#shed look so cute in em

[kanadrawz]

You make miis look fine af dude…. Could I request Nick or Lucía :0

might as well kill two birds with one stone bc @madhippiekisser requested this too :3

also thank you on the first comment i try 😌

[goldenhypen]

this is so cringe but uhm 🧍🏻‍♀️ mayhaps i shed a tear or two or more this morning bc of him,,, im so happy you guys agh i missed this man sm you don’t understand. and he’s so happy rn you guys he’s HAPPY he’s like always happy but this time just hit different since the last time he went live was forever ago and he def was not ok. but this time i can confidently say he’s happy :( he’s so cute omg this live is everything to me omg. also his hair is getting LONG he’s so hot stop

[spotsupstuff]

I love Euros so much and hes a super sweet guy but it will never not be funny to me that the first time I saw him was him and sig showing off their titties LJSHHSK

feckin hell you dare remind me of that........... he SO still would parade his puppet around like that but GODS what a fuckin intro to make

[mistfallenmemes]

𝚃𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴

"Oh, I leave quite an impression."

"You're wonderin' why half his clothes went missin'? My body's where they're at."

"Now I'm gone but you're still layin' next to me."

"I heard you're back together."

"You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you."

"If you want forever... and I bet you do."

"He's funny now? All his jokes hit different? Guess who he learned them from."

"Every time you close your eyes and feel his lips, you're feelin' mine."

"Every time you breathe his air, just know I was already there."

"You can have him if you like; I've been there, done that once or twice."

"I know I've been known to share."

𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴

"I know I have good judgment."

"I know I have good taste."

"It's funny and it's ironic that only I feel that way."

"I promised 'em that you're different and everyone makes mistakes."

"I heard that you're an actor, so act like a stand-up guy."

"Whatever devil's inside you, don't let him out tonight."

"I tell them it's just your culture and everyone rolls their eyes."

"Please, please, please, don't prove I'm right."

"Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice."

"Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another."

"I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker."

"Well, I have a fun idea, babe, maybe just stay inside?"

"I know you're cravin' some fresh air, but the ceiling fan is so nice."

"We could live so happily if no one knows that you're with me."

"Don't prove I'm right."

"Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another. I beg you, don't embarrass me."

"If you wanna go and be stupid, don't do it in front of me."

"Don't make me hate you prolifically."

𝙶𝙾𝙾𝙳 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙲𝙴𝚂

"When I love you, I'm sweet like an angel."

"I'm drawin' hearts 'round our names, and dreamin' of writing vows, rockin' cradles."

"Don't mistake my nice for naive"

"I don't waste a second, I know lots of guys."

"You do somethin' suspect, this cute ass bye-bye."

"Baby, you say you really like it; being mine?"

"Let me give you some advice."

"It's not that complicated."

"You should stay in my good graces."

"It's not that complicated. You should stay in my good graces."

"No one's more amazin' at turnin' lovin' into hatred."

"I'll tell the world you finish your... chores... prematurely."

"Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete."

"I want you every second, don't need other guys."

"You do somethin' sus, kiss my cute ass bye."

"I won't give a fuck about you."

𝚂𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙿𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝚃𝙾𝙾𝙻

"I know you're not the sharpest tool in the shed."

"We had sex, I met your best friends!"

"A bird flies by and you forget."

"I don't hear a word til your guilt creeps in."

"You left me with a lot of shit to second-guess."

"Guess I'll waste another year on wonderin' if."

"If that was casual, then I'm an idiot."

"I'm lookin' for an answer in-between the lines."

"You're lyin' to yourself if you think we're fine."

"You're confused and I'm upset, but we never talk about it."

"All the silence just makes it worse."

"We never talk about how you found God at your ex's house."

"You always made sure that the phone was face-down."

"Seems like overnight, I'm just the bitch you hate now."

"You guilt-tripped me to open up to you!"

"We don't talk about it."

𝙲𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴

"The second I put my head on your chest, she knew."

"She's got a real sixth sense."

"Without her even being here, she's back in your life."

"Now she's in the same damn city on the same damn night, and you've lost all your common sense."

"What a coincidence."

"Last week, you didn't have any doubts. This week, you're holding space for her tongue in your mouth."

She's sending you some pictures, wearing less and less, trying to turn the past into the present tense."

"You told me the truth... minus seven percent."

"What a surprise, your phone just died."

"Your car drove itself from L.A. to her thighs?"

"... but who's by your side?"

"Damn it, she looks kinda like the girl you outgrew."

"At least that's what you said."

𝙱𝙴𝙳 𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙼

"I was in a sheer dress the day that we met."

"We were both in a rush."

"Your friend hit me up so we could connect."

"What are the odds?"

"And now the next thing I know..."

"I manifest that you're oversized... I digress."

"Who's the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent?"

"Maybe it's all in my head."

"But I bet we'd have really good bed chem."

"How you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round, oh, it just makes sense."

"How you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things, that's bed chem."

"How you're looking at me, yeah, I know what that means, and I'm obsessed."

"Are you free next week?"

"Come right on me... I mean camaraderie!"

"Said you're not in my time zone, but you wanna be."

"Where art thou? Why not uponeth me?"

"I see it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy."

"Who's the cute guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big, bad mmm?"

"I know I sound a bit redundant."

"It just makes sense."

"You talk so sweet when you're doing bad things."

"You're looking at me, yeah, I know what that means."

"And I bet we'd both arrive at the same time."

"And I bet the thermostat's set at six-nine."

"And I bet it's even better than in my head."

𝙴𝚂𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙾

"He's thinkin' 'bout me every night."

"Isn't that sweet?"

"I guess so."

"Say you can't sleep, baby, I know."

"I can't relate to desperation."

"My 'give a fucks' are on vacation."

"I got this one boy and he won't stop calling."

"When they act this way I know I got em'."

"Too bad your ex don't do it for ya."

"Walked in and dream came trued it for ya."

"Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya."

"I know I Mountain Dew it for ya."

"That morning coffee brewed it for ya."

"One touch and I brand newed it for ya."

"Holy shit."

"I'm working late..."

"He looks so cute wrapped around my finger."

"My twisted humor makes him laugh so often."

"My honey bee, come and get this pollen."

"Isn't that sweet?"

"I guess so."

𝙳𝚄𝙼𝙱 & 𝙿𝙾𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙲

"You're so dumb and poetic."

"It's just what I fall for, I like the aesthetic."

"Every self-help book, you've already read it."

"You cherry-pick lines like they're words you invented."

"You get a gold star for hi-brow manipulation."

"You try to come off like you're soft and well-spoken."

"You jack off to lyrics by Leonard Cohen."

"I don't think you understand."

"Just 'cause you talk like one, it doesn't make you a man."

"You're so sad there's no communication, but baby, you put us in this situation."

"You're running so fast from the hearts that you're breakin'."

"You're so empathetic, you'd make a great wife."

"I promise the mushrooms aren't changing your life."

"You crashed the car and abandoned the wreckage."

"You fuck with my head like it's some kind of fetish."

"Just 'cause you leave like one, it doesn't make you a man."

𝚂𝙻𝙸𝙼 𝙿𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙸𝙽𝚂

"Guess I'll end this life alone."

"I am not dramatic, these are just the thoughts that pass right through me."

"All the douchebags in my phone... if they're winning, I'm just losing."

"A boy who's jacked and kind. Can't find his ass to save my life."

"It's slim pickins."

"If I can't have the one I love, I guess it's you that I'll be kissin'."

"Since the good ones are deceased or taken, I'll just keep on moanin' and bitchin'."

"Jesus, what's a girl to do?"

"This boy doesn't even know the difference between "there", "their", and "they are"."

"He's naked in my room."

"God knows that he isn't livin' large."

"A boy who's nice, that breathes? I swear, he's nowhere to be seen."

"Since the good ones call their exes wasted, and since the Lord forgot my gay awakening, then I'll just be here in the kitchen."

𝙹𝚄𝙽𝙾

"I don't have to tell your hot ass a thing, you just get it."

"Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit."

"God bless your dad's genetics."

"You make me wanna make you fall in love."

"Late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you."

"Wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs?"

"Oh, I hear you knockin', baby. Come on up."

"I know you want my touch for life

"If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno."

"You know I just might let you lock me down tonight."

"One of me is cute, but two, though?"

"Give it to me, baby."

"I showed my friends, then we high-fived. Sorry if you feel objectified."

"I can't help myself, hormones are high."

"You give me more than just some butterflies."

"Wanna try out some freaky positions?"

"Have you ever tried this one?"

"If you love me right, then who knows?"

"I might let you make me Juno."

"Adore me."

"Hold me and explore me."

"Mark your territory."

"Tell me I'm the only one."

"Adore me, hold me and explore me."

"I'm so fucking horny."

𝙻𝙸𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙶𝙸𝚁��𝚂

"Don't swear on your mom that it's the first drink that you've had in like a month."

"Don't say it was just an isolated incident that happened once."

"There's no need to pretend."

"I've never seen an ugly truth that I can't bend to something that looks better."

"I'm stupid, but I'm clever."

"I can make a shitshow look a whole lot like forever and ever."

"You don't have to lie to girls."

"If they like you, they'll just lie to themselves."

"You don't have to lie to girls. If they like you, they'll just lie to themselves."

"Don't I know it better than anyone else?"

"All of your best excuses don't stand a chance."

"It isn't ideal, but damn."

"You don't even have to try."

"You don't have to lift a finger."

"It's lucky for you I'm just like my mother."

"We love to read the cold, hard facts and swear they're incorrect."

"We love to mistake butterflies for cardiac arrest."

"You don't have to lie to girls. If they like you, they'll just lie to themselves. Don't I know it better than anyone else?"

"Girls will cry and girls will lie and girls will do it 'til they die for you."

"Girls will lose their goddamn minds for you."

𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙴

"Don't smile because it happened, baby, cry because it's over."

"You're supposed to think about me every time you hold her."

"My heart is heavy now, it's like a hundred pounds."

"It's falling faster than the way you love to shut me down."

"I think I need a shower."

"My friends are taking shots."

"You think it's happy hour, for me it's not."

"Don't smile because it happened."

"Cry because it's over."

"I want you to miss me."

"I stay in, and when the girls come home I want one of them to take my phone and lose your number."

"I don't wanna be tempted."

"You can fake it, but you know I know."

[eeboor]

jayvik ficrecs 🤺🤺🤺

it’s long so. continues utc (also i tried to mention which ones had smut but i definitely forgot to mention some so idk proceed w caution)

The Pulse of The Machine by BringTheKaos (92k)

SOOOOOO INCREDIBLY GOOD!!! sorta a mixture of league and arcane lore which i LOVE, explicit sexual content and some (imo) mild body horror bc well, viktor, and the typical lovers to enemies to lovers arc that league jayvik generally embarks on

look out bellow by weatheredlaw (11k)

SO GOOD. very sad at the end lowk 😟😟 but love it. again a mixture of league and arcane lore, just how i like it smirk emoji. one sex scene (bottom jayce supremacy tbh)

A shared detestation by oooohscar (2k)

the type of fic you wish was longer and never stop thinking about. league lore compliant, essentially meant to be viktor and jayce’s meet-cute at one of those piltie parties they both despise

Your Needs, My Needs by inoxske (23k)

post canon for arcane lore. Wow i’m still reeling actually. real tears were shed after i finished this but it hurt so good. basically jayvik learns to heal after season 2, posing as fake husbands until they become hmmm maybe not so fake husbands. one sex scene but vague af

Bookstreet by Elf_Writes (10k)

SO CUTE AND FUN. pure fluff and some second hand embarrassment because jayce + vi = flop duo. basically jayce takes vi’s advice on how to woo viktor and things get worse from there. i’m obsessed

If This Is How It Feels to Be Broken by marttyyriroskis (21k)

a much lighter take on the usual hatred between machine herald viktor and defender of tomorrow jayce!! again, a mixture of league and arcane canons (my favorite shii fr 😍😍). basically, jayce is at rock bottom and viktor meets him there despite the grievances of the past. love the characterization, one sex scene but very brief and vague

love, letting go by theroyalsavage (13k)

once again the mixture of league and arcane canon, SOOOOO GOOD. hurts so good fr. miscommunication trope but in a way that doesn’t make you want to kill all the characters. love the take on the hexcore. fic essentially operates under the assumption that season 2 of arcane did not occur 💯. also jayce thinking viktor replaced his face and not knowing the mask is a MASK will always be my FAV. “i never thought i’d see your eyes again” yeah so that’s the gayest thing i’ve ever fucking read

to swim through the fires — to stay in this world by theroyalsavage (20k)

just got finished reading this. wow i hope i die! so good. very little angst, lovely plot. AU where viktor never leaves the undercity and raises ekko and powder after that Awful Night ™️. i love you jayce talis i want to kiss your lovely forehead. what a baddie. anyway uhhh read it or i’ll kill you

all this longing - ships left to rush by theroyalsavage (22k)

i love you jayvik divorce era maybe you could save me. Ok basically pirate au yet still vaguely canon compliant with arcane season 1. jayce gets captured by pirates oh no and who’s that mysterious guy who vouches for him?? surely not his long lost ex (they never dated)…. oh em gee how will it end

growing sideways by inkingbrushes (27k)

wow okay so this one is beautiful. modern au where jayvik are roommates, best friends, and a secret third thing (lovers in denial). the getting together takes a little while but is so so worth it. viktor pov, and you can tell the person who wrote jayce is a little in love with him too

Evergreen Out The Window by inkingbrushes (51k)

wow same author so crazy. Mage au? i guess?? idk just read it, it’s amazing and so beautiful and heart wrenching and UGH i love a good immortality magic fic. READ ITTTT!!!! also i love the rio representation here.

The Firelight Tree by Tempeste (58k)

amazing showstopping incredible. post canon arcane fic, i love the healing that happens between jayvik and ekko’s inclusion is just top tier. also the lust jayvik shares is just 😳. two sex scenes i believe, serving my vers jayvik agenda fr.

You Look Fur-miliar by eeboor (18k)

Wowww this couldnt possibly be my own fic could it. ok well tbh it’s jayvik if they were cats. viktor has three legs. jayce is a Maine coon. enemies to lovers but like cats. love at first sight but only for jayce and also like they’re cats. Hurt comfort. Just read it I actually love how it turned out

Happy Endings by eeboor (2k)

Ur kidding this just can’t be by me. Ok maybe it is u got me. canon compliant, mage viktor’s various trials w figuring out how to make Jayce succeed and stop him from dooming the entire world. Yippee!

butterflies and hurricanes by ironcy (39k)

wow ok i might take my life! if you like jayce centric and jayce whump then THIS is the jayvik fic for you. wow ok the pain is endless i’m sorry i just got done reading this as i’m writing this. absolutely brutal, but incredibly well done and a satisfying ending. rip my girl ximena tho

Red Chrysanthemums by Finnicus_Gayicus (124k)

so good. SO GOOD. really gives satisfaction in a way i can’t describe—you get mad as fuck at the fic for a few chapters and then satisfied again, and again and again until the beautiful perfect ending. basically jayce is thrust into an alternate reality which takes place in the modern day instead of the hellscape he was sent to in arcane. 2-3 sex scenes. VERY well written and so incredibly beautiful honestly the bottle flew into my hand

you’re so handsome when i’m all over your mouth by HypnosTheory (39k)

ok ummm porn every chapter lmfao. REALLY well written, pretty intense bc it’s also a vampire/werewolf au. some abo elements too bc viktor is like my mate my mate for a while there. i pray every day that the author will finish the series bc i can’t live with that ending. also a murder scene occurs 🙏

ok that’s all for now but i will probably post another one of these at some point because i’m mentally ill

[saintship]

humbly would like to request konig seeing s/h scars on his s/o for the first time :’)

fun fact i got dumped one time over em one time, my ex saw em on my thigh and was like “yeah no”

First of all I’m hunting this fucker down, what the hell??

People who get stranger’s IP’s do your shit

I’m so sorry that happened to you, that little boy did not deserve you, I hope you enjoy<3

SIDE NOTE I saw a headcanon on tiktok saying “König is NOT shy” And I kinda loved that so I tried to explore it a bit

Warnings: S/H scars, revealing of traumatic events

König x Reader

Outer Patrol

Of all the assignment you cycled through, outer patrol was the easiest on the eyes. The forest surrounding the base consisted of thin birch trees packed together, so that slivers of sunlight would reach through and grace the east grounds. Your favorite was the early morning outer patrol with König—he shared your fascination with the forest, and slung a loose arm around you when it had been truly freezing last winter.

Now, in the warmth of July, the sun casted its light aggressively through the gaps of branches and leaves, the humid air clouding your thoughts.

The sticks and leaves crumpled under both of your boots, König bringing up the rear on the narrow path.

“Do you think there are bears out here?” You murmur, looking carefully through the gaps of the trees.

“Nein. We make too much noise..” König pointed out. The camp certainly made itself known during artillery drills.

You hum, letting the air settle in silence again. Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks, causing König to nearly topple you over.

“Hey!”

“Sh!” You hold up a gloved hand, staying as still as possible. Slowly, you lifted the other to point ahead of you, where a fox pawed at the ground, investigating the lush grass.

“That’s not a bear.” König’s whisper nearly made you laugh, but you swatted his shoulder instead, smiling.

“He’s so cute..” you whisper. The fox lifted its head, spotting the two of you and bounding away quickly.

“I guess it’s not too loud for him.” You turn around and walk backwards to face your partner as the path widens ahead.

“Maybe we’ll see kits in the spring.” König said softly.

“Aw..” You cooed at the thought, smiling.

The path continued, but there was a faint fork that led off to the right.

“Have you seen this?”

König shook his head.

You pushed back a branch, stepping through the threshold. The path was littered with overgrown ferns, bushes, and a few fallen logs you had to vault over. Finally, the path opened to a clearing, where a small stream expanded into a large pond nestled underneath a trickling waterfall. The rocky ledge slanted down, the falling water sparkling beneath the late morning sunshine.

“Oh..my god..” you breathed. You turned to see König’s reaction; he was transfixed on the water, his eyes shining under the dark paint and hood.

“This is insane..” you knelt by the water, removing a glove to feel the temperature. “Not bad. I bet people used to swim here.”

Suddenly, König’s pager buzzed, and he was broken from his trance to retrieve the device from his hip.

“König, outer patrol..” He greeted.

“Price is tellin’ me to inform everyone off base to not come back until the afternoon; apparently we’ve got more people than we’re supposed to have on the property, and the hounds are here earlier than he thought.”

Simon’s voice rang gruffly through the transmitter, sounding irritated.

“So just don’t come back for a few hours, yeah?”

“Ja.” König replied.

“Thanks, Ghost!” You called from where you knelt at the water.

“Whatever.” The line clicked, leaving them alone with the sound of running water again.

“Well, we couldn’t have been in a luckier spot to stay put.” You stated, pulling off your backpack. You set down your gun next to it and hugged your knees, watching the water.

“That is true.” König conceded. He shed the bulk of his gear, along with his weapon, but remained standing, wandering along the shoreline. He knelt for a moment, seemingly inspecting something, before standing again and tossing a stone sideways, the rock skidding a total of four times before plunging into the water.

“Woah!” You got to your feet, walking over to him. “You could go Olympic..” You found a stone that seemed thin enough, turning it over in your ungloved hand.

“Just turn your hips. Put your soul into it.” König instructed, enacting his ridiculous stone-skipping stance. You laughed a bit, but followed his direction, skipping the rock twice.

“Ha!” You threw your arms up, connecting your hands with König’s for a double high five.

“Not bad..” He chided.

The sun rose in the sky over the next hour, you and König perfectly content with skipping rocks, wrestling, and splashing each other. All the movement combined with the beating sun made for a layer of sweat underneath your uniform.

“Wish we could swim; I’m melting..” you laid on your back dramatically, feeling the warm stones through your shirt.

“Why not?”

“Because, we have work, and someone might- hey!” You sat up, gaping as König lifted his shirt. He was careful to keep his hood on, but dared to strip of his pants, boots and socks.

“What are you doing?” You couldn’t help but smile at his tenacity.

“Just to my waist!” König gestured to his bare torso, his black briefs and hood being the only fabric left on him. You watched as he waded in, the muscles of his back enough to have a warmth climb your neck. You look away, feeling uncertain about ogling your coworker.

“It’s so nice!”

You turned back to see him hip-deep, running his hands back and forth along the surface. The definition of his chest and shoulders was criminal, accentuated by the patterns of light reflecting off the water’s surface.

“Come on!”

“No way!” You grinned, trying to hide the sense of dread the idea brought onto your mind.

“I am willing to use force!”

“Oh, god..” you sighed, removing your boots and socks. You waded to your shins, rolling up your pants so they didn’t get wet. The water was cool, washing away the sweat prickling on your legs. “Happy?”

“I don’t think so..” He sang, wading back to the shore. The water cascaded down his lower stomach, along his thighs. You found yourself furiously studying the pebbles at your feet, rendering you unaware of König’s attack.

He lifted you from the water with damp hands, ready to drop you in the further depths. You yelped, laughing but terrified of coming back with a soaked uniform.

“Alright! Alright!” You shouted. “I’ll get in, crazy!”

A gentle laugh rumbled from his chest, which sounded right by your ear as he set you down. You had felt the muscle of his chest through just a layer of fabric; the thought enough for you to avoid his eyes.

With all the laughter, you almost forgot the reason you didn’t want to undress in the first place. While König returned into the water, you pulled off your shirt, your sports bra being the only covering for your chest. The high-waisted underwear that you wore so your belt didn’t dig dents into your skin acted as bottoms, but you were hesitant to remove your pants. König noticed your labored breathing, returning to your side again.

“You don’t have to..if you really don’t want to.” He said gently, holding out a surrendering hand.

“No, it’s not..I just..” you sighed, irritated, and sat down in the sand.

“Is there something bothering you?” König’s gentle question shouldn’t have made you shrink the way it did.

“I’m sorry I pressured you, I didn’t-"

“König, it’s not your fault.” Your words escaped a bit snappier than usual, your shame building into frustration. “It’s..there are parts of myself you haven’t seen. Things that might upset you.”

König continued to look in your eyes, his concern drifting to confusion.

“There is nothing I would hold against you..” he assured. “If you want to do this, you shouldn’t hold yourself back, it’s alright.”

His words grounded you. He was right; a bodily feature is not grounds for hiding yourself away for the rest of your life when you don’t want to.

You nod, finding it easier to just get to it. Your belt came off first, the sound of the sliding leather deafening in the air of trickling water and chittering birds. Sliding your pants down your legs, the scars stretching over your thighs seemed especially defined under the sunlight. You discarded your pants, resisting the urge to cover yourself. You heard an intake of breath from König; a noise of realization.

“That is why you didn’t want to?” He asked gently.

“Scars like these don’t sit well with most people.” You murmur. Standing, you wade fully into the water, letting the water come up to your shoulders. König followed quietly, the same depth with his height letting the water only reach his sternum.

“I don’t think of you differently.” He admitted softly. “I’m honored you trust me to share something like that..I believe you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

You study his eyes for a moment, the water around you soothing your worries. “Really?”

König nodded, then let the silence stretch its legs between the two of you for a moment.

“Do you wanna go under the waterfall?” König asked.

You smiled. “Your hood will get wet..”

He hummed in realization. “I suppose you’ll have to go under for two?”

You laugh gently, swimming toward the waterfall with a splash at his chest. The water fell gently, soaking your hair and cooling your scalp.

“That’s nice..” you murmured, your eyes closed. “They’re totally going to know..”

Opening your eyes, you spot König already looking your way. The water is deep enough here that the edge seams of his hood are dipping into the water.

“I think it was worth it..”

You know he doesn’t mean it was worth it to escape the heat. Or threaten to dunk you underwater, or watch you tilt your head back under a glittering waterfall. You’d admitted something raw—deeply personal. There was a tie that bound you now, separate from that military based trust that everyone shared. With the others, you’d devoted the sacrifice of your body; your role in the fight. But to one Colonel, you had devoted your mind.

[butterphii]

Just Us

Forever (Part 3)

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TW: Fake relationship, cussing, H/C, talk of abusing/domestic violence by ex (reader's ex), cute Jake, sexual tension, Jake closing himself off and not letting it happen, sad reader : (

Note: Adding the abusing part because there should be way more attention on people who survived that. This is for all of them. Enjoy, lovelies. ^^

-------------------Jake Peralta------------------

You sat patiently in his car while he waited for the food from the McDonald's drive thru window.

"Is it almost done? I'm starving!" You groaned angrily. "I don't even know, girl. Give 'em two more minutes, I'm sure-" He was interrupted by someone fairly familiar popping out the window.

"Oh, why look who it is!" A voice said. "Hello, dear." He looked into your eyes while you tried to remember who he was. Your whole body froze when you finally pinned it in your head; your ex.

You started to hyperventilate as Jake drove off. "Hey, hey, baby what's wrong? He pulled his car over. You couldn't answer. Eyes filled with tears, mouth breathing heavy. "Babe, it's gonna be ok, I just need you to answer me ok?" He added, leaning over the center console to stroke your cheek lightly.

"He..A-abused..me." You finally managed to sob out. Jake's face turned from sympathy to anger. "It's ok, baby, promise. Let's get you back home and I'll stay with you for the night, alright?" He asked, making sure you were ok before he turned the car back on and drove to the apartment building.

You were still slightly crying when Jake opened your car door, holding your waist and letting you keep your head down while he found the key in your purse.

Unlocking your door, Jake smiled at you again and said, "I'll be right back, like 20 minutes, ok?" His hand cupped your cheek. You nodded, walking towards your bedroom and hearing your door softly slam in anger. You knew what he was about to do, and you honestly didn't want to stop him.

You watched boring TV for the next 30 or so minutes while waiting for him to get back. When you finally heard a knock at your door, you scrambled to open it.

Once the door opened, he growled in a low and hoarse voice, "Why aren't you asleep, baby? It's time to go to bed." "I was waiting for you, Jake. What happened?" You asked, throat dry. There were a few red marks across his neck and upper arms that you noticed while he shedded off his button up shirt and was left in a black tank.

You were drooling at the sight of him, watching him take off his shoes and stretch his back out made you insanely horny.

"Let's go, babe. You need to sleep." He groaned, picking you up and walking you to your room. You kicked and squealed while Jake tickled your side softly, grinning.

He tickled you more, poking your side softly until your face got close to his. Your lips were barely 3 inches away, your mouth parted and his tugged into a quiet smile. He cleared his throat, revealing to you that you should probably move your head away.

When you finally reached your room, Jake lay you down on your bed, reaching for the door handle to the living room. "Wait," You croaked quietly. He turned his head, raising his eyebrow.

"Stay.." You mumbled tiredly. He shooke his head. "No, baby. I'm gonna sleep on the couch, ok? I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight." He smiled.

Upset, you nodded. "I'm sorry." He opened the door. Flipping over, you nodded again. You could hear his heart break when he closed the door.

He knew you liked him, but he didn't want to ruin what you had. You were best friends, and he didn't want to forget that completely if you broke up on bad terms. He really was sorry, and he wanted to go along with it. He just..couldn't.

[antlerquccn]

FROM SABRINA CARPENTER'S SHORT N SWEET ALBUM! feel free to change to fit muses

When I love you I’m sweet like an angel 

Don’t mistake my nice for naive 

Baby you say you really like it being mine? 

Let me give you some advice 

Boy it’s not that complicated 

No one’s more amazing at turnin’ lovin’ into hatred

I won’t give a fuck about you

You do something sus kiss my cute ass bye

You should stay in my good graces  or I’ll switch it up like that so fast 

Now he’s thinkin’ bout me every night, oh

Say you can’t sleep

I can’t relate to desperation

My ‘give a fucks’ are on vacation

I’m working late cause I’m a [job]

[he/she/they] look[s] so cute wrapped around my finger

Too bad your ex don’t do it for ya

You make me wanna make you fall in love 

Give me more than just some butterflies

Wanna try out some freaky positions? 

If you love me right then who knows I might let you make me juno

I know you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed 

If that was casual then I’m an idiot 

Lying to yourself if you think we’re fine you’re confused and I’m upset 

All the silence just makes it worse really cause it leaves you so top of mind for me 

Seems like overnight I’m just the bitch you hate now 

Left me with a lot of shit to second guess

I’m looking for an answer in between the lines 

We never talk about it 

We don’t talk about it

Don’t smile because it happened baby cry because it’s over 

I want you to miss me

You can fake it but you know I know 

I am not dramatic 

Oh it’s slim pickins  If I can’t have the one I love 

I’ll just keep on moaning and bitchin’

I guess it’s you that I’ll be kissin’

Last week you didn’t have any doubts 

What a coincidence

Oh wow you just broke up again 

You’re so dumb and poetic it’s just what I fall for 

Just cause you talk like one doesn’t make you a man 

Baby you put us in this situation 

You’re so empathetic you’d make a great wife 

How you talk so sweet when you’re doing bad things 

Are you free next week? 

You’ll just have to taste me when he’s kissing you

Just know you’ll taste me too 

Well I heard you’re back together

That it’s the first drink that you’ve had in like a month 

I’ve never seen an ugly truth that I can’t bend to something that looks better 

I’m stupid but I’m clever 

You don’t have to lie to girls

Don’t I know it better than anyone else?

We love to mistake butterflies for cardiac arrest 

If they like you they’ll just lie to themselves 

And girls will lose their god damn minds for you 

I know I have good judgement, I know I have good taste

I promise ‘em that you’re different and everyone makes mistakes

Don’t bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice

I beg you don’t embarass me mother fucker ahhh

Heartbreak is one thing my egos another

[irkimatsu]

AHHHHHH I love Husk and your content is by far my FAVORITE 😍 the sweet, the smut, the little bit of both...I love it all.

So I have a cute idea for this one. Neko!reader x husk. The reader isn't fully cat, but has the ears and tail, a cat-like face and of course the mannerisms. Husk is crushing hard and thinks that she (or they, whichever pronouns :) ) is cute and nonchalantly points out that it's adorable when her ears twitch. And then she's like, "And you wonder why we're always messing with you, eyy Kitten?" which makes him all flustered and he can't even say anything.

I can just picture them doing the equivalent of holding hands only their tails wrapped around each other 😚😚

Thank you so much for enjoying my writing!

I envisioned Reader as an anthro like Husk; I'm hoping that's what you meant with your description! Reader gets drunk and rants to Husk about cat instincts, Husk offers some advice, light flirting and flustered Husk ensues. I hope this is close enough to what you wanted! 1.2k words, SFW, female reader!

---

You’ve had way too much to drink.

It’s not like you’re inexperienced at drinking; you knew the hard stuff you were knocking back would be enough to get you wasted. That was the point.  Maybe if you got drunk enough, you could shut off the stupid cat instincts that hadn’t left you alone since the moment you died. The exercises you’ve been doing at this hotel for the past few months may have taught you things like not stealing and believing in the power of friendship, but there hadn’t yet been any lessons on how to stop swiping at your own tail every time it entered the corner of your field of vision.

You’re not sure if the alcohol has turned off the instincts, but it sure has turned on your mouth. Without thinking about what you’re saying, you’ve been ranting to the bartender for the past thirty minutes, barely pausing to take a breath. Surely he doesn’t mind, right? Not only are bartenders supposed to listen when their customers want to bitch, but he’s in the exact same position as you are as far as species goes!

“...and the fuckin’ hairballs!” is the latest thought in your stream of word vomit. “I thought mucus was bad! Hairballs! They get stuck in my throat, and they itch like hell until I can cough ‘em up!”

“They sell stuff down here to take care of that,” the bartender says, pouring you another drink without you asking. “It tastes like shit, but it works. I don’t get ‘em anymore unless I forget to drink it.”

“And what about shedding?!” you continue on as if he didn’t say anything. “It’s impossible to keep my room clean! It’s like the more I clean up, the more fur there is!”

“Niffty’s been helpin’ me with that since I met her. She gets pissed about the fur I leave everywhere otherwise. She ain’t gentle with that brush, though.”

You take another gulp of your drink and slam it down onto the bar. “Fuck, think I just swallowed some fur…”

“You haven’t even been dead for a year yet, right?” Husk asks. “ That’s barely anything. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to get used to being a cat. Some of the bullshit never goes away, but it becomes part of you.”

“Do you like being a cat?” you ask.

He laughs at your question. “Hell no! But what choice do I have? There’s no going back to bein’ human for any of us. May as well learn how to deal with it.” He takes a gulp of his own drink, not even bothering to pour it into a glass. “If ya want, I can take you to a good supply place sometime. They’ve got good products if you can put up with the fact that it looks like a fuckin’ pet store.”

“Hmm…” you neither accept nor deny his offer. You only take another drink, swallowing more damn fur in the process. That’s definitely gonna lead to some late-night hairballs. “It’s so annoying…” you whine as you plop your chin on the bar. “Why couldn’t I have been something cool? You know I saw a giant lizard the other day? Lucky bastard…”

“Bet they have a hell of a time findin’ clothes,” he says. “Or even gettin’ into places to begin with.”

“And even you got wings…” you continue on.

“Yeah. Wings. I get to clean up after fur and feathers, and if I don’t find the perfect position while sleeping the fuckin’ things go numb.” He takes your glass away, but you’re too lost in your own self-pity to protest. “We’ve all gotta get used to our new bodies when we get down here, and I doubt it’d be any different if we somehow got into heaven. Just gotta make the best of it.” He turns around to put away some bottles. “Besides, it’s not all bad. At least you’re cute.”

“...what was that?” you say, not expecting that word out of Husk’s mouth.

“I said you’re cute. Everyone thinks cats are cute, don’t they? Even I liked ‘em when I was alive. I don’t want to be one, but you can’t resist their mannerisms, can ya? The big eyes, the soft fur…”

He turns around just in time to see your right ear flicking in annoyance from the condescension. “The twitchy ears…”

You smirk, knowing the weight of what you’re about to say next but too drunk to stop yourself. “So now you get why Angel and I are always commenting on your mannerisms, eh, kitty?”

“Whoa! Hey!” His fur bristles, and you know you shouldn’t find his own agitation cute, but you can’t help yourself. It helps you understand the way he was just talking to you, at least. “That’s different! You’re a young lady! You died at, what, 25? You’re supposed to be cute! I’m an old man who drank myself to death. Nothin’ cute about that.”

“You’ve still got the big eyes and the soft fur…” you continue on.

He groans in response. “If you were a stranger saying that shit to me, I’d kill you.”

“So what makes me so special?” Your tail waves playfully behind you, and he’s obviously following it with his eyes and blushing.

“I…” he starts, but never manages to come up with the rest of the sentence. “Jesus Christ,” is all he has to offer before grabbing a couple of glasses from the shelf. He fills them both with water, then carries them around to the other side of the bar.

“Here,” he says as he sets one of the glasses in front of you. “Drink this. You’re gonna feel like shit in the morning. May as well not be dehydrated on top of everything else.”

You stare at the cup as he takes a seat on the stool next to you. “How do you resist the urge to knock cups over?” you ask.

“Lots of self-control,” he says with a smirk before guzzling his glass in one go.

You place your paw on the side of the glass, originally intending to pick it up, but an overwhelming spark takes over your brain, and you start easing the cup toward the edge of the bar. Husk grabs it and places it back where it started before it can crash to the floor.

“You’ll get used to it,” he assures you. He’s finished his water, but for a reason you can’t determine, he’s still sitting next to you.

“How long have you been down here?” you ask. “A couple years?”

“Mmm… fifty?” he guesses. “Almost as long as I was alive, at this point.”

“Fifty years?!” you exclaim. “And you still have to deal with cat instincts?!”

He shrugs. “Like I said, it never goes away. Just gotta get used to it, take the good with the bad.”

“The good…” you repeat. “Like being cute?”

“Oh, shut up,” he says. “...but in your case… yeah. Like being cute.”

You finally manage to pick up your water without giving into the desire for destruction. As you take a sip, something feathery starts to tickle against your tail. You look over at Husk from the corner of your eye. He’s trying to be nonchalant, not even looking at you, but there’s only one thing that could be brushing against you right now.

Without looking, you shift your tail, allowing it to curl around Husk’s. Husk curls his around yours in turn, your tail tips forming a spiral that just barely reaches the floor.

It’s the closest he’ll get to flirting for now. You’ll take what you can get.

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 21: Brave Enough

Authors Note

Word count: 7.9k

Read the rest here!

After an emotionally taxing conversation with his psychologist, Damiano decided to also stop smoking weed/otherwise consuming cannabis. It’d been too triggering, a reminder of all the reasons he loved coke and opioids. Admitting he wasn’t ready for parties or group gatherings was even more difficult. He loved his friends, his family, and going to Vic’s DJ gigs. He loved playing pool at bars or dancing to the deafening pulse of techno music in a club. These things allowed him to feel the hurried, bright energy of his youth. It was proving hard to differentiate between craving community, craving mania, and craving situations because he associated them with drug use. 

He also made a habit of exercising in the mornings, before treatment. The earlier he took his lithium and ate some protein, the better he tended to feel throughout the day. Routine made cravings easier to resist when he woke up with them and endorphins lessened the severity of his depressive moods.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” That's what you told Damiano when he debriefed you the next evening, a chip to mark 24 hours sober clutched in his fist. He’d disclosed his relapse in group and sobbed, despite hardy efforts not to shed a tear. You make dinner and stroke his hair when Dami lays his head on your lap. He’s cynical, not receptive to positive affirmation. Unfortunately, this mood has become more common as the years pass. So you focus on gestures: nicely making his bed, meal prepping his breakfast, cleaning the litter box even though it was his turn. 

Surprisingly, Damiano requests you read aloud some favorite passages from the books you’ve finished since the breakup. You’d always thought of that as an activity for your sake. Of course he doesn’t actually use the word “breakup.” Dami won’t touch that terminology with a 10 foot pole. He’s grumpy and lovable, snuggled under the pale pink bed sheet as you speak.

Dami returned the favor by waking you up with coffee, which became a tradition on weekdays. He probably got up 10 minutes earlier than necessary to do so. The first morning you thought it was a glorious dream. Instead of the abrasive and occasionally rage-inducing beep of your alarm, a hand you recognized as Damiano’s was rubbing your back. It slides under your t-shirt and gently strokes your spine. You shiver and hum in delight, then scooch closer. Eyes still closed, the bed dips and you sense Dami taking a seat on the edge. The morning light pours in through the curtains – to which you have your back turned – as the scent of espresso reaches your nose. Such sensory perfection must be fantasy.

“It’s time to wake up,” he murmurs.

“Mm mm.” You object and scoot closer, curling around Damiano. He chuckles and massages your scalp with his fingertips. 

“Big stretch,” he narrates as Cheeto rouses herself by his feet. You can tell it’s not Princess, since she’d be meowing by the bedroom door as soon as she heard Damiano up and about. Finally, your brain starts to register that this might be reality, since you never dreamed of Cheeto and Dami simultaneously. You open one eye and are accosted by the bright light, confirming that this isn’t a dream.

“Hey,” you croak, squinting up at him. “What time is it?”

“A couple minutes before your alarm. I turned it off.” You readjust, head, shoulders, and arms splayed across Dami’s lap. “I don’t think that counts as getting out of bed.”

“I’d like to contest that.”

“Getting out of bed in general or if laying on my lap counts?”

“Yes,” you sigh, eyes falling closed.

“Mm mm, keep ‘em open,” he requests, affectionately. You whine in protest and pout. More than anything, you want to pull Dami into the bed for cuddles, but it’d make you late for work.

“Fine.” Awkwardly, you flip onto your back to stare up at Damiano. He’s smiling, which is good motivation to keep looking.

“You’re cute when it’s too bright. You squint so hard that you get this little line between your eyebrows.” He runs his finger along your nose, then taps your cupid’s bow. You’d very much like him to keep going, gently stroking your features. He delicately moves the hair from your face and your eyelids grow heavy. Damiano tsks, working a hand between your mid-back and the mattress.

“Sit up. C’mon.” With a sigh, you detangle your legs from the sheet. “C’mon,” he coaxes sweetly. “When you’re ready to stop pouting, there's coffee.” Your feet land on the floor as Damiano helps push you upright. After a couple sips of espresso, your pupils adapt and the brain begins working. Dami remains seated, hand on your back, and you love that he’s content to just share space. Love that things don’t always have to be full of words and amusements for one another.

“Thank you, this is so nice!” You hug Dami with messy enthusiasm, leaning some of your weight against him. Damiano embraces back and kisses your head.

“I’m happy to do it, sweetheart.” His hand resumes stroking your spine, the other moving the hair from blocking your face. “Just stay awake.”

“Okay, okay,” you groan, standing up and stretching. Dami doesn’t move, probably hoping to catch a glimpse of something. You want the physical affection to continue so badly that it hurts in your chest a little. So you give into an urge before thinking about it and sit on Damiano’s lap, throwing your arms around his shoulders. 

“Wha – hey there, sweetheart.” Aware of morning breath, you kiss Dami’s neck, hairline, and behind his ears. “Feeling a little touch-starved?” You nod. Slowly, he slides his hands under your shirt. By touch-starved, you hadn’t necessarily meant skin to skin. Damiano sneakily took advantage of an opportunity by reading into it and you certainly weren’t mad about his decision. 

Things start innocent enough, his hands rubbing your back, but then they move away from your spine. When stroking around your waist and hips, his fingertips brushed your stomach, pinky dipping underneath the waistband of your pajama shorts. Then those hands slide up, cupping your ribcage. You stop breathing, frozen with anticipation. Would he touch your breast? Would he slide his hand to the front of your chest and caress it in his warm, rough palm? Would he play with your nipples? Rub them with the callous on his thumb? Would he then slide his hand down your front and into your shorts? If he did, you’d raise your hips to give him room. Then you’d trap his hand against your pussy and grind. Did he want to tease you today or make you moan? Or make you cum? 

When you check his expression, Dami’s eyes are glued to your heaving chest and erect nipples. Knowing that he’s hard, you throw a leg over and straddle him. Then you scoot in as close as possible to rest your weight against his erection, stimulating both of you. Damiano’s eyes flutter and his hands escalate from stroking to grasping. You wait for him to make the nest move, but he doesn’t.

“If you could do anything –”

“If I could do anything you’d be underneath me and too wracked with pleasure to say anything but my name and the word please. If I could do anything the neighbors would be filing a noise complaint and you’d be on probation at work for repeated tardiness. If I could do anything we’d have already gone through a bottle of lube and half a dozen sex toys. Our clothes would be on the doormat, panties included because last night we fucked against the front door as soon as you got home. Then again on the kitchen counter and again in front of the bathroom mirror and a fourth time in the shower, which was all a preamble to what I’d do to you in this bed.” 

You look over his shoulder at the mattress cover and twisted sheet. You’d gotten in the habit of sleeping on Dami’s side. It hadn’t actually smelled like him for months.

“What would you do?” he asks.

“I…I have to get ready for work.” You try to climb off his lap, but Damiano holds onto your waist firmly.

“Did what I said offend you?” he pressed.

“No,” you reply breathlessly. The moment is deliciously intense, especially the way he’s staring.

“Overwhelm you? Turn you off in some way?”

“Uh, no. Well, maybe overwhelm a little bit…”

“In a bad way?” Dami hasn’t forced the issue in terms of sex since coming home.

“In a good way.”

“Then what would you do? If you didn’t have to get ready for work.” You pause and look down. “We don’t have to actually do it, at least not right now,” he whispers.

“I would – I want you….Um, you’d play with my nipples.”

“Mhm.” His hand slides up your chest and rests on your sternum.

“Then you’d put – push your hand down my front.” Dami obeys, his fingertips stopping at the waistband of your shorts. You stare, willing him to go further with every ounce of your being.

“Does my hand go under your shorts?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Does it go into your panties?”

“Yes.” His real hand doesn’t move. “Between my legs so I can…Actually, I kinda wish that I was just wearing a t-shirt so I could pull your pjs down and grind against your cock. And then, maybe…”

“Mhm,” he encourages.

“I’d take off my shirt too and rub my nipples against your chest until they were sore. Your – your sweaty, hairy chest. And you’d hold me like you weren’t worried about scaring me away. Really grabbing me, like you were confident, but also because you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Show me what you mean,” he demands.

“I – I can’t. You just have to.” Dami grabs a hold of your upper thigh with his free hand and flips both bodies. Your back lands on the mattress, arms and legs already wrapped around him. Damiano pushes you further onto the bed, so he has room to climb on top.  It would take less than a minute for you to both wiggle out of your clothes then locate a condom and lube. Probably closer to 30 seconds. It's the same sensation as the makeout two mornings ago. You wanted to say yes, but your self preservation instincts weren’t letting that happen.

Damiano searches your wide-eyed expression for decisiveness and finds nothing of the sort. He can see you thinking about it. Then he sees you over-thinking it and knows that this will not be the moment you feel comfortable enough to trust freely.

“Like this?” He’s panting, as well, and for some reason, that's unbearable sexy. Dami isn’t putting on a facade. This borderline chaste amount of physical contact has got him worked up, too. You almost kiss him, then recall your morning breath and cover your mouth.

“I need to brush my teeth.”

“Y/n, I don’t give a good god damn whether or not you’ve brushed your teeth. I don’t care!” Dami loses his cool, but quickly recovers it. “I – sorry. Sorry, let me…” He walks his hands backwards and climbs off the bed, then helps you stand up.

“Thank you for the coffee,” you repeat, taking a long sip, that way a response won’t be expected. As you slip by Dami to leave the bedroom, he gives your butt a little squeeze. It was once a regular gesture in private, but he hadn’t taken this type of initiative since getting sober. You whip around with an impish smile, the mug nearly held to your lips. Damiano’s expression is watchful, then validated. He was testing the waters and your reaction basically invited him to jump right in.

Rather than refocus on his own routine, Dami watches you assemble a lunch while still in pajamas. He stands on the edge of the kitchen, pondering something, admiring you.

“Whatever your timeline for physical intimacy, I will respect it, 100%.”

“I know that, Damia.” You wash and fill your water bottle. He leans his hip against the counter with crossed arms. 

“But if you're waiting for things to feel not scary with me, that day may never come. Our history isn’t gonna get more palatable.” You hadn’t considered things from that perspective before. “Part of a nurturing relationship is pushing each other, challenging restrictive thought patterns.” Damiano moseys over. First, his right hand cups your hip. Then, the left rubs the side of your glute languidly, before wrapping around your middle. Dami holds you casually, but still body to body, standing behind you at the kitchen sink. Each exhale ruffles your hair, a reminder of how much you’d missed this. Dami’s wandering hands and desire for closeness.

This must have been another thing you blocked out for survival, since an awareness of what once was made losing it lethally painful. You’d forced yourself not to remember and now the remembering felt like the first first bloom of spring after a frosty winter. 

You lean against Dami, let his shoulder take the weight of your head. Then you lay your left arm over his, fingers lacing together.

“And I don’t want to push past your boundaries, but at the same time…” He leaves tender kisses down the column of your exposed neck. “This definitely exceeds a hand holding level of intimacy. It breaks the no couple behavior boundary –”

“Me and my fucking rules,” you groan. Repeated back, you sound certifiable, even from an understanding Damiano.

“This certainly qualifies as sexual touch.” His pinky and ring finger dip under your waistband as he dips into a whisper. “But I didn’t ask first and I don’t have to ask now, either, because just your body language is telling me how much you like this.”

“Forgot until just now.” With an even more dramatic groan, you turn around to meet his eyes. “Ugh! I know I’m shit at this –”

“Not what I was saying, at all,” he interrupts, thumb brushing your cheek. “I was just gonna suggest using a Listen for My No system of consent instead of Wait for My Yes. But that's such a sexually aggressive thing to suggest on someone else’s behalf that I…” He makes a face, nose scrunched up.

“But I agree with you. I’d like that, I really would, but, um…” Dami’s expression goes from relieved back to uneasy. “When I submit, I can’t usually access the decision making part of my brain. Kinda the point, actually.” 

“Baby, we never do anything in subspace if we haven’t agreed to it first.”

“I know, but I’d feel –” You gesture erratically, but the right adjective never surfaces. So you settle on “shitty, I guess.” Avoidant, you stare at the floor in anticipation of Dami’s reaction. Of course, Princess is right there, biding her time for the inevitable moment that all this attention is rightfully turned to her. “Sassy Pants,” you coo. She rests her front paws on your shin and meows, so you pick her up.

“Y/n, I never want you to – awe, look at the fur baby.” Damiano gets distracted by Princess, who uses you like an elevator to his shoulder. She leaps onto him and Dami winces at her claws through his thin t-shirt. “Ow, ow, ow. Thanks for that Sassy Pants, now get off.” He sets Princess back down where she stares at him in betrayal.

“I’m sorry, was having him to yourself all night not enough attention?” You sass her right back with a hand on your hip while Dami laughs. The cat sulks, nimbly returning to the couch and curling up right on his pillow. “Do you see that? She’s the real reason we practice non-monogamy. So I don’t end up with my throat slit in my fucking sleep by her murder mittens!” Hoping to have successfully distracted him, you brush your teeth then slip back into the bedroom to get dressed. In the living room Dami sings to Princess, doing a little dance with her paws. The happy sounds carry through the partially ajar door.

“So, uh…” You’d almost finished pulling on your stockings when he leans against the door frame. “Sorry, am I allowed to look?”

“Yes, you’re allowed to look,” you scoff. He turns the corner just in time to watch your thighs disappear beneath a linen skirt. His lack of objection indicates that your earlier distraction wasn’t effective. He’s not feeling playful.

“What I was saying before is that I never want you to feel bad about putting parameters –”

“Damia, it’s not that.” He’s trying to soften the determination in his expression. “If I allow my rational mind to just slip away then I’m gonna…” again, words evade you “embarrass myself.”

“What do you mean embarrass yourself?” he croons. Damiano walks into the bedroom, cupping your cheek in his right palm. Meanwhile, his left hand slides across your waist and settles on the top of your glute. Another barrage of hidden memories: the early years when Damiano spoke your self-confidence into being fruition on anxiety-ridden mornings.

“I mean grind against your lap or leg or whatever while begging you to fuck me until I sob in a way that’s gonna hurt you to watch. Zero inhibitions as I try to convince you, okay? Just babbling and clinging and tears for your cock. ‘Daddy, my heart hurts because you won’t make love to me.’ I don’t want either of us in a position to navigate that.” Damiano becomes a statue. When it doesn’t immediately pass, you decide to pick a pair of sensible shoes while his brain resets.

“Does your heart hurt for more intimacy?” Now you’re the one frozen in place. “Seems like you may have just accidentally been completely honest with yourself.” Fuck. He was right.

“Could you pretend not to know me as well as you do?”

“No, y/n, I can’t.” You’d tried to lighten the mood, give yourself an out, and he’s rejected that effort wholesale. Damiano stands there, waiting for a real response, hands in the pockets of his pajama pants. Every morning he puts them on, after sleeping in his boxers, to make you comfortable. It suddenly feels so elementary, this game of pretend you’d been playing because you were scared shitless of losing him again. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being a nervous wreck.”

“Being a nervous wreck about what?” You’re taken aback, having expected some sweet platitude like "don't be sorry, sweetheart.” Or perhaps, “You’re trying your best in a tough situation” punctuated by a kiss to the forehead. But you’d finally exhausted his patience and Damiano wasn’t going to feed you reassurances that you already knew to be true.

“About,” you gesture between your bodies “us!”

“Elaborate for me, please. What about us?” His tone isn’t hostile, just insistent.

“Our relationship.”

“Not my sobriety?”

“No…actually.” You’re even more surprised than Dami at that answer.

“Good. Why is our relationship making you a nervous wreck?”

“Because, because…” You feel cornered even though he hasn’t moved an inch. “I’m not sure.”

“Yes you are. You’re constantly reflecting and self-examining, especially recently. Some days you’re more in your head than you are in the world.”

“But the last couple days, I’ve been better at staying in the present. After our fight, I’ve been trying not to walk on eggshells.” 

“And we’ve been so much more connected, which has been fucking incredible. But you’re still unhappy.”

“I’m not…” Were you happy? You should be happy. You have an objectively good job, a beautiful apartment. You have a loving family, loving friends, loving companions. Your soulmate has returned and he’s stable. But were you happy? With a subjectively horrible job, home full of traumatic memories, emotionally unavailable parents, fading friendships, and companions who’s reassurance couldn’t make you feel adequate so you’d stopped asking for it entirely. 

“How many months do I need to go without relapse, without a crazy mood swing, without –”

“To get your dick wet?” You snap at him in anger. This was the definition of pressuring you.

“For you to trust me, y/n!”

“But sex is the way to show that I trust you? Go get laid, Damianno. Stop avoiding your other companions because you’re afraid they won’t forgive your behavior.”

“You get laid. Stop avoiding your companions because they remind you how profound our intimacy could be.” For what feels like an eon, you glare at each other in silence.

“How about we both admit that having sex with other people wouldn’t do anything to fill this…space?” It feels good to concede. Most of the tension leaves the air.

“Void?”

“Void is probably more accurate, yeah.” It’s just enough breathing room for reality to set in. “Fuck, I’m gonna be late for work.” You look around frantically for a hair tie to wrangle your unbrushed hair into an updo.

“Can you please just give this conversation another five minutes of your time?” There's a hair elastic on the floor, by your nightstand. You make a noise of victory, trying to remember if your travel hairbrush was still in the glovebox. “Three minutes?” he pleads. It’s too much. Mentally, you try to check out as an act of self-preservation. In your peripheral vision, Damiano snatches your phone off the bed. You can’t leave without it.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I’m asking how long until you can trust me?”

“For me to trust you completely?” That gives Dami pause. He seems to realize that it's a pretty big question to spring on you before 9 AM. ”Check the phone you’re holding hostage for the time, please.” So begins the hunt for your purse.

“It’s…” With a strained voice, he looks at the home screen. Then his hand drops to his side. “It doesn’t matter. I am asking you – How about when are you gonna be able to at least trust that I’m not gonna abandon you?” Despite attempts to create space between yourself and this moment, it feels like being stabbed with a dull spear, right through the center of your torso. “Hey!” he finally raises his voice in exhasperation. “Can you at least fucking look at me when I’m bearing my soul to you!?” Both cats are hiding under the kitchen table. Standing in the kitchen, you turn to meet his gaze.

“I’m gonna be late for work.” 

“Then be late! You hate that job anyways!” The shock reads easily on your features.. “I – that was out of line. Sorry. But this is never gonna work right until you trust me.” Your stomach drops. You feel nauseous and something akin to the beginnings of dissociation. This is why you’d been avoiding tough conversations. What if it went wrong? And if it did go wrong, what was going to happen? The ways Damiano had evolved as a person since going to rehab were great, but it also meant that you couldn’t predict his behavior anymore. If he walked out in anger, would he walk back in?

“Baby, that was really bad phrasing on my part.” His tone shifts completely,  soft and doting in the way you’d expected it to be earlier. “Way too extreme.” Dami knew he’d scared you. That took precedence over what he so desperately wanted to achieve with this conversation. You have half a mind to run into his arms. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s gonna make me feel reassured that you won’t abandon me.”

“You don’t know, as in you can’t think of anything?”

“I don’t know!” You curl your hands into tight fists, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your palms.

“Giving me an answer you regret and take back would be better than this purgatory.” Demand has officially overtaken supply. You’d required so much patience from Dami that it’d burned through all the categorical gratitude he felt for taking him back in any capacity. He was no longer just grateful to be here, he wanted a partner. 

“If your answer is I don’t think I can ever trust you again, so be it.”

“I can trust you! I do trust you, but you’re also…” He’s hanging on to every word and you can’t even craft a basic sentence. “There’s you, but then there’s also an addict you. The first one earned my trust back more easily than I’d care to admit, but the addict you, he – it’s always there.”

“And you can never trust an addict.”

“No! But, but –” The phrase “never gonna work” rattles around in your head. “No, because…because” then we might break-up. You barely think the thought, but it's like a tripwire. Suddenly trapped under all the ways you could lose Damiano. Originally there were two contenders: freak accident and growing apart. Then fame was added to this list, then addiction. Now you had to acknowledge a fifth. Like the fifth side to a cage that can finally hold you captive, invisible to others, making them helpless to do anything but watch the light leave your eyes. He might break-up with you because you couldn’t figure out how to put the pieces back together.

“Hug me.” Damiano crosses the apartment in a few quick steps. The stinging of tears distracts you from returning the embrace, but that doesn't give him pause. The only reason you weren’t blubbering already was how secure he’d made you feel the past few days. Now that was out the window.

“Continuous hugging or do you want room to breathe?”

“Breathe,” you choke, wiping your eyes. Dami’s version of breathing room was taking half a step back and resting both hands on your hips. It was perfect.

“Be brave a little longer,” he coaxes.

“I don’t want us to…God, it’s like saying Voldemort or some shit.”

“The Phrase Which Must Not Be Named that starts with a ‘B’ and ends in the word ‘up?’”

“Yeah, I…No, I don’t even want to talk about it, Damia.”

“That's adorable.” You rest your forehead against his sternum and whine. He cups the base of your head and you loosely cross your arms behind him. “But I do need to know what made you think of The Phrase Which Must Not Be Named.”

“What if,” you resume hugging him instead of finishing the sentence. “What if I can never learn to trust the addict part of you and it happens?”

“I don’t trust the addict part of me, y/n. After everything that’s happened, I sure as shit don’t expect you to.” You pull away in order to look up in confusion. “Awe, sweetheart. I just need you to trust that this part of me has control over that shithead.”

“But relapse happens and – and you’ll always be an addict and an alcoholic. This is permanently a part of you.”

“Can you trust that I’m always gonna do my damndest not to lose control? And if I do I’m gonna find my way back?” 

“It hasn’t even been three weeks.” Dami opens his mouth, closes it, and nods.

“Yeah thats a fucking good point. Damn.” He’s reeling. It’s interesting to see it happen to someone else. “I’m over here fuckin’...demanding to know when you’re gonna trust me again when I haven’t even given you a full month of stability.” You place a hand on Dami’s cheek, trying to redirect his gaze back to yours so he doesn’t get lost in self-loathing. He turns his head, but looks down. “I’m fucking comparing ‘well, I feel this way about her so –’”

“How do you feel about me?” His eyes flit up and you think the romantic in him might win.

“I feel the same way.” Or not. “Because it's easy to fall in love with somebody again and trust them again when they’re the same person. When they don’t have all this new baggage like I do.” Staring at his feet, Damiano mutters, “Nothing to compensate or…”

“You do not need to compensate, what a ridiculous thing to say!” 

“Okay.” You watch him only partially internalize your words, in the same way he raises his eyes, but doesn’t quite look at you.

“Hey, you getting sober created new character traits that I love and am attracted to.”

“Enough to balance out the shit?” You scoff, taken aback.

“Yes! You’re not a fucking equation, Damia. You are a beautiful, compelling man who contains multitudes with this incredible capacity to create multitudes. Don’t separate yourself into these categories of worthwhile or not worthwhile.”

“Y/n.”

“It’s so linear. You’re reduced to a collection of likable traits when –”

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he announces. You allow yourself to be pulled in by the back of the head, eyes falling to his mauve, shapely lips. It’s sweet, slow, polite. It’s a gesture. It’s a this-kiss-conveys-my-love-and-respect-because-it's-not-the-kiss-I-wanted-to-give-you gesture. It’s a gesture that reveals he’s forgotten the comment you made earlier this morning.

“Lets,” one syllable and you feel short of breath. “Let's have the big scary talk tonight – tomorrow night! Let's have it tomorrow night.”

“Alright.” Damiano coaxes you back in by holding your chin and brushing his pointer finger back and forth. It tickles faintly and makes you smile into the equally chaste kiss. “Don’t forget, you have therapy today.”

***

“I’m only here to avoid the missed appointment fee, honestly.” You slouch, as if trying to disappear into the chartreuse loveseat. 

“Oh?” Your therapist puts pen to paper and waits for elaboration. You stare at the floor and feel the pressure of tears behind your eyes. It's been like that since leaving the apartment, as though you were one inconvenience away from crying.

“Your disposition is certainly much different from our recent sessions.” Dr. Borough gives you another chance to speak, which you don’t take. She’s wearing all beige, minus an oversized necklace of reflective black beads. The color palette certainly suits the mood.

“Is it Damiano, work, anxiety that's been weighing on you?”

“All of the above.” After arriving 13 minutes late for work, Izolda called you into her stuffy, windowless office. She chastised you for being tardy twice in two weeks and you didn’t have the balls to point out that she’d personally excused the first instance. There were vague references to your performance review and callous comments about “allowing personal experiences to impede project outcomes.”

“Wow. So it's been a tough week?”

“It’s been emotionally laborious…So, yeah. Tough, I guess.”

“But productive?”

“Not when it comes to my job. That place is so devoid of humanity that I can feel part of my soul dying.”

“Sounds like you might need a change. Have you tried searching for –”

“I can’t handle a career change right now!”

“So what can you handle?” Finally, you burst into tears. “Oh, dear.” Dr. Borough pushes the box of tissues across the coffee table. “So what's going on in the other facets of your life? Are you and Damiano on good terms?”

“Yeah. He woke me up with espresso this morning, it was really sweet.” You wipe your face, which leaves a black smudge of hastily applied mascara on the white tissue.  

“And his sobriety?”

“He relapsed trying to reintegrate too fast. It was just booze and he’s been sober since.”

“Wow.” She scribbles on her notepad. “So that must have been triggering.”

“It…It actually made me realize how sturdy he is. Like, he got right back on the wagon and he started really acting like himself the next morning. He didn’t go back to being an asshole with a passive death wish, he did the opposite.”

“So that sounds like great news!”

“I was such a mess, such a fucking mess.” The note taking intensifies. Somehow Dr. Borough is already halfway down the page. “He was so supportive! And he basically confronted me.”

“You mean comforted?”

“No. Well, yes. He’s noticed that I’m always in my head, trying to figure out the correct or most true course of action. And he said I didn’t need to be, because I wasn’t going to ruin his sobriety. Because he was taking care of his sobriety with a bunch of people at his rehab and stuff, so I didn’t need to prioritize it anymore. I could just prioritize myself and I could depend on him because he’s gotten to a point where he can be my support and also stay sober. But I –” you devolve into sobbing.

“Alright, take a moment. Just take a moment, y/n.” Dr. Borough doesn’t look up from her notepad for several seconds. “So, that's huge! How many days ago was that? You must be emotionally drained.”

“Yeah, from not dealing with it.”

“You’re emotionally drained from purposefully ignoring emotions?”

“Basically.” 

“Alright.” Visibly processing, Dr. Borough adjusts her teal glasses and sits back. “Tell me about that.”

“Damiano just keeps pressing the issue. He wants to deconstruct and cross-examine the whole fucking situation immediately.” 

“Is this usually the case, him pursuing hard conversations and you avoiding? In the past, you’ve mentioned having great communication.” It feels like an accusation that you’ve failed Damiano somehow.

“No, I’m just not ready.”

“Ready for what?” 

“These fucking exhausting, weighty conversations!”

“What about them are you not ready for? In my experience, you can be very articulate, especially when it comes to emotions.”

“I’m not scared of talking about our feelings. We talk about our feelings all the time, anyways. I’m not even scared of conflict. We’ve fought twice this week already!”

“Oh, really?”

“But we work it out because we can admit that we’re wrong. We don’t get off on resenting or controlling each other.”

“What were those fights about?”

“This! Me!”

“You?”

“Ugh!” You throw your head back and groan. “He…thinks that I’m unhappy. I’m making myself miserable trying to do the right thing or by trying to control…something, us.”

“The right thing?” She raises one thinning eyebrow. 

“What's best for me.”

“Doing what's best for you is doing what makes you happy. It’s doing what makes you fulfilled, puts you on the path to achieve your goals.” Dr. Borough pauses, staring at you pointedly. “In terms of Damiano. What are your goals? What will make you fulfilled?”

“Being together for real, harmonious, mind, body, and soul.”

“And are your current choices facilitating that?” You feel claustrophobic, fingernails digging into the heel of your hand again. “Why the anxiety?” 

“Because I can’t control him!”

“True. But that’s always been true, y/n.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter what my goals are if the other person doesn’t feel the same.”

“You think Damiano doesn’t feel the same?”

“Well, no. I know he does.”

“Alright. So let's talk about this desire to control him.” That definitely felt like an accusation. “I just watched you have a strong reaction. Why don’t you explain that to me.” Pen to paper, Dr. Borough waits while you roll your eyes and huff in annoyance.

“Before I ever stepped foot in this office, I knew that the desire to control another person was toxic. I was already taking steps to ignore that desire when I felt it.”

“So you’re not trying to control him? That's not what's making you miserable?”

“I’m not miserable,” you bite.

“No, you’re not,” she agrees. “But you are experiencing bouts of unhappiness, like right now. You also have clinical anxiety which constantly affects your quality of life. Agreed?”

“Yeah…” The section of carpet at your feet is more worn than another other spot in the room.

“Explain to me why that is.” You choose to be insolent instead of introspective. 

“It’s impossible to tack down exactly what collection of innate and external factors contribute to any one person developing –”

“Not the anxiety, y/n.”

“I…” don’t know. But Dr. Borough wasn’t going to let you off the hook. She waits expectantly. You check the clock to find that the session isn’t quite halfway done. Damn it.

“Why are you unhappy?”

“I’m at my therapy appointment when I’d much rather be taking a nap.”

“How has your sleep been since Damiano’s relapse?”

“Worse than usual, better than expected. We…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t judge me, but the night he relapsed we slept in the same bed. Like, I slept with him on the couch.”

“‘Slept with’ as in…?”

“Cuddled.” You blush all the way up to your ears.

“And that was enjoyable.” It’s apparently obvious from your delivery since Dr. Borough makes a statement, not a question.

“Yeah and…I could hear him crying so hard. I didn’t intend to spend the night there either, but I got sleepy really quick.” A stinging sensation alerts that you’d been picking at your cuticles without realizing. “Because it felt so safe.”

“Huh. So it didn’t feel like the kiss on the plane?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then why are you unhappy?” You glower, finally meeting Dr. Borough’s eyes. She is unfazed. “Damiano has the same relationship goals and it sounds as though he may be ready to act on those goals, right?” You don’t protest, because she’s correct, but you also don’t concede. “So this should be great news! It’s exactly what you wanted, which is why this reaction raises questions. I know it’ll be hard to admit, but maybe now that you have Damiano back, you’ve realized that your feelings towards him have changed.”

“What? No! God, I fucking wish I felt more casually about him. I wish that he couldn’t read my mind and that we didn’t have this fucking soul bond and that I could have a halfway satisfying sex life without him. I want to stop watching him sleep, getting choked up when I see his bougie shampoo in the shower, huffing his dirty gym clothes, and feeling like my heart’s been ripped out because I love him so much. I want to be less in love with him!”

“No, you don’t.” Dr. Borough sets the notepad and pen on her lap and settles into her chair with a smile. There’s been some sort of breakthrough or resolution reached. “So what's the real reason you’re self-sabotaging? Do you feel like you don’t deserve him?”

“I…guess.”

“Don’t guess.”

“Deep down inside somewhere, probably.”

“So is that it?”

“You’re the therapist.”

“And you’re far from emotionally repressed.” Dr. Borough purses her lips and squints. “So are you afraid of losing him?” You swallow hard, vision blurring with tears.

“Yes, of course. Now with these fucking high stakes conversations, what if something goes wrong?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything!”

“Based on what you've said so far, it sounds like you guys would work it out.”

“What if we break up?”

“Does it feel like you’re going to break up?”

“No.” You blow your nose and steel yourself. “I need him. I’ve let myself need him again. So I can’t, ca – can’t lose hi – him again. I can’t! It’ll fucking kill me. I don’t care if you think that's dramatic, because it genuinely feels like I’d die of heartbreak. Even thinking a – about it, can’t – I ca – ca –can’t breathe!” Dr. Borough ends up talking you off the edge of a panic attack. You think that’ll earn some slack, but it doesn’t. 

“Okay, so just take small sips of water.” She uses her most soothing voice as you hold the paper cup in a trembling hand. “I’m going to be candid with you, y/n. Breaking up has always been a possibility and you’ve functioned despite it for years. Damiano dying of an overdose, however, is new. I think that’s what’s scaring you, the fact that death is irreparable.” You manage a nod. “Alright. That risk factor is never going away. So you have to decide if he’s worth it.”

“Of course he’s…” It's reminiscent of what Dami said this morning, which forces you to acknowledge that he was probably right. Putting the pieces back together was going to feel terrifying and you had to do it anyway. “I have all these rules to stop things from progressing before I’m ready. But maybe I’m never going to feel ready.”

“Progressing?”

“To stop Dami from getting too close, from things getting too intimate. I compartmentalized so damn much and I…every time I let him a little bit closer, it's like being hit by a semi-truck.”

“Reminders of his substance abuse?”

“No, beautiful memories of how our love manifested, all the ways we connected and felt at home in each other, felt profoundly understood. Memories of being joyous and intimate and becoming better people together.” Dr. Borough is noticeably moved. 

“You choose to close yourself off to that because of the possibility of pain?” 

“Yes!”

“That’s not living.” Finally, someone had just outright said it. You should feel stunned, but you don’t. “We’ve talked about living versus surviving in terms of your anxiety. The same can happen after trauma. Seeing Dami on life support –”

“Haven’t we already talked about that enough?” Reflexively, you make yourself smaller, hunkering down to survive this horrendous topic.

“I don’t know. Based on this reaction –”

“Based on this reaction, seeing my soulmate an inch from death is still traumatic? Shocking!”

“Traumatic, absolutely.” The even tonality of her speech is an embarrassing juxtaposition to your reactivity, but you’re still unable to quell it. “And based on your reaction, that memory still holds tremendous power over you.”

“Of fucking course it does! I still can’t even think about it like a real thing that happened to me!”

“I recall you’ve been dealing with a lot of dissociation, recently. More than usual.” Dr. Borough resumes note taking.

“Yes.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because I can’t handle what's happening around me,” you reply, monotonously.

“You think you can’t handle what's happening around you because a parentified, 15-year-old y/n without an emotional support system couldn’t handle it.” She pauses. In that space, tears blur your vision until the view of the damaged carpet and scuffed shoes becomes indiscernible. “But now you have an emotional support system. You are deserving of an emotional support system, which is something that your parents failed to model in your childhood.” Again, Dr. Borough gives you space to speak, but you curl into a ball, instead. She nudges the tissues further across the table with an empathetic expression. “So you’re protecting her.”

“I am not protecting my mother,” you grumble.

“Not your mother. You’ve been protecting 15-year-old y/n, shielding her. And now you’re protecting the y/n who was confronted by the mortality of her support system’s keystone. Neither of them could handle the present moment, but you can.” Dr. Borough cleans her glasses while waiting for you to say something. Maybe it's an intentional respite from being examined.

“What – How can –” your first reaction is to splutter incredulously. “I’m not, I mean I’m – That's just human development, isn’t it? Burning your hand on the stove teaches you not to touch a hot stove. Burns are bad. They scar, they get infected.”

“Y/n, you are not avoiding a burn. You are eating takeout for every meal to avoid going in the kitchen at all. You are putting on noise canceling headphones everytime someone says the word ‘stove’ and singing to yourself loudly. In this metaphor –”

“I get it, I get it.” Well, shit.

“You’ve heard me say this before: the anxiety, the trauma isn’t your fault. However, coping constructively is still your responsibility. And, yes, that’s unfair. You had to live for your emotionally unequipped parents. In reaction to that hospital visit, I think you may have done a bit of living for Damiano when he was emotionally unequipped for sobriety. Now you’re living for the versions of yourself that are emotionally unequipped to handle the present. But it won’t break you like it might have then.”

“How can you know that!? How…I just want time to recover! I want to be certain!”

“There will never be certainty and there will never be a pause button. I know that's a really hard reality to face with clinical anxiety.” Dr. Borough sets her elbows on her notepad and leans forward. “But y/n, face it you must.”

***

You hold it together on the drive home. Knowing that Dami will be on a Zoom call with his songwriting and production team, you don’t want to walk through the front door a mess and distract him. Unfortunately, Spotify decides to play Folklore-era Taylor Swift as you pull into the parking garage.

I knew you/Hand under my sweatshirt/Baby, kiss it better

By the time the car is parked, you’re already crying. Your first group outing as a couple was a Roma football game with most of his friends and several cousins. The omnipresent barrage of screaming made your ears ring and triggered a panic attack. You tried to suppress your reaction, for which you’d finally receive a diagnosis just weeks later. When that became impossible, you settled on concealing your emotions until it passed. Just don’t freak out. For fucks sake, don’t embaress yourself. 

Having turned your focus inward, the roar of the audience was a surprise and so inescapably loud that it couldn’t even be described by volume. The sound became a tangible force, beating you over the head. So you fled, hands clamped over your ears, tears flowing. It seemed like every person you passed chided you. 

“‘Msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry,” you repeated, voice frail and high-pitched with terror. The adrenaline at least made climbing all those steps easier. Upon reaching the hallway at the top of the staircase, you turned around to scan the field, determining it was a good time to drop your hands. That's when you saw 18-year-old Damiano huffing and puffing, all focus dropped from the game behind him. 

“Hey,” he panted, expression confused. “Hey, you just…Are you okay?” You shook your head, mouth contorted into an ugly shape. “Well, come here, baby.” Dami opened his arms like it was obviously the next logical step to hold you. The gesture revealed that he’d remembered your purse and was wearing it. You could have blurted out “I love you,” right then and there. His sparkling, empathetic eyes framed by smeared eyeliner, outstretched hands decorated by gaudy rings, and wearing his lucky sneakers which were at least a size too small. A couple middle-aged, balding men looked him up and down in disgust. Dami didn’t even notice.

“You need a hug,’ he decided, wrapping you up. 

“Thanks,” you croaked, trembling arms finding steadiness where they held him. 

“What’s wrong with her?” asked a male voice passing by.

“Nothings wrong with her! Who the fuck are you, eh?”

“Sorry, man.”

“No, who the fuck do you think you are saying that?”

“You’re in the middle of the walkway, dude.”

“And you’re in the middle of my fucking business, asshole!”

“Damia,” you murmured.

“Sorry, sorry.” You wondered if he could discern your smile against his pilling jersey. The fabric made your face feel raw after exposure to the ruthlessly cold gusts of wind that swept up the sides of the stadium. Still, you felt compelled to hug him tighter, but ignored the compulsion so as not to encourage Damiano acting like an attack dog. But fuck if it hadn’t made you feel chosen at age 18, coming from a family who’s attitude was god forbid your emotions inconvenience anyone. 

Damiano didn’t think you were too emotional, the girl choking on her own tears over a football audience being predictably loud. He stood in the stadium’s walkway, inconveniencing everyone else to prioritize comforting you. Despite not knowing what was awry, he still managed to be soothing. Dami’s inexplicably warm hands rubbed your back under the Roma sweatshirt you wore – actually his, of course. He hummed music from the radio with a cheek pressed to your head and you subsequently felt the music’s vibrations. It tickled. An unfamiliar sensation burgeoned in the darkest recesses of your heart. Not then, but eventually, you’d come to know it as stillness.

Notes: Don't yell at me I warned you! Also I'll post the next part (the smuttastic part) when this post has 40 notes hehe

-XOXO Eden

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[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

Could you do 18, Apple picking 🍎 with ponyboy please. I just went apple picking yesterday (got some apple cider and apple cider donuts too!) so this seems cute and fitting.

Apple Picking

“Catch!”

Y/N didn’t bother to wait before they dropped the apple, trusting Ponyboy to get it in the basket as they reached for another apple. The ladder beneath their feet was rickety, the result of too many years of use and a poorly put-together shed to live in. Y/N didn’t mind. They rocked up on their toes, bracing themself on the flat top of the ladder to snag another apple from the green branches. They dropped that one for Ponyboy too, smiling when they heard the thud of the apple against the wicker basket.

“A little more warning would be nice,” Ponyboy grumbled from the ground. “If you keep droppin’ ‘em like that, we won’t have any to take home.”

Y/N shifted on the ladder, wincing at the creaking sounds it made in response, and perched at the top to look down at Ponyboy. He was frowning up at them. His eyebrows pinched in the middle as he shuffled the basket in his arms, trying to smooth out the apples without dropping the whole thing on the ground.

“Everyone is doing the same thing, Ponybabe,” Y/N defended, waving to the various clumps of students they were surrounded by. For a field trip, heading to the local apple orchards wasn’t a bad way to spend the day. Sure, they had to listen to a speech at the beginning from the owner, a general talk about owning a farm and how to keep it, but Y/N and Pony had been whispering to each other the whole time, hands linked as they stood in the crowd. After the owner had said his piece, the students were set loose on the orchard, split into pairs, and given wicker baskets. Each pair had one basket they were allowed to fill up and then split in half to take home and do whatever they wanted.

“Well, I don’t care about everyone else,” Ponyboy shot back. “Darry said he wanted apples to make a pie and I plan on bringing him more than enough apples.”

“You can have all of mine, I promise.” Y/N reached up again, kicking their feet as they plucked one, two, three more apples from the branches and cradled them in their arms. “You think I could juggle these?”

Pony looked like he was dangerously close to leaving the apple bucket on the ground and moving on to find a new partner who wouldn’t mess around as much. Darry was serious about his apples and Pony wasn’t too keen on the idea of going home without enough apples. He lifted the wicker basket expectantly and gave Y/N a bored look.

“Just drop ‘em in before you hurt yourself.”

Y/N did so, but not without pausing to pout. “You’re no fun.”

Pony pushed the apples back out in the bucket, balancing it on his knee while he made more room. He kept an eye on Y/N while he did so. That ladder certainly wasn’t the strongest thing and they kept kicking their legs like they couldn’t care less.

“We’ve got room for maybe five more,” Pony said, tucking the basket under his arm and settling it on his hip. “Maybe six we smush them.”

“You think we could do seven?” Y/N asked, reaching up and starting to yank more apples down. “Then we could eat two on the bus home.”

Ponyboy stumbled to catch the apples they were starting to drop instead of answering. He shot them an unimpressed look but they didn’t see, too busy tugging at more apples. They dropped them as well and Ponyboy caught the one in his hand right before it hit the ground.

“That’s all the room we got,” Ponyboy said, shifting the basket again to try and redistribute the weight. “We can’t fit anymore.”

Y/N climbed down the ladder, far faster than Ponyboy thought was truly safe for such an unsteady piece of wood, and grinned at Pony once their feet were on the ground. “Enough apples for you?”

“Ask Darry when we get back,” Pony answered, the corner of his mouth turning up. “He’ll probably tell you we should’ve gotten more.”

“You’re too rough on him, ya know?” Y/N replied absently. They ran their hands over the apples, picking out two of the biggest, reddest apples of the bunch. “He’s just trying his best. Now come on, if we get to the bus first, we get first pick of where we sit on the way back.”

They gave Pony a small smile before biting savagely into one of the apples and turning on their heel.

“You’re not gonna help me carry this?”

“I think you’re doin’ just fine by yourself!”

Y/N did turn back to help Pony lug the heavy basket all the way to the bus and the two of them snagged a seat in the back row of the bus. They leaned against each other on the way back to school, their apples on the seat between them, as they crunched on the two extras in their hands.

[batbitesthebat]

Hey bat!!!! :D it's been a whileeee.. So- here's my question!

Do you have any head canons for your octonauts- characters? (Regular au) if so. Can I know em? :0

Sorry this took me so long!! I'm a very busy Bat!!

I decided to share some headcanons for all of my octonauts for my normal BatBites AU.

Captain Barnacles:

He goes to sleep curfew on the DOT and wakes up at 7:00 am each morning, and will wake up the other Octonauts as well

He feels like the father of the crew, whether he likes to or not

He doesn't open up to anybody about his struggles or insecurities- ever! He's bad at that sort of thing...

During the summer he'll take extremely long cold baths that he'll literally dump ice in, and he sheds like crazy, he does NOT like the summer.

His suit has a cooler. Tweak built it for him!!

He is totally unaware of any feelings his CREwMAtes might have for him....

Lt Kwazii Cat:

He bat's other peoples tails instinctively...

He can bareeely taste sweet, so he'll usually add a shit ton of sugar to his desserts

Struggles with impulse control and social awareness, struggles to understand what can be talked about on the dinner table and what can't be

Quite ashamed honestly about his cat-like behavior, so he'll try to keep it to himself. He doesn't like to meow or purr around anyone but Shellington, but because he lacks impulse control, he'll end up doing it anyway. Dashi loves the meowing.

He's incredibly affectionate

His first thought when a sea creature gives them trouble is I'LL SHOW THEM WHO'S BOSS!!!

Medic Peso Penguin:

His urge to pick up rocks everytime he sees a pile of them goes strong, and he usually ends up doing just that

This is more of a redesign than a headcanon, but he has a full set of teeth in the og books and I thought that would be a good excuse to give him fangs in my AU just for added cuteness

He's a chronic apologizer

He gets picked on by the crew occasionally, he hates it

He looks up to Barnacles and Kwazii so much- he IS the youngest and the last one to join, after all.

He does really like taking care of his friends.

He's a bit of a crybaby. His sense of empathy is really big and strong, and he'll feel himself tear up if he sees something- or someone- suffering.

IT Officer Dashi Dog:

Because she's the IT officer, programmer & photographer, she's super busy all the time

And speaking of time, she always loses track of it..

If Kwazii and Barnacles were to be unavailable she would be in charge.

She likes to keep incredibly clean even if the DEMONS tell her to jump in the MUDD and have FUNN

She loves everything cute and collects chibi cat squishies. This is like, one of my first head canons ever.

She's in charge of the wifi, whenever it shuts down and the crew begins to bug her about it, she gets super fckin annoyed

She barks, because of course she barks, and her tail wags whenever she sees something she likes or is giving/receiving affection

Her tail ALSO wags when she's talking to Captain Barnacles, I wonder why THAT is!!!

Engineer Tweak Rabbit:

Gets 1 second of sleep every night

Taught the rest of the crew how to play her video games

She glows in the dark because she's literally radioactive, same with her dad

When she needs a break she goes to the garden to chill, and eat a few carrots on the way

Will wake up in a cold sweat to randomly build something in the middle of the night

She does not give a shit about how messy she gets

Dr. Shellington Sea Otter:

Spends so much of his alone time just grooming himself

Goes searching through the fridge for ice cubes during the summer. Loves his ice cubes

Was the most geekiest geek in high school, he had like 3 friends

He plays visual novels

He's really defensive, embarrassed, and shy about what he likes.

His sleep schedule is fcked up, he talks in his sleep as well. He'd much rather be spending his time researching so as he sleeps he'll usually dream about his research.

He cannOT take a compliment. Compliment him and he will curl up into a little ball out of shame.

Professor Inkling Octopus:

He'll put on classical music in the library and vibe to it with whoever's with him

He hosts story nights occasionally

He's really good at giving romantic advice

He refuses to drink coffee

He needs to be constantly MOIST

his chair is super high tech and comes with a heater and cooler

May or may not be the group therapist

He's INKredibly humble

Tunip Vegimal:

Like 4 years old

Gets excited over literally anything

Gets the cutest puppy dog eyes when he wants something

Defaults to running around with the other vegimals when there's nothing to do

His fave thing in the world is watching the crews face light up when they eat his food

Vegimal food just hits different

Tunip sees Shellington as his dad, and sees Tweak as his mama. Kwazii's the gay aunt

*flies away*

[dreamywriter143]

Tsongtsyìp

(Tsongtsyìp [ˈt͡soŋ.t͡sjɪp̚]—-> Dimple)

Status: Multiple-Character Scenario

Genre/Warning: FLUFFFF

Parings: Neteyam x Reader, Lo’ak x Reader, Jake x Reader, Tsu’tey x Reader, Tonowari x Reader, Ao’nung x Reader and Rotxo x Reader.

Summary: How each character would react if their S/O had a dimple.

Word Count: 0.9k

A/N: I know this is an odd one but I’ve had it in my drafts since I started writing for Atwow. I have dimples and I’m really insecure about it. I love how others look with dimples because it suits their face. Mine doesn't. I have two and one is deeper than the other. It’s one of my biggest insecurities. So, I made a short scenario of each character from Atwow reacting to their S/O having dimples. I thought it would be a cute idea. Also Bailey Bass has dimples, and she looks FLAWLESS!!! Anyways, enough to my rant. Please enjoy!!!

Ps: I’m going to try 2nd POV instead of 3rd POV. If this sucks, I’m sorrry !!

__________________________________________

Neteyam

(In complete awe and in love with them)

The first time Neteyam saw his S/O’s dimples he was in complete awe. If Neteyam thought his mate couldn’t become more perfect, he was wrong. He loved how it only enhanced your beauty and he couldn’t look away. He always lived for his mates smiles, with the added dimples it made it seem like your smiles were that much more beautiful. Very eye-catching. He would admire them with a lovestruck expression. He was extremely attracted to your dimples, always trying his best to keep you smiling. He would grow a bit clingy when he’d notice how other Na’vi men would also gawk at you.

“Your dimples are so cute yawne,” he would say sweetly, his ears twitching as his tail swished behind him happily.

“Just like your face”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lo’ak

(Teases you and loves to poke them in a affectionate way)

He loves it when your dimples appear as you smile. Not only is he being rewarded by your smile, but your dimples too?! Score! He would do everything in his power to see them again, even at the cost of your embarrassment. He would affectionately poke at them, only to end up squeezing your face which would lead to featherlight kisses here and there. He's a complete tease and you’ll have to be patient with him. But he does it all with the purest intentions.

“Can I touch it? I want to touch it…I’m touching it!”

“C’mere sweet cheeks!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jake

(Calls you ‘dimples’/‘Tsongtsyìp’ as a term of endearment)

At first Jake would find it cute and unique. He knew that dimples were kind of rare, and the fact that you, the love of his life, had them. He couldn’t feel more blessed. He would be like Lo’ak, teasing and liking how you would react shyly to his advances. He even decided to call you ‘Tsongtsyìp’ (meaning dimple) as a nickname. He would say it in a term of endearment while he would watch your dimples appear with a soft expression.

“C’mere Tsongtsyìp! Smile wide, lemme see ‘em!”

“Hey dimples, check this out!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tsu’tey

(Thinks its super cute but tries to be chill about it)

Tsu’tey always wondered why you would cover your mouth when you would laugh or smile. After being mated before Ewya you slowly started to unwind, even going as far as to not cover your face when you smiled. That’s when Tsu’tey saw it. And to say he was speechless would be an understatement. He is awe-struck. Why would you hide something that caused his entire being to throb in admiration. He would think it's super adorable and would always slyly glance at them when you weren’t looking. He figured the reason you covered your face was because you were shy about it so he decided not to shed any light on the situation. That is until he got caught.

“Uh…Tsu’tey? Are you ok? Is something on my face?”

“No….I just find your dimples irresistible. Please don’t hide them anymore yawne”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tonowari:

(Treats you like a baby, cooing when he sees them appear)

You're not that much younger than Tonowari, but that doesn’t stop him from treating you like his little princess. Especially when you smile and your dimples are out on display. He felt like a teenager again with how much he openly gawked at you. Tonowari would coo at the sight, his heart would soar as he only focused on them. In his eyes it was a gift, something to hold and show to the world. Something to be proud of. And that, he did.

“Isn’t she perfect? Look at the smile……look at that perfect smile”

“That’s my girl!! Look at how cute she is!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ao’nung

(Teases you, claims you look like a baby. But his baby.)

Ao’nung would tease the hell outta you. No joke. You would be insecure about your dimples as it is and Ao’nung’s teasing didn’t help. That is until he admits he adored them, loves them and cherished them. He would squeeze your cheeks with his large hands lovingly, his eyes filled with adoration. He only teases you about it because of the reactions he can coax out of you. And also the fact, according to him, you looked like a baby. But just any baby though, his baby.

“Aww my little baby girl is lookin’ all cute!~”

“Ao’nung! People are staring!?!”

“So? Can’t I admire what’s mine?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rotxo

(On a personal mission to keep you smiling no matter what)

The moment Rotxo saw your smile with your dimples on display he was a man with a mission. A mission to keep you smiling no matter what. He didn’t know if he could go a day without seeing those adorable dimples that would make his stomach erupt with butterflies. When he saw your smile it proved to him that he was making you happy, that also motivated him to keep you smiling at all times.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Ah! There they are”

“What?”

“Those beautiful dimples…..”

“Rotxo!!!”

“What? Your smile is beautiful, never stop smiling”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I’m so sorry that it’s so short but I hope you guys enjoyed!

[layla4567]

✨ Working together ✨

Luca from the bear x fem!reader

summary: You and Luca are dating and he taught you everything you know about pastry. So now you want to open your own tea house where you will sell your delicious cakes, and of course he will help you in everything.

warnings: almost no connection to the plot of the show or it's world, maybe a lil suggestive, cloying fluff and corny

A/N: again I must clarify that like Colin Zabel's fic, I have not seen this series (sorry) so maybe what I write is not entirely accurate with the show

You and your boyfriend were looking for places for rent or for sale where you could put your little tea house. Being able to serve anything, even an old, abandoned shed, as long as it was located in a nice landscape with a good view, nothing else mattered. Luca was driving his convertible car making your hair blow in the wind. The times were beautiful at that time in Copenhagen, you were wearing sunglasses and a cute flowery dress that your boyfriend loved every time you wore it. For his part, Luca was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt, had taken off his kitchen apron and wore blue jeans underneath. Her blond hair also danced in the breeze.

They were driving through the streets of Denmark with the sun shining on their heads. Months ago you told Luca about your dreams and now they were finally coming true. A little anxious you looked to your right trying to find a good place, your boyfriend caressed your knee with the intention of letting you know that everything would be fine

"Don't worry sweetheart, you'll see that we'll find the perfect place"

"I hope so love, only you know how much I waited for this moment"

Yes, Luca knew it well. So many hours practicing pastry and talking about your hobbies, every time he left work and showed up at your house to teach you how to make Aeblekage or a Koldskål you told him how you were planning to open your own little tea house. He looked at you in admiration and assured you that you were going to succeed. And here they were now, looking for a place to settle and where you could cook your delicious desserts accompanied by the love of your life.

Let 'em wonder how we got this far 'Cause I don't really need to wonder at all Yeah, after all this time I'm still into you - Paramore - I'm still into you

At last they had arrived. After tiring around several streets, they found an old abandoned cafe with a dilapidated and crooked sign. It had a window on one side and the walls were dark brick. Above the front door hung a white awning with red stripes, unfortunately it was dirty and had a hole in the middle. Despite everything, you two loved how comfortable and familiar it looked and best of all, it was close to the port just as you wanted. They got out of the car and you began to admire the view, in the distance you could see the water and anchored boats.

"Don't you love it? the place, the sea breeze-you inhaled with your mouth open enjoying the air on your face- I would give anything for more days like this"

Luca looked at you lovingly and wrapped his arms around your waist looking where you were looking

"Have I told you how adorable you are when you talk about what you like?" -Luca kissed your forehead

You wrinkled your nose in contentment. "You tell me every day, hun"

"C'mon your place awaits you"

"Our. Our place awaits us"

They both entered the old building. But happiness disappeared from your pores when you saw that it seemed more dilapidated on the inside than on the outside. The peeling paint on the walls was falling apart, leaving a heap of dust on the floor. There was no furniture left. The wooden ceiling was moldy in places. You couldn't stop the disappointment from drawing on your face. Luca put his arm around your shoulders.

"Hey love it's alright. We can remodel it and I promise you it will be like new. Why don't you go check out the backyard while I find something to clean up?"

Luca is that down to earth and that's what you loved about him. He always found simple solutions to problems that seemed huge. You opened the French window that led to the yard and you felt the flame of hope rekindle in your chest. It was definitely much better than the inside of the building. It wasn't that big, but its low brick walls delimited a large plot. The floor was concrete, and pretty orange flowering vines hung from the walls. You were already imagining how you could use the space by placing beautiful tables with umbrellas.

"Hey babe, I found some brooms and a shovel-"

He stopped when he saw the yard. He also found it beautiful. you turned around with a smile

"So.. what are we waiting for? let's restore this place"

You got to dig a little deeper Find out who you are You got to dig a little deeper It really ain't that far When you find out who you are You'll find out what you need Blue skies and sunshine guaranteed - The princess and the frog - Dig a little deeper

Luca offered you a shovel and together they began to sweep the floor, the dust made them cough and tickled their noses that made you sneeze like a kitten, Luca laughed every time he heard you. The following days were exhausting but pleasant. You bought turquoise paint for the inside of the walls, you two had a blast painting and doing a little mischief

"(Y/N) what do you think if we paint a strip of small sailboats in a darker color? It would go all the way across the wall, but we would need a stencil"

Luca pointed with a finger where the stencil would go, with his muscular and bare arm you couldn't help but pretend to pay attention to him and with your hand that held the brush, paint his wrist. He looked at you surprised, throwing you a reproachful look but deep down he couldn't suppress a smile.

"Oh (Y/N) you're very immature"

You closed your eyes laughing at what he took advantage of to paint the tip of your nose. When you felt something cold and wet on your nose, you opened your eyes and mouth offended, with a defiant grimace they started a paint war, their laughter mixed and echoed throughout the room, your boyfriend grabbed your wrists with the intention that your brush doesn't touch his face. In the end they ended up in a fiery kiss with their hands stained with paint leaving marks on your breasts and buttocks and with yours likewise scattered throughout their entire body, they looked like an abstract painting.

Every day you two were buying things to decorate the tea house. They had bought beautiful brown leather sofas at auction. You had gotten landscape paintings to hang on the wall at a vintage store. The most difficult thing had been to remove the wood from the roof, since some had been ruined by humidity. But by turns they had proposed to remove them little by little. Luca climbed a ladder and took some out, then you, in your eagerness to help, told him to lift you up so you could reach the roof. You always felt a tingle of adrenaline in your belly every time your boyfriend grabbed you by the waist and made you sit on his shoulders. And when you two couldn't handle everything on your own, you hired masons and workers who were very helpful.

With a little effort they managed to restore everything that was damaged, they changed the previous awning for a bigger one and a green one. They placed pots on the outside door and some hanging from the window. You were even able to put the tables you wanted in the backyard with their matching black iron chairs. When everything was ready in terms of decoration and remodeling, you went to the kitchen to prepare tea and desserts, it was the only thing that was missing before opening.

"Dear, could you help me with the dough?"-you asked him nicely

You were about to make some kind of Danish apple pie. Luca approached from behind, pulling his body against your back, which made a shiver run through your body. His arms and hands on top of yours accompanied your movements with a slow and loving rhythm. They stretched the dough back and forth and then rolled it back into a ball. Sometimes Luca teased you mischievously kissing your neck or behind your ear, with his nose buried in your hair. His kisses went down to your shoulder, making you sigh

"Luca…-you said in a warning tone- How unprofessional"

"Oh come on I know you love it"

You turned your head to kiss him. They finished cooking several desserts and also the different teas including iced teas.

And the great day had arrived to open the doors of your tea house. It would only take a few minutes to welcome the people of the city. Both were nervous but especially you, you couldn't believe that your dream would finally come true. With trembling hands you took the key that opened the door, put it in the lock and turned it. It was done

"We did it.."-you looked at his face with happy tears in your eyes.

"You did it"- he corrected you wiping your tears - "It's your dream, don't forget it"

"Dreams can be shared, and that's what I'm doing with you"

He looked at you sweetly and grabbed your chin with his thumb to kiss you passionately. Customers started arriving for snacks, and soon the place was packed both inside and out. Luca promised to help you in the kitchen and you would go and serve the dishes along with the tea. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, everyone was happy and so were you. You almost needed four more arms to serve so many people but you didn't care because that was what you wanted, a place where people can remember the warmth of their home while tasting delicacies prepared with love and delicacy, and if your boyfriend was by your side better. At the end of the day when people left and your place was about to close you and your boyfriend lay exhausted on the leather sofa, it was a busy day but it was satisfying at the same time. You placed your head on Luca's lap as he caressed your cheek.

"Today was the best day of my life, I still can't believe that all of this is real. It's like a sweet dream that I never want to end"

"But it's real love, and we made it together. Although if you want I can pinch you to prove it"

You two laughed amused letting the now empty room fill with your warm laughter that then floated in the air like a sweet dew.

Maybe, it's the way you say my name Maybe, it's the way you play your game But it's so good, I've never known anybody like you But it's so good, I've never dreamed of nobody like you And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine - Ruth B - Dandelions

. . . . . . . .

I know, this was maybe a bit boring and too cheesy but I'm a hopeless romantic and I couldn't not write something like that.

[monstrouslyobsessed]

super late but im finally answering some asks~

tw / tags: heavy heavy beastfolk lore/worldbuilding talk, momster talks too fucking much, sex work, long post, beastfolk / beastfolks characters mentioned: cerelos, brief mention of revius, red, implied mentions of papa bull and duke

When are you going to post? (I apologize if this sounds rude,I'm really curious but that isn't an excuse🙁) —anonymous

ahhh, nah you're good. sorry, writer's block was notoriously bad the past few months, with me not being happy with anything i produced :\ i always thought of yall and this blog of mine though! i wanted to give you my best, than my worst if i could. yall are too sweet for me to halfass anything tbh.

just rest assured that i am still around, just slow as a snail 😭

(also, life. stressing about adulthood as usual.)

Does Cerelos shed his horns? Like bucks and moose do?🫎🦌 —anonymous

hmmm, yes in his youth. but when he got older and became more experienced with his magic, he probably made his crowned horns permanent. i don't believe he really enjoyed the awful burning, itching sensations that came with shedding (and yuck, imagine how bloody the velvet would be on anyone's head!) and he'd consider himself to look very undignified without his majestic antlers before his people. he's arrogant and strict about keeping his appearance on point in front of everyone that isn't his darling.

shedding also applies to those with just one horn as well (revius), not strictly just those with antlers.

tbf the equestrians would consider the first shedding the rite of passage and would encourage more sheds as they gets older, to better develop their growth and magic in general, before they'd seek ways to permanently stop the shedding. i kinda imagine that constantly growing new horns would take a lot of calcium, proteins, and other nutrients that it's not advised to keep shedding when they are no longer young adults as well.

hope this answered!

rest is under the cut due to the length and implied adult subjects.

IK this is kinda whack for me to say…but I was watching Spirited Away by Ghibili and there was a few brief scenes where they show how busy the bathhouse is. And I’m in were the cute giant duckies 🐥 and I wanted to clean brush and cuddle em so bad that it strangely reminded me of your beastverse 🙈 So like does that exist where humans are allowed to work in bath houses and wash up beadtfolk? 🧼🧽🧴🫧 And not in even a sexual undertone though I assume some businesses do offer additional services just like irl. Idk I just kinda wanna bathe brush and cuddle super fluffy animals if they’d permit me 🙈 This is how I find my future hubby or something if I lived in your world. I’m such a degenerate 🫡 —anonymous

well, while there are brothels, there are also salons where the beastfolks employ humans for their smaller (and less dangerous) hands to better groom the clients. funny that you mentioned that lol because i thought about the salon ages ago but i just never found any room to talk about it in general until now.

but anyway, most of them are, or were in history, just fronts for "special services" in the midst of the then-super conservative towns fresh after the post-zoo breakout eras where both beastfolks and humans were struggling to learn to live among each other unharmed.

the brothels back then that featured both human and beastfolks employees were often made 'illegal'—especially since any sort of intimate relations were looked at negatively. this is the era where the possibility of humans bearing/providing full beastfolk was being "discovered", still, while being scoffed at. by being discovered, i mean both sides would soon realize it's not a talltale passed down by their ancestors and history books. so the 'salons' were the answer to that, offering special services catering to both sides.

that said, there were and are some genuine salons that provided only beauty services. probably commonly run by immigrants wanting to support their families and to help the parent (typically single mothers) in need, regardless of their species. i do imagine it would be pretty common to see very…strong-headed owners defending their employees from very unsavory clients too, since the salons back then would have an unfortunate correlation with those that provided sex services.

in short, the salons were essentially the massage parlors of our reality (the ones that featured 'special services', i mean). however, i considered massage parlors that featured both beastfolks and humans a bit…farfetched due to their strength differences that wouldn't work well for the other side (for example, a lioness would probably break a human's spine, while a human's attempt would be too weak for, say, a gorilla's). not to say that the massage parlors don't exist in the beastfolk au, because they do! but i don't believe having employees from both sides would be a common feature in the massage parlor, and i'm sure it's not uncommon to see them offering their own special services but it'd be limited to their own race/subspecies for the most parts.

so i decided that the salons would fit best and would probably be one of the common precursors to the idea that both humans and beastfolks can live in relative harmony. why? because the employees, and typically just the employees, as some employers are/were often…not good people in these special salons, commonly formed a tightknit bond for various reasons, typically stemming from the time spent together, since teamwork is often a necessary factor to groom a client (especially if the client is of much larger stature).

the salon was a great place to be to get some culture shock, tbh, back then, to see both sides working together to perfect a client's appearance to their satisfaction. as the years pass, i'm sure that the happy ending salon (terms are still pending, but i'm just stealing from the existing ones atm lol) would soon be outnumbered by actual licensed salons that provided no such services beyond beauty-related.

bathhouses are typically self-service in this au, so the attendants often kept discreet with their jobs while still respecting the privacy of their patrons. i imagine most of the beastfolks prefer their privacy (since some can be aggressive, more so when their families are there). if there are drinks and foods being delivered, the attendant would typically drop them off at the entryway and disappear.

meanwhile, the salons would have the employees on site, mingling and chattering with their clients.

in the modern era, the salon typically would hire just about anyone, those without an independent card included, and someone would often take it upon themselves to mentor the beginners. there are regulations that tried to make things harder for the owners, but well, those who experienced struggles and poverty in the past typically do not give a flying shit about the politics. this such culture tends to carry through countless individually-owned salons.

i can go on, really.

tbh, meeting your soulmate in the beauty salon is probably one of the most wholesome (and safe) ways you can get. security is practically in every corner, protective of one other and especially their little humans.

honestly, if you really want to, just ask your beastfolk spouse to take you to a bathhouse. the bathhouse often have a huge family culture and unlike our pitiful reality in the good ol' murica, the bathhouses are pretty much everywhere, though some do take a bit of drive. they never died out the way ours did in our history. some beastfolks are just too big to be comfortable relaxing in the bathtub in the common household bathrooms, so the demands for the bathhouses are still there in the au and would likely always be. and without a doubt, grooming is hugely embraced among the beastfolks, so they'd most definitely love it when their little human groom them (to the best to their ability, at least!).

i talked too much, so uhhh, i'll move on lol but hope this answered!! thanks for giving me the space to talk about the salons too <3

CURIOUS what do u think if a possible yandere wolf fish ORR ORR A LEMON SHARKKK i read somewhere they get possessive of divers they’re familiar wt —anonymous

i think i've wrote something similar ages ago, but the species is some kind of an eel mermaid, obsessed with the diver. here's the link. and i do have my red boi, he was based on sandbar shark! his darling was some rando surfer he kidnapped to his cove though. eel mermaid

red got a section of his own in my main masterlist, here.

idk if im up for another merman oc though lol and i'm still sorting out how things would go with the seafolk of my beastfolk au, when they are considered extremely dangerous even by the beastfolk's standard. but, wolf fish and lemon shark would be neat candidates to think about! though, wolf fish would be something straight out of a horror scifi and be a far more monstrous than the average beastfolk.

Thinking of being used by the bull beast folk at least once a week. It’s always sad when you can’t have something you want… —anonymous

same 😔 alas we can only dream…

omg i talked too much. sorry. 😔 thanks for you patience tho;;

[catscraftsandcommentary]

I need someone to give Ciri (or Jaskier, or BOTH) a Great Pyrenees puppy. Or two.

...one each, I think, or possibly TWO each.

First, because Pyr puppies are RIDICULOUSLY CUTE and MADE OF FLOOF and you know that Ciri and Jask would absolutely be unable to resist (and Geralt WOULD NOT be able to resist their sad, pleading, puppy -heh- eyes)

(This is a friend's pup, when he was 9 weeks. He was a CLOUD crossed with a TEDDY BEAR who only wanted to LICK YOUR FACE 100/10 would love forever)

(He is still a cloud crossed with a teddy bear who only wants to lick your face, but he is now *M*U*C*H* *L*A*R*G*E*R* A++ lap full body dog)

Tell me you don't want to see witchers playing with giant fluffy dogs and gleefully wrestling them and also giving Geralt SO MUCH SHIT about collecting his own pack of white wolves (Jaskier 100% makes a song about the White Wolf and his tiny white pups before they have even LEFT THE KENNELS, it is a wild hit at Kaer Morhen and gains new stanzas almost as quickly as Ciri's Goose Trick song. Soon Jaskier teaches them to howl in chorus. It's painfully cute.)

Do not ask where they get them, I'm gonna handwave and say it's the Accidental Warlord AU, someone sends the pups as tribute (or offers them while everyone is on the Progress) and Ciri takes one look and falls in love.

Also, with all that thick fur, they'd love playing in snow. They're supposed to be very sweet, affectionate, and gentle to their families and family's friends, but also fiercely protective and intelligent. (They were originally sheep dogs!)

In among the puppies' socialization and training (protect Ciri and Jask! Be nice to Witchers! Don't bite the horses or geese!), I bet one of the Cranes looks at the rapidly growing dogs and ponders "y'know, they could probably pull a sled if you put 'em in a harness."

And then everyone was VERY glad that Ciri is a budding sorceress and therefore able to portal out of/shield herself during imminent sled crashes.

Also, all the jokes ever about the dogs chasing various Cats around the keep, or sniffing them out and baying at them wanting affection, or chasing toys they've tossed.

The first time they shed, Ciri saves their fur and spins it into yarn. It becomes a favorite of hers.