#i think there already are some terriers

[fingertipsmp3]

Okay look, I can’t get another dog. Not least because the people who were asking me if I’d be getting another dog within literally days or hours of Mabel’s passing would be right that it’d make me feel better

[inkspiredwriting]

A New Addition

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I'm sorry but Mr. Pennycrumb deserve better, So here it is :)

Warnings: None

It all started one sunny Saturday morning when Five and his girlfriend, Y/N, decided to take a stroll through the park.

As they walked hand in hand, Y/N pointed to a group of puppies playing in a pen set up by a local animal shelter. “Oh, Five, look at them! Aren’t they adorable?”

Five glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “Adorable? Sure. But we don’t have time for a dog.”

Y/N gave him a playful nudge. “Come on, Mr. Time-Travel Warrior. We could use some normalcy in our lives. Let’s just go look.”

Reluctantly, Five followed her to the pen. A dozen puppies tumbled around, chasing each other and wagging their tails. Among them was a small, scruffy terrier with a slightly crooked ear and the most soulful eyes Five had ever seen. The pup trotted over to them, wagging his tail furiously.

Y/N knelt down, scratching the dog behind his ears. “Hey there, little guy. Aren’t you the cutest?”

Five crossed his arms, trying to remain indifferent, but the dog’s big, brown eyes were hard to resist. “He’s alright, I suppose.”

Y/N laughed. “Five, I think he likes you.”

The terrier looked up at Five, tail wagging even faster. Five sighed, kneeling down to pet the dog. “Alright, alright. What’s his name?”

One of the shelter volunteers overheard and approached them with a smile. “His name is Mr. Scruffy, but you can rename him if you decide to adopt.”

Y/N looked at Five, her eyes sparkling with hope. “What do you think?”

Five sighed, already knowing he couldn’t say no to Y/N—or the dog. “Alright, we’ll adopt him. But we’re changing his name. How about... Mr. Pennycrumb?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, then burst into laughter. “Mr. Pennycrumb? That’s perfect.”

The adoption process was quick, and soon they were walking home with Mr. Pennycrumb trotting happily beside them. Five couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Y/N’s joy and the dog’s exuberance.

Once home, Mr. Pennycrumb quickly made himself comfortable, exploring every nook and cranny of their apartment. Five watched with amusement as the dog sniffed around, eventually curling up on the couch.

As the weeks went by, Mr. Pennycrumb became a beloved member of their little family. He was a source of endless entertainment, his antics bringing laughter and light into their lives. Five, who had always been serious and focused, found himself unwinding in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

One evening, as they sat on the couch with Mr. Pennycrumb nestled between them, Y/N looked over at Five with a contented smile. “I’m glad we adopted him. He’s brought so much joy into our lives.”

Five nodded, scratching the dog behind his ears. “Yeah, he has. I didn’t realize how much we needed him.”

Mr. Pennycrumb let out a contented sigh, his eyes half-closed in bliss. Five leaned over, kissing Y/N softly. “Thank you for convincing me to adopt him.”

Y/N smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for agreeing. You know, you’ve got a soft spot after all.”

Five chuckled, wrapping an arm around her. “Only for you and Mr. Pennycrumb.”

As they sat together, the room filled with warmth and love, Five realized that adopting the dog was one of the best decisions they’d ever made. Mr. Pennycrumb had brought them closer, giving them a sense of normalcy and happiness amidst the chaos of their lives. And for the first time in a long while, Five felt truly at peace.

Their new addition had done more than just become a pet; he had become a symbol of their love and the life they were building together.

[salamandergoo]

STWG Prompt: Crack Fic

“Eddie, I need you to stay calm.”

Those were always the words Eddie wanted to hear when he was waking up out of a haze, sprawled across his bed with the blankets tangled around his limbs.  He smacked his lips a few times and grimaced at the taste in his mouth before sitting up and rubbing his eyes.  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”  He untwisted his shirt and got out of bed, kicking dirty clothes on the floor aside as he yanked the door open.  “Why are you telling me to be calm?”  He yawned into his fist and froze in the middle of the hall.  “Wayne…?”

A hairless… thing was sat on the floor, pressed in close to his uncle’s leg.  It chirped and whined, sounding like a cat being mangled by a bird.  “I found him by my truck at the end of my shift.  Poor thing’s got a messed up leg, it was limping around looking all pathetic.”

“So you’re telling me, I can’t get a pet, but you get to drag this… this THING into our trailer?”

“I never said you couldn’t get a pet, I said you couldn’t keep a pregnant opossum, Ed.  This is different, he’s a hurt dog.  And we ain’t keeping him, he’s just going to stay a couple days until he’s walking better.”

“That’s not a dog!  Dogs don’t look like that!”  Eddie crept forward and squinted at the thing.  “It doesn’t have a face.  Or fur.”

“It was probably hit by a car.  One of them hairless terriers.”  Wayne shrugged off his jacket and took off his hat.  “Get it a little something to eat, will you?  I’m going to take a shower.”  He stepped away and the creature rumbled, standing up and hobbling after Wayne, head bumping against his ankle.  “I ain’t going far Benny.”  He bent and patted it on the side.

Eddie softened.  “Oh.  You… you’re calling it Benny?”

“Got a better name?”  Wayne didn’t quite meet Eddie’s eyes this time as he kept stroking the thing.  It leaned into the touches, its backside wiggled and, hey, it had a nub of a tail.  “It’s been almost a year.  Thought we ought to honor him somehow.”

“I don’t know what about a weird, naked dog reminds you of Benny, but… okay.  I’ll get it something to eat.”  Eddie made his way to the fridge, giving the thing- the dog- …Benny a wide berth.  He didn’t like the sounds it made, but Wayne was clearly taken with it.  “You keep a naked dog but not an opossum,” he grumbled.

He fixed a plate with some leftover chicken, scraping off as much of the seasoning as he could.  He could hear the shower running as he sat on the couch and set the plate on the floor.  “Come eat.  Dog.”  Eddie squinted at Benny while he sat by the bathroom door.  It was like he was staring at the door, but Eddie could’ve sworn the thing didn’t have eyes.  “Benny, come.”

It looked at him with its empty face before crossing the trailer.  It didn’t walk quite like a normal dog either, and not just because it the damaged leg..  It was like when Eddie would scramble up stairs and put his hands on the stairs like he was an animal so he could go faster.  It looked like it would just stand up on its back legs at some point.  It sniffed at the chicken and then opened its face.  Eddie clapped a hand over his mouth and watched in disturbed horror as it ate.

He didn’t dare move a muscle until Wayne was coming out of the bathroom with damp hair, changed into his lounge pants.  “Wayne.”  His voice was hushed and high pitched.  “Wayne, there’s something wrong with Benny.”

“Yeah, I know.  He was probably hit by a car.”

“His face OPENED!”

“My nana had a dog that was missing half his bottom jaw.  Looked ugly as sin but loved nothing more than a good lap to lay on.”  Wayne filled a mug with water and took a long drink.  “Benny must’ve healed wrong, doesn't make him less of a dog.”

“I don’t think he’s a dog at all!”  Eddie yelped when Benny turned his head to look up at him.  “I think you’ve brought a demon into our home.”

“Only demon in this house is you.”  Wayne dropped a hand on top of Eddie’s head and ruffled his already messy hair.  “We ain’t keeping him long.  I’m sure there’s someone nearby who can take better care of him than me.”  He set up his bed and grabbed his blanket.  “I’m gonna get some shut eye, so try and keep it down, alright?”

“…yup.”  Eddie watched as Wayne got settled and then watched Benny hop up onto the bed and curl up at Wayne’s feet.  He didn’t have a good feeling about it, but… Wayne seemed happy.  Lighter, somehow, with the dog on his bed.  Eddie could live with it for now.

But he’d be keeping a close eye out for any signs of what it actually was.  Because that was no dog.

[writingonleaves]

understated, overwhelming (life is always best when you're around) - nico hischier

pairing: nico hischier x self insert gender neutral reader

warnings: swearing, fluff, nothing much else!

title: "float" by HARBOUR

word count: 3.6k

author's note: hi hi hi!! tried something out of my comfort zone with a self insert reader. also tried my absolute best with a gender neutral reader but if i made a glaring mistake somewhere, please call me out! this is my entry for @callsign-denmark 's Luck of The Puck Fic Exchange written for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten !! andi, i'm so sorry this is a bit late but hope you enjoy this little piece as much as i enjoyed writing it (:

~*~*~

You consider yourself a pretty nice person. 

You try to do your day job well, even if your supervisor drives you nuts from time to time. You call your mom every week, even if she thinks it should be more. You always help your elderly neighbor with their groceries if you happen to be outside at the same time. You foster dogs, mainly because your family has been doing it since you were young. 

But right now, as music is booming through the walls that is most definitely not the music you have softly playing on your speaker, you’re not feeling very nice. It had been a tiring day at work and all you want to do is snuggle up in your bed with a book. Whatever rap music is playing through the walls from your neighbor isn’t helping. 

You’re debating about whether you should say something. Firstly, you’re 90% sure it’s coming from the apartment across from you whose inhabitant you actually have seen the least. It’s not like you’re stalking your neighbors, but after living here for over two years now, you’re familiar with the faces. The only thing you know about the person who lives in 1708 is that there are two of them and that they look related. But that’s not even a sure fact.

All you know is right now, they’re getting on your last nerve. 

You scratch behind Boba’s ears, the Jack Russell Terrier you’re currently fostering, and pat his head before you decide that you have to go say something. You gain some courage before opening your front door. 

Turns out, you don’t even have to knock on your neighbors’ door. More accurately, it’s already open as a guy around your age, maybe a bit younger, says goodbye to the guy you’re almost positive lives there. Both the guys’ eyes slide to you and you fight the urge to shrink. 

“Hi,” the guy with his hand on the doorknob says, not unkindly. “Can I help you?”

You blink, “Hi. Listen, I really don’t want to be a bitch, but could you turn your music down? It’s a weeknight and I have to work in the morning.”

To his credit, his eyes widen apologetically. “Shit, yeah, of course. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was so loud. We’re about to wrap up anyways.” You wave him off as he sticks his hand out. “I don’t know if we’ve met. I’m Jack.”

You offer your name with a tight-lipped smile before shifting your eyes towards the other guy, floppy hair almost covering the amused glint in his eyes. He’s been leaning against the wall this whole time and he’s really fucking cute. “And you are?”

“Nico,” he nods with a shake of your hand. “I’m also sorry about the noise on behalf of Jack, even though I don’t live here.”

“It’s fine,” you hear Boba’s paws trotting on the hardwood floor and you stick your foot out to prevent him from running out. “Well, it’s nice to meet you both.”

Jack’s eyes trail down to Boba, who's looking at the two new voices with curious eyes. “And who’s this?”

You hold in a sigh, picking up Boba in your arms so he doesn’t start running down the hallway. “This is Boba. You can pet him if you’d like. He loves people.” Jack needs no further invitation and reaches to scratch behind his ears. Nico is a bit more hesitant, but the grin threatening to spill out of his lips has you softening. 

After more pets, Jack apologizes again and you bid them goodnight, ushering Boba back inside and turning off your lights. You hear no music, thank goodness, as you climb into bed.

A few weeks later you’re waiting for the elevator after a walk with Gretchen, a golden retriever who drives you nuts, when Nico runs in just as it closes. You don’t expect him to remember you, but he does, saying your name softly paired with a nod. 

He gestures towards Gretchen, who’s nipping about at your feet. “That’s not Boba, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” you say. “This is Gretchen. Boba got adopted last week.” He opens his mouth but you beat him to it. “I foster dogs. None of them are mine. Just, you know, giving them a home when they need it before they find their permanent home.”

“That’s very sweet of you.”

You shrug, because it’s not that big of a deal. To you, at least. “My family did it growing up, still does. So it’s a part of me now, I guess.” You switch the topic. “What are you up to on this sunny Saturday?”

“I, uh, working, I guess.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you do?”

Nico clears his throat and now you’re intrigued. “I play hockey. Professionally. That’s how I know Jack, actually. And his roommate, who’s also his brother. We’re all teammates.”

You squint a bit, eyes scanning over Nico’s face before nodding slowly. “That somehow makes sense. That would explain the weird hours.”

“You keep track of Jack’s in and outs?”

“Considering I didn’t even know his name until the night we all met, no,” you snort as you both step into the elevator. “I just hear their door open and close at weird times. So, working today?"

“Yeah. We have a game tonight.”

“Gotcha.” You press the button for ‘17,’ not expecting Nico to lean over and press ‘21’ himself. 

He must see your confusion. “I also live in this building,” he explains. 

You blink. “How long?”

“A little over a year now, but as you figured out, it’s weird hours.”

A beautiful man like him has been living in the same building as you for that long and you haven’t ever run into him? 

You nod, watching the handsome man bend down and coo at Gretchen, who licks his hand, that traitor. You did notice the first time you met him that he was really cute, but you were also really tired and cranky because of the noise. But here in the daylight, with a black beanie tossed over his hair and kindness in his eyes? 

You need to get out of this elevator fast before you say something stupid. 

Luckily, the pinging sound lets you know you’ve arrived on your floor. You give the leash a gentle hug before trying to give Nico a genuine smile. “Good luck at your game tonight.”

You rush out before there's even a chance for him to reply, Gretchen trotting along happily beside you. 

*****

Something that sounds an awful lot like a smoke alarm going off greets you as you’re walking down the hallway to your place after work. It’s coming from Jack’s apartment, causing you to snort. You decide to knock on the door to make sure everything is alright. 

It’s not Jack or his brother you have yet to meet yet who opens the door, but Nico. Over his shoulder, you see someone who looks a lot like Jack fanning a pillow. You do hear Jack cursing and you can’t help but chuckle. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, amused. “You don’t live here.”

“Ouch.” He teases back. “That’s no way to treat a neighbor.”

“I think it’s quite nice of me to check up on my neighbor when I hear their smoke alarm going off, actually,” you shoot back. The playfulness in your voice surprises even you, but there’s something about the brown-haired man that makes you immediately comfortable. You feel like you’ve known him for years, even though you really don’t know anything about him. And you don’t count the things you had found when you searched “jack nico new jersey hockey” after you ran into Nico in the elevator.

(Finding out that you live across from one of the seemingly most skilled players in the NHL and that you also met the captain, another highly-skilled player, was a moment that had your head spinning. You had to shut down your laptop and play with Boba afterwards to get yourself togetherr)

The alarm stops beeping and Jack’s head pokes up behind Nico’s shoulder. “Hi neighbor!”

You can’t help but laugh at his boyishness. “Hey Jack.”

“Everything alright?”

“I think I should be asking you that question. I’m just coming back from work and I heard the alarm.”

Jack grimaced, casting a look back into his apartment. “Yeah, I don’t think dinner will be salvageable but that’s alright.”

“No it’s not,” the guy you presume is Jack’s brother grumbles. 

Jack whacks him across the stomach. “Shut up. This is Luke, my younger brother.”

You nod with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Luke.” An idea pops in your mind. “I was gonna try a new lasagna recipe today. Do you three wanna come over in a bit?”

“You don’t need to do that,” Nico assures. 

But you wave him away. “I never proportion my shit right anyways, so you’d actually all be doing me a favor. It shouldn’t take too long either.”

“Nico’s right,” Jack says. “That’s a really nice offer, but-”

“I won’t set off the smoke alarm,” you sing playfully. That seems to do it, as they laugh. They still seem hesitant, so you compromise. “How about this? Got any vegetable dishes up your sleeve?”

Jack brightens up. “I was gonna make a greek salad as a side before we almost burnt down the apartment.”

You beam. “Perfect. You guys can go make that while I get started on the lasagna.”

Before you can turn on your heel, Nico pipes up. “I can help you with the lasagna, if you want?” He casts a look at Jack and Luke. “I don’t wanna be around in case they somehow mess up the salad.”

The brothers start protesting as you laugh, slightly nervous at the prospect of spending some decent alone time with Nico. “Sure. It’ll probably go a bit faster with a set of extra hands.”

With that, Jack and Luke head back to their place while you fiddle with the key to yours, feeling Nico’s presence behind you. You push open the door and kick off your shoes as he does the same. He surveys your apartment as you hang up your coat. You pat yourself on the back for actually cleaning it yesterday rather than flopping in bed like you had initially wanted to. 

As you start gathering ingredients, you let Nico explore, his eyes darting around your living space. You wonder what he thinks about the pictures you have on your wall of your family and friends, half expecting him to ask about them. But he keeps quiet as you turn on the stove, meandering over and waiting for instructions. 

He’s a good sous chef, all things considered. Not that lasagna is particularly a hard recipe, but there’s something quite intimate about cooking with someone you barely know. Though, as you’re cooking, you tell Nico about your job, your background, how you didn’t necessarily think you’d end up in Jersey but that you’re happy to be here anyways. In turn, he tells you about his family, Switzerland and hockey, though you can tell he purposefully glazes over the latter. Judging from the basic research you’ve done — and whatever praises your hockey-loving cousin drawled on about over the phone yesterday — you immediately conclude that Nico is humble, always turning the conversation back to you. 

It’s quite lovely, even if unexpected. The lasagna is almost done by the time Jack and Luke knock on your door. 

For a few brief moments, you panic, wondering why you thought this was a good idea. What do you have in common with three pro-hockey players? But that panic quickly dissipates, Luke seeing the tiny Ohio State magnet on your fridge (your uncle’s, not yours) and immediately lightheartedly trash talking you as Jack and Nico take over setting up the table and plates. 

You close your front door that night with three new numbers in your phone and an unofficial promise from you to catch a game in person sometime. 

*****

You love Gretchen, you really do, but damn, she’s a lot of work. 

You’re lucky that your job has flexible hours, because Gretchen’s barking would probably drive your neighbors insane if she was left alone in your apartment all day. She’s starting to drive you insane. 

Somehow, she was well behaved at the outdoor market you went to today, so you give her a few treats to nibble on as you go back downstairs to grab everything else. As you’re shutting the door of your car, a bag slips out of your grasp and everything spills out, causing you to groan. 

“You alright there?”

You look up from where you’re bending down to grab your things to see Nico briskly walking over from his car, an amused look on his face. You chuckle a bit. “Yeah. This bag decided just to crap out on me. Luckily, there’s nothing really breakable in there.”

He picks up some bath bombs and a loofah in minor confusion. The furrow in his eyebrows is kinda adorable. “What’s this for?”

“One of my coworkers is about to get married so all of us pitched in to get some spa products. I volunteered to put it together to make a gift basket of sorts.”

He hums, swinging the now-filled bag over his shoulder and walking alongside you as you head into the building. “That’s really nice of you. And a good idea for a gift too.”

“Yeah. To be fair, the spa stuff wasn’t necessarily my idea. I just had time to buy them today and I have a knack for making pretty baskets.”

“I should take some notes,” Nico says. “I have a couple friends back in Switzerland getting married soon and need to get them gifts.”

“You wanna come up and help me put it together?”

Nico visibility hesitates as you two wait for the elevator. “I don’t want to intrude in your plans.”

“I have no plans,” you deadpan. “It’s a Sunday. I’m surprised I even got myself to go to the market today.”

He laughs. “Well, in that case…” he presses the button for your floor, but not his. “Any dogs you got in your home right now?”

“Still Gretchen,” you say. “She’s being extra bitchy today though, so sorry in advance for all the barking.” You guys walk into your apartment, and Gretchen barks once before perching her head, begging for pets. Nico gives them to her and she curls up against him. You snort. “Oh, I see how it is, Gretch. You see a cute boy and suddenly you’re well behaved?”

Nico looks up from where he’s crouched to pet Gretchen. “You think I’m cute?” Oh. Shit. You just glare at him as he smirks, nodding at your bags. “What else are you putting in the basket?”

“A bunch of soaps, a really fluffy bathrobe one of our other coworkers found on Amazon, some candles, these facemasks I ordered from Korea…all the good stuff.”

He watches as you take out the empty basket, some wrapping paper, and a few colorful ribbons. You honestly don’t consider yourself very crafty, but after doing a few gift boxes like this in your life, this is something that you pride yourself in doing decently well. 

“Can you reach into the drawer across from the sink and hand me the scissors, please?” You ask. Nico abides, sliding the scissors across the counter. 

“I think the same, by the way.”

You blink, measuring out the length of the ribbons correctly. “Hm?”

“I think you’re cute too.”

It takes all your control to cut the ribbon carefully before looking up at him. You see him swallow, confident with a hint of hesitation. You look down and try to steady your hands. “Well, depending on how good you are at cutting wrapping paper, I might have to keep you around.”

“Helping you out with dinner that night wasn’t enough?”

“The real test is seeing if you know how to wrap gifts.”

“I don’t.”

You can’t help but snort. “Figures.”

“So, what?” You look up to see Nico giving you a look that makes your stomach flip. He tilts his head to the side, trying to find something in your face. You’re not sure what. “You’re gonna kick me out?”

One side of your lips quirk up as Gretchen barks. “I guess I’ll keep you around.”

*****

You and Nico become fast friends. To be honest, it’s not like you see each other all the time, with your normal work schedule and his abnormal one. But more often than not, when Nico asks if you’re around, you usually are. It starts with more homecooked dinners, which turns into trying new restaurants because it’s more reasonable to go with someone else so you can order more at a time, which turns into you seeing some new event happening or shop opening up and thumbing over to your text thread with him asking him if he wants to join. Nine times out of ten, unless he’s on a road trip, he’s free. 

Sometimes Jack and Luke join. Most times they don’t. You’re not offended. Jack and Luke are a bit younger and have their own friends. They remind you of your younger cousins.

The thing is, you just enjoy Nico’s company. You learn about his goals, his insecurities, the things that bring him joy. He’s kind, considerate and so incredibly interesting. You feel so comfortable around him, whether you’re yapping away about childhood stories or in silence walking around the streets of Newark. 

When you finally take up your neighbors’ offer to go to a Devils game after many nagging texts for the Hughes brothers, Nico knocks on your door within minutes, unexpectedly pulling you into a tight hug. You’re taken aback, but his dimpled smile is worth it. 

You take one of your closest friends and have a wonderful time. You’re not much of a hockey fan, but your friend is, happy to talk you through icings and delayed penalties and offsides. Your eyes track 43 and 86 as your friend raves about the “Hughes skating.” But most of the time, you’re eyeing the one with the 13 and the C, who takes a deep breath before every face off. 

For your first game, it’s a fun one, a nail biter that ends in a 4-2 win against the Minnesota Wild. You shoot Jack, Luke and Nico all a text congratulating them on a good game.

It’s when you’re in bed that night do you really thumb through their replies, Nico’s simple heart emoji making you fall asleep with a smile. 

*****

Besides being a nice person, you also consider yourself to have a decent memory. 

Until there’s a knock on your door that has you confused. You put down your tea, petting Moose, the dalmatian you’ve been looking after recently, as you walk to the door. 

Nico looks so cozy, a black Kith sweatshirt with a beanie over his hair. He blinks at you. You blink back. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, amused even if a bit confused. “What’s up? Did we have plans tonight?”

“No, well, not pre-planned.” Nico bends down to pet Moose, who he met yesterday when you guys went to a new coffee shop. “You busy?”

“And what if I was?”

“You’d cancel for me anyways,” he teases. 

And the thing is, he’s right. You sigh playfully. “Fine. Gimme a few minutes to get dressed.”

Nico grabs the leash off the hook. “Moose is coming too.”

“Oh?”

He flicks his hand. “Go get dressed.”

“Bossy,” you comment, before walking to your bedroom. 

It turns out your plans are a newly opened dog park that you’ve heard about but haven’t gotten the chance to check out. Moose is immediately excited, and your heart does something funny when you see Nico calm him down so he doesn’t run anyone over. Nico told you he hadn't grown up with dogs, but you wouldn’t know with how gentle he is with every dog you’ve fostered during your friendship thus far. 

After playing with Moose for a bit, he collapses on the grass, allowing you and Nico to sit and also relax. 

“You look happy.”

You turn to Nico with a smile. “I am.”

“Good. All I want is for you to be happy.”

You swallow and take a deep breath. “Nico.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you whisper. You swear the space between you both has decreased. 

“Because what?”

You huff. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes fondly, staring down at the grass for a few seconds before looking into his eyes again. “You can’t say things like that because then you’ll make me believe that I have a chance to be with you. To be more than friends.”

“And why is that so hard to believe?”

What?

“What?” You ask. 

“Is it such a hard thing to believe?” Nico asks gently. His cologne is filling your senses now and you’re so overwhelmed. “The chance to be with you would be an honor.”

“Nico.”

“What?”

“You’re fucking with me.”

He chuckles, “I’m not.” He leans in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek and you kinda wanna die. “So, what do you say? Wanna give it a shot?”

“Are you sure?”

“Never been sure of anything more in my life.” His confidence is back and it makes you wanna kiss him silly. 

You take his hand and squeeze it in yours. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, yeah. Let’s give it a shot. On one condition though.”

“Anything.”

“You’re helping me with all these dogs. I still don’t know how you got Gretchen to like you. She barely liked me.”

Nico laughs loudly. It makes you grin. “What can I say? I must be special.”

You bite your lip. Yeah. He really is. 

You watch as Moose suddenly has energy again and trots between you two, licking Nico’s face. He scrunches his nose in delight and you feel like the sun is suddenly shining brighter. 

[vinelark]

With the exciting news of Kon being in MAWS season 3 (!!!!!), do you have an specific recs for him when it comes to comics? (I know Young Justice is good for him, but not much outside of that)

hello! exciting news indeed!!! and hell yeah, here are some kon-centric comics outside of yj that i’ve enjoyed reading:

Reign of the Supermen arc (1993)

this arc has kon’s intro, well before he even had the name kon, and it’s worth a read if you haven’t already because of the way he shows up and is peak annoying immediately (said with love). especially Adventures of Superman #501! (the storyline spans a number of titles, reading order here)

(and for a related rec, the reign of the superman (2019) animated movie blends aspects of the original comic arc with the “kon is made with lex luthor’s dna” reveal/retcon; it’s a fun watch! left me with Much To Think About pang-wise, too.)

Superboy (1994)

the most concentrated amount of og jacket and glasses superboy you’ll find in one series; there’s a lot going on here, most of it so very 90s (both in the plot/world and on a more meta level) and also so many adorable kons. special shoutout to my favorite side character, krypto in his “tiny white terrier with a giant attitude” form. (and for a more specific rec i’ll point to issues #60 - 61, in which kon is hopping through multiple realities and we see, among others, robin!kon and “supergrrrl” kon.)

Batgirl (200) #41

this is the issue where cass goes “hmm, i should try to do A Romance” and shows up outside kon’s window to see what all the fuss is about, and they proceed to have the most lavender date of all lavender dates. i adore kon’s inability to shut up here, and also for obvious reasons need to give it a special shoutout for kon taking a “bat-babe” on a date in the clouds.

Adventure Comics (Vol 2) #1 - 6 (2009)

this arc serves to re-settle kon into the world (and smallville) after the whole [waves hand] dying and coming back to life thing. (technically it’s 12 issues, but you’re asking for specific recs so my specific recs are the first six!) this is about kon starting life in smallville and having a prolonged identity crisis re: the superman + lex luthor of it all. cassie, bart, and tim all show up as significant guest stars (one of my fav tim & kon issues of all time is in here) but it’s very kon-centric! i also really enjoy the art, especially when it does wide/landscape shots.

Superboy (2010)

this is a pretty direct continuation from the adventure comics arc, once again feat. kon’s 21st century black t-shirt (sigh) and also kon wearing the tiniest, goofiest pair of Disguise Glasses. that said, it’s a fun, classic “teen superhero juggles school and crushes and a statistically high number of supervillains for a small town (seriously, what the hell was poison ivy even doing in kansas?)” series. also if there were any justice in the world simon valentine would’ve been one of those crushes, but alas.

Convergence: Superboy (2015) #1 - 2

i’ll be honest, i’m not super familiar with the overarching convergence storyline, but i really enjoyed this two-shot featuring a kon who has been stuck in metropolis without his powers, only to suddenly gain them back and immediately start brawling with alternate versions of heroes he knows. i also like the art in this one, and the character designs overall—leather jacket kon my beloved!

Action Comics (2016) #1020 - 1028 (“House of Kent” arc)

this sequence brings kon back into the kent family fold after the timeline fuckery (and i think follows from the young justice (2019) gemworld arc where they re-find kon?)—so basically it’s kon’s re-introduction to clark, and to lois and jon (who’s visiting from his own future adventure) and kara and martha and jonathan. despite spelling conner’s name two different ways in the span of a few issues, it’s a neat speedrun of different kon+superfam interactions, and also a fun time for anyone who’s a fan of kon being solidly part of the kent family. also: jacket kon is back 🙏

this is not at all an exhaustive list, just some of my favs--happy reading!

[domini-porter]

I Wrote You Some Smut: Beautiful, Brilliant, Talented

(Rizzoli&Isles, F/F, rated E for Even though it's supposed to be sorbet smut it's still extremely emotional and everybody's using sex to deal with trauma and vice versa like always happens when I try to be just a little horny as a treat)

Have some smut! Why not! Love you!

“Who’s this?” She should’ve tried to say it less aggressively. Less personally. But she can’t, because Maura’s wearing one of her no-underwear dresses and she’s done a smoky evening eye and her hair’s all pinned up in that way she’d quantitatively determined achieved maximum aesthetic appeal while requiring minimum effort to take down. Because she’d had the waiter leave the wine bottle, two almost-empty glasses on the table.

Because she’s on a date, and Jane had been given the postgame play-by-play enough times to know she’s just about to pull out her black Amex and suggest they get a black car back to her place.

“Alison,” the woman across from her says just as personally, holding out her hand over the remains of the sorbetto.

“Am I about to get a call?” Maura asks, already fishing for her purse, all crisp professionalism.

“Uh, no,” Jane manages. Still staring at the woman across from her. Alison. “Just following up on a lead. Sorry to interrupt.”

“We were just leaving,” Alison says, giving her a sharp little smirk, one Maura doesn’t see. “No apologies necessary.”

“You’re sure it’s not something you need me for?”

Maura’s looking up at her. Whatever she’d done with her eye makeup makes her irises shine like molten gold. And even though Jane doesn’t know anything or care anything about makeup, Maura sure does, and even though Jane actually prefers it when she’s not wearing any makeup at all, she knew exactly how to make herself look . . .

“No,” she says. Coughed to cover the crack in her voice. Could swear this Alison chick gives a little snort in her direction. “No,” she says again. “Have, uh. Have a good night.” Halfway across the dining room before Maura can form a reply.

“Who’s that the Doc’s with?” Korsak mutters as she stomps up next to him, the kitchen manager emerging through the swinging doors. “Make a pretty hot couple, you ask me.”

“Nobody fuckin’ asked you,” she growls. “Uh, yeah, Detectives Rizzoli and Korsak. We were in yesterday, about the murder of Patricio Robles. We just had a few more questions, if there’s somewhere quiet we could talk?” ____________________________________________

The kitchen manager hadn’t had anything to say that the GM and the floor manager hadn’t told them yesterday. Waste of fucking time. She’d fumed all the way back to the station, the kind where even Korsak knew not to approach, not if he wanted all his limbs intact. Had just grunted at his offer of finishing the contact report so she could go put her feet up.

Instead she’s laying in bed, thinking about what Maura’s doing right now. Not just thinking about it. Imagining it. Her date—Alison—had been the sort of sleek, polished, high-class type Maura liked in men, so it wasn’t the most shocking thing. Not like when Korsak had pointed out, in that tactless way he had, that if you put her in a Sox tee and rubbed a little dirt on her, she’d be a dead ringer for Jane.

Jane hadn’t noticed it during their brief, spiky interaction, but she chalked that up to the unexpectedness of the whole situation. Maura on a date, not just with a woman, but at the restaurant whose prep cook had been rather creatively murdered in his backyard not three days ago. Not that Maura had any reason to know that; the body had been assigned to another ME, so it was just the first of several unnerving coincidences, that just got more unnerving the farther along they went.

And now she’s lying in bed, unable to keep her stupid brain from shaking it around like a terrier with a rat. And when she looks down at her phone, she’s opened the home-security app she’d had a couple tech officers install at Maura’s place a year or so ago. State-of-the-art cameras throughout the house, with high-end audio. Remotely-programmable locks and security codes. The works.

She’d made Jane an administrator on the account. Or, rather, she’d declined to remove her once it was all set up. And even though it’s reprehensible, what she’s thinking of doing, that doesn’t keep her finger from tapping in the access code. Scrolling the list of cameras. Stopping when she reaches the one she’s looking for.

MBed

Her finger hovers over the button for a second, the bad gnawing feeling coming in two distinct flavors. Maura would never forgive her if she found out. Ever. She’s doubting if she can forgive herself, frankly.

But the way Alison had stuck out her hand. Had introduced herself, matching exactly Jane’s challenging tone. Like she already knew exactly who Jane was.

She jabs at the button. A fresh veil of sweat popping up along her hairline as the camera connects. Guilt and dread and something else.

The audio comes in first. Just rustling sounds for a second. Maybe Maura’s alone—

The video pops up. She isn’t.

The moan comes through Jane’s earbuds at the exact second the live feed starts. Maura’s moan. She’s on her bed. Still wearing her dress, but it’s shoved up around her waist. She’s propped up on her elbows. A head of dark hair between her parted thighs. Alison’s kneeling at the edge of the bed, naked, bobbing enthusiastically as Maura’s gasps and moans get louder, more urgent.

Alison’s hand sliding up to palm a breast. Maura whining, her head dropping back, her hips bucking up against Alison’s mouth. One hand flying to the top of her head, fingers tangling in her wild hair, forcing her mouth to stay pressed right where it is as she pants and moans and jerks hard with a cry, collapsing backward, arching her back as Alison continues to lick and suck—the cameras are good enough that Jane can hear the sounds of her lapping the wetness from between Maura’s thighs—until she pushes Alison’s head away with a shiver.

“God you taste amazing,” Alison says, sitting back on her heels as Maura pants on the bed. “I still can’t believe she—”

“Don’t,” Maura manages. “You know the rule.”

A sudden bolt of anxious bewilderment cuts through the ugly, sour guilt and loathing and shameful, squirming arousal, but it doesn’t make her feel better. Just amplifies all that bad shit. She.

She is her. She knows it in her gut. Her gut, which is currently churning like a paint mixer as tall, slim, dark-haired Alison lets out a wry little scoff from the foot of the bed. “Mm. No talking about her. Just being her. I know.”

It’s right then that the phone slips from her shaky, sweaty hand to her lap. She sits there frozen, just listening.

“That’s a little reductive.” Maura sounds like she’s stretching. The rustling of blankets.

“I prefer to think of it as the essence of the situation. You know I specialize in the baser desires. Finding exactly what it is you really want, and giving it to you.”

A lump in her throat now. Sweat cold and clammy on her skin.

“Is that how you’d characterize it?” Maura’s voice farther away. The click of her closet door opening.

Alison lets out a throaty little chuckle. “Nothing about you has ever been base, darling, is that what you want to hear?”

Jane can’t quite make out what Maura says next. Something like you know what I want to hear.

“I’m just teasing, anyway,” Alison says. “I know you like it, Maura. When I tease you.”

“—part of the scenario,” Maura’s saying. Back in the room. Jane’s still just listening. Can’t pick up the phone. Can’t get her body to listen to her, since it’s entirely focused on listening to Maura and her date, or whatever this Alison chick actually is.

“No, Maura,” she’s saying now. Low. Rumbling, almost, but her voice isn’t naturally that deep so it sounds a little forced, if you ask Jane. “It’s not a scenario. I really was just teasing you. I’m not pretending to do anything or be anyone. You know how selective I am about who I spend my time with. I’m here because I want to be. Because I want you.”

More rustling. What sounds like kissing. A faint metallic clanking.

“Good,” Maura says, and the way she says it—clipped, almost hard—is exactly the way she’s been talking to Jane lately, when they’re exchanging case information in the halls or at the elevator or whatever weird margins they’ve silently agreed are the neutral zones. “On your knees.”

Jane’s got the phone in her hand again before she even realizes it. Breath coming in high, thin little huffs as she stares at the screen. Jaw dropped. Mind completely blank; she’s just traded her body being frozen for her brain.

Maura’s got her dress off. She’s naked, but she’s still in her heels. Jane’s seen her naked before, or mostly, but never in a sexual way, and it’s like being shoved off the cliffs at Acapulco, seeing her now. Her body’s perfect, that much was obvious even with clothes on, but it’s emphasized by the contrast of the black patent of her heels against her smooth pale skin, lean and soft and unbroken until the other thing she had on. Around her waist. It looks like black leather, too.

Her hand’s wound through Alison’s hair again, but this time she’s using it to guide Alison’s mouth along the thick flesh-colored dildo sprouting from the leather harness. Staring down at her as Alison stares up, Maura clearly working the fake cock down her throat more forcefully.

“Good,” she breathes. “Just like that.”

Alison’s moaning around it. Jane’s aware that she needs to stop watching right this fucking second for so many fucking reasons—most important and most fucking obvious is she’s watching Maura fuck some woman who looks uncomfortably, if not uncannily, like her, almost certainly because she looks like her, and maybe this woman’s supposed to pretend to be her—maybe that’s her job—while Maura shoves a silicone dick down her throat. That’s without even getting into the Maura and the fucking-a-woman of it all. Without getting into how the woman Maura’s fucking is probably a hooker on top of everything else.

“On the bed,” Maura growls, and the sound of it—hot, dark—makes the air catch in Jane’s throat again, in a different way. Or not different. Fine. But Jesus Christ, is she really about to watch Maura . . . do that . . . with some undoubtedly insanely high-end escort—

“Oh fuck, Maura,” Alison’s moaning and Jane’s still watching, jaw still dropped, as Maura positions herself behind her, hands on her thighs, and begins working the cock inside with sharp little thrusts, Alison whining and trying to take it deeper into herself when Maura abruptly stills her hips.

“Language,” she says sharply, and all the air Jane’s been unconsciously trapping in her lungs escapes in a hard puff.

Alison just whimpers. It’s almost exactly the sound Jane’s making as she watches Maura, watches the sharp thrusts of her hips, the swaying of her breasts. Watches as she leans forward, wraps her fist in Alison’s hair and pulls, Alison crying out as her head jerks back, Maura’s other hand moving between her legs.

“Tell me what you want,” Maura breathes. “Say it.”

“T-touch me,” Alison says. No, not says. Begs. “Touch me, Maura, please.”

“Like this?” She does something that makes Alison’s arms give out, sending her moaning and whimpering into the duvet. “Tell me.”

“Y-yes,” she pants. “Oh f-fuck, Maura, so-so good—oh—”

Jane’s seen lesbian porn before. She grew up with two brothers, after all. But she’s never, like, watched it. She hasn’t watched a ton of porn at all, really; it’s always so fake. But especially not two chicks. Because she’s not gay. So it would just be gross; not to mention wasted on her.

But what she’s helplessly staring at on her phone, the sounds being pumped directly into her ears, it’s not porn. It’s Maura, her coworker and best friend—maybe; she’s not actually sure what’s going on with them right now—and a woman who might be a pro, but a pro who really seems to love her work, fucking so hard Maura’s headboard’s bouncing off the wall, and it’s making her feel hot and dizzy and so turned on she’s afraid to uncross her legs. But that’s just . . . animal brain, right? People breathing and gasping and panting right in your ear, making sounds they only make during sex, that’s just biology—

“Oh god, Maura, yeah—yeah, harder, h-harder—oh f-fuck, Maura—”

Maura’s got her by the hair as she comes, shuddering, mewling, practically; rutting and swiveling her hips against Maura’s and then Maura’s gasping, arching, her head thrown back as she starts to shake, as she thrusts once, twice, before collapsing on top of her.

Jane rips the headphones out of her ears. Throws the phone across the room, not not trying to miss the sharp corner of the dresser. Sits there on her bed, motionless except for the thudding of her pulse, the thin, scratchy efforts of her lungs to get enough air, while she tries desperately to get the throbbing between her legs to subside.

Tell me what you want.

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters. Forces a breath out between clenched teeth. Squeezes her eyes shut but she just sees Maura, fucking a woman who looks like her. Except, no. When she squeezes her eyes shut, she sees Maura fucking her.

“No,” she says. Tries to command herself but it comes out like a whimper. “Stop it.”

There were too many things. She’d just seen too many things to try to do anything but stuff it all way down in some dark corner of some locked room. She’d known she’d see something she’d regret, but she’d figured maybe just, like, that first part, when it was just—

Maura, surging forward to clutch at her scalp as she gasped and whined and came in her mouth

“Stop it,” she says again. Louder this time, but her voice cracks. Her clit throbs. She can feel her underwear, hot and soaked through. She’d guessed Maura might be into chicks too years ago—she was too specific in her descriptions of some of her experiences to not be evading a lie—but since Maura’d never brought any of that up and Jane had been extremely fine with letting her keep that stuff to herself it was always easy to just ignore it. And since she wasn’t even like a tiny bit gay, despite what everybody kept seeming to forget, it was fine that she and Maura hung out like they did and joked like they did and looked at each other like they did. Other people just didn’t get it.

Well, they used to do that stuff. More, anyway. It had been . . . weird lately. They’d been annoyed with each other like, all the time. Like they were always in the middle of a fight, but she couldn’t remember what about. Not that not knowing why they were fighting meant she was willing to lose, obviously. But it was tense and awkward and now Maura was fucking a hooker who looked so much like her even Korsak had pointed out the resemblance.

She shudders. Grimaces. At least thinking about Korsak’s knocked back the almost-painful throbbing in her clit.

As for why she’d hit connect on Maura’s home-security app, well, she doesn’t exactly know. She’d known what she’d might see—some of it, anyway—but even though she didn’t want to see it, knew Maura would consider it a massive violation of trust and privacy and she’d be right, she’d done it anyway. To—to punish herself, maybe. Even if she didn’t quite know exactly what for. She was Catholic. She knew what automatic self-flagellation felt like. Breathing, basically. No reason necessary.

But after that. The stuff she’d heard. Seen. Maura hadn’t just taken a date home for some post-sorbet sex. She’d taken this woman on a date specifically to have sex with her afterward. And by the way they’d seemed at the restaurant, and the way they’d talked—what little talking they’d done—in her bedroom, not for the first time.

She manages a full, shaky breath. Looks at her phone, half-buried at the top of her hamper. The headphones are tangled around her foot, emitting a faint, tinny squeak. Not like people groaning and panting. Like people talking.

Another surge of that ugly, curdling guilt as she flicks the headphones up enough to grab them. She won’t watch. Just listen. That makes it only half as reprehensible, right?

“—know I’m a trained therapist,” Alison’s saying. Jane’s brow furrows. “And you never want to talk, which is fine, and I’m not pressuring you to, but you’ve called me four times this quarter. Not that I don’t genuinely look forward to spending time with you—”

“I do appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Maura’s saying. She sounds dressed, somehow. “Really. And your intelligence and professional qualifications are certainly things I find appealing in any partner. But there are very particular ways I manage my emotional disruptions, and this is one of them. It’s important for me to maintain a strict separation according to the internal boundaries I’ve already developed with my regular therapist.” A pause. The rustling of fabric. “Though I realize,” she says, and it’s low, practically a purr, “perhaps I haven’t adequately expressed my gratitude for the exceptional level of service you provide.”

Soft giggles. Low murmurs. Jane can tell where they’re headed. Yanks the earbuds out again.

So not only is Maura’s usual escort a shrink who looks like Jane, she’s there as some sort of . . . therapy session? And Maura’s called her four times this quarter?

She can’t help the wry little snort that escapes her at the thought that of course Maura’s on-call call girl would mark her time by the fiscal year. Maura probably found that appealing, too. And with what she’s probably raking in, it makes sense. Not that she can make Maura hiring a prostitute make sense, even if she seems to be the type who can afford to limit her client list to the ones she actually does like having dinner with.

Unless, of course, Maura wants something very, very specific. Which she very, very clearly does. Even if Jane’s only a little bit sure of what one part of that something might be.

She’s got one of the headphones pressed to her ear again. Not on purpose. It’s just—it’s just there. Maura’s murmuring and gasping, not saying words so much as making hot little noises. Alison’s voice is muffled; she’s speaking quietly, but that’s not the only reason.

“—so beautiful, Maura,” she’s saying. “—make me so wet . . . just look . . . you,” and then Maura’s groaning, whimpering. “Want—wanted to touch . . . all night. Especially when—” and Maura’s letting out a harsh, keening cry of pleasure. “Wanted to do that so . . . right there, right in front of her—”

Even though Jane’s pretty sure there was some mention of a rule, as soon as Alison breaks it Maura’s crying out again, her breath coming sharp and ragged as she whines yes, yes, yes.

“You’re beautiful,” Alison says again, once Maura’s gotten her breath back. “Brilliant. Talented. And not to be too crass, but you make me come like a freight train. So as long as my services are desired, I’m thrilled to provide them.” Maura says something too quietly for Jane to make out. “Mm, you too, honey. But I hope she starts behaving herself, even if it means I don’t get to have dinner with you as often. I’ll show myself out, hmm? Code still the same?”

Something beeps loudly. Her headphones. Dying. The sound cutting out before abruptly blaring from phone in the hamper, Jane scrambling to close the home-security app, suddenly overwhelmed by the shame that had been lurking since she’d opened it in the first place.

She catches a glimpse before she manages to swipe the app closed, though. Maura in her silky purple robe, in the armchair by the windows. Feet tucked up under her. Chin rested on her hand. Alison, dressed like she’d been at the restaurant, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

Despite all the high-level sex she’d watched and the awkward-for-her revelations she’d heard, it’s that one tiny little moment that actually makes her feel bad. Not sad or mad—those things too, though—but bad. Watching a woman who looks so much like her being so casually intimate, swinging in and dropping a kiss like she’s off to work, like she’ll see her at home later, overwhelms the squeamishness about Maura and the sex stuff and instead she just feels raw and sour and jealous and sick. So maybe she’s not the one fucking Maura, but she is the one who does all that easy, low-key stuff. Casual contact. Check-ins. She’s the one who lets herself out. She’s the one who programmed that fucking code.

I hope she starts behaving herself.

She scowls. What the hell is that supposed to mean? It’s not like she’s the one who started this whole fight. She doesn’t even know what they’re fighting about.

She jabs the charger into her phone before that dies too. Scowls at it on her nightstand. Shoves it under her pillow. Stomps out into the living room, shuffling around for the half-empty bottle of scotch she’s got in there somewhere. Swallows two fingers even though she hates it, since it stops the cold, jittery feeling. Dulls it a little, anyway.

She goes through all the usual motions of getting ready for bed—pajamas, teeth brushed, face washed—even though she’s the farthest from tired she’s been in a long time. And all trying to fake having a normal night’s gotten her is in her bed, in the dark.

“Fuck,” she mutters, flopping over for the tenth time. “It’s your own fucking fault, Rizzoli.”

The thing is, it being her own fucking fault doesn’t make her brain stop playing the whole thing on a loop. Maura, forcing her mouth against her as she came. Telling her to get on her knees. Alison, begging to be touched. More. Harder. Until she’d come screaming her name. And then whatever it was she’d wished she could have done right in front of Jane, the thing that made Maura gasp yes, yes, yes.

She can’t remember the last time she was this wet. If she’s ever been this wet. Her hand’s down her cutoff sweatpants without her brain telling it to go there, a fingertip brushing her slippery clit making her cry out; she’s about to come and she’s barely started.

Good. Just like that.

A high, thin whine forces itself through her nose as every stroke makes white lights flash behind her eyes. She’s so wet it’s hard to work her clit with any precision but she’s so turned on it doesn’t matter so she shoves her hand between her legs, rubs in rough, awkward circles, rocking her hips as she gets herself off thinking about Maura. About the sounds she made as she came, right in Jane’s ear.

“Oh fuck,” she gasps as her orgasm smashes into her, so hard and fast she has to yank her hand away from her abruptly unbearably-sensitized clit.

You’re beautiful, brilliant, talented, and you make me come like a freight train.

Jane’s had enough dealings with enough girls at enough price points to know that they all flatter, but they hardly ever sound like she had when they do it. And sure, Alison’s well-trained and well-paid but Jane listens to liars for a living, and she herself knew three of the four of those things she’d said about Maura were true, so that last one probably was too. And it was Maura. Who was perfect at everything. So it would make less sense for her to be—

“What the fuck are you doing, Rizzoli,” she hisses to herself, yanking her sticky fingers fully out of her pajama shorts. The post-orgasmic clarity rushes in just as fast as the orgasm had; a fresh squeeze of curdling guilt, of nauseating shame as she realized exactly what she’d spent the better part of two hours doing. Spying on Maura. Not just spying on her. She could recite precisely which half-dozen sexual assault codes she’d book herself under.

Puking was better than jerking off, somehow. Probably the Catholicism. Always preferable to suffer, particularly when you’ve actually sinned. And at least once she’d puked she’d be able to sleep. It always worked. That was something. Right?

Once she’d slept, though, she had to wake up. And go to work. And since Maura’d been so . . . emotionally disrupted she’d had to, uh, schedule an emergency session on a Tuesday, that meant Maura would be there too.

At least they were fighting, for some reason. And at least Jane had an actual reason to avoid her now. _________________________________________________________

Even though she’s got an actual reason to avoid her, she keeps finding herself nosing around the basement. Making up reasons and pretending to be mad about them. Maura’s doing autopsies for other cases half the time she slinks by, and she doesn’t give her time to notice, just skulks back up to the bullpen to jab at her computer for a while until she can’t take that any more, either.

The last time she stomps downstairs it’s right after five. Most of the morgue techs have gone home, the one she can see looks to be wrapping things up. Maura’s office light is on. Her door’s closed like it usually is when she’s trying to get her paperwork done for the day.

Jane paces around the concrete hallway for a few minutes, until the tech pushes out through the swinging doors with a little nod. It’s just her and Maura now. She’s not totally sure why it is she’s kept coming down here all day when the last thing she wants to do is be alone with her, but if that were actually true she wouldn’t have paced around the hallway like a cornered jungle cat until the last employee had left for the night. She wouldn’t have been down here at all.

It’s just that she can’t stop thinking about it. The fucking, sure, but the whole thing. Maura had some sort of professional relationship with a high-class call girl who looked just like her. And even though she’d only found out the details through incredibly unethical and frankly illegal methods, found them out she had, and it had filled her gut with lead all fucking day and if she doesn’t do something about it—anything—she’s going to choke on it.

Like she always does when she’s doing something so stupid even her reckless brain would have objections, she just moves so fast her brain can’t keep up. She’s knocking on Maura’s office door before she’s even registered entering the morgue. She’s inside before she’s even registered Maura’s come in.

She’s got her pinned up against her desk before she’s even registered how she got her to stand up in the first place. Her brow’s furrowed. She’s leaning away until she can’t any more. Until she’s got her hand square in the middle of Jane’s chest. Gives her a hard shove. “Jane, what the hell are you—”

A harsh scoff as she tries to stop herself stumbling backward. A flush of hot anger. Embarrassment. “Isn’t this what you want from me?”

“No!”

It’s the edge of fear in her voice that breaks it. Jane blinks. Blanches. Backs away until she bumps into the far wall, knocking against one of Maura’s carved African masks, its fringe of bone beads rattling. “I’m—Maura, I’m—”

Maura’s staring at her. Eyes like saucers. “What was that?”

She’s cringing into a tight, pathetic little ball. Feels pathetic, anyway. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” A pause. “This is about Alison.” It’s not a question.

“I guess,” she mumbles.

“Jesus Christ, Jane.”

It’s the profanity that makes her look up. Maura’s got her arms folded tight across her chest. Mouth set in a tight line. Her eyes are dark. Furious. Disappointed. Jane watches to see if she’s going to say anything else, but she just sighs. Shakes her head. Yanks her jacket and purse down from their hooks as she stalks out of the room.

It takes several long minutes—Jane’s not sure how many, but the automatic overhead light shuts off at some point—before she stops feeling numb. Starts feeling just cold, instead. Sour and sick. Not just because Maura had rejected her, because of why she had. Because she’d figured out it was about the hooker who looked like her right away, even if Jane’s ninety-nine percent sure she doesn’t know about the whole Peeping Jane incident. Maybe it was just that Jane had seen them together on what was very obviously a date, which would probably have been enough on its own.

She chuckles bitterly, jolting when it causes the overhead light to flicker back on. It very much fucking was enough on its own, seeing Maura on a date with her. Not even her, specifically, even though the resemblance thing had just been a little weird at first. Any woman. Seeing her on a date with any woman would have been enough to make her do exactly what she did.

Wanted to do that right there, right in front of her.

Alison had meant her. Whatever thing she’d done to make Maura whimper and moan, she’d wanted Jane to know she was doing it. And just like what she’d said about Maura’s, uh, skills, Jane had no reason to believe she was lying about that, either. So she had known who Jane was when she’d introduced herself.

You’ve called me four times this quarter.

Another sour lurch in her gut. She’d been wrong about what Maura wanted. It wasn’t actually her. Just someone who looked like her. Who’d do anything she asked. Who’d beg her for more, without having to pull teeth the whole time.

Oh god, Maura, yeah—yeah, harder, h-harder—oh f-fuck—

She scowls. Swipes quickly at her eyes. Slinks out the door, through the empty morgue, holding her breath all the way to the parking garage. _________________________________________________________

She’s just about to haul herself off the couch to get another beer when there’s a sharp knock at the door. She freezes. She’s on her third night of wallowing and she wasn’t expecting anyone so the place looks like shit. At least she’d dragged herself into the shower after work.

Another knock. “I know you’re in there.”

Maura. If it was possible for her to freeze any more solid, she would.

“I have a key but please don’t make me use it.”

That cracks her enough to get off the couch. To the door. Eye to the peephole. She looks normal enough in her cashmere trench coat. Annoyed. Jane gulps. Unlocks the deadbolt. Turns the knob.

Maura breezes past her. Sets a tote bag on the kitchen counter, then turns to face her. Hands on her hips. “I’m incredibly upset with you.”

Jane’s cheeks go hot as a fresh wave of shame crashes over her. “You said.”

“Yes, and my saying so doesn’t seem to have done anything but make you feel sorry for yourself.” She’s glancing around the place. The dirty dishes. The beer bottles. The couch, which has clearly been doubling as a bed. “So we’re trying something different.”

On your knees.

“Uh,” Jane manages, her throat abruptly dry. “Like what?”

Maura just sighs. Shakes her head. “For a decorated detective you’re certainly very good at playing dumb.”

And then she takes her long coat off. And under her coat’s just fancy lacy underwear.

“Maura—”

“Enough, Jane,” she says sharply. The sound of it causes all the air in Jane’s body to evacuate at once. Not to mention her, and her smooth curves, and the parts of her barely constrained by scraps of lace, and the way she’s looking at Jane, and maybe Jane’s not gay, but she’s never wanted to touch someone, for someone to touch her, so bad in her life, if the way her thighs are sliding against each other’s any indication, at least. “Go get your bedroom tidied up. Five minutes.”

“Maura—”

“Or I leave.”

The way she says that chills Jane again. The way she says it, the leave means more than your apartment. The leave means or I leave you, Jane.

“Four minutes and thirty-six seconds.”

Despite the bewilderment and anxiety and fear and abrupt, half-painful arousal she’s bolting for her bedroom. Shoving dirty clothes into her closet. Smoothing the covers on the bed. At least she hasn’t slept in it since she changed the sheets a few days ago in a fit of shame about jerking off to mental images of her best friend.

Her best friend, who’s out in the living room, wearing expensive black lingerie and patent-leather stiletto heels and nothing else. Who’d commanded her to get her bedroom tidied up, or that was it for them.

As she’s swiping crumbs into the drawer on her bedside table, it hits her. Maura didn’t want her to want her like that. Well, she did, obviously. But the stuff with Alison, the way she’d been not just angry, but frustrated when Jane had tried to kiss her—it wasn’t about romance. Not as much as it was about being the one in control for once.

Tell me what you want, she’d said to Alison. And not in a sweet, supportive way. Like she was sick of having to coax it out; so sick of it she’d pay thousands of dollars to someone who’d just obey her without whining about it. Would do what she wanted, when she wanted it.

Jane would do anything for her. Anything. Would kill for her, and had. Would die for her, and almost had, more than once. But she still whined and complained and scoffed and dragged her feet and said no to her a lot more often than she said yes. Especially, she realized as she was kicking errant running shoes under the bed, during this most recent fiscal quarter.

Alison was therapy. To keep Maura from murdering her. Transference, the shrinks called it.

But now Maura’s in her living room. Wearing expensive lingerie and high heels and nothing else. Nobody to transfer those feelings to. Just the person who deserved them. And when Jane’s finished tidying her bedroom, she’ll go back out, and—

And what?

Have sex with Maura, that’s what.

She freezes again, an empty water glass in her hand. She’s going to have sex with Maura. Because Maura wants to. And Jane will do anything for her, if it means she won’t leave.

And even though she’s not gay, even though she’s only thought about Maura like that for real for a few days—let herself think about her like that, fine—when she thinks about the soft sounds of Maura’s pleasure right in her ear she gets a hot pulse of lust right between her legs. She’s beautiful. Brilliant. Talented.

And not to be too crass, but you make me come like a freight train.

“Fuck,” she breathes as her nipples harden under her soft BPD t-shirt, rubbing against the fabric.

She glances around her room. Tidy enough, even if the closet doors are barely holding it together. Glances toward the living room. Her hands abruptly clammy. Her heart beating like a whole rhythm section. Swallows hard, then realizes she’s running out of time.

Her hand slips on the doorknob. Swipes it on her shirt, the material shifting over her stiff nipples making her groan a little. She’s nervous—scared, more like—but the desire’s starting to overtake it, at least, even if she has no idea what she’s supposed to do. Maura will tell her. That’s the whole point.

She creeps back into the living room, letting out a hard exhale when Maura’s still there. Still in her fancy underwear. Still looking annoyed, but Jane’s starting to see it as kind of . . . hot. Her body thinks so, anyway, given the gush of wetness between her legs as Maura cocks her head, raises an eyebrow. “Done?”

“Uh,” Jane manages, even though it comes out as a squeak. “Yeah. Done.”

“Good.” That sharp tone. Jane’s knees threaten to buckle but she catches herself just in time. Maura notices, though, and her arch little half-smirk sends another shiver of lust through her. “Get that.” She nods at the tote bag on the kitchen counter. Stalks into the bedroom, heels clicking on the parquet.

Jane crosses to the island. Gets the bag. Peeks inside, more than a little anxious about what she might find. Lets out a little puff of relief when there’s no dildo. Lube, though. Scarves. A towel, since she’s never trusted anything in Jane’s house to have been washed recently, which Jane can’t fault her for. Her purple robe.

She takes another long, shaky breath. Collects the bag, heads back into her room.

Maura’s standing by the bed. Still with that hard look on her face. “Put it there,” she says, pointing to the bedside table, Jane obeying at once. “Do you understand what this is?”

This being this whole situation. Maura, almost-naked in her apartment. What they’re about to do. Why. Jane nods stiffly.

“Say it,” Maura says. Clipped.

She swallows hard. Tries to. A lump in her throat. “Whatever you want,” she rasps.

“Good.”

Another wave of arousal. She whimpers.

“I know you’ve never done anything like this before,” Maura says, and she’s still crisp and bossy but she also sounds like Maura, the Maura who’d never hurt her, and that makes Jane feel both better and more turned on, which is confusing, but not the worst thing. “If you don’t want to, tell me now, and I’ll leave.”

Jane knows what that means. The same thing it meant earlier. Not that she’ll leave the apartment, that she’ll leave-leave. And maybe it’s unfair, Maura’s ultimatum, but in order for it to be truly unfair they’d have to be at some other place in their relationship. Not this frustrating, annoying place, where they’ve pretty much run the course on friendship, and the only option left is to either move to the next level or pack it in. And just the thought of this being it, truly, is so awful that it’s not even a question.

And even though she’s not gay, she’s never been so turned on in her entire life.

She takes another shaky breath. “What do I do?”

Maura gives her a long, appraising look. “Take your clothes off.”

She whimpers a little, more from the way Maura’s looking at her, the tone of her voice, than the idea of getting naked, which she’s never especially liked. But if she pushes back at the very first instruction—

She can see Maura’s eyes darken as she strips off her t-shirt, her loose basketball shorts, the cotton boy shorts with the gusset already soaked through. Can see Maura seeing that, too, and flicking her tongue across her lips. Stands there, goosebumps popping up across her whole body as Maura examines every inch of her. She’s never felt so exposed before, but something about it makes the spark in her belly swell up. Maura’s got exquisite taste, obviously, and Jane can’t help feeling like some expensive object she’s trying to decide if she wants to buy.

“Beautiful,” Maura murmurs at last. “So beautiful, Jane.”

And she’s slinking closer. The air between them compressing. Getting warm, then hot as Maura stops maybe six inches away from her. So close Jane can feel the heat radiating off her. Can smell her. She’s not wearing perfume. It’s just her, and even though Jane knows her scent better than almost anything she’s still letting her mouth drop open to breathe her in.

And then Maura’s touching her. A soft, warm palm running from her throat down her chest, sliding between her breasts, across the flat of her belly. A little whimper when she pulls her hand away.

“Touch me, Jane,” she breathes. Lifts Jane’s shaking hand. Places it on a lace-cupped breast.

Soft and firm and round. Silky under her fingertips. The nipple stiff under her palm. The lace smooth, luxurious as she begins to move her hand in little circles, watching Maura intently to make sure she’s doing it right.

Maura’s eyelashes are fluttering. She’s breathing shallowly through parted lips. Jane gives her a squeeze—fuck she’s got amazing tits—and Maura sucks in a little gasp. 

The longer she’s got her hand on Maura, the more of Maura she wants to touch. Lifts her other hand. Lets it hover over Maura’s other breast until Maura gives her a brief, jerky nod. Groans as she grasps that one too, both hands stroking and squeezing and rubbing little circles over her hard nipples through the soft lace.

Maura’s gasping more than she’s breathing. Her hips are starting to rock in time to Jane’s hands on her breasts. “Can,” Jane manages, “can I?”

“C-can you what,” Maura huffs.

“Can I take your clothes off,” she gets out in a rush. Not that clothes is particularly correct for what she’s got on, but what Jane means is I want to feel you.

“Yes,” she breathes, and the sound of it—hot, ragged—sends another ripple of arousal through Jane, another whimper through her nose. She slides her hands—still shaking, but more from anticipation—around Maura’s sides to the clasp between her shoulder blades. Manages to pop it open on the first try, which she attributes more to luck than anything else, but brushes past it in favor of sliding the lacy bra off. Taking in the sight of her. Returning her hands to her breasts, all soft skin now. Her stiff, pale-pink nipples scratching against her palms. The little strangled cry as Jane gently pinches one between two fingers, gives it a little roll before releasing it.

“Good?” she rasps.

“Good,” Maura breathes. “Good.”

She stuffs down her little smirk of pride, since she’s not here to prove to Maura she can figure out how to touch another woman, particularly since she’s got plenty of experience with what feels good on her own body, and Maura will tell her what to do when she wants her to do something. So she can be proud of herself, but validation from Maura’s not the point. Well, it is. It’s just she’ll get it when she’s got Maura shaking and shivering and gasping her name. Which she wants more and more the longer she spends touching her. Breathing her in. The scent of her clean skin. Of her arousal. Jane can smell it now. Tart and rich and heady.

She’s incredibly squeamish about the idea of putting her mouth there. About how wet it will be. How it will taste. But the scent of Maura’s sex is starting to fill her nose, her mouth, and if that’s what she tastes like—

And she’s sliding her hands off Maura’s breasts—both of them letting out bereft little whimpers—and running them down her taut belly, along the flare of her hips, hooking her fingers at the elastic of her fancy underwear. Looking at her again. Her eyes are closed but her mouth’s open and her hips are rocking toward Jane’s hands so she takes that as a yes.

She’s just about to start tugging when Maura reaches out. Grabs her wrist. “Wait,” she breathes.

Jane freezes. “Did I—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Maura says, and it’s Maura her best friend, not so much Maura who hires hookers to get her frustrations out. “I want to make sure, Jane.”

Jane bites her lip. Gulps. Nods. “I’m sure, Maura.”

And then Maura’s threading her fingers through Jane’s. Tugging at her hand. Closing the distance between them. Her mouth on Jane’s.

Maybe it’s supposed to be sweet, that kiss. Reassuring. And maybe it is, right at first, but even though Jane’s never kissed another woman before she’s hooked from that very first second. At least on kissing Maura, soft and slick and warm and suddenly their tongues are touching and Jane’s got her hand around the back of Maura’s neck, she doesn’t even know how it got there, and their bodies are pressed together and it’s fucking incredible, the way she feels, and it’s fucking incredible, the way she tastes and the little sounds she’s making and Jane’s giving herself over to it, to the feeling and the sound and the taste of her, moaning into her mouth as she slides her free hand under the lace, as her fingers plunge into the slick wet heat between Maura’s legs, whining as Maura gasps, bites her lower lip, hips jerking when Jane’s fingertips brush against the hard, throbbing nub of her clit.

“God,” Maura groans, breaking the kiss, Jane’s hand still stroking her, Maura starting to waver and buckle against her. “Just—just like that.”

She’s so slippery and hot and it’s so good the way she feels, the way she’s whimpering and rocking against her, and Jane’s pressing her lips to her throat, dragging her tongue across the dampness already springing up along her skin. Sucking at the place her pulse thrums the hardest. Hand still stroking between her legs, but the scrap of lace is becoming more of an obstacle the more confident she gets. Pulls her hand away, Maura huffing out a little whine that elides into a hot groan when Jane takes a shuddering breath, lifts her glistening fingers to her mouth.

She does taste like she smells. More, though. Better. Jane’s eyes slide closed as she sucks the arousal away. When she opens them Maura’s looking at her with a mix of anticipation and faint anxiety; another little flash of Maura her best friend. Who wants this to be good for her, too, both because it’s polite, and because if it’s not, well, that’s the end of them regardless.

Jane feels a little stab of anxiety herself. Draws a shaky breath. Reaches out to cup Maura’s chin. To kiss her again. Soft. Sweet. Reassuring. When she pulls away, though, she’s more scared than when all of this started, because the way she’d kissed Maura just then was real.

Not that all of this wasn’t real. But it was suddenly a lot more real than her doing anything to keep Maura from leaving her. It was why her first impulse had been to do anything. Anything she wanted, if it meant she’d stay. Because that’s where they were. Why it was so hard and spiky. Because they’d run out of reasons to just be friends, but the thought of her not being a part of Jane’s life every day was unbearable. Which meant—

“Can I,” she rasps again. Only a little shaky. “Please?”

Even though she hasn’t said what she’s asking to do, Maura nods. Because even though this was supposed to be about Maura being the one in control for a change, the thing is, Maura’s always been the one in control. Because she knows that Jane will do anything for her.

And anyway, Jane thinks hazily as she starts pressing kisses to Maura’s throat, her chest, moving slowly down her body, taking her time to lick and suck and nip and taste, to find out what makes her shiver and what makes her moan, maybe what Maura really wants is for Jane to just do it.

So she does. Lays hot kisses down her belly as she sinks to her knees, breathing in the sharp scent of her arousal as she comes to a stop directly in front of her lace-covered sex. Her hands are shaking as she hooks the elastic waistband again, but it’s an equal mix of nerves and anticipation. The taste thing’s been resolved, the wetness thing’s less and less stressful, considering how much her mouth’s watering. Maura’s making those soft little noises that shoot straight to her own clit. So mostly it’s about if she’ll be any good, or if she’ll embarrass herself.

“Jane,” Maura moans. “I want—”

And Jane’s got her lacy panties around her ankles before she can even say it. Drawing in a shuddering breath as she stares at the bare skin, the swollen, glistening pink flesh. Places a shaky hand on her hip. Presses her lips to the smooth skin of her inner thigh. Breathing in the arousal, filling her nose, her mouth, her lungs, her brain. Maura shifts her posture, legs parting wider, Jane growling low in her throat as a trickle of arousal slips down her thigh. Drags her tongue along it. Doesn’t stop this time.

It’s so soft and warm and slick and good, her pussy. Jane’s tongue is mapping it at once, sliding along the creases and folds, both hands holding Maura’s hips now as she shudders and rocks against Jane’s mouth. Gasping with every swipe of her tongue.

Jane hisses a little when Maura’s hand flies to the top of her head, twisting a handful of her hair as she sucks Maura’s clit into her mouth. It’s so hard and hot and throbbing it would be impossible to miss even if its alleged mystery wasn’t wildly overstated; she knows where hers is, so finding Maura’s hadn’t been particularly difficult. None of this is particularly difficult, it turns out; she just does what she’d want done to her, paying special attention to the things that make Maura react with particular emphasis. Like when she sucks Maura’s clit into her mouth, flicks the tip of her tongue over it. That makes Maura shake and cry out and twist her handful of Jane’s hair; makes a hot  gush spill down Jane’s chin. Makes Jane lap and suck and growl against her.

“Like—oh—like that, Jane,” she gasps. “Right—right there, don’t st-stop, don’t—”

And her thighs are quivering and she’s rutting her hips against Jane’s mouth, her tight grip on Jane’s head keeping her right where she is as she sucks and flicks and growls until she feels Maura’s pussy start to flutter and pulse against her tongue, as Maura throws her head back with a strangled cry, as she comes and comes in Jane’s mouth, Jane not slowing down the pace of her flicking tongue as Maura keens and jerks and comes again.

She’s not gay, but she knows, instinctively, to ease off, to draw her tongue in long, languid strokes along the length of Maura’s pussy, still fluttering and twitching. She pauses to tease at her tight opening just for a second, relishing Maura’s little huff, before moving away, pressing soft kisses to her thighs, rubbing slow circles on her hips with her thumbs, Maura panting and wavering and tugging lightly on her hair, asking her to stand back up.

Her mouth is on Jane’s in an instant; her still-trembling body pressed tight against Jane’s as she sucks the remnants of her own arousal from Jane’s lips. Her hands sweeping across Jane’s back, cupping her ass, Jane whimpering into her mouth as she slides a finger along the cleft, barely teasing at the seam of thick wetness between Jane’s legs. As she rocks her hips against Jane’s, their arousal mingling and smearing across her belly, her thighs, the sensation causing another hot gush.

She’s not sure what happens next, but Maura will tell her.

“So good, Jane,” she purrs in her ear, making Jane’s knees give out just a little. “So good.” She’s moving her hand around. Slipping it between them. Between Jane’s legs, the first stroke of her fingers across her aching clit making her yelp and whine and writhe. “Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Tell me what you want. Say it.

“Y-yeah,” she manages. “Please, Maura.” Maybe she should be embarrassed by how desperate she sounds already. She’s not, though, because she is desperate, and Maura knows it, and trying to lie about her feelings is a big part of what got her into this whole thing in the first place.

“Do you know what you want?”

She shakes her head. “What-whatever you want.”

She does something with her hand. Something that makes Jane see stars. “Good,” she murmurs, low and breathy. Right in Jane’s ear. “On the bed.”

“Uh,” Jane gulps. “H-how?”

Maura looks briefly surprised, then smirks. “On your back.”

It feels awkward, vulnerable being naked on top of her blankets, another person staring at her, but the other person is Maura, who would never, ever hurt her. Who’d spent thousands of dollars to find an outlet to keep from hurting her, maybe. And now the only thing she wanted from Jane was to make her feel good. To do the thing they’d been missing. The thing whose absence had become so glaring, so awkward, so enormous and uncomfortable that they’d been bumping up against it for months and blaming each other for the bruises. It was fuck or farewell, and now that she’d made Maura come in her mouth, now that Maura was climbing onto the bed, settling between her parted knees, the fact that farewell had even been on the table—

“I want to fuck you, Jane,” she says, and it’s possible she comes a little just from that. “But I want to make sure you’re comfortable with it.”

“Comfortable with, uh, with what?”

“Penetration,” she says, and even though Jane was pretty sure that’s what I want to fuck you meant, it’s still vaguely squeamish to hear her say it so plainly. “I want to feel you come while I’m inside you.”

That’s way less squeamish, though it sounds at least ten times dirtier coming from Maura’s mouth than it would just about anyone else’s. Maybe that’s why she can feel fresh wetness running down her leg. A whimper escapes her; her knees fall farther open.

“Is that what you want, Jane?”

“Yes,” she whispers. Not because she isn’t sure, but because she can’t really get any air into her lungs. “I—I want you to fuck me, Maura.”

Maura gasps a little, like she hadn’t actually expected Jane to say it. Her eyelashes flutter. “Good.” She gazes down at Jane for a long moment, lips parted. “So beautiful,” she murmurs, sliding her hands up Jane’s legs, along her inner thighs. “You’re so beautiful, Jane.”

She squirms. She can manage the nakedness and the frank discussion of what they’re doing to each other, what they want from each other, but Maura calling her beautiful makes her want to dissolve into the mattress.

“You are,” she murmurs. “And I want to be able to tell you.”

She squirms again. Grimaces. “Okay.”

Maura smiles. A real one, not her sharp little smirk. That makes Jane feel like dissolving too, because that’s real, too. “I’m not just interested in you because I find you attractive,” she says, stroking along her thighs, teasing at the crease, sticky with arousal. “You’re a brilliant investigator”—she shifts forward, presses her lips to the soft, sensitive skin high up on Jane’s inner thigh—“and you’re dedicated to justice”—the other thigh—“and even though you make me crazy, I can’t stop wanting to be with you.”

She stops Jane’s mind from latching onto that last part by dragging her tongue along Jane’s slit, hips bucking up as she gasps, moans, clutches at the blankets. Does it again, flicking just barely over her clit, before moving her mouth up, pressing kisses to her stomach, her ribs, making her huff and whine as she draws a nipple into her mouth, worries it with her teeth before releasing it, sliding up and up until she’s flush against Jane, her mouth against Jane’s ear.

“I know you know about Alison,” she breathes at the same moment she’s sliding fingers along Jane’s wet folds again. “Have you figured out why?”

“Be-because,” Jane stammers, sucking in a sharp breath as Maura rubs a tight little circle around her clit. “Because it was that or—or murder me.”

“Hmm,” Maura breathes in her ear, the heat of her breath causing Jane’s hips to buck again, Maura’s hand sliding off her clit, one finger teasing at the tight ring of muscle. “That’s one way of looking at it. Do you want to know another way?”

Even though Jane should absolutely not want any details about why Maura’s been hiring a hooker who looks like her, she does. Because it’s her fault, Alison. That Maura’s gotten to this point. “Yeah.”

“Good,” she breathes again, right as that one finger pushes inside, Jane crying out, hips thrusting up to meet Maura’s hand. “Because I’m so afraid, Jane. All the time.” She’s sliding her finger in and out, slowly, all the way. Jane’s brain’s a little scrambled, what with getting fucked by Maura as Maura explains why she’s been fucking a hooker who looks like her, and it sounds like it’s going to be about feelings, which seems kind of unfair, since she’s at the mercy of sensation right now, and that’s basically Maura’s fault.

But it feels so fucking good, Maura inside her. Pressed against her, hot and slick with sweat. So fucking good, and maybe this is actually what she’d meant when she’d said we’re trying something different. If she couldn’t get Jane to listen when she was talking normally, maybe she’d listen when she was stroking along her softest parts, murmuring right against her ear.

“Why, uh—fuck, Maura—why are you afraid?”

“Language, Jane,” she breathes, and Jane’s eyes somehow find a little more space to roll back inside her head at that, her pussy walls clamping tight around Maura’s finger, making them both groan. “I’m so afraid, Jane, that we’ve given each other so much, and it’s still not enough.”

“Enough for—for what?”

“For me,” she breathes as she pulls her hand back, and when she thrusts inside again it’s with two fingers, Jane gasping and moaning and spreading her legs even wider, canting her hips up greedily, her pussy rippling and squeezing and trying to pull Maura’s fingers in deeper. “I want you, Jane. And it gets so frustrating, being so close to you. Being so much to you, but not that. Alison helped, for a while. I could . . . pretend, with her. And then it became a way to release the frustrations I had with you. The . . . choices you’ve been making—”

She curls her fingers. Rubs up against some spot that makes Jane’s whole body light up. One leg thrown around Maura’s hips, urging her deeper. Closer.

“You seem to be trying to get away from me,” Maura rumbles, doing that thing with her fingers again. “But the way you’re going about it appears, at least to me, to be more self-destructive than not.” Another curl of her fingers, and this time she’s circling her thumb over Jane’s clit, and it’s getting harder and harder to pay attention since her orgasm’s getting closer and closer with every thrust and stroke. “Is that what you want, Jane?” Her breath’s getting more ragged as she starts to drive her fingers into Jane using her hips, and Jane’s got both legs wound around her, meeting each thrust with a thrust of her own, the thick, wet sounds of Maura’s fingers plunging into her over and over starting to drown out the low murmur of her voice. “Do you want me to leave?”

She can feel it rushing up. Her body starting to tremble. One more thrust, one more firm circle around her clit—

“Oh god, Maura, oh—oh fuck,” and she’s coming so hard she feels like she’s going to explode, or maybe she is exploding, and she can feel Maura inside her, can feel her pussy walls rippling around her fingers, can hear Maura’s hot, harsh breath next to her ear, maybe she’s saying something or maybe she’s just breathing, and before Jane’s finished coming Maura’s abruptly up and off her and between her legs, sucking her clit, and everything goes white, and then black.

When she blinks back to consciousness Maura’s still kneeling between her legs, giving her an obscure look. Like she knows now’s the most dangerous moment, now that she’s both laid it out and now that Jane’s about to feel that rush of post-orgasmic clarity.

When she does, it hits hard. Cold and clammy and like her skin’s too tight. A little sick to her stomach. Not about what had just happened, though. About why. And even though she’s still a little spaced out and unsteady she struggles up so that she’s facing Maura. Takes her face in her hands. Kisses her. Soft at first, and then so she knows she was right. About why Jane’s been so weird and spiky and mean. Because she could tell that Maura was, despite all her truly exceptional efforts, running out of the ability to just be friends, even with her yoga breathing and her high-end escort. Even if self-sabotage seemed easier than admitting it. Having to actually acknowledge it. Even though acknowledging it had turned out to be fucking incredible. The process of it, at least. But now they had to, like, process it, and that was bound to be . . . less incredible.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she pulled away. “For scaring you. I’m, uh.” A deep, shaky breath. “I’m pretty scared too.”

“About what?” Maura asks, and she’s asking like Maura her best friend, which Jane would have assumed would have felt weirder with both of them naked and sweaty and sticky with each others’ arousal, but it didn’t. It felt comforting. Safe.

She shrugs. “About . . . I dunno. Is it . . . is it all different now?”

“No,” Maura says softly. “It’s not.”

“Okay,” Jane breathes.

“Jane,” Maura says. Reaches out. Cups her cheek. “I don’t feel any differently about you. Well, I feel better,” she amends with a little tilt of her head.

Jane snorts despite her perilous mood. “Glad I wasn’t a total failure,” she mumbles.

“Oh Jane,” Maura says in that firm tone she uses when she’s worried about being misconstrued. “Absolutely not.”

She’s blushing so brightly she’s pretty sure it can be seen from space. “Yeah?”

Maura cocks her head again. Frowns. “Did you think we wouldn’t be sexually compatible?”

Somehow her blush gets more intense. “I mean, I hadn’t really thought about it, since I’m not, uh . . . you know.”

“Hmm,” Maura murmurs, which gives Jane a pretty clear idea of her opinion on that. “Well. I’d never have suspected it was your first time with a woman. Which you can credit to our sexual compatibility, which I have thought about.”

Even though she says it like she says anything she’s been thinking about—test results, where to have lunch, whatever—Jane still lets out a mortified little squeak. “Oh yeah?”

“Jane,” she sighs. “I hired a woman who looks like you with the express intention of having sex with her. How could you possibly think I haven’t thought about having sex with you? And even though I know you won’t ask, I know you’ll never stop thinking about it, so yes, it was more satisfying with you than with her.”

“Oh,” Jane mumbles, suddenly deeply interested in her light switch.

“Of course it would be,” Maura says gently. “She was a substitute. You’re the real thing.”

“But, uh, what,” she starts, then stops. Clears her throat. “What if it wasn’t? Better, I mean.”

“That possibility was so unlikely I felt comfortable dismissing it out of hand, regardless of your level of experience,” she says easily. “I’ve never been as close to someone as I have to you, Jane. Emotionally. In the experiences we’ve shared. And that’s not just a function of time or exposure. It’s because there’s something . . . innate between us. Something that refuses to make it easy—or even possible—for us to let each other go, even when it would have been the most convenient.”

Like when someone asks you to marry them, Jane thinks. Or when you betray someone so bad by, say, getting their father thrown in prison that a clean break would have probably been healthier for everyone. She couldn’t do it, though. Not even when the very sight of Maura had made her feel a curdling mix of anger and nausea. She’d just  . . . incorporated that feeling into her life for a while. When the other option was carving out her own heart? “But you would have. If I’d said no.”

She goes a little pale. Casts her eyes down. “Did you know I own—well, Mother does—a chateau in the Loire Valley? I say chateau, which is technically correct, but it’s hardly more than a moderately-sized house with a few acres of vineyard. But I was ready to go there. If you’d said no.”

“But your job—”

“Can be done by any number of appropriately-qualified professionals,” she finishes crisply.

Jane grimaces. Bites her lip. “You really would’ve left?”

“Of course, Jane,” she says, and the matter-of-fact way she says it might be perfectly normal for her, but it makes Jane’s chest go tight. “You rejecting me would have broken my heart. I wouldn’t have been prepared to do my best work in such circumstances, particularly if we’d still had to work together.”

“Broken your heart, huh?” she rasps, and she doesn’t mean it to sound flippant, it’s just that’s how she always sounds when she doesn’t know what to say or do or think, and at least Maura already knows that about her.

“I love you, Jane,” she says. Just like that. “And even though I was relatively confident that things would go the way they did tonight, if they hadn’t, yes, it would have broken my heart, and yes, I would have left in order to determine what I wanted to do next with my life.”

“Oh,” Jane says. And then, “you were confident?”

“Relatively confident,” Maura corrects. That gets a tiny smirk out of her. “I was.” Gives Jane another one of those deep, searching looks that makes her feel even more naked. “Do you know why?”

She does. It makes her heart beat so fast she thinks for a second she’s going to pass out, but Maura takes her hand, and she feels better, and that’s why. She nods stiffly.

“Tell me,” Maura murmurs.

“Because I love you too,” she says, her voice only breaking a little.

“Good,” Maura whispers. Leans forward again. Slides her tongue into Jane’s mouth. “Get on your knees.”

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

(Full HC)

Hello! I really do love your bodyswap HCs, so how about something about what MC ever accidentally bodyswapped with their familiar and how the M6 deal with that?

(And for the purposes of this ask, I would imagine said familiar as a Scout-like little white puppy? Like a West Highland Terrier! Or if it's simpler, then just "M6 when MC accidentally transforms into a little Scout-like puppy.")

The Arcana HCs: MC and their familiar bodyswap

~ as my anon friend suggested, for headcanon purposes MC's familiar is a Scout-like puppy ^.^ hope you enjoy these! - brainrot ~

Julian

He's got the wrong formula, but he's arriving at the right solution!

All he knows is that he walked into the room after breakfast to ask how you planned to spend your day off, and while it seems like you've already left without him, there's a new puppy on the floor!

Well hello, you seem lost, have you eaten? You're such a fine looking young canine, yes you are, you look like you could use some belly rubs, what a good puppy!

You don't get the chance to tell him the truth until lunch time. Until then, you're just his new pup, who he takes with him to work so his patients have a soothing furry companion while he treats them

Side note, keeping up with strides that long is exhausting. Luckily for you he's happy to carry you if you get tired

Almost falls out of his chair in surprise, concern, and embarrassment when you manage to communicate what's happened. The dog is you?!

Keeps having to stop himself from the previous baby talk, can't shake how strange it is to talk to a puppy like it's a person

So very relieved when you poof back. ... does he want to know where your human body was???

Asra

Put two and two together almost instantly

And now they can't stop laughing (no don't worry, they're taking this very seriously, they've established how committed they are to having you present in this world as yourself)

But you're so small and cute and don't think he doesn't notice the way your tail starts to wag out of control every time he shows you affection. It's snuggles and scritches time

Quickly figures out that it'll wear off on its own and (after confirming that your familiar has your body and it is therefore relatively safe) decides you're going on an adventure!

They're taking you on a walk, wherever you want to go

Cracks up when (acting on dog instincts) you pee on a nice patch of grass and immediately afterwards give him the most embarrassed look because you did it without thinking

Faust thinks it's fantastic. She's plopping herself on your back, and the chase the two of you lead Asra on through the crowded marketplace on the way to Selasi's booth is legendary

After you turn back, they keep commenting on what your ears/tail would be doing while you talk

Nadia

She can tell something's ... off

And it's not just the fact that there's suddenly a fluffy white puppy sitting where you normally do. It's the fact that said puppy seems like it's trying to communicate with her

She figures it out fairly quickly, and is rightfully alarmed

You're a dog right now! A cute one, granted, but not the person she likes to hold and kiss and talk to! If you're here, where's your body?!

This is all to cover for the fact that she's not very familiar with the care and keeping of dogs. She doesn't know what dogs need or how to provide it and she hates to admit it

... well, at least she knows what you need, and that's breakfast

She's terrified of losing track of you in the hustle and bustle of the Palace or of you getting crushed behind a heavy door, so she's carrying you down to the kitchens wrapped in silk and satin

She ends up taking most of her meetings out in the Gardens, where you're free to scamper and sniff and occasionally attempt to weigh in on state affairs (with limited success)

So, so very relieved when you turn back to normal

Didn't mind putting a collar on you as much as she expected to

Muriel

He felt it happen while his back was turned

When he saw you, he wasn't surprised, just disappointed

Or at least, that's what he'd like you to think. In actuality you're so adorable like this it's overwhelming him with cuteness, so of course he has to hide that behind a facepalm

No don't scamper around like that, you'll bump into something

No don't wag your tail at him like that, you'll strain something

No don't perk your ears at him like that, it's - it's - just don't do it

Inanna is delighted to play mother wolf to you. She's loping along next to you with the fondest sparkle in her eyes, standing protectively over you anytime you stop to sniff something

And she's also nudging you in Muriel's direction every chance she gets until he relents and picks you up to save your tiny legs

The woods are so much fun in this form it's not even funny

The chickens, not so much. They are not nearly as kind and almost bully you out of the clearing when you get too close to their chicken feed

This might be the first time Muriel has beef with his neighbors

Pretends it's no big deal when you poof back

Portia

Never before have you been so deeply grateful to Pepi's retained ability to speak. It saves you and Portia so much trouble and panic

Portia, thankfully, is the type of person who gets told the words "unexpected magic" and somehow hears "cool adventure time"

But first, daily tasks. She can put off work, but she can't sit still, so you're going to help her in the garden

That's right! She points at a spot, and you dig!

What follows is one of the most enjoyable mornings of your life. Dirt flies everywhere, Portia plants three new rows of carrots, and Pepi naps on the roof of the nearby shed

The bath afterwards is ... less enjoyable. The full-body scrub you get is delightful, but shivering under the weight of wet fur is not

You have never been scritched behind the ears like this and you never will again. You also doubt it would feel nearly as good in a human body, but why look a gift horse in the mouth?

Getting thoroughly brushed is Not Fun

Portia does go out of her way to find you a meal that is dog-safe and still appealing to human tastebuds, though, and she may or may not have tried eating without her hands to see what it's like

Lucio

He doesn't know what happened. He doesn't know until the end of the day when you poof back

What he does know is that right after you disappeared and he started to really panic, a perfectly adorable puppy appeared to keep him and Mercedes and Melchior company

He'll adopt you for the day while he looks for you

Mercedes and Melchior, thankfully, are quick to catch on to what happened and do a marvelous (if rambunctious) job of making sure you only get the best treatment

And oh, what amazing treatment it is. Lucio knows dogs like he knows the back of his hand

The ear scritches? Heavenly. The belly rubs? Mind blowing. Those suddenly appealing treats he hides in his pockets? Incredible

He can take one look at you and know exactly what your puppy body needs, in between his worried shrieks of your name

Mercedes and Melchior are eager to introduce you to the delights of being a dog. You learn how to fetch, chase, sniff, howl, play fight, chew shoes, and run off with Lucio's lunch!

Lucio will ask if you liked his natural musk when you switch back

[fictionadventurer]

After I fell down a YouTube rabbit hole of someone reviewing episodes of Wishbone, my favorite game has been coming up with books/short stories/plays that would make good Wishbone adaptations. The criteria for qualification are:

In the public domain

By an author that hasn't already had a story adapted by Wishbone

A leading male role for an adorable Jack Russell terrier to play

A plot that can be condensed down so the important plot points fit into a roughly fifteen-minute adaptation

Content that is or can be adapted to be suitable for a middle-school audience (though they seem not to have let that stop them as often as you'd think)

Lends itself to a companion story that parallels the plot or themes of the novel in a modern-day middle-school setting

With those criteria defined, the options I've come up with so far are:

North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell

Wishbone plays: Mr. John Thornton Adaptability: You'd have to cut everything except the strike and the love story. Start with Margaret coming to Milton and disliking Thornton. Have her meet the Higginses and dislike mill owners. Defend Thornton during the strike. Refuse the proposal. Show Higgins and Thornton coming to an understanding, suggest Thornton loses his money, have Margaret save him and propose. The book has way too much for such a short adaptation, but everything else by Gaskell doesn't have enough plot to adapt into a short version or doesn't have a male role for Wishbone. And it would be so cute to see Wishbone in Thornton's Victorian outfits. Modern-day story: At school, a situation comes up that divides students into two rival camps, and they have to learn how to work together and come to a compromise that benefits everyone.

The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde

Wishbone plays: Jack Worthing (you'd want a human actor for someone as lively as Algernon) Adaptability: Pretty high. Plays seem to work well for Wishbone adaptations, and you can tell the story in a few scenes. Modern-day story: Modern-day retelling focusing on the importance of honesty. One of the kids gets out of chores at home by pretending they have to help a new student with homework, but their lies come back to bite them.

"The Absence of Mr. Glass" by G.K. Chesterton

Wishbone plays: Father Brown (imagine him in a cute little clerical collar!) Adaptability: Great. Wishbone has done several detective stories, and short stories easily fit into the short time frame. I chose "Mr. Glass" because it doesn't involve a murder or a lengthy philosophical discussion, and lends itself well to a funny modern story about not jumping to conclusions Modern-day story: One of the kids' parents is acting strangely. The kids investigate and build up the clues until they believe some wild and terrible situation is happening. It turns out to be something innocent (like a surprise party)

Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw

Wishbone plays: Henry Higgins Adaptability: Pretty good. Plays work well, and the story is very condensable. Not sure how well a story about the intricacies of British accents would adapt to an American show, but it would still work if you make it about "learn fancy manners and don't talk like a hick". You could get some great puns out of the dog telling a human to "Speak!" Modern-day story: The classic school story plot of changing yourself to impress a potential love interest. The girl tries to doll herself up for a dance and learns it's better to be herself.

[hilsonologist]

COD MEN AND THEIR DOGS!

just my hcs for the dogs they would get!

TF141 + könig

gn!reader, fluff, no warnings really, adopt dont shop y’all !! , gifs not mine! can u tell im a dog person

cavalier king charles spaniel!

- didn’t plan on getting a dog until he came home and found you with a little cavalier pup in your lap

- a sweet girl with an old lady name like marjorie

- wasn’t super affectionate towards her until he was napping like an old man in his recliner and she curled up on his lap

- he woke up and acted annoyed, looked around to see if you were there then looked back at her and couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he pet her.

- life changed

- this dog is precious to him

- only the best brands of food, most reputable groomers, always has her favorite treats stocked up, wouldn’t trust anyone to watch her.

- you thought you loved this dog? john loves her 10 times more.

- christmas cards with your dog

- wedding pics with your dog

- she was def in your wedding

- the dog is queen of the house and you’re both totally fine with that

- your guys’ child tbh

a blue staffordshire bull terrier

- wanted to get you a guard dog, you insisted on adopting from a shelter

- was looking for a big mean scary looking dog but said he didn’t like their ‘attitudes’ (leave it to simon.)

- almost left empty handed but a little staffy caught your eye.

- stole your heart immediately the little guy was wagging his tail and sitting patiently at the kennel door. when the shelter staff explained he was a rescue from dog fights and had some temperament issues so he wasn’t easily adoptable he stole ghost’s heart.

- saw himself in the dog

- needless to say you took home that little staffy

- surprisingly patient with the pup and his behavioral issues

- he nipped at ghost once out of nerves and you prepared for the worst but ghost backed off to give him space instead

- invests in a lot of training for him, will switch trainers if he finds their methods are too hard on your pup

- i think the dog would bring you two closer and let him open up more, especially as the training goes on and there’s noticeable progress

- brings out a different side of ghost tbh, much more vulnerable and happy. not a care in the world when he’s with that dog

- remembers the adoption date and literally takes the dog for a day out, a (pup friendly) meal, a run around the park, a new toy, and finally a fancy ass treat when you’re all back home together

2 scottish terriers

- would not choose to own a dog per say, he basically is one doesn’t need another

- you already had dogs when you started dating and he would never ask you to get rid of them, they were your babies and you made that clear when you blabbered about them non stop your first date

- never saw himself settling down so seriously so he didn’t think much of it

- now he lives with two dogs, scottish terriers funny enough

- acts like he doesn’t like them

- calls them tweedledee and tweedledum

- definitely frantically researches if the dogs can have a bite of his dinner and gives them some if they can. not because the food is bad but because its so good he wants them to experience it too

- new dog toys keep appearing that you didn’t buy but soap insists it wasn’t him

- gets jealous when they’re on your lap getting all your attention

- you have to pet him too

- you went on a trip once and he stayed with the dogs, when you came back they were all sleeping in your bed

dalmatian

- no rhyme or reason for this one he just gives me a dalmatian vibe

- would probably have a male dog named pongo like from 101 dalmatians

- got the dog before you met i think

- loves playing fetch with him

- takes the dog on runs regularly

- absolutely dresses him up for halloween

- brags about your dog a lot

- probably has a pic of you and the dog sleeping as his lock screen or something

- pls take pics of the dog to send to him while he’s deployed or to show him when he gets home

dachshund

- you guys adopted him together a little after you first were engaged

- he named it zerstörer ( destroyer )

- runt of the litter

- definitely buys him little shirts

- “zerstörer nein!! drop my mask!!”

- has lost many masks to zerstörer

- this dog is a menace but könig loves him

- zerstörer runs your house like an evil monarch

- “mein schatz you can’t be mad at him…he is so little and cute…”

- pray you don’t have kids bc you guys will be walked all over by them könig is a sucker

- actually gets upset when someone calls him a wiener dog

- “nein. zerstörer is no wiener.😒😒”

- carrying him around all sassy like

[jungle-angel]

😲 more prompts!! omg ❤️‍🩹 can we get 1 and 17 for bob, please?

Oh honey absolutely!!!!!!! I just watched The Caine Mutiny Court Martial and needless to say, it did very, very unholy things to me (lol).

Your poor husband hadn't stopped coughing since he had gotten home from the party at the hotel last night, the wetness having settled in his chest and offering him no relief from the bone cracking coughing.

"Still feeling terrible Admiral Floyd?" you chuckled, kissing his warm forehead.

"I think I need a doctor," Bob croaked, finally having a chance to take in a breath.

You kissed him again, not caring in the least if you got sick. Bob reached out, his gentle hand caressing your bump to feel the kicking of the baby boy who was just weeks away from being born. "Sweetheart, I don't want you both getting sick," he groaned.

"Bob I already checked with your sister," you assured him. "She said if it happens alot more than you think. The best she can do is keep an eye on it."

"I know, I'm just being overprotective," he told you before another round of hacking began.

You drew the duvet over him and wiped away the sweat from his forehead with a rag you kept in the bathroom. You should've known that winter was prime season for sicknesses if your students at Auggie and Patrick's Waldorf School had taught you anything.

"Do you wanna go to the urgent-care clinic up the road?" you asked.

"Maybe Mickey can bring me?" Bob asked. "Unless the doc's still doing house calls."

"Here," you said, pulling a pair of jeans, his blue button-down and his navy blue Carhardt jacket out of the closet. "Get these on and I'll call either Mickey or Jake to take you to urgent-care."

Bob hummed a weak response as he slipped into a fresh set of clothes. Sure enough, both Mickey and Jake had shown up while Phoenix had come by to keep you company.

**************

"Take another deep breath for me," the doctor told him.

Bob took another deep breath as the Navy doctor listened to his heart and lungs, the crackling in the airways obvious enough to indicate an infection.

"Well, the good news is that it's treatable," the doctor told him. "You'll have to be on antibiotics for a week, taken with food and absolutely no dairy until this thing has cleared."

"Damnit," Bob silently mouthed. Growing up on a ranch all his life had made him a fiend for milk, cheese and yogurt, but getting this infection cleared was top priority.

"Scrip will be available at the PX pharmacy and can be picked up anytime," the doctor told him. "I highly suggest you go home and get some rest in the meantime."

"Thanks doc," Bob said before gathering his jacket and the slip to leave.

He followed Jake and Mickey both to Jake's truck, wanting nothing more than to get home and rest and trying to suppress the cough that was still rumbling in his lungs.

"You sound like you need a shot of whiskey and bed," Jake chuckled.

"Fuck you Hangman," Bob groaned, laughing a little.

*************

"Mommy! Mommy! Daddy's home!! Daddy's Home!!!" Auggie chirped when he saw the truck pulling into Jake's driveway and letting Bob out.

You hoisted yourself out of the cozy window bench where you and Auggie had been reading, the fire crackling away in the fireplace while the snow fell outside and while Natasha had been preparing lunch in the kitchen.

Bob opened the front door and immediately Jock, the little black Scottish terrier, had jumped from Auggie's lap to paw at Bob's leg, his little tartan sweater keeping out the harsh winter cold that blew in through the front door.

"Hi sweetheart," you said, taking each other in your arms before he started coughing again.

You kissed his cold, reddened cheeks before Auggie came bounding in from the living room. "Daddy, you sick?" he asked.

"Uh huh," Bob answered, scooping up his son and kissing his cheek in return. "Gonna go lie down."

You helped Bob upstairs with Jock following you, letting him crawl right back under those covers, shuddering from the cold but brief walk into the house. Jock yipped a little before crawling in beside his master, licking Bob's cheeks and making him laugh a little before you kissed your husband.

"Auggie what are you doing?" you chuckled.

"I've gotta take care of Daddy," the bespectacled five year old announced proudly.

You laughed a little upon seeing Auggie in his little doctor's uniform that had been his Halloween costume, carrying a ziploc bag full of the first aid items you kept around the house.

"Ok now Daddy, open your mouth and stick out your tongue," Auggie demanded.

Bob playfully stuck his tongue out at Auggie but didn't open his mouth.

"No Daddy, stop doing that lizard thing," Auggie told him, pretending to be stern. "I gotta look into your mouth and see what made you sick."

You were biting your knuckles, resisting the urge to laugh.

"Yep!" Auggie exclaimed, shining the flashlight into Bob's open mouth. "You've got worms."

"Worms?!" you blurted out, unable to control your laughter anymore.

"Looks like we've gotta operate Daddy," Auggie concluded. "But before we do I gotta have you throw up into this."

Bob was laughing and coughing all at once as Auggie held up Jock's empty water dish near the bed he shared with Dolly, the little Pekingese puppy who was probably playing with Diedre in her room.

"Alright Doctor Auggie, out, out, let Daddy rest," you told him.

Bob pulled you in for another kiss, still laughing once the coughing had subsided.

"Daddy," chirped a quiet little voice from the three year old standing in the doorway in his little dark green turtleneck and denim overalls.

"What's up Patrick?" Bob croaked.

"Mommy said you sick, so I brought you Teddy," Patrick told him.

Bob was melting at the sight of the fuzzy, cuddly little teddy bear that Patrick had in his hands. It was the same one you and Bob had gotten when you had taken Auggie and Patrick to their very first Red Sox game, a fuzzy little vintage bear with curly fur and his own little red, white and blue Red Sox jersey and little wooden bat. Though the bat was still sitting on Patrick's dresser, the fuzzy little bear had been the one stuffie Patrick always snuggled with when he was sick.

"C'mere buddy," Bob croaked again, lifting his little son up onto the bed and giving him the tightest hug he could give him. "And thank you."

Patrick reached up with his little hands to grab Bob's face, planting a big wet kiss right on his father's cheek, jumping off the bed and waddle-running out of the room to go eat lunch.

"You ok?" you asked Bob.

"I'm alright sweet pea," Bob assured you. "I thought it was cute that they tried."

You smiled at your husband, gently caressing his cheek as he melted into your touch, only to be interrupted by the growling of his belly.

"You hungry now?" you chuckled.

Bob nodded. "Can I have some hot chicken soup?"

"Anything for you Bob," you answered, kissing his cheek before you went down to the kitchen to get him some of the hot chicken soup that Phoenix had made.

You returned just a minute later with the mug full of soup, steaming and hot for Bob and a thick crust of grainy bread for him to eat with it. When he had finished, you crawled in beside him, his hand pulling the duvet over the both of you as you turned out the lights and settled in with Jock having moved to the foot of the bed and warming your feet.

[weaselle]

i've seen this before but i just now heard some people talking about it so i'm going to weigh in.

(I don't sit around day dreaming about fighting animals or anything, but i live under a hill with coyotes and a mountain lion and i've done a fair amount of wandering around where the wild things are, so this kind of thing does cross my mind)

First of all, we're talking a fight not an altercation. I think there's a chance i could drive off just about any of these animals, by bluffing them or acting weird enough or getting them to give a little ground which often turns into giving more ground and going away. I've navigated interactions with wild animals before, and you can usually make yourself seem like not enough of a threat and yet also too much trouble, and end things before they really begin.

What we're talking about is after these tactics fail and you are already in a physical fight.

And for the purposes of this i'm going to say this includes fighting for your life against a predatory attack -- there's a big difference between driving off a large predator that is just roughing you up because it's mad you're in its territory, and one that has already decided its for sure going to kill you, and we're going to say "what if the worst should happen". So:

rat

house cat

goose

medium sized dog

eagle

large dog are all a yes from me. Large dog and eagle are trouble but doable -- i'm very experienced with large dogs and i grew up around geese and the eagle is going to be the same as the goose but you'll walk away with more significant injuries. Like, an eagle weighs the same as a jack russell terrier and has hollow bones, if i can get a hold of it i can end it, but i'm probably gonna need, like, so many stitches. Same with the large dog, i'll likely need to visit the hospital after (and i'd be real sad) but i could get it done if i had to.

now. The unknowns. These are all animals that there's some chance, however small, i might survive.

wolf

king cobra

crocodile

kangaroo

Wolf. So. I work with dogs professionally, I have had to break up several dog fights, i'm comfortable physically interacting with very large dogs, and that's why i think i could definitely win a fight against a dog if i had to. I've also come face to face with a wild wolf in the woods (which was pretty damn scary) and i think there's a chance i could win against a single wolf basically the same way i would win against a large dog, but also, wolves are not dogs, they literally kill other animals all the time, they're like, professionals at it, so. Maybe.

King cobra, yeah, i can for sure kill this poor snake with my bare hands, but whether or not i can do it without getting a lethal dose of venom stuck into me is a big coin flip. Is it winning if you kill the snake but you also die? not to me

Crocodile just depends on so much. I mean probably not. Like, a large adult Saltwater or Nile croc? absolutely not, nope, no way, i'm for sure deadzo. But crocs come in a lot of sizes and shapes. And many of them sort of keep growing their whole life, so, a 5 and a half foot croc might be an adult or i could be facing an adult crocodile of the same species that weighs more than 2,000 pounds.

Gharial crocs can also get way bigger than i can do anything with, but they have a really thin snout designed to catch fish. Other species of crocs also have smaller, thinner mouths and specialize in fish, like the central african slender-snouted croc, which do not get as large as their nile cousins. And various smaller species of crocodile exist that might be adults at only three or four feet long.

Most crocodiles enter tonic immobility like sharks, so if i can get it on its back for a couple breaths it will go sort of unconscious, and if it's not too big i might be able to make that happen. Of course, even if it only weighs like 40 pounds, if we're in water that's deeper than i am tall it can just latch on and keep my head under the surface... so a lot depends on what kind of croc, what size, and what specific ground/water environment we're in. The answer is, probably not. But it depends.

Kangaroo. So that leaves this guy. Basically, this is like fighting a soccer player who has a short-bladed knife in each hand and a spike on each foot. The kicks are hard, and i'm getting cut up real good, but there's some chance i could win. Or not. It kind of depends on the individual. Some adult kangaroos are smaller than me and some are bigger than me and i do know how to fight but then again i definitely fight less often than the kangaroo does and it has weapons and i don't, so. Likely not. But maybe. Depends. Also depends on what you mean by "win". It definitely doesn't want to eat me and they don't usually fight to the death -- I've seen a person punch a large kangaroo hard enough to make it change its mind about wanting to fight. i kinda think i might be able to achieve a similar outcome.

Okay, now the rest of these are just crazy! Chimps are a big no, they can do everything i can do but stronger, better, and with fangs.

A gorilla? If they do decide you have to be ended, gorillas are an even worse opponent, there's just no way. A male gorilla has jaw muscles the same size as my biceps. They have a bite force twice as strong as a lion's. They can weigh more than 400 pounds. There's absolutely no way.

And there's literally nothing an unarmed human could do against a determined lion, brown bear, or elephant. Less than zero chance if one of those things decides you have to die.

look, the smallest of those last three would be a lioness. Here's three big strong men testing their strength against a single lioness

dude. She's not even trying very hard. A wild lioness that decided an unarmed person was food? There's basically nothing you can do once she takes action, all your options depend on doing something to make her change her mind before she gets a hold of you. It's the same for a brown bear, and lmao, an elephant could literally throw a car at you. An elephant can weigh six thousand pounds and lowkey has to move carefully around a person to not kill them accidentally.

idk who these 6-17% think they are, but some of these "yes" answers up on that poll are insane.

[smutlord-supreme]

What would the COD MWII men do if they found out you had a stalker

[A little self indulgent peice since I had a scare last night. Getting stalked in like my specialty so let me know if you want a full length peice 🤪]

SFW short peice, COD men x GN! Reader, mostly platonic but can be read as romantic too.

Cw: Stalking

Price

-Price would be on top of it. Replacing locks, installing cameras anything to make you feel safe.

-He would make an effort to spend time with you more often, pick you up from work, drop you off ect. And when he couldn't he would try to get freinds to stay with you so you didn't have to be alone

-He would want you to call the cops and report it but he wouldn't be pushy if it makes you uncomfortable.

-If he actually met your stalker he'd let them know, in no uncertain terms, that if they continued they would never walk again.

Graves

-Graves would probably get violent the fastest of anyone on this list. He seems possessive so anyone threatening 'his girl/boy/partner' would be a no go.

-He would push you to report it to the cops and I don't think he'd take no as an answer.

-He'd also want you to call off of work while he did some 'investigation' of his own.

-He might even come home with a German Shepard puppy so that you can have a 'guard dog' which would end up being spoiled

Ghost

-I thinking Ghost would be the most analytical of the group. Which may make you think he's just brushing it off at first, when he's really just thinking up solutions.

-You already have a guard dog so he sets out and buys motion activated flood lights and trail cameras.

-He'd make sure you didn't have to do anything, he'd call your boss, change your number, call the cops if you wanted. All so you don't have to worry.

-The day after telling him you'd wake up to a pantry stocked with your favorite treats (which Gaz delivered so that Ghost wouldn't have to leave you).

Soap

-Soap would freak out at first, he'd ask you a million questions and probably make you panic before apologizing.

-He'd run you and bath and call either Ghost or Price to ask for advice.

-After you're done the both of you would go to the hardware store and booby trap the house, Home Alone style. Which would make you laugh.

-He would also set real safety measures in place, Window locks, Cameras, Alert system you name it.

-He would spend every moment distracting you while the problem got fixed.

Gaz

-Normally silly Gaz would become very silent when you told him. Quietly anger radiating off of him.

-I headcannon Gaz as having had bad anger issues as a kid which he got under control as he got older.

-Gaz would get up and put you in the shower while he made phone calls. Putting on your comfort show when you got out and sitting on the couch with you, rubbing your shoulder absent-mindedly.

-There would be a knock at the door and it would be one of his old police buddies. Gaz would apologize because he knew it would be hard to tell what happened, but it was important to get this guy caught.

-He'd stay home with you when he could and using his connections he would do whatever he could to get you an escort when he wasn't.

-When whoever was stalking you got caught he would roast the shit out of what they looked like (petty I know) making you laugh.

Alejandro

-Alejandro would be very vocal almost immediately, comforting and coddling you before setting off to fix the problem.

-He would round up Rudy and go find the person himself. Verbally (and maybe just a little physically) threatening them.

-He'd get back to comforting you as fast as possible though. Assuring you that you're safe and no one could harm you.

-He'd be more protective, almost overbearing for a week or two. He doesn't want this to ever happen again

-Depending on how bad it was he might adopt a little yappy dog (chihuahua, rat terrier, Yorkie, you know the type) to act as a first warning system and companion.

Rudy

-Rudy would start comforting you immediately, before making calls to freinds.

-Both Rudy and Alejandro don't trust the local police and army so it narrows down the number of people that can help. He'd probably go straight to Los Vaqueros.

-He would make you some comforting food while he waits for Intel. Sitting on the couch to eat instead of the dining table like normal.

-When the call finally came that your stalker had been captured he would go down to the base to confront them himself. Causing a nasty black eye before Alejandro pulled him off.

-Afterwards he'd teach you how to shoot. He wants you to be innocent and pure, but not at the cost of your life

[espressoristretto-patronum]

A/N: English is not my first language, and my blogger skills (?) are poor, so proceed with caution!

Meet my MC!

My fanfiction on AO3: To me, she is the sun

Tori's character sheet by kiwiplaetzchen

Tori Lewis and Poppy by pheexblack

Tori Lewis (birthday's present ❤️) by myook

Tori Lewis (and other MCs) by myokk

Tori Lewis (Trick or treat's treat 🎃) by myook

Tori Lewis (and other MCs) by a-florable

Tori Lewis by ladyofsappho

Tori Lewis in girls group by acslytherpuff

Tori Lewis, Cassie and Garreth by acslytherpuff

Tori Lewis and Cassie 🌻 by acslytherpuff

Tori Lewis in group MCs by girl-named-matty

Tori Lewis by theladyofshalott1989

You can find how much Tori and Poppy are living in my mind rent free under the hashtags #Tori Lewis and #Tori x Poppy 😁

ABOUT HER

Name: Tori Lewis

Birthday: 14th June 1875

Birthplace: Turin, Italy

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Lesbian

House: Hufflepuff

Wand: Acaia wood, phoenix core, 12' length, quite bendy flexibility

Patronus: Jack Russell Terrier

Quidditch position: Seeker; Imelda practically begged her to join the Hufflepuff team because "I need a good competition in order to improve myself!"

Some extra facts!

Her name

Tori stands for Vittoria. Why Vittoria? Because she is half-British and half-Italian (from her mother's side) 🤌. I chose the name because I like to think that her parents thought about  Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom and King Vittorio Emanuele II of Italy, both sovereigns by the time of Tori's birth.

Why Turin?

Because well, it's my birthplace! Also, Turin is a special city: it has a lot of esoteric story. In a few words, this city joins London and San Francisco to create the triangle of Black Magic, but also the triangle of White Magic too with Lyon and Prague.

Future

Spouse: Poppy Sweeting (she IS wife)

Career: Auror and Natty is her partner, they're thick as thieves and menace to their superior

I think that Poppy's mission is still saving beasts from poachers, so I headcanon she is a sort of mix of Auror and magizoologist (guys, I have no idea about careers in wizard world lol)

Residence: Hogsmeade (I headcanon that since she is a Keeper, she doesn't want to live far away from Hogwarts, I'm also too in love with Hogsmeade)

My personal headcanons with future wife Poppy 💛

Even if they're in the same house and same bedroom, Poppy had never spoken to Tori before their first Beasts Class together because the last was often away and Poppy herself is a night owl, visiting Highwing or studying beasts, etc.

Poppy was also sure that the new fifth year will become like her schoolmates. Because sure, why the new cool, brave student will be friend with Peculiar Poppy? But fortunately Tori is such a good egg, kneazles can confirm.

Tori decided to kneel in front of the Graphorn (because we're not a monster, right?) following Poppy's example. It was Poppy that waited patiently for the mother dragon to take its egg back. It was Poppy that put down her wand when centaurs came to her. And of course, you should show respect to an Hippogriff before approaching.

That's why she chose to kneel. The Graphorn has fought well, it deserved respect.

Poppy felt in love first. Tori felt harder. Like she is kind of in denial for a while and then BOOM she falls and realises and she is panicking "what? Aaaaah what should I do now?!"

Poppy doesn't need protection but loves how protective Tori is.

Their love language is physical touch. Every single one. Surprise hugs from behind? Lovely! Forehead kiss? Adorable! Cuddles in the vivarium with beasts? The best!

Should I really say it? Poppy is an adorable little spoon and love to be wrapped in Tori's arms.

Tori is a golden retriever. Already from day one when Poppy asked to follow her in the forest.

Tori feel like she could die because of Poppy's cuteness, often screaming "STOP BEING SO CUTE AND SO KISSABLE I CAN'T FOCUS"

Poppy is a great cook, Tori isn't at all. But a few times she has tried to cook to cheer Poppy up. The result was messy but still edible and Poppy appreciated the efforts.

They're bad dancers but they don't care, they're having fun

I have a very sappy proposal headcanon.

Tori proposed to Poppy after a couple of months after graduation (lesbian couples move fast, okay?) and she decided to be extremely romantic.

She studied where and when to find Mooncalves' dance and saved the day on her calendar. When the day came, she took Poppy and flied on Highwing to the special place.

Poppy thought the surprise was the mooncalves' dance, instead she turned around and found Tori on her knees, with a ring in her hand. A very shining ring that a selvatic niffler has tried to steal before Poppy could say yes, jumping from a bush the moment the ring sparkled under the moonlight. The little beast had caused little chaos but fortunately they catched it before was too late. With the retrieved ring in one hand, and the beast thief in the other, Tori asked grinning "do you still want to marry meee?"

I've surely more facts and headcanons for my MC, but I think this post is already long enough!

Anddd that was my MC! If you've read so far, thank you so much!

[rumbelleshowdown]

-

Author: LikeASparkInTheDark

Group: C

Prompts: Sunset. She doesn't "like" you! Size matters.

-

Second Hand Assumptions

“Father, where’s Tilly?” 

Moe French turned, looking at his daughter blankly, “She was just here, I almost tripped over her loading the truck.”

Belle bit her lower lip continuing to look through the store. She had left briefly to pick up the keys to the library from the mayor.

She didn’t bring Tilly along because she wasn’t sure how dog friendly her new town was, she left her with her father hoping Tilly’s separation anxiety wouldn’t spike.

“I can’t find her anywhere, where is she?” Belle’s voice was panicked. She was in a new town, and no one knew her or Tilly except her father. 

Moe’s mouth was in a grim line, “I don’t know Belle, she might have just snuck out.”

“Were there any customers while I was gone?” She asked, trying to think of an explanation for her missing Australian Terrier.

“No customers, but that bloody Mr. Gold was here to remind me I was late on rent,” Moe paused thoughtfully, “maybe he saw her as an opportunity for collateral.”

Belle’s eyes widened, “He wouldn’t hurt her would he?”

“That man is capable of anything.” Her father’s voice was ominous.

“I need to find her,” Belle grabbed Tilly’s leash before running out of the shop, her heels clicking on the tile.

He felt slightly guilty but that dog held Belle back from so many things, she’d refuse to go out because “Tilly needs me”, it couldn’t be left alone for more than an hour. Belle would be better off without it, at least that’s what he told himself when he’d taken its collar and nudged it out the door.

“Higher dad!” Henry shouted.

“Be careful!” Arran shouted at his son and grandson, from the park bench he sat at. They had been playing at the park, but his bad leg started to throb and he needed to sit down. 

“Wait!” Henry shouted.

Henry squinted looking with each upward swing before he started dragging his feet in the dirt.

Arran followed his eyeline, for a moment he thought it was a fat squirrel running through the grass. 

“I’ll catch it!” Henry jumped from the swing and ran towards the animal.

“No Henry, it could have rabies!” Neal shouted, chasing after him.

Arran quickly rose from the bench limping to where Henry was crouching down. 

Arran wrinkled his nose, “What kind of rat is this?” He asked as he looked at the tiny creature, it wasn’t his idea of a dog.

“It’s not a rat grandpa, it’s a dog, I wonder why it's alone.” Henry looked around the park to see if there was anyone around.

“A dog? That's not a proper dog, size matters with dogs, this is a rodent of some kind. Now a sheep dog that's a real dog.” 

He turned to his son, raising a finger, “Do you remember Colonel?”

Neal grinned at the memory, “Yeah, I used to ride on his back like a horse.”

“It’s not wearing a collar.” Henry announced.

“Well what should we do? It’s too late for the vet to be open to scan for a chip.” Arran frowned.

It had pointed ears and long tan and black fur with a scruffy face. It’s tongue was hanging out and it was panting in his grandson’s arms.

“We’ll look around the park to see if anyone is looking for a dog.” Neal suggested.

“Here Grandpa.” 

Arran balked in protest, but Henry was already shoving the dog into his hands.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” 

“Hold her close grandpa she’s scared!” Henry advised before they ran off.

He leaned onto his good leg and raised the dog to eye level.

“Listen here you little rat, There will be no urinating on my suit, no leaving nasty little bugs on me, and no-”

“Let go of that dog!”

Arran's head snapped from the dog's face to the face of a beautiful stranger.

“I said unhand that dog this instant!” 

“Excuse me?” He held the dog closer to make sure the stranger wasn’t some dog napper, though she wasn’t wearing a spotted fur coat.

He was struck at her beauty, the sunset setting off the auburn in her hair that fluttered in the wind, big blue eyes glaring at him, her lips a lovely shade of red, pursed in annoyance. Before  he realized that she had said something else in her memorable accent.

“I’m sorry wha-, your dog?” 

“Yes MY dog, or did you not know that when you stole her from my father’s shop?”

Arran’s head tilted slightly to the side, “What?” He scoffed, amused at her accusation.

“My father told me all about you Mr. Gold, how you walk around this town like you own it. I didn’t think you’d use a dog for collateral.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest, relieved at finding Tilly, but angry at finding her with Mr. Gold. She wanted to snatch her from his grasp but she didn’t want the man to retaliate and toss her into the pond.

Mr. Gold seemed amused at her words.

“I didn’t steal your dog, do you think she’d like me this much if I had?” He jerked his head to gesture to Tilly, who was unfortunately cuddling into the crook of his arm.

It was Belle’s turn to scoff, “She doesn’t “like” you!” 

Arran’s amusement grew as the woman stomped her foot with that argument, making her skirt flutter. 

Fortunately Neal and Henry returned from their sweep of the park.

“Hi Belle!” Henry greeted the woman with a wave.

The woman, Belle, smiled warmly, and Arran felt his heart stutter in his chest. He was glad that smile was not aimed at him, or else he might act in foolishly.

“Um, hi, who are you?” Neal asked, raising an eyebrow.

“This is Belle, she’s the new librarian. I saw her on our field trip to city hall today with grandma.” Henry answered.

“This woman is accusing me of stealing her dog.” Arran said at the same time.

“Steal your dog? My grandpa would never steal someone’s dog.” Henry's brow furrowed at the thought.

“Your grandpa?” 

“Yeah, my dad. He may be many things, but he isn’t a dog thief.” The other man, Henry’s father grinned at her.

Belle was trying to catch the trail of thought that had gone through her mind, flustered she turned her gaze back to Mr. Gold, “May I have Rumplestiltskin back please?”

At its name the dog began wiggling in Arran’s grasp until he held her out to Belle.

“Rumplestiltskin?” He couldn’t bite back that smirk that he knew was dancing on his lips.

“That’s a weird name for a girl.” Henry piped up.

Belle took Tilly in her arms, holding her tightly against her sweater, giving her a squeeze, “That’s what the shelter named her, I call her Tilly for short.”

Mr. Gold seemed amused as he watched her slip Tilly’s leash on.

 “Henry I better get you home to your mom” Neal nodded a farewell to Belle and gave his father a parting hug.

Belle held Tilly close to her as Mr. Gold hugged his son tightly, and then gave Henry a large hug too. Surely a dognapper wouldn't be such a family man.

“Love you grandpa!” Henry shouted over his shoulder as he and Neal walked away.

Mr. Gold’s smile was rather lovely, Belle mused to herself, before she realized his attention was now solely on her.

“I’m sorry for accusing you of stealing Tilly.” She murmured softly, feeling ashamed that she had judged Mr. Gold just on rumors from her father alone.

“I’m sorry your father felt the need to bestow that assumption onto you.” He shrugged.

After fidgeting with Tilly’s leash Belle broke the silence between them, “Your wife must be ready for you to come home, I understand if you’ve got to leave.”

“My wife?” he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips.

“Yeah, isn’t Mary Margaret your wife? Henry said it was his grandma that he was with earlier.”

Mr. Gold was trying very hard not to laugh outright in Belle’s face, “Miss French, I assure you, Mary Margaret is his grandma on his maternal side.”

Belle felt the blood drain from her face as he laughed.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go find a bridge to jump from.” Belle muttered.

“How about, instead,” Arran started, taking a tentative step towards her, petting the top of Tilly’s head.

“There's a restaurant just out of town called Marco's,  how about we take Tilly for dinner on the patio? That’ll give you a chance to form your own opinion about me instead of having a secondhand one.”

Belle tried to repress the smile that was bursting to break across her face, “I’d like that.” 

Arran Gold smiled and he held out the crook of his arm to Belle. She let the smile take over her face and she slipped her arm through his, with Tilly cradled in her other arm, they left the park together.

-

[adobe-outdesign]

Have you reviewed the lilipup line already? If not what do you think?

I want to like Lillipup more than I actually do because it is so very cute, with its big eyes and little dot mouth. Lillipup, like the rest of this line, is based off of a terrier (most likely a Yorkshire terrier), which will become more evident as it evolves. The fur around its face is unique, and makes it stand out a bit from the rest of the line.

However, there are just a bunch of strange design choices here. Like, the face is so flat there's just straight up no muzzle, not even a line indicating one. It also is the only one of the line to have a red nose... for some reason.

Also, the dark blue patch on the back is meant to tie into the rest of the line, but it looks out of place here; I don't think it would've been a problem to just let the dark blue come in at the second stage, and if you really wanted blue you could've had some blue accents elsewhere on the body, like the ears or paws. Speaking of the paws, the way they have a division but are all one color is also strange; why not use the cream from the face to better balance the colors? Don't get me wrong, the design as a whole isn't bad, but all of the details kind of throw me on it.

Herdier's probably my favorite out of this line. I've heard some people say it's too similar to an actual dog, but I think the combo of the shepherd's cloak-like fur on the back and the design of the facial fur are pretty interesting. The colors are better balanced here, with the cream fur drawing attention to the face while the dark blue eyes and nose balance the color of the back fur. The stern expression is also fun and really gives it a good sense of personality. It's nothing crazy or anything, but its a pretty solid design all around.

Stoutland takes what Herdier has going on and cranks it up to 11 with an absolutely insane mustache that would make an Alakazam feel ashamed. It also majorly grows out its cloak, becoming much shaggier in the process; kind of like a Newfoundland.

Visually, it shares a lot of the same elements as Herdier, with the cream drawing attention to its magnificent mustache, dark blue fur that completely covers its body, and an even sterner expression. However, I think the body becomes a bit too shapeless due to the amount of fur on it; even an actual Newfoundland has a good amount of anatomy under the fur, whereas Stoutland is weirdly rectangular. (The difference is the fur going down to the feet instead of stopping higher up around the stomach, and the back sloping down in the middle.)

Also, I'm not a huge fan of the coat becoming greenish at the base. I get wanting to break up that color a bit, but something more blue would've been better. The lighter color also probably should've been further down, as you can't see much of the dark blue due to the mustache covering most of it.

Anyway, these are some pretty good dogs, minus a few weird visual quirks. The concept and execution are super simple, but each stage manages to be unique despite that. These guys should be plenty pleasing for anyone who's a fan of terriers, that's for sure.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Dany, you know how I feel about that “greedy robber baron” and his unbelievably large hands 😭 Damn near twisted my ankle running to your ask box to humbly request either 1 (tiny hands in big hands) or 3 (cold hands in warm hands) or 13 (linking hands together during sex) or 28 (grabbing the others hand so they don’t fall) I CAN’T DECIDE, they all make me think of himmmm. I’ll let you pick whichever one gets your imagination sparked. And yes I’m aware that you might choose to do a combination of some of them or perhaps all of them, and well, that’s just a risk I’m willing to take 😏 THANK YOU

Send me a touch prompt!

idk why but you saying 'that's just a risk i'm willing to take' made me think of this

Anyway we're back to

Shocking, I know

Warnings: All fluff; period-typical attitudes toward hygiene and skincare; explicit sexual content - vaginal sex

“Oh—Nora May Russell!”

You called after your daughter in vain—the young girl was already chasing your Fox Terrier, Lolly, through the otherwise undisturbed park snow. George was ahead of you, scooping her fallen mitten up from the snow and catching hold of Nora’s arm. He whistled sharply for Lolly, tutting as he knelt in front of Nora to get the glove back onto her chilled little hand. You caught up to them with a sigh, shaking your head at the child. 

“You need to keep your mittens on,” George chastised softly, “Or you’ll have no fingers left, and then how shall you pet Lolly?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, forcing your stern expression as Nora glanced between you in shock. 

“Your father is right,” You insisted. “Are you going to lose your mittens again?” 

“No!” She squeaked. 

“Good girl,” George patted her cheek softly before straightening, nodding her toward Lolly again. “Go on.” 

You sighed softly, watching her go before glancing around the otherwise empty park. 

“I still think we should’ve brought her veiled hat. The sun’s even worse reflecting off of the snow,” You argued, grasping your skirts to keep from trampling them through the snow. “If she blemishes—”

“It’ll give her character.” 

“You know that society won’t see it as such.” 

“You know that I don’t give a wit what society thinks.” 

“And that’s all well and good, but it’s never quite that easy—Oh!” You gasped as you lost your footing, sucking in a stunned breath as George caught hold of your hand with one of his own, hooking his other arm around your back to steady you. Your sigh tapered into a chuckle, smiling up at George. “Nice catch.” 

“Yes, it certainly was.” 

You raised your hand, lazily slapping his chest, and grinning as he used his hold on you to tug you even closer once you regained your footing. 

“How long have you got?” 

“Another few minutes,” George grimaced. 

“There’s nothing to fret about,” You insisted. “I’m glad you could get away from the office at all. I can hardly remember the last time I saw you when the sun was up.” 

“Am I changed terribly?” 

His teasing made your face go warm with embarrassment, and you turned your attention back to Nora and Lolly. 

“There’s no need to be facetious,” You grumbled. George leaned in, pressing a warm, tender kiss to your chilled cheek. 

“I’ve missed you, too, you know.” 

You couldn’t help the slight smile that pulled your lips, and you gently nudged his shoulder with your own. 

“I’m sure you tell your mistress the same.” 

“I’ve no mistress, only work.” 

“Work is your mistress, and these days, she hardly spares you for a night.” 

“Is that what you want of me?” He pulled you to stop, turning you to face him. “Merely a night?” 

“You make me sound terribly short-sighted.” 

“I know you far better than to ever believe that of you.” He dipped his head, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. You hummed softly, cupping his cheek and feeling the slight bristle of his beard through your gloves. He sighed softly through his nose as he drew away. 

“I’m afraid I must go.”

“Go, then,” You urged softly. “Keep your scarf wrapped tightly as you walk back—and have some tea when you reach the office. The last thing you need is a chill.” 

“I will.” 

George caught your lips in another gentle kiss before he drew away, whistling for Lolly again. You winced slightly at the sharp sound, and smiled as Nora raised her hands to press to her ears. 

“Father!” She whined. “Too loud!” 

“I am sorry.” He crouched in front of her, grasping her chin gently. “Listen to your mother, and keep your mittens on. Alright?” 

“Alright.” 

George pressed a kiss to her forehead before straightening, patting her cheek gently. He turned, blowing you another kiss before turning away, striding toward the park’s entrance. You watched him go, keeping one eye on him, and another on Nora and Lolly. 

-- 

The knock on your door made you groan aloud. You were so tired. Nora had run you ragged at the park, and Lolly had gotten soaked when she charged into a fountain, determined to get the best of a duck that she had been chasing for the better part of the afternoon. You sighed heavily as you considered who it could possibly be. Likely your housekeeper with Nora in tow, demanding one more story before she went to bed.

“Yes?” You finally called out, turning from you vanity to watch the door open. Your brows rose as you spotted George, smiling as he lingered in the doorway. 

“May I come in?” 

“Of course,” You nodded. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” 

“Clay and I finished early.”

“You’ve eaten?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” You stood from your vanity, ignoring the slight chill in the room and forgoing your robe as you reached for George. You grasped his cheeks, drawing him in for a kiss as he slid his hands across your hips. He leaned back after a moment, tutting softly and reaching up to take your hands in his. 

“You’re chilled, darling.”

“I’m alright,” You insisted, shaking your head. George hummed, pressing kisses to your cold knuckles. 

“I can call for Williams,” He murmured, words and beard tickling your skin, “And have him come and put another log on the fire.” 

“I’m alright!” You chuckled. “Truly.” 

“You’re certain?” 

“Yes. Come,” You urged, grasping George’s hand and leading him toward the bed, “Tell me how your day was.” 

“You really want to know?” 

“Of course I do.” You climbed onto the bed, drawing your feet up and patting the bed beside yourself. 

“It’s terribly uninteresting.” He lowered himself down beside you, gently tugging the sleeve of your nightgown aside to bare your shoulder. Your stomach fluttered as he lowered his head, pressing a kiss to the skin before it could cool. 

“I’m sure it’s—It’s not as bad as all that,." 

“I know that it is.” 

He lifted his head, trailing the tip of his nose along your jaw. 

“George.”

“Would you rather you did not have my company for the night?” 

You turned your head, resting your forehead against his. “You know that I want you for more than that.” 

“For much more?” 

“For always.”

-- 

You closed your eyes, biting your lip to keep from moaning aloud at the feeling of George’s steady thrusts. He gave a harsh shove of his hips, and your mouth fell open, a soft moan falling from your lips. You turned your head from him, embarrassment nearly overtaking your arousal. 

“Why do you hide from me?” George murmured. “Hmm?” 

“George, please,” You breathed. “Someone will hear.” 

“Let them hear.” He planted his knees, hips seeming to thrust with greater purpose as he grasped your hands, intertwining your fingers. “Am I not the master of this house?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you, the mistress?” 

“Yes.”

“Then your pleasure is nothing to be ashamed of. Let them hear you. Better yet—" George's lips brushed against the shell of your ear. "Let me hear you."