#loves wheat grass so so so much
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just a baby playing in the grass
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Flame, Shadow, Beast : Flame
Azriel x Reader x Eris
Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.
Warnings: Fluffy Eris x Reader and our favorite monster, Bryaxis, makes an appearance.
Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist
Masterlist of Masterlists
It was a cruel irony that winning a war was the easiest part of ruling. Eris thought about it often, doubts invading his rare moments of quiet; Maybe he’d made a mistake. Maybe the lives of thousands of Autumn Court members - both those loyal to him and to his father - hadn’t been worth the weight of the crown now sitting on his head.
The wood and gold had been harvested from the body of one of the Old Gods to whom some of the rural folk still owed their ultimate allegiance; the rubies had come from a land beyond the western seas as a declaration of war back when they’d been ruled by a more ancient race of beings - the predecessors to the Blood Rubies the Summer Court was so fond of doling out. Eris wondered if he’d ever get used to carrying so much history on his body.
The sun had barely crested over the treetops, blanketing the forest floor with streams of liquid gold, when he came across your village. The first fae he saw - a female with short elk horns extending gracefully from her temples - nearly dropped her basket at the sight of him. Eris gently bowed his head in greeting and her face flushed as crimson as the red garment dye that stained her hands.
“My High Lord,” She breathed out, dropping to her knees despite the prickling straw that perpetually littered the roads.
Heads of varying shades of chestnut and scarlet appeared behind closed windows like candlights. During the harvest months everyone woke and slept with the sun.
One by one fae streamed out of their homes, each of them carrying tribute in the form of freshly baked bread, baskets of apples and peaches, sheepskin cloaks, and barrels of mead.
“Stand.” Eris gently commanded them as they fell to their knees, “We’re just passing through.” He could see the hesitation in their eyes. They feared disrespecting him.
Eight years of being High Lord and he had yet to perfect the delicate balance between distance and familiarity with his people.
Halvor coughed from beside him, eyes raised from beneath the shadow of his bronze helm.
Get off your horse and talk to them. His eyes said, repeating the mantra that you liked to say around the royal pair.
Eris understood and dismounted with grace and power. With his scarlet and gold riding cloak, flaming hair, and ruby crown he looked like the spirit of Autumn come to life - all sharp edges and burning stoicism. He was a living fire.
But fire could give warmth as much as pain - nurture and grow as much as it could raze the world to the ground. So Eris took his time to speak with the people. He sampled their mead and ale, complimented the pixies who wove threads of warm oranges, yellows, and reds with their nimble fingers, and visited the rolling fields of corn, barley, and wheat that waved in the brisk breeze. The gray-tinged sky above tasted of power and freedom.
Under Beron’s reign, the fruits of the fields would have fallen entirely under the purview of the High Lord with little remaining for the people who tended the long grasses. Now that they were allowed to own their own land and keep what was due to them, the air was lighter here, happier. It was the first harvest in a long time where they’d feel comfortable enough to celebrate properly.
The mask ebbed away, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in ages as he walked through a town.
A familiar face stared out from behind the small crowd that had gathered by the wheat fields. Talk of this year’s harvest festival rose in the air until everyone could taste the spiced rum, roasted pistachios, caramelized apples, and pumpkin with fresh cream on their tongues. It was still months away, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get excited now.
Eris broke away - an easy task when they parted ways for him like a hot knife through butter - and approached your smiling figure.
“I was wondering what was taking you so long.” You said, clasping your hands behind your back and smiling at Eris.
“So you came all this way just to investigate?” Eris arched his brow. You were no stranger to these people (and much beloved), but you preferred to keep to your little cottage beyond the town.
“Surprisingly, yes. For you, I would come all this way. And,” You shook the small parcel in your arm, “For Aliona’s candles.”
He grinned and offered you his arm, which you accepted, and quietly began to walk back to where Halvor had been dutifully waiting with the horses… and taking more than a few samples of drinks from beside his stead.
“I also wanted to make sure he hadn’t killed you in your sleep yet.” You said, tilting your head towards his brother.
“Careful, Y/n.”
Halvor was the youngest of Autumn’s trueborn sons, and had grown to become Eris’s second over the course of the war and the years that followed. Cruelty was still hammered into his bones - a disfiguring mark left by their father - but disloyalty was not one of his many negative traits. He’d been the only one to come to Eris’s aid in the war, and subsequently the last of Eris’s brothers to survive. That counted for something in your book.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it seriously, but I could’ve poked fun in a better way.” You said softly, gently leaning into his side. He forgave you quickly. He could never stay angry at you - he wasn’t even sure it was possible.
Halvor tipped his head towards you, eyes the color of freshly brewed coffee staring at you with mischief.
“My Lady.” He said half-mockingly, sweeping out his arm into a shallow bow.
You rolled your eyes. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”
“Why not? Is my brother not a good enough romp for you? If you want better company I could-”
Eris cut off his words with a growl of warning. Halvor only tipped his head back and laughed - a grating sound that eight years of peace under Eris’s rule still hadn’t managed to file away.
“We’ll be walking to her home from here.” Eris said, slipping into his High Lord voice, “Try and keep your distance and be on the lookout.” Halvor nodded, turning serious at the shift in his brother’s voice. There were countless enemies who would be happy to snatch the crown away from a new, as of yet untested, High Lord.
He followed obediently, keeping his distance as you and Eris both bade farewell to the townspeople.
You lived on a patch of land too far to even be considered the outskirts of town, but you were a familiar face to everyone. A healer by trade and Eris’s most trusted advisor and friend, you were the one they called upon in the dead of night when evil whispered nearby or sickness fell upon them.
Evaldre, they called you in one of the Old Tongues. The exact meaning had been lost to time, but it spoke of someone cherished and highly regarded. Some of the bold ones even went so far as to call you “Our High Lady.”
Ten years ago uttering those words would have meant the swift swing of a sword on one’s neck. If High Lord Eris knew of it, he never seemed to mind.
Bryaxis waited for you on your doorstep, pleasantly lounging in a patch of light and watching the gentle fall of crisp leaves from the trees above. Both Eris and Halvor’s horses groaned low in their throats, hooves pressing into the soil to stop before the clearing. Halvor whistled at them to move forward, but they refused.
“It’s that devil dog of yours,” Halvor said, dismounting and tying off the pair on a low hanging elm branch, “Makes them anxious.”
He whispered words of comfort to them, sliding his hands along their thick necks until they stopped bucking against the reins. Eris had his dogs and Halvor had his horses.
“He’ll stay inside then. Wouldn’t want you to have to walk back to the Forest House with your tail between your legs because you lost the horses.”
Eris smirked when Halvor threw an obscene gesture your way.
The dog in question, black as night with shining silver-blue eyes, stretched and nuzzled into your outstretched hand as you reached your front door, Eris following closely behind.
“Will you be long?” Halvor called out to Eris, raising his eyebrows suggestively with his hyena grin.
“Go home if you’re so impatient. I can make it back on my own.”
“I’ll wait til noon.” If Eris was finished by then, it would mean they took care of business… if Eris wasn’t finished by then, it would mean they were taking care of other business, business Halvor would do no good sticking around for. He snorted at the thought, then lost himself in imagining the other females he might be able to seduce back at the Forest House.
You both passed through the enchantments woven into the wood of your home, feeling a rush of power pour over you like water over stone.
Eris snapped his fingers and the candles you’d placed on your dining table and mantle burst to life, fluttering about like dancers. The fireplace followed suit, sending a wave of warmth throughout the house. Firelight bounced off the rich velvet and creams that adorned your home - a cleaner mimic of the Autumn lands that existed behind the walls and flooded in through the open windows.
The Forest House was a place of luxury, massive enough that it would take you an entire morning just to walk from one end to another, and filled to the brim with treasures of gold, bronze, and enough precious jewels to sink a ship. It was a palace fit for a High Lord. But this was a home, so he took off his crown and hung up his cloak.
“What happened to him?” Eris said, kneeling on the ground and giving Bryaxis a well-deserved scratch behind the ears. The millennia-old creature closed his eyes in satisfaction. “The last time I saw him he was a cat.”
You chuckled, bustling about in the kitchen for a tea set that would match and piling pastries on a plate. The smell of browned butter and strawberry rhubarb jam waltzed in the air.
“He’s been experimenting with new forms.” You said, smugness and pride warming your chest. Not so long after Eris had freed you from the mountain and given you a new home, Bryaxis had found you, drawn to your power. Twin bargain tattoos snaked up from the bridges of your feet to your ankles like vines up a trellis - the first promised that you would do no harm to one another in exchange for dual protection, the second allowed you to take a portion of his power, giving him to opportunity to mold his being into a form that could experience the world in a more physical sense.
Gone was the shapeless creature of shadow and nightmares. Enter Bryaxis the wolf-dog (and occasional housecat) who still radiated enough power to scare away any creature (wicked or otherwise) that dared to disturb the peace of their home. But he could curl up by the windows and watch the night sky uninhibited, and in his heart he was a creature of violence and simplicity in equal measure.
“I like this one better than the cat.” Eris said with a grin, for the monster had copied the shape of one of his prized hunting dogs. Bryaxis seemed to growl in appreciation when Eris straightened up.
He sighed in contentment, feeling the stress of his crown melt away when you wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of cedar, smoke, and cinnamon.
“Hello.” He murmured softly, turning in your arms and pressing his lips against your forehead.
“Hello.” You whispered, brushing your lips against his with a sigh, “I missed you. Where have you been all this time?” The finished reports on your desk, much like your empty bed, had been waiting patiently for Eris’s next visit.
He hesitated, pulling away to look at you. He brushed aside a few stray strands of hair that had fallen out of your braid. “The Night Court.”
You stiffened, “Keir?”
He shook his head, frowning, “Rhysand.”
You blinked, and he saw darkness pass through your eyes.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”
Twelve years.
You’d been Beron’s prisoner for decades before. Then you’d escaped and managed a couple of years of peace. You’d found a home and a family… or so you thought. And then twelve years ago you’d been betrayed - handed back to the now deceased High Lord on a silver platter and trapped beneath the mountain for four years. It made your blood boil to think about the people who helped put you there.
“You’ve been dealing with them for years now,” You forced out in a diplomatic tone, “It’s good for you to have allies, especially strong ones like them.”
“Y/n-”
“You should've told me. I don’t want you to worry about my feelings when it comes to these things. Autumn comes first and-”
“I’ll always worry about you.” Eris said, tilting your chin up and catching the moisture gathering in your eyes that you’d furiously tried to blink away, “And there’s no choice between you and my Court. You belong here. To protect Autumn - to protect you - are the same thing, my love.”
Your cheeks burned at the careful way he spoke, the sincerity in his voice he reserved solely for you in moments like this.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Y/n. I promise it won't happen again."
Fury burned in his stomach, a continuation of the anger that had steadily been eating away at his patience during his visit to the Night Court. To see the Inner Circle look so safe and happy in the bubble they’d carved for themselves in Velaris, naive to the pain and suffering they’d caused you, had made him want to burn The House of Wind to the ground. Alliance be damned.
He hated them nearly as much as he had hated his own father.
“I don’t want to think about them.” You declared, setting your jaw and smoothing away the lines of anger that had formed on Eris’s forehead, “To hell with them.”
Eris smirked, loving the determination that settled in your eyes as you dragged him over to the living room and finished setting up the tea that had started to whistle on the stovetop. You would carve out a space for yourself in this world and be happy, even if it killed you.
“To hell with them.” He repeated.
Business and pleasure. The two were impossible for him to separate, which is why he cherished time spent with you. The pair of you spoke easily together, seamlessly transitioning from discussions of grain reports, treaties, and trade deals to banter about the Harvest Festival and the latest court gossip. Halvor was long gone, and Bryaxis off hunting, when the talking ceased and Eris found himself comfortably spread out on your velvet couch, shirt unbuttoned, and head resting in your lap as you wove your fingers through his hair.
He opened his eyes, lazy and slow, and quietly took in your features - the slope of your nose, the gentle curves of your cheeks and lips as you smiled at him, the contentment in your eyes that shifted into deep thought.
He waited for you to share them with him.
“I’ve been thinking about your proposal.” You said carefully and he froze beneath your hands.
“You-you have?” Eris swallowed and sat up, keeping his distance even as he dared to hope. You’d both been keeping your relationship secret, visiting each other under the guise of court business and court business only. It had certainly started out that way, but things had quickly shifted into something far more intimate and worthy of secrecy… Then Eris had asked if it could stop being so secret.
You nodded, searching his face for something more than the neutral mask every High Lord learned to master.
You moved onto his lap, laying your hands on the sides of his face as his eyes widened ever so slightly, “My answer is yes.”
“Yes?” He asked in disbelief.
Yes to living with him. Yes to going to court with him. Yes to showing the world that he was not alone in his duty. Yes to being by his side wherever either of you went.
No more hiding in this house on the outskirts. No more being afraid of what had happened in the past. No more loneliness.
“Yes.”
He shuddered under your touch and suddenly he was everywhere. His hands roamed the expanse of your back, pulling at the fabric of your bodice. Red locks as vivid as flame got knotted beneath your fingers, and his body pressed flush against yours, desperate for any contact as his chest continued to shake with laughter.
You stayed with him on that couch, neither of you wanting to bother with the effort of walking the extra twenty steps to your bedroom, as articles of clothing were hastily torn off and allowed to float onto the floor in crumples of fabric.
A growl from just outside your front door, low and gravelly enough to shake the ground, woke the two of you up. The sun was kissing the horizon on its way down, lateral rays of light streaming through the window and splashing onto the bookshelves and walls like gold paint. Eris groaned with displeasure, pulling you flush against his chest when you dared to draw yourself up on your arms to look at the door.
You giggled against him, pulling a rare smile from his lips when he felt your laughter.
He was all warmth and color beneath you as you shouted at Bryaxis to give you more time alone. He could practically hear the rolling of eyes with the huff that Bryaxis gave out. But he eventually trotted away to find a patch of soft grass from which to watch the sun set.
“It’s good to know a murderous beast like him still has a sense of humor.” Eris quipped, practically humming with pleasure when you melted into him.
“You would know. You can be funny sometimes.”
“Sometimes?!”
“Sometimes!”
“You must give me more credit than that.”
“I will not.”
“You must. Your High Lord demands it.” Eris said, puffing out his chest and deepening his voice.
“Your High Lord demands it.” You parroted in a silly voice that made Eris chuckle and kiss you again.
You laid in the silence for as long as you could, until the sun was once again buried in the ground and the calls of the Forest House could not be ignored. With every piece of clothing Eris pulled back on his body, the vulnerable joy that came from being with you seemed to dim.
Was he a lovesick fool for asking you to come to court and be with him? Was the protection of a High Lord worth the dangers that came with it? Lucien had been the first of their brothers to fall in love and he had paid for it dearly. Sometimes Eris had nightmares that you would suffer the same fate.
Eris watched you as you laced up your bodice with quick fingers, fixed your hair, and smoothed your skirts. You looked heavenly in the light of the fire. You were everything he could have dreamed of and more… because you were real… and you loved him as fiercely as he loved you. Which meant he could lose you.
“Y/n.” He whispered your name like a prayer, drawing your attention. You drew close to him, pressing your forehead against his as he took a deep breath, “What you’re agreeing to… you know what it will mean, don’t you?”
You closed your eyes and nodded. This was no light decision and it was why you’d taken three months to come up with an answer for him.
“It will mean people will come for me, and never stop coming for me, just to hurt you and to hurt this Court.” Eris flinched, but you wouldn’t let him open his mouth to dissuade you. You’d given this much thought, and your decision was made.
“It will mean constant scrutiny from the other Lords and Ladies. A life spent in a house known for its history of cruelty and disloyalty. A life that will never fully be my own.”
Eris was beginning to think he’d truly made a terrible mistake in asking you to be with him. But before that cold mask of his could fall over his features, you grasped his face in yours hands and forced him to look at you.
“But it will also mean a chance to be with you. A chance to lead alongside the first person to give me a real home - a real family. A chance to continue to build and protect what I love. I love you, Eris, and I love Autumn, and I’ll be damned if I don’t protect what I love.”
Eris clenched his teeth, holding back the emotion that threatened to spill out like a ruptured damn.
“I won’t be like this at the Forest House.” He said, hating the truth of the words that fell off his tongue, “I won’t be able to show who I truly am when I’m around others, at least not for now. They’ll call you foolish, or cruel, or wicked for being with me. I can’t promise you an established and worthy court. I-”
“Then we’ll build it ourselves.” You said fiercely, pouring your power into the words, “We’ll build a new court, a new life for ourselves and everyone here. I know you’ll do everything you can to fix things, even if it breaks you.” You whispered the next words reverently against his lips, “Let me help you. Let me do it with you.”
Eris let the tears run rivers down his cheeks, even as he set his jaw, and stared resolutely into your eyes.
“Let’s do it then. Together.”
<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->
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Author's note:
*shouts from the mountaintops* I just want Eris to be happy! And I want him to have someone he trusts that can rule alongside him!
That's it. That's the note. Oh and let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters.
Love,
Florence B.
Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy
#eris x reader#azriel x reader#azriel x reader x eris#eris fluff#eris vanserra#eris x y/n#azriel x y/n#azriel shadowsinger#eris acotar#autumn#autumn court#night court#the night court#the inner circle#azriel angst#eris angst#acotar#acotar fanfiction#bryaxis
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Never Ending Summer
Part 1 - Meet me halfway'/ Word Count - 3753
A.N : This might not be good, I wrote it pretty sleep deprived but this is the beginning of the series. and yes, before you say anything I know I am delusional, thank you and goodnight.
Masterlist
Summary - Y/n and Trevor make it to the beach house and all eyes are on her.
The sun beat down on the open road as Trevor and Y/N cruised along the highway in his vintage Jeep, the wind whipping through their hair from the open sunroof.
The sky stretched out above them in an endless expanse of brilliant blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds that seemed to dance across the horizon.
Trevor sat behind the wheel, one hand on the steering wheel and the other tapping along to the beat of the music blasting from the speakers.
He wore a pair of aviator sunglasses that glinted in the sunlight, and a bucket hat that cast a shadow over his sun-kissed face. Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way the summer suited him so well.
As they sped past fields of golden wheat and emerald green grass, Y/N leaned back in the passenger seat, letting the warm breeze caress her skin.
The air was filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers and the salty tang of the ocean. In the distance, a rocky beach came into view, its jagged cliffs rising up from the almost teal water that lapped at the shore.
The Jeep hit a small bump in the road, jostling them both and eliciting a laugh from Y/N. Trevor grinned, his teeth a flash of white against his tanned skin. He reached over and squeezed her hand, his touch as warm as the summer sun.
"Almost there," he said, his voice barely audible over the roar of the wind. "Just a few more hours and we'll be dipping our toes in the Pacific."
Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with anticipation. She could already imagine the feel of the sand between her toes and the salty spray of the ocean on her skin. The thought of spending the summer with Trevor and his friends in California filled her with so much joy.
They continued down the road, the sun began to dip lower in the sky, painting the world in shades of orange and pink. The colors seemed to dance across the landscape, casting a warm glow over everything they touched.
Y/N closed her eyes, letting the moment wash over her, knowing that this summer would be one she would never forget.
The sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the world in shades of orange and pink, Y/N's thoughts drifted to the impending meeting with Trevor's friends.
She chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she couldn't seem to shake. Trevor, ever attuned to her moods, glanced over at her, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"What's on your mind, sunshine?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the hum of the truck's engine.
Y/N hesitated for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sundress. "Are they actually nice?" she finally asked, her voice small and unsure.
Trevor's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "When have you ever known me to lie?" he questioned, craning his neck to look at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief behind his aviator sunglasses.
The hum of his truck filled the silence that followed, and Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes at his antics. She huffed out a breath, blowing a stray strand of hair away from her face.
"I guess never," she admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips. "But I've never met any of them. How are you just gonna know they'll like me? What if they think I'm weird or just using you to meet them?"
Trevor threw his head back and laughed, the sound as warm and infectious as the summer sun. "Oh, come on, Y/N! They're gonna love you. How could they not? You're like a breath of fresh air, all shy and cute one minute, then cracking jokes and making silly faces the next."
Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck at his words, and she ducked her head to hide her smile. "You're just saying that because you have to," she mumbled, but there was no real conviction behind her words.
Trevor reached over and poked her playfully in the ribs, eliciting a squeal of laughter from Y/N. " Not to brag, but my friends have great taste in women. Just be yourself, and they'll fall in love with you just like I did."
Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, and she found herself getting lost in his eyes, the teal of the ocean reflected in their depths. “Yeah okay, lover boy.”
…
Trevor's Jeep comes to a stop next to the other cars parked in front of the sprawling beach house, Y/N's eyes widen in awe.
The house is a magnificent sight, its white exterior gleaming in the brilliant sunlight. The wrap-around porch seems to beckon invitingly, offering a perfect spot to relax and take in the breathtaking view of the beach.
The sand stretches out before them, a vast expanse of pristine white, contrasting beautifully with the mesmerizing teal water that gently laps at the shore. The ocean seems to sparkle and dance, reflecting the vibrant colors of the summer sky above.
Trevor glances over at Y/N, a wide grin spreading across his face. "You ready pretty girl?" he announces, his voice filled with excitement.
Y/N looks out the window, taking in the scene before her. People mill about the house, their arms laden with colorful beach chairs, oversized towels, and coolers filled with refreshing drinks and snacks. The laughter and chatter of Trevor's friends float through the air, mingling with the distant crash of waves against the shore.
The door to the beach house stands wide open, inviting them to join the lively gathering. Y/N can't help but feel a flutter of nerves in her stomach, but the welcoming atmosphere and the sound of joyful conversation help to ease her worries.
As Y/N steps out of the Jeep, the heat of the summer sun bears down on her, making her hoodie and jeans feel uncomfortable against her skin.
She walks towards the trunk, her shoes sinking into the warm sand with each step. Reaching into the trunk, she pulls out her duffle bag of clothes, eager to change into something more suitable for the beach.
Just as she's about to close the trunk, Y/N hears voices coming from the direction of the house. She feels a slight twinge of nervousness, suddenly unsure about meeting Trevor's friends.
Trevor, ever attentive, walks over to her and places a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"I'm fine, Trev. It's okay, go say hi to your friends," Y/N mumbles, trying to mask her apprehension with a halfhearted smile.
Trevor looks at her for a brief moment, his brow furrowed in concern. He debates whether or not he should just go inside and greet his friends, but something in him doesn't want to leave Y/N all alone, standing out here in the sun.
"No. You're coming in with me. I'm not leaving you out here all by yourself," he says firmly, his voice betraying how much he means it. His eyes lock with Y/N's. She nods, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
He closes the trunk, he starts walking towards the gathered group, motioning for Y/N to follow him. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the introductions, and falls into step beside him.
Y/N can feel the weight of their gazes upon her, and a blush rises to her cheeks as she notices the appreciative glances from Trevor's friends.
They make brief eye contact with her, their expressions revealing their thoughts on just how pretty she is. Trevor senses the tension in Y/N's body as she becomes increasingly conscious of everyone's stares.
The conversation among the group grows louder and more animated as they welcome Trevor and Y/N into their midst. Trevor's grip on Y/N's hand tightens slightly, a reassuring squeeze that communicates his support and presence.
He positions himself behind her, his body pressing gently against hers, creating a comforting barrier between Y/N and the rest of the group.
As Y/N scans the faces of Trevor's friends, her gaze is drawn to one person in particular. A boy with dark, tousled curls and a pretty smile steps forward, his eyes sparkling with warmth and friendliness.
"Hi, I'm Marino, John Marino" he introduces himself, his voice smooth and inviting.
Y/N feels her heart flutter at the sound of his name, and she can't help but return his smile. She glances back at Trevor, who gives her an encouraging nod, his own smile full of pride and affection.
Y/N steps away from Trevor's side, she walks up to Marino, her hand extended in greeting. "I'm Y/N," she introduces herself, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest.
Marino takes her hand in his, his touch warm and gentle. As their fingers meet, he gazes into Y/N's eyes, a flicker of something sparking in his own. He brushes his thumb softly over her fingers, a subtle gesture that sends a shiver down Y/N's spine.
Unbeknownst to Y/N and Marino, Trevor watches every minute detail of their interaction. As he observes Marino brush Y/N's finger with his thumb, Trevor's eyes narrow, a flash of fury igniting within him. Jealousy coils in his gut, and he clenches his jaw, fighting the urge to step between them.
Marino, oblivious to Trevor's reaction, offers to take Y/N's duffel bag upstairs for her. "Here, let me help you with that," he says, his voice smooth and charming.
Y/N, grateful for the kind gesture, nods and smiles. "Thank you, John. That's really sweet of you."
As Marino takes the duffel bag from her, his fingers brush against hers once more, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. Y/N feels a blush creep up her neck, and she ducks her head, suddenly shy under his intense gaze.
The closer they get, the more details Y/N takes in. The porch is adorned with cozy wicker furniture, plush cushions in shades of blue and white.
Wind chimes dance in the breeze, their gentle tinkling adding to the enchanting ambiance. The delicious aroma of barbecue wafts through the air, making Y/N's mouth water in anticipation.
Trevor led the group up the steps and through the open door.
…
The group makes their way inside the beach house, Y/N's eyes widen in admiration at the beautifully decorated interior. The space is filled with coastal charm, from the whitewashed wooden floors to the nautical-themed artwork adorning the walls.
She notices the boys scattered throughout the house, their laughter and conversations creating a lively atmosphere.
Y/N follows closely behind Marino, her curiosity piqued by the stunning surroundings. Suddenly, Jack rushes up to them, a mischievous grin on his face. Without warning, he snatches the duffel bag from Marino's grasp, stealing it away with a sly smile.
"I'll be taking that," Jack declares, his eyes twinkling with playfulness. He nods his head towards the stairs, indicating for Y/N to follow him. "Come on, I'll show you to your room."
Y/N can't help but laugh at Jack's bold move, amused by his confident demeanor. She places a gentle hand on Marino's arm, offering him an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, Marino. I guess I'd better follow Jack. But thank you for offering to help."
Marino, slightly taken aback by Jack's intervention, nods in understanding. "No worries, Y/N. I'll catch up with you later."
With that, Y/N follows Jack up the stairs, her excitement growing with each step. As they reach the second floor, Jack leads her down a sun-drenched hallway, the sound of the ocean drifting in through the open windows.
Jack stops in front of a door and pushes it open, revealing a cozy bedroom bathed in natural light. He sets Y/N's duffel bag down on the bed and turns to face her, a flirtatious smile playing on his lips.
"So, Y/N, I was thinking," he begins, his voice smooth and enticing. "We're planning on playing some volleyball later, and I'd love for you to join us. In fact, I want you on my team. With you by my side, I'm sure we'll be unstoppable."
Y/N feels a blush creep up her cheeks at Jack's forward invitation. She's flattered by his attention and can't help but be drawn in by his charismatic presence.
"That sounds like a lot of fun, Jack," Y/N replies, her smile mirroring his own. "I'd love to join your team. Just give me a few minutes to get settled in, and I'll meet you guys downstairs."
Jack's grin widens, and he nods in approval. "Perfect. I'll let the others know you're in.”
With one final glance, Jack leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Y/N takes a moment to catch her breath, her heart racing with anticipation.
…
Y/N descends the stairs, the conversation in the living room gradually fades away, replaced by a hushed silence.
She takes the last step and looks up, only to find everyone's eyes fixated on her. The attention is overwhelming, and Y/N suddenly feels self-conscious under their intense gazes.
y/n had changed into a matching set, a black baby tee that hugs her curves and a pair of tight-fitting shorts that allow for easy movement.
Her jewelry and makeup are on point, enhancing her natural beauty. Y/N had taken her time to get ready, wanting to make a good impression on Trevor's friends, but she hadn't anticipated this level of scrutiny.
The boys stare at her.
They had caught a glimpse of her earlier, but with her hood up and glasses on, they hadn't fully registered just how stunning she truly is. Now, seeing her in this new light, they can't help but be captivated by her presence.
Trevor, who had been engaged in a conversation with one of his friends, turns to see what has captured everyone's attention. His eyes widen as he takes in the sight of Y/N, his heart skipping a beat.
Y/N shifts uncomfortably under the weight of their stares, unsure of how to react. She glances around the room, her eyes seeking out Trevor for reassurance. Jack, ever the charmer, is the first to break the silence. He lets out a low whistle of appreciation and grins at Y/N.
"Damn, Y/N, you clean up nice. I knew you were pretty, but wow, you're a total knockout."
Y/N feels a blush creep up her neck at Jack's bold compliment. She's not used to being the center of attention, especially among a group of attractive guys. She mumbles a shy "thank you," her eyes darting away from Jack's intense gaze.
The other boys chime in with their own compliments, their voices overlapping in a chorus of admiration. Trevor, sensing Y/N's discomfort, steps forward and places a gentle hand on the small of her back. "All right, guys, let's not overwhelm her," he says, his voice calm but firm.
With that, the group nods in agreement, their excitement for the game temporarily overshadowing their fascination with Y/N.
They grab their gear and start making their way towards the back door, chattering animatedly about teams and strategies.
She made her way out the door towards the beach, Jack casually mentions that the girls will be meeting them there. Y/N's steps falter, and she turns to look at Jack, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Girls?" she questions.
She watches Jack's expression closely, trying to gauge his response. Jack grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yeah, we have some friends out here. We didn't want you to be the only girl, so we invited them along. Thought it would make things more fun, you know?"
Y/N nods slowly, processing this new information. She's not sure how she feels about the prospect of meeting a group of unfamiliar girls, especially given the already overwhelming attention she's received from the boys.
they continue walking, Y/N finds herself falling to the back of the group, her thoughts swirling with uncertainty. She's so lost in her own mind that she doesn't notice the boy who has fallen into step beside her until he speaks.
"I'm Nico," he says, his voice smooth and accented, immediately catching Y/N's attention.
Y/N turns to face him, taking in his striking features and warm smile. She can't quite place his accent, but it adds an air of intrigue to his already captivating presence.
"It's nice to meet you, Nico," Y/N replies, extending her hand in greeting. "I'm Y/N." Nico takes her hand in his larger one, his grip firm but gentle. His smile widens, and Y/N can't help but notice the way his eyes crinkle at the corners
"The pleasure is all mine, Y/N," Nico says, his accent wrapping around her name in a way that sends a shiver down her spine. "I've been looking forward to meeting Trevor's special guest. He's spoken very highly of you."
Y/N feels a blush creep up her cheeks at Nico's words. She's flattered by Trevor's praise and can't help but wonder what he's said about her to his friends. As they walk side by side, Nico engages Y/N in easy conversation, asking her about her interests and sharing his own stories.
Before long, they reach the beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the salty sea breeze enveloping them. Y/N takes a moment to appreciate the breathtaking view, the vast expanse of the ocean stretching out before her.
As they approach the designated spot for their volleyball game, Y/N notices a group of girls already gathered there, their laughter and chatter carrying across the sand. She feels a flutter of nerves in her stomach.
But as they draw closer, Trevor catches Y/N's eye, offering her a reassuring smile. He makes his way over to her, his hand finding the small of her back in a comforting gesture.
"Ready to meet the girls?" he asks, his voice low and encouraging.
…
After all their walking, the sun has finally set, painting the sky in a beautiful array of oranges and pinks, the group finally reaches their destination: a secluded stretch of beach adorned with a solitary volleyball net standing sentinel against the backdrop of crashing waves.
With the sand beneath their feet and the salty breeze tousling their hair, the group congregates around the net, their laughter and chatter mingling with the rhythmic symphony of the ocean.
Trevor takes charge, announcing that he'll be dividing everyone into teams. With a mischievous grin, he begins jumbling people together, seemingly at random. "Alright, listen up!" he calls out, his voice carrying over the sound of the crashing waves.
"We're gonna mix things up a bit. I want to see some friendly competition out there!"
He starts pointing at people, assigning them to teams with dramatic flair. "Jack, you're with Nico. Y/N, you're on my team, of course. And let's see... Marino, you're with the lovely ladies over there." Marino raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips.
Marino's reaction is impossible to miss. "Oh, so you're putting me with the winning team, huh? I see how it is, Trevor,” he quips, his tone laced with mock arrogance.
Trevor's laughter rings out, throwing his head back. "Don't get too cocky, Marino. We haven't even started yet."
Ever the quick-witted companion, Jack interjects with a well-timed quip of his own. "Yeah, Marino, save the trash talk for when you actually score a point."
Luke not missing a beat, adds, "Which, let's be real, might take a while with that form of yours."
Marino feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart. "Ouch, guys. Way to hit a man where it hurts. But just wait until I unleash my secret weapon."
Jack raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Secret weapon? What, did you finally learn how to serve without hitting yourself in the face?" The group erupts in laughter, and even Marino can't help but crack a smile.
As Trevor continues to divide the group, the banter and laughter increase. The girls, who have been watching the exchange with amusement, start chiming in with their own playful jabs.
"Hey, Trevor!" one of them calls out, her voice filled with mock indignation. "Are you saying we can't hold our own against you boys?"
Trevor holds up his hands in surrender, a grin spreading across his face. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! I would never underestimate the power of a determined woman. I'm just trying to even the playing field, that's all."
Y/n laughs feeling lighter than before, "Yeah, Trevor, you better watch out. These ladies look like they could spike a ball straight through your ego." The girls exchange knowing looks, their eyes sparkling with mischief.
Y/N finds herself standing next to Trevor, her heart racing with excitement and a hint of nerves. She's not the most experienced volleyball player, but she's determined to give it her all.
Trevor leans in close, his breath tickling her ear. "Don't worry, Y/N. Just stick with me, and we'll crush them."
Y/N can't help but laugh at his confidence. "I'll do my best, but I make no promises. I'm not exactly a pro at this." Trevor winks at her, his eyes filled with warmth and encouragement. "You've got this. And if all else fails, just aim for Marino's head. All's fair in love and volleyball, my friend.”
Y/N shakes her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "You're terrible, Trevor. But I like the way you think."
As the game begins, the beach comes alive with shouts, laughter, and the sound of the volleyball smacking against the sand. The teams are evenly matched, with each side giving it their all.
The girls prove to be formidable opponents, diving for the ball and spiking it with impressive force.
Nico surprises everyone with his agility, leaping high into the air to send the ball soaring over the net. Jack, not to be outdone, showcases his own athletic prowess, diving for seemingly impossible saves.
15 minutes pass, the scores remain close, with each team refusing to give an inch. The sun has long since set, but the energy on the beach is electric, fueled by the thrill of friendly competition and the joy of being surrounded by good company.
In the end, it's Trevor's team that emerges victorious, but only by the narrowest of margins. As they gather around, high-fiving and congratulating each other,
"Well played, my friend. But next time, I'm claiming Y/N for my team." Jack says, he smiles throwing his arm over y/ns shoulders. Y/N, feeling a warmth spread through her chest, can't help but smile.
…
#fluff#angst#new writers on tumblr#masterlist#new fic#x reader#jack hughes x reader#nico hischer x reader#new jersey#new jersey devils#trevor zegras x reader#trevor zegras#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes fanfiction#jack hughes fic#trevor zegras smut#jack hughes smut#luke hughes smut#nico hischier#timo meier#alexander holtz#dawson mercer#njd#nico hischier x reader#nico hischier imagine#nico hischier blurb#john marino#john marino x reader#john marino x you#john marino x y/n
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Do the firstborns play any instruments or find themselves fond of any human creations?
Ink (despite seeming to hold a not-so-secret grudge) absolutely loves human creations, though he is especially fond of utensils, such as forks and spoons. He also really likes intricate belts, especially those that have other things hanging from them that go clink, clink, clink when the humans walk about. He’s stolen many, many things from the Big Folk, and he’s hung many of them up in various trees as decorations. They’re an omen of bad luck for any Big Folk that enter his forest, because they’re a sign that that certain area is often frequented by Ink himself, and that is no good thing for them.
He likes to play wooden instruments that make deep, sometimes rumbling noises, though it is the flute he excels at, and its sound is the first thing the Big Folk will hear – if they take care to listen – when Spring finally begins its arrival. It will echo through the hills, past the trees, and over the mountains as it causes the ice to melt and break, and the snow to turn into flowing water as the grass so green begins to stand up to greet the warming sun.
Nightmare doesn’t play any instruments and isn’t too fond of human creations… until the pipe organ is invented. He only needed to hear it once to find it wonderful to listen to, and he’d have a copy made straight away; once he learned how it was constructed. It was built in a naturally formed cavern beneath his Underground nest, and there he sometimes likes to go and play it, making the very earth around him tremble with awed shudders. He tends to lose himself in the moment and has been known to miss hours and hours until someone comes to remind him that he needs to return to his duties.
He is also enchanted by the discovery of the astrolabe and the compass, and he just might have had some of his fairies steal them for him. He also has a human-sized book with illustrations depicting the inside of a giant castle, and the words describing it are attention-grabbing to be sure.
Dream plays the harp and the effect it has on other fairies and Big Folk alike is strikingly clear; it’s enthralling. You’ll hear no other sound like it ever again, less it is from him. Unless you’re a fairy you might just run the risk of losing your mind once you’ve heard it, as its effect has a way of glazing your eyes with a golden glow for as long as it plays, and you’ll see the world in a near heavenly light that makes everything just look so… enchanting. It’s not strange that any Big Folk who experiences this will feel grief-stricken once the music stops and the effect goes away. Everything just looks so… dull and dark after that, and those who’re unable to cope with it go mad from the search of finding it again.
He doesn’t know too much about human creations since he doesn’t travel near the borders these days, but a few years back he’d seen a human with a very intricate chest in his hands that held some warped silver coins, a scroll, and some gunpowder in a small purse. He only knows this because he snatched the chest – with some help – whilst the man wasn’t looking. He still has it hidden within a hollow hole in his willow tree.
Error might despise humans and pretend to hate everything they do and make, but he can’t deny it to himself that he likes their wooden and woollen creations, especially those he sees around the time of the winter solstice. Shapes of stars and circles made from twigs and strings are strangely appealing, dried orange slices and wheat goats decorated with red ribbons make him tilt his head in fascination. The only Big Folk creation he’s sought out and stolen was a deep blue glass sphere with a hollow room inside of it. The reason for this theft was solely because he witnessed one of the strange Big Folk traditions where they all held one of these spheres in their hands as they walked in a line, singing softly about light wishes and hopes of peaceful times to come. He found it all oddly… beautiful, especially since their singing seemed to make the glass spheres glow a pretty dark blue. He’ll never admit (not even to himself) that he’s fond of this tradition, but the Big Folk did notice that the winter winds calmed significantly after this specific day.
He does not play any instruments, but his singing is the sound of the freezing ice expanding and thickening on the lakes on cold days, and that is a particularly special kind of instrument, so, in a way, Error himself is an instrument of music; the one of winter itself, you could say.
#aufairyverse#utmv#ask for the fairy#fairy!ink#fairy!nightmare#fairy!dream#fairy!error#ink sans#nightmare sans#dream sans#error sans
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Leather and Lace - Chapter 19: Second Time Around
Summary: You and Arthur settle into your new relationship and try to find some more time alone together.
Warning: 18+ please. Minor - DNI; NSFW
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*This beautiful image comes from @regwishesshehadmagic . I know it's Sadie in the image, but this just captures the tone of this chapter perfectly.
Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic @rhehr241 @earwen-x @akariver75 @djennty @nervousmumbling @xliliths @unbotheredbeeeee @onnetonprinsessa @kittiowolf210 @ezrynn @suhiss @arthurmargon @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler @alice-vanderlinde @sweetandstoned21 @j4llyf7sh @spooky631 @m0r4rx @ilovrxats @i-69-urmom @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo @lea-khena @brccklynbaby1
*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people.
The next morning you wake up early to the faint breeze of someone’s breath dancing across your forehead. Reluctantly opening your heavy eyes just a sliver, you realize that you have your face snuggled up and tucked under Arthur’s chin. You notice the heavy weight of his strong arm draped over your middle, holding you in place close to him, even in his sleep. It is a most comfortable position to find yourself in first thing in the morning.
A serene calmness settles over you as you take a moment to appreciate where you are and who you are with. Your drowsy eyes roll up to look at Arthur, careful not to move your head too much. You note with affection all of those little red marks scattered across his face from broken capillaries under his skin caused by years of sun exposure. In his sleep, his face doesn’t carry those deep worry lines that seem to constantly decorate his features. His hair is slightly rumpled from his slumber, locks twisted like summer wheat swaying in the wind. His eyelids don’t even twitch with any sort of movement from a possible dream-like state. He is utterly out to the world. And it is with a slight feeling of pride that you acknowledge Arthur is able to rest so peacefully because of you lying by his side.
You think of the whirlwind of events that have taken place over the last few days. Your mind replays with such fondness the tender moments of the previous evening. While you were not able to be intimate last night, just the closeness and sweet whispers in the darkness mean volumes to you.
Your attention is briefly pulled away from your rough outlaw to the subdued movement outside of the oasis of his tent. There are a few voices muttering softly in the camp, but it’s still early enough where it’s only Mr. Pearson getting food together and Ms. Grimshaw puttering about to help him. The faint hint of fresh-brewing coffee is already carrying through the air to usher you to another day.
The morning sun isn’t too high yet, not even breaking the treeline, casting the camp in subtle grey and lavender hues as the mist rises off the grass. The songbirds are scattered throughout the trees overhead and softly singing their own little songs to welcome the new dawn. You relish these quiet moments in the morning before the camp is awake. But as much as you’d love to stay here forever, you should probably get back to your own tent before anyone sees you creeping out of Arthur’s.
With a reluctant sigh, you carefully roll back from the man, gently lifting his arm and setting it back down in your place. Arthur is so tired that he doesn’t even flinch from your movement. You’re not sure if you are thankful or worried about his state of exhaustion, but there’s not much you can do about it now other than leave him be to get some much-needed rest.
You slowly sit up on the edge of the cot, stretching your arms over your head and cringing at the popping sound from your shoulder. Turning back, your gaze falls to Arthur as he sleeps. He is so handsome. Just looking at him lying there so serenely makes your belly flutter. You are anxious for his hands to be on you again; to feel those large, weathered hands that reached out and touched your heart to be all over you once more. But unfortunately, you are not in a space conducive for love-making whenever you please. With a quiet disappointed sigh, you turn back forward and try to slip away when an arm suddenly snakes around your waist.
“Where you think you’re goin’?” Arthur gruffs out in a sleep-hazed voice.
You quietly giggle as you affectionately wrap your hands around the burly forearm. “I should head back to my tent before I’m noticed.” You look over your shoulder again and see his blue eyes now open, thick with sleep, yet still twinkling at the sight of you.
“I think people have a good idea that we’re together now,” he murmurs as he blinks his eyes to try to keep them open.
“I know. But we should still try to be discreet about it. At least this part, anyway.” Your voice is low and hums in the air, as if trying to keep him all to yourself as you run your fingers over the hair of his arm, drawing lazy circles on his skin.
“I suppose you’re right.” Arthur doesn’t retract his arm, but reluctantly allows you to escape his hold of you.
You stand up and shiver a bit as the brisk morning air envelops your whole body. It's damp and chilly this morning, a sure sign that colder weather is coming soon. Arthur rolls onto his side, his eyes following you as you rub your hands over your arms as goosebumps begin to decorate your skin, popping up like effervescent bubbles.
“See? If you’d stay in bed with me you’d be warm,” he smirks smartly.
“I’d also be late,” you reply back with a grin as you begin to finger-comb your hair into submission. “I wouldn’t want to get up.”
“Hmm…that’s the bitch of it, isn’t it?” That impish grin of his forming on his plump lips. “Well, what can you do about it anyhow?” And Arthur leans forward to grab your hand to try to pull you back onto the cot, which you playfully swat away.
With a slight groan, Arthur moves as if to get up with you, but you are quick to put your hand on his shoulder, halting him in his place. “Ah, ah. You stay right where you are, mister.” He looks at you in confusion. “You could still get away with another hour or two of sleep. And you need it, too. Go back to sleep.”
Arthur shifts back down to the canvas of the cot, tucking his arm behind his head like a pillow as he smirks up at you. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Don’t worry, Arthur, you won’t miss anything. I won’t let anything happen while you’re asleep,” you tease, knowing full-well how he has to be up and watchful over everyone at all times. Always the protector.
You tug at your skirt and blouse, making sure everything is straight and where it should be, running your hands over your hair one more time in check. When you're content that you are presentable again, you turn back to place a simple yet sweet little kiss upon Arthur’s lips, pausing to sweep your thumb over his cheekbone before heading over to the tent opening. You discreetly poke your face out to check to see if anyone is watching and then quietly scuttle back to your tent.
—-------------------------------------
As the morning progresses, you and Arthur try to be discreet, but the stolen glances and distractions continue. Trying to stay focused on the daily chores becomes difficult. The girls giggle and tease you about it and you shake your head, trying to wave them off at their nonsense, but it doesn’t stop their curiosity and fun.
With the afternoon sun high in the sky, you are walking with a laundry basket sitting on your hip, picking through the contents, when a hand like a vice grip suddenly clamps down on your arm, pulling you behind a wagon. Your heart jumps up into your throat as the sharp motion causes you to drop your basket and you stumble to keep your footing. A panicked yelp is quickly stifled by someone’s hand over your mouth as you flounder before being spun around and pushed back against the wooden slats of the wagon. When you finally get your bearings, you rapidly blink to see that familiar silhouette in front of you.
“Jesus, Arthur, you scared the hell out of me!” you hiss at him, slapping his chest. He can only reply with a playful, mischievous laugh, those brilliant blue eyes of his dancing back at you. He places his left hand over your head onto the wagon and leans over you, encasing you in towards him. His other large hand comes up around your neck, his thumb pushing your chin up so that your tender lips are easily accessible to him. He leans in and plants his warm mouth onto your own, inhaling as he does as if drawing out your soul.
As your kiss quickly deepens, Arthur pins you against the wooden frame with his own body. His mouth eventually leaves yours and begins nuzzling up on you, leaving a trail over your jawline and down your neck. Your eyes roll back into your head as you submit to his will, quickly getting lost. You slowly bend your leg to rub in between Arthur’s as your arms extend over his shoulders, lacing your fingers behind his head as he leans further down your neck, sucking lightly on your clavicle.
“I want you in the most sinful ways, you know that?” Arthur whispers in your ear. Your only response is a soft little groan. He gently lays his forehead to yours. “When it comes to you, there’s no doubt about it. Just this crazy need to make you mine.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I am yours, then, Arthur.” Your eyes lift to his, giving him that look, an eyebrow arched with all of the permissions and suggestions behind it. It's enough to melt his brain. “I was always yours.” Your fingers slide down from his neck to curl around the open collar of his shirt, the tips of your fingers teasingly grazing across his collarbone underneath. “It just took awhile for you to find me, is all.”
You lean up on your toes to catch his lips again and kiss him heatedly before he dips down once more to your neck to that spot behind your ear. You giggle again as his beard scratches across your sensitive skin and you roll your face into his as you cradle your arms around his head, snuggling him closer to you.
“Ahem!”
Suddenly out of nowhere, you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. You and Arthur both freeze before slowly turning to the side to see Ms. Grimshaw standing there with an oh-so annoyed look upon her face.
You quickly drop your hands to your sides, face turning bright red at being caught, as Arthur drops his head down, looking sheepishly at his feet. Suddenly you feel like kids being caught sneaking out of the barn by your mother.
“Aren't you supposed to be doing something, Miss Y/L/N?” Ms Grimsahw barks, eyebrows arched expectantly at you.
“Yes, Ma’am,” you confess, biting your lip nervously.
She then turns her bubbling temper to your partner in crime. “Arthur, do you need something to do?”
“No, Ma’am.”
Ms. Grimshaw stands in silent judgment for a moment and you can see the gears turning in her sharp head. “Is this going to be a problem?” She huffs, waving her finger at you both before firmly planting her hands on her hips.
“No, Ma’am”, you both respond in unison, trying not to laugh under her intensifying scrutiny.
This isn’t the first time Ms. Grimshaw has caught people messing about, and frankly she couldn’t care any less who’s diddling who in this camp. As long as it doesn’t interfere with her work, that is. (She has a hard enough time keeping Karen and Sean focused.) But you and Arthur are new at this, acting like a couple of love-dumb teenagers, so she’s trying not to be too harsh about it. To be honest, it kind of warms her black heart.
After a few more awkward moments of silence, Ms Grimshaw turns and walks away, shaking her head. But unseen by you and Arthur, a little grin pops up on her stern face. “Idiots”, she mumbles.
When you are in the clear, you and Arthur both exhale with relief to be spared the matron’s wrath any longer.
“Thanks a lot, you got me in trouble,” Arthur jokingly swats your shoulder with the back of his hand.
‘What?! Me?! You started it!” You smack his chest back.
“You’re a bad influence, you know that?” he smirks. “I mean, really, the nerve of some people. You should be ashamed of yourself, Miss (Y/L/N). Attacking me in broad daylight like that. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.” He plays innocent, placing his hand on his chest and feigning offense.
“Arthur, I swear to God…!” You bend over and snatch up the bar of laundry soap laying in the grass and whip it at him. Arthur hops up on one leg, quickly dodging the projectile to avoid being pelted with it.
“You move pretty good for an old man,” you tease, tucking that always-stray lock of hair behind your ear.
“Woman, you have no idea yet. Just you wait.” He flashes those eyes again at you. The taunt alone makes the butterflies in your stomach swirl. Arthur leans in to you with a suggestive grin as his thick fingers trail across your stomach and over your hips. “Now get back to work.”
—------------------------------------------
For the rest of the afternoon, you and Arthur manage to behave yourselves. Now that Ms. Grimshaw is wise to your antics, she has been watching you like a hawk. She doesn’t need another “Karen and Sean” in camp, especially if it’s two of the hardest working people there. Of course the woman isn’t going to be heartless about it. But she does have a camp to run, afterall.
Currently, you are over by the food wagon. With the autumn vegetables coming into harvest, you are trying your hand at a corn chowder to serve the gang. You’re hoping it will be a welcomed change from Mr Pearson’s usual stew that is served more often than not. Hopefully if it is well received, you’ll be able to can some of the thick soup for the upcoming winter months.
A plethora of spices and herbs permeates the air as you stir the simmering mixture in the large cast-iron kettle that hangs over the fire. You sing quietly to yourself, watching the golden mixture bubble hypnotically as bits of bright orange carrots and deep brown potato skins dance as they soften to a delightful texture. Satisfied with the state of things for now, you set the ladle aside and walk a few paces back to the work table to cut up the fresh biscuits you baked earlier to go with your dinner.
As you work, Arthur walks over to you, casually leaning his shoulder into the side of the wagon. He takes the cigarette that dangles precariously from his lips between his thumb and fingers and flicks it into the cool grass. “Hey you.”
“Hey you,” you beam back at him. “What are you up to?”
Every time. Every damn time, that look of brightness and excitement in your face to see him sets Arthur’s tired soul alight, bringing him back to life just a bit more.
“Nuthin.” The corners of his mouth tug up into a grin. He folds his arms over his chest, watching your hands for a moment as your delicate fingers sort the fluffy biscuits into a basket and cover them with a white muslin cloth.
His watchful eyes dart around as he tries to act inconspicuous before he leans in a bit closer to you.
“So I was thinking, maybe we could get together again tonight?”
You give him a questioning look at first, but when those crystal blue eyes flash at you and the corners of his lips begin to pull up even more, you know exactly what he means.
“Oh! Here in camp?” you ask surprised, your face dusting pink at the thought of it.
“Gonna have to sooner or later, right?” Arthur tilts his head with a slight shrug of his broad shoulders.
You think about it for a moment, contemplating the option. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” you say slowly, letting the idea sink in a moment. You’ve waited so long for him, so the thought that you could be together whenever you want now is exciting. Plus, your first time together was just so heavenly, you honestly can’t wait for another go at it.
“Okay, then.” Your face lights up as the blush of your cheek deepens. You turn to look about as well, sharing in this cute little secret plan of his. “I can come by your tent later tonight? After everyone turns in?” you suggest, an air of hushed eagerness in your voice.
The elated expression on Arthur’s face is priceless. “Alright. Sounds like a plan, then.” Like a little kid waiting for Christmas, you can see him trying to contain his excitement. Arthur didn’t think you’d be quick to spurn him, but he has to admit, he wasn’t so sure if you’d be so readily willing to fall into his arms again so quickly.
He holds your gaze as if there is something else he wants to say or do, but only simply nods. He runs the back of his forefinger along your upper arm as he pushes himself up and off the wagon and leaves you to finish what you're doing, heading over to the fire.
You smile brightly and nibble your bottom lip as you watch Arthur stroll over with a swagger in his step as he joins Javier at the nearest fire, his attention keenly refocused on the gun in his friend’s hand. It must be a new one Javier found as Arthur takes the gun and flips it around in his hand, evaluating it. He opens the chamber and squints to look through it, checking the straightness of it. He spins the barrel and evaluates the weight of it in his oversized hand.
Watching Arhtur handle this gun as if it were a simple kitchen utensil, you are suddenly filled with a bit of apprehension. You have never been afraid to be in Arthur’s presence, but it fills you with a sense of dread to hold him so dear to your heart like this, knowing that any moment could be the last time you set eyes on him. Being with a wanted outlaw, being with Arthur Morgan of all outlaws, is going to come with that level of fear. He warned you of this and it wasn’t until now that you fully comprehend his caution. It makes the fire within you that burns for him all the more intense. As your feelings for Arthur deepen by the very hour, if that’s even possible, this is something that you are going to have to be mindful of. And, take advantage of the time together whenever you have it.
—-----------------------------------------
Night has fallen across the camp, the sounds of chirping crickets and the occasional hooting owl echoing in the background as you stand in your tent. It’s another chilly night yet you are warm with exhilaration. The idea of being with Arthur again tonight has been all you could think about all day since he mentioned it.
You dress in your newer nightgown for your amorous rendezvous, one that is a simple white cotton with white silky ribbon sewn into the hems. It has wider shoulder straps, leaving you arms exposed and hugs your bustline nicely as it cascades over your chest, creating a white waterfall of textured fabric and falls to mid-calf length.
You look yourself over in your little mirror, primping and touching-up. Voluminous locks of hair spill over your bare shoulders, but you have pulled the sides back with a white ribbon to match your nightgown. Deft fingers comb through your hair, curling the pieces just so. Slightly trembling fingertips dab a bit of red rouge to the apple of your cheeks, as well as your soft lips.
Your hands fidget over your body, smoothing everything out, as you wince just a bit in self-consciousness at your curves. You wish you had a more attractive body to offer, but it is what it is. Arthur has already seen you naked, so there should be no surprises, yet you are still thankful to have the modest covering of your nightgown. You grab the green shawl that took you several months to ineptly knit and wrap it around your shoulders as a finishing touch.
Suddenly, you hear your name softly called out in the darkness outside of the tent. A smile instantly blooms across your face at the sound of your lover’s gravelly southern drawl. You skip over the few paces to the opening and pull back the tent flap to see Arthur standing there.
“Hey you,” you whisper in a hushed tone, careful not to wake anyone.
Arthur nods to you in greeting, the crow’s feet around his eyes crinkling at the sight of you. “Can I come in?” he asks, his gruff voice equally as hushed as yours.
“Of course!” and you step aside, allowing his large frame to slip inside your space unnoticed by the others as you quickly close the opening behind him.
“Change of - woa!” he exclaims, instantly distracted once he finally turns and gets a good look at you in the lamplight. His eyes dance up and down the length of your whole body, drinking you in from your beautiful hair down to your delicately slippered feet. The golden glow of the oil lamp gives you an even softer look about yourself, the orange flame flickering in your large, sparkling eyes as you look up at him.
Arthur’s reaction catches you off-guard and you self-consciously look down at yourself, wondering what you missed or could have done to yourself so quickly. “What? What’s wrong?” Your hands immediately start to smooth over the nightgown, searching for the offending item.
“You…you look…amazing!” he stutters in wonderment. Even with his earlier new-found bravado, it still floors Arthur that someone so beautiful, so wonderful, could be waiting for the likes of him. You are a white lily flower standing in your tent, graceful and delicate. And it comes as a stark reminder of just how damn lucky he is. Arthur wonders if you truly have any idea what sort of a man you have invited into your tent.
Astonished eyes blink back at him, speechless at his response for a moment. Your cheeks flush ruby-red and warm, and you cast your eyes down with a grin, nervously tucking that same lock behind your ear.
Clearing his throat, Arthur shifts his weight from hip to hip and gives his head a quick shake in an attempt to refocus his train of thought. “Change of plans. Not gonna work in my tent tonight. Dutch and Molly are still awake and fightin’ again. And that usually leads to ‘other things’ as well.” He rolls his eyes. For whatever reason, the last time the gang moved, Arthur’s tent, which he usually likes to be setup away from other people, was placed closer to Dutch. There was alot going on at that time, and it was probably for Dutch’s convenience and easier access to his right-hand man. But now, it is causing a bit of a “logistics problem” for the two of you.
“Maybe we can stay here?” Arthur poses hopefully, waving his hand towards your cot.
You bite the inside of your lip at the thought of it. “We’re kinda close to the girls,” you worry, tilting your head in the direction of their shared tent just on the other side of yours. “Do you think we can be that quiet?”
A laugh huffs out of his nose as a smirk creeps across Arthur’s face.“You forget, I’m used to taken care of myself that way before you came along.” He shifts his weight on his hips again as his thumbs settle confidently onto his belt.
You raise an eyebrow at him, giving him a humored look. “Right, because only men need that,” you say with that signature hint of sarcasm before the eyeroll comes. The statement causes Arthur to look at you in surprise, not expecting such a thing from a woman. The thought of you touching yourself in the solitude of your tent at night causes a sudden rush of blood to his groin.
“I can be quiet if you can. But history says otherwise,” he snickers.
“Hey, I’m not the only one who was making noise that night,” you remind him with a look that is equally as smug as you cross your arms over your chest.
God, you are just so fiery. You have a spark in you, a fire about you that Arthur finds so irresistible. He hopes that you never let anyone extinguish that part of yourself. A sense of pride begins to bloom through his chest, knowing that he’s the one that you’ve chosen above all others for yourself.
Arthur steps up closer to you, placing his large, strong hands on your hips and looking down at you expectantly with that look of escalating desire as your own hands unfold from their place on your chest and float up to grace his forearms. Your fingers wrap around the lower part of his arms, your fingertips barely able to meet due to the bulk of muscle there. The feeling of his skin beneath your fingers is enough to ignite the awaiting heat in your stomach and you have to take a deep, steadying breath to calm the thundering in your chest.
“Okay fine. We can try it here,” you shyly concede. You let go of him and walk a few steps to the large trunk at the foot of your cot that Arthur and Charles had pilfered off of a robbery for you. You quietly open the lid and pull out the large winter comforter that you are saving for colder weather. Shaking it out, the thick material waves in the air, and floats down flat on the ground, making Arthur step back a few paces to make room.
“What’s this for?” he asks as he watches you pull your blankets off your cot next. “We picnickin’ now?”
“My cot is even squeakier than yours,” you joke as you start to pull any pillows and blankets you have to lay down as well. “Any fooling around we do on that thing is sure to let others know what’s going on in here.”
As Arthur watches you fix your literal “lovenest”, a troubled look suddenly clouds his handsome, chiseled face.
“Y/N?”
“Yeah?” You casually look up at him out of the corner of your eye as you get the make-shift bed ready.
“What if it's not as good the second time around? I mean, what if the first time was a fluke?”
The hesitation is heavy on his face. That first night together in the hunting shelter was so perfect, so divine. He can’t imagine anything shattering that little slice of heaven that he’s saved for himself in his mind.
As you stand straight again, you offer him such a radiant smile. “That night was amazing, Arthur. Absolutely amazing,” you agree emphatically. “So if we are even half that good this time, it's still going to be pretty damn good.”
Arthur breathes a sigh of relief. You’re right. Nothing is probably ever going to compare to that night. But, he’s certainly up for the challenge.
With his mind at ease, Arthur opens his arms to you and you stride over and curl up against him. You inhale and sigh deeply, taking in the notes of leather and cigarettes mingled with his own scent. He holds you close and affectionately kisses the top of your head before lowering his chin to reach your lips with his own. His hands gently land on either side of your face, pulling you in closer for the kiss. Your own hands instinctively find their way to Arthur's ribs, fingers splayed around the mass of him to feel as much as possible before tightly fisting up the material of his shirt to pull him closer to you. You can feel the warmth of him through the fabric. You feel safe here. You feel looked-after and cared for in his arms. And this is just what you need.
What starts as lazy kisses intensifies with that deep breathing and eventual hip pull. Arthur’s lips show no mercy as they begin to work feverishly over yours, desperate for more. And your own body betrays you as you shiver with each kiss, your knees already falling weak.
The air fills with muffled sounds of wet kisses and quiet moans as you both try to be quiet. Your nimble fingers start to impatiently pull at the buttons of his black shirt, while his own hands are preoccupied with gripping your arms before dropping to cup the supple flesh of your rear. Layers of clothing begin to quickly become unfastened and discarded as the intimacy rapidly escalates. Restless and busy hands fumble over each other, sometimes crossing the other person’s, fighting for access to the other.
For a second, your mind flashes back to your previous thoughts of how every moment with Arthur could be your last, and how he could be snatched from you at any time. The idea emboldens you now, making you desperate to keep Arthur to you. You reach down and cup his rapidly growing bulge over his trousers, palming it in your hand, gently squeezing and massaging. A guttural groan of yearning rumbles up from his chest as Arthur angles his hips into your hand. With your lips still locked together and panting hotly into each others’ mouths, you move to make quick work of unbuttoning his pants, pushing the fabric back to get your hand underneath.
Your palm finds Arthur’s thick cock, already half-hard from anticipation. You begin to stroke as much as the confines of his pants will allow, causing his member to twitch in your skilled hand. Your thumb rubs over his tip, already becoming wet, and he breathes hotly against your skin.
His rough hands have already tossed aside your shawl and pulled the shoulder strap of your nightgown down for full access to the soft skin of your shoulder where he has already placed hot, wet kisses and slight bite marks. Arthur pulls the fabric further down your bicep to expose your breast which he immediately clamps his mouth onto, his tongue flicking against the pebbling nipple. Your hand reaches and curls tightly into his hair as your head drops back, your mouth gaped open.You are hardly able to contain the moan that is desperate to escape your throat.
The man already has your head spinning. You’d love to see Arthur completely bare again, like you were the first time at the hunting shelter. You want nothing more than to run your hands along his massive, strong chest and arms; to feel those burly thighs of his pressed around your hips. The idea of rolling around together, completely bare and skin to skin, is so tantalizing to you both. But you are in camp this time with nothing between you two and the rest of the gang except a thin layer of canvas. Plus, you had a fire there the last time to stave off the chill air. So your clothing will need to stay on while you are in camp and you’ll have to work around it. Out of sheer impatience and modesty, you manage to get Arthur’s shirt open enough to run your warm hand over his chest and push his pants down to his thick thighs.
Without letting go of each other for a mere second, you both ungracefully lower yourselves to the ground upon the nest of blankets, lips still locked with each clumsy and impatient movement. You manage to win the dominance of the moment and push Arthur down beneath you, his back up against your cot as you twist around and swing your leg over his hip to straddle him. Your hands wrap around his face and neck, pulling him to you as your tongues wrestle over each other’s. Arthur’s hands knead the tender flesh of your sides before running up your back, clutching at the base of your neck and tightly wrapping around your waist.
The first time you and Arthur made love together was sweet and passionate, carrying that innocent frailty of being unsure and exploratory. But this time, that seal of the unknown has been broken already. This time, it is more hot and carnal, a desperate need to replenish the high that you both have already experienced and know is lingering under the surface and waiting to be unleashed once again.
You rock back and forth on the outlaw’s lap, rubbing yourself against his ever-hardening cock. Your mouth breathes hotly into his mouth. Arthur feels so amazing beneath you that, like an addict dependent on their drug of choice, you have to have more of him.
It's probably indecent how much you want him, but you really don’t care. Because you know he certainly doesn’t, and that’s all that matters. And you realize that nothing is indecent as long as you’re with the right person. And that is when you lose all of yourself to the man underneath you, giving in to your desire so completely, trusting that when you fall, Arthur will be there to catch you. You squeeze his face in your hands, pulling him in to you, squishing his cheeks slightly in the process.
Arthur is constantly on your mind. Your need and craving for him, for his hands to touch you, to press yourself up against his strong body, is a persistent ache, especially after that night in the woods. It’s as if his hands left permanent fingerprints scattered across your body. You yearn for Arthur when you are apart, and when you are together, even in the most innocent of circumstances, you just want to breathe him in and convince him that you are his.
Arthur releases the hold around your waist and hastily pulls the bottom of your nightgown up around your hips. He drops his hand between you two, seeking your heat as his wrist rubs against your pelvis with your persistent rocking. With all obstructions out of the way, his thick fingers begin to rake across your folds, basting themselves in the wetness that is quickly emanating from you.
With your face squished against his, a soft groan ushers out of your mouth as his middle finger pushes up into you. Arthur slowly pumps in and out, waking up that bundle of nerves that are nestled so gently there. When his second finger joins the first, you have to bite your lower lip at the sheer feeling of it. Your breath quickens and your hands grasp his shoulders, fingers digging into the meat of his muscles. Your eyes roll closed and you begin to grind down onto his hand as he thrusts upward at the same time, shaking his hand back and forth in stimulation. Arthur’s motions draw impassioned squeaks out of you, eventually pulling his name from your trembling lips to be whispered against his temple. His thick fingers write poetry inside of you, rubbing and curling against that perfect spot.
Just as before, Arthur watches your face and body as he touches you. He is totally mesmerized by how someone so horrible as himself could inflict such pleasure; how hands that could do such damage could still hold something so precious as yourself. He leans forward and leaves nibbling bites along your jaw, making you even crazier with ecstasy.
Arthur holds you so tightly that all of his own anxiety melts away instantly. And he realizes that you are the key; the key to his sanity, to his well-being. His restless hands hold you like you are the missing piece to his broken soul, as if he is trying to mend you into himself. It is here with you, with you entwined in his arms, that Arthur gets to forget the ugliness of your daily lives. The stealing, the killing, the running, all of it; it's a distant thought in his mind right now. All he can focus on right now is you.
You pull back from Arthur’s face to look him in the eye as you lift yourself up a bit onto your knees. You push his hand from your heat before wrapping your hand around his cock. You give it a couple of slow pumps, relishing the feeling of the hard, thick muscle in your hand. You line yourself up to him and slowly sink back down, allowing his size to fill you so perfectly.
Your mouth gapes and hisses at the fullness of it and Arthur lets out a faint whimper of ecstasy of his own as the two of you conjoin once again.
Pausing only long enough to meet and hold his gaze, you begin to move atop of him. You quickly figure out that if you grind your hips in a circular motion, it rubs with the most exquisite friction. Arthur’s eyes become heavy-lidded and he lazily clunks his forehead to yours in a moment of pure weakness at the new sensation.
You move slowly at first, clenching your muscles around his cock as you pull up and down, but you just simply can’t maintain that pace. You are hungry and burning for him, and selfishly you give in to your own needs. You build up speed, each thrust of your hips gaining more momentum. A sharp huff emanates from him as he falls forward even more to lean his forehead onto your shoulder. There, his lips bury into your soft skin and he tries to muffle his uncontrollable moans and grunts.
Arthur doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the sight of you coming completely unraveled before his very eyes. He feels your trembling fingers digging into his skin and watches your face contort with pleasure as you ride him. It's a thing of such beauty, such awesomeness that he has no words to describe it. His head dips lower as his plump lips land to that sweet spot of soft skin on your chest just above your breasts. The sensitive porcelain-smooth skin reddens as his beard stubble scratches delightfully against it, setting your nerves on fire. Arthur clutches you even closer to him as you snap your hips back and forth, chasing that lightning that you know is on the horizon for you.
You begin to moan and pant even faster and louder now. Your hand desperately grasps at him as your arm encircles his shoulders while the other one reaches behind you and pushes against his thigh to support yourself. A beautiful fog clouds your rational thinking as you get so caught up in the blissful moment.
Too caught up.
The lines around Arthur’s eyes crinkle a bit in amusement. “You’re gonna have to try to be quieter, sweetheart,” Arthur muses. “You’re gonna get us caught.” His hand comes up to brush a few rogue strands of hair away from your eyes, before cradling your face and smashing his mouth into yours in an attempt to swallow your bewitching little sounds. But being quiet is proving to be easier said than done.
“Do you want…to stop…what we’re doing?” you ask between breaths, slightly annoyed at the light-hearted criticism.
“Hell no.” He pants out matter of factly.
“Then you try to hush it!” And you grind down especially hard to make your point. His stiff cock rams into your back wall; the tightness of your heat clenches unrelentingly around him. Arthur stifles a lustful whimper with your unexpected movement, and his head turns and eyes screw down tightly. It takes a moment for him to regain composure and he slowly opens those majestic sapphire eyes again to stare you down.
“Is that the game you wanna play, little miss?” Arthur growls out, his expression dark and lustful.
Your only response is a suggestive and taunting eyebrow lift as you continue to bop up and down, completely unaware of the beast that you have just unleashed with your salacious behavior.
In an instant, Arthur flips you from his lap to your back, causing a yelp from your throat, and he is quick to roll on top of you. His intense eyes stare you down like a predator. Those eyes alone can fill you with a need and desire like no other, even in the shadows of the night. His firm lips on your body fill you with fire, and the way he works his tongue over yours could easily make you forget your own name.
Arthur’s grip on you is firm and solid. Not rough, exactly, but not gentle either. He comes up on his knees a bit, and forces his pants down a bit farther on his thighs to give him more flexibility to move. Large hands shove your nightgown up past your ribs. Arthur holds you exactly where he needs you to be, making it clear in unspoken terms that you are not to move. His chest heaves with hunger and you can’t take your wide and shining eyes off of him. He is magnificent.
One of his hands hooks under one of your tender thighs and Arthur pushes it up to your chest. He holds it there with his broad chest as he leans over you, scissoring you as he wraps his free hand around his cock. When Arthur pushes his solid, heavy member into you once again, it stretches you in a whole different angle, leaving you absolutely breathless.
He is in total control of your body now as he ruts deep and fast. The new position pulls on the back of your thigh, but it’s nothing compared to the new-found stretch inside of you. Arthur’s massive hand clamps over your mouth in an effort to muffle your moans and whimpers while he supports himself with his other hand set next to your head. Once he gets his bearings, Arthur leans forward even more as his face sinks into the side of your neck, huffing out hot, humid air onto your tingling skin. And you try so, so desperately to be quiet.
You lose all track of your senses as you are completely overwhelmed by them. Arthur is so handsome, so perfect. He is hard as lightning, yet can be as soft as candlelight. His strong, muscled body encompasses your own as he covers you. The very sight of him is enough to make you come undone if you thought about him long enough. You wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders as you angle your hips upward to meet the pounding of his as your breath races to keep up with his relentless pace.
In a brief window of clarity, Arthur makes a mental note to take you somewhere where you don’t have to be so quiet next time. He took for granted how loud you two could be, briefly forgetting how intense the first time was. He absolutely loves the sounds you make for him and he’s a bit resentful that he has to try to silence you and deny himself that simple pleasure. Your little moans and gasps make him grasp you even tighter; to push that much deeper and to squeeze that much harder as his mind is set afire. The hard ground beneath you digs into your back from his unrelenting force, even with the cushion of the blankets.
Athur relishes the way your body rocks back and forth as he rolls his hips into yours. Like a puppet, you move with each of his administrations. He can’t get over how you respond to his touch. Whether he is soft and caressing or rough and lustful, how can you be so pliable, so accepting to him?
He doesn’t last as long as the first time you were together, being too wound up with anticipation this time. But then again, neither do you with that pinnacle coming hard and fast just as before. Once again, the two of you are in perfect sync. Arthur can tell when you’ve hit your climax first, as your body spasms sharply beneath him and a euphoric yet muffled whimper escapes under his hand that is still clamped over your mouth. He can feel your calf muscle tighten sharply against his shoulder as your toes curl as the orgasm overtakes you. Then, your whole body goes limp with exhaustion, no longer able to maintain the energy to stay with him. This causes Arthur to push even faster to chase his own release. A few more greedy thrusts before he pulls his hips back, releasing his warm seed upon your abdomen with a satisfied grunt.
When he’s sure you have control of yourself, Arthur releases his hand from your mouth, setting it next to your head, opposite his other. His head hangs exhaustedly between his shoulders as he hovers over your trembling body. Panting heavily, Arthur lowers himself to his elbows, cradling you to himself, but trying not to crush you in the process.
Once again, Arthur worries if he’s been too rough with you in his overzealous excitement. But that is quickly dispelled when you lift up to nuzzle your face into his cheek, your arms still gripping tightly around his shoulders. You pull Arthur down to lay overtop of you, eager to feel his warm skin against yours. He hums contently as he comes down from his rapturous high and his heartbeat tries to slow.
“Not gonna lie, but I could really get used to this” he mutters as he places soft kisses to the cuff of your ear and then over your eyebrow. He rolls over to his back, yet still close enough that his arm lays up against yours. You both lie next to each other panting and trying to catch your breath, staring up at the canvas ceiling of your tent. The slight burn between your legs faintly pulsates, leaving you feeling spent and your legs like jelly.
“You’re right though, we’ll have to work on being more quiet,” you giggle softly, turning your head to smile sheepishly at him. Arthur reaches down to entwine his thick fingers with your soft, delicate ones and lifts your hand to kiss them. After a moment, you reach over and grab one of your hand towels to clean yourself before handing it to Arthur and adjusting your nightgown to cover yourself again.
“I’m up for more practicin’. Just so you know,” he snickers as he wipes himself down and proceeds to pull his trousers back up around his hips.
Arthur leans over you to toss the towel onto your cot then comes up on his side, head propped up on his hand and elbow so he can look down on you. In return, you roll on your side to face him, your arm comfortably tucked under your head as a pillow.
“I may never leave the tent, if that’s the case,” you reply seductively.
“You’d get sick of me real quick.”
“I don’t know, I’d find ways to entertain myself with you.” You roll even closer to him and wrap your hand around the back of his head to pull him to you and begin to playfully nibble on his ear.
Another soft chuckle bubbles its way out of his broad chest. “Miss (Y/L/N), you're makin’ me blush.”
You draw back to see his face again. “If everyone else was unkind to you in the past, then I want to make up for that.” And you deliver a delicate kiss upon his nose.
“There’s a reason for that, ya know,” he raises an eyebrow in warning to you.
“I’m not too worried about it.” You run your fingers through his hair and stare into his eyes, giving him the most loving smile. Arthur quietly stares into your face, his thumb drawing softly against your hip where his hand comfortably rests.
“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes.” He kisses the pad of your thumb as you sweep it across his chapped lips as he speaks.
“I could say the same about you.” Another soft giggle leaves your lips.
“You’ll be disappointed when you find out,” he says flatly.
It takes a moment, but your face turns into a slight frown of disapproval and your eyes catch an unhappy gleam in them. “You need to stop this, Arthur.” Getting a little exasperated, you reluctantly separate from him and his warmth and slowly sit up, leaning back against the cot. You wrap one of the blankets around yourself, drawing your knee up to your chest.
Arthur’s expression quickly turns to worry, afraid he’s already screwed something up. “I’m sorry, did I make you mad?”
You look down as your fingers nervously play with the edge of the blanket around your shoulders. “A little. This needs to stop, Arthur. I know you’re not used to being treated kindly, but we really need to change that.” Your chin lifts again as you give him a look of slight admonishment.
His eyebrows pull together in shame. “What’s the point?” he pouts.
“What’s the-?” You rapidly blink back at him, totally flabbergasted. “Because I lo-…!”
And you stop short in your speech, eyes widened. Your heart beats so fast and hard that you can hear it in your ears. It's too soon for you to say those three simple little words. You just got Arthur to admit he has feelings, period. You don’t want to spook him any more than you already have. So you'll have to reel this topic in for now.
All in good time.
“Because it hurts my heart to hear you talk about yourself like that, is all.” You quickly backpedal, tucking loose pieces of your hair behind your ear again as you avert Arthur’s gaze for a moment, hoping he missed your slip-up. Fortunately, he’s so preoccupied with your sad face that he missed the intention of what you were just about to say.
Arthur gives you a guilty look. He never, ever wants to be the reason for any discomfort to you, even if it means he’s going to have to be kinder to himself. You are going to call Arthur out on his bull-shit; that’s something he’s going to have to get used to.
“‘M sorry.” He sits himself up now as well, set right in front of you. He gently takes your chin in between his thumb and fingers. “I’ll try. I promise.” His blue eyes look deep into your own in earnest to try to instill his words and convince you of his intention. He reaches down and takes your hand again and kisses the back of it before engulfing it with his own two in an attempt of an apology.
“I want to show you what it’s like to be held the way you should be,” you say softly. Your other hand floats out to rest over his heart, feeling how it flutters beneath your palm. “You are nothing that I expected to find here when I first met you, Arthur. But you are quickly becoming everything that I have ever wanted. I know you think that you’re full of disappointment. But I promise you, there’s a huge part of you in there that is worth keeping.”
Arthur stares back at you, slightly slack-jawed. His head tilts ever so slightly as if he’s about to say something, but whatever it is catches in his throat. His eyes glisten slightly from the mist gathering in the corners. Even in the golden shadows of your tent’s lamplight, you can see the crimson rise from Arthur's cheeks up to the tips of his ears as a smile slowly creeps across his handsome face before he has to avert his gaze from yours to collect himself.
He places his hand overtop of yours on his chest, holding it there as if afraid you’ll retract your offer. Your words not only cut into him, but they nest there like a seed about to germinate and flower, blossoming into something beautiful for the whole world to see. Sometimes it’s best not to overthink, not to question too much and wonder why. Arthur just needs to stop and take a deep breath, and, as Dutch says, have faith that all will work out for the best.
“We’re both broken, Arthur,” you breathe, your voice gentle and angelic in the quiet night. “But I think we just fit together so right. Don’t you?” Your glinting eyes burrow into him so deeply when he lifts his chin again to meet your smile.
“God, I hope so,” he whispers.
—--------------------------------------------------------------
It’s been several days since you and Arthur have “officially” become a couple. And you are quickly settling into a comfortable routine. While you try to be discreet about the relationship and still have that jovial interaction publically, there is definitely a distinctive difference in how the two of you interact with each other.
The shy and awkward glances and innocent flirting have given way to more assertive touching and possession. You and Arthur have always gotten on well together and everyone else could plainly see the attraction between the two of you, even when you yourselves could not. And now that it is all out in the open and acknowledged, it is as if the two of you have already been together for years.
There is the unspoken responsibility for the other one that is always present; one that is tinged with love and respect. It’s a familiarity that usually comes with time and experience. But it is as if you and Arthur are old souls, already having been tied together since before you even met.
They say that love has no bounds: not time, location or circumstances can dictate how love will present itself. To have rules and restrictions is a losing battle. Like water cutting through the rocky terrain of a mountain canyon, love will cut its way through and carve out a whole new landscape for those blessed with its presence.
Today, Arthur has just gotten back from a two-day stint out hunting for food and supplies for the gang. You wanted to go out with him, but since he was doing more than hunting, Arthur had taken Charles out instead, leaving you safely behind. It was kind of annoying at the time, but just as Arthur needs to get used to you being so nice to him, you are going to have to get used to Arthur being so protective of you. You are a precious jewel to him and he will stop at nothing to make sure that you are safe.
Of course, the minute he’s back in camp, Arthur is called into Dutch’s tent for some damn thing. You sit at the table with some of the girls, mending one of Jack’s shirts, as your eyes follow his tired form lumbering over towards Dutch before returning your attention back to your work. Molly is sitting off to the side of you and looks up from her book as she notices Arthur’s return as well.
“It’s about time they got back,” she mutters out loud. “Let me know when he’s done in there with Dutch. I need him to run into town for me.” She lifts her chin in Arthur’s direction.
You blink your eyes incredulously at her before a hard frown settles on your face. An irritated sigh huffs out of your mouth as you drum your fingers impatiently on the tabletop. You look at Molly and as calmly as you can, you simply utter “No”.
Molly looks at you for a moment, as if confused by your statement.
“You’re going to have to send someone else, or wait until later when Arthur has rested up a bit.” You try your best to speak calmly yet firmly to her, as this is a subject that you are not going to yield on.
Molly’s green eyes flash at you as the irritation is clearly visible on her beautiful face. “What?!”
“I’m sorry, what was the confusing part for you?” You tilt your head at her. “The ‘no’ or the ‘you have to wait’ part?”
“Who the hell are you to decide anything around here?” the red-head snaps at you. “What, are you Arthur’s keeper now?”
“Apparently, because no one else around here is going to look after him. He does everything around here.” Your own voice begins to escalate as you wave your hand at the expanse of the camp. “The least you could do is give him a break between requests!”
Tilly and Abigail look at each other nervously as they watch the exchange, not sure if they want to get caught in the middle of an impending catfight.
At this point Arthur emerges out of Dutch’s tent and slowly makes his way through the camp, the exhaustion evident on his body. Giving Molly a quick scowl, you abruptly get up from the table and walk over to Arthur before anyone can approach him about anything else. You stop right in front of him, causing him to halt and lift his chin at you, a faint smile emerging on his face.
“Hey you”, you say softly, smiling at him.
“Hey”, Arthur counters. The minute he lays those blue eyes of his on you, the tension immediately begins to subside within his body.
You reach out and gently grab his gloved hand. “Come with me, please.” And you lead Arthur towards his tent.
“Um, okay,” he replies, a bit confused. For a moment, Arthur thinks you are dragging him to his tent for some “amorous attention”, but he quickly dismisses that idea when he notices the slight irritation in your step.
Once inside his tent, you sit him down on his cot. You stand in front of him with your arms crossed over your chest, assessing his current state. “You look dead tired.” Your eyes are laced with concern.
“Yeah, I feel dead tired, too. Took me ten minutes to get down from my damn horse, I think,” he complains as he drags his hand over his haggard face that is past-due for a shave.
“Okay, then,” you insist definitively. “You stay in here, lay down and get some rest. I’ll go get you something to eat. Don't you move from this tent, understand?” you instruct as you point your finger at him. “I don’t want anyone asking you to do anything for awhile.”
“Y/N, I appreciate that, but there’s work to be done around here.” He motions towards the camp before his hand falls limply into his lap.
“Don’t care right now,” as you are quick to shut that idea down. “Either someone else can do it for once, or it will have to wait a bit. If I have to, I’ll take care of it myself.” Your eyes are wide, with your eyebrows launched into your hairline and your body rigid.
“Okay, I guess.” Arthur smiles, pursing his lips a bit. He’s not used to someone helping him, let alone putting his needs first. He can tell by the look on your face right now that there is no arguing with you about this, either. Apparently, he’s not the only one in camp that one doesn’t want to piss off.
Satisfied with his submission to your request, you turn and head out of the tent. Arthur just grins, shaking his head at your nonsense. His eyes cast down to his boots, half tempted to pull them off, but quickly gives up with the thought of the physical exertion of it. He takes a long, deep sigh, leaning out on his knees with his elbows, letting the stiff muscles of his back slowly unwrap themselves. He slowly wiggles his head back and forth, trying to get his neck to “crack” and release the tension sitting there.
“Where are you going?”
Arthur hears your voice piercing through the air off in the distance and turns his head towards the commotion. He immediately notices that you’ve caught Sean trying to head over to the tent.
“I was just-” Sean sputters, pointing at Arthur’s tent.
“Nope, no. Don’t even think about it!” you snap sharply.
“Yeah, but-” the little man attempts to protest again, but you just are not having any of it.
“I don’t care! Whatever it is that you need, go find Charles. And you keep your ass away from that tent! Understand?”
“Ugh, fine!” Sean huffs out a pout and stalks off to find Charles.
The sight makes Arthur chuckle in amusement at your protectiveness. “That’s my girl.” He lays back on his cot with a groan and closes his eyes, tossing his hat onto his chair.
—------------------------------------
As the late afternoon breeze carries through the camp, it gently lifts a few ruby and topaz-colored leaves to skip across the cool grass. You’ve managed to keep everyone away from Arthur upon his return to camp, allowing him to rest a bit for once. After he’d eaten something, you discreetly tugged on his arm and pulled him away, wandering off to find a quiet spot. You both know it's only a matter of time before Arthur is called away from you for one thing or another, so you try to steal whatever quiet moments you can together.
You sit peacefully under a tree at the edge of camp with Arthur’s head in your lap. Your fingertips absentmindedly curl themselves in that triangle of exposed skin between the top buttons of his union suit and shirt, playing with his chest hair. His hat is pulled over his eyes to shield them from the bright autumn sun, now starting to make its descent for the day. The sun’s rays sprinkle a peppered sunlight across your nose, gently warming your face. You read your book and hum softly to yourself until you hear Arthur’s soft snores in your lap, making you smile down at him.
Soon, you see Hosea approaching from the side. The crunching of leaves under his worn black boots causes your head to lift in his direction. He instantly halts when he sees Arthur’s hat pulled over his eyes. You put a finger to your lips in a shushing motion.
“He’s sleeping,” you mouth quietly.
“Oh,” Hosea silently mouths in return. He stands there a minute, observing the tranquil scene in front of him. A certain sense of pride and even relief settles over Hosea’s chest as he observes you and Arthur together, sitting so untroubled and content. He wasn’t sure he’d ever see his adopted son so happy again.
“Well, when he wakes up, let him know I need to see him, won’t you?” the older man whispers.
You smile and nod and Hosea quietly turns around to walk back towards the camp.
After a few moments, Arthur’s voice murmurs “I ain’t sleepin’, you know.” His hat is still lowered, but you can catch a glimpse of his lips curling into a grin under it.
“Shhh. I just bought you about another twenty minutes of peace and quiet. Don’t ruin it.” You lift the corner of his hat and peer under it. “And, yes you were. You were snoring.” You playfully drop the hat back onto his face resulting in a light laugh to huff out of him.
He gives himself a few more minutes of calm, but eventually, Arthur rolls himself up with a groan. He casually reaches over and grabs your thigh, tickling it and making you giggle and squirm. He’s slow to stand up, reluctant to move, as his knees make a slight popping sound. He brushes the grass off of his butt and leans over to grab your chin to kiss you on the lips and then your forehead.
“Thanks for the nap, darlin’” He gives you a wink that makes your heart flutter in your chest.
The smile you return is one of absolute adoration. “Anytime, cowboy.”
#arthur morgan#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan rdr2#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x female reader#rdr2 fanfic#arthur morgan x f!reader#arthur morgan x reader smut
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Part one
The genus Nepenthes (pitcher plants) is named for “Nepenthe” which literally means “without grief”. In Greek mythology (the odyssey) it is a potion that wipes away grief/sorrows by making you forget. Named by Carl Linnaeus, he wrote that even if it wasn’t the true greek Nepenthes, it would be for any botanist. He loved them so much and was convinced any botanist would love them too which is cute.
The pitchers are modified leaves and grow as closed bud and sterile until the top opens with the liquid ready to go, the leaf lid (operculum) keeps rainwater from diluting the liquid inside, which can have a pH as low as 2 and has other enzymes to help it dissolve stuff. (Wiki)
I know what your next burning question is: can you drink them?
Luckily other more unhinged botanists and enthusiasts have dedicated a page on their forum with a few describing it. There’s a nat geo article with the author in a picture drinking from one so there’s 1 survivor. One person said they drank (unopened so no bugs) N. ventricosa that tasted like water or wheat-grass. Some others mentioned neat scotch. On a linked thread someone mentioned just handling the plants and the liquid made their hands red and inflamed. I would say the species matters.
Mobile is bugging with links: cpukforum.com, ‘Drinking Nepenthes Pitcher Fluid’ thread
#poison ivy but she’s an actual botanist#poison Ivy comic#poison ivy#poison ivy dc#poison ivy fanart#nepenthes#botany#pamela isley#dc#art#fan art#artists on tumblr#illustration#character design#carnivorous plants#pitcher plants
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Peeta Mellark Headcanons (Modern Day Technology!):
I got inspired by a titkok I saw this morning that said Peeta would be obsessed with Minecraft and TikTok, I couldn’t help myself. 🩵
My Masterlist
Minecraft
Peeta’s your biggest fangirl, watching you play video games in awe.
This inevitably leads to introducing minecraft to him… and it’s safe to say he’s addicted!
You both have matching skins.
It starts off with a multiplayer minecraft world, you teach him the basics, laughing when he dies from fall damage.
“It’s not funny!” He pouts.
The first night is actual torture.
You best believe he’ll be shrieking at the mobs.
“HELP ME!”
*breadboy12 was slain by zombie*
(Although he’s a fighter irl I’d imagine him to be a useless defender in minecraft, but at least he tries)
Would sacrifice himself for you if you were under attack.
After the first night he’d ensure to make a house for you both.
He’d cry when a creeper blows it up.
You thought he gave up building until you see a small cottage made of birch and cherry wood the next day.
It’s decorated with a wheat farm and animal pen at the side.
“Do you like our house?” He types in chat, crouching up and down at you.
Would giggle when he places his minecraft bed next to yours.
Has every cat and dog he can find.
He’d totally make an animal sanctuary for them, after you complain they take too much space in the cottage.
Definitely makes a bakery where the price for bread is a kiss (only if it’s from you)
Peeta is definitely the flower gatherer.
Don’t be surprised when Peeta whacks you, throwing your favourite flower onto the ground.
“For you :)” is all he’d say before running away into your shared cottage.
You think his antics are cheesy, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. :)
Tiktok
Reposts his entire fyp
Definitely the biggest contributor to his 20+ hour screen time a week.
He’d insist on having a matching pfp with you.
If you say no his pfp would just be his favourite picture of you. “You’re just so pretty baby!”
Apart from bakery accounts you’d be the only person he follows. He doesn’t understand why that makes you so happy.
I’m a firm believer that he wouldn’t indulge in the tiktok thirst traps.
He’d probably block the people making them because the only person he wants to see in that way is you. 🥲
If you posted dancing tiktoks of your own he’d watch it over and over again in awe.
“You look beautiful!” He’d comment. (alongside the other 25+ comments of him admiring you)
Would actually go feral if he saw you make a thirst trap of your own.
His response would totally be: “Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure”. It’s inevitable he becomes victim to the tiktok language at this point, especially when he hears it from you.
Results in Johanna commenting under his comments, telling him to go and touch grass.
He’d get pouty at this, it’s not his fault you’ve got him acting out. :(
A big fan of the “things to do with your partner” videos.
“This reminded me of you”
Would tag you in videos along the lines of “which orange cat am I?”
Leads to a rabbit hole of watching funny cat videos.
His favourites are the cat pov videos, but he equally loves watching animal rescue videos.
He’d stumble across those baby sensory videos (the ones with the vegetables) and unironically be watching them for an hour.
Tiktok would also give him massive baby fever.
“Just the one baby, please!” “Peeta no.”
He’d send you many baby fever videos in hopes it changes your mind.
He’s a sucker for the couple TikTok trends.
“We need to do that together!”
Secretly wants to make a dancing tiktok with you.
Has a private folder full of your reposts, specifically the ones about your special interests so he can educate himself on what you care about.
“No way! I didn’t know you were a Taylor Swift fan!” (his private folder says otherwise) 👀
Results in him becoming obsessed with your special interests.
Peeta would obviously be consumed by breadtok, having thousands of saved videos in his favourites.
You’re no longer surprised when you visit and see his tiktok inspired creations.
“I saw it on tiktok!” He’d beam.
Would definitely start a colony of sourdough after seeing the “100 year old sourdough starter” trend.
Keeps up with the tiktok cake drama (if yk yk)
Scared of the yo ho sea videos (he’d never admit it)
Shits himself when you’re near bodies of water and you start singing it.
However he still watches them to tell you interesting sea facts.
Nobody can convince me that he doesn’t religiously watch the Reddit AITA videos with minecraft parkour or subway surfers in the background.
Gets heated when the person is actually the asshole.
“How could they do that?” “They suck!” “I’d never do that to you baby!”
You laugh, a small smile on your lips because it’s true, he’d never do that to you.
Additional headcanons
Peeta makes a world on the sims, spending hours ensuring you and him look like yourself in real life. In his world you and him are happily married, having multiple babies together and a few pets. He uses the sim world almost as a manifestation of the life he wants with you, as he genuinely sees you both spending the rest of your lives together.
Has a private tumblr account that acts as his diary, he often recalls his day with you, and if that day is particularly good he makes his entries in the same formation as a fan fic (He’s just that whipped) :)
(I’m open for suggestions to make more of these, feedback is appreciated!) This is the first post I’ve made in a few years so I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did making it 💗
#peeta mellark#the hunger games peeta#peeta mallark x reader#thg peeta#peeta x reader#i love peeta#josh hutcherson#the hunger games#thg series#headcanon#mike schmidt x you#mike schmidt#Mike Schmidt x reader#josh futturman#Mike Schmidt comfort
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Hii, I was wondering if you could do something involving Ricky? Like how would he (and maybe others) would react to being very loved by their partner? I love them so much and I love your style of writing so I was hoping to get something kinda like this? Thank you so much! <3
RICKY — what is love? (drabble)
GENRE || tooth-rotting fluff
WORD COUNT || 542
NOTES || im not ready for thursday. also, i’m sorry this is short T-T life has been hectic af
RICKY sometimes wonders what love is.
In movies, love is the looks shared; softened eyes and hearts, eyelids fluttering to a shut as smooth lips press against another's. In books, love is the words left unwritten. The subtext behind actions, the lines intended to be felt and not seen.
In his parents, it was a cup of morning coffee made without request. An orange peeled perfectly just the way he likes.
In you, it is everything. You are love.
Your tears are pearls dripping like skylights, your hair like woven threads from Athena’s tapestries. Your anger is a flame and your words are mercury. Your touch is liquified planets, your fingers over his skin like the cosmos themselves flickering over his body.
You love him like a starved man, and he loves you as if you were his oxygen.
“Lovelicky,” You call, voice sweetened with the memories of thousands of forehead kisses and midnight dances. A form of endearment.
Ricky used to read romance novels of soulmate tropes. Of those who couldn’t see the world in color until meeting their beloved, and he wonders internally if that is how you came into his life. For you gift him the love he could never give himself.
He tends to fear withdrawal so heavily he looks for those who he knows cannot give him commitment to prepare himself for the lack. If you show even a sliver of doubt, he will go further to distance himself before the heartbreak can set in.
But you… oh you.
Wonderful, beautiful, breathing, loving you.
He sees the world in color thanks to you— your fiery anger, the red with which blood is made. Your silvery tears the same which fills the oceans. Your sweet smile the green of the grass, and your loving embrace the pink which colors the sky on most nights.
“Ricky, Earth to Ricky!” You call again, corners of your lips turned up ever-so-slightly in a way he could admire forever.
“Sorry,” He says in that soft tone of his. The one which melts your heart.
“It’s okay. Anything on your mind?” You ask, combing your fingers through his deceivingly soft hair. The blonde locks spill between your digits in fields of sparkling wheat and bubbly soda pop.
Ricky thinks for a moment, eyebrows furrowing inward just a tad as his gaze focuses on your shoes left by the door.
Right next to his shoes. Right where they belong.
“I love you,” He breathes out. “A lot.”
You laugh, a sweet thing that tickles his ears like whispers of wind. He hopes, in his next life, he is a star that can gaze down at you for eternity.
“I guarantee I love you more,” You reply. Ricky shakes his head.
“Not possible,” He says.
You just smile. So effortlessly endearing, so little work to make his heart race and palpitate like crazy.
“Possible,” You finally say, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his exposed forehead. “There isn’t anything else bothering you?”
“No,” He says resolutely. “Not with you here.”
You chase away any thoughts that might threaten to tear himself down. You, his own angel, his own downfall, his home and his road and the journey to get you.
You, his love.
#boys planet#boys planet fics#boys planet drabbles#boys planet scenarios#boys planet x reader#shen ricky#ricky boys planet#boys planet ricky#ricky x reader#shen quanrui
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archaeology report snippets
So I'm still chewing through Vol II of the Must Farm Site Reports. Vol I was a bit dry but comparatively breezy, like 350 pages of summary. Vol II is the specialist reports, broken out by topic, and it is. Well. Dense. (I'm on page 1189 of Vol II, and have just reached the section on coprolites, LOL.)
But. I printed off a map of the site while reading Vol I, and have been notating things on it as I read. And so I can do things like. Well, I got to the bit about the beads, and noted down the findspot of the one assemblage of beads that very, very likely was a strung necklace (including the large amber bead, the photo of which in the fingers of a finder is the main image on the post I reblogged about the whole thing)-- and was able to put together that this necklace was probably dropped very close to the likely location of an exit door from the structure. Some of the beads were shattered by the heat, but the amber bead was only slightly charred-- and amber burns very well and readily, as I found out when I had my own house fire some years ago. (RIP those earrings I loved)
More random observations under the cut, and I do mean random. I should write up a proper summary sometime, and maybe I will, but I'm still going through the first readthrough. So this is just scattershot Things I Care Deeply About.
Among the textile finds was a lot of flax. Flax seeds, in caches-- some near the food but others not, likely seeds for replanting the next year. Flax stalks, unprocessed. Flax fiber, processed. Flax spun into thread. Linen fabric.
There was also a lot of flax debris all over the floor. They'd rippled, broken, and scutched the flax indoors. Flax seeds and chaff everywhere! But the floors seem to have been covered in grass and reed mats, largely. And there were live sheep in the houses, who left shit scattered around, much of which charred and was preserved. So I suppose a few flax seeds and some chaff wasn't going to add a great deal to the assemblage that wasn't already there.
The flax wasn't retted.
The wheat had been picked by hand, and then the wheat straw had been uprooted to harvest it in as long a length as possible. The straw was woven into mats and some might have been roof thatch.
They ate wheat prepared several ways, and they seem to have stored it still in the hulls, then threshed a few days' supply at once, then roughly ground it, and only finished grinding it more finely into flour right before using it. In a wet environment this made the most sense to keep it from spoiling. They made the wheat into porridge, dough, and also several pots were found with mixtures that included a lot of unpalatable chaff-- possibly they were brewing this mixture, as the chaff would give the necessary breathing room for fermentation to take place.
The textile remnants were all preserved by charring, so there's no information remining about color. No evidence of dyeing exists in the region until a bit later, the Iron Age. But there were roots of yellow iris in the corner of the building where the loom probably was, and one had been neatly cut in half: yellow iris is occasionally used in medicine, but is also a decent yellow dye.
It was the Bronze Age, and there were many bronze tools discovered-- a sort of "set" in each of the households, like everyone had around the same quantity of tools for various purposes. But there were also a bunch of flint tools discovered. Bronze Age worked flints aren't anything on the artistry of those of earlier eras, but the basic functional knowledge was obviously retained, and I feel like the little flint knives were like shitty plastic-handled scissors of today, you'd get one and use it until it broke and toss it and then go whack another flake off the household flint core. There were flint "querns" in three of the houses, similar in shape to the stone querns used to grind grains, but the flint ones would leave dangerous razor-sharp shards if they were used for food, and in other contexts have baffled archaeologists-- why would you make a quern out of a dangerous material? Here's the answer: They were used as sandpaper. If you had a wooden item you wanted to sand smooth, you used the flint block for it. You also, in a pinch, could flake yourself a new cheap little knife off the side of it.
There were a few human bones discovered and all of them were old. Most of them were in the mud under the houses, as if they'd been deposited just before the houses were built. One was a near-complete skull that was worn smooth with handling, and possibly had been worked immediately after its owner (a young probably woman)'s death to make the base flat so it could sit on a shelf or table. One was an arm bone with butchering marks on it, gnawed by dogs at some past point. There was a vertebra, in one of the houses there was somebody's adult canine tooth, and outside the wall of the settlement there was a bit of a femur that had been roughly handled (possibly deposited from the earlier causeway there, which the settlement had been built overtop the ruins of). Only one bone had charring to suggest it had been in the conflagration, it was a bit of a skull and had apparently been somewhere in one of the houses as it burned-- maybe in the roof rafters. So it seems like there was some practice with dedicating a site with human remains? It doesn't read like ancestor worship, which had been my first thought, but those descriptions-- well obviously their ideas of what was suitable or respectful were different than mine but. They read more like offerings, perhaps. Impossible to know! But fascinating. None of the human remains are of the people who lived there, that's fairly certain given the age of the bones and the contexts. (Another bit of analysis: isotopes of the bones suggest their owners had eaten highly terrestrial diets, while we know from coprolites and fish bones that the people in the pile dwellings were eating fish.)
Most of the collapsed buildings lie in such a way that it's clear they were not disturbed after the burning, no attempts were made at salvage, the site was not interfered with. Except for one of the buildings, Structure 3, which was damaged in the 1970s so we don't have much of it-- but of what's there, several of the timbers are disarranged in a way that doesn't make sense for how the building would have collapsed, and one of the beams especially looks as though someone flung it aside sometime after the building collapsed-- possibly much later-- but before the site was buried in sediment. Either a survivor coming back just to look for one important thing, or a much later scavenger poking around? Impossible to say. But it wasn't beavers, and no other animals would bother with timbers like that. And whatever they were looking for, they didn't disturb any of the other ruins-- at least, not of the ones that survived to be excavated. It is important to remember, as we discuss the site, that given the shape of the palisade and the extent of the quarrying nearby, there were probably originally twice as many buildings at least, if not more, and no trace survives of the rest.
While there's no evidence of bronze casting at the site, suggesting all the bronze implements would have been imported from elsewhere (and their somewhat-diverse origins don't contradict this, though many of them are similar/of similar material), the pottery does seem to be local. The assemblage of pots also all have a fairly strong stylistic resemblance to one another, but are not all made with the same level of skill. It seems very likely that within the community were several potters, some more experienced and some novices, and the work was shared among them, but they clearly worked in close proximity and shared stylistic preferences and techniques. One pot in particular is rather lopsided and there's a lump where the clearly-novice maker thinned the wall too much and had to glob more clay on to fix the hole. They broke a lot of pots-- estimates put it at a pot per week across the whole settlement, a pot per month per house-- and it was mostly the cooking pots that got broken. It's possible to estimate how many people were eating in each house by counting how many eating bowls and drinking cups there were.
Piece after piece of evidence tells us this settlement didn't last long-- the wood was green when it burned, and oak seasons in a year or two; there are no signs of nuts or fruit which ripen in late autumn; the wood was all cut at once sometime between March and September given the state of the sap in it, and the pilings were certainly driven when the water was at its lowest in the winter; the articulated lamb skeletons totally free of any evidence of butchery were probably live lambs when the fire started and given their age and the time lambs are born it was late summer or early autumn when they died.
To that I'll add that I know flax ripens in high summer and the debris of processing it was all over the floors.
Piece after piece of evidence suggests these people were farming on dry land, had largely terrestrial diets. But they were also eating fish, we know from the arcs of pike bones scattered outside the footprints of the houses. There's very little residue of fish in their cooking pots, but we also know they were eating it, and eating it undercooked or raw in some instances, because of the parasite eggs in their coprolites. And the absence of roundworm eggs suggests they did not spend much time in terrestrial living settings; many of those sites when explored show evidence of roundworm infestations. I haven't seen this conclusion drawn yet in the literature but that suggests to me that they came to this pile-driven settlement from another one, if they only spent at most a year here. But that's just my concusion.
I keep not looking at the index of Vol II so I keep thinking I'm at the end and then there's another chapter. The joys of reading a PDF rather than a paper book, LOL. Oh I'm almost at the end! OK let me read this last chapter then. Oh it's a report on the mechanics of the conflagration. Okay. This is the central mystery! Well they say up front they can't possibly tell what caused it.
Other pile-driven lake-dwelling settings from similar eras are known to have been burned down, possibly deliberately, and then rebuilt over the top of the ruins, probably because the buildings would be so difficult to maintain and it would be easier to reuse the prime settlement spot without the debris of old, failing buildings. This was very, very clearly not that.
"The presence of so many items of apparent value and use within the conflagration debris, and the deep, localized char patterns on timbers left to smoulder for many hours undisturbed, when a person present could have easily separated them to extinguish the last burning elements and to save useful timbers from destruction, suggest the inhabitants were either unwilling or unable to respond to the fire, or else unaware of the destruction." (p. 1264)
They think it started in the southeast-middle of Structure 1, and collapsed the roof of it rather quickly but not before spreading to the others. But there are no signs of any attempts to put it out. The smoke would have been visible for miles, even if by some weird chance everyone in the settlement was out doing something like tending the dryland fields their crops were obviously in (there's no way this would be true for a routine reason, you just can't leave premodern houses untended like that, somebody is home to tend the fire and start dinner, that's just got to be how it works, but even if everyone had gone out they would see the smoke and come back!); it's not like there wasn't water all around to use to put out a fire. It starting in one place not many, with no sign of accelerants or fuel caches placed around to speed it, is a sign that it wasn't intentionally set, but it's just plain bizarre that nobody tried to put it out, or tried to salvage anything from the houses, or even just set loose the live animals that were in the houses who surely would have fled (they weren't tiny lambs, they were a few months old, well old enough to run).
Something happened, but we just can't know what. The fire burned unattended, un-interfered-with: nobody was inside. We simply can't know why.
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my piece for @trafficzine!! working on this was amazing, and please check out the zine itself on their blog!
(full work under read more)
"What about... when you reach half an hour, you can kill me?"
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Scott walked towards the end of the bridge in the distance, trying not to bend too many stalks of wheat. It wouldn't be very nice to ruin another person's primary food source, even if he was about to kill you. (The wheat brushed up against some exposed skin, ticklish and soft like Jimmy used to be.)
Jimmy walked just behind him, moving through the wheat effortlessly in a way that only came with experience. He made it look so easy, fluidly twisting around the stalks in a way that Scott was not thinking way too much about, thank you very much. It's like a dance, he thought. "It's like that scene in..." he said instead.
"Oh, Mario!" Joel said.
Scott blinked. Jimmy snorted. Despite that absolutely awful joke, Scott was a little grateful. The stupidity easily distracted him from his thoughts (which he was still claiming were not excessively of Jimmy. Even with his own adamant denial, Scott was not convincing himself). "No! Of Mice and Men! Like that one! He's taking me out to the barn!"
Jimmy grinned, and Scott struggled to not let his eyes stray again from the wheat (it was the same color as Jimmy's hair). Some part of him wanted to go back to a time when he didn't have to stop himself from staring until Jimmy's face turned pink and he had to turn away, flustered. Some part of him wanted to go back to a time when Jimmy wouldn't just not ask for Scott's death, he'd refuse it when offered unless Scott begged him.
Then Jimmy spoke. "I'm taking him out to the barn. Yeah. Look at the flowers."
Scott trailed his hands over the top of the wheat, a movement too delicate for what was about to come. The wheat wasn't nearly as soft as the poppy he'd tucked behind Jimmy's ear oh so long ago, nor the grass they'd laid on and talked until the sun went down and they simply stargazed, content in each other's company.
"No, wait, look at the rabbits. That was it."
Scott felt like flowers would be more appropriate, Jimmy finally acknowledging what had happened between them. He didn't know whether to be relieved that Jimmy was so clearly moved on (a salve on the wound that was Third Life) or hurt that he thought it was nothing (a knife twisted straight back in). "Wow," Scott said, pushing down his thoughts and playing along. "Look at the rabbits."
The two of them walked on in a thick silence that Scott was desperate to break. He stayed quiet, though; Jimmy had put up a wall that didn't make "comfortably existing in each other's company" an easy feat to accomplish. That caused Scott more pain than he'd ever admit.
They slowed as they reached the platform where Scott knew would be killed. He went straight to the edge, then slipped off his boots to put them in his inventory. No use breaking them when he fell and wasting a perfectly good pair of boots. He looked over the edge, at the dizzying drop and the ground far below, then turned to face Jimmy.
Hesitation creased Jimmy's brow, something Scott never would have noticed if he hadn't spent weeks taking in every aspect of Jimmy he could (Scott could probably truthfully claim he knew more about Jimmy than the man himself, but he also wasn't looking to describe everywhere Jimmy had freckles). Jimmy swallowed, grip on his crossbow loose, and asked "Are you sure about this?", voice unsure with something unidentifiable softening the edges. Scott wanted to throw up, insides twisting themselves to cause him the most discomfort they possibly could.
Scott ignored it, and nodded. "Yup. Even though you didn't say 'love you', I'll still accept it." He tried to lessen the bite to his sour tone, but then again, he was known for being petty.
He stood at the edge of the dirt, watching as Jimmy raised his crossbow, grip no longer shaky, and pointed it directly below Scott's ribs.
He didn't know what to feel anymore.
Should he smile, be happy that his death would allow Jimmy to survive for just a little longer?
(It was only a half-hour, after all.)
Should he glare and frown, bitter that his time was being wasted on the canary in the coal mine?
(It wasn't wasted, never wasted, not when it came to Jimmy.)
Should he be nostalgic for the times they had together that Jimmy refused to acknowledge now?
(Did Jimmy forget? Was he afraid of what had happened between them?)
Scott didn't quite know what he felt for the man in front of him. It was sideways to the love he'd given before, upside-down to any sort of hatred that the red in his eyes dictated he must feel, to the left of anything that could be mistaken for friendship.
He had no choice, really, but to let the emotions he couldn't identify swirl around in his gut. It was kind of like a smoothie, individual feelings taken and forced into one, every individual sentiment indistinguishable from the others.
Then Jimmy said "Appreciate that," and his arrow pierced straight through to Scott's back. Pain flooded his senses, and he pitched over the edge of the bridge.
It was a long fall. Two arrows cut through the air as he fell, whistling as they both missed him. If his head wasn't filled with the rushing of wind and his body wasn't focused on the horrendous sensation of having an arrow through his insides he would've had enough strength to think a bit more as his body rapidly approached the ground.
As it was, Scott was too close to death to have the ability to untangle the emotions that had knotted themselves together so tight he couldn't tell what was what.
The complicated mess of feelings bled out with his consciousness, and by the time Scott hit the ground he didn't have anything left to feel.
#traffic life series#limited life#life series#flower husbands#trafficshipping#<- just in case#cacywritesstuff
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— Sweet Tea in the Summer | A. Targaryen *✧･ﾟ
▹ Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader
▹ Genre: Fluff
▹ Words: ~1.1k
▹ Summary: Years have passed and you became a distant memory, yet Aemond recalls all the love he had for his childhood friend.
▹ Note: I can't tell if I hate this or love it, but after staring at it for like a month, I decided to post it. Also, this is obviously inspired by Seven by Taylor Swift. Let me know what you think or if you want more House of the Dragon stuff!
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
Aemond remembered the summers of King’s Landing during his youth in a sun-tinted haze. Balmy air and unrelenting heat. Scorched cobblestone and clear blue skies. Waves crashing against the shore, salt water spraying and lingering in the air. Shadows stretched across the market square, which was bustling and loud.
Beads of sweat would pool at the edge of his face, streaming down and wetting his dry skin. There was a haze in his vision, constantly squinting his eyes in the too-bright light of the sun. He ran from the Gold Cloaks that followed him, losing them in the winding crowd as he obscured his silver hair with the top of his cloak. His smaller frame made it easy to lose sight of, and within minutes he’d all but vanished from their sight.
Weaving through the people of King’s Landing, there was only one person on his mind; the only person he could call a friend. He didn’t fondly remember much of his early years, but his time spent with you was the only exception. The lowborn daughter of a tanner, your friendship with the dragon prince was one no one expected. It was also a friendship no one else knew about. He’d meet you where the Street of Flour met the beginnings of Flea Bottom, tucked in an alley between a bakery and a shoddy tavern.
You’d be waiting for him with a mischievous grin and wide eyes that shone brightly under the sun. He remembered how it made his heart catch in his throat, and his stomach tangle into knots. He didn’t fully understand why your face did that, but he welcomed the feelings anyway.
The two of you would exchange jubilant greetings, too enthusiastic and informal for a prince, yet neither of you could bring yourselves to care. Climbing the shorter buildings in the city, the two of you ran unattended. King’s Landing was yours; the salty air and free world beyond the confines of the city walls gave the two of you a freedom you’d never grasp again. Your raucous laughter and Aemond’s childish screeches were the heart of those summer days.
He pictured you in the trees; you’d hit your peak at seven feet, so high up for a girl of ten, it felt as though the world was under your feet. Aemond was too afraid to follow, and you were too scared to jump down. He’d help you down, chastising you the whole time, yet you’d just laugh him off. Most people his age found him insufferable and a bore, but you never did.
And if you weren’t in the trees, you were in the thick weeds that threatened to swallow your adolescent forms whole. But in your minds, they weren’t simple weeds; you were fighting through the thick overgrowth of a jungle, hunting for lost treasure. You taught Aemond how to scream ferociously, like a wildling that never learned civility. There were no expectations of him when it came to you; he could be whatever he wanted. So when Aemond was with you, he opted to be wild and free.
The day would wane, and the sun’s rays would soften into a dim haze. Overgrown grass and wheat fields that went on for miles became the temporary home the two of you shared. Cross your hearts; you’d exchange secrets that would never be told to another. Aemond loved you from Aegon’s High Hill up to the moon, though he never uttered the words out loud. He remembered every secret you told him and every promise sealed with the locking of your pinkies.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” you rolled onto your side, looking directly at Aemond, who in turn sat up to meet your inquisitive gaze. “I think your house is haunted.”
You lived in a house, and Aemond lived in the Red Keep, but you were too young to differentiate the two.
Aemond’s lips pursed as he raised a single brow. “Why’s that?”
“Your mother is always mad, and that must be why.”
Aemond’s brows furrowed as he continued to stare at the matter-of-fact expression you wore. “That doesn’t make any sense.” Ever dour and a pessimist, your sense of wonder and optimism was a perfect counter to it.
“Sure it does!” you exclaimed, hands reaching towards the sky before you flopped back onto the ground, making a new imprint in the field.
“If you insist,” Aemond relented, unable to mask the small grin on his face as he laid back down.
“I think you should come live with me, and we can run away and become pirates!” You proclaimed, eyes alight with the wonder that came with dreaming of adventure.
“Pirates?” Aemond questioned in disbelief.
“Yes! We’ll do whatever we want and go wherever we want; nobody could tell us what to do.”
“We can’t be pirates. We don’t even have a ship,” Aemond countered, yet despite his disagreement, his eyes glazed over, lost in a daydream where it could be just you and him taking on the world.
“Then we’ll steal one.”
“How do we steal one?”
You sputtered, trying to explain something you weren’t sure of yourself. Finally, you gave up and smacked Aemond, hoping to forcefully sway him to your side. “Whatever, shut up. Stop asking so many questions. Do you want to be a pirate or not?”
Aemond batted off your assaulting hands with a light chuckle following his actions. “Yes, yes. We can become pirates.”
Your expression brightened, sitting up at Aemond’s agreement. “We’ll be the best! Just wait, Aemond, you’ll see! And when you get a dragon, no one will mess with us!”
So bright and optimistic, he didn’t have the heart to tell you he’d probably never get a dragon.
A silly promise made by two children at the age of ten was never supposed to mean anything, yet Aemond held onto it as if it were an oath.
But time slipped by like sand through his fingers. The long days became short, and the cool air became crisper. Aemond lost an eye and gained a dragon; after two weeks of bedrest, he was allowed free reign of the keep, though it would take another month for him to gather the courage to meet with you.
He ran through King’s Landing like he did every summer day and waited at the same spot you would always be at. Except, you never showed. Minutes turned to hours, and eventually, Aemond returned home. He continued to search for you every day for a month, yet he never caught a glimpse of your wild hair or heard the echo of your loud laughter. All he had left of you were memories of a summer he’d never be able to return to. Your time together became like folklore, a memory Aemond clung to while staring at the stars in the sky.
And though he couldn’t recall your face, he still had love for you. The braids in your hair that made a pattern and the freckles that dotted your face; the love lasts for so long.
#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#aemond x you#hotd aemond#hotd x reader#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones#house of the dragon#hotd imagine#hotd fanfic#taylor swift fic#aemond imagine#aemond fanfiction
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wheat grass for mulb
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On agriculture, sustainability of cities, and monocrops.
So if you've lived in the countryside, or even seen a rural village on a map, you know how it's set up. There's a road, the area around the road is peppered with houses, and then behind every house, there's several fields growing grains, beans and potatoes. Most often, there's also a little vegetable garden in the back yard, and sometimes a few chickens, goats, or a sheep. Around the fields, there are forests, and every clearing in the forest is growing something, even if it's just grass that is set to be cut into hay.
It's clear where these people's food comes from, and how big of an area it takes to grow it. It's visible just by monitoring, that for one family it takes a field of wheat, potatoes, smaller area for beans, a vegetable garden, and corn or a similar grain for their animals. It makes sense, these people have inherited the land that can feed them, and they do it. The forests are used for firewood, but also replanted, there are new trees constantly planted, and only old, dangerous and rotten trees are felled.
And then you look at a city, and it doesn't make sense. The area is more densely populated, but there are no fields, no grains, no vegetable gardens, no chickens. So how do they eat?
The answer is – the fields are elsewhere. They're planted far from view. And the food is brought to the people, instead of grown where they live. Isn't that a bit inconvenient? The people in the city don't think so. They make a lot of money, and they can have food delivered to them. But what does it take to produce the food for a densely populated city? That's where we meet agriculture.
In order to produce massive amounts of food, enough to feed an entire city, you'll need a big amount of agricultural land. And, you'll need that food produced cheaply enough, so that when people buy it, there is some profit for you as well. So, you'll want to own a big area of land that is yours to do with as you please, and you'll need big machines, so you don't have to pay for human labour, and all of the profits go to you.
Now, the big machines that harvest food do not work like human hands do – they do not differentiate one plant from another. If you want a machine to harvest your field, your field has to grow 1 single type of crop. Otherwise, your harvest will be a mess, and it will take additional, expensive work to separate usable crops from waste. So, you create massive fields with only one type of plant growing on them.
I remember looking at big fields of wheat or corn, and thinking, neat! That's so much food growing! And it looks so clean and well grown! I don't have those thoughts anymore, sadly. The reality of a whole field growing only one type of plant, is now upsetting to me.
The thing with natural, wild fields is, they feed the wildlife. They have flowers that open even in the winter and early spring, and then continue to produce different types of flowers throughout the entire season, making sure bees have food all year long. They house different insects and good bacteria, they lure in birds, worms, ants, ladybugs, grasshoppers, butterflies, bumblebees, and all kinds of beneficial, lovely bugs. If there's a presence of water, you'll find frogs, dragonflies, and much more birds, who are there to feed on the insects and pick off the caterpillars. You might find a hedgehog, a snake, a turtle in there. All are coming because there are sources of life for them in that field, plants they can eat, or plants that bugs can eat, and bugs are then delicious resource to the animals. Bugs we consider pests, are also a great food resource for the birds and the animals, and their population is monitored and controlled by all of the other animals. Plants rarely get destroyed by pests, or they evolve to defend themselves, or to attract a predator who fends off of the pests.
Now, a field of let's say, only corn, doesn't do that. The corn is pollinated by wind, and the flowers of corn do not attract the bees. They do not serve as a home to many insects, and they do not make a good resource for the wildlife – until of course, they make the corn itself, which is then attractive to the birds. But they cannot sustain life for the entire year. There's only a short window when these crops can serve as source of food.
The area where corn will be planted, has to be tilled early in the winter or spring, making sure every life-giving plant in that area, is dead. Then, corn is planted, and then often weeded or sprayed with herbicide, if any other plant manages to grow inbetween. And they will grow, because no matter how hard you try to kill every weed, seeds are carried by the wind, by the birds, buried deep into the ground, some are capable of growing back from just one single piece of root. You cannot exterminate them, except, by herbicide. And that is what happens in monocultures – in order to fight nature to the point where you establish a monoculture, you have to distribute poison for plants.
After the monocrop is harvested, the field is left barren and void of life. There are no flowers, no food for bees, no hiding places for the insects to hibernate in. Some may hibernate deep in the soil, if they have not yet gotten poisoned, but most will not even bother, as there are no food sources in the area.
Have you noticed how wild fields do not get their soil depleted and poor at any time? Year after year, the wild plants are growing anew, never losing nutrients, never lacking food. And there's a reason for this – the wild plants are left to wither, dry, lay flat on the ground, and then decompose. The bugs, worms, bacteria and insects in the ground use them as a food source, and after going thru their digestive systems, it decomposes and becomes soil again. This way, all of the nutrients, minerals and food they took from the soil while growing, comes back around, creating fertile ground for a new season.
But monocrops do not do that. Once harvested, the soil remains depleted, the waste products of grains are usually extremely low in nutrients, there are no bugs to aid composting, the space remains empty of minerals and nutrition the plants have absorbed. So what do you do to keep growing? You have to buy the nutrients and physically distribute them all over the field, in order for the next year's crop to grow again. This almost ensures that you will have to do this again and again, and that your crops will only be able to feed on whatever you put there, and will only have the minerals you yourself have put in the soil. The soil itself becomes void of life, because it's those worms and insects and bacteria that are keeping the soil alive and healthy, they're creating an ecosystem where plants love to grow, where a healthy balance of nutrients and air and water and compost and roots is kept. Your field cannot do it. You have given the soil nothing to live off of. There is only a single crop, and it doesn't support any life in the soil. It doesn't feed the beneficial bacteria, bugs, or animals.
But you know what it does feed? The pests. There will always be some types of bugs evolved specifically to feed on your crop, and once you plant your crop over several kilometers, you have given them a perfect food source, and they will not restrain from multiplying rapidly, enjoying what you provided. Your monocrop will start getting eaten at a rapid rate, unless, you spray it with pesticide. So you do, you have to, there are no birds, predatory bugs, animals, or any other kind of natural pest control that would do the work for you or stop the pests from multiplying uncontrollably. You have to poison your monocrop in order to protect it from getting eaten away.
Wild plants are usually good at fending off diseases, because they will cross-pollinate, and some will contain disease-resistant genes that ensure that the next generation of plants will grow stronger. Your monocrop, is carefully planted so only ever one type of plant is growing, same type of seed, protected from cross-pollination, same dna. So when a disease hits, there will be no resistance. Your plants will all get infected. If it's a bit too hot, or too cold, or a disaster hits, or a new type of bacteria attacks, your plants have no way of defending themselves, or evolving into a stronger, more disease-resistant versions of themselves. You'll have to develop a different type of plant on your own, and rely on chemicals again, to stop the disease, to save your plants. This is actually the reason why bananas as we know them, are soon to be extinct, and a new variety is being developed to replace them – they've all grown sick, and there's nothing that can be done to save them, except developing a different variety that will hopefully, be resistant to that disease (but not to a new one, repeating the cycle again and again.)
So, once you've secured your giant fields of monocrops, convenient for your big machines to work and harvest, you've started to notice that you have to spray the chemicals on your fields to fertilize the soil, then to kill of weeds, then to kill off pests, then to fend off disease, and you're in fact, spending a lot of money on all these chemicals that you are now completely dependent upon. And what happens next is, these chemicals start getting more and more expensive. Maybe the seeds prices are getting higher too. And now, you're in a situation where you don't have many options. You cannot grow the same volume of food without monocrops, and you can't sustain your practice with ever-higher prices it takes to grow in this unnatural, diversity-eliminating way. In the older times, people learned to rotate their crops, allowing the land to grow some wild plants and recover from the intense use of agriculture, but now you can't afford to own land that you are not actively using for profit.
This is why agriculture is getting less and less productive, and why we keep needing new agricultural land to grow on, the soil is getting depleted, and land unusable. This also caused by the wind erosion and sun erosion. While the crops are not growing, the land is barren, tilled, and left exposed to the sun, which dries the top layer, since there are no plants covering it, and then the wind dries it even more, dissipates it into tiny particles, and turns it into dust. Without constant and consistent rain – which is rarely available, the soil gets turned into dust. This is a hard lesson learned by the 'dust bowl' example, where the agriculture combined with drought created soil erosion so intense, the people couldn't see in the times of storms due to the dust, and would often get lost in their own fields.
Soil erosion and wind erosion can be mitigated by growing 'cover crops', meaning plants are allowed to grow, or are specifically sown in the times of year where the main crop isn't growing, so the sun and the wind could not deplete the top layer of soil. The plants also help keep the soil alive with insects, worms and bacteria, and keep moisture in, more effectively than the barren land could. Another solution for gardeners is mulching, covering the soil with a layer of organic matter, it can be leaves, hay, straw, pine needles, wood bark, wood chips, anything that will decompose and create food for insects, generate a protective layers from the sun and the wind, and keeps moisture inside. In combination with this, it's important to not till the soil. Tilling exposes several layers of soil to the elements and disrupts or completely destroys the established ecosystem inside. No-till and no-dig methods are protective of the health in soil, specifically for smaller areas.
For large areas, what helps the soil stay safe and properly structured is allowing wild plants to grow, which have deep, resilient roots. You know when you grow a plant in a pot, and you pull it out, it holds the entirety of the soil together, just with the roots? That is what the wild plants are doing as well. The deeper their roots, the better structure and stability of the soil will be. Deep roots can draw the water from deep inside of the soil and keep the moisture level even in a drought. Big trees are also a factor in keeping the soil structured and safe, for example, if you keep trees on the riverbank, their roots will protect the soil from being carried away and depleted by the water. If you were to remove the trees, the water would erode the soil of the riverbanks. They also protect the soil from getting blown away by the wind.
There is a problem of decreased availability of water. We have now extracted so much water from our planet, it's getting harder to find water sources for our crops. And there are thousands of kilometers of these monocrops, making sure that no wild life species can live in that huge area that was once wilderness. This resulted in many species being threatened into extinction, if not already extinct. Bees cannot live on agricultural land, because there is no food. And all of these areas are not being used to feed the people in the cities, no. The majority of agricultural land isn't even used to grow the crops for human consumption. The plant products that the people eat is about 20-30% of all of the crops we grow. The rest is growing crops that feed the animals meant for human consumption. And these fields need to grow crops sometimes for years, until the animal is heavy enough to be used as a source of food. Reducing animal products could easily reduce the amount of monocrops we need to sustain our food sources, by big percentages. But, we're not trying to do that. Instead, the demand is steadily rising up.
Thinking of this makes me wonder if big cities are ultimately, unsustainable. Growing food to be harvested by human hands enables incredible diversity, fertilizing with compost, manure, bone powder, fish meal, and rich organic fertilizers that can be distributed over smaller areas easily. No till gardens can preserve all of the healthy bacteria, insects, worms and ecosystems in the soil. Using mulch and cover crops to protect the land from sun and wind erosion, and to keep the moisture in, can stop soil depletion in those areas, and feed and protect the wildlife and life in the soil. Animals can be used as pest control and as a method of fertilizing – if you leave chickens, pigs, or cows to graze an area and leave manure behind, they will bring fertility to the land. But, you would not be able to grow the amount of food that would feed an entire city, not without it requiring a vast amount of human labour, which would make the food expensive, and unavailable to the poorest citizens.
But, we can't get rid of cities, so we have to keep developing healthier and more soil-protecting ways to grow big amounts of food, in order to create sustainable, resilient and secure sources of food for people living in all kinds of areas. Encouraging people to change their habits and eat less beef, lamb, poultry and animal products would help significantly, since the amount of food that needs to be grown would reduce by a lot. Encouraging people to grow their own food, in rich and diversity-preserving ways, also helps cut carbon emissions by a lot, since this food no longer needs to be shipped and transported. Having people understand how their food is grown, what it takes to produce, and what is lost in the process, might inspire them to change their habits, and put more effort into reducing waste. Because even after destroying all that wildlife and diverse ecosystems – 20 to 30% of that food is simply thrown away. Food that people grow themselves is most often, never thrown away, because then it is a prized produce, something they worked hard on, something they treasure. In case of a spoiled produce, it gets composted right back into the soil, making the waste non-existent.
Home grown food is often at least somewhat affected by bugs and pests, and that is normal. It's a sign of the food being healthy, unpoisoned, and obviously a great food source, since the bugs are all for it. I've noticed home-gardeners, who understand how pests work, feel skeptical about the store-bought food, just because it being so pest free is in fact, unnatural. 'What did you do to it, so the bugs didn't want it?' opens up the answers of how far one needs to go to make the produce undesirable and uninteresting to bugs. You need to go as far as convince them that this is not a good food source anymore. And the bugs acknowledge it, and go find food elsewhere. And we often have no choice, but to buy that exact same food.
Food grown for selling in stores has proved to be less nutritious, grown merely for the visual appeal, storage and transportation, rather than taste. This is why, after eating store-bought produce, homegrown will taste infinitely better, sweeter, with more intense flavour and noticeably better nutrition.
What we'll need to do is spread awareness, learn about the cost of our food, and change our habits to make it less damaging on the planet. We can also try growing food. Make barren areas into wildlife again. Build ponds to attract birds, animals and bugs. We can try making diverse no-till gardens where all of the different varieties grow on top of each other, together with flowers and weeds and mushrooms. Make it a place for birds, ladybugs and bees to gather. Make it friendly to little mice, frogs, lizards and butterflies. We might just help save some of the dying species on this planet.
#monocrops#agriculture#unsustainable food growing#gardening#ecology#climate crisis#climate change#plant agriculture#animal agriculture
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Prompt ask: Cuddles
Bonus points if it includes Wild, Hyrule, Legend, and/or Ravio or Wolfie 💜
Oops. Here's 1051 words of everyone's favorite chaos duo (and Epona too!) somehow managing mischief even when trapped in an icy sinkhole.
******
"Well this is fun," Wild said, hands on his hips and looked up at the tall and ice-covered walls of the circular pit they were in.
"I wouldn't call being portaled into an inescapable icy sinkhole as fun," Hyrule said.
"At least we got the horse," Wild glanced Epona who made an annoyed horse noise and shook her mane.
"And we got everyone's stuff too," Hyrule said eyeing Epona's saddlebags. "We should look through them and see if there's anything we can use to get out of here like a hookshot or something."
"Good idea, ehehehe, and we have a rare opportunity to see what cool stuff they've got hidden away," Wild said.
Three raided sweets stashes, two explosions, and one weirdly angry bottled bee later and the two boys found nothing that could help them escape their icy prison; annoyingly, the rest of their companions had kept their mobility items on their person for the portal jump.
“I hope everyone else is okay out there,” Hyrule said making a little next out of blankets and clothes from everyone’s bags. “The sky is clear tonight which means it is going to be very cold.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Wild said piling blankets on Epona’s back. “Probably. Hopefully…. They better be.”
“How thick do you think this ice is?” Hyrule tapped a bare patch of dark blue ice that filled the entire bottom of the sinkhole. “It looks thick enough to tolerate a fire, don’t you think?”
“If it can hold the weight of a fully-laden horse I’m sure it’s thick enough for a bonfire, let alone a regular campfire.”
“Oh? Bonfire time? I’ll start setting it up!”
“Don’t get too crazy,” Wild cautioned. “I’d rather not go swimming if we can help it. Also, you don’t happen to have any grass or hay for Epona in your pack do you?”
“Uh, sorry, no. I only have breadsticks, salted ham, and all of Warriors’ candy.”
“Hmm. Alright. Sorry girl, looks like you’re having only apples and carrots for dinner.”
Epona made a horse noise that was the equivalent of “I really don’t mind. Give me all the apples and carrots you got.”
******
Two hours later, Hyrule and Wild were cozied up together in the blanket and clothing nest well fed and sitting in front of the roaring bonfire with Epona standing close behind on her own bed of blankets laid down for her (sorry Legend, they’re your blankets).
“How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?” Wild asked. Hyrule sighed.
“Probably a while. The others have no way to know that we’re down here. It’s not like we walked here and left tracks or a trail for Wolfie to follow.”
“I have enough apples for Epona to last two or three days at the most, then we’ll have to start sharing our food with her,” Wild said. “I love you Epona, but I’d rather not give you all the wheat and rice I have, which isn’t very much to start with.”
“I wonder if she likes salted ham,” Hyrule pondered. “Or candy.”
“She probably does,” Wild shrugged. “They say horses are omnivores. Isn’t that right, girl?”
Epona made a horse noise that meant “I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.”
“Despite the literal icy prison we’re in, this isn’t so bad,” Hyrule mused. “We’ve got a bigger fire than Time normally lets us make, all the blankets we could ever want, and nobody to fight with over the food. We can eat as much bread and meat skewers and other people’s sweets as we want.”
“You know what? You’re right,” Wild agreed. “Let’s enjoy being in ice jail while we’re here.”
“I hope they don’t find us anytime soon,” Hyrule said. “We’ve only just begun to scratch the surface of exploring what’s in everyone’s packs.”
“Hehe, then let’s get back to it… in the morning,” Wild yawned. “I’m tired and it’s cold.”
“Sure thing,” Hyrule said and nestled even further down into the blankets like a kitten.
******
“Well you guys look cozy,” a voice woke both Wild and Hyrule in the early morning.
“Twilight!” Wild exclaimed disentangling himself from the blanket pile he’d burrowed into. “What are you doing here?!”
“Looking for you two. And Epona. And all our stuff. Which it looks like you took the liberty of exploring.”
“You realize this is an ice-filled sinkhole and we can’t get out of here right?” Hyrule said. “You just trapped yourself down here with us.”
“How do you think I got down here?” Twilight rattled the climbing harness and the rope that connected him to the upper rim of the sinkhole. Sky and Legend waved down at them. Hyrule waved back and Wild gave them a thumbs up.
“Oh yay, we’re saved,” Hyrule said apathetically.
“Why don’t you sound excited?” Twilight asked. “We’re going to fish you out of this hole.”
“Is everyone else alright?” Wild asked.
“Yeah, everyone’s fine. We all managed to find the same hunting cabin and stayed the night there.”
“How did you even find us?” Hyrule asked.
“We saw your smoke signal,” Twilight motioned to the smoldering remains of their bonfire. “You went a little crazy, didn’t ya?” Hyrule giggled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wild said.
“It’s a perfectly ordinary regular-sized campfire,” Hyrule said.
“Neigh,” Epona disagreed.
“Are you two going to get up or just sit there wrapped in blankets like a pair of hibernating bears?”
“Alright, alright, we’re going,” Wild reluctantly stood up and Hyrule groaned and wrapped the blankets around his shoulders even tighter.
“Four’s making berry porridge at the cabin, so if you want some before Wind eats it all, you two had better hurry up,” Twilight said.
“The question is how do we get Epona out of the pit?” Hyrule asked.
“That’s the easy part,” Wild said. “I have horse armor that can teleport the horse. All I—or you or Time—have to do is to whistle the horse-call song and poof! There she is beside you.”
“What? Seriously? That’s so cool!” Hyrule exclaimed.
“Let’s do that then,” Twilight said. “You two get up and pack up and we’ll rappel you up.”
“This has been one short lived vacation,” Hyrule said. “But it was a good one.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Wild agreed.
The End.
#an unexpected ask#ask game#I don't pretend to know anything about horses or horse noises#I remember nothing from my elementary school horse phase#linked universe#lu wild#lu hyrule#lu epona#lu twilight#crack#fluff#stormy writes
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}{ Wildflowers and Roses }{ Read on AO3 }{ flower husbands//rated T }{
Scott felt a little like one of the flower crowns he was weaving, if he really thought about it.
They were beautiful things, things that looked delicate on the surface until you gave them a tug and realized the underlying strength that held them together. They were intricate and deliberate creations, petals carefully arranged to hide the supporting construction of braided stems. (Especially if the stems were bent or bruised in places. Those he took extra care to hide away, adding extra support to ensure the chain didn't snap at its weaker points.) Every movement he took to weave them was calculated, even if by now it was a familiar and easy dance as his fingers took the flowers and spun them into the appearance he wanted to display.
He might have arranged himself into something that looked a little standoffish and flippant to others, but there were things that Scott loved with all his heart, tucked away inside the woven layers of himself.
He loved days like today, for example. It was the height of summer in Chromia, and the sun poured itself over the meadow. With his hat and colorful coat cast aside in the grass beside him, the sunlight rested hot in Scott's cyan hair and melted into the exposed skin of his arms. A few wispy clouds brushed against the brilliant blue canvas of the sky, like a forgetful artist had made only a swipe or two with his brush before walking away.
Scott hummed softly and threaded a stem through itself around its companion. He loved the breeze that danced across the hill, soothing the summer heat just as it teetered on the edge of being too much. He loved everything it carried with it, like the laughter of his citizens as they walked the streets of Chromia, and the heady perfume of the flowers that joined it in its dance. It picked up a few loose petals and trailed them over the wheat fields and the long grass of the meadow, and the movement made the landscape shimmer in the light of the summer sun.
There were so many things Scott loved. He loved silk sheets and pretty clothes and delicious food. He loved his kingdom and his people and his flowers and his llamas. He loved adventure and wit and new experiences. He loved sitting in the warm sun to weave flower crowns on a lazy day. But there was one thing he loved above all else, one thing sweeter and warmer than any other experience he'd ever had, one thing that he kept tucked inside his heart and treasured more greatly than any shiny trinket in his extensive collection.
Scott gave the final knot of his flower crown one last tug and arranged the petals until they sat where he wanted them to, then draped the offering reverently over the chest of the sheriff that slept in the grass beside him. It wasn't the only floral accessory Jimmy had been gifted as the afternoon drifted on; his vest and hat were laying next to Scott's coat and hat, and Scott had taken the opportunity to crown Jimmy's bare head with a circlet of daisies and lilacs as he napped. Other flower crowns trailed over his chest and stomach and arms, burying him in sunflowers and tulips and lilies.
The king of Chromia liked to surround himself with lovely things, but Jimmy was the pinnacle of it all. Scott stretched out on his stomach and propped his chin on a hand, looking at the sunbeam given human form that lay before him. The flower crowns rose and fell with the steady movement of his chest as he breathed. One hand was tucked behind his head and the other rested on his stomach. Scott reached for stems of clover and wove them into a chain, then slowly, carefully so as not to disturb his lover's slumber, he slid the braid around Jimmy's wrist and tied it into a bracelet.
Scott loved summer and shining beauty, so it was only natural that he loved Jimmy, he thought. The sun could be too much for some people. Sometimes its heat was intense and angry, and burned people without meaning to. But it was also warm and comforting, and Scott was drawn to Jimmy like his flowers were drawn to the sun, like something he not only wanted but needed for survival.
The crown on Jimmy's head slipped a little as he shifted in his sleep, and Scott pushed it back into place. The grass around them rustled in the breeze, and the petals covering Jimmy fluttered with the movement. A cloud floated by overhead, too delicate to make any difference to the sunlight.
Eventually Jimmy stirred again, and Scott smiled when deep brown eyes met his own mismatched gaze. A slow smile crossed Jimmy's lips in return, and Scott's heart fluttered like the wings of the butterfly that drifted past them. "Hi," said Jimmy.
"Hi," said Scott. They both kept their voices low, not wanting to disperse the spell that surrounded them. There was no otherworldly glow, but Scott recognize the magic nonetheless. So long as it persisted, the entire world was contained in a little bubble in a sun-touched meadow. Nothing else existed but the flowers and the sunshine and the two of them.
Scott leaned down and pressed his lips to Jimmy's, sun-warmed and soft. Jimmy's hand came up to cup his cheek, and he tried to pull Scott down to him but was met with resistance. "I don't want to crush your flowers," said Scott with a smile against Jimmy's mouth.
Jimmy looked down at himself, then laughed. "Oh, gosh. How long was I asleep?" He set the offerings aside and sat up, feeling the flower crown on his head as he did so. He reached up to touch it and saw the clover around his wrist, and chuckled again. "I look like I've been claimed by the meadow."
Scott leaned back on his hands. "Nope, only by me," he said, eyes sweeping over Jimmy's form. "My own personal sunbeam."
Another smile to warm his heart, and Scott answered it with his own. Jimmy leaned over to kiss him again, wrapping an arm around his back. Scott settled into the support and wrapped his arms around Jimmy's neck, and they lowered down into the soft grass together. Scott loved the way Jimmy's mouth moved against his, gentle and pliant. He loved the way Jimmy's body blanketed his, hiding him away from anything and everything that wasn't love personified. Scott slid a hand up to tangle in Jimmy's golden hair, and his eyes fluttered shut.
A circlet of daisies and lilacs slid from Jimmy's head to land in the grass next to Scott's as they arranged themselves into an easy and familiar dance. It was the height of summer in Chromia, and the sun poured itself over the meadow, and Scott loved Jimmy with all his heart.
#flower husbands#empiresshipping#empires smp#solidaritygaming#smajor1995#file: storm writes things#here have some fluffy summer cuddles :D#i'll let this sit for a few days before i polish it up and put it on ao3
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prompts
A/N: Hello guys!!! I decided I'd send a list of various prompts for you guys to send me as requests. Absolutely anyone is free to use this! There are one word, dialogue, idea and song prompts!!!
One word prompts
hiraeth
lost
catacombs
bloodhound
whisper
broth
brine
froth
angel
wheat
camp
cry
shadow
bramble
herd
pack
wild
runaway
solstice
courage
tracks
woods
hike
firefly
quill
moon
sun
stars
spirit
song
splinter
clear
ice
sea
clouded
hum
jinx
limbo
wire
barbed
spear
sword
breath
holly
sink
drown
canine
willow
twine
whistle
Song prompts
not strong enough (boygenius)
meet me in the woods (lord huron)
cherry wine - live (hozier)
sweet tooth (cavetown)
1979 (smashing pumpkins)
bloodhound (the foxing)
rory (the foxing)
still feel (half alive)
best friend (rex orange country)
be nice to me (the front bottoms)
wires (the neighbourhood)
running with the wolves (AURORA)
the night we met (lord huron)
i’d rather be alone (boodahki)
cocaine jesus (rainbow kitten surprise)
romantic homicide (d4vd)
duvet (bôa)
breezeblocks (alt-J)
me and the devil (soap&skin)
heavydirtysoul (twenty one pilots)
father (the front bottoms)
waterfalls coming out of your mouth (glass animals)
genesis (grimes)
devil like me (rainbow kitten surprise)
rockstar (boywithuke)
bad habit (steve lacy)
my ordinary life (the living tombstone)
notorious (neoni)
nothings new (rio romeo)
lighthouse (the waifs)
step on me (the cardigans)
inside out (duster)
the man (taylor swift)
mind over matter (young giant)
rises the moon (liana flores)
sparks (coldplay)
mama’s boy (dominic fike)
way down we go (kaleo)
evergreen (richy mitch & the coal miners)
yorktown - the world turned upside down (original broadway cast of hamilton)
i love you so (the walters)
505 (arctic monkeys)
labour (paris paloma)
worldstar money - interlude (joji)
willow (taylor swift)
leave a light on (tom walker)
pretty boy (the neighbourhood)
lovers rock (tv girl)
the last great american dynasty (taylor swift)
you’re on your own kid (taylor swift)
ho hey (the lumineers)
stubborn love (the lumineers)
dear arkansas daughter (lady lamb)
watching him fade away (mac demarco)
o children (nick cave & the bad seeds)
Idea prompts
running through wheat fields
running through garden hose droplets
dancing in the rain
walking in the bush
splashing in the sea
horse riding
rolling down grass fields
trekking through forest
swimming in forest creeks
rock hopping
daisy chains and crowns
collecting wood for fire
bonfire at night
walking on abandoned highways and roads
lighthouse exploring
cartwheeling and playing in fresh grass
morning dew and crisp morning air
dirt under your nails
tree climbing
abandoned towns
walking on train tracks
wooden boats
island exploring
baking in then morning quiet
watching movies very late at night
staying up late at sleepovers
corn mazes
wheat fields
frozen lakes
frozen forests
paper planes
jam jars
friendship bracelets
barbed wire fences
blood dripping on tiles
scratchy vinyl music
empty dark cold nights
canine teeth
fireflies in fields
camp cabins
sea shanties
sibling play fighting/rivalry (blood or not)
road trips with loud music
picnic dates in the forest
busy arcades
bookstore dates - the smell of old books
playing soft acoustic guitar in nature
playing fiddle and dancing around campfires
stargazing
laying in bed awake
Dialogue prompts
“please kill me”
“i’m everything you can not control”
“i am the monster you created”
“am i that easy to forget?”
“i will never hesitate to put my life on the line for you”
“stars can not shine without darkness”
“i miss the old you”
“remember who you are”
���please don’t leave”
“listen here pal”
“how much is enough”
“i remember smiling the whole way home”
“i never told you i was falling in love”
“do you want to go wander around aimlessly?”
“you still feel like home”
“no matter what, you’re still my brother”
“i could never hate you”
“let me help”
“help me, please”
“we’re just kids”
“water is so exciting with straws”
“i can’t stop thinking about you”
“get in the blanket fort”
“when they smile, i forget how to breathe”
“platonic love is just as important”
“i’m homesick for a place i’m not sure is real”
“smile more, it looks beautiful on you”
“runaway with me”
“dance with me?”
“come back to bed”
“your bleeding on my floor”
“stars sparkle in your eyes”
“sarcasm is a weapon”
“can we just go back?”
“i miss how it used to be”
“hold me”
“any closer to them and i’ll kill you”
“i’ll be by your side forever”
“are you ok?”
“it’s going to be okay”
“i’m going to cry, but happy tears”
“can i crash on your couch?”
“we’ve got more than two people crashing in our house”
“i belong with you”
“you’re my soulmate”
“hold my hand, please?”
“they smile when you message them”
“i want to live”
“sing to me”
“we’re finally home”
A/N: @techs-goggles9902, @skellymom
#tcw#clones#501st legion#clone troopers#anakin skywalker#captain rex#ahsoka#the clone wars#clone wars#star wars
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