#how in the fuck did you get the doctor to behave so well??????
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That doctor support group is going to teach Yaz So Much, so much will be clear in the aftermath.
Yaz may not have had the perspective to be aware just how much effort 13 actually Was putting into treating her well at the time, but she Will learn in the end. And I imagine that in the short term, that might hurt a lot, but in the long term, I think it will help her immensely.
#dw shit#yaz x 13#yaz dropping truth bombs in the group chat and everybody else going#how in the fuck did you get the doctor to behave so well??????
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can you write bachelors with a cryptid farmer? except they're not a cryptid, just a very strange person. and by that I mean the fact farmer will simply appear one day, start giving their love interest their loved items from the get go, character doesn't even know them! and then there's the fishing in weird places, always seeming to know where and what a character is doing, always running from one place to another, sometimes passing out in the deepest depths of the caves. very weird human.
I assume, dear anon, that you mean vanilla bachelors only. Hope I'm not wrong. Anyway, thanks for asking, and enjoy! 💖🫰
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SDV bachelors with a cryptid Farmer:
Well, Sam wasn't too surprised about favourite gifts - he's always a fan of eating something tasty, and pizza, as he thinks, is a win-win for almost everyone. So it's pretty easy to guess what to make him happy. Although the young guitarist sometimes thought that Farmer behaves rather recklessly and weird, the same words were said about Sam when he stuffed 40 marshmallows into his mouth on a bet. A bit odd, but Sam doesn't care, because Farmer is a good friend and, heck yeah, free food!
They're everywhere: at Marnie's ranch, at the JojaMart, at the Saloon. Shane is already afraid to look over his own shoulder, because there, with 99.9 % accuracy, Farmer will be behind him. No matter how much the chicken lover snapped at Farmer, no matter how much he calling them names, they stood like a statue, handing him a plate of pepper poppers. This weirdo is literally stalking him, but no-one's paying attention! The hell?! Although the peppers are tasty and spicy enough, can't argue with that. Wow, what a fucking life...
Poor Harvey has been sitting up late at night looking at Farmer's medical records and he's already getting a headache from trying to find some logic. Farmer still keep going to dangerous places, keep getting seriously injured (4 emergencies in a month!), and their wounds just inhumanly heal in a couple of days! How does that even possib- Farmer? How did you get in here? The clinic's closed. Oh, wine? For him? Why, thank you, it's his favorite- !!!! They- they just teleported right in front of Harvey.... The doctor won't need a wineglass anymore, he's gonna drink right from the bottle.
Yes, Elliott must confess: after a couple of instances when the writer had not even got beyond the threshold of his cottage and he had already been handed a duck feather and a basket of pomegranates by the Farmer, one could find them very strange. But you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Maybe Farmer just has a hard time finding the words to communicate and this is how they express signs of friendship? And fishing... What's the big deal about fishing? The valley is rich in fish, so why be surprised that there are fish almost everywhere? Anyway, Elliott decides to judge people for their actions.
Alex should probably be concerned about Farmer's strange behaviour, but he... didn't care? Pelican Town was already full of people the athlete considered a bit odd, so why should he be surprised by the new Farmer's odd behaviour? They go everywhere, they fish everywhere, so what? It's their life. Though to Alex's recollection, regular farmers don't seem to fight monsters deep in the Mines, but then again, maybe that's their hobby. Plus Farmer give him his favourite salmon dinner all the time, so what's there to complain about?
Sebastian never seemed to have mentioned to anyone that he liked obsidian and frost tear so much. So he has no idea how the new farmer might know about it. Though, on the other hand, they're always carrying a bag of various cool gems from the mine and decided to give him something, so maybe a coincidence. Later there was a case where they stood right under the door of his room to hand him sashimi (also his favourite?) and ran off somewhere. Okay, that's pretty weird. There's sashimi, though.
#stardew valley#sdv#thanks for the ask!#sdv headcanons#sdv alex#sdv sam#sdv sebastian#sdv harvey#sdv elliott#sdv shane
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Every so often I get an Anon ask where I'm not entirely comfortable responding in public with no cut or warnings ahead of the text -- it's not that anything inappropriate is being said, it's just sometimes the subject matter's a little rough. This is one of those, so I decided to copy and paste it and put it behind a cut; warnings for discussion of abuse and fraught familial situations.
You've spoken about having ADHD before, and i was wondering if you have any links to websites with resources for adults with ADHD that are more than the very generic "stay organised!", "eat healthily!", "avoid distractions!" things? like, something that explains ADHD and WHY getting organised is good, maybe? or how ADHD may intersect with anxiety? my mother finally went to a doctor and got (as i expected) an ADHD diagnosis, but the doctor told her medication wouldn't give her much at this point, which is fine, but she's just kept going as usual for her, which is not.
she has ignored everything i've told her before (like, to think ahead and prioritise, to make plans, to make lists, that she has to be systematic about it, to stay calm because if she has a plan everything should be done on time) but she ignores me. she just starts doing whatever, whenever, and then getting annoyed/anxious that "nothing" is done, and then she starts yelling at me.
i just want her to realise she MUST at least attempt to be organised, and that it's not just for work stuff, it's for everything, including every day stuff like chores. (also, i'd like to stop being yelled at. like, some of my first memories are of getting yelled at. it's been years and years of regular bouts of screaming. now i know it's her and not me, and i'd. like it to stop)
i apologize for the huge ask/rant, but yeah, do you know of any resources that explain the importance of being organised? i think if i show her something 'official' maybe she'll start doing it. or do you have any personal tips for talking to her about it? or a book about someone's experience with ADHD? anything. anything at all.
So there is...much to unpack here, as the kids say, both in terms of what you are asking directly and what you are not asking but what I'm going to address anyway. I don't have any great resources for what you're looking for, because neurodiversity comes in a lot of shapes and sizes even within a single diagnosis, and as you likely know I'm a big proponent of doing-what-works, and that's something a person has to figure out for themselves. A lot of people seem to find ADDitude very relatable and they are informative, but that's probably the best general resource out there to go deeper than surface, and a good place for her to start reading if she wants to.
But the real problem, Anon, is that she's never going to listen to you.
That seems like a real bold statement, but it is also extremely likely to be true. Most people who get a diagnosis start to work on themselves and learn more about their unique neurology; it's clear she's not going to do that, and you can't make her. I'm sure some of it is that she's been told her entire life, by people with much more power over her than you, to do those things: be organized, make lists, have a plan. They are the hardest things for people with ADHD to do, and she can't simply whip herself through them, and so she learned long ago to ignore anyone saying anything about it. Medication could help with that a lot, actually, so your mother's doctor really fucked you both by telling her it wouldn't do anything for her; whether she's taken that as permission to ignore the problem or whether she just believed him, he did a really shitty thing in doing that.
Your mother is neurologically incapable of forcing herself to do many things that neurotypical people find easy. There are workarounds, yes; some of us do extremely well if we decide that EVERYTHING has to be planned, and behave accordingly. Some of us find stopgaps. But that has to be a decision she makes, to find workarounds for herself. It's not something you can offer her with helpful websites or books, because she is also likely very deep in shame about it, to judge from her other behaviors. That's not your fault, which means it's also not your job to fix it.
And here's the other problem: you are in an abusive home situation where your mother is taking out her frustration with her mental illness by hurting you.
And that really really sucks and I'm really, really sorry. But the screaming-at-you, which absolutely should not be happening, is a result of decades of frustration at the world that won't accommodate her, combined with an inability to regulate her emotions. Unless she is medicated or learns better regulation or at least picks a different target, it's not going to stop. That's not your fault either. Some of it isn't even her fault. (Some of it is; mental illness is not our choice but it is our responsibility, and she is not behaving as either an adult or a parent should in abusing you because she can't find somewhere else to put all her emotions.)
Presumably you are either too young to leave or can't afford to, but the best possible thing you can do for yourself is get out as soon as you can, sever yourself from her financially, and then decide what level of interaction you want with her going forward. Honestly, may be the best thing for her as well, to realize that if she doesn't make a change, she will lose access to her child.
I realize that is almost certainly not immediately possible, however. Do not leave if you are going to a less safe situation, either. Be smart and strategic -- make your plans and prepare as much as possible ahead of time.
"So in the meantime, Sam, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"
Bearing in mind that we are going to assume you cannot help your mother, as she either doesn't want help or is in denial or both, the best thing you can do if you can't get out is to shore yourself up: remind yourself as regularly as possible that none of this is your fault, and do your best to protect yourself both emotionally and physically. IE, if she's not organized enough to buy groceries or cook, do what you can to make sure you are regularly fed -- do not concern yourself with whether she eats. That's her responsibility, she's a grownup. If you are likely to be yelled at for this -- well, she was always going to yell at you about something; it might as well be as a result of you caring for yourself first. As much as you can, spend time away from her if possible.
Given her past behavior, especially if you are an only child or oldest sibling, you may already be de-facto head of household; this may be simply a process of assuming actively that she can't fulfill that role, and doing what you can to care for yourself and any siblings. If you have other family who understand the situation, I strongly suggest tapping them for help. As much as you can, reach out to adults in your life you trust, and get their help in caring for yourself and your family without needing to depend on her for support.
I don't wish to stigmatize mental illness or addiction but living with someone in denial about the impact of their mental health on those around them is exactly like living with an addict: the best strategy is to expect nothing from them, remind yourself often that you are not to blame for this situation, look out for yourself first and foremost, and get out once you can. I'm really sorry it has to be that way, because it shouldn't be. But I'm concerned with you, not with her, and if you want to build a better life for yourself, it's going to have to be one that doesn't depend on you being able to change someone else.
I'm afraid I don't have a lot of books for you about that, either. I wish you all the luck -- you shouldn't need it, but unfortunately sometimes we still do.
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doctor’s orders.
Please, don’t let it be him.
Please no…
Please!
“Good evening,” a warm voice interrupts your silent pleading with whatever force is listening. There’s strain in the usual honeyed tone, which jerks your chin upward with an invisible string. Your panicked thoughts are replaced by your emergency mode, your hands trembling with adrenaline at the pain in the man’s voice.
“What did you do now?” you hiss, assessing the patient visually before you even get close to him, watching blood drip steadily from a wound just shy of his temple.
Captain Howzer smiles up at you with mischief in his brown eyes.
“I got a little too close to the action, Doc,” he shrugs.
“How many times do I have to tell you? The blood belongs inside of your body, Captain. For Maker’s sake, can we go a single week without you risking life and limb for the nearest being?” You pull your gloves on with an angry snap.
“Well… it is my job,” he tells you, trying to sound the slightest bit remorseful and failing miserably.
“I don’t care if it’s your job — it’s going to be a little hard to do it if you’re dead,” you shake your head, starting to remove his armor to assess the rest of him.
“You’re fussing again,” Howzer’s voice drops in octave and volume, much too near your ear.
“Well, that is my job,” you mimic his accent poorly, daring to look back into his eyes as you remove his chest plate.
His full lips are twisted in the faintest smile, and he is watching your every move. You roll your eyes but you can feel yourself blush, choosing instead to focus on removing his pauldrons, gauntlets, and gloves.
“I know... I like it when you fuss over me,” he leans forward and yanks the top of his blacks off with one hand, exposing his skin down to his waist.
You turn back to face him and remind yourself with a deep breath and a mental lashing that you are a fucking professional and you will do your job without incident or…
Or…?
What were you saying?
“Well?” he prompts.
“Hm?” you raise your eyebrows, pretending you were listening.
He leans back with his palms flat on the exam table, his knees farther apart than you remember. “I asked you a question.”
“Which was?” you ask, frowning, silently cursing yourself.
“I asked what your diagnosis was,” he smirks.
“I don’t know yet,” you rub your forehead with the back of your hand. “I need to get your head cleaned up first. Do you feel pain or discomfort anywhere else?”
“No pain…” His smile is teasing. “But I still expect a thorough examination. I could be in shock.”
You give him a look. “Behave yourself, Captain.”
Howzer holds his hands up. “I’m just asking you to do your job, Doc. I wouldn’t expect any less but the closest attention to detail when you’re in charge.”
You swallow, and he won’t look away from your eyes — even as you start to gently clean the wound on his forehead and he sucks in a breath through his teeth, grabbing your wrist roughly and trying to pull your hand away.
Your stomach flips but you give him a stern look.
“Captain. When I said to behave yourself, I clearly meant you need to allow me to do my job.”
“Warn me next time,” he growls, releasing you.
“I did!” You smack his hand down. “I told you I had to clean your head…”
“Oh, that’s what you meant,” he smirks up at you as you continue removing the blood from his skin. You press harder in retaliation and he grabs both of your wrists.
“Stop being belligerent or I’ll let you fuckin’ bleed to death,” you tell him through gritted teeth.
“Which one happens first?” he asks, your wrists still bound in the shackles of his rough hands.
“What—?” you ask, scrunching up your face.
“You said you’d let me fuck and bleed to death,” he repeats, pulling you forward and tugging your hands behind his back so your face is much too close to his.
“Do you think it could be in that order?” he drops his voice down deep and low, his breath warm on your skin.
“You know damn well I did not say that,” you tell him, trying to sound sure of yourself, but your voice shakes.
“Do I?” he asks, searching your face with his dilated eyes.
“Should I check your hearing?” you ask sharply, but his gaze lands on your lips.
“What?” he jokes, and you sigh in his face.
“Captain.”
His eyes flick to yours, and he leans back just enough to let your hips rest in the V his legs have made. “Say my name, and I’ll be good for you.”
“This is very unprofessional behavior,” you frown.
“I’m no snitch,” he whispers. “Besides, is it against protocol for you to use your patient’s name?”
“Of course not,” you sigh again. “But I’m using your title as a sign of respect, just as I would do with anyone else.”
“And I love that about you, but I wanna hear you say my name,” he grips your wrists harder, gives you a little yank, and you arch into him involuntarily.
“Captain Howzer…” you say, trying to keep your tone even and clinical.
“Close,” he smiles but shakes his head. “But no. Just say my name, and I’ll behave.”
You take a deep breath, knowing he’s absolutely full of shit without running a single test to prove it.
“Howzer…” you say in a low voice, your temple pressed against his. He hums low in his throat, and the vibration of it in his chest seems to travel wherever your body is touching his.
You let your lips brush his ear: “Can you please allow me to finish my exam now?”
“Yes ma’am,” he rumbles, letting go of your wrists and planting his hands on the edge of the table again.
His eyes are closed and he keeps very still as you clean his head wound, patching it with bacta and exploring the rest of the lines in his face, running your fingers over the deep scar on his cheek.
“Field medic work,” he smiles, leaning into your touch. “Didn’t have your finesse.”
“Doesn’t change anything,” you blurt out quietly.
His eyes slide open and they are darker than a starless night. “Hm?”
“You know,” you frown, pushing his face to the side to check his neck and shoulders with careful hands.
“What do I know?” he asks, his cheek twitching with how badly he’s trying not to smirk. “What doesn’t the field medic’s work change?”
You sigh roughly in the back of your throat as you move around the table to check his back. “Your… face.”
“Oh, because every clone has the same one?” he asks, a defensive lilt to his teasing.
“No!” you poke him in the shoulder blade, hard.
“Then what?” he twists, to try to make you look at him again, but you push him forward.
“What did you promise me?” you frown. “Be still, Howzer.”
He inhales deeply and sits up with perfectly straight posture. You run your hands down his spine, then press your fingers where you know injured organs would reveal tender spots. He doesn’t flinch, but you don’t know if that’s his training or an actual lack of pain. Nothing seems out of place, but knowing him, he’s probably hiding something.
“Get up,” you pat his shoulder.
He obeys, standing perfectly at attention.
And as you help him remove his lower armor, it’s very apparent that he’s not the only one.
You instantly blush, despite having seen countless human bodies in all different contexts… your whole body flushes with warmth which travels between your legs. You’re removing his knee pads and the feelings you’re having are so improper you feel yourself blushing harder with shame…
“Sorry Doc,” he says quietly. “Natural reaction.”
“To what?” you blurt out, looking up from your kneeling position into his face.
He smirks. “I think we both know you know the answer to that… You’re a doctor. You know how the human body functions in these situations…”
You shake your head. “I’m making sure you’re not going to die of internal injuries, Howzer. I’m not doing anything to try and…cause this.”
“Don’t have to,” he says, low and rough. “You just are.”
Your fingers are still on his thigh, just about to get him to lift his foot to let you remove his boot, when you stop and feel your jaw go slack.
“Please stand up,” he asks. You oblige him, and he sits back up on the exam table, obediently removing his boots for you without breaking eye contact once. You swallow around your dry throat, taking in the sight of him there in nothing but the bottom half of his blacks, which he’s now standing again to remove.
Howzer sits back up on the exam table in just his dark briefs, which — despite their color — are not doing much to hide the topic of your discussion.
Why do I want it in my mouth?
Your eyes are wide when you meet his gaze again, thankful beyond belief that he can’t read your mind. But he smiles softly like he can.
Why is that a thought I’m having right now, when I should be making sure he isn’t in any more pain?
You try to snap out of it, distracting yourself by looking fo contusions or abrasions, any signs of internal injuries or dislocated bones… You put your gloved hand on his thigh to inspect a discoloration there and his body reacts visibly to your touch.
“Howzer…” you whisper, “Should I stop?”
“Please don’t,” he breathes, reaching out to grip the wrist closest to his bare skin.
“I… I need you to stand up and turn around,” you tell him quietly, and he does as he’s told, letting you peruse the backs of his legs and the bottoms of his feet.
When he turns around again, he’s mere inches from your body, his muscles taut and his face hyper-focused on yours.
“I don’t see any other… problems,” you swallow, your voice barely audible. “You’re free to dress and go now.”
“But I don’t want to,” he shrugs, lifting his hands to cradle your face.
He doesn’t kiss you.
He brushes his nose against yours, touches your foreheads together, rubs his cheekbone up and down your cheek.
You can feel the rough texture of the skin on his face and let a soft sound escape your careful throat.
Howzer locks onto that sound like a heat-seeking missile, pressing his hand gently to your throat and repeating the motion he thinks you liked — his cheek pressed to yours.
You whimper lightly, just barely audible, and he loses his careful control to what he wants most.
He kisses you so hard it snaps your head back; you gasp into his mouth and he takes that as an invitation, exploring inside with his tongue. He only breaks the seal your lips have made to let you breathe, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your jaw and down your neck, hungrily making his way down to taste as much of your skin as he can reach.
His hands move from your face and neck to unbutton your uniform coat, pushing it down off your shoulders onto the floor, sliding his long fingers under the shirt you wear beneath.
“I want this off,” he tells you, and you nod your permission, lifting your arms to let him strip you from the waist up.
He removes your bra so quickly and easily it gives you the slightest moment of hesitation and doubt, wondering how many women he’s collected inside the warmth of his body just like this. But his hands are holding your breasts and his tongue is in your mouth again, and you quickly forget your fears. His fingers travel down to the waistband of your pants, and you don’t think you’ve ever taken them off so quickly in your entire lifetime.
“Fuck,” he whispers, looking at you in nothing but your underwear. “You’re perfect.”
“Prove it,” you tease him. “You get naked first.”
He smiles at you with bright eyes, yanking his underwear down and hopping up to lie back on the exam table with his arms behind his head, all too comfortable.
“What’s the verdict, Doc?” he asks, eyes closed, body stretched out for your (scientific) inspection.
You remove your gloves and run your fingertips from his broad shoulders to his hip bones, watching his dick twitch at the attention of your hands.
“I think you’re perfectly…healthy, Captain,” you tell him, your eyes landing on the glorious thickness he’s been hiding in those briefs.
Howzer props himself up on one elbow, turning just enough to ripple more muscles like a statue carved of some ancient god from another galaxy.
“Your turn,” he drawls, gesturing with his finger toward your underwear, and you shake your head.
“Oh now that’s just not fair,” he crows, climbing back down off the exam table and putting his hands on your hips, changing tactics.
“Do you want me to take them off for you?” he gives you a half-smile, his eyes blazing a path from your bare breasts to the fabric between him and his goal.
You nod slowly, pushing your hips just slightly forward as he dips his thumbs in the band around your waist.
“I need to hear you say it,” he says quietly.
“Please take them off,” you try to whisper, but it comes out like a whine. He looks into your eyes expectantly, wiggling his thumbs but not moving his hands any more than that.
“Howzer…” you groan. “Please.”
“That’s better,” he pushes your underwear to the floor and runs his hands back up your legs as you step out. “Isn’t it?”
He kisses you again, softer this time but no less hungry, pulling you back with him onto the exam table. He wraps his arms around you until you’re flush on top of him, nipping at your lips and running his hands all over your body, seeking friction by pressing his hips up into yours…
“Would you like to ride me, sweetheart?” he rasps, his erection pressed against your hip, his heart pounding in his chest against yours. “Because I’d like nothing more than to see you get on top and use me however you want.”
You know your face must look like you’re in pain, the need for him so strong it feels like your heart could stop. You move your knees apart and brace yourself, letting him help you to a more upright position, crawling back until you’re hovering right above him.
You look into his eyes as you guide him to your entrance, inhaling shakily as you feel the tip slide past your resistance, shoving your knees farther apart and dropping slowly to take him deeper. His eyes practically roll back in his head the farther down you go, groaning low in his throat when he’s fully sheathed inside of you.
The two of you stay very still for a long moment, just breathing while you both adjust. When you start to move on him, he looks up at you heavy-lidded and reaches up to grope your breasts, moaning a bit as you sink your fingernails into his shoulders trying to find a rhythm you both like. You roll your hips and grip him good as you do, filthy curses escaping his swollen lips with every thrust.
Howzer lifts his knees slightly to support you, gripping your hips tight as you ride him hard, forgetting every reason you shouldn’t be doing this as you lose yourself to the feeling of him inside of you as his hands explore your ass.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to fuck you like this?” he asks roughly, one hand gripping your ass, the other running up your back to grab a fistful of your hair. You shake your head, unable to form cohesive thoughts as you move on him faster, your need for him only increasing the harder you fuck him.
He sits up suddenly, spreading his legs and bending his knees, wrapping his arms around your lower back and staring right in your eyes as he fucks you right back.
You run your hands through his hair, rubbing the fuzz where his head is shaved and crying out as he hits the perfect spot while holding you this close.
“Since day one,” he rasps. “I’ve wanted you like this since I first met you. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about taking you right here, just like this…”
He grunts as you clench around him, wetter than ever and panting his name, blissfully close to him making you cum in his lap right on your fucking exam table.
“Fuck me, Howzer,” you beg him, all sense of propriety lost in the lustful haze clouding your brain and flooding your body with heat. “Please just fuck me.”
“No, baby,” he denies you. “I want this to last.”
“But I’m so close,” you whine, pushing him down on his back and riding him harder.
He moves his hand from your hip to press his fingertips to your clit, not bothering to move them with how quickly your hips are rocking, and your head rolls loosely on your neck as your back arches. You bite your lip to keep from screaming as he drags the orgasm right out of you with his lazy fingers and his ridiculously perfect cock.
“Howzer, I can’t, I’m gonna…” you whine, and he pulls himself up again, locking eyes with you as he feels you hit your threshold, a strangled moan slipping out of you as he keeps you close while you cum.
“Come on, baby,” he coaxes as you start to slow your movements to a near-stop, “Are we done already?”
“Sit up,” you tell him, climbing off of him and the table, kneeling and watching him swing his legs over the side.
“Am I already due for another exam—” he chokes on his teasing remark as you take his leaking dick into the tight wetness of your mouth, rolling your tongue underneath him and hollowing your cheeks.
“Fucking Maker,” Howzer groans, his hands instantly tangling in your hair, hips bucking toward your face. “You keep that up and I’m not going to last much longer either.”
Your only reply is to bob your head, taking him deeper toward your throat with each motion, using your hands to grip what can’t fit inside your mouth.
“Oh sweet fuck,” he growls, turning into an absolute mess as you stare up into his eyes while you suck him off. He doesn’t know where to put his hands and he’s trying so hard to let you do what you want, but you can feel him throbbing and you know he’s ready to lose it.
“Sweetheart, I don’t know where you want me to cum, but you’d better decide fast,” he rasps, his eyes squeezing shut.
You keep him in your mouth, but pull back just enough to swirl your tongue around his already-sensitive tip. He groans and shoves his dick deeper in your mouth, yanking your head back by the hair as he loses control. He cums down your throat with a series of grunts and moans your name when he’s finally finished. You swallow every drop, content to lick him lazily until he groans and tugs on your hair to make you stop, guiding your face back up to his.
“You’re mine now, I hope you know,” he growls in your ear, his scarred cheek pressed to yours as he does.
You nod in agreement, feeling his fingers slip between your legs again as he kisses you gently at first…
But you make sure to call him “Captain” when he makes you cum the second time, with nothing but his tongue.
#bad batch#bad batch fic#captain howzer#captain howzer x reader#howzer x reader#clone trooper howzer#tbb howzer#howzer my beloved#howzer x female reader#star wars tbb#tbb fanfiction#sw tbb#sw tbb fanfic#star wars smut#grampsoninspace#be nice it’s my first post lol
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-𝕊𝕙𝕖-
pairings - jennaortega x fem!reader
summary - before jenna ortega became a huge actress and held the world in her hand, she only had you
warnings - angst, high schoolers lol, all characters are 18 and up :)
an - school au! senior year for these babies, new series?
—————————
You hooked up with Jenna Ortega.
Big statement to say, but it’s very very true. How it happened though, well that’s a long story. It dates back to when you were both seniors in highschool….
———Past———
You were a dream girl; straight A's, decently pretty, wasn't talkative yet everyone ended up having a conversation with you, just all around good. You were the girl everyone wanted to be friends with, the girl that guys would fawn over and other girls would envy for your vigorous reputation. But alas, that's only the shell that people saw.
In reality, you were someone a mom would scold you for hanging out with because you’re so risky. When you were nine, you climbed a telephone pole and did the macarena sitting on top of it. At fourteen, you somehow hot wired your fathers car and proceeded to crash it, breaking only a toe. And now, at the ripe age of eighteen, you have caused your entire family to move from Miami to Coachella Valley; what a big jump.
It wasn't your intention to almost burn down the school just because you got into a fight and your first defensive measure was to whip out a lighter attached to a can of hairspray and try to turn poor Greta Stone into a Doctor
Phil look-a-like just because she called your brother a fag.
You liked to say it was an accident.
But expulsion was given and boy were your parents angry, so angry that they hopped a few states and ended up in a small town full of party people.
Your brother, Theo, was so disappointed in you that he called you a "queer failure".
"I am not a 'Queer Failure'!" You snarled, mocking your brother's voice.
"But you are, and that is a tragedy." Theo replied, his nose buried in a picture of Rob Lowe.
He was already engorged in a magazine from the local drug store that he didn't even realize he was spilling his Pepsi, which you found of the utmost amusing.
"Will both of you please stop bickering? You've been nipping at each other for so long you didn't even notice we are here." Your mother said, scolding you both..
You peered out the window, your y/e/c eyes focusing on the large familiar building. It was already busy with people, some rushing through the doors while others loitered around their cars and by the bike parking area.
You frowned, but got out of the car with your usual calm demeanor. Theo followed suit, hopping out with what he would call a 'gay swing', and strutted off into the ocean of high-smoked teenagers to presumably get a buzz.
"Behave, okay? I don't want a call again." Your mother said through the car window, smiling warmly at you.
"I'll try mom." You replied, leaning down to kiss her cheek before you walked off.
It was a normal thing for teachers to call home about your behavior; you always ended up being reckless and snappy with everyone and everything you come across.
But that's just how you are.
With your bag loosely hung over your shoulder and your head held high, you lazily walked towards the school, ignoring the looks you received from passersby.
See, your wardrobe was different from most girls. You didn't wear any of the typical sundresses or skinny jeans with floral shirts, you wore guys clothes, nike shorts with hoodies and converses, no matter the weather. Not trying to peg yourself as ‘i’m not like other girls’, but you were definitely a heavy masc.
As you walked in, you noticed a pair of three girls ogling a guy walking past. He had blonde curly hair styled back into a mullet, with matching denim jacket and jeans, and a white button down. A cigarette hung loosely between his lips, completely disregarding school rules as he went towards the parking lot.
'Typical lazy fuck.' You thought as you passed by.
You eventually made it into the school, and proceeded to head straight for your locker as you didn't need any interaction with anyone here. You fumbled with the lock and it's nerving combination before successfully opening it. You took out your assortment of books and binders, placing them neatly on the top shelf before hanging up your backpack.
You were so engrossed in organizing your locker that you almost missed a certain latina girl walking out of the bathroom. Your eyes snapped to her and followed her down the hall to three lockers down from your own.
That girl was Jenna Ortega, the prime jewel of your highschool, or so you liked to think. She was drop dead gorgeous in your opinion, with wavy brown hair that framed her beautifully freckled face, chocolate brown eyes that sparkled in the sunlight, and slightly tanned skin that looked warm and inviting. She was the girl that you first fell in love with, and probably the last.
You first met Jenna when you were outside fixing your bike in the driveway; Jenna happened to go a different route on her morning walk and had noticed you working your ass off in the California sun. She stopped to say hello and introduced herself seeing that you were new to the neighborhood.
Ever since that day, you couldn't stop thinking about her.
Jenna’s heart belonged to no one, but that still didn’t mean should or even could make a move.You didn't mind, it was actually easier to just admire and imagine instead of embarrassing yourself with a potential rejection.
Doesn’t mean that you still yearned to be with her.
"Hey Y/n!"
You were snapped out of your thoughts by a voice you knew almost instantly, your body turning to the short girl.
"Hey Jenna." You replied smoothly, though your heart was running forty miles a second from the voice of a girl who could easily end your life with a wink.
“How was your weekend?” She asked, looking up at your with the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen, “Was it enjoyable?”
“Meh, it was alright.” You said, grabbing your binder out of your locker, “How was yours?”
“It was relaxing, just what I needed.”
You hummed and nodded, reaching down to grab your water bottle, “Did you need something from me?”
"I was wondering if you had anything to do after school today? I need to study for my chemistry quiz and you are the only person who I trust to help me get it done." Jenna asked, toying with her fingers.
Truthfully, Jenna didn't need help studying for her chemistry test, she actually didn't need help studying at all due to the fact that there wasn't a chemistry test. She just wanted to spend time with her friend, the one she couldn't get her mind off of for some reason.
See, she found you to be one of the utmost unique. From your cinnamon brown skin, to your silky hair that was always pulled back into the cutest pony tail. Jenna saw you as the prime reason to why she questioned her sexuality.
But she wouldn't tell you that, she wouldn't tell anyone that.
"Uh...sure, I don't have anything to do today." You muttered, shutting your locker.
"Awesome! Want me to drive you there?" Jenna asked, smiling brightly, which you found entirely cute.
"Whatever works best for you."
Jenna whooped and threw her arms around your neck, burying her face in your green sweater. She loved the smell of her undying crush, finding that your scent was that of coffee and morning air, far better than any candle or air freshener she could buy.
"I'll see you later!" She said, leaning back to smile at you for a moment before hurrying off to her first class.
You watched her go, smiling to yourself as the girl of your dreams waved to every person she saw. Times like these made you question whether love was a feeling or a curse, especially since your heart thumped for one of the most famous upcoming actresses ever.
What a predicament you were in.
——————————
taglist: @cartierdreamx@tundra1029@red1culous@vorsdany@andsoigotabutterfly@theafterofnevermore@yomomisgay@house-of-lovin@slvt4lanadelrey@thenextdawn@nepobaby08@dunohilly@somekindofpoet@alexkolax@cinffy23@pedrosprincess@amberfreemansburntface@myfturn
#jenna ortega#jenna ortega imagine#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega x fem reader#jennaortegaedit#jenna ortega fluff#jenna ortega smut#jenna ortega x fem!reader#jenna ortega x y/n#jenna ortega x you#jenna#ortega#wolfi writes
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Opinion on Popular Fandom Opinions - Will Graham Edition
Feel free to reblog with your own answers.
Will and cooking: he knows how to cook very well, he grows his own spices and herbs, he is meticulous but not necessarily neat, but yeah, imo he can very well cook.
Will and food: he'll eat anything but he is critical, won't compliment unless he actually likes it; does not need distraction while eating AT ALL (I hate this headcanon lol); eats like a prince because he is annoying about looking well mannered; does understand about food and wine (not to the extent H does but yes); no I don't think he eats fast food out of choice, I think he's too pretentious, but won't complain if he has to eat it.
Will and fatherhood: terrible, we've seen him at it and he sucked both times. He's a narcissist and there are very rare scenarios where he would make a good father. He'd be the type to never fully connect with a child then complain the child is disconnected from him (as he did in canon); at dinner table he'd make the most basic questions like how was school but he's mentally disassociated. Would force his own hobbies on the child (abigail and fishing). Wouldn't be capable of telling their favorite color or favorite teacher at school. Would be good at protecting but emotionally byebye.
Will and his father: not close, he was just existing near him, his father was probably an alcoholic because he seems to have tendencies; probably aggressive since he believes his dark traits are passed on by genes.
Will and his mother: never knew her like he said, I don't think she was avoidant or emotionally unavailable bc he clearly only mentioned following his dad around meaning the mom was literally not there, I think she had the same condition he has, was probably schizophrenic or/and had ppd. headcanon his dad killed her
Will and Molly: distant, avoidant, distracted himself with dogs and whatever else, found her comforting but felt a huge urge to get the fuck off like he did the first chance he got. Cared for her but couldn't even say I love you back, so...
Will and Alana: hugh projecting his attraction for the actress aside he was physically attracted and desperately wanted to like the normal/good girl who behaved like a mother.
Did he know Hannibal was in love with him? Rationally? Yes. His subconscious dreamt about it. But he didn't believe it until Bedelia said it.
What type of murder husband he would be: unstable, unhinged, insane, would switch a looot (love you/hate you), devoted, passionate but acts nonchalant, possessive, horny.
Will and money: has a lot of it considering his work, paying Hannibal's sessions etc, but doesn't splurge or flaunt it, is financially conservative.
Petnames: doctor is definitely a petname. I do believe he would drop the babe but only 6+ years into domesticity. never ever "Han" (ew).
Top or bottom: switch but power, bratty and demanding when bottom but after awhile surrenders; pillow princess for sure.
Good Will or Dark Will: he was never "good", Hannibal set him free but didn't create anything in him.
#do it yourselves#hannigram#nbc hannibal#hannibal#will graham#murder husbands#hannibal lecter#lamb creates random shit
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Sengoku and his adopted grandson Sanji.
Sengoku finding Sanji still in the mask while he searches the North Blue for clues to what happened to Rosinante. Sanji, so small, stuck in the metal helmet and looking like he's around five or six thanks to his family just being picked up by this vice admiral and screaming in terror and clawing to try to get away. Sengoku barely getting the kid calmed down enough to pick the lock and get the mask kind of open. The mouth drops open and Sengoku curses as he takes Sanji to his ship.
He has the cooks make food and bring them up to his quarters and half ass explains that he found another kid. He sets Sanji on the bed and digs around and finds some clothes from deep, deep, in a chest that he gives to Sanji and says he's going to get that fucking thing off him come Hell or highwater. Sanji is shaking and frightened as the cook brings food in and looks at him and then at Sengoku and Sengoku gives him a look that makes the cook nod that 'yeah, i'm not gonna ask' nod and leave.
Sengoku has the kid eat and calls in one of the engineers and Sanji is looking around and still shaking and can barely finish his plate as Sengoku tries to get him to calm down and answer some questions. Sanji tells him his name and age and well. Sengoku doesn't believe Sanji is eight until he gets a birthday which makes Sengoku immediately click the pieces of this kid together.
Sengoku knows this is the supposedly dead third prince of Germa. So he calls Garp when Sanji falls asleep even with the mask still on because he fell asleep before the engineer could get there and he's not going to wake the kid. Poor thing is terrified and awfully suspicious of everything.
"I have the dead prince of Germa."
"Buddha, did you just say you have a dead kid?" Garp asks in disbelief. "I know losing Rosinante is rough-"
"He's not dead, he has the curled brows and is in a metal helmet on my bed. Says he's eight. Gave me the right birthday. Skin and bones and I can see so many bruises and cuts. Screamed like hell when I grabbed him." Sengoku explains.
"You're serious?" Garp asks after a few moments of silence.
"Shit, Garp, do I lie?" Sengoku asks and Garp confirms he doesn't. When they reach the main Marine HQ a few weeks later with the mask off Sanji he is introduced to the other admirals and vice admirals and other higher ranks.
Everyone is looking at that his malnourished and abused kid where they don't exactly know what to do with him. Tsuru is looking at him and sighing because Germa comes to the Reverie every year to show off the kids and the soldiers and their tech. Judge is an asshole. "You're keeping him, right?" She asks and Sengoku nods. "Then let's take him shopping, he needs clothes and a doctor."
Sanji is too well behaved while their out and Sengoku nods at Tsuru's looks because he knows something is wrong alright? He knows. So they get Sanji fitted in some clothes and the marine doctor is like very concerned as they check Sanji over and confirms the suspicions.
Sanji grows up with Sengoku and Tsuru and the other vice admirals/admirals. He trains as a marine and is strong and can use haki, skywalk, and set himself on fire. His adopted grandmother and grandfather are very proud of him. For the strides he's made recovering and for just how strong he is as a person and how strong his sense of justice is. It's amazing and they don't dote but they do give him a lot of support. He calls them Grandma and Grandpa which makes everyone laugh and Garp welcome them to the grandparents club.
Sanji still cooks, whenever he has free time. People keep asking him to switch to the canteen positions but he doesn't. He likes being on the front lines and helping people. It's what he's good at. Sengoku and Tsuru and whoever else is treated to his cooking always tell him each new meal is better than the last which makes him smile.
He is a captain in the Marines when he is enlisted to watch over a White Beard fleet commander in Impel Down. Turns out the guy is also the son of Roger and Rouge and Sanji knows about what the Navy did looking for the kid, it's awful. Sanji figured Ace was Rouge's son, you'd have to be deaf and blind to not know that. Her name is on his poster after all. Sanji knows Ace isn't being killed for being a pirate.
Sanji and Ace get to talking about their lives. Their trials and tribulations and the pit of this injustice is growing in Sanji's stomach. That's why this execution was going to be such a spectacle, why it was so secretive. Ace was easy to like and his parents being who they were and who his crew is, they'll have a war on their hands. A war Sanji thinks he's on the wrong side of at the moment.
He tells Sengoku that, that if the execution is going to happen Sanji will leave the marines. Sengoku tries to dissuade him, even gets Tsuru in on it but Sanji won't have it. At the execution Sanji rips his captain coat off and aids Ace and Luffy and the pirates from Impel Down and the White Beard fleet. Garp is yelling at Ace and Luffy and Sengoku is yelling at Sanji but Sanji, steel eyed despite the tears, yells back.
"Executing him for the sake of his parentage is not justice! After everything the Navy did in the wake of Roger's execution, how could a child be sentenced to death for being born! If that is what you call justice it's not real! If you're going to kill us, have it be for treason and piracy, not for being born!" Sanji yells at them and they start running for it. They have to if Akainu coming at them is any sort of guess to how the Fleet Admiral feels about this.
"Run! Run and don't look back!" Sanji yells to them to make sure they keep going. He makes sure they don't by following them. Running after them to make sure he'll take the hit if Akainu decides to throw a fist at them.
When they make it to the ship Sanji and it's leaving Sanji just has a full blown panic attack because he's alone again and he's a traitor of the marines. He betrayed his grand parents who loved him. Ace is trying to get him to calm down, calling him blondie and Ace is absolutely sweet on him, became sweet on him in Impel Down. Sanji can't go back though, he can't because what if they let Germa know? What if he's executed for simply believing what the Government was doing was wrong? Ace thinking it's all his fault and apologizing before Sanji tells him to stop with hitched breathing and choked words.
Sanji tells him when he's calmed down enough he believes in what he did, he doesn't think he was wrong. He's just alone with no where to go.
"Well, my brother's been looking for a cook, they'll be setting sail again in about two years." Ace offers. "I'll be going with them."
"I like cooking." Sanji answers.
"Heard you're real good at it too, blondie." Ace smiles and Sanji gives a wet laugh and nods.
#sengoku!sanji#sengoku the buddha#ikemen sengoku#tsuru one piece#tsuru aoki#black leg sanji#vinsmoke sanji#portgas d ace#fire fist ace#ace x sanji#sanji x ace#acesan#sanace
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In Response to the H5N1 Ask:
I'm not answering the ask with your name on it, because I think you came off poorly, and I'm not in the habit of pointing my followers at people when I feel this angry at them.
But having had some fresh chocolate chip cookies, some cat snuggles, some sifu-husband hugs, some delightful kindly asks from people who are prepared to behave like equals today and no shortage of groupchat “Would you look at the fucking cojones on THIS one?!” mockery, I now feel settled enough to take this line by line.
So let’s do it.
Hello. I am someone who works alongside people in ornithology.
Hi! I work alongside a master of IT and frequently work arm-in-arm with medical doctors. What does that make me? I’m not a sysadmin and you’d better not trust me to install an arterial stent.
Your bird flu post was linked to me and I would like to privately share some reassurance about H1N1 as well as some problems I have with your post.
My post was about H5N1. H1N1 is the swine flu.
Bird flu has been studied for years and indeed is very lethal to humans, but it does not have the same viral characteristics as a mammal-originating virus like COVID does.
This is not a useful statement. Bird flu has been studied for decades—over a century, in fact, as the 1918 flu was an avian influenza. You know, the one that killed tens of millions of people, to the point that it derailed a world war? Personally, I have been paying attention to and reading research papers about H5N1 since 2015, and giving my very close attention to it for the last five years.
Since the SARS outbreak, vaccines and treatments for these rare case of direct bird-to-human flu transmission have been developed and have been poised to be deployed immediately should direct bird-to-human transmission ever occur.
Let’s be clear: bird-to-human transmission is occurring too frequently. More than eight hundred times in the last twenty years, and more and more rapidly in recent years, and again, more than half of those were lethal. That tends to be from exposure to wild animals hunted for food, or exposure to home-raised animals who get sick from wild animals. Bird-to-human transmission is not yet occurring frequently in the States, where our food is generally factory-produced and hunting is less common, but it is occurring with increasing regularity outside of the US. No vaccine will be useful to a person who is already infected (useless!); currently the treatment for infected people is antivirals and supportive care, alongside strict quarantine. Current H5N1 vaccines may or may not be very effective against any human-to-human variant, as it may have mutated to evade them. We do not have enough H5N1 vaccine doses to go around, and the ones we do will be concentrated first on the military and medical personnel.
The reason monitoring agencies and professionals are on “high alert” for these bird-to-cow-to-human incidents is because they are taking it seriously on a more theoretical level essential to their profession.
Why are you so smugly, confidently incorrect?
“We have never seen this scale of infections in mammals, and in such diversity of mammals. We have now seen more than 40 species of mammals infected during the last outbreaks, which is unprecedented.”
In this case, the people and cows who contracted H1N1 did not die.
It’s literally been days since the human contracted it from the cows, and we do not yet know that he’s the only one. We are NOT in a position to say “okay, so things are peachy!” We also do not know how many cows have it (we’re up to what, fifteen farms now?) and we do not know how rapidly it’s evolving in those massive groups of mammals.
My first concern about your post is its lack of linked to sources and the framing of it as an advice post. The New York Times has an article available on this issue as well as the Audubon Society and various wildlife agencies. Some of these articles are a year or two old,
This is the point where I started getting really pissed at you.
You demand I provide citations, but you provide none. You suggest I go to the fucking New York Times to read outdated articles? So you haven’t read anything more recent, or from anywhere more reliable, and thus you don’t imagine that I have, either? Arrogance.
but that is because this strain is a very slow-moving development
ABSOLUTELY not the case. It is mutating rapidly, over and over and over again.
You demanded sources, so I expect you to read those, but if you’ve only got time for one, pick the last of them.
with no immediate signs of consequences for humans outside of people working directly with cattle getting sick— and these humans have neither transmitted the virus to others or suffered anything worse than pink eye from it.
So since it hasn’t happened, we don’t need to worry about it happening, hmm?
Are you familiar with the term “gain-of-function research?” It’s when an organism is changed, in a lab, to make it more powerful, more infectious, more virulent, something along those lines. When you put a disease into tens of thousands of animals, you’re performing a natural gain of function experiment, as it has tens of thousands of chances to mutate.
The “Spanish flu” pandemic, which actually was first noted in a Kansas army base, was almost certainly the result of an avian flu infecting pigs. Pigs are really similar to us, in terms of receptors; what makes them sick is much more likely to make us sick; when this hits pigs-to-pig transmission, it’s time to batten down the hatches.
Cows aren’t nearly as similar, but they’re still mammals, so they bring it a lot closer to us; and when you can get unaltered H5N1 from bodily fluids, guess what? Meat and milk are disease vectors. And we don’t actually know that pasteurization of milk inactivates the virus.
As I said in my previous post, now is the time to prepare, and to be wary.
This strain is lethal and highly viral between birds and will likely remain this way for a very long time.
This strain has been rapidly, monstrously lethal to MANY animals. Sometimes in huge numbers. You may remember the mink farm where it mutated to spread mink-to-mink (those are mammals), or the sea lions (which I will point out to you are also mammals), where it spread sea lion-to-sea lion and rapidly killed them by the thousands. It’s killing polar bears. It’s killing other predators. It’s killing all manner of US mammals singly and in multiples. However, the mammal-killing mutations don’t stop it from still killing birds.
My final concern— Spring is coming and that means horny birds are about to start hitting windows. Wildlife rehabbers are currently updating the public’s general info on what to do with stunned birds— they often do not recover if left on their own to fly away after a window strike and concerned citizens need to take these birds to a rehabber immediately if found. If people read your post, they will likely conclude that bird-to-human crossover is likely and be afraid to touch a downed bird that needs emergency medical care.
I want to be absolutely, painfully clear to any non-doofus reading this right now:
I have loved birds since infancy. I grew up with a smalltime conservationist; I have spent no small amount of my photographic hours on birds. I have saved wild birds—poisoned by farmers, wingshot by rednecks, window-struck, sick, attacked by feral cats, orphaned by agricultural machinery--long enough to get them to rehabbers on many occasions, and I have on three occasions assisted with that rehab, including keeping very odd hours to feed nestlings with a dropper. I have assisted with ecological rehabilitation and rewilding programs to provide them with territory; I have written my politicians and donated to wildlife efforts. So know that this is not coming from a place of not respecting or loving the wildlife. This is not “framed as” or “presented as” advice, this is absolutely the advice I would give you face to face, in absolute conviction.
This year? If you see a fallen bird?
You WALK THE FUCK AWAY.
H5N1 gives birds seizures, disorientation, clumsiness and gasping. Or, sometimes, it is completely asymptomatic, and a perfectly healthy-seeming bird could still give you the disease. You can not tell if that bird hit the window because it’s horny and stupid and you forgot to put the stickers up, or because it’s in the grip of a disease that could kill you if the creature breathes too closely to you.
Given all of this, I ask that you please delete your original bird flu post before it has the chance to scare a lot of people and potentially hinder them from helping birds.
Yeah, that's not going to be happening.
If you’d like to repost it, please add linked sources and resources for those concerned about avian flu.
As previously mentioned, the New York Times has an article with the latest developments on monitoring this virus.
Fuck you and your ignorant superciliousness sideways. You do not walk into my fucking Asks with this bullshit like you know ANYTHING when you plainly haven’t read jack shit about the situation as it’s evolving on the ground.
Bird flu is indeed very scary but not nearly in the same league as Covid or even the seasonal flu for most people.
You’re absolutely right, in absolutely the wrong direction. If-when this goes human-to-human, it will rapidly outstrip covid’s dangerousness to a shocking degree. Today, it is not dangerous to anyone who leaves birds the fuck alone, but that’s today, and we need to prepare for the potential of tomorrow.
I hope this information helps and please excuse my stiff language. I suspect I sound really angry and condescending when I haven’t had much sleep.
Yeah, you came off as a total jackwagon. “This information,” you say, as if you brought ANYTHING with you but attitude.
Sorry if that’s the case, but I didn’t want anything picking up steam before sharing this with you!
Please educate yourself more adequately before you attempt again to correct someone. I have myself in the past been raring to go with a correction, checked to make sure that I had my phrasing right, and been caught flatfooted by new information. It’s better to feel that embarrassing moment of “oh, shit,” and realign your understanding silently, than to go in without doing any of the work and waste someone else’s time having to educate you.
If you reply to this in any way that is even slightly confrontational, I'm just going to block you. You aren't worth my time--you weren't worth this time! I have things I am supposed to be doing!--and I genuinely hope you do better in the future.
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Doctor, I don't feel good.
Follow me on AO3: PL4NETARIUM
𝗖𝗵𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝘆𝗮/𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿, +𝟭𝟴
When The Hatter and his crew discovered that Chishiya was a doctor, he wasn't happy. They talked clear about it: he had to help the injured ones after the games. They didn't want to lose potential people and the chance of getting the cards they needed.
Screw it.
He didn't want to take care of Aguni, that piece of shit of Niragi and everybody else. He would have lied if he said he cared about them. In all this shit, he was considering the only positive side of it: using this excuse to take care of you and that wonderful body of yours. What a sexy sight. In his mind he already fantasized about fucking you on his deck; you all naked and him wearing his white coat. Who would have expected that Chishiya had a roleplay link, mh? He was surprised about his own thoughts too, but also amused.
The sexual tension between both of you was a constant crescendo. It didn't pass a lot since when he pinned you against a wall after ending a game. That time you were already making soft sounds at Chishiya whispering into your ear.
“We shouldn't run into each other like this, it's not good for both of us.”
Your body was melting and his hand on your waist was feeling all of it.
He couldn't stop thinking about that encounter, he couldn't stop thinking about you. It was pathetically adorable how the first time you were at The Beach, you tried to be-friend everyone. Even if Chishiya ignored you and your methods, he didn't think twice to protect you from “being friend” with Niragi. Maybe he was too direct with you about it, but at least it worked.
“If you want to be fucked and treated less than a human being, he's the perfect friend for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I said.”
Your innocence was something not only Niragi, and probably others too, wanted to steal. But also Chishiya was into that idea. When he wanted something, he didn't care if he had to fight for it — it was already his. He knew he only had to wait for you to fall in his arm.
That night The Beach was loud as always. The majority of the people won the game, The Hatter had the cards he needed and everybody was happy. Chishiya didn't want to join the party, actually he never did. If he had, it was because he wanted to keep his eyes on you. Nodoby would have wanted to mess with something that belonged to him, am I wrong? Everytime, though, you behaved so well. He didn't have to worry much, he knew you would have searched for him.
The only thing he didn't know, or more like he didn't know why, was the fact that he was wearing his white coat. It felt strange to do something (actually wear) that he was used to do in the "other world".
“Doctor.”
He came back to his sense when he heard your voice calling him like that. Doctor, he repeated in his mind while he grinned, turning to look at you.
Your body with the bikini you were wearing made it even more ethereal. Oh, Chishiya's pants were starting to feel tighter.
“Did the doctor say you could come in?”
You simply locked the door behind you, both of you wanted to be interrupted what you were about to start.
You walked towards him, not even asking if you could sit on his lap. You simply did. Your arms were already around his neck, while his hands were already moving up and down your body.
“Doctor," you smiled at him innocently, "I don't feel good.”
“Should we check?”
He kissed the crook of your neck and shoulder, making you shiver and gasping for air when, without a warning, he sank his teeth into your carotid. You felt the moans escaping your mouth, the inability to control yourself was already gone.
“Such good reflexes.”
You started to rock against Chishiya's lap, straddling his hips and feeling the boner against your warm core. You couldn't wait any much longer.
“Doctor...please...”
The lower part of your bikini was already on the floor, and you couldn't care less, especially when you felt his fingers against your core – parting your folds and getting in, moving them inside in a fast speed. You were gasping for air and your moans didn't help the situation at all.
“Let's see...”
His fingers were out and you could feel the empty sensation inside you. He put his wet fingers into his mouth, cleaning them for good.
“No, you are completely fine.”
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December moments
Prompts used in this chapter: post-holiday blues - "Thank God that's over"
John always gets post-holiday blues after Boxing Day, but an unexpected visit, brightens his mood. The jury’s still out regarding Sherlock’s reaction to said visit
December 27
He wakes up alone, and his stomach clenches. It’s the same every year. Once Boxing Day is over, John’s post-holiday blues arrive. He’d thought it would be different this year, when his dream had come true, having Sherlock’s love, sharing his bed every night, but apparently not. Perhaps it wouldn’t have felt this awful if Sherlock still was sleeping beside him, but he isn’t. John buries his face in his pillow and tries to take deep breaths to keep the tears at bay, but he doesn’t succeed.
Last night had been the most passionate, tender and fucking amazing night of his life. A begging Sherlock on his knees while John was rimming him until he gave in and entered Sherlock’s body deliciously slow and was rewarded with the most exquisite sounds from his lover, which almost tipped John over the edge before they’d begun.
And now he lies alone in bed close to sobbing because of…what exactly? He’s engaged to the love of his life, he’s got the next days off work, and he and Sherlock are going on a trip to fulfill Sherlock’s secret wish in January.
John’s been so lost in his own misery that he hasn’t heard footsteps approaching the bed, and startles when the mattress dips and a warm hand is placed on his shoulder.
“John. What is it?” Sherlock asks.
The worry in his voice is evident and John turns on to his back facing him. Sherlock’s thumb wipes away a tear and frowns.
“Only the usual mood, which I thought would leave me alone this year, truth be told. There’s no need for me to feel like this when I have you in my life. Do you have a kiss for me?”
Sherlock’s features soften and he doesn’t waste any time responding.
***
The text from Greg after breakfast, puzzles John
Is it okay if I come over around 1 pm? No case, just a social call.
Sherlock just shrugs when John asks if he has any objections to Greg’s unprecedented inquiry. Luckily, they have some of Mrs. Hudson’s delicious biscottis left, and the special hazelnut-scented coffee they received from Sherlock’s parents will be a nice addition.
John has changed into the midnight-blue shirt Sherlock gifted him, and the detective himself, is impeccably dressed in dark blue suit trousers and a crisp white shirt with straining buttons. A jolt of desire runs down John’s spine by the very sight and he wants nothing more than to walk over to Sherlock and snog him senseless, but steps on the stairs stop him.
“When did you give Greg a key?” John asks Sherlock.
“I didn’t,” Sherlock answers with narrowed eyes before he collapses into his chair, muttering his brother’s name.
And seconds later Greg and said brother stand in the doorway. Greg seems a bit nervous, and when John realises what’s going on, Sherlock has glared, huffed and scoffed for several seconds.
“You can close your mouth now, if you don’t have anything to communicate, Doctor Watson,” Mycroft says haughtily.
“Mycroft,” Greg hisses
The resemblance to how John scolds Sherlock when he behaves inappropriately is uncanny. John can’t hold back anymore, and when he meets Sherlock’s eyes, John’s done for. He laughs whole-heartedly and Sherlock joins him with his dark rumble. It takes a while before they remember their visitors, who have taken matters into their own hands and serve the coffee and biscuits with slightly blushing faces.
***
“Thank God that’s over,” Sherlock states when Mycroft and Greg have left.
“It wasn’t that bad,” John protests. “Did you know they were an item?”
“Not per se, but I observed that Mycroft greeted Lestrade with his first name at our Christmas party, and that struck me as a bit strange considering that he rarely uses your given name,” Sherlock says.
“Right. Well, I never saw that coming, but I guess it’s no weirder than the two of us being romantically involved,” John muses.
“John! Don’t you dare compare what we have with what my brother and Graham are up to,” Sherlock blurts out and makes a total mess of his hair in his agitation.
John straddles Sherlock’s thighs with a gleeful expression and gives in to the temptation from earlier, which effectively puts a stop to Sherlock’s reflections regarding his brother’s love life.
Read it on AO3
@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @safedistancefrombeingsmart @sabsi221b @gregorovitchworld @helloliriels @peanitbear @raina-at
#christmas ficlet prompts#sherlock fandom#johnlock#sherlock#john watson#mycroft holmes#greg lestrade#sherlock fanfic#bbc sherlock#ao3 fanfic#december moments#respite in december
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Communication issues
A little Shane x female reader, without any zombies
Y/N quickly told Lori about it, because she didn't know how to talk to Shane about it without him taking it the wrong way.
Shane often took things the wrong way. Oh, he wasn't yelling at her, he wasn't hitting her, but he was reacting like a stupid child, not listening, not trying to understand, just feeling criticized and attacked, and preferring to run away to the bar for hours, before coming back to finally hear what she wanted to say to him.
It would have been the same for this subject, if not worse. Because sex was obviously a very important subject to Shane.
So important that they had been fucking at least three times a day since they met, which was almost a year ago.
Y/N wasn’t complaining. Not complaining at all. Shane was a very gifted, very considerate lover. But this limitless libido was starting to tire her a little, and above all to intrigue her.
Completely honest, he had told her about all his previous relationships, even the one that had only lasted one night. There had been many. He started very young.
It might have seemed stupid, but Y/N wondered if it meant something, if Shane didn't have a problem. Maybe he was repressing things, maybe he was looking for some form of affection, maybe there was a hormonal problem.
It wasn't mean, she was just worried about him. And as she knew he wouldn't understand, she spoke about it to Lori, who looked at her with wide eyes.
"… Three times per day ?"
“Is that the only one you remember from what I just said? ”
"Three times per day."
"Yes. And I'm not complaining ! If I tell him no, Shane doesn't force me either, but he goes into the bathroom and stays there for a very long time, if you know what I mean. You think that he has a problem ? Maybe he should see a doctor ? To talk, or get some medicine."
“You want him to stop ?”
"No ! I just want to understand why he behaves like a rabbit in heat absolutely all the time, if it's normal or if it's something else. It's for his own good, you can't hear his heart beat super fast when he falls asleep."
Lori found her fears a little absurd, but adorable. She couldn't really help her, though, because her husband wasn't as productive, so she had no other point of comparison.
Her advice was to talk to Shane about it, or watch if he seemed to be having a heart attack mid-coitus.
Not finding the words to explain her apparently imaginary fears, Y/N opted for the second option and everything went well.
Until one evening when Shane returned from patrol, tired, visibly disturbed, and remaining in the hall while she was cooking.
"Shane ? Are you okay ?"
"… Yes."
"I'm doing some chili. I hope you're hungry. How was your day ? Did you catch any bad guys ?"
"No, calm day. I'm going to take a shower, baby."
This was normal. Shane always took a long shower after his work. This time it was a little long, but that wasn't the problem.
The problem was that he hadn't kissed her when he arrived, he hadn't asked her to come with him, and he hadn't kissed her before leaving the room.
But Y/N didn’t say anything. He must have been tired.
They chatted for the rest of the evening, watched a movie together, and then it was time for bed, and normalcy was completely shattered, when Shane quickly kissed her on the forehead and wished her good night, before to lie down with your back to her.
He kissed her on the forehead, before turning his back ?
There were some nights where he didn't even wait for them to arrive in the room before throwing himself on her, his hands roaming her body, his lips never leaving her mouth. It could last for hours, and when they fell asleep, it was always in each other's arms.
Shane must have been really tired.
However, the night passed, and things did not return to complete normal. He still kissed her on the forehead the next day, wishing her a good day. He didn't hesitate when she told him he loved her, responding that he loved her too with a strange little smile.
He responded to her messages. He called her during his lunch break. In fact, he was doing absolutely everything as usual, except touching her.
Y/N decided that maybe he was sick. He had a fever, he was afraid of infecting her, and instead of talking to her, he kept his distance.
On the third day, she woke up alone in bed and found him asleep on the couch. Gently, she touched his forehead, perfectly normal, and she had to accept the truth.
Physically, Shane was fine. There was another problem.
They could have talked about it. At least try. But he was rarely there because of his work, and he hated communicating. Y/N had figured that out a long time ago. His actions always had to be deciphered, and his actions were clear.
He didn't love her anymore. He didn't know how to tell her, so he gradually moved away, until he wouldn't come home at all.
Like with a bandage, she could have forced him to tell her, so that he would end her suffering, but Y/N wanted him to stay as long as possible, so she said nothing, staying alone in their big cold bed, and accepting his quick kisses on her head.
The tears flowed on Sunday, during girls' night at Michonne. Her friends asked her if everything was okay, and she broke down.
"He's going to leave me…"
"What ?! No ! Shane adores you, I've never seen him so happy with anyone !"
"He doesn't touch me anymore. He sleeps in the living room."
"What a bastard ! Do you think he's cheating on you ?"
“Andrea, you’re not helping.” Carol sighed, stroking Y/N’s back. "He may have personal issues. Lori, does Rick know something about it ?"
"He didn't tell me anything. You know how men are, they don't talk or they talk too much. My husband is the first type of jerk."
Y/N continued to cry, leaving the others to debate about the men and the reasons that could push Shane to act like this.
Then she felt very tired, apologizing and saying she wanted to be alone. Leaving the girls in the kitchen, she went into the living room, sitting down in an armchair to think about all this.
Bangs against glass startled her. Looking up, she found Shane pressed against the window, staring at her with panicked eyes.
“Shane ?” she whispered, getting up to open it for him. "What are you doing here ?"
"Lori called Rick to tell him I'm a huge asshole."
"What ?"
He didn't give her time to continue, pressing himself against her as before, taking her to the bathroom without stopping kissing her. He looked like a hungry, desperate animal, unable to stop himself from touching her.
"Baby. My love… Do you know that I love you like crazy ?"
“It’s been pretty confusing for a week.”
"I know. Rick told me on Monday that I was stupid. I wanted to stop on Tuesday, but it started to feel like a gamble, so I continued."
"… What are you talking about ?"
So Shane explained to her. He explained to her that Lori had told her husband about her fears, and his best friend had told him about it.
Of course, as Y/N predicted, Shane took it a little badly. He didn't understand what she criticized about their pace of copulation, while he made a lot of effort not to stay in bed all day with her.
So he had an idea, a stupid idea. It couldn't have lasted more than a day, but he was going to go home and he wasn't going to do anything. He wasn’t going to touch her, and if Y/N wasn’t happy, then she would have to do the work.
But Y/N hadn’t done anything, because she had thought he was tired, and because she didn’t need sex all the time. This had frustrated him greatly. Disappointed. He had spent a lot of time alone with himself, even in the bathroom, in other rooms of the house, at work, in the street, wandering like a lost dog without his owner.
"Rick made fun of me, saying that I looked like a zombie the next day. That it was proof that you were right, that I was like an addict in withdrawal. So I kept going, to prove it wasn't true… Except it was kind of true. I couldn't stay in bed with you right next to me anymore. It was too hard."
“Because you love sex.”
"No. Because I love you. It's you, darling. As soon as I see you, as soon as I hear your laugh, when you say my name, when you touch me… I'm addicted to you. Before, I would find a girl every now and then, I liked to fuck, but it wasn't the same. With you… It's like breathing, you know ? Rick also made fun of me when I tried to explain it to him, saying that I was a romantic fool. I love it when we become one, and when I know I'm making you feel good. That's my way to.. You know."
“Oh, Shane.”
Since he wasn't good with words, Shane continued his grand declaration of love using his tongue differently, his hands sliding over her body like a poet writing verses, and he chanted her name over and over until what saw stars.
Andrea entered the bathroom after they had just finished. She looked at them before quickly closing the door.
"… Oops." Shane chuckled nervously as he put his pants back on.
"You're kidding me…"
"Maybe she didn't see us well. I can try to jump out the window and you return to the living room with your dignity."
“Andrea clearly saw us, and she probably already told the others everything.”
"Sorry baby, I was so focused on you, I didn't think to lock the door. I know you're modest."
He held her hand for her walk of shame into the hall. The girls were waiting for them there with slightly embarrassed smiles.
"Hey everyone. Michonne, nice bathroom." said Shane as if everything was normal.
“I’ll clean it up after the party.”
“You better, yes.”
“Shane…” Y/N muttered as she closed her eyes, her cheeks almost as warm as when they were in the bathroom.
"Okay, it's late. I'm working early tomorrow, so I'll leave you. Y/N, see you at home ? Have a nice evening."
He kissed her before leaving, as he always kissed her before leaving a room, without caring about their audience.
Y/N stayed in the middle of the room, biting her lips while stroking her hickey-covered neck, and avoiding the mischievous looks of her friends.
"It seems… It seems he doesn't want to break up with me."
"I knew it. He's just an idiot."
"A very gifted idiot, from what I've seen and heard."
"Andrea. Try to think before you speak."
She wasn't wrong, he was very talented, and he used his talents to communicate all his love with everything other than words, which wasn't always a good thing, but Y/N wasn't complaining.
Next time she would speak to him directly, even if he might sulk a little, because he would always come back to listen at the end.
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𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 - 𝐫𝐮́𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐬
・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬.
( 𝐇𝐢! 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭! 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐮 )
[ 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 ]
( flex bby boy, we love you )
She stares at her reflection in the vanity mirror, her hair was curled to perfection in beautiful waves, soft features enhanced by the makeup that adorned her face, she topped off the look with a casual floral printed dress, tonight she was going to have dinner with Rúben and his parents, Joao and Bernadete seeing as they were in Manchester visiting for a few weeks, she blinks then shakes her head; grabbing the lip stick to readjust it.
" Baby "
Her gaze travels up to see Rúben standing near the doorway from the reflection of the mirror, he was adjusting the buttons of his shirt then gave her a soft look, " Listen, you'll be fine " he assures her, " My parents already know about you, and they're excited to meet you "
" What if I slip up? or say something that's weird " She huffs, " I don't want them to think I'm too much or that I'm only with you for your money "
Rúben sighs, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. " I love you " he murmurs. " You will be fine, and they'll see just how happy you make me, and besides " he smirks, " I love spending my money to spoil you because seeing you dressed in all those dresses, all those nighties and those damn delicious lingerie sets " he whispers before gently tugging her ear with his teeth. " It's very, very fucking hot "
" Rúben " She gasps, swatting his arm as he chuckled, before finally getting a good look at her when she stood up, " so? "
" Baby, I'm starting to think we should postpone the dinner cause right now " Rúben drawls, wrapping his arms around her waist to tug her closer. " I'm hungry for something else entirely, something far delicious than any food "
Her face grows red, " We're going to be late, so ... if we go through this dinner properly " she said with a seemingly faux innocent smile that had a hint of a deviousness. " Maybe we can try that thing you were telling me about yesterday "
A wicked grin appears across his lips, " You serious? "
" Behave during dinner and ... " She leans closer to his ear, " I'll sit on your face like you always wanted "
Rúben beams, " You got it baby "
His parents were as sweet as he had told her about them, a truly humble and loving couple which affirmed to her just how much Rúben takes after them, Bernadete asks her, " So Dahlia, what do you do for a living? "
She takes a sip of her water glass and smiles, " I am a paediatric doctor, I work with kids "
Joao nods impressively before noting, " For how long? "
" Five years and a half, before that I've completed my internship and residency in America " She responds.
" And how did you meet our Rúben? " Bernadete smiles, " I can't tell you how happy I was when he told us he found someone "
She beams at the remark before responding, " It's quite funny " she recalls that day like it was yesterday, " The kids I work with were massive Manchester City fans, so one day the hospital had contacted the team to make a visit and bring a smile to their faces, that day I decided to dress up as a clown to cheer them up as well, and erm ... " she laughs.
" She literally fell into my arms " Rúben grins, " Best day of my life "
" He helped me up, made sure the kids were thoroughly entertained all for him to come the next week alone with gifts and he not so subtly asked for my number, and the rest is history " She said.
" That's so sweet, you know he never stopped talking about you whenever he calls me " Bernadete cooed, " It's so cute just how much he would boast about you "
" He did " She smiles looking at Rúben who was blushing.
" You really have made him happy and we are very thankful for that " Bernadete nods with a soft smile.
Rúben takes her hand, " Mãe, I'm the one who's happy "
Suffice to say that dinner went very well, his parents promised to pay them a visit sometimes; then they were on their way home, and when they got home, they undressed, showered and got ready for bed - Rúben was quick to pull her onto his lap and smirk, " I believe you owe me something "
She giggles and pressed a soft kiss to his lip, " I do, you're right "
" Come on, we have a long night ahead of us "
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Sorta nsfw and VERY goody but SDV Bachelors (+ expanded bachelors maybe?)’s reactions to the farmer telling the gay rooster joke? If you’re unfamiliar, the joke is: “what sound does a gay rooster make? …ANY-COCK’LL-DO-!”
Phah! I've never heard of it! 😄
Thanks so much for the question, dear anon! Btw, I won't put an NSFW warning, as there's not even much of a hint of a detailed description of anything vulgar here. Anyway, enjoy! 🫰❤️
SDV and SVE bachelors react to a gay rooster joke from the Farmer:
Sebastian:
Sebastian did his best to make an indifferent grimace, but gave in.
"That's really dumb." He said it while chuckling and shaking his head. "If Sam had been around, he would have died laughing for sure."
A great way to make Sebastian smile is a gay joke. Alright noted.
At times he can counterattack when Farmer once again showered him with such humour. Farmer's reaction to Sebastian is peerless.
Most of the time, though, Sebby will blush and try to hold back laughter. No, he's not laughing, shut up.
Elliott:
The poor man tried to fiddle a smile as best he could.
"Yes, quite a funny joke. Hmm, a little vulgar for my taste, to be honest with you."
Sorry Farmer, but he's a well-mannered and refined gentleman, and such obscene puns are not to his taste.
(Which doesn't stop him from laughing at the joke after the fourth or fifth mug of strong ale).
Elliott's cheeks will turn tomato-coloured if the Farmer continues to shower him with such jokes in the presence of other residents in the Valley. Yoba, give him patience.....
Sam:
Sammy laughed like a madman for about fifteen minutes. God, he absolutely has to tell this to Sebastian!
He decides to also surprise the Farmer with a gay joke, and basically, this starts a competition to see who tells the best gay joke (Lewis caught the two of them and scolded them for profanity and vulgarity).
This competition has reached a state like in vine "Bro I have a dream we fucked" (you can consider this the start of a bromance or romance if the feelings are mutual).
Just so long as his little brother doesn't accidentally overhear his jokes, or there will be a LOT of questions from Sam's dad and mum.
Shane:
Shane nearly choked on his beer when Farmer finished the joke. "Ok, that's a good one."
For a few days or so, he'd been going over that joke when he was working at JojaMart and smiled faintly. Shit, It's really funny.
Decided not to stay in debt and meet Farmer next time with a similar joke. Their surprise and laughter brought amusement to Shane.
The only rule to Farmer was not to tell it to Jas. And under no circumstances teach her such jokes, or Shane would get angry, and then everyone would definitely not be laughing.
Harvey:
"......." "I beg your pardon?"
If Farmer thought Harvey would like such a vulgar joke about the male genitalia, let them think again.
The lack of a smile and slight irritation made it clear to Farmer that the doctor didn't appreciate such a pun.
Harvey will give Farmer some children's booklets that tell Farmer the rules of behaviour. If that's how they behave, they'll need it for sure.
If they told him in front of children or the elderly, Harvey would have a hard time suppressing his own urge to grab them by the ear and shove them out the door of his clinic.
"OK, how about this joke: an apple a day-" "Don't."
Alex:
About half a minute passed while Alex tried to make sense of it.
And then burst out laughing. "Pfft! Hah!"
Decided to get on the internet and learn a couple of jokes like that to catch the Farmer off guard and laugh from their facial expressions.
Actually, they should be good friends with Alex so he wouldn't threaten to punch them in the face for such jokes. And so - friendly banter, hey!
The two joke around until Lewis catches them and threatens Alex that he's going to tell his grandmother. Alex snaps, but stops (sorry Farmer, but he loves his grandparents and doesn't want to upset them).
Victor:
*nervous laughter* "Hahaha, you're so funny! (Please don't tell that joke to my mother...)."
Victor had made a few jokes and puns himself on more than one occasion, but they were never vulgar. He was not allowed by his upbringing.
But in order not to offend the Farmer and not to be the one in the company who alone didn't get the joke, he would laugh a little pretentiously.
Victor would blush horribly if asked if he even understood the point of the joke.
If Olivia is around in their presence, poor Victor will burn with shame (No, mother, they didn't mean it-).
Magnus Rasmodius:
Magnus looked at Farmer disapprovingly and shook his head. "Every day we're getting further away from Yoba..."
So they distracted him from important matters for the sake of telling him this, excuse him, tasteless humour?
Sorry Farmer, but Magnus doesn't want to hear that sort of thing in his presence. And, frankly, he wouldn't advise them to make jokes about roosters and... so on, considering Farmer's quite a good person. That kind of vulgarity doesn't suit them.
He'll give them a heavy scolding if they make such jokes in front of Morgan. Maybe even threaten to wash their mouths out with soap.
Lance:
Lance's silence and faintly perceptible smile confused Farmer.
At the same time, the gallant adventurer is trying to think how to tell Farmer politely that their joke is terrible and vulgar without hurting their feelings.
Merciful Yoba, Lance is too well-mannered to even think of such a thing.
He won't correct the Farmer, just subtly hint that their choice in puns isn't a good one. Especially with ladies and children around.
Still, there may be a time when Lance will cover his mouth with his fist so as not to give away his laughter if Farmer decides to tell this joke to one of his colleagues (the unfortunate colleague is likely to be Isaac).
#stardew valley#sdv#sve#stardew valley expanded#sdv sam#sdv shane#sdv alex#sdv sebastian#sdv harvey#sdv elliott#sve victor#sdv wizard#sdv rasmodius#sve magnus#sve lance#sdv headcanons#sve headcanons#thanks for the ask!
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request but... a-anything icky creepy yucky for audio adventures scarecrow? i want him to eat MY brain like a delicacy lmao. he's so oddly hot lmao.
All Tied Up and Nowhere To Go
BTAA!Scarecrow x Female!Reader, word count: 800
ok i. really was selfish with this one and it gets kinda fuck nasty and literally made me drool 🎃🧡
request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist
minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: dubcon, crying, bondage, punishment, restraints, sub/dom dynamics, knife play, blood, fear play, drugs
The ropes, smooth, silky, professional, shuffled against themselves as you pulled your wrists up gently from the wall and settled them back down. Your ankles were in much the same situation, all four limbs spread up and out from your body, in a strange homage to a star. Stuck there, weak and vulnerable. So prepared was Jonathan, that the moment you agreed to let him test your fears, to make you ultimately submissive, he had offered you one of his pills, already in his hand ready to pass to you. The hallucinatory properties only now receding, revealing to you that you were now captive in... his home? His office? Yet another property he owned for the purposes of who knew what? Your chest hitched, rising and falling in a shuddering motion as you considered what this all meant.
"You agreed to this. I mean, I don't want to make this into a big deal, but I record everything that goes on in my office. I'm hoping I don't Nixon myself, but so far... it's served its purpose well."
Jonathan's voice carried over to you, loud, growing louder as he stepped out from behind the wall and walked towards you. A grim smile covered his face, eyes piercing you from behind his glasses, slender fingers tented as he menacingly closed the gap between your bodies. His free to move and covered in his usual sleek and neat suit that he wore for his appointments under the guise of Doctor Crane. Yours, trussed up, vulnerable, and covered only in long, loose fitting shirt.
When he stood still, observing you, his eyes tracing over every inch fo your body, he let out a wry chuckle. The sound turned your blood cold, skin prickling in bumps as your hair stood on edge.
"I hate to reiterate a point, but you did agree to be tied up. Left to my devices. You're not changing your mind now, are you?"
Before you could respond, Jonathan raised his hand, holding your face still, tight. His fingers pressed against your cheeks, teeth cutting against the flesh on the inside of your mouth as he pushed both side of your face inwards.
"I asked you a question."
You tried to shake your head, but he was holding you too tight. And when you tried to say no, you were all the more aware of how tight the gag around you was, the ball forcing your lips out, saliva dripping from the opened corners of your mouth.
"Hurry up, clock's ticking."
A mumbled 'no' squeezed past the gag. Not clear, but good enough for Jonathan.
"Good girl. Now..."
He reached behind his back, pulling a knife from a sheath you hadn't noticed.
"...I sense that you might need a bit of... coercion... to keep you behaving."
You could feel your eyes straining, pupils blown wide as you kept your focus on the glinting blade attached to the handle that Jonathan held so flimsily.
"See, the fear in this room is palpable, has been since you came to. But I need a little bit more.I need to be able to taste it on my tongue."
He was so close to you now, teasing the fabric of the shirt, before pushing it in a little. The move so quick, so dependent on the belief that you would shift your body back, flat against the wall, which luckily you did. And with a cruel giggle, he brought the blade up swiftly, tearing each button off as he dragged the knife towards your chin. Exposed, entirely, your nipples hardening in the cool air, your legs trying desperately to press themselves together, to preserve your modesty.
Unwillingly, unknowing even at first, you tensed your body so tight that your muscles began to cramp, and a tear dropped from the corner of your eye onto your cheek. Jonathan laughed, loud and long, before he stopped abruptly, his nose pressed against your face as he ran his tongue up and along the trail of the tear, savouring it with his eyes closed, a low moan rumbling in his throat.
You whimpered at his joy, at his delight in your apparent terror, but it still wasn't enough. Because when you turned your face from him, daring to deny him the pleasure of the salt, the taste of your fear, he picked the knife up and held it to your throat.
"Ah, ah, ah... that doesn't seem like something a good girl would do, does it?"
You shook your head, careful to avoid the point of knife. And while you settled yourself again, focusing on your breathing, reminding yourself that this is what you wanted, what you agreed to, after all, you could see Jonathan from your peripheral, unbuckling his belt and undoing the fly of his pants with one hand, preparing himself for the next step.
#finnie writes#batman#scarecrow#jonathan crane#scarecrow imagine#scarecrow smut#scarecrow x reader#rogues gallery#batman rogues#btaa scarecrow
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Hi! Just wanted to say that I love you writing, and love how you write angst !!
Asking this anonymously because, I found out I need a third open heart surgery.
I was wondering if you still take request how would Joel feel about his significant other having a third heart surgery and finding him not being able Toby e kids because of it.
As much angst as you want.
Btw, I’ll be fine, it’s the third time they are doing it, im schedule for 5 surgeries! It’s all good, cardiomyopathy is chill when the doctors know what they are doing! 😅
OMG Hi Bestie!
I am so honored that you'd reach out about such an intimate ask. I hope your surgery goes/went well and that you're doing great!
Hopefully, this is something like what you're looking for!
Heartache
Joel looks out for you as you're treated for cardiomyopathy.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader with Cardiomyopathy
Warnings: Medical stuff! Light smut. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only
Length: 2.5k
If there was one thing Joel hated, it was not having control.
He’d never really been happy at a job site until he was a manager, the one running SOMETHING. That way, he knew it was done right.
It had made life with Sarah’s mom difficult, back when she was at all in the picture, because when she actually took charge of anything, it ended up being a mess Joel had to clean up.
Hell, even just letting Tommy man the grill at family cookouts grated on him. He seemed to love to turn steaks too frequently, never giving them the time they needed on any one side. Joel had to grit his teeth and tried not to watch Tommy fuck up perfectly good cuts of meat.
But at least then you would slip your hand into his, lacing your fingers through his own, and kiss his shoulder, whispering “You know it’ll be fine, Babe” under your breath. You tried not to giggle when you said it, Joel could hear it in your voice.
You couldn’t do that now. Not when you were under anesthesia and he was stuck, sitting in a waiting room, waiting to hear that you were OK.
No, this kind of out of control, Joel had learned, he was especially bad at.
It started a few years earlier, not all that long after meeting you, really.
Joel had first bumped into you - literally - at a park. Sarah was playing, showing off some variation of a cartwheel she’d invented, when Joel saw a dog - a big dog - running right for her. He didn’t think about how to react, he just did, racing to put himself between his daughter and the unknown animal, only watching her and the dog when you ran smack into is side, sending you both sprawling to the ground.
“Ow, shit,” you groaned, sitting up and clutching your head. Joel turned only to see Sarah, flopped on the ground as the dog licked all over her face, tail wagging. Joel sighed in relief, going back to figuring out how to untangle his legs from yours.
“I’m so sorry, he’s usually better behaved than this but he’s all keyed up because we were at the vet earlier,” you said, tugging your leg back into yourself and looking at your knee. “I didn’t have as good a hold on his lead as I should have, he saw a rabbit and took off…”
“S’fine,” Joel said quickly, noticing you properly for the first time. You were in a little dress that showed off your legs, your eyes still bright and beautiful as you watched your dog play with his daughter. You were pretty. Really, really fucking pretty. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “No harm done.”
“Yeah, he’s a gentle giant,” you smiled, getting up. “He looks scary but, since I live alone, definitely more of a feature than a bug. He’s really just a big teddy bear.”
You called the dog over and looped the end of his leash around your wrist before you introduced yourself and Joel did the same, not able to take his eyes off you and your warm smile.
“Hey Dad!” Sarah ran over, some of her curls pulled free from her springy pigtails and wild around her face. “Dad, did you see? Did you see me with the dog?”
“Yeah, Baby Girl,” he laughed a little. “I saw.”
Your dog licked her hand, wagging happily.
“He likes you,” you smiled, squatting down to be on Sarah’s level as you gave the dog a scratch. “His name is Pluto!”
Sarah’s eyes got big.
“You mean like the dog from the cartoons?”
“Exactly,” you smiled. “He’s my best friend and he’s got very good taste, so if he likes you that means you must be pretty great.”
“Dad!” Sarah turned to Joel, her eyes still big. “Can Pluto come over to play?”
“Kiddo…” he sighed.
“Please?” She pouted. “You never let me get a dog, I want to play with a dog and he likes me and…”
You caught Joel’s attention over his daughter’s shoulder as you mouthed “it’s OK with me” at him. He smiled a little at that, you giving him an out so he wouldn’t have to be the bad guy with his daughter if he said no.
And he knew he probably should say no. The reason he said no dogs was because he worked too much and he didn’t want to leave a dog, alone and neglected, at home all day. Giving his six-year-old daughter ideas about a pet probably wasn’t the best idea.
And then there was you.
You were so pretty and so obviously good with Sarah you were practically temptation on legs. Invite you over and he’d be asking for trouble.
But Sarah loved your dog.
And Joel sure as hell wanted to see more of you.
“Want to come over for dinner?” Joel asked. “I’m just makin’ burgers but…”
You smiled, wide and bright and beautiful.
“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I’d love that.”
You came over that night and, in a way, you never really left. He watched you play with his daughter and your dog and put potato chips on your burger and find new music to add to his playlist once you heard what he liked to listen to, taking Sarah’s hands and dancing with her on the grass. It was the most fun Joel had had in years.
It was a year and a half later, when you fainted at work.
Joel was frantic when he got the call from your boss. You’d moved in just a few months earlier and Joel was almost waiting for something to go wrong. He’d never had anything go so right for so long in his entire life. Something going wrong was inevitable.
It didn’t seem right that it should go wrong for you.
“Joel,” you said, a wan smile on your face as you sat up in your hospital bed when he ran in. You looked so small and pale and he all but ran to you, sitting on the edge of your bed and taking your hand. “I’m fine, I’m OK, it’s OK.”
“Shouldn’t I be comfortin’ you?” He asked, smiling just a little even though he was having a hard time focusing on anything but the monitors that were attached to you.
“You look more upset than me right now,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze. “Really, babe, I’m fine. I just didn’t have enough to eat today and I got up too fast, that’s all.”
That’s not all it was.
It took them some time to figure out - and Joel pointing out that you seemed tired and lightheaded and your pulse felt strange below his fingers sometimes - but you had cardiomyopathy.
He was with you when the doctor handed down the diagnosis and you frowned, your eyebrows knitting together.
“What does that mean?” You asked. “It sounds serious….”
“It is,” the doctor nodded. “It’s a disease of the heart muscle, it makes it harder for the blood to pump through the body. It can even lead to heart failure. The good news is, we have treatment options…”
You sat there, eyes wide, clutching your purse on your lap. Joel took your hand and tried to take in every word the doctor said. He was going to do this with you. In you he’d found the one person he wanted to do everything with, the only person besides Sarah he wanted to see every day for the rest of his life. He might not understand what was wrong with you but he was going to figure it out.
When the two of you got home that afternoon, you were still in a state of shock. Joel walked with you to the kitchen table and got you a glass of water, sliding it in front of you. You just stared at it, your eyes a little wide.
“Honey,” Joel said, his voice calm. “It’s OK…”
You shook your head a little and drank the water before you set the glass back down, putting your hands in your lap and meeting his gaze from across the table.
“I understand that this was a lot more than you bargained for,” you said, your voice steady. “I don’t expect you to take care of me through all this, I can call my mom, I’m sure she would let me move in…”
“Why are you talkin’ about movin’?” He frowned, cutting you off.
“I mean, you heard the doctor,” you said. “There are surgeries and…”
“So?”
“Joel,” you shook your head and smiled a little. “You have a daughter and a demanding job and…”
“And I love you,” he said. “Not gonna let you do this without me.”
It was rough at the start. He went to all your appointments with you. The doctors decided surgery was the best route and Joel spent hours researching everything he could. It felt like he’d be able to do it himself by the time you went under the knife the first time.
He didn’t think that made him any less anxious about it, though.
It was at a follow up appointment that the two of you got more bad news.
“Wait,” you said, cutting your doctor off. “I’m sorry, I just… You’re making it sound like I won’t be able to have children. Is… is that true?”
“Unfortunately,” the doctor sighed heavily. “Yes, that’s true. There was just too much damage to the tissue and even with the work we’re doing, it wouldn’t be safe to put your body under the strain that pregnancy demands…”
You held it together until the two of you were in the truck, the floodgates breaking the second the door was closed. Joel tugged you against him, stroking your hair, kissing your forehead.
The two of you had talked about children, of course, but you were both undecided. You were both still young, you thought you had time to figure that out later.
“I’m so sorry, Joel,” your voice was wet. “I know we didn’t know what we wanted yet but… I thought I’d still get to choose and not have something else choose for me. I understand if this changes…”
“Marry me,” he said.
You sat up from him and sniffed, wiping your eyes.
“What?”
“Marry me.”
You just looked at him, frozen and blinking for a moment.
“No,” you shook your head. “No, you don’t mean…”
“Yes, I do,” he said. “Marry me.”
“Joel…”
“Only way I want more kids is if they’re your kids, Baby,” he said. “Whether they’re ones we made or ones we adopted, I wouldn’t care, as long as it’s with you. You not being able to have kids doesn’t make a damn difference to me, I love you. Marry me.”
You smiled a little through your tears and leaned over to kiss him gently.
“Let’s talk about that when we’re a little less emotional,” you said.
He brought it up again that night.
The two of you had gone to bed and Joel had fully intended to keep his hands to himself. You, however, had other ideas.
You kissed him and moaned against his lips and he gave into you, pulling your nightie over your head and slipping your panties down your legs before slipping inside of your tight, wet heat with a satisfied groan.
He worked your body, knowing you so well after almost two years together, pressing deep as you tightened around him, sucking your nipple into his mouth, stroking your clit as you got closer and closer to coming around him.
“Let go for me,” he sucked at the vulnerable skin of your throat, pressing so deep inside you as he did. “Come for me, come all over me, give it all to me…”
You obeyed, coming hard around him, your hand flying to his back to clutch him close as he worked you through your orgasm, too.
After, he pulled you on top of him as he lay flat on his back, your soft body spread over his and you sighed contentedly.
“Marry me,” he said again, brushing your hair back.
You laughed and shook your head.
“You really don’t have to…”
“I know,” he cut you off, reaching blindly into the top drawer of his bedside table. He fumbled blindly through it until he found the small, velvet box at the back. He pulled it out and pried the lid open with his nose before turning the box so you could see it. Your eyes went wide, a single diamond almost watching you from its place in the box. “Not just sayin’ it, Baby. Had this for a few weeks. Planned to take you somewhere special to ask once we had the chance but… seemed like this might be the right time.”
“Joel,” you breathed, taking the box, your hand trembling. “This is… I…”
“Marry me,” he said again. “Love you, more than anything. I want to do everything in life with you, the good stuff, the bad stuff, doesn’t matter. It all means more with you. Marry me.”
“Yes,” you said quickly, looking from the box to his eyes, smiling broadly. “Yes yes yes yes yes!”
Joel smiled.
“Oh, is that a yes?” He teased a little. “Just wanted to make sure…”
You rolled your eyes and laughed, burying your face in his chest. He just held you close as you looked back at him, stretching up his body to kiss him.
“That’s a yes,” you whispered.
“Good,” he said, taking the ring from the box and sliding it on your finger. “Because I love you. Love you so damn much.”
“I love you, too,” you smiled against his lips as you kissed him.
You got married just a few months later.
“Mr. Miller?” The doctor came out from the operating room and he all but jumped up to meet him, his stomach in knots. It felt like he’d been sitting there for days, stuck in a state of limbo where he had no control.
“That’s me,” Joel said quickly. “How’s she doin’? How’d it go?”
“Everything went great, Mr. Miller,” the doctor smiled broadly and Joel relaxed a bit. “Your wife is doing very well, you can head back and see her in just a minute…”
Joel nodded along as the doctor filled him in on everything and he did his best to pay attention. But it was hard. All he really cared about was getting back to see you. Everything else seemed like it could wait.
After what felt like a small eternity - but could only have been a few minutes - Joel was led back to your room, where you were just coming out of the anesthesia, still groggy but you smiled at him all the same.
“Hey babe,” you smiled, reaching for him.
He smiled back, taking your hand before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.
“Hey Baby,” he took your face in his hand. “How’s that heart of yours?”
“All yours, Joel,” you smiled a little, settling back into your pillow. “All yours.”
#fanfic#joel miller x female reader#send asks#kit answers#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x oc
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Elizabeth Olsen x Reader - Sinful Suit
Summary: Reader and Lizzie have some fun after Doctor Strange Premiere. | Warnings: (+18), pure smut, bottom!lizzie, oral (r giving), fingering, short of rough sex (clothe ripping and rush).
A/N: I thought about taking a break and then Lizzie Olsen walked out of the house wearing that suit and I almost had a stroke. A gift to you (and to me as well honestly) about what everyone wanted to do.
All Works Masterlist || AO3 || Wattpad ||
--//--
Lizzie was having a good time watching you struggle.
Thighs pressed together instinctively, breath hitching every time you met her gaze - or rather tried to hold it before descending to her collarbone and the opening of her suit.
You were behaving yourself though.
Polite smiles, decent answers, and well-mannered hands throughout the event.
Even hours ago, during the preparation where you nearly melted to the floor when you saw her in her event attire, something like a whimper escaping your lips accompanied by a 'holy fuck' that made her stomach fill with butterflies and a shy smile form in her lips, even there, you did nothing more than kiss her cheek. A hand gave a gentle squeeze behind her back, whispering in her ear that she looked stunning before you turned away to get ready as well.
At the premiere, you acted as if everything was under control, and you weren't about to combust - Lizzie could feel how warm your skin was when you entwined your hands to hers, or buried your face in her neck between one break and the next - and stayed by her side the entire time. Even while the movie was on, and just for a little torment she put her hand on your thigh, you did nothing more than interlock your fingers and offer her a small smile.
But that was hours ago. Lizzie was watching you out of the corner of her eye - a warm feeling in her chest - as you cheerfully told her, or rather complimented her even though you were also in the movie, all the way to her house.
The actress was almost beginning to believe that your comment that you couldn't wait to rip that suit off her had been forgotten when just after she opened the door, your hands closed around her waist. Lizzie heard the door slam at the same second that she was pressed against the wood - a surprised gasp dying on her lips as your mouth met hers in a hungry kiss.
She grunted in satisfaction, your hands rushing and not at all gentle, groping their way inside her suit as your tongue devoured her, sliding in and making her moan. The blonde overpowered the kiss as she tangled your hair between her fingers, but gasped as she felt your palms close on her breasts.
"This suit is sinful." You almost complained or complimented she couldn't tell, not when your lips were making their way down her jaw and neck, marking the skin not so slightly, your fingers stimulating her nipples until they hardened enough and she shuddered, something between a moan and a whimper escaping her lips. “Take it off, Lizzie.” You demanded, but you didn't wait, your hands forcing the jacket open. She heard the ripping - expensive clothes ruined - but she didn't have time to complain, your hands worked their way down the front of her pants, and faster than she could keep up, your fingers sank into her pussy.
"Fuck baby!" she moaned loudly as she closed her eyes tightly, feeling your fingers find a rhythm along her folds. Thumb pressing against her clit as your mouth returned to hers. She couldn't keep the kiss when your free hand found the back of her thigh and pulled up, Lizzie taking her cue to entwine against your waist, feeling you press your body against hers, and the newly added depth the position allowed made her whimper.
"So wet." You grunted in satisfaction as you thrust your fingers inside her hard, so deep that each time you slid in Lizzie choked on her own breath, the walls clenching your fingerprints. "Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?"
She could only moan in response, her hands found a position on your lower back, and her nails dig into your flesh as you thrust inside her. At that pace and intensity, Lizzie didn't even try to hold back, she knew she couldn't, after all those tense hours between the two of you, she was craving some relief. And her orgasm came hard, intense, and high-pitched, overwhelming her mind with suffocating arousal. You muffled her loud moan with your own mouth, stroking her thigh with your thumb while your fingers moved more gently as she dripped in your hand.
"So eager." She mocked breathlessly, feeling you chuckle softly against her lips.
"You have no idea." You retorted before removing your fingers, missing the soft sigh she let out because you were lowering your body. Her thigh, previously against your waist, was placed on your shoulder. Lizzie barely had time to realize what you were doing before she threw her head back, a deep moan escaping as she felt your mouth met her pussy.
"Y/N, fuck! Can't I even catch a break?" She tried affectedly, but one of her hands steadied itself in your hair, making sure you weren't going anywhere.
You, on the other hand, offered her nothing more than a grunt, the vibration making her shudder, being still sensitive from the last orgasm. Your tongue moved leisurely at first - giving her the damn break she wanted - while teasing her clit with a little pressure before moving down to her folds, tasting her, and spreading her cum all over. But suddenly you hummed - ever so impatiently - and sank in, devouring her with delight, and Lizzie whimpered, the pressure in her lower abdomen ready to explode again.
She instinctively met the rhythm of your tongue with her hips, and this seemed to encourage you to go faster and deeper. Lizzie almost screamed, her body betraying her as her next orgasm approached, but you steadied your hands behind her thighs, head buried between her legs. You moaned too as she came into your mouth, licking her clean and humming in pure blast at her taste - a warm wave of arousal in the pit of your belly while you did it - until the stimulation was too much and Lizzie gave you a gentle tug on the hair on the back of your neck, whimpering softy.
You chuckled satisfied as you pulled away, and the woman felt a new sharp wave of arousal as she saw you on your knees, face resting on her thigh as one hand caressed her skin, the evidence of her climax dripping down your chin.
"You look so fucking gorgeous like this." She commented with her breathing out of rhythm, her legs still tingling. She let one of her hands linger on your face, caressing your cheek. You offered her a mischievous chuckle.
"On my knees for you?" you retorted good-naturedly, making her smile too as she nodded. "Best place to be if you want my opinion."
"I quite agree." She retorted in the same tone, fingers moving to collect the rest of her evidence. They returned to your mouth, and her breath hitched as you suck in without hesitation, dark eyes staring back at her. "Fuck me."
"Can we continue this in our bedroom, Miss Olsen?" You asked somewhat breathlessly and impatiently, your free hand giving her thigh a gentle squeeze. Lizzie nodded almost immediately, and you tried to stand up properly, arms closing around her waist to carry her.
But the way you kissed her next, Lizzie got the impression that you two wouldn't make it past the hallway.
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