#weed cat cookie

[almightytuba]

theyre the only important part of the update. weed cat

bonus

[daughterthethird]

this is the pinnacle of cookie run character design btw. you may not like it, but its the truth

[obscurecookiestims]

"I love snacking on some cat grass, so I try to always keep some with me."

Catnip Cookie from Cookie Run: Kingdom!

🐾🌿🐾

🌿🐾🌿

🐾🌿🐾

[geddy-leesbian]

bought weed from my neighbor and then took Journey outside on his harness to play with my neighbor's kids because they love animals but don't have any pets

[samthecookielord]

Does incorrect quotes too but i only draw one of the ones i got

[staarr-bee]

Oc stimboard of Eddie for.. well.. Eddie!!

Cw for blood, weed/smoking, and food! (Ramadan mubarak!)

🍪/🐈/🍪

🐈/🍪/🐈

🍪/🐈/🍪

[seventeenpins]

a slight miscalculation - pt. i

pairing: Joel x F!Reader

word count: 8.3k

summary: Sarah is off to college, and Joel is about to be living in an empty nest. They road trip out together, and as she spends her first night in her new apartment, he's staying in a nearby hotel. Letting go of his inhibitions for the first time in a long time, he tumbles into a one night stand that becomes very complicated, very quickly.

content/warnings: smut, age gap, mycologist!reader, dick sucking, implied pussy eating, fingering, no outbreak au, reader likes to hike, reader also infodumps, joel miller has a big cock, he also has anxiety, reader has anxiety too, and a cat, reader is in early 20s--exact age not established, one (1) use of daddy, alcohol and weed consumption, joel is a diligent condom wearer, set in present day, discussion of girl scout cookies, joel is sweet and soft and hasn't been eviscerated by the death of his daughter

a/n: I'm intending this to be about five parts. This may change, but right now it's looking like five. I've been struggling to write for a while, unable to focus, but I think I'm back at it? as always, your feedback is hugely appreciated, and i'm kissing all likers and commenters and rebloggers deeply and with tongue 🩷

check out pt. ii

For the first time in nineteen years, Joel is completely adrift. Sarah's starting college in just two months.

It's the kind of realization that hits him like a bucket of ice water, a sudden shock and then an unpleasant trickling of anxiety wrapping about him in nasty tendrils. And then he feels guilty, because he's so, so happy for Sarah because he knows that she's thrilled, but fuck she's gonna be two time zones away and now what's Joel meant to do on Thursday movie nights when he's here without her?

It's terrifying, and it's new. And it's not that he's new to anxiety. He's usually anxious, and he has the Sertraline on his bedside stand to prove it. But if his general anxiety baseline usually hovered around a 6.4, where he was at now far surpassed a 10. It felt exponential, and totally exhausting.

When he voices his fears to Tommy, to Joel's horror, Tommy just doubles over in laughter.

"Jesus, Joel," he wheezes, wiping fake tears from his eyes in exaggerated movements, "You looked so serious I thought you were gonna say you'd killed someone."

Joel scowls. "The fuck you laughing for?"

"She's going to college, it's not like she's dying!"

"How'm I gonna be there for her? What if she needs me? What if-"

"Joel-," Tommy pats him gently on the shoulder, "She can always call you, and you can always call her. And we both know she's got a good head on 'er shoulders."

Joel snorts in concession. "Yeah, yeah. Better than yours and mine put together, and then some."

"Exactly." Tommy agrees, "And if there's ever anything that really goes wrong, you got me. We can drive out together and make sure she's okay."

Joel nods and feels the tiniest bit of tension leave him. One step at a time.

Just over nineteen years ago he found out he was about to be a dad. Suddenly, he had a purpose. Having a kid at twenty-two wasn't something he'd ever intended, but somehow he knew he loved his baby girl from the moment he knew she was a possibility. He spent a solid seven months running around, hustling, doing everything he could to get the very best for his kid. He'd take on doubles, working himself to the bone to make sure they had the best crib, and the best stroller, too. He was thrilled and terrified and so, so green.

Now, his heart feels so big he doesn't know how to handle it. His baby girl is an honest-to-god adult, moving out and going to college, and he has no idea what he's gonna do with his time now.

He has work, of course. But beyond that? He's really gotta to widen his circle, he realises, because who's he gonna hang out with? His brother?

He'd only just turned forty-one and had absolutely not come to terms with an empty nest--the few friends from high school he'd kept in touch with were so much further behind than him. The ones that had kids had them later in their twenties and thirties, and now they're raising middle schoolers while Joel's kid is a real fucking person, leaving home and everything. All the scrapping and saving he'd been doing since before Sarah was born–for his little girl to be able to follow any dream she chose–it was finally paying off. The precocious young woman she is, she graduated early and spent nearly a year working retail to save up some cash. She'd applied to colleges all across the country, and a few international ones, too. Joel had been crossing his fingers for months, hoping she'd choose something near Austin, but cheered with her all the same when she got her acceptance letter from Oregon State University. The previous summer, just before she'd started her applications, she and Joel and Tommy spent a miserable, wonderful week hiking round the Pacific Northwest. She fell in love with it, and the university offered a few of the majors she wanted to consider.

Joel didn't know what he'd do with his baby girl so far away, his life, his reason, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna tell her that. He will not clip her wings. His baby's gonna change the world and he's not gonna hold her back. He is, though, gonna require regular phone calls and check-ins and god they grow up so fast.

"Y'all should road trip out there," Tommy suggests one night over the dinner table.

Joel knew the conversation of how Sarah would get to the West Coast would come up, and it oughta be sooner rather than later. He was half afraid that she wanted to head out on her own, that she didn't need her dad anymore. Worried she would say she wanted to get a plane ticket, or take the Amtrak all the way to Corvallis. But he knows he needs to loosen his grip a little, so he braces himself when he turns to her.

"What'dya think, Sarah? You wanna be stuck in a car with your old man for a cross-country trip?"

Sarah rolls her eyes, but her face breaks into a grin. "Can we, Dad?"

This was too good to be true, he knew, but he wasn't gonna give up one last opportunity to spend some time with his girl till winter break.

"Course, baby," he tells her, and that flicker of anxiety quells just the tiniest bit.

The next few weeks fly by, and the knot of anxiety in Joel's chest feels like it's consuming him from the inside out. He's taken some time off, more than Sarah or Tommy can remember, but he's constantly trying to suggest ideas for activities to Sarah. For the most part, she's a good sport, understanding how much it means to her dad. She took pity on him, and let him drag her to places that ideally she would've gone to when she was little, but she humored him and he appreciated her dedication. He did his best to step back when she was heading out to spend time with friends--her time here was limited, after all, and she was always a social butterfly.

There are five weeks till classes start, four weeks, three, two, and in the blink of an eye, they're loading up the truck with all of Sarah's things, and Tommy is hugging Sarah goodbye, teary eyed. He gives Joel a hug, too. Joel would never admit it, but fuck he had really needed that hug.

They would take the scenic route. Make a memorable trip of it. Joel would make sure she settles in safe and sound, and then he'd head home.

6am Sunday.

You wake with a start. It's just over a week before term starts and your entire body aches. Fuck, you think to yourself, definitely overdid it with that last hike.

(The hiking part wasn't itself a problem, but one of the trails had washed out. You thought you'd found your way, but the "easy" three and a half mile hike took about five hours, leaving your calves bruised and your heels blistered.)

You roll over in your hotel room bed and, at the sound of a slight yelp followed by a gentle thud, realise with a sudden start that you just catapulted your cat off the corner.

"Shit, sorry goblin," you tell Spatula, who glares up at you with disdain as he licks at his paw. You reach down and, despite your inadvertent cat launch, he immediately rubs up against your fingertips and lets you scratch behind his ears.

"I'm sorry, baby," you soothe.

He meows, loudly. Howls, really. You take it as an apology accepted.

You sit up properly and look at your phone calendar. Nothing immediate. You don't need to get keys to your new apartment till tomorrow, nor do you meet your roommates till then–they're both moving in today, and moving is already horrible without having to navigate around the belongings of two other people. No, thanks. You can afford one more night at the hotel, and it'll make everything go that little bit more smoothly tomorrow. Besides, you have a bit of reading you'd like to get through, maybe stock up on non-perishables till you have a full-sized fridge, and get to know the city just a little.

You move gingerly, testing the ache in your muscles as you unfold yourself from the position you've been sat in and pull yourself from the bed. It hurts, but not something that won't be fixed with a little movement.

A plan forms. First, a walk, to try and loosen up your tight muscles. Then, errands. You have a whole list, with everything categorised by store, but then you enter IKEA and exit fifteen minutes later, only to find that five and a half hours have passed and it's evening now.

How was it that IKEA harnessed such a malicious power. How could anything harness that?

You need a fucking break. And a goddamn drink.

"Hey Dad," Sarah calls from the adjacent bedroom as Joel sweats, hauling another box towards her. The drive has been good, but it has been long. His legs ache. His back aches. There are parts of him that he didn't know existed that now ache.

"Yeah?" he calls back.

"Are you sure you're okay with me staying here tonight?"

Joel lets out a breath. He wants to be okay with it. And there's no way his nineteen year old would want to hang out with her dad when she could be spending the very first night in her brand new apartment. But he also wishes she wanted to spend one last night, hanging out in a hotel room with her dad. They could watch shitty movies together. Make the most of the final night before this cataclysmic shift.

But no.

That'd just be him being selfish. He can handle a night by himself. He's gotta handle a whole lotta them soon enough.

"O'course baby," he nods, hoping the smile he's plastered on his face looks totally genuine. "But we're still doin' breakfast in the morning, right?"

She nods, vigorous, and then waves her phone around. "I was looking up places! There's a diner called Tommy's," she laughs, "Wanna try that? 9:30?"

"Let's do it," he smiles, and this one is a little less forced.

"How much more do we have?" Sarah asks, nodding towards the box Joel's still holding.

"Last box," he grunts, "What else can I help with?"

He places the box down and lets out a slight, almost silent whimper. Sarah catches it, though.

"Maybe you should take it easy the rest of the day, Dad," she tells him, "We both know you have old man back."

He rolls his eyes but nods. "Guess you're right," he shrugs, "That my cue to take off?"

Sarah blushes but turns to him sheepishly. "Yeah, I-"

"No need to explain," Joel assures, "I know you must wanna get unpacked and settle in, get to know your roommates an' all."

She jumps up and, almost startling him, wraps her arms around him in a bear hug.

"Love you, dad," she grins, and she squeezes just a little tighter than usual.

He squeezes back, and they both pretend there aren't tears in his eyes.

As you step through the doors of the hotel bar, you decide you like it. The lighting is comfortably low. It's not loud, but it's not quiet, either. Colorful bottles line the shelves, the light of the filament bulbs glinting off the glass in rainbow prisms.

You take a seat at the bar and give a nod of thanks as the bartender passes you a small menu. It's unsurprisingly extortionate, hotel bar and all, but it'll do.

"Old fashioned, please," you tell the bartender, who nods in response. A minute later, he hands you a glass, delivered with a twist of orange and a cherry on top.

With your first sip, you feel your shoulders start to relax and some of the tension loosen from your body. The warmth of the burn envelops you and your stress starts to unravel, leaving only the buzz feeling good.

You order a second, and as the glass is handed to you, a voice to your right catches your attention.

"This seat taken?" a man asks.

You shake your head and offer a quick smile, gesturing towards it, "All yours."

"Much obliged," he nods, and slips into the backless stool next to yours.

The bartender comes over and passes him the same menu, but without looking at it he asks, "Could I get an old fashioned?"

You smile and catch his eye, tipping your glass towards him. "An excellent choice," you praise, "Though if you don't have a sweet tooth, I'd recommend asking Jeff there if he can go easy on the simple syrup."

"Oh yeah?" He asks, and then he leans in conspiratorially. "T'tell you the truth, I do have a bit of a sweet tooth."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Suddenly, he breaks into a grin and it's dazzling.

"Yeah," he laughs, "I've got cookies stashed in secret locations all through my house."

You raise an eyebrow. "If I keep 'em in my pantry, my brother'll find 'em and eat 'em all," he explains, "But ever since my kid was a girl scout, I always get cravings for girl scout cookies, so I buy an armful o'boxes and try and preserve 'em throughout the year, till I can replenish."

"What's your favorite girl scout cookie?"

"Caramel deLites, hands down."

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely," he nods.

The bartender, Jeff, sets the man's drink down with a clink. You catch one another's eye and both erupt into a fit of laughter.

You're not even sure what's funny. Maybe it's just been a long day? Maybe the whiskey was getting to you?

Whatever it is, it feels good.

The man takes a sip of his drink and lets out an aaaahh and it's goofy and charming and then he extends his hand.

"Joel," he tells you, "Joel Miller". You shake his hand, introduce yourself, and then take a sip of your own drink.

"So, tell me about yourself," you smile, "You coming from out of town?"

"Yes ma'am," he nods, "Come up here from Austin."

"Texas?"

Joel nods.

"That's a long trip."

"Yeah," he laughs, "It really is."

"So, you're a nice Southern boy, huh?"

"Well," he swishes his glass and tries to bite back a smile, "I don't know that I'd go quite so far, but my mama did raise me to be a gentleman."

"That so?" you ask and his blush deepens.

"I... have been known to get up to some trouble, but I like to think I've mellowed in my old age." He gestures at the beautiful little smatterings of silver at his temples, and you cackle.

"Okay, that's hot," you tell him and he chokes, but you keep going, "Old age, though? What are you, like, forty?"

He exhales, chagrined. "Forty-one."

You roll your eyes. "That ain't old."

"It feels it sometimes," he smiles, "My kid is grown. My little brother's married with a kid of his own on the way. My back hurts, pretty much all the time."

You snort. You also notice, without trying to look, that he doesn't have a wedding band. Doesn't have a tan line for one, either. Interesting.

"But more than that," he continues, "I guess I feel- I don't know. A little... aimless?"

"Yeah," you nod, and you let the moment sit. "I get that."

He lets out a little breath, and then turns back to you, focused.

"What about you? Where're you from?"

"Oof," you exhale, "All over. Spent a bit of time on the East coast. The Midwest. Lived a few months in the South, even," you tease as you bump your shoulder into his and he laughs. It's a surprisingly familiar gesture, but miraculously comfortable.

"Ever make it to Texas?"

"Naw," you shake your head, "My time in the South was all in Mississippi. After that I moved out to California, and I've been slowly working my way up the West Coast."

"And what have you been enjoying about the West Coast?" Joel asks.

"The mushrooms," you grin, and Joel frowns.

"Like, the kind you get in a little baggy from the dealer down the street, or-?"

"No," you laugh, "Or, well- Okay, sometimes. Gotta say it is great out here for that, too. But I mean fungus as a whole--mushrooms, mold, yeast, lichen. But I'm most interested in mushrooms. They're just really fuckin' cool, and there's so much we don't understand about them. And, they're delicious."

"Huh," Joel ponders, "T'tell you the truth, I've never thought much about mushrooms, besides enjoying 'em as a pizza topping."

"Most people don't," you agree, "But fuck, like-- Okay, so we know there are over five million types of fungi on Earth, but we've identified less than two percent of them. Some fungus aids decomposition. Some fungus is bioluminescent. Some are known worldwide for their delicious flavours, and others are known by the slow, horrible ways they kill you."

Joel raises his eyebrows, and suddenly you feel a little self conscious.

"Sorry, I do this," you laugh, rubbing at the back of your neck, "I get very excited about fungus and manage to alienate everyone around me."

You half expect him to stand up and walk away.

Instead, though, he leans in closer. "Don't apologise," he tells you, "I'm learning something new. Tell me more?"

"No, I should stop. Otherwise I'll never stop talking," you wince.

"How about just one more fungus fact?"

You sit for a minute, pondering. "This is- well, I guess this is one of the reasons I find fungus so fascinating. So, fungus can't photosynthesise the way that plants do--they can't produce their own food from sunshine, and water, and carbon dioxide. Instead, their mycelium-- they're these thread-like networks--they branch out beneath the earth, seeking out food, growing in the direction where it can find the nutrients it needs and breaking down organic material all around them, sometimes living organisms, as a parasite, and sometimes dead organisms as a decomposer, or both. And it's just- It's this hidden world, that exists right beneath the surface even in some of the extreme places on earth, temperature-wise. And most days, we don't even think about it."

You punctuate your thought with a large swallow of your drink, which is half-watered down now that the ice is melted, and doesn't hit quite as hard as you'd hoped, but then you look up at Joel and he's smiling at you, pensive, and--

"That's- That's actually really interesting."

Before you can respond, though, Joel glances at his watch and balks. It is getting late. "Shit," he shakes his head, "I think I oughta call it a night," he says, pulling back. "Early morning tomorrow, and if I stay at the bar I'll just keep drinkin'."

Fuck. That's a dismissal. Of course you went on too much about mushrooms. You'd fucked this up. You'd thought this was going well, but now it felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. "Oh," you nod, matching his posture, and try to swallow down the sudden wave of disappointment. "Of course. Have a good night, Joel."

Joel stands up and then looks you up and down, considering. It's not brazen, but it isn't shy, either. And then understanding flashes across his face.

"Wait- Sorry, that's not how I meant it." He reaches out towards you and you melt into his touch. "I'm messin' this up." He chuckles, but it sounds pained. "Now look, I don't wanna make any presumptions. And I'm really hopin' I'm not coming off as some--dirty old man. Jesus, I haven't done this in a while. But I'm in room 308."

Your eyebrows shoot up. What you'd taken for disinterest was just--nerves?

"I reckon I'll be awake for a while yet. You're welcome to... drop by."

The disappointment melts, making way for a fluttering in your stomach.

"Twenty minutes," you assure him, "308?"

He nods and he brakes into a sheepish grin, shedding what you now realise had been something of an anxious wince. "308."

You watch him leave. When he's out of sight, you toss back the rest of your watery drink and go to pay your tab, but Jeff tells you it was already settled. You thank him and tuck your shaking hands in your pockets. You feel an electricity running through you as you take the elevator up.

When you get back to your room, you hop into the shower, just to freshen up--you keep your hair dry but scrub your body. Once you're clean, you brush your teeth.

Stepping back out of the en suite, you survey the hotel room. Spatula is lounging on the corner of the bed, entirely uninterested in your movements. You top up his dry food bowl and place a kiss between his ears before slipping out.

When you knock at Joel's door, you hear a slight rustle and clatter and then the door swings open, Joel's staring a little wide-eyed, like he didn't actually expect you to show. He's wearing grey sweats and a Johnny Cash t-shirt that looks like it's been around nearly as long as you have. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, an anxious tell that's desperately endearing.

"C'mon in," he smiles, and you step in, closing the door behind you.

You reach out to cup his face, delighting in the feeling of coarse stubble beneath your fingertips. Your first kiss is chaste. You both lean forward and press your lips to one another gently, exploring.

Then, you let out a little moan and Joel shudders. Heat surges between you, and his hands are cradling your head and brushing your cheek and he's pinning you against the closed door. You're kissing again, nothing chaste remaining, learning the taste of him, his rhythm, the crashing waves of give and take between you.

You wrap one leg around him and smirk when he lets out a throaty groan as you grind against his hard cock. You're pretty sure he's not wearing underwear, the thick bulge seemingly unconstrained in his grey sweats, the whole length pressing against your thigh.

Your head falls back and you let out soft, breathy noises as his lips trace along your collarbone, up your throat, and against that tender little spot behind your ear. When he puts your earlobe between his lips and presses his teeth gently against the skin, your knees go weak and he chuckles, strong arms wrapping around you, holding you up.

"Bed?" he asks, and you breathe yes and then, with a yelp and a throaty chuckle, you're lifted up and spun around and both tumbling into the duvet.

You're grasping at each other, desperate to keep your hands on one another. The only times you part is when you undress, and even then, you're helping each other--pulling the hem of his shirt over his lifted arms, pressing into him as he reaches around and moves to unhook your bra, but then he realises you're not wearing one and lets out a groan, his thumbs brushing alongside the tender skin along your ribs, moving gently as if to cup your breasts, but then he pulls back.

Normally you might wait, do this part slowly, draw out the tease just a little bit longer.

Tonight, though, you're ravenous.

As you fiddle with the buttons of your pants, you tug at the drawstring keeping Joel's sweats on his hips. The bow comes loose in one smooth motion, and he lifts his hips and you pull the sweats down.

Your mouth immediately waters seeing him bare, laid out for you. You watch a bead of precum drip down the head and pool on his belly. The coarse hair of his happy trail glistens with it. He's thick, uncut, and looks painfully hard, his cock head ruddy. "Fuck, you're beautiful," you tell him, and his cheeks redden but he grins. It's boyish, the way he grins, and devastatingly charming.

And, what you're saying is true. His body is gorgeous, something you wish you could sketch. Soft flesh over hard muscle, visible tan lines where his chest and shoulders are noticeably lighter than his arms. The muscles and veins along his throat are driving you absolutely fucking insane as he swallows and looks up at you.

He's got freckles on his shoulders, too, and without thinking, you lower yourself down to kiss at his shoulder. He shakes, just a little, and lets out the most beautiful gasp. It's addictive, pulling these noises from him. You follow the curve of him, giving him a taste of his own medicine--tracing feather-light kisses along his collarbone, up the tendons of his neck, behind his ear. You can feel the blood pulse in his veins as your lips brush along him. Joel goes from panting lightly to full on groaning, rutting his hips up towards you and, frustrated, meeting only air.

"Can I taste you?", you ask, and Joel lets out a half-strangled sound and nods, vigorous.

You scoot back, lower yourself, poke out your tongue and, without any preamble, lick at the slit of his head, tasting the salty, tangy precum.

Joel tips his head back and groans and you decide to be kind. You grasp onto his hips and take him in your mouth, slowly sinking down, inch by inch by inch and now you can feel him at the back of your throat, your saliva dripping down the shaft and collecting in the hair between his thighs.

You bob your head up and down, taking him deeper with each thrust, but your throat is full and there are still inches to go. You relax, doing everything you can to take him deeper, and he starts to thrust up gently.

You let him fuck into your mouth but release one of his hips, allowing him to move as freely as he needs and freeing up your hand, which you shove into your underwear, rubbing furiously at your clit.

It doesn't take much to lose yourself in it, to focus only on the sensation. You're so wet, slick coating your fingers, making the glide that much smoother as you touch yourself. Joel tastes so good, too, the intrusion of his cock the most delicious thing, feeling the way he shudders when you moan, the way he moans when you shudder.

"Fuck-" Joel gasps, and then there's a hand guiding you gently off of him.

You raise an eyebrow. "You okay?"

He swallows, hard, and nods. "More than okay. Felt too fuckin' good."

"Oh yeah?" and you lean down, as if to take him back in your mouth, but he chuckles and pulls you back again.

"It's been... a while. For me. And-" He drags his palm down his face, wearing an almost pained expression. "Christ, you just look too fuckin' good down there, mouth stretched 'round me while you touch yourself. An' it feels too fuckin' good, too. I ain't ready for this to be over yet but if you keep lettin' me fuck your throat like that it's gonna be over real quick. And I wanna feel that pretty pussy myself."

You sit back up and he pulls you towards him so you're straddling him.

"You gonna fuck me, Joel?"

"Yes," he breathes, "Yes, baby, please-"

You do an awkward wobble and then stand up, shedding your pants and letting your panties drop, stepping out of them, one foot and then the other, and the way he's watching you is addictive. He watches you with beautiful eyes, drinking all of you in, and suddenly the moment has changed into one of those quiet, intimate moments where you both exhale a laugh.

You straddle him again, and lean down to kiss him, and the electric current surges up. He grabs you by the jaw, meeting your desperation. His lips on yours are exactly the balm you need and you can taste the whiskey on his breath.

"Feels fucking good," you tell Joel as you slide up and down his length. He's not penetrating you, not yet, but the lips of your pussy are spread and you're gliding along him, feeling his head at your clit and thrusting back till you're nearly seated on his balls.

He watches you, nearly unblinking, drinking it all in. Then, he lets out a groan, and half-sits up, suddenly focused.

"Shit," he closes his eyes in frustration, "I don't have any condoms. Shit shit shit-"

You push him back down and kiss him again. Then, you hop off the bed and sift around in your jean pockets.

"Ah-ha!," you exclaim, once you've found your treasure. Joel raises and eyebrow and you wink. "Saw they were selling them in the lobby. Figured it might be a good idea."

"Shit," Joel laughs, and presses his lips just to the side of your mouth. "Clever girl," he tells you, and a shiver goes up your spine.

He leans to help, but you shoo him away and he watches, entranced, as you neatly open the condom wrapper and, with a small amount of difficulty, roll it down his cock.

"Feeling okay?" You ask him, "Shit, I shoulda gotten the Magnums. Is your dick okay? It's not being choked to death by an inappropriately sized rubber, is it?"

Joel snorts. "We'll manage," he says, and then he grips you by the hips, lines himself up. He draws his knuckles along your cunt and groans, "Fuck, so goddamn wet for me-" and, the moment you look at him and nod, he holds the head of his cock against your drooling lips and presses into you.

It's a big stretch as he lowers you down onto him, the intrusion almost painful, but before you can even take a breath, it melts into absolute pleasure. You've fucked people with longer cocks before, and you've fucked people with girthier cocks before, but never have you fucked someone with a cock that's both this long and thick and it feels like you're being split in two and it's perfect and you realise, with a sudden flip of your stomach, he isn't even fully seated inside you yet.

Then, you manage to focus on the words Joel is saying-that had really just been background noise for the past ten seconds or so-and suddenly you're tuning back in for "Tha's it," his voice low and hoarse, surprisingly gentle, "Good girl, takin' this cock so well, look at you."

His brow is furrowed and he's looking at you with such dark eyes, nearly black, the pupils are so blown. "Just a little more, that's it, just one more inch, you can do it, christ, look at you, takin' all of me."

His tone is reverent and it sets a fire through you. You can feel more slickness build and drip out of you, and from the way he moans, you're certain he can feel it too despite the condom.

"So fuckin' wet," he groans, "Soakin' my cock- grippin' me so nice-Fuck--"

He leans towards you and cradles your head in his hand, kissing you hard.

When you both pull back, you know your lips must be kiss swollen and red. His are--they're soft and bright, and you want to eat him whole.

"You're gonna be the death of me, woman."

He's thrusting into you lazily, holding you in place, but you need more, you need all of him.

You push forward and move his hand from your waist to your clit. As you manoeuvre him, his nostrils flare, and you'd wonder if he was angry, if not for the way you felt his cock stiffen even further inside of you. You start to move your hips, to rub up against the thumb on your clit, and to feel every fucking inch of him.

Urged on by the way he groans, you start to ride him, properly. Holding each other close, you fuck down onto him and he leans back, awed.

"Enjoying the show?" you ask.

"Damn- right- I- am-," Joel breathes, every word punctuated with a shuddering breath after you drive back down onto his cock, "Jesus- you- look- so- good- like- that."

You like being watched. Being admired. It sent an extra thrill through you, and your hips stutter, just a little, and now you're following a new, faster rhythm.

"Fuck, that's it, baby-" he praises, "Shit, yes- bounce on it."

You lean forward and kiss his throat, and then he makes this noise, half-strangled and beautiful.

"Shit, honey-- honey, honey, hold on-," he holds you still and you're glad he has, because your brain hadn't quite processed his words.

He's looking at you so earnestly.

"Baby, if you keep ridin' me like this I am gonna blow my load in the next twenty seconds and I don't wanna end this quite so soon."

You hum, a moment of consideration. You stare into his eyes, and part of it is calculated seduction, but another part is getting genuinely lost in the way he looks at you. The crinkles round his eyes. The way he seems able to focus on you, in a way that feels as frightening as it is exhilarating.

"How about this," You smile, "You get yours, and then you can eat me out till I get mine. And if you're ready to go again by the time I've come, we can see where we're at then. Hmm?"

You see a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, and take a moment to appreciate how much he's clearly trying to control himself.

After a moments of avoiding your eye, he looks at you again and he looks utterly wrecked. "You- talkin' like that?" He shakes his head and tries to even his breath. "Fuck, I nearly came right there."

"It's okay," you soothe, and you cup his jaw and resume you movements, riding him like you had before. "You can come if you need to-" your fingertips stroke the stubble of his chin, "You're close, huh? It's okay, daddy, you can let go."

Joel lets out a strangled noise and busts immediately.

You savor the way it feels, the pulse of his cock as he spills into you. No, into the condom, you correct yourself, but you can always pretend-

After his balls relax and you can feel him start to get soft, you hold the condom down as you pull yourself off, and you're nearly unseated when there's a sudden squelch noise that sends you both into tumbles of laughter.

It takes a while to calm down, and you find yourselves heaving, tangled in the sheets, and wrapped up in each other. The condom is hanging limply on Joel's now-soft cock and it's oddly cold and gooey as you accidentally roll against it, and that sends you both off again.

"Fuck," Joel snorts, and tugs at the condom, starting to roll it off his length, "I'd almost forgotten the weird texture of a used condom. Fuckin'... Slug-like."

"That-" you declare, "Is visceral. And I hate it. Thanks."

He snorts, and you suddenly have a question.

"Condoms not making too many appearances in your life?"

"Not many, no."

"What, you usually fuck raw?"

"Just haven't been sleepin' with anyone," he shrugs, nonplussed.

"Well, I gotta say, the good people of Austin have been missing out."

Joel shrugs again, and it comes off as casual, but you notice the way his ears tint pink. "Just- not been something I did. But now, I guess, I can. And with way less guilt."

"Why guilt? Are-" you venture, dread pooling in your stomach, "Are you married?"

His eyes flit up to you sharply, and then soften immediately. He lets out a breath and shakes his head. "No. Nothin' like that. I was married, but I've been divorced nearly twenty years now."

The tightness immediately uncoils and you realise how tense you were only a moment ago. I am not a cog in the machine of a collapsing marriage. Thank fuck.

But now your curiosity is piqued. "So... why the guilt?"

"Sorry, I- I really didn't mean to get into it. I'd rather not get into it. It's- complicated."

"Of course," you shrug, and it isn't a problem because this is just a hot fantasy hookup that you'll remember fondly, and it'll be wonderful masturbation fuel for probably the rest of your life, but you don't wanna make the poor guy go into his life's trauma, especially when he's looking at you so fucking earnestly and you are actually really fucking fascinated but no, you would not let this become a problem.

"Thanks," he says, and then steps out of the room. You hear the clang of the bin as he steps on the pedal, then drops the condom, takes a piss and washes his hands.

"You hungry?" He asks, and you realize very suddenly, you're absolutely famished.

"Yes," you jump up and he laughs when you run, bare-assed and shameless, over to the corner of the room filled with brochures and traveller info and finally, you raise it in triumph when you find it, the list of nearby takeaways.

"Okay," you look at the list, "There's one place at the top of the list here that's apparently highly rated, but I actually have plans there soon and I wanna wait till then to eat there. Hope that's okay."

Joel comes over to you and rests his head on your shoulder. "No problem."

"But... alright," you continue. "There's pizza. Or... more pizza. Or, look--there's a Southern-style place, that'll make you feel right at home!" Joel pokes you in the side and you swat at him as he grunts a laugh.

Suddenly, a warning sound starts playing on loop in your brain. It was dreadfully domestic, wasn't it? This was an absolute stranger you'd just met in a hotel bar? But... it also felt... nice? And it felt nice in ways that you'd never found yourself enjoying before. Even with long-term partners. Maybe because this was so low-stakes, you reasoned, such an inevitably temporary situation, so you weren't putting the same kind of pressure on yourself.

As soon as you think that, the eternal curse of overthinking shows itself and you suddenly feel desperately self conscious. Before you can pull away and make some excuse, though, Joel's arm wraps around you and his thumb starts rubbing little circles into a tender bit of skin between your hip and your tummy. The anxiety spiral you'd been teetering on the edge of suddenly vanishes.

"How about-," he nods at the list, "Pizza?"

After Joel calls in your order, the pizza delivery service tells you to expect your food in about thirty minutes. You remember you have a little box of edibles. You ask Joel if he minds if you take one, and he doesn't. You offer him one, and he automatically declines, but then as he starts to explain, he pauses and pivots, goes "Wait, actually. Yeah. Why not?"

A freckled kid who looks no more than sixteen pulls up with a short stack of pizza boxes and a two liter bottle of root beer. He raps awkwardly on the door after exactly thirty five minutes, and it swings open.

The room looks utterly wrecked, clothing strewn along every surface. Joel answers the door wearing a robe, his entire face smelling of sex, and his moustache still shining with the slick of your release.

"Thanks, kid," Joel nods, and hands him a small wad of cash. The kid eyes him and shrugs. "Keep the change," he tells him, and the door swings back shut.

The edibles have hit beautifully. You're both blissed out, comfortably hazy, lost in the sensation of bare limbs on bedsheets and the flavors of the pizza and it's assorted sauces. You lay together on the bed, paper plates strewn between you. In the background, an X-Files rerun plays.

"Ooh!" You sit up as you catch the premise of the episode, "I love this one! See the goo? There's a giant fungal... entity.. that's working on digesting them, and giving them hallucinations as they die."

"You and mushrooms, huh?" Joel laughs, but then looks back at the episode and contemplates the viscous yellow goo. "Jesus christ," he frowns, and sniffs, now contemplating the mushrooms on his pizza slice.

You spot his glare and snort. "I think you're safe."

He takes another bite and shakes his head as if to clear it.

"I'm getting tired," he admits.

"Me too," you agree.

"No pressure, but in case it wasn't clear, you're welcome to stay the night here."

"That's sweet," you tell him, and think it over. "If I took you up on that, would you be offended if I slip out early?"

Joel raises a brow.

"I have a cat," you explain, "And I'm working on moving into a new place, and meeting a friend for breakfast, and then I need to check out after breakfast because I won't be able to get my keys for the new place until the breakfast but I can't take my cat to a diner-"

You take a breath.

"Basically, I've got a bunch of things I need to do in the morning, but if you don't mind me slipping out around, maybe, 5-ish, then I'd love to stay."

He stares at you.

You regret saying as much as you said. You don't need to over-explain yourself to this actual stranger. He doesn't care. There's no reason for him to care. He's probably in it just for the fuck, and it was fun and if you stay then there's a chance the two of you will wake up at some point in the night, still horny and lustful and you might fuck again and you'd be lying if you said that wasn't part of the draw. You realise, though, you'd also be lying if you said you didn't care what he thought of you. All of a sudden, you are overwhelmed with caring what this man thinks of you.

How fucking inconvenient.

"I wouldn't be offended at all," Joel chews, swallows, wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin and speaks again. "What's your cat's name?"

You don't know what you'd expected he'd say, but it wasn't that. You buffer for a moment. "It's- Spatula."

"Spatula?"

"Yep." You feel foolish.

"Huh. Spatula."

A silent moment between you.

"Got any pictures?"

You weren't expecting that, either. "I... do? Do you want to see them?" He nods. You pull out your phone to scroll through.

Joel, suddenly scrambled around for his phone, too. It was late and he hadn't checked it for hours. Had it been on silent? What if Sarah had called and he'd missed it?

His panic eased when he saw he had only two notifications. Both from Sarah, but neither were bad. He hadn't been neglecting any crises. The first text was a selfie of Sarah and an unfamiliar person, which she'd texted to him with the caption New roomie!! The second contained an address to the place they'd have breakfast tomorrow along with Just wanted you to know I've invited a friend to join us tomorrow morning! Is that okay? Realized I should maybe have checked with you? 😬

There was an ache in his chest. He wanted to keep her to himself, get to spend one last day, just the two of them. It was the start of a whole new chapter, but more than anything, he wished he could hold onto the moment for just a second longer.

But Sarah was stressed, he knew this, so he wasn't gonna make it worse and put this burden on her. He could handle it. He had to handle it. He typed back- No problem, baby. Can't wait to meet your friend.

After a moment, he followed up with another text. Gonna turn in now. Good nite!

The less he texted right now, the better. He did not want Sarah to know anything about the night he was having.

His screen lit up a moment later. Night Dad! He takes a deep breath and wills some of the tension away.

He slips his phone aside and you scoot into bed next to him.

"This," you announce, "Is Spatula."

Joel scrolls thru, his brows raising higher with each image.

With a single nod, he opens his mouth and instead of speaking, he collapses into laughter. It comes out a wheeze- "I-- I know this won't make any sense, but your cat looks just like my goddamn brother."

You're laughing now too, both of you almost hysterical, even though you have no frame of reference. You cherish the absurdity.

Then, Joel pulls up a picture on his phone and shows you, and now you're doubling over again because his brother looks exactly like Spatula.

You don't remember falling asleep. You curse your body's internal clock because you wake up right at 5am, and even though you know you should get up and leave, you wish you could have just a little bit longer.

It's such a comfortable way to wake up. One arm is folded under your pillow, and the other is slung over Joel's hip. He's asleep, snoring softly, and strands of his hair are mussed along his forehead. Your hand is holding his tummy, but you realise there's something pressing against the heel of your hand, and then realise, with a delicious jolt, that he's hard and straining against his boxers.

It's so fucking hard to get out of that bed, but with enough barely-effective reminders--you're gonna fuck up your whole day if you're late, gotta make a good impression, Spatula's gonna be so disappointed if you're late with his breakfast--you manage to bully yourself out of the warm and wonderful bed containing blankets and absolutely fantastic dick, and you tiptoe through the room, dress quickly, and, after making a note and leaving it on his bedside stand, you slip out.

Joel wakes up with a jolt, and then rolls over to see that the alarm clock (which he dared not contemplate the number of times he must have snoozed) was telling him it was 9:13.

He was late. Really fucking late. And then the panic made his brain spin faster and that's when he noticed the note on his bedside table.

I had a really good time If you're in town for a little longer, don't be a stranger?

It's followed with your name and phone number, and a rather detailed mushroom sketch across the page. He wasn't sure what kind of mushroom it was, but it was beautiful, and clearly hand-drawn, and for whatever reason you'd decided to tear it out of, presumably, your sketchbook? And you gave it to him, and he's gonna read that note and replay last night for the rest of his fucking life. It felt incredibly precious. He placed it in a book so it wouldn't get creased or folded. Made sure it was all contained and neat, totally flat in between the pages.

Then, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower.

After scrubbing the smell of sex off of his entire body, he dresses quickly and checks his watch again. 9:28.

He texts Sarah and lets her know he's a few minutes behind. She responds with an eye roll emoji.

Joel settles in his truck and pulls up directions. It's only a few minutes away. He won't be too late.

When Joel steps into the diner, he's charmed by it. It's old school, with a checkerboard floor and bright red vinyl seats. He scans the room till he spots Sarah in a booth in the corner. She's laughing over a hot chocolate, and her friend must be in the seat opposite her.

He catches Sarah's eye and she grins at him, waving him over.

You've been at the diner about fifteen minutes, and you and Sarah are already getting along beautifully.

You'd met on a university message board and had become fast friends, but meeting someone in person was always a little terrifying. On top of that, you'd already committed to spending at least one (academic) year with this person, so you were damn sure gonna make it work.

Sarah waves over her dad. You can't see him yet, the back of the booth too high.

But then he's standing right there.

You already have a hand outstretched, but when he sees you and you see him, your stomach flips and dread runs through you. All the color drains from his face. He looks like a deer in headlights, and you'd be surprised if you didn't look the same.

Sarah looks between you, not quite concerned, but definitely confused. Sarah smiles and tries to diffuse the situation.

"Hi dad!" She grins, "This is my new roommate! Well, the other new roommate--the one in the picture, their name is Ellie, they weren't able to make it this morning. BUT. Breakfast seemed like a great time to hand off keys!"

Joel is still frozen and white-faced. Your brain whirs, and you know you've just fucking catapulted yourself into a disastrous mess, but you do your very best to save face.

Reaching your hand out further so he can't possibly miss it, he gives into some familiar social instinct, takes it and you shake. You think of his hands, how they dragged along your body last night, touched you, felt you, wrecked you.

You introduce yourself. He nods, avoiding eye contact.

"Joel." He grunts. "Miller."

Sarah frowns at him, but turns back to the menu.

This- was unexpected. Problematic. Arguably, really fucked up. All of those things and more. But it'll be fine.

All throughout breakfast, you repeat that to yourself, letting the words bounce around your head. It will be fine, you repeat your mantra, it will be fine, and you try not to feel too hurt at the way Joel's avoiding eye contact as if simply looking at you will cause him unimaginable disgust.

Everything will be fine.

Note: The fic's premise is loosely based on the book Mistakes Were Made which is a fucking excellent sapphic romance novel that utilises this trope. Would strongly recommend the book if you're into smutty queer stories.

[archangeldyke-all]

Sevika and reader being grumbly whiskey aunts together!!!

They just want to sit on their porch together. <3

this is EVERYTHING to me

men and minors dni

you spend your evenings on your screened-in front porch, passing a smoke back and forth, one of you occasionally getting up to grab fresh drinks and snacks from the house.

you're both total grumps, but the kids (vander and silco's ofc) know that if they're ever in trouble, the first house to call is their aunts'.

lmaoooo now i'm imagining jinx calling you for a ride home from a party she shouldn't be at-- and you and sevika showing up to pick her up-- grinding and making out in front of all her friends just so she learns her lesson adkfj;laskjd

over the years, you've hosted the kids in your house for all kinds of reasons. claggor spent a month living with you guys when the three little kids were bogged down with a flu they kept passing around. in a rebellion against his dads' video games ban on him after they caught him smoking weed at fourteen, mylo and his xbox moved in with the two of you. jinx and vi come over for 'girl nights' all the time when they're growing up, and when violet gets laid off from her first job, she crashes with the two of you until she can get back on her feet.

they're the only kids you tolerate though. neighborhood kids are terrified of you and sevika-- both of you are total grumps, and little slayer and sugar are the exact same.

(but you make up for your bad reputation in the neighborhood on halloween-- you're always the house that gives out full sized candy bars.)

your elderly neighbors though? they love you and sevika.

they appreciate that you're just as grumpy as them. they always wave to you from their porches, where they sit every evening along with you guys. they like that you don't give a shit about the home owners association, and that sevika sometimes even does shit just to piss them off. (she painted your fence hot pink after being told by the HOA that the natural wood needed to be painted white. she earned the hearts of all your grumpy old neighbors with that move.)

as a result, you're always being given plates of cookies and pans of casseroles by the old ladies in the neighborhood, the old men are always coming over to share a smoke with sevika and exchange books, gardening tips, and garage tools. (you and sevika repay their hospitality by shoveling their sidewalks and raking their leaves for them in the shitty weather.)

you're constantly being told by old folks that you're 'the nicest lesbians we've ever met.'

sevika always laughs at this, then asks how many lesbians they have met. the answer is always just the two of you.

(one time, though, a little old lady informs you that her granddaughter is a lesbian 'just like you two,' and that she was so happy when she came out to her because 'you'll be just like my lovely neighbors!' this one makes you cry... and even sevika tears up a bit.)

in the summer, you've got a big fan you can flick on to keep you cool on your porch.

in the winter, you've got a little space heater you can pull closer to your matching rocking chairs.

after a few years, sevika even builds you an outside bed, so that after an evening of drinking whiskey and sharing a joint you can cuddle in each other's arms outside and listen to the crickets and frogs chirping before heading in for the evening.

your porch is your favorite little spot in the whole wide world. sevika's planted a jungle of plants surrounding it, and it's like your little oasis from the real world. you've got christmas lights strung around the ceiling that stay up all year long, lighting the porch when the sun finally sets. you've got dog and cat beds scattered everywhere so your animals can join you. there's ash trays, pipes, books, and bottles littered everywhere, and there's always at least a dozen potted plants scattered around inside your little sanctuary.

it's heaven.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

please give me a list of weed strain names

Green Magic

Black Death

Diesel

Shredder

Joint

Big Bertha

Pigeon Shit

Blunt

Majestic

Lodi

Ollie

Lunacy

Curse of the Green Hell

Cannabitch

Runt

Chocolate Covered Crackers

Black Cat

Marijuana

Aero

Shit

Grin

The Original Haze

White Death

Cotton Candy

Kush

Purple Haze

Cheesy

Dwarf's Gummy

Cheeto

Waka

White Girl

Cannabis

Shitpile

Crunk

Head Bitch

Wacky Water

Kushie

Ozomatli

Fantastica

Lunacy

Shroom

Lemon Demon

Door Hanger

Blunt

Joint

Wad

Blueberry

Chonk

Suck

Chill

Swisher's Edge

Purple Haze

Tango

Cookie

Boner

Dwarf

White Guy

Muffin

Blunts

Shroomie

The Joint

Lunacy

Dwarf's Gummy

White Girl

Green Crack

Dank

Skunk

Purple Skunk

Sativa

Shroom

Blueberry

Gummy

Cookie

Cannabash

Slim Jim

Shitty

Runt

Shits

Gruv

Boner

Wad

Swisher's Edge

Suck

Oz

Nug

Joint

Shroomie

Chonk

Suck

Nug

Joint

Wad

Kush

Tango

Swisher's Edge

Shroomie

Chonk

Sucker

Grip

Fantastica

Blunt

Swisher's Edge

Boner

Grip

Fantastica

[vaguesxrrow]

Can you do prompt number 29 with the cat king please(:

tysm for the request ! ive never written for him before so i was very excited to. this is short but sweet so i hope u dont mind that <3

cat king / reader - doing something silly to cheer them up

a/n: i'm not the best at writing jokes so apologies if this sounds a bit clunky 😅 and also this is the pic of the apron thomas wears

wc: 777

tags: gender neutral reader, alive human reader

prompt 29. doing something silly to cheer them up // one time thomas does it for you, and one time you do the same for him

you stumbled into your flat, immediately dropping your bag in favour of massaging your temple, where a throbbing headache was working away at your sanity. a cat padded up to you, meowing in question. a cloud of dust formed, and before you stood thomas, slitted eyes narrowed in concern.

"headache, babe?" he asked.

you nodded. "i've had it since noon."

he tutted in sympathy, kissing you on the forehead. "let's get you to bed," he said as he snapped his fingers, transporting you to your bedroom, where the lights were already dimmed and your pillows were already arranged in the exact way you liked them. he ushered you onto your mattress, tucking you in.

"sleep," he whispered into your ear, and you felt your eyes get heavy as you relaxed into the mattress.

you only woke again to the irresistible aroma of cookies. letting your nose lead you, you trudged to the kitchen, where your eyes immediately zeroed in on the plate of gingerbread cookies on the table. when reaching for them, you realised the gingerbread men were all missing some part of their body, and had comedic frowns drawn on their faces in icing. the one you were holding right now was missing a hand, and its expression looked very clearly upset.

you laughed. "thomas, did you make these?"

he was standing at the kitchen counter, bent over what you presumed to be another batch, with a piping tube in his hand. when he whirled around, you only laughed harder. his apron - god knew where he got that from - was neon green, and had the words 'the food has weed in it' neatly embroidered on the front, surrounded by various flowers and plants... including the one mentioned in the text.

"only the best for my sweetheart," he stated simply. "don't they look positively… horrified?"

"they do," you agreed. "i didn't know you had such a talent for baking... or that you've had this very unique apron this whole time."

he kissed you chastely. "i'm glad you're smiling again."

you grinned, leaning in again for a deeper kiss. "all thanks to you."

⌦ --

"would it be bad of me to kill a disciple?" thomas asked, flopping face down onto your bed. when he had appeared at your window, clawing furiously at the glass, you barely batted an eye before letting him in. he had paced for a while in cat form, growling furiously, before he transformed and began a tangent on how problematic his cats were being these days.

"i am their king!" he said, now. "do they not realise that? or... do i not act like it?"

you awh'ed in sympathy, moving to lay shoulder to shoulder with him. both of you were stomach down. your eyes were firmly trained on thomas, who was still adamantly huffing into your bedsheets.

"honestly, thomas, i think they're just jealous," you said casually. "i bet they spend time behind gargabe cans whining about how much they wish they were you. you know that whiny one, karl? yeah, he seems like the type to throw a hissy fit and be petty."

he barked (irony unintended) a short laugh. at last, he turned around to face you. "really?" he drawled.

you nodded vigorously. "oh, yeah," you said, sounding extremely convinced. "y'know those book clubs with old, gossipy ladies? that's definitely them."

thomas bit back an amused smile. "are you calling my cats old?"

"hey!" you said defensively. "you were the one complaining about them first."

"i'm their king, i'm allowed to say that," he argued.

you ran a hand over the nape of his neck, scritching the spot where his hair began. "yeah, you are. and you're a great king. no one could doubt that."

he preened under your touch, moving closer for more contact. you smirked mischievously, your gentle touch suddenly changing to a tickle attack as you jabbed your fingers into his neck. he yelped, even as a surprised laugh burst from his throat.

"what was that for?" he gasped in betrayal.

"clearly my humour wasn't enough to make you laugh, so i resorted to more physical means." you sat up, looking at him in challenge.

he snickered. "well, you know i'm all about payback," he said as he transformed into his cat form with a playful growl. he nimbly climbed up your shoulders, weaving around your neck and licking the back of your ears as you squirmed, trying to escape. you squawked when thomas transformed back, collapsing on top of you as he chuckled.

"the things i suffer through just to cheer you up," you cried dramatically.

he nosed your cheek. "well, just know that i appreciate it.”

[tamayakii]

The Devil watches.

Warnings: Not connected to any episodes of HOTD, but is set after Daemon & Laena marry after Rhaenrya & Laenor do. My timing may be off by a tad, Pairings: No Pairings, it's pretty much Darling on her own. notes: I chose the flowers with purpose, anyone who can guess will get a cookie. Also thank you to my friends for being my beta-readers. Also part two IS in the works!

The Belladonna swayed in the wind, dancing with the butterfly weeds. They were a beautiful sight. A change from the rainy scenery on Dragonstone, it rained like hell on the island. The colder season was here. Your family wrapped themselves in furs and thick leather. 

The Velaryons and Targaryens frequently met on Dragonstone because of the marriages between Rhaenrya and Laenor, as well as Daemon and Laena, with Dragonstone and Driftmark being sister islands. 

At a slow pace, you traversed the halls of the stone castle, the one that had held many of Targaryen's heirs and ancestors. Since your entrance into the royal family, you dug yourself into research- you wanted them to know you truly did not look down at this chance of a better life. 

You learned the history of Old Valyria with your father, Viserys. He believed himself a dreamer, you found, like Daenys the Dreamer- perhaps the reason the Targaryens survived the destruction of Valyria. 

With Aemma, you learned of Rhaena Targaryen, Queen of the East and West. Daughter of Alyssa Velaryon and sister to Queen Alysanne, sister-wife to the King Jaehaerys the First. Aemma wanted you to know about her mother, Daella Targaryen.

And you knew, you discovered her meek nature, her fear of gardens, bees, and cats. You acquired all knowledge that could be learned, all knowledge that the Maesters wrote. Even once at a dinner, you asked Ser Corlys what he thought of Daella, who was 3 and 10 at the time of their meeting.  

They quickly escorted you to your chambers, with Rhaenrya following closely behind you. It seemed you had upset Aemma and changed the mood of the dinner. Queen Aemma miscarried that night, something that you would place blame on yourself. 

Outside, the wind blew through the paneless windows of the halls. The salty taste of the sea sat upon your lips. The thoughts of your late-queen mother made your eyes water, the pain of her death still ever present in your soul. Your veil billowed behind you as the wind blew harder, pulling your fur robes tighter as you descended the staircase. These were the nights when you felt the need to be under the shrouded night, humming the Mother's Hymn, as the darkness seemed endless and the stars never shined. The castle was as silent as ever. Besides nature's song, everyone tucked into their warm beds. Protected by the guards that you’ve come to know as background ambience. 

“Gentle mother..” You sang under your breath, letting your fingers feel every grout of the walls that followed the staircase, “font of mercy…” you dragged your voice out as you reached the bottom of the tower, pushing the thick oak doors open. 

“Save our sons..” Closing your eyes as you felt the wind caress your face like Mother herself as you sang her hymn, “from war…” stepping into the courtyard, you looked up at the looming castle of Dragonmont. 

“We pray.” Your feet step slowly across the gravel, mimicking a dance you once saw. Slowly, you step from the left before taking a long graceful one to the right. “Stay the swords,” you dance yourself through the protective gates of Dragonstone, skipping from one step to the next. 

“And stay the arrows.” Your voice trails off as you walk onto the shore, the waves lapping at the sand. You stopped to admire the dark sea, your veil waving in its wind with force. It was as if the sea’s wind washed away your sins. 

“Let them know a be-” A large gust of air comes from above, nearly knocking you on your arse. It punches the air out of your lungs. Gasping for air as you looked to the heavens above, but nothing was there except the night sky. 

“Better day..” whispering, eyes wide as you stare into the abyss night. You rack your brain for answers. Perhaps it was Ceraxes. If left alone for too long, the blood wyrm was known for its lonely flights. The thought comforted you. 

Looking down the long rocky beach, you begin your trek again with caution. You listen to any sound in the night but all there is howling of the wind, trying to comfort yourself with a sigh; you sing once more,

“Gentle mother..” you pause, waiting for an interruption that never comes. “Strength of women,” pulling your robe against you tighter as you round a tight bend in the beach, skipping over rocks to dodge the waves licking your feet. 

The sound of rocks tumbling catches your attention, watching as small rocks fall down the cliff side. Looking up to find that the rocks seemed moved on their own, not a lively shape to be seen up top. 

‘The wind, perhaps.’ you think to yourself before moving onward.

“Help our daughters through this fray.” You lost yourself in thought as you walked. The Mothers Hymn was of comfort to you. Aemma sang it every time she tucked you in, unable to ignore your pleas to sing it just once more. 

The first night you sang the Mother's Hymn without Aemma was after her funeral, Rhaenrya would not sleep, her grief too much for her to bear on her own. You hummed as you brushed the girl's hair with your fingers, whispering the lyrics.

It took an hour until she fell asleep- your voice raw from repeating the Hymn with no breaks. 

A cove sat in your path, the sandy path too thin for you to walk, the water becoming more shallow as it flowed into a cave. Finding yourself upon a high rock, enjoying the sea breeze, you were ignorant to the eyes that stared from the cavern. 

“Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,” You wondered about Laena’s adventure to Vhagar, the woman had her eyes set upon the dragon since she learned of its history and location. Vhagar, the last of the conquerors' dragons, was a mighty green beast, but her song was as beautiful as a gentle maiden. 

“Teach us all a kinder way.” 

The air gets warmer, almost too warm. You start to wonder as you pant about the change of weather. Turning around and looking into the cavern's mouth; you realize why.

A dragon, as dark as the night and as sharp as a blade. Its horns curled around its face, green eyes glowing in the dark. It begins to climb out of the cave, its body seeming never ending. It  towers over you with his horrifying size. 

Fear gripped your frail heart. You were going to die. 

Smoke billows out of the beast's nostrils. Its chest glows with the heat of a thousand fires. Flames tickle your legs as you throw yourself off the rock, gasping as the freezing water below you flee for your life, forgetting the sharp rocks and barnacles tearing at your hands.

Thunderous booms follow you, a song that told you your fate, but the song was not comforting. It was dreadful. It screeched and wavered unceremoniously, and that was the song you would die to.

There was no escape. The breath of the fearsome dragon was hot on your back. Did the beast enjoy this? It could end this chase with one snap of its giant teeth, but it did not. 

A light at the end of the tunnel appeared.

A crack within the cliff side, just big enough to hold you. 

Tripping over your feet as you dash for it, shoving your body between the jagged stones, it hurts. The sharp edges tore at the front and back of your dress, crying as it dug into your skin. What were you to do? 

The dragon paces back and forth, a cry that sounds too much like a chortle leaves its throat. It was laughing.. It was laughing at you.

“Gentle Mother” You sang with fear, trying to comfort yourself, a bit of solace as you sat at death's door. “Font of mercy” voice wavering as you sobbed, you wanted your mother. You wanted Aemma. 

“Save our sons from war, we pray- oh gods!!” you sobbed against the stone, begging the gods- all of them, the old and new, for Mercy,. 

The dragon had stopped, listening to your voice. 

“Stay the swords and stay the arrows-” you realize the dragon has stopped. You look at the opening and see its green eyes watching you as it slowly lays its large body against the sand. Its lips curled once you stopped singing, 

“Let them know a better day..” 

It snorted, laying its head down. Perhaps it once heard the Mothers Hymn, or maybe it was the own Mother's hand coming down to save you. 

“Gentle Mother, strength of women..” Slowly, you begin to sidestep out of the crack. “Help our daughters through this fray.” you can feel its hot breath once more. Fear makes you stop, but memory reminds you of your family.

“Will I have a dragon, Papa?” Viserys held you tight on his lap, the book open wide on your thighs. The man hums with thought before he smiles, kissing your temple. 

“A girl as brave as you? Of course you shall have a dragon., I will make sure of it if I must.” His hands rub your sides with love. The thought of him forcing the gods to give you a dragon made you more happy. 

Looking up at him with a toothy grin, “Thank you, Papa!!” The rest of the night you discussed dragons. Viserys suggested that once Dreamfyre laid a new hatch, he would give you a dragon egg, but each egg he gave you failed to hatch.

“Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,” 

The dragon chirps softly, a weird noise coming from such a devilish beast. 

“Teach us all a kinder way…” The Hymn ends and soothes the dragon., "Do you like that? It's my favorite... is it yours too?" with cautious steps, you finally emerge out of the rocks. The dragon huffs, and the clouds split and the moon shines upon you two. 

If you tamed this dragon… perhaps you would feel more Targaryen, maybe you could fly in the skies with Rhaenrya and Daemon. 

The dragon sniffs you as you step closer. Your hands touch the scales of its snout and it rips its head back with a grunt. It was still a wild dragon. You almost laughed at yourself. It had tricked you. You were no Targaryen, and it would kill you.

Awaiting the flames hotter than the hells to blanket your body, you waited for the never ending pain with your eyes closed, but it never came. When the wind picked up again, you found yourself opening your eyes once more.

There it was, spreading its wings and taking off with a mighty roar. You watched as the dragon flew further into the mountains, 

You had walked along the devil's hand and came unscathed. 

With the speed of a hare, you picked your soaked and ripped dress up and ran. Feet ripping up the sand, leaving spits of rocks behind you. Desperate to reach the safety of your chambers within the safety of the castle.

You reached the castle gates, heaving for air, but it did not stop you. Brushing past the confused guards as you blazingly push the doors open to the side tower and running up the stairs, 

Your mind came back to the wild dragon, the way it had multiple sets of horns, but its biggest curled in towards his face like a ram. Its eyes were more green than the richest jade, scales so deep black that it could rival Balerion’s skull that resides under the Red Keep. 

Shoving your body against your chamber doors, they slam shut. You wheeze for air, the pain pinching your throat as you try to breathe normally. You should’ve been dead ten times over. Slowly, you walk to your bed, shaking as you collapse. 

The silk sheets are warm against your slick skin, fingers stretching as they tremble from the cold. Your eyes fall heavy, the distant roar of a dragon seems ever faint as you slip into a deep slumber.

That night, you dream of dragons. It is you who is the dragon. You see flashes of broken eggs and the bodies of baby dragons ripped apart, oddly; you feel no remorse for the creatures but only satiated hunger. 

You see the rough choppy waters of the Narrow Sea below as you fly through the dark nights, ships cross in many numbers- You destroy them, roaring with a laugh but you hunger for your own brethren, for the taste and feel of fire and talons.

No longer a dragon, you’re a human once more. A baby within a cradle, your mother Aemma above you, or was she Aemma? Her long white hair and purple eyes entranced you, but as you studied her further; It was not Aemma, but another woman.

Her eyelids were gently dusted with a purple hue, and her lips were glossed to match the same shade of purple. She seemed tired, but she still smiled. Above her was a painted tapestry of dragons, but among the many, only one caught your attention. There it was. The beast swirled and its jaws were wide open with a flurry of green fire escaping its mouth. 

The eyes seem so alive and penetrating, as if they're boring into your very being. The green-eyed devil had been watching you for a long time. 

Your dreams end before you can look at the woman once more, but you hear her voice, 

“Gentle Mother, font of mercy…”

Let me know what you guys think!! Reblogs over likes!!!

[thursdaygxrls]

thin ice — four

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary — kitty is yet again dragged to a social gathering she would rather not attend. the bait this time? weed!

paring — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!(journalist)!reader

disclaimer — who is expecting me to own peter parker by now?? bc i don’t

warnings — reader is referred to as ‘kitty,’ weed, slightly inexperienced reader (experienced peter, no smut yet im sorry), possible ooc

Days like these were the ones Kitty craved: hazy, chilly spring weather that resembled fall, except that dying leaves were replaced by cherry-red buds, and flowers bloomed through blades of grass. It was one of those days with no responsibilities to fill her precious hours—the ones that were spent scrolling through Pinterest and reading. She was stretched haphazardly along her bed, still dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt with holes in the armpits. The blinds were still closed, so the sudden beam of light next to her startled her.

“You love interrupting my dark-dwelling time,” she hissed as MJ entered the room. Sticking out her tongue, MJ closed the door behind her and sealed off the obnoxious light, much to Kitty’s relief.

“I’m sorry, my sun-hating princess,” MJ spoke dramatically as she rummaged through her bag, “But, I come bearing gifts.”

At this, Kitty perked up, swiping out of Project Makeover and sitting up to devote her full attention to her roomate. From her bag, MJ produced two plastic-wrapped chocolate-chip cookies and tossed them to bed. The girl pounced on them, immediately tearing into the plastic on one of the packs.

“I forgive you,” she said before biting into the treat.

“Thank God,” MJ replied in dramatic relief. Ease settled over the room as MJ removed her jacket and went about unpacking her things. Kitty, now finished with her first cookie, tossed the used plastic to the trash can across the room (and missed horribly). 

“What’ve you been up to this lovely Friday?” She asked her freckled friend, who was currently changing out of her cable knit sweater. 

“Oh, you know, class,” MJ responded as she slid a Stevie Nicks shirt over her head, “Some people still have class on Fridays.”

“That must be heartbreaking,” Kitty hummed sarcastically, “Anything else?”

“Oh, yeah,” MJ’s movements were smooth as she went through her bag, “I had lunch with Harry after class.”

“Was the dining hall romantic?” Kitty questioned with a smile.

“Totally,” MJ responded with a laugh, “The black-bean burgers are basically aphrodisiacs. Anyways, he invited us out to Hot Rock around eight, so I was thinking we could get dinner–”

“No, thanks,” Kitty intercepted, bringing her legs up closer to her torso and flattening her lips to a line, “I’m not leaving the dorm today.”

“If you had it your way, you’d do that every day,” MJ groaned.

“And?’ Kitty quirked a brow, causing another grumble to leave her counterpart.

“Do you realize how much I say ‘no’ to stuff?” She continued, “‘Kitty, wanna go to a hockey game?’ No. ‘Kitty, wanna go to a frat party?’ No. Our entire relationship exists on the basis of you wanting to do stuff and me trying to refuse.”

“But you still went,” MJ raised her brows hopefully, “To both things. And it’s not like it’s just going to be Harry, he said some other people would be there.”

“Oh, great, other people, you know how much I love social gatherings where I don’t know anyone.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“You know Peter,” MJ suggested. Kitty hadn’t seen Peter in a while. ‘A while,’ in her case, was a week. She’d gotten some semi-regular texts from him (cat memes and open invites to hang out) but hadn’t seen him since the frat party.

“Is it the best use of their time to be at Hot Rock when the semi-finals are two days away?” Kitty asked.

“No, probably not, but,” MJ’s smile, which had been dimming, came back with full vibrance, “But we can reap the benefits of their deviant behavior.”

“Are the benefits better than chocolate chip cookies?” She hummed.

“Pre-rolls and a bong,” MJ wiggled her fingers in a tamer version of jazz hands. Kitty seemed to deflate with a loud sigh.

“I hate that you make me do things.”

Hot Rock existed on the older, suburban side of campus. Right behind one of the major dining halls was a small, hidden space that hit the blind spot of the security cameras in the area. It wasn’t a rock so much as an artificial slab of stone with a metal pipe attached that spewed hot steam. It was connected to the heating system in the dining hall, but also served as a popular spot for stoners. A few of these man-made smoke spots were scattered around campus, but this one was the most popular, mainly because this rock was always much hotter than the others.

Kitty’s breath appeared in small puffs in the night air and she and MJ walked around the corner of the dining hall. It was spring, and the weather was getting warmer, but there was still a bit of frost. As they shuffled down a small slope, the rock revealed itself, decorated with about four people, one of them being Harry.

“MJ!” He nearly fell over himself scrambling towards the pair. He pressed a small kiss to her lips and wrapped an arm around her in greeting. MJ giggled, choosing to ignore Kitty’s gagging face.

“Kitty-cat!” Harry directed his grinning face to her, “I’m so glad MJ got you out of your tree.”

“I almost wish you’d just call me ‘bitch’ instead of that,” she replied. Harry, not losing any vigor, laughed.

“I know what you need.” He wagged his brows as he reached into the breast pocket of his flannel. He produced a mini pre-rolled joint with a proud grin, “Kitty needs her catnip.”

“I’m gonna let that one slide,” she said, and he simply chuckled. His eyes moved from hers, and somehow his impossibly bright smile widened. Kitty turned and was met with a familiar pair of hazel eyes.

“I’m a big fan of catnip, too,” Peter grinned, sliding down to meet the rest of the group.

“Hey, Peter,” Harry let go of MJ for a moment to give Peter a half-hug. Peter’s eyes, however, never let go of Kitty. He held her gaze with ease.

“Can we sit? My ass is cold,” MJ grumbled lightly as Harry took his post next to her.

“Of course, of course,” was Harry’s hurried reply. The four found spots on the rock, Harry returning to his original spot and taking MJ with him. Kitty settled in a small nook where the slab met a natural rock formation, and, as if she was a magnetic pole, Peter sat next to her. A few awkward introductions were shared with the others at the rock, though, it was clear they were all at least a few hits into Harry’s pre-rolls. 

“So,” Peter’s voice cracked through the silence, “We keep finding each other, don’t we?”

“You keep finding me,” Kitty corrected.

“Same difference,” he shrugged. Wordlessly, he slipped his backpack from his shoulder and set it down in front of him. He worked in surprising order as he removed the items: a grinder, a small, rolled-up plastic bag, a green bong that had seen better days.

“Are student athletes supposed to be smoking?” She asked. For once, his gaze wasn’t focused on her, but on the contents before him.

“Helps with nerves,” he said, grabbing the baggy, “It’s medical, y’know.”

“Hm, I bet,” she replied. He worked with diligence: his long, slender fingers plucked a chunk of bud from the bag and trapped it in the grinder. The sleeves of his black long sleeve were rolled up, revealing his wrist that tensed lightly when he ground the bud. She’d never quite noticed how strong his hands looked—veiny and taught, likely from the hours upon hours of hockey practice. Then came the realization that she was staring, which pulled her attention away from him and to the others on the rock. Though there weren’t many people, pockets of conversation were created: MJ and Harry, who were cuddled up and passing a joint, two other members of the hockey team and a girl with shaggy blonde hair, and, of course, her and Peter. 

“Alright,” Peter hummed in satisfaction as he packed the bowl. He grabbed a red lighter from the front pocket of his jeans and finally looked at Kitty. He held the bong out for her with one of those easy, boyish smiles, “Wanna do the honors, Y/n?”

Peter seemed to be good at evoking emotions from her. Annoyance, frustration, confusion, and now, prickly embarrassment. She licked her lips, looking from the bong and back to him.

“Um,” she let out a small cough, “I’m…not sure how to?”

She wasn’t new to smoking. There was the occasional joint she and MJ would indulge in, or maybe she would take a hit off cart at one of the parties she was dragged to. She’d just hadn’t gotten the chance to hit a bong before—a fact that didn’t bother her until she was here, staring at Peter. She hated her reply and the way she stumbled with her words. She hated that she had nothing better to say. She hated that she had released blood into the water.

“You haven’t done this before?” He grinned. Her jaw clenched at the way he said that. Kitty, in response, sucked her teeth.

“Have you never smoked before?” He cocked his head.

“No, I have, just not this,” she sighed, a slight aggravated clip to her words. Peter must’ve noticed because his gloating grin softened.

“That’s alright,” his voice was more mellow now, “That’s okay, everyone has a first time.”

This persona, the calmer one he adapted when he knew she was getting pissed off, may have pissed her off even more. If he wasn’t being an asshole, it was harder to be annoyed with him, which made her annoyed with him, which made her annoyed with herself.

“Okay,” she said, a cleansing breath of chilled spring air filling her lungs.

“Okay?” He repeated, “You want to try?”

Kitty glanced at MJ and Harry. They weren’t doing anything graphic, but they were still all over each other, giggling and whispering. She turned back to Peter and nodded.

“You sure?” He raised a brow.

“Gimme,” she groaned, taking the glass bong from his hands. He let out a small, breathy chuckle and nodded.

“Okay, so,” he sat up, “I’m gonna light it, you breathe in through the mouth right here. I’ll pull the bowl for you and you keep breathing in, okay?”

Kitty nodded, her lips descending on the mouthpiece. A sudden flash of panic struck her as he flicked the lighter. Did she look stupid? Was she being stupid? Why did she care? Peter lit the bowl, and she did as he said, sucking in a deep drag. The bong bubbled to life and milky smoke flooded the tube.

“Good, good,” Peter encouraged as he pulled the bowl, “Keep sucking in—there you go, just like that.”

She’d been doing fine until he’d spoken. His words, meant as innocent encouragement, sent blood rushing to her face. Her scalp burned as her head reared back and ragged coughs escaped her. Smoke left her lips in puffs, like dust being stirred from an old book. Peter patted her back with one hand and rummaged through his bag with another.

“That happens,” he spoke, unphased by her continuous coughing. He took a metal water bottle decorated in stickers in various states of wear from his bag and unscrewed the lid.

“Here, drink,” he brought it to her lips and she immediately sucked down the water. It was cold against her burning throat. She focused on how cool it was, hoping it would also subdue the burning in her face. A few gulps later, Kitty was back to a semi-normal state. She took in deep breaths, swirling in oxygen with the cannabis in her lungs. 

“That was a big-ass hit. Good job,” Peter chuckled, “When was the last time you smoked?”

“I don’t know, a few weeks ago? And thank you,” Kitty replied. There wasn’t a hint of snark in her words, which was highly unusual. The afterburn of her influx of new feelings was still there.

“That oughta do it,” he took the bong from her, “I mean, you can totally have more, but your tolerance is probably pretty low, and the hit you just took looked more like three.”

“Yeah, that oughta do it,” she coughed out. He eyed her, suspicious of her lack of sass, before lighting the bowl for himself.

The bong caught up with her within ten minutes. There was a low vibration in her body, one that pulsed in her fingertips and warmed her. Her vision was a bit more narrow now, like she was viewing movie through her vision. Her mind bubbled, and when her eyes caught a glimpse of the sky, she leaned back with astonished glee.

It wasn’t often that you saw stars in the sky on this side of New York. Usually, the city lights blocked out anything non-artificial. But here, a mile or so away from the more prominent lights, she was able to see the glimmer of distant stars. It was captivating, really, and she could’ve stared at them for hours. Maybe she did. People buzzed around her without her recognition. Even Peter seemed to settle into a comfortable silence next to her. 

“Do you remember that one episode of Hannah Montana where Miley moves into a new house and there’s a pizza oven? Like, one of those wood ovens you put pizza in. A pizza oven? Yeah?” She asked, glancing in Peter’s direction. He seemed to only slightly register the question before looking at her with a cocked brow.

“No,” he replied.

“Oh,” she hummed, “What about the one where—it’s the third episode, I think—the one where Oliver—no, it’s the second episode—the one where Oliver is in love with Hannah Montana, but he doesn’t know it’s Miley, so Miley and Lilly are like ‘oh, no!’” 

“No,” he repeated. His voice wasn’t harsh, though. It was soft, maybe even curious.

“It’s good,” she said, “Real good. Real good.” 

It was around then that the stars began to lull her to sleep. There was something comfortable about this moment: the heat of the rock, the stars, the weed in her system. She drifted off for a moment and was quickly awoken by a gentle shake.

“Y/n?” Peter called lightly, “Are you sleepy?”

His hand was on her arm. His hand was on her arm. Her eyes settled on that before she could even begin to process his words. His hand was lovely, truly, with its web of veins, the slender fingers that warmed her skin. She looked up to him and smiled.

“Hey!” Was her cheery reply. He laughed at this and nodded. Kitty cocooned inside herself once more as he turned away and called out to someone on the other side of the rock. She heard Harry, then MJ, then Peter again. It sounded like hearing a foreign language as the spoke.

“Would you like to sleep in your bed instead of this rock?” Peter asked. Kitty, still cocooned, sprung forward a bit.

“Yes,” she responded confidently. He couldn’t help but smile at her tone. He packed away his bag swiftly and stood, offering a hand to Kitty.

“You think I can’t stand up? Oh, I can stand up—I’m an olympic stander,” she mumbled, rejecting his hand. This side of her was something Peter had never experienced. He was used to snippy comments and sharp replies, but the inebriated, bumbling Kitty was an entirely different person. He liked it. A lot.

They began their trek back to Kitty’s dorm in silence. It was comfortable like this: quiet interrupted by the occasional off-key hum by the girl. It wasn’t a very far walk, only five minutes or so, and when they reached the front, Peter’s tight grin loosened a bit.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” he said, his hand gently catching her arm. In this state, she wasn’t able to deny the electric current that was sent through her nervous system. Kitty shivered as she met his eyes.

“I know you’re not in the right headspace for this, so I’ll ask you again later, but…” he trailed off. He looked away from her, and she caught the way his throat bobbed slightly. This lasted for only a moment before he was making eye contact again, “Do you wanna come to semis?”

That wasn’t the question she expected. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Instead of responding, she stared blankly at him.

“It’s not here, it’s actually kind of far away,” he was rambling now, “Well, not super far, it’s in New Jersey. It’s sort of late notice, so I know you might not want to go, and you have your own shit to worry about, too, so—”

“This is very weird,” Kitty interrupted.

“What?” Peter stopped, looking to her with a quirked brow.

“You’re acting nervous and talking a lot. Weird,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I am nervous, and I’m a little high, and you’re really hot, so there’s just a lot going on up here.” He gestured to his head. Her eyes were blank for several seconds before they sparked in recognition.

“Oh—oh.” Her expression changed rapidly, eventually landing on something akin to realization. Silence swelled between them for a moment before it was broken by one word: “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Peter repeated.

“Maybe,” she nodded in agreement. His lips tugged into a boyish smile once more.

“Okay, Y/n,” he grinned, “Maybe.”

a/n — (in the voice of that one meme) heyy….how y’all doin??? okay so im sorry that this update is months late, college has been a lot. it’s been fun tho!! like, i think im the happiest ive ever been. anyways, im sorry if this update doesn’t fit as well with the others, im trying to get back into the groove of writing, forgive me 🙏 love u guys!!

taglist

@reidslovely @awezomezauce @tarzinnia @fr3akho3 @multilovebot @collywobbl @naok-iyuu @kay-i-guess @littlexscarletxwitch @ujimoo

[strstab]

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 - 𝐣.𝐦

summary ; kie’s fever got to you so jj helps you feel better

pairing ; jjaprilbank x fem!reader

notes ; sick readerrr, bath w jj, besitosssss, body lovin, cuddling, our beloved sock, & tinkerbell 🧚

a/n ; so this was actually meant to be out earlier this morning but then got caught up in a family function.. so sorry abt that. ALSO. i was going to post something tuesday but instead of posting it i accidentally deleted it… so shopping w the girls probably won’t happen 😭

after a sleep over at kie’s last weekend, you’ve felt yourself feeling more like shit by the day. on wednesday you were coughing up a storm and now you couldn’t feel your throat or stop sneezing.

you called off of work right after another restless night. jj was at john b’s and kie was the reason you were sick so you couldn’t hang out with her. you were on your third tinkerbell movie with a pile of tissues next to you.

you tried sleeping the sickness away during the day but even with the large amount drowsiness that was killing you slowly, you kept waking up with the same sore throat that wouldn’t seem to disappear. it had been like that since you were feeling symptoms so now you’ve been sleeping like 4 hours a night. or day.

you blew your nose into the tissue and then threw it into the pile. you felt soft fur rub against your neck which meant your cat had joined you in bed.

“sock, please help me. don’t you have powers to make your dear old mom feel better?” you whined just for your cat to give you a blank stare. you huffed and sat up, stretching your arms. you hadn’t gone up to do anything since the second movie started.

you dragged your feet all the way to the kitchen, grabbing a banana off the counter and peeling it open. you took a big bite as you searched the fridge for something else to munch on. there wasn’t much in it. the last person who did groceries was jj. the only things he usually brought home were beer, hot pockets, cookies, an 8th of weed (which he definitely picked it up from his dealer on aisle 10), and cat food. all of which only lasted a week in your house.

you found a cup of strawberry yogurt and decided to diy your brunch. you grabbed a bowl and poured the yogurt into it, then cutting up the banana you got from the counter and placing the bits into the bowl. ‘what a chef i am’ you thought.

you ate your ‘meal’ over the counter while scrolling through instagram. you were watching an interview from a netflix show when you felt strong arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you into their hold. you squealed and looked above to see blonde hair making it’s way to your neck.

wet kisses were placed all over your soft spot. “baby, i’m sickk” you whined pulling away from him.

“i know. and?” he pulled you back, this time holding you tighter.

“i don’t wanna get you sick,” you sniffle and he shrugs. guess getting sick wasn’t a big deal for him. but to be honest, he’s always had a strong immune system.

you were conversing about each other’s day, yours sounding quite boring. he was ranting about how john b wouldn’t let him redecorate the cats ass and how pope smacked the shit out of him while waxing his board.

your responses were short. your throat hurt too much to be talking a lot, so did your stomach to be honest. everything ached. you hopped up from your seat on top of the counter and went to get a bottle of pills. jj watched as you took two pills in your hand and swallowed them with a small cup of water. “what hurts mama?”

“more like what doesn’t hurt.” you sarcastically answered. he stared at you for a minute before smiling and picking you up bridal style. “jj what the hell?!”

your feet were kicking air and your arms wrapped themselves around jj’s shoulders, holding on for dear life. his hand was supporting your back as he made his way to your bedroom.

he placed a kiss on your lips and sat you on the edge of the bed. “did you get any sleep last night?” he asked rubbing the eye bags that were forming below.

you shook your head as he peeped the pile of tissues that sat next to your laptop. “stay right here i’ll be back okay?”

“i mean.. where else would i go” you grumbled as he ran off to the bathroom.

you sat there on your phone, continuously sniffling while he did his thing in the bathroom. quickly after, he ran back out to you and picked you up swiftly, dropping your phone on your bed.

you laughed out loud (lol😜😜😜) as he brought you to the sink in your candle lit bathroom. he stripped you of your clothes, eyes taking in your body that was perfect in every way.

you felt your face heat up when you noticed him, arms quickly trying to cover yourself. “stop staring.”

he chuckled and kissed your lips softly. “just appreciating what’s mine, princess,” he murmured.

you let out a sound of annoyance. “c’mon baby, you know you’re prefect.” he picked you up and placed you in the tub. your muscles immediately relaxed as the heated water touched your skin.

“too hot? cold?”

“‘s perfect, j.” you smiled at his thoughtfulness. he really didn’t have to do this, but it made you happy knowing he cared enough to do so.

everything about the room right now was just calming.

you inhaled the steam and aroma from the cookie scented candle that followed it. as jj massaged your back with soap you let out a hum of pleasure. he peppered kisses on your shoulder and upper back while you relaxed in the water. “mmm, i could fall asleep right now,”

“yeah? seeing how tired you’ve been it seems like you could fall asleep anywhere.”

after your bath you guys cuddled up in bed. his request obv. you protested because you didn’t wanna get him sick but he still didn’t care. he went on a rant while drying you up about how all he wanted to do was be close to you.

so now, you laid head on his chest as his fingers were tangled in your hair. there was still a pinch of guilt in you for having him this close knowing you could get him sick but you couldn’t deny the fact that this felt amazing.

tinkerbell played on the tv instead of the laptop but you weren’t even watching either way. your eyes were half lidded as sleep tried taking you over. you tried fighting it, wanting to appreciate the time you were spending with your boyfriend, but it was winning by a lot.

even though all you were doing was watching a movie in comforting silence, it still meant something to you. so, you wanted to be up for it.

he moved his hand to the side of your thigh and rubbed his thumb against it. “you’re falling asleep on me, love.”

there was no response from you but your eyes were still half open. he patted your side and you perked up. “sorry, what’d you say?”

you felt jj’s chest abruptly shake as he giggled above so you got up fully to look at him. “what’s funny?”

“nothing. just how cute you look half asleep.” he smiled and pushed your head back down to his chest. “jus get rest babe. you need it.”

you buried your face in his hoodie and dozed off while his thumb caressed you softly. maybe all you need was your boyfriend with you to get the rest of a lifetime.

yeah yeahhhh ooohhhhaahahshiegsksba

hey yall. hope u enjoyed thatttt. so if you read my a/n you’d know this was meant to be up earlier this day. (april 1st) but i got caught up in a family reunion kinda thing so yeah..

also i had shopping with the girls (cleo, kie and sarah) in my drafts but i accidentally deleted it bc my fingers tend to touch before reading what it’s going to touch… so yeah that’s gone. -(edit) i tried editing my notes and ALMOST deleted this post too…

y’all know my requests are always open so feel free to request!! or just talk to meee. entertain me guys i’ve been bored

but anyways… i’m cuddling with my cat so i’ll catch you guys laterrrr.

[distinguisheddwarffriend]

Today on Hobbit-Headcanons:

What would the company of Thorin Oakenshield enjoy about the Modern World?

One of my WIP transports the company to our world shortly before they're supposed to reach Rivendell, and into the apartment of my OFC.

So here is a list of things I think each character would enjoy about the Modern World:

Thorin: Google Maps, Siri (will totally argue with her like she's real), Shows like The Crown, Game of Thrones, but also Bridgerton, Democracy (yes you read that correctly), Rock music

Fili: Birth Control (can finally fuck around without risking the royal lineage), Superhero Movies (has an huuuhe crush on Black Widow), Tinder, Martial Arts, Feminism, Henley shirts to show of his muscles, bars & clubs

Kili : TikTok (LOVES cat videos, Top Content Creator about Archery, 'deep thoughts'/rambling, 'prank my uncle/brother with me', does EVERY challenge, accidental thirsttraps & flustered by the comments), Parkour, Man Buns & (Hipster-) Fashion, LGBTQ+ - Community , karaoke bars, team sports, the zoo

Bofur: modern music (especially pop songs with dirty lyrics), Tumblr (is no. 1 shit-poster), music festivals, arts&crafts blogs, Christopher's Streets Day

Bifur: Google Translate, Modern Medicine, Pain Medication, ASL, RomComs (trust me), helps out in an animal shelter, country music

Bombur: Cooking Shows (has his own Online Show), Kindergarten (he had so many children, the reprieve would be SO appreciated), international foodstuff to try

Dwalin: Guns, MMF, store-bought cookies, sport shows (AGRESSIVE fan for whatever team he randomly picks), Barbecues

Balin: Twitter (the political possibilities!!!), mental healthcare (he's sending the whole line of Durin he had no time for their shit), Spa Days, public schools, classical music

Oin: Modern Medicine (Duh), hearing aids, physiotherapy

Gloin: bitcoins, the stock market, Facebook (posts daily about Gimli)

Dori: hair tutorials, fashion shows, tracking devices (has totally microchipped a drunk Nori at some point)

Nori: hacking, movies with the lovable rogue as the MC (Pirates of the Carribbean, Deadpool etc.), spy movies (duh), the mafia (yes, he becomes a boss within weeks)

Ori: Wikipedia, public libraries, tutorials for EVERYTHING (knitting, cutting your own hair, how to talk to royalty, fancy war cries, you name it), fantasy novels, public schools

Bilbo: Food blogs, the "ignore call"-button, Instagram, university (will mayor in at least three subjects), museums

Gandalf: the Internet as a whole, email/ instant messaging, yard sales, modern weed, museums (has a knack for finding cursed items), adventure movies (after watching Indiana Jones he seriously debated obtaining a whip)

[pray4saint]

Can I please have a tall latte with a dash of cinnamon with a cupcake and fortune cookie on the side? Thankyou

For the 100 follower celebration (congrats)

guest of honour

masterlist & descrip. pg-13. 13+. streamer!reader. ted nivison x reader. jschlatt x reader. mentions of alcohol, bongs, vapes and implied mention of weed.

a/n. tysm! here's your order anon :] (i did do these separately but if you wanted them together you can send another request! also i picked the prompts since you didn't add one)

prompts: ”you look stupid as fuck right now.” / ”that could be us.” ”that is us.” / ”can you repeat that? i don't think i heard you..” / ”my kiss?” ”right, sorry.”

ted

your fans knew you had a boyfriend, they knew he was also in content creation, they knew you loved him, and they knew he was always texting you during your streams. since he'd always been faceless, voiceless, and nameless, it was a shock for the viewers to see the door open and someone walk in, head cut off by the camera placement.

it was planned, to a degree.. you knew ted would show up on your stream, in your office but you didn't know when, and that's what made it fun. ”oh my god, hey babe!” you spun in your chair and got up to hug him, the height difference clear to all. and now your fans knew he was tall too. before you were able to get back to your seat, ted pulled you back to him. ”excuse me? sweetheart my kiss?” you smiled and got up on your tippy toes, ”right, sorry about that.” hands flat on his chest when you kissed him.

you walked back over to your desk to see how the viewers were taking the small interaction, and from how you were positioned leaning over your desk, ted was able to pad over next to you, still out of view of the camera. when you realised how close he was you pulled a chair away from the all beside yours and you sat down. ”oh chat did i mention my boyfriend was joining today?” you gave the camera a cheeky smile, watching as chat was still trying to put the voice to a face.

ted leaned down into frame before he sat down, smiling at the camera with a wave. the moment he sat down, he started a bit. ”do you have audio listeners?”

”no.”

”what a shame.” you rolled your eyes at him before pulling yourself towards the desk to move apps across your monitors. ”shit, almost..” your voice trailed off, neither ted nor your stream heard what you said and while it's easy to ignore chat's pleas, it's a little harder when it's your boyfriend. ”what was that angel?” you hum at him, question in the sound. ”can you repeat that? i don't think i heard you.”

this wasn't a bit, but it sure as hell was clipped a ton. ”i said,” you began, voice louder than it was most of the time. ”'shit, i almost leaked our discord dms.', happy?”

”very.”

schlatt

your boyfriend's fanbase knew of you, but they didn't know anything about you aside from that schlatt loved you. of course it had to come sooner or later, but after a long talk about the consequences, you'd talked each other into a deal for you to go on his stream with him.

for awhile schlatt streamed and you sat just off camera, looking at your phone and back up at him from time to time. it was something that your best friend had sent you that made you scrunch your face up, and your boyfriend noticed immediately. ”you look stupid as fuck right now.” it was the first time he'd acknowledged you were around on stream and his chat was freaking out. of course it didn't stop you from getting up and slapping his arm. ”ow. you're mean.” he didn't mean it, yet it only made you hit him again before you finally pulled your chair out to sit with him.

once chat had gotten a good look at you and you waved and said hello, schlatt pushed his phone up to the camera before giving it to you. ”hon' that could be us.” it was a picture of two cats; one holding a bong and two vapes while the other held a case of beer. ”j, baby that is us.” now you show the camera the picture of the cats and schlatt takes the opportunity of being hidden to press a quick kiss to your cheek, making you gasp.

”chat did you see that?! did you hear that?!” they all seemed confused as you went off on your tangent, face making the :o while schlatt's mouth twitched up into a smirk, bordering on the grin as you tattled on him to his viewers. ”he kissed me when you guys weren't looking!”

oh boy did twitter have a fun time over analysing the clip of the short kiss sound, trying to figure out if it was true.

pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.

[samthecookielord]

Happy silly day