#the weather has turned cold enough to start a fire

[snarkythewoecrow]

And so it begins

[bloggerspam]

Cozytober - Borrowing A Sweatshirt

Ellie, like Danny, isn't really bothered by the cold.

She is a spirit of the wind, a ghost of swift winds and open air and places seen, places to be, places yet to know.

She is no stranger to freezing temperatures, but unlike Danny she is also intimately familiar with the scorching heat—of desert lands and arid concrete, burning tableaus where she can hardly even believe plants can thrive, of hot engines and the smell of searing rubber.

She is cold blooded, she is hot blooded, she is air itself, twisting and turning and roaming and sometimes stagnant and stale.

She floats like that today, in Jazz's apartment, waiting.

It is not in her nature to wait, but she was born waiting for her moment, and she fought her way out of waiting, and she is willing to weather the floaty stasis if only to feel the love and comfort and her only tethers to the earthly world: her family.

Danny will arrive soon, and he will probably indulge her on a flight around town until Jazz gets off from work, but until then:

Waiting.

It is neither cold, nor warm in Jazz's apartment. Outside it is freezing, but she has just come a jaunt through the summers of Africa so her equilibrium is still adjusting.

The heat isn't on, but it's insulated. It would be uncomfortable for Jazz, but it is not for Ellie or Danny.

It is a limbo, and she floats in it, sluggish and sleepy in the quiet.

Two more hours.

Her arms start to rub up and down, she curls into a loose sort of ball, and she spins, slow, in low gravity of her own making.

The dust motes flicker, and suddenly the apartment feels cavernous.

She forces herself to stretch, to fill as much space as she can, twisting and turning and restless.

One hour and 48 more minutes.

She might go crazy.

She twirls, diving towards the kitchen, finding nothing but tofu and vegetables, still uncooked. She's not opposed too tofu and veggies, but she also did not learn how to cook, so she makes the clearly correct decision to not mess about.

Her internal temperature fluctuates, again, and a shiver wracks through her. Hm.

Idea.

She floats up and zooms towards where the guest bedroom is, rummaging for through the drawers, finding mostly Danny's tee shirts and jeans.

There's a purple scrunchie, and a baggy black tee shirt with skulls and roses on it, and an absurdly big pair of shorts with fire patterns all over it, but no…aha!

She pulls out a firetruck red hoodie, shaking out and slipping it on.

It's big on her, but not overly so, so it must not be Dan's or Jazz's. Sam and Danny would never wear such a bright, ketchup-y color, so it must be Tucker's. the fabric is soft and thick, fuzzy on the inside, smooth on the outside. She snuggles into the collar, smelling machine oil and that weird cologne he insists on. Thankfully, it's only a hint, and Ellie's had a couple of years to get used to it, so she sinks into the comfort of it.

Inspecting the hoodie reveals a retro 70s font, wavy and bubbly, that proudly pronounces her "Furry Trash." She snorts, wondering if Sam or Danny got Tucker this hoodie, or if he bought it himself. With Tucker, you never know.

Flipping up the hood reveals it even has some cat ears, and Ellie is tickled absolutely pink as she floats around, spinning and snickering into the soft fabric.

She goes to press the drawer closed, but then something catches her eye.

It's a Gameboy Color, a beat up bright yellow one. It's got a faded wolf sticker on the back, with Tucker's name sloppily written in sharpie. Ellie is delighted that when she boots it up, it still has a green light to denote it's got full battery.

She wasn't alive during this time, but she remembers it through the haze of Danny's memories, and the tangential nostalgia is enough to maker her shut the drawer and move to the living room with her new loot.

Tetris loads up with a series of cheery low quality pings. The speaker must be slightly busted from age.

Tucker's got the top 3 highest scores, followed by Sam and Danny in fourth and fifth respectively.

She smirks, feeling settled and comfy and warm, and decides that maybe it's time she's better at her template at something.

When Danny floats through the floor later, Ellie is cursing up a storm and about to throw something. He laughs at her, at the source of frustration and at her hoodie, until he's blue in the face. She reminds him petulantly that he doesn't actually need to breathe, but graciously goes on that flight with him despite his rudeness anyway.

When Jazz gets home, she gives Ellie a big smile and hug, quirks and eyebrow at the hoodie, but says nothing about it.

This is why she's the favorite.

Ellie works on that high score to the sound of Jazz's soft cheering and Danny's obnoxious jeering, and it's good.

She decides that the hoodie is hers, and the Gameboy will be in her custody until her next visit, much to Danny's amusement. He gives her a bear hug to end all bear hugs, and Jazz gives her a kiss on the cheek, and she's off.

She beats Danny's score two days later, sitting on tippy top of the Taj Mahal. She beats Sam's score hanging off the hour hand of Big Ben the next day.

The Golden Gate Bridge (and Karl the Fog) witnesses her victory over Tucker's second place high score, her shouts of glee echoing over the morning Bay.

She's sitting on the Arc de Triumph when she finally does it, jumping up and down and squealing as she clutches the Gameboy to her chest like a precious trophy.

She loads the portal gun and dives, dropping directly into Tucker's room in the shared apartment he, Sam and Danny live in.

She lands heavily on Tucker's bed, which is unfortunately occupied by the man himself, but he'll get over it, she's light!

"Oof! Wha—Ellie?" The man grumbles, a quick glance telling Ellie it's 2am in the morning. She's surprised he's asleep at this time, but is too elated to really register the thought.

She shoves the Dameboy and the high score screen into Tucker's bleary face the second he has his glasses on.

"I beat it!!" She yells, laughing and joyous.

"What?" Tucker says, rubbing his face and looking again. It takes him a few seconds that last ages, and her yell must have woken the others, because by the time Sam and Danny barge in, Tucker has a soft but wide smile on his face.

"Hell yeah Little D!" He says, and even though he has morning breath she doesn't care because he gives her a big bear hug and Danny and Sam join and it's a big rolling pile of limbs and love and family.

"Bet you can't beat it!" Ellie finally says, in the middle of the sudden cuddle pile and feeling tethered but free, like she always does when she's got another connection to her family.

"You're on!" Tucker challenges, grabbing the Gameboy in one hand and ruffling her hair with the other.

"But first, sleep." Sam admonishes, ever the sensible one. "Ellie, what are you even wearing?"

Sam grabs Ellie by the back of her collar, holding her up effortlessly like a little kitten.

Tucker finally registers his hoodie on her, and promptly bursts into laughter.

Ellie sniffs, but she can't hold her own grin. "It's called fashion, Sam, look it up!"

[readychilledwine]

can i please request an eris x reader where she has trouble sleeping so he helps her dooze off by putting her in his lap and cockwarms her whilst he does his reports🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

My Simping Eris Heart could never deny this 🥵

Lapcat

Warnings - NSFW minors DNI, owner/pet play dynamics, free use is mentioned, kind of leads to Somno vibes?

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

You rolled in the soft silk sheets again, trying to find any warmth you could on the cold Autumn night.

You loved the Forest House, truly you did, but at times, Beron allowed the weather shield to drop to cool his heat filled below ground rooms. You and Eris had always opted for a room above ground, wanting to see the trees, smell the fresh air instead of the lingering damp soil. This was a consequence of that choice, mainly since being a daughter of the Summer Court, you had no fire magic. 

You pulled Eris's pillow closer to you, breathing in his scent and shutting your eyes. Maybe if you closed your eyes hard enough, the need for sleep would take over. A soft tug came down the bond, an invitation to join him in his office. 

You got out of the bed, wrapping a sheet around your naked frame before wandering down the hall and into the luxurious space your mate had spent most of the night.

Eris was hunched over the desk, his long red hair cascading in waves over his shoulder as he finished whatever paper he was on. You couldn't help but to bite your lip at the way his brow was creased, his hand slightly clenched, the muscles in his arms and shoulders rippling. "Hello, kitten," he greeted you without looking up. "Can't sleep?"

"It's too cold," you shivered as you answered him, moving as he turned the chair and spread his legs for you to stand between them. "Miss you."

Eris's lips twitched into a soft smile as he studied you and brought his hands to your hips to bring you closer. "I miss you too, kitten. Want me to warm you up?" 

It was his tone, the coy smirk, and way his hands squeezed the soft flesh of your ass that had heat pooling in between your legs and your stomach tightening into knots. 

His hand gently tugged the sheet, growling as it danced off of you and onto the floor in a flowing pool. He began to roam your body. Fingers brushing each curve, every delicate dip of your flesh

Eris began placing soft kisses along your ribcage as his hands worked on kneading your breasts. "So beautiful, y/n." You head fell back at the praise, a soft sigh leaving your throat as his warm hands left goosebumps in every inch of skin they touched. "Need you on my cock, baby." 

It never took you long to be ready for Eris. The male would simply look at you and your panties were soaked. You nodded eagerly, stepping back thinking he'd be bending you over the mahogany desk and fucking you into oblivion. 

He didn't though.

He stood leisurely, taking his time with each button his shirt before putting in on you and leaving it open, smirking at the slight of you in his clothing. He then sat again, hands undoing his leathers until he freed his hard leaking cock from the confines of his pants. He motioned you over with two fingers before pulling you into his lap, hovering above his cock. "I need you. I desperately need you, but I have to finish my paperwork and reports, okay kitten?" You whimpered, tears beginning to form in your eyes. "No pouting, princess." His cock ran through your folds, gathering wetness. He allowed the head to smack against your clit pulling a moan from you. "We'll still both get what we want."

He lined up with your core and pushed your plush hips down slowly, watching intently as you swallowed him inch by inch.

The stretch burned, igniting your body in pleasure and heat as your head fell back again and you started panting. He groaned loudly, his eyes fluttering shut against his high cheekbones once he was fully seated inside of you. You went to hook your legs over his knees, aching for better leverage to ride him with, and he tutted you gently. 

Eris pulled you into his warm chest, tucking your head against his neck and kissing your temple. "Stay right here while I finish working, kitten. Then you can ride me until dawn breaks."

Your core twitched on his cock on occasion causing him to shift and give you a soft thrust that was never enough. You took a few deep breaths, calming your heart as he began working again. 

The soft scratch of the pen on parchment, the warmth of his body, the feeling of fullness as his hard cock rested in your wet pussy, and the scent of warm apples and bonfire embers had your mind falling into a safe place. One you had been previously searching for in the bed you two shared. 

Eris placed another soft kiss on the side of your head. "That's it, kitten. Get some good rest for me so I can keep you up later." Your eyes shut slowly against his neck as you snuggled further into him leading to him pushing his cock back in further. "Doing so good, princess. Such a pretty little lap Cat warming my cock while I work."

Your breath fell into soft pants on his neck and cheek, causing Eris to smirk. He had purposely put the fire in your room out hoping this would happen, and now, only 20 reports stood between him and fucking you while you slept, a favorite free use habit you two had started enjoying together. 

The only question he had, as your core twitched and soft moans and pleas began to fall from your lips from the dreams he knew you were having was this, did the heir truly have enough self control to finish his work first?

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 23: Blizzard of Emotions

Prompt: "We can fix this, I know we can"

Based on this ask by @randomfoggytiger: Mulder and Scully are forced to check into a motel during a snowstorm. Memories, tension, and misunderstandings await. Rating: R, wc: 1,427.

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

What causes them to get trapped in freezing cold temperatures for the second time in less than a year? The snow surprised everyone. A once in a lifetime blizzard. Unforeseen circumstances. By now, Scully has heard it all. She's hugging herself so tightly that her hands nearly touch behind her back.

In truth, the motel they found while fleeing from the snowstorm is cozy and warm. There’s a fire roaring at the other end of the lobby, but Scully can’t get warm.

Her body remembers the snow; the endless white cold. She glances at Mulder, wondering if he has similar thoughts. She could ask him, but then she’d have to talk to him, and right now, they aren’t talking.

How that happened, she isn’t sure. All she knows is that it has to do with the only other refugee from the weather who also didn’t get a room in the motel.

Benjamin.

He's a bit older than them, with a distinguished look—like an older cousin of AD Skinner, but with hair. Lots of it. Chestnut brown, and when he walked in, he shook his head like a dog, making Scully smile. He’d smiled back and introduced himself.

He was on his way back from a conference about cardiovascular health. That was the first time Mulder raised his eyebrow. During the whole conversation, he’d been quiet. He sat there, watching the other man, but keeping his thoughts to himself. A very un-Mulder-like move.

Scully, however, reveled in the conversation. Dr. Benjamin Cartwright was a delight. They talked as if they’d known each other for five years and not five minutes.

She asked him if he needed to make any calls home, let his wife know that he was detained. The second Benjamin said that he wasn’t married and that no one was waiting for him, Mulder had cleared his throat.

“Are you all right?” Scully asked him, worry seeping into her voice.

A snippy ‘fine’ had followed and then he’d started pacing like a caged lion. Scully had tried to ignore him. Had tried not to watch as he played peek-a-boo with a small child that was clinging to their exhausted mother. It wasn’t Benjamin’s fault. None of it.

“Mulder, can you please sit down? You’re making me dizzy.” She’d cut into Benjamin’s tale of his latest surgery and both men fell quiet. Mulder glared at her, standing frozen in place. Benjamin, who didn’t know her as well, swallowed hard.

“Fine.” This time through gritted teeth. He did sit down, his back to her and Benjamin, his eyes facing the wall. She briefly closed her eyes and sighed.

“I’m sorry, Benjamin,” a huff from Mulder followed, “please continue.”

And that’s what he did – what he’s still doing. Scully listens to him and has one eye on the snow falling outside the window. The cold crawls into her bones and she shivers. Benjamin is undeterred; he doesn’t know her long enough to notice that anything is wrong. Scully bites her lip, convinced it’s raw and chafed.

After Antarctica, her nightmares had been a flurry of white. Not once did she dream about being kidnapped, or being stuck in a block of ice. It was always the snow. Trying to run in it and her feet barely moving. In her nightmares, she cried out for Mulder, unable to reach him. The snow always swallowed him before she could grasp his hand.

“I’ve been talking so much about me,” Benjamin says, a soft drawl in his voice. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself and your work, Dana?”

“Dana,” Mulder – still staring at the naked, white wall – mumbles.

“Well,” she starts, drawing the word out while looking at Mulder. He, too, turns to her, but for once, she can’t read his expression. Long seconds follow. He gets up and she feels as if she’s just failed a test she’s studied hard for. She watches him leave the lobby, wondering where he’s going.

“Our job,” she tries again, her heart not in it. Her mind is on Mulder, needing to know what’s bothering him. “Would you please excuse me for a moment?” she says, not waiting for a reply before heading in the direction Mulder disappeared.

The motel is bigger than she imagined. She was right behind Mulder and now he’s disappeared. He wouldn’t be crazy enough to step out into the blizzard, would he? She shivers again. As a child, she used to love snow. Now, the mere thought of it makes her sick.

Scully is about to give up her Mulder search and return to the lobby. Her teeth are chattering and she wishes she had warmer clothes on her. She hears a sound that makes her stop. There’s a clang and muttering that sounds suspiciously like Mulder.

“Mulder?” she asks, rounding a corner. There he is. He’s banging his fist against an old, rusty vending machine. “What are you doing?”

“Where’s your new friend?” he replies in place of an answer.

“Presumably where I left him.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “You were rude.”

“Well, I don’t like him.”

“Mulder, you don’t even know him.”

“Neither do you. I know the type and that’s enough.”

“Are you-,” but she trails off and finishes her sentence with a laugh. Mulder turns around to her.

“Am I what?”

“Jealous,” she says.

“Of a guy with several doctorates and perfect hair? Why would I be? Scully, am I cursed? The vending machine ate my money. It’s like when we- well, it happened before. Only then it was… there’s no bomb here, I checked. Still, that thing ate my money.”

“What did you want?” she asks gently. He’s quit for a long time, staring at the measly variety behind the glass.

“Wasn’t even for me,” he mumbles.

“What?”

He presses his finger against the glass.

“A cup of ramen?” He nods.

“I saw you shiver and I thought… I was looking for the kitchen and wanted to ask them for hot chocolate and somehow I got stuck here.” Warmth spreads through her and for the first time in a while, she doesn’t feel cold at all.

“I thought I’d at least get you hot ramen. Just something to warm you up.” He’s avoiding her eyes, but she wants to look him in the eyes, so she touches his chin.

“Thank you, Mulder.”

“It’s the snow, isn’t it? It makes you think about it. I feel the same.” They haven’t talked about Antarctica. Mulder has made the odd joke here and there, but other than that, they’ve tiptoed around it. She could have died.

They almost died together, right there in the snow. To this day, her memory is hazy on how they even made it out of there. Then there’s everything that happened before the snow. The hallway. The bee. The almost kiss.

Mulder bangs his fist against the vending machine one more time. Something inside shifts and they both listen to the telltale sound of something making its way through the workings of the machine. It lands with a soft thud and they exchange a look.

“That did not sound like a cup of ramen,” Mulder says and reaches into the opening. “It’s-”

“A Snickers,” Scully says with a chuckle.

“Maybe we can melt it over the fire and turn it into hot chocolate.”

“That’s the most disgusting thing I can imagine.” But at least Mulder is grinning at her.

“So, um, what if I did feel the way you thought I felt about Dr. Benjamin?” he asks, unwrapping the candy bar. He breaks it into two pieces and hands Scully the bigger one.

“I’d say it’s cute and that you have nothing to worry about because while I thought he was nice enough, I’m here with you sharing a Snickers.”

“I’m going to get you something hot, Scully. I promise.” She laughs softly.

“I remember what you said about the best way to regenerate body heat.” He stares at her open-mouthed, a piece of chocolate falling onto his sweater. “Too bad we don’t have sleeping bags.”

“We can fix this,” Mulder says quickly, “I know we can.”

“Maybe next time.” She can’t believe she’s winking at him, but his expression is worth it.

“You want the ramen, don’t you? To warm you up.”

“Or any kind of soup.”

“Come on,” he says, taking her hand into his. “There’s got to be a kitchen here somewhere. We’ll just flash our badges and get you some soup.” Their hands find each other and interlock as they walk together.

[petit-etoile]

hi! :) i love your writing!! Could i request an Astarion fic based on the Mahmoud Darwish Quote “they asked ‘do you love her to death’ / i said ‘speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.’”?

it's  our  last  chance  ( we'll  get  it  right  )

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 2,902 content warnings: canonical discussions of death, spoilers for astarion's act iii romance, spiritual interlude to this fic, references to cann.ibalism as a metaphor for love, an exploration of how s.ex can be healing, the faintest hints of a mortal!tav but that's up to the reader, what if s.ex cures vampirism ? other tags:  canon compliant,  character study,  introspection,  codependency,  religious imagery & symbolism,  p.orn with plot archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia,  @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene be added to the taglist here

summary:  ‘Gale asked me tonight if I loved you,’ Astarion tells you. ‘He asked if I loved you purely. I’ve never loved anything purely in my life, but I knew what he meant. He asked, ‘Will you love them to death?’ That’s why I brought you here tonight.’

This is a night reminiscent of the day he died.

The sun has faded out over the horizon. The streets are bloodied once more, and hundreds of shadows have transformed into the shape of a bat.

Astarion’s grave is very old and covered with moss. You watch as he kneels in front of it and brushes his fingers across his name in reverence. You join him and cross your fingers together in prayer. You don’t know what you’re praying for but you mumble the words under your breath. It isn’t until you start digging that you begin to understand why you’re really here. You dig and dig and find relics of a life you never knew  —  dead flowers and childhood toys, tears that you cry. A mother and father’s love.

Astarion looks so much younger now that Cazador no longer hangs over his very being. The tension around his eyes has lessened, and even though he’s feeling something you can’t imagine, he wears the smallest smile as you uncover the gifts left behind by his family. Proof that Astarion lived, proof that Astarion existed. You dig until your fingers reach nothing and then you turn to him. He means to plant a seed and watch it grow.

He hands you seeds from a flower you can’t remember the name of. You pour them into the depths of this grave and fill it back up with dirt. You drop handfuls and wait for it to rain. You turn your chin up to the sky and wait for the storm clouds to release rapture.

‘I love you,’ Astarion says suddenly.

He looks at you like a man learning to see for the first time. The softness of his features only intensifies the longer he looks at you. Astarion is always made up of hard angles and harsh lines but tonight, he looks upon you with an earnestness you haven’t seen for him in quite some time. You’re caught off-guard when he caresses your cheek.

If Baldur’s Gate were to weather a storm tonight, Astarion would be the warmth from the cold of the rainstorm. You close your eyes at his touch and lean your cheek into it, nuzzling his palm. Astarion decides that it isn’t enough. He’s selfish, manipulative, roguish and cruel, but when he leans forward and kisses you with his plump mouth, you forget about all those things. It’s healing. You open your lips for him.

‘I love this,’ he murmurs, snaking a hand down to the small of your back. ‘And I want it all.’

The storm breaks overhead, but Astarion covers your body with his and you forget that you hate the sound of thunder. He kisses the very soul of you, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. There’s something about the way he nips at your skin that infinitely thrills you. How could a man so determined to be dangerous, so keen on becoming the most powerful man in the world melt at the sound of your voice? Had Astarion always been this weak for you, or was this a new transgression in his never ending quest to crush his desires?

Astarion kisses you.

He is the only thing that quenches your thirst.

He knows that.

When you first fell from the illithid ship, you had felt a hunger unlike any other swell up in your gut. It was freedom you had never experienced, and somehow, you came out on top. What happened after that was only like the romances you had read about. When a beast hunter falls in love with their bounty, when a mortal loves their immortal despite the difference, when an angry vampire becomes softer and softer the more he learns about kinder touch. You’re a romantic, after all.

You think that you should talk about it. You want to ask Astarion if he’s sure. But of course he’s sure, he’s never been surer of anything. Asking him now would be a disservice, you think. He’s worked so hard to come this far. You don’t ask. You kiss Astarion back like you’ve never kissed anyone before.

His mouth is yearning. Astarion pines for you like a prince pines for a sweetheart  —  and his mouth and his tongue and his teeth are so overwhelming that you can’t help but cling to his shoulders, using him as a lifeline.

He turns his cheek against yours and sighs wistfully against your skin. Slowly, carefully, Astarion presses his fingers between your legs curiously. He does it just to hear you gasp. You meet his eyes, and your cheeks burn so hotly you think you might be dizzy. Astarion consumes your soul. He presses you down in the flowers you planted above his grave. Clover, daisies, and asters grow around, twirling in your hair as Astarion collapses into your arms. You hold him as he shakes.

‘I was dead before I met you,’ Astarion whispers in the crook of your neck. ‘I was a ghost.’

‘You’re alive now,’ you promise. He cradles your soul in his hands. ‘You’re alive now and you’re the sun, and I love you.’

Maybe it’s not that you aren’t sure Astarion is ready. You’re nervous about the setting. It’s not that it’s inappropriate or dire, but that anyone could see at any time and you were a selfish creature. For so long, it has always been you and Astarion and everyone else. Now, Astarion presses into the space between your hips and mouths at your chest. He tastes your skin and your nipples, and you shiver at the touch. He eats your heart. You’re grateful.

‘I’m not convinced,’ Astarion says roughly. ‘Should I die, where will I go?’

‘You will go where I go,’ you say as he sinks into your flesh. ‘You are half my soul. I’ll beg the gods. We can never be one without the other.’

‘And if they deny you?’

‘I’ve already killed gods,’ you say. ‘What are a few more if they deny me my love?’

Astarion lets out a satisfied hum, content with the fruit you have given him. He ripens you with his fingers and you turn your head. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and allow him to caress your sides, closing your eyes as he touches the more ticklish parts of your body. He nibbles at your collarbones

You say, ‘This isn’t your grave.’

Astarion’s mouth ghosts over your skin, and finally, he sinks his cock into you until you’re gasping for air. It pushes and fills and causes lights to dance in the corner of your eyes. You touch the little hairs at the nape of his neck to distract yourself.

‘You’re right,’ Astarion says softly.

‘A place of rebirth.’

‘A place of happiness, my love,’ he says. ‘Now when I see it  —  ’

‘More,’ you whisper.

You feel a rush of tenderness sweeping through your veins. You are drawn to it like a moth to light, and you chase Astarion as he flees from you, sliding your hips back against his so that he’s never gone for too long. You waited patiently for Astarion. Every touch, every kiss is a feeling so rare that you can’t help but savor it. You admire the vulnerability he shows you, and when he leans back to lift your hips higher for a better angle, you moan softly and cry.

Astarion’s fingers burn holes into your skin. He leaves a wildfire against your skin. It leaves you wanting more. But you’re always going to want more, aren’t you? Even a lifetime of Astarion is not enough. You seek the warmth in his gaze.

You aren’t sure how long you’ll last. The time between your trysts and the sheer passion causes you to be needy. He likes it that way too. Likes the way that you’ll always seek him out first. The first in your heart. The first in your soul. You wish you could pour yours out of your body to give it to him. He’s half your soul regardless of what he might say. You never understood the concept of an immortal soul until now. You pull Astarion back to you and kiss him, teeth to teeth.

But it’s not enough.

You don’t think it will ever be enough. You dig your nails into his spine and hold onto him. You cry weakly. It feels too good and like it’s too much at the same time. You part your legs wider and drag him further, hypnotized by the feel of his thighs beneath yours. Astarion shows an enthusiasm you haven’t seen in a while, and you’re reminded of how much you’ve craved him. The knife at your throat, the scowl on his face, the night at the party… Astarion is all-consuming. You never thought it would happen.

At first, you thought Astarion was primed to ignore you forever. You were kind and good and sweet, and now you knew that was everything Astarion was looking for. He tastes your kindness and goodness and sweetness and becomes drunk on the taste of your shared fate.

Astarion bites you on the shoulder but for once, it isn’t to draw blood and feed upon what makes you who you are. It’s a lover’s bite. An inquisitive nibble. That part of sharing is what this is about. He meant it when he said you were more than blood, more than a fling. You always thought about it…

Astarion proving his love to you now was welcomed. You summon a new life for him here during this pale evening. A life where he will not know hurt. A life where he will not be betrayed by those he trusted. Astarion was in your hands now, a crow on your wrist. He sings you a pretty song against your neck. He’s vocal now, content with moaning and mewling as he takes his pleasure in the warmth of your body. You wish you could bottle up his pretty song and take it with you forever.

You press your mouth to the sharp curve of Astarion’s ear, sneaking a kiss against the pointy tip. ‘Come closer to me, my love,’ you whisper. ‘No one must know.’

‘Everyone must know,’ Astarion disagrees softly.

‘Even the birds?’ you ask. ‘Even the trees?’

Astarion smiles. You can feel it. ‘The entire world must.’

‘Are we in love?’ you ask him softly, looking upon him fondly.

‘We are,’ he says, laughing.

You are in love like you have never been in love before. Astarion is a romantic and he cherishes this new world with you. He’s intoxicated by the freedom of your scent. And it’s not as though it’s any different for you. You wrap your legs tightly around his hips and keep him there, and when his arms shake and tremble, you accept his weight.

You kiss his throat and he raises his chin so you can kiss it more. You’ll pretend that it doesn’t entice you. You want to sink your teeth in like he has, to share with him that quiet exaltation. Astarion gives it to you more and more, and finally, you can no longer tame that part of you set to rupture. Your pleasure causes your vision to burn almost.

There is a world where you and Astarion have never met. A world where the mindflayers never devised a plan and you were still searching for enlightenment. The thought of it scares you so you cling to him and you climb into his sternum, holding onto his skin while the world is remade in your image. A world without Astarion is not a world worth living. You know that to be true. That’s why you’re here now.

Astarion follows suit in quick, frantic strokes. He loses himself in the quake of your core and digs his fingers into the dirt next to your head for stability. You watch as pleasure overtakes him and he wavers, choking on a ragged moan. You press unfocused kisses against his shoulders and sink beneath the earth.

It’s a good thing Astarion finds his confidence in the taste of your bones. He eats from you an essence that would make him strong. When he sits up, eyes soft around the edges and mouth swollen from your love, you can see the change in him. Have his shoulders always been that wide? Has his back always been that straight? Has the majesticness of his attitude always been so grandiose?

Astarion holds out his fingers and you kiss the tips of them. You give him a blessing and watch as his skin begins to glow. Cazador had unmade a proud man. You have rehabilitated a broken man.  But Astarion is not defined by his brokenness, not authenticated by his terrors and trauma, but by the whims he has shown you tonight.

When Astarion pulls you from the bed you made in the grass, you can see a dim light filtering through the overhead tree. A familiar sight, like the first time. You pull his jacket over your head to avoid any more mess and become acutely aware that Astarion is watching you breathe. He listens with that frightening vampiric hearing as your lungs exhale. He smiles as your heartbeat settles.

You distract yourself as he enjoys his orgasm by making him a crown of flowers. You twist them expertly like you once did in your youth, and when Astarion turns his head, you give him a kingdom. The fresh green of the leaves accentuates the paleness of his hair.

You know what you’ve done even if the world does not. It was an objectively stupid thing to do, Astarion said so himself. Life is a challenge, and you were not a quitter. If anything, you knew that you deserved it. A ghost called your name and you answered, unfrightened by the specter’s cold touch. Slowly, you replaced that frigid air with your own heat until there was nothing but fog in the aftermath.

‘Sometimes,’ Astarion begins when he’s ready, ‘I still have these cruel thoughts. This fear still consumes me but… It’s so unlike before I hardly recognize it.’

‘You’re not his first son anymore,’ you say.

Astarion smiles and slides the crown from his head. He twirls it between his fingers. ‘Not  —  Not that fear, no. Something else.’

‘What else could frighten you?’

‘Everything,’ Astarion confesses. ‘I listen to your heart when you sleep for any change. I check your face every day for any extra wrinkles.’

You laugh. ‘I’m still young,’ you insist. ‘We have time, Astarion. I am with you every moonrise.’

‘The worst thing about loving you is that I will never stop,’ Astarion says, staring at his headstone. ‘I don’t want you to die in a world where I could still love you.’

You think you’re going to be sick. You don’t mean to cry, but you do. You burrow your face in your hands and weep so hard Astarion wraps his jacket around you and kisses your head, shushing you until you’ve let it all out. It’s…not how you wanted to end the evening.

‘You didn’t let me finish, my love,’ he murmurs against your forehead.

‘Then go on,’ you say miserably.

‘I will never stop loving you,’ Astarion says again. ‘For a thousand more years and one.’

You twist the knuckle on your middle finger anxiously. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to feel.

‘Gale asked me tonight if I loved you,’ he tells you. ‘He asked if I loved you purely. I’ve never loved anything purely in my life, but I knew what he meant. He asked, ‘Will you love them to death?’ That’s why I brought you here tonight.’

You look at him suspiciously, and his ardor steals your breath away. His jacket slips from your shoulders. You watch as he fixes the carvings in his headstone and adds to them in a sprawling language you’re almost too exhausted to read. Eventually, you find your voice again. You lean your cheek against his shoulder, and if your eyelashes are wet against his skin, he says nothing about it.

‘Tonight,’ Astarion says, ‘and on top of my grave, you have brought me back to life. That is a debt that cannot be repaid.’

You turn to him and this time it is your turn. You take Astarion’s jaw in your hands and lift his mouth to yours, kissing him so sweetly you’re almost certain that he swoons from the touch. It’s like kissing him for the first time, a kiss that sweeps over and over, until the ocean of night sweeps over you and you melt into his sinew.

 ‘You love me?’ you ask him just to hear him say it again.

‘I love you,’ Astarion says.

Love is not always in the eyes of the goddess. Love is buried somewhere most will never find it. It is healing, it is sweeping, it is gratifying. It is watching your lover’s hair turn grey strand by strand every morning. It is chasing the sun before it falls beneath the stars every evening.

You think you get it now.

Astarion rests his cheek against your palm, and for the first night since he was turned into a vampire, he slumbers in your touch. He dreams of a future where you are both mortal and laughing.

‘I love you too,’ you confess, and Astarion smiles in his sleep.

[mci-writing]

Can I request a senku x fem reader where she goes with the group to the cave instead of magma and her and senku end up cuddling for warmth and senku is all flustered by it.

Gonna slight change this up a little, anon. I kinda sat on this knowing I wanted to write something like it, but never knowing where to take it,,, BUT it's cold outside and season 3 is up to the infiltration arc so Imma have a little bit of fall fun 🥹

Lowkey has the same reader from Bandages in mind tbh but I also like the idea of Senkuu calling his s/o Dragonfruit so-

If you’ve got a couple dollars to spare, here’s my kofi (I am a struggling college student ���)

By Night in Caves (Ishigami Senkuu x Fem!Reader)

A figure shivers as a sharp wind blows past them. The leaves starting to change shades and the cold breeze in the air are enough indication of the fall season. While most people would probably be snuggled up in their homes under a nice quilt or a huge blanket, (Y/n) was out with Senkuu and searching for God knows what. She could probably ask him what day it was and he'd know to a T, but she'd have to wait until after their current expedition.

She did bring the Stone World equivalent of a light jacket, but the night air was starting to make it a little useless the longer they were out and about. Senkuu isn’t showing it, but she can just tell the air’s starting to get to him too.

It’s just the two of them at the moment, the rest of their ragtag group splitting off to other areas to find what they’re looking for. While Senkuu would typically go off with one of the other generals, Gen was really persistent that he go with (Y/n). It was beyond her understanding why, but she wouldn’t complain about spending alone time with her close friend again.

“Hey, Leek,” She lightly tugs on his sleeve as his crimson eyes stare far ahead, her own (e/c) eyes staring off towards a cave in the near distance. She points towards it once she feels his eyes on her, “Think we should check in for the night? I’m more than positive the others have too with how dark it’s gotten.”

“Think you’re just getting cold, Dragonfruit,” He hums in response, staring at the cave as he thinks it over. He grins at the sight of the many sticks and twigs around the area, tugging (Y/n) along with him as he starts walking in that direction, “I’m sure it won’t hurt to start a fire for a bit though.”

He’s super eager to get there, picking up various rocks, twigs, leaves, and sticks as they get closer. She attempts to help, but he’s moving faster than she can think. It’s almost a little unnerving… Kind of like he thinks this cave will benefit him in some way or something…

“Wait, is the thing we’re looking for in a cave?” (Y/n) asks, turning to Senkuu just as he gets the fire up and running at the edge of the cavern’s opening. He stands and backs away from it, holding his hands out towards it for a little bit before slowly backing away from it.

The fire is a reasonable size, big enough to ward off any animals and let anyone know they’re location if they’re passing by. Senkuu, however, is moving further into the cave. His flashlight is on, catching the twinkles of a few minerals and gems a little further inside. There’s a glint in his ruby eyes, made devious by the smirk on his face, “You can stay by the fire if you want, but I’m gonna scope this area out for a bit.”

She stares at him with a straight face, narrowing her eyes at him as he starts getting more and more visibly excited. She normally wouldn’t mind him doing his science thing to his hearts content, but it’s starting to get late and she really doesn’t want to sit by the fire by herself…

And almost like a gift from God (or a curse from Satan), it starts to rain. And it rains hard.

The fire is out almost immediately and Senkuu freezes in his tracks at the sound. The crack of his neck can be heard as he quickly turns his head towards where (Y/n) is sitting, who has visibly tensed up like a cat at the sudden change of weather. The first clap of thunder has her jumping ten feet in the air, landing a ways away from the cave’s opening and further along inside. She bumps into Senkuu as she lands, the two stumbling to the ground together.

“Well, that’s great,” Senkuu grumbles as he lays on the hard ground, sitting up a little to glare at the cave’s entrance. (Y/n) is more than glad, but she won’t admit to praying on his downfall out loud.

“Maybe it’s for the best… It was getting pretty late,” She settles for, sitting up and glancing around the cave. She then looks down at him, giving him a teasing smirk, “We’ll just have to snuggle for warmth, Leek. Stark naked~”

He’s quiet after that, his face turned far enough away from hers that she can’t read it. After a moment, he looks up at her with the most deadpanned expression he can muster. He doesn’t even humor her with a grin or an inch of a smile, moving his focus to thinking as he stares hard at the rain outside, “We could be here a few hours. While the cave hasn’t hit relatively low temperatures yet, we may actually need to huddle for warmth throughout the night to keep body temperature between us. We shouldn’t need to take our clothes off since we didn’t get wet or anything and we definitely can’t start another fire with all the wet materials outside-”

He continues to ramble off plausible game plans and (Y/n) is unable to keep up after awhile. She rests her chin in her palm, sighing as she lets him finish his little analysis. While he does that, she gets close to him and rests her head on his shoulder before pushing into his space. She gets comfortable, burying her face in his neck and leaning her weight into his body so the two of them fall back to the ground.

(Y/n) wraps her arms around his waist, snuggling into his hold until her body is flush against his. Senkuu’s thinking stops as one of his arms wraps around her out of instinct and pull her closer to his body. A soft flush warms and fills his cheeks as he holds her close, hand pressed flat against her back while his other arm lays out to his side. He looks down at her, hoping the small change in his breathing isn’t obvious as he takes in how close she is.

“Turn your brain off, Senkuu. You said we could be here for hours, right?” (E/c) orbs glance up at him through her eye lashes, a soft pout dancing along her lips, “I’m heading to sleep, so you should too…”

He watches as her breathing begins to soften, reminding him of fond memories in the old world from sleepovers past. He shouldn’t get so worked up, they’ve been closer than this before, but he can’t help but focus on every part of her he’s been struggling to ignore as of late. Things like this keep him from getting jealous of the others, because deep down he knows no one could ever be as comfortable with her as he is.

Even so, he’s still left only admiring her from afar. He’s lucky most of their comrades have picked up on his feelings for her, but he’s got a long way to go before he’s even close to ready to admit his feelings…

Yet… He can revel in moments like this for now, with her in his arms in rare private moments like this. He’s glad the mentalist set this up for him, regardless of the protests from Chrome and the proud look on Ukyo’s face. She doesn’t have to know he wasn’t actually looking for anything, he’ll just wake up before her and grab a few resources from the cave to use as a small diversion. For now, he’ll take advantage of his situation…

He plants a soft kiss on the top of her head, letting himself fall asleep after.

[konekoling]

Hi hello since the states are gonna get blasted with cold soon I figured I'd shave some Helpful Cold Survival Advice I've absorbed as someone who lives in an area that hits -50C/-58F temperatures periodically

-Starting with a somewhat obvious one, but HOLY SHIT DO NOT BRING BARBECUES, GENERATORS, OR ANY OTHER FORM OF OUTDOOR HEAT SOURCE INSIDE FOR WARMTH. CO poisoning WILL kill you if you don't accidentally start a fire in the process.

-If you wanna stay in your car and turn the heat up for warmth DO NOT do it in the garage. Again. CO poisoning.

-You can turn up your stove/ oven and crack the oven door open in an emergency if you have zero other heat sources available, but only if its electric (Gas stoves will generate carbon mono...yeah you get it already), and even then its going to be much less energy efficient than a normal space heater, and you're gonna want to stay nearby while it's on to make sure you don't start a fire.

-Don't plug a space heater into a power bar or extention cord unless you're 100% sure it has a high quality cord. They need an absurd amount of power to run, and most extention cords in particular aren't insulated enough to handle those levels of power without becoming a fire hazard. And for the love of God, don't run multiple heaters on one power bar.

-Candles don't actually do much to generate heat unless you're ina very small area, but they ARE an excellent light source should power go out

- tragically, the best way to keep warm in the absence of home heating is through boring ol layering, especially on your feet and head. Avoid jeans, as they're somehow terrible at heat retention despite how thick they are, and throw on a pair of long underwear/leggings if you have some. Also feel free to pile as many blankets as you own on top of yourself, you deserve it.

-Youre gonna want to stay well fed, too. Keeping your body temperature up in the cold is pretty calorically demanding, AND the digestive process tends to heat your body up as well. Its a win/win.

-Also unfortunate: another excellent way to stay warm is through your enemy and mine, physical activity. Every half hour or so, pace around your living space to get the ol blood pumping a bit.

-If you get wet outside while it's substantially cold out, get inside as soon as possible bc that WILL suck the heat from your body. This goes for sweat too, so layer responsibly if you're out shoveling

-Electric blankets are a scam, don't buy them.

-heating pads and heated mattress covers are less of a scam, but don't fall asleep with them on bc once again, fire hazard.

-If you have any faucets in your house that don't see a lot of use/you live somewhere that doesn't usually see cold weather, keep all your faucets on just a bit so your pipes don't freeze and/or explode. This WILL cost thousands of dollars to fix.

-Likewise, if you're traveling for the holidays see if you can have someone come by to turn the faucets on every day or two so you don't come home to find your house sunk into the ground

-ALSO if you're traveling and think "hm, I think I'll turn off the heat while I'm out to save some money that is the devil speaking, do NOT listen. (Heating helps keep the pipes warm and unfrozen)

-Fill your bathtub up with water and/or stock up on bottled water if you're gonna be getting unusually cold temperatures in case your pipes DO freeze, since you're probably not gonna want to hit up the store should this occur

-Stay off the roads if you can help it. Turbocold weather makes cars periodically fail to start, and also the second snow touches the ground people somehow forget how to drive.

-IMO If it's below -38C before windchill, you have a substantial commute, and you have any PTO/can afford to miss a shift at work, don't bother going in. Just lie and say your car wouldn't start.

-If you absolutely need to go to work/go out for whatever reason, take public transit if possible. If thats not possible, keep some blankets, food, candles, and a lighter in your car in case the battery dies on the road so you can stay toasty and Alive until help arrives.

Probably gonna add more as I remember it, but thems the basics! Stay warm!

[frogchiro]

I just finished the world quest with Jeht and Azariq and please I'm in love with the Stone Enchanter model. I need him to pin me down and crush me istg

If this makes you uncomfortable feel free to ignore it, but I'm imagining MC being this sheltered Rainforest scholar hiring a group of Eremites to escort her on a mission, only for the weather to turn bad and oh we all have to hunker down for an extended period of time and she's worried that the Eremites will leave once the money runs out but they're just taking the opportunity to get close to their little lady.

Alternatively, doctor!MC who is the primary medic in the camp and she's always there to take care of everyone. What do you mean that Daythunder tripped face first into her tits on purpose? Can't you see that he's hurt??? Yes he needs to squeeze her hips, it's for balance! Honestly 🙄

Alternatively alternatively, barmaid!MC who serves a certain group of Eremites and she's theirs alone. No one else touches her except them, and they love playing with her regardless of who else is looking. Groping her tits when she bends down to pour drinks, grabbing her ass when she turns around, biting her nipple through the sheer fabric of her top if she doesn't escape fast enough etc. (I feel like you wrote this before? I think)

I really just let my hands run away from me adfhk I hope you're doing well! 🌺

darling, I am so incredibly normal about this you have no idea i'm currently biting at the bars of my enclosure

also this turned out way longer than I intended but the brainrot was real for this one ;; the barmaid!reader hc turned out to be the longest and the smuttiest of them all but in my defense it was my absolute favorite one to write and I'm seriously asking begging you guys to please indulge me and send me all your possible barmaid!reader thots (different men, eremites, aus', whatever comes to your mind ;;)

fem!reader, nsfw, reader is implied to be chubby/curvy, LOTS of perviness and big gross pervy men <3

Rainforest Scholar!Reader who hired a group of Eremites because of an important study needing to be conducted near the dangerous territory of the Apam Woods which is known to be inhabited by dangerous fungi and other possibly hostile creatures, not to mention the ever-changing weather environment. For someone who has little-to-no combat training it's basically a suicide mission so you did the next best thing and hired a group of Eremite mercenaries, four big and scary looking men with weapons seemingly bigger than you, wild grins full of sharp teeth and smug voices telling you "It's gonna be okay Little Lady, we've got this".

Well, turned out no one 'got this'. Dear Gods no one got this. The whole journey ended up in a near disaster with a sudden wild storm striking the woods in the middle of studying a group of fungi not only making them hostile and attacking you but also during your and the mercenaries' escape and frantic search for a reletively safe place to wait out the storm you managed to slip and fall straight into a large puddle of water effectively drenching you and ruining your travel clothes.

Although you truly noticed this major detail only after holing up in some beat up shack left to rot in the forest when the cold finally started to seep into your bones. One of the men, Daythunder you believe others called him, pointed out your violent shivering making all the men in the group turn towards you with slight concern on their masked faces.

And indeed you were shivering like a scared puppy, wet clothes clinging at your form, combined with the howling wind making it almost unbearable and the small fire they managed to start did little to keep you warm.

"You need to get outta these clothes Little Lady or you'll catch your death here", a slightly smaller man of the group gruffly said and vaguely motioned towards your figure. You flushed slightly and looked down bashfully, 'Little Lady' they called you, a nickname meant to tease you at first but over the long days of your journey turned into some sort of endearment from the men towards you.

Your thoughts of embarrassment were quickly thrown away by another wave of unpleasant shivers due to your drenched state. You were well aware that if you didn't do something soon, you'd catch pneumonia and only gods know how long you'll be stuck here in the middle of nowhere with a raging storm outside. The only logical thing to do was to strip, let your clothes dry and get warm by the fire but you were surrounded by all these big men and while you trusted them to not make any unwanted moves, it was still a mortifying thought to be almost naked in such a small space among them.

However, even these thought were dissipated quickly enough when Daythunder gently lifted your chin with his finger, making your heart flutter with warmth and look up at his handsome masked face and listen to him quietly murmur that they'll keep you warm and make sure no danger will come for you, please Little Lady.

And so before long you were stripped down to your underwear, sitting in the warm lap of the large blond man, his beautiful tanned skin hot under your slowly warming body as his sturdy arms wrapped around you. Actually, the men surrounded you with their big bodies in a sort of cuddle pile, warming up not only your body but also your heart and lower belly, the tingling sensation only amplifying when you felt the sudden touch of warm, calloused fingers of Daythunder on your knees, slowly traveling up your thighs and massaging along the tired muscles making you let out an embarrassingly pleasured moan that caught the attention of all the other men, making them grin wildly again.

"Maybe being stuck here for a little longer won't hurt-" you thought to yourself before getting interrupted by ravenous hot lips of one of the men and letting out another pleased hum as you felt other big calloused hands join the others on your soft body.

Medic!Reader who is the resident healer of the tribe, and while it might be considered relatively small, her hands are almost always busy due to the group being made up by men who are considered to be hunters/mercenaries; always on the move, rarely setting camp for more than a week. Plus, life on the desert can't be considered an easy one, food and water rations are scarce, danger is common here and if you're inexperienced with this kind of environment or travels it's best if you just stay in a village or travel in a larger group.

And then there is little ol' you, a real delight to the men of the tribe, kept like the biggest treasure in the camp. Always cherished and spoiled with the best cuts of meat during meal time, gifted the softest and most delicate silks from their 'adventures', not to mention all the hot, reverent, hungry touches to your skin as they slowly mouth at the expanse of your naked, glistening bosom.

Oh yes, the life of the 'Treasure of the tribe' is good, very good even, but first and foremost you are a trained, skilled healer, your skills being utilized unfortunately almost everyday as your men just seem to not be able to keep out of danger if even for a day and you hate seeing your boys hurt.

After returning from yet another successful hunting trip all the returning men loudly announcing their arrival; loud, boisterous laughs and cheerful bellows can be heard from the enterance to the camp. You sighed deeply although a small smile made its way onto your face, judging from the loud joyous commotion outside it was a successful hunt and probably no permanent damage was done but it still meant looking after the men, cleaning and stitching cuts, applying cooling salves and balms and bandaging smaller wounds. While you were undoubtedly proud of your buys you swear that their pride and want for showing off will drive them into an early grave.

Making a last check-up on the stacked medical equipment you gathered, you got up and walked out into the blazing sun of the desert, although the scalding hot temperature slowly cooling down into a pleasant warmth with the incoming sunset.

Your enterance was met with loud greetings and whoops, the large men showing off their hunted prey, a large furred beast with claws the size of your fingers. While you definitely appreciated the sentiment and admired their strength and prowess in battle to be able to take down such a creature, you were more worried about the blood staining Daythunder's clothes. Making him sit on an wooden stump you quickly got to work as he seemed to be hurt the most; while definitely nowhere near deadly, that cut on his chest worried you.

Out of all the things you learned as a healer of a tribe full of men is that they're surprisingly childish and clingy, especially when hurt. The second he heavily sat down, Daythunder immediately grabbed onto your full hips and dragged you close to him so that no space can be between your bodies and with a heavy sigh the big tanned man shoved his face right into your tits, for the lack of better wording.

All you could do is sigh heavily, comb your hand through his braided blond hair and coo at him. The insistent touches more than familiar and no more embarrassing you, more like making a small pleasant flutter bloom in your belly as you gave the man a bit more time watching him nose along your barely clothed breasts and nuzzling against you much like a big cat.

What you didn't see, so preoccupied with Daythunder nuzzled deep into you, are the former joyful faces of the other men sour with ugly jealousy. Why weren't it them you were paying attention? They just slayed a beast too! But don't you worry pretty little Treasure, as soon as you finish with that big oaf they'll have their turn with you too.

Who would have guessed that Eremites could be so jealous~?

And now for the grande finale and my personal favorite, Barmaid!Reader!! Working as a barmaid at the only tavern in Caravan Ribat is one hell of a busy job. Living and working in a place that is literally in the middle of nowhere and simultaneously always busy with passing by merchants, mercenaries, travelers and adventurers alike can be definitely often hectic and at times even messy but it has its perks! Being able to listen to various stories, some of them sounding almost like a fairytale with how whimsical and fantastic they sound and yet they are all true is definitely one of those perks.

Another perk (definitely the best) is a particular group of Eremite men who seem to frequent Caravan Ribat, specifically the tavern you work at is their target. Not only being regulars, but also knowing them more...intimately, they are a delight to be around even with their burning jealousy and possessiveness; perhaps even more so with it.

Almost always you hear them before you see them, their loud talk among each other, deep booming voices almost reverberating through the local and just as you serve a patron their meal they enter in all their glory. Even with the crimson bandanas covering their eyes you can feel their eyes on you, burning with lust and want for their pretty little barmaid.

Greeting them with a warm smile and a warmth to your cheeks you tell them to sit down at their usual table (which by now is almost reserved only for them, no one dares to sit where they always touch down). Luckily it's a relatively slow night; all the patrons are already seated and busy either talking among each other or drinking their worries away in a bottle of ale of fire water.

With an almost jump in your step you quickly walk up to the table with the Eremites, their covered eyes never leaving your curvy figure and when you finally stand before them you can almost hear their deep growls of delight and ravenous apetite for more than a regular meal.

Deciding on being cheeky today and wanting to tease them a little, treat them as if their just another regular customers. You pull out a small paper and pencil from behind your belt and ask these 'gentlemen' for their order. They seem to catch on immediately, their grins widening, licking over their sharp canines as they relax and spread their thick muscled thighs wide open lounging around, deep gruff voices laced with lust listing of their order.

As you're diligently jot down their choices on the slip of paper, a small smile appears on your face as you feel the strong arm of Stone Enchanter slip around your middle and pull you closer to him, his enormous build making your stomach on level with his face even when he's seated, his big and rough with callouses hand caressing and grabbing onto your full hips, snapping the material of your skirt (the long material obscuring only your intimates and ass while exposing your thighs, you know this cut drives them crazy) against your hips and they laugh loudly as you take in a quick quiet breath, followed by the gentle scrape of teeth on your waist as the large man starts mouthing at your skin and to be honest you're quite embarrassed by how quickly this simple touch can get you wet.

But with this group you're so used to this that when they don't visit for a longer period of time you actually long for it. They are always like this; loud and boisterous, clingy, unapologetic and absolutely shameless with their touches and so so possessive over you.

You barely manage to write down their order with a small 'be right back sirs' when suddenly a swift swat to your bottom is delivered and the table erupts in laughs and jeers at Sunfrost that he managed to get you. It's even worse when you get back and start setting their cups down, when the hot touches and gropes come.

Your low cut top is made of a light material, almost sheer and you almost always forgo wearing a bra due to the almost unbearable heat due to the closeness to the desert and the stuffy inside of the tavern doesn't help, and you can be sure that these men take full advantage of it.

Large scarred hands grope your tits the second you bend down to pour their drinks and you almost spill it when they pull down the loose neckline and the mouthing at your waist and hips starts again.

Suddenly, you let out a small shrill cry as you're suddenly hoisted into the lap of Stone Enchanter and moan loudly at the feeling of hot lips trying to mouth at your nipples through your top, the straps falling from your shoulders from all the sudden movement much to the delight of the men at the table.

The loud atmosphere of the lively tavern concealing the lustful act, all the other patrons are either so deep into laughing with their companions or way too drunk to even look your way, but even if there are some curious eyes looking at your figure, you are way too deep into the hot, fuzzy headspace to care.

The dark skinned man holding you made you suddenly straddle him and you flush even deeper at the feeling of his hard cock grinding up against your barely clothed pussy and you can't help but moan helplessly and grab at his dark braids to pull him closer to your nipple which he's still insistently mouthing at, the scrape of his sharp teeth causing you to let out a delightful moan which only seemed to spur the turned on men further on.

This was definitely going to be a long, long night~

[raina-at]

Weather

As those of you who follow my May ficlets surely know by now, I’ve set myself an unofficial goal to hit all of my AUs. So today I’m picking my quasi Narina AU called Lost Souls that, like, five people have read. This fic is what happens when I read Outlander, see Narnia, and read teenlock. (Tl,DR context for this ficlet: Sherlock and John are stuck in another dimension, that’s pretty much all you need to know. Also, they’re both about 18-20 in this ficlet, John is a medic, and Sherlock is working for local law enforcement)

--------

Weather, John thinks as he shakes out his umbrella, will never be a selling point of the British Isles, no matter in which dimension, no matter what they’re called. Sherlock gave him a long speech once about climate and sea levels and geology all being pretty much identical here, compared to the England they grew up in, so it stands to reason that the weather is equally rotten.

Well, since John has spent his entire life in England and then on the equivalent on Dera, he’s bloody well used to it.

Doesn’t mean he has to like it, though. 

He can handle rain and fog and everything in between. What he doesn’t like is when a day starts out beautiful and sunny and ends up in a deluge of truly epic proportions. He’s not that wet, because he was smart enough to stay at the clinic until the worst was over, but his coat will take ages to dry, and he dislikes the smell of drying wool. 

He’s just getting warm again, sitting on the sofa by the fire and enjoying a nice cuppa and the first chapter of a new novel Molly lent him when the door to their flat bangs open.

John turns around and starts laughing uncontrollably.

The thing about Sherlock is, he’s always gorgeous. But right now, soaked to the skin in his dark wool coat, hair wet and plastered to his head, dripping on the floor and wearing a pissy expression, he looks like nothing so much as a drowned cat. Specifically Toby, Molly’s black tomcat.

Sherlock glares at John, which makes the resemblance to a pissed off cat even greater. 

“I fail to see what’s so funny,” Sherlock grumps as he stalks into the sitting room, shedding his coat as he goes, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy splat.

“You look like Toby, that one time he fell into the suds bucket at the morgue,” John says between giggles. 

“I do not!” Sherlock all but hisses, which sets off John even more.

“Oh my god, now you sound like him too!”

Sherlock glares at him, then something in his eyes changes. He stalks over to John, who’s still on the sofa, and sits down straight in his lap.

“Oh my god, you’re cold!” John yelps, as the water dripping from Sherlock’s clothes start soaking through his trousers and shirt immediately.

“Warm me up, then,” Sherlock says, shaking his head so water droplets land all over John.

John laughs. “Great, now I’m getting wet because you don’t have the sense God gave small children to stay inside when it’s pouring outside.”

“Staying in just because it’s raining is boring, John,” Sherlock says, reeling John in and pressing his entire wet torso against John’s.  “You don’t want me catching cold, do you, Doctor?” Sherlock murmurs into John’s ear. Sherlock’s closeness, the whisper of breath against John’s ear, and Sherlock using his still very new title all together make John reconcile with the situation very quickly. The fact that he, the sofa, and the floor are getting soaked are of very minor importance compared to a wet, gorgeous and mischievous Sherlock Holmes in his lap.

He threads his fingers into Sherlock’s wet hair and pulls him in for a kiss. Sherlock tastes of rain and fresh air and pastries. “Mrs Hudson is baking?” John asks, pulling back a little.

“Very good,” Sherlock says, grinning at John, an obvious challenge sparking in his eyes and in the corner of his smile. “What else?”

John grins. Two can play this game, my friend, he thinks. He noses along Sherlock’s throat, smelling rain and traces of their soap and the faint trace of canal. He licks a few raindrops from Sherlock’s neck, and Sherlock gasps. “You went to see Billy.”

“Conjecture,” Sherlock murmurs, dipping his head back to give John better access to his neck.

“Fact,” John answers, sinking his teeth playfully into the taut muscle of Sherlock’s enticing throat. “You smell like the river,” he whispers, as he dips his tongue into Sherlock’s ear.

Sherlock moans, and John grins into Sherlock’s skin. It took them a good while to find their stride, physically speaking, given that neither of them had an inkling of an idea what they were doing. But by now John knows Sherlock’s body so well, he knows exactly which strings to pluck.

“What else?” Sherlock asks, his voice no longer quite steady.

John draws back, surveying Sherlock like he’s a crime scene, knowing that this sort of scrutiny will turn Sherlock on even more. He kisses Sherlock again, licking deep into his mouth, chasing taste and sensation. He licks the corner of Sherlock’s mouth, and Sherlock moans around John’s tongue, drawing him closer to deepen the kiss, but John moves back, putting a finger over Sherlock’s mouth. “Moff’s bakery. Powdered birch sugar, you were at the doughnuts again.”

Sherlock nods, pulling at John for more kisses. John happily obliges.

“One more,” Sherlock whispers against John’s lips.

John grins and draws back a little. He runs his hands under Sherlock’s sopping wet suit jacket, pushing it off Sherlock’s shoulders as he fleeces the pockets. Nothing of interest. Then he unbuttons Sherlock’s waistcoat, one button at the time. Sherlock’s shirt is sticking to his skin, almost translucent, and John can’t resist mouthing at the taut nipple outlined under the fabric, even as he deftly checks the pockets of Sherlock’s waistcoat for clues. The rain-soaked shirt and Sherlock’s warm skin beneath, Sherlock’s hands carding through his hair, holding his head to Sherlock’s chest, and the encouraging noises Sherlock is making are almost enough to drive the game from John’s mind.

But only almost. Because Sherlock’s shirt smells of beeswax and dusty shelves. “Library,” he murmurs around Sherlock’s nipple, grazing the delectable nub with his teeth.

Sherlock gasps and pulls John up for a searing kiss. John grins against Sherlock’s lips.

Game over, then, he thinks. I won. “Are you getting warmer, love?”

“Shut up,” Sherlock says, dipping them back to the sofa, trapping John under himself, pressing his entire wet, warm, enticing body against John’s.

John grins. “Make me.”

Sherlock’s eyes darken. “Not a problem.”

As Sherlock moves in to kiss the very thoughts out of John’s head, John thinks, Oh, I definitely won, before he surrenders entirely to the force of nature that is Sherlock unleashed. Thank god for rain. 

------

Tags under the cut as usual, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

The storms within us

summery: Joel is out on patrol when a snowstorm hits, leaving Ellie longing to be in her dad's presence again. You try to bring a bit of happiness to her by surprising her with the DVD's that you found. But will that be enough or the comfort that she needs can only be brought by Joel himself?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Ellie stood in front of her bedroom window. It was pitch black outside. The lanterns in the streets were little help against the amount of snow that was blazing. She enjoyed snowy nights, but not on days like this. Because in a way, it didn't feel right for Ellie to cozy up in her window nook and read or sit by the fire downstairs while you knit. No, she couldn't. Not with Joel out on patrol in weather like this.

Ellie's mind was as frantic as the snowstorm outside. What if Joel slipped? What if he didn't hear someone coming when the wind was so strong? What if he was somewhere slumped up against the tree, freezing to death? A cold shiver ran down Ellie's back at that thought. In the beginning, she hated herself for becoming so dependent. So attached. So needy for the love you and Joel gave her. But she couldn't help it. Every cell in her body craved it. A warm embrace. A kiss on the forehead. A laugh over dinner. A warm smile that greeted her. Proud looks on your and Joel's faces when she did well in school.

You and Joel made her feel like she wasn't a broken kid after all. Not just an unlovable orphan. No, she was enough. That's what you always told her. "Look in the mirror, you're a worrier. The strength you hold in your heart is beyond this world, bean", you would mutter in her hair while squeezing her shoulders. Even when Ellie didn't believe it herself, you always made her feel like she could. Could be enough. But Ellie was more like Joel. She also preferred to let her emotions go in silence. Ellie still remembered how she stumbled back downstairs to get a glass of water, giving up on sleep after two hours of tossing and turning.

She found Joel sitting on the sofa with his arms on his knees, just staring ahead. Ellie thought about turning back, but instead, she walked closer to Joel. She waited for him to question why she wasn't sleeping. Why was she out of bed at such late hours of the night? But instead, Joel stretched out an arm towards her, inviting her into his embrace. Ellie had never moved quicker. Curling up into his side, Joel wrapped her up in his strong arms. A gentle kiss grazed her forehead. They didn't talk. But they didn't have to. They knew about their demons and why they were up in the first place. Words would just make it cheap. However, their silence and the hold they had on one another spoke volumes.

"Oh, El, no, honey", your voice made the girl jump, snapping her out of her thoughts. You rushed forward, "You'll get sick, love. What were you doing?" After closing the fully open window, you turned to her. Not mad - worried. Ellie didn't remember when she had opened it. Nor did she feel the bitter cold or the snow hitting her cheeks. You quickly moved your sleeve up your palm, dabbing her cheeks dry. "Is Joel back?", Ellie muttered under her breath. Your heart swelled. The past day has been extremely difficult for Ellie. She seemed fine at first, but then her worries seemed to grow at an astronomical speed. Not to mention the look on her face when the snowstorm broke out.

"Not yet, baby. But I'm sure they are making their way back", yet this answer no longer satisfied the longing need to see Joel back home. The patrol shift was supposed to change twelve hours ago. Twelve. And it hadn't because they hadn't come back. What if they never come back? What if no one would find them? What if she would never get to see him again? "Hey, hey, look at me," you said to the sight of Ellie's chest starting to rise more frantically as you gently cupped her face, "Bab, Joel is fine. Look where that man got us! If anyone is capable of coming back in this kind of weather, it's him", yet she just shook her head and said, "How can you be so sure? He could be dying out there", Ellie quickly gestured to the window.

She was extremely protective of you two. She began worrying about the smallest of things, and while it was adorable at first, you could see that it was what led her to overthink. "Who says that I'm sure?", you asked as you sat down on her bed, letting your own eyes wander toward the bitter cold. "I'm as scared. But you have to keep the faith. Emotions like this can quickly eat you up", you said quietly, as Ellie moved to sit beside you. "Remember the rule Joel and I told you about?", you questioned. Ellie nodded her head. You had first told her about it when Joel had to leave for the first time since you got to Jackson. Life in QZ was different, of course. Much more challenging than it was here. There, it was a miracle if you crossed a street without getting hit by someone.

Joel had gone on a smuggling trip that was supposed to be daylong at best. You had just started properly seeing each other then. He didn't come back for a whole week. You were ready to bury him. Weep for the loss of your loved one. Sure that he had either been shot by a soldier or was bitten by an infected. When you heard the door open, you were convinced that you were imagining it. When the street lights illuminated Joel's tired face, you thought that you had gone mad. But then all the emotion came rolling back, and you just strolled up to him, hitting his chest over and over again as you cried.

"You don't make promises of survival, but don't live like you're losing the one you love until you know that you are", Ellie rasped out. It was a sad rule. But the world wasn't the happiest place. "You've got to keep the love strong. He can feel it. Send him love, not fear, baby girl", you said, bringing Ellie closer to your chest as you squeezed her just a bit tighter. An action that she as well returned.

"Now let's go. I have something to show you", Ellie gave you a puzzled look but did not argue back. You had kept this tucked away from her birthday, but considering the situation now, you figured that this might be better timing. You handed Elie a corner of a white sheet, showing her how to tie it on the wooden beam before lifting the self-constructed pole toward the ceiling. Ellie watched you still. It reminded her of the projector in the main hall, but then again, it was a rare occasion that she went there.

"Any clue?", you asked her, but she just shrugged her shoulders. You've seen this side of her. The dissociated, scared girl. It broke your heart, but you were determined to change it. Stepping off the chair, you reached for a box that was placed by the fireplace. Handing it to Ellie and encouraging her to open it. She pulled the ribbon off. Lifting the lid off carefully.

"I've been collecting them for a while, and since you love movies and it's been a while… I thought we could have movie nights at home from now on", you said, watching as she turned different DVDs in her hands. A sense of sadness was still there, and you wondered if it was a good choice to show this to her now. Especially since you knew this would have been something she would have wanted to do with both you and Joel. "Oh, that's my favorite. Little Miss Sunshine. I'm convinced you would love it; it's quite funny, you know," you said, beaming at the sight of your favorite one. "Wanna watch that tonight?", you asked, but Ellie shook her head. "With dad", she muttered, putting the DVD to the side. You felt your own eyes starting to sting.

Reaching for her hand, you kneeled in front of her. Ellie wasted no time as she wrapped her arms around your neck as quiet sobs escaped her lips. You wrapped your hands around her as well, running your palms up and down her back. "Let it out, baby, let it out", you muttered into her hair. "What if I don't get to tell him that I love him?", she choked out, pulling away slightly. "Of course, you will. Many times. He's coming back, angel. You know why?", you asked, looking her in the eyes as she shook her head, "Because you are his whole world, and he just as much wants to tell you how much he loves you".

More tears spilled down Ellie's cheeks. She clung to your words. Letting herself see a glimpse of hope in them. You moved to stand up, letting go of her, and Ellie instantly reached for you again. "I'll be right back", you said gently. Quickly stepping back upstairs to ruffle through the drawers before getting back to the still-crying girl. "Put this on, baby", you told her, handing her one of Joel's warmer winter flannels. One of his favorites. One that he usually wore around the house. One that Ellie instantly recognized. She took it into her hands carefully, as if it was one of her most prized possessions. Pushing the material closer to her nose, Ellie breathed in the familiar smell. Smell that belonged to Joel. Smell that reminded her of home. That was part of her home. Slipping her arms through the sleeves, Ellie wrapped the material around herself. A wash of ease floated through her body. "Ravioli?", you asked, running your fingers through her hair. Hoping to make her eat at least something tonight. "With extra cheese?", Ellie asked, making you let out a quiet laugh, "Say no more, bean".

Empty plates were now laid out on the side table, cleaned to the last bit. A random finding about the galaxy was played on the screen. Ellie's eyes were focused on the movie that played. She seemed calmer. You were laying on your side, with Ellie in front of you. Your arm was protectively wrapped around the girl. She was playing with your fingers casually. Twisting the wedding band on your finger, slipping it off and on at times. You watched her carefully. Nuzzling just a bit closer.

"Do you think there's wind on the moon?", she asked you casually, her eyes not leaving the screen. "I doubt it, but they better have canned macaroni because what will you eat when you get there?", you tickled her side gently, making her chuckle slightly. "Well, isn't the moon just a giant cheese?", "Right, right, so you just need pasta shapes". Ellie shook her head with a giggle, pulling your arm closer to herself.

The room soon turned quiet. The fire was dying down slowly, but you didn't dare to move. Ellie had fallen asleep. It was an uneasy one, but it was better than nothing. You glanced at the door quickly. Letting your mind wander for a moment. You didn't want to let the thought of Joel not coming fully set it, but then again, you couldn't help it. Pushing those thoughts to the back of your head, you settled down yourself. Letting the sound of Ellie's breathing lull you into a slumber.

Joel hadn't stopped thinking about you two ever since the snowstorm started. He feared. Not because he was freezing, but because he knew you two were worried sick. He wished there would have been a way to reach you. Let you know that he was well. He and Tommy stopped by an abandoned farm when it all picked up. He wasn't just wandering through the woods. Joel needed you to know that he was coming back. That he would always come back. "They are fine, Joel,", Tommy cut into the train of thought that Joel was lost in. "You don't know them as I do", Joel argued back. A silence fell around them until Joel raised his hands to blow warm air at his palms, "And I didn't even say goodbye to Ellie", "Joel, she will be fine". Yet Joel knew Ellie was probably far from well. Of course, you were with her. That he was thankful for, and he knew that she would find peace in you, but he hated being the reason why she would be feeling worried. Joel found himself in Ellie. Found a purpose to live.

When he finally stumbled back to Jackson, he didn't give the rest of the crew a second glance. Not caring much about giving reports. Some of them tried to call after him, but Tommy just shook his head and said, "Let him go; he's needed at home". It was an odd feeling. For some reason, Joel found himself wondering. What if you two weren't there? What ifs were the most dangerous questions for a reason. They could make any, even the strongest one, crumble slightly.

Fidgeting with the key, Joel stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind him in an attempt to keep the cold out of the place. The house seemed quiet, but then again, it was past 3 a.m., if not later. Joel shrugged off his damp jacket. Making his way deeper into the house. His stomach rambled; he hadn't eaten properly in over a day. But first, he had to see you two. Had to make sure that you were well. That you were here. That everything was just how he left it the morning he left.

Joel's eyes first fell onto the big makeshift screen that still had a movie playing on it. Different planets were twirling around the screen, illuminating the room in a dim, blueish light. Stepping closer, he looked over the back of the sofa. Heart skipped a beat at the sight. His precious girls cuddled up together. Joel noticed the grip Ellie had on you first. Even in her sleep, she was holding onto you as if you were about to slip away. Then he noticed a slight frown on her face and the flannel that she wrapped herself in. His flannel. Joel's jaw clenched in an attempt to keep his emotions at bay. How worried would she have been if you had offered her his shirt to wear?

Stepping in front of Ellie, Joel kneeled carefully. Brushing his fingers through the stray hair that had fallen onto her face. She stirred instantly as if sensing his presence. Eyes opened ever so slightly, "Dad?", she muttered, Joel's heart nearly jumping out of his chest. He knew that she referred to him like that while talking to you, but she had never said it straight to his face. "Yeah, baby girl, I'm here", Joel said, smiling softly. "Dad…", Ellie almost cried out this time, tiredly reaching out for Joel. "It's okay, I've got you", he muttered in response. Bearing out to embrace her, "Easy sweet girl", he tried to soothe her fears as he held her close to him.

"Don't leave me", Ellie's arms wrapped around Joel's shoulders as she clung to him even more, "Why would I? I'll be here when you wake up; I'll hold you till you fall asleep", her hands gripped him even closer. Joel didn't even think about letting go. He needed to ground himself. Rocking her slightly, Joel smiled when Ellie's breathing evened out a little. "Bring her to our bed", the sound of your voice made him look up. Your eyes were tired, yet you smiled at him as if he was one of the world's wonders.

Joel reached out for your hand, which you took instantly, squeezing it gently. "You two are okay?", he asked before carefully standing up with Ellie in his arms. You gathered up the blanket that kept you two warm for the night, "Now that you're here, we are", to which Joel gave you a knowing look before nodding for you to step up the stairs first. He was here, and he was going to shelter you two from the wildest of storms. More than ready to go that extra mile to keep you both safe.

Joel laid Ellie in the middle of the bed, and you quickly pulled a blanket over her body. "Are you laying on my other side?", Joel asked, and you shook your head. "She needs us tonight, well, you mostly, but I think it's better if she stays in the middle", Joel nodded his head. Coming up to your side, cupping your face as he leaned in to kiss you softly. Breathing you in before wrapping his arms around you for the first time that night, "You seriously need to stop disappearing, or I'll grow gray myself", Joel chuckled slightly at your words, "Can't have that. There's only one space for a silver fox in this house".

[avonne-writes]

Happy birthday! I just wanted to tell you that you're the best fan fiction writer I've come across in 20+ years ♥️

Can I ask for the [coffee] prompt? Gale manages to get hold of some coffee beans in the stalag and makes a cup of real coffee for John. Even better if he has to hide it from all the other inmates ☺️

My dear, this has been in my inbox for months, waiting for me to finally get to it! I'm sorry that it took me this long, especially because this was an original prompt. Thank you so much for your sweet message, I appreciate it so much! 🩷❤️ The drabble I'm posting below is part of a longer fic which will be posted on AO3 when it’s finished. It’s set in my a/b/o au (core idea here, drabble here).

The last fading rays of summer warmth are pushed away by the deepening chill of the night when the sun sets. It’s only September, but the walls of their prison seem to grow colder with each night, and the barbed wire fence looks taller every miserable morning. How long can a bird stay alive with its wings clipped, locked inside a cage that only lets it see the light, never feel it? And is it life at all?

It's been almost a year, and there's no end in sight. Only the mindless, final darkness, the one that beckons Bucky persistently every time the pains of his body and soul grow too heavy to bear without howling. If he and Gale hadn't bonded before their capture, he would've given in to that call already.

But they had, so here Bucky is. Still hungry, still cold, curled up in his bunk because Gale fussed the whole night and pushed him away every time Bucky touched him. Not even his own mate wants Bucky anymore.

“John.” He hears Gale's voice, quiet and warm, close to his ear as Gale leans over him. A hand shakes Bucky's shoulder, then slides down to his elbow in a caress. “The weather is so nice outside.”

“So what?” Bucky grunts, fed up with the morning sunshine that streams in through the flimsy curtains. How dare it tempt him with joy when he can’t even take a breath deep enough to remember freedom.

Gale shakes him again. His scent is so sweet that if Bucky closes his eyes, he can imagine that this is just another morning at Thorpe, and his mate is in a good mood. “Come, walk with me.”

Illusion shattered, Bucky shrugs Gale's grip off. “I'm not your dog.”

There's a pause, then a sigh. Gale squeezes Bucky's arm, then Bucky hears the thud of his boots as he walks away. The door opens and closes with a click.

“You should get it together, man. You're still mates, are you not?” Jefferson's voice rings from behind him, and it pisses Bucky off. What fucking business of his is it if he and Gale are still mates or not? He shouldn't say shit about things he doesn’t understand.

His irritation is enough fire to make Bucky turn around and rise from the bed, but Jefferson is already halfway out the door, scoffing at him, and Bucky isn’t quite angry enough to chase after him. He growls and drops into a chair at their small table, dealing a pack of cards to play imaginary poker against himself. From the corner of his eye, he notices the stares Crank and DeMarco shoot him, but they also go out after a few minutes, leaving him blessedly alone in silence.

For a while, it feels good. Time is beyond his perception, has been for who knows how long now. It's just one of those things that doesn’t seem to matter anymore. He plays and loses against himself, always loses, then just drops the cards and stares at the strip of light crawling across the wooden floorboards. Guilt starts to tickle at the corners of his eyes and throbs at his temples like a headache. He didn’t mean to be so rude to Gale, but last night left him in a mood even worse than usual. He should probably find the strength to go out, join the others and apologize to him. Touch the mark on Gale’s neck if he's still willing to let him. 

Bucky's just about to push himself to his feet when the door swings open and Gale comes back inside. He looks frazzled and pale as a sheet, although it's hard to tell if that's the general effect of the stalag or something new. He puts his hands on his hips and paces around a bit, shooting Bucky quick glances as if gearing himself up to speak.

“What happened?” Bucky asks, frowning.

“Nothing.” Gale licks his lips, then stills for a moment before he walks over to the table with confident steps, all of that sudden unsettled energy swallowed up by his self-control. Maybe, he’s nervous that Bucky will gnash his teeth at him like a feral animal again. When he sits down and meets Bucky's eyes, Bucky sighs.

“Look.” Bucky starts, leaning forward and holding his hand out. He leaves it there even though Gale doesn’t take it. “I'm sorry for this morning. Didn’t mean to lash out like that.”

Gale considers him for a beat of silence, then nods, somber. “Apology accepted.”

He glances down at his lap, then pulls something out of the pocket of his trousers. When he looks at Bucky again, his eyes are soft and loving like they used to be before they learned how fragile the good things in life are. “Do you know what day it is?”

Bucky puffs his cheeks out, his eyebrows quirking up in a way that clearly amuses Gale. “Haven't a clue, doll. I'm wearing my Sunday best though, just in case.”

Gale huffs, shaking his head with a fond twist to his mouth. Something about the movement makes him wince, but he composes himself quickly. “It’s the 8th, John.”

Oh.

A dull pain starts in Bucky's chest and radiates out into the rest of his body. He can’t believe he forgot. He can’t believe that this moment came. The first time he spends 8 September as a prisoner of war, instead of laughing and celebrating with the love of his life.

Gale puts the small package he pulled out of pocket on the table between them. “I couldn’t get you any whiskey.” He says with wry humor that pulls a joyless smile out of Bucky. “But I got you this.”

When Bucky opens the package, the scent of ground coffee hits him like the sweet promise of heaven. It’s the real stuff, he can tell instantly, not the sand and ash concoction they mix up for them on most days. If they brew this, one sip of it will give Bucky enough life for a week. Oh, just the mere thought of its taste, the faint memories still not overwritten by the bland, permeating monotone of the stalag… 

The grin pulling at Bucky’s lips isn’t tainted by manic delusions for once. It’s purely happy, devoid of the shadows that have been haunting Bucky's mind lately, and it seems to make Gale flush in an echo of joy. This small bag of coffee must have cost Gale a lot of rations, but it’s such a perfect gift that Bucky doesn’t have the heart to ruin it by asking to know its price. 

"Happy birthday." Gale says with a small smile, but when Bucky reaches for his hand, he flinches.

It's a telltale reaction that they both know well. Bucky pauses, breathes in deep, takes stock of Gale's wide pupils and the clamminess of his fingers when he touches them. There’s sweat gathering at Gale’s hairline and his cheeks look blotchy. Bucky sees him pulling his other hand back into the sleeve of his fraying sweater, one of the few comforts he has in this wretched place. The gesture makes Bucky's chest go tight.

"Are you in heat?”

The muscles around Gale's jaw clench. He doesn’t need to say a word. The look in his eyes tells Bucky everything.

“Shit.” Bucky says, his voice like a ghost’s. Departing his body as dread creeps down his throat, cold and slimy fear around his heart. His brain, the last to admit defeat, still tries to deny it. It's impossible. God can’t curse them with this now. Their fate can’t be this cruel. “But you haven't had one in a year.”

“I know.” Gale's nostrils flare.

“But -”

“You know I've run out of the goddamn pills.” He snaps, harsh and aggressive in a way he wouldn’t be in his right mind.

There's no denying it any longer. It can't be just a cold or the bitterness of captivity. They have to face this here, now, and somehow make it through.

Bucky lowers his voice placatingly. “I know, Buck, I know.” He squeezes Gale's hand. It’s a relief when Gale squeezes back. “But that was six months ago.”

Tucked inside his sleeve, Gale’s fingers clench around the fabric. His eyes stare at his boots, and he looks so frail and small that Bucky has to look away to compose himself. They're both at the end of their ropes.

“Better weather, more food…” Gale mutters, pulling his shoulders up in a helpless gesture. “I guess my body figured it was enough.”

Bucky strokes the back of Gale's hand with his thumb, feels Gale’s racing pulse at his wrist. “We're gonna get through this.”

Gale nods, but he stares at the far wall. After a moment, Bucky realizes that he’s holding his breath, as if to keep himself forcefully calm and grounded. 

“Promise me -” He starts quietly. “- that if the guards find out, you won’t get yourself killed.”

Bucky's chest tightens. He hears the fear Gale is stomping down on with all his iron willpower. “I can’t.”

Bucky’s hand is yanked forward so suddenly and with such force that Bucky hisses. Gale fists his other hand in Bucky's shirt and snarls at him from an inch away. “Promise.”

The nasty, instinctual part of Bucky aches to fight, to force Gale to back down using his alpha nature to his advantage. But, even with all the things chipping at his sanity, Bucky doesn’t want to do that to him. It wouldn’t work anyway. Not with Gale, especially not when he's in heat.

“They won't find out.” He tells Gale, cupping his scarred cheek and giving him a firm look. “I promise I'll keep you safe.”

The scent in the air turns cloyingly sweet as gratitude washes over Gale, but then he shudders, and the sweetness turns into sour fear. Gale lets go of Bucky's shirt and stands up, gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turn white. When he speaks, the calm tone of his voice is frightening. 

“Don’t worry about me, John. Whatever happens, I can take it.”

[domoz]

drabble trade with @doveywovy with the prompts "mermaids" and "sharing body heat"

The air hangs still and quiet in the way it only does in the morning after it's just snowed.

Probably, Izuna should be thankful for the unseasonable turn in the weather. The cold has driven witnesses indoors and the usually deadly fauna of the swamp he travels through into hiding. He's never liked weather like this, though. The sharpness of the chill makes his jaw ache, and he finds himself paranoid that somehow his own breath will give him away.

Ice has formed a crust on the sides of his little boat and more forms on his oar every time he lifts it from the water. Soon enough he's going to have to stop and scrape it off, before it makes it awkward to navigate. But he’s hesitant when even the gentle drift of the boat sounds too loud in the silence.

There are rivers and lakes in water country, but not widespread enough to make learning to hide beneath them particularly worth it. Even this swamp is probably only two meters deep in most places -- the canopy of the trees above are so thick that they would make a better hiding spot for nearly anyone looking to ambush him.

That's why he's unprepared for the boat to suddenly be pulled out from underneath him. With the whip-crack speed of a predator springing on its prey, two thick arms hook under his shoulders and pull him backwards. He doesn't fall into the water, but into flesh -- slick and freezing cold.  He tries to pull away, instinctively kicks backwards, but whatever his foot meets is a single solid mass, and all he gets for struggling is flipped onto his back, face forced into the rough wood and freezing cold water that's sloshed over the sides. Even his legs aren't left free as something thick and muscled wraps around them.

Whatever it is that's on top of him isn't human -- but it also isn't trying to kill him, or else it could have done so by now. Instead, one arm -- pale white and scaly when Izuna cranes his neck to see it -- moves to wrap around both of his arms while the other moves to start tearing open his clothes. Icy-cold claws rake down his skin and start going through his pockets, tossing knives and coins and food pills all around the deck of the boat and over the side.

 The thing’s grip has become weaker in the meantime, and Izuna uses the chance to free his right elbow backwards -- it earns him more weight pressed down on him, not less, and an angry hiss.

"What kind of useless human doesn't carry matches?" A deep, accented voice growls out above him, "Or even a flint?"

The only thing that keeps Izuna from responding with 'the kind that can spit fire' is the fact that he can't follow it up with a fireball right in this thing’s face. Which means he has a moment to realize that this thing can speak, and if it can understand him then he has another way to worm his way out of this.

"The warm kind." He answers, as understanding about what's happening clicks into place, "The kind that might help you if you let him up and ask nicely."

He punctuates his point by taking as deep a breath as he can manage in his position and warming it with his chakra as he lets it back out. It turns the air around them into warm steam before it drifts away, and Izuna can feel the muscles wrapped around him clench as the thing hunches over as though trying to capture the heat.

There is a long moment of hesitation, then a sigh through clenched teeth. Weight shifts off of his chest, enough for him to push himself up and turn around, though his legs are still trapped under the bulk of -- yes that's a fish tail.

The creature that's caught him is something out of a peasant fairy tale. Mermaid -- or man, as it were -- the sort of creature that people say lures men to death with its beauty. Izuna supposes he can see where they're coming from -- the physique of the top half is almost improbably perfect -- though the effect is lessened both by the fact that the thing has just mugged him and that he's clearly miserable. The man’s hair and eyelashes are as white as the rest of him but they sparkle with ice, and now that his arms aren't down Izuna's clothes they're crossed over his chest in a hopeless bid to preserve warmth.

"I'll only need you to stay until the cold front is gone." The merman informs him, mouth not quite forming correctly around the words. "Then you can carry on as you please."

Which could be days or even weeks -- plenty of time to find an escape. Or, Izuna blows out another warm breath and stops himself from smirking as the merman can't stop himself from leaning into it, plenty of time to make a new friend.

[littlehypnone]

can i request Aether and Little Mountain doing whatever. like, it can literally be anything you desire, add in whoever you want too!

just in the mood for cg aeth and little mount

Thank you!!!

sorry it took me some time afghasgf i hope its alright, just some cuteness with little mountain, cg aether and brief mama dew at the end

also a tag for @tinymoon-beam as promised :3

Aether was a great caregiver, it was widely known. All the littles loved him, and even though each and every one of them had a specific person they preferred when little and that was simply their favorite caregiver, Aether was always up there.

Especially for Dewdrop and Mountain, they’ve known each other for what felt like centuries and were through a lot together. Not many people remember, though, that Aether and Mountain were there, together, even before Dewdrop was summoned. The quintessence and earth ghouls were close, but not as close as Aether and Dewdrop, even if the fire ghoul’s mate was technically Rain, not Aether. The whole dynamic of the pack could seem complicated to outsiders, but at the end of the day they all loved each other so much it hurt.

Anyway, Mountain—dropped—and Aether have been spending their day outside, the little earth ghoul all happy and bright about the weather. It was one of the first days when it was actually sunny and warm enough to go out and enjoy the near-spring.

Mountain has been sitting on a small rock, staring intently at a few snowdrops with a big smile on his face.

“Happy to see them? Hm, sapling?” the quintessence ghoul asked, crouched down next to him.

“Y– yeah! They m– make me think of Dew.”

“Because of the name?”

Mountain giggled and nodded, “But also ‘cause they feel similar.”

“That’s interesting,” Aether smiled at him, starting at the little flowers himself. If he thought about it, they did have something Dewdrop-like about them. He got an idea, then, and pulled out his phone. The quintessence ghoul snapped a quick picture of Mountain grinning at a bunch of flowers and sent it to Dewdrop.

Awaiting a reply, he turned back to the little ghoul, “Wanna stay here with your snowdrops or do something else? We’ve got a few hours before it gets cold.”

“Hmmm…” Mountain thought. “Can we stay?”

“Of course, sapling. You shouldn’t sit on the ground, though. I’ll get someone to bring us a blanket, okay?”

“Okay,” the earth ghoul smiled up at Aether and got back to staring at his flowers. Aether picked his phone back up to do as he said, just in time for Dewdrop’s reply to the picture to come through.

D: hes so cute

A: wanna know what he said about the flowers?

D: sure

A: that they remind him of you. he keeps staring at them just smiling

D: it should be illegal being this sweet

D: how am i supposed to keep up my tough guy persona when all i wanna do is coo over him

A: speaking of which. wanna bring us a blanket so he doesnt sit on that stone? you can coo over him then

D: omw

Aether put down his phone after that, focusing back on Mountain who hadn't moved an inch. One of his hands was loosely laying on the wet ground, fingertips slightly digging in. The quintessence ghoul remembered a conversation they once had, about the earth’s heartbeat and how Mountain could feel it and that he really enjoyed it.

Aether was happy that he was happy, the winter was slowly melting away—literally—and the earth ghoul’s exhaustion and anxiety went with it, just as every single year.

“Aeth?” he spoke up at some point, tilting his head in the quintessence ghoul’s direction. 

“Yeah, sapling?”

“I wish you could hear the earth,” he said, humming and looking back down. “‘cause it's a bit like me and… if you heard it you would feel my… my… uhm… m’ sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay love. The word escaped you?” Mountain nodded, blushing high on his cheeks. He was a sophisticated and well spoken little guy, but words in english tended to run away from him sometimes.

“It’s… I mean– meant meleth,” he explained, using the ghoulish word.

“Ah.” Aether scooted closer to him and brought an arm around him, encouraging the little earth ghoul to lean against his side. And so Mountain did, resting his head on the other’s shoulder and starting to purr quietly. “That would be love in english, sapling.”

“Yeah,” Mountain confirmed.

“What would be love?” they heard from behind them and they both turned, seeing Dewdrop with an armful of a thick blanket. The earth ghoul grinned, eyes bright and escaped Aether’s embrace to run into the fire ghoul’s. “Hi, rosey.”

“Hi, mama,” Mountain mumbled as Dewdrop squeezed him in a hug. Aether took the blanket from him and laid it out by the little patch of flowers. The other two sat down on it, but, to the fire and quintessence ghouls’ surprise, Mountain peeled himself off of Dewdrop and crawled over to Aether. His tail wrapped around Dewdrop’s forearm, but he planted himself in Aether’s lap.

“Alright, then,” the fire ghoul smiled, not taking even an ounce of offense. “Tell me all about the snowdrops, rosey.”

And Mountain did.

[lacrymatoryao3]

Redemption Was Just The Beginning

Chapter 12: February, 1900

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11]

To the world, Arthur Morgan is dead. As he tries to face the idea, in a lush valley in Ambarino he comes face to face with a woman from his past, and they must reckon with an era long gone. Especially when she has secrets of her own.

(Rated explicit simply because eventually there’s smut in this.)

Tag: @photo1030

2,468 Words (AO3 Link)

The weekend that Ana’s birthday fell on was ironically the coldest days of the winter. She made it clear, more than once, she didn’t want anything special. It didn’t matter to her. It was just the day she became another year older. Arthur could relate. He hadn’t paid much attention to his own in many years, He didn’t even really know the day any longer. Sometime in July, from what Ana had told him. He supposed the trip up to the mountains for Arthur Francisco to get his moose, though he was willing to settle for an elk if they couldn’t track the former, was special enough for her.

Every breath Arthur took while outside burned, as if the air was turning his lungs into ice. He trudged to the shelter attached to the stables where the wagon was stored, missing the West more and more with every step. The deserts there were just as unforgiving, sometimes with the dust storms that were as terrible as the blizzards, but there he wouldn’t be freezing his balls off. Worse, it was going to be several more hours dealing with the weather once they were on the trails.

The radiant heat from the stable stoves made his work bearable. The wagon needed its cover put back on before he loaded it so their cargo wouldn’t freeze quite as fast or be blanketed by snow kicked up from the wheels. He started by taking the hoops off the wall, five strong but thin wood arches bent into a U shape. He inserted them deeply into the slots along the edges of the wagon’s walls on both sides. He then drug a large and heavy canvas into the wagon, draping it over each hoop until the wagon bed was completely enclosed. He jumped out and tied the canvas in place on nails pounded into the outside walls until it was tight and unmoving.

He went into the stable and brought out two strong Dark Bay Shires. He put on their collars and myriad of straps before finally attaching them by the neck to the wagon’s yoke. Then, he went back in to tack Josefina, Delfina, and a Bay Frame Overo Criollo yearling that was Ana’s substitute for Enrique – he was too old to handle the long and arduous journey. He hitched them to rings on the sides of the wagon, climbing into the seat and slowly maneuvering to the front of the house.

Arthur Francisco had carried the crates of provisions they needed to survive only a few days in a remote hunting cabin. The boy seemed immune to the cold, just sitting there making sure his gun was ready. Arthur envied him as he shivered taking the crates one after another and shoving them into the back. There was enough food to last longer than they intended to be there, and utensils for cooking and eating. There was good, thick bedrolls and pillows and blankets. There was also various tools the cabin didn’t provide. It made him question how they were even going to fit a large animal with them, but he tried to arrange them in a way so there was enough room.

“Has your mama come back yet?” Arthur asked the boy. He hadn’t seen Ana all morning after breakfast. She had to speak with Mr. Liang to make sure everything was perfectly arranged for him to take over while they were gone.

“She’s in the kitchen.” Arthur Francisco replied.

Arthur sighed with relief going into the house. He took a moment to warm himself up by the fire, then going to the kitchen and get another hot cup of coffee.

Ana had her back turned at the counter of the Hoosier cabinet counter, making sandwiches for the ride. Arthur stopped dead in his tracks in the entryway. He blinked hard. The way she was dressed was something he had never witnessed her in before. Wrapped around her head and shoulders partially covering a dark green, cable knit Donegal sweater was one of her colorful shawls. That wasn’t what stunned him. Instead of a skirt she wearing a pair of pants, decorated on the outward sides of the legs with silver, bow shaped conchos. It wasn’t the fact she was wearing them. He had seen plenty of women in various styles of them before. What changed his demeanor was how tight they were. They hugged her form, accentuating her thighs and backside that had become wider and larger than what they used to be. His eyes traced every curve up and down. It triggered a spark in his brain, rekindling a long dormant flame that burned through him and settled in his lower abdomen.

It took all he had to restrain himself, to control his more primal impulses. His instinct was to walk up to her and grab her, knead her fabric covered flesh. He imagined how soft she felt. It made the heat travel a little lower than he was comfortable with. He shut his eyes for a moment, shaking his head rapidly to knock the thought of molesting her out of his brain. It was wrong to be looking at her the way he was, like a piece of meat and he was a starved dog. He averted his gaze the best he could, going to the kettle and getting the coffee he wanted. Holding the cup, he found he was trembling slightly. He didn’t like that either, the smallest thing working him up.

“I… Don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that.” Arthur managed to mumble.

Ana turned and held their lunches bundled in warmed cloths, “Oh! You’re right! I learned the hard way trudging through snow in a skirt is a terrible idea.”

Arthur swallowed to keep his voice steady, “Think you’ll be warm enough?”

“They’re fur lined.” Ana said, “So I should be fine. Is everything ready?”

“Yes, ma’am. Waitin’ on you.”

Ana gave him the bundles, “I just need to get my coat and hat on. I won’t be long.”

Arthur went back outside to wait for her. Being re-shocked by the cold helped him calm down some. He shoved the bundles through the small hole in the canvas at the back, which Arthur Francisco had closed up when he climbed in. Arthur got into the driver’s seat when Ana joined, climbing up beside him with a quilt that covered both of their legs.

The wheels started to go deeper into the snow as they started to descend upwards into the mountain. Arthur allowed himself to go deeper into distracting thoughts, but they weren’t pleasant ones. He kept being reminded of the mad dash after the disaster at Blackwater. They had taken a long and confusing route. It was an attempt to throw lawmen, bounty hunter, and the Pinkertons off their trail. It succeeded until the spring blizzard hit them, slowing them down. Arthur had barely slept when that happened, being constantly on guard until it was too much for his injured Boadicea. He had to leave the poor, beloved horse’s body somewhere around Tempest Rim.

Then they suffered when young Jenny Kirk died and they had to stop to give her a proper burial near where Spider Gorge flowed from the glacier. All the while Davey Callander was fading faster and faster. At first it appeared he would possibly live when Dutch sent him ahead to find somewhere to rest for a while, and maybe find John and Micah along the way who went some time before him, with Charles’s horse Taima he let Arthur borrow.

If he had been a religious man he’d have said the discovery of the abandoned mining town of Colter was a Godsend. Being in those slowly rotting, drafty, and creaking structures was much better than being battered out in the open. Arthur didn’t expect where they were going to was going to be like that, but he still felt a twinge of those ghosts coming to meet him.

Halfway up the mountain there was a large board nailed to a tree with a message painted by hand in black. It was so weather beaten Arthur had to stop and get down to read it. The sign was just a large slab of untreated plywood. What it once said was something along the lines of: ‘TOWN – ABOUT 8 MILES BEHIND. CABIN – ABOUT 8 MILES AHEAD. APPROVED GUESTS ONLY! OWNER LIVES 3 MILES NORTHWEST OF CABIN’.

It was a good place to rest anyway. From there on the path was only getting steeper upwards for another 2 hours. There everyone answered the calls of nature. When they finished and washed their hands with the snow they gathered back into the wagon and ate their sandwiches. Despite the hours in the chill they were still semi-warm, just two thin slices of bread filled with a thick mixture of shredded chicken and hard boiled egg seasoned with curry powder and a paste made of spiced stewed tomatoes.

It was enough to keep them going the rest of the way, which became considerably slower as the snow piled up higher and higher. The wheels creaked threateningly and the horses – even the ones that weren’t hauling the wagon – complained loudly every few minutes. Arthur looked around, hoping he was going the right direction. In the forest be found a billow of smoke rising above the trees. As he drove closer, the trail led them into a clearing next to a mostly frozen river. Sitting on a high stone foundation to avoid snow piling up against it was the cabin. It was small and primitive, but looked sufficient for a weary traveler. It had the outhouse not too far, connected by a covered walkway, and a stable to shelter the horses and wagon from the harsh elements.

Arthur got as close to the recently cleared stairs as he could. They could finally stretch their legs more while carrying everything inside. It was a small space. There was only enough room for a dining table, a dry sink, a table counter and a single cabinet above it on the wall. To cook Ana would need to use the fireplace. The only place to sleep was a loft, only accessible by a narrow ladder. Everything was for necessity, not for comfort.

Ana started adding more logs to the fire. She pulled out some cans from one of the crates and picking out what type of pot to cook with. Arthur Francisco was tasked with putting their bedrolls into the loft, giving Ana and Arthur a moment alone, which was to be a rare occasion with the trip.

She motioned to him to come closer to her, “Do you feel up to taking Arthur Francisco fishing in the river? There’s good salmon in there.”

“I suppose.” Arthur replied.

Ana reached into a hidden pocket in her coat. He didn’t realize she had brought the two photos from her desk with her. When she gave them to him, he knew what she wanted him to do.

“I think it’s time.” She said, “However you feel like doing it.”

Arthur took a deep breath. He climbed halfway up the ladder to call for Arthur Francisco, who came down and eagerly grabbed the fishing equipment. He went out ahead to look for a good spot along the river that had visible flowing water. When Arthur joined him, he made a fire to keep at least some of the cold away.

Arthur Francisco baited both rods. He crouched in the snow, casting his. In the ice he could see fish swimming around. He set his sights on the large salmon. There were other species who also became interested in the bait, and interesting thing Arthur Francisco did was flick the line a few times to scare them away.

Arthur didn’t have a system like the boy did. He didn’t see himself as a good fisherman, but he also wasn’t terrible at it. He managed to be more successful with it the year before. He managed to start teaching Isaac many years ago. He taught Jack Marston, though the little boy wasn’t old enough to have the attention span for very long. Arthur simply cast the line as far as it would go, making a quick jolt of the line and waited.

Either way, it took a little while until one of them got a bite. Arthur Francisco’s method was more successful, or he had more patience than Arthur. From the clear icy water they watched a Sockeye nibble at his line, before taking a bite that hooked him. Arthur Francisco stood, pulling the rod upward and pulling it in the opposite direction of the struggling fish. When it became exhausted, he reeled it in. Inspecting it the salmon was a good weight and maturity, at least 5 pounds. The head was a green and gray with orange eyes, and the rest of its body a bright red.

Arthur patted the boy on the back, “Good job! Your mama will be very happy with that!”

Arthur Francisco laid the fish in the snow and went over to warm himself by the fire. Putting his rod away, Arthur decided it was now or never to talk to him. He sat down on a tree stump and took out the photos from Ana.

“Hey, Arthur…” He said gently, “Come here for a minute. I need to tell you somethin’.”

He waited until Arthur Francisco sat next to him and continued, “Now, I ain’t good with all this, but your mother and I were talkin’ about it for a while. We decided it was time for you to know about your father.”

He showed Arthur Francisco the pictures and explained them the best he could.

“You mother and I lost our parents when we were pretty young. So, to get by we ended up doin’ some pretty bad things. It took me longer to get out of them than her. Durin’ the time these were taken we had been in a relationship of sorts. A couple of years later she got pregnant with you and decided to leave to give you a better life than we had. She did a damn fine job of it too.”

He braced himself for whatever reaction the boy could have. He could see the gears turning in Arthur Francisco’s mind through his eyes as he gazed at the photos, piecing together that the man in them with Ana and the man sitting with him was indeed his father.

Arthur Francisco looked at him, “Really?”

Arthur nodded, “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you growin’ up. I want to make up for it… Do better… If you want that.”

Arthur Francisco jumped up and threw his arms around Arthur. He took it as an acceptance from the boy.

[mxssingmemories]

hot chocolate // spencer reid x reader

summary: after a long case, the jet ride back home is eventful. in which hot chocolate is spilled and gossip is shared.

wc: 1.1k~

warnings: none!

After spending two weeks in New York, you had to admit that the interior of the jet was comforting. The case was a long one that took a toll on everyone-the fact that it had been a child case made it worse. Hotch had already decided that everyone would have two days off when you arrived back. At that moment, you didn’t think you had ever been more grateful to have him as your boss.

The minute you got on the plane, you fell into the nearest seat you could spot. The exhaustion was worse than you initially thought, and the cold weather was not helping. Normally you wouldn’t mind it. Winter has always been your favorite season ever since you were a little kid. Every time it snowed, it reminded you of when you were younger; making snow angels, snow cream, and ice skating were your core memories. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Spencer greeted you as he flopped down into the seat next to you. You smiled at him as you placed your head on his chest. It was admittedly very cold in the jet. Morgan and Garcia were sharing a blanket across the aisle, Prentiss huddled under her own blanket as she stared out of the window. Penelope made eye contact with you and wiggled her eyebrows. With an eye roll, you looked away, pointedly ignoring the giggle it caused from the woman.

“Hey, Spence. You comfy?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at the placement of his head. His cheek was resting on the top of your hair, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t give you butterflies. He nodded at you, flashing a toothy grin when you snorted. You had just started to drift off when a tap on your shoulder rudely awakened you.

“I got hot chocolate for you two lovebirds!” Penelope beamed. True to her word, she had two steaming mugs of chocolatey goodness in her hands.

“Garcia, you are an angel,” you muttered, taking a mug out of her hand with a thank you. Spencer did the same with a smile.

“Make sure to blow on it!” he cautioned, warily eyeing the steam coming off of the top. Over the years, you’d learned not to test this side of him. You distinctly remember the first time his “mother hen” side showed. He’d told you to drink more water on a case in Arizona in the middle of the summer. As stubborn as you were, you refused, and ended up passing out in the field later. Spencer had walked off with tears in his eyes, and that was enough for you to vow to never do anything like that again.

“Delicious,” you hummed as you took a sip, “How’d you make this, Pen?” you asked curiously, your eyes peeking out from the giant mug.

“Magic,” she teased. She waved around an imaginary wand, causing everyone on the plane to chuckle. She reached behind her back and pulled out a wrapper. To your disappointment, she didn’t give you long enough to read it, sticking it in her dress pocket almost as fast as she got it out.

Spencer’s eyes met yours as he brought the mug up to his mouth, his face turning from skepticism to bliss in less than five seconds.

“This is actually really good, Garcia. Is that the Starbucks one from last year?” he asked nonchalantly, and your eyes immediately widened. Within seconds, the plane went dead silent. All eyes turned to Spencer, therefore the both of you as you were currently using him as a body pillow. You swore that your cheeks had caught on fire. You could only wait for the realization to occur with the team, Spencer’s words making it inevitable.  JJ and Emily looked back and forth between you two as they did their best to understand what was happening, but of course Penelope had already figured it out. Her mouth was wide open as she stared at you incredulously. 

“When were you going to tell me?!” she squealed, jumping up out of her seat as she ran at you. In the process you flinched, falling back onto Reid. You can’t quite recall what happened after that, but one thing led to another and Spencer’s (very much hot, thank you) hot chocolate spilled down your shirt.

“Shit!” you screamed, effectively attracting all the attention to you as you jumped up and took your shirt off immediately. To her credit, Penelope was quick on her feet, back in what seemed like two seconds with a roll of paper towels. She apologized profusely as she walked you to the plane’s bathroom. 

“I am so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you flinch, oh my god I’m so sorry-” she rambled, effectively cut off by the hand you forced over her mouth. 

“It wasn’t that hot, Pen. It’s fine. I’m not mad!” you reassured her as she paced in the bathroom with you. You did your best to get everything off of you as fast as possible. Unfortunately, the drink had done a lot of damage. The whole front of your dress shirt was a dark brown, as well as your tank top. You thanked whatever gods were out there that your pants were safe from the catastrophe. Flashing a smile at Penelope, you stepped out of the bathroom. Everyone glanced up as you walked out in just a tank top, and you could've sworn Spencer stared a little longer than everyone else, his eyes scanning your face and then landing on your tank top. They lingered there for a minute before he coughed and looked away, causing you to playfully roll your eyes at him. Everyone was doing their best at trying to figure out what to do, but Derek broke the silence.

"Don't worry about it. We'll get you a new shirt as soon as we land, just relax, okay? You want my jacket? Or do you want pretty boys?" he teased, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks as you glared at him.

You refused to look at Spencer as he handed you his jacket, throwing it on as you stared at the floor. If anyone asked, you wouldn't say a word about how happy that simple action made you.

He welcomed you with open arms as you settled back against him, the exhaustion from the day taking power over the embarrassment. You pretended not to hear Derek snickering as Spencer wrapped his arm around you. Slowly but surely the gentle rhythm of the jet lulled you to sleep. Right before you drifted off, though, you could've sworn you felt his lips against your forehead. A little, distant part of you prayed that it wasn't your imagination as you let sleep take you.

“Is anyone gonna tell me how Reid knew about the hot chocolate?” JJ whispered, the whole team giggling when your eyebrow twitched in your sleep.

[catyo90]

Secluded: Thorin x F!Virgin!Reader

Warning: Smut, Virgin!Reader.

It had been only a few weeks into the long venture back home into the Blue Mountains, unfortunately, the weather had turned south and the mountains were too treacherous to continue on foot, luckily however you both had managed to find a secluded cave inside the side of the mountain.

It seemed to be an old passageway that was used to transfer water through the mountains to the village below now it was nothing more than a flooded cave. You looked out to Thorin who helped you move into the cave covering himself in the fur cloak. He went toward the back of the cave seeing how the further in the less likely the cold could reach.

"There is a stairway leading down. If we follow it we should be able to rest easy tonight."

"Let's hope there is some rope or torches to start a fire...otherwise we won't be able to eat."

Thorin offered you his hand and helped you down the stairs which led to a room that seemed to once hold equipment but now it was barren. Luckily the water had not reached the leftover wood.

You sneezed and noticed Thorin was coughing, the cold rain and sleet had chilled you to the core. The fur on his cloak was almost frozen and your skin was slightly pink from the chill in the air. Quickly you grabbed some of the wood and used some flint to start a fire, luckily the opening from the stairs gave enough air for the flame to not die out.

The sudden feel of a hand on your shoulder made your skin grow warm and a bit of a flutter in your heart. It was no secret to any of the others that you felt deep emotions for Thorin. You were always afraid to let it be known, you felt that he never really wished to be in a relationship or at least had no interest in anyone for the moment. But you always saw him in a different way than the others and he in turn did with you.

Many saw him as a prince or a warrior, someone who was supposed to be regal and a symbol to all as one of the best. But not to you, he was simply Thorin, the man you loved faults and all. In all the years you knew him from a boy to now, you never saw him as a prize to be won.

You watched as he placed one of the blankets over you and turned around.

"You...you should undress, we'll both get sick if we stay in these clothes. You can use the blanket to cover yourself when you're finished."

He nodded to you with a small smile. As he walked to the other side of the cramped room and began disrobing. Immediately you looked away, as much as you wished to look you knew it would be wrong without his permission. You gripped the blanket a little tighter as you removed the wet clothes underneath, you felt the chill from your skin slowly disappear as the heat from the fire and the idea of being nude in front of Thorin didn't help. You clung the blanket closer to your body blushing at the idea.

You could hear him shifting as you saw he was covered in a fur cloak around his body as well. He sat next to the fire and gestured for you to join him. You sat beside him adjusting your legs so they were a bit closer to the fire. The warmth from the fire made you smile a bit as you enjoyed the silence. You looked to the side to see he was lost in thought. It's been hard these last few years and you could see it on his face.

"You should get some rest Thorin..." you said gently as he came out of his trance and looked at you.

"I can't...haven't been able to sleep for some time."

"Thorin..."

"Every time I close my eyes I see that slug of a dragon, my kin...everything that has happened."

You said nothing as he hit the ground with his fist in frustration. He was always on the front, trying to save anyone he could, you knew if it was possible he would have done everything to save every soul on that mountain. You hated seeing him like this. In the heat of the moment, you brought your arms around his chest, carefully minding his nudity still looking away as you brought a gentle hand down to his fist gently squeezing it for comfort.

"You always do this...you always put yourself down when you don't deserve it."

You nudged your head into his cloak and felt his body slightly became a bit tense from the sudden affection.

"You have done every single way possible to help them, how many lives did you save that day leading them to safety?..."

The small moment of silence was brought on with Thorin bringing a hand to yours at his chest enjoying the warmth from it.

"You've done more than enough Thorin... So please don't say such things...it breaks my heart to see you like this."

Thorins eyes were fixed on the fire ahead but his thoughts were there in that moment as he turned his whole body to you. You moved from him slightly as you noticed his eyes were fixed on yours, your whole body became just a tad bit warmer from it. You closed your eyes at the feeling of his heartbeat, strong and true.

"Y/n..."

"Every hardship and burden you must carry...you dont have to do it alone."

You gave a quick smile as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders bringing you closer. The cloaks around both of you falling from both of you, he didn't seem to care though and you couldn't lie. Neither did you.

You felt him gently lift your hand to his lips, your breathing quickened as his kissed the back of it. You couldn't help but smile as his face showed a calm expression as he turned his attention to you.

"Your smile brings me so much joy. It is only with you that I feel like this."

"Thorin..."

You brought your other hand to his face as you inched closer and closer, Thorin however was the first to close the gap between the two of you. His lips pressed against yours, they were so warm. The touch from his hands holding you closer, skin against skin making you both feel as hot as a dragons fire. The cold air which was at first unbearable, now a welcome relief.

You couldn't think for a moment as his lips left yours. If was like heavens themselves took over in that one moment. You smiled to yourself as you laid your head down on his chest feeling his heart beat quickening. You felt him lay both of you down onto the now fur covered ground holding you close.

This time when he was close to you he decided to take a risk and see if you were really interested in him by putting his hand on your lower back. You brought your gaze up to met his, but then blushed and turned your gaze away. Soon you looked up again, moving in closer and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tighter against his body. You wanted to get even closer to him, but it wasn’t possible. He caressed you, but you wanted more and he knew it.

Thorin moved his head away for a moment as he smiled at the sight before him. He leaned closer and kissed you tenderly. The kiss made shivers run through your body. His soft lips on yours were almost too good to be true. He caressed your lower back which made you push your hips closer to him. You wanted him so badly, in a way you had never wanted anyone else before. The kisses quickly became more intense but then Thorin broke the contact.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked. He had to hear you say it, even though the way you touched him didn’t leave much to speculate.

“Yeah”, you said eagerly. “But you should know I’m not…experienced.”

“You've never laid with anyone?”

It was definitely a surprise to him. He knew many suitors asked for your hand in the past but to know that he would be your first. It made a sense of pride but also protective instincts to arise.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle”, Thorin reassured with a soft voice. “I promise.”

You nodded and gave him a smile. You felt Thorin’s gaze wandering over your body making you blush and almost wanted to cover yourself. His hands on your waist were warm, his touch gentle and confident, but you felt insecure.

“You are so beautiful, y/n”, Thorin murmured, making the red deepen on your cheeks.

You weren't just shy about him looking at you, but also you looking at him. Even though you didn’t dare look at him openly, you couldn’t help but admire his body from time to time. Somedays in the training grounds you would catch a glimpse of him, but you never looked too long, you always felt it was wrong somehow.

You brought your hands to his chest, you could tell that your touch was making him more aroused by the second and your longing was slowly growing more and more. When your hands wandered from his chest to his face, he pulled you against himself and kissed you passionately once more. You answered the kiss, relieved that he could no longer look at your body without hindrance.

You wished this moment would last forever. It didn’t, of course, and after a few kisses Thorin started to move downwards again, pressing kisses on your neck as he fondled your breasts. The kisses became more passionate by the second a he brought a hand down passing over your pussy, you could feel his fingers slowly and gently rubbing your most sensitive area, slow soon turned to fast as the nerves made your whole body almost go into shock.

The feeling of two fingers entering your made you gasp out loud as you gripped onto even tighter than before leaving red claw marks along his back.

After a few seconds you felt your pussy pulsating as you moaned and squirmed as the warm waves went through your body. When the orgasm subsided you reached out to Thorin. You wanted him inside you now , you wanted another orgasm like that.  

"More?" Thorin asked teasingly, caressing your inner thighs with a small smirk on his face.

You couldn't speak, you could only manage a nod as he guided his cock to your entrance. 

You moaned again as you felt him inside you, filling you up, stretching you out. He leaned over you and kissed you as he began to move. Your hands wandered over his skin. Your needy touch turned him on even more, if possible. He tried to be as gentle as possible even though he wanted to be more rough with you.

Thorin pressed kisses on your neck, whispered among his breaths how beautiful and desirable you were, how much he wanted you and how good it felt to be with you. His deep voice made your head swim and shivers run down your spine. The cold winds nipped at both of you as the lingering flames spread the shadows of every moment onto the walls. Your fingers delicately glided down and traveled between the grooves and valleys of his abs, left hand tracing shapes on his arms and using your right hand to stroke his lower abs softly.

Looking up you started to admire the curves and angles of his face, each divot and scar on his body of varying depths, either from orcs or friendly sparring. You started caressing his face, moving his hair away from his forehead to plant slow, meaningful kisses on it. Your kisses started soft, but quickly grew heavy. Letting your lips linger on his cheeks and jawline before gliding further down, shuffling your body so you were able to kiss his chest.

“mn, oh...ngh..”

Your hands kept clutching at his body for any support, not any help to your body violently rocking to the hard stone floor. You could see it in his eyes, he wasn’t gonna stop anytime soon, his muscular body shadowed over yours. You just couldn’t keep control of your self, his cock fucking into you even rougher than before made you spew your moans which echoed against the stone walls.

"Mahal, Y/n…" he murmured. He slipped a hand between both of you and gently slid a finger over your folds, rubbing your already slick clit. He kept going, giving you an intense second release in close succession, and you clung to him. Breathlessly, you kissed him, shaky with aftershocks of the two successive intense orgasms.

"Thorin…" You threw your leg over him, reaching for his cock with a gentle, sure hand. He turned under you, so you were now straddling him, as he ran his hands up your thighs, squeezing them in lustful appreciation. You brought a gentle guiding hand to your center, and he easily entered inside you once more, stretching and filling you in the way that you so desperately craved. You moaned softly, He started slow, your hands planted on his chest for stability, he was completely enveloped in your heat. He reached up to touch your soft round breasts, making you bit your lip pleasure. His cock hit deep inside, as you rode him that made you want to cry in pleasure, as you raised and lowered yourself onto his cock in time with his thrusts.

He dropped his hands to your hips and began to thrust up into you faster and harder, causing you to lean back, your hands now on his firm thighs as you met his thrusts.

"Oh…don't stop, please don't stop…" you pleaded and begged, not that he would have stopped as long as you still wanted this. Your clit was getting just the right amount of contact. Suddenly, you threw your head back, mouth open in a silent scream as you came a third time, and he picked up his pace, close to the edge himself.

"Mahal, Y/n…you feel so good…!" He swore as he came hard inside your core, letting out almost an animalistic growl. You laid down at his side, his arm cradling your naked form as your leg hooked over his thigh and as you placed a gentle hand over his chest. You smiled as you felt him tugging the blankets back over both of you, and with it came the exchange of gentle, sweet kisses. And before long the secluded cave soon became comfortable as you laid together, both warm and blissful to have each other. You felt Thorin lean his head down kissing your forehead.

"Are you alright...i apologize if i was too rough."

"I'm fine...a little sensitive but..."

You sentenced was cut short as is thumbs savored the soft skin of your cheekbones, his fingertips explored the delicate curves of your ear. For once in his life, the unspeakable, glorious joy that overflowed in his heart simply left no room for concern of anything or anyone else in the world. He brought his lips to yours once more, this time it was passionate and pure.

He shifted carefully, one hand sliding down to the small of your back, pressing you impossibly close to him. The smell of him was becoming enticing with every second.

No words were needed. You knew, and he knew this feeling. This want to stay and to never leave each other. To feel the heartbeat of the other grow quicker with every look given. The feeling of safety and compassion was all he felt in this moment with you. A moment he wished could last forever, but for now. Until the storm has calmed. That would be enough. Secluded in each others arms was more than you could ever wish.