#southern comfort extras

[harrywavycurly]

I NEED to know what it was like with Harry following her around the book store holding her stuff for her and maybe he’s asking for baking advice?🩷

Hiii lovey!! I’ll give you a little something with them in the bookstore because I just know Harry was so excited she even invited him in the first place, so enjoy💖

-find all things Southern Comfort here✨

A/N: Harry is in charge of carrying things while you wonder around looking for books that you think you’ll actually read✨

Harry can’t stop smiling. He knows he probably looks a little odd standing in the middle of a used bookstore with a tote bag with the state of Texas on it over his right shoulder and your pink and gold coffee mug that has “cup of ambition” painted on the front of it safely in his left hand, and no matter how odd he knows he might look he can’t find it in him to care. He is taking his job of holding your things very seriously as he watches you pick up a book and turn it over to read the back of it, he raises an eyebrow as you squint your eyes and bring the book closer to your face making him wonder if you wear glasses and just forgot them or if you need to get some.

“Sugar what does this say?” Your voice pulls him from his thoughts as you take a step towards him and raise the book up so he can take it with his free hand. You smile at him as you reach over and take your coffee mug from him so you can take a few sips while Harry looks over the back of the book, you reach up on your tiptoes so you can point to the top corner of the book. “Is that the price?” Harry looks where your finger is pointing and he also finds himself squinting in an attempt to try to read the absurdly small writing.

“It says five dollars I think?” You roll your eyes as you snatch the book out of his hands making him chuckle at your obvious dislike of the price. “Is it not on sale like the others?” He asks as you give him a smile when he reaches for your coffee mug so he can hold it once more while you put the overpriced book back.

“No it’s regular price and while I love a good romance novel I just don’t think one about a cowboy named Richard is worth that much because honestly what cowboy is named Richard? And it says he’s a calf roper and they ain’t nothing but bad news and I just know he’s gonna wreck that poor Mary Anne and not in the good way so back to the bin with him.” Harry feels his eyes go a bit wide as you explain what the book was about and he doesn’t know why the idea of you reading romance novels just makes his cheeks get pink. He knows everyone enjoys a good romance novel but here you are in your shorts and sweatshirt that has “let’s go girls” on it in bright yellow letters and your sunglasses holding your hair out of you face talking to him about cowboy smut.

“Richard is a horrible cowboy name.” He agrees making you laugh and Harry smiles at himself at the fact he made you laugh as he follows behind you when you go down the row and stop at a bin that’s labeled “friends to lovers” and Harry begins to wonder if the two of you have been in the romance section this whole time and he’s just been too distracted to notice.

“What’s your favorite trope honeybuns?” You ask him as you pick up a book and give it a once over. “I’m thinking you’re a slow burn kinda man.” He doesn’t miss the teasing tone of your voice that always seems to make your accent thicken and he grips your coffee mug a little tighter as you turn around so you’re facing him and it’s not until then that he realizes just how closely behind you he’s been standing because the top of the book in your hands touches the middle of his chest.

“I uh don’t uhm-”

“This one seems good it’s about Francine who is good friends with David who honestly sounds like a dream boat and they get trapped in a cabin during a snow storm and it’s the wildest forty eight hours she’s ever had but will their friendship survive?” Harry is enamored with the way you can somehow make the synopsis of a fairly uninteresting book sound so intriguing and while most of it has to do with your accent it’s the way it mixes with the softness of your voice that sucks him in and he knows he would be perfectly content standing here all day listening to you read to him.

You look up at him as if you’re silently asking him if he agrees that the books sounds good and all he can do is nod even though if he’s being honest it doesn’t sound that interesting to him but he can tell you seemed into it. You smile as Harry removes a handle of the tote off his shoulder so you can toss the book into the bag so it can join the few others you had found during the half hour the two of you had been wondering around the store. It takes all of Harry’s willpower not to grab your hand when you turn and begin to walk further down the row of bins, but he knows this is exactly why you handed him your things because it’s your way of setting a boundary with him and he is a gentleman after all so he’s going to respect it and just slide his hand into the pocket of his shorts to grab his phone as he follows behind you. He doesn’t think before he snaps the photo, it’s nothing scandalous it’s just you leaning over the bin of “slow burn” books with a small smile on your face and he can’t help but chuckle to himself when he notices you’re on your tiptoes trying to get to the back of the bin clearly reaching for a specific book.

“Honey can I borrow your-”

“Here you go love.” You smile when Harry just reaches over you and grabs the book you were struggling to reach since it was at the very back of the bin, handing it to you with a smile. His hand lands on the edge of the bin while he looks over your shoulder so he can glance over what the book is about. “Does that say Trisha and Harry?” He asks making you giggle as you nod your head and move the book so he can get a better look at it.

“He’s in love with her but he’s scared to tell her so he drags it out for damn near a decade but when he does finally tell her it’s on her wedding day.” Harry feels his mouth slightly drop at the dramatics of this plot and he already knows you’re going to want to add it to the tote bag.

“Her wedding day? What a twat.” You laugh and shake your head as you turn around and look up at him making him momentary forget how to breathe at how close you are.

“You kiss your momma with that mouth Harry?” Harry feels his cheeks get hot as you slide the book into the tote. “Always forgetting you’re supposed to be a gentleman.” You tease as you take your mug from him and take a few sips as you reach up and playfully tap his chest with your free hand. “Come on sugar let’s go see if they have any books on baking.” With that you shoot him a wink and Harry drops his hand from the edge of the bin so you can walk away from him and towards the cook book section.

“God she’s good.” He mumbles to himself as he finally find himself able to speak, he runs a hand through his hair and lets out a sigh of content before he turns and heads off in the direction of the aisle he just saw you disappear down.

[animezinglife]

I’m still bothered by the fact Feyre left Lucien filthy and in the clothes he’d been in for a week when she brought him back to the Night Court.

I get it—you’re glad to be home and happy to see Rhys. So go give him a big, passionate hug and kiss (completely acceptable given the circumstances), tell him to start a bath for you, and MAKE SURE YOUR GUEST IS COMFORTABLE AND SITUATED FIRST. You don’t have to give him a full tour of the city and introduce him to everyone yet: just show him to the bath, make sure he has fresh clothing, and a room for now so he can get clean and decompress a little. Let him know he can get food from the kitchen or whatever he needs. If he’s going to end up staying somewhere else, at least make him comfortable for now.

You can do all of the above while still being emotional about being reunited with your love.

Then go spend however long “catching up” with Rhys.

At least Lucien could be soaking in a hot bath of his own and have a fresh set of clothes to change into while y’all are making up for that time apart. He could grab a snack and get settled into his room or somewhere.

I love Feyre. I really do, but that scene had me cringing. I'd make a joke about her being raised in a barn, but people raised in a barn would've immediately made sure he was taken care of before tending to their own business.

I'd extend the same expectation to Rhys even if he wasn't happy with/suspicious of Lucien, but I do feel that it should've been Feyre at least starting that process. I know she's tired. I know she's been through it too, but she's still the bridge between him and the Night Court at that point.

[gildedoak]

Southern Comfort Food adjacent?? The Sins have been trying to get info on the “chef friend” ever since Lucifer sent them pics of the Crab Boil.

Going off the HC that Lucifer is tethered to Hell and can’t directly go to Earth unless summoned by a human.

Description below the cut!

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Radioapple comic, uncolored, basic lineart.

Panel 1: Lucifer: So if I get you ACTUAL Earthside lemons, you'll share your lemon bar recipe? Alastor: Yes. But I'm curious how you'll get there without a mortal soul summoning you. L: Trade secret, bucko.

Panel 2: They shake hands. (+1 Magical Deal!)

Panel 3: Alastor walks off, and Lucifer pulls out his phone, texting. L: OZZIEEEE (heart emoji) Ozzie: Lu! What's up, gorgeous? L: Small favor? O: Lay it on me. O: Whatchu got?

Panel 4: L: Need to borrow some of your employees for an Earthside grocery run. I'll pay them 4 the trouble. O: No trouble @ all! I know some folks who R looking 4 extra $ L: UR the best!! O: Is this 4 ur chef friend? L: ...maybe...

Panel 5: O: I call 1st dibs on whatever he makes O: Bee is gonna B so jelly L: He's making lemon bars (lemon emoji) O: So it IS a guy! L: Shit O: Is he cute? (3 heart emojis) L: BYEEEEEEE

Panel 6: Alastor stands transfixed before a giant stack of produce crates, looking rather in awe. Charlie (offscreen): DAD! You need to TELL ME when we are expecting a delivery!

END DESCRIPTION]

[katsukikitten]

Dragon King Katsuki has made a deal with a more southern village, they agreed to give one of their daughters in exchange for peace.

You go unwillingly.

You do not even speak the same language, some words are common knowledge between the two of you but most are lost in translation, in the harsh way he moves his tongue. Sharp like a knife slicing into your skin just as deep as his eyes. You hate him you're certain. Tonight will be cold, colder than anything your lands have ever seen.

But what you don't know is that your king has laid down extra caribou furs, that he's made you a fire that will not go out from his own magic breath and that he has enchanted a dragon scale to heat your bison hide all night.

Because he knows you're from warmer lands and it is his job as a man to keep his wife comfortable, no matter how much she hates him.

[reidmarieprentiss]

masterlist ♡

my requests are open! i'm comfortable writing for any sexuality, gender, and/or specified reader preference! my basic model is a fem!reader x male!character because that is how i myself identify and who i am attracted to -- so if you want something else just lmk!! <33

click here for my taglist :)

꩜ -- angst ♡ -- fluff ꕥ -- smut

Spencer Reid

Series

★ Bridges to Belonging ꩜ ♡ ꕥ— Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six (18+) Part Seven (18+)

★ Finding Home Again ꩜ ♡ ꕥ— Part One Part Two (18+)

-- -- -- Extras -- Jeans ♡ ꕥ Migraines ꩜ ♡ Bar ♡ Stood Up ꩜

★ i love you ꩜ ♡ ꕥ— Part One Part Two

★ Short Shorts & Long Hair ꩜ ♡— Part One Part Two

★ Too Sweet ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Part One Part Two Part Three

★ Make You Feel My Love ꩜ — Part One Part Two Part Three

★ Something Better ꩜ — Part One Part Two

★ Breaking Point ꩜ ♡ — Part One Part Two

★ Too Damn Young ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Part One Part Two

★ Red ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Part One Part Two

★ Lost in Translation ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Part One

One Shots

Whispers in the Dark ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Set 'Em Up, and Knock 'Em Down ꩜ ꕥ

Needy ♡ ꕥ

Capturing the Queen ♡ ꕥ

Sweet & Sour Motivation ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Moving Forward ꩜ ♡

Love in the Club ♡ ꕥ

Lost & Found ꩜ ♡

Strawberry Lemonade ♡

Not Her ꩜ ♡

Ghost of You ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Textual Tension ♡ ꕥ

Hookups & Holdouts ꩜ ♡

Better Late Than Never ♡

Illicit Affairs ꩜ ♡

No More Misunderstandings ♡

Forever & Always ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Blurbs

Silent Echos ꩜

Second Chances and Serendipity ♡

Ink Impressions ♡

Love in the Details ♡

The Hardest Goodbye ꩜

Ride 'Em Cowgirl ♡

Home in Jeans ♡ ꕥ

Car Wash ♡

They Were Never You ꩜ ♡

Rewritten Plans ꩜ ♡

Dare Ya ♡

Cream Cardigan ♡

Picture You ♡

Tummy ꩜ ♡

Home with Migraines ꩜ ♡

Matchmaker ♡

Always You ꩜ ♡

Home From The Bar ♡

Bedroom Eyes ♡

Federal Beach Investigation ♡

Stood Up & Home ꩜

Good Boy ꕥ

Asks

A Gentle Embrace ♡

Southern Charm ♡

Cinephile ♡

Where We Were Meant To Be ꩜ ♡

Love Doctor ♡

Not Strong Enough ꩜ ♡

Birthday Surprise ♡ ꕥ

Technicalities ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Lucky ꩜ ♡

[unearthly-doting]

yandere farmer

a/n: smth smth i Really like people w southern accents smth smth so here's a farmer. im not 100% satisfied w this one but it's been in my drafts for so long so here it is.

warnings: mdni, not proofread, yandere content, gn reader, male yandere, idk how cars work so, overprotective behavior, obsessive behavior, reader has hair in this sorry if u dont, murder, brief mention of vomit, non-con kissing, mild depictions of gore, choking, i think that's it??

— maybe it's a bit cliché but life in the big city was exhausting, and all you wanted to do was get away from it all. it was a bit sudden, deciding you wanted to uproot your entire life and start somewhere new, but you knew that this is exactly what you needed.

— and it's not as if you weren't going into this blind. a friend of yours had a family vacation home in a small farm town that hadn't been used in years, and they were willing to let you stay there until you could find a place of your own.

— you had everything planned out. you had enough money on you for gas and food for the drive there, and you had already had some of your stuff shipped off to your new temporary home, so you didn't have to worry about leaving anything behind. you even kept a little extra money on you in case you needed to crash at a motel.

— the drive had started off fine. traffic wasn't too bad as you left the city, and there were no major setbacks until you were almost at your destination. when you were 20 miles out from the farmer town you'd be living in, your car just suddenly died on you. it still had gas in the tank, and there didn't seem to be anything wrong with the car itself, it just… died.

— what's worse is the fact that your phone had no service. you suppose that's not too shocking, considering how far out in the country you are, but it's a bit shocking, isn't it? you're not that educated on farming life or this small town, but surely they had modern technology, right?

— it's cliché, honestly. it felt like the start of some cheap slasher. or maybe a southern christmas romance movie. you're not quite sure which would be worse. the slasher, realistically. whatever, you're getting off track.

— the point is, your car is dead, your phone is useless, and it's starting to get dark. you could probably make it to that motel you saw a few miles back, but you didn't really feel comfortable leaving your car out here alone. not to mention you're not even sure if you have enough money on you to cover one night at a motel.

— the universe, in all her mercy, takes pity on you before you can get too upset over your plight, because not even 20 minutes after your car stops, a truck drives by. it's beat up, but it slows to a stop next to your car. the window rolls down, revealing the driver to be a man just a little older than you.

— he asked if you needed help, and offered to tow your car and drive you to town. you didn't have much choice but to agree, and the drive to town was… not as awkward as you thought it would be, actually.

— the man introduced himself as rigby shaw, a farmer that lives on the outskirts of town. you actually drove by his farm maybe 15 miles back, and he had been heading into town to pick up some medication for one of his dogs when he saw you pacing outside your car. in turn, you told him how you were moving into the small town because life in the city had been overwhelming.

— rigby didn't think you'd survive long outside of the city. city folk rarely ever strive in small, out of touch towns, away from modern technology. the small handful that made their way here always went back to the city not even three months into being here, so he didn't expect to see you last long either. you were nicer than most city folk, though.

— but you were determined to make a living out here, so when rigby dropped you off, you got to work immediately. you unpacked your stuff that had been there waiting for you, and in the morning, you got to work trying to fix your car. turns out, your fan belt had somehow come loose just enough that your car could no longer function. why? who knows, maybe the universe was in a silly mood.

— anyways, you settled into the small town life with relative ease, and rigby was very surprised when he returned to town a few weeks later, you were still there. the only thing you were struggling with was finding a job. maybe because he was fascinated by your determination, but rigby ended up offering you a job on his farm. he did need help taking care of the crops and feeding the animals there, but he mostly just wanted to learn more about you.

— you were a fast learner, and his dogs took to you fairly quickly. the cattle and horses were a little less trusting, though that was expected. he's sure they'll take to you soon enough, given how you respect their boundaries and go at their pace unlike his previous farmhands. you had no problem taking on any challenge rigby had set up for you, and maybe that's when he started finding himself thinking about you.

— if he's out in town while you're on the farm, he's worrying that you might get injured without him around. you can take care of yourself, but he can't help but worry. same for when you're in town while he's on the farm. you’re still an outsider there, and he knows that some of the townsfolk may try scaring you off. or maybe they'll try hurting you. or maybe you'll be completely fine and he's just overreacting.

— he starts hovering around you more often when you're on his farm, jumping in to help you whenever he thinks you might be struggling with something. you think he's just worried you might fuck his crops up or something, so you never really pay much mind to his behavior. it only struck you as odd when he insisted on helping you feed the dogs of all things. was he scared you would poison them? you wouldn't, obviously, so you don't know why he'd think that.

— his behavior only seems to escalate when you meet a guy in town one day and start going on casual dates with him. he was… shocked, when you asked to take the day off because of some guy. in the months that you've been living in town, you had never shown any interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with… anyone, truly. you had always seemed so dedicated to working on the farm and making a living for yourself, rigby had never even considered you could want anything other than that.

— at first, he felt disappointed. why would you prioritize dates with some guy when you could be working on the farm with him instead? it took him a bit to realize that disappointment he was feeling was jealousy. he hated when you'd step away from him to accept calls from your new boyfriend. he hated how you stopped eating lunch with him in favor of eating it with your boyfriend.

— your boyfriend wasn't even that great of a guy. rigby did some research on him–it's not stalking, he's just making sure it's safe for you to date this guy!–and he was not pleased with what he found. you could do so much better! you didn't understand why rigby was so interested in your boyfriend, always asking questions about how he treats you, if he's really what you're looking for in a relationship, if you actually loved him…

— you couldn't help but notice how touchy rigby has become as well, his hands always lingering on you far too long when he helps you with your work. you swear that you've heard him smell your hair a few times when he's close as well. he's been acting weird ever since you officially started dating your boyfriend. he's even going as far as to pile more work on top of you, leaving little free time for you to spend with your lover.

— it's gotten unbearable to the point where you decided you ultimately needed to find a new place to work. you liked rigby, he was a great guy with a kind heart, but his behavior was bordering on obsession and you didn't want to enable this behavior by ignoring it. your boyfriend agreed, and with his help, you were able to find a job at the local market in town.

— rigby was not pleased when he heard you on the phone with your lover, talking about how you'd tell him you were quitting after you finished work.

You're not really sure what happened. One moment, you were on the phone with your boyfriend and then the next, you were being hit in the head and everything had gone dark. The sun had only just started setting when you had been knocked out, but it was completely dark outside when you had woken up.

Your head was pounding as you opened your eyes, looking around in an attempt to figure out what the hell had happened to you. You were still on the farm, that much you knew. The first thing that worried you was the fact that your hands were bound to a wooden post, leaving you unable to move without injuring yourself. Your phone was broken on the ground, so it was completely useless.

Did a trespasser knock you out? It's not the first person people have trespassed on the farm, trying to steal the horses or ‘save’ the animals Rigby had. You had assumed that to be the case, because… what else could have happened for you to be tied up like this?

“Rigby?!” You shout his name, wincing at the throbbing in your head as you did so. Was he okay? Was he hurt? What if something happened to him? What if–

Your panicked thoughts get put on pause when a light blinded you, and you shied away from it as best as you could as you tried to figure out its source. It seemed to be a flashlight, and you only realized who was holding it when they got closer.

For a moment, you relaxed at the sight of Rigby, relieved to see he was okay as he approached, though there was something off about him. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't seem injured, yet there was blood on his hands. Or maybe it was the… borderline crazed look in his eyes.

Something wasn't right.

“Rigby…?” You hesitantly called his name, your relief bleeding away into a reluctant unease, “Are you okay? What happened? Why am I tied up?”

His silence did little to help you as he set his flashlight down on the ground and started undoing your binds. Your wrists felt raw as you gently rubbed them once they were free, standing up while Rigby retrieved his flashlight.

“Rigby, what the hell is going on?” You ask, growing frustrated at being left in the dark. You had been knocked out and tied up, so you think you deserve some sort of explanation as to what had happened.

“I have a gift for you.” Rigby says, completely dodging your question as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you after him. His grip was tight, almost bruising as he dragged you along, ignoring you when you asked him to loosen his grip on you. He refused to answer any of your questions, and you were starting to get worried.

You've never been scared of Rigby. Sure, his behavior lately had been concerning, but you had no reason to be scared. But right now, you couldn't help but feel a bit afraid as he led you in the dark. Your concern only grew when you realized he was taking you to the barn the pigs were kept in.

“Will you just tell me what's going on?” Your words fall upon deaf ears as he passes the flashlight to you, motioning for you to take the lead as he opens the barn doors. You hesitate before shining the flashlight in the barn, slowly stepping forward.

Most of the pigs were sleeping in their own separate stalls, a few were watching you and Rigby with indifference as you both stepped deeper into the barn. But two things stood out to you. One, a handful of pigs were nowhere to be seen. Two, there was this weird… squelching sound coming from the back of the barn.

“It's just back there.” Rigby says, his breath hitting the back of your neck and causing you to jump. You hadn't even realized how close he had gotten. You scurry forward just to get some distance. Truthfully, you didn't want to see this ‘gift’ Rigby was talking about, but you knew that you couldn't turn back.

Deep down, you knew something horrible was about to happen. The squelching sound grew louder, and you could hear the sound of chewing along with it. When you looked back at Rigby for some sort of reassurance, he just had this strange smile on his face. It sent a chill down your spine.

And when you hesitantly looked in the last stall at the very back of the barn to see the source of the noise, your ‘gift’, you dropped the flashlight in horror and let out a scream as you stumbled back right into Rigby's arms.

On the ground was your boyfriend's corpse, his face nearly maimed beyond recognition as several pigs chewed at his body. You're lucky you're able to swallow the vomit in your throat as you try to get out of Rigby's hold, looking away from the horrific scene in front of you as you cried.

“Let go of me!” You claw at his arms, but he just holds you tightly against his chest, gently shushing you as he forces you to watch the pigs eat.

“Do you like it?” He asks, completely ignoring your horror, “It wasn't hard getting him to come here. I just told him you had an accident, and suddenly, he was on his way. Isn't that sweet? It's a shame he wasn't stronger… he never would've been able to protect you if someone tried hurting you. But I can, see? I can give you what you deserve.”

You weren't even listening to his deluded words, trying to squirm out of his hold, “You're a fucking monster.” You spit out, a sharp gasp being torn out of your mouth when he shoves you against the wall of the barn, his hand around your throat as he lightly squeezes. A subtle threat, one that had you shutting up.

“I expect some fucking gratitude, you ungrateful brat.” Rigby’s voice is cold, his anger had never been something you'd ever been on the receiving end of, “I did this for you. For us. You should be thanking me.” His hand on your throat tightens, squeezing the air out of your lungs, his gaze hard as he stares at you expectantly.

Desperate for air, you're barely able to wheeze out a small, “Thank you.”

As black spots start to fill your vision, Rigby removes his hand from your neck, and you're able to breathe again. His anger was gone, replaced with delighted satisfaction.

“Of course, darlin’.” He sweetly says, a bloodied hand coming up to gently wipe the tears off your face, “I'd do anything for you. I can provide for you, so just be good for me in return, okay?”

And as he pulls you into a kiss, his lips pressing against yours with a heated desperation, you find yourself missing the city for the first time since you left it.

[kedsandtubesocks]

your heart, a sonnet

Author!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: you discover there’s more to your boyfriend than you realize

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, surprise hidden identity reveal, grumpy but soft!Joel who has a secret love language of writing and love letters, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older & in his 50’s), light discussion of reader and Joel’s insecurities, reader is addressed as darlin/honey/baby, a few spicy moments where Joel gets handsy

word count: 5.3k

a/n: I know, I know… this doesn’t seem like the typical Joel fic but i blame Pedro’s look at the Hollywood star walk of fame ceremony because it immediately made me think ‘oh that’s Joel’ and now here we are lol I couldn’t have done this without my forever babe @the-wild-wolves-around-you and i can’t thank her enough along with @ahauntedcowboy for always letting me scream about all my wild ideas, and now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡

You first met Joel at a bookstore.

The weekend after your birthday you went in to treat yourself and wandered into the records section of the store. As you flipped through the selections, the sudden sight of a Fleetwood Mac album had you inhaling sharply in surprise.

“S’good one.” That’s when the sudden smooth drawl of a southern accent floated out to you.

A few steps beside you stood an absolutely gorgeous man. The evergreen plaid button up shirt he wore flattered him as if it was made to be only worn by him. Rugged and distinguished, he seemed like a romance hero plucked straight out from one of the books among the shelves. You even blinked a few times wondering if he was real.

“If you don’t take it, might have to fight ya for it.” Even with his gruff low voice, an underlying teasing nature radiated friendly and light.

Now, many months later, a piece of you believes you might have fallen for him right then and there.

Joel is a rare beautiful soul of a man. He’s strong and a bit rough around the edges. He used to work as a contractor, even managed to build a very reputable business with his brother. His hard work remains effortlessly etched into his hands that now type editing books, his current job. He’s kind, so deeply loyal and loves fiercely.

With a yawn, you slip out of bed to pull on his cozy Texas longhorn shirt.

Heading downstairs, you walk among the clouds.

Instead of working at his office desk, Joel sits at the dining table typing away. Just seeing him wear his reading glasses sends a delicious desire trickling through you like a soft rain.

His dark earth eyes flicker up over the edge of his laptop and his gaze softens.

“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna wake up.” His wonderfully smooth as molasses voice makes you want to get caught up in its sticky sweetness.

“It’s not even that late. You’re one who woke up wanting to get work done on a Saturday.” You scoff playfully yet press your lips to his, a soft good morning greeting.

“Besides…who’s the reason I slept in so soundly, hm?” You smile against Joel’s lips that now twitch with a smirk.

His large warm hand slowly creeps up against your bare leg and rubs soft against your skin. After a few sleepy kisses, Joel’s tongue smoothly slips into your mouth trying to now consume you with a syrupy heat.

Joel pulls you down onto his lap. Your hands run up his chest to his cherub curly gray hair. His lips leave yours to start nipping at your jaw.

“What happened to working, cowboy?” You sigh softly.

“Come keep me company, darlin’.” He breathes out and any hope of maybe making breakfast is happily forgotten.

The rest of the morning unfolds at a nebulous pace you bask in.

When a late brunch is finished and you start cleaning up the kitchen, Joel’s warm solid hands map out your hips with other plans in mind. He slides behind you, a towering comfort that you lean back against.

“You’re extra handsy today Mr. Miller.” You tease.

“I can stop?” Joel offers while his scruffy beard scrapes a path against your skin. Against you, his broad shoulders, his wonderfully built frame, wraps you in his protective cover.

You hum a content no and move your hands over his now.

“Just wanna enjoy being with ya before I get busy.” Joel mutters while his hand slides down your cozy lounge shorts.

You had forgotten about his upcoming work plans.

You already want to mourn the impending weekend without him, but that can wait for another day. Especially when his thick fingers delicately, so sinfully, run up and down your underwear playfully touching you.

But then that weekend arrives and it brings a hollowness.

Lounging on the couch back at the apartment you share with your best friend, you force yourself not to text Joel again. He’s busy and you know this. So you vow to hold all your yearning and longing chained inside like a Jane Austen heroine.

“Are you done sulking?” Your best friend teases from the kitchen and you glare at her from the couch.

“I get it, being awake from your hunky handsome older boyfriend is hard. What will you ever do?” She snickers playfully. You’re tempted to throw the nearby couch pillows at her.

“What did you say his job was?” She asks.

“He used to be a contractor, but now he’s a book editor.” You answer.

“A hardworking hot Texas cowboy who reads and is a good man? Yeah, keep him locked up.” Your best snorts and you understand exactly what she means.

Fanged temptation claws at you more to text him again. Joel promised he would call you tonight and you don’t doubt him. But you didn’t realize how badly you’d missed him.

“Alright,” your best friend declares. “No more moping! I’m dragging you out with me to that book signing I’ve been talking about.”

She’s been obsessed with this apocalyptic novel series for so long. You happily tag along and even perk up when you see how excited she gets.

“And the author is finally doing a book tour! He’s kept his identity hidden this entire time so I wanna get a chance to maybe just even see him!” Your best friend gushes the entire time she drives you both to the bookstore the signing would be held.

Just so happens it’s the same bookstore where you first met Joel. A deep surge of affection swallows you whole and you float on blissful lovesick nostalgia.

Then the impressive line already waiting outside the front doors stuns you.

“I told you! It’s a big deal! Plus the series is so good.” Your best friend exclaims. She has been trying to get you into the series for a while.

The core of it focuses on two young girls who manage to survive an apocalyptic fungal zombie outbreak. The series follows the girls growing up, the journey to live with each other, and how it slowly bonds them as sisters.

“I heard they’re trying to make a Netflix series on it.” Your friend adds hopeful.

You can’t help but snag your best friend’s book copy she also hopes will get signed. Flipping through the front pages you land to the dedication page.

“To my baby girls, this will always be for you two.”

The author must have based the series on their daughters. That’s adorable.

Now curious, you flip to the first chapter.

“After seeing the end of the world, after witnessing the carnage of life consume itself, Ellie thinks she’s seen it all.”

Your best friend's sudden excited laugh pulls you out of the book. She’s talking with the other fans in line and you decide to join in.

Everyone discusses how worth the wait will be and how most of them even purchased the newest released book to make sure they reserved a slot for the signing.

“So why’s the author finally doing a face reveal?” You ask quietly not wanting to seem too out of place.

“So apparently,” your best friend begins in her hush about to spill the good gossip voice. “Some random ass moron on Twitter came out and said they were the true author. It became a whole messy issue of who it really was.”

Your best friend goes into more detail about how even a couple of online sites had articles on it.

“That’s awful.” You sympathize with the author. It must’ve been a headache trying to enjoy the peace of anonymity only for it becoming something used against them. You can only imagine how heartbreaking it was to see others steal and take credit for your work.

Like a surprise strike of lightning, an electric excitement suddenly breaks through the air.

Glancing up, you watch the line rapidly move towards the front doors. Time to go in.

Unfortunately, the main seating for the reading and q&a fills up fast. The bookstore though manages to wrangle the remainder of the crowd that can fit on the first floor towards a section where they can watch. It’s more than enough for your best friend who’s about to burst with anticipation. The buoyant commotion in the room even pulls you into its current and you get excited to see the new surprise author.

Soon a chic handsome older looking man, the moderator of the event, scurries to the front of the gathered group.

Warmly he begins the introduction to the writer.

First, writing sweet children’s books, stories for his daughters, those works became the author’s first publications. After that he navigated apocalyptic writing and his hit series has earned critical acclaim.

“Simply known as the anonymous writer J Miller. I’ve had the greatest pleasure to know this man as both his friend and now agent and I’m beyond proud to introduce him to you. Everyone please help me in welcoming J Miller!”

The thunderous applause and screams of excitement galvanize the entire room.

Then Joel walks out from the side.

Your heart instantly leaves your body.

For a moment you think your lovesick yearning heart has you slightly projecting Joel in any man you might see.

But the minute you focus, truly watch him slide into the chair, you see him.

Soft gray grown out curls, a strong beautiful nose, the patchy beard with the spots you love to kiss, and his reading glasses - the ones he’s so self conscious about because of how they make him look “so good damn old,” yet you love how they distinguish and elevate his appearance. You even remember the first time Joel wore them while he read waiting for you.

Truth makes its way into your heart.

It’s Joel.

The famous mystery author is your Joel.

“Thanks Frank.” And when he takes the mic, thanking his agent, his slick southern sunset voice melts the crowd.

“So, uh he’s gorgeous?!” Someone behind you squeals.

“Who would’ve thought he’d be this hot?!” Someone adds.

The whispers and mummers swarm like wasps buzzing all around you and you want to swat at them.

You can’t wrap your mind around this or the amount of emotions rushing through you. You feel separated from your body, floating detached from the scene and trying to gather yourself back.

Why didn’t he tell you?

Did he not trust you?

Joel suddenly laughs at something Frank says, that gruff wonderful laugh you hear after you show him a ridiculous video or his daughters tease him. It snaps you back into awareness.

“He’s about to read a section!” Your friend giddily whispers under her breath

Now you fully focus on this man, this almost stranger.

He’s so handsome it isn’t fair. He looks like a distinguished professor and your throat tightens seeing how broad his shoulders look in the dark casual suit jacket he wears.

“One of my favorite parts.” He admits quietly. “It’s when Ellie and Sarah realize they can make it outta Pittsburgh together.”

His daughters. He named his characters after them.

Joel clears his throat and begins.

He reads the passage with a magnetic cadence. The words slip from him like the smooth drink of whiskey that lingers on your tongue. When he finishes, an ache twists in your chest.

The applause he gets is shatteringly loud. The smallest bit of pride does float through you. But confusion drowns it out.

The floor now opens to quick questions. Some are about the book itself and the certain decisions made writing wise. Others are obviously about why he stayed hidden for so long.

That one perks you up quickly.

In such typical Joel fashion, he shrugs.

“Just couldn’t figure out Twitter, s’all.”

Everyone laughs at his playful reply and you do as well, but it sounds hollow and watery.

Soon enough the last question arrives.

“Do you ever see yourself writing for any other genres? I mean, we’ve seen horror and some moments of romance in the series. So I’m just curious if you’d write anything else?!” The lady asks brightly and now you simply settle your thoughts aside to listen.

Joel chuckes, a bit breathless and his gaze drops. This entire time he’s teetered between a sly southern charm that’s hypnotized you, to being guarded almost a bit nervous.

But now a boyishly hesitant grin falls over him and it’s so familiar.

”Uh, guess romance would be the next I’d maybe try.” He answers low, bashful.

The crowd erupts into fangirl like shrieks.

“Right?! I keep saying he doesn’t know the potential he has if he became a romance writer!” Frank, who has such a bright and lovely personality, adds.

Too many emotions clash in you.

You wonder if he wants to explore romance writing because of you?

Or a much harsher voice creeps out from the back of your mind whispering maybe you’re just being used for source material.

You quickly stomp those thoughts away.

The rest of the event shifts to the signing and you walk in a sort of guided daze.

“You okay?” Your best friend asks gently, noticing your slight mood change.

You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth yet. This was something she had been looking forward to and you didn’t want to ruin her excitement or experience. So you wearily just smile and tell her your head simply started hurting.

She sympathetically nods.

“Thankfully we won’t be waiting too long.” She adds and explains how the signing would be called by groups.

“We might not have gotten seats, but we did manage to sneak into group A for the signing.” She grins proud and it lifts your spirits.

The line curls against the sides of the bookshelves blocking your view of Joel. It becomes both a blessing and a curse.

Maybe you should wait in the car for his and your sake?

However, something inside you slightly bitter, raw and wanting answers, decides to stay. Besides you, your dear friend tries to keep herself calm but you can sense her bubbling nervous energy.

“I’d be calmer if he wasn’t so damn attractive.” She hisses and a jealous flare gently rises in you.

“Just think,” you reassure her. “He’s probably just as nervous as you.”

The relieved comforted grin she gives you makes staying worth it. But then all of that flies out the window the closer and closer you get to Joel.

Petrified dread claws its way in when you realize your best friend is next in line.

“He looks kinda familiar now that we’re closer.” The casual comment your friend says makes your heart sink.

“Maybe.” You mutter.

The times Joel has been to your place your roommate, your best friend, has been either at work or sleeping. You can only think of the first instant you introduce Joel to her when he picked you up on a date.

Your eyes flicker straight to Joel.

His hair seems so perfectly curled and his dark jacket highlights his wonderful grays.

Thankfully, any discussion of who he might look like gets squashed because your best friend gets called next in line. She turns to you squeaking excitedly and you beam back bright.

Joel lifts his eyes up, like a true southern gentleman wanting to give someone his full attention.

You wait on the side and watch the interaction unfold. Joel chuckles at something your best friend says and you’re glad she’s enjoying herself.

The book signing is done so fast. In a blink, it’s finished. With her newly signed book, your friend turns to you. She makes a slightly embarrassing but endearing noise of excitement that has you laughing.

That’s when your eyes flicker over to Joel and your gaze locks with his.

Instantly, Joel’s handsome face drops. His gorgeous earth eyes widen as he immediately recognizes you. His mouth falls open slightly and a flash of something close to fear fills the depths of his eyes.

He breathes out your name on a shaky exhale.

Everything seems to slow and stop. You don’t know what to say. So all you do is weakly smile.

The fleeting moment fades. The next group in line already giggles moving towards the table.

Time’s up. Turning on your heels to leave with your friend, Joel calls out to you, calls your name.

“Wait!”

You freeze.

Glancing back at him, Joel’s eyes pin you on the spot. An unspoken heaviness hangs in his deep eyes while he stares intently at you.

“It’s okay, we’ll talk later.” By some strange possession of slight bravery, or maybe delusion, you manage to speak.

But it’s all you can say and it’s all you can do before Frank, Joel’s agent, slides in to whisper something to him.

The moment again shatters.

Your best friend however grills you the rest of the day

That’s when you pull out your phone. You show her a photo you secretly took of Joel. It’s one where he’s adorably glaring at his ipad while he tried ordering take out for dinner.

Your best friend shrieks. “He’s your boyfriend?!”

He is.

Your boyfriend, Joel, is a writer, a very famous best selling author.

And that weight yanks you under a dangerous current you can’t seem to swim against.

Even after lunch, even getting back to your apartment and trying to settle your thoughts, your emotions are still so tangled.

You mindlessly scroll through your phone for the rest of the day and a blink, you notice it’s already early evening. Your plan to stay sulking is ruined when your phone starts ringing so loud.

It’s Joel.

“Hello?” You answer as composed as you can.

“Darlin?” His beautiful rich voice sounds hesitant and guarded.

“Hi.” You reply back quietly.

“Can we talk?” He asks just as low.

You agree, expecting to have the discussion on the phone. Except a knock taps on your apartment door and scares you right out of your body.

Ever proactive, ever the man who takes action, Joel stands waiting for you when you open the door.

You’re thankful more than ever that your best friend went to the gym for the evening.

“Wanna sit outside for a bit? Maybe get some air? S’really nice outside today.” He offers gentle.

He’s breaking up with you. That’s what your mind jumps to.

At least the weather is surprisingly kind this early evening.

You’ve sat out here on your apartment’s decent sized balcony with Joel before. But now the energy between you and him shifts strangely.

The sky stretches above a soft sherbet orange. A breeze comes, thankfully not too cold, but you think about maybe heading in to grab a blanket.

Joel however quickly slings off his jacket and drapes it over you. Always the gentleman.

The smell of his cologne, so comforting and masculine, wraps around you like a cloud.

You thank him with a soft small smile and Joel nods. Then he sighs and leans forward on the folding chair.

“Always loved the outdoors.” He begins, a small olive branch of a conversation to break the tension. “The girls and I love hiking the trails out by the lake. You ever been?”

You shake your head no.

“Maybe one day we can all go together.” The comment holds hope, a delicate thread of it. Yet you catch the hesitation.

Your eyes flicker to him, confused and cautious.

“Wait, you aren’t breaking up with me?” You blurt out, maybe just wanting to get it over with. You hate the way your voice cracks slightly.

Joel, with his beautiful concerned wide eyes, snaps his face to you.

“What? Honey no. Thought maybe you’d be the one maybe tryin’ to break up with me.” Joel, who Sarah jokes about how some of their neighbors question if he’s perpetually grumpy, stares at you with a tenderness that melts you to your core.

You can’t help but laugh watery.

“Why d’ya think I’d want to end things with you?” He asks patiently.

You can think of so many.

He’s a famous writer who’s about to maybe become an online sensation. He’s older than you, wiser and seasoned. He’s a full on father with young teenage daughters.

So you reveal your heart to him and all the fears that dwell in its shadows. You wipe away a few tears that manage to spill out.

Joel moves to hold your hands in his, a guarded warmth and protection keeping you stable.

With a heavy sigh, Joel’s attention fully focused on you.

“Honey…I’m so sorry for not telling you about my work, about me, sooner.” He earnestly apologizes and his words drip with comforing earnesty.

Now his gaze drops down to where your hand sits in his.

“Didn’t want it complicatin’ things with us. I knew I had to tell you eventually. But really…I was worried you’d see me differently once you knew. I know I don’t seem like the writin’ type anyway.” He mutters and you miss the hint of embarrassment coloring his tone.

You squeeze his hands.

This could never make you look at Joel in a negative light. If anything, you now feel proud knowing he’s a writer. You do explain your worries though and the ache you felt knowing he kept his from you.

“I know darlin’ and I promise,” he squeezes your hands now. “No more secrets between us.”

“You…us…means more to me than you’ll know.” He adds and you draw his hands up to your mouth.

You kiss his worn hands, his hard working beautiful hands that now move to hold your face so tenderly in their grasp. His thumb strokes your bottom lip delicately as if you’ll disappear from his sight.

“Can I kiss ya baby?”

You nod and in that same breath Joel pulls you towards him. He kisses you light, delicate enough that you feel so precious and treasured within his hold.

It seems like such a simple small kiss but it soaks into your bones.

You have so many questions. And as much as you’d like to make out with your boyfriend on the balcony, you’d like answers.

So you pull away and stand up.

Joel looks adorable as confusion paints his face.

“Don’t worry I’m just getting us a blanket.” You grin at him as you sling on his jacket claiming it as your own.

Blanket in hand you now curl up with him in the lawn chair, thankful for its sturdiness and cozy size. Your heart soars at how quickly Joel pulls you into his arms and basically onto his lap.

It feels like it’s been months since you’ve last been with him, or maybe that’s just how exhausting today was.

Joel sighs content and pleased once you fully rest against him. Hesitantly you ask if it’s okay if you can talk about him, about his work.

“Ask away honey. I’ll tell ya everything n’ anything.” He says firm.

You grin and your thumb starts stroking the back of his hand.

“So what made you decide to reveal yourself now? I heard there was an issue about someone saying they were you?” You ask, thinking of the discussions earlier with your best friend.

“Yeah..” Joel now sighs tired with an ancient weariness that settles over his handsome face.

“Sarah was the one who saw it first on Twitter or wherever it was.” He adds with a grumble.

Your heart aches knowing one of the girls saw it first.

“Didn’t help either that I ain’t online. So it became a whole fuckin’ mess we had to deal with it a couple months back.”

A light bulb goes off inside your brain.

“Was that when you said you had to visit a family friend out of town?” You connect the dots.

“Yup.” Joel nods. “Went to visit Frank, my agent, to try and figure this shit out. Could’ve let it all maybe die down but… ya know.” He huffs and you understand completely.

Joel is too stubborn, a bit too prideful. You almost snort amused just over the thought of him trying to let the situation blow over.

“Frank wants to meet ya by the way.” Now his voice dips with a bashful tone while his hands begin softly stroking your thighs.

“I’d love to meet him too.” You truthfully tell Joel.

“So, are you going to be online now? Should I start making secret accounts to follow you?” You now tease and Joel barks a beautiful amused laugh.

“Baby, I’m over 50. The only apps I need on my phone are candy crush and ESPN. Ain’t got the time or patience for social medias.”

Now you’re the one laughing.

It feels freeing, blissful, like this is the first moment you’re spending time with him all over again. Yet, there’s a deeper sacred connection that settles.

You can’t help but kiss him again and Joel eagerly welcomes you on his lips.

Now his lips move fervently, almost possessively, against yours, licking and trying to consume you. A small moan squeaks out of you.

“Come on baby,” he mutters, shifting you against his lap so that you fully feel his hardness straining against his pants. “Wanna taste ya.”

You’re thankful you manage to drag him back inside because you can’t imagine getting intimate with Joel on the balcony. Well, at least not yet. But that was a thought for another day.

Now in the afterglow’s soft relaxing peace you wish for more time with him.

But Joel must sense that ache too.

“S’late honey. Come back home with me. Even if it’s just for the night.” He mutters against your lips and you can’t deny him. You don’t want to deny him or the aching tug pulling you to him.

That night you fully embrace every inch of the man Joel Miller is and let a dizzying adoration for him swallow you whole.

The next morning, in the soft early still dark shade of his room, Joel wakes you with a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Gotta go meet with Frank for the day. I’ll see ya later, honey.” He mutters against your cozy heated skin.

You hum a soft agreement and sleepily wish him a goodbye before falling back to sleep. After that, you wake up later to a colder and empty bed.

Tugging on another one of Joel’s shirts you head downstairs already missing his presence.

And when you get downstairs, there on the table sits the most gorgeous floral arrangement. Its beautiful vibrant blooms make your heart flutter so fast against its cage.

A folded paper sits beside the flowers. Your name is written on the front in Joel’s slightly chicken scratch like handwriting.

You scramble fast to grab it.

A letter, he’s written you a letter.

“Honey,

I know I’ve already apologized and you’ve forgiven my old undeserving ass.”

You snort at that line but continue on.

“But I just wanted to fully apologize to you again. Might take me a while until I stop, but just be patient with my old bones yeah?”

You would. Your heart would and will always wait for him.

“Doesn’t seem like it but, I aint that good at talking about things, about my feelings. Shocker right?”

You smirk. You know he isn’t good with words - that’s why it almost feels ironic and a bit unreal that he’s an author.

You’ve discovered Joel shows his affection through his actions.

He spent an entire day rearranging a business scheduling conflict just so that Tommy didn’t have to worry about it. Joel never missed a single one of Ellie’s basketball games. Sarah only prefers a certain type of orange juice and Joel never fails to only get that one.

The first few weeks you started dating Joel you got sick with a nasty cold. He dropped off a whole bag of various items like tissues and cough drops. It was then you knew his heart shines through his actions.

He sometimes surprises you with an order from your favorite take out spot. He never lets you touch a door, always opening them for you instead. He’s the most generous lover and never fails to remind you of how tender, how consuming, his passion can be.

Joel does grumble, sometimes even seems grouchy, but he loves fiercely.

And now here he is showing you this side of him, this form of himself as a writer.

So you return to reading his letter.

“I got into writing because it helped me process all my emotions, my thoughts, the good and bad days - everything. And sharing my writing with others, especially with someone as important as you, still makes me feel so vulnerable. Funny how that worked out though huh? Guess fate wanted to drag my ass and make me face my fears and vulnerability and whatnot.”

Someone as important as you - The line makes your heart flutter.

“I know I told you the reasons why I didn’t tell you. But another reason was because I was afraid.

I was afraid of how much you mean to me. Telling you about this part of me would be taking a bigger step. And it scared me shitless. Cause darlin’ I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. Like, as Ellie loves to say, in such a long time that ‘dinosaurs weren’t even fossils.’

That makes you laugh a bit watery but you let his words carry you again.

“You make my damn heart race when you smile. I get so worked up just seeing you walk around my house as if you were always meant to be here. And I didn't want to lose that either. I still don’t.

You feel like a bright future, like waking up after a cloudy week and the sun greets you so nicely. And I just wanna stay in that warmth, your warmth.

Yeah sorry, that line might be too romance novel writer for my league…but like I said I’m thinking about it. And it’s because of you.

We said no more secrets yeah?

So I’m not lying when I say you’ve become so god damn important to me. And I wanna see more days with you, as many as you’ll have with me.

Fuck. This damn letter already feels too long and I hate my old ass for rambling and maybe not making sense. But I adore you honey. Plain in simple.

And I’m just gonna leave it at that.

Don’t miss me too much and I’ll see you soon.

P.S I picked that bookstore as the tour’s first stop here because it’s where I met you… and I’ll always be grateful for that

-Joel”

You now fight back an absolute ocean’s worth of adoration for this man.

Tears clog your throat and you try not letting them flood your vision, but it’s so hard. So hard when you’re this head over heels.

You don’t want to say it yet, and you don’t know if he’s even ready to say it, but the emotion filling you like a newborn star feels like love.

You barely manage to send out a text thanking him and hoping you’ll get to talk to him soon.

Joel, ever the endearing man he is, replies back with a simple heart emoji and you laugh.

You really might love this man.

And you hope, you so brightly hope, that he maybe loves you too.

You think of his book series, of how he became a writer simply wanting to tell his daughters stories. Those stories grew out of his love for them and now he gets to crystallize that among his pages.

You realize how writing truly is its own form of love.

After all, what better way for a writer to show their love, their heart, than to capture you in their words?

You think that’s where writers must live now, in the heart. Or maybe - your maybe gruff handsome one just does. And you happily welcome Joel’s place in yours and hope he resides there forever like a love poem etched into your very soul.

[hope-drunk]

HARVEST MOON

| a year ago, abby left you suddenly after a month long love affair. now she's back to convince you she's changed.

| cw: me writing southern accents and it's bad, talk of father death, jerry anderson is homophobic, talk of food, reader showers three times in this who knows why, f!reader, oral & fingering (r!recieving), petnames, umm that's it but like abandonment issues i guess? abby like dips hard LOL

| wc: 3.8k

The mugginess hasn’t let up in recent days, causing your hair to look a mess, and you to have a strong urge to be naked all the time. Getting comfortable in your bed was a pain. The sheets were too hot; the pillow pushing your sticky hair onto the back of your neck. You don’t think you’ve gotten a good night's sleep in ages. The fans in your room weren’t doing much; nothing could battle this southern heat.

You were already awake before your alarm went off at 6 A.M. You quickly silence the screeching sound of the clock and roll out of bed, throwing on a loose tank top that lays on your floor. You’re instantly annoyed by the fabric but try to push it off. You stroll into your kitchen, opening the fridge and standing there for a few seconds to absorb the cold air that blows out. You grab some scraps of breakfast and eat quickly, already running a tad behind because the heat is making you move slower. 

You go to the bathroom and take off the flimsy tank top and your panties. You step in immediately and let the cold water wash over you. Your shower goes faster than you wanted it to, but you step out and dry off. You don’t bother to dry your hair, hoping that the dampness might keep you cooled off for a little bit longer. You get dressed in your usual attire, a self cut tank top made out of an old t-shirt and jean shorts.

You walk to the field behind your house, first checking on the chickens, collecting the eggs the hens dropped and making sure they have food. Then you moved to the sheep, replacing their water and giving them their feed. 

After you think the animals are situated, you begin your walk into town. It’s summer days like these where you wish you owned a car, or even a bike. But in a town this small, it always seemed useless. Everything was a five minute walk. The only thing that was further than five minutes was the gas station that sat on the edge of town near the highway, and that was only about a ten minute walk. Your journey to the grocery store feels like it takes eons. But when you open the door and the air conditioning blasts you, you think you see heaven.

“Hot one, huh?” The store clerk says to you in response to your sigh of relief.

“Tell me about it,” you say, smiling politely and walking to grab a basket.

You take your time with your shopping, swinging the green basket against your leg over and over while you scan the aisles. You spend extra long in the freezer section, and decide to treat yourself to some popsicles, you put them in the basket and let the door close by itself. You don’t notice the pair of strong arms that are crossed by the door. 

You turn away to go get your next item, “Not even gonna say hello?”

Your head whips around before your body does. You gulp at the realization of who it is.

“Popsicles, huh,” she nods to herself, grabbing the box out of your basket. “Didn’t know you liked these ones, darlin’.”

You snatch them out of her hand and throw them back into the green plastic, “You don’t know anythin’ about me, Abby.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” Abby’s voice drips like southern honey, but it reminds you of gasoline. One spark from you and the town would be on fire. 

You don’t answer her, just go back to your shopping. You scan the shelves for the next thing on your list. You can see her out of the corner of your eye still following you around, but you don’t pay her any mind. It’s honestly a shame, because you were gonna spend your sweet time in the air conditioned store, and now you can’t, because Abby decided to show up.

You remember now that it was exactly a year ago today that she showed up in town before leaving a month later with no warning. She had seemed so perfect, so normal, you’d never felt like that before with anyone. You let her stay in your house. She was planning on just passing through, staying the night at the motel for the festivities then going on her way, but she told you you changed her mind. Abby told you that she wanted to stay and be with you. What a load of bullshit. 

You finish your shopping, continuing to ignore Abby as she trails behind you, in her stupid t-shirt, with her stupid muscles, and her ridiculous boots. 

“This all for y’then?” The cashier asks.

“That’ll do it.” You reply, pulling out the cash you’re using to pay. 

You take your bags and thank him, rushing towards the doors and pushing one of them open with your back. 

Abby stops at the clerk to get her brand of cigarettes; running out behind you after she pays with a crinkled up ten dollar bill.

“Hey! What’s the rush?” She says, rushing up to you. She smacks the pack of cigarettes on her palm before opening it and popping one into her mouth; swiftly lighting it with a blue lighter.

“Don’t wanna see you, Abs. Thought you would be able to figure that out.” You say, silently hoping that that will be enough for her and that she’ll turn around and never come back to your town. But Abby, ever so stubborn, continues walking next to you.

“What? You still mad about last summer? Told you I had to go.”

You scoff at her. “Yeah, then you also told me you were never gonna leave me. Wanted to help raise my chickens and sheeps. Live in my house with me. Start a life here. Look, I don’t have time for this; too goddamn hot to deal with your bullshit.”

She nods her head; takes a long drag of the almost gone cigarette. “‘Least let me carry your bags?”

That you oblige to, handing over the heavy plastic bags that you swear were getting sticky from the heat. You just wanted to be home, with your fans, and your animals; without Abby. You didn’t even want her to see the inside of your house. You didn’t want her to be in the four walls of your bedroom again; it would be painful for you. To see her in your house again, where she made you all those promises. It would be painful because now you know that all you were to her was a quick fuck and a free place to stay.

Your house comes into view and you pause in the road, motioning your hands so she’ll give you your bags back. She does reluctantly, and you can’t help but notice the droplet of sweat dripping down her large muscles. You huff away the memories, taking the bags back and walking up to your front door.

“Not even gonna invite me in? No lemonade for my hard work?” Abby asks, trying to make light of the situation.

“I seriously never want to see your face again, Abigail.” With that you open your door, slinking in and closing it behind you.

You press your back to the door once you’re inside; willing yourself not to cry about her. You’ve done enough of that; swear you could fill an ocean with your tears. You know that you shouldn’t get so worked up over something that lasted a month, but it was the first real thing you’ve ever had. It’s not like there were any other women who liked women around here, so when Abby rolled in and made you all those promises, you thought you had actually found something. You thought you would be able to start a life with her and do all the things you’ve dreamed about doing since you were a little girl. Then, she was up and gone, and you were left alone again.

It took you a while to get used to your solitude again, and you were doing a damn good job at it now. Sometimes you wonder if it was even Abby you missed, or if you just missed having someone to do everything with. You try to stop thinking about it, forcing your body off the door and into the kitchen. You slowly put all the groceries away, scared that when you finish your mind will wander. 

You do pretty good for the rest of the day. You keep yourself entertained and busy, tending to your animals and reading a book. You only think about Abby a few times, but are able to brush it off. You think you’ve got it under control; you think that her little visit didn’t affect you. Once it hits around 7 P.M. you huddle the animals into their respective cages and barns. You go back inside and take another quick cold shower. It’s hard work herding those animals, and even though the sun is getting lower, it’s not getting any less humid. You dry off and put on fresh clothes, walking out into your kitchen to prepare your dinner. 

What you don’t expect to hear is a knock at your door. You silently question it before waking up to the door swinging it open; prepared to tell off some church people who just won’t stop trying. But there she stands. Abby has a bouquet of assorted carnations and daisies, a few roses thrown into there. You cross your arms, waiting for her to speak.

“Will you please let me explain? Please? Just a few minutes and you can decide if you want me to really go or not.”

“I’m timing you.” You say, walking back into your house and sitting down on your couch.

Abby moves into your living room. She’s changed from what she wore at the store. She now has on jeans and a black cut off tank top and her same signature braid.

“I’m gonna try not to stumble over my words– been preparing for this. I loved being here with you, first of all. Leaving you was never because of you. My dad got real sick, the type where you go and say goodbye. He had been in and out of the ICU around that time, but, when I got that phone call, swear I could feel it in my bones that that was it.”

You straighten out your back. You knew a little bit about Abby’s dad. Mostly that they were very close until she came out to him.

“And I didn’t know how to tell you. Didn’t know how to tell anyone. I wish I could’ve ignored it and stayed with you but I just–” she shakes her head to herself.

“He’s your dad.”

“Yeah, he was my dad.”

The past tense makes you let out a sigh, suddenly your heart breaks for the girl all over again. You will your brain to remember what she did. You feel bad that she lost her dad, but she could’ve communicated.

“I’m sorry, Abby. But, you still had no right to leave me like you did.”

“I know, I know. I got scared. I knew if I stayed with you that– he wouldn’t see me. I could have handled it better. I had every intention of coming back sooner than now, but I felt like you wouldn’t wanna see me.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know how this is supposed to work. All I know is that everything I told you is true. I miss living here. I hate running around the country anymore. I just wanna be here with you. Herd your fucking sheep and collect the eggs. Have you make me that killer omelet that I love. I miss you, all of you. Didn’t know what I wanted a year ago, but I do know. I’d like to be with you, if you’d have me.”

You try to process all that she’s saying; try to take in the massive amount of information she’s dumped into your hands. You just stare past her, straight at the wall. Do you want her to come back? You did– a few days ago when you were crying about being lonely. You don’t want to forgive her this easily though. What? A few words and an explanation and she’s just allowed in your house again? Hell no, there’s no way in hell that she can just creep back in here. What if she leaves again? Are you gonna embarrass yourself like that all over again?

“Abby…” you trail off, unsure of what to actually say to her.

“I know. I don’t want to be the victim here, and I’m sorry if I’m making it seem that way. I just want you to know that, it really, really, wasn’t your fault.”

“Thanks for that, cowboy.” She smiles at the nickname, you do too. Her long history of speedrunning through small towns made you come up with it. “Alright, well, you can stay for dinner. But, I have the right to kick you out at any time.”

“Yes ma’am,” she says. 

You start to make her favorite meal from you with ingredients you bought today. She keeps you entertained, staying out of your way but talking your ear off. It feels normal; it feels like old times. You can’t help but let her ease her way back into your space. She takes off her boots, undoes her braid and puts it up into a bun. You ask her to get you something and she knows exactly where it is. It feels too simple. Honestly, it feels like a dream. You feel like you’re floating through this strange reality where Abby never left and you’ve kept living in this home ever since she showed up this time last year.

You eat dinner at the table in the spots you always sat in. Continuing the laughter and the fun. You don’t even mind the heat anymore. You don’t care about anything other than Abby’s gray eyes staring back into yours. You get shy under her gaze all over again. When you’re both done, you can’t get up from the table, you get too invested in your conversation and neither of you want to disrupt it. You wish you could’ve kept your stoic face on, but Abby was something else. She always has been. She’s the only one who’s ever made you feel truly comfortable with yourself, in this town. Finally, you get up and take the plate from in front of her, moving it to the sink.

“That’s not what happened, and you know it.” Abby practically yells.

“I mean, I watched you fall in the sheep shit myself. Y’trying to gaslight me, Anderson?”

“I’m not saying I didn’t fall in the shit. I’m saying that what you’re saying led me to the sheep shit is wrong. I wasn’t looking at your ass and then tripped. I was– looking at the sign on top of the barn.”

“Well, your eyes were awfully low to be looking at the top of the barn.” You shrug your shoulders with a small giggle.

Abby waves her hand in the air, a small blush on her face from the memory of the second time she came to your house. 

“I missed you a lot, y’know.” Abby says, mostly under her breath.

When you look at her, she’s looking up at you through her eyelashes. Her chest rising and falling steadily. She sits with her legs slightly spread and her elbows on her thighs. Those strong fucking thighs. You thought you could get along with her as friends; you thought that’s what she wanted– to be friends now. 

You look away from her so you don’t give in. “Abby, I don’t know if I can.” 

“I’m here. I’m here again; it’ll be good, like it was before.”

“That’s what you said before you left. ‘I’m here for you. Never gonna leave you, sweetheart. You’ll never be alone again.’ Then I was. I was the loneliest I’d ever been. I don’t blame you for leaving, Abby. But I can’t take it if you leave again.”

Abby gets up from the table and walks over to you. She towers over you, grabbing your face between her hands and forcing you to look at her. “Not gonna leave you. Ever. I learned my fucking lesson. Feel like I need you to breathe. Like my chest was tight the entire time I was out of this goddamn town. Swear, the second I pulled in, I felt my lungs fill up for the first time in a fucking year. Please, sweetheart. I’m not gonna let y’down again.”

Her chest is moving more rapidly now. It’s hard to look in her eyes. She hasn’t taken hers off of you. “I swear.”

You push your lips up so they reach hers; she sighs into the kiss, hastily taking her hands away from your face and wrapping them around your body. You push her back away from the kitchen and towards the bedroom. She doesn't break the kiss once as she walks backwards, avoiding any and all furniture; like she’s always known where everything is. In a way she has, but it’s still impressive. A whole fucking year without her in your house and she still moves swiftly around the furniture towards your bedroom. She moves like it’s built in her bones; like she’s always meant to be here.

You enter the bedroom and she breaks away only to shove your discarded clothes that lay on your bed onto the floor. You rip your shirt off in the meantime, you were going to take off your shorts too, but Abby is back on you in a second. Kissing everywhere; licking everywhere. You don’t think your heart has ever beat faster. It’s scary how well she knows you. Just like the house, she still has every part of your body memorized. She still knows the spot below your collarbones that makes your hips buck. She knows how much rubbing the outside of your thigh while she kisses you turns you on. She knows that you need the anticipation built before you go straight into fucking. Abby knows you. 

She slides down your stomach, mouthing at the skin there, you push her head down, trying to get her to take the hint that you haven’t been laid in a year and you’re worked up enough. She scoffs into you and continues kissing you. A whine escapes your mouth, and she finally moves to where you need her. You lift your hips up while she removes your shorts and panties.

She starts to rub tight circles onto your clit, eyes connected to your face; waiting for you to look back at her. You don’t. You squeeze your eyes shut and try not to overthink the situation you’ve found yourself in. With every circle on your clit your head grows fuzzier, making this feel more and more like a dream.

“Not gonna leave you.” Abby says, like she can read your mind. “Never leaving your side again. You’re gonna be fucking sick of me, angel.”

You moan; open your eyes to take her all in. All you can manage is a nod. Abby growls and takes away her hand. You go to gasp, but in seconds she’s connected her tongue to your clit. You moan now, a sound deep from your chest that blossoms like a flower fed fertilizer. You forgot how good Abby was at this. The good memories pushed to the back of your mind. You’ve only been able to focus on her leaving for so long. The only thing you think about is waking up to that empty bed. 

She grunts into your cunt, “Missed how you fucking taste. S’goddamn sweet, princess.”

She’s here now, you remind yourself. She’s here forever. You’re sure the doubt will creep in at some point. You’re sure you’ll be scared to sleep next to her for a while. But right now, this is all that matters; her tongue drawing intricate shapes into you. You push your hand on top of her head.

“Don’t leave me,” you pant out.

Abby removes her mouth and pushes two thick fingers into you, forcing your back to arch off the bed. She moves up to your face, “Y’forget how to listen, doll? Gotta train you t’be my good girl again, huh? I ain’t leaving, never again. Got that?” 

You forgot how bad her accent gets when she’s turned on. 

“Answer me, tell me I’m gettin’ through that thick skull of yours.”

“Yes, Abby. I understand.”

“There y’go, sweet thing. Just lay back and take it.”

You do as she asks, finding it easy to fall back into submission under her. Your brain is basically blank by now, only focusing on the slow pull and push of Abby’s fingers inside of you. You moan and whine and buck your hips. Not scared to be messy or annoying. You’re not scared of anything in front of Abby. She loves you, you know it. She takes you how you are. 

“Don’t think I’m gonna– last long.” You say.

“That’s alright, so pent up, ain’t you? Let it all go for me. Let it all out.” She reconnects her mouth with your cunt and you know that you’re in for.

You feel the knot get tighter and tighter in your stomach. It feels like fire is spreading across your body. You feel a bead of sweat fall from Abby’s forehead onto you, and it gets to you. She’s real; she’s back. She’s eating you out and making you cum the way only she knows how to. The small band holding your orgasm back snaps. You cum with a sob, bucking your hips into her face so your clit brushes up into her nose. You start to cry from the pressure that was built up in you that’s finally being released. Abby works you through it, lets you grind on her face and you swear you can feel her smile into you.

She comes up to lay beside you when you finally stop twitching; shushing you when she removes her fingers.

“Missed seein’ you like that.”

“Bet you did,” you say, voice hoarse.

“Missed seein’ you in general, but the way you look when you cum, man. Ain’t nothing like it.”

You suddenly feel embarrassed by the crude talk, you roll over away from her and face your closet. She whispers a few sorry’s before using her arms to roll you back over and pull you into her chest. She kisses the top of your head. 

“It’s so hot I might die.” You say into her, tracing a shape on her chest.

“Wanna shower?” 

“Don’t gotta ask me twice.”

[bustedcartire]

𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓝𝓼𝓯𝔀 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓒𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼

(This is all very olden based so aka the time these movies have came out so around 1939 so these will be more oldern southern type head canons)

𝓣𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓗𝓮𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓽

Size- 5 inches when soft, 7 1/2 inches when hard

Grooming- He doesn’t really groom himself below the belt. The only thing he does is trim a bit when it’s irritating him from sweat (he shaved one time with ludas razor and got in trouble because he literally didn’t clean the razor and it was still in the bath so since then he just let it grow)

What’s it look like…?- He isn’t circumcised. He was born in a slaughter house and Luda didn’t bring him to get him circumcised and she wouldn’t have the money for it anyways.

Sound- He’s decently loud. The first time you two had sex he was kinda confused and thought you were hurt but once he caught on he started to make a bit of sounds

Would he bottom?- I think he would definitely have you ride him if he was too tired and the first time you do it make sure the house is empty because the boy will moan and groan like crazy.

Favorite position- missionary, G- whiz, leapfrog, the seashell but the table top it the easiest for him so the bed doesn’t bang against the walls that much and since he’s taller it’s like having a alligator ontop of you so the tabletop position lets you breathe, and cowgirl but you two only do it when he’s tired cause he kinda feels bad cause your doing all the work while you shouldn’t have to worry about it and he should have to be the one that makes you squirm and whine under him.

Head- He doesn’t really care about head…though he does like it when he’s feeling a bit insecure…to have you- a beautiful being- on your knees taking him in your mouth always made him want it more.

| | \/

Giver- He will definitely give you head. He would anytime anywhere aslong as he can get a taste.

How does he like you groomed- He honestly grew up thinking girls didn’t grow hair so if he saw pubic hair he would be a bit confused but would still eat you like his last meal.

Virgin- Definitely. This man in a strong believer in celibacy from his mama saying that’s the right thing.

Safe-word- He just wants you to say stop or no if you don’t want something. Things like yellow or pineapple just confused him too much and a strong or small no would make him stop completely and he would use stop or no aswell

kinks- size kink, Thomas is a big boy and he knows it. He likes knowing that he can manhandle you and make you scream and cream like crazy.

breeding kink, of course he wants kids but everytime isn’t because of that. He just likes knowing that he’s the only one that can do that to you and usually he’ll just finish on you but to him it’s close enough.

praise kink, he is constantly mocked or put down so being told he feels good or that he’s big or that he’s doing good will make him the happiest man ever.

Lactophilia, to him it’s more like a comfort thing and since you don’t produce breast milk yet he’ll just usually do it when he’s overwhelmed or if he just needs extra lovin

𝓑𝓾𝓫𝓫𝓪 𝓢𝓪𝔀𝔂𝓮𝓻

Size- about 4 1/2 soft but about 6 1/2 hard.

Grooming- He is a hairy man. Just like Thomas so he will be hairy and a bit more hairy then Thomas is.

What’s it look like…?- He is also uncircumcised. He is more thick and while he is a bigger size he makes up for the extra inch by his thickness.

Sound- He would grunt at first but when he heard you making sound he thought he was doing it wrong so he started to mimic you and would squeal when you squealed and would grunt when you moaned until you told him he doesn’t have to mimic you.

Would he bottom?- He is home a good bit compared to his brothers so he would be more free with positions unless it scared him.

Favorite Position- table top, missionary, spooning, and cowgirl but when you do cowgirl get used to him helping because this boy would thrust up randomly before bottoming out and just lay out until you got tired then he’ll take control

Head- At first kinda thought you were trying to bite his dick off so he was very freaked out until you explained it’ll feel good and he could control the pace and after 30 seconds he was already sprawled out on the mattress seeing stars while you moved your mouth against him.

| | \/

Giver- He would only if you shaved. He has texture issues so that would just make him gag and nothing against you it’s just the poor boy would feel like he had hair in his teeth but he would eat you out daily if you’d let him.

How does he like you groomed- Like I said he liked you shaved before oral but for normal sex he doesn’t care. You could be hairy and he would still wanna be balls deep in you and have his face buried in your neck whining.

Virgin- He never gotten close to it and the closest he’s gotten to seeing a naked girl was when he found one of draytons crappy porn magazines and those were just girls cleaning cars.

Safe-word-You would have to have a long conversation about safe words and that’s it’s okay to not want certain things in sex and he decided his safe word was ‘click’ cause he could say it easily.

kinks- heavy on the praise kink. This poor boy is constantly abused emotionally and physically so a simple good boy or saying how good he is will make him feel like he’s in heaven.

(I would say size kink but he only likes the size difference cause it makes him feel more manly and protective and not a ‘he could ravish you’ way)

voyeurism, He walked in on you playing with yourself once and that left him hot and bothered for days making him blush like crazy just looking at you.

Lactophilia, he also sees it as a comfort thing and would usually do it when he was overstimulated or pissed. He was kinda confused on why you didn’t already have breast milk and that night he figured out you needed a baby to do it and he was instantly asking to have a baby like it was simple.

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

Saw your post about TF2 being added to your list so here I am 🙏 I would like the one and only bed sharing trope with gender neutral reader, with heavy (my bbg) sniper, engie, and scout 💚 thank you ❗

Intertwined, sewn together.

Heavy/Sniper/Engineer/Scout x Gender Neutral! Reader separate romantic headcanons Summary: The hotel you were staying at with the mercs accidentally gave you a one bed hotel room. Warnings: probably OOC :( Word count: 1.1k ⋆｡°•☁︎

Heavy:

He’s very calm when it comes to sharing a bed since he’s done so with his family and you will be his lover someday, so he’s ready to get used to sharing a bed with you.

Heavy isn’t nervous about it since he thinks of it as simple and just job related but can’t deny the fact, he’s a little smug about spending sleeping time in the same bed.

By far easiest to sleep in the same bed with but he’s a furnace and huge. He’ll warm the bed like it’s electrical and keep you close, whether that be because of you or him wanting to be near or his size. It has got to do with living in the cold Russian mountains his entire life, he’s so used to the cold he never realizes how much heat he radiates.

You better hope the bed is big, Sasha’s going to sleep on the bed too, like a baby.

“Sasha will sleep in bed too, no changes from home.”

Heavy is a quiet and deep sleeper, more likely will not notice when you (eventually) fall off the bed from his size and Sasha. The harsh snow and windstorms have made him a deep sleeper.

He’s not the type to be insanely cuddly while asleep since he likes personal space. It’s an effect of growing up in a lonely Russian mountain and more likely having to share rooms/beds with his sisters. He needs personal space and likes it. But he likes you too, so you can be an exception.

If it’s exceptionally cold, he’ll (sadly) move Sasha to let you sleep against him for extra warmth, it’s not like the hotel is of good quality so it’s likely to happen. Heavy has a good time when that happens since he likes knowing you’re doing it on your own, not being forced by him and it gives him a reason to think you like him more.

Sniper:

He’ll act like it’s not a big deal when you’re given a room with only one bed, and it’s true, he doesn’t view it as a big deal. He’s sharing a bed with you. You! It’s when it reaches a basic time to go to bed does it sink in.

He probably has to be forced to sleep in a bed since he’s grown so used to sleeping in chairs for his job, having to be up quickly has its disadvantages. His back hurts from laying horizontally sometimes since he’s so accustomed to stools.

It’s not a particularly great experience for him or you sleeping in the same bed, especially since he views you as more than a friend. Sniper will be so stiff when lying next to you, it's insane, sheet metal build the entire night.

He wakes up so many times in the night to go to the bathroom, it’s insane. You have to be a deep ass sleeper to not wake from it every twenty minutes (at least).

While he’s stiff lying next to you from anxiety, he’ll quietly admire you. It’ll just be looking over your sleeping face. He’s a sniper of all things, he’s good with detail and he’ll find every little thing about you. The way your eyelashes tilt, the softness of your lips, and the basic movements and sounds you make while you sleep.

If you’re the cuddly type while you sleep, he’ll be ten times stiffer and won’t know what to do but will just get used to it throughout the night. Sniper won’t try wrapping his arms around you until he feels too tired to care. But after that he’ll hold you real tightly.

Engineer:

Honestly, one of the easier to be around when sleeping in the same bed, he’s very vocal about wanting your comfort, not just because it’s a basic thing to do, but because he genuinely wants you to be comfortable. He likes you and doesn’t want you running off because you possibly find him creepy.

Engineer’s still got that southern charm when it comes to this specific event since he is very intent on your willingness to do anything beyond platonic. If you suggest sleeping on the floor, he’ll encourage sleeping in the same bed.

“It’s just a bed, it’s not like anything more will happen anyway. It’s better anyway for your back.”

He is so similar to Sniper since he rarely gets to his bed to sleep, he’ll just end up sleeping somewhere random in his shop, which is why he has extra blankets in there. But now, he’s more inclined to be in bed.

He sleeps like a dad, snoring and stuff, possibly CPAP worthy but leave that to Medic to figure out. He doesn’t move too much though, just occasionally shifting in his sleep but it’s comfortable enough.

He’s very soft and you can accidentally move to cuddle him. Engineer would wake up suddenly in the night, looking over at you instinctively to see if you’re alright and would find you pressed into his side. He’d smile about it, in a smug kind of way but genuine happiness since you feel comfortable doing such a thing with him.

Scout:

When you got to the hotel and found out there was a mistake and you needed to share a bed, he was so excited. He’s been showing off so much for you.

He’s the most prominent in acting like sharing a bed isn’t eating him alive. Scout’s insanely confident but it’s not something he’s done with someone he’s liked before. He’s beyond giddy to be fair.

It wouldn’t be too surprising if he’s used to sleeping in a bed with other people, not because he gets play ever, but because he’s used to sharing beds with his siblings. He knows how squished together he needs to be to not be swung at for being too close to someone while sleeping.

“Don’t worry, there will be enough room on the bed for you even with me and my huge muscles.”

Just before you’re ready to go to bed, he’ll go into the hotel room's bathroom and hype himself up. Ok, someone hot is in his bed, which means good stuff because you’re hot and in the same bed as him!

At the same time, he’s sweating buckets. Scout is nervous because he’s asked if you’d ever want to sleep in the same bed as him and now it’s happening! You’re so close and your skin seems so soft, and you smell so nice and you’re so nice!

He kicks in his sleep, aggressively too. He’s like a dog that runs in its dream and does it physically too.

Scout will hold your hand when he randomly wakes in the middle of the night, it’s the farthest he’ll go because he would want you conscious when he gives you kisses. He wants you to remember how awesome a kiss would be from him!

⋆｡°•☁︎

Insanely OOC but first TF2 request!! Thank you so much for requesting!!

My tf2 masterlist

[thekissofaphrodite]

Could you please do Clarisse La Rue X female reader, where the reader is a daughter of Hephaestus and they offer to try and fix, and possibly improve, her broken spear?

THIS IS SO FUN TO MAKE!! TYSM FOR REQUESTING <33

Smudge

Clarisse La Rue X Daughter of Hephaestus!reader

Summary: Fixing a damaged spear and a molten heart.

Warnings: Lovesick Clarisse (+kissing) Language 🫢

Author's Note: I wrote this while there's a literal program going on in my school, I'm shameless 😶

——

There was an eerie and an uncomfortable silence in the Ares Cabin. Apparently, Capture the flag this day didn't go well. Hence, Clarisse La Rue terrorized her siblings, snapping at them and most probably WILL strangling them to death. But one of her siblings finally opened their mouth and said something worth hearing; "I heard The Hephaestus Cabin can take damages like that, You'll have to pay five extra drachmas though"

Despite the disagreement and feud between those two cabins because of their fathers, Clarisse never got her wallet out so fast and ran towards Cabin 9, clutching the remains of her broken spear in hand.

The Workshop-like cabin was in the distance, There was a small queue of campers, waiting for their armours and weapons that they commissioned and repaired.

Clarisse, Being the arrogant, Daughter of the high tempered war God, pushed those campers away, earning groans and nasty side-eyes.

The first person clarisse saw was you, Forging a bronze shield with a hot iron. Your hair held by a huge claw clip in a bun, A brown leather apron was tied on your waist and neck, There was a bead of sweat that rolled down your from forehead to your cheeks, using the back of your hands, you wiped your cheeks, a smudge of charcoal appeared on your cheeks, But you kept going, Unaware.

Clarisse stood there awkwardly, waiting for you to look up and notice her, but you seemed pre-occupied, Just as she was about to clear her throat, Your halfbrother crossed his arms in the table next to you, glaring at Clarisse.

"Oi, La Rue! Gonna stand there like a damn statue? My sister ain't got all day" Your brother addressing Clarisse with his heavy southern accent caught your attention, You looked up at her before dismissing your brother away.

"I got it, Devon. Besides, I'm almost done here, I can take her in"

Your brother's eyebrows furrowed.

"Look, Sis, you've been forging all day since 6 AM, Your wrists are gonna fall off any second"

You laughed.

"I'm pretty sure dad's not gonna let that happen, And...I think I can see Mila peeking over there"

The mention of your brother's girlfriend made him blush madly, Near the entrance, a pale girl with freckles and light brown hair wearing a jumper over her orange camp halfblood shirt was waving at your brother excitedly while holding a small punett basket full of strawberries.

He then rubbed the back of his neck before excusing himself, bringing his girlfriend into his arms.

It was now only you and clarisse inside the workshop , there was a moment of silence before clarisse broke it by placing her damaged spear on your table that made a loud clattering noise.

"Are you able to fix this?" Her voice cracked a little, you felt pity as you examined her spear. Clarisse looked up at you, there was a glint of hope in her eyes.

"It looks repairable, But the electricity.. I'm not sure, It's not going to be that electric, How did this happen anyway?"

Clarissed frowned.

"Jackson"

You stared at her in disbelief.

"That twelve yearold boy did this?"

"Yes— Why does that matter? He's a brat, if I could just snap his neck into two—"

"Hey," you whispered.

"He's just a kid, Let him be. I'm sure I'll get this done in no time." Comfort and reassurance lacing your voice, as you held her hand gently.

You could've sworn you saw Clarisse La Rue blush at the contact.

"So...Are you free?" Clarisse said all of a sudden, It was probably the most cheesiest way of saying 'Will you go out with me' But you won't complain, It's Clarisse.

There was a hint of playfulness in your voice as you responded "Are you asking me out?" Arms folded on your chest as you stared at her in amusement. The Ares girl blushed once more and rubbed the back of her neck, It was almost an unbelievable sight that THE Clarisse La Rue was blushing and acting flustered in front of someone, she mostly acts brute and mean, like totally mean to the point that if she was spotted in a crowd, people would part way.

"Isn't it obvious?"

You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"I'd love to"

Clarisse La Rue was screaming on the inside, but still, she kept a neutral expression, her eyes darting for her spear to yours.

"Great! I- uh... I'll come back tomorrow"

"For me or the spear?"

"Both"

——

The Ares cabin was peace and quiet in the morning, with Clarisse's siblings snoring away, the sun rising from the horizon signalling Apollo's coming, and birds singing softly.

Clarisse never thought she'd be like this, up early in the morning just to get a glimpse of a girl. Her whole life, she devoted herself to making her father proud, training every single day until her limbs went numb, fingers calloused and body sore, yearning for a single praise from her father. But it did. It worked, He gifted her a spear, an electric spear that she deeply treasured, the same spear that broken by that pathetic newbie.

You were her only hope.

So she sneaked out quietly, Carefully trying not to wake her sleep deprived siblings.

each footstep she took towards your cabin made her extremely nervous, but she kept her composure and held her head high like a true daughter of Ares.

Once she reached the entrance, her hands found the door knob and carefully twisted it, Letting it open, She saw you again, But this time you were sleeping peacefully on your work table, dust covered your face while her spear was placed in front of you, good as new with a red ribbon tied to the handle.

You must've pulled up a whole nighter.

She was caught off guard when you slowly started to steer from your sleep, moving uncomfortably.

Clarisse didn't know what to do, so she watched you carefully while you tried to process the world, still dowsy. You saw Clarisse and almost screamed.

"HOLY SHIT— CLARISSE?!" You yell a little too loud because you heard a loud yet distant 'SHUT UP!' coming from your siblings' room.

She just stood there, grinning shyly.

"I'm too early, am I?"

Your eyes found the clock up in the wall that read; 4:36.

"Way too early..."

You looked at Clarisse, then the spear on your table, Sighing.

"..and this was meant to be a surprise"

Clarisse chuckled.

"The spear is the least of my problems, I came here to see you"

Silence

"Me?"

"Yes, you...Do you wanna watch the sunrise?" Clarisse asked, carefully watching your expression, her cheeks flushed with red.

Sunrise?

You love sunrises..

"You didn't have to say it twice." Quickly grabbing your scarf, you held Clarisse's hand towards the fields.

The walk was long and quiet, with only you and Clarisse's breathing, and your boots crunching on the moist grass beneath it.

Once you two reached the small hill, you sat down and leaned back, Clarisse did the same. The sun was slowly rising, signalling Apollo and Aurora's arrival.

"Sorry for the unannounced intrusion earlier, I—"

"You couldn't wait to see me?" You chuckled softly.

Clarisse blushed again.

"Yes, That.." She couldn't admit that it was a little embarrassing admitting that she missed you.

But she missed more than you.

She missed your smile, She missed the way your vanilla perfume mixed with the copper and iron inside you and your siblings' forge, creating an irresistibly intoxicating smell. She missed the way your brows knit together while you focus intensely on hammering out a sword into shape, she missed the way your baby hairs stick on your sweaty forehead, she missed the way your apron wrapped perfectly around your body, bringing out your figure.

She missed everything about you.

You two were engulfed in a comfortable silence, with birds chirping and the trees swaying softly. she turned to you, but before she could speak, she noticed the smudge of charcoal on your cheeks from yesterday, it was a little faded, but still pretty visible.

so acting in her instinct, she moved closer to you and brought her hands on your cheeks, you were a bit startled, watching her wipe your cheeks softly as if tho you were the most delicate porcelain doll.

"Clarisse— What are you—" when she pulled her hand away, you saw a dark smear on her fingers, realization suddenly hit you, you embarrassingly looked away and tried to wipe the mess itself, but Clarisse's hands pushed yours away.

Her palm was now cupping your cheeks, and your gaze fix upon her.

Your heartbeat started beating faster, so did hers.

Clarisse didn't know what made her feel this way towards you, maybe Eros was spying on her and shot her an arrow, maybe Aphrodite was playing games because this was an alluring feeling that she had never felt before towards any person, Yeah, maybe she had a relationship with Silena Beauregard, but it was out of loneliness, Silena needed someone before she even met Beckendorf, and Clarisse needed someone before she met you.

You were the one that brought light to her day, the one that encouraged her to wake up every morning every time she felt little to no enthusiasm.

and now here you are, inches away from her lips while the sun rises.

It wasn't long before her lips touched yours, a burning and a twisting feeling inside your stomach along with butterflies erupted in you. She pulled you closer by wrapping her muscular arm around you waist. Her lips moved in sync against yours, your calloused fingers found her hair as you ran your fingers through it.

And it was pretty much the best sunrise kiss ever.

A/N

HELLO! I'm back with my first request from my inbox! I do hope you guys like this, i know it's been a month since i disappeared but fear no more— I will empty my inbox first before re-opening my requests! SO...STAY TUNED! ANY REQUEST I MIGHT POST MIGHT BE YOURS!

[harrywavycurly]

I just know there’s moment with SC girl and Harry when she does something and Harry just thinks she’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen😩😩

Hiii babes!!! Ohh I’m sure there are soooo many moments that Harry just looks at her and goes “you’re so damn cute” but he’d have to make sure she can’t hear him or he’d get a quick “language!” Tossed back at him for saying the word damn😂 but I hope you enjoy this little blurb about a moment between them, it’s totally random but I can see it happening💖

-find all things Southern Comfort here✨

A/N: You don’t even realize you’re doing it but Harry doesn’t mind because he thinks you’re adorable, enjoy✨

“Oh sugar did I tell you about my meet the teacher next week?” Harry adjusts the bag on his shoulder as you briefly let go of his hand making him frown as he looks down at you just as you reach into the front pocket of your denim shorts and grab your chapstick. “I think it’s the same night as that dinner thing with Mitch and oh darn it.” Harry watches you in amusement as you run the chapstick over your lips while your eyebrows scrunch together while you try to remember the name of the other person invited to the dinner you’re talking about next week.

“Do you need a-”

“No no don’t give me a hint just yet it’s on the tip of my tongue I can practically taste it.” You cut off his attempt to help making him chuckle as the two of you come to a pause on the sidewalk, enjoying an afternoon walk to the beach on one of Harry’s rare Saturdays off. He turns to face you and without really thinking you get up on the very top of your tiptoes with the chapstick in one hand, you reach up and gently hold the side of his face with your free hand and quickly run the balm over his lips before capping it and putting it back in your pocket. “James! That’s his name!” You all but shout excitedly before you reach down and grab Harry’s hand and begin walking.

Harry can’t do much besides stare at you for a moment before his brain reminds him that you’re walking so he needs to also move his feet before you start to actually drag him down the sidewalk. He knows you’re totally unaware of the fact his heart just felt like it melted into a puddle at his feet the moment he felt your hand on his cheek to hold his face still so you could swiftly apply the much needed chapstick to his lips. You have a tendency to do things that just have him left standing there in awe of you because it’s just little acts like you applying chapstick to his lips, the times you patch up a holes in his jeans (without him having to ask) because you already have your sewing kit out, you absentmindedly putting sunscreen or bug spray on him before leaving the house after applying it on yourself or when you pack him a lunch to take to the studio and leave it in the fridge for him with a little love note tucked inside that show him how effortless it is for you to care about him and that’s just something he’s not used to.

“Honey? You okay?” Your tone is laced with a hint of worry causing your accent to be a bit thicker than normal snapping Harry out of his thoughts, he blinks a few times and just nods as he brings your hand up to his lips.

“I’m good sweetheart.” The smile you give him when he places a few kisses to the top of your hand is enough to make his knees want to give out. “So what were you saying about your meet the teacher?” He asks in hopes it makes you go on a little rant.

Something Harry has learned over the last few months of dating you is that he does love it when you get caught up in a story because you just get so animated and your accent goes thicker as you speak so fast sometimes he wishes subtitles would appear in front of you so he doesn’t have to ask so many follow up questions that make you think he wasn’t listening. Because one thing about Harry is that he always listens it’s just sometimes he gets too caught up in how your voice sounds saying the words rather than focusing on what the words actually are.

“Oh well since it’s the same night as that dinner with Mitch and James I was seeing if I could just send you off with a dessert of some sort since I won’t be able to make it.” You stop walking when you come up to a stop sign, Harry stands next to you for a moment before you see him take a step towards the street. You naturally drop his hand and hold your arm out blocking him from taking another step without even looking at him. Harry looks down at your arm that hits him below his chest and he has to rub his lips together to hold back his smirk. “I’m thinking a bunt cake? I haven’t made one in a good long while and it’s about to be fall so I think that’s the perfect time for a bunt cake.” You continue as you lean forward a bit and look to your left and see there’s no cars coming and then look to your right and see the coast is clear making you drop your arm and grab Harry’s hand so you can lead him across the street.

“Baby did you-”

“I just don’t know if it’s too early for a pumpkin flavored one? Does Mitch even like pumpkin things? I’ll have to text him.” Harry can’t fight the smile that takes over his face as you keep walking and talking, and he knows you don’t mean to ignore him he knows you’re just deep in your thoughts and probably didn’t even hear him.

“Baby.” He says it a bit louder but still just as softly as he did the first time, you turn your head and look at him and he has to stop walking making you raise an eyebrow as you stop and look up at him. “Did you just mom arm me at that crosswalk?” He doesn’t ask to embarrass you he asks because he needs to know if it’s something you even know you do or not. You turn your head to look at the crosswalk not even a few feet behind the two of you and then back up at Harry with a playful look in your eye.

“I sure did.” You answer making Harry laugh as he reaches down with his free hand and tucks some of your hair behind your ear. “What was I supposed to do just let you walk out into the street without looking both ways? I mean really sugar even my four year olds know better than that.” There it is, your classic way of teasing him but also making him know you care about him at the same time.

“You are so fucking adorable.” You roll your eyes as he leans down so he can place a kiss to your lips, he knows you’re going to get on to him for the cursing but right now he doesn’t care because your lips are soft and taste like strawberries.

[citruslullabies]

Ghoul x reader x Lucy, Cooper and Lucy find reader as they're traveling and take her in, Lucy falling HARD first and coop not being able to resist either!! Reader is like their cute lil partner, they do their best to share (or throuple!! Though I feel like no matter what they'd fight a bit over reader teehee)

Coming up!! Please be patient with me, I haven't written for these two before

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic?: romantic✨

Requested by: anonymous

Category: fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): Cooper Howard x reader x Lucy

Word count: 726

Cowboy Competition

The wastelands were violent, ruthless to kill anything on land from dehydration or starvation. Or even being killed to become nutrition for someone else.

But coming across someone alive and worthy enough of life was rare, and that's who you were. You were on the brink of death when they found you. The ghoul wanted to leave you for dead but the vault dweller stopped and tried to save you, even with the risk of being left behind but by some miracle the man decided he'd wait on her. Now you were part of their journey to find Lucy’s father for answers in which you had no questions, but understood that they did.

Lucy walked beside you, her big brown eyes watching your every step as you were cleaning Cooper’s gun. Cooper only allowed you to come along if you had made yourself useful, which you had tried to. She spoke up after a few moments, giving you a soft smile as she held her hands behind her back. “You know you don't have to clean his guns, right? He can do that himself. You don't have to worry about it.”

You looked over at her, but before you could answer the ghoul walking ahead of you two answered for you. He didn't turn around to look at you two but he still spoke up. “Now sweetheart, if she wants to clean my guns I have no objections. So don't go putting your nose where it don't belong.” he said while clicking his teeth together, looking down at Dogmeat as he trotted beside him. You gave a small bat of the eyes before smiling reassuringly at Lucy, freeing up one of your calloused hands to rest on her shoulder. The fabric of her jumpsuit felt so foreign to your hands, but you didn't mind.

“It's alright, I really don't mind. Don't really know how else I could make myself useful.” You hummed before continuing to walk and clean as you go.

Time had passed and you had come to the realization that their journey was a long one, but it was a bit too late for you to turn back now. Especially with growing affections from both of your new friends, Lucy being the first to show. She was extra sweet, helping you carry things and allowing you to rest against her shoulder when you made camp at night and she'd rub circles into your cheek with her thumb as you dozed off, which she just found to be the sweetest thing. But to Lucy’s dismay a certain cowboy started to take a liking to you too.

As things were settling for the night and it was time to rest, you were getting ready to lean against Lucy for warmth like you had been doing but a southern drawl caught your attention.

“How about you come over here and sleep in my arms darlin, I imagine I'm a whole lot warmer than Vaultie over there.” He drew out, sitting down with Dogmeat cuddled into his side. Cooper patted the canine on the head and gave you his signature smirk. “You can even snuggle with the dog, lord knows he won't leave my side.” He added to sweeten the pot, earning a scowl from Lucy before she gently took your hand in hers.

She squeezed your hand in both of hers, looking into your eyes warmly and lovingly as she tried to get you to look at her and only her. “I'm probably a lot more comfortable to lean up against, so why don't you just.. stay here? With me?” She offered softly, which led to bickering and you just laying down and trying to fall asleep alone to ignore them. Coop was in his 200’s and Lucy in her 20’s, yet they both behaved like children. You sighed and snuggled your shoulders into the sand, popping one eye open when you suddenly felt gloved hands scoop you up and hold you close, before a softer body laid beside the both of you and tried to hold you as well. It felt like getting tangled up in wires, but it was people. You tilt your head up to see Cooper laying back with his hat over his face, and Lucy with her forehead against your cheek with shut eyes.

For once maybe, they wouldn't be so competitive.

Thanks for requesting!

[ponypuffle]

I hope you don’t mind an Applejack request- how do you think she’d do with a significant other who’s anxious/easily stressed out and gets tired easily?

Pairing: Applejack x GN! Anxious! Reader Word Count: 570+ Warning(s): reader experiences anxiety, but it isn't written too in depth A/N: finally writing again :') here's a lil cozy aj hc post to get me started

Applejack is so protective, bordering on overprotective, so trust that you're in good hooves. She knows how anxious you get and will gladly help you no matter how small it may seem.

Need help ordering at a restaurant? No worries. Just whisper your order in her ear and she'll order for you. Or, perhaps you're stressed over tomorrow. She knows just what to do to ease your anxieties.

You'd been pacing around your home, checking and rechecking everything, for the past ten minutes. By the time AJ had gotten back home, you'd worked yourself up into a tizzy.

"What's going on here?" She said in amusement, trying to ease any tension in the atmosphere.

You tried to frantically explain what you were up to, finding yourself stuttering over your own words as you tried to stay on track. It wasn't until AJ set a gentle hoof on you that you slowed down. "I just... I really want things to turn out well."

"I know, sugarcube." She began to soothe you in her sweet, southern voice. "I know how capable you are, so I'm confident you got this. Why don't we settle down with a warm cup of cider?"

You couldn't help nuzzling into AJ's warmth before slowly nodding. She always did manage to calm your nerves, even if just a little. "Okay..."

"There we go, sugar. Now, go on and get comfy in bed." She pecked your cheek with a saccharine kiss.

You obeyed, letting yourself release some tension on the plush mattress. You watched AJ grab one of the softer throw blankets you had to set atop of you. She knew how much it helped you unwind when you could feel the comforting fluffiness of the blanket.

"I'll be right back." AJ walked out of the room into your kitchen. Before you knew it, she came back with a steaming mug of apple cider. With AJ by your side, you finally managed to find peace.

Now, don't assume that AJ will shelter you at any moment's notice. She's protective of you, but that's partly why she tries to make sure you can do things yourself.

She knows she can't be there for you every second of the day, so she'll encourage you to step out of your comfort zone little by little. Don't worry, though. She would never put you in a situation that she knows you'd be much too overwhelmed by.

Whenever you go out, she'll carry a saddlebag for you with little snacks and a bottle of water in case you get tired. It's crazy how attentive she is to your needs, even when you don't realize your in need of something yourself.

That being said, you better believe she makes you do hydration checks, just to make sure you have enough water everyday. If you don't like the taste of water, worry not! She'll cut up apple slices to put inside your water (or whatever fruit you desire, but it'd give her that extra little joy to know she grew the apples inside your drink).

When she notices you need a break, she'll help lead you somewhere secluded so you can take some time to recover a bit. If you're in a public area that's much too crowded, she'll do her best to find someplace out of the way where she can sit or stand between you and the crowd as if she was some sort of shield.

[wrixie]

🍒 CHERISHING CHERRY | A BACHELORETTE CHALLENGE

🍒 Introducing Josette "Cherry" St. Cloud | Age: 29 | Pronouns: She/Her | Traits: High Maintenance, Self-Absorbed & Dog Lover

🍒 Growing up in Chestnut Ridge, you'd think this little lady would be drawn to horses and the cowpoke lifestyle however she always looked to broader horizons to leave her little town behind and start anew - after losing most of her family to freak accidents, Cherry moved to Brindleton Bay to hopefully get her feet off the ground and start a new life for herself

🍒 Can this high maintenance, self absorbed lass find love in her new town or will she be forced to remain alone in her little trailer off the beaten path?

🍒 Likes: Cherries, Fostering dogs, The color red, Late afternoon, Hardwood floors, The moon, Body Modifications, 70s music, napping and Tommy (her puppy) 🍒 Dislikes: Biting her nails, Cooking of any kind, Summer heat (sweating), Hairless animals, Getting dirty, Thunderstorms and Gardening

🍒 Fun Facts about Cherry:

Grew up in Chestnut Ridge

Iced tea is power source

Dreams of running a clinic for animals

Her favorite drink is a tequila sunrise with extra cherries

Has a southern accent

Hates to cook

Gets jealous easily

Needs glasses/ Can't see

🍒 Contestant Entry Guidelines:

Must be young-adult or adult

Humans are only being accepted this time!

Must have at least one negative trait

Can be any gender, but males preferred

Cannot have the romantic trait

Skills don’t matter!

Should have Likes + Dislikes (if ya like)

Maxis-Match or CC free

I own mostly every pack with the exception of a few kits but I can get them if needed

Must be comfortable with changes such as eyes, skinblend + lashes as I have my own defaults and preferences as well as outfit changes to fit into my game style (the outfits will mostly stay the same if you've styled all of them)

🍒 Remember to at me @wrixie or use #cherrysBC to make sure I see your entry+ ask if you have any questions

CONTESTANTS:

Julian O'Neal @hauntedtrait

Terrance Capman @alltimefail-sims

Nikolas Knight @seyvia

Matt Adler @aniraklova

Billy Pierce @simmenycricket

Wesley Drakos @druidberries

Bruno Aguado @bramblewoodsims

if you haven't already please send me your hunky sims <3

[rip-quizilla]

The Naughty Wench

Summary: You work as a barmaid at the raunchiest booth at the Renaissance Faire, and Eddie purchases a beer from you. He gets a little more than a "huzzah for the tipper" when he throws a fiver in the jar labeled "Thank you, Mistress". (Read: you talk dirty to Eddie while you pour beer down his throat) Based on this Tik Tok posted by @joyful_aura: https://www.tiktok.com/@joyful_aura/video/7244964514561543470

Word Count: 4.7k

Content Warnings: light degradation, dirty talk, sexual themes

Working the faire circuit was in one word… an experience. 

Just last week you had been in Texas at Scarborough Faire, where it had been hot as balls underneath your layers of linen, lace and leather. The earlier months hadn’t been too bad, but there was one thing you’d learned about the southern states in your years of renaissance faire experience- when summer hits in the south, it hits hard. The moment you’d driven your van past the Indiana state line, you could have sworn the temperature dropped ten degrees on the spot. 

Now here you were- all trussed up in your wench getup, tits pushed up high enough that they rested like two fleshy pillows right below your collarbones. The corset you’d chosen today wasn’t your most comfortable, but you looked damn good in it- milk chocolate brown with pale gold ribbons that laced up the front. The straps that ran over your shoulders provided some extra support, which you were grateful for with all of the movement your job required. Your skirts today were a warm shade of mustard yellow with a few mismatched patches sewn over holes and stains that had refused to come out over the years. Short sleeved blouses were a must, unless you wanted to pass out from heat stroke or have beer-soaked sleeves clinging to your forearms. Today yours was a pale cream color, with little puffed cap sleeves to cover your shoulders and a neckline that plunged below your corset, so the girls were front and center, ready to earn plenty of “huzzah for the tipper!”s.

Today was Sunday, and since this faire was weekends only, Sundays were basically Fridays as far as faire folk were concerned. As was tradition, you would all be going out for libations once the day was done, followed by a blissful night of sleeping late in your Volkswagen Westfalia.

You hadn’t known what to expect when you’d quit your job and joined the faire circuit, but every day you got to meet new people, play dress-up, and speak in a funny accent- which accent? You switched it up day to day. And the fact that you got paid to do that made it even better.

You loved your little renfaire life. 

You stood with your hands on your hips inside the little wooden booth that served as your place of work for the next month’s worth of weekends. Every plastic cup was stacked in place, you had a fresh cleaning rag stuck into your apron, and patrons were already beginning to file into the fairgrounds. A pleasant breeze brought a smile to your face. 

“Morning, love!” You turned to see your fellow barmaid, Ingrid, wiping her hands on her own apron after wringing out her own rag into a small bucket of soapy water. Her outfit today was- like most days- the polar opposite of yours. She looked more like a pirate wench while your color palette was more akin to what one might picture in a countryside tavern. Burgundy skirts and off-white petticoats swished around her black lace-up boots, and her black leather waist cincher showcased the smallest part of Ingrid’s middle. You gasped, acting scandalized by the bits of black lace from her bra that peeked over the neckline of her red blouse.

“Ingrid, what kind of place do you think we’re running here?” you tutted, smiling cheekily all the while. “This is a respectable establishment! People might start thinking we sell more than just the drinks here, you know.” 

Ingrid cackled, hopping up to sit on the wooden counter behind her. “My dear, I have absolutely no clue what you could be talking about.” She shrugged, smirking behind a shared secret. “We do sell more than just the drinks.” You both giggled knowingly, continuing to complete all of the morning to-do’s around the bar.

Ingrid was right- drinks weren’t the only thing your bar was known for. 

There were plenty of booths around the faire where patrons could purchase a drink, but only one where the barmaids would pour beer directly into their mouths while talking dirty to them- and The Naughty Wench just happened to be that booth. 

Originally, the idea had been Ingrid’s- the two of you had been friends for a year now, meeting last year in this exact same spot at Indie Faire and working at what was then a run-of-the-mill beer booth. It was customary at any renaissance faire for bar wenches to proclaim “Huzzah for the tipper!” when presented with a tip of any kind, so neither of you was a stranger to putting on the theatrics when money was dropped into your tip jar. One day, however, Ingrid had put out not one, but two tip jars- one labeled ‘Thank You’, the other labeled ‘Thank You Mistress’. You had laughed at it at first. Then Ingrid started…changing the script. 

A patron would chuckle to themselves, throwing a dollar into the Mistress jar, eyes going wide and cheeks flushing when Ingrid would smile and tell them they were “such a good boy.” 

After a few more, she’d gotten even more creative. “Oh, you thought I only wanted money?” she would croon, holding the beer tauntingly out of their reach. “I want to hear you beg for it, say ‘please, mistress’,” When you’d heard it you’d been appalled, mouth opened wide in shock. You had already prepared yourself for the patron to yell in her face and demand their money back when you’d heard a shy, stuttering “P-please, mistress, can I have my beer?”

Throughout the day, Ingrid’s “Mistress” character only continued to amp up with every hour. At some point, you had joined in, repeating the sultry tones you’d been listening to Ingrid spout easily to strangers and even making up a few responses of your own.

“Only good boys get to drink at the faire, have you been a good boy?”

“You need to say please before you drink- good girl, you’re so very welcome.” 

“Hands behind your back and open wide.”

Word about Ingrid’s sultry tipping strategy circulated quickly. Soon, more and more patrons were lining up at your booth ready to be degraded by pretty girls in tight corsets, and when you started pouring the beer into their mouths, tits pressed up higher on your chest while you leaned seductively over the bartop? People couldn’t get enough. 

The success you’d both had with Ingrid’s brilliant idea had now landed you here- a booth that was dedicated to serving delicious beverages garnished with a splash of degradation. 

Your first patron of the day- a young woman who looked ready to play a fairy in A Midsummer Night’s Dream- stepped up to Ingrid, gazing up at her with a flutter of eyelashes as she ordered a can of beer and shyly dropped a one dollar bill into the jar labeled ‘Thank You, Mistress’. Ingrid smiled, asking “Do you know what that jar is for?” to which the fairy blushed and nodded, giggling. 

“Mm-hm.” 

Ingrid grinned flirtatiously, popped open the beer, and addressed the fairy, “Such tiny little hands you have, they’ll make my can look so huge…”

***

Eddie Munson was vibrating.

At least, he felt like he was. He could barely contain his enthusiasm as he looked around at every sword, every pair of elf ears, every corset- to his left, there was a booth selling handmade leather journals. To his right, a stage where a crowd had begun to gather to watch a group of bagpipe players. In front of him and behind him, a seemingly endless number of nerds who, like him, had found a place where being a weirdo was not mocked, not simply tolerated- but celebrated. 

“I fucking love it here.” Eddie sighed. 

Steve Harrington, whom Eddie was still a little astounded had been convinced to actually go to a renaissance faire, looked overwhelmed already. “I can’t believe there are this many grown adults who wanted to spend the last day of their weekend playing dress-up.” 

“Playing dress-up and getting drunk.” Robin corrected. Unlike Harrington, she had thrown herself into the renfaire spirit completely, showing up in a tasteful pirate outfit that Eddie had a feeling was comprised mostly of oversized pieces she’d found in the men’s section of the thrift store, but she pulled it off. All she was missing were some real swords, which she had already announced she was on the hunt for today. 

“I feel bad for people who are so out of touch with their inner child that they have to get drunk just to put on a costume.” Dustin said matter-of-factly, shooting Steve a judgemental look. Steve balked when he caught it, yapping at Dustin about growing up or the ridiculousness of how much quality costumes cost- something along those lines. Eddie wasn’t listening, he was too busy taking mental note of which booths he needed to come back to before they left; he knew if he ducked inside them now, he would blow all of his money on the first stall they saw, and he was determined to stretch his budget for the day as far as he could. 

“Well I for one think we all look amazing, costume or no.” Robin said decisively. Eddie had to agree. He had spent weeks working on his own costume, digging through his and his friends’ closets to create an ensemble fit for a tiefling bard such as himself. He had fashioned himself a pair of red horns using one of Erica’s old headbands, toilet paper rolls, tin foil, paper mache and black paint. Now, they sat nestled securely among his brown mane of curls. The rest of his outfit had been easy- a blousy-looking shirt from Nancy’s closet that he’d rolled up around the elbows, one of Wayne’s old waistcoats from a suit that hadn’t seen the light of day since Eddie’s parents’ wedding, apparently, a pair of black pants that he’d tucked into his combat boots, and a plethora of accessories. Rings on every finger, every belt he owned slung over his waist or across his torso, one even looped twice around his thigh. Eddie had even gone the extra mile this morning and smudged some of Robin’s red lipstick (he was still amazed that Buckley owned lipstick) around his eyes as a nod to the fact that tieflings’ skin is normally red or blue. To finish off the look, he had even brought along his old acoustic guitar, which was slung over his back to mark him undeniably as a bard.

Eddie thought he looked pretty damn cool. 

The rest of their party had also decked themselves out for the day, Robin with her pirate outfit, Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will had done a fantastic job of transforming themselves into hobbits for the day. Max, Erica and El hadn’t been able to decide whether they wanted to dress as pirates or fairies- so they’d all chosen both. Now they looked happy as could be, skipping down the dirt path with fairy wings on their backs and plastic swords on their hips. That left Steve as the only normal-looking person in a sea of geeks. 

Eddie chuckled to himself- for once in his life, Steve Harrington was the odd one out while Eddie Munson was effortlessly fitting in. 

“First order of business is turkey legs.” Robin announced, eyes already darting in every direction in search of lunch as she wandered ahead.

Steve mumbled in agreement, along with something about finding something to drink so that he’ll survive the day. Just then, a trio of pretty young women in corsets caught his eye, immediately brightening his mood. He ran a hand through his hair, ready to say something undoubtedly Steve-y to them, when they beat him to the punch. 

“Hi! Um, would you mind taking our picture?” One of them said, shoving a camera in his direction. 

Steve, surprised but not altogether deterred, smiled and took the camera. “I’d be happy to, ladies.” However, he couldn’t hold back his shock when the girls all turned to the four teenage boys. 

“You guys look like you came straight out of Lord of the Rings!” one of them exclaimed. “Best costumes I’ve seen all weekend, honestly.” The girls situated themselves between the blushing boys as they muttered different ‘thank you’s and complimented the girls’ outfits in turn. 

Steve snapped the picture begrudgingly while Eddie slung an arm around his shoulders. “Looks like you’re losing your charm there, Harrington.” he smirked, earning an eye roll from Steve in turn. 

“Yeah, yeah, piss off, Dante’s Inferno.” 

“How have you read Dante but not Tolkien?”

Their bickering was cut short by corset girl retrieving the camera from Steve, then giving Eddie a shy, “I like your horns.” 

Eddie turned his full attention to her with a toothy grin. “‘Preciate it, sweetheart.”

The girls waved goodbye with a thank you, erupting into giggles as they walked away. Steve shook his head in disbelief. “What world did I accidentally cross into where Munson has game and I have none?”

Eddie cackled maniacally, hopping onto a nearby picnic table and swinging his guitar to his front, strumming it a couple of times with a flourish of his hand. 

“You’re in my kingdom now, King Steve!” Eddie plucked the strings of his instrument jauntily, unable to contain his glee. “Here, it pays to be a freak.”

Strum-strum-strum.

Eddie threw a fist in the air. “Huzzah!”

To his surprise, his call was echoed by several patrons and vendors, erupting in a hearty “Huzzah!” from all around him. 

Accepted. Celebrated. Eddie felt at home. 

That’s when Robin came bounding up from behind him, two turkey legs in hand. “Okay, I know where we’re going next.” She sounded excited.

Steve took one of the turkey legs from her hand, eager to get something in his stomach. “And where is that, Robin?” 

She grinned largely, immediately launching into a retelling of a conversation she had had with another patron while waiting in line for the turkey legs, going on several tangents about how surprised she was that the line was short, how the patron had been dressed like a viking and actually had viking tattoos all up and down his arm, how she wasn’t sure how accurate they were but they sure looked cool-

“Robin!” Steve interjected impatiently.

“Right! Sorry! Basically one of the bars has wenches that talk dirty if you give them a tip, and I want to see that in action.”

Steve and Eddie’s eyes grew wide. Steve, hilariously, started to check behind him for the kids as if they were still too young and innocent to be talking about such things even though they were all about to graduate high school already. To his relief, they had all wandered into a booth selling leather goods. 

Eddie responded before Steve could. His lips had curled into a mischievous smile, “Buckley,” he crooned, gesturing for her to lead the way. “I’m gonna need you to tell me more about these wenches.”

***

By noon, the line for your booth was easily at least ten people long and stayed that way no matter how many beers you’d poured. Luckily for the two of you, not every patron at the faire was seeking you out just for the bonus content. Most of them just wanted a drink, which you couldn’t fault them for. After all, nothing went with a summer day quite like a cold, bubbly beverage. 

“Hey,” Ingrid’s voice caught your attention as you took a brief moment to wipe down the drain under the tap while the line had gone briefly shorter. “Remember that conversation we had where I called you out on having a type?”

You laughed, nodding your head. “Yes, I think I do. Why?”

“Tell me what that type was again?”

You sighed, tucking your rag back into your apron and patting your hands dry at your sides. “Let’s see, I think I remember you said long hair was involved-”

“Long dark hair, specifically.”

“-long dark hair, right.” you remedied. You busied yourself with fixing the next patrons’ drink orders as the discussion proceeded. “Tattoos were mentioned, and I think you said something about makeup?”

“You always get all swoony around men wearing eyeliner or some kind of eye makeup. Always. Without fail.”

“Yeah, yeah okay…” you rolled your eyes. She was right, but you hated that you were apparently so obvious about it. 

“I would like to make an educated guess about another thing I think belongs on that list.” Finally turning to face Ingrid, you cocked your head, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Okay, I’ll bite- what else do you think belongs on that list?”

Ingrid grinned, looking pointedly at something over your shoulder. “I think you’re into guys who play guitar.”

You blanched- damn. That had been true since high school, how did she-

You spun around to see whatever Ingrid was focused on behind you, and felt your knees get weak when you found it. There was a man- in his twenties, from the looks of it- dressed as a tiefling bard with a guitar slung over his shoulder. It was true, from looks alone he checked all of your boxes. The long curly hair, the red makeup around his eyes, the tattoos that showed on his forearms… 

“You okay over there, or did my business partner go brain dead for a second?” You heard Ingrid’s smirk before you saw it. She laughed at you good-naturedly when you faintly swatted at her with your cleaning rag. “It looks like they’re headed this way, you take him and I’ll take his blonde pirate friend.” 

You took another look at the man- trying not to be obvious about the fact that you were looking- and noticed this time that he was traveling with two others: the aforementioned blonde pirate and a normal-looking guy who, admittedly, had very nice hair. They did seem to be headed your way; you quickly took a moment to turn around and top off the canteen that hung from the leather belt at your waist with some cold water. You quickly took a sip before turning around to face the counter, and when you did, there he was. 

 “Hi, uh-” his eyes were downcast, hands digging into his pockets for cash. “-can you break a twenty?” Pulling a crumpled bill from a money clip, his gaze met yours under an apologetic brow. Big brown eyes, framed with blood-red smudges- he pulled it off. Tremendously.

You didn’t have to force your service industry smile- it came naturally for him. “With pleasure, noble bard.” You propped your forearms on the wooden bartop, hoping your cleavage was looking particularly stunning at the angle from which he was gazing up at you. “And what sort of beverage might you be craving on this fine day?”

“That’s right, wrap your lips around my tip and drink me down, beautiful-”

Before he could answer, the two of you were both more than a little distracted by Ingrid’s filthy monologue. She held a freshly opened can of beer to the blonde pirate girl’s lips, and you were very impressed with how easily the girl was able to obey the instructions that Ingrid gave every customer who tossed a tip into the Mistress jar- hands behind your back, mouth open, chin up, eyes on me. You and the dark-haired tiefling were both entranced by the sight before you: Ingrid, with the endless stream of dirty words that tumbled from her mouth as she poured bubbly, golden brew down the throat of the tall blonde pirate. 

“-keep that pretty mouth open you little minx, and look up at me as i finish down your throat. Yes, that’s a good girl, and swallow.” Ingrid pulled the can away from her lips with a smile, gazing proudly down at the pirate who sputtered out a soft cough after breathing down some much-needed oxygen. “Good job, darling.” Ingrid crooned. 

The regularly-dressed guy standing behind her stared with wide eyes, and you couldn’t quite tell if he was appalled or impressed. “Oh…my god, Robin!” he guffawed. 

“I’ll.. aha, um-” You refocused your attention to the bard standing before you, a natural blush now creeping into his cheeks beneath the red makeup on his temples. “-I’ll have what she’s having, please.” He nodded to his friend- Robin, apparently. 

You smiled knowingly, taking the twenty from his hands and ignoring the rush you felt when your fingertips brushed his. You made his change, handing him a few fives and ones before giving the Mistress jar a gentle tap. You finished opening his beer just in time to see him toss a five into the jar- a generous tip, since the beer only cost $3. 

You raised an eyebrow, smiling at him appreciatively. “Huzzah for the tipper.” you purred, opting to make the phrase just for him instead of yelling it obnoxiously for all to hear. After all, you were about to be plenty obnoxious already. 

You nodded flirtatiously to direct his attention above you. “See those shackles up there, love?”

His eyes, shining with anticipation and the best kind of nerves, flicked up to what you were referring to- dangling from the wood above the bartop were a pair of metal handles that hung by black-painted chains. They were similar to an actual shackle, but it was obvious that they were there to hold, not imprison. The bard looked back down to you, returning your flirting gaze. 

“I do.” he smirked.

You narrowed your eyes on him playfully. “I’m going to need you to reach up and take hold of them-” He did as he was told, and you admired how his blousy sleeves fell further down to his biceps, showcasing the way his ink stretched over lean muscles. “-oh good boy, you look so good stretched out for me like that. Hold tight now, darling.”

You had to hold back a chuckle at how quickly his flirty eye contact and smirk turned to a pure deer-in-the-headlights expression when you’d called him a good boy. You had an inkling that this guy wasn’t used to being told what to do in this particular way. 

Leaning forward until your cleavage was practically up against his nose, you nodded at him sweetly. “Open that pretty pink mouth for me darling- yes, that’s right, lips around my hole and suck-” Once the can was to his lips, you began pouring a steady stream down his throat. His big doe eyes didn’t know where to look, torn between your eyes and your tits that looked just about ready to pop out of your corset. The rest of the words that tumbled from your mouth were less spoken and more so moaned while you gazed down at this gorgeous little tiefling who- for the next few moments- was completely at your mercy.

“-take it, yes, good boy, take me deep into your throat as you look up at me with those pretty brown eyes. Oh my goodness, you’re so obedient! I love it when a big strong man lets himself be this pretty and stretched out for me as he suckles on my little hole. No, don’t look away, my eyes are up here you wretched little thing- yes, that’s right, oh I only wish I could hear all the pretty noises you make when you take me down deep like this. Yes, you’re going to finish me, aren’t you? Oh yes, you’re going to finish me using that dirty little mouth-” Nearing the end of the can, you poured the last drop down his throat. “-yes, oh that’s a good boy, swallow every drop of me, good job love.”

He sputtered a final swallow, red-faced and breathing deep after chugging an entire can of beer. His eyes were still wide, but now there was also the way he looked at you- like he would do pretty much anything you ever told him to do at the drop of a hat. 

Letting go of the shackles above your head, he managed to catch his breath before checking behind him to make sure he didn’t have a long line of waiting customers. No line had formed, but his blush had deepened when he saw his friends both watching him with smirks that said they were never going to let him live this down. 

“Shit,” he chuckled looking up at you, his personality taking on a slightly more devil-may-care sort of attitude now. “I-uh- I think I blacked out, you might have to say all that again, I didn’t catch it the first time.” 

You laughed, easily shirking the domineering attitude that you exuded for the job and relaxing into what felt natural- soft, sweet, and flirty- with this guy, at least. “Tell you what,” you said, coyly. You weren’t normally one to invite strangers out for drinks, but Ingrid had been right about one thing- this guy was definitely your type. “When the faire closes today, I’ll be at a bar called The Honeybee about ten minutes from here. If I happen to see you there,” you shrugged, and you didn’t miss how his eyes immediately flicked down to your cleavage as the motion made you bounce. “-then we can say all kinds of things to each other.” 

The facial expression on the bard changed in an instant, his expression shifting from innocent and eager to knowing and darkly tempting. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, “Are you always as demanding as you were just now, or was that just an act?” 

You knew what he was asking, and part of you wanted to tell him that he’ll have to show up at The Honeybee if he wants to find out, but something in you also wanted him to know the answer to that question- wanted him to know so many things about you it made your head spin. 

“I can go either way and have a great time regardless.” you replied, smiling sweet as a spoonful of honey, and the devilish grin that he gave you in return took the breath from your lungs. 

“Perfect.” he practically growled, “What’s your name?”

You told him, and the way he repeated it on his lips had you pressing your thighs tightly together. “And your name is?”

“Eddie.” he smiled. 

You grinned in return. “Eddie.” you repeated. His name tasted like whiskey and cinnamon on your tongue. “I’ll see you tonight, then.” 

To your surprise, Eddie laughed raucously, hopping back a few paces. “Oh, on the contrary, fair barmaid!” With a flourish, he swung his guitar from his back to his front, strumming a few chords in rapid succession and plucking them in a melody that showed a level of skill that you hadn’t been expecting. After a moment of music, he stopped short and looked up at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Mark my words, my love- you’ll see me again before tonight and you will- without a doubt- hear me before you see me.” 

You let out a surprised laugh, fingers flying up to your mouth to block an obnoxious guffaw from escaping your lips. That only spurred Eddie on more. He made a sort of swatting motion with his hand, gesturing toward your own hand at your mouth. “Away, thou evil hand! How dare ye venture to hide the sweetest of smiles that does bloom on a flower such as this?” He plucked away at his instrument dramatically, as if doing so were a declaration of war. You couldn’t help but humor him, grabbing the offending hand with your other one and firmly clasping both in your lap. 

Eddie smiled, still strumming his guitar. “Aye, and stay away! For there are far better things for pretty hands to do than hide even prettier faces.” He waggled his eyebrows up and down as he began to walk away with his friends. 

Your jaw dropped as you let out a good natured scoff. “And what would the noble bard suggest I do with my pretty hands?” you knew that you practically yelled it, and it caused a few other guests to glance your way questioningly; you didn’t care, it certainly wasn’t the strangest thing you’d said today. 

Eddie’s cackle rang out through the air like electricity during a storm, and your heart did a little backflip when he spun around once before facing you one last time before he was out of your line of sight. “Oh, my lady-” he called, smiling unabashedly, “-I humbly suggest you find the biggest can you have, think of me-” and then the motherfucker winked, “-and use your imagination.”