#vegetation boom

[propheticpanickingnerd]

My personal characterization of Jason filled with Lazarus Pit Rage™ is something like:

Tim, Red Robin, comes to the Cave after a very physical fight, leaving him with some joints not bending the right way. Jason, the only person already there, is the one to give him medical assistance, since leaving dislocated joints like that isn't the most painless process.

Jason, though verbally begruginly, helps him up to the cot and starts working on placing them back. One particular scream gets past the cloth in Tim's mouth, being that he refused being locally anesthesiated – which is also malpractice – sending Jason into unwanted memories of the smell of blood and gunpowder, sounds of screams and laughter.

From Tim's prespective, Jason sets his shoulder, stills, and proceeds to grip his forearm so hard he believes he just fractured both bones, pulling and pulling until the shoulder pops back out.

Tim screams out, screams for Jason to stop, struggles to let go. Jason, however, isn't doing any of that, he is still for most part, fixated in a point behind Tim. Tim knows he isn't there, if he were genuinely hurting him, he would've had multiple insults to prove him mentally present. All he can do is calm himself down, as his arm is wrecked so badly he is considering visiting space and looking for a healer.

A ping sounds in the Cave, probably from the batcomputer, it is nothing but a harmless ping, no emergency signal or call from those active. Probably a confirmation of apprehended wrongdoers.

It snaps Jason out of it. He lets go, looking down at his work and back up at Tim's agonising expression. Jason then, not unlike before, loses himself again. Instead taking a more clinical stance, setting the shoulder back and passing a portable x-ray over the arm, executing the procedures purely from muscle memory.

He leaves Tim with his wounds patched up and both arms in slings, one of them heavier than the other. Even leaving a motor wheelchair that they have in case of graver wounds, which works perfectly in this situation.

Tim, decides then, like a fool, not rest and follow Jason. Knowing he woukd rather cool down alone, but not really allowing him to be lonely.

[fake-ascension]

haven't posted any cooking photos in awhile........... things got wacky when my mom was diagnosed with cancer back in december and since my daily schedule was so inconsistent i stopped cooking so much :(

but things are coming back to normal (sorta) and i made this vegetable soup yesterday !!!!!! :D the recipe used V8 juice as part of the broth base and it was SO good.....

[shitty-check-please-aus]

it’s so important to let go of what you’re “supposed” to do and just do what actually works for you

[kindlyfunkn]

i told my sister she should not cough so much when trying to throw up bc it can increase chances of aspiration, for more success she could start heaving from the stomach

"yeah well i dont know how to do that🙄"

what? heave? yse your abdominal muscles? are you fucking stupid?

[lightsmortalenemy]

Realising I have extremely vivid memories from before 11 but THE MOMENT I join secondary school I have maybe five vague blurry memories at best like-- tell me secondary school traumatised you without telling me secondary school traumatised you.

[coollikeacaterpillar]

so apparently people in the rest of the world don't use honey and maple syrup interchangeably you guys are missing out

[httpscameron]

ill simon

simon always gets ill the day he comes back from deployment, for however long working himself to the bone and the moment he gets home and lets himself relax, boom hes ill.

he doesnt like being ill, he deems it emasculating. he spends the first two days back from deployment in his flat trying anyway to stop being so ill, he goes on about five walks with riley because fresh air helps right? hes drinking litres upon litres of water until the next day he will admit defeat and lay in bed. thats just how he is.

when you his little sunshine came along and you were there to witness his little ill spell, he felt embarrassed that you saw him so weak.

but when you immediately start doting on him he will have to admit its kinda sweet. you cook him full hearty food with as many vegetables you can put in there, keeping him hydrated, a nice new box of tissues next to the bed and so on.

he resisted at first but you were stubborn so he had to end up laying in bed watching tv and doing all the stuff he wouldnt normally do.

as a result he was only ill for a day or two instead of the usual three or four. when he gets back to tip top shape he of course thanks his lovely little girlfriend in ways you can imagine.

masterlist

[babypudge]

Your girlfriend seemed to get a kick out of telling you how “incredibly hot” she thought the weather guy on the local news was. When you brought it up, she admitted that it excited her how jealous and grumpy you got every time she said it. Not that you could do much about her excitement… but that was "okay,” she reassured you. It was understood that you were trying to move past your infantile desires in the bedroom and become “a real man” for once in your life, despite having failed to reach that goal thus far. Little did you realize that all of her needs were already being more than satisfied - by that same weatherman. Not only that, but he also found your jealousy and inability to “seal the deal” to be a massive turn on - and neither of them had any intention of giving up the source of their mutual stimulation once they decided to become a couple.

Now, the forecast calls for a strong chance of “Mommy” and “Daddy” fooling around on the sidelines while the old ladies at the farmer's market gather around your stroller to coo and fuss over your precious ruffled bubble-romper as you pull against the restraints in a futile attempt to avoid having your cheeks pinched, a 100% chance of tearfully gagging in your highchair on so many heaping spoonfuls of Gerber Vegetable Chicken that you're thankful when it's time for your "dessert" of Apple Banana Medley and expected lows of Daddy leading you by the hand up to the counter at McDonald's to ask them for the men's room passcode so he can "get this lil' stinker out of his dirty diaper" after you made "boom-booms" in the playplace ballpit (and then he made you use the slide.) Most importantly there's the ever-increasing downpour in your southern region, spurred on by half-hourly bottle feedings that are expected to cause catastrophic damage to your bladder control and lead to ceaseless flooding incidents that can never be prevented, only contained.

Even though your new baby life was once something out of your wildest fantasies, most of the time you’re still grumpy. Grumpy about being woken up by ceaseless thumping in the night because Daddy made sure your crib shared the same wall as the headboard of the “grown-ups” bed, grumpy about the “manny” he hired so Mommy wouldn’t need to change your diapers or give you baths anymore and very grumpy about him casually asking the virtual assistant on his phone “Tell me more about how to measure a boy for a chastity cage” loud enough for you to hear over the Wiggles album that was set on repeat in your headphones on the drive to see "Daniel Tiger LIVE!" These trends are expected to continue with increased intensity in the coming weeks, months and years - with little to no relief.

[viridescentelf]

In your debt

Young druid Halsin x Reader

Ever since I saw the young Halsin art above by @ozumii-fucking-wizard, I have been obsessively staring at his gorgeous damn face (thank you so much for this version of him, I am hopelessly in looooooove)!

Enjoy young Halsin healing you~

Part 2

Warning: Blood, Violence, Swearing

-----

You ventured through the forest, wanting to escape the loud bustle of the city. Carrying your heavy instrument on your back, you strode through the man-made trail into the thicket, to your usual spot you decided was your permanent hideaway.

You knew the forest was home to a druidic group, who adopted young lost children. You never encountered any druids on your many trips here, but you knew they were aware of you: sometimes you found some foraged fruit and vegetables at your spot, packaged neatly with strings or in small sacks. Someone left you these gifts. You assumed they liked your music, since you often came into the woods to practice some new songs you were crafting. You weren’t sure if the children were this fond of you or if it was some druid who kept leaving trinkets. It didn’t matter really, you were grateful nonetheless.

Today, you hadn’t found anything left for you. This wasn’t too unusual; you never ventured here expecting to receive anything. You let the strand of your instrument slide down your arm, placing it next to your seat by the large oak. It was clear this spot wasn’t really used by others, the print of you sitting in the dirt only really matched yours. It always seemed undisturbed, like you left it, with the occasional gifted sack placed there.

You gazed at the lake, where fireflies danced happily over the dawn lit water. It was another pleasant morning and you took a deep breath, enjoying the lovely fresh air you rarely got to inhale. Baldur’s Gate was lively and exciting, but you were always drawn back to this place.

You started plucking the strands of your lute, absentmindedly, taking in the sunrise as the rays warmed your face. You felt the trees sway with your music, as if they were welcoming you back. The forest seemed more alive here and had a distinct personality. Childlike glee vibrated through the branches. The tranquility of this area made you sink back into the tree, leaning against its strong body.

Something boomed in the distance. You sat up with a jolt. Normally, the only sounds you heard here were twigs breaking or the wind whizzing through the glade. You looked around, trying to locate the source of the noise.

Another blast. This time, there was shouting that followed. Some sounded panicked, some aggressive.

You got to your feet, frantically, staring into the distance where you thought the brutal noises were ebbing from. There were screams now. And they sounded young.

Without really thinking, you started sprinting towards the cries. Clutching your lute in one hand at your side to keep it from knocking your hip, you darted through the brush. There were children screaming and wailing, getting louder and louder the faster you ran towards them. A loud, ugly voice was yelling at them.

There were other more distant shock waves bellowing: an ambush? Were the druids under attack?

You heard the angry voice thunder in front of you, as you slid behind a birch tree.

“Move it, you little shits! Or I’ll cut yer hands off!”, a goblin with a bloody handprint across his face snarled at a group of mixed children, who were huddled together, sniveling and trembling uncontrollably. He pointed a curved, dirty blade at their backs, as they sheepishly shuffled along.

“Can’t we just kill them and drag their corpses? They’re so fucking slow…” Another smaller goblin groaned, walking in front of the hostages.

“No, the drows say they need new slaves. We need ‘em alive,” he pushed a small tiefling in front of him, who let out a terrified shriek, “Faster! Before the stinkin’ druids catch up.”

They passed the birch tree, which was rooted opposite a cliffside. The rapids below reverberated up, making it hard to hear clearly.

Goblins were attacking the druids, the far sounds of crashing and clanging meant a fierce battle was commencing.

“They won’t be able to hold them back much longer, Izick,” the short goblin at the front was standing close to your hiding spot. You peered through the branches and saw the poor souls quivering wildly. Their faces were cut and stained with blood. You deduced whoever was watching over them had been murdered in front of them.

You weren’t a fighter. But you couldn’t let them take the children.

The small goblin turned to face the group; his back facing the tree. You grasped your lute hard, making the skin around it paler. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for guaranteed pain.

This was an expensive instrument, too.

You pounced out of the woods into the clearing and slammed the lute onto the head of the unassuming goblin. It broke over his fat head, but the velocity had done its job. He fell to the side with a loud thud, letting out a last, gurgled groan. You kept hitting him with the remaining pieces of your improvised weapon, making sure he was dead. The blood pooled around him.

Izick was already running towards you, having pummeled through the victims without care, who all fell to the ground and held their heads to the dirt, whimpering and horrified.

You dodged the first swing of his blade, but knew instantly this wasn’t a fight you could win. You had nothing to fight with, except your fists, and you dared not get close to him as she flourished his disgusting weapon.

The goblin roared as he jumped towards you. You collided and felt a scorching pain in your stomach. He had gotten you, deep in your belly. You screamed. You both fell to the ground near the edge of the cliff. The goblin tried to pull the blade back out while he sat on top of you, but it was stuck. Izick cursed at you, although no insult really reached your ears. Your entire body centered around the searing wound in your abdomen.

The children were petrified. You saw the tears roll down their faces as they watched the pathetic scuffle. If you failed, they would suffer endlessly. You couldn’t allow him to kill you, before you saved them.

He lifted his fists to pummel you. His face was etched with determination, he would beat you to death if he had to.

Your arm moved instinctively. You grabbed his collar, before his fists met your face, and leaned your entire body weight to the side, where the roaring river called to you. It was the only way.

You felt the wind whistle past your ears as you fell with the goblin in your grasp to the depths. You both crashed into the icy water and you felt him drift away, as the muffling water slowed everything. Your body was being pulled to the side, the current dragging you uncaringly down the river. It pulled you violently from one side to the other, not tiring of its new toy, pushing you up and down like a ball. Weightless, you floated and let it take control, unable to do anything else.

Your thoughts silenced. The cold of your surroundings embraced you and you had no strength to resist. The pulsating pain from the blade kept you awake, barely.

After a while, you felt yourself bob up, your head bracing the surface. The sudden blaring of the river crashed into your ears as you gasped for air. Your eyes blurred. The water seemed to settle into a lazy tempo. You didn’t know how, but you kept your head above water. You saw red puddles waft after you.

The current carried you to a small bank, discarding you there as it continued on. You lay on the muddy earth, motionless, staring at the piercing blue sky that seemed to beckon you towards it. The blade still stuck out of you, you saw it move up and down as you breathed shakily. You couldn’t keep your eyes open much longer.

Your heavy lids fell, darkening everything. The pain slowly left, too.

You were dying. And you were accepting it.

Before the complete darkness, you felt tiny hands pressing on your aching belly. That spot felt warm and kind, as the last of your wits evaded you.

Quiet. Emptiness. Nothing.

Halsin’s lips clasped yours, as he breathed into your mouth, holding your nose. The moss on your puncture was absorbing the excess blood. The vile blade lay discarded to the side, already carefully pulled from you.

You convulsed and coughed out, life filling your face first and then gradually seeping into your weak limbs.

You blinked hard and opened your weary eyes.

Halsin met your gaze and placed a hand on your cheek, as his other etched glyphs into the air.

“You’re going to be alright…”, he said softly, as a green mist appeared suddenly from his hand, which he lowered down to your injury.

“Breathe…”, he commanded gently. You obeyed and took a shaky breath. Your body felt heavy. Even breathing was difficult.

You felt his hand pressing on your abdomen. Whatever he was doing, the agony was quieting because of it slowly. You watched him as he attended to your mortal wound.

He was beautiful. A few braided pieces of his long, honey hair fell effortlessly next to his face. The jade eyes were focused, but there was an air of kindness about them. You squinted at the embroidery on his attire. This was one of the druids.  He looked young, but the elf ears suggested he might be older than he appeared.

You attempted to speak, but could only let out feeble coughs.

“Don’t speak. This will take a bit to close up”, he looked down at you and smiled kindly. You blinked as a response, taking another deep breath as you felt the pain flee your body.

There was a brief silence, the only sound was the hypnotic whirring of his enchantments.

“You did something truly courageous back there. The children told me. They recognized you, the singer in the woods…they often spoke about you at bedtime”, he chuckled briefly, “Didn’t expect I’d meet you under these circumstances.”

You watched him, as he seemed to reminisce fondly. So, it was the children who left you gifts at your spot?

His other hand swished and another cloud of green wafted out of it. He placed that hand next to the other on your stomach.

“I am in your debt. You saved the little ones, when they were not your burden. Truly, you’re a real hero.”  

You didn’t know how to respond. You were also more than confused as to how he found you so quickly. You felt like you had been drifting in that river forever. And the druids lived deep within the forest.

Who in the Hells was this elf anyway?

“You are exceedingly lucky. Thaniel found you and tended to you before I made it here.”

You raised an eyebrow, coughing again.

“Oh, haha. Thaniel is the forest spirit here. He seems quite fond of you.”

A forest spirit? Your exhausted brain couldn’t process that thought. You couldn’t really contest the idea either.

The druid lifted his hands briefly, checking how far along the healing process was. Deciding it needed more time, he repositioned his palms. You observed him for a while in silence as he concentrated on the regeneration of your tissue. He was huge. You felt like a child next to him.

“Wh-who are you…” you croaked out faintly.

He turned to you, his eyes softening with a calm smile.

“I’m Halsin,” he put one hand on your shoulder to keep you down, as you tried to sit up at the response. It didn’t take much strength to keep you there. He smiled more widely, then turned his attention back to his task.

Halsin. You had heard that name before. Whispered by folk in the area, he was famous for his incredible healing abilities and knack for getting captured. You only knew one druid by name and that was him. A druidic protégé, yes. A fierce warrior, yes. But a bit different. People in town talked about the impulsiveness of the young druid, which caused the other, older druids to scratch their heads in frustration at his unpredictability. And that‘s who was healing you right now?!

Gods, you never imagined he’d be this dreamy.

You were probably dreaming. No, you were dead. Definitely.

No being was this beautiful.

[thebearer]

love, i found you |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: how anchovy berzatto came into your and carmen's lives. or the story of anchovy berzatto, dumpster kitten turned spoiled cat.

contains: mentions of animal being abandoned/ stray kitten. small, malnourished anchovy but nothing graphic (i won't do that to you i promise). mainly fluff. language. richie being a hater a little lol.

word count: 2.9k+

“Chefs, keep the stations clear-” 

“-Has anyone seen Richie?-” 

“-Jeff, I need more branzino for the seven fishes-” 

“-Heard, Tina. There, uh, I think there’s some-” 

“-Carm, have you seen the books for tonight?-” 

“-Has anyone seen Richie? Richie! Where the fuck is he?” 

A chaotic melody of screams meshed together in some kind of disarray of harmony, one speaking over the other, the sound of pots and pans clashing, hisses of sizzling food in them a backtrack to the madness. 

“I’m right here, Sugar.” Richie scoffed, buttoning the front of his jacket. He patted your shoulder in passing, cheek pressing lightly to yours, muttering, “How’re you, sweetheart? Doin’ good?” In passing. 

He was the first to notice you, even over Carmen. The rest of the staff bustling through the kitchen prep, trying to squeeze everything in before the family meal. Carmen had invited you to family, but you were starting to regret agreeing, feeling useless and in the way in the face of the hectic nature. 

“Where have you been?” Sugar huffed at Richie, heels clacking in a stomp towards the office. “I have a million fucking things- oh, hey.” She paused, eyes lighting in a greeting when they landed on you. 

“I didn’t know you were here. How are you?” Sugar hugged you, a soft side hug in greeting that you returned stiffly. 

“I’m good. How are you?” You muttered, eyes still scanning the kitchen. 

Sugar let out a dry laugh, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Ask me in about an hour.” She shook her head. “I have a million fucking things to do as I was telling Richie.” She turned, eyes narrowing pointedly at the man. “Only two dishwashers showed up tonight.” 

“You’re shitting me.” Richie groaned. “That fuckin’ jagoff- take a chance on me, bullshit.” 

“Yeah, so Neil needs to wash utensils tonight between the floor, ok?” Sugar jabbed a manicured nail into her clipboard. 

“Is there anything I can do?” You squeaked, much smaller than you meant it to. Richie and Sugar turned to you, both blinking, like they’d forgotten you were even there. “Carm invited me to family, but I can help. I can wash dishes if you need me too. I don’t have anything else to do.” 

“That would be-” Sugar nodded in a sigh, a small smile spreading across her face. “Did I ever tell you I love you? Seriously.” She turned to Carm, who was passing behind her. “Carm, don’t ever fuck this up with her, you hear me? I’ll kill you.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Carmen muttered, and you knew by the drone in his voice he wasn’t listening, too consumed with other things, discarding vegetable scraps into the trash. 

“This thing is fuckin’ full. Can they not- Oh, hey.” Carmen’s features softened at the sight of you, spine straightening gently. “When’d you get here?” 

“Just a few minutes ago.” You leaned forward, his lips brushing your cheek softly in greeting. “I didn’t want to disrupt. You seemed… busy.” 

Carmen snorted. “Yeah, uh, that’s a word for it. Busy, out of my fuckin’ mind because this trash is fuckin’ full!” He boomed at no one in particular. 

“Now, I gotta take this out and replace it, and that puts us back, and every second counts, does it not, cousin?” Carmen rambled, glaring at Richie, yanking the sides of the trashcan off the rim. 

“Look, I didn’t know that the two didn’t show-” 

“-No, of course you didn’t. Can’t pay attention to shit-” 

“-Alright, let’s bring it down.” Sugar lifted her hands, eyeing Carmen with a slight nod of her head towards you. 

“Sorry.” Carmen muttered, eyes lifting to you. “Sorry, cousin. I-I’m just, we’re fuckin’ booked, an-and I’m so far behind-” 

“-I’ll take it.” You squeaked, a little too eagerly. Carmen’s brows furrowed, you cut him off before he could finish. “No, seriously, you’re all busy. I’ll go take this out and then I’ll help make sure the utensils are ready.” 

“N-No, I can’t ask you to do that. That would be shitty.” Carmen shook his head, pulling the trash bag out of the can. 

“Good thing you didn’t ask me. I offered.” Your hand wrapped over his, squeezing his closed fist gently with a tiny grin. “Go, I got it.” 

Carmen beamed, cheeks tinging pink. If he wouldn’t have been in the middle of the kitchen prep rush, he would’ve kissed you, pressed you right up against the wall and smooched you sloppy. Instead, he let you take the trash. 

“Gary!” Richie called behind you. “Make sure you let her back in, alright? Just knock and he’ll let you back in. You’re a fucking life saver, y’know that?” Richie beamed, pushing the heavy steel door open so you could duck under his arm. 

It was surprisingly warm- well, warm-ish for Chicago in the winter. No snow, no need for a heavy jacket but brisk enough for a chill. The dumpster lid was already flipped over, and you were thankful for that, slinging the bag over the edge, turning to go back inside. 

You stopped, halting just as you’d turned. The tiniest squeak of a cry, desperate and alert. You turned scanning the alley walls, the corners by the dumpster until you heard it again, that same pitiful whimper echoing off the metal of the dumpster- inside the dumpster. 

You hesitated for a moment. You couldn’t leave it, whatever it was, it sounded pathetic and in pain. Your eyes flickered back to the building, you could see Gary in the small window, head turned towards the others. They were so busy, you couldn’t ask Carmen or even Fak. 

“I’ll be right back.” You cooed towards the dumpster frantically. “Just hold tight for me, ok? I’ll get you out, one sec.” It was silly, but you felt the need to say it, even if just for yourself. 

Sprinting towards the door, you knocked on the glass rapidly. Gary pushed it open. “I need your help.” You stopped him before he could walk away. “J-Just for a second. I promise.” 

Gary’s brows furrowed. “Yeah, are you- you’re ok?” 

“Yeah, I mean,” You turned towards the dumpster. “There’s something in there. I think it’s a cat? I think it’s hurt.” 

“A cat?” Gary’s eyes widened, still, he followed your furious pace towards the dumpster. “Wait, I-I don’t think- Lemme get Carm-” 

“-No, he’s busy.” You shook your head. “It will just take me a second. I just need you to help me get down.” 

Gary paused, watching you in complete awe- maybe horror- push off a discarded crate towards the ledge of the dumpster. “This is- no, this is fuckin’ crazy, I’m sorry. You don’t know what that thing has-” 

Your small gasp cut him off, eyes rounding in awe. There in the piles of trash, a fuzzy blip of orange fur nestled into the black bags- a tiny, scraggly kitten, mewling helplessly. 

“Oh my God,” You muttered. “It’s a baby.” 

“A baby?” Gary gawked. 

“A kitten baby.” You corrected, lip jutting. “I have to get it.” 

“I really don’t think you should be doin’ this.” Gary looked back at the door then to you. “You can’t go in the dumpster, c’mon.” 

“You want to go in instead?” You huffed, eyes rolling at his disgusted snarl. “Just- I’ll do it.” You leaned to the side, taking a deep breath of fresh air, swallowing down a gag at the expected smell. 

Holding your breath, you let yourself fall into the dumpster, the squishy bags of trash uneasy under your feet. The small kitten whined, crying at the shift of your weight. 

“This is fuckin’ insane.” Gary muttered, shaking his head. 

“Aye, Sweeps, what the fuck?” Richie’s voice boomed, the slam of the door making both of you jump. “Take your smoke break later, you jagoff, I need your-” 

“-I’m not-” Gary huffed in annoyance. “She’s in the dumpster.” 

“Who?” Richie asked. 

“Me!” You swallowed a retch, the pungent stench of the trash filling your senses as you crouched closer towards the kitten. At least it wasn’t summer. 

“Why the fuck is Carmen’s girl in the dumpster?” Richie roared. “Carmen! Get out here now, cousin!” 

“Why is she in the dumpster? Why the fuck are you in the dumpster?” Richie’s furious stomps were muted from the outside. You cringed, still trying to hold your breath, coaxing the small kitten into your hold. 

The poor thing, so small- so fucking small. Shaking in your hold, crying and whining, but turned into the warmth of your palm. A cry bubbled from your chest, mixing with a gag at the smell. 

“Cousin, what? What the fuck is-” Carmen bounded outside, stopping when he saw the top of your head pop up, out of the dumpster. “The fuck?” 

“Your girl’s in the garbage.” Richie shook his head. 

“Yeah, why the fuck- Baby, w-why are you- What are you doin’?” Carmen jogged towards you, hoisting himself over the side of the dumpster, arm extended for you. 

“She found a cat.” Gary rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

“A cat?” Richie repeated. 

“A kitten.” You showed Carmen, pulling the small thing from your chest, where you cradled him close to you. 

Carmen blinked at you. “You went in the dumpster f-for a cat? A cat?” He shook his head, confused. “Baby, that thing could have diseases a-and rabies and shit-” 

“-He’s starving.” You countered, lip jutting in a firm pout. Carmen hated the way he could feel himself melting. The determination in your glare, ferocious yet soft. 

“I could hear him crying, a-and I couldn’t leave him.” You shook your head, petting the tiny kitten’s soft fur. 

“So you climbed in the trash?” Richie snarled in disgust. 

“Climbed right in the dumpster.” Gary nodded. 

“Alright.” Carmen looked over his shoulder at them, a pointed glare on his face. “Just- Lemme get you outta there, alright?” 

“Here,” You handed him the small cat, carefully cradling him. Carmen hesitated, a grimace in his scowl. Your eyes narrowed at him, a warning. “Hold him gently.” 

So he did, of course he did, it’s what you wanted. Passing him to Richie with the same snarl of instructions, pulling you out of the dumpster, a firm hold on your waist as you climbed back over. 

Richie was passing you the kitten with a grimace of disgust, dusting his hands off dramatically. “There. There’s your garbage cat that can not come back in the restaurant. Cousin,” He glared at Carmen. “We don’t want another fuckin’ C. Get shut down for havin’ fleas or shit.” 

Carmen glared at him. “No, he’s right.” You nodded. “Can you bring me my purse? I’m going to see if I can get him checked out. I’ll be back.” 

“Let me come with you.” Carmen offered, motioning for Gary to go get your things, untying his blue apron. 

“Carm, no. You’re busy. I can do it.” You shook your head. 

Carmen rolled his eyes. “No, I’m comin’ with you. Last time I let you do somethin’ alone. End up in the fuckin’ garbage.” He snorted playfully. “Besides, I think there’s a place down the street. The vet has been in a few times. I’ll see if I can, y’know, coerce him to squeeze us in.” 

“Coerce?” You lifted your brows playfully, petting the tiny kitten gently, trying to still his quivering. 

“Yeah, coerce.” Carmen rolled his eyes, swapping his apron out for his jacket, handing you yours. “Give ‘im a free dinner or somethin’.” 

“No fuckin’ way, no.” Richie shook his head. “Cousin, you’re already late- Sydney is pissed, and you’re not bringing that fuckin’ flea bag in here.” 

You held the small cat close to your chest, still damp from his bath at the vet. Carmen’s coercing had worked, Dr. Vallenti had took the bribe happily, squeezing you both in for a check up. The tiny kitten, barely two pounds, malnourished and positively pitiful. You didn’t even have to ask, Carmen knew from the way you held him close to your chest, eyes rounding just barely when the vet asked if you’d be keeping him. 

“Of course,” Carmen nodded easily, squeezing your knee gently. “Just give him whatever he needs for right now, and what we need t’get. We’ll get it.” 

“He doesn’t have fleas, Richie.” You sneered, cradling the small cat in your jacket to keep him warm. His shake was down to a soft tremble, not as constant but still there. 

“Yeah fuckin’ right, rabies then-” 

“-Cousin.” Carmen sneered. Richie stopped with a huff, throwing his arms up and muttering something as he stormed away. 

“Here,” Carmen muttered, a hand on the small of your spine, pushing you into his office. “I’ll grab you a bowl and a plate for his food, alright? You just, just stay in here, ok? Richie’s right, he can’t be out.” 

“I’ll keep him in here.” You nodded, sitting in the small chair. “Do you have a towel?” 

“Yeah, I’ll grab that too.” Carmen slung his jacket off, running a hand through his messy curls. “I, uh, I gotta get scrubbed up and put my stuff on, but if you need anything just yell, alright?” He ducked out to the small closet, snatching a towel and two dishes off the drying rack. 

“I’ll be alright.” You hummed, fingertip tracing down the kitten’s tiny head. He purred under your touch, made your chest burst with warmth. 

Carmen’s lips pulled in a smile, putting the dishes on the ground for you, shedding his own shirt. You were entirely enamored with the cat, that was for sure, not even a sideways, ogling glance at Carmen’s shirtless figure. 

“Shit.” Your head snapped up, wide eyed at Carmen. “I forgot the dishes. I-I’m so sorry, I can-” 

“-It’s alright, baby.” Carmen dropped his pants, biting back a smirk at how your eyes did drop this time. “Tina got her son and his friend to come in. We’re good, baby.” 

“Oh.” You nodded, eyes lingering on his boxer clad ass, before back to the kitten. “Good.” 

Carmen shrugged on his chef’s coat, walking over to you. “It’ll be kinda a late night.” His eyes softened in apology. “I’ll have someone run you a plate when we get outta the weeds, alright?” 

“Thank you.” You muttered, head tilting back for a kiss. Carmen obliged, your lips pulling him in for a longer kiss than he expected, sweet- left his body burning with heat. “Thank you.” You repeated, eyes shining sweetly. 

“C’mon.” Carmen whispered gently, shaking his head at you. “You know I would do anythin’.” He pressed a kiss to your head, looking down at the small kitten before he left. 

“I think he likes it?” You whispered, on your stomach next to Carmen. 

It was nearly two in the morning, the two of you just returning back to the brownstone you called home. Lying on the freshly laid tile of the kitchen, you watched the small cat explore the space. 

“Yeah, think he’s gettin’ used to it.” Carmen muttered, shaking the small stick so the feather danced over the kitten, grinning when he’d scrunch and bat at it clumsily. 

You pressed your head into your hand, watching the kitten prowl, ears finally perked up instead of flat back in fear. “We have to name him.” You blinked, looking up at Carmen. 

“Yeah,” Carmen grinned. “Yeah, that-that would be a good idea, right?” He beamed playfully. 

You smiled, gently petting the kitten’s back, smiling at how he arched into your touch. “I think it should be something kinda with the restaurant.” You suggested. “Since that’s where we found him.” 

“Yeah? Like Bear?” Carmen muttered. 

Your nose crinkled gently. “He doesn’t really look like a Bear.” 

“No,” Carmen agreed, shaking his head. “More like a Garfield.” 

You snorted lightly, rolling your eyes. “That’s such a gimme name.” You shook your head. “Maybe not the restaurant, exactly, but… similar?” 

“Yeah? Like Trash Can?” Carmen muttered, lips curling playfully. 

You gasped lightly, smacking his leg playfully. “No.” You huffed. “Something maybe with food?” 

“Carrot?” 

“No.” You pouted lightly, head tilting towards the small cat, occupied with Carmen’s sweatpant strings. “What about, like, Anchovy?” 

“Anchovy?” Carmen snorted in amusement softly. 

“Yeah, like the fish.” You shrugged softly. “And cats eat fish- well, in the cartoons they do, y’know?” 

“Yeah, I know, baby.” Carmen grinned softly down at you. “You think he looks like an Anchovy?” 

The small kitten turned, perking towards Carmen, padding happily over to him. Your face lit, glowing with beaming pride and adoration as Carmen scooped up the small kitten, let him rub his face into his chest sleepily- sweetly. You thought you might melt into a puddle on the floor at the sight. 

“Alright.” Carmen laughed lightly. “Think you’re right. Think he’s an Anchovy.” 

“Anchovy Berzatto.” You hummed, crawling between Carmen’s spread legs, petting the tiny cat. You smiled so brightly at Carmen, his own cheeks burned, flaming under your radiant affection. 

Your lips caught him again, pulling him in for a sweet, longing kiss over the small kitten’s head. Your hands in Carmen’s hair, pulling him closer and closer, kissing him like a lifeline- it made his head swim, chest swell with adoration. 

Anchovy chirped, teetering on a meow and yawn, little paw stretching in Carmen’s hold. Your forehead pressed to Carmen's, you ducked down to coo at the small kitten, moving to sit in between Carmen’s legs, your back to his chest. 

Home with your little family, complete with the little kitten, Anchovy Berzatto.

[trumanbluee]

lights out - deadpool / wade wilson

minors dni !! this is 17+ nsfw material !!!

please reblog if you like it! ᡣ𐭩

content: theres a black out in your apartment. wade asks you, "what's one thing you've always wanted to try?".

word count: 3.9k (jesus, sorry)

warnings: pegging, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol, sub!wade, established relationship, fingering (m receiving), this is quite literally porn with very little plot

a/n: hi !! sorry this is such a long one! i've never written something like this before, so i hope it's okay! please let me know what you think <3

you're sitting on the couch, chin resting on the knee of your right leg, the other tucked underneath you. wade's sitting on the opposite side of the couch, and he leans forward to take a slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table.

you take a sip of your rosé, leaning forward to get yourself a slice of pizza too. wade's fixated on whatever crappy show he's put on on the television, but you're bored (and horny, but that could wait until you were a few more glasses of wine deep.)

you huff, shuffling your position to place your feet in wade's lap. you finish your slice of pizza, setting your, now empty, glass of wine on the table. wade's still focused on the television, so you gently tap his thigh with your foot. he still doesn't look.

you sigh, slightly annoyed that he's giving the tv more attention than he's giving you. you give him one more opportunity, tapping his upper thigh with your bare foot once again. wade catches your ankle, attention finally turning towards you.

he's smiling at you, and he looks so cute and cosy in his pyjamas that you almost outwardly coo.

"whats up, baby?" he asks, thumb rubbing circles on the soft skin of your ankle. you smile softly at his caresses, but furrow your eyebrows slightly as you answer his question.

"..m'bored," you whine, rolling your head back against the pillow thats propping you up against the arm of the couch. wade chuckles, squeezing your foot affectionately.

"bored, huh? what do you wanna do, doll-face? i told you you could pick the show."

you shrug and go to speak, but are interrupted by a flash of light outside, followed by the booming sound of thunder echoing through the apartment. the lights flicker above you, before the room goes completely dark.

"..shit," you hear wade murmur, watching as the tv and fridge turn off too.

"y'better get creative, pookie-bear. power's out."

you groan, getting up and bringing the bottle of wine over to the couch, pouring yourself another glass. you also bring the candle you had lit in the bathroom, the light slightly illuminating the room. you sit back down on the couch, laying your feet back in wade's lap. he resumes his soft circles on your ankle.

"so, pookie, whatd'ya wanna do?" wade asks, taking a sip from his beer. the room is barely lit by the candle you've brought out, and you can only make out that wade's looking at you because of the city lights streaming in through the window behind you.

you shrug, taking a sip of your wine.

"i don't know, baby," you say, leaning forward to scratch an itch on your knee. wade uses this as an opportunity to pull you closer to him, nestling you into his side.

you don't put up any fight at all, easily settling in to his arm pit as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

you sit in comfortable silence for a while, the hand thats not holding your wine glass tangles with wade's hand as it hangs off your shoulder, occasionally squeezing it softly.

the silence doesn't last long though, to be expected when you're with wade wilson -- but you don't mind, you'd happily sit there and let him drone on and on about whatever he was particularly animated about that day.

wade's voice cuts through the silence, and you hear him swallow as he takes another sip of his beer.

"if you could be any vegetable in the world, what would you be, and why?"

you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the question, pressing your face into wade's side to stifle your giggles.

"what the fuck question is that, wade?' you laugh, looking up at him. you're close enough to be able to make out his face in the darkness, and he's looking down at you, a fond smile on his face.

he puts on a serious voice, stating sternly, "a very fuckin' serious one, princess."

you laugh, shaking your head, but you answer anyway.

"i'd be a cucumber, i think."

wade chuckles, and you feel it rumble in his chest as you lean into him.

"a cucumber, huh? why? 'cause you're cool as fuck?"

you laugh, nodding your head. "exactly, baby. y'know it."

he chuckles, taking another sip from his beer.

"what else've you got for me, wade-y?" you ask, tilting your head to look up at him. he puts a finger to his chin in thought.

"chocolate or vanilla?"

you laugh softly, looking at him with an 'are-you-serious?' expression.

"you know this already, doofus."

he puts his hands up in mock defence, "fine, fine. um... marvel or dc?"

you laugh loudly at this, stifling your giggles into wade's shirt again, shaking your head with a smile.

"..well... batman is the best super-hero, maybe ever.." you say trailing off, "but probably marvel, i guess, 'cos you're not dc, baby."

wade laughs, and you hear him mumble a playfully dejected, "fuckin' batman" to himself.

you laugh, leaning forward to pick the bottle of wine up off the coffee table, pouring yourself another tall glass of rosé. wade guzzles the last of his beer, setting it down next to the now empty wine bottle.

he leans back against the couch once again, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you back into him.

wade's hand slips beneath the fabric of your top, his hand gently rubbing the skin of your shoulder and the top of your arm.

"..last one, mm baby?" he says, continuing to caress your skin.

"what's one thing you wanna do with me that we haven't done yet?"

you almost scoff at this, knowing exactly what wade is trying to suggest. he's been trying to get you to let him fuck you up the ass for awhile now, but you'd always said no. so, you were gonna flip the script on him.

you pretend to think, eyebrows furrowing as you tap a finger to your chin in fake deep thought. you struggle to hide your smirk, stifling it by having a sip of your wine.

"hmm," you say, and your cheeks heat up as you go to speak, though you convince yourself its all the wine you've had, "..always wanted to try pegging, actually."

wade almost gives himself whiplash with how quickly he turns to look at you, your wine almost sloshing over the rim of your glass at his jostling.

"...wha-" he shakes his head as if trying to clear it.

"come again? this time in my ear?" he says, cupping a hand around his ear as though he didn't hear you.

you roll your eyes, playfully shoving wade's shoulder.

"i know you heard me, wade." you say, voice sounding bored, but your face shows your amusement, a smile poking at the corners of your mouth.

he takes a beat, looking at you and trying to figure out if you're serious or not.

"...you... you wanna... peg me?" he asks, his eye contact almost too intense as he speaks slowly.

"yes, wade." you say, matter-of-factly, "i know you did it with vanessa, and i wanna see what all the fuss is about. plus, maybe it'll finally shut you up." you throw that last part in as a joke, an attempt at disguising your obvious jealousy of vanessa knowing a part of wade that you didn't.

wade groans breathily, leaning his head forward to press into your boobs.

"..fuck, doll-face, why didn't ya' say something' sooner? y'tellin' me that i've been begging to fuck you like that, whole time you've wanted to do it to me?"

you nod, feeling sheepish the more the conversation continues. you feel your cheeks warm up, and quickly go to dismiss the idea.

"forget it... it's not--"

you're cut off by wade pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

"who said i didn't want you to do it, hotstuff? fuck, can you imagine how hot that'll look? maybe we should record it."

you laugh, pushing him back by his shoulders.

"i think you're getting ahead of yourself a little bit, baby."

wade smiles, mostly to himself, and shakes his head in what seems like disbelief.

"i can't believe you wanna peg me," he mumbles, pressing a sloppy kiss to your pulse point. your breathe hitches, but you push him off.

"you asked me the question, wade!" you laugh, lightly shoving him off of you and leaning forward to put your wine glass on the coffee table.

wade gasps dramatically, holding a hand to his heart as you shove him off, albeit lightly.

"i did, didn't i?" he grins at you, "well... i can't deny the princess, can i? lets make the magic happen."

you giggle, not taking him seriously. he quirks an eyebrow at you.

"what? you don't think i'm man enough to handle it?"

he makes a show of flexing his arms and puffing his chest out.

"why don't we find out right now?"

wade jumps off the couch, grabbing your arms and pulling you up, leading you towards your shared bedroom.

you laugh softly, "baby! baby, wait... y'need to slow down," i laugh breathily, a twinge of excitement nestling in my stomach.

wade's already dragged you to the bed, and is in the middle of taking his sweatpants off, his t-shirt already discarded on the floor somewhere.

"y'gotta be like... warmed up first, right?" you ask softly, your cheeks turning pink slightly. wade coos.

"well... i mean... i can just heal, but..."

you cut him off, screwing your face up in disgust.

"what? wade, shut the fuck up. m'not just shoving a plastic dick up your ass with no preparation. i wanna do it properly."

wade's face softens at your words, and he leans forward to press a kiss to your lips before pulling his boxers down.

you know wade has a strap on, and he retrieves it from it's resting place amongst the rest of your sex toys in your wardrobe as you undress yourself.

wade turns around from the closet, his arms dropping to his sides as he takes in your naked body.

"fuck baby, y'so beautiful." he bites his lip, walking over and placing the strap on on the bottom of the bed.

you blush, shyly mumbling a thank you. wade laughs at your reaction.

wade must sense your uncertainty, and he throws you a bone.

"where d'you want me baby? on all fours on the bed?"

you nod, cheeks turning a deeper pink at the crassness of the situation. you take a deep breathe, putting the strap-on on and kneeling on the bed next to wade.

you spit into your hand, bringing it down to half-heartedly stroke his hardening cock. he groans, hips grinding into your hand softly.

"fuck, baby... don't stop.."

you pull your hand off at wade's words, reaching for the lube in the drawer of the bedside table. you squirt some onto wade's asshole, spreading it gently with your thumb.

wade lets out a deep breathe, burying his face into the pillows, muffling his moans as you slowly work your finger into him.

"s'this okay, baby?" you ask, unsure as you slowly press your lubricated finger into wade.

you don't get a reply, only breath moans as wade pushes back against your hand, "..please, baby... more..."

you shush him gently, working your singular digit deeper into him, curling it slightly.

wade lets out a soft groan, "..fuuck... just like that," he whimpers into the pillows, pushing his hips back to meet your finger.

"so good..so fucking good." he mumbles, and that spurs you on. wade already being fucked out from just one finger feeds your ego, making you feel more confident.

you rub his asscheek with your unoccupied hand, cooing a soft "relax, baby."

you hear him take a deep breathe, and his hole relaxes slightly. wade keens into your touch as you continue your soothing circles on his ass, quickening the pace of your singular finger.

"..please, princess.. more.." he whines, pushing his hips back to meet your finger.

deciding that he's stretched enough, you push a second finger into his asshole, scissoring the two to spread him open. you watch as wade's hips mindlessly buck forward, and you can see his pre-cum leaking onto the sheets.

wade cries out in pleasure, the sound muffled by the pillows. his hips buck forward as your second finger enters him, his body tenses at first, but he relaxes, whining softly as he pushes back to meet your hand.

"..fuuck, yes... jus' like that.." wade whimpers, shoving his face into the pillows beneath his head.

you rub soothing circles on his asscheek as you scissor your two fingers inside him, trying to loosen him up and prepare him for the strap-on.

"good boy, baby," you praise, caressing the curve of his ass as you move your fingers in and out of him at a quicker pace, "taking my fingers so well, yeah?"

wade nods frantically into the pillows, already too lost in pleasure to form coherent words. he pushes back to meet your hand, and you can feel his asshole loosening around your fingers as you scissor them open inside him.

you watch as his hole starts to relax and loosen around your fingers.

"m'gonna make sure you cum before i fuck you, kay baby?" you coo at him, your hand still rubbing your soothing circles on his skin.

wade whines as he moves his hips back to meet your fingers, nodding eagerly at your words.

"..y-yes... please... need t'cum.." he babbles from beneath you. you smile at his desperate voice, and begin to shove your fingers deeper into his ass, curling them up in search of his prostate.

at the same time, you reach the hand that was rubbing soothing circles on your ass around to stroke his cock, smearing his pre-cum down his shaft and swiping your thumb skilfully over the tip.

wade moans into the pillow, hips bucking into your fist, and you can tell by the way his length throbs in your hand that he's close. you fuck your fingers into wade with the same pace as you stroke his cock, watching as his hips stutter in uncertainty of whether to buck forward, or push backwards.

"c'mon, baby.." you murmur, squeezing your hand around his cock. the sensation of your fingers inside of him, and your hand tugging on his cock, is too much for wade to handle, and he strangles out a guttural moan into the soft pillows as he cums, his body tensing up as he empties himself onto your hand and the bedsheets beneath him.

you feel his asshole clench around your fingers as he shoves his face into the bed, his cock going soft in your hand as the last bit of his cum spurts out onto the sheets.

wade collapses onto the bed, spend and out-of-breath, his body relaxed and pliant, limbs heavy with post-orgasm bliss.

"mmm.. that was.. so good," he hums sleepily, burying his face into the soft pillows, "..now.. please.. need you inside me.." he whines softly.

you smile down at him, still seating on your knees on the bottom of the bed. you lean forward to capture wade's mouth in a soft kiss, rubbing his back soothingly.

"y'sure, baby?' you check in with him, wanting to make sure this was something he wants to do, though who were you kidding? wade was the freakiest person you knew, of course this was something he wanted to do.

wade lifts his head slightly, looking up at you through bleary eyes.

"..please, baby.." he whines softly, brows knitting together.

you smile at him softly, still rubbing his back soothingly, "m'kay, baby. get on your hands and knees for me, can you honey?"

he nods, slowly getting up and moving into position, his movements a little clumsy as his legs wobble from his previous orgasm. he rests his head back on the pillows, turning to look at you over his shoulder with a sleepy smile.

"like this, baby?" he asks, voice so small sounding that you can't help but coo at him.

you nod, smiling at him and affectionately rubbing the curve of his ass.

"good boy, honey." you praise, and wade's cheeks flush at your words, a strange mix of embarrassment and arousal flooding through hi as he bites back whatever noise of pleasure he was about to make.

"m'not a dog," wade mutters, causing you to scoff, laughing softly.

"no, y'not. what? you don't like being called a good boy, wade?" you ask, putting on a stern voice, though you're teasing him, having seen the way he bit his lip to stifle his noise.

his face heats up even more, if possible, and he lets out a small, embarrassed, whine.

"s-shut up.." he glares back at you, but there's no way of hiding the way his body reacts to your words, his heart racing and cheeks burning hot.

you laugh, almost cruelly, spreading lube down the length of the strap-on before lining up to wade's asshole.

"y'ready, honey?" you ask, voice soft as you rub his hip softly.

he takes a deep breathe from beneath you, letting it out slowly as he nods. he bites his lip, butterflies swirling in his stomach as he feels the cold lube against his skin.

"..y-yeah.. do your worst... or best?" he mumbles, looking at you over his shoulder, a gentle smile on his face.

you laugh softly, spreading his ass open with your hands before pressing the tip of the strap to your asshole.

"relax for me, baby.."

he takes another deep breathe, slowly letting it out as his body relaxes, his shoulders slumping forward slightly. you press the tip of the strap-on past the tight ring of muscles, and wade lets out a low moan, his fingers gripping the pillows tightly.

"..m-more..." he whimpers, pushing back against you.

you rub his ass soothingly as you slowly press into him. he whimpers and moans beneath you, his body tensing and relaxing in turns as he adjusts to the sensation.

he buries his face in the pillows, voice muffled as he begs for more.

"..please, baby.. s'good.."

you coo softly, pressing further into his tight hole as you continue your soft circles on his hips, "good boy, baby... takin' me so well.."

his cheeks turn pink at your words, and he pushes back against you, moaning as you bottom out inside him.

wade lets out a deep, shuddering moan as you fill him up completely, his body going tense and then relaxing as he adjusts to the sensation. he whimpers, and you can almost see the thoughts leaving his mind as you fuck into him with shallow thrusts.

"..oh, fuck... so good," wade mumbles into the pillows.

"such a good boy, wade," you coo, stilling your hips to let him adjust to the size of the strap-on inside him.

he lets out a low whine, shifting uncomfortably against the sheets, feeling empty and restless without your steady thrusts. he tries to push his hips back to meet yours desperately.

"..c-come on... keep goin'.." he begs, looking back at you over his shoulder, "..need it... n-need you.."

you tut, "barely fucked you, and you're already a mess, baby."

you begin moving your hips at a painstakingly slow pace. wade lets out a sharp gasp, his body writhing beneath you. he moans into the pillows, his hips moving back to meet your thrusts, your hands on his hips guiding him softly, thumbs rubbing soothing circles.

wade moans underneath you, jolting forward with every thrust you push into him with. you angle your hips up, searching for his prostate with every thrust.

you know you've found it when you hear a loud keen from wade, his face shoved into the pillows as he arches his back, as he moans loudly.

you keep your pace, angling your hips the same way over and over, feeling wade's thighs begin to shake as you rut into him. you squeeze your hands on his hips harshly, nails digging into the skin slightly.

he hisses beneath you, babbling nonsense as he whines incoherently. i continue my steady rhythm, relishing in the pretty noises slipping from your lips every time i thrust forward. i spit in my right hand, leaning forward and slipping my arm underneath you, wrapping my hand around your cock and tugging softly.

you feel wade's hips buck into your hand, listening to his soft whines as you skilfully swipe a thumb over his slit, smearing his pre-cum down his length as you continue the rhythm of your thrusts.

you tug at wade's cock, feeling his hip stutter with uncertainty of whether to buck into your hand or or push back against your thrusts.

"look at you, huh?" you tease meanly, slowing the drag of your hips, deliberately hitting the spot inside of him, over and over, "big, bad Deadpool, so fucked out by his little girlfriend he can't even form a thought."

you squeeze your hand around his cock, listening to him whine, babbling something that sounds like," ...f-feels so.. good..." into the pillows, drool pooling at the corner of his mouth.

you know he's getting close, his length throbbing in your hand as you twist your fist around it, slamming your hips into him.

"c'mon, honey.. y'gonna cum for me?" you coo, thrusting into him harshly as he ruts into your hand, his high-pitched moans muffled in the cushions.

he whines, a gently, "u-uh huh.. m'gonna..."

you deliver a particularly harsh thrust to his prostate before you feel his body tense up beneath you, legs quivering as he groans into the pillows, back arched as his hips jerk into your hand, thick ropes of cum spilling out onto your hand and the sheets below him.

you slow your hips, gently fucking him through his orgasm, cooing soft words of praise as his body goes slack beneath you with a guttural groan. you rub soothing circles on his back as you slowly pull out of him, a soft whimper sounding from him at the loss of contact.

you take the strap-on off, discarding it on the dresser before crawling up the bed, slipping in next to wade. he instantly snuggles into you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your neck.

"how'd i do, baby?" i ask gently, voice barely above a whisper as you lay against me with your eyes closed. i know you're not asleep because i can feel you tracing soft circles on the exposed skin of my upper thigh.

"so good, doll-face," he mumbles against your skin, "..fuck, i can't believe you didn't let me record that. y'know the numbers that shit would get on only fans?"

i laugh softly, shaking my head, "next time, baby -- maybe. m'not making any promises."

wade goes silent for a second, before asking, his voice soft, "did you like it? was it.. fun f'you?"

you pout at how cute he is, twisting your body beneath the sheets to face him.

"wade, i just got to shut you up for more than a minute, of course i loved it." you giggle softly, bringing wade's hand up to your mouth and kissing his knuckles softly.

"seriously, i had fun, wade. don't worry about that." you assure him when he gives you a pointed look, eyes softening as you press your lips to his knuckles.

wade smiles cheekily, pulling you into him, "well, if that's how you're gonna shut me up, maybe i should start talking more, huh?"

you give him a look, laughing, "are you sure that's even possible?"

he smiles, "remember what happened the last time you thought i couldn't do something?"

©trumanbluee - reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! but i do not wish for my work to be republished, translated, or copied. thanks!

taglist: @tvwebs @muteprincess @blckbarbiedoll @dwthisuserisalive @catts-world @helpyourself-9 @tiredemzz @starstruckracc @imcrying24 @aintsoprettynow @thedevilsaysthings @darerlin @tokkiwrites

[midnighvtm4ss]

Omg i absolutely loved rosemary!!! Also the fact it’s based on a Sierra Ferrell song is amazing. That brings me to my request to maybe an Arthur fic based on her song “I Could Drive You Crazy” 🤭🤭🤭 I feel like that song is so Arthur and his darling girl coded

I COULD DRIVE YOU CRAZY

cw: fluff, hunting, pre-canon, two idiots in love, arthur is crushing so hard it’s actually embarrassing

wc: 3,3k

a/n: the way I SCREAMED when I saw your request anon !! i loove Sierra Ferrell she’s one of the few artists i have constantly on repeat. Sorry I took my sweet time replying but I had to make this piece good. This is a little insight on Arthur and his darling girl pre-relationship dynamic ! Thank you for requesting and I hope you like it <3

The late noon sun bathed the camp in a cold, bright light, casting the long shadows of the nearby douglas fir trees stretching all around you as it began its slow but steady descent behind the rolling hills of the Tall Trees region as afternoon approached. The smell of woodsmoke and simmering stew filled the air, mixing with the earthy scent of pine and the faint aroma of freshly turned earth. You stood beside Pearson, by the cooking wagon. Your hands busy chopping vegetables while the man stirred the stew pot, his gruff voice occasionally muttering to himself as he adjusted the few seasonings Miss Grimshaw desperately requested to add into his infamous venison stew. Abigail stood nearby, cleaning the dishes used in the morning. Her laughter light as she shared stories about young Jack with you.

“Jack’s been askin’ after you,” Abigail said with a fond smile. “Ever since he learned how to say your name he’s been saying it non stop. Makes me miss the time when the only things he could say was ‘mama’ and random bubbling noises”

“He’s a sweet kid,”

“Yes, and a spoiled one too. No matter how much I try, he refuses to go to sleep until he hears your voice telling him a goodnight story”

You chuckled, feeling a warmth in your chest at the thought of the boy’s eager face. “I’ll have to think up a good one for him tonight, then.”

The sound of approaching hoofbeats drew your attention away from the conversation. You glanced up just in time to see the men returning from their latest job. Dust and sweat clung to them, their faces weary but carrying the unmistakable look of men who had just succeeded at their mission. Among them, a particular figure caught your eyes. Arthur Morgan dismounted with practiced ease, his broad shoulders slumped slightly by the fatigue of the day’s event. Even from a distance, his presence was commanding, a strong aura following him as he led a tired Boadicea toward the hitching post.

Even from a distance, there was something about Arthur that drew your eye—his quiet strength, the way he moved with precise purpose, his steady presence that always seemed to bring a sense of security to the camp. You watched as he handled the reins, hitching Boadicea and patting her dark brown mane, undoubtedly praising her for a job well done.

Was it possible to be jealous of a horse ?

His gaze briefly scanned the camp before it landed on you. For a fleeting moment, your eyes met, and you felt a flutter in your chest. You quickly returned your attention to a particular interesting piece of tomato you had cut, wishing for your burning cheeks to calm.

“Mister Morgan!” Pearson’s booming voice cut through the air, making you wish the earth would swallow you whole. “We’re runnin’ low on meat. Reckon we’ll last two more days with what little I have.” Pearson’s voice lowering to a more quiet tone as Arthur inched closer to the wagon. “Can you head out and bring somethin’ back before it gets dark?”

Arthur looked over at the stew pot, his face churning with an unreadable expression, then back to Pearson with a nod. “Sure, Pearson. I’ll head out now.”

As he turned to leave, something inside you stirred. You weren’t sure if it was the desire to escape the mundane tasks of camp, to immerse yourself in the unknown beauty of the wilderness or, more than that, the desire for a chance to spend time with Arthur, to learn from him, to be close to him. Nonetheless, before you could second guess your action you placed down your knife, stepping forward, the words hurriedly leaving your lips as in fear you might stop them if they took a second longer to pronounce.

“Mister Morgan,” you called out, your voice a little hesitant. “May I come with you?”

He paused, turning to face you fully. A faint hint of surprise washed over his face. His aqua eyes, always so full of depth and intensity, softened slightly as he considered your request. “You sure ‘bout that? Huntin’ ain’t exactly a walk in the woods.”

“I’d like to learn,” you insisted, your heart beating faster as you met his gaze under his worn gambler’s hat. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a gesture that seemed almost shy. He nodded. “Alright, then. Let’s get goin’.”

It took an immeasurable amount of strength to refrain yourself from smiling brightly at the man in front of you. You promptly returned to your cutting station, untying your apron in quick movements. Abigail came closer to you, taking the apron from your hands and putting it on ready to replace you in your work. As you two locked eyes, a knowing smile adorned the brunette’s face, making you flush.

Your steps were quick as you followed Arthur to the hitching post, your Hungarian half-bred just a few feet away from Boadicea. You gently pat her, giving her a stalk of celery you stole from Pearson. Circling around to tighten the strap of your saddle you felt the heavy gaze of the outlaw follow your every move. His muscular form already mounted on his horse. You mounted your horse, not wanting to trouble Arthur and make him reconsider his decision. He cleared his throat before speaking,

“We’ll go through the woods on the left near the lake,” he stated, tutting at his horse to move forward “Mac told me he found a few deer tracks down there.”

You simply nodded, not trusting your voice to give away your feelings.

The air was cooler than the already crisp air in camp. Beneath the canopy of trees, the sun’s rays filtering through the needles of the pine trees in dappled patterns on the forest floor. The smell of pine and earth was much stronger here, mingling with the fresh scent of moss and the faint musk of animals that had passed through earlier. Arthur led the way, silent and sure, while you followed close behind, too occupied by taking in the view to initiate a conversation.

Passing through a particularly steep path Arthur signaled you to stop. He hopped down from his horse, walking a few feet forward before stopping. You copied his action. The ground beneath your boots was soft, a carpet of moss and pine needles that muted your footsteps.

“First rule of huntin’,” Arthur began, his voice low and steady as he crouched down to examine a set of tracks in the soft dirt, “is patience. Animals can sense when somethin’ ain’t right, so you gotta move slow and stay quiet.”

You nodded, kneeling beside him as you peered at the tracks. They were faint, just a few indentations in the earth, but Arthur pointed them out to you with practiced ease. The proximity of him, the way his voice dropped down on to a near whisper, sent a thrill through you that had little to do with the hunt and everything to do with the outlaw beside you.

“There,” he said, his hand brushing against yours as he pointed. “That’s a deer track. See how the hooves dig in? Means it was here not too long ago. We follow these, and we might just catch up to it.”

His touch was fleeting, but it left a warmth on your skin that lingered long after he pulled his hand away. You nodded again, trying to focus on the task at hand, reprimanding your mind for wandering to such thoughts. But it was difficult with Arthur so close, his presence almost overwhelming in its quiet intensity.

Together, you moved through the woods, following the tracks with Arthur’s guidance. You moved in silence. The woods offered you the calm noises of the rustling of leaves, the distant call of a bird, and the soft crunch of your boots on the forest floor. Every now and then, Arthur would pause, his head tilting slightly as he listened for any signs of movement, his sharp eyes scanning the space surrounding you.

Finally, after what felt like hours to you but was probably only a few minutes, you spotted the deer—a lone buck grazing in a small clearing, its head down, completely unaware of your presence. Arthur’s hand came up in front of you, motioning you to stop and you both knelt down behind a fallen mossy log, using it for cover.

He handed you his rifle, his hands steady as they helped you position it against your shoulder. His touch on you gentle, guiding you with the same care and precision he used in everything he did. You could feel his breath on your neck, making the small hairs on your nape stand up. The brim of his hat grazing your hair as the heat of his body so close to yours made your heart beat so violently that you were sure Arthur could hear it.

“Alright,” Arthur whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in even close. “Here’s where it gets tricky. You gotta stay calm, keep your breathin’ steady, and line up your shot. Don’t rush it. As long as we don’t make a sound the deer will be there. Let the moment come to you.”

“Steady now,” Arthur murmured, his voice low and soothing. You took a deep breath, the crisp air filling your lungs. “Just like that. Breathe in… and out. Always pull the trigger on empty lungs”

You tried to focus, tried to steady your breath as he instructed, but the closeness of him, the deep rumble of his voice in your ear, made it difficult to concentrate. You aimed at the deer, your finger brushing the trigger, but your hands were trembling ever so slightly.

“Breathe,” Arthur reminded you, his hand coming to rest lightly on your shoulder grounding you, steadying you from the imminent recoil of the rifle. “You’ve got this.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest, and then you squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, echoing through the trees.

A second passed where it was deadly silent, you opened your eyes to check on your target but your aim had been off. The bullet whizzed past the deer, embedding itself in the trunk of a nearby tree. The deer’s head shot up, and in an instant, it bolted, disappearing into the underbrush before you even had time to lower the rifle.

Your shoulders slumped in disappointment, and you let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, Mister Morgan,” you muttered, gloomily handing the rifle back to him.

But Arthur wasn’t upset. Instead, he gave you a reassuring smile, his eyes warm as he shook his head with a strange myrth. “Don’t be sorry. You did good for your first try. Takes time to get the hang of it. Deer’s easy to track but a damn tricky target, especially when you’re just startin’ out.”

His words were kind, but you couldn’t help the sense of failure that settled in your chest. You had wanted to impress him, to show him that you could be just as capable as any of the men in the gang, but instead, you had let the moment slip away making a fool of yourself in front of him. You lowered your gaze to your lap, playing with a stray cotton strand of your blouse.

“Come on,” Arthur said, standing and offering you his hand. “Let’s see if we can track somethin’ else. We’ve still got some daylight left.”

You took his hand, feeling the roughness of his warm calloused palm against yours as he pulled you to your feet. The warmth of his touch, the easy way he smiled at you, made it hard to stay upset for long. There was something about Arthur—something steady and reassuring—that made you feel like everything was going to be alright, even when things didn’t go as planned.

You dusted off your skirt, it definitely wasn’t the best clothing choice for hunting but you had little to no time changing into a more comfortable outfit. You thanked whoever was above that this week wasn’t your turn to wash the camp’s clothes. Karen sure had a great load of work ahead of her.

The two of you mounted back up on your horses and continued deeper into the forest, the trees growing denser as the light began to fade. Arthur was patient, showing you how to look for signs of wildlife, teaching you how to move quietly through the underbrush without making yourself known to the animals you were tracking. His calm demeanor, his quiet confidence, made you feel more at ease, and slowly, you found yourself relaxing into the rhythm of the hunt.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the forest in a soft, amber glow, you spotted something moving in the distance—a wild boar, its dark shape partially hidden by the underbrush as it ate the roots of a bush near a fallen log. You felt a surge of excitement, your heart beating faster as you pointed it out to Arthur.

“There,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you hopped down from your horse. “There’s a boar!”

Arthur followed you down his horse. His eyes followed your gaze as he nodded, his gaze narrowing as he assessed the situation. “That’s a good target. Boar’s got tough skin, but he’s not too fast. You ready to give it another try?”

You nodded, your grip tightening on the rifle as Arthur handed it to you once more. This time, you felt more confident, more focused. Arthur had shown you what to do, had taught you how to read the signs, how to stay calm and patient. You could do this. You needed to do this.

You crouched down behind a bush making sure you had a clear view of the target. Arthur stayed close, his presence a steadying force as you lined up your shot. “Remember,” he said softly, his voice just above a whisper, “breathe slowly, keep your hands steady, and don’t rush it. You’ve got this.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill your lungs as you focused on the boar. It was still rooting around, completely unaware of you and Arthur watching from the shadows. You steadied the rifle, your finger brushing the trigger, and then, with a calmness you hadn’t felt before, you squeezed.

The shot rang out, sharp and clear in the evening air. This time, your aim was true. The boar let out a sharp squeal, its body jerking as the bullet hit its mark. It staggered for a moment, and then it collapsed, its movements ceasing as it fell to the ground.

For a moment, you just stood there, staring in disbelief. You had done it. You had actually done it.

“I did it,” you whispered, a smile slowly spreading across your face as the realization sank in. “Arthur, I did it!” you said turning to face Arthur. You couldn’t believe yourself. You actually hunted down some game. A laughter came up to you, heartily and genuine.

Arthur’s face lit up with a grin, his eyes shining with pride as he clapped you on the back. “Good girl. Nice work. That’s some fine shootin’.”

His praise warmed you more than the fading sunlight ever could, and you felt a surge of joy and accomplishment. But it wasn’t just about the hunt—it was about the way Arthur was looking at you now, with a gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, as if he was seeing you in a new light.

The two of you approached the poor boar, and Arthur knelt beside it, inspecting your handiwork with a nod of approval. “Perfect shot,” he said, glancing up at you from under his hat with a smile. “Damn, you’re a natural.”

Your heart swelled with pride at his words, and you couldn’t help but brightly beam at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that had little to do with the successful hunt and everything to do with the man beside you.

As Arthur worked skinning the animal and preparing the boar to transport it back to camp, you found yourself stealing glances at him. Although he was now covered in blood you couldn’t help but find him even more attractive. You watched the way the fading light played across his features, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw, the curve of his plump lips, the intensity in his eyes that seemed to soften whenever he looked your way. There was something different about the way he was acting around you now, a quiet affection in his gaze, a tenderness in his touch that hadn’t been there before.

Once the boar was ready, the two of you began to head back to camp, the weight of the animal stowed on the back of Boadicea as you carried its pelt. The forest was quiet now, the sun nearly gone, leaving the trees bathed in the soft, dusky indigo light of twilight. As you rode, side by side, you could feel the connection between you and Arthur growing stronger with each step, an unspoken bond that neither of you had to put into words growing evermore.

“Thank you for teaching me, Mister Morgan” you said softly, stopping your horse just a few feet away as the camp came into view, the warm glow of the firelight welcoming you back. The distance giving you both one last moment of privacy. “I’ve always wanted to learn, but I didn’t think I’d be any good at it.”

Arthur glanced over at you, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t need to be so formal with me now, you can call me Arthur,” he started. “Besides, you’ve got a good eye,” he said, his voice sincere. “And you listen, which is more than I can say for most people in this godforsaken gang. You did real good out there.”

The praise made your cheeks warm, and you ducked your head slightly, feeling a little shy under his gaze. “I had a good teacher.”

Arthur shook his head at that, hiding his face under the brim of his hat as he mumbled to himself something you didn’t quite catch.

“Maybe we’ll do this again sometime,” he said, his tone casual but with an underlying amusement that betrayed his carefree tone

“I’d like that,” you replied, your voice soft as the two of you approached camp, the sounds of the gang's usual chatter welcoming you back. “I’d like that a lot.”

As you helped Arthur carry the boar to Pearson, who greeted you with his usual gruffness but a nod of approval, you couldn’t help but feel that something had changed between you and Arthur. There was a new understanding, a deeper connection, something that went beyond the simple companionship you had shared before when you occasionally chatted while you worked on the camp’s chores.

As the evening wore on and the camp settled into its usual rhythm, you found yourself glancing over at Arthur, who was seated by the campfire, his gaze occasionally drifting your way. And each time your eyes met, there was a spark—a shared smile, a lingering look—that hinted at something more.

And in that moment, you knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of something special, something that neither of you could quite put into words, but that you both felt growing with every passing moment you spent together.

[777heavengirl]

the one where you guess

sirius black x reader ! - 1,599 words masterlist bags masterlist

You guessed you should’ve seen it coming. 

You should’ve guessed this was the end. 

You had known Sirius Black since age 11. Since you got on that train, since he cracked nervous jokes under his breath while you waited to be sorted, since you started that new chapter of your life, he’s been the constant in your life.

You were kids together, reckless and loud and stupid. You were teens together, somehow even more stupid, somehow closer, somehow more alive and electric just from being attached at the hip. You had become adults together. Real people, with an apartment of your own and friends who expected a baby and a job and trips on the tube and purchasing vegetables form a farmer’s market. Adults, somehow still stupid, somehow closer yet farther than ever, somehow different but still the same. 

The truth was you had lived with Sirius Black since you were 11. Even at Hogwarts, you did the same things, you ate meals together, you walked around and joked and talked with your friends while the sides of your bodies were pressed together on the couch.

 In a way, nothing had changed.

It had been you and him since before you were you. 

You had never thought about what life without him would look like.

His bed was well made, tucked in, and without wrinkles. The cool grey of the sheets glared at you as you sat on them, disturbing it with the waves and folds that formed underneath your weight. It was the first time you had ever been in his room. At least the first time you had walked more than five steps inside. Now here you were, wrinkling his bed, staring longingly at his shut trunk and empty walls. 

Alone.

You guessed he was at the Potter’s. You didn’t know. He hadn’t said.

You hadn’t seen him since Regulus told him the news.

Walburga Black was dead. Died in her sleep with a peace she didn’t deserve, unpunished, calm, painless. Unfair.

 It had been three days. Not an alarming amount of time for anyone else. But for Sirius it was. Even in his anger the past few weeks, he still came home every night. Staring into your eyes briefly before he went into his room. But he came home nonetheless.

 He hadn’t since that day.

It was burned into your mind, into the back of your eyelids. The way his face fell, the mask of bravery falling quicker than you could ever imagine. You saw him again, the small damaged boy you first met.

Scared and shattered. You guessed he never stopped being those things.

Sirius and Regulus did not know how to love or comfort each other in any way that mattered. Even in the face of this, they only knew how to fight, silently and bitterly, without words, or loud and angry, with statements they’d never be able to take back nor forget. You knew this, you had always known this. The first words out of Sirius’s mouth being booming statements of how dare you’s and go bury yourself with her then’s. Regulus wasn’t any less biting. But at one point, between the yelling over each other and the cursing the dead out, Regulus started crying. Fat, hot tears streaming down his face as he continued to roar statements he did not mean, voice wobbling and hoarse as the grief overtook him. You could see the red rim around Sirius’s eyes and the way that he kept pressing his fingers into his eyes, the glare of the light bouncing off of the wetness that decorated his cheeks as well. He prayed n vain that the tears weren't visible.

In your kitchen, under the warm light that hung from the ceiling and in between mismatched furniture and handmade drinkware, the Black brothers were no longer made of stone,

Yet they continued to yell, at each other, at their deceased mother, at a father they both prayed would die off sooner rather than later. You couldn’t even tell what they had been arguing about, but if you had to guess it was probably not even against each other at all. 

It never had been. 

Sirius stormed out shortly after that, not even sparing you a glance. Regulus crumbled to the floor as he cried and you were left to pick up the pieces of the broken boy. As he left he tried, even with his skin blotchy from crying and cheeks still wet, he tried to harden his stare again. It didn’t work. But he thanked you, in his eyes a silent plea to never mention the incident again. Sirius is not allowed at the funeral, he said, I doubt he’d even want to go though and left.

So now you sat, three days later, on Sirius’s meticulously made bed.

It was hard not to feel hurt about the fact that he left. That even in his most vulnerable moment, he couldn’t bring himself to turn to you. Not anymore. 

You guessed this was the end.

Maybe he’d never come back, maybe he’d come back in the middle of the night and silently take his stuff out. Without a single word to you. Maybe he’d send James, or Remus, to retrieve his singular trunk. Maybe you’d never lay eyes on Sirius Black again.

You thought hard about it, your hands gripping the cold sheets so tightly your knuckles lightened. Maybe this is what you wanted, to move on, to grow apart, on your own.

Alone. 

Maybe you needed to be an adult alone, careful and quiet, and still after all this time, stupid. Your father certainly never let you forget it. 

You focused on the silence around you. Even in the empty room, with the bare walls and the boring sheets, even in the unnerving stillness it still felt like Sirius. You could smell his cologne, in the mattress, in the air, everywhere. The freshness of it reminded you of a windswept shore, like the ones you traveled around together after graduation. It was still somehow, earthy and mineral. He said it smelled like freedom.

You always said he was an idiot. 

But you understood what he meant now, even in the confines of his room.

His motorbike's helmet sat discarded on a chair, the glossy red and black of it staring at you. You began to notice, all of the little things thrown about, the used coffee cup, the wooden box that was overflowing with sticky notes, you could see your handwriting from where you sat, the pictures he taped to his wall right next to his bed, between the window and the corner of the room. You had never thought about it, never considered it, but even in its hallowed out state, Sirius’s room reeked of him. The ashtray near the window, the camera and developed film on the desk, the sweater Euphemia Potter had knitted him Christmas of sixth year on the back of the chair. 

Maybe his room hadn't been as empty as you thought. Maybe it had actually always been full of him. In a way.

You thought about the room being truly empty, you guessed it would come soon enough. No excessive amount of photographs, no helmet, no unpacked bags, no ash anywhere, and the smell of cigarettes and the freshness of his cologne gone.

A ghost to haunt you even if you were to move out.

If you could keep anything of his, you thought about this hard, already mourning what you were sure was to come— you’d keep the quiet afternoons. The ones where you curled up on the sofa, his arm around you, your legs over his. The ones where you’d silently giggle at the soap opera, and steal bites of his food. The ones where you could feel your heart beating in your ears and it grew harder to deny how much you loved him.

But no.

You could do this alone. Pick up more shifts, look for a job in the Ministry maybe. Maybe ask Mary to move in. Maybe move somewhere cheaper and be alone. 

Independent. 

You tried to think of yourself alone, in an apartment with white walls and neatly arranged pictures your dad would measure the distance and size between. Making sure they all looked even, he’d still yell at you for not being able to “do it properly by yourself.” Every image in a frame. Every piece of furniture matching and neat, and still. 

Quiet. 

Cold.

An apartment still as a pond. 

You felt like you were staring into it, from the bed, like you could reach into your mind and be there. In the stillness of such a place. Your dad would love it. Maybe you have a good job, maybe you even wear business clothes— neat slacks or skirts, in navy or black, with crisp white button-up shirts and heels that make your feet hurt but you’d never complain. Maybe you’d learn how to live on your own, balanced and dutiful and busy. Maybe you don’t see any of your friends anymore, and maybe you finally feel like an adult. You are older alone, somehow not stupid anymore, somehow lonelier, somehow more suffocated and overwhelmed just from being alone.

You didn’t notice the jingle of his keys, nor the turn of the lock or the door that opened. You stared at the ceiling, blinking back tears without realizing his presence at all. Not until he swung open the door and your head snapped down to see Sirius, standing at his door. Porcelain skin tainted with red splotches, eyes clouded from tears, and puffy features, remainders of how much he had cried.

You realized, at this moment— when your eyes met his grey ones,

Without him, you did not yet know quite how to live. 

A/N: happy halloween LMAO its a bit later than I wanted to post but its here nonetheless... Idk if the series is moving too slow, maybe if i uploaded more often but alas! uni has me by my nonexistent balls... also i promise they're going to start patching it up soon xoxo

hope u guys enjoy!

posting this one a day early for my lovely @neverthatsirius-jo <3 mwah

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

Helios rests in the sky, fond eyes gazing upon the mortals below, baking the world to shades of perfect greens and soft browns.

Nyx races overhead, Her starlit body whisking past, with Eos joyfully clinging to Her skirt.

With every storm, Zeus sits in the sky, and hurls down lightning, following it with booming laughs which echo through the lands.

Hera watches weddings go on below, spreading Her blessings among the newlyweds, bringing them peace and prosperity.

Artemis rests in the hollows of mountains, where chilled breezes still blow from streams which have not forgotten the winter's snows. Her skin is dappled with sweat, and Her eyes are greener than the vibrant moss.

Apollon whispers in the ears of mortals, golden sunlight now carrying prophecies in the beams. He takes the hands of mortals and leads them to songwriting and poetry, to painting and music.

Hermes whisks Himself up and down the highways, taking care of the travelers who look for new horizons under the summer's heat.

Messages never seem to still as Iris, bounding up in the aftermath of rain, leaves vibrant rainbow trails behind Her.

Demeter and Persephone slip through Farmer's Markets, carrying more fruits and vegetables and grain than they can reasonably hold. With every fallen fruit, every tomato that squishes a bit, every fallen shaft of wheat, They laugh.

Out on the seashore, Poseidon watches the waves roll in, and the tides go out. The sandcastles left behind by small children are His favorite offerings.

In the mornings, among the waves of birdsong, gentle pipes sound throughout the forests, played by Pan.

And somewhere out in the wilds, both on stony mountain peaks and green riversides, tearing through golden grasses and dancing through firefly-lit forests, is Dionysos. Head thrown back, long hair flowing, teeth bared in joy.

[xetlynn]

I had an idea for claggor with a reader who is basically Gordon Ramsey. LMAO, I mean, she's like a 5 star michelin chef/baker type. She can make delicious meals out of scratch and cheap ingredients (maybe she works with Jericho, and that's how they met ???👀) your claggor work is so amazing. I'd love to see what you do with this!!

arcane imagines- claggor

my personal chef

[arcane] [main page]

prompt: Claggor is helping you set up yours and Jericho’s new restaurant

“Clag, help!” You grit through your teeth as you were on a ladder, trying to hold up a heavy box that was slipping off of the shelf. “Babe!” You cry, his head pops up from underneath the counter as he was currently trying to fix an electrical problem. But seeing you in distress he automatically rushes to your side. 

“I told you to wait, [Name].” He frowns, holding the box so you can climb back down. He steps up, pushing the box back up. “I got impatient.” You sheepishly look away from him. He places his hands on his hips, towering over you. “Well, listen to me next time please.” He sighs, giving you a disappointed look to which you smile. “Sorry, babe.” You stand on your tiptoes and peck his lips. 

“Mhm, you’re going to not listen to me again so your sorry means nothing to me.” He heads back over to the counter, getting back to what he was doing. “Mm, you’re right.” You nod your head, eyeing that box with a hateful glare. 

The two of you were fixing up an old shop and turning it into a small restaurant. You used to work for Jericho and he’s branching his own business out. Since he trusts you he decided to make you a co-owner for this place. 

And here you are. You truly enjoyed working and cooking for Jericho. He practically took you under his wing. He showed you everything you knew. Then you learned your own tricks. Making food exciting and fun. You love it and so you took pride in now working for yourself and co-owning a place like this with Jericho. 

“You hungry?” You hum out to your boyfriend. Going to your walk-in fridge that barely had anything in it yet. “If you’re cooking.” Claggor responds, not looking over to you. “Well, it’s definitely not going to be you who’s cooking. You’ve burnt bread before.” You tease him as you pull out multiple ingredients. “Plus I want to make a few things off of the new menu, get your opinion.” You tell him. 

“First off, rude. You distracted me. Second, I’d love to share my opinion.” He points a finger at you, looking back to the cords that stuck out. He was trying to figure out how to place them back in the wall or tape them up so it wasn’t such a fire-hazard. “You’re obsessed with me, not my fault. And I knew you would. I love cooking for you.” You sing as you prep out the food along with the oven and stove. 

“You’re my girlfriend, of course I’m obsessed with you.” He rolls his eyes, muttering a small yes under his breath when he finally deciphers how to place the stupid bunch of wires. 

“Mm, if you say so.” You chuckle, beginning to chop up the vegetables on a small cutting board. “I’m missing a few things so if these don’t turn out good it’s not my fault.” You notified him, you were slightly disappointed because you wanted him to truly know the things that are going on the menu.

 “It’s okay, hun. I’ll probably still like it.” He stands up, walking up behind you, admiring you in your element. He loved watching you cook or bake. The focused expression that adorned your face, how natural it all looked on you. It made him happy that you had something so dear to you that’s also your career. 

“I feel your eyes burning me.” You comment, peering at him through your peripheral vision. He grins. “Sorry.” He snakes his hands onto your hips. Kissing the back of your head. You leaned back into him while still cutting up the food. The two of you didn’t hear the front door open, a large man entering and checking everything out. He sits on the counter stool, smacking the counter. “Ahem, I’d like to order!” His voice booms, startling the both of you. 

“Jericho!” The two of you announce and you laugh. “Too bad, old man. We ain’t open yet.” You “inform” him and he snickers. “No exception for the elderly?” 

“We hate the elderly.” You joke and he gasps, clutching his chest. “Wow. What a ruthless one you are. I’m starting to question my decision.” He says, causing the three of you to laugh. “I’m actually making some food off the new menu if you want to try it when I’m done?” You offer, showing off the cutting board behind you. 

He waves his hand. “No need, I just wanted to check in. Seems like everything is on track for opening day.” He sits proudly, and you nod your head. “Alrighty, it was nice seeing you!” You come out from the counter and pull him into an embrace. “You as well, little one.” He gruffs. “Can’t believe how grown you two are.” He breathes out, feeling sentimental at the sight of the two of you. He had been feeding Vander’s kids for years and you, he hired you at the young age of 13 since he was friends with your mother. You wanted a job to help out at home and he figured it couldn’t hurt to put you to work. Your mom hesitantly agreed to it and ever since the two of you have been as thick as thieves. 

It then led you to meet Claggor. The love of your life. He got to watch your whole love story unfold. 

“Crazy, I remember when [Named] gushed and fawned over you at 16 and now the two of you are practically married.” He dramatically says, purposely messing with you. You hit his arm with knitted eyebrows. “It was lovely seeing you, Jer. Don’t you think it’s time to go now?” You look down at you watch that graced your wrist and he cackles, hitting your back with such force. 

“Alright, alright. See the two of you later.” He smiles, looking over to Claggor who waves goodbye. “Nice seeing you, Jericho.” 

“You as well.” He huffs as he’s getting shoved out by you. “Get out of here.” You spat, slamming the door behind him, locking it as well. You huff, crossing your arms. Claggor smirks at you from behind the counter. Raising a brow your way to which you flip him off. “Don’t even.” You warn him, heading back over to the food. 

He puts his hands up in defense. “Wasn’t even going to say anything.” He denies it and you scoff. Not believing him. “I mean, you gushed over me at 16… who would want to talk about that.” He jokes and you let out a loud groan. “Shut up or you’re not eating my food!” You threaten. 

“Anything but that, your food is like a piece of heaven I don’t think I could live without.” He clasps his hands together, pretending to plead with your empty threat. You press your lips together trying not to smile. 

Claggor sits at one of the booths you had cleaned off for the both of you. He gently taps on the table as he waits for you like he was told to. You wanted to serve him the food the correct way. On a tray and everything as you come out. “I took a small bite, definitely not how it’s supposed to be but I think you’ll still enjoy it.” You tell him as you place the plates on the table. He gawks at how delicious everything looks. 

“Sure.” He tucks a napkin on the collar of his shirt. His mouth watering just by the sight of your food. You were always anxious about the things you cook or bake. Never having the right ingredients because honestly you couldn’t afford them. Nevertheless it always turns out amazing so Claggor never understood your fear. 

You plop on the booth across from him. Your gaze observing him as he takes his first bite. You gnaw on your bottom lip, nervous. He lets out a loud moan, adding emphasis on it. Sort of exaggerating his reaction but not really. 

“[Name], you’ve done it again. You literally can’t leave me.” He grabs your hand, looking sincerely in your eyes and your face heats up. “I don’t plan on leaving you but good to know I can’t specifically because of my cooking skills.” You playfully roll your eyes, digging into the food as well. 

“You know that’s not the only reason… just the main one.” He takes another bite while squeezing your hand. “You’re stupid, Claggor.” You take your hand to your side as he makes kissy lips your way.