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littlemissmentallyunstable · 2 days ago

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bella PLEWSDE WRITE A GRAYSON HAWTHORNE BLURB OR WHAYEVER WITH READER WITH LOW IRON AND LIKE SHE ALMOST FAINTS BECAUSE THERES LITERALLY ZERO. ZERO FICS THAY HAVE THE READER WITH LOW IRON SO PPELAPSPESLLEPWDLEEL

AHHHHHH BELLE LET ME JUST BEGIN WITH AN APOLOGY BECAUSE I AM SO SO SO SO SORRY THIS FIC HAS TAKEN ME THREE BILLION YEARS TO GET AROUND TO WRITING!! THANK YOU FOR YOU REQUEST AND I PRAYYYY THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED…. (if not I will redo)

title: I’m fine

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: a story where ‘I’m fine’ means ‘I’m totally not fine but I’m not going to admit that’

warnings: dizziness, fainting

a/n: dedicating this to the beautiful @midiosaamor 💖💖 ily <33

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @eternal--dream @shattered-glass-roses @book-nerd-emi @peppapigsposts @foreverwinter22

It only started as a headache, not bad enough to be classed as a migraine but bad enough to be considered more than your average headache. Still, I carried on typing the words out on my computer, my brain pulsating in pain.

I didn’t have time to rest off a headache, there was too much to do. I’d only started working four hours ago and if I didn’t get this done by tonight then my boss would not be happy. I mean it wasn’t exactly my fault she decided set me an assignment with a deadline on the same day but still, I had to work it all out and push through.

The tasks seemed endless, I typed word after word, in a state of not really registering what I was writing, just making the robotic movements to write. Clicking the keys and forming coherent sentences without anything being properly processed. It wasn’t unusual, I was used to my brain working faster than my body sometimes.

Still, my head throbbed on. For a second, I stopped the incessant tapping on my keyboard and pressed two fingertips softly to each temple. My hands were ice cold. I breathed in and out deeply a few times with my eyes shut before beginning to work again, praying a tiny reset would be what I needed. I knew I was lying to myself, I knew it would take more than that to soothe any pain but I carried on like I didn’t.

“Are you alright?”

As small gasp escaped my lips as I looked up to see Grayson standing in the doorframe, one hand at the top taking most of his weight. I wondered how long he’d been stood there and I hadn’t noticed.

“Mmmm,” I hummed in reply, going back to finish the sentence I was typing before I lost my train of thought. Then I looked back up at him again, “why?”

He walked in slowly looking at my face intently, “you look a little pale.”

He took my face into his palms and rubbed my cheek with his thumb. Small, gentle, long strokes, that made me lean into him further. I wanted to just curl up in his arms and sleep, but my work clearly had other ideas.

“Just a headache,” I brushed it off, pulling away from his touch reluctantly, “is there any aspirin?”

“There is,” he nodded slowly, his eyebrows pinching together in concern, “but I really think you ought to lay down if it’s this bad.”

“I don’t need to,” I shook my head stubbornly, standing up to look him dead in the eye, “I’m fine.”

What a lie.

“You don’t look fine,” he told me softly, the anxiety rippling across his perfected features. His hands curved around the small of my back and I tried to enjoy it instead of thinking about the throbbing of my head.

So despite my ache, I smiled, “well I feel fine.”

Sometimes I lied so easily and so well it worried me. I shouldn’t be this good at something so cruel. But maybe more than him, I was lying to myself to convince a part of me that I wasn’t as feeling as bad as I thought I felt.

Grayson gave me another worried glance, thumb running up and down the base of my spine rhythmically, the softness of his touch sending a chill through it.

“Have you eaten today?” he asked me, the tingling up my back dying down.

“Earlier,” I nodded, my eyes flicking the time in the bottom corner of my screen realising my ‘earlier’ actually meant six hours ago. On cue, my stomach seized in a hungry protest, sending a tight knot like sensation across my abdomen. I prayed it wouldn’t grumble, betraying my lies to Gray.

“I haven’t seen you eat or-“

“Stop the fussing,” I grinned to bear it, “I’m fine, just need a tablet and some water.”

“Maybe lay off the work then,” he suggested, cocking his head towards my computer screen.

“Grayson I need to get this done,” I sighed gently, “a little headache can’t stop me.”

“Okay…” he said unsurely, hesitating for a few seconds.

“Stop worrying,” I forced a laugh through my searing brain, glancing up at him and looking through those truth-reeling gray eyes.

“I’m not,” his right hand twitches at my side. Liar. “Sit down and I’ll go and get you the aspirin, okay?”

“Okay then,” I nodded, sitting down. Another chill ran through my spine, though this time it was because of the empty place left where his hands had just been.

I took a few more deep breaths, feeling a little out of it all of a sudden. It was like I was in the room but I wasn’t at the same time. I closed my eyes and let the weight of my skull fall into my palms, breathing even deeper, heavier.

I let myself hang, like a lifeless marionette forgotten by her puppeteer, everything leaden and dopey. When I heard Grayson coming back and quickly opened my eyes and sat up a little bit straighter. If he saw me like that he’d get stressed and that’s the last he needed. It was only a headache after all.

Just a really bad headache.

“Thank you,” I kissed him on the cheek as he passed me the aspirin pill and a glass of water.

He cupped my face in his hands, “you promise me you’re fine?”

“I promise promise promise you,” I whispered, feigning another smile. My jaw was starting to ache. I don’t know it’s it from the guilt of lying or the forceful action of smiling or maybe it was just the headache transferring.

I took the tablet between my fingertips and put it at the back of my mouth before swallowing it quickly with water. I shivered afterwards. I hate taking tablets.

Grayson squeezed my shoulders softly, “do you want me to stay here?”

“Didn’t I just ‘promise promise promise’ you I was fine?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

He looked at me and sighed. Worry ran riot across his eyes, swirling anxious thoughts into pools of grey. How bad did I look?

“I haven’t got much work left to do, okay?” I said, “I just need to get through this.”

He took his time walking out and although I didn’t look at him I was convinced he kept looking back every through steps to check on me. Finally he left and I downed the glass of water.

I sat still for a moment, analysing how I felt. I didn’t think it was possible but my head had worsened. I internally groaned as dread filled my body. It wasn’t supposed to worsen. I prayed the tablet would kick in, after all I hadn’t really given it a chance.

I took a long breath out and continued tapping away at the keypad. After a while the continuous clicking and clacking was beginning to irritate me. Like an itch I couldn’t quite scratch. My already pounding head felt pounded with the small noises over and over like they were making a mockery of it. Still I continued, there wasn’t much left now and if I could just finish it l, all would be okay.

After about a billion spell checks - seriously why does psychology have a ‘p’ and ‘h’ in it, it’s so irrelevant - I thought I might be ready to finish when I realised I’d missed a whole section.

By now my head was almost unbearable. Torturous agony was creeping up behind my eye now as well as the front of my head. A whole section felt like it would be the death of me. And I’d noticed something weirdly unnatural about my breathing. Every breath in didn’t feel like enough oxygen. So I began to breathe more deeply and when that wasn’t working, more quickly.

That only fuelled my rising panic about the weird nature of these symptoms. They were familiar. Why couldn’t I breathe normally? What was wrong? Maybe it was more than a headache? Questions raced through my head faster than it had time to process them all.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

My head pounded on and like the idiot that I am, I carried on writing. My vision blurred out for a fraction of a second then cleared shortly after. I rubbed my eyes. It was just the screen. Just the screen.

It happened a few more times, so I cleaned my glasses with the bottom of my jumper for good measure. More notes, more notes, more notes, more notes. I quickly hit save in the document for fear if my computer crashed I would lose it all. I sighed as I then went to drink from my water glass only to realise it was empty.

“Gray!” I yelled, “could you grab me another glass of water please?”

I barely registered his reply, my only focus being the stupid piece of work. ‘I can last a little longer’ I repeated over and over in my mind. Until I was bored. Until I was delirious. Until I was too brain dead to care.

I could hear Grayson approaching so got up to meet him at the door. I wanted a ten second break from staring straight at the glowing screen. Suddenly, mid step, I stumbled. Straight away Grayson had one hand around the small of my back gripping tightly and the another on my upper arm, steadying me. I try to laugh it off as a I mistake but even that sounded weak.

“Woah sweetheart,” he said, his hold firmer as he set me straight, “what’s going on?”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged, trying to get back to my chair, my legs feeling too much like jelly for my liking.

I could see he didn’t believe me completely, he didn’t have to say a word. Grayson, instead, took me in his arms. I couldn’t ask to sit down after that, then I’d be admitting that something was wrong. So I stayed standing, my body against his. The only thing holding me up was him.

He looked at me, tender eyed and consumed with concern, “you’re clearly not my love.”

“Gray, I just tripped,” I said smoothly, praying he’d let me twist the truth as I tried to stop my legs from shaking.

“Don’t lie to me,” he murmured in a low voice, curling his other arm around my waist for support.

“I’m not lying,” I shrugged, continuing to be in denial as I gripped to his shirt so tightly my knuckles went white, “I’m fine.”

As soon as the words left my lips everything spun. I closed my eyes and pressed my head against his chest, hoping it would all just go away. My feet swayed a little and panic seized my throat at the unsteadiness. I made a choked sound, halfway between a gasp and a silent scream.

“It’s okay,” Grayson whispered softly, “I’ve got you.” He brought a hand up through the back of my hair and gently held onto the back of my head to steady it.

“Dizzy,” I murmured into him, my voice slurred and slowed. I felt so out of it.

We stayed like that for I don’t know how long. My concept of time was as hazy as my vision. I just remembered staying very still, Grayson’s hands not leaving my body and how hard my forehead was pressed against him.

After a while, I tried to stand back on my own, thinking the dizzy spell was over but as soon as I did the room became a whirlpool of colours and blob-ish shapes. I felt myself lose my footing completely and before I knew it was falling backwards.

Strong arms tensed around my torso and quickly caught me, “oh sweetheart,” I heard Grayson say as he safely lowered me to the ground.

My legs became lifeless pieces of flesh, heavy as led but weak as a flimsy childhood doll. My head felt heavy in his lap as it pounded on. I sewed my eyes shut, it helped a little with the dizziness. His cold fingers tentatively touched my forehead and I leant into them ever so slightly with what energy I had left.

“I’m going to carry you to bed,” he told me gently, as I felt one arm around my back and the other under my legs.

“But my work-“ I groaned, feeling a little nauseated from the dizziness.

He held me tightly, “no sweetheart, forget about work, you need to rest.”

I didn’t reply and instead feebly gripped my deadened limbs around his neck and prayed for all of this to just go away.

“Gray,” I murmured into his chest.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not fine,” I said, somewhere between a sob and mumble.

“I know sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing a shaky kiss on my temple, “I know.”

He scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom, laying me on the bed, before tucking me under the covers. Not letting go of my hand, that gripped him so tightly I don’t know how he didn’t complain. I heard him dialling a number.

“Who are you calling?” I slurred.

“Someone to come and help you,” he responded swiftly.

“Mhmm,” I could only muster in response.

His thumb rubbed circles up and down my hand, “I’m going to stay right here okay?” he comforted, “can you still hear me?”

“Don’t go,” I whispered, feeling quite pathetic but not self-conscience enough to care.

“No I’m staying sweetheart,” he squeezed my palm in his, “I’m staying.”

My eyes fluttered open as my head lazily lolled to one side, “I’m dizzy,” I groaned, not remembering if I’d mentioned already.

“I know,” Grayson whispered, a hand pushing my hair out of the way, “I know.”

“Can I rest my eyes?” I asked him, closing them anyway.

“No, you can’t go to sleep,” he told me.

“No just rest my eyes…” I trailed off, pausing for a long while, my train of thought wavering, “…to stop the spinning.”

“Squeeze my hand every three seconds then,” he said, “so I know you’re awake.”

“Deal,” I barely managed to whisper before I felt the need to increase my breathing rate. It felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in my system.

I squeezed his hand every three seconds, just about keeping track of the numbers. But with every squeeze I could feel myself growing weaker and weaker, like all of my energy was being drained slowly and mercilessly. The only thing that kept me from closing my eyes was Grayson’s gentle touches. His soft fingertips trailing over my face, tracing the contours or drawing spirals on my upper arms and neck.

I opened my eyes for a moment, when the darkness was just as bad as the light, when I felt dizzy no matter whether my eyes were closed or open. Things blurred and cleared, darkened and became normal again over and over and over. Until, a piercing ringing coursed through my ears and everything other sound seemed to be submerged under water. I knew what that meant I was close to.

“Gray,” I murmured shakily.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to pass out,” I told him, a single tear trailing its way down my cheek, “I can feel it.”

I knew the signs well enough and every sign was pointing that way.

“It’s okay,” he said, positioning himself behind me, so my back was pressed against his torso and he could support my head, “I’ve got you.”

“I don’t want to pass out,” I sobbed, black spots dancing across my vision in mockery.

The worst part is always before you passed out because when you’re out you feel and remember nothing. But before, you know what’s coming and you know you can’t stop it.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he mumbled into my hair, slowly, comfortingly, “you’re safe, if you need to pass out, you can and your body will, whether you like it or not.”

My hands were shaking, fingers rocking back and forth, bumping into one another clumsily, “I’m scared,” I said between uneven breaths.

I grabbed Grayson’s forearm to attempt to still them, my fingers so brutally desperate in their clinging that they constricted his blood flow. No matter how many times I’d passed out,, I always felt just as scared.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he soothed gently, “I’ve got you, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise,” I panted, looking up at him, chest rising up and down harshly.

“I promise,” he leant down and planted a sweet of kiss on my nose.

I kept looking up, until his gray eyes clouded with dark spots, until calm expression replaced with an endless see of nothingness, until the whisperings of sweet words ceased. My breathing was heavy, growing heavier by the second and then… then there was black.

***

I felt thick and heavy with drowsiness. My body felt so weighted it ached. My back was against the mattress, my head flat on the pillow, I was anchored to my bed. The covers had been adjusted to just under my neck and I could feel someone’s hand in mine.

I winced as I opened my eyes, the light attacking them too viciously. Immediately Grayson dimmed it down, holding my cheek tentatively in his palm.

“Hey sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing my forehead.

“Gray?”

He traced a soft thumb over the bone where my eyebrow sat as he asked, “how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” I mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“Here,” he said gently, “have some water.”

Slowly he helped me prop myself up, his hand pressed up against my back, the other tipping the glass towards my lips. I swallowed, the water feeling odd against the dryness of my throat.

“How long was I out for?” I coughed.

“Only a bit,” he said, laying me back down, “the doctors have come and gone, they say you’ll be okay with some rest.”

“Why did I pass out?” I asked tiredly, “do they know?”

“You hadn’t taken your iron tablets in three days,” Grayson explained, cocking his head towards my table.

I glanced to my bedside and gasped. Three days worth of unconsumed tablets sat there. I never usually forgot, one day maybe but three whole days. That was unheard of. Guilt permeated me, all the stress I’d probably put Grayson under could’ve been entirely prevented.

“I must’ve forgotten,” I sighed leaning deeper into my pillow, “work has just been so hectic lately and-“

“Hey, hey, hey, I didn’t tell you to worry you, I told you so you wouldn’t overthink what was wrong,” he said softly, “but it’s okay, you’re okay, that’s all that matters.”

“But it’s not okay because it’s all my fault,” I bursted into tears, the shock wave of random emotion leaving me senseless, “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you I wasn’t fine and then I just passed out and that probably really stressed you out and I could’ve stopped all of that if I’d just taken the stupid tablets.”

“Sweetheart,” he pressed a palm flat on my chest, “breathe, it’s okay.”

His voice was the constant in my current of chaotic overthinking. This had happened before many times, my low iron deficiency had always been an issue, but even the very first time I’d passed out he was so much calmer than I’d expected.

He kept calm for me.

“God I feel like an idiot,” I choked out a pathetic laugh, wiping my eyes roughly with the back of my hand.

“You’re not an idiot, love,” he soothed, taking my hand gently into his and replacing with with the pad of his thumb, as he gently wiped away the tears that were left, “it happens.”

“It shouldn’t happen,” I shook my head defiantly.

I don’t forget things. I never forget things.

“Hey,” Grayson said, “look at me, you’re fine, I’m fine and that’s all that’s important.”

He held my face in his palms and looked at me like I meant the world.

“I’m sorry,” I let the weight of my head fall into his hands, taking the ache from my neck.

“Don’t apologise,” he said, “there’s no need for you to, just relax.”

I closed my eyes, his palm warm and comforting against my cheek. His fingers found their way to the top of my head, soothingly running through my hair over my scalp.

“Do you want me to get in with you?” he asked.

I nodded sleepily and watched as he slipped into the bed beside me. I was quick to snuggle close, intertwining my legs with his and burying my face into his chest. I inhaled and exhaled slowly.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered in a low voice in my ear as his arms curved around my waist.

“Tired,” I mumbled.

“It’s okay,” he ushered, “you can go to sleep.”

“What if you go?” I asked, like a child.

“I won’t, I promise,” Grayson said, “I’ll stay here with you.”

I smiled to myself, and squeezed his arm, “I love you,” I murmured, “so much.”

“I love you too sweetheart,” he planted a kiss on the top of my head, “more than this world. Get some rest now.”

So I shut my eyes and fell longingly into sleep’s arms.

a/n: hope you enjoyed guys, sorry I haven’t posted much 💖💖

TIG masterlist

#bella writes 🤍#the inheritance games #tig #grayson hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne one shot #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson x reader #tgg #jennifer lynn barnes #jameson winchester hawthorne

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captain-huggy-bear · 1 day ago

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Um, was writing a fic, had a thot, this is my explanation why sometimes Clayton seems to only wear one chain and other times two... Thot: Clay giving you one of his chains, hence why he now only wears the cross. Possessive little thrill going through him because you never take it off and that's his. 18+ MDNI: Possessive Clayton because I would set Feminism back 100 years for him...but I know he wouldn't ask me to.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

It starts as a little thought, a little thought that grows until he can't get it out of his head. Niggling at him, goading him, following him everywhere he goes until it's not so little anymore, until it's large and loud and far too proud for what it is.

Just a little thought he has when he's leaning over you, your legs tight around his hips while thrusts into you, hips pressing into your own, sweat beating on his forehead. Just a little thought as one of your hands reaches up and grasps as his chains like they were made to be tugged on, pulling until he slants his mouth over yours in an all consuming kiss that's harsh and hungry. Just a tiny little thought that one of his chains would look so fucking good on you, that it would be so good to see you wearing his chain, showing everyone who you belonged to. That it would look so good round your throat while he fucked you, even better if he tugged on it the same way you do now.

That little thought spirals out of control. Your neck looks so bare without it, cold and lonely, a blank canvas. His marks aren't enough, the hickeys littering your skin not enough of a claim staked. It has him taking off the plain chain he wears, leaving his cross around his neck, and slipping it around your neck one evening after he's cum inside you, when the two of you lay there coated in sweat, chests heaving. Has him caressing the length of white gold against your skin and while yellow gold is your preferred colour he knows, can already tell, you'll never take it off.

It looks so fucking good on your skin, his chain around your neck, almost as good a look as when his hand gets to rest there, but better in some ways. Better because it's always there. You don't take it off. It's on when you shower, it's on when you sleep, you wear it all day every day. Every man who looks at you sees his chain. Every time you reach for it he knows it reminds you of him. He's with you whether he's there or not and it strokes a possessive sort of need in him to see you covered in him from head to toe.

It's only made worse when you combine it with a jersey with his name across the back, number 9 big and bold on the back and both arms, Keller in bold font that's unmistakable. You come to one of his games like that, jersey on, chain visible around your neck, cutesy little skirt on and big boots and it's not his fault he can't wait till you get home to get his hands on you. Not his fault that he pulls you into a little cleaning closet to bend you over and pull that skirt up, not his fault his hand finds that chain, tugging just a touch and makes you keep the jersey on so he can stare at his name across your back.

He wants to think you don't realise, wants to believe you're so innocent in this whole thing, oblivious and ignorant of the effect you have on him, but that is so far from the truth. You've seen the way his eyes darken, heavy lidded and blown out at the sight of the chain around your neck, at his jersey on your back. You know what you're doing and you'll keep doing it because you love being his, being consumed by him as much as he's consumed by you.

The only way to make it any better is a ring around your left ring finger, one more pieces of jewellery that screams to Clayton 'mine'.

#18+ mdni #clayton keller x reader #clayton keller/reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #huggy bear writes

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moran-with-a-g · 2 days ago

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You must understand that a political issue is not something that's just going to disappear once you stop caring about it. It's not like "A x B are a toxic ship and you should only ship A with C!!" or whatever other fandom drama people participate in.

And in fandom, if you follow what's popular, it becomes the fanon. There's no fanon for real life issues.

You won't hurt anyone by getting the point of a fictional story wrong. You hurt a LOT of people by not understanding the holocaust and acting like you do.

People call it "whataboutism" when you try to try and tell them "why do you care about this, and not that?" The question doesn't mean to say "you should care about that more", or "you should care about everything horrible going on in the world rn". It's "why, out of every horrible thing that's happening in the world, did you choose to focus on this issue and on this perspective?"

Some people focus on gay rights because they're gay or know someone who's gay. Some people focus on climate change, or pollution, because they learnt about the impact it has on our world and want to make it better for us and for future generations. Some people focus on a war because they have families or friends living there.

And then a lot of people look at them, go "this is what a good person does nowadays", and join in on supporting the issue without the proper research of what they're supporting. And when you don't properly understand what it is you're fighting for, what it is that your movement is trying to achieve, and what's the best way to tackle the issue - a lot of times you will cause way more harm than good.

A cis person who doesn't actually understand what being trans is could go and protest for our right to have our gender in our ID instead of our agab, protest for us to be treated like our gender and not our agab, and then also promote that doctors treat trans men exactly like they treat cis men - and end up blocking trans men from treatments related to pregnancy, breast cancer, etc. The same cis person could also go and say that transmascs can't be lesbians and have nothing to do with the lesbian community because they're men, without bothering to learn the shared history the two groups have.

Some issues are more clear-cut than others. Some APPEAR more clear-cut than others. In politics nothing is ever a simple right and wrong, good and evil. And if you're going to actually dedicate yourself to an issue you have to understand what it is you're supporting, what the goal of the movement is and why, and the history behind it. You can't ever claim you know everything there is to know, or that you know enough. There's never a point where you'll know everything. And you definitely cannot know everything about an issue that went on for over a thousand years.

Self doubting is SO important when it comes to political issues. You ALWAYS need to ask yourself "Why am I supporting that? What am I supporting? How will that affect others? Is this truly the best course of action to take?" and sometimes the answer should be that you don't know. That it's too complicated to know, that you don't have enough information to form an educated opinion. This is not a sign of weakness, it's a sign of maturity and responsibility. Those things you support affect the life of real people, and you can end up hurting the ones you support more than the ones you oppose.

I tried to make it as general as I could because this is not just about I/P for me (even though this is mainly about I/P). This is about every political issue that becomes a "trend". It's good when a political issue gains a lot of support, but if that support is uninformed and only follows what the trend is, it could snowball very fast and turn a crowd of people to support a very new and harmful perspective instead. It makes it so easy for people who are against this issue to chime in, alter the way they explain it a little bit, popularize the new idea and repeat until suddenly the whole issue is flipped.

open your third eye QUICK by realizing that people engage with politics in the same way that they engage with fandom

#i/p #politics

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quarterlifekitty · 3 days ago

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Pleasepleaseplease I need my Rudy fix and you're the best dealer 🥺

You know, I’ve been wracking my brain for this ask and quite honestly coming up with like a bunch of weird half-baked ideas so here. Have an assortment.

I think Rudy and Alejandro have a sort of bro code agreement where they’re like “if I’m married and I die, and you’re single, you have to marry my wife and take care of her. You’re the only person I trust to do that. The only man besides me who’s good enough for her.”

I did once come up with a list of all the ways cod characters would bring you back from the dead, ethically or otherwise. I think Rudy is the type to physically go into the underworld to retrieve your soul in a bargain with Hades.

There are l stories, about ayakashi and other things, where when someone puts enough love into a plant or an animal that it turns into a person. I think Rudy could have that with a plant. Like he tended and spoke to his hearty little fern for 100 days and 100 nights and then it turned into a girl. He just strikes me as someone with a rigid routine and dedication, he’s great at forming habits.

I thought to myself, “what if he was a serial killer. What if there was a shitty underground 70s club where they were all murderers and hung out together” and that’s about as far as I got on that one. I think Rudy kills hitch hikers, though, that’s his thing. Disposal via large cardboard box sealed and dumped in the woods on the side of the road.

Being Rudy’s foot pic dealer. He pays good money. You send him your used stockings sometimes, vacuum sealed. He pays for all of your pedicures too.

I think Rudy’s mother is the type who’s always on his case telling him to get married. That she neeeeeeeeeds grandbabies pleaseeeeeee. She’s always talking about how little time she has left (she’s not very old, she had him young and is in excellent health) and how she wants to see him settled and hold her grandchildren before she goes to heaven. She’s tried to set him up with friends daughters and such so many times.

#writing #cod fanfic #cod #rudy x reader #rudy parra #rudy parra x reader #rodolfo para x reader #rodolfo parra

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annoyinglilbro · 3 days ago

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Something Something little bro calling big bro daddy when their dad pisses him off.

He’s not used to being told no. He can usually pout out his lip and bat his eyes and daddy crumbles, gives in to whatever he wants. But not this time, and it’s not fair!!

“Sorry bud, the answers no. I don’t want you out at this party, I just don’t think you’re big enough for that yet. Still just my little boy, ain’t ya?”

It made his blood boil. He wasn’t a little boy! He can handle going to some stupid party without his dad or big brother hanging over his shoulder. Daddy is being so unreasonable.

He pouts for the rest of the night and his big brother is the one to try and cheer him up. He lets him hangout in his room, lets him watch a scary movie and eat junk food. It’s almost better than a party. He almost forgets all about the stupid party when his brother is ontop of him, kissing his lips numb and leaving dark marks up his neck. His brothers cock buried deep inside him and he notices the door is cracked. He sees his dad in the dim hallway light, stroking his own cock while he watches his boys play and that’s when the idea hits him.

He wraps his legs around his big brother, pulling him close and kissing him hard.

“Ughh unff…oh fuck! Love your cock so much, so good! So big, fuck ahh I love you I love you I love you daddy I love you!!” He cries out, clinging to his big brother.

“Oh fuck…am I daddy now? Huh? Don’t like dad anymore so now I’m daddy? Cheeky little brat.” His big brother groans, pounding into him harder.

“Ahh yeah! Mmm you’d be a better daddy to me, wouldn’t you?” He whines out, blinking his eyes up at him.

“Fucking brat…I wouldn’t let you get away with as much as dad does. Spoiled little prince. I’d keep you fuckin chained up, wouldn’t let anyone see you ever. Tell everyone you’re grounded hhh for being such a bad boy. Never fucking listen.”

Little brother whines again, pouting when it doesn’t go his way. His brother is being too rough, fucking him too hard and too fast. He beats his fists against his chest, telling him to slow down but he doesn’t. He keeps abusing the poor boy under him until he’s sobbing and begging for his real dad.

“Daddy!! Unfff dad!!” He looks at him through the door, reaching a hand out for him. “Daddy he’s being meannnn!!”

Dad steps in, hard cock in his hand. He strokes himself as he watches the way his eldest uses his youngest.

“What ya crying for me, boy? I’m mean too, remember? You wanted a new daddy. Now ya got one.”

“Noooo! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry! Daddy pleassseeee!!” He cries out, tears blurring his vision.

Dad is silent for a moment, stroking his cock over his son’s face. He runs a hand through his boys hair, cooing at him softly. It isn’t until he cums on his face that he places a hand on his oldest son’s shoulder.

“Think he learned his lesson. Be nice to your little brother, he’s still little after all.”

Big brother grunts and nods, movements becoming gentler and grip on his body loosening.

“Next time you think of pulling something like that, remember this. Daddy loves you sweet boy, but sometimes you need to learn a lesson.”

#t4t dadcest #t4t dadcon #dadcest #dadcon #t4t brocon #t4t brocest #ftm brocon #brocest #brocon #t4t fauxcest #fauxc3st #fauxcest

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opt1mistic · 2 days ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 — 𝐜𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐲𝐧.𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧

the other woman keeps fresh cut flowers in each room . . .

. . . and there are never toys that's scattered everywhere

synopsis: dairy eateries of how a love came to be no longer.

warnings: angst, these are like readers dairy entries about caitlyn, unrequited love, heartbreak, sad ending duhhh. its proofread this time YAY(not by me bc im too lazy to do so...but say thank you to @meespressso for proofreading)

note: i had this idea and it was like eating away at my brain and i couldn’t write anything if i didn’t get this out of my system…

it’s in the way she looks at her.

caitlyn doesn’t even know it, not really. i don’t think she sees the way her eyes soften when she talks about vi, or the way her voice lightens in a way that i can’t seem to replicate. there’s something there, something she has for vi, that i’ll never have.

but i can’t stop wanting her.

i can’t stop hoping that somehow, some way, i’ll be the one.

i know it’s pointless, that i’m just holding onto a thread that’s already broken, but i can’t let go. i think if i just hold on tighter, if i keep pretending, maybe she’ll look at me the way she looks at her.

but i don’t think she ever will.

sometimes, i wonder if caitlyn can feel it—the way i’m always holding on, always waiting for something more that’s never going to come.

it’s strange, how i can be so close to her and still feel like i’m miles away. when she talks about vi, there’s this soft thing in her voice, something that makes her eyes shine in a way that they never do when she’s looking at me. it’s like she can’t help it, like the mention of vi is as natural as breathing.

i don’t think she notices. i don’t think she sees me the way she sees vi.

but i keep hoping.

i keep wishing that somehow, i can be enough.

i kissed her tonight.

i kissed her like she was mine, like if i just held on tight enough, pressed close enough, maybe i could make her forget. maybe i could make her feel the way i do.

for a moment, she kissed me back.

it felt like maybe i could be enough, but then she pulled away.

and i saw it in her eyes. that softness.

i don’t know what it means, but i know it’s not for me.

it never will be.

i think she tries.

i think she does, in her own way. she wants to want me, i’m sure of it. but i can’t be vi. i can’t be the one she’s always had, and no matter how hard i try, i can’t be the person she needs.

it’s not enough.

and i don’t think it ever will be.

i didn’t ask her to stay.

i didn’t beg her not to go.

i didn’t even cry.

what good would it have done? what difference would it have made?

so i let her go.

i let her walk out of here, back to the one she belongs with.

and when the door closed behind her, when the space beside me turned cold, i told myself it didn’t hurt.

but it does.

it hurts so much.

and i don’t think it’ll ever stop.

but the other woman . . . will always cry herself to sleep

the other woman will never have her love to keep

and as the years go by, the other woman . . . will spend her life—

. . . alone

©opt1mistic

#queued.#opt1mistic.com #ꕤ caitlyn #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn kirraman x reader #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn x vi #caitvi #caitlyn x you #caitlyn x y/n #caitlyn kiramman angst #caitlyn kiramman arcane #arcane

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cannibal-walleye · 3 days ago

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Skizzpulse band au? Skizzpulse band au! SKIZZPULSE BAND AUU!! SKIZZPULSE BAND AU!! BAND AU BAND AU BAND AU- I scream as I get dragged back to bed

Uh, hi!! I would, LOVE to see more of this lol. Even if you don't have time to actually write/draw for it, I will take literally anything. I cherish any drop of content like crumbs from those delicious sounding apology pastries. If you don't mind, I would specifically love a bit more on skizz & impulses first meeting, have they competed in any band wars? Do they have a lot a mutual friends? And they stupider here than tsots or do they have some common sense? Or just the Heart Fondation! Oh also! What about bdubs and etho? They have a lot of ties (ha. Get it? Ties) to those two! Itd be interesting to see if they have a place in this au.

I will genuinely take anything lol. Your writing FUELS me, and your art is always so pleasing to look at it calms me down?? I don't really know how to explain it. But your doing gods work/vvsilly

BAND AUUUUUUUU

I have LOTS of thoughts on their first meeting--but you don't get to see that yet ;) I have a bunch of art drawn (ft. the most adorable Impulse ever) and all that's left is to write a little blorb of how it went down, which I'll probably do sometime tomorrow :D (I'm very very excited for this lol)

They do have mutual friends, since Skizz tends to know EVERYBODY, but Impulse is a bit of a recluse apart from when Gem and Scott make him get out of the house, so he hasn't met Skizz yet. Skizz happens to have never interacted directly with Gem or Scott either, but they've all heard of each other. As for mutual connections, Impulse does know Tango (who is part of Heart Foundation, obviously), and probably some others, but that's it for important connections I can come up with off the top of my head!

As for stupid levels, these guys are certified idiots, rest assured. However, this one isn't exactly a slow burn! I'd say more, but you'll see soon enough... >:)

Bdubs, I don't have any particular plans for. I'm still brainstorming a lot of the hermits n such. Etho knows everyone, tho (add him to mutual friends list ig), and in particular, the Roomies exist in this AU like they did in secret life, because I love them dearly <3 Other than that, he's a college student, studying tech of some sort, and lives with Cleo and Grian :) (and potentially Bdubs, if I get around to giving him a backstory. Honestly if you have ideas, feel free to share) He occasionally helps out with the sound tech for the Heart Foundation, but it's rare.

And thank you so much! I'm thrilled everyone's liking my silly lil band au thus far, I've kinda hyperfixated on it these past few days lmao. My wrist actually hurts from drawing so much rip, I need to get a proper stand for my tablet so I'm not hunched over the desk like a shrimp. But yeah! I have lots more art and quite a bit of writing I wanna do :D idk how far this'll go, since it's not meant to be serious or anything, but it's a fun experiment

Okie have good day

#skizzleman #impulsesv #hermitcraft #skizzpulse #My Heart Went Boom #tango tek #geminitay #scott smajor #gem and the scotts #heart foundation #ethoslab #walleye asks

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creatingblackcharacters · 5 hours ago

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hello! i'm wondering how i should approach a Black female character with a complex relationship to violence. plot context: she herself does not commit any, but she does enable and encourage her white girlfriend to kill and maim people. it's not in a fantasy context, and she's not at all framed as manipulating her love interest into doing bad things. more like two fucked up people making each other more fucked up. she's never going to be harmed or in danger around the violent character, but she will witness it and find it fun. characterization context: she's a college student making the best grades she can with aspirations of going to a good law school and becoming a patent lawyer. she was raised by working class parents and is determined to make enough money to provide for her and her younger siblings. to a certain extent she feels pressured by the idea of her Black Excellence and the need to represent her family. she's hyper-feminine and enjoys y2k fashion, anime, and old technology, but sometimes second guesses if she should be open about her hobbies for fear people will take her less seriously. <- she will actively overcome this in the narrative as she leaves an abusive relationship and cements her sense of self. she learns about her love interest killing people after said character kills her ex. she processes this as a huge romantic gesture and swoons over it. while she finds her girlfriend's murderous tendencies very hot, she demands that she's careful about it because she doesn't want any hot water splashing on herself and ruining her chances at becoming a lawyer. ^ please let me know if any of this at all raises red flags to you as racist! FTR her ex-boyfriend is not Black, because i don't think its a great look to have a white woman kill a Black man to "protect" his Black girlfriend. this does come with the downside of my character being a Black woman in an abusive relationship with a non-Black man and finding solace in another non-Black person, which is something i think could also read in poor taste. should i nix the abusive ex in general? many thanks for taking your time to do this for us all, and so sorry if this is too long!

I mean, Black characters in toxic situations can be very fun too (I love a good 'We Murder Folks While In Love' story)! It's not that we can't be written in these situations, it's that 1) we are cognizant of how we are writing them, so as not to lean into stereotype to strengthen our story and 2) that we recognize some viewers are gonna have their biases against them regardless and perceive that story in that way.

I can see where your concerns are in the ex story and him being Black, good job for considering it. That story could be written, yes, but I think it would require a deeper understanding of misogynoir and not white savior writing.

If it were ME, one way I'd handle this situation would be allowing her some more autonomy in what's happening. Like, maybe she gets the chance to lash out at her ex, and she is the one in theoretical control of the knife in her new girlfriend's hand at that moment. Just give her some empowerment in it, in who dies.

I also think as long as you focus on the why's of your Black character falling in love with this woman (and it not leaning towards a "look, she is the pinnacle of the safest choice, she the White Woman"), you'll be fine. Again, focus on her autonomy, and how she makes space for this woman in her life as it develops, versus a narrative of that woman saving her.

#creatingblackcharacters #thatsjusttips

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mongoosingisme · 3 days ago

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Sometimes I get too many ideas at once and it makes my head feel like it’s going to explode and I can’t write anything that I was planning on writing so I write irrelevant smut instead.

NSFW/18+ only pls

Pairing: Shane/Harvey/Reader

WC: ~2k

Mornings on the farm were a jumble of schedules.

You always woke up first, usually before the sun rose. There was a lot to do in those early hours, animals that needed tending, bits of work in the field best done before the summer sun grew to its full brightness. You’d sneak your way out from whoever was on top of you (Shane’s heavy forearm wrapped around your waist, or maybe Harvey’s head on your shoulder), give Laika a little scritch behind the ear, grab a snack, and head on out.

Harvey would usually be awake by the time you’d get back, finishing up a shower or puttering in the kitchen. You’d give him a kiss, steal a sip of his coffee, and head to the bedroom. That’s when you’d find out what kind of day Shane was going to have. Sometimes he’d be sitting up on the side of the bed, yawning, and give you a sleepy smile. Sometimes he’d still be under the covers.

Either way, you’d need a shower. If you were quick about it you’d be done before Harvey left.

Today you didn’t need to move quite so fast. You met him as he came out of the bathroom door, hair still damp, curling in the humid air. You stood on your tiptoes to give him a kiss and moved on to enjoy the water’s warm spray.

Shane had still been in bed.

But that was normal enough for Shane, and you certainly wouldn’t say anything. You planned to do something, though. Thought it over as the water at your feet turned from brown to gray to clear.

By the time you were done you knew just what would help him carpe a little diem, and it meshed in perfectly with something else you had cooking up too.

“Hey, you,” you said, sliding in next to him under the covers. You hadn’t bothered to get dressed, and you enjoyed the choked little groan he made as he discovered how much bare skin was pushing up against to him.

“Morning,” he muttered, drawing you in close. He was warm and weighty under the blankets, stubble scraping against your shoulder as he breathed you in.

“How’s today looking?” Your voice was soft, your hands gentle as you brushed a lock of hair away from his face. He opened one green eye a smidge, then looked at you fully when he’d decided the room was still dim enough for comfort.

He didn’t really answer your question, just made a “humph” sound and cupped your breast. You could feel his cock hard and insistent through his boxers against your hip, and that was a very good sign.

“Up for helping me with the irrigation system today? There’s a blockage somewhere, gotta suss it out.”

He made a small sound into your shoulder, rolled a nipple between two calloused fingers. “Yeah,” was all he said, voice still raspy with sleep, but you were very pleased with how he was responding.

The wave of warmth clawing its way through your stomach didn’t hurt either.

“Thanks, goose,” you said, letting yourself squirm a little under his touch.

“You’re the goose,” was his practiced reply, then he was moving you, letting you fall on your back, bracing himself over you on hands and knees. You ran a hand over his bristly cheek, smiled as he pressed a kiss into your palm, and helped him pull his soft t-shirt up over his head. You loved his heat, his heaviness as you pulled him down for a kiss, moaned at the way his mouth opened easily to yours, tongue moving lazily, pressing in and out, drawing slowly over yours in a way that made you think about how he’d feel between your legs.

“Morning, Shane.” Harvey had come in, was digging around in a drawer. He was mostly dressed, bare feet below dress pants, top collar unbuttoned. Shane grunted a response, broke the kiss, pressed his hips into yours.

“When do you have to leave?” you asked.

“Soon,” Harvey sighed, turning to look at you with a pair of argyle socks in his hands.

“Sure you can’t stay for a little?” You bit the last word off with a gasp: Shane had latched his mouth around your nipple.

“As tempting as that thought is, I’m afraid I can’t.” Harvey was staring down at you now, socks dangling from his hand. You pouted. He ran a thumb over your lip, then pressed your neglected nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You whimpered, arching your back up.

Shane settled you back down with a hand on your hip. “Stop squirming,” he muttered into your breast.

“You seem to have this well in hand,” Harvey said to him, voice only a little breathless. You reached out to brush your hand over the quickly growing bulge in his pants, but he ducked out of the way. “Not this morning,” he chided. You stuck out your tongue.

“Bye,” Shane mumbled. He gave a particularly forceful suck that had you closing your eyes, trying to hitch your hips up, and then he moved lower.

Yes. Fantastic. This morning was absolutely going to plan.

As a rule, Shane ate you out much in the same way a gridball crowd received their favorite player: a great wave of enthusiasm and energy, but with very little thought spared to moderation. This morning was no different. You loved it. Loved how he always fell upon you as though starved, moaning as his mouth met your folds, tongue moving quickly, flat and full and covering just as much of you as he could with each eager lick.

“Fuck, Shane, that’s so good,,” you gasped, loving the sound he made at the praise, low and deep and genuine. His shoulders shuddered between your legs, and you scratched your nails gently over his scalp.

He was coming up on an elbow now, angling so he could work a finger into you. The slight stretch was a gorgeous counterpoint to the movement of his tongue, and it wasn’t long before your hips were hitching in rhythm.

The bed dipped. Harvey was back. He was putting on his socks, but you doubted that was really why he’d returned.

“How’s she doing?” he asked in a low voice.

“See for yourself,” is all Shane broke away to say, and then his mouth was back on you again.

Harvey made a soft “hmm,” and then you felt his hand, first on your upper thigh, then dipping lower, between your legs, down where Shane’s finger was working, and then the stretch deepened. Harvey’s fingers had joined Shane’s, two of them, shifting the slight stretch to a stomach-clenching fullness.

“Yoba,” you moaned, hips hitching harder now. You reached up, got ahold of Harvey’s collar, pulled him down to your mouth. He went easily, his kiss soft and slow, tongue pressing in gently, touching yours with a restraint so different from the way Shane lapped at your core. He smelled good, like Harvey, like the soap he used to shave and the rosemary in his shampoo and the coffee he’d taken a sip from before he’d kissed you, right before he’d put his fingers in you, the fingers that were joining with Shane’s, with Shane’s mouth, hard and steady and drawing you up tight tight tight through your shoulders and legs and sending you crying out over the edge.

“Good job, such a good job,” Harvey was murmuring as you came down, but you weren’t sure to whom. He sat up, fingers circling inside you as you twitched with aftershocks. Shane’s finger stayed still, his mouth leaving your clit with a loud, wet suck. You whimpered, shivered, reached to run a hand through his hair but Harvey had beaten you to it. There was no helping the way you squeezed around their fingers as you watched them, Harvey wrapping his free hand around the back of Shane’s head, kissing him long and slow, open mouthed, tongue delving and tasting, Shane shuddering and flushed, receiving with his eyes squeezed shut.

Both men drew their fingers out of you as they broke their kiss, and you made a sound of annoyance at the sudden emptiness. “Yeah, yeah,” Shane grumped, but there was no edge to it. He gave Harvey one last kiss, then grabbed you by the hips and flipped you onto your stomach. “Sure you have to go?” he asked as he pulled you up onto your knees.

“I am…” Harvey didn’t sound convinced as he moved off the bed, but he pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head anyway. “Have a good day, both of you. Be careful and don’t work too hard.”

“Bye, Harv-“ Your breath left your body as Shane pushed his cock into you with one long, steady thrust. You heard Harvey let out a shuddery breath, heard Shane groan. He sounded more like himself now, you noted, like it was going to be a good day after all, but that was all you had time to think before Shane was moving and there wasn’t much room left for conscious thought.

Shane thrust into you like he always did - all energy and force and commitment, like he was grabbing every second of you he could in case the universe snatched you away. This wasn’t conjecture - he’d whispered that to you once when you’d laid together afterwards, his cock growing soft inside you, his breath warm against your cheek. That morning was no different, and you had to brace yourself on hands and knees to stay steady against his movements.

“Yes,” you gasped as he grabbed your hips, moved you back onto him. Harvey must have left, which was too bad, but Shane was making up for it with sheer fervor, fingers gripping, hips slapping into you in a way that had your mouth dropping open, had you grasping at the blankets, gasping for air.

“Have either of you seen my stethoscope?” Harvey was back yet again.

“No,” Shane grunted, keeping up his pace.

“Maybe,” you gasped.

Shane slowed. “You hid it?” he said, half exasperated, half amused. “Really?”

“I agree,” Harvey said. “Where is it?”

You grinned. “Come over here and I’ll show you.”

“I know what you’re up to,” Harvey groused, but he settled one knee on the bed in front of you, the bulge in his crotch tantalizingly close to your mouth.

“Then why are your pants still on?” Shane had slowed his thrusts, giving you a chance to smile at Harvey, raise your eyebrows in agreement.

“You two are incorrigible.” Despite his words, Harvey was unbuckling his belt, pulling down his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring close to your face. You leaned in eagerly, mouth already open, but he caught your chin between two fingers before you made contact. “Don’t make a mess,” he said in that calm, direct way of his, that tone that went straight to your core, and you heard Shane make a soft grunt as you clenched around him.

You nodded eagerly, looking Harvey in the eye. “Not a drop,” you agreed, and Harvey breathed in deep as he fed his cock into your mouth.

You were stretched in two ways now, caught between two forces buffeting you back and forth. Shane’s thrusts picked back up in intensity, the impact of each movement making your breasts quake in rhythm. Harvey’s moves were gentler, controlled, hitching into your mouth in minute increments, letting you decide just how much of him you took in.

You closed your eyes, focused on the sounds: the snap of Shane’s hips on yours, the quiet groans he made in time with each thrust, Harvey’s soft breaths, the bits of praise he murmured to both of you as you worked, the slick wet sound of his cock meeting your mouth. And you, whimpers, moans muffled by Harvey’s cock, growing in intensity as Shane’s fingers slipped around to press against your clit.

And Yoba, alright, that was the input you needed to gather the sounds and sensations, bundle them all up into one line of pleasure, starting at your clit and traveling throughout your core, into your limbs, into your fingers and toes, your walls clenching around Shane (he groaned, thrusts losing rhythm), your mouth pursing tighter around Harvey (he gasped, laid his hand on the side of your head), clenching in all over and all around that feeling of full, the feeling of need, the feeling of together, and then all you could do was sob in release.

Shane and Harvey were still moving.

You did your best to stay on your hands and knees as your body relaxed. You were grateful for Shane’s hands on your hips, holding you up as his intensity increased, then stopped, shuddering deep in you, a clipped “fuck” his only vocalization as he came. He thrust a few more times, then fell to your side, hand flat and warm on your hip, stroking, comforting, his way of showing gratitude, affection, devotion.

And Harvey? Harvey was Harvey, patient and gentle, slowing as Shane found his peak, letting you reset the pace when you were ready. You could tell by the way he was breathing, the shake of his hand on your face, that he was close. You looked up at him, saw him looking down at you. You hollowed out your cheeks, took him back further, gave him a wink, and that was all it took. He grunted, emptied himself into your mouth, and you did everything you could to swallow every drop. No mess, just like he said.

“Good girl,” he whispered, just for you. The words still somehow had the ability to make you blush.

“It’s in the microwave,” you responded, a little breathless.

Shane snorted as Harvey shook his head at you. “If I’m late I’m going to tell my first patient it was your fault.”

You flopped down on the bed, relaxed into Shane as he pulled you in close. “I would love to hear you describe to Evelyn exactly why you couldn’t make it in on time.”

Harvey shook his head again, cheeks a little flushed. “Incorrigible. I’ll see you at dinner.”

You waved your goodbye, turned back to Shane. “Want me to whip up some breakfast?”

“Nah, I got it. Pancakes?”

“Always yes.”

He pressed a kiss to your neck, then rolled out of bed. You watched him get dressed. Maybe you’d take a shower together once the day’s work was done. Maybe you’d drag Harvey in too, if he was back in time. The day rolled out ahead of you, rich with possibilities.

Whatever it brought, you’d face it together. Just the way you liked it.

#this is it this is the smut #pwp #harvey x reader #sdv fanfic #sdv harvey #sdv smut #x reader #sdv shane #shane x reader #stardew valley fanfic #shane x harvey #sharvey #Shane x Harvey x Reader

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secretgcrdens · 24 hours ago

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Callum listened intently as William spoke — he was passionate, talented, and hard-working. Sure, Callum had passions — he loved working with horses, reading in the gardens with his dogs, and writing poetry late at night. But he didn’t think he was good enough at these passions to be able to refer to them as passions. “I just worry that perhaps I was not made to be skilled at what I’m passionate about,” he admitted. His self-doubt always crept in and made things that should be enjoyable a chore, simply because he bullied himself for not being better at them. He was ever chasing a perfection that he couldn’t reach and the stress got the better of him most of the time. He quickly shook his head, giving William a reassuring smile. “Please don’t apologize, Mister Erwood. I appreciate your candor,” he told him earnestly, “It’s nice having someone to speak openly with.” Chuckling, he glanced around the stables before reverting his gaze back to the groomsman, “My family appreciates you and how you care for our horses.”

As William brought Callum’s attention to Cledwyn, his jaw dropped. “Wow,” he muttered, “He really is remarkable.” He turned towards William and smiled, “I do hope you and Cledwyn are enjoying life here. We’re happy to have the both of you.” Shrugging, Callum looked at Cledwyn once more, “He’s as fine a horse as I’ve ever seen and I’m certain his future offspring will be as well.” He stepped further into the stables, “Mr. Erwood, should you ever need any help in the stables do let me know,” he cleared his throat, “Rather — I want to come help sometime…to learn more. I don’t doubt you can’t handle your work alone, but I’d appreciate learning from you.”

Callum’s eyes lit up excitedly, “I must introduce the two of you, then. I’m sure it’d make Cassandra feel more at ease having someone she can talk to about Margate, someone she can bond with over it. I worry she’s homesick and perhaps talking with you could remedy it, if only a little bit.” He pondered William’s next words and shrugged, “There may be some truth in that. But I believe one can move forward successfully into their future while still paying homage to their past — it doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll get stuck.” An idea popped into his head and he grinned, “The three of us should take our horses out together sometime soon. It’d be a great way for you and Miss Lockridge to get to know one another.” At the quick change in subject, Callum smiled — thinking fondly of the Sinclair’s countryside estate. “Our country home is near Nottingham. It’s truly breathtaking and so peaceful."

There was a lot that William owed his uncle, and he could never repay the man for his kindness or the stress he brought upon his door. “Not too much, I’ve found that the key is to find something you truly love, that consumes your very being…” William caught himself. The young Sinclar son was easy to talk to, which could only lead to trouble further down the road. “I’m sorry, my lord, I forgot myself.” William bowed his head in embarrassment.

“If you are new to horses, then allow me to introduce you to my own.” William gestured to his own stallion, its pure white coat gleaming under the lantern’s light. “This is Cledwyn, I’ve had him since he was a yearling and rides him at least three times a day.” The latter was becoming increasingly difficult to do with his never-ending chores. “He’s not as high of a breed as yours but I have plans to breed him with another mare. The blacksmith has one I think will make a fine foal.” Dogs and horses barely shared any similarities, but that's none of Wiliam’s concern. If Callum wanted to learn, William would do his best to help and maybe the lord may lower himself to manual chores. He almost laughed at the very thought.

William stood still, frozen at his own carelessness but not so much that he was completely unaware of Callum’s words. He spoke fondly of Cassandra, perhaps it was out of politeness, but William had a pit in his stomach that gnawed away at him. “I doubt we ran in the same social circles.” William said in jest, not completely lying. “Besides, it’s always best to look ahead and embrace the unfamiliarity unless you become stuck.” Those were the words of his uncle, something William had tried desperately to believe. “Where do you all go when you have to escape the city?” It was a quick change of subject, but as their employee, William also needed to know where he would be travelling in the future.

#𓍢 ・ interactions.#callum x william

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