abby kisses you again.

"How about we eat, then we can discuss how you can make it up to me. Deal?" You nod. "Good girl."

-

After dinner Abby does the dishes with you. You've calmed down significantly and have even smiled at her charismatic grin.

"Now that you've had some time, how do you feel?"

"Better." You shrug.

"Ok baby. Movie before bed?" She dries her hand on the towel hanging in front of the sink.

"You pick this time." You follow her to your shared room.

-

"That was a good movie." You roll over to face her, watching the way her wrist flexes to angle the remote to turn the TV off.

"I saw a clip of it on TikTok, and figured we could give it a shot." Abby wraps you close, her strong arms trapping you to her chest. Your nails dig into her shoulder blades.

"It was really good." You feel her hips scoot back on the bed as she lets you go. "What?"

"Nothing." You raise your brow at her. "I'm not about to ask for sex after how upset you were."

"I'm not upset anymore." You tuck yourself into her space, head on her bicep, and face in her collar.

"Ok. I'll eat you out and you can blow me, but I don't think we should go further."

"If I'm good can we?"

"Baby be honest. Are you ok because you're ok, or are you ok because you think sex is going to fix everything?"

"I'm ok because I worked through why I was upset and why you were disappointed and made a plan to better my behavior. I'm ok because you don't hold that I made a mistake over my head. You didn't pull away, or treat me any differently than you would have had I made the bed. I'm ok because you love me, and not making the bed doesn't change that." You look at her more intensely with each statement.

"Ok baby. Thank you for your honesty. If you're still up for it we can go further." Abby rolls you into your back before trailing kisses down your body. She pulls down your shorts and underwear before looking up at you again. "You ready?"

"Yes please." You stare down at her, fingers tucking stray hairs behind her ears.

She starts at your dewy folds before giving your clit attention. Her tongue does figure eights before repeating the action lower. You moan and buck your hips, her hands moving from your thighs to your hips to keep you spread and still.

It doesn't take much for you to cum. Truth be told, even when you're down, she always makes you happy.

She climbs back up your body, your hands on her shoulders as you feel her muscles flex. Her lips sloppily meet yours. The taste of yourself makes you moan. "My turn?" You bat your lashes up at her.

"Ok baby, you can have a turn." She flips onto her back, taking you with her. You giggle into her neck as she laughs along with you. The solemn mood from earlier is now completely replaced by love and happiness.

You kiss her jaw, her abs, then her navel before dropping down to help her shuffle her boxers off. It's red and swollen, the tip only slightly darker than the shaft.

You lick a stripe from her balls to the slit, teasing a suck at the dewey hole before trailing your tongue back down to suck her balls into your mouth. Her hips jerk and she grips the sheet as she moans.

You kiss your way back to the now angry purple tip before taking the twitching cock down your throat. You swallow and moan around it, your head bobbing frantically. She cums with a jolt of her hips, your name rolling off her tongue like a prayer.

You sit up on your heels, knees spread to show off the webs of your own cum slipping down on the sheets. Her eyes glue themselves to the sight before you snap your fingers at her.

She looks up at your full cheeks with confusion. "What-" you push your middle and ring fingers into your mouth, soak them in her cum, then push them into your weeping pussy. Her jaw drops. You swallow the rest with a big gulp, bouncing your hips on your hand.

"Please?" She all but throws you face first into the pillows so she can take your fingers out and fuck you herself.

She pushes her own middle and ring fingers past your lips to steal any remaining cum before easing her fingers one at a time into your hole. "Gotta get you ready for my cock." You can only nod and beg as Abby steals away any thoughts you could possess that aren't her. "Fuck you're so tight for me." When you're loose and almost ready to cum again, you reach under you and guide her to your ready pussy. "Are you sure?" She checks one last time.

"Please mommy."

Abby lets you guide her in before she plows your needy little hole. Your ass meets her hips with loud claps and high moans, your eyes rolling back as her tip kisses your womb.

Abby makes sure you're done cumming before holding you down and pushing as deep as she can get, whimpering in your ear and her cum fills your needy pussy. Aftershocks of your orgasm cause you to flutter around her and help her come down from her high.

"So....... Can I make the bed tonight?" You wiggle your hips when she pulls out, cum dribbling down onto the messy sheets.

[birdwonder]

1am date | jason todd

【 ♥ 】 ⸻ you and jason eat mcdonalds @ 1am because there’s nothing more romantic than that. [ tw ;; swearing ]

“ You really know how to make a girl feel like a cheap whore. ” Those words were followed by four fries entering you mouth, the lightly salted flavour staining your tongue. Jason almost dropped the burger in his hands in that moment, his eyes snapping up to stare you, bewildered. The look on his face made you smile and raise a brow.

Significantly less amused, he was quick to ask, “ what the hell are you talking about ? ” There weren’t a lot of good things left in Jason’s life and even less great things, so for the one person he loved more than anything - you - he made sure to treat you as well as he possibly could. Picking up another fry, you waved it lazily in the air and used it to gesture to your boyfriend. “ All I’m saying is, I thought I was worth a little more than McDonalds at- ” You paused to tap your phone screen, digital numbers lighting up in front of a photo of you kissing Jason on the cheek. “ One AM. You hiding me from someone, Jason Todd ? ” Now looking a little more guilty, the said man realised where he may have went a little wrong by calling you up an hour ago and asking you to hop on his motorcycle. “ Aw babe, you know it’s not like that. It’s never going to be like that. ” One of his hands dropped down to cover your’s, gripping it with reassurance. “ I’ve just been so busy, I barely have time for myself let alone my girl. I just want you to know I still want to be with you, even if it’s at ungodly hours of the night. ” You understood. How could you not ? What time did a hero have on his hands ? Instead of him being faced with anger, you offered Jason a sympathetic look while lacing your fingers between his. “ I know hon, I know. ” A small sigh left your lips. “ I just wish we could go somewhere nicer and not be half asleep. But you got your work to do, I get that. ” You then playfully kicked him from under the table, not at all enough to hurt. “ As long as I get to see your stupid mug, I’m happy. ” He laughed back, bring your hand close to his face before planting a kiss on top of it. “ Soon babe, soon. I promise I’ll take you out somewhere better next time. ” “ Yeah you better, ” you teased, knowing full well you’d be happy to do this ten times over.

[this-daydream-is-dangerous-13]

Taylor’s use of 7 is Haylor, including seven: a thesis

Buckle up, friends. Ever since hearing the seven poem aloud on the Eras tour—with its explicit link to Wildest Dreams—it confirmed my long-held suspicion that *seven* is Haylor.

Some data:

- all track 7s post Red seem to be Haylor

- 7 is Harry’s number (added to hers you get 20, hence all the references to 20)

- seven is track 7 on folklore, the album Taylor released on 1D’s 10th anniversary. What? Harry had released Fine Line on her previous bday (#30, Dec 13/19) and she’d missed his Feb 1st day already.

But bestie, you might ask, how is it possible? Let me explain, drawing from details of the song.

We know that Anne and Des Styles divorce when Harry is 7. Anne has primary custody of H and Gemma in Holmes Chapel, but they remain close to Des whom they see on weekends.

But then, there is a period in their lives that no one knows much about and no one speaks about. Even this gem (which I am currently citing) - a 1D origin story has very little.

Harry has another stepdad whose last name is Cox (which was Anne’s name during 1D X factor time). His name was John. They family move to Great Budworth in the Cheshire countryside where Anne is landlady in a pub (and Harry talks fondly of ice cream runs and first girlfriends).

But then when H is around 12, Anne and the kids are back in Holmes Chapel. Anne eventually dates and gets serious with Harry’s beloved, now late stepdad Robin Twist. And Harry sometimes mentions his overwhelming desire to protect his Mom and Gemma at all costs.

No one ever mentions this guy. Ever.

Fast forward a few years to the magical December of 2012. After work commitments, Harry and Taylor spent 4 or 5 days in the north of England. They stay with Anne, and they Christmas bake and go on double dates with Gemma and her then boyfriend, and grocery shop and hang out with his friends. He takes her to the Lakes, where she’s dreamed of going.

It’s her 23rd birthday and be showers her with surprises and 23 thoughtful gifts (she’s not writing The Moment I Knew on his watch!). He gets her food from his childhood fave Chinese place and the bakery where he worked! He is showing her his life. It’s documented here…

Including their visit to a pub in Great Budworth and a drive around the area.

We have no idea what happened, but maybe Taylor does?

Taylor never got to take him to Pine Tree farm in rural PA, as far as we know. But in the depths of the pandemic, when no one could go anywhere, she paints him a picture of her PA childhood.

And in it, we find a fictionalized friend who has a difficult and maybe scary father figure. One from whom Taylor wishes she could save and protect her friend, despite crossing her heart and promising not to tell.

What a gift, to affirm the struggle this child went through, and to show her care and desire to *be with them in it*.

She wanted to scoop him up and take him away from the closet tears to play pirates and “run away to India”. What kid in rural PA wishes to go there? Come on! 😭😭😭

And then, here are the lyrics she pens:

“Passed on like folk songs, the love lasts so long”

“And just like a folk song, our love will be passed on…”

And most significantly - *love you to the moon and to Saturn* 🌙🪐 !!!!!

She wasn’t kidding in Gold Rush - “my mind turns your life into folklore, I can’t bear to dream about you any more.”

[saintalectoshomeforwaywardgirls]

11/13/2023: Everyone, please meet Camilla Hect!

Camilla here was originally Just Like You #62. I was absolutely dead-set on finding this exact doll for Cam because of the following logic: I personally use the actress Ariela Barer as a drawing reference for Cam. Ariela Barer, coincidentally, played Sonali in the American Girl movie Chrissa Stands Strong. While the Sonali mold is used by a variety of dolls, #62 is much closer to Ariela Barer's actual skin tone (and the skin tone a lot of fan art uses for Camilla) than the Sonali doll proper (and Sonali is extremely hard to find for prices I'd pay, especially for a doll I'm modding). #62 also has what are described as "amber-brown" eyes, but look passably grey-brown in person, so I'm not going to have to eye-swap her!

#62, however, came with some beautiful, glossy, very un-Camilla hair.

Lovely, right? But very not her.

(Also, look at her face, she is so cute. All of the dolls are cute, but I am particularly delighted by the Sonali mold dolls, I think because that was one of the molds that wasn't released until after my original childhood dolls phase so it's new to me.)

Luckily, this provided a very convenient solution for another problem here at Saint Alecto's: Abigail's poor coiffure.

As you can see, the hair our dear Lady Pent came to us with has seen better days. To say nothing of the frizziness (which we would gladly treat if that were the only problem!) there's that inconvenient case of back-of-head bangs she had going there.

So!

As I have done several times now, I set about removing the girls' wigs. (I get my advice, as I'm sure many of us do, from @desertdollranch's rewigging post.) This is a significantly more stressful process when you're trying to maintain the integrity of one of the wigs you're working with! (And okay, Gideon's wig actually came on Harrow's doll so I have reused before... but it didn't matter if Gideon's hair got a little messed up in the process. It adds character.)

My beloved wife and fellow... uh, guardian (I guess? God, we're not their moms, that would be so weird!) of the dolls @incomprehensiblelentils was, as often she is, ready with the Magic Eraser for sudden trouble spots; she also provided support (literally: holding the girls as I worked) and company.

And lo and behold!

Abigail Pent now has a beautiful new hairdo! (And I am more convinced than ever that she's going to need some lipstick. Nothing crazy, just a bit of color. That's for another day.)

More importantly, Camilla now has her trademark bob, as seen above. It's the Hoshi in chocolate brown by PurplePlumWigs (and yes, it is kind of gay* that Cam and Dulcie's wigs came from the same shop! This is part of why we can't be their moms: so many of these kids are in lesbians* with each other!) Her overalls are by StarBriteDoll on Etsy; the boots and tank top are harvested from eBay outfits.

(Abigail's outfit is also from eBay: glasses, sweater, skirt, shoes.)

[sashaforthewin]

When they heard the keys in the front door, both Steve and Eddie stood up from the floor where they had been listening to records.

Sure enough, in walked two adults whose facial features had undeniably been mixed together to create Steve Harrington. His dad, despite being in a casual suit, gave the sense that he was at a golf course business meeting, somehow. Eddie wasn't even sure he had known that was a thing before seeing Mr. Harrington, but now he was sure of it. He looked significantly less intimidating than Eddie had imagined.

Steve clearly got his eyes and his lips from his mom. She was pretty in a secretary way, Eddie decided. She seemed the more serious of the two, though she didn't seem mean, either, just preoccupied with handling things. She had the keys and had immediately started placing their suitcases into the front closet to keep them out of the entryway.

"Mom, dad, you're home!"

"Yes, but unfortunately I have to be in Detroit the day after tomorrow. Sorry, champ, I know we've been busy lately. How's school?"

Eddie glanced at Steve, who answered without hesitation.

"School is really good, I'm making good grades."

"Great! That's great, sweetie! Now, Stephen, who is your friend here?" Mrs. Harrington asked.

"Mom, dad, this is my friend Edward."

Eddie straightened his posture to better look like an Edward instead of an Eddie.

"Nice to meet you, Edward. Now you're not letting this little fashion bring your grades down, are you?" She asked, gesturing to his outfit.

Steve glanced at Eddie casually, but Eddie could tell he was internally screaming for him to play along, talk himself up, play the role, so he did.

"No ma'am! Straight A's."

"That is really excellent, Edward!" Mr. Harrington enthused. "I'm glad you can be a good influence on our boy. Say, it's getting kind of late, would you boys like to have a slumber party?"

"Yes, Mr. Harrington, I'd like that!"

"Great. Now make sure to call your parents. Steven, can you show Edward the way to your room so he can use the phone in there?"

Eddie had to take a very slow deep breath to keep from smiling or laughing.

His parents made them a pizza and gave them sodas and told them they could stay up until midnight as a treat.

Once they were safely locked away in Steve's room and heard his parents go off to bed, the two burst out laughing.

"Dude, how old do your parents think you are? How do they not remember you graduated?"

"Man, I don't know, they've treated me like I was fifteen since I WAS fifteen! And they didn't go to my graduation, I never mentioned it and they never noticed. They aren't bad parents, they're just really preoccupied with their own lives and forgetful about things that aren't work-related. I don't think it will ever occur to them to count how old I am by my birth year, if they actually remember it. It's fine, though. I'll milk it for a while and then move out maybe."

"I nearly lost it when you had to show me to your room," Eddie said, laughing as he opened the top dresser drawer and took out a pair of his own boxers to sleep in. Then he got out one of his own shirts from the second drawer and tossed one of Steve's to him. They brushed their teeth together in Steve's bathroom, each with their own toothbrushes that lived side by side in their holder. Once they were ready for sleep, Steve and Eddie climbed into bed on their usual sides and immediately moved to meet in the middle like they had done hundreds of times before.

"Nice room you've got here," Eddie jokingly commented.

"Idiot. Hey, I love you. Thanks for playing along for my parents."

"No problem, sweetheart. They aren't as scary as I imagined them."

"Yeah, no, they're just kinda dumb and self centered, but they have their own lives."

Eddie wanted to say that kids are supposed to be a big part of parents' lives, but he didn't want to point out to Steve what he was missing, he couldn't burst this bubble. He would just have to be here for Steve if that bubble ever popped and Steve realized the truth of how shitty they were. Instead, Eddie just pulled Steve in for a tight hug.

[teeth--thief]

Photos of Lyonyd (Leonid?…) Toptunov? I wouldn’t mind rambling on him, also.

- Rodka

I deliberately saved this ask for last (sort of). As a treat for myself and as a threat for everyone else ♡ And for @ur-favorite-basil-enthusiast since he was also interested in seeing The Collection.

I'll have to split this into a few parts - dreaful, I know! - because I can only add 10 pictures to one post while on mobile =( I'll keep reblogging with additional pictures till I run out of things to share. Subscribe for more insane content in the future and don't forget to click that bell icon to...

Part 1

He had manifested to me in a dream when I first started researching Chernobyl, have I ever mentioned that? Well, he has. Which was truly an anomaly because I almost never have any dreams at all... but about that some other time, perhaps.

I am going to put the pictures of him under the cut so nobody gets jumpscared by my Collection of Five Billion White Guy Pictures. And I'll also include some relevant information! Or as relevant as I can make it, at least.

Just to be clear (and safe): I found all of these out in the wild, on da internet. I am, however, pretty sure that at least the collage of his pics from uni times is from @/toptunovleonid on Instagram. So, just to be very clear: all credit for at least that goes to her.

Semi-chronologically, his pictures go like this:

Ignoring that one picture that is barely visible and out of frame in a few pictures of the photo album it's in, because he looks about 10 there and I feel slightly weird about sharing it specifically.

We're in... Tallinn, middle school number 11!

Second boy from the left in the second picture is him. That is he. He who was 15 then. And a 16 year old Lyonya in the left picture, of course.

From this time, one of his classmates remembers him as follows: At school he was quiet, unnoticeable, very shy. I remember he was always hanging out with younger kids. He was chubby. They'd now say he was a "nerd". Alright, we get it, he was a sweet child... Teen? Both? Or was he like this all his life? Either way, please stop before I die from all that sugar...

He's (10th grade) the guy leading the little girl (1st grade). His shapeless hair has charmed me. What's his hair routine and will it work on my curls? Mhm, didn't think so. And first in the second row from the bottom in the small pictures, in case you can't recognise his face yet.

As a bonus - his school certificate from the school in Tallinn he attended until graduating in 1977:

The grades were from 2 (you didn't pass with that one, so that's an F) to 5 (an A, I suppose?). So as you can see, he certainly studied well. What a nerd (affectionately).

Uni territory now! Moscow calling 📞 or, rather, Obninsk and the MEPhI

If you weren't born in any of the USSR countries during The Soviet Times, it'll come as a surprise to you but the students had mandatory... field... work... classes...? if you can call them that. They had them digging potatoes and what not. Nothing screams socialist spirit like making uni students do free labour in the field, I guess?

Pictures with his uni girlfriend, how cuuute! (And Sasha Korol hanging from the roof in the background... for reasons unknown)

Lyonya pretending to drive a combine harvester. And next to him, obviously, Sasha Korol. When I first saw this picture, I thought he was on some kind of a scaffolding but alas - it's one of those old beasts, like our Bizon. But that's not a Bizon because those had roofs. Nobody here cares for USSR combines talk - not even me - let's move on.

Not too sure when these two are from but they look uni enough to me - probably from the very beginning and sometime closer to the end, judging by his stache doing significantly better...

Mandatory military service because a REAL MAN in the USSR needed to know how to shoot a gun, obviously. Even when that meant military service interrupted your uni for a short while. I say that as if no other countries before or after had mandatory army time... don't question it, I'm doing a bit.

Lyonya is second in top row in the picture on the left and third from the left in the top row in the other pic. Korol is there, too, he's fourth from the left in the top row in the first picture and second from the right in the bottom row in the other picture.