#if you hate it then you can just leave it like beaver
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i cant stop thinking about burning man’s soul
#check it out im in the house like carpet#& when theres too many heads in my blunt i wont spark it i’ll#put it in my pocket & save it like rocket fuel#till everybodys gone and its cool#then i spark it up with my brotha. his mama named him mor but i call him moe lover#and hes more than a cover he’s a QUILT#we’re putting shit together like the house that john built. on the HILL#cuz that shit gonna feel like velvet#turtle#my style fits tighter than a girdle#if you hate it then you can just leave it like beaver#but in a day or two i’ll make you a true believer#in ME cause like the alphabet youll C#thats all i know sorry#txt
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Bake Nights
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader
Word Count: 1,709
Summary: Bucky starts to show some interest in one of your favorite shows and you couldn't be more excited!
Author's Note: So I'm a huge fan of the GBBO and since the finale was this last week I've wanted to write something fun with Bucky. The show really just brings me joy and I've needed it lately and pairing it with Bucky just makes it that much better! No real spoilers here for the latest season- just lots of fun! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: lots of sweet fluff and flirty fun
“Buuuuuckkkyyyy.”
“Yeah doll?”
“Have you seen my tea? Are we out?”
As you continue to search the cabinet you feel his hard chest press against your back. His arm reaches above you and he pushes the box of crackers aside, revealing your tea.
“Oh good!” you cheer. “I’m about to watch this week’s episode of Great British Bake Off and I wanted some tea and snacks.”
“Is that the UK baking show you’re always going on about?”
“Yes,” you say with narrowed eyes as you turn in his arms.
He gives you a lopsided smile before a kiss.
“Want to watch with me?” you ask with a hopeful tone.
“I’m finishing up the paperwork from this last mission and you know all the cooking shows do is make me hangry.”
“You’re always hangry,” you state with a pout.
“So are you,” he fires back.
With one more kiss he says, “when I’m done I’ll come in a sit.”
“Ok,” you huff. “Hurry!”
You make your tea and get situated on the couch with the blanket, snacks and Alpine curled up in your lap.
“You’ll always watch with me right buddy,” you coo as you pet the cat’s soft white fur. “Not like daddy…too busy and too hungry.”
“Heard that doll face,” Bucky chimes from the other room.
“Damn super solider hearing,” you mutter.
You’re fully engrossed in the show, waiting with bated breath as Prue and Paul judge the show stoppers, and when Bucky asks, “did she just say, ‘tell us about your Beaver?,’” you startle with a squeal and nearly drop a now very irritated Alpine.
“OH MY GOD BUCK!” you shout.
“She did, didn’t she?” Bucky deadpans. “What kind of baking show is this?”
You press pause and turn around to stare at him as he leans against the back of the ouch and peers down at you and Alpine.
“The best baking show ever! Now shush…it’s judgement time.”
He lifts his eyebrows and smirks. “Didn’t know it was so serious. I’m gonna grab some food and I’ll be right back.”
You hit play and continue watching, barely noticing when the couch dips and Bucky sits down next to you.
“Did the beaver win?” he asks through a mouthful of food.
“It doesn’t work like that,” you start to explain but clamp your mouth shut as you wait for Noel to announce the name of the baker that’s leaving.
“How does it…?”
“Buck, wait…this is the worst part,” you whisper as you nibble on a finger.
He shuts up and takes another bite of his sandwich.
“Oh noooooooo,” you cry when you hear who’s going home. “I hate when anyone has to leave.”
Once it’s over and you’ve shut the TV you sigh. “Have to wait a whole week for the next one!”
Bucky slides his arm across your shoulders and tucks you against him, silently offering you a bite of his sandwich.
You take it and then ask, “can we get some cake at the diner later? I’m in the mood for a big slice of something.”
He chuckles and takes another bite of the sandwich before offering you the last one.
“Sure doll face. I can always go for cake.”
“Time for baking again?” Bucky asks when he gets out of the bathroom and finds you on the couch snuggled up with Alpine.
“Yes! Want to come watch?” you ask excitedly.
His expression falls. “Aw doll. I’m about to go workout with Sam.”
You pout. Again.
He leans over the side of the couch and kisses it right off your lips. “I’ll try to be quick. Maybe I can catch the end…or you could wait for me?”
You stare at him and blink several times, warring with the need to watch the episode immediately and the desire to watch with him.
The corners of his eyes scrunch up as he smiles. “It’s ok baby doll. You go ahead and watch, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
You nod and pucker up for another kiss which he happily obliges in.
By the time he gets back from his workout you’re watching Paul and Prue judge the showstoppers.
“Are we about to see who wins,” he says as he plops down next to you.
Alpine meows in frustration as the couch bounces and he goes with it.
“They’re still judging the showstoppers and it’s bread week…”
You say the last words ominously and Bucky shifts closer, bringing his lips to the shell of your ear.
“Why do you sound so scared doll?”
“Paul is the King of bread.”
“Paul…? Is that the guy with the bad fake tan?”
“HEY!” you admonish with a giggle. “Yeah…but he knows bread.”
“I know bread!” Bucky says more to himself than you. “I eat bread all the time. I love it.”
“Not like that you buttface,” you retort. “Like he knows how to bake the best bread.”
“Buttface…? Did you just…?” Bucky starts before he returns his focus to the bread.
“I’ll be the judge of that! Where can we get some Paul bread?”
“Paul bread?” you repeat. “Just…shush. Let’s watch.”
“You sure tell me to shush a lot when this show is on,” he grumbles.
“That’s ‘cause you talk too much while it’s on!” you reply.
“That’s it,” Bucky says and grabs you, hauling you into his lap as his fingers find purchase on your waist and dig in.
“BUCKKKKKKKKKKKY! That tickles, stop, OH MY GOD!”
You screech and squeal and kick and fight but it’s no use. He easily holds you in place while he tortures you with tickles.
Alpine hops off the couch with his tail turned up and gives Bucky a murderous glare.
“Please,” you whine. “Just let me finish my show!”
He finally relents and slides his hands along your curves, snuggling you against his chest while you catch your breath.
“You’re such a pain in my ass,” you sigh as you let out one last deep breath and snuggle closer.
After they announce star baker Bucky adds, “I like the guy with the eye liner. He’s really funny.”
“That’s Noel. He’s the best!”
You stiffen when they get ready to announce who’s going home and Bucky hugs you more tightly.
“I really hate that part,” you say when it’s over.
“Alright, it’s official. Next week we are watching together.”
Your frown instantly turns into a bright smile and you throw your arms around his neck, peppering his face with kisses.
“I’m so excited Buck! And I have to explain everything…so Paul and Prue are the judges…”
Bucky stops you with a press of his finger to your lips. “Can we discuss his over food? Sam kicked my ass today and then the baking and now I’m starving.”
You smile before taking his finger and giving it a nibble. “Of course. Come on, we can get pizza.”
“YESSSS my favorite,” he sings.
“Everything is your favorite,” you deadpan.
He scoffs and then his smile turns devious. “I take it back.”
Your hands land on your hips and pin him with a challenging glare.
He steps closer and takes you in his arms. “Pizza isn’t my favorite thing to eat…”
His lips trail along your neck, stopping just below your ear. “You’re my favorite thing to eat.”
With a hum of satisfaction you crane your neck back and sigh as he places soft kiss to your skin, tracing your jaw before he finds your lips again.
His stomach growls just as he kisses you and you both laugh.
“Pizza first,” you say.
“Then you for dessert,” he promises.
“Man those technical challenges are rough,” Bucky says as he runs his hand through his hair. “Shit.”
“I KNOW!” you agree. “I don’t know how they do it.”
“Show stopper now?” Bucky asks with a boyish smirk.
“Yep!” you say popping the p before giving him a sweet kiss. “And it’s pastry week! YUM!”
Bucky’s fingers sneak under your shirt and trace mindless patterns along your shoulder. You’re snuggled against his chest with your palms flattened on his chest and tummy.
He digs his fingers into your skin and asks, “why does Paul walk around and watch them like that!?! It’s so intimidating!”
“Because he’s a total pain in the butt and knows how scary he is!”
As you continue to watch each baker explains their flavors and design and Bucky’s stomach growls.
“I’m so hungry,” he whines.
“You’re so cute,” you answer. “We just have to get through judging then we can eat!”
“Ok,” he says quietly as he pulls you closer.
“That’s amazing!” he says excitedly as one of the bakers brings up their showstopper. “I hope it tastes good!”
When the bakers are lined up in their chairs waiting to hear who star baker is and who’s leaving the tent, Bucky sucks in a breath, clearly on edge.
“Yes!” he cheers when they announce star baker. “I called that one!”
“You did,” you say as you pat his chest with a smile.
When Noel is about to say who’s leaving the tent Bucky drops his head and mutters, “ugh, you were right, this part really is the worst. I like them all! I don’t want anyone to leave.”
“Just wait until it gets down to the end and there are only a few bakers left…” you warn him.
The show ends and you both give each other a sad look.
“Do we know what the theme for next week is?” he asks.
“Botanicals!”
“Like flowers?” he asks with a confused look.
“Yes,” you smile.
“Wow, can’t wait for that!...heyyyyy why don’t we bake something doll?”
You do a double take. “You want to bake?”
“Yeah! I mean why not? I’m sure we can make somethin’ good.”
“OK! I’m sure we have the ingredients to put something together.”
You hop off the couch and head into the kitchen, opening a drawer to pull out two aprons.
“No way!” Bucky says when he sees what you’re holding up.
“You have to Buck! PLEAAASSSSSSSEEE…all the bakers wear one!”
“Fine,” he relents and takes it from your hand. “But I’m getting second dessert after this.”
He waggles his eyebrows as he looks you up and down.
“What are you a Hobbit?” you tease.
“A horny Hobbit!” he exclaims.
@hiddles-rose @lizette50 @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @randomfandompenguin @kmc1989
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#great british bake off#bucky barnes imagine#bucky x reader#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan#gbbo
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Can I get some javier x reader angst with #214?
Yes! Hope you enjoy!💖
*Angst Warning*
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There's a Rat Among Us
Javier is extremely loyal to Dutch, and he won't let anything interfere with his boss's grand plan. Not even you.
#214 “I didn’t realize I was such an inconvenience.”
Beaver Hollow was as dark and empty as the gang's morale. People were turning on each other, secrets were being whispered, and lies were being told. After the death of Hosea, Micah had weaseled his way in as Dutch's right-hand man. And Dutch...he had completely turned his back on everyone who he raised. You, John, and even Arthur.
But Dutch still managed to sway the minds of even some of the most level-headed gang members.
Of course, Bill would continue to ignore the truth and stay by Dutch's side, but you were surprised by Javier's actions. He was an extremely loyal man, it was one of the reasons you loved him, but he was becoming a different person. With the way he treated you and others...it made you uneasy.
It was like Javier was becoming paranoid.
"Arthur, what's wrong?" You were busy with your horse outside of camp, finding the company of the four-legged animal to be more appealing than anyone in camp, even Javier at the moment.
"I need to leave." He muttered, voice raspy and ending with a rough-sounding cough. It made your heart break each time you heard him. It was like Arthur was withering away.
"What happened?" You asked. You knew things were shit right now, but Arthur was usually the backbone of the gang. The one who would stand up and persevere if things were to go arwy.
"Sides are being chosen...Micah's gone and convinced Dutch that there's a rat among us...Javier just got done harpin' on me about that. I need some time away from here." Arthur said, all that talking leading him to have a coughing fit. Again, your heart ached for him, but you knew better than to ask if he was alright. Arthur was never one for wanting pity or concern.
But hearing what Javier said to him...it made your blood boil.
"I'm going to go and talk to him." You said angrily. Arthur already knew who you were talking about and nodded, wishing you luck as he went to go and mount his horse. He decided that some fishing might be more peaceful.
Meanwhile, you marched back into camp like you were on the warpath. You've had it up to here with Javier's behavior. The whole camp was silent, each doing their own thing. Micah was whispering something to Dutch, the ladies were keeping to themselves, expect Karen who was drinking again, but there was one thing that would always hurt you whenever you walked back into the camp of Beaver Hollow.
No sound of Javier's singing.
No matter how upset you were right now, the pain that came with his silence would always hurt you. The camp used to always be warmed by his guitar and his singing, and now, it was void of all delightful music. It was like the man you knew really did die back on Guarma, and this is all you have left.
The shell of a man you once loved.
"Javier? Where are you?" You muttered to yourself as you peered around camp, avoiding eye contact with Micah's buddies that decided to make themselves at home. As you moved behind one of the wagons, you caught your lover leaning against a dead tree, smoking.
"What did you say to Arthur?" You cut right to the chase before he could try to swoon you with any of his charming words. But his eyes didn't even soften when he looked at you. He didn't even greet you with one of his pet names that he's given you.
"I said what needed to be said." He responded, tossing his cigarette with force as his full attention was now on you. You hated that you tensed.
"Arthur is no rat! How dare you even accuse him so!" You shouted at him, not even caring that other members of the gang were starting to stare. He narrowed his eyes, a suspicious look on his face as he gazed at you.
"Why do you care so much? Do you love Arthur now?" He accused you, and you scoffed. You couldn't believe that Javier would actually say that to you after all the time that the two of you had spent together. All that time around the fire, the sweet moments that you guys had away from camp, how he would always know how to cheer you up and make you smile, and even more, that night you gave yourself to him for the first time.
Did that mean nothing to him anymore?
So, you slapped him.
"Fuck you Mr. Escuella!" You shouted at him, voice full of rage. Your body was practically shaking as you tried to calm your anger. Your hand stung, but it was nowhere near the pain that was inflicted on Javier's cheek, which he was now clutching, using his other hand to keep him from crashing into the tree.
He was fuming, but he kept himself from cursing at you, even though curses were going through his head a mile a minute.
"You know," Javier waited for the ringing in his ears to die down a bit before speaking up again, removing the hand from his cheek, "with how quickly you defended him, I would say you know who the rat is."
"There is no rat." You seethed at him, but he just crossed his arms, eyes narrowing on you once more.
"I think it's you."
Those words hurt you more than upset you. Even after everything that's just happened, even though your guys' relationship is seemingly crumbling, you never thought that Javier would accuse you of betraying the gang. Not ever.
"I would never betray these people like that." You defended yourself, but he merely shrugged, a redness forming on his cheek from where you slapped him; a painful reminder that you've probably lost him for good now.
"I don't believe you." He simply said.
"Are you calling me a liar?" You asked him, hurt feigning on the tip of your tongue as you tried to sound tough.
"Mentiroso." He said to you in Spanish, and you didn't even need him to translate it to know that he was calling you a liar. Your shoulders shook, but not with anger this time. You could already feel the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.
"You know, we don't need this right now. We don't need you. You're just causing problems for everyone, especially me." He told you and your chest heaved as you tried to keep yourself from emotionally breaking.
“I didn’t realize I was such an inconvenience.” You muttered to him, and Javier just looked away from you.
"Dutch needs me strong." Javier said to you, obviously ignoring the sounds of your heart shattering. You didn't even have the strength or anger to hide your heartbreak anymore. He was gone. Javier was gone and replaced by someone else.
"Then you can sleep with him from now on." You growled at him before turning on your heels and leaving.
"Puta." You hear him mumble.
Once you were out of sight and in the safety of your tent, you allowed yourself to cry freely. You hated how pitiful you sounded right now, desperately trying to cover your sobs with your hand as you grabbed your clothes and other belongings. But soon, you couldn't stop the pitiful wails as you packed your things. You were sure that everyone could hear you, but Javier broke your heart, and you accepted the betrayal now.
"Where are we going?" You asked Javier as you held onto him from behind on the back of Boaz. Out of the blue, he had asked you to come with him somewhere.
"It's a surprise." He responded, and you could practically hear the smile on his face. You groaned a bit, causing him to laugh.
"Nearly there, mi amor, I promise." He said, urging the horse to move a bit faster. The sounds of hooves hitting the dirt filled your ears as you watched the sun dip further into the sky. You soon rested your head on Javier's shoulder, dozing off a bit until the horse was finally halted.
"We're here." He announced before sliding off his horse and helping you down. You thanked him with a kiss to the cheek, and looked around.
You noticed that you guys were at a cliff that overlooked the Grizzlies and the sun that was starting to set. It was a bit chilly as the wind blew and you soon noticed that someone (a certain outlaw perhaps) had already been here as a blanket was lain there. There was also some flowers.
"I noticed that you were sad, querida. I heard you crying in your tent, and I knew that I had to make you smile again." Javier explained to you as he walked by you, grabbing your hand as the other held his guitar.
"I...I love you." You nearly cried again as your gratefulness came out in the expression of your feelings for him. Javier just chuckled before pulling you down onto the blanket with him, telling you that he loved you back through a tender kiss to your forehead.
"I know how much you love to hear me play, so I brought this with." He said as he settled the guitar in his lap, seeing your eyes light up with pure happiness.
As the evening went on, Javier had discarded his jacket to you once he realized how cold you were. You then cuddled into him as he continued to play, sharing a bottle of whiskey here and there. You were no inconvenience to his songs as you wrapped arms around him and kissed his cheek, letting him know how much happier you felt now.
"Are you truly better, mi amor?" He asked, hoping he did a good job in cheering you up.
"You always know how to make me smile again." You told him as you moved to kiss him properly, your heart swelling with love for him.
You blinked away more tears as you recalled that memory. Last time you were sobbing like this, he had planned something just to cheer you up. Javier took time out of his day just for you. He gave you affection and it was clear to you just how much you meant to him. Now, you knew that it was all gone, which caused another sob to escape your mouth as you covered it pitifully.
You made your decision to leave him and the gang for good.
But little did you know, Javier had heard you sobbing from where he was against that tree on the outskirts of camp. You would never knew this, but he did feel a little guilty about the things he said, but it was too late for regrets. All he could do was push it to the back of his memory and focus on his loyalty to Dutch.
However, when morning came and you were gone, all those regrets he pushed away came back tenfold.
"What did I tell you? Relationships do nothing but make you soft, that's why Y/N left. Too soft." Micah told Javier the next day after discovering your disappearance.
Javier said nothing to him.
"You're stronger now." Micah said in a tone that could be compared to the hissing of a snake as he patted Javier on the shoulder before leaving and going back to Dutch.
Javier soon found the strength to move his feet and enter your tent. The whole place was devoid of any sign of you. All he could think of was you sobbing in here as you most likely packed to flee this place. To flee from him.
The Mexican outlaw then sat on your cot, shoulders heaving as he tried to control his emotions. Not anger, however, but rather sadness. His head found its way into his hands as he gripped at his hair till his knuckles turned white. Soon, sobs could be heard coming from your tent once more.
But it wasn't you.
It was the man you once loved, feeling all the guilt in the world, and wishing he could've lost enough arrogance to sing you one last song.
#red dead redemption 2#red dead redemption 2 x reader#rdr2#javier escuella#rdr2 javier#javier escuella x reader#javier x reader#javier imagine
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I always hate like “requesting” something because it feels like a forceful “write this for me now!” kind of thing, but a I’ve always had this smutty idea in my head where Arthur is getting a little weaker from the TB, but is also pinning after some cute girl in camp. Some wooing occurs and things start getting steamy~ but it’s her first time or she’s not super experienced. I feel like HH!Arthur would try to be the gentleman to show her a sweet, gentle time, but wouldn’t have the stamina for missionary, so his partner would pick up where he leaves off by riding him like the work horse he is. I just thin the scenario would be perfect for like sexy words of encouragement (def NOT thinking of his mare voice lines *wink wink wink*) plus Arthur getting taken care of too instead of just doing the caring. I have like 0 writing skills tho lol so if you ever found yourself in need of smutty I soo I would feel HONORED for you to bring my nasty Arthur thoughts to life
Ooh, TB whumpy smut… I’m sensing a pattern here. My poor boah, how I love to torture him…
This was a good one! Still working on a few more. I love and thrive on feedback so drop me a line if you liked it.
Regret Me Not
Arthur Morgan x F!Reader
Smut (18+), MDNI
➵ Fic Masterlist
➵ AO3 Link
Regrets seem to take up much of his headspace these days... But for one regret of his, Arthur takes action with a little bit of urging on your part.
Arthur wheezes, covering his mouth with the back of his palm, the wet, hacking noise that scrapes out of his throat as he sits on the boulder south of Beaver Hollow, out of earshot of the camp.
Not that he needed people’s stares. He looks terrible enough that he gets looks of pity from the women, avoided by the men - and Dutch? Well, he is living in another reality.
Another cough rips through him, as he feels as if he were drowning within his own body. A small hand lands on his back. He looks up, rubbing his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
You stand over his shoulder, rubbing gently, concern alight in your eyes. You look down and dig into the pockets of your skirts.
“Here.” You say with a small smile, handing him a bottle of tonic.
He coughs again, butchering his thanks, as he takes the bottle from your hands, uncorking it quickly and downing the foul-tasting liquid quickly.
“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, hand still resting on his shoulder, slowly, gently rubbing circles into his upper back.
Arthur wants to lean wholly into your touch. He wants to wrap himself into you and let you card your fingers through his hair. He wants to rest. He wants to sleep.
He wants, he wants - but alas. None of that was possible.
“Like hell.” He grits out hoarsely, tossing the empty bottle to the dirt at his feet.
“I’m sorry, Arthur.” You say softly. Your other hand moves to his back as well, rubbing at his other shoulder.
“ ‘S alright.” He murmurs, not wanting to let on how good your hands feel on him.
A silence settles in, and you rub at his shoulders for a few moments more before drawing your hands away from him.
“Well… I just wanted to check on you. See how you’re doin’. I’ll see you later, Arthur.” You say, and he can hear the crunch of gravel under your boot as you turn on your heel. You begin to walk up the path back toward camp, as he turns and follows you with his gaze over his shoulder.
Arthur wants. In the embracing of his mortality, the facade of propriety and the painstakingly built walls around his heart crumble in the face of his own death.
He has watched you for months. Yearned for months, wanted and needed your attention, always too self-conscious to reach out and touch.
Sister Calderon’s words echo in his ears with each step you take away from him.
“Take a chance that love exists.”
“D-do you wanna get outta here?”
His voice is hoarse, almost weak sounding. Nothing of the man that he used to be.
You stop, turning around, a small smile creeping across your face. “God, get outta this hell hole? Absolutely. Anywhere is better than these hills.”
His heart hopes.
“I gotta go grab some mail from Van Horn. Ain't much better though…”
“It ain’t here, Mister Morgan. Let’s go.”
—
Van Horn is just as decrepit as the last time he was here. Falling apart and full of the dregs of society, left behind by the churning wheel of progress. He mirthfully counts himself as one of them, he supposes.
He tucks the letters he retrieved into his satchel, moseying slowly toward the back of the dock, where you stand with your elbows on the railing, gazing at the river’s lazy waters. Northward, toward the mountains and the river’s origins.
“Y’ready there, ma’am?”
You look back at him but don’t move. “Already? Ugh. Camp’s just so…”
Arthur sidles up next to you, placing his own elbows on the railing, grunting in agreement. You didn’t need to go any further, he knew where you were going with your comment.
The camp was… well, a gloom has settled upon it. Dutch acting irrational, angry. The loss of Hosea and Lenny. Running from Pinkertons.
And his own impending demise, of course.
“What’re you gonna do after?” Arthur asks quietly and notices the stuttering breath you take as your shoulders drop a little.
“I… I don’t know. I don’t have much else than this.”
Arthur hangs his head, taking in a deep breath. A breath that seems to barely fill his ailing lungs, and he coughs slightly under the rim of his hat.
“Y’got a good head on you. You’ll do fine.” He grits out, voice hoarse.
You remain silent, your eyes set on the water of the slow-flowing river. A boat chugs southbound, heading toward Saint Denis.
“I don’t know how I’ll fare being alone.” You softly murmur.
He sighs. “I’m sure you can stay with Abigail or Missus Adler. Or Charles. You got people to watch out for you.”
“But not you.”
A pang, a sharp pain shoots through his chest, above and beyond the near-constant constriction of his lungs.
“No. Not me.”
You look up at him, a sheen of wetness over your eyes. It pains him as he looks back.
A tear rolls down your face and it’s everything he is not to lean over and cup your face in his hands and wipe your tears away.
“Sweetheart, you deserve-”
“Don’t. Don’t tell me what I deserve, Arthur Morgan.” You spit out, tears openly running down your cheeks.
Arthur sighs, looking back down at the water. It is murky, muddy, dirty right under the dock. Just like this damn town.
You push yourself into his surprised embrace, clutching at his shirt, and it takes him a moment to realize that this wasn’t a dream, and he winds his arms around you, pulling you against him.
“I wish you would stop hiding from me.” You whisper as he holds you to his chest, your cheek pressed against his breastbone, probably hearing the crackling failure of his lungs with each breath he takes.
He doesn’t know how to answer that. For years now, it’s been easier for him to keep that urn with the remains of his heart buried from all.
“I’m here… I’m here now.” He murmurs, resting his chin atop your head.
“I’ve been waitin’ for you, Arthur. Waitin’ and wishing for you to ask me to be yours.” You bury yourself in his embrace.
Fuck.
Arthur’s resolve cracks like a piece of porcelain.
“I’m just a fool. A fool for making you wait.”
You shudder against him, digging your fingers into his shirt, and your breath stutters as you try to stifle a sob. Pulling away, you look up at him, his bloodshot, sunken eyes, still the blue-green pools you would drown in.
You lean up on your toes, arms winding around his neck, but he turns his face away as you draw closer.
“No. I ain’t gettin’ you sick too.”
You frown, glassy-eyed, about to draw your arms from him before he leans down and presses his lips to your cheek, again and again, moving up toward your ear.
“But…. I’ll give you whatever else it is you want.” He rumbles, arms wound tight around you, his body arcing over yours.
You shiver in his embrace, pulling your head back ever so slightly to look him in the eye.
“I want whatever you’re willing to give me.” You whisper, hands moving up and clutching at his collar.
He leans his forehead against yours. “If you want a dying, washed-up gunsling-”
You interrupt, pressing up on your toes and kissing his cheek, “I want you, Arthur Morgan. I’ve wanted you for so long.”
So long.
So long.
Goddamnit. He’s been looking at you, yearning for you, for months. Before Blackwater and ferries and being chased by Pinkertons. Before Dutch became erratic, before all of these complications. When he was chasing tumbleweeds across the wild and open west.
He gives a shuddering sigh, and draws you closer, pulling you to him and placing his lips on the long line of your neck. You whimper as he pulls a bit of your pale skin between his teeth, suckling on it, hoping to leave a mark.
You throw your arms completely around his shoulders and begin to pant in his ear. Whimpers turn to whines as one of his large hands moves down from your waist to clench roughly at your rear, drawing you against his pelvis and his rapidly hardening cock.
“A-Arthur - please -” You moan, rubbing yourself against him, and he regretfully draws his mouth away from your skin, pink-tinged and wet from his attentions.
As much as he’d love to turn you around, throw up your skirts, and press himself into you for the sake of time, he knows you deserve more than that.
“Lemme get a room.” He pants, letting go of you, moving to adjust himself in his trousers. “Go on upstairs.”
You pull at the collar of your blouse to hide the evidence of your indiscretion and quietly nod, moving past him and slowly climbing the rickety stairs to the second story of the decrepit building.
He quickly pays for a room, and grabs the key from the clerk with a dismissive grunt, hurrying his way up the stairs to find you leaning against the second-story railing, waiting for him.
Arthur jams the key into the door’s lock, pushing it open, and lumbering into the room, where he immediately sheds the repeater strapped to his back and places it on the worn table next to the door. His gunbelt follows as you step inside, closing and locking the door behind you.
He places his hat atop the pile of guns on the table, looking back at you.
“Still want to do-”
You cut him off by closing the distance between you and throwing your arms around his waist.
He pulls you toward the bed, and places his hands on your waist, holding you still, as he sits on the bed, the worn frame creaking under his weight. He doesn’t spare it a second thought, eyes trained on you, and he gently pulls you to sit in his lap.
You cup his cheek gently, thumb tracing along his beard that he’s kept longer to hide the gauntness of his cheeks. His large hand lands on your thigh, squeezing it as he presses his face into the hollow of your neck.
You gasp as you feel his tongue on your skin, clutching at his shirt as you tilt your head back.
You shiver again as his hand creeps up under your skirt, finger gently rubbing against the seam of your bloomers, which dampens quickly under his ministrations.
“It's been a while,” He grunts out, unable to stop his hips from bucking up against your legs with you seated in his lap, the long line of him chasing your warmth.
“M-me too. Ain’t since-” you mewl into his ear as his fingers push your bloomers to the side and brush against the damp skin of your core, “some stable boy when I was sixteen- ahh - we - we didn’t know what we was doin’.” You gasp out as his pointer finger, thick and strong, dips inside your entrance, sheathing to the knuckle within your cunt.
He slides another finger inside you, groaning against your hair when he realizes how tight you are, clutching desperately at his digits, imagining how good you would feel surrounding his cock.
“I’ll be good to you,” He grits out, crooking his fingers within you.
“Oh-” You gasp, “I know, I know you will, Arthur.”
Arthur pulls you from his lap and lays you on the bed next to him, and immediately starts to shed his clothing, tossing it into piles on the floor as you join him, skirts and shirts thrown from the bed, a union suit and chemise - your bloomers land on the floor and he quickly climbs atop you, spreading your legs and fitting his hips in the cradle of yours.
In this old, dirty bed in this old, dirty room, he swears he has never seen something so beautiful as you sprawled out beneath him, the rise and fall of your breathing, the blush crawling down your cheeks to your neck, spreading out across your chest, to your pink nipples, pebbling as they are exposed to the cool air.
He leans down, balancing himself on his forearms, finding that spot on your neck again and nibbling at it, while one of his hands works its way to the space between you, grasping his hard cock and stroking it as he presses the swollen head against your core.
You mewl as he presses in, the head of his cock entering you, his hand moving from its base to frame your head again.
“God, you’re perfect.” He groans as he starts to press himself inside, inch by inch disappearing into your wet warmth, your panting high and fast in his ear as he suckles on your neck once again.
He thrusts, gently, and his hips press against yours as he’s buried himself to the hilt in your cunt. You mewl out a high whine, nails digging into his shoulder.
Arthur presses himself up slightly, looking down upon you. His fingers begin playing with the curling hairs at your temple, waiting for you to open your eyes, a sign that you’re used to his length and girth within you.
And when you do, he’s stricken. Your eyes flutter open and you inhale a breath with a sweet sigh. God, for once in his damn life, he’s doing something right.
Your arms wind around his neck as you press your lips to his cheek, he knows that you want to taste him, to mold your lips together and moan into each other’s mouths - he wants that too, but it’s a step too far. He’s already half afraid of spreading his sickness to you.
Arthur thrusts, gently still, but faster and harder than he had been, you squeal in delight, which spurs him into finding a rhythm, his body moving over yours.
He grunts, panting as he moves his hips, fucking into you and pressing you down into this old, uncomfortable mattress. He swears he’ll bring you to some nice hotel in Saint Denis and make love to you on a plush expensive mattress-
A constriction in his chest stops him mid-thrust.
He pants, wheezing, his hips slowing as he struggles to catch his breath. Christ, what a sorry excuse for a man he is - can’t even please a woman in the state he’s in.
You gently push on his shoulder, and he has the stamina, at least, to raise himself up and look upon you, cheeks blazing in shame.
“Here, maybe I should get on top?” You ask, your hand cupping his cheek while the other gently lays upon his chest.
He groans at the thought, his traitorous cock twitching as he’s buried in your cunt, causing you to gasp out.
“Alrigh’,” Arthur grunts, and steadies his knees while he pulls his hands to you: one beneath your lower back, one below your shoulder blades. In a jumble of limbs and skin, he rolls over, somehow keeping himself sheathed in you until you’re splayed atop him, your small hips spread out over his.
He has to admit, this was a good idea you had, even before you think to move, what a sight he’s given. His cock fully enveloped in your hips, the dark thatch of hair between your thighs mixing with the curls at his base. Up, up the curves of your waist, he trails his hands, gently skimming your sweat-slicked skin. Your breasts, small yet perky, he’s enraptured by the way your nipples pebble as he rubs his thumbs over them, the sweet sigh that leaves your lips as your head falls back.
God almighty, you’re the sweetest thing alive.
Your hands find purchase on his chest, fingers pulsing, as you roll your hips once over him. His breath stutters, eyes widening as inches of him leave you, only to gently return moments later.
“G-good?” You ask, a self-conscious fear in your eyes.
His hands clamp on your waist and help to guide your movement.
“So good, you’re so good.” He rasps, the end of his lips curling up into a smile.
You smile back, rolling your hips again, taking him and out, following the pathway to your own pleasure and dragging him along for the ride.
Your murmuring devolves into gasping moans as you continue to gyrate above him, squeezing your eyes shut, your fingers spread wide over his pectorals.
“That’s it. You’re alright, girl.” He urges, one hand moving from your hip to where you’re joined, his thumb parting your folds just above where he’s speared into you.
You moan aloud, giving no qualm to volume as he circles and presses against that little nub of pleasure.
“C’mon, sweetheart, you’re almost there.” He whispers as his hips jut upward into yours, he can see the far-off look in your eyes, the way your lips hang open, the shortness of your breath, and the slightly painful way your fingers are clenching into his chest. He can tell, your pulsing, squeezing, sweet little cunt is so close.
You ride him fast, like a horse at a gallop, and that blooming lava in his gut churns in a way that he knows he’s not far behind.
“A-Ar…” You stutter as your eyes close tightly.
“That’s it, that’s it, Darlin’.” He urges, his other hand tight on your hips, aiding your movement.
“Agh, oh god - Arthur.” You moan out, bottoming out completely as you throw your head back. He groans aloud as he feels your muscles constrict around his shaft, the sweet clutch of your cunt.
He thrusts his hips upward again and is rewarded with the sweetest mewl from your mouth, he cannot help but to whimper as he feels warm, wet slick start to seep from where you’re joined, his swollen and heavy balls covered in them.
You recover, gasping as your hands move to his chest, your hips grinding down on him slowly.
“I wanna-” you pant, catching your breath, “I wanna make you come.”
Arthur groans in response, hips bucking upward as his hands fly to your hips again, clenching them hard.
“Ain’t gonna- augh- ain’t gonna be hard to give you that.” He stutters out, knowing that the pull in his gut is getting stronger with each sweet movement you make.
“You’re so good -” You mewl, rolling your hips over him as he grunts, hands sure on your waist, fingers pulsing as his eyes flutter closed, his mouth hanging open as he approaches that precipice.
“You feel just like I’ve always dreamed.” You sigh, and all he can respond with is a thrust upward of his hips, to give you more, to give you himself, all that’s left of him.
He’s there, he’s there. His eyes shoot wide and he grunts, hands hard over your hips. “Get- you gotta, move.”
But you lean forward, not stopping the gentle roll of your body over his, and kiss his forehead.
“Come inside me.” You breathe, hands steady over his beating heart, “Give me all of you.”
Of all the stupid, childish things… but the resolve of a dying man, it is far less strong than before - weakening much like his ailing lungs.
“Please.”
He does, he does.
He grunts needily as he pumps his release into you. Staying sheathed in your warmth, not jerking himself into cold air.
Arthur sits up immediately, burying his head into the side of your neck, and suckles gently at the skin there as your fingers start to play with the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck.
He regrets, it’s all he has left, that again, he wasted his time, glancing shyly at you across the fire for all those months. All he can do is offer you a few fleeting moments of pleasure. He regrets, it’s all he has left, that he cannot taste your lips and the sweetness he knows lies beyond them.
“Darlin’-” he trails off into your skin, trying to compose himself.
I’m sorry- I’m sorry this is all that’s left of me - sorry I can’t give you nothin’ but -
You place your lips on his forehead gently before pulling back. You cup his cheeks in your hands and nod your head.
“Let’s not waste any more time.”
#red dead redemption 2#red dead redemption#red dead fanfic#red dead fandom#rdr2 fanfic#arthur morgan smut#arthur morgan x female reader#rdr#rdr2#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#twolafic#red dead smut#rdr2 smut#tumblr prompt
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A show of the ages
Summary: Velvettes show has gone wrong and her adopted dad decided to help calm her down
THIS IS A PLATONIC PAIRING
“Fuck off Vox!” The youngest of the vees was throwing her usual tantrum when one of her shows wasn't going to plan, or at least the preparations before it. There was a problem. Velvette’s models were not to be seen. “Vox go find them!”
“Velvette dear, you know what chasing bitches does for our reputation.” The TV inquired, “we have a reputation to keep. Find someone else. There's more demons here my love.”
Velve, looking as if she was about to tear up, who knows if she was gonna cry at all, it wasn't typical of her to be teary eyed but through all the stress of the show it wouldn't be too crazy. She always manages to save her show whether that means making someone fix it or doing it herself. Right now it seems like she doesn't have a way for the show to go on. Her normally clean dressing room had clothes and props scattered about the floor in Pink haired demons onslaught and fit of rage.
“Listen my dear, I’m sure we can find someone. Perhaps we should tell your fans the truth. We could put out a contest to see who would be a new model, our ratings may go up.”
“Shut up Vox! Is everything about ratings and stuff to you?” The youngest, face turning red just as much as her hair started sputtering insults, “Help me for real or I’ll unplug your moth attracting life support you old ass ornery bitch!” Velvette while her tone was getting louder had Vox trying to calm her down.
“Velvette, calm down please we will find a way.” Vox was unsettlingly calm with his usual trademark grin plastered anywhere there was marketing.
“Vox I swear to god you are no help to you and your big dumb stupid tv head like you're supposed to be modern tech and you're old but no smarts and you're not wise. It's any wonder why anyone would even trust in our brands with a face not matching a personality or smarts like yours!” Velvette was going on about this forever even closing her eyes tight to make it seem as if she was serious.
“The time spent yelling and insulting me could be spent solving this little conundrum of yours, Velvy.” Velvette hated it when he called her by that name. Yea they had the father daughter bond of a blood family but that doesn't mean he could just call her by that name whenever he wants to.
“Don't call me that you fuckwad.” she muttered loudly enough for Vox to hear while giving him a death glare of the century. “If you're not going to help then you need to leave.”
“But Velve my dear I am. I heard your loud noises and thrashing and now… your mess on the floor. I am here to help you so just work with me here.” Velve huffed still eyes locked on the older of the two not moving an inch from her spot.
“Vox, leave. Now. NOW.”
“Now, is that any way to speak to your dad, young lady?” Vox cocked an eyebrow with an ear to ear grin.
This set Velve off on a tangent, “you, of all people are not my dad. You couldnt even care for a fucking cat, a goldfish if you wanted to, what makes you think you take care of me? You’re old, ugly, not good for nothing piece of shit just some side piece of A-” in her incessant rambling you could see Vox with a sinister, almost mischief grin, he had a plan and was gonna put it to good use. Velve in her onslaught of insults stops mid sentence and simply drops to the ground in giggles.
“Vohohoox what are yohoho doingggg?” she whines trying to suppress her giggles like a river to a beaver dam.
“You are not behaving. Clearly I can't ground you but I can tickle you.” He walked up nice and close to her face to just mention what was happening, “you don't know this but I have little electric bolts that I can use to humble someone with mere giggly antics. You could call it a tickle ray, and we could sell it!” Vox was not excited about his new VoxTech idea but first he had to deal with the little lady who thinks she can disrespect her dad. “Shall I crank it up a notch?”
“VohoHOHOX” of course she couldn't be belittled to begging so she just yelled at the modern man not that she did want it stop “NOHOHOHOHO OHO MY GOHOHOD!” her now ball of giggles was simply melted into a puddle of giggles as Vox kneeled down beside her.
“Maybe this will make you think twice before insulting me.. Velvy.” he snickered, dragging his pointy claw down from the forearm to the hollows to spider along Velves pit.
“NOHOHOT THEHERE PLEASE IM BEHEHGGING YOUHUHU.”
“Awww is the little Velvy ticklish? Just a wittle sensitive? But y'know, if you don't want here I could always move to another spot.” Vox slowly trailed his finger down to her hips with her trying to squirm away from his tickly claw. Note that he's working with one hand, the rest is his tickle ray. Velve was clawing, grabbing at his hand but wasn't pushing it away.
“SHUHUHUT UHUHUP- AGH!” The little lady was surprised by the sudden squeeze on her most ticklish area. “NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE EITHERRR AHAHAHAH VOOHOHOHOHO PLEEHE!” She couldn't create full sentences quite at the moment as the TV head started using both his hands to squeeze her hips.
“You know, I haven't heard you ask me to stop or made any real effort to stop me.”
Velve was blushing like a maniac, her face red and hot from the embarrassment and laughing so much. “SHUHUT UP OHOLD MAHAN!” She was thrashing all over knowing full well she did enjoy it.
“But if you want me to stop all you have to do is apologise for insulting me.”
Through her laughter she spit out sentences mangled with words that sounded like she would never apologise even if part of it was her liking this attention and bond with her adopted dad you would never catch THE Velvette apologising. “VOHO- NOHOH- NEVEHRHRR PLEEAHAHHAHA.”
“Well then, I guess I have to keep going.” The taller figure liked the bonding like this as well. They both needed a let loose kind of activity to bond to and this was just it. Vox was enjoying tickling her just as much as Velvette was enjoying receiving it. Her smile was a genuine one, not one of forced due to the scene going on in front of them.
Eventually in the screaming laughter of the overlords Vox relented when it seemed as if she had enough and calmed down.
The TV smiling down at her, offered her a hand to help her up. Velvette, who was all giggly still from the ghost tickles, took the offer trying to stand. “By the way, the electricity might last a few extra minutes.” Vox mentioned with one last smirk on his face. “Now then my dear, why don't I be the model. I will even let you put make-up on me and dress me in pretty clothes if it makes you happy.”
Velve with an honest and gently happy look for the first time, then had a look of astonishment, “really? Why didn't you mention that you old rag before doing that?”
And with a soft demeanour Vox had replied looking at the littler one with much content, “you look like you could've used it you were too tense. You need to remember our reputation. I can't have you running around making us look like we lost control.”
That night Vox put on his best performance in a dress to make his daughter a happy one.
#hazbin hotel#tickle#sfw tickles#tickle blog#tickle fight#hazbin hotel tickle#ticklers#tickle tease#ler!vox#Lee!Velvette
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The Platform Part 5 (Tommy Shelby x Reader)
Hey there! Thank you guys so so much for all your lovely comments!! I'm SO glad you are enjoying this little story!
Warnings: Lil bit of fluff, sorry it's kind of slow burn
Part 5
When (y/n) left her house that morning and turned around to walk down the few front steps she didn’t expect to see Thomas Shelby waiting for her, hands in his pockets, cap glinting. She jumped at his presence and clutched her bag.
“Christ!” Thomas smirked at her reaction.
“What are you doing here Mr. Shelby?”
He huffed a laugh and gestured vaguely towards the car behind him.
“I told you I would take you out to see the horses, didn’t I?”
“Oh, but I have work.”
“I already told Mr. Beavers. Anyways, this is work.” It seemed to be the end of the discussion because he turned around and opened the passenger door for her and waited. (y/n) only debated for a second the value of just ignoring him and walking to work. But he was right, this was work. She sighed and got in, pointedly ignoring the gentle, respectful touch of his hand on her back as she climbed in.
The drive was quiet. She could feel him glance over now and again, but she was busy watching the wretchedness of Small Heath disappear and turn into wild grass, soft country air, and wide-open fields. It was like another world out here. They passed by a few estates that she grew envious of. The privilege of living out here! The beauty of it! It made her shrivel inside when she compared the milk white stone of the large houses to the crumbling rental she had in Small Heath with its dark corners, damp walls, pathetic cutlery that consisted of one fork, knife, and spoon. They must have an army of cutlery in these places. A set for each season, a set for each mood and party.
“Beautiful isn’t?” The rumble of his voice broke her inwards spiral.
“Yeah,” She whispered, “Terribly.”
They pulled off the winding roads onto a dirt path and up to a well-kept stable. She could already smell the hay of the horses. Thomas opened her door for her but this time she pretended not to see the hand he held out for her in favor of taking in the view.
Thomas cleared his throat, “This way.” He led her around the stable to a large enclosure that contained a gorgeous chestnut horse.
“This is Copper.” (y/n) looked over at Thomas who was already removing his jacket leaving him in his vest. And she ignored it, the way the vest emphasized his narrow build. And she ignored it when he rolled up both his sleeves and she glanced his forearms. She was hit with the strong desire to be in his arms. The memory of the platform teased her. The heat he had carried with him as she neared him through the crowd.
But now Thomas climbed over the gate and walked up to the horse, caressing the fur, and taking the reins. He led the horse around the ring a few times. (y/n) could see, even without knowing anything, that the horse was incredibly well-trained. Thomas looked over at her and gestured for her to come over, but she shook her head. She could see him furrow his eyebrows and he walked over, followed obediently by Copper.
“What’s wrong?”
(y/n) glanced at the horse then down at the ground, “I’m scared of horses, a little.”
Thomas was silent so she looked up at him, afraid he would be angry, “I’m sorry. I can still write the article.”
But he didn’t look angry he looked thoughtful. He held out his hand, “Let me show you.”
“Mr. Shelby, you can just tell me about the horse, and I can write it.” She tried again.
But his hand remained outstretched, waiting, like he knew that she would give in and take it. And she hated that she did. His hair tousled by the wind and his cheeks slightly rosy from the brisk morning – she couldn’t argue with that.
Copper was on his left side, and she was on his right his hand still holding her own. He led them into the middle of the enclosure. He let go of her hand and guided her, so she faced the side of Copper. She watched as the creature’s fur rippled under the soft winds. Her heart thundered at the sight of the animal’s muscular shoulders and neck.
“It’s alright.” Thomas’s voice was right next to her ear. He was standing behind her. He took her hand again and with his own he raised it up to stroke the horse. Right before her hand made contact with the rich fur she hesitated, and he could feel it, but he didn’t push or force her.
“Nothing will happen to you. I won’t let it.” She nodded and they continued on. The fur was silky smooth, welcoming, and slightly warm. Copper’s head lifted slightly up at the contact but continued on with his snuffling in the grass. Her frantic heart began to slow, and a smile found its way onto her face but then Copper made a sudden movement, his legs stamping slightly, and letting out a loud noise that startled her, and she stepped back suddenly. Her back met Thomas’s chest and his hand caught her waist.
“He’s just spooked by the crows. That’s all.” Thomas reached up and patted Copper’s long nose and soon he became docile again. With a shaking hand (y/n) held onto Thomas’s hand that was resting on her waist. She clung to it and brought it further around her middle. The weight of it grounded her. It was weak of her to do it but once again the past came in to haunt her like a ghost hovering outside her bedroom door. It hung heavy around them and as Thomas took a tiny step forward to meld his firm chest against her back the bedroom door opened and the ghost swept in, inescapable.
She had pushed through all the men, all the soldiers just to catch a glimpse of her brother. He had sent her the message that he would be traveling back to Small Heath after the war. She knew he was safe, but she needed to see it for herself. The men looked at her and she looked back. No matter how they acted: rambunctious and overly happy or the sullen ones, the quiet, tired ones – they were all empty. She remembered thinking, as she moved between them, dodging their hands and their words, that nobody on this platform made it out of the war. Each one of them was changed, broken, gone.
Then it was the eyes. He was just standing there, unmoving. And she knew, she just fucking knew it was Thomas Shelby, the boy who she had played with in the fields and who had gently taken her palm to read her fortune. She walked towards him and when she stood in front of him, he had said her name like it was an answer, the end of the road, a life’s ambition fulfilled. She had moved without awareness until her arms were wrapped around his neck and his around her waist. (y/n) remembers how tightly he gripped her as if trying to meld the two of them together. How his face rested in the crook of her neck, and he took a deep breath.
He had leaned back, and they had looked at each other, “Tommy…” She had whispered to him. and she watched as something in him shattered completely, the dam opening, and he leant forward to answer her call.
“There you go. He likes you, he does.” (y/n) rather felt his chuckle through the vibrations of his chest. (y/n) exhaled in relief as she continued to delicately stroke Copper’s mane. As she became more confident, she was aware of how tightly she was holding onto Thomas’s arm.
“Sorry.” And she let go. Thomas hung on for a moment longer before stepping back completely and (y/n) hated that it felt wrong. How she felt like something was missing. The rest of the morning was spent with Thomas telling her about horses, the different breeds, each of their strengths. Then (y/n) spent the afternoon back at her desk writing the article. That morning with Thomas remained in the forefront of her mind. Even her visits to her mother were bearable when she had the feeling of Thomas’s warmth to hide away in. And soon enough the hopelessness that she had condemned herself to was forgotten. It was dangerous but what else did she have? She allowed herself to daydream, to imagine, and create but that was it. She drew the line at the formation of anything real. She would remain as an outsider but with the occasional foray into hope but with no expectation. No expectation.
Winter was here, cruel, unforgiving, and cold. The office was planning on having their annual holiday office party. Last year it was a small affair, a few desserts, and a few drinks. (y/n) dragged herself out to it just in order to not disappoint the boss. However, this year because of the agency’s new attachment to Shelby Limited the party had now been blow out of proportion. The party, usually held at the local ball room was now transferred all the way into London in order to compensate for the large number of London based clients of the Shelby company.
“Are you attending the holiday party, Mr. Shelby?” Evelyn batted her eyelashes as he waited for (y/n) to gather together the newest horse articles she had written. (y/n) couldn’t think of a good reason why Evelyn was over at her desk, but she had found herself there when Thomas had walked through the small halls of the agency.
He blew out some smoke, “Not sure.”
“Are you goin’?” He asked (y/n) as she straightened up from her desk to hand him the packet.
She shrugged, “Not sure yet.”
He raised an eyebrow, “It’s a business party, aren’t you required?”
She shrugged again, “I don’t think Mr. Beavers can force me to go. I might already have plans.”
He continued to stare at her.
“So, are you going Mr. Shelby?” Evelyn voiced up from her corner. Without breaking eye contact with (y/n), “I’ll go if she does.” He gestured at her with the packet before turning and making his way out into the blistering cold.
Part 4 --- Part 6
Tags: @black-kitten-imagines, @illuminwtesz, @slutforcoffein
#cillian murphy thomas shelby#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy#tommy shelby#alfie solomons#film#peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#oppenheimer#cillian x fem!reader#thomasshelbyedit#thomas shelby#thomas shelby imagine#tommy shelby fic#tommy shelby fanfiction#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby smut#peaky blinders smut#tommy shelby x y/n#tommy shelby x you#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian murphy x reader
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Narnia headcanons: characters + how they take being sick
Peter: baby. Absolute needy baby. He's sick and he's miserable and everyone needs to feel sorry for him and take care of him. Will put on a good face in public because he knows the High King has to project strength and security but with family and friends he's just absolutely Suffering. The only time he's stoic is when he's seriously injured and doesn't want to scare his siblings (but then they're scared anyway because they can tell it's serious). Also so bad at not scratching scabs, bug bites, etc. All his siblings learn how to automatically say "Peter, don't scratch" whenever he has something they know he's going to pick at.
Peter: *absently starts picking at a scab*
Edmund, chucking a pillow at him from across the room without looking up from his book: peterdon'tscratch
Peter, indignantly: I wasn't!
Susan: the only one of the lot who acts halfway sensibly when sick. As long as she has a good supply of books and tea she will settle down and rest, though she does have a tendency of ignoring when she's starting to get sick. Running Narnia is a full time job; she can't afford to rest today, but tomorrow, or the day after, things will be quieter, and then ofc they never are. The others learn to watch when she starts getting extra snappy, because it means she's feeling bad and muscling through it, and they need to take some of her work off her hands so she can be convinced to go rest
Edmund: Thinks he'll enjoy the chance to lie around doing nothing but gets restless within a day, and then is grumpy and sulky. Like Susan, has a tendency to push himself when he starts getting sick, making it worse in the long run, except he's better at hiding it
Lucy: goes back to running around doing stuff the instant she starts feeling better, and then is worse again the next day. This happens every time and she never learns. Her friends/family make sure at least one of them sits with her when she's sick so they can make sure she stays in bed (imagine Mr. Tumnus playing her lullabies and telling her about all the magical sights and scenes they'll go see once she's better but that means resting first or the Beavers chattering away to her or Susan reading to her or Edmund telling her increasingly wild tales about what's supposedly going on in Narnia without her and occasionally physically sitting on her out of purest duty as an older sibling (Lucy: I can murder you without leaving this bed!) or Peter insisting he has to leave the busy everything that wants the High King's attention right this moment because he has an important matter to attend to and the important matter is cuddling his little sister and promising she can get out of bed soon or poor confused Caspian distracting Lucy by letting her teach him the rules of those hand-clapping games (a 30-second wikipedia dive also leads me to believe rock-paper-scissors would have made it to Britain by the 1940s))
Caspian: probably that one person who never gets sick. Even when a bug's going around and everyone else is hacking and snotty and miserable, he's fine and everyone hates him. The few times he does get sick, it's randomly in the middle of summer when no one else is sick and he hasn't gone out in the rain or done anything differently than usual and no one gets how he's sick now. Caspian is quietly melodramatic and just. resigns himself to death. Guilt trips people into taking care of him almost as much as Peter, except that he's not actually trying. Peter finds it very unfair people are sympathetic to Caspian and not to him
Eustace: whiny whiny baby and hypochondriac that convinces himself he's dying. Is lucky the internet has not been invented yet because he would end up on webMD, certain he has everything
#the chronicles of narnia#narnia headcanons#peter pevensie#susan pevensie#edmund pevensie#lucy pevensie#caspian the tenth#eustace clarence scrubb#nova actually posts stuff#yes i know illness can be serious especially back in older time periods#but the castle healers are very good and lucy has magic cordial so we're gonna ignore that for now#i will plague post another day#the higher the queuer
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Hi, can you please write a timo meier imagine about reader and timo having sex and reader fakes an orgasim at night and tells some of the wags about it next day about how she really fooled him with her acting, not knowing that timo and his teammates overheard everything, his teammates laugh at him and timo gets embarrassed and upset at reader?
Eager Beaver with Timo Meier
A/N: Sometimes I write things and I’m like lmao a man would never say this, which is why we all love it 😆 Hahahaha. Poor Timo just wanted to show you a good time after he got home! Why you gotta do him like that!? Literally!
Word Count: 1.1k
Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, Swearing, Angst.
Tonight, Timo is an eager beaver. He’s been on the road for a long time, bouncing around the East coast. He came roaring into the bedroom when he got home, flipping the covers off your body and dive bombing your breasts. He spent time kissing along the swells, but then he was dipping into your pants with quick fingers that had you reeling trying to catch up to what was happening.
“Please tell me you are close.” He moans into your hair. His thrusts are sooooo slow. And you’re nowhere near there. But his breathing is picking up. And his moans are filling the air of your bedroom. And you think the right thing to do is to perform a little bit to help him out.
“Yeah, baby. Feels so good.” You coo into his ear, tugging his ear lobe between your teeth. His jerky hips buck into you as you heighten your breathing, moaning his name and arching your back like you’re coming. Timo finishes inside of you, melting into your body afterwards.
“I needed that.” He confesses, running his hand along your cheek. “It was too long of a trip. I hate missing you that much.” You smile, ignoring the guilt of your conscious that pokes at you for pretending.
He’s happy. You’re happy. No harm done.
The following day, Timo is whistling as you and him walk into the Children’s hospital visit you both agreed to. A few other team members and their significant others are joining too. He is happy after being reacquainted with you and has an extra pep in his step at seeing some young fans too. The Sharks are filming the visit for a PR video, so both you and Timo get mic’d up when you enter.
“I think this is where I leave you.” He smiles, leaning down to kiss you. The boys are going to do room visits while the girls are heading to some arts and crafts time. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to me.”
“I know. Me too.” You kiss him back with a little tongue that adds a bright glint to his eyes.
“Last night not enough, eh?” You widen your eyes and laugh off the pinch of guilt.
“Good night, huh?” Erik’s wife, Melinda, asks you.
“Ah, yeah I’m letting him think that.” You chuckle. You and Melinda have a good relationship and it feels silly to lie to her about something so minor.
“Little bit of a show?”
“Eager beaver didn’t know how to wait.” You joke back.
“Babe.” Timo calls urgently. “Your mic is hot.” You cringe, looking at Melinda who covers hers in shock too. You had completely forget.
“Sorry.” You cringe, looking at the producer who shrugs like he doesn’t care.
“We can cut it out.”
You look over at Timo who’s cheeks are red and eyebrows pulled down in agitation over his blue eyes. Can the producers cut it out of his brain too? Shit. You open your mouth to say something and he shakes his head, walking off with the rest of the group to the elevators. You close your eyes, knowing him well enough to understand he is really upset.
The day drags on, The kids are cute and you do your best to interact with a positive attitude. But all you want is to see Timo and explain. What you’ll say, you still haven’t figured out, but it has to be something to soothe him.
At the end of the event, he is somehow in a worse mood than before while you’re walking to the car together.
“What the fuck was that?!” He snaps at you. “I just spent two hours being annihilated by the guys for that. In front of the PR team. And young kids.”
“I’m sorry. I forgot about the mic.”
“I don’t..” He trails off, hands slapping against his thighs as he keeps walking to the car. “I don’t know what to say.” He completes his thought when you’re both in the car. You try to reach for his hand and he pulls away. “No, I’m really upset. I’m going to drop you at home and leave.” His tone is final. He refuses to look at you on the speedy ride home. You get out of the car and Timo roars off behind you before you’ve even gotten into the front door.
It’s agony being at home without him. You have no idea where he is. Your heart aches for what happened this morning. You feel so awful about what you did last night too. Why didn’t you tell him to slow down? Why didn’t you show him what you needed instead of pretending everything was fine? Why didn’t you remember the mic they put on you literally two minutes before that happened?
The sun has set when the garage door begins to open. You set your glass of wine on the end table and turn to look over the couch at the door. Timo comes in with take out bags for dinner and a bouquet of flowers. You hide your face in the couch cushion, feeling completely unworthy of whatever romantic display he is about to do. He puts a hand on your hair, tugging your pony tail for you to look at him.
“I was really embarrassed earlier and I didn’t know how to communicate with you about why.” You rest your chin on the back of the couch while he kneels down to be eye level with you. His thumb strokes your cheek while the rest of his fingers caress your neck. “I missed you and thought I showed you how much last night. That’s why it was so upsetting. I can take the heat from the guys. Whatever. But not giving you that experience feels awful.”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you, but you were so eager. And it was hot. I loved so much of that but I was also half asleep when you came in and…” You close your eyes, having a hard time seeing his forehead crinkle in worry. “It wasn’t enough.” You finish, not having any other words to describe it. He nods.
“That is fair.” He leans forward to share a tender kiss with you. “Let’s make a deal to not do that again.”
“Never.” You agree, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He lifts you over the back of the couch, standing with you in his arms. Your ankles hook together at his lower back. The hug lasts for awhile, softly stroking each other’s back, leaning heads together and sharing a few more smooches. “I love you.” You say sweetly. He smiles, the corners of his eye crinkling in joy.
“I love you too.” He murmurs. “Come see what I got us for dinner.”
#Timo Meier x reader#Timo Meier smut#Timo Meier fan fiction#hockey writing#my writing#nhl writing#writing request
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Tell us abt your Scooby headcanons NOW
FUCK IT. WE BALL
here's my current headcanons for all the members of mystery inc. scoobert included bc when else am i gonna have an excuse to post these
SCOOBERT "SCOOBY" DOO
Non-binary, he/they
Shaggy says he's 7, but he's much older
Asexual
A cryptid of unknown origin taking the shape of a dog. His true form has never been seen by human eyes, but its terrifying. He doesn't have any ulterior motives, though; he's genuinely lazy, cowardly, and sweet.
His hunger is endless because it takes a lotta energy keeping up the disguise 24/7. This is why Scoob can walk bipedally, talk, and lowkey transform himself (see: all those times he mimics monsters to explain them to the gang).
The black markings on his coat are somatic mutations. Even other monsters like him don't usually have them.
He has physically aged since he was a "puppy" but he stopped visibly aging when the gang entered high school.
He has the intelligence of an above average 11 year old, so he has enough self awareness to dislike being treated like a dog... mostly. He loves cuddles, walks, belly-rubs, and rides in the car. Just don't call him a dog or make him walk on a leash.
NORVILLE "SHAGGY" ROGERS
Cis??? boy, he/him
17 years old
Bisexual with a minor female preference
Half white (dad's side), half Lebanese (mom's side)
He has a little sister 10 years his junior named Margret, though he always calls her "Sugie."
He's a pothead OBVS and he's dabbled with harder stuff. This chick he once dated who he calls "Googie" got him into illicit substances to begin with.
He originally snacked on Scooby Snacks/dog food during a more indulgent high and has been enjoying them ever since, saying they're "an acquired taste"
He was held back a year and that's why he shares classes with the rest of the gang.
"DR." VELMA VAN DINKENSTEIN-DINKLEY
Trans girl, she/her
15 years old
Lesbian
Ashkenazi Jewish and proud of it
Only child
Her ancestors fled Nazi-occupied Poland. She's very proud of her heritage and likes to spend time researching it. She prefers using her Van Dinkenstein surname as opposed to the Anglicized Dinkley.
She's witty and tough, but she suffers from low self esteem and used to struggle with internalized transmisogyny/compulsory heterosexuality before she met her gee eff Marcy
She was pushed forward a grade and that's why she shares classes with the rest of the gang. Don't ask her how high her IQ is
She's allergic to dogs, but for some reason she never sneezes around Scooby (HMM I WONDER WHY)
"DANGER-PRONE" DAPHNE BLAKE
Cis girl, she/they
16 years old
Mostly straight. Mostly
Half black (mom's side), half asian (dad's side)
She has 4 sisters, each born only a year apart. She's the baby of her family and feels a lot of pressure to live up to everyone's standards. Her sisters aren't bad people, but they sometimes tease her for her weird friend group.
She has a tattoo her mother hates.
She has the most casual hobbies out of any of the gang's members, including but not limited to piano playing, sock puppeteering, fancam editing, poetry writing, and internet trolling.
Her parents don't like her career choice, but they love her and so they support her (mostly) unconditionally when she's working on a case.
She was the one who initiated the formation of Mystery Inc., formerly known as The Scooby Doo Detective Agency.
FREDERICK HERMAN "FREDDY" JONES
Cis boy, he/him
16 years old
Straight LGBT ally
Leave it to Beaver levels of white
Only child, but he was raised alongside his heaps of cousins.
He collects vintage Penthouse and Playboy mags, and he's a genuine example of someone who reads them for the articles.
He's been every scout you can imagine; Boy, Cub, Eagle, whatever. He takes a lot of pride in knowing how to tie knots with stupid names.
He can kinda play guitar; he knows Wonderwall and nothing else. He learned this to impress Daphne but now he uses it to playfully annoy everyone.
He has autism, and his special interests include detective work, trap designing, and heavy machinery.
GENERAL SHIT
The gang all met as children. Shaggy found what would eventually call itself Scooby in an abandoned shed when the two were toddlers. After bonding with the "puppy," Shaggy showed him off to his preschool classmates. Impressed and intruiged, Freddy, Daphne, and Velma took to the goofballs. They've all been pals ever since.
Scooby Snacks (or "Snax" as Shaggy sometimes writes it) aren't really a brand, they're just any dog treats Scoob and Shag are bribed with.
They all hail from a little tourist trap called Crystal Cove. It's a semi-rural area out in Ohio. The locals nicknamed it "Coolsville" sometime in the 70s because of all the hippie shit that used to define the town's culture. This is also why the gang retains that retro aesthetic.
#scooby doo#shaggy rogers#fred jones#daphne blake#velma dinkley#asks#headcanon#i have more but. well. this is enuff for one day LMAO
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oh crud guys guess what. guess what you're gonna love (hate) this. I'm an absolute idiot, a complete failure, a-
Narnia Au:
Okay. This hit me at 6:43 in the morning. So.
(Skip to the last paragraph if you want an actually okay-ish explanation.)
Y/N is a classic FazCo employee working for a pay too good to pass up to keep yourself afloat in the ruthless capitalistic society you live in. You’re fairly new, just moved into the area, actually. You’ll go to work, suffer, then go home and unpack for a little bit. The animatronics at your workplace are fairly unfamiliar with you and you don’t have any family or friends here, so you’re pretty lonely. You get hired as an odd-job person, with the additional part of hanging out with our best buddies, the Daycare Attendant, who is….somewhat passive aggressive with you. You’re not on the worst terms, but it could definitely be less cold. The frigid tension is especially noticed when Moon comes into play and, while he doesn’t have the virus and doesn’t chase you around, is an absolute asshole. So, our y/n comes home feeling like shit and plops onto the floor to start unpacking boxes. The new house (which they got REALLY cheap for such a big complex, by the way) is pretty much empty, all except for this big dusty wardrobe, which you’re pretty sure is ancient. You decide to check it out (cuz who knows, maybe you can sell it and make a shit ton of money) and are overcome with the smell of old musty jackets and mothballs. Turns out the people who left it left all their stuff in it, too. You start pulling stuff out to take stock of what’s left behind, only to find more and more things as you go deeper through. Just when you’ve finally pulled the last jacket off the last hook, a cold breeze hits you. And hey, you may not know too much about furniture, but you’re pretty sure that wardrobes don’t have their own weather systems.
You follow the snowflakes drafting in and end up falling a good couple feet, dusting the snow off yourself and ignoring the cold in favor of taking stock of where the hell you are. Your surroundings are a very useless indicator. Evergreens tower over you left and right, leaving a small clearing with a dimly lit lamppost illuminating the powdery white sheets covering the ground. And, a little ways away from you, a tall man with a black umbrella, nearly as tall as the iron pole he stands beside. There’s something about him that you just can’t place.
So, you decide to approach the strange man and ask for directions, only to find that this man is not a man at all. Instead, you’re greeted by someone entirely nonhuman. Half goat below the waist and a scarf wrapped around a thin neck that holds up an all-too familiar sunshine face. Except, it doesn’t look like the one you’re used to. It’s a paler yellow, thin scratches stretching across the span of his face. A cloud of melancholy and defeat hangs over him as he picks at the worn-down, faded red gloves adorning his hands. After a moment of silent respect for whatever trials you feel he has faced, you introduce yourself. Half-retracted rays immediately straighten at the new voice, and he speaks to you enthusiastically, engaging in pleasantries before inviting you back to his place. You know they should decline (stranger danger guys), but…you are lost, and it is cold out, so much so that you hardly comment on the tension in his shoulders or the nervous edge to his tone, or how his hand shakes ever so slightly when you mention home. You follow him through the trees, unaware of the wind erasing the tracks behind you in the snow.
Essentially, Sun is Mr. Tumnus and you’re all the kids in one. Sun has to constantly resist the urge in his head to take you to the Wicked Witch (Afton). The Beavers are our good ol buddies from the GlamRock crew, with the exception of Freddy, who’s (mmaybe?) Aslan. All the frozen statues that Afton’s collected in his hella creepy manor? Yeah, that’s every single kid we’ve lost to the FNAF games probably. And of course, Afton’s got his crew to sniff out those harboring lost little children. Vanny’s his main guard in that sense (Vanessa used to live in the house a long time ago, she came to the wardrobe and went through some…interesting events leading up to this), along with our dear friend Mr. Moon, who has the virus to…some extent. Not sure if I wanna combine them or have them as two separate entities here. Moon’ll probably end up switching sides, though he may be punished for it…
#ahem#oops I DID IT AGAIN#au idea#uhhh#narnia au#guess that works um#fnaf au#(?)#fuck how do i tag this#fnaf sun#fnaf moon#fnaf dca x reader au#crud crud shoot#whatever#debating on tagging a specific moot abt this...#ah well#i think this is like the third idea this week?#well not really cuz the first one i didn't follow up on#truman show au was quickly overshadowed by the spooky scary witches#eheh ehehe
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ohmygod this blog is just amazing! thank you for doing a post about WoodWhistle!!! (I'm the one running daily whis btw, just so you're not confused about this rando gushing about the two WindClan sillies)
rarepairs are truly a thing I adore too (I love random yuri and will never stop creating random ships), but I'll try to not request too much, but could you maybe do a little post about sedgewhisker x petalfur? They've even got canon interactions lol, in The Fourth Apprentice's Beaver Quest. I just like both of these girls and thus decided to get them together.
(tysm! I'm so glad you liked my post about WoodWhistle, I too love those sillies <3 also sorry for not posting this earlier!!!!!!!!!! I was SUPER busy with moving to a new house and school :p)
(also sorry if this is a LONG one!!)
#2: Petalfur x Sedgewhisker
So, Petal and Sedge were very hostile towards each other before the journey. Sedgewhisker especially. They've hated each other since first meeting when they were both on a border patrol.
So imagine their surprise when they meet with the others chosen to be on the journey... and see each other just standing awkwardly among the others.
Sedgewhisker was not happy.
But they continued on regardless, they had no time for petty squabbles and such, after all!
anyways, in the middle of the night, while the others were asleep, Sedgewhisker sits down and looks up at the moon. She cannot handle what was going on in WindClan after the reveal in the gathering. All her clanmates can only ever talk about Crowfeather, Nightcloud, Leafpool....
She jumps, Petalfur had woken up and had left the makeshift den. Sedgewhisker narrows her eyes, she didn't have time to argue with the molly right now.
But instead... Petalfur joins her, sitting down beside her.
Sedgewhisker suddenly feels awkward. She didn't expect that to happen.
Petalfur reluctantly asks how Sedgewhisker was doing in WindClan, and Sedge answers with, of course, a lie.
"Are you sure?" Petalfur replies. "I thought that after that whole... Thing... back at the gathering, things would be awkward.
Sedgewhisker sighs, whipping her head to look at Petalfur. "Why do you suddenly care?"
Petalfur looks taken aback. "I...I want to put this petty rivalry behind us." She confesses. "I don't want to argue, or cause a spat." Her eyes light up as the moonlight illuminates her pelt, "how 'bout a truce?"
So after she accepts, in the morning they start talking more during the journey. They considered themselves acquaintances for the whole journey!
So timeskip; after the whole Rippletail fiasco, Petalfur is distant and sad. Sedgewhisker tries to talk with her, but Petalfur either only replies with a nod, a shake of her head, or doesn't respond at all.
When they return, everyone bids a farewell. They leave, going back to their territories, except for Sedgewhisker and Petalfur.
Sedgewhisker asks if she could walk her friend home, and Petalfur reluctantly declines. Sedgewhisker is... sort of hurt, but she understands. Her friend needs time to grieve, after all.... But Petalfur asks if they could meet up at the next gathering (if she was ever chosen to go), and Sedgewhisker tells her she would see her there.
So they meet up at the gathering, and they keep meeting up after that. It got so bad to the point of them sneaking out just so they could be with their friend.
Sedgewhisker is the first one to confess, but it was just in the middle of one of her long rambles. She quickly shuts up once she realizes what she did, and her mind spirals into a state of panic. She cannot look at Petal anymore, she felt so embarrassed and horrified.
So... she runs away, back to her camp. She can't disobey the code, she can't be around Petalfur anymore.
(Timeskip) during the next gathering, Sedgewhisker notices Petalfur & Dovepaw chattering and talking.
Sedgewhisker felt so angry, embarrased, and horrified when Petalfur called her over, & she was angry at Dovepaw for sneaking into WC territory... so she turns away, padding over to her clanmates that were huddled around the corner of the island.
When Sedgewhisker reluctantly turned to look back at Petalfur, she felt a pang of guilt and sadness when the molly looked hurt. But she didn't apologize. She just hesitantly turned back to share tongues with some of her friends.
After that whole ordeal, Petalfur & Sedgewhisker avoided each other. They didn't want to be around the other anymore. Petalfur tried to make herself distracted by hanging out with her friend Mallownose, but she just couldn't stop thinking about Sedgewhisker... Petalfur wanted to tell her that she loved her too, but how could she if they were avoiding each other?
(Another timeskip (Like... inbetween NW and SOtM) Sedgewhisker couldn't hold it in anymore, so in the next gathering, she apologizes to Petalfur.
Petalfur forgives her, and asked her if she really meant it when she confessed that she loved her in that way.
Sedgewhisker admits that she does, trying to apologize again for that, but instead of Petalfur getting mad at her---she confesses back!
So they talk more often and meet up a lot. They loved spending time together, especially when they were gfs!!
But during AVoS... Tragedy struck. Petalfur was killed by one of Darktail's followers, & when Sedgewhisker hears about the news, she let out a loud cry of anguish and grief, running away from the island.
She didn't care if she caused a scene. She didn't care if she was trespassing clan territory; she just wanted to see Petalfur one... last... time...
Sedgewhisker stops at her grave, which was for some reason located somewhere in ThunderClan territory.
She recognized her scent. The scent of fresh-water & daisies. She let out a sob, sitting by Petalfur's grave.
She was punished for trespassing and causing a scene, but she didn't care. She didn't care about any of that. She just wanted to see Petalfur back.
It took two arcs (AVoS and TBC) to make her move on from her lovers' death, but she was doing fine during ASC. She still misses Petalfur, but she knows that Petal wouldn't want her to grieve and hurt herself forever.
Headcannons
Petalfur occasionally gives Sedgewhisker beautiful gifts (e.g. Shells, Fish, Scales, etc.)
Sedgewhisker sometimes races with Petalfur
Petalfur taught her how to swim & hunt fish :)
Sedgewhisker secretly left her own flower on Petal's grave, disguising it with RiverClan scent to make it seem like one of their cats left it there
Not exactly a headcannon but Sedgewhisker and Emberfoot aren't mates in this AU!! They are just friends (the same kinda goes for Petalfur?? Except Mallownose actually had a crush on her)
Sedgewhisker and Petalfur occasionally tease each other about their rivalry
#wc#warriors#petalfur#sedgewhisker#petalfur wc#sedgewhisker wc#wc sedgewhisker#wc petalfur#rarepair#wc rarepair#wc rarepairs
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hiii :33 i saw your requests were open, can i ask for tsukasa tenma x reader who LOVES animals? like they love them so much they are so happy when they see animals and even send him those animal couples with the: "us?" description? thank youuuu and have a nice day ^_^
“I hate Tsukasa Tenma” I say as I hang up another Tsukasa poster
Jokes aside, I freaking love this little gremlin I really wanna hug him and tell him that it’s ok to not be ok 😔 he’s my second favorite
Tsukasa Tenma with a reader who loves animals!
Honey, same!!!
He loves animals! He used to have so much plushies of them as a kid
Then he either gave some to Toya and Saki or locked them up..
But then you came into his life and he was really happy when you had animal keychains just flying around on your bag, lanyard, or just clipped on your side
He talks to you about stuffed animals he saw (cough in the Sekai but he leaves that out) and you just adore it!
He’s the type to go to the store, see an animal, and be like
‘This reminds me of them! I shall obtain the treasure as their star!’
He goes and gets it impulsively
But you don’t mind as long as it doesn’t make a hole in his wallet!
You buy him keychains that match him and maybe his siblings if you find something that reminds you of them
Tsukasa sometimes gets jealous of a stuffed animal if you’re hugging it instead of him
Touchstarved
Just think of the Ah yes me and my significant other and their 500 foot stuffed animal meme and yup that’s you two
But you always notice and cuddle with him
At night, when you’re watching interesting things that animals do you text him stuff that he’ll wake up to in the morning
You:
Us?
5:30am
Tsuka:
OF COURSE MY LOVE!!!! THAT’S 100% US!
Sometimes he even sends you animal memes or send you sweet messages
Tsuka:
This is you and me! <3
You:
AWWWW BBYYYYYY
He really loves everything about you and you do in return
No matter how inferior he feels to everyone, or how he tries to keep you at arms length in his fears, you’ll always be by his side. Just like a gray wolf! Or even a golden retriever? Ooh! Maybe even a beaver!
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Check it out, I’m in the house like carpet
And if there’s too many heads on my blunt, I won’t spark it
I’ll put it in my pocket and save it like rocket fuel
‘Til everybody’s gone and it’s cool
Then I spark it up with my brother
His Mama named him Moe but I call him Moe Lover
And he’s more than a cover, he’s a quilt
We’re putting shit together like the house that John built on the hill
‘Cause this shit gonna feel like Velvet Turtle
My style fits tighter than a girdle
If you hate it, then you can just leave it, like Beaver
But in a day or two I’ll make you a true believer in me
‘Cause like the alphabet, you’ll C
That ism kicks a rhyme, not your everyday soliloquy
Like Chef Boyardee, our rhyme is truly cookin’
Peace to Matty Rich ‘cause he’s straight outta Brooklyn, New York
I don’t eat pork or swine when I dine
I drink a cup of Kool-Aid, not a big glass of wine or a Heineken
If you have time, I’ll drop a rhyme again
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I Love You final try
(Rocko felt awful for hurting Norbert's feelings and his anxiety isn't making it better. Finally after being alone outside the dam he finally confessed everything including his love for Norbert.)
Rocko was yelling at the twins, “You see what you've made me do!! I've been trying so hard to confess to Norbert for a long time before you two showed up! Now he thinks that I hate him!!”. The Chuck crossed his arms, “Hey it was your words. Not ours. You're the one that said you don't love him.”. Leon nodded, “Yeah. You hate him!”. Rocko gripped his ears and yelled, “I don't!! I love him! I love him for who he is! I love him for his personality! I love him for his looks!! I love him for accepting me for me!! And I love him Because He Makes Me Happy!!!”. Rocko panted and realized what he said out loud. He then felt his heart race and he felt the realization hit him. “I gotta tell him!! I gotta go tell him!!”, Rocko said as he ran off with Spunky in his arms. The twins watched in confusion but then realized that he hadn't even paid nor left a tip. “Hey!! You better pay for this Rocko!!!”, Leon called out. Rocko ignored them as he drove off in speed. There's still time!! He took the shortcut to the beaver's hometown and drove over the speeding limit. “I gotta tell him! But he might not want to see me. No! No more second thoughts!! I'm going to confess my love to him whether he likes it or not!! Well.. I won't force him though.. Spunky frowned and growled a bit frustrated. Rocko noticed and sighed, “I know… I shouldn't think about it too much. Norbert deserves not only an apology but a confession about my love for him.”. And I'm going to do it. No matter how hard it is!
It was only an hour that passed, surprisingly no Cops followed him, and he was looking for Norbert. He should've been off the bus by now! He looked around and noticed a bus coming to view. He grew excited and waited patiently. The bus opened and a brown beaver came out and walked away from it. He grew confused and drove towards him and rolled down his window. “Excuse me? Did you see another beaver on the bus?? Yellow hair, purple nose, and wearing a pink shirt like mine?”, Rocko asked nervously. The beaver turned around and looked at him confused, “You looking for my brother Norbert?”. Rocko's eyes widened, “Daggett?! You're Norbert’s brother!!”. Daggett backed away a bit nervous, “How do you know my name? Are you one of them!!!!”. Rocko looked more confused than concerned, “Them? No, I'm just a friend of Norbert.”. Daggett backed away faster, “You Are Them!! Pretending to be my brother's friend!! You're the alien that disguises themselves as One of Us!!! You won't take me Alive!!!”. Daggett ran off and Rocko panicked, “No wait!!!”. He sped towards him and tried to call out to him. Daggett turned and noticed him following him and panicked.
Norbert was sitting at the couch eating some chocolate ice cream, until a bang was on the door. He got up and walked towards it. He opened it to see Daggett barging in quickly and slammed it shut, “Oh Thank Goodness you're here!!! There's this creepy beaver that's trying to talk to me! He's been asking me where you were!!”. Norbert looked at him confused and crossed his arms, “You watched another scary movie didn't you?”. Daggett was silent and looked down, “Yeah...”. A doorbell rang and he immediately hid behind Norbert, “What did you do to get someone to look for you?!”. Norbert spoke up, “Nothing! Just let me answer it.”. He walked towards the door and opened it to find Rocko panting while Spunky barked excitedly. “Rocko? W-What are you doing here?”, Norbert asked in shock. Rocko took his hand, “P-Please. I.. I wanna.. Talk to you..”. Norbert thought about it but nodded softly, “You can leave Spunky here so he can relax for a bit.”. Rocko nodded and placed Spunky down gently. Norbert turned to face Daggett, “I'll be right back ok? We're going to talk.”. Daggett looked at the puppy weirdly and nodded, “Yeah ok.”.
Norbert closed the door and walked to the side of the dam. Rocko followed close behind, “Norbert a-about the incident. I didn't mean to say those things.”. Norbert stopped in his tracks, “Rocko.. You don't have to explain yourself. I.... I shouldn't be rushing this.”. Rocko took his hand, “No! You didn't do anything wrong, it's just that I..”. Norbert looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “You what? Listen, you don't have to sugar coat things, Rocko. I know that I may be too confident but that's who I am.”. Rocko shook his head, “No it's not that!”. Norbert didn't hear and continued, “I can stop doing this if you feel uncomfortable but I just.”. Rocko clenched his hands, “Norbert wait!”. Norbert continued, “I don't want you to feel like I'm making you uncomfortable. I've been through this befo-”. Rocko interrupted him, by grabbing his shirt and kissing his lips. Norbert stared at him shocked and was speechless. Rocko pulled away and yelled at his face, “For Cripes Sake Norbert, I Love You!!!!”.
“What?”, Norbert said, confused. Rocko pulled away, “I've been trying to tell you all bloody morning but my anxiety kept getting the best of me and I'm losing my mind!!! I love the way you smile, so sure and confident of yourself and the way your laugh brightens the room. I love the way you hold me when I feel insecure and how safe I feel when I'm with you!! Your hair, that alluring look in your eyes, the way you blush when you get embarrassed. How you never gave up on me when I struggled with my feelings. Why can't I just come out and say it!!! I Love You Norbert Foster Beaver!!!”. Norbert stared at him in shock then teared up. He got down on his knees and began to cry.. Rocko immediately felt regret, “N-Norbert, I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?! Was I too aggressive?! I th-thought you wanted to date me, was I mistaken?! Norbert, please-oh please don't cry. Oh no oh-”. He felt his wrist getting grabbed and pulled into an embrace. Norbert cried, “You have no idea how happy I am right now… I was so scared that I'd be too much and would push you away. I Love You too, Rocko...”. Rocko teared up and hugged him back tight, “I'm so sorry that I haven't said this sooner.”. Norbert shook his head, “It's ok. I'm sorry too for thinking so negatively about this. I thought that I was pushing it too far to the point you said that you didn't love me.”. Rocko shook his head and held his face, “It wasn't your fault. The twins teased me to the point I said that. I didn't mean to say that I Didn't love you. I meant to say that I did love you. I love you for you.”.
Norbert laughed while more tears fell, “You don't know how long I've been waiting for this to happen. The moment we met I loved how respectful and shy you are. Your beautiful eyes, amazing laugh, and amazing smile always makes my heart flutter and my days get brighter. When you called me after our first meeting, I couldn't help but get more and more excited hearing your voice again. I wanted to confess to you first but… I was so worried that the same scenario would happen to me again. I was so worried that I would push you away like how I did with TreeFlower.... Yet I shouldn't let the past get to me. I should've just trusted you..”. He was pulled into an embrace and felt his back getting rubbed softly. “You shouldn't feel sorry for that Norb. I know that you used to love her so much.. Just like how I was with Melba.. You and I fell for someone who really didn't feel the same. We both had an awful experience and now know what to do next time. We've actually been healing each other for the past months. I.. I actually feel more confident when I'm with you. I defended you from your bad date, I kissed you, and Danced with you. I never really do that for anyone. You're helping me get out of my shell more often.”. He rubbed the tears from his face.
Norbert nuzzled his hand, “You also helped me become a better person. I've been getting more and more patient, respecting everyone's feelings, and I've actually been a better brother to Daggett. A bit. Without you.. I don't know where I'd be.”. Rocko smiled and kissed his lips softly, “Norbert. Will you do me the honors by being my boyfriend?”. Norbert laughed, ”I thought you were going to propose. I was ready to say Slow Down.”. Rocko laughed and held him close, “ Another reason why I love you. You always make me laugh whenever I need it. You and I are so weird together but we love each other for that.”. Norbert nodded, “We still have a lot to learn but I'm willing to go through it with you.”. Rocko nodded, “Me too. Anything we have to go against. We'll do it together.”. Rocko then got up and helped Norbert up as well. “Want to get something to eat again? And this time we can eat somewhere there's No eyes on us?”, Rocko asked. Norbert smirked, “Ohh? Maybe in your place? Then maybe after we can get some dessert?”. Rocko laughed, “Depends what kind of dessert you like.”. Norbert chuckled, “You.”.
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friendly reminder that if you hate it then you can just leave it, like beaver
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You can really hear the smug voice of an insufferable grammar wonk dictating the tagline for this stupid movie. THE LESSON has one of my favorite movie problems to hate on, which is that it's about someone impossibly great at their craft creating an impossibly great masterpiece--a premise that almost no one can execute, unless you're like making THE RED SHOES with Moira Shearer who was beyond human, this is basically the worst plot setup ever. If you don't literally have the greatest living artist to help make your movie about the idea of the greatest living artist, just don't do it, I'm serious. And actually it's even worse when its a story about a great writer writing a great story, because what is that supposed to imply about the screenwriter who wrote it? And god forbid it's some sort of fantasy tale in which you get to have the uniquely insulting experience of a storyteller telling you that storytelling is literally magical, the implication being that the storyteller is himself some sort of high priest you should worship. But the king of this general problem is FINDING FORRESTER, a movie with all sorts of issues, the main one of which is that it's supposedly about "great writing" but you basically never catch a glimpse of what that consists of. It's like making KING KONG with no ape, just people telling you how big the ape is. Holy mackerel he was a whopper, take my word for it! Big, big ape. The biggest. As I recall your closest encounter with the amazing writing of the story's young prodigy comes when he drops his backpack while trespassing on scary Old Man Forrester's territory, and Forrester leaves notes all over his notebooks like "CONSTIPATED THINKING" and "ATMOSPHERE PUNGENT." Spoiler alert but near the end of FINDING FORRESTER, there is finally going to be a big public reading of an amazing essay--but then as soon as it starts, the music swells and there's just this hilarious montage of extras pretending to listen to something awesome. An amazing mass performance by all the extras.
So anyway THE LESSON is about how Richard E. Grant is a super amazing writer writing his highly anticipated next novel, and Daryl McCormack has to come to his palatial estate to tutor his neurotic son. Daryl spends a lot of time presumably doing great writing, spying on Richard E. Grant while he eats out his wife Julie Delpy, and spontaneously spouting verse or rattling off Wikipedia articles about great cultural figures. THE LESSON has a lot of cosmetic similarities to SALTBURN so it's really obvious that some sort of perverted plan is being hatched by one or more of the people involved, and like I just could not wait for them to get on with it. Daryl is so smarmy and precious and dewy-eyed I just wanted to punch him in is pretentious little face, I never imagined how angry I could be at someone just for reciting Shakespeare, I was really rooting for him to get victimized by the rich people. At least Richard E. Grant is always exciting even when he's saying the dumbest "smart guy" shit imaginable, he's such a demon, but this script is really the pits. It's almost like the guy who wrote it actually hates writing and writers and has some sort of bone to pick with people who are good enough to get novels published. Actually the guy who wrote it is a playwright who does some sort of comedy routine with an acoustic guitar, and I don't think I need to know a whole lot more about that. But at the same time this movie could have done with some jokes, and it was stingy of him not to offer them.
I do have one nice thing to say about THE LESSON though, which is that intermittently, for no particular reason, there are these great inserts of beavers dicking around in the idyllic pond by Richard E. Grant's house. It's so startling when it first happens because apparently beavers make THE WEIRDEST NOISE, it's so cool and fucked up, it sounds like a sick kazoo and I totally love it. I have to think that the beavers were included in the movie spontaneously during production just because they happened to be there and it always adds value to have random nature stuff if you can get it. Nobody ever refers to them, there are no other animals or animal-type metaphors in the picture unless you count some sort of analogy to Julie Delpy getting her beaver licked constantly. That would be pretty funny actually.
N.B. I couldn't find a video of the angry beaver noises that closely resembled the ones in the film. It would be weird if it was just some eccentric foley choice, I don't think it is, but in any case you'll just have to imagine it unless you want to watch THE LESSON.
I'll say one more thing about SALTBURN and then I'll stfu: I guess this is vaguely spoilery so stop reading if you care about that, even though I have to say I found that movie so obvious. By the time it finally gets around to its big perverted twist, I just kind of felt like, Well yeah, DUH. Usually I when I come to a movie like that, I tolerate the beautiful young people and stay for the psychotic debauchery, but in this case I found the movie's darkness so forced and condescending and basically meaningless that I couldn't bring myself to give a shit. The best parts of SALTBURN are when the beautiful young people are having a great time, trying on fun outfits and frolicking on the castle lawn. That seemed to me to be the most honest part of the movie, and actually I think that when people tell these stories about how rich people are secretly corrupt and dead inside despite their veneer of happiness and achievement, it's clear that they're really in it for the fetishistic depictions of extreme decadence, and the twist or the comeuppance part is just a cheap, moralizing excuse to fantasize at length about how awesome it would be to be rich. I guess SALTBURN's big excuse for existing is its ultimate assertion that being jealous of rich people is way sicker and more disgusting than being an actual rich person who hoards resources and plays games with the plebeians. I find that pretty suspect, and I think it would have been a better movie if it just let itself honestly fetishize power and luxury instead of making shady excuses.
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