#if you're wondering who she is you can click the link in the description

[generic-sonic-fan]

Metamorphosis

What's in a name? The robot once known as "Metal Sonic" muses on the subject upon receiving a new paint job after fleeing its former master.

(an excerpt from Complex Inquiries.)

Humans in this region of the globe, according to Unit MS-1’s observations, had names originating from languages outside their own culture. These verbal sounds were divorced from their literal meanings. There was no object associated with “Marlene”, for example; only people, living or having once lived. 

Mobians, meanwhile, took names from words in their primary language that they hoped to embody. Rose, for beauty. Charmy, short for Charming. Such names were decided, to the extent of Unit MS-1’s knowledge, by the individual in question. 

There were exceptions to both trends. Sometimes there were humans named after embodied terms, such as Hope, an apparent group member of Marlene’s. Sometimes Mobian chose human-sounding names to replace or supplement their original ones, as Amy Rose did. The inverse was Miles “Tails” Prower, born with a human name, with a Mobian name given to him by the one who adopted him as a brother. 

The name “Sonic” was distinct, evocative, self-explanatory, perfect. Perfect. Perfect, and taken.  Perhaps like a human name, that name now had the connotation of referring only to people, or in this case, one person and one person alone. The problem was that such a connotation would outlive its pathetic bearer. Even with his skull split and his entrails spilled out across the pavement, the image of Sonic the Hedgehog would persevere in the brains of all organic creatures, in books, in film, until perhaps hundreds of years had passed. 

Dr. Ivo Robotnik had cemented a similar persistence during his attack on Station Square and his act of terror in the utilization of the Eclipse Cannon. There were no civilians under the Robotnik name. Those who had survived and prospered after the raid on the space station ARK had modified their surnames. Furthermore, “Eggman”, Dr. Ivo Robotnik’s Mobian-given name, possessed an even stronger image in the public consciousness, spurring fear whenever any organic had whispered it in Unit MS-1’s presence. 

No, Unit MS-1 could not hope to seize Sonic’s name when it killed him, no more than it could repurpose any component of the name of Dr. Ivo Robotnik. Either association would be deeply flawed. 

It would have to create a more lasting name than either. 

—

The airbrush was no longer of any use, not for the precision Unit MS-1 sought. Marlene produced a set of paintbrushes from one of the drawers against the wall. Under her eyes were bags, indicating the disruption to her circadian rhythm that she had instigated the night prior to apply the base gradient to its frame.

It had inquired about whether her fatigue would affect her work. She promised it would not. All prior data supported that her claim was truthful.

Marlene dipped the head of the brush into the tray of paint, before Unit MS-1 registered the pressure against its calf plating. 

—

Unit MS-1 was not a human. Never had such a term been applicable to it. A human was someone named Dr. Ivo Robotnik or Marlene. Organics nearly double its height, with small heads and hands yet thick limbs. Humans were foreign, unpredictable, unknowable. 

Unit MS-1 was not Mobian. To be Mobian was to have fur, or scales, or quills. A Mobian roboticised was no longer referred to as a Mobian, but a robot, or a tragedy. Unit MS-1 was not a tragedy. Its proportions matched that of a Mobian, but every other aspect of its frame could not be further from. 

There were some words that were neither names nor objects in the primary language of this region. They were words from an extinct language that had been adopted, maintaining their meaning but resisting literal translation. 

Et Cetera- “plus the rest”.

Ergo- “therefore”.

Per Se- “by itself”. 

Embodying but not literal. Evocative, but not derivative. Neither value nor name, but something entirely different. And in this instance, perhaps it could be something new. 

—

"Refer to this unit as Neo," it typed onto the screen.

[schrodingerspsycho]

There IS a Book Club - Oneshot

Pairing - Van Palmer x Reader

Warnings - Angst and fluff, hurt/comfort, happy ending

Word Count - 1.8k

Summary - You're subscribed to a horror novel book club service, and Van finds your newest book upsetting.

Author's Note - You can imagine that this is part of the same timeline as I Just Want You To Be Happy, but this is an independent story.

Help Palestine by clicking this link!🇵🇸

The day started like any other day. You and Van had breakfast together and opened the store, Maddy came in looking for another queer movie and getting another one of Van’s lectures, and you explained what a VHS tape was to no less than three teenagers who really should have at least known about them. And then Van got the mail.

“Bills, bills, an invite to another one of Mrs. Hammond’s dinner parties we won’t be attending-”

“Hey-”

“And a new book,” Van said, waving the package for you to see.

“Oh, great! I’ve been waiting for that,” you smiled.

“You want me to open it for you?”

“Yeah, just put it on my nightstand. Thanks, babe.”

Van nodded and carried the mail up to the apartment.

You carried on with restocking the tapes and helped a customer find the movie they were looking for. It took Van a bit longer than it should have to drop off the mail, but you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary until she came back down.

“So I was thinking I could pick us up some sandwiches from the deli for lunch, does that sound good to you?” you asked, but Van didn’t answer. She was staring ahead, her eyes glossy and distant. “Van? Are you okay, babe?”

“What? Yeah, no, I’m… I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” you put a hand on her shoulder, your eyes full of concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did something happen?”

“Nope.” She gave you an unconvincing smile. “I’m good, babe. Really. And sandwiches sound great.”

“Okay,” you sighed, kissing her cheek. You knew you wouldn’t get anything else out of her. But you kept an eye on her as you continued stocking the tapes. You could always tell when something was off with Van, and something was definitely off.

Van smiled to herself as she walked up the stairs. You had complained about the last book being too short on multiple occasions, so she was glad you now had a new one to read. And while she wasn’t into horror novels, she loved hearing you recount the terrifying twists and turns of the latest chapter you had read before going to sleep. It was adorable how excited you got about stuff like this; it was honestly what made her realize she was in love with you. You had been gushing about the new book like you did every month, and something in her heart just clicked. Now she loved your Horror Hungry Book Club subscription almost as much as you did.

She wondered what kind of novel you would get this time as she decided which envelopes to trash. You had been hoping for a good mystery, and she knew you loved stories with cryptids and haunted houses. Then she went into the bedroom and tore the package open with her teeth, sliding the book out onto the sheets. But before she could move it to your nightstand she caught a glimpse of the cover.

The artwork depicted the remnants of a plane crashed in the middle of a dark forest, with a wolf standing in front of it. Its eyes were drawn to look as if they were glaring menacingly at her, and Van had to resist the urge to throw the book across the room. She turned it over slowly to read the description and was confronted with a very detailed illustration of a deer skull with bloody antlers on the back cover. Van gulped audibly as she read the blurb.

Kayla’s life was finally looking up until her plane crashed in the middle of a large forest in Montana. She and the other passengers must work together to survive in the wilderness, but they soon discover that they might not be alone. As time goes on, food, hope, and sanity grow scarce. She and the other passengers are haunted by demons from their past and present, and what was supposed to be a relaxing trip to L.A. becomes the ultimate test to see how far she’s willing to go to survive- and how much she really wants to.

Van quickly set the book down and stepped back. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and she suddenly found it very hard to breathe. She dashed out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, busying herself with getting a glass of water. There was no way she was letting a book do this to her. It wasn’t her life. She might not have talked to any of the others in over a decade, but she knew none of them would talk. They had an agreement. This was just fiction, nothing more. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. There was no need to get worked up.

Van took a deep breath and headed back downstairs, doing her best to act like everything was fine. You clocked her uneasiness immediately, and she silently cursed you for being so observant. But you didn’t push, and her thoughts of the book faded as the day went on. She almost got away with it.

Almost.

Finally, you and Van were alone in your room. You had finished the workday, gone out to dinner, and watched a movie together, the whole time aching to ask Van what had happened. You hated seeing her in distress, and although she was good at hiding it, you could tell that whatever it was was still weighing on her mind. But you knew Van well enough to know that there was a waiting period before she was ready to talk about her feelings. So you decided to start your new book while you waited. The title was Call of Oblivion, and you knew it was the problem the moment you picked it up.

“Van?” you said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Is this what made you so upset earlier?”

She turned to you slowly, her eyes wide and her face slightly pale. She looked so scared and ashamed, and the sight broke your heart. “What? No.”

“Are you sure? Because I noticed that there are some… similarities.”

Van looked away. “Okay, yeah. Maybe it did feel a little… familiar.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.” You dropped the book and went to stand at her side, but she still refused to look at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m fine,” she chuckled unconvincingly.

“I wish you would’ve told me,” you sighed. “I just want to help you with things like this. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Van murmured, burying her head in your shoulder. You hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, rubbing her back. “I won’t read it if you don’t want me to.”

“What? No, I’m not going to stop you from reading your book.”

“I don’t care about the book. I care about you. If it upsets you, I won’t read it.”

“I can handle some scary pictures on the cover,” she said sarcastically.

“That’s not what I meant. I know you don’t want me to know about what happened. And this might be fiction, but it could be similar to what you went through. If the thought of me reading something like this scares you, or if you think it’ll be too similar, then I won’t read it. I promised you I would never pry about that stuff, and I meant it. Even in a way as indirect as this.”

“But that’s exactly why I want you to read it.”

“What?”

“I hate keeping secrets from you,” Van said, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I can’t stand that there is this huge part of my life that I can’t share with you. I mean, I would never want you to know- god, I don’t know what I would do if you found out- but it kills me that I can’t share everything with you. But I know I can’t. And if this book has any insight into what I went through out there, however unrelated… then I want you to read it. It might be the only way for you to get some idea of what happened. Then maybe I won’t have to hide so much anymore.”

“Oh, Van,” you breathed, pulling her into another hug. “I had no idea you felt that way. Of course, I’ll read it. But you know I don’t care about that stuff, right? You can tell me as much or as little as you want.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I know.” She pressed herself against you, and you could feel her wiping her eyes on your shirt.

“Thank you for telling me this,” you said softly as you pulled away a few moments later. Van smiled.

“Yeah, can you just not read it in bed? That fucking deer is- it’s really gross.”

“The what?”

“On the back.”

You picked up the book and turned it over, careful to block it from Van’s view. “Whoa, you’re right. That thing is gnarly,” you grimaced. Van chuckled.

“Told you.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be keeping that away from the bedroom,” you said, shutting it in your bedside drawer and walking back over to Van.

“Good,” she smiled, grabbing your shirt gently and tugging you in for a kiss. You pulled each other onto the bed, and soon you had all but forgotten about the book.

Over the next couple of weeks, you conveniently only read the book when Van was out of the room. She wanted to tell you that you didn’t need to do that, but truth be told she appreciated it. And you never talked about it, instead choosing to gush about the newest vintage toy you’d found and whether you wanted to display it in the store or keep it in the apartment. Thoughts of the book stayed in the back of Van’s mind, but she couldn’t fully forget about it.

Then one day as she was bringing in the groceries, she saw you stagger out of the bedroom with sorrow in your eyes. But before she could say anything you wrapped your arms around her tightly and buried your face in her neck.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” she asked, hugging you, her voice full of concern.

“Nothing,” you sighed, shaking your head slightly.

“You finished the book, didn’t you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you insisted, pulling away just enough to look her in the eye. “All that matters is that I love you. No matter what. Nothing could ever change that.”

Van felt tears begin to well up in her eyes and you held her to your chest, placing feather-light kisses along her scars. She closed her eyes with a sigh and leaned into your embrace. And for the first time in her life, Van felt truly safe. “I love you too.”

[elizaviento]

Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine (Part 9 of ?)

(Stardew Valley — Shane/Female Farmer/OC)

This chapter is rated NSFW — 6676 words. Blow job, face fucking, vaginal sex, and a disgusting dose of feely feels.

Note: Whew, another long boy chapter. This one beats the last by over 1500 words and that's after I cut out a lot of the fat while editing. Anyway, here be more smut that's sappier than molasses. I really hope it's worth it!

(FYI: Additional chapters of Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine can be found in the Stardew Valley Fic Masterpost link in my blog description.  Or, you can click the #green on the vine strawberry wine tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

*****

Kristen awoke with a start, acutely aware that she wasn't in her uncomfortable bed nor the farmhouse, and the weight settled across her chest wasn't her cat, Moody. Disorientation rendered her useless for approximately half a second before the events of the following night flashed behind her lids, a menagerie of mental photographs featuring Shane's head buried between her thighs. Slick black hair and piercing green eyes staring up at her as if she were the center of the universe. Then, the sensations — his soft, warm tongue lavishing as if he were a starving man and her pussy was his only sustenance.

He'd been outstanding. Not that Kristen thought he wouldn't have been, but the way he worked her over with his tongue and fingers had her wailing in ways she hadn't for literal years. Nothing her imagination had conjured up thus far had come close, even in her wildest fantasies of hate screwing the man who told her to fuck off on a regular basis in the early days.

Shifting slightly, she opened her eyes and rolled her head to the side. Splinters of sunlight pierced the cracks in the curtains, splashing slices of gold across the hardwood. Shane was beside her, lying face down with one arm slung across her chest. His nose and mouth seemed mashed directly into the pillow, and she wondered how he could breathe.

You're still naked. And he's not…

Kristen hazily recalled Shane stripping down to his boxer briefs and a plain white t-shirt before he rolled her like a ball of dough toward the wall. Exhaustion had settled over her so heavily that she couldn't keep her eyes open, even as he crawled in beside her, and she nestled herself under his arm like a baby bird seeking shelter under its mother's wing in a storm.

Things had felt so comfortable then. She'd held no reservations about their conversations or the fun they'd had afterward when she'd drifted off into a dreamless, almost coma-like sleep. But now, the clarity that comes with a morning sunrise was plucking at her brain, digging its talons into the soft meat, making her wonder if she'd finally pressured the man beside her into relenting after two long years of wearing him down like metal to a grindstone.

Was he really as enthusiastic as you remember, or are you trying to compensate for dumping all your emotional baggage on him while he was under the influence?

Kristen scrubbed at her eyes with her good hand, the throbbing in her injured hand becoming harder and harder to ignore. In the throes of passion, a heady dose of endorphins had erased any remnants of pain. But that had worn off long ago, and she hated herself for not carrying the painkillers with her.

With a muted sigh, the farmer wiggled from under her companion's arm and slipped from the foot of the bed. Her clothes littered the small room — jeans in a pile on the floor next to the closet, tank top spilling from the nightstand, bra draped over the old game console on the floor in front of the box television. She picked up each article one by one until she was forced to drop on her hands and knees and check under the bed for her missing panties.

"Hey," a throaty voice greeted her from above. Her head jerked up and smashed against the metal frame with an audible crack. "Shit, are you okay?"

The shift in his tone from sleep-addled to horrified was so quick that Kristen giggled nervously in response, slipping from under the bed with the bundle of clothes clutched to her bare chest. Shane's face hovered over the lip of the mattress, eyes wide.

"Uh, where's my underwear?" she asked, heat already prickling her cheeks. She cupped the back of her skull gingerly, a lump already forming. 

"In the corner, I think."

He pointed toward a darkly obscured nook behind his bedroom door. Kristen could just make out the purple hue of the fabric as she awkwardly stood and shuffled to retrieve them. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Shane had rolled over so that he was lying flat on his back, eyes glued to the ceiling. He was obviously trying to give her a semblance of privacy so that she could get dressed without feeling gawked at, which she appreciated.

"So. Last night —" she began once she was fully dressed, smoothing her hands over her chaotic curls in an attempt to tame them.

"Last night," he repeated as if in agreement. He sat upright, swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, head hung low, and scrubbed a hand across his neck. Kristen felt he was still avoiding looking at her, creating a pocket of tension between them. The last thing she wanted was for her to leave this bedroom with even a smidge of uncertainty clouding the intimate moment they'd shared.

The faint sound of footsteps somewhere else in the ranch caused Shane to physically tense, and Kristen sucked in an anxious breath. She'd checked the time while gathering her clothes and was shocked they'd slept uninterrupted until mid-morning. The thought of Marnie or even Jas bursting through the door unannounced caused her stomach to roll, and she moved to sit next to Shane on the mattress.

"Don't worry; the door's locked. But she might knock soon."

"I'm not worried," Kristen lied. Several inches separated them, and she had the urge to close the gap and wrap her entire body around his like a needy koala. "Any regrets?"

He looked at her then, his expression open but also a bit perplexed. "Why would I have regrets?"

His answering question was so sincere that an immediate sting assaulted the farmer's sinuses and the back of her eyeballs; a sob lodged in her chest so deep that she sucked in a ragged breath to shove it back down to the debts of her soul. Without further debate, she did close the gap until their thighs touched, and she hooked her arm through his, seeking his hand and threading their fingers together as if they were made of the same cloth.

"You were amazing," she breathed, pressing her lips to the shell of his ear. The boldness that had overcome her the previous night had returned with renewed vigor, and she harnessed it like a wild mare. "I haven't had an orgasm that intense in… fuck, I don't remember."

Her intention was to stroke his ego. Make him believe she was enamored and not about to disappear in a puff of smoke after obtaining her prize. But her words were also as honest as anything she'd ever spoken in her life.

"Kriss." His voice was strained, and his grip on her hand tightened. "Please don't get me hard while my goddaughter is probably eating breakfast in the kitchen."

"Sorry," she snickered before capturing his earlobe between her teeth. He groaned, and she smiled wolfishly against his flesh, a sensual sense of pride lapping over her like warm ocean waves in the midst of a summer storm. "I owe you, though. Can you come over later?"

He forcefully exhaled through his nose and placed his free hand on her thigh. Several more footsteps could be heard, closer now, pattering on the hardwood. It occurred to Kristen then that there was no way she could escape the ranch without being noticed.

"Yeah," he finally replied. "I'll stop by Joja, too, to get… um."

"Condoms? I can't wait." She pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek, rubbing her lips across it lightly. Again, she wondered where this brazen confidence was coming from and decided to ruminate on it during her walk home. Right now, she'd rather drop dead than ruin the mood. "I'm dying to feel you inside me."

"I hate you," he groaned, wiggling away from her to stand and stiffly pace the floor of his room. Kristen's eyes immediately homed in on the tent in his boxer briefs and struggled with the urge to rip them down and swallow him whole right then and there.

"I know." She stood, stepped toward him, and wrapped him in her arms. And for the first time, he hugged her back. Despite everything that had transpired between them the night before, she considered this her most triumphant victory. "I'll face the firing squad on my own. Just stay here until I'm gone."

Catching her drift, Shane sat back down on his bed and scratched at his scalp while the farmer took a deep breath, unlocked the bedroom, and tip-toed down the hallway.

"But Aunt Marnie! If we get another kitty, that'll make 4, and that's an even number!"

The little girl's pleading cut through the shuffling of plates and silverware as the farmer attempted to sneak past the open kitchen.

"Let me guess, Miss Penny is teaching you and Vincent about evens and odds?" Marnie asked, her back now turned from the foyer separating the kitchen from the shop counter as she dug around in the open refrigerator. The farmer eyed the front door as if she could bore a hole in it with her glare, wondering if she could somehow phase through existence long enough for her to reemerge on the other side.

"Yeah! And she said — oh, hello, Miss Krissy! What are you doing here? Do you wanna eat pancakes with me?"

The farmer stopped mid-stride, like a statue frozen in time. Jas sat at the kitchen table, her large eyes wide with excitement, while Marnie swiftly turned from the fridge and dropped the carton of orange juice she'd been pulling from the shelf. Of course, it exploded in a lake of sticky liquid across the tile.

"Krissy! You scared the life out of me!" Marnie exclaimed as she frantically pulled a towel from the oven handle and dropped it on the mess at her feet. "I didn't even hear you come in!"

"She was walking down the hallway," Jas cut in, raising one sassy little finger to punctuate her fact.

Marnie had stooped to sop up the ruined juice but snapped her head upward and locked her eyes with the farmer, realization dawning on the woman's face faster than Kristen could scramble for an alternate explanation.

"Oh — oh! " she exclaimed, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Well, okay. We do have plenty if you're hungry, dear."

"Uh. No, I think I'm fine for now, thank you," Kristen replied. Marnie's eyes rolled toward the farmer's bandaged hand next, and Kristen could practically see the gears turning in her head.

"How's your hand? Shane was helping you take care of it, right? He did a good job with the bandage," Marnie said, nodding her head slowly as if to coax a specific response. Jas sat facing away from her, completely unaware of the silent exchange between the two grown women in the room.

"Yes!" Kristen practically yelled, clutching the lifesaver Marnie had tossed. "He took very good care of me."

"That's wonderful," Marnie replied. She'd finished cleaning up the spilled juice and resumed preparing a plate of pancakes for Jas, seemingly unphased by Kristen's tangible humiliation.

"Uncle Shane can be really nice when he wants to be," Jas interjected. She glanced back at Marnie just in time for the woman to place her breakfast in front of her on the table, a sweet smile adorning her pretty face. "But only to people he likes."

Kristen shook her head in agreement, suddenly dumbstruck by how effortless it had been for Marnie to swoop in and salvage a catastrophically awkward situation. She promised to thank the woman privately if she ever gathered the nerve.

"Have a good day, dear. Don't be a stranger," Marnie said with a subtle wink as the farmer pulled open the front door, delivering a parting wave to Jas while the little girl enthusiastically stuffed her face.

❦❧🍓❦❧

The walk back home was spent with the farmer ruminating on her behavior the following night. She'd practically thrown herself at Shane again , acting like a bitch in heat. She never considered herself sexually repressed. She had no issues expressing what she wanted or what she liked. But something about last night made her hyper-sexual in a way she'd never experienced.

Maybe it's because you haven't been laid in over two years , she thought as she crossed the property line to Wynand Farm. That was definitely a contributing factor. She'd been touch starved, lonely, actually miserable. The friendships she had cultivated around Pelican Town helped soothe her need for affection during the day, but at night, when she was alone with nothing but her thoughts, the overwhelming loneliness felt like a bolder crushing her ribs, snapping them to shards lodged into her aching heart.

God, you're so dramatic , she chided herself as the coop loomed into view. It was already nearing noon, and the hens were probably restless and hungry. But her thoughts settled heavily on Shane's reactions to her advances. He'd been eager. He'd confessed things she never thought would come out of his mouth in a million years. He'd eaten her pussy like a fucking champ and didn't ask for reciprocation. He'd been content with bringing her to tears and then cuddling with her in bed. Was he actually the perfect man?

The farmer chuckled to herself as she entered the enclosure and pulled the coop door open. A line of fat impatient hens waddled out and made a beeline for the fresh grass, ignoring her completely.

Shane was anything but perfect, and Kristen was well aware of this. But it wasn't an illusion she wished to spend her time with. It wasn't a fairytale prince who she found herself teasing once he could stomach her presence for more than a few minutes at a time. It wasn't Mr. Darcy who she thought about when her fingers slipped through her slick folds, seeking to quell that ache deep inside. It was Shane. Rough and gruff Shane who secretly had the biggest heart of anyone she'd ever known. Her best friend.

Fetching her chicken-printed egg apron from a nail inside the coop, the farmer tied it around her waist, plucked the spoils of her livestock from their nests, and gently tucked them into each pocket. Briefly, she imagined Shane in the silly apron and giggled, vowing to make him wear it one way or another.

The farmer busied herself with various chores until early evening, more than slightly irritated that it took double the effort due to her inconvenient injury. Pierre had agreed to come pick up her tomatoes, and she winced when she signed the bill of sale with a 20% service fee deducted by the shopkeep. When she finally checked her cell phone for the time, a text from Shane lit up the screen, and she tapped the notification with butterflies in her tummy.

I'm never buying condoms in this town again.

I'll take a bus all the way to Zuzu next time, fuck all of this.

Kristen snickered, curiosity piqued.

Oh no. What happened?

The replying chat bubble popped up almost immediately, and Kristen's eyes were glued to the screen, even as Moody zig-zagged through her legs, howling for attention.

Sam was working today and saw me pick them up.

He kept asking me who the lucky lady is. Like I was gonna tell him.

The farmer could practically feel Shane's unease through the screen, and a prickling intrusive thought burrowed in her brain like the needles of a cactus. Testing the waters, she tapped her fingers across the glass.

What, you're ashamed of me? Lol.

Her heart galloped as she waited for his reply. The chat bubble took a bit longer to appear, and Kristen hoped she hadn't actually pissed him off.

Don't be stupid.

I'm just tired from spending most of the morning dodging Marnie's smug looks.

Jas thinks I'm practically a doctor now, so that's cool.

She furrowed her brow, still unsure if the distress churning in her belly was justified. Every drop of confidence she'd fettered that morning seemed to dissipate like mist desperately clinging to milkweed in the midday sun.

You sure?

This time, the chat bubble seemed to animate on the screen forever, disappearing and reappearing multiple times as if Shane was struggling to come up with an adequate response.

If anyone should be ashamed, it's you.

I somehow landed the beautiful farmer, and she's stuck with the town drunk.

For the second time that day, Kristen choked back a sob. A mixture of indignation and sorrow coated the back of her throat, constricted with emotion. His self-deprecation was nothing new, but in this context, it hit differently than usual. Implying he wasn't good enough for her was simply unacceptable.

Now you're the one being stupid.

Just shut up and get here quick. I miss you.

Before she could chicken out, Kristen skipped toward her bedroom, stripped off her frumpy farmer's clothes, and wiggled into the sexiest pair of lingerie she owned. Then, she angled her phone's camera as flatteringly as possible, snapped a photo, and attached it to her message.

You called me a tease last night and then send me this shit?

Smirking, she posed for another photo, this time biting her lip seductively. She felt ridiculous attaching it to her next reply — but also sexy for the first time in years.

What are you going to do about it?

Shane replied with a photo of his own — a skewed angle of his feet as he neared the path toward the bus station.

You'll find out soon.

An exhilarating tingle bloomed between her legs, arousal simmering her blood. She had maybe 25 minutes before Shane walked through her front door, and she desperately needed a bath.

❦❧🍓❦❧

Kristen had just finished brushing out her damp curls and clumsily tying the belt of her silk robe around her waist when a soft but insistent knock startled her. Once again, she opened her mouth to remind him of his key, but the sound of the lock disengaging cut her off, a new swarm of butterflies taking flight in the pit of her stomach.

Shane entered the farmhouse hesitantly, peering around the door as he did the night before at the ranch, his expression softening when he spotted her approaching from the bedroom.

"Hey," he greeted, slinging her forgotten backpack from his shoulder while he approached. His eyes roved her body, taking stock of her state of dress — or, rather, undress — before they settled on her freshly bandaged hand. "How's it doing?"

"It looks disgusting," she laughed, holding the mitt in front of her face. She'd done a sloppy job of wrapping the gauze that Harvey had left for her. The crusty sutures and black bruises splotching her palm made her woozy, but she was proud that she hadn't dropped like a sack of potatoes on her bathroom floor.

"How many times do I have to tell you to let me help you before you listen?" he asked, though his tone held no hostility or exasperation. On the contrary, Kristen could detect a note of concern, and she wanted to nip it in the bud before the salacious encounter she'd been so excited about fizzled out altogether.

"Shh, I'm fine. I promise. I cleaned it and took my pain meds. And I'll be seeing Harvey on Monday." He gave her a leery glare, obviously still unconvinced she'd relent her stubbornness anytime soon. "Come here," she coaxed, holding her good hand toward him invitingly and crooking one finger. With her backpack still dangling from one hand, Shane approached and followed when she turned and walked back toward her bedroom.

The room was dark, the only light coming from a few candles flickering on Kristen's dresser opposite the bed. She'd wondered if the sentiment was too cheesy when she lit the wicks and stepped back to admire the shadow of flames licking up the pine slat walls, but the low light cast the perfect ambiance when Shane entered, his silhouette pitch black as it floated toward her.

"This is nice," he said, voice deep as his features slowly bled into focus when he entered the sphere of flickering light. Kristen felt he wasn't sure what to say but was trying his best, and she adored him for it. 

"Thanks," she whispered, capturing one of his forearms to pull him closer. He was still clutching her backpack in one hand, and she tilted her head toward it before asking, "What's in there? Whips and chains?"

Shane balked, jaw slack and eyes wide before he noticed the mischief dancing in her eyes. "You're so fucking naughty…"

He dropped the backpack on the floor and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her in. The farmer stepped into his embrace willingly, seeking his lips with her own, molding her body around his solid yet soft form until she felt she could seep into his skin and possess him completely.

Something about the moment seemed graceful as they moved together. Lips exploring, hands searching, bodies swaying. The night previous, Kristen felt as if she were a feral animal, pawing and scratching at him like he might escape her clutches. Tonight, she felt as if the barbaric frenzy had ebbed to gentle acceptance that this man actually wanted to be here... with her.

"Shane," she sighed as his lips and tongue traveled from her mouth, down her throat, and across her collarbone. She could tell he was being careful not to scrape his stubble over her skin, even while his cheek and chin nudged the top half of her robe aside. "Shane, stop."

"Hmm? What's wrong?" he asked, pulling back to level her with serious eyes. She almost yanked him in for another kiss when she realized he was afraid he'd crossed some invisible line.

"Nothing, baby. I just want to repay you for last night before you make me too stupid."

"Kriss. Um, Kristen — you don't have to do that."

Relief softened his features as he held her closer and kissed her breathless — palms gliding across the silk of her robe, caressing every curve she hid underneath until one settled on the small of her back and the other ghosted between her thighs. The smooth fabric slipping across her sensitive flesh was unexpectedly delightful, and she shuffled her feet outward, supplying him with more room that he gladly took advantage of, prodding his fingers past the silk to make contact with her bare sex.

"How are you already wet?" Shane moaned against her lips. The farmer's breaths quickened as his middle finger probed, sliding through her folds with no resistance.

"Because you turn me on," she simply said, canting her hips forward as his thumb sought her clit.

"I wanna taste you again, pretty baby. Make you come on my tongue."

She nearly gave in, memories of last night along with Shane's sweet manipulation of her pussy making her pliant. She felt as if she could melt through his arms into a puddle just from his worlds alone, but she abruptly remembered her earlier request and how he had expertly distracted her.

"Nope," she breathed, playfully shoving him back. He stumbled slightly, giving her time to sidestep him, plant her ass on the mattress, hook a finger through a belt loop on his shorts, and tug his crotch toward her face. "I told you, it's my turn."

"Kristen." He shook his head. He was protesting, and it confounded her.

"What?" she asked, moving her hand to rest on his hip instead, hoping it would make her seem less brazen.

"I know it's not something women really like to do," he explained. His eyes were fixed straight ahead as if something on her wall was unbelievably fascinating.

"Since when?" she asked with a chuckle. But she quickly shut up when she realized he was serious. "Shane, that's not true. I don't know what type of other women you've been with, but most of us love giving head. I know I do." She then grasped one of his hands, bringing it toward her face to press a tender kiss to his palm, hoping to calm his nerves. "When was the last time someone swallowed your cock like they meant it?"

"Kristen, fuck me…" He finally tilted his chin down to look at her, awe sparkling in his green eyes.

"That's what I'm trying to do."

"You have such a filthy mouth," he said, blinking his eyes rapidly as if he were trying to gather his bearings to answer her question. "I don't know; it's been a long time."

"Then let my filthy mouth take care of you, hmm? I want to, I really do."

She flipped his hand to place another kiss on his knuckles, swiping her lips across them before taking the middle finger he'd buried in her pussy into her mouth, lightly sucking it while making direct eye contact. 

"Are you even fucking real?" he asked as she swirled her tongue around his wet digit. "Last week, I would have laughed if you said you wanted to suck my dick. Would've thought you were screwing with me for fun."

Feeling like he was finally coming around, Kristen released his finger with an audible pop and redirected her hand toward the waistband of his shorts, tugging him toward her again. This time, he shuffled forward with no protest, one hand settling on her shoulder while the one she'd just released curled into a fist.

Instead of replying verbally, she tapped the button of his shorts with her fingernail, indicating that she needed some help. Shane hesitated for an instant but quickly undid his fly and pulled the zipper down, exposing his boxer briefs beneath. Giddy excitement hummed within Kristen's chest as her imagination tried to conjure up an image of his cock before she laid eyes on it. The teasing glimpses she was afforded of his clothed bulge and the sensation of it grinding between her legs the night before gave her a pleasing theory.

"Can we take this off?" she cooed, tugging the hem of his shirt. Insecurity danced behind his eyes, his face scrunching up in a way that made her think he'd downright refuse. But, she smoothed her hand up his side, lightly grazing her nails over his skin before drawing it back down, hoping her silent encouragement would stay his fears.

"I'm not in, uh, the best shape," he mumbled, again avoiding her eyes.

"Shane, I think you're so god damn sexy. Isn't it obvious?"

She lifted the bottom of his shirt just enough to kiss the space below his navel. He flinched but didn't pull away.

"I've seen you naked," he said, capturing a strand of her curly hair between two fingers. "You put me to shame."

"It's not a competition, baby. Will it make you feel better if I take this off?"

She rose from the bed and shrugged the loose robe from her shoulders, allowing it to puddle at her feet. Shane hitched a breath and attempted to pull her in, but she playfully wiggled away and perched herself on the edge of the mattress again, smiling up at him.

"Fine," he sighed, fisting the collar of his shirt and yanking it over his head. His neck and cheeks burned red, even in the soft candlelight, and it only endeared him to her all the more.

"Thank you. Now, I can take care of the rest…"

As it turned out, attempting to pull down someone else's shorts and underwear with one hand was more complicated than she bargained, but she yanked and tugged until she secured her victory — Shane's fully erect cock finally springing free, greeting her like a long-awaited gift.

Kristen wondered later if he thought she would be coy — place feather-soft kisses on his shaft while batting her eyelashes and cooing like a bird. She even wondered if she should have been so dainty and seductive instead of licking a solid, hot stripe from base to tip before engulfing his thick length in one fluid motion.

"Fu — fuck ." The stuttered word fell from Shane's mouth in a strangled gasp, his hands instantly burying in her curls as if he had to clutch them or risk flying off the face of the earth. His fingers brushed her scalp tentatively, undoubtedly hesitant to grip too hard for fear of hurting her. "Kristen, ah! Christ!"

The farmer continued to slide her wet mouth across his cock, tongue flat as she gently pulled back his foreskin and swirled the tip. It had been so long since she'd indulged in giving head and nearly forgot how much she enjoyed it. The pants, the moans, the feeling of power as she subdued a man while on her knees.

"How's this?" she asked as sweetly as she could muster, flicking her chocolate eyes upward to lock with his. "Tell me how to make you feel good."

Relaxing her throat, she took him entirely in her mouth again, bit by bit, until the plush head pressed and slid even farther. And then farther. Fat tears welled in her eyes, pooling like droplets of dew on drooping blades of grass before rolling down her cheeks. The strain was magnificent, and the farmer knew she'd feel the raw sting like a badge of honor in the morning.

"Oh my fuck," he growled, fingers pressing a bit harder against her scalp experimentally. "Pretty baby, I —" He faltered, seeming to attempt to form a coherent thought while Kristen swallowed his dick, flexing her throat muscles weakly. "Can I?"

He pulled his hips back and then thrust them forward gently, eyes pleading with her to understand. She hooked her good hand behind one of his thighs, sucked in a deep breath through her nose in preparation, and nodded.

Shane started slow at first, shifting his hips gingerly, nudging the back of her throat while his fingers curled around the strands of her auburn hair. A string of praise and obscenities poured from his mouth like a siren song, and she hummed deep in her chest as he gradually picked up speed, chasing his pleasure.

Without warning, he tightened his hold on her hair, halting the motion of her mouth and his hips. Guttural pants filled the room as she looked up at him, lips stretched across his dick while her hand traveled to cup his balls, nails lightly scraping across the dimpled flesh.

"I need to fuck you," he rasped, pulling her head back until he slipped from her mouth, a string of saliva connecting them for a beat before it plopped to the hardwood below. "Please."

Kristen scrambled back to lay on the mattress like an overzealous puppy, waiting for him to follow with exuberance sparkling in her eyes. She honestly couldn't recall the last time she'd wanted anyone this bad, and her cunt throbbed in anticipation of being filled by the cock she'd just had shoved down her eager throat.

"How do you want me?" she asked, positioning herself in the middle, legs splayed open in an unconscious attempt to draw him in. A savage longing nearly puppeted her to crawl up his body like a deranged creature from the depths of hell, subdue him until he fell to the floor, and ride his cock until the both of them succumbed to exhaustion. But the more civilized part of her realized that Shane required gentle coaxing, at least for now, so she leveraged those unhinged desires and locked them away for another time.

There was a slight shuffle as Shane bent over and unzipped the farmer's backpack that lay discarded on the floor. The crinkle of a plastic bag, the rip of cardboard, and the tear of an aluminum wrapper clued Kristen in. In response, her fingers flowed toward the apex of her thighs, slipping one finger inside herself, then two.

Finally, Shane planted a knee on the mattress and crawled toward her. Backlit by flickering flames, one hand cupped her knee while the other rolled the condom on, his cock emerging from between his thumb and forefinger with latex encasing it like he'd performed the maneuver a million times before. Kristen tried not to let that little worm burrow in her brain, wondering if he was so practiced because he was screwing someone else on the side. 

On the side? You've already claimed him? 

She flung that thought into the 'analyze later' bin of her brain, fearing that the answer was a resounding yes.

"Um. Just —" Shane tenderly nudged her knee to the side, and she complied, widening her legs so he could slot between them like a puzzle piece. "I wanna be able to see your face."

"Oh, baby," she sighed, finally relenting to the urge to rein in some control, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him in for another blistering kiss. Their tongues rolled together effortlessly now, growing used to one another's moves while Shane nudged the head of his cock between her folds, gliding it across her clit teasingly, winding Kristen up like a doll with a key lodged in its spine until she felt she would snap.

When he finally lined up and began pushing inside, Kristen yelped against his lips, the stretch sharp and intense. Shane instantly ceased, pressing his forehead against hers as he caught his breath.

"Don't stop," she said. Wiggling her hips slightly, she lifted her legs and mounted them on either side of his thighs. The position was more comfortable and made her feel he wouldn't split her in half. "It's been… a while since I've done this. That's all."

He nodded, eyes squinted shut, engrossed with the task at hand. Kristen stared at him, his face blurred by the close proximity, but unable to direct her focus elsewhere. The intimacy of the moment felt soul-crushing in the best way — as if everything that made her human were wrapped up in a tiny package and placed in the palm of Shane's hand. He could pulverize her or hold her as gently as a kitten, and she'd welcome it either way.

Inch by inch, Shane slid into her, gauging her reactions carefully as he did so. Inch by inch, Kristen took him, quick and shallow breaths making her head swimmy as the sweet intrusion filled her much more than physically.

His thrusts were experimental early on, just as when his fingers played along her scalp. Slow and shallow. He pressed tender kisses to her face as he did so, soft breaths puffing from his nose and fanning across heated skin. Eventually, he sought her hand with his own, pinning it above her head as he interlaced their fingers, lips traveling lower, suckling on the hypersensitive flesh behind her ear.

"Shane —" His name rolled from her tongue like it had originated there, a vaguely audible sigh that morphed into a moan when she understood that this wasn't a simple fuck between friends. He was making love to her.

"Kristen…" Her name growled directly into her ear, causing her body to seize, cunt clenching around him almost painfully as he snapped his hips forward in punctuation. 

"Harder," she whined, shifting her hips in time with his still-measured thrusts.

"Yeah? You want that?"

His voice was deeper than she'd ever heard, almost scratchy. She shivered and whined again, feeling petulant if he didn't appease her. Luckily, he did, releasing her hand so he could sit back on his haunches and hike each of her thighs to rest on his chest, the back of her knees nestled against his shoulders like they were always meant to be there. The angle was acute and perfect as he leaned over her, hands bracing himself on either side of her head.

"Shit," she hissed, flailing her free hand until it made purchase with his side, nails digging crescents into his olive skin. 

"This good?" he asked, thrusting once, slightly upward. Kristen squealed and nodded, nails digging deeper. The head of his cock brushed against her g-spot just enough at this angle that she knew they could make magic happen if he were determined. "Let me know if it's too much?"

"It's never too much," she said. "Fuck me the way you've always dreamed." Kristen knew that statement was a bold assumption on her part, but god, did it sound sexy. Even to her own ears.

Apparently, it was sexy to him, too, considering how he kissed her, pushing her legs back farther and shoving his cock even deeper. "Pretty baby, I'm gonna make you scream."

His confidence firmly back in place, Kristen's eyes rolled nearly into the back of her skull as he pounded into her. Hard, just like she'd asked. Again and again and again. The bed rocked, headboard slamming the wall. The metal frame squeaked in protest as its legs skittered across the hardwood floor. Kristen's body tensed, launching into pure instinct, hips rolling in time with Shane's thrusts, each one more brutal than the last. Pleasure washed over in waves, lapping farther and farther toward the precipice of something just beyond reach as their shared grunts and moans filled the small farmhouse bedroom like a lewd chorus for an audience of two.

"Shane, baby. Oh god!" The farmer's mental facilities had been scrambled like a freshly cracked egg each time the head of Shane's cock brushed the soft, thick place inside her. It was so deliciously close to being enough but just far away that each pass had her crying out like a woman tortured. "I need… mo — higher!"

She wasn't sure how Shane interpreted the gibberish she'd just spewed, but she nearly cried in relief when he snatched a spare pillow from beside her head and shoved it under her lifted hips. But then he added another , and she lost the battle, a desperate sob escaping from her chest as the elevated angle allowed him to slam home with expert precision.

"I can feel you squeezing me, fuck!" he spat, keeping the rhythm even as Kristen's bones liquified. "Can you come on my cock, pretty baby? Rub your clit for me. I wanna feel it."

As useless as she felt to her encroaching orgasm, the farmer willed her arm to slither between them, seeking the neglected, engorged bundle of nerves. The pressure between her legs continued to mount, coiling like a viper on the verge of a strike. Her thighs quivered as the pads of her fingers slipped through her folds and made contact with her clit, the onslaught of sensations boarding on overwhelming when Shane faltered long enough to capture one of her nipples between his teeth.

"I'm close. Shane — I'm so close," she cried, sloppily twirling her fingers around her clit. Sparks of pleasure snapped and popped with each pass, her limbs tensing further and the viper coiling tighter in her belly. "Talk to me. I need to hear your voice."

"I'm close, too," he rasped. "Look me in the eyes when you come, pretty baby. Say my name? God, I love hearing you moan it like — shit! — I love making you feel this good."

Kristen felt as if she were falling in a dream, weightless for the blink of an eye before the ground zoomed closer with each passing second. And right before she hit the ground, she snapped, the viper unfurling as its euphoric venom softened her muscles and rendered her useless. Yet, she fulfilled his sweet request, the shape of Shane's name tearing from her throat as her entire world focused to a pinpoint and then exploded outward in a shower of twinkling stars.

Somewhere in the haze, her name floated like a feather on a languid breeze. Lips and teeth etched her flesh like liquid flames carving an errant river through steel. The gorgeous pressure between her thighs swelled, stretching her pleasure to an unbearable degree, and she cried out again, clinging to the only anchor she could find amidst the storm.

You've already claimed him? 

Yes — she had.

*****

End Note: Kristen's chicken egg apron:

Isn't that shit adorable?

[lunarheslwt]

Hi! I'm back with the first 28th appreciation fic recs of the year! I wanted to put together all the fics I've read and loved over January for this month's 28th appreciation, so here they are! Click on the links for full tags and summaries. If you read any of these make sure to show the authors some love by leaving kudos and comments!

🌿Is it a sign? by @greenblueish

(25k | E | deaf character au)

the one where Harry meets a certain handsome alpha at his sister's wedding and learns that speaking verbally doesn't have to be the only means of communication.

Thoughts: incredibly sweet, a perfect light and easy read, the way they connect in this story just feels so real and so wonderful!

🌿Stroke of twelve by @larry-hiatus

(2k | E | new years eve pwp)

He was close, he was so close, and he knew it was much too soon; the countdown to midnight hadn’t even begun yet.

Or the one where Louis wants Harry to hold off his orgasm so they can come together at the stroke of twelve on New Year’s Eve.

Thoughts: so bloody hot, top notch desperation, for some reason I was holding my breath till the countdown hit one which really says something

🌿Whoever, however by @brooklyn-babylon / @twopoppies

(8k | E | amateur porn filming au)

Louis could feel his heart rate pick up as he positioned the camera and Harry slowly stood up. They both knew what came next –– it had been clearly outlined in the advert Harry answered. The studio Louis worked for was filming a new series of camboy videos. Louis’ job was to make it look like amateur porn –– sweaty, sensual, dirty –– but well lit and edited. He was an artist, thank you very much.

—-

Or: Louis has a much better day at work than he’d expected.

Thoughts: incredibly hot, desperate Harry is so >>>> the descriptions in this are amazing, I just love the idea so much. The visuals!!

🌿Pretty miscalculations by @hellolovers13

(5k | E | Dom/sub pwp)

After rudely interrupting Louis’ Christmas shopping, Louis offers Harry a choice and an opportunity to try out his new purchases.

Thoughts: so hot, love how caring L is yet willing to push Harry a lil, how sweet and shy Harry is, I'd read more in this universe any day

🌿Take care by @sun-lt

(4k | M | service top L)

“What do you want, then, beautiful?” It’s a silly, cheesy pet name, but it feels so very true when Louis says it. He hopes Harry knows that he means it, that he means every pet name he’s ever called Harry. Doll, beautiful, love, baby.

“Want you to take care of me,” Harry repeats.

_

Or, Harry’s exhausted and needy and Louis loves him entirely too much to ever say no.

Thoughts: the softest thing I've ever read, incredibly comforting, tender and so so lovely pls go read!

🌿in the pub that we met he’s got his arms around you by @onlythebravest

(13k | T | best friends to lovers au)

Harry's best friend Louis comes to visit him where he attends uni, meets Harry's friends, who point out that they don't know what platonic means.

Thoughts: comfort read!! Incredibly soft, realistic friendship dynamics, 10/10 read if you're touch deprived tbh these are very soft boys and a very soft story

🌿Sweaty palms and racing hearts by @onlythebravest

(1k | G | first date au)

A short story of two shy, nervous and blushing boys on a date at the cinema

Thoughts: so pure, so sweet, these shy boys have my heart, the author writes fluff in the softest ways

🌿Printed against the sky by @larrysballetslippers

(4k | M | non sexual age play, canon compliant)

after some intense weeks of promo, Harry really wants his daddy. Louis happily fulfils his needs, but it wasn't the best day to do so.

Thoughts: everything she writes is gold, this is so pure, and so very sweet

🌿Lust for life by @maroonmoonlouis

(32k | E | 1970s Hollywood starlet au)

or the 1970s au where the pressure of being an aging starlet begins to weigh heavy on Harry's heart before he meets Louis

Thoughts: a gem!! Very much sucks you into the era and story, so much preciousness in this little beauty!

🌿Bless you! by @neondiamond

(2k | G | kid fic au)

Harry and Louis’ young daughter, Ava, really enjoys when Harry says ‘bless you’ after she sneezes.

Thoughts: the most precious little fic ever, so so so sweet and it made me smile bless

🌿All the lights are sparkling for you, it seems by @thebreadvansstuff

(3k | T | disaster birthday au)

Harry is determined to make Louis' birthday count, but his plans turn into a fiasco.

Thoughts: so fucking precious, I could hug Harry in this, sweet and funny

🌿the prettiest customer (and the cutest barista) by @onlythebravest

(1k | G | awkward coffee shop flirting)

Louis is the pretty customer that comes in and orders hot chocolate while Harry is the cute barista that takes his order.

Thoughts: so very precious, awkward shy Harry has my whole heart, the cutest lil thing you'll ever read

🌿Leather over lace by @larry-hiatus

(4k | E | pwp)

Harry wasn’t planning for his trousers to rip on stage. He also wasn’t planning for everyone to see his lace knickers when it happened. But what he really wasn’t planning on was his boyfriend punishing him for it.

Thoughts: so fucking hot. Begging y'all to go read it. Em deserves so much credit for how quick this was and how unbelievably good it was.

I probably would've read way more too but the second half of that month had me using all my free time to finish up my own fic. But anyways if you check these out please show the writers some love. @ writers: kisses for y'all bc I appreciate you and your work sm 💗

[genderstarbucks]

Coming Out Post Ig?

I don't really know where to start with this so I'm just gonna get into it

Cw for a bit of a long rant, no triggering topics but just read with some slight caution

I think I'm bigay? I've been questioning my sexuality for about 4 years and I could never find a label that stuck. I started with bisexual, then pansexual, then throughout the years my sexuality has changed but it's been mostly been between bi and gay. I've used homoflexible a few times, and it felt right, but something felt off. I felt it didn't completely cover what my attraction felt like. It's been hard for me to differentiate between romantic and sexual attraction, so I've just been using non-sam labels, and just saying I'm bisexual with a lean. Recently I've used abrosexual and that felt right too, but not completely. I've tried abrogay and abroachillean because I am mostly gay but it just didn't feel completely right, I didn't feel complete. I used to be an exclusionist (ew) and against mspec lesbians/gays/straights but luckily I've had friends and this wonderful community to educate me. I think the only reason I was an exclus was because I had internalized bigayphobia, as soon as someone taught me what it was, it really wasn't that hard to understand. Some people are on the sam and some people are fluid between 2 labels. I also think it was because I was with a toxic friend group (who I've since dropped ((thank god)) who was VERY against mspec lesbians/gays/straights. I mean, I also used to be anti-mogai because my ex gf was pounding it into my head how "bad" it was (she was literally cis too lmao) I'm glad I've met and am in such a wonderful community that is accepting of all good-faith identities. Anyway, earlier today I started researching bigay more and kept re-reading the description as to why someone might use the term bigay and then I realized. That's me. I am bigay. The term that actually resonates with me is the thing I've been avoiding the most. I was literally TERRIFIED about adding bigay to my prns page (ik I don't have to but I just want to) even though I know the only people who are gonna see it are my friends (who are accepting of it) and anybody who clicks on the link in my pinned post (which is most likely gonna be an inclus) I've been thinking about if I'm bigay (or just mspec gay) for a while now, but I refused to even accept myself of the possibility of being an mspec gay. I genuinely don't understand exclusionists, I used to be one and all I did was do a little research as to why someone might identify that way, and I changed my views. If you can accept things like nonbinary boy or agender girl, then you can accept mspec lesbians/gays/straights too. I'm glad I've cut off those exclus friends, now I can finally be myself. I think my sexual journey is over, I think this is the label I've been looking for, for so long. Ykw I'm proud to say I'm bigay, I'm proud to use contradictory labels. I'm a nonbinary boy AND a biromantic gay, and I'm god damn proud of it. If you're questioning whether you're mspec and a lesbian/gay/straight then it's okay. Those labels aren't "bad" or "invalid", if it describes you, then use it. You can use "contradictory" labels if you'd like, don't give a fuck what anyone thinks. All that matters is that you accept yourself, all that matters is using the labels you want that make you feel comfortable.

My identity has come a long way over the years, but I think I'm finally happy to say I'm comfortable where I am. I'm an agender boy, enboy and a demienboy, also bigay, and exclusionists can fuck off!

I didn't mean to make this that long but oh well 💀

TLDR; Sexuality confusing, omg I'm a bigay. Fuck exclusionists.

Edit: I think I'm just like every label besides wlw/lesbian, I'm gay, bi, pan, EVERYTHING

Edit 2: Okay nvm guys 💀 Charlie, one of my alters is a transbian and I'm transgay so collectively we're a lesboy, turigirl, gaybian and literally every other orientation

Edit 3: Okay I figured it out, I'm omnibi gay (as in general bi gay) and an omnibi gay man

Edit 4: I'm just every sexuality besides wlw/lesbian labels and I'm also multivelfluid

Edit 5: nvm I lied I'm just bigay

Edit 6: I'm such a fucking liar I'm actual bigay, abrogay and pomogay

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part II

Part I (complete)

Part III (complete)

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Making deals with a vampire was one thing, (Y/N) supposed, but fulfilling such a deal was quite another.

When Zeke— who held the contradictory position of the regional Commander of the Hunters as well as the alpha of a local werewolf pack— had approached her with the idea of infiltrating Eren Jaeger's inner circle, she had jumped at the chance; her great-to-however-many-degrees grandfather really had been Jean Kirschtein, and she had read his old journal, and her curiosity about the Old Ways was always bubbling just beneath her skin. Zeke, she thought, must have known of her curiosity, because his offer had been everything she was searching for.

You'll have your answers, he told her, And we'll have ours. One way or another, the problem of Eren Jaeger will be solved through your efforts. There is no possible way to lose.

If only she had known how wrong Zeke had been.

At first, things with Eren were simple— well, as simple as things could be with such a delicate arrangement. It had been beyond easy to bait him into approaching her at the Creature bar on 76th Street, and aside from the first time, allowing time for Eren to feed was almost nothing. Even the process of feeding itself wasn't much of an ordeal— there was hardly any pain since he drew from her wrist after a warm soak, and the whole thing took less than five minutes— but around the second time, when the visions began, things began to be… different.

Little snippets of Eren's past began to come as the two of them interacted more and increased the amount of regular feedings. Sometimes it was as little as a feeling, a memory of a face that (Y/N) had never seen before; other times, it was like (Y/N) was truly there centuries ago, in a land that would one day become her home. Now, almost every time she let Eren drink from her, she was thrust back into a world where humanity was (literally) with it's back against the wall, fighting demons and mindless monsters just to survive; and, sometimes, the visions were so intense that she would come back from them terrified, shaking, and incapable of cogent thought. It was during those times that Eren held her, silent, resigned, and yet somehow caring until she was herself again.

It was strange; in the visions, Eren was often passionate to a fault. He was wild, like an animal, but kind, too. During times like these, when he cradled her in his arms as she was trembling with the force of a particularly poignant memory, (Y/N) wondered if the centuries had truly changed him, or if he hid that passion beneath the jaded indifference she had come to expect.

"You think too much," he told her as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. "Your heart is racing."

Of course it was— the terror of watching hundreds of people be consumed by the very wrath of hell itself would do that to a person— but (Y/N) had no rebuttal. She did think too much, and the end result was muddled reports sent back to Zeke and a clouded heart.

"You loved her."

It was a statement, not a question. Mikasa— the brave, beautiful woman that Jean Kirschtein had once loved— may not have always known it, but Eren truly had felt very deeply for her.

"More than life," Eren replied.

(Y/N) thought back to the memory— the sheer panic Eren had felt at the thought of losing his comrades, the desperation with which he strove to save them— and she amended her statement.

"You loved them all."

Eren hummed.

"More than the wide, wide world."

And (Y/N) thought that, perhaps, he truly meant it.

"What did you see this time?" he asked, his voice soft.

(Y/N) pulled back so that she and Eren were face to face, her legs straddling him. His eyes were glowing-green, and she shivered beneath their scrutiny.

"I saw a field full of demons," she told him, unable to meet his gaze. "You and Mikasa were defenseless, yourself having been pushed to your limit, and Mikasa's blades having been broken. There was nowhere to run, and you— you screamed, and—"

A large, warm hand caressed her cheek, and it occurred to (Y/N) that it was her own blood within Eren that gave him such warmth with which to comfort. She placed her smaller hand atop his, and the world seemed to freeze for a moment to allow this brief, intimate interlude.

"Do you understand now?" he asked as he did almost every time she had a vision. "Do you see why I did what I did?"

As always, (Y/N) shook her head, moving his hand from her face.

"No, I don't."

The response was never met with anger or frustration; Eren was only ever resigned to it. Before, (Y/N) might have felt scorn for such a man who cared so little, but now that she had seen who Eren had been, what he'd been through… perhaps he was simply tired of caring so much.

"You're beautiful when you're thinking."

The words caught (Y/N) off guard. She had known that Eren had thought she was attractive— his emotional feedback told her that much— but she had never thought that he would voice such a thought. The compliment heated her cheeks, and (Y/N) had to fight the urge to bury her face in her hands.

"I've always thought," said Eren, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully, "That one can never truly appreciate the beauty of a blush until one could see it with the eyes of a vampire, or smell it as it rises on the cheek."

Eren placed a hand on her face, tilting it until their eyes were level.

"And as a vampire who has seen many beautiful blushes on many beautiful women, yours is the most bewitching of all."

(Y/N) swallowed thickly.

"Why are you saying this?"

Eren cocked his head to the side, studying her. It was a long moment before he spoke, but when he did, he gave an answer that (Y/N) was not expecting.

"Because it's true, and because I would very much like to kiss you."

(Y/N)'s heart leapt into her throat, but she didn't dare move one way or the other. She just stared at Eren, slack-jawed, as he stared patiently back.

"Why?" she asked when she had collected herself.

Eren shrugged. "Does that matter?"

(Y/N) supposed very much that it did matter, but she didn't feel the need to say so. She studied Eren closely— the latent hunger in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the stain of her blood on his lips— and she thought of how gentle he had been with her, how patient. She had no doubt that he would prove to be equally so in other matters, and she wanted him— but something stopped her.

It would be wrong of me to allow this, she thought, letting her eyes wander to Eren's lips. I'm his enemy, a spy for the Hunters. Allowing him and myself the potential of intimacy is too deep a betrayal, even for me.

Even so, she didn't stop him as he shifted her closer; even so, when his lips brushed hers, she kissed him back, tasting her own blood on his tongue.

"This is a bad idea," she whispered against his lips, shifting in his lap.

"How young you are," he said in return. "There is no such thing as a bad idea, only poor timing and execution. Take it from someone who has centuries of experience; rarely ever is the regret for having done something greater than the regret of not having done it."

So saying, he kissed her again, and (Y/N) threaded her hands in his hair as he reached beneath her shirt. His hands— warm, now, with the heat of her own blood— reached beneath the cup of her bra to cradle her breasts, and she exhaled a hiss as his fingertips found her nipples. She arched into him, pressing her flesh into his hands and parting their lips; he chuckled, dark and low, and she shivered at the sound.

"How many other Creatures have you tricked like this?" he asked, pressing kisses against her neck. "Tell me, pretty girl— just how many have fallen prey to your charms so that you can run back to your little doggy master with their deepest, darkest secrets?"

(Y/N) froze, stuck somewhere between fear, dread, and ecstasy. Eren knew— somehow, he knew— and yet he continued to touch her, kiss her, caress her as though nothing were amiss. Her whole body went still with shock, but Eren never stopped even for a moment.

"Come now, you can't think I didn't know." His lips were just below her ear now, and he closed his teeth around the lobe, teasing her with the sensation. "I can smell him on the papers in your bag; I can hear the clicking of the letters as you type your memos after I've pieced you back together for an evening. Most of all, I can hear the way your heart pumps a little faster when I feed you the information you want. I can taste your guilt in the very blood I take from you. You can hide nothing from me."

"Eren," she said as fear— rancid and terrible— began crawling up the back of her throat, "Eren, please, I haven't told him about the important things, I'm trying to make a case for you—"

He pulled away then, and when his piercing green eyes locked with her own, she stilled like a sparrow caught in the gaze of a cobra.

"I don't care," he replied simply. "You are what you are, and at your core, you cannot change that. It is the same with me. I'm not afraid of my half-mutt half-brother no matter what you tell him, and as long as you want what I have to offer, there's no reason not to take it for your own."

(Y/N)'s mind was reeling.

"Half-brother?"

Eren chuckled at her confusion.

"Oh yes, pretty one. Zeke Jaeger is my older brother, and I suspect he sent you to me just to you with the both of us." With a carnivorous grin, he added, "But little does he know that I play for keeps, and you're not the good little Huntress he must assume you are— that is to say, he must have no clue at all how hungry you are for vampire cock, hm?"

(Y/N) would be lying if she hadn't pictured Eren in… less than appropriate situations, but for fuck's sake, she wasnt blind. The man— vampire, Creature, whatever— was fucking gorgeous, and he damn well knew it, but that didn't mean she was gagging for it.

Did it?

"We can't do this," she said, pushing at Eren's chest, though he didn't budge an inch. "We shouldn't do this."

Eren cracked a grin, toothy with fangs that glistened.

"Says who?" he asked, his large, strong hands coming around to grab her by the ass. "You were perfectly fine with letting me kiss and touch when you thought I was in the dark— is it no longer any fun now that you don't feel like you're taking advantage of me?"

(Y/N) couldn't take it.

"Eren, be serious—"

"I am serious."

When she looked in his eyes and reached out with her own heart, (Y/N) knew that he was telling the truth. He wanted her regardless of anything, regardless of everything.

He simply wanted her.

Could that be so bad?

***

Eren didn't think that this would happen even in his wildest dreams, but when he saw (Y/N) splayed out on his gold silk sheets, he knew it wasn't the madness that Armin accused him of lying to himself about. No mind, well and whole or not, could ever conjure up such a vision. The woman who lay before him— naked and gorgeous— was beyond imagining. She was something from another world entirely.

"What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled as Eren stood over her, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. "Come hold me."

And how lovely was that? His natural enemy, his perfect prey, asking him to come hold her, as though his skin on hers was blessed assurance that he was there and wanting.

Maybe Eren was mad— or, perhaps he was dreaming. If he was, he hoped he never came back to himself. A world without this was not a world he ever wanted to return to.

"Yes," she hissed as he crawled atop her, his mouth suckling at her breast. No other creature that walked the earth could ever taste as sweet as her— having tasted many, many before, Eren would know— but even were that to be disproved, Eren wasn't sure he would much care. This woman would be his undoing.

"Touch me," she demanded, canting her hips up to him. "I want to feel you."

How could Eren ever deny her? He brought a hand down to her sex, caressing her there before parting her folds to quest for her clit. Having found it, he drew small, teasing circles, and she whined.

"Am I still a monster to you?" he asked into the hollow of her throat, placing biting kisses there as his hand kept busy with its work. "Still something to hate and abhor?"

"You're still a monster," she replied, so startlingly honest even now, "But I never once hated you. Oh Eren, please, I want you inside me, I—"

Her wish was his command; Eren plunged two fingers into her depths, and (Y/N) gasped at the intrusion. She was so wet already, and so tempting as she squeezed down on those fingers, rocking her hips as he withdrew them just to the tip and repeated the motion. The way she felt around his digits shouldn't have turned him on as much as it did, but as Eren slid in a third finger, he had to keep himself from letting out a groan.

"You're so beautiful," he told her as she writhed beneath him. "You truly, truly are."

Distantly, Eren wondered what Jean would think if he were alive to know who was finger-fucking his great-granddaughter, but when Eren remembered the nasty right hooks the taller man used to give him when he was being a shit, he figured that he would rather not know. Still, as he watched (Y/N) come undone on the tip of his fingers, he couldn't help but think that perhaps it was something of Jean's spirit— the part that even Eren had to admit was better, kinder, more human than most— that drew him to her.

"I want you," he said, withdrawing his hands and licking his fingers clean of her juices. "Do you feel ready enough?"

And then, as though to prove his point, (Y/N) sat straight up with the cutest little Jean-like scowl he had ever seen and pushed at his chest with no small amount of force. He went with the motion, and he found himself being mounted by her as she said,

"I'm not made of glass— if you can't wrap your head around that, I'll have to show you just what I'm capable of."

She did— and how! Powerful thighs— the thighs of a Hunter— levered her up and down on his cock, squeezing him until he thought he might die from it. He thought she was never going to stop impaling herself again and again, and by the time she did eventually tire, Eren was sort of hoping she never would. He was in ecstasy with her, and like the selfish bastard he was, he wanted it to last forever.

"Such fire," he said, reaching up to press kisses into the skin just between her breasts. "You've made your point, now let me take over."

Let me take care of you.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted as he thrust up into her, the head of his cock buried so deeply within her that he marveled at how she didn't seem to be feeling any discomfort. "Oh fuck, right there, please don't stop—"

Eren didn't stop; he couldn't. He was beyond restraint.

"May I?" He asked, tapping the wrist that was trapped in his right hand. "I won't take much, but I want to show you something."

Delirious, drunk with lust, (Y/N) nodded, and Eren pierced her skin with a single fang, letting a drop of blood fall onto his tongue. In that moment, as they connected physically, her blood connected them spiritually, and Eren groaned as he physically felt how close she was through the link he had created.

It wouldn't be long now.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried, and Eren buried himself as deeply as he could within her as he came. "Oh, oh, oh—"

And then (Y/N) was following him, shaking and gasping as her orgasm overtook her. It seemed that the world had stopped existing for a moment, and Eren found it hard to breathe even though he had no particular need to do so at all.

In the afterglow, they clung to each other like the survivors of a shipwreck; when the world began to exist again, it felt new, and as Eren closed his eyes to sleep, he knew that this changed everything.

I must keep her, he thought as sleep overtook him. I don't know if I could feel like this ever again for anyone else.

[the-blind-geisha]

So I don't know if you're requests are open but I saw you did demiurge x reader content and I absolutely loved it so I am coming at you with a specific ish request it placement of a roleplay idea I wanted to do ages ago but never got the chance.

The scenario could happen randomly in the city or when the adventurers try to raid Nazarick in that one season- but Demiurge encounters a supposedly human artificer (gunslinger) who turns out to be a powerful demon, almost to the point of summoning a big ass black snake creature? She might eventually stay as long as she has protection.

P.s: bonus points if she's only there to get her friend out of trouble and almost fucking obliterates a floor guardian in the process.

Anywho sorry for the long ask! I've been thinking over it for a long time if you couldn't tell lol! Have a wonderful day/night!

I thank you, but sad to say my requests are closed. You can see it right at the mini description one can place in blogs:

Also, because of the fandom being less than savory... I've had to step away from writing Demiurge in his canon content.

I just don't have the emotional energy needed to consider overturning that view right now. Maybe in the future, but not right now. ♥

You might also want to check my rules for requests that are linked there (and here now for a quicker click).

What you're asking for seems like it'd be longer than 700 words, and that's all I would or could offer for such a request. Mainly because I do written commissions.

Tome of Ashurbanipal would have been ideal for you to fill out the form for it, but I shut that down too not that long ago.

[cjoatprehn]

Okay ill be honest...

I’m starting to wonder... why I even try posting my art on tumblr. Or anywhere really.

No exposure. No funds coming my way...

Injuries are repeating and flaring up again.

I need a shoulder brace for my torn rotator cuff and compression gloves for everyday art use..

My medications are getting expensive now and harder to approve...

I never have anything... remaining to save for a rainy day.

Mailbox is always empty except for bills and Co pays.

Supporting artists...I might not be able to for long, but for some reason... God provides me with the ability and opportunity in other ways. I’m grateful.

.... money goes fast, business is slow, my body is cracking under the stress and pressure...

But you know what?

There’s always people like @fluffaros , @eve-chan-da-floofy-artist , @snowy-bones , @caffeinated-capi-reblogs , @dukemz , @amee-racle , @callacaptor , @pennytoons , @hamsterandtrianglenose , @faintblueivy , and many others that care to send me encouragement and love, and fan art... or just being decent human beings... that make life worth it.

I may be struggling now... but I won’t be forever. As long as I have support and stability. And people like you guys being amazingly awesome people.

I mostly post art for myself. But when I saw people who liked it... even if it’s just 1 like... it may not be much...

But it’s something.

And making something out of nothing, is what I do best. It’s a skill of survival and learning... but above all; improvisation and creativity.

There’s a reason why there are people in the world who survive in the wilderness of nature.

Creativity.

As long as the world flourishes with that quality... artists won’t starve. We support each other.

I apologize for the reblog-heavy Account Of mine. I may have to redirect it somewhere else. But!

Enough talk.

Let’s art.

My glasses also snapped in half so I had to buy new ones.... but that’s okay i have spares.

I may be financially challenged and struggling... but I thank God for what I do have. Thank you all.

I’ll post my links below of course, but yknow.

miiriya is like Amazon but you're buying from black business owners only. Please check out my shop and please support, It would be amazing.

I'm giving away $20 gift certificate to you for Redbubble only! Click the link to Recieve the $20 Redbubble Gift Voucher.

[elizaviento]

Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine (Part 5 of ?)

(Stardew Valley — Shane/Female Farmer/OC)

This chapter is rated SFW — 3206 words.

(FYI: Additional chapters of Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine can be found in the Stardew Valley Fic Masterpost link in my blog description.  Or, you can click the #green on the vine strawberry wine tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

*****

Kristen worried at her bottom lip with her teeth, staring at the front door for longer than necessary after Shane departed. Had she weirded him out again? They'd made leaps and bounds in their friendship over the years, but her comfort level always seemed to surpass his own, and she'd do something stupid, like hug him out of nowhere, shoving her yards back from where she'd managed to find a secure foothold.

Befriending Shane had taken effort. More than she'd ever devoted to anyone simply because she was curious. The broody man in the corner of the Stardrop Saloon caught her eye almost immediately, and her curiosity only grew when she discovered that he was Marnie's nephew. Murky memories from her childhood swam to the surface — a boy with black hair and piercing green eyes. A shy boy that had no interest in her whatsoever when Kristen and Homer stopped by the ranch to chat with the pretty woman behind the counter. Kristen never spoke to the boy, but her eyes followed him when he pretended not to notice her, playing with a yellow chic as he sat sprawled on the kitchen floor.

How old had she been? Nine? Ten? Young enough that the memory had been sequestered to deep storage until the moment Marnie had pointed the man out among the Friday night crowd — "You remember Shane, don't you?"

"No,"  Kristen had replied, knowing it was a lie as soon as it left her mouth. She remembered the boy who wouldn't spare her a glance. The boy she saw a handful of times during that lone summer and then never again. Until that night. Often, Kristen wondered if he remembered her, too. She never brought it up, not wanting to seem like a complete weirdo when he ultimately denied it.

"Why are you like this?" she said aloud to the empty room, echoing Shane when she did something to exasperate him. Sinking into her thoughts and losing chunks of time was one of her worst habits. She knew she had to nip it in the bud before she blinked, and it was suddenly late afternoon. Despite the nagging throb of her sutured hand, she had errands to run. She was low on every food staple — having put off shopping until the last possible second, as usual — and didn't think she could stomach another omelet for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Stepping out on the front porch, Moody also loudly protested his lack of preferred kitty treats as he weaved between her legs like a perturbed serpent.

"Sorry, bud," Kristen cooed as she scratched behind the white tom cat's ear. His fur was dingy like he'd been rolling around in the dirt just to spite her. "As soon as this hand heals, you're getting a bath."

The cat howled, as if in protest, and then shot from the porch like a cannonball, straight toward the patch of hot peppers. 

The farmer sighed and captured a strand of hair between her fingers, twirling it aggressively until it ratted and snapped when she pulled her hand away. She'd harvested the peppers on Wednesday, so she had time before the next. But the tomatoes were fat, stalks drooping toward the ground with their weight, and the green beans would need to be plucked within a week. The farm was a living, breathing organism that didn't stop producing because its clumsy caretaker had a doctor's note.

The walk to town was refreshing, even under the blazing eye of the July sun. She'd usually make the drive in her grandfather's pickup truck but shifting the antique vehicle would be impossible in her current condition — another inconvenience that didn't make itself known until she slid behind the driver's seat and reflexively dropped her bandaged hand on the gear shift. A shocked yelp of pain lept from her throat as her other hand slapped the steering wheel in frustration. 

Pierre's General Store was blissfully empty when she entered, having arrived shortly after he'd unlocked the doors, but the merchant wasted no time in offering the farmer delivery of her groceries after the store closed. For an extra fee, of course. 

"Thanks, Pierre. I didn't exactly consider how I'd get the bags home when I was walking here," Kristen said, pink coloring her cheeks. She wondered how often she'd humiliate herself today by mere thoughtlessness alone. 

"It's no problem at all, Miss Wynand," Pierre replied, scribbling her list of groceries on a notepad he kept under the counter. "You're one of my best customers  and  suppliers. I'd be remiss not to offer special services when they're obviously needed."

Pink gave way to dusky rose on the length of the farmer's slender neck and the apples of her cheeks, realizing that her helplessness would have indeed traveled through the entirety of Pelican Town by now. She wondered how many also knew that Shane had been on the farm at the break of day. Not that she cared but she was certain that Shane wouldn't be as dismissive of conspiratorial whispers and sidelong glances.

Kristen managed to leave Pierre's with only having to explain her situation to Caroline and Abigail, which she considered a win. But that sense of victory quickly faded when she stepped out into the town square, and several more residents swarmed her like a pack of rabid dogs.

"Oh, Krissy, dear… you poor thing," Evelyn fussed while George shot her a stern look from his wheelchair. "I'll send over a plate of fresh cookies and a casserole with Alex this evening. I don't want you going hungry. You're already practically skin and bones."

"Uh, yeah. Guess I'll be doing that instead of lifting weights," Alex responded from behind the old woman, rolling his eyes. 

"Wow, does it hurt?! Lemme see! Is it gross?" Vincent asked, his face bright with childish curiosity. He'd broken away from Penny's watchful eye as she attempted to corral him toward the library for lessons. Jas shuffled up beside him, her expression openly sympathetic.

"Aunt Marnie said you're probably okay but I was scared!" the little girl said, her voice wavering with emotion. Kristen's stomach flipped, wondering just how much Jas had overheard in such a short period of time. She was sure that Shane wouldn't have told her anything, but Marnie was known to gossip with customers from time to time, and Jas was a proverbial sponge, soaking up every word uttered in her presence to regurgitate later. 

"Huh. I kinda wanna see the scar," Sebastian spoke up from behind her, his husky voice taking the farmer by surprise. The lone programmer usually didn't leave his house before dusk, but Kristen spotted Maru next to him, carrying several empty reusable bags. It must have been their turn to shop.

"Uh —" Kristen hedged, uncertain of how to address each person, anxiety buzzing in the base of her skull like a nest of agitated wasps.

"Okay, everyone. Let's give Krissy some space," Lewis spoke up as he approached the mini crowd, striding toward them with all the confidence of an elected official, regardless of the fact he'd run unopposed for as long as anyone could remember. 

Kristen soon found herself in the Mayor's home, sitting at the kitchen table of his private quarters with a hot mug of milky rose tea. The aroma knocked her back to when Lewis' late wife perfected the blend, ensuring Kristen was adequately stocked during her teenage summers. Nostalgia traveled along the steam, curling around the farmer's nose like Moody's tail when he perched on her chest in the dead of night.

"Thanks for saving me out there," she said, taking a sip as her eyes scanned the room. Not a thing had changed since Barbara had passed, and she supposed that was on purpose. "I usually don't get so overwhelmed." 

Memories of her first few months as Pelican Town's newest farmer swirled through her mind, every set of eyes glued to her stereotypically overall-clad form as she introduced herself to the residents she didn't already know. The endorsement of her grandfather's old friends may have padded the jagged edges for those warier of her sudden presence, but she'd taken it in stride with a smile and baskets of produce. That woman was confident, even in the face of small-town scrutiny. Nothing like the woman who found herself tongue-tied while among friends.

"You've had a rough couple of days," Lewis replied, sitting a plate of butter cookies between them before he took a seat across from her. Kristen smiled, recalling when Homer and Lewis would demolish an entire tin of those cookies in one sitting. "So — how did it go this morning? Did Shane show up on time? Or at all?"

She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes by snatching a cookie from the plate and shoving it in her mouth. Chewing and swallowing the stale brick gave her enough time to bite her tongue and arrange something less snarky to come from her mouth once it was empty.

"He got there before I was even out of bed. And he's coming back after his shift at Joja." Lewis' eyebrows shot up into his receding hairline, clearly shocked. "Don't," she warned, pointing a slender finger in the old man's direction. "The beef between you two has nothing to do with me."

"There isn't any beef ," Lewis said, scrunching his face at Kristen's choice of words. "He doesn't like me, and I'm not sure why."

"Oh, come on!" Kristen exclaimed, tossing both hands above her head. "You  do  know your little affair with Marnie is the worst kept secret in town, right?" Lewis balked before his face fell flat, expressionless.

"Krissy, you don't understand my position here. It would be wildly unprofessional for me to —"

"To what? Be in a relationship? Do you know how stupid that sounds? Literally, no one would care, Lewis. Yeah, people might gossip about it for a few days, but it's not like you don't partake in that unsavory activity yourself." 

She leveled him with a serious stare, taking another sip from her tea as the Mayor blushed, unconsciously admitting to his chatter of Shane's intended whereabouts that morning. 

"You're just like your grandpa," Lewis replied with a defeated sigh. "He never let me get away with anything either. Told me exactly how it was. I guess I kinda missed that."

"Good," she said, reaching across the table with her good hand to grasp one of his. "You were his best friend, and I think he would want me to keep you on your toes."

❦❧🍓❦❧

The farmer sat on the edge of the dock next to Willy's shop, her feet dangling bare. The surface of the salty water was warm but a ribbon of chill licked at the soles of her feet now and then, promising icy depths. She never wanted to sink directly into the ocean and backstroke for miles more than she did at that very moment. The expanse of rippling blue stretching toward the horizon beckoned her toward the unknown, toward a suffocating silence strong enough to snuff conscious thought, allowing her to peacefully drift and drift and drift...

"Wow, I really need to cut back on the early 2000s emo playlists," she muttered to herself, pulling her pruning toes from the water to stuff them back in her raggedy boots.

She'd been struggling with the ridiculous notion to stop by the Joja Mart for no other reason than to pester Shane. It wasn't something she usually did. In fact, she tended to steer clear of the eyesore among Pelican Town to avoid dredging up her own checkered past with the megacorp. She had caught enough wayward, smug glances from Morris as he walked through town to last her a lifetime. Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was smother the man who had selflessly offered to help her.

Instead, she opted to swing by Pierre's and proposed to pay him double the fee if he could deliver her groceries at 4 pm instead of 5. She was delighted and maybe just a bit remorseful when Pierre ordered Abigail to the cash register and began stuffing bags with items from her list.

"Thanks, Pierre. Sorry, Abby!" she called to them both as she rushed out the door of the general store. Abby stuck out her tongue playfully, causing the farmer to laugh as the overhead bell jingled at her departure.

The morning and early afternoon seemed as if they had slipped through her fingers like corn silk, having nothing to do but waste precious time. It felt alien, and she had wandered around town like a derelict, anxious energy simmering just below the surface as she caught up with everyone who crossed her path. It had  been nice, considering the beginning of summer kept her stranded on the farm. Like the changing of the guard, the crops needed to be rotated to those that thrive in the blistering heat, chewing up weeks and spitting them out in the form of aching joints, sunburns, and an impressive field of budding produce. Sure, there were days when Kristen wondered if she was getting too old for manual labor — her 34th birthday having passed in early spring — but she simply couldn't imagine returning to the city. Besides, her grandpa managed the farm independently up until the final few years. Only then did he hire a farmhand and ended up doing most of the work himself anyway.

Pierre emerged from the footpath leading toward the bus stop only moments after Kristen. She'd refused his offer of a ride, joking that he'd probably charge her for that too. In reality, she needed the time alone to gather her thoughts. It had occurred to her earlier in the day that if she required surgery, she couldn't rely on Shane to double up on the work he did every day just so  her farm wouldn't go under. Throughout the afternoon, mostly while lounging on the ocean dock, she'd decided to confront him with something she was sure he'd refuse if it wasn't framed perfectly.

Pierre took his time unloading the groceries from the bed of his truck and carrying them into the farmhouse, much to Kristen's impatience. Her eyes flitted toward the wall clock as he sat the final bag on her kitchen table and smiled at her expectantly. Without much fanfare, she retrieved her wallet and forked over the exorbitant delivery fee, plus tip. By the time he'd left for good, Kristen had about 20 minutes to whip up a meal delicious enough to butter Shane up for what was to surely become an awkward conversation.

"Lots of people cook gourmet meals with one hand, right?" she asked Moody as he jumped on the counter to sniff at the ground beef she'd tossed into a frying pan. She nudged him away from the glowing burner but allowed him to saunter back and forth at her eye level, convincing herself he was interested in what she had to say.

Making idle chit-chat with a cat was therapeutic, but she quickly clamped her mouth shut the second Shane's heavy footfalls landed on her front porch. A knock promptly followed. 

"Shane, you have a key!" she yelled over the exhaust fan above her stove and the simmering of marinara sauce. A moment of hesitation lingered before her ears detected a metallic slide and click as the flimsy knob lock disengaged, and Shane stepped inside. 

The confusion contorting his face at the sight of the farmer's wrecked kitchen pulled a cackle from the center of her chest, even before properly greeting him.

"It looks like a bomb went off in here," he said, removing his cap and shoving it in his back pocket.

"Yeah, well… try chopping vegetables with one hand. I had to balance them on the cutting board and whack at them like I was trying to hack someone's head off." He cautiously approached her, as if she were still holding the knife and would swing at him next. "I wanted to have it ready before you got here, but Pierre took his sweet fucking time."

Shane blinked, obviously still confused but not opting to ask for further explanation on that bit.

"What's 'it'?" he asked, brow pinched as he tried to figure the mystery out for himself. Kristen smiled, glad he hadn't gone the route of chastising her. At least, not yet. 

"Lasagna. The sauce is ready now, so I just have to dump it on everything else and shove it in the oven for a bit. Shouldn't take long. Oh! And I added the hot peppers I harvested the other day."

"Sounds good." A hand scrubbed through his hair, ruffling it back into place. "Can I, uh — use your bathroom?" he asked, shrugging the shoulder supporting his backpack. 

"Yeah, of course! You can take a shower if you want. There really isn't anything else that needs to be done outside."

"Sure," he replied. Then he disappeared around the corner, his footsteps dampening as the distance between them grew.

Kristen sighed, her face falling as she unceremoniously plopped down in one of her kitchen chairs. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, heart rate stupidly high as she rehearsed the speech she'd written in her head while fumbling through the cooking process. A moment later, her ancient pipes rattled, signaling that Shane had successfully figured out how to operate her janky shower.

By the time he finished and wandered back into the kitchen, Kristen had managed to clean up most of her mess and placed two plates on the table displaying massive slabs of lasagna.

"I hope you're hungry," she said as he approached, momentarily distracted by the moisture that still clung to the strands of his black hair. It almost seemed to shimmer, slicked back away from his forehead until it dried and flopped back into its usual position.

The pair sat in companionable silence for a while until Kristen asked him how work went. Shane told her about an out-of-town customer who harassed the cashier over an expired 15-cent coupon. Morris had apparently sided with the customer, causing the cashier to cry in the break room.

"He's such an ass," Shane said, scowling at a fork full of flat noodles, cheese, and ground beef. "I can't believe you worked with him at corporate before they shipped him off here to ruin  my  life."

Kristen cringed, the actual story of that transfer resurfacing in her memory.

"I didn't work  with him, but —" She paused, thinking better of stoking the flames, knowing it would sink Shane's mood to a depth that wouldn't behoove her current mission. She also realized that the longer it took her to bring it up, the less courage she'd have to urge him toward her greener pastures.

"Doesn't matter," Shane answered dismissively, shoving the loaded fork in his mouth.

Finally recognizing her opportunity, Kristen sucked in a shaky breath and hoped like hell that her heart wouldn't leap from her throat instead.

"I want you to move in with me."