#more forest pennies week

[hollowdeath]

Thank god, another Harry Potter lover! 👓⚡️He really deserves more love! ❤️ That’s why I imagine him and the reader settling in a cottage by the sea or lake (you decide) to heal from the Wizarding War. They find comfort and solace in each other, and yes that includes countless lovemaking. 🥰 It’s just the two of them, so they’re free to express their love whenever and wherever they want. They especially enjoy making love on the shore under the stars after a swim, by the fireplace on a soft blanket, and in the bathtub surrounded by candles. They just need to feel and hold each other to remind themselves that everything’s okay now. You can do whatever you want with this, I just wanted to put it out there. Take care!

thank you so much for this request, i fell in love with it as soon as you sent it! i hope you enjoy!

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader (18+)

summary: you & harry have moved away from everything & everyone to a remote cottage where the forest meets the sea. all harry wants after everything he's been through is to find peace, & he finds it in you.

c/w: smut!!! oral sex, penetration, rough sex

word count: 7.3k

harry was up early. he was watching the kettle boil on the gas stove in front of him, enjoying the warmth coming off of it, letting himself relax for just a moment. the steam from the water enveloped his face and felt nice. it was so chilly this morning. the windows were fogged over from the fire raving inside the stove, the wind whistling through the walls of the cottage.

the cottage was beautiful, harry couldn't deny it, though he could do with a bit more insulation. the raw, exposed stone walls were charming, and the moss and vines growing on the outside were something out of a fairy tale, but the fire needed to be fed every hour or so most of the day for at least half of the year or else it dropped below freezing inside. however, luckily, harry came to find wood chopping and trimming to be extremely therapeutic. just him, a sharp ax, and acres of woodlands to explore.

that was another thing harry could never deny about this property: the land was worth every penny. it's not often you find such a stunning cottage sitting on the border between a local forest and, what was essentially, a private beach on the north sea. the beach stretched at least a mile, but was obscured by the trees just behind the cottage. the land wasn't cheap, but harry was ready and extremely eager to spend whatever it took to finally get away from everything, live a simple life, and be alone.

alone with you, that is.

you and harry had gone to school together until the war, but eventually ended up reconnecting and began casually dating just over 2 years ago. since then you and harry had found complete solace in each other, both suffering from the negative side effects of witnessing and experiencing the war firsthand and supporting each other through difficult times. you were mostly struggling with paranoia and anxiety, and were actually the first to suggest getting a place together away from everyone else. you thought it would help if you were out of reach, isolated from the world, practically invisible from all danger.

harry, of course, was utterly haunted by the events of the war, and everything leading up to it. he gets angry at the world, has bouts of depression, deals with monumental grief and guilt, and has chronic, clinical sleep issues caused by nightmares. which is, ironically, the exact reason he's awake so early right now.

as he's pouring the boiling water out of the kettle and over a tea bag, harry can feel his eyelids fighting to stay open. he's barely slept this week, and he's starting to feel the effects of it. he's lightheaded, detached, and just wants to rest.

as he's walking to the front porch, mug in hand, harry takes a moment to pause in the doorway of your master bedroom and admire you. sleeping, surrounded by white cotton comforters, drowning in pillows, your hair wildly framing your peaceful face. he just stays there for a while, leaning against the doorframe, watching. he often watches you sleep when he can't himself. it brings him relief knowing you can get the rest you need.

before he heads outside harry slips on his favorite quarter zip. as he's sitting on the stairs outside, he admires the sound of the waves crashing just a few hundred or so yards away from him. he finishes his hot cup of tea, closes his eyes and lets himself sit in the cold waves of the wind. it's nice. like sleeping without the nightmares.

the moment is short lived as he hears the door creak open behind him. he looks back, and is in disbelief at how beautiful you look just waking up. a nightdress that barely covers anything at all draping around your shoulders, messy bed hair, sleepy eyes and a smile as you stand with the door cracked open, admiring harry in return.

"morning," you say simply, your voice still soft and hoarse from sleeping. harry smiles at you with soft and loving eyes. you walk towards him and let the door close behind you as you cuddle up next to harry on the stairs.

you don't seem to mind the chill in the air. your exposed skin is still hot from the fire burning inside. you lean your head on harry's shoulder, reaching for his mug, seeing there's nothing left, and leaving the mug in his hands. harry's chest hums as he chuckles. "would you like some? kettle's still warm," he asks.

you shake your head. you want to stay right here with harry in this moment.

the sea is so beautiful at this time of the morning. the sun was up, but only just barely above the horizon. no clouds, no birds, just the waves and the wind carrying their breeze.

speaking of breeze, you begin to shiver the longer you're out there in only a sleep dress. you still want to stay with harry, enjoying the view with him, but he notices you shaking.

"darling, let's get you inside,"

harry sits you in front of the stove and opens the small latch, letting the door stay open as you attempt to warm your hands. harry feeds the fire and rearranges the coals to make it burn hotter for you. after a minute or so, he also slips off his quarter zip and pulls it over your torso, smiling to himself at just how big it looks on you.

you find yourself finally starting to warm up, your toes burying themselves into the fur rug you're sitting on. after harry pours you a cup of tea, he joins you next to the fire. "thank you," you tell him with a smile, eagerly taking a sip of the warm drink.

harry's arm wraps around you and he watches the fire as you continue to sip your tea, enjoying the feeling of it warming you up from the inside.

you relish this moment with harry. since moving here barely a month ago, you've grown so fond of these smaller moments throughout the day with him. watching the scenery, watching the fire, sitting in comfortable silence, sharing a kettle of tea in the morning and afternoon, simply enjoying each other's company and the peace you've created for yourselves. it was one of your favorite parts about settling into this little slice of life.

and, of course, there was all the alone time.

while living with harry at grimmauld place was lovely, there was never truly a moment alone with him there. you had your own room with locked doors, but could hear someone walking, talking, cooking, always something in the background.

here, you were completely alone. a lot of people might find this situation to be even more terrifying, being so far away from everything, but you both agreed the isolation made you feel safer. safe from death eaters, safe from drama, safe from other people.

the safety from being so alone out here also meant that you and harry could be vulnerable with each other 24/7. you never had to put on a face or pretend things were okay if they weren't. if harry had nightmares, he could make some tea and enjoy a moment outside alone without anyone trying to psychoanalyze him. if you wanted to lay in bed until it was dark out again, harry wasn't going to judge you for it.

that vulnerability spread into other parts of your life as well.

you set your mug down next to the fire and turned towards harry who's already watching you as you admire his blue eyes, bloodshot from barely sleeping last night, or the night before. you take his face in your hands and just hold him for a moment, feeling him lean into your touch as his eyes flutter close. "i love you, harry," you say just above a whisper, breaking the comfortable silence.

harry looks up at you, but his eyes are now full of lust. you barely have a moment to process what's going on before harry leans in for a gentle, wanting kiss.

harry's always so soft with you despite his clearly strong desire. you've never been with someone who wanted you so bad no matter how many times you've been with them. everything with harry was like the first time all over again; the same desperation and desire to please that just never left.

the kiss quickly gets heated as harry pulls his quarter zip off of you, making you both giggle at the fact that he just put it on you only a few minutes prior. your lips reconnect in a haste, not wanting even a single second away from each other.

harry lays you down on the rug beneath you as his hands make their way to your exposed legs, feeling the heat from the fire on your thighs. his shirt quickly comes off as well from you tugging at it. a moan escapes your lips just watching his body as he pulls the shirt over his head.

harry's suffered from many injuries in these last few years that have left him littered in scars. and while you obviously hate to think about harry in pain, something about his scars drove you crazy with lust. a brave boy who faced death and came back, now healing far away from the cruel world with you as his lover. it was just another reminder that you were safe, that he was finally safe.

harry smiles as he goes in to kiss you again, his hands going right back to your thighs as he pushes your nightdress above your panties. you're holding his face lovingly but harry pulls away from the kiss to look at you. he watches your expression intently as he starts sliding his fingers over your panties, earning a sigh of relief from you. harry's eyes grow darker the longer he teases you. he sits up to use his other hand to hold down your bucking hips, causing you to whine in frustration.

"patience," harry commands from you in a stern voice. you look up at him, jaw lax, breathing uneven, and simply give him a nod.

you love this side of harry. of course you fell in love with the soft, gentle, careful parts of him first, but over time you saw more and more of his angry, controlling, dominant side during sex that you were completely weak for.

living at hogwarts and then grimmauld place right after, most of your intimate moments with harry were kept quiet to avoid being heard. soft whispering, quiet moans, slow movements, and breathless orgasms under a heavy blanket with the lights dimmed. once you moved here, away from everything and everyone, things were different.

of course, you were both still a bit quiet and shy at first, not used to having a place all to your own where no one can hear you for miles. but, slowly, you and harry learned to break old habits and started experimenting together. a lot.

it seemed like neither of you could ever get enough of each other since coming here. you'd always been really attracted to each other, maybe more than the average couple, but something about being alone together in this corner of the world where the forest meets the ocean made you feel so connected, so in tune, and completely and utterly obsessed with each other.

it started with long, drawn-out, foreplay-heavy love making in your new bed to "break it in", sometimes spending hours each day just entangled together on top of the sheets, admiring the other's body and exploring every part. then it would slowly move over to the bath, naturally, after spending so much time sweating together in bed. after a while the sessions would get shorter as you would both be completely exhausted afterwards. instead, they increased in frequency.

either you or harry would find little opportunities to sneak in a quick fuck throughout the day between chores, or would give the other person head as they made dinner in the kitchen. it was thrilling. neither of you had ever been sexual outside of the bedroom/bathroom before, but you found it completely erotic.

you had yet to have sex in front of the fire, oddly enough, but you had thought about it quite a few times before. the warmth of the stove, the soft rug beneath you, the light on harry's skin, the sweat dripping off of him…

"[y/n]," harry said, snapping you out of your daze. "are you even listening to me?" he asks with a smirk.

you blush immediately, so lost in your thoughts about the sex you were just about to have that you couldn't even focus on what was currently happening…

"s-sorry…" you mumble. "you just drive me crazy," you admit shyly.

harry's hand pushes further into your hips, a groan crawling out of his throat as he glares at you. "don't make me cum already, darling," he growls, his voice deep and rumbling in his chest.

you whimper under his pressure, your back arching as your body attempts to find some kind of release from the growing tension inside of you.

"so fucking desperate already," harry says, clearly enjoying watching you struggle under his control. "if i could resist you even a little bit i would sit here and watch you struggle all day," he tells you as he leans into your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin. you wince and squeal, your heart racing from the pain.

harry smirks at your reaction. he sits up and releases the pressure on your hips, causing them to buck upwards instinctively. a pathetic "please," is all you're able to muster as you attempt to catch your breath.

normally harry wants to hear you do a lot more begging than that, but he's just as desperate as you are at this point and he can't resist you much longer.

harry props your legs up for him after helping you take off your panties, throwing them to the side as he lays between your thighs. you prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at harry who's hungrily looking between your eyes and your pussy. your breathing is rapid and shallow as your heart continues to thump in your chest. even after all these years and all the times you've seen harry between your legs you just never get used to the sight. he still gives you butterflies like a nervous girl with a crush.

your head rolls in pleasure as harry starts kissing your thighs; even in both of your desperate states, even when he's at his most dominant, he's still the gentle, loving harry you're so in love with.

harry's hands find your own and intertwine your fingers together as his tongue begins exploring your pussy. you can feel yourself getting even more wet as harry's mouth attaches itself to you, enjoying how you taste. moaning, whining, hips bucking onto harry's tongue, you start to feel yourself sweat from both the fire and harry's intense gaze up at you.

"f-fuck," you cry, your thighs instinctively squeezing around harry's head. he can't help but moan as he sucks on your clit, practically letting you ride his face.

you reach for your silky nightdress and lift it above your chest, exposing your nipples to the warmth of the fire as you continue watching harry make your legs tremble.

harry's eyes droop in pleasure. one of his hands grabs for your tits and the other applies the same pressure to your hips as before. you let out your first real moan above a whimper, your hips still trying to grind against harry's mouth as he continues pushing you further into the rug.

his tongue's now inside of you, teasing you as you clench around him, your thighs still quivering.

"harry, harry, please," you say breathlessly, begging for more. harry ignores you, instead only going slower to drive you mad. you groan in frustration. he looks back up at you for only a second, but you can see the smirk in his eyes.

his hand lets go of your tits before making its way to your thighs, pushing them away from his head as harry takes a moment to breathe. you're blushing, completely flustered, eyes half-open. "sorry," you apologize.

"don't be. give me more." harry demands.

his hand pushes further into your pelvis, his elbow holding down your thigh as you wince at the pressure.

harry's mouth returns to your clit as his fingers feel how wet you are for him. your body jolts at the sensation, but harry just holds you down tighter. starting with one finger, harry pushes inside you slowly as you writhe under his grasp. your hands get tangled in his hair again, desperately pulling his face further into your pussy.

harry just chuckles, looking up at you as he slowly pushes another finger inside you. you gasp, your grip in his hair tightening as your other hand plays with your tits. just the look in harry's eyes watching you chase your high is enough to bring you close to the edge.

harry's fingers were pumping in and out of your pussy, his lips and tongue still teasing your clit. your thighs threatened to close again, but harry kept them spread open for himself. "enough," he states, planting his elbows into your thighs and his hand against your pelvis. he glares up at you as he repositions himself. "stay."

you can feel your body react to the aggression in his voice. this is the hungriest, and hottest, side of harry you've ever seen. you're already brought back to the brink of orgasm as soon as you can see harry's fingers pumping inside you again, his wrist and forearm veins pronounced against the light of the fire as he picks up his speed.

the moans coming out of your mouth are filthy and involuntary, your mind going blank at the sudden rush of pleasure through your body. once harry's tongue begins circling your clit again, you don't have a chance at lasting much longer.

"i-i, harry, stop, i'm–" is all you're able to get out before your legs begin shaking, your head thrown back, crying out in overwhelming pleasure. it feels so good not having to hold back your moans anymore.

harry's lips detach from you, swollen, covered in your wetness. his fingers continue thrusting into you, gently now as you ride out your high. he slowly removes them after a moment, his hand and elbows relieving the pressure that kept you pinned to the ground.

you're still whining, your legs aching from struggling against harry's weight. they feel impossibly heavy as you try to bend your knees up. harry just watches you, enjoying the aftermath of his work.

you're still seeing stars by the time harry's pants have come off, his cock barely peeking through the front of his boxers. he starts rubbing himself through the fabric, his breathing becoming labored as you watched him in a daze.

you look up at him innocently through your eyelashes, your mouth slightly ajar as you lean your weight to one elbow, using the other hand to take his place. he lets you take over, slowly stroking his erection through his boxers, enjoying his gaze down at you from above. his hand goes to your cheek, softly tracing the curve of your smile.

his fingers delicately open your lips before roughly shoving them into your mouth. you make a surprised noise, but quickly begin sucking and licking his fingers. he pulls his boxers down with the other hand, and uses your spit to lube himself up. you lick your own fingers and do the same, helping guide his cock into you with a groan of both pleasure and discomfort.

harry gradually thrusts into you, letting you adjust to him, taking his time with you. he watches your aching pussy welcome his cock eagerly, your legs already starting to tremble from the pressure building inside you again. "oh, fuck," harry's voice cracks, his hands gripping your thighs as they continue to involuntarily shake.

a hand flies to your mouth, barely able to contain yourself already. seeing harry's face of relief as his cock slides all the way inside you only makes you clench around him tighter. he lets out a struggled breath, his grip on your thighs only tightening as he spread them open for himself again.

harry's eyes are closed in bliss, his thrusts slow but deep, forcing a whine from your throat each time he's completely inside you. he's starting to sweat, his hair hanging loosely around his forehead, arms flexed to keep his grip on you, his body leaning down into yours as he starts picking up his pace.

harry looks down at you. one of his hands grabs the hand covering your mouth. "let me hear you, angel," he speaks gently but his voice is hungry, immediately earning a soft moan from your lips. he smiles, leaning down to kiss you sloppily.

harry takes this time to really pick up his speed, adjusting his position to roughly thrust himself into your throbbing pussy. his hands grab for the back of your knees, forcing your legs to bend back as he only pushes himself into you more.

"oh my god," you gasp into harry's kiss, your hands wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself. harry's forehead rests against yours, looking down, glasses fogged up from the heavy breathing and heat from the fire. he's watching himself from your angle, slowing down his thrusting to a torturous pace. you both groan at the feeling and sight of harry pushing his cock completely inside you and slowly pulling back out before thrusting into you again.

"fuck, baby, you take my cock so well, feel so fucking good," harry says breathlessly into your ear.  your nails dig into his shoulders as you try not to cum again already just from harry's voice. you're both sweating, faces pressed together, the fire slightly dying beside you but still creating a warm glow.

"y-you're, mmph, i'm so close, again," you cry, letting yourself rest back on the soft rug. you feel so at peace despite the growing tension in your stomach – watching harry prop himself up with one hand on the ground beside you and the other still holding your leg back, his chest heaving as he continues thrusting inside you with a growing pace.

harry looks at your twisted expression, eyes glossed over and cheeks flushed, your tits bouncing as he roughly uses your body for his pleasure.

"yeah?" harry looks at you, his grip on your leg tightening as he fucks you roughy into the rug. "fucking cum for me," he commands from you.

you barely need his permission before you're already over the edge, legs uncontrollably shaking, eyes rolling back, incoherent words getting lost in your broken moans and cries of pain.

it's all harry needs before he feels himself release inside you, still thrusting into you slowly as his cum spills out of your pussy.

your body is shaking from the sensation, your legs still vibrating as you clench around harry's cock. he struggled to finally pull out of you.

still trying to catch his breath, harry lovingly rubs your thighs as he watches your swollen pussy ache for the feeling of his cock again.

"so fucking beautiful, my love," harry sighs, relaxing his body on top of yours, his head in your neck. "my beautiful, beautiful girl," he repeats, covering you in kisses as he showers you with compliments.

you just giggle at him, exhausted, trying to come back down to earth.

"i can't…move," you mumble between breaths, your eyes drooping closed as your feet touch back down on the rug. you feel even more weak than before.

harry hums, kissing your forehead. "it's okay, i've got you, darling," he says with a warm smile.

he stands up, slowly, but isn't in as much pain as he expected. his knees are sore for sure, but otherwise, he couldn't feel better.

he leans down to help you sit up, guiding your body into his arms as he picks you up bridal style, your head resting in his chest. you giggle again but you're too weak to reject the gesture. he carefully carries you to the bathroom just down the hall from the living room.

harry runs you both a warm bath as you watch from the counter. he's still naked, as are you, but it's not awkward or sexual – it's just natural.

he shuts the water off and reaches for you once again. "i'm okay now," you insist, standing from the counter and steadying yourself with his hands. he still helps you walk to the tub before helping you climb inside. the water's extremely hot, but it feels so nice on your sweaty, aching skin.

"i'll be right back, gotta feed the fire, just wait for me, yeah?" harry says before he dips out of the bathroom.

looking around you as you warm the rest of your body with the water, you notice the candles sitting around the tub from the last time you both took a bath together. just the flash of the memory through your brain is enough to make your stomach twist into knots again. harry had you bent over the side of the tub as water splashed everywhere, the feeling of freedom and carelessness intoxicating you both as you cared about nothing but each other's highs.

with a flick of your wet hand, you light all the candles again, and the room is lit with a warm glow. it's not often you use magic anymore, harry prefers to do things manually now that you're both caring for a piece of land, but the convenience of certain spells are too useful to forget completely.

walking back in, harry smirks at all the candles being lit. he admires you for a moment, naked, sweaty, half submerged in the huge clawfoot bathtub surrounded by the glow of the candles. "trying to insinuate something, love?" harry asks, closing the bathroom door behind him.

you blush, curling your knees into your chest. "just thought it'd be nice to have some light," you say softly.

harry grabs you both towels and sets them next to the tub before climbing in himself. he positions himself behind you, holding your body as he guides you to relax into his chest. once you laid your head back, you and harry sat in comfortable, warm silence for a long while.

it takes a few minutes before harry's hands begin rubbing at your stomach, slowly, making ripples throughout the water as you lower your knees, letting harry comfort you. he's humming softly, your head rumbling in his chest. he rests his head next to your own and watches his hands from your perspective.

his rubbing gets further and further down your stomach, running his hands along your waist and hips before finally grabbing at your inner thighs roughly. you let out a pathetic whimper, watching his hands from above the water.

"is it bad that i already need you again?" harry chuckles, half joking but half already turned on. you shake your head quickly, your hips thrusting up for relief, moaning at his words. "no, need you, please," you respond desperately, looking over at him.

harry's eyes are darker once more, watching as his hands gradually move to your sensitive pussy. you groan in response, but harry quickly kisses you to cover it. "i know, baby, just let me take care of it," he says into your lips.

slowly circling your clit with soft fingers, harry watches as your eyes droop more and more from the building pleasure. eventually his fingers are back inside of you, gently pumping in and out. his head turns back to your body as he watches you react to him. his other hand goes for your tits, grabbing one roughly from just above the surface of the water.

while it feels good being teased you're insanely desperate for harry once again. your hand reaches behind you, feeling harry's growing erection against your back. harry's grip on you tightens as your hand starts stroking his cock slowly under the water.

"fucking dirty girl," he groans under his breath, taking his fingers out of your pussy to continue rubbing your clit. you cry out at the loss of feeling, your hand squeezing around harry as he just enjoys the feeling.

soon, harry's moved your hips to align with his, your arms holding your body up on either side of the tub as you slowly insert harry back inside your pussy once again. the familiar feeling is only enhanced by being underwater, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease as you adjust to the feeling.

"oh my god," you sigh, your stomach already tightening, thighs still a bit shaky. harry's guiding your hips expertly, groaning in pleasure watching your ass dip in and out of the water onto his lap. his head is resting against the edge of the tub, mind blank, solely focused on your pleasure and his.

"fuck, harry," you whimper again, rolling your hips around on his cock before thrusting it inside you again. harry wishes you could see just how sexy you look from this angle, your hair flowing down your back, your skin glistening in the candlelight, the water droplets running down your hips, it's enough to make him resist the urge to finish already.

"you're so perfect," harry groans. he smacks your ass, slapping the water with it, causing you to squeal and quicken your pace. the same filthy moans are still spilling from your mouth, hardly able to contain yourself in this situation. something about using the time meant to help each other clean up to only continue fucking makes you feel so dirty, so used, and it's driving you crazy.

harry suddenly stops you, much to your disappointment, and tells you to trust him. "just get out and stand up," he says.

you do as he says, and eventually harry has you bent over the bathroom counter, barely lit by the candles behind you. he slowly returns his cock inside of you, your bodies dripping water everywhere.

as harry's thrusts become more consistent, one hand grabs for your shoulder and the other for your damp hair. he forces your face to look in the mirror, your eyes barely open from the pleasure. "watch," he commands. your eyes shot open at his voice, tracing the shape of your shadows in the mirror in front of your face.

harry loses himself in you, his head rolling back in pleasure hearing you struggle to take his cock for a second time. you're trying to moan, say anything at all, but your voice is incomprehensible as harry only becomes rougher with you.

"god damn it, [y/n]," harry spits out, his voice clearly exhausted. his hands travel back to your tits, pulling you back up into him as he continues pounding into you from behind. you're a mess in his hands as they roughly grope your tits.

"look at you," harry growls into your neck, looking into the mirror just in front of you as his gaze meets yours. "so fucking sexy,"

your hands desperately grip the edge of the counter for balance, your legs getting more and more weak by the second. harry pushes you further over the counter, his moans becoming urgent.

"i'm gonna fill you up because you're fucking mine, yeah? look at this perfect body of yours," harry's voice strains, his sweaty chest against your back as he forces you to continue watching yourself get pounded in the mirror, one arm over your chest and the other holding your hips. the light of the candles is just enough to let you see harry's dark expression. "fucking perfect, just for me,"

you haven't been able to get a single word out, your mind spinning as harry only gets more and more desperate, his pace getting sloppy.

"fuck, baby, just be good for me and let me cum inside your tight little pussy, hm? let me show you what's mine,"

you're already starting to cum just from harry's words. the overwhelming pleasure racks your body harshly as harry continues to use you for himself. shaking, barely able to stand without his help, your voice is breaking as you cry out in ecstasy for the third time just this morning.

harry's barely able to last much longer. his thrusts have slowed to uneven, jerky motion as he feels his cum spilling deep inside you. breathy moans and aching bodies, harry rests against you with your body limp against the counter. he lifts his head from your neck to kiss your skin softly, everywhere, slowly helping guide you back to the tub for a second time. your legs are weaker than before and you're barely able to contribute as harry leans you into the water, still kissing your damp skin.

"i love you, i love you," he's mumbling between kisses.

you're too weak and dizzy to respond in any way, still trying to catch your breath as harry begins cleaning your skin. he rubs a soft rag along your chest, neck, back, shoulders, and arms. the whole time he's complimenting you lovingly, a gentle touch and warm gaze upon your tired face.

after washing himself, harry also dries you off, carrying you back to bed before getting you both dressed in comfortable, warm pajamas. "just rest for today, my love," he told you as he laid you down. you reach for his hands. "stay?"

harry smiles. you didn't have to ask, it was literally his bed too, but he admires how soft and innocent you are in this moment. though he loves to be rough with you like he just was, there's nothing more special in the world to him than the gentleness between you two. his whole life has been nothing but challenges, setbacks, problems, and you're everything but. he just wants to be soft and gentle with you.

harry climbs under the sheets, his body also succumbing to the ache and exhaustion. he wraps himself around you, already falling asleep against his chest. harry joins not long after, finally getting his much needed sleep without the threat of his nightmares.

a few weeks later it's just a bit warmer out than it has been, so you and harry immediately started the day doing outdoor chores while you could. harry was chopping wood as you cleaned up around the cottage garden. it was too cold most of the year to grow much of anything out of it, but you still liked to keep it manageable for the smaller animals that stopped by to look around.

you also took the time to admire harry, shirtless, sweaty, groaning each time he drops the ax into another cut of firewood. his body had become well built from all the manual labor he's been doing lately, carrying entire trunks or stumps of trees out of the forest, lifting heavy bags of mulch and dirt for you, digging out the flower bed around the cottage, he was more muscular and toned than you'd ever seen him. it never mattered what harry's body looked like to you, you always found him attractive no matter what, but you couldn't deny that his toned back and broad shoulders got you more worked up than usual lately.

it was nice getting to work on the home with each other, a comfortable silence filling the day broken by the occasional question, favor, kiss, or compliment. it was peaceful, this routine you both had, and it felt so natural to work with each other. you hardly had to communicate your ideas because you were often thinking the same things.

tea in the morning, chores once the sun is out, taking a dip in the ocean at sunset, and having a warm home cooked dinner in the dark, the cottage lit from within from candles and the fireplace. it was perfect. for both of you.

and, of course, the sex had never slowed down as well.

you had both joked at the beginning of your move that you didn't think you could ever stop yourselves now that you were isolated from the world, but that's exactly what ended up happening. neither of your desires could be relieved no matter how many times you tried. not that you wanted them to go away by any means, it was just overwhelming, the feral need to spend hours each day pleasuring each other in every way possible. it was always passionate and desperate for more, never becoming repetitive or any less exciting. it was exactly what you both needed and wanted all the time.

as the sun was setting for the day, you and harry sat together and shared an orange you had gotten at the market just a few miles away earlier that week. you were lucky to be close enough to something that offered fresh produce, even in the colder parts of the year. harry watched the waves crashing against the sand, his knees to his chest as you both steady yourself on a large rock between the cottage and the water.

"thank you," harry says softly. you look over at him, his hands now empty as he's swallowing the last of his orange slices. you finish yours as well. "of course," you respond.

harry shakes his head. "no. really. thank you, [y/n], for everything." he says, still watching the sea. you blush, giving him a soft smile before turning to watch it as well. "i'm finally, really, truly happy. for the first time in my life, i feel at peace." harry explains, still speaking softly just over the crashing waves.

you could cry just from harry's words. all you've ever wanted was for him to feel safe. he's had such a difficult start in life and didn't deserve what happened to him, or what he was forced to do. he deserved simplicity. a normal life in a normal home doing normal chores. he deserved to be happy.

overcome with love, you stand from the rock and grab harry's hand, pulling him with you. he silently follows you down the beach. once you're a few yards away from the shore, you pull down the straps of the dress you had been working in off your shoulders, letting the material slide right off your body and onto the sand as you continue heading towards the water.

you turn to look at harry, and he's stunned at how beautiful you are. the shape of your body against the warm sunset over the water, nothing but a pair of panties covering your sweaty skin. your hair was flowing in the salty breeze of the ocean, hands reaching for his as your feet began to touch the water.

harry's ripped and dirty blue jeans come off as well as his glasses, leaving them behind on the sand as he grabs for your hand. you walk into the water together, slightly shivering from the lingering chill beneath the warm surface, but quickly adjusting to the temperature. harry's only admiring you, like he always does, as you dip your head under the water and come up, pushing the hair out of your face.

harry does the same, wiping his face of the sweat and dirt that's collected over the work day with the salty water. this has become one of his favorite parts of your routine together, cooling off in the ocean after a long day. not just to wash off the sweat and stress of the day, but also to admire you in all your glory under the shining sun.

harry wastes no time reaching for you, pulling you into him as you float in his grasp. he holds you for a moment, mesmerized by the light in your eyes, a smile permanently fixed on his face. "my beautiful girl," he reminds you, his forehead leaning against yours. you hum, reaching your hands to his neck as you pull him in for a heated kiss.

you've had sex in the ocean a few times now, and it's quickly become one of your favorites. it's the ultimate form of freedom being naked together making love in the gentle waves, harry holding you around his waist as he hugs your body into his.

most nights you're both too tired from working to go further than sloppy making out and feeling each other up; but other nights, like tonight, you're both too desperate to care if it hurts.

as harry continues kissing you he carries you back to the shore, your legs still around his waist as he lays you down onto the sand. the water just barely washes over harry's legs as it meets the shoreline. you relax into the warm sand beneath you, harry already pulling your panties off. you giggle at his eagerness. he smirks, his hands gripping your waist hungrily.

you can see harry's erection through his soaking wet boxers barely hanging off his hips. just as eagerly, you pull them down for him as he kicks them to the side.

harry easily slides his cock inside of you, letting out a struggled sigh of relief at the feeling. no matter what's going on around him, harry will always feel perfectly in place when he's inside of you.

your hands are tangled in his wet hair, gripping tighter as he bottoms out. he moans desperately, leaning in for another kiss. his pace evens out to a familiar rhythm, your body wrapping around him as he fucks you into the wet sand. the warm sunset is perfectly met with the chilly breeze of the water that's still waving over both of you gently. each time it gives you shivers, your body arching into harry's from the shocking feeling.

harry's not sure if he's ever wanted to finish this quickly before. it was so perfect, this moment, the sun, the waves, you. he just couldn't believe this was his life. making love to the most beautiful girl in the world where the land meets the sea. he never thought life could be this simple and beautiful, but with you it was effortless.

he pulled away from the kiss to simply look at you, eyes drooping, cheeks blushing, eyebrows pinched together in desperation. he smiled. "i love you," he says so simply, his thrusts beginning to stutter against you. you smile back, eyes still half open. "love you, harry, so much," you manage to say between heavy breaths.

you pull him back in for a kiss, and feel his body weaken on top of you, leaning on his elbows for support in the uneven sand. "baby, baby," he tries to warn you, but you just continue kissing him and wrap your legs back around his waist, pulling him deeper into your pussy.

he completely unravels, pumping his cum inside you as he cries against your lips. "fuck," he keeps groaning in a broken voice. you can feel yourself letting go as well, your thighs squeezing around harry's waist as the water crashes into your body again, making you shake even more.

you both enjoy the moments after your climaxes together, letting the water continue to run over you as the sun's light falls below the horizon. harry, still inside you, his body resting on top of yours, tells you he loves you in the softest, sleepiest voice he can manage.

you kiss his head, reminding him how much you love him.

you both eventually sit up, covered in sand, and chuckle to each other about it. harry invites you back into the water where he washes you off, giving you a loving kiss under the dim sky.

he continues holding you there in the gentle waves, the emerging stars lighting the sky above you. he's a bit cold now, but he couldn't be more warm inside. harry just loves you and the little life you've built with him here on the sea. he feels happy, loved, and completely at peace in the ocean with you in his arms.

#harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #golden trio #harry potter au #harry potter fluff #harry james potter #harry potter x y/n #harry potter imagine #harry james potter smut #harry james potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #harry potter headcanon #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter fluff #harry james potter oneshot #hp fluff #hp smut #hp fanfiction #hp marauders #hp fanfic #harry potter smut #harry potter x you #smut #fanfic #mine #marauders fandom #x reader

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 7

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

(1 2 3 4 5 6)

Chapter Summary: Dustin spills the beans, and Wayne gives some advice.

A/N: Happy New Year! I ran out of steam there for a while but I am bursting with new inspiration and have a billion ideas for new and old fics! Thank you for your patience and support 💜

The next night after dropping you off at home, there was a storm the likes of which Hawkins had never seen. Lightning lit up the sky through the night like a shitty rave, knocking out the power for Forest Hills Trailer Park for the better part of two days. It wasn’t until Saturday, when Eddie attempted to check in on Ronnie again, that he realized that their worn out phone had been completely fried. Shit.

Getting a new one was easier said than done, Eddie and Wayne had to pinch pennies this week after his uncle had been out of work a few days because of a cold, and having to replace a good chunk of groceries that had gone bad sitting in the dead fridge.

Sure, Bev had been nice enough to give Eddie a few extra shifts at the Hideout to help cover but that was a paycheck that wasn’t going to be in for another week. There was always his dealings, but he’d been keeping his head down after nearly having his stash blown by an over enthusiastic K-9 unit that, thankfully, was more interested in the jerky that Eddie had in his jacket.

For a week, he’d been without a phone now. Normally it wasn’t a huge loss, not many people actually bothered trying to call him anyway, and Wayne didn’t really socialize much working the night shift. But he missed Ronnie, and he really was stressing each day that went by that he didn’t call you. Eddie knew that whatever this was, he was probably already blowing it.

Tuesday rolled around again, and he hoped that you’d show back up to the Hideout. Jeff had even agreed to give most of the band a ride if Eddie agreed to haul their equipment and do all of the breakdown in case you needed another ride home. No such luck though, unbeknownst to him Keith had come down with the same cold that his Uncle Wayne had the week before, meaning you had to work a double.

It was now Friday, over a week since you’d written your name in the most stubborn permanent marker he’d ever come across. Your name still stained his skin in a faint and ugly shade of pea green. Eddie could now say your number by memory, despite never having punched in the digits once. If anyone at school had noticed that Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson had a girl's name on his arm, they didn’t say anything.

“Whose number is that?” Mike asked in the middle of a time out while Zach and Gareth were pouring over the rule book over the legality of a move that Eddie was sure was bullshit. So much for that.

Eddie’s head snapped over to the freshman while those in Corroded Coffin snickered and suddenly lost interest in the rules for the moment. With the candles and stage lights on, it was always warm in the Hellfire room, and Eddie had stripped his jacket giving his arms a chance to breathe while he guided the party on their next adventure.

It had also meant that the faded remains of your number was still visible, which he hadn’t thought much of until Mike had pointed it out.

“Yeah, Eddie, whose number is it?” Jeff snickered, which earned a hard look from Eddie that under any other circumstances would have shut Jeff up but in this case only made him laugh harder.

For a moment he debated internally about putting his jacket on, and telling them all to shove it. It was tempting, very tempting, but Eddie wasn’t a teen anymore. Hell, he had a good two to three years on most of the members in this club. Why should he be embarrassed because a cute girl had some sort of interest in him?

Because you’re blowing it by not being able to call her. He told himself.

Eddie then told the table about how you’d given him your number right before he dropped you off. How you’d been a perfect gentleman and hadn’t taken advantage of him or made any untowards moves to him. (Even if he had thought you almost did, but he kept that part to himself).

To his surprise, the ribbing was kept to a minimal. Without Eddie fighting against it, the group became less interested. Eddie’s love life was only of interest when it meant that the sheep could finally have some fun with the shepard.

That was going to be the end of it. Jeff had conceded that the rule they were looking up had been an old house rule from his middle school group that he had never questioned as not actually being accurate, and they were ready to move on. Eddie opened his mouth to guide the party to the next encounter-

“I thought you said you weren’t interested in her.” Dustin suddenly said. Eddie had thought that the shrimp had been suspiciously quiet for the past few minutes.

“If that was him not interested then I’m quitting Hellfire to be a cheerleader.” laughed Gareth.

“No one wants to see you in a miniskirt, man.” said Mike.

“They have guy cheerleaders!” protested Gareth. “I’d wear the pants.”

“That’d be a first.” ribbed Zack.

“Don’t you have to be crazy strong to be a cheerleader? Gareth, your strength stat sucks.”

“I haul my own drumset every week!”

“Can we get back to the game?”

“Eddie,” Dustin spoke up again. His brows were furrowed and he was messing with his pencil, the same way he did when someone in the party was about to do something that didn’t make any sense. “You did say you weren’t interested.”

So much for Eddie’s love life being of no interest, he now had a herd of sheep looking at him expectantly, no longer talking about Gareth possibly changing after school activities. He should ignore it, get everyone back on track, and lead them back into the Forbidden Caves where he was not tempted to throw a mimic in for messing with the flow of the game.

He should... but Dustin’s comment bugged him for some reason.

“I never said that.” Eddie said, looking at the kid.

“What? Yeah you did!” Dustin looked as shocked as Eddie felt. When had he ever said he wasn’t interested in you?

“Oh yeah, when?” Eddie crossed his arms and leaned back in his throne, his eyes narrowing.

“At the arcade!” Dustin sounded frustrated. “You told me that you didn’t want me introducing you to anyone when we were doing Hellfire related shit, and that you weren’t interested anyway.”

The warmth from the candles and stage lights were nothing compared to the heat of everyone’s eyes on him. What the fuck was Henderson even talking about?

Oh. Oh what the fuck?!

“Excuse me?” Eddie said slowly as that thirty second conversation started to play in his mind.

“Yeah, I remember that.” Mike added, in an attempt to back up his friend. “We just assumed she wasn’t your type.”

Eddie hadn’t been looking to be anyone’s boyfriend. He was never looking to be dating anyone, the few times he’d found himself in the good graces of a girl who’d shown interest in him it had always blown up in his face.

That had never stopped him from trying though.

“Are- wait. Back up.” Eddie stood up and made his way over to the opposite end of the table where the freshmen were suddenly looking very nervous. He grabbed them by the shoulders, as he’d done so many times in the past and hauled them up while the rest of the table watched on in amusement. Normally, Eddie would never pause the game but, fuck it. This kid had something to do with you, and he was going to figure out what.

“Jesus, Eddie-” Mike said, wincing at the grip. “I don’t have anything to do with this, it was all Dustin and Steve!”

This was getting more and more confusing by the moment. Eddie shoved the two boys to face them, leaning over them. Even with Mike’s growth spurt over the past few months, somehow Eddie still seemed to tower over them.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice was slow, trying to understand why that name was even being spoken in the private sanctuary away from jocks.

“Yes, Steve! They’re like, best friends or something! Ask Dustin!” Mike said, throwing his friend under the bus.

“What’s the big deal?!” Dustin asked, looking between Mike and Eddie with a look of bewilderment.

“Henderson, you have thirty seconds to explain what the actual Hell is going on before your character becomes Quasit food.” Eddie said, releasing his grip on both of the freshmen.

“Okay, okay!” Dustin held his hand up in surrender, looking nervous as everyone watched the scene unfold. “So, you know how her and Steve work together? Well, they had a deal going on where they’d help get each other dates.”

Eddie’s head tilted down slightly, but his eyes stayed firmly focused on Dustin. This was making less and less sense by the minute. Steve needed help getting dates? King Steve of Hawkins High who had the pick of any girl in school before he graduated? That Steve Harrington couldn’t get a date and so had recruited you into helping him?

And you, you with the everything about you couldn’t get a date either? Hadn’t you mentioned something about that before, at the Hideout?

“I help him and he uh... he helps me get out of the house.”

You’d said that, and he hadn’t thought much of it until now. All this time, Eddie had thought the arcade incident had been Dustin trying to have his two older male friends meet and be friends, but it had been you that he was supposed to meet?

“So you’re telling me that you, Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington were trying to set me up on a date?” Eddie looked over at the rest of the table that looked just as bewildered as he did. This was a prank, right? He’d been tossed into some sort of alternate dimension where a freshman and a jock had any sort of interest in his love life, in any part of his life. He’d sooner believe that he’d run a drug deal with Chrissy Cunningham than this.

“Well, technically we were trying to set her up on a date and you seemed like a good fit?” Dustin’s answer came out as more of a question, leaving Eddie’s mind reeling. Behind him, he could hear the growing snickers of the party.

Eddie was ready for this to start making sense any time now.

“So she was helping Steve get dates and he wanted to set her up with me?” Nope, even after thinking it a half dozen times it still wasn’t clicking.

“That part was my idea actually!” Dustin said, showing off a smile filled with metal. “She’s pretty weird and Steve said she was picky-”

“Can’t be that picky if she was interested in Eddie.” muttered Gareth, earning another round of laughter at the table.

Eddie didn’t even have it in him to shoot another look at the table as he continued to try and piece together what was going on.

You and Steve had a deal to try and get each other dates. You were picky and so Dustin suggested Eddie. Steve then brought you to the arcade to force a meeting and-

“Wait, did she know that she was supposed to meet me?” Eddie asked suddenly.

“Oh yeah, she knew the whole time in the arcade.” Dustin nodded, hoping that Eddie wasn’t about to blow a fuse over this. “Well, she figured it out at least. See she was just supposed to be tagging along with Steve to find guys to flirt with but then uh... she realized she was supposed to meet you.”

“And she didn’t know who I was?” Eddie clarified, thinking back to the way you’d tried to talk to him about Hellfire, Chris Morrison, anything to try and start a conversation. How the hell was it that he could remember every time you two met so clearly, but you didn’t know who he actually was?

Because it wasn’t about you, Eddie. He had to remind himself.

Dustin shrugged. “I guess not? She’s never mentioned you before that night.”

Guess not everyone paid attention to the Freak. He hated that it bugged him that you didn’t remember him but could he blame you? He probably wouldn’t remember him either, just a Munson fuck up who everyone was waiting to end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

Eddie pushed Dustin back down into his seat, done interrogating the poor freshman. Everyone watched as he made his way back to his side of the table, behind the DM screen. He had a lot to think about, but he wasn’t about to start processing that in front of the rest of Hellfire.

“You all wander deeper into the cave, the only light coming from the torch carried by-”

“I have dark vision!”

Broke and bored, Eddie haunted the trailer for the rest of the weekend. He did have practice with Corroded Coffin for a generous two hours on Saturday, and then a long shift that night at the Hideout where one old drunk had slipped him a $10 tip for making sure he always had a cold beer in hand. But those few hours were just a minor reprieve from the information that Dustin had given him the previous day.

When he wasn’t distracted by work or practice he was practicing guitar, working on lyrics, prepping for the next Hellfire session.

He tried to think about you, but ended up feeling confused. When he was trying to think about anything else, all he could see was the way you had flirted with him at the Hideout.

Despite popular opinion, Eddie wasn’t stupid when it came to girls. He could tell when a girl was interested in him, and you had made it clear that you had at least some interest in him. You had told him point blank that you were not with Harrington, and had no interest as well. He’d seen the way you looked at him while watching them play, that excitement in your eyes. Your head had bobbed to the rhythm of their songs watching them with as much enthusiasm as if you’d been a fan for years.

Paige had watched with similar eyes, right? She’d seen something in them that no one else had before-

No. Not them. Not Corroded Coffin. Just Eddie.

It felt pathetic that he kept comparing you to Paige. He didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to. It wasn’t like he was still hung up on Paige, not really. She’d just been a turning point in who he was as a person. She’d been the first (and last) girl to really look at him as a person. If his dating prospects had been small before, they had completely dried up over the past two years.

Date the freak? Yeah, right. There had been the odd girl who’d hit on him as if daring themselves to get with him but he was done with that. A few mediocre dates that he’d agreed to out of boredom or loneliness had only added to the idea in Hawkins High that he was undesirable. Adding to that, the older he got, the younger his underclassmen became and the idea of dating someone younger was... well he didn’t need to add ‘creep’ to the long list of rumors about him. It didn’t matter to him most of the time, instead focusing on his friends, his band, his club, his business, himself. God knows he’d never be able to hold down a relationship unless he got his shit together and earned everyone’s trust again.

“Graduate and get laid, Munson.” Ronnie’s voice echoed in the back of his mind and he groaned as his face warmed. It was the middle of the week, just over two weeks since the night at the Hideout. Eddie was laying on the old couch face down, his homework on the counter half finished and the blue glow of the tv doing little to distract him.

The sound of the door opening didn’t even phase him enough to look up, even as Wayne grunted out a hello before setting something down on the counter next to his forgotten schoolbooks.

“Did you eat?” Wayne asked, which earned a shrug from Eddie. How could he think about eating when he was stuck thinking about everything else?

“Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been moping around for the past few weeks?” Wayne tried again in an attempt to be a good guardian. When that didn’t work either he sighed and said “Might as well step outside with me and have a smoke.”

It was better than doing whatever the hell else Eddie was doing now, and so he rolled off the couch less than gracefully and followed his uncle out onto the porch to sit on the outdoor couch. Wayne offered him the smoke and for a moment it was peaceful. Wayne wasn’t one to push Eddie to talk about anything, but he did have a way to make him think even if it did piss him off occasionally.

Eddie took a long drag of the cigarette and released it slowly as he stared up at the sky. It was a dark night, a million tiny dots illuminating the trailer park, even if the moon wasn’t out. He scanned the stars, looking for the three that he knew were Orion’s belt. That’s about where his astrology knowledge began and ended, but it was something to look for at least.

“I think a girl likes me.” He finally said as he spotted what he assumed was the constellation he was looking for.

“Yeah?” Wayne asked, his own eyes gazing upwards as well, giving Eddie the space to talk more.

“Yeah.”

It was silent again for a few minutes as they smoked, the only other sound for a while was that of Wayne cracking open a beer. That’s what Eddie appreciated about Wayne, he didn’t need to fill the silence like his dad did, and Eddie didn’t need to either. He could just... exist.

“I don’t know what to do about it.” Eddie finally said a while later. “She only has an interest because her and some jock are trying to get each other dates.”

“Is that right?” Coming from anyone else that question would have been dismissive, a filler phrase to show that they were paying minimal attention. Eddie knew better though, which caused a knot of frustration in his gut.

“I guess.” he shrugged.

“How many dates has she gone on?” Wayne passed the beer to Eddie, who took a grateful sip.

“Don’t know. It didn’t sound like she’d been on many. Henderson said she’s picky.”

“But she likes you.”

“Yeah.”

Another long stretch of silence as Eddie stewed over the question. He hated how Wayne could break down his problems into simple questions.

“Don’t see why you’re moping around if she likes you.” Wayne glanced over at Eddie. “Are you sweet on her?”

Eddie snorted at the term, taking another drag from the cigarette and flicking the ashes off the porch. “She’s cute.” he said, thinking about how you’d looked the last few times he’d seen you. He might have been distracted that first night at the arcade, but not so distracted that he didn’t notice that at least. “Smart too. She got the guys to listen to her last time we hung out.”

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “She got Gareth to pay attention? That’s a damn miracle.”

“They liked her too.”

“More than the California girl?”

The question caught Eddie off guard and he looked up at Wayne who was still looking off in the distance. Eddie had never explained exactly to Wayne what had happened that first senior year, most of the details going to what happened with Al when Officer Morris was shot. They never talked about how Eddie was so damn close to packing everything up and running away to California.

Thinking about everything that happened that year still stung. Eddie had tried hard not to think about what could have been if CJ and Toby had just shown up one or two days later. Would Eddie have made it to the audition? Would they have really liked him? Maybe in another life he’d be signed and he’d be working on an album or on tour and him and Paige...

It didn’t matter, that ship had long since sailed. Eddie was no rock hero, and never would be. He tried to tell himself it was better this way, if anything it meant that his relationship with Al was over and done with which was a hollow victory if he was being honest.

“Definitely more than her.” Eddie finally agreed. You weren’t asking him to ditch the band and run away with you, so that had to give you some points for them, and for him. Dustin vouched for you, and even Mike, but he wasn’t sure how much that counted for yet. After all Dustin still seemed to worship Steve, and you were friends with Steve-

But did that actually matter? If you and Steve were close enough friends to help each other like this, and Steve was willing to vouch for Eddie, despite never having any real conversation just because Dustin said something-

“She gonna ask you to run away?” Wayne was now looking at Eddie again.

Sometimes he wondered if his uncle could secretly read minds.

“Doubt it.” Eddie said, “She works at the video store. I don’t know much about her, honestly.”

“So ask her on a date.”

“What?”

“She likes you, you want to get to know her. Ask her on a date. It’s not that complicated, Eddie.” Wayne dropped the cigarette on the porch and crushed it under his boot. “You always did think too much, always sucked up in your own world. You’ll be happier in the long run if you open up a bit.”

Easier said than done for a 20 year old still in high school that the whole town considered a satanic cult leader. Then again, when was the last time he’d really opened up to anyone other than Ronnie or Wayne? Right, his dad in the weeks before the heist.

“I think I fucked this up before I could even start.” Eddie sighed, snuffing out his own half finished cigarette. “She gave me her number and I never called.”

“Could’a grabbed a quarter from the change jar and used a pay phone.”

Eddie pressed his hands against his face and dragged them down slowly. Why did good advice always come too late for him?

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I brought back a new phone for the kitchen today.”

Eddie’s head snapped up so fast he should have snapped something, his eyes widening.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s a new used phone. Guy down the line from me offered it up and it’s better than nothing.”

Eddie didn’t care if it was a rotary phone, he’d take anything at this point if it meant that he could try to call you.

He wanted to call you.

He wanted to call you. Eddie didn’t care if you remembered that first time you met, did it even really matter? You had an interest in him, Eddie Munson, now.

“Thanks, Wayne.” Eddie stood up and hurried inside, seeing the new old phone that was sitting on the counter. It took a few minutes of making sure it wouldn’t fall off the wall before he plugged it in and heard that sweet dial tone sound.

Eddie grabbed his copy of Lord of the Rings from his bedside table and pulled out the paper flower, looking at the number scribbled in his own chicken scratch. He didn’t trust himself to punch in the number without checking, no matter how many times he read the ten digits over the past two weeks.

It rang once.

Twice.

Six times.

No response.

“It’s late, she might be asleep.” Wayne said, grabbing a box of pasta from the cabinet.

It wasn’t that late, not even 8:30 yet. Eddie sighed and hung up the phone, crossing his arms as he thought about his next move. He’d always had tunnel vision when he got an idea into his head, from Corroded Coffin, to his campaigns, to a book that he wanted to read, it was hard to shake the urge when he got one.

Grabbing the keys from the counter he called over to Wayne “I’ll be back later.” which was responded to with a confirmation that he’d save some pasta for Eddie in the fridge.

There weren’t many places he could think of where you could be tonight. You hadn’t shown back up at the Hideout, and the arcade was closed this late on a weeknight. You could be at home, but Eddie didn’t remember where you lived and showing up to your place after two weeks of radio silence would definitely get him in trouble.

So he drove to Family Video.

If you were there he’d do.. something. If you weren’t he’d call you after school tomorrow. Eddie winced internally at the thought. He’d been trudging through school and dragging his feet for the past six years to graduate, and now was the time he felt childish about it. You could legally buy him a beer, and he could illegally sneak you a drink in the Hideout.

At a stoplight he swapped out the Black Sabbath tape for W.A.S.P., remembering that you had mentioned liking them. How did he continue to remember these small details about you?

Because she’s treated you like a human each time you’ve talked. It was startling how something so basic was such a big deal to him.

The lights were still on at Family Video, and the open sign was still lit up. He could see movement inside the store, and he caught sight of someone wearing the signature green vest that the employees wore.

He’d walk in, and if you were there he’d- fuck what the hell was he supposed to do? Eddie stared at the door from inside his van for a few minutes. It was past nine now, and he could have sworn that they should be closed now but that stupid sign was still on. That had to be a good sign right? Eddie wasn’t one to believe in stuff like that but maybe he’d be stupid to ignore a literal neon sign hanging in the door.

Okay, now or never. Eddie had never really been one to hesitate before and he wasn’t about to start now.

He made his way to the entrance and opened the door before he could think about what he was actually wanting to do. Eddie could improvise, it was one of the more useful skills that came from years of running Hellfire.

“Who didn’t lock the door?!” Your voice was a welcome sound, sealing the determination inside of him. No going back now.

“It was Steve’s job to-” your co-worker said. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place a name to the face.

“Oh, shit. Hi.” Steve was the first to actually notice Eddie as he walked in, looking as if he was expecting literally anyone else.

Turning on the Freak, Eddie smirked at Steve. “Cursing in front of customers, Harrington? Now that’s not very professional of you.”

“Well, we’re closed. You can’t be a customer if you can’t pay.” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips in a way that reminded Eddie of a mother hen. Steve did have a point, and so he decided to cut through any bullshit and looked over at you. You looked like you’d had a long shift, but the way you were looking at him... there was still the same shock that was on Steve’s face, but while his shock was laced with confusion yours was excited. As if you couldn’t believe that The Freak was here and that was a good thing.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie blurted out the request before he could think. He had no idea where you two would go or what you would do but he had to do something.

Your coworker nudged you in the ribs, and your expression changed to a more professional one.

“I- uh. I have to finish closing.” you said, looking at Steve for a split second.

“Steve and I can handle the rest of closing!” Eddie made a mental note to learn this girls name and send her a fucking gift basket one day.

“Guys, I’m literally in charge of you both. I can’t leave before you.” You said, reaching down to grab something from below the counter- your bag. Eddie felt himself growing more excited, his heart pounding as you tossed your work vest and keys over to them. They were basically shoving you out the door to spend time with him.

“We can handle it!” Steve said.

“And I can handle Steve!” Robin added. “We close without you and Keith all the time, remember?”

You stepped out from behind the counter, looking up at him. The color of your eyes under the fluorescent lights reminded him of the stars he had been looking at earlier this evening. Eddie found himself smiling at you as you opened the door for him.

Someone was quick to lock the door and turn the OPEN sign off.

Eddie opens his van door for you, trying his best to make a good impression for whatever was about to happen. You hopped into the passenger seat and he thought that he might enjoy seeing you sitting next to him like this in his van more often.

---

Comments and Reblogs help feed the fandom and the muse 💜

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag list: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher

#Nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #wing man

[inklore]

premise: going away for the holidays to a secluded cabin just the three of you is the best christmas gift you could have asked for this year. the festivities perfect and joyful, and in abundance thanks to the two men more than willing to give and spoil you in more than just pretty wrapped presents.

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x reader x jake ‘hangman’ seresin

word count: 3.3k+

warnings: established poly relationship, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, m and f receiving oral, come eating, creampie, fluffy christmas shenanigans, rooster and hangman be smoochin, banter, light!rough sex, biting and marking, spitting, a hint of degradation.

note: the title has a double meaning so if you know you know, but tis the season for being a whore. i didn’t want this to be too lengthy and writing threesomes makes my brain hurt so it’s a bit fast paced.

The cheesy Christmas movie that Rooster had chosen fills the small cabin living room with the perfect ambiance for your last night of being secluded; tucked away and sandwiched between the two men. Even with Jake’s grumbles around a handful of popcorn on how cheesy said cheesy movie is, it does little to dampen the feeling of warmth in your veins.

The three of you had decided to spend the holidays together this year. With Mav busy with Penny and Jake and his father constantly at odds, neither of the two men had anywhere else to be. And the thought of you being anywhere else but here, with them just didn’t make sense to you.

Your families hadn’t been clued in on your relationship. Your family having zero insist on the fact that you had not just one boyfriend but two. Jake’s knowing he had a girlfriend, but not a boyfriend as well. Mav knew about you and Rooster, and you were pretty sure he knew about Jake to—the three of you getting caught in a weird lip lock in his garage last New Year’s eve, leading to an awkward stare down and Mav putting his hands up declaring “I don’t want to know” and walking away.

So spending Christmas with just the three of you was barely a suggestion.

“Are you sure?” You had asked Jake, knowing full well how important a family gathering was to his mother—despite the butting of heads between him and his father.

“I’m already packed!”

“What?”

“I asked him last night and before I could even begin to give him the game plan he was pulling the luggage out.” Rooster had explained, rolling his eyes at the memory.

“But your family–”

“Is right here,” Hangman grinned, that one grin that either made you want to smack him or kiss him. Pulling the two of you into his chest in a bear hug.

“The man falls in love and suddenly he goes all Hallmark.”

The three of you had rented a cabin in Lake Tahoe. Two weeks spent with the two men beside you bickering and making you—and each other—come, and reminding you why you fell in love with them.

Jake insisting that a real tree is all that will do on the third day, when the three of you finally pulled yourselves out of the bedroom. Making you and Bradley bundle up and trek through the forest to find the perfect tree.

“They make lots for this type of thing. Still just as picture-perfect!”

“Yeah! And they have hot chocolate there!” You whine as you grab onto Rooster’s wrist to climb over a big rock. Praying your boots didn’t slip and send you pummeling face-first into the snow.

“That’s not the spirit.” Jake turns and gives you two a stern look, “we came out here for an authentic Christmas, didn’t we?”

“I don’t remember the word authentic being thrown around.”

“It’s not Christmas if it’s not authentic!” He throws his hands in the air, “I refuse to smell plastic. We are getting a real tree.” He grumbles, turning and continuing the trek through the woods, “if the two of you don’t stop complaining I’m going to tie you up with the Christmas lights when we get back.”

“Well when you put it like that,” you and Rooster send each other a cheeky smirk. Laughing when Hangman gives a deep sigh and continues ahead.

When the three of you—Jake—finally do come across the perfect tree it’s entertaining to watch him and Bradley chop it down. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t spend most of the time staring at their biceps that showed through the long sleeves of their sweaters. Or how absolutely rugged it was to watch them do such a task; a heat spreading across your skin, making you start to sweat under your jacket.

And once the tree had been brought back to the house and set up—after a bag of popcorn had been made for the garland, fruit kindly left by the owners of the cabin baked and dried as ornaments, and the two dollar lights you got from the small convenient store up the road: you understood why Jake had made such a fuss. How a fake tree couldn’t give you the same tingly feeling and joy of trying not to choke on the sap and pine smell. The process of putting your creations on the branches, and taking it all in really was perfect.

You still refused to go on any more woodland adventures though.

The rest of the weeks had been spent either spread out under the sheets, entangled limbs, Christmas movies playing in the background while you feasted on takeout, and dinners made by Rooster. A snowball fight that turned into the boys making out in the show and you snapping photos of the incriminating evidence, in which the two chased you down for. Thus leading to snow angels and Hangman perfecting the art of snowman building.

“Do you even get snow in Texas? How are you so good at this?”

“It’s all about your hands, Rooster my boy. Good hands form the perfect ratio of snow to ball. The perfect weight for each clump.”

“That…makes absolutely no sense.”

And yet he makes the best snowman you’ve ever seen in your life.

When it comes to baking cookies though: Jake does not perfect it.

Icing covers his hairline as he runs a frustrated hand across his forehead. The green icing stains his skin, the deadly scowl he’s giving the mess of a tree-shaped cookie making you laugh.

Unlike Bradley who seems to have mastered the art of icing.

“You're doing it too fast.”

“Yeah, yeah, you know all about slow and steady. But that rarely wins the race,” he gives Rooster a smirk, making the other throw a dollop of frosting at him. Which then turns into the three of you ruining your shirts with red and green icing.

“I like this much better,” Jake smirks as he licks a smear of frosting from your neckline, making you gasp softly.

One thing Jake does seem to be good at—so he claims—is making hot chocolate. An old family recipe he had told the two of you, as he climbed off of your chest and placed a kiss to your forehead. Declaring the three of you needed some old-fashioned refreshments to replenish. Cocoa being that refreshment.

His absence turning worrisome when he’s gone for over an hour. The blaring of Christmas music coming from the kitchen that wafted into the open door of the bedroom, the only clarification that he was okay. But that didn’t stop you and Bradley from climbing out of bed and going to the kitchen—did hot chocolate take hours to make?

Finding Jake adorning a ‘Kiss The Cook’ apron and swinging his hips to Last Christmas, as he poured half a bottle of peppermint vodka into a pan of hot chocolate.

“Old family recipe, huh?” Rooster looks over his shoulder at the concoction he’s stirring up.

“Your mother gave you liquor as a child?”

“Hey! I don’t rag on your family traditions.”

“Everything about you is starting to make sense now.”

But when you try it it’s better than you expected—or maybe there was too much liquor in the mix to really differentiate if it was good or not. Because after three gulps you felt like your head was spinning and the three of you were screaming along to Christmas songs at the tops of your lungs.

On Christmas Eve Rooster, usually as cool as a cucumber, radiates on-edge-excitement. So much so that he almost lets it spill what the two boys got you. Making Hangman groan in frustration—acting as if he hadn’t spent the last two weeks begging for hints of what you got him, and snooping.

So you decide to throw them both a pitying bone and open presents early. Jake acting like a kid who got everything he asked from Santa, and Bradley rendered silent at the sentimental gift you and Jake put together in honor of his parents.

The silver necklace the two got you with the initials ‘R’ and ‘H’ hanging from it lays perfectly against your chest, as you bring another handful of popcorn to your mouth. Smiling at the chuckles that jostle your body as Rooster laughs at the cheesy movie; the perfect way to spend your last night together.

“Get everything you wanted for Christmas?” Jake asks, palm coming to rest on top of your thigh as his thumb rubs slow, gentle circles on your exposed skin. Having lost interest in the movie entirely. His cheek resting on the back cushion of the couch as he looks over at you.

You let out a soft content hum as you nod, turning your face to his with a smile on your lips. “What else could I want,” your stomach does a little swoop when you see his mouth spread into a smile. His fingers now join in the gentle massaging of your thigh—that moves into your inner thigh.

“An orgasm is a good gift.” He rebuttals, his sweet smile turning into something teasing. A playful roll of your eyes has you turning back to the tv. His way of turning everything filthy—which you’re not complaining about—is no shock to you at this stage in your relationship.

“The gift that keeps giving.” Bradley decides to interject.

“Exactly!”

“The two of you are insatiable.” You try not to laugh as both their attentions are now turned on you. The movie now forgotten by the person who wanted to watch it in the first place.

“Yeah,” Rooster confirms your statement. Nose pressed into your cheek as he trails light kisses down your jaw, to the top of your neck, “but that’s why you love us.”

“You’d be so sexually frustrated without us,” Jake teases. A gasp leaves your lungs when his trailing hand comes to the outside of your shorts, his index finger running along your clothed slit. Before he pulls your thighs apart to give himself better access to you.

You have no rebuttals. No arguments because his statement is completely correct. You couldn’t imagine a time before them when you’d experienced sexual enlightenment—or were given several orgasms in a row to the point where your legs lost their functions.

And with some maneuvering, clothes thrown throughout the living room, movie long forgotten, popcorn littering the floor: your naked body is pressed into the cushions of the couch as Jake lays between your legs, mouth attached to your clit, and Rooster running his teeth and tongue from the outside of your thigh to your chest, where he latches his mouth around one of your nipples.

“Doesn’t his mouth feel good, baby?” Rooster mumbles against your skin, leaving patches of wet marks of his saliva across your chest as he switches between your nipples. Love bites marring up the skin on the peaks your boobs, the hand at the base of your throat wraps around to cradle your neck in his palm. Pulling your head up from the cushion, “look at him.” It’s a soft demand, that comes out more of a want—a need to see you look down at Jake as he devours your pussy, at how pretty he looks with something in his mouth. Bradley watches the heat in your cheeks grow, the blown-out ecstasy of lust dilating your pupils; getting off on the attraction you have for the other.

Your fingers tangle themselves into Hangman’s hair. A fistful of blonde between your fingers, “fuck his tongue.” The brunette instructs. Where he loved to watch, loved to bask in the affection and need the three of you shared: the other loved to be used for what he was good at. And you loved providing both of those things for your boys while they pulled you apart, and put you back together. Dragging out your pleasure until all three of you couldn’t take much more of the torture.

With a soft grip on his hair, your eyes locked on his, you grind your hips against Jake’s face. The drag of his tongue along your wetness—the tip of his nose and tongue pushing on your clit just right—your head tries to tip back as you moan. Rooster’s hand on your neck not allowing you to go far. The breath from your lungs coming shallower, dying in your throat, as you get closer and closer to coming.

There are words you want to cry out. To say to both of them but it feels too good. Too good for you to keep your eyes open, too good to form any coherent thought other than Jake’s too fucking good at this—and Bradley is too much of a tease with his words, teeth too intense on your nipple.

And when you’re coming you can’t even declare so. Can’t scream or cry a single word because all air is leaving your lungs, your body trembling as your thighs close in on Hangman’s head. A sonorous moan pulled from the back of your throat.

They only let you rest for a minute—seconds—before you feel two sets of lips kissing along your body, fingertips following in their trail. Meeting at your midsection, colliding together in a rough-hungry kiss. One that makes the tremors shaking through your body sizzle out into that burning fire you just put out; they just put out.

Their kiss is all teeth and tongue.

Rooster’s hand at the base of Jake’s skull, tight, pressing. As if he needs him to stay there. To swallow down his tongue, to share the taste of you or he might go insane. Rooster’s thumb running along the blonde’s lip when they finally pull apart, their breaths heavy. “Let her taste,” the two share a smirk before Jake is on top of you. Mouth coming down on yours, tongue sharing the taste of your arousal—and Bradley—on yours.

That dimple in his cheek when he’s being cheeky is deep and prominent as he looks down at you, “think it’s your turn to use your pretty mouth on Rooster.” His voice grows deeper—almost a whisper, as he says his next words against your bottom lip. “So I can lick his come off your tongue.” The whimper that falls from your lips is caught by his tongue as he kisses you, both your attention going to the brunette when you pull away.

And you do end up on your knees in front of Rooster. His cock in your mouth, one hand on the back of your head as the other grips one of the cushions. His hips push up each time your mouth goes down the length of him, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Making your eyes water, your gag reflex ignored as you suck and drool all over his cock.

Hangman presses encouraging kisses along your body, to the brunette’s thighs, biting and sucking bruises onto the skin of his chest—before he joins you. The noise Bradley lets out when the two of you wrap your mouths on either side of his shaft is angelic. A noise you love hearing over and over again. A noise the two of you work hard to get him to repeat until he’s growling with frustration and pulls you off his cock, the two of you smirking up at him.

A panting grumble of not wanting to come yet spoke in a huff.

“Where do you want to come, Rooster?” Jake asks with a grin. His teeth are nipping at his inner thigh as he looks up at him.

They both know you’d let them paint you with their come like you were their very own canvas. Just as the two shared the knowledge that your body wasn’t the only one in the room they could come on, or in.

And when Rooster cups Jake’s cheek in his hand, the nail of his thumb moving along his jaw to his bottom lip—it’s a silent answer to the question. One that doesn’t need any evaluation.

One that has more maneuvering of bodies until you’re on your knees on the couch, Bradley’s cock back in your throat, and Jake’s stretching your pussy open as his fingers dig into your hips, as he fucks you from behind.

The snap of his hips is hard and fast, making your body bounce back onto him and push forward to take Rooster’s cock deeper into your throat. The sounds of skin on skin and muffled moans around gags and spit, and sinful grunts were the only noises filling the cabin.

“So fucking good,” Hangman slurs from behind you. The lusted-out gravel of his voice is melodic. “Always so good for us. So wet, warm, and ready to have your pussy fucked. Throat stretched.” His palm feels searing as it runs down your back and over the globes of your ass. A soft swat at your cheeks makes you mewl around Bradley’s cock. “The perfect little cum-dump.”

His degrading words make you clench around him. Your eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

“And she's all ours,” Bradley adds—professes. States the obvious. His fingers grip your jaw as he pulls you off of his cock, thumb pressing into your mouth to keep it open for him as he leans down to let his spit drizzle onto your tongue. The corner of his mouth twitching as you moan, a sheen of tears coating your eyes looking up at him. Before slipping his cock back between your lips.

You don’t know how long the three of you go at it. How long Rooster makes a home at the back of your throat with his cock, or Jake going deeper and deeper with each pound of his hips until you’re seeing stars: but by the time you’ve come again, Bradley pulling you off of his cock by your chin so he can watch you come. Groan at the way your nails dig into his thighs as you do.

His palm pumps his cock as he watches how you go limp and let Jake fuck you fast and hard, until he’s following suit and coming inside of you. The two move quickly from their positions on the couch—leaving your heated body cold and drenched in sweat—your limbs exhausted as you flip yourself over to watch the blonde move down to his knees, mouth hung open, as he catches the ropes of come Rooster pumps into his waiting mouth.

And as you watch them, the satisfied look of bliss and sedation on their faces—their cheeks rosy and flushed, their beauty making you feel even more fucked out and heady—you don’t think you could ever want anything, for Christmas or other—more than this.

Your blissful sigh has their attention turning back to you. Jake pushes your back up so he can squeeze behind you and lay you across his lap. You expect Rooster to bury himself along your side or on top of you like he usually does. But instead, he’s pulling your thighs apart and burying his head between your thighs, tongue diving into your entrance to lap and suck at Jake’s come. Cleaning you with his mouth until the oversensitivity you feel is too much and you’re crying out.

Only then does he stop and with a grin reaches out for Jake, pushing his tongue into his mouth—pushing his come onto his tongue—Bradley’s hand resting on the column of the blonde's throat.

“Share,” you whine from beneath them. The brunette chuckles against Hangman’s mouth, before the blonde is sharing the taste of all the three of you on your taste buds.

And finally, after your hearts have stopped pounding and the heat of the fireplace and each other's bodies warm you—do you bask in the afterglow of it all. In the euphoric feeling of this; love, devotion, desire. A calm lulling your bodies to almost sleep.

“Good gift,” you say teasingly. Your fingers lazily move through Rooster’s hair as Jake’s do the same motions in yours. The two men laugh softly against you.

“Told you so.”

#jake seresin smut #rooster smut #hangman smut #jake seresin imagine #top gun smut #rooster one shot #rooster x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #jake hangman seresin smut #rooster x y/n #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun fic #bradley bradshaw x you #jake seresin x you #merry slutmas

[irradiatedsnakes]

i need to know more about pennybun i have fallen deeply in love

PENNY MY BEST FRIEND PENNY!!!!

(by @/skypiea)

penny is my first tav and i love her. she's a white dragonborn circle of the spores druid. i finished her first playthrough a couple weeks back, and i've started on a second playthrough with her! slightly edited, and now that i understand more about the game and the story i'm refining her character and story. i missed a lot of stuff on that first playthrough!

pennybun's name comes from the mushroom, by the way. i'd decided on that before i knew that there was a mushroom-themed druid circle in this game, i was GOING to choose moon, but, like. it's perfect. penny buns aka porcini aka king bolete aka Boletus edulis are an edible mushroom that symbioses with the roots of pine trees. they're part of my research and they're quite adorable

she's from a circle of druids located in the shelterwood- a dense forest near baldur's gate. she grew up in the city proper- or at least, on the edges of it- before moving out to the woods to pursue life as a druid.

she's solidly good-aligned- as my first playthrough, her story is kind of the best-case-scenario for everything, savescumming the hell out of some fights (good god the last light fight with marcus). everybody gets their good ending, everybody gets saved, that kind of deal.

she had a generally good relationship with everyone in the party, but gale, wyll, and karlach are her best mates for sure. i missed out on romancing karlach the first go around, but we're doing it on penny's second save file. it's happening.

she's also quite close with shadowheart, especially after the events of act ii. her relationship with lae'zel is more tense.. but i'm still working on figuring out that exact trajectory- missing a lot of lae'zel's storyline was one of the biggest mistakes i made in the first go-around. she and astarion never get close, but there's not any malice there, either.

she's good friends with jaheira, the two get along like a house on fire, and she looks up to jaheira a lot. she didn't have a lot of time to get to know minsc and boo, but they were plenty friendly in the short time they crossed paths. halsin, i need to work on, i also kind of fucked up his stuff first go-around by neglecting to fix the shadowlands. to be updated when i reach act ii in Penny The Sequel.

overall, penny's a big ol goody-two-shoes. she wants to help as many people as she possibly can, and feels a massive weight on her shoulders because of it, having been thrust into this leadership role by apparent pure chance.

while i'm still working it out, the central theme of pennybun's story is trust, and who she puts it in. an early decision i made before knowing anything about the story was that penny trusts the Mysterious Dream Guardian completely and totally, which made for some EXTREMELY fun character moments later on- utilizing the tadpoles (her and gale both), becoming partial illithid, and eventually in act 3 losing her trust in and culminating with her turning on the emperor, plus her own ceremorphosis to wield the netherstones against the netherbrain.

gear-wise, she uses the default druid armor for most of the game, switching to the armor of the sporekeeper in act 3. she assembles the mourning frost in the underdark in act 1 and it remains her favored weapon for the rest of the game. she also wears the key of the ancients, and just before the start of the finale gains the nymph cloak.

other assorted Penny Facts:

she keeps a detailed log of every camp dinner the group has. good food is very important

she has a soft spot for parasites. part of why she was receptive to the idea of utilizing the tadpoles, and also part of why she lets astarion take a bite from time to time.

she got her eye poked out by volo

she has a -1 int modifier

she's a lot keener on necromancy than you might expect a druid to be. she views necromancy and the undead (for the most part) as a natural part of the cycle of life- after all, everything will eventually return to the dirt to be eaten by the fungi and the other decomposers, no matter how prolonged it is.

it is imperative that all her friends (karlach excluded for reason of cool hair) wear fun hats. ive posted about The Hat Tax before but everyone in the party gets a funny hat. it's so important.

she's my best friend and i love her

#egg-on-a-legg #bg3 #art #pennybun #tav #bg3 tav

[simpingforstardew]

muse

pairing: sdv elliot x reader

synopsis: elliot is struggling with severe writers block; if only he had a muse...

note: a while ago i talked about having a derivative idea for an elliot x reader fic; here is that fic !! the premise is completely unoriginal, but i'll leave the references at the end of the fic to avoid spoilers hehe

warnings: i don't even know for this one gang, wholesome w/ an ending that could be read as spooky? let's call it a doomed romance !! tw/ relationships that are doomed by the narrative !!

word count: 1.5k

Adronitis

A heart so damaged; tender; sore—

You ever-blooming sycamore,

Through hunger pangs; my deliriousness,

I mourn my mortal catoptric tristesse.

With starving dreams, your warmth I crave—

I worship you, I must embrave,

Indulge me, lay your fear ahind.

Our sanctuary; your piece of mind.

My amorous famine demands more […more what?],

So I feast on your smile […] petrichor.

i am just writing this right niw so it

looks lije i am being pro ductive oh Yoba

andnow leahs comin g over this

is alll shit im jist going to star t overrr

“How’s the writing going, El’?” Leah peers down at Elliot with a smile, wiping the sweat from her brow. “We’ve been at it for a while without a break, you know?”

“Oh, Leah! It’s going splendidly, and yes, it seems we have…” Elliot coughs, avoiding eye contact while tearing the paper from his typewriter. “Why don’t we call it for today then?”

“Without showing me what you’ve done? C’mon,” she whines, “What do you have?”

Elliot and Leah had decided, sometime early last Spring, to meet in Cindersnap forest every Wednesday to work on their current projects. ‘Parallel play for artists,’ Penny once called it when walking Jas back to Marnie’s ranch. For Leah, this weekly rendezvous has (so far) allowed her to complete 2 clay sculptures, 3 wood sculptures, 23 drawings, and 8 paintings; for Elliot, the last few months has allowed him to create…

“Nothing,” Elliot sighs, packing his typewriter’s case with a frown. “I have, somehow, written nothing! I mean, I wanted to craft a Petrarchan sonnet, inspired by Poe’s romantic, yet macabre sensibilities. I ended up with trash I couldn’t even make hendecasyllabic. It’s embarrassingly Shakespearian and—”

“Whoa, whoa, buddy, that’s okay. That’s fine. I’m not sure what any of that means, but…” Leah scrunches her freckled nose, hoping to find the right words to calm Elliot down, “It seems like you’re expecting perfection from a first draft. Maybe we should call it for today, and you could revisit your poem tomorrow?”

“Yes, you are right,” the authors scowl softens; after a moment of meditation—feeling the summer breeze tangle in his hair—he looks towards Leah with a smile. “I will see you next week, Miss Faraday.”

Elliot didn’t return to his typewriter until later that week, deciding instead to bask in the sun’s warmth on the beach. The author sits on the pier with a contented sigh, the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore providing a soothing backdrop to his afternoon reverie.

Even still, despite the Elysium that he has found himself in, Elliot cannot shake his frustrations; his linguistic discouragement plagued his every thought.

“Ahoy there, my boy! Perfect weather for fishing don’t ya reckon?” Willy smiles, closing the front door to the Fish Shop behind him. Elliot

“Ah, hello Mr. Tucker,” Elliot waves as the fisherman sits beside him, attaching a small blue tackle onto an impressively shiny rod, “I suppose it is, although I fear I don’t have my fishing gear with me today.”

“What’d I tell you about calling me that? No need to be so formal, son,” Willy chuckles, casting a line into the vast depths of the saltwater, “Say, aren’t ya usually off in town around this time? Feel like I never see you this early on a Wednesday.”

Elliot still had to adjust to the predictive routine of a small town, and the horrifying consequences of straying from said routine: becoming the topic of mid-afternoon gossip.

“Yes, well, I um—,” Elliot sighs, looking into the deep blue below as if the ocean concealed the antidote to writers block, “I have been, writing with Leah every Wednesday and… actually can I ask for some advice?”

“O’ Course ya can, my boy.” Willy nods.

“I have been… struggling lately,” The taller man slumps as he runs a hand through his auburn hair, his voice heavy with uncertainty, “I feel as if I have lost my spark, my… capacité artistique. I cannot, for the life of me, write anything of quality! I just… I feel broken, Mr. William.”

Willy takes a moment to think, slowly breathing in the salty air, “Hmm, I see your problem, lad— but it’s important to know yer not broken. Aye, nothin’ about ya is broken.”

A fish tugs at Willy’s fishing line: desperately; hopelessly.

“It’s like if yer pal Willy couldn’t fish anymore… I’d sooner swallow a sea urchin than lose my ability to do what I love,” Willy pulls the rod towards him, putting up a fight with whatever poor creature is on the other end of the line, “but sometimes it’s tricky doing what ya love 24/7, son! You got to remind yerself to take breaks, and…”

The creature is hurled out of the ocean, flapping helplessly as the fisherman releases it from his tackle. Willy holds the freshly-caught octopus up to Elliot.

“Remind yerself why ya love it!” Willy chuckles, before mumbling to himself about throwing his newest catch in a tank lest he ‘gets inked’.

As Elliot sits in contemplative silence, the ocean offering solace: the rushing winds, the distant cry of seagulls, even the smell of salty air. Over the last year and a half, he has grown to love it all.

As he rises to his feet, Elliot considers his friends’ advice. He certainly didn’t want to remain in this slump forever; so he needs to find a reminder of why he loves writing; a source of reinvigorating inspiration.

He needs to find a muse.

A muse in a village with a population of 27.

‘Well,’ Elliot thinks, slamming his cabin’s door shut behind him as he slides onto his desk chair. He sets up his Olympia SM 9 for the second time today. ‘If I can’t find my muse in life, I will simply create my muse in art.’

For a moment, the black page loaded into the typewriter stares back at Elliot, mockingly. Then, as suddenly as the crash of thunder that bellows from above, the author began to write.

Elliot bursts into the Fish Shop, his manuscript clutched tightly in hand, a triumphant gleam in his eye. “Willy, my friend, you’re incredible!” he cheered, his excitement palpable. “I truly could not have done this without your support.”

Willy grins, offering a sincere thumbs-up. “Glad to hear it, lad! So what was your reminder, eh? What got you back on track?”

Elliot coughs, a flush creeping up his freckled cheeks. “Well, you see… I made it up.”

Willy arches an eyebrow, bemused,“Ya made up yer reminder for why you love writing? Now, son…”

“No, no,” Elliot hastens to explain, “My love for writing is genuine. But my muse, my darling muse, is not.”

“I’m not following, my boy.”

“I have spent all night crafting the narrative of a completely fabricated person, it’s all here,” Elliot elaborates, “They’re genuinely kind, talented and hard-working, despite never being appreciated. They have the most charming mole on their neck, and they’re delightfully witty! After their grandfather passed away, they—”

“Son,” Willy interrupted gently, his tone tinged with amusement, “Yer a peculiar one, ya know that? How is this going to help with yer writing?”

“It does sound ridiculous, but dedicating my sonnets to this idealised character… thinking of them as I work on my novel… It has been phenomenally motivating!” Elliot laughs, re-reading through the pages before stopping in his tracks, “Oh, I do apologise old friend, I barged into your shop like a man possessed.”

It had been months since Elliot had felt such a fervent desire to write; his unbridled excitement was contagious; a smirk spreads across Willy’s face, crinkling the corners of his dark green eyes.

“If it were anyone else instead of you, I’d be furious, lad,” Willy chuckles, reaching into his mini fridge, “‘Ere, I whipped up too many crab cakes last night, and I know they’re yer favourite— consider it a gift.”

As Elliot arrives back at his cabin, writing snacks in tow, the muffled playing of his piano greets him. He chuckles softly, before preparing to shoo Harvey out of his home so he could resume his day of writing.

“Sincerest apologies, I—,”

“Oh! Honey, you’re back so soon.” Turning away from the piano, your eyes catch Elliot’s with a familiar warmth. You admire the way your boyfriend’s hair always forms delicate waves when exposed to the sea spray.

The author was struck speechless, his heart pounding as he stared at you with more focus than you have ever been subject to.

It couldn’t be real. And yet there you are. You. The muse Elliot had crafted— who's entire life was written mere hours prior on the pages that were now strewn about the floor— was standing before him in flesh and blood.

Every flawless detail exactly as he had imagined.

“Elliot, darling, are you okay?” Your smile becomes wry; nervous as to why your lover was acting so peculiar, his pale skin was now a ghastly white. “Would you like me to pour some wine? We can—”

Before your suggestion was made, Elliot was gone; the door slamming shut behind him.

note #2: okay if you didn't catch it, my inspiration was the 1960 episode of the Twilight Zone: 'A World of His Own', and (more relevantly) the 2012 psychological horror romcom Ruby Sparks !! if you check out either that episode or movie, pleasepleaseplease lmk what you think <33

#bad fic is bad but this was more for the concept ok !!! we're getting conceptual up in here #sdv elliot #sdv x reader #sdv elliot x reader #sdv elliot x farmer #sdv elliot x you #sdv elliot x y/n #stardew valley #sdv #sdv fanfic #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley elliot #stardew valley elliot x reader #x reader #ao3 writer

[bridgyrose]

Ruby and Jaune used to be a couple. They put it on hold after the fall of Beacon, but the love had passed long after, especially after Penny's death and the Ever After. They reflect on it in Vacuo, where they're still uncomfortable being near each other.

(This was a fun idea to run with)

Ruby walked along the border of the city of Vacuo, eyes focused on the horizon in front of her so she could try to take her mind off the fact that she was paired up with Jaune. Again. The reminders of what had been lingering in the back of her mind every time she saw him. All of it she wished she could forget. 

“This… almost reminds me of the hikes we’d take around the forest during the semester break,” Jaune said as he followed behind Ruby. “Just the two of us.” 

Ruby gave a small nod as she grimaced a bit at the memory. “Can we… not talk about this right now?” 

“And just forget about what we were?” 

“Yes!” Ruby spat out as she turned towards him, a single tear running down her cheek as she tried to push back the memories from Beacon. “Do you really want to get back together after everything we’ve been through? You lived a long life without me and I’ve seen how uncomfortable you’ve been around me.” 

“Y-yeah, but I…” Jaune let out a soft sigh. “We… we were never going to work out, were we?” 

Ruby shrugged and sat down on a rock as she watched the sunset. “I… I dont know… we might have but… I’m not sure I-” 

“Loved me? I… I think I know what you mean.” 

“You do?” 

Jaune nodded. “I saw the way you looked at Penny when we saw her again.” 

Ruby glanced over at Jaune, and then back to the sunset as the sun started to drop below the horizon. She took a deep breath as she listened to Penny’s voice run through her head over and over again. “I-it wasnt like that… I-I saw her as a close friend, you know? Nothing more than that.” 

“It seemed like more than that in the Ever After.” 

“Like how you were after Pyrrha died?” 

“She was my partner!” Jauned snapped. “Of course I was upset. She pushed me away when I could’ve helped her. She didnt have to die alone.” 

“And this is exactly why we had to put our relationship on hold.” Ruby shivered a bit as the air started to get cold once the sun had disappeared. “You… you always seemed to care more about her than you did me.” 

“Ruby-” 

“You almost got yourself killed in Haven.” 

“And you almost died in Argus. And then again in Atlas.” 

“That was different.” 

“Not, it wasnt.” 

Ruby took a breath to try to calm herself and looked up at the shattered moon. “When… when did we stop loving each other.” 

“I… I think after we went to Atlas. Or… or after we split up before Argus.” Jaune sighed and leaned back a bit. “I dont know. We’ve been through so much over these last few months and we’ve changed. I grew up, you died… I dont think we could ever go back to how we were.” 

Ruby pulled her cloak around herself to keep herself warm as she watched the horizon and listened to Jaune. He made it sound so easy to figure it all out, but the more she thought about it, the less certain she was that she had ever even loved him to start with. Meeting him was a breath of fresh air, and spending weeks with him and going on dates were great and she had loved them. But after meeting Penny, getting caught up in fighting Roman, Beacon falling, losing a few friends… it was almost as if love was never there. 

She stood up as she saw movement on the horizon, another mob of grimm had been heading towards the city. Her eyes practically reflected the moonlight as she grabbed her scythe. “Go get the others.” 

“I’ll call them-” 

“Just go!” Ruby took a breath as she watched Jaune run off out of the corner of her eye. Her mind raced as she tried to calm herself, focusing on the ones she loved. A tear rolled down her cheek as the memories of friends she had lost ran through her mind, her memories stopping on Jaune and the last date she had with him the night before the Vytal Festival. As the grimm started to get closer, she watched in determination as her eyes started to glow. She didnt care if she didnt love Jaune anymore, but she refused to lose anyone else.

#rwby #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #jaune arc #lancaster #ruby x jaune #angsty drabbles #well I guess this is a past jaune x ruby au #a love that didnt work out

[stardewrotsession]

Note: Thank you for the love on my last post! I’m not sure if this one is as good since I’m not that good at writing bachelorette headcanons. I’m working on it though! I opened requests in case anyone wants to send anything.

When the Bachelors/Bachelorettes realize they have a crush on you:

Bachelorettes:

Maru

- She’s the type of person who loves working on and sharing her projects with other people.

- So when you started showing interest in her inventions? She‘a not complaining, but she’d be lying if she said she expected the new town farmer to be interested in mechanics.

- Still, she was exhilarated to show off her smarts and skills to you.

- You were always super friendly and really nice, at least with her. And she appreciated that.

- It would get to the point where she would randomly spot you by the community center or up by the mountains and ask to get your opinion on something she’s working on.

- She starts to really care about your opinions and critics, mostly because you find a way to be gentle about it but still be able to tell the truth.

- She’d start making little trinkets and gadgets to try and help you out on the farm afterwards.

- It was a way to show you she cares!

- …Maybe in more ways than one.

Leah

- You occasionally see Leah painting or admiring the view on the beach, the forest, or the lake.

- She loves the outdoors, just being outside and being in the moment while the breeze hits her face is what makes life worth it for her.

- She was always a friendly person, but once you started showing interest in her art she began talking to you some more.

- I’d like to think one day, you’d introduce her to the secret forest past the wizard’s house.

- After she watched you take on the slimes, she’d look around the forest in awe.

- “This… this is breath taking…” She’d say. “Do you come here often?”

- Ever since then, you two would plan to go to the forest together every week or so.

- Sometimes she’d bring some paper and paint with her so she could try to capture the natural beauty.

- But whenever she’d try to, she wouldn’t be able to paint it without picturing you with her, admiring her work and talking to her about your life before moving, and how much better it has gotten.

- You were all she could think about.

- She wouldn’t be able to get you out of her head for a while after that.

Penny

- So, Penny was always pretty shy around you.

- A new farmer, going out of their way to talk to her and get to know her?

- She was very overwhelmed.

- Slowly but surely, she would start talking to you, and she would begin to feel more comfortable around you.

- When you ended up talking to her about Jas and Vincent’s favorite gifts, you started to catch her attention.

- “Vincent’s favorite thing is snails right? I’m not sure if Jodi would approve, but I got a bunch that he could pet or play with if he likes that.”

- “Hey, can I come by later today to give Jas some cake? I remember Marnie mentioning she really liked cake, and I wanted to try to bake one for her.”

- The way the farmer would talk so fondly and kindly about the kids made her realize she really wanted to get to know you better.

- And when you began talking about how important education is?

- And especially when you’d listen to her venting about Pam’s drinking without any judgment?

- Yeah, she’s definitely going to go out of her way to see you a little bit more now.

Abigail

- Abigail’s hobbies are a little different compared to the other bachelorettes’ personalities. She’s not like other girls.

- She loves anything that has to do with adventure, and if she’s being completely honest, she was disappointed when someone moved into that old abandoned farmhouse.

- Not like she held it against you though. It was just one less place to explore for her.

- However, she notices a lot of things. And the new farmer carrying around a nice looking sword caught her eye.

- Ever since she approached you about it, you two have been talking nonstop about your adventures in the mines.

- It wasn’t until she went down with you when she realized just how brave you were, putting your life on the line to protect her and to let her see and fight the monsters lurking down below.

- Brave, awesome, amazing.

- And you were into video games on top of that?

- She was done for.

Emily

- Magical gem girly.

- If she were to fall for the new farmer, she would need the new farmer to be just as into crystals, auras, etc.

- You two would be able to talk about tarot cards and magical crystal abilities day in and day out.

- It’d definitely be a nice refreshing change to cleaning up for Haley, walking around the town, and working at the saloon.

-I’d like to think one day she invited you over to her house to read your palms at night.

- and unexpectedly, she’d get a little distracted by how soft her strong your hands were from working on the farm.

- Something about holding your hand in hers felt right.

- “So what’s my life line Em?” You’d say, interrupting her day dream.

- “…Hm? Oh, yeah. Let me see…”

- Her face was definitely red for the rest of the night.

Haley

- Haley never liked you at first.

- I mean, it wasn’t like she hated you, exactly. You were just another person moving to this boring old town without any malls to go to or friends to hang out with.

- She only really started to talk to you after you open a jar for her.

- I’m sorry, I just think she’s a bit superficial at first.

- Who was she to ignore a strong guy/gal?

- But after finding her great grandma’s bracelet in the beach and cheering her up a bit, she starts to open her mind a bit more.

- She hasn’t had the worst life, in fact she’s had a pretty great one. So she wasn’t the type to vent or look back in the past and have a lot of regrets.

- …But it still felt really nice to have someone there to listen when she felt a little sad…

- She may need to rethink some things after talking to you.

#stardew valley #stardew #sdv #stardew valley headcanons #stardew headcanon #sdv abigail #sdv emily #sdv Haley #sdv leah #sdv penny #sdv bachelorettes #sdv Maru

[noshtaru]

OK SO-

I been watching the new PJO series and i'm currently obsessed with the DLC of Pokemon Scarlet & Violet... so i've been think of an AU where they're in camp half blood!

Soo the main idea would that Juliana is a student of the Orange academy, studing with her friends Arven and Penny, until one day, during an outside class, they were attack by a group of monster (Maybe the loyal three but adapted to the greek mythology) which force them to go to the Camp Half-Blood! where they'd essentially meet Nemona, a child of Athena, and the siblings Kieran and Carmine, unclaimed. Juliana became very good friends with Kieran, who told her how he and his sister haven't been claime yet and that they arrive a few weeks before them.

A few days pass and it was now the time for capture the flag and there where a lot of rumors that a mysterious creture was hunting the forest, and that if you hunted down you would gain extra points during the capture the flag. Carmine and Juliana where force to guard the one of the few pathways that lead to the flag, and where both ambush by a group of agresive arpies, and that's when Ogerpon, a Karpoi that was the creature that the rumors talked about, appeared and defended Juliana and Carmine, revealing that Juliana is a daughter of Demeter!

Carmine doesn't take this really well in the beging, but she ended up befriending her, how ever, Kieran didn't take well that her new friend, not only was claimeded firts, but became friend with his sister and the creature that he thought he could be friend! A don't have much more, maybe i'll do a fic if people are interested, though i have a few desing that'll shared later

(BTW Thanks to the teal mask squad server for part of the ideas!)

#dipplinshipping? maybe? #kieran pokemon #pokemon sv #pokemon kieran #kieran #pokemon sv dlc #rival kieran #pokemon teal mask #SV DLC Percy Jackson AU

[aito-mation]

over the hedge (2006) could very easily have been another middling 00's cg disaster w an all-star cast, forgettable and kinda phoned-in like open season or happily n'ever after (which came out the same year) but i think its actually a thoughtful adaptation w a lot of really good qualities. its about deprivation and want, found family and stepping on others to get ahead, and (sub)urbanization encroaching on nature, and it has an emotional core n im deadass !!

its based on a newspaper comic that centers on rj the raccoon and verne the box turtle, who live in the woods behind a ritzy suburb and menace n befriend its inhabitants. the comic is usu 4-5 panels per comic, and story arcs can stretch across multiple comics. there r a lot of characters that come and go, both human and animal, tho the core group usually stays at three characters-rj, verne, and someone else relevant to the current arc. so it couldve been questionable to extend that core group of characters from three to eleven (11!) in the movie, but i think it really works out. they position rj as the main character, and the other characters have an existing connection with verne, so act as an extension of him and his character arc. hammy is based on a character from the comics, but altered a bit, and stella, penny lou and the kids, and ozzie and heather are all original for the movie. and they all get equal time with rj, at no point in the movie do u forget about any of them-the exact opposite actually, we learn things abt them every time theyre on screen. its a really great use of screen time and dialogue.

and the character arcs! in the comics, verne is the more philosophical, searching one, and hes more often than not the loser at the end of things, often the butt of jokes, contrasting rj, who is more cynical, an indulgent slacker who only puts effort into slacking, often making the aforementioned jokes. they have a charming and humorous relationship, tho it is very much established. the movie however, reads as a sort of prequel to that relationship-rj and verne meet for the first time abt 15 mins in. it also makes some changes to their characters-verne is the cautious, tactless psuedo-patriarch of a cross-species family while rj is a lonely starving scavenger who has to scheme for the things he needs. the inciting incident, a broken vending machine convincing rj to steal food from a hibernating bear acquaintance of his, which is then all destroyed, leading to him making a deal with the bear to get it all back in just one week, could lead u to believe his motivation is greed-hes a little raccoon, and he didnt need to take all that food. but the rest of the movie reveals his motivation is longing, and loneliness.

the opening credits are layered over a sequence of rj scrounging in the garbage for something to eat. when he meets verne and his family of foragers, they r frightened by a new hedge in their forest, which surrounds a new 54-acre housing development, and wondering how theyre going to find enough food to hibernate the following year. rj sees this as an opportunity to trick them into helping him collect the food he needs for the bear from the suburb. their first disastrous encounter with a human initially throws a wrench in that, prompting rj to lie about losing his own family to gain sympathy and trust from them. but over time, he begins to actually care for them-he's shown playing video games with the baby porcupines, listening to music with heather, encouraging ozzie in his acting, even checking up on hammy when one of rj's plans gets him hurt; in their final heist, he changes the way everyone sees stella, showing her that she's more than just her smell. but the very real danger of being eaten by a bear remains rj's motivation until the final act, and we r shown up to that point that rj does not think he can get anything simply by asking.

which is a great contrast to verne, whose initial motivation is altruistic-he's worried abt the safety and survival of his family, whom he's responsible for. they already had barely enough to survive, and now almost the entire forest is gone around them. verne feels threatened by rj's charisma and seeming capability, and intimidated by the unknown world of the suburb, which turns into jealousy, as the rest of the family warms up to rj and his ideas and change. in an attempt to get things back to normal after a pest exterminator comes to their suburb, verne inadvertently destroys all the food his family had collected earlier in a sick montage, leading to an argument where verne says some insulting and hurtful things. sort of expelled from the family, feeling chastised, verne reflects on his feelings and behavior, and comes to rj to apologize. at the same time, rj is realizing that he's kinda fucked-he doesn't have the food he needs, and he's torn apart a family in the process. he's about to come clean and tell verne the truth, when, in a parallel of the beginning of the movie, he sees the opportunity to have everything he wants-the food and the family. so they put together one final plan, to get everything in one night, and it works, until it doesnt, and the truth comes out and rj abandons them, allowing verne and his family to be caged by the exterminator while he takes the food to give to vincent (the bear). but faced with the reality of that decision, watching the family he always wanted be carted away to be killed, rj changes his mind, taking the food from vincent's hands to go back and save his friends.

their reunion is intense and funny and immensely satisfying. you're glad rj made the right decision, that verne apologized and was forgiven, and the mad-dash escape from vincent and the exterminator culminates in an impossible plan that works out bc its an anthro kids movie, of course it would have a happy ending. after the antagonists r defeated, there's a scene where verne formally invites rj into their family, and tells him that if he'd been honest with them, told them he needed the food to pay back an angry bear, they would've helped him. bc that's what families do. and rj says "i've never had anything like that," correcting his lie from earlier. and the but ive always wanted it goes unsaid, bc he has it now, and he knows that.

#stfu aito #perhaps this could b written better. but ive been thinking abt this movie for weeks. #long post #over the hedge #over the hedge 2006

[pitviperofdoom]

So uh. About 12 years ago I thought it'd be fun to do Sherlock Holmes set in the Redwall universe. I wrote a bit for it, then lost interest and moved on to other things.

Well, between my Redwall reread and the Letters from Watson substack, I've recently found myself with renewed interest in both Redwall and Holmes stories, so I decided to dust off the ol' Redwall AU. I reread what I had, found it almost entirely unusable, and completely reworked it. And now I have a humble little introduction here!

Don't know if I'll continue this, but I've had a LOT of fun ideas over the last week, so we'll see!

*****

Extract from the personal journal of Lancejack Johnswort Swifteye, formerly of the Fur and Foot Fighters Border Patrol—

The first day of spring has come and gone. The days grow warmer and longer as we leave winter further behind—the Winter of the Sweeping Mists, by Abbey reckoning. By my own reckoning it was the Winter of Abject Misery.

For six seasons I have marched with the Fur and Foot Fighters Border Patrol, that intrepid unit that keeps watch on the region where Mossflower meets the sand dunes by the Western Sea. Most of my comrades were Salamandastron hares, but with the border patrol’s proximity to the forest, they had plenty of use for squirrels like myself. Like many of my kind I am sharp of eye and handy with a bow, and between my childhood of helping in the Abbey Infirmary and my later training under Lieutenant Lagsworth, I had the skills to make myself useful as a healer as well.

It all came to an abrupt and inglorious end last winter, when a Galloper from the Long Patrol came to us warning of a corsair ship that had made landfall not far from our position. Word reached us too late that the ship was in fact a full fleet, and in the resulting battle I found myself cut off from the rest of the patrol during our retreat. I went down with several wounds, not the least of which was a bolt from a searat’s crossbow in my leg, and I would have been killed if Corporal Pennyroyal hadn’t dragged me to safety.

The patrol suffered heavier losses than it should have, with its principal healer gravely wounded. Penny tells me it was touch and go for a while, before reinforcements from Salamandastron arrived, led by Colonel Kordyne himself. In the end I survived, albeit severely weakened and with a newly-acquired limp, my military career indefinitely on hold if not outright over.

Once I was well enough to travel, I was swiftly sent on my way to Redwall by shrew logboat, and had scarcely passed a week in the willing paws of the abbeydwellers when I was struck down with a ferocious fever. The days and weeks that followed were miserable, full of aches and chills and horrendous dreams—and precious little company, as I was kept away from other creatures so as not to spread my illness to the rest of the abbey.

To add insult to injury, I missed the Nameday celebrations entirely, and by the time I had regained enough of an appetite to enjoy the taste of food, every crumb of that glorious feast had been eaten or sent out to the denizens of the surrounding woodlands in need of extra food after the winter.

It is strange to find myself walking Redwall’s venerable halls once more. I was quite young when I left, creeping out in the cover of night so as not to alert the elders to my departure. Back then I dreamed of returning in glorious triumph, and here I am now, scrawny and scarred and hobbling about with a cane on days when my leg gives me trouble. I keep busy how I can, usually helping Brother Stonecrop in the Infirmary, but more often than not I find myself passing days in a fog. I miss my comrades, the smell of the wind off the distant sea, the feeling of good bark beneath my claws. Embarrassment about my situation has made me a recluse. Stonecrop and I were friends as Dibbuns, and he is still good company, but in spite of his best efforts, in spite of the many good creatures who make their home in Redwall, I cannot recall ever feeling so terribly lonely.

****

The sound of pawsteps on the stone floor reached John’s ears. Briefly he considered snuffing out the candle and waiting silently for whoever it was to leave, but the thought felt unbearably childish. With a sigh, he set down his quill and blew gently on the still-wet ink.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding.” Brother Stonecrop poked his head around the cask. “By the fur, how can you stand being down here so long on the cold stone?”

“It’s quiet,” John replied. “And before you ask, my leg feels fine. How’d you find me?”

“You certainly didn’t make it easy.” The stout mouse eased between the barrels and sat down with him, fidgeting until he’d smoothed out his habit. “I checked the infirmary and the top of the belltower first, and then I remembered Pinn saying she’d seen you creeping down here the other day.”

“I really thought I’d given her the slip,” John muttered, before a cloth-wrapped bundle was thrust into his inkstained paws. “Stonecrop, what—”

“You missed lunch again,” Stonecrop informed him. “I managed to rescue some cheese and nutbread and a scone before the young ones scoffed the lot. There’s a beaker of dandelion cordial as well. Get your jaws around that, see if it puts you in a better mood.”

“My mood is perfectly fine,” John protested. As if on cue, his traitorous stomach growled.

“Says the daft beast as he broods in the dark, scribbling out his thoughts by candlelight.”

“Alright, alright.” John bit into the scone and almost groaned. “Hell’s teeth, that’s good. How is it still warm?”

“Alright, so I didn’t actually snatch it from the jaws of a ravenous mousebabe,” Stonecrop admitted. “I stopped by the kitchens for a fresh one. I thought if you were making yourself this hard to find, it was a scone-straight-from-the-ovens sort of day.”

In spite of himself, John couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Stonecrop.”

Stonecrop clapped him on the back. “Think nothing of it, old Swifteye. Somebeast has to make sure you don’t waste away to nothing.”

“I’m nowhere near old.”

“Is that a fact? I could hardly tell, when you’ve got a face on you like a decrepit frog more often than not.” Stonecrop’s tone, light as it was, betrayed his worry. “You know it wouldn’t hurt to attend a meal every now and then. It’d be good for you to have some company once in a while.”

“I know, I know, it just…” John sipped from the beaker to buy himself time to think. “It gets a bit loud, especially with how voices echo in this place. And the last time I was somewhere loud, it wasn’t one of my good days.”

Stonecrop frowned. “I would think Dibbuns shrieking at dinnertime was a far cry from a battlefield.”

“You would think.”

“Well…” John could almost hear Stonecrop’s thoughts whirring as he hunted for a solution. “Would it help to get out of the abbey for a bit? You’ve hardly left since you got here—obviously you couldn’t with the fever, but you’re hale and healthy now, besides the leg. A bit of fresh air never harmed anybeast. Matter of fact, I’ve been doing some spring cleaning in the infirmary, and some of my herb stores need to be restocked.”

“It… would be nice to walk among proper trees again,” John admitted. “Though with my luck, I’d go out for a leisurely stroll and run straight into a robber gang.”

“Good thing you’re in an abbey full to the brim with willing, helpful beasts,” Stonecrop pointed out. “Why don’t I send you and somebeast else out on a little herb-gathering mission for me?”

“I’m not some restless young one you need to keep busy,” John told him, finishing up the last of the cheese.

“No, you’re a restless fully grown squirrel who needs to keep busy before he crawls out of his own fur,” Stonecrop said dryly.

“Yes, yes, you’re right.” John sighed. “You’re right. I’ve just been… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Lonely?”

“I don’t know if it’s that,” John flicked away the last few crumbs of nutbread. “But it feels the same whether I’m hiding down here or standing in the middle of a crowded Cavern Hole, so I may as well feel it without forcing my awful moods on somebeast else.”

Stonecrop placed a paw on his shoulder. “That’s no good and you know it, John. Starving the body won’t cure it of sickness, and starving the spirit won’t cure it of sadness, either.”

“I’m not sad, I’m just… I’m not exactly what anybeast would consider good company.”

Stonecrop took long enough to reply for John to finish the rest of his meal. When he glanced over again, he found the mouse looking at him thoughtfully.

“What?”

“It’s funny, I was just thinking… you’re not the first creature to say that to me in the last few days,” Stonecrop said, stroking his whiskers.

“So there’s another unsociable hermit in the abbey? I’m shocked we haven’t run into each other in the same hidden-away nook.”

“You’d be surprised,” Stonecrop chuckled. “But no, he’s been away from the abbey for most of the winter and just returned this past week. Bit of an odd one, but clever as anything. Knows the woods like the back of his paw, too. It was actually him I asked first about herbs, and he was all for helping until somebeast else came along with a more interesting problem for him to solve.”

“Not very courteous of him.”

“Oh, that’s just how he is,” Stonecrop said with a shrug. “But either way my stores need replenishing, and I’ve been busy with cleaning and early springtime sniffles. Would you be willing to lend me a paw?”

John sighed, trying not to smile and failing. “Well, when you put it like that, I’d be a real puddenhead to say no, wouldn’t I?”

“That’s the spirit!” Stonecrop heaved himself to his footpaws before reaching down to pull John up alongside him. “Come along then, let’s get you back out into the sunlight. Meet me in the infirmary and we can go over the list—I’ll go let Hemlock know I won’t be needing him after all.”

“Actually…” For a moment, John teetered on the edge of indecision, before he steeled himself and swallowed his ever-present doubts. “I think I’ll come along with you. You’ve got me curious about this Hemlock fellow.”

Stonecrop’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Well this is a pleasant surprise.”

“I rarely hear a cross word from you about anybeast,” John pointed out. “So if he’s odd enough for even you to remark upon it…”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Stonecrop chuckled, a bit nervously. “Just try to keep an open mind.”

Curiosity piqued, John followed him out of the cellar, through the Great Hall and out onto the abbey lawns. From the looks of it, most creatures had taken advantage of the warming weather to have lunch outside. The food was cleared away, but rumpled blankets still lay strewn across the grass, and sticky-pawed Dibbuns dashed about playing while their elders cleared away dishes and napkins.

The gatehouse door stood ajar when they reached it, and Stonecrop knocked twice before pushing it fully open and stepping inside. “Are you in there, Hemlock?”

There was no reply, but the sound of pages turning told them that somebeast was inside, at least. The gatehouse was a cluttered mess, and the sounds of life came from somewhere behind the stacks of old tomes and loose parchment that covered the desk.

Before Stonecrop could call out again, the unseen creature gave a great “Ha!” before slamming a book shut and nearly knocking the chair over in a mad scurry for the door.

Behind Stonecrop, John froze, and his mouth dropped open.

There was a ferret in the gatehouse—better fed and groomed than others of his kind that John had encountered, but a ferret nonetheless. From head to toe his brown fur was so dark it was nearly black, with flashes of white over his muzzle and ears, and a thin layer of dust over all.

“Solved it!” he crowed triumphantly, waving a slip of parchment. “Terribly sorry for the wait, Stonecrop, Myrtus presented me with a puzzle the other day and it couldn’t wait.”

“Sounds like it was a real poser,” Stonecrop said.

“A decent diversion. How close is it to noon?”

“About two hours past,” Stonecrop replied.

The ferret beamed. “Excellent timing! This is the best part—come, this way, you’ll both enjoy this.”

Without waiting for a reply, the ferret seized them both by their sleeves and pulled them out of the gatehouse, then released them and took off for the orchards at a quick lope.

John was left staring after him, mouth still hanging open. Wordlessly he turned to Stonecrop.

“I did say he was odd and to keep an open mind,” Stonecrop sighed. “We’d better see what he’s found.”

They caught up to the ferret at the wall nearest the orchard, walking quickly along its length and tapping each sandstone block as he went. “Well, what is it, Hemlock?” Stonecrop asked.

“Twelve, thirteen—hush, I’m counting—fourteen, fifteen…” The ferret carried on until he reached the middle of the wall, then turned his back was to it and began counting his steps. Before long they were within the shade of the orchard, and the ferret had halted at a damson tree and was squinting at something on the ground. With a noise of sudden understanding he darted along its shadow until he reached its end, counted several more steps, and stopped at an apple tree.

“Here it is!” The ferret inspected the tree trunk, then stared up into its branches, before turning and locking eyes with John. “The smallest favor, if you don’t mind—could you climb up there and see if you can find this?” He passed the slip of parchment to John. Scribbled on it was the symbol of a flower with star-shaped leaves.

Luckily today was a good day, and his leg didn’t pain him beyond a bit of stiffness. With one last baffled look at Stonecrop, John scaled the tree with ease. This early in spring, the boughs were mostly bare of leaves, and it took him several minutes to find the symbol. It wasn’t carved into the tree itself, but engraved on a small bronze disk embedded in one of the branches.

“Found it!” he called down.

“Which side of the tree?” the ferret asked.

“South!”

“Thank you!”

John climbed down to find the ferret down on all fours at the roots on the south side, digging furiously into the soil with both paws.

“Would you like me to find Foremole?” Stonecrop asked.

“No, I’ve got it!”

Soil flew into a growing pile behind him; the ferret dug with single-minded determination until his head was fully out of sight. Minutes passed before John heard a thud and curse, and the ferret’s dirt-covered face poked back into view.

“It’ll just be a moment more, I’ve just hit it,” he said, before diving back down with renewed energy.

“Just hit what?” John mouthed to Stonecrop, who shrugged helplessly at him and crouched down for a better look.

Eventually the ferret rose again with a grunt of effort, and lifted out an old, dirt-caked chest secured with a rusted lock. The ferret dove down again, produced a sizable rock from the hole he’d just dug, and smashed it off. Then he lifted the lid, peered inside, and gave a bark of triumphant laughter.

“Well?” Stonecrop spoke up. “Don’t keep us in suspense, what have you found?”

“No gold or jewels, if that’s what you’re wondering,” the ferret replied. “These are the journals of Brother Mallowgreen, during the reign of Abbot Kastel. There’s a bit of a gap in the abbey’s history during that time, thanks to the abbot’s rather unfortunate penchant for destroying records he didn’t like. Luckily, the Infirmary keeper at the time had the presence of mind to hide his own scribblings, and was kind enough to leave behind a few riddles leading to their location.” He lifted himself out of the hole and dusted off his paws, gray eyes alight with satisfaction. “And I do love a good riddle.”

“And you took all of two and a half days to solve it,” Stonecrop remarked.

“As I said, a decent diversion.” The ferret’s eyes settled on John again. “Hello.”

“Ah, right—Hemlock, this is John Swifteye, an old friend of mine. John, this is Hemlock, who I told you about.”

“Pleasure.” Hemlock’s pawshake was firm but not so tight as to be painful. “I didn’t know Stonecrop’s friendships extended as far as the Fur and Foot Fighters of the western dunes.”

“I, er, haven’t been back here in some time,” John stammered out, caught off guard.

“Do your herbs still need restocking, by the way?” Hemlock asked Stonecrop. “I know it’s been a few days.”

“You know, I was just coming to let you know that I’d found somebeast else for the task,” Stonecrop replied. “But it looks like you’re free again.”

“It might be a two-beast job, given the state of your stores when I last saw them,” Hemlock pointed out, with a glance at John. “I wouldn’t mind the extra paws, especially if it means having an archer along. Never mind being out of practice—any ne’er do wells we find in the woods today will most likely flee at a warning shot.”

“Um,” said John.

“If you’re not averse to my company, of course,” Hemlock added with a smile.

“I—not at all,” John answered without thinking. “If you don’t mind slowing up for a squirrel with a limp.”

“Well then.” Hemlock scooped up the chest and tucked it under one arm. “I’ll go run this little find up to the attic, and then I’ve got to nip down to the kitchens for something. See you at the east wallgate, Swifteye.” With that, he was gone.

John waited until Hemlock was well out of earshot before jabbing his paw into Stonecrop’s ribs. “Out with it, Stonecrop, how many others have you gossiped to about me?”

“I didn’t!” Stonecrop was grinning. “On my honor, I never breathed a word about you, to him or anybeast else. I told you he’s clever.”

“What have I gotten myself into?” John asked.

Stonecrop slung a friendly paw around his shoulders and began leading him back to the abbey building. “Only one way to find out.”

They had only just reached the lawn when, behind them, the deep voice of Brother Bramlen the gardener rang out from beneath the trees.

“WHO IN THE NAME O’ SPIKES HAS BEEN DIGGIN’ UP ME TREES?” the hedgehog bellowed. “HEMLOCK!”

Squirrel and mouse beat a hasty retreat, laughing like misbehaving young ones.

****

True to his word, Hemlock was waiting by the east wallgate when John made his way down. The ferret was cloaked warmly for the lingering winter’s chill, and carried an empty basket with one paw and, oddly enough, what seemed to be a fully-packed haversack on his shoulders. John had a basket of his own, and had armed himself with bow, quiver, and a stout walking stick.

“Planning on spending the night, are you?” John asked, glancing at the pack.

“No,” Hemlock replied, and unbolted the gate. “After you.”

The sun was out, with more blue in the sky than gray. In spite of the warmth of sunlight, the air was still cold, even more so without the high abbey walls to block the wind. John’s injured leg gave a twinge, forcing him to lean on the stick a little more heavily than he would have liked.

Hemlock had taken the lead without a word, which was fair enough. Before he’d come limping to the abbey under the guidance of the Guosim, John hadn’t been this deep into Mossflower Wood since his nighttime escape as a wayward young one. Besides, if he wasn’t focused on pathfinding, it gave him a chance to size up his strange companion.

It wasn’t unheard of for vermin to live their lives in peace and quiet contentment. John had known of a few to the west—a weasel couple that farmed and fished in the woods, a solitary old rat that lived out in the dunes—and the patrol kept an eye out but otherwise left them alone. But that didn’t change the fact that, by and large, the vast majority that John had encountered had been… well. Roving bandits, robber gangs. Corsair fleets.

John glanced back at the sandstone wall looming over the tree tops, then again at Hemlock. Redwall’s charter had something or other about extending paws in peace and friendship, but that didn’t change the long history of vermin hordes showing up to try and conquer the place.

“Rest assured, that is not my intention,” Hemlock said dryly.

Startled, John nearly tripped. “I beg your pardon?”

“I was only a little older than a kit when I first came to Redwall,” Hemlock went on, picking his way carefully through a tangle of roots. “Rather a long time for a plot to simmer, wouldn’t you agree?”

John slowed, leaning heavily on his stick as he followed. “I didn’t—how did you—?”

“Your stare has been burning holes in the back of my head since we left,” Hemlock replied. At least he didn’t sound particularly offended. “And just now you looked back at the abbey as if to make sure it was still there, then very pointedly looked at all the spots on my person that might conceal weapons. It wasn’t difficult to follow your train of thought.”

“...Oh.” Sheepishly, John lapsed into silence.

Eventually Hemlock led the way to a patch of vervain, and John descended upon it. The plants were strong and healthy in spite of the recent winter, and before long the bottom of his basket was lined with it.

“I found feverfew not far from here, last time I passed through,” Hemlock spoke up suddenly. “Hopefully it’ll still be there—not much snow, this past winter, so it won’t have frozen.”

John pulled himself back up on his stick. His leg was beginning to ache, just slightly, but he could still walk a bit more. “Lead on.”

They found it near a massive fallen beech log, growing green and full out of the loam, though it was still too early in the season for flowers. Still, Stonecrop could do a lot with stems and leaves alone. When John was finished harvesting them, he found Hemlock sitting on the log waiting for him.

“Might as well sit for a bit,” the ferret said. “Rest that leg.”

“Oh. Er, thank you.” John leaned his stick against the log and climbed up to sit—not beside him, but near enough.

Truthfully, he was grateful. He hadn’t had much in the way of exercise recently, between injuries, fever, and moping. He could feel himself getting winded and tired more quickly than he ever had before. A long walk through the woods without rest was likely to make his leg worse.

Hemlock must have known. He certainly wasn’t resting for his own benefit.

“Can I ask you something?” John asked eventually.

“You may.”

“Stonecrop said he didn’t tell you about me,” said John. “Did somebeast else tell you who I was, or…?”

Hemlock’s gray eyes flitted up and down, taking in the whole of him again. “I hadn’t heard of you before Stonecrop introduced us.”

“Then how did you know I’m—I was one of the Fur and Foot Fighters?”

“Oh, a number of things,” Hemlock replied. “I looked at you and thought, here is a creature who carries himself like a trained soldier, with his best seasons before him but covered in scars old and new, with a freshly maimed leg and a recent bout of illness, in the middle of a vast forest that hasn’t seen much trouble from hordes and bandits in quite some time. The military bearing suggests the Long Patrol, but it’s extremely rare to see anybeast but a hare among them. And if you were in the Long Patrol, you would’ve rested from your hardships in Salamandastron. Then I remembered hearing of the recent visit from the Guosim, and that answered that. You came from the border between forest and sand, and your comrades saw fit to put you on a boat for home rather than send you on a long march over the dunes.” He paused. “The archery was easy enough—calluses on your paws and a thin patch on your inner arm where the bowstring wears at your fur when you fire.”

John gaped at him.

“It sounds complicated when I lay it all out, but it’s really not,” Hemlock finished. “Two and two make four.”

“And you know Redwall is ‘home’ for me because…?”

“The accent, obviously.”

“Obviously.” He hadn’t even known he had an accent.

“How’s the leg?” Hemlock asked.

John tested it, then carefully slid down to the ground. The ache was nearly gone. “Better, thank you.”

“Let’s be off, then. The infirmary’s stores don’t have a single stem of marigold left.”

Before they left, Hemlock shrugged the haversack from his shoulders and set it on the log. John watched him curiously as he wedged it in the fork of the roots so that it wouldn’t slide off.

“What are you doing?”

“Paying for services rendered,” Hemlock replied, leaving the pack where it sat. “Let’s be off.”

The ferret offered no further explanation. Something told John it would be useless to press.

****

“So what do you think of him?” Stonecrop asked later that evening, as they reorganized the herb stores.

“You were right,” John replied. “He’s an odd one and no mistake. Monstrously clever, though.”

“Oh, that he is.”

“He left a full haversack out in the woods,” John added, glancing at his friend. “Any idea what that’s about?”

“Ah, that.” Stonecrop grinned. “Don’t worry about that. You’ll find out soon enough.”

#redwall #sherlock holmes #fanfiction #tales from the pit

[ieatsmallorphansnamedtom]

Stardew Bachelor/Bachelorette Halloween Costumes!

In celebration of the start of spooky season, I compiled a list of what I think the Stardew bachelors and bachelorettes would wear for their trick or treating! I know they have Spirit's Eve, but I'm yet to see connections to that holiday and costume wearing (if someone does have anything do hit me up).



Bachelors:

Sam

He's either going as a video game character or something classic like a clown. Either way, he looks like he's just come back from a night of killing. Tons, and I mean TONS, of fake blood everywhere. It doesn't even look authentic at that point; it just looks like he's dipped himself in a bucket of red paint. He'd have to have a second costume for when Vincent is around, hence the video game character. He's a whole cupboard full of Prairie King merchandise and costumes.



Elliott

Some infamous historical figure/legend. Think Sweeney Todd. He's always dressed like he came straight from the Victorian era in London, so you best believe he's got some cool costumes he just wears on the regular. Also, the acting is dialed up to 100%. Some townies (mostly Alex) can't even understand what he's saying because he uses a combination of Shakespearian, cockney rhyming slang, and drunken slurs.



Sebastian

Vampire, skeleton, or both. Lots of effort was put into his, so it looks really good. It's mostly made of up cycled old costumes and random merchandise he has. He went to Emily for a lot of help with actually putting it together, and it paid off! He spends most of the night trying to sneak up on Sam and scare him (which he does well). Lots of fun Sebastian times and scared Sam times.



Harvey

His costume is pretty tame. Honestly, he's just a more stereotypical doctor. He's not all too creative with these things. But when the farmer comes along, he tries stepping it up with a pilot outfit! A more historical one, of course. He does not have the money to go out and buy a whole suit for these modern uniforms. Some of the stuff is a bit old, seeing as it was mostly outfits from many years ago, but he still looks cute.



Shane

If it weren't for Jas, he's going as a bedsheet ghost. Not even holes cut out for the eyes, just crudely scribbled on magic marker ink. But Jas wants to be a princess, so he's going to be her knight in shining cardboard armor. Jas and Emily spent hours making it, and for what it's worth with its mounds of silver glitter, it looks pretty good! Shane swapped out his sword for a glorified pool noodle and is hitting whoever annoys him under the excuse 'it fits his character.'



Alex

Gridball player, but zombie. Halfway through makeup with Haley she realised he was using actual paint, not face paint. Cue them both panicking and rushing to get it off his face. A little bit of paint got on her floor and now he's doing all her chores for a week. But for the costume, he took great care not to get paint on his helmet. If he could, he'd wait days until he's certain the paint has dried and most 'damage' it. He's having the time of his life in it, living out his literally dead dream (being a zombie and all).'



Bachelorettes:

Penny

Queen of the Junimos! It's got a very floral design and is pretty light. Bell-shaped skirt and sleeveless top. Lots of green, but also little bits of oranges and yellows to fit the season she'll be wearing it. Haley went crazy when she asked for help with her makeup and spent hours and hours making sure it looked perfect. She looks like she came straight out of a fairy tale.



Leah

Some sort of mythological forest being. Probably some sort of tree person. Either her outfit is lowkey high-key very revealing, or a straight up tree with a hole for her head. That, or something very weird and mixed media. She's trying to get the feel of a personification of her sculptures.



Abigail

Dead Red Riding Hood. Blood everywhere. It looks like someone murdered her violently in her sleep. She also has one of those fake knives that can retract into itself to make it look like she stabbed someone. That, or Sebastian hid some packets of fake blood in his jacket and Abi comes swinging at it with her sword. They both got in massive trouble and nearly killed Harvey, but it was worth it.



Maru

Alien! But hers is actually based off what aliens would look like under different planets with different environments. Each year is something new, and every time she looks amazing. She's even wired some electricity in some of them to make flashing lights or to equip a voice box inside. It's super stuffy though, so she's taking it off after a few hours for a break.



Emily

Her outfit is less of a costume more of her having fun making the most extreme clothing possible. Two-and-a-half rainbows of colours only visible to shrimp. She is the easiest to spot by far, having giant accessories. Each costume is based off a different animal, but her favourite is birds because she gets to use a ton of feathers.



Haley

A ghost! She's dressed in her best clothing; all white and grey. Her makeup took the whole day to do, and it paid off! She is by far the most beautiful townie and looks absolutely ethereal. She and Emily also came up with a fun backstory for her new ghost self, and when drunk Elliott hears it, he loses it entirely (in a good way). Little bits of glitter everywhere so she shines in the moonlight.

#sdv #sdv headcanons #sdv sam #sdv elliot #sdv sebastian #sdv harvey #sdv shane #sdv alex #sdv penny #sdv leah #sdv abigail #sdv maru #sdv emily #sdv haley #stardew valley #stardew valley headcanons #stardew valley sam #stardew valley elliott #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley harvey #stardew valley shane #stardew valley alex #stardew valley penny #stardew valley leah #stardew valley abigail #stardew valley maru #stardew valley emily #stardew valley haley #ieatsmallorphansnamedtom

[londonhalcyon]

Writing has not been happening the past few weeks (the non-academic kind at least), so here’s an unedited snippet of Chapter 42 to tide you guys over. Enjoy the little sneak peek.

* * * *

On the afternoon of the 27th, Penny came with me to prep the thestrals. I hadn’t asked her to. She had volunteered, even after I had told her how long the flight would be. Each further attempt to deter her earned me a glare, but I still had to try one last time as we walked into the forest.

“We don’t both have to fly,” I said. “I can have Tenebrous follow me. We can meet you and Kingsley there.”

“It’ll be faster if I take him,” Penny said tersely.

“By a few minutes, maybe. It’s a two-hour flight, bareback. It’s not going to be fun.”

“I want to help. But since it’s obvious you don’t want me there—”

“I never said that.”

“Then stop arguing with me. I’m coming with you. That’s final.”

“I just don’t want you to put yourself under any unnecessary stress,” I said. She was afraid of heights for Merlin’s sake.

Penny tapped a finger to her chin. “Hmm, where have I heard that before?”

I rolled my eyes. “Point taken.”

We stopped a few meters into the trees, near where I had first taken the trio hunting for potion ingredients. A flat, grassy field stretched out at our backs. The perfect takeoff point.

Bringing my fingers to my lips, I gave a loud three-note whistle. The bushes rustled, and Nyx promptly trotted out of the shadows, her identifying scar visible on her flank. A younger male thestral trotted after her. Good, Hagrid had already sent them our way.

I levitated two dead birds out of my bag, which I flicked towards them. Each thestral caught the offering in its beak-like mouth with a disturbing crunch.

“Are you afraid I’ll freeze?” Penny asked. “When it matters, I mean.”

“I watched you stare down a werewolf last year,” I said. “You know it’s not that. I’m going to worry no matter what.”

“Tough luck, love.” But she said it with a smile.

I gave an exaggerated sigh. “I know.”

She lightly elbowed me. “Do we have everything we need?”

“I think so. Here, one second…”

I handed her half the gear in my bag: gloves, flight goggles, and a full face balaclava. No hoods. Certain things like “peripheral vision” and “not being mistaken for a Death Eater” seemed important.

I donned the same items myself, pulling the balaclava over my head until only my eyes and the bridge of my nose were exposed—then only the bridge of my nose after I added the goggles. We looked like we were on our way to rob a store, but anonymity was key. Plus, it was going to be frigid and dry in the air at that altitude, and I had no interest in going blind if my contacts dried out in the next two hours.

Penny held out her arms. “How do I look?”

Unrecognizable, if I hadn’t been close enough to see her eyes through her goggles. With her face covered and her hair completely tucked away, it would be impossible to tell who she was at a distance.

“Gray,” I said.

“How boring.”

“Like a shadow,” I amended.

“Better.”

We wore dark gray dueling robes, which were form-fitting enough that they wouldn’t get in the way, but just fluttery enough to make a more difficult target. The idea was that, in moments when there was at least a little light, the gray would blend in with the shadows better than pitch black. That was perhaps the paranoia talking by this point, especially when we had Disillusionment Charms at our disposal, but overkill was better than the alternative.

It would be fine. With luck, everything would go according to plan, and we wouldn’t even have to fight. The Death Eaters wouldn’t realize we had moved the date until it was too late, and by then, everyone would already be safe at the Burrow.

I tangled my hands in Nyx’s mane to hold them steady. I ignored the distant roaring in my ears. “Ready?”

Penny grabbed hold of Tenebrous. “Mind giving me a leg up?”

I gave her a boost. In the next minute, we were both on our thestrals, ready at the edge of the field.

#the mad witch #lilianna flores #penny haywood

[faewritesfanfic]

Crossover Event

It's a different universe, and it's not cannon, but I did it! Enjoy some Ena and Kore foraging while trying to figure out how to handle Sydney's sex drive.

Ena belongs to @bearbeardbread They've done some adorable art with Kore in it, and I wanted to return the favour by writing something cute with Ena. Enjoy!

TW: Frank discussions of sex.

---

“I think these are good?” Ena looked up to Kore from the mushroom field guide the older girl had loaned her. Eden hovered nearby, uncomfortable with the presence of another person but unwilling to let his wife out in the forest unprotected. He had, probably rightfully so, deemed the tiny orphan girl an unsuitable bodyguard.

Kore didn’t have many friends, mostly by choice. She’d met Ena while foraging with her husband one day. They’d come across the young woman surrounded by wolves, and though Eden had wanted to leave immediately Kore couldn’t have the potential death of an innocent on her conscience. She’d given Eden the best puppy dog eyes she could muster, and promised him all sorts of good food and good sex. He’d finally caved in, scaring the wolves off. Kore had kept her promise, of course, and seemed to have made a friend in the process.

Ena had been joining Kore to forage for the past few weeks, and was in the process of teaching the girl to hunt mushrooms. She sat next to Ena, taking the boletus from her and cutting it in half with her work knife. Kore inspected the fungus closely before nodding.

“Penny buns. These are good to eat.” She said brightly, handing the find back to Ena. “You have to be really careful with mushrooms of this type. England has some very poisonous boletus. Make sure you cook these thoroughly before eating them.”

“Okay!” Ena nodded, proceeding to pluck some of the mushrooms from the ground. Mushroom hunting was hard to learn, and Ena had a knack for finding some of the most poisonous mushrooms in the country. She’d also managed to find some mushrooms that were definitely not for eighteen year olds, and Kore had to confiscate them. For Ena’s own good.

“What was it you were saying about your boyfriend?” Kore asked. It was nice to be seen as an authority on relationships. She liked to think her relationship with Eden, unconventional though it was, was solid and healthy enough to allow her to give out advice. Though what was unconventional in their little town? The entire place seemed to run on aphrodisiacs and ‘no means yes.’

“He’s, um…” Ena blushed brightly, focusing intently on her foraging basket. “He’s been really enthusiastic lately? I’m having a hard time keeping up.”

“Oh, I see.” Kore said thoughtfully, patting the younger girl on the head to calm her. That must have been difficult to say. She could see why Ena would confide this in her. Kore’s husband was much bigger, and more athletic than her.

While Kore pondered, Ena’s blush grew. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I just thought you might have some ideas. I don’t really know anyone else in a relationship, and Eden is–” Ena glanced up and met the eyes of a glaring Eden. She squeaked and looked back down. “--a lovely man who I am sure treats you very well!”

Kore couldn’t help but chuckle, casting an affectionate glance to her husband. “He is, and he does.” She said warmly. “If you’re having trouble keeping up with your boyfriend, why not set the pace yourself?” Kore offered, rising from the dirt to dust herself off before leading Ena towards an apple tree.

“M-me?!” Ena replied, a mixture of shock and disbelief on her face.

“Not something you’ve tried before?” Kore asked.

“I can’t do that! I… he…” The blush on Ena’s face could have warmed Eden and Kore through the winter. It was truly adorable. “I’d be bad at it!”

“That is generally how learning a new skill begins, yes, by being bad at it.” Kore chuckled. “If you don’t like it, you never have to do it again. Though I think your boyfriend will really enjoy it, from the sounds of it. Being tied up and edged within an inch of his life by the girl he likes would probably be a dream come true for him.”

Poor Ena was almost vibrating from embarrassment, stuck in place as Kore plucked apples from a tree.

Kore smiled at the girl. “Ena?”

“Y-yes?” She squeaked.

“Do you love and trust this person?” Kore asked.

Ena looked down at her feet, shuffling awkwardly before nodding. The girl was too cute, sometimes. Kore adored her.

“Then everything will be fine. Sometimes relationships are scary. Being vulnerable with someone is always a challenge. It’s worth it, though. Trust me on that.” Kore looked to Eden, smiling at him and catching his small smile in return.

“O-okay!” Ena declared. “I’m gonna do it! I’m gonna e-edg– still can’t say it!” Her declaration had turned into a squeak, but at least Ena had tried.

“That’s the spirit.” Kore said with a small clap. “Now here. Help me get these apples.”

#eden the hunter #kore the gardener #alternate universe #fluff #crossover #bearbeardbread

[skyeet-the-writer]

backwoods to beaches (rooster x female!reader)

1 — Piano-Playing Pilots

ever since i watched top gun 2 i've been obsessed with miles teller. like obsessed like it's embarrassing. so, to deal with my problem, ive written and entire ass essay as seen below you. and there will be more. much more coming towards yall

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x female!reader

summary: as a girl from georgia, california is a big change. but working at a bar gives you a perfectly good reason to oogle at piano-playing pilots on a late night

word count: ~5.8k

warnings: some swearing, alcohol (obv), suggestive mentions, hardcore flirting around the end

notes: if you couldn’t tell by the title or the summary, reader is from georgia and down south so there will be a lot of mentions/references to this. i myself am from western ky, but if i’ve gotten anything wrong or aren’t portraying it correctly, lmk how to fix it! other than that, enjoy y’all. x.

insp by @heartsofminds fic “blooming”

playlist:

That first summer as a bartender was rough. California was a lot hotter than you thought it would be, and by the time the night was over and the rush of military men and women had thinned, you were covered in sweat.

California was also not as pretty as you had made it up to be in your head. There were a lot fewer trees than you would have preferred. But there were beaches.

Back from where you came from, everything was pretty to you. Rolling hills, fields full of wildflowers. Beautiful sunrises and even more stunning sunsets. Acres upon acres of forests, with dirt trails dusty and worn from generations of four-wheeling and ATVing. Miles of farmland that were always ready when harvest comes around. Creeks clear as glass and ponds full of almost every kind of fish one could think of. Everything you had grown up with and around was absolutely gorgeous to you.

California had her fair shares of beauty. But not as many as back home.

When you and your best friend graduated college, you two wanted a change of scenery. And so, when her uncle called her and invited her to live with her, she accepted and took you with her. It was hard, watching that small town you had lived in all your life fade in the rearview mirror, but at the time, it was what you wanted.

Your friend's uncle was in the navy and he lived in Miramar. Also called "Fightertown, USA". You quickly figured out why when a jet flew over your head as you two exited the car upon your arrival at your new home.

You and your friend smiled at each other, excited to have a fresh start.

To complete the absolute teenage dream, the two of you got a job at the same bar, the Hard Deck. It was just a few minutes away, a perfect fit for your friend, who always happened to be late to everything. Not to mention that it paid pretty well, had tips, and was also run by a woman.

But on your second week, you realized how much of a nightmare it could be. The naval men and women always came in, talking loudly, and began to laugh louder after a few drinks. But somehow, it reminded you of home. That's why you lasted longer than your friend did.

You found joy in your stressful job. The owner, Penny, often called you into work during the weekend, the busiest time. You began to recognize people's faces and remember their names, even remembered a few orders as the weeks went by.

When the summer came to an end, you had become some of the patron's favorites. Some were familiar with your accent and you found friendships in those ones, asking what part of Georgia, Louisana, or Carolina they were from and smiling at stories you could relate to.

Another year passed and the next summer, you became even better at your job. When you first started, you were a nervous, shy little girl from Georgia who had trouble remembering things but was still so sweet. Suddenly, you became this young lady with a thick accent and an even thicker skull. The girl who used to blush and twirl her hair at any man who flirted with her to a woman who would simply shake her head at another young boy just vying for attention.

Tonight, the bar is hopping. Penny, who, despite being your boss, is one of your closest friends/motherly figures, is busy chatting it up with some older guy who doesn't look over the age of thirty. You didn't catch his name, far too busy with the customers Penny should be dealing with. But you don't mind. You don't know a whole lot about Miss Penny's personal life, but something tells you that there was once something between her and the older man.

"Could I get another beer, Miss L/N?" asks Cooper, a regular from last year.

"Of course, Coop," you tell the man, taking his glass from him. "What was it, Bud Light?"

He nods. "You got it. Say, how come you always rememberin' all these orders. I couldn't ever do that."

With a smile, you refill his glass and place it back to him with a new napkin under it. "Ain't you a flight operator?" you tease with a raised brow.

Cooper smiles and laughs. "Yeah, that's true." He lifts his glass to his lips.

You tap the bar in front of him and move to another patron next to him. "Besides, you come in here often enough for me to remember." You turn to the woman in front of you. "You had a whiskey on the rocks, right, darling?"

The lady nods and suddenly there's a loud ringing of a bell from nearby. The bar erupts into cheers and you spot Penny's date with his head in his hands and Penny with a triumphant smirk.

"Looks like this one's on the house," you tell the woman, topping her glass off before sliding it back towards her.

Humming to yourself, you mentally prepare for the next round of drinks on the man. It was bar rules that if anyone insulted a woman, they had to buy the entire bar a round. It sure was fun to watch their smirk vanish from their face. You've rung that bell a few times yourself and watched the color drain from the man flirting with you fade from his face almost as quick as the smug smirk.

"Hey, pretty lady!" comes a familiar voice that makes you smile. Jake Seresin, A.K.A. "Hangman", approaches the bar, grinning. "Can I get four beers on the old man?"

With a simple nod and a smile, you reach to the fridge below the bar and pull out four beers, two in each hand before handing them to Hangman.

"How's your evenin' been, Jake?" you ask him, taking just a moment to have a small conversation.

The man grins and says, "Pretty good. You?"

"Had three guys ask for my number," you reply, grinning. "Threatened to ring the bell on 'em if they didn't cut it out."

Jake groans. "You shoulda done it anyway! Would've saved me a lot of money." With a laugh, he walks off, likely to his friends. You've been watching them play pool all evening and you can hear their banter even from over here.

As the night wears on, you quickly begin to wear out. Bartending is an exhausting practice, mixing drink after drink and refilling or restocking. Thankfully, most people only get beers. Those are your favorite kinds of people, the ones where you can just hand them something and have them be on their way.

Eventually, your best friend, Dixie, comes in, instantly claiming her usual seat at the bar close to the door. You smile when she walks in and she races to steal one of the few open barstools before someone else can claim it.

Dixie doesn't drink, which is odd considering how often she comes in to bother you. You place a bowl of chips in front of her and sparkling water and wipe your hands down.

"Y'all are busy, huh?" she asks, crunching on one of the bar's chips. "Look at all these hunks, Y/N."

With a roll of your eyes, you remember why she comes in so often. She loves to oogle at the military boys that filled the majority of the bar. She always had a thing for military men. That was one of the few things you didn't have in common: despite living in a military town, none of the men seemed to do it for you. Most of them were too cocky, too bold, their egos too big. You never preferred those kinds of boys.

Dixie on the other hand? They were her favorite. You remembered her bringing a couple of them back home your first few months. Those were the nights you sat out in the back screened-in porch watching some movie or show with your earbuds at max volume.

"Dixie, you know I can't stand them," you tell her with a smile and a shake of your head. "Their egos are way too big."

"Wanna know what else is big?" asks Dixie, wiggling her eyebrows. You give her a look of disgust and she laughs.

"I'm telling your momma next time we head home," you threaten, pointing at her.

She laughs again. "We both know you won't, Y/N."

With another roll of your eyes, you head towards another patron waving you down. "What can I help you with, darlin'?"

"Can I get a few shots of tequila, please?" asks the man.

You nod. "Sure thing. Three okay?"

"Yeah, that works."

With a bright smile, you say, "Alrighty!" and get to work. Picking three shot glasses out, you fill them to the brim with tequila. You also put some salt on a plate with a few wedges of lime and pass it to the man. "You got it all?"

He nods, carrying the shots in one hand and the plate with the rest of the fixings in the other. He thanks you before walking off back towards a table.

With a glance to the door, your heart almost stops. You know he's a fighter pilot. He's not wearing a flight suit or a uniform or anything. No, he's just in a white beater with a faded Hawaiian shirt and aviator glasses. But there's something about him that you just know is the epitome of a fighter pilot. You've met enough of them in the year that you've lived in Fightertown, you're confident you can spot one from a mile away.

For a naval pilot, though, there's something different about him. Maybe it's the way he's standing, slightly slouched and not fully upright like so many of the other ones do. Maybe it's the way he's biting the bottom of his lip like he's nervous. Or maybe it's the way he somehow exudes a vibe of...chill. An aura of calmness and relaxation that you can feel from over here.

You watch him spot a group back near the pool table and watch him walk up to them, where Jake is laughing with his fellow pilots. You watch Jake stand up and raise a brow. Does he puff his chest out?

"As I live and breathe," you hear him say with a smirk evident.

The other man, who appears to be the same height as Jake, says nothing. He just shakes his head, pushes his shades up, and leans on the table.

You wonder why he's wearing sunglasses in an already dark bar.

However, you’re quickly snapped out of your fantasy when you see someone else waving you down. With a small blush you hope is mostly invisible in the dim light, you walk over, apologizing.

All throughout the night, you can’t seem to keep your eyes off of that pilot. You have no idea what his name is and you’ve never seen him before in your life. But there’s just something about him that makes you yearn. Your eyes yearn to him while you pour another drink and you almost spill a few times, much to the amusement of Penny.

Eventually, you spot Penny's date counting his cash and cards, trying to find a way to pay off his debt. Then he smiles sheepishly, holds his hands up, and the next thing you know, Penny is yelling out, "Overboard, overboard!"

Hangman and a few other airmen who happened to be around the bar grab the man, each having a limb. You've seen this happen plenty of times, and it still makes you laugh, watching another man get thrown out of the bar because he couldn't pay his debt.

It was never anything mean, just playfulness. That's what the bar was. It was playful, it was friendly. It was a place for naval men and women alike to come after a hard day's work of...whatever they did and get a drink and play a game of pool or darts with a friend. It was one of the many things that reminded you of home.

During a short time when things calm down, you lean next to her where she’s chatting with Dixie. “Hey, Pen. Who’s that guy over there by the pool table?”

She looks in your direction and tilts her head. “Y/N, there’s no one over there.”

With a frown, you see that there isn’t anyone over there indeed. Scanning the bar, you search for him. “W…where’d he go?”

Suddenly, the music from the jukebox comes to an abrupt stop and there are cries of dismay and a few curses. But the single note on a piano has you whipping your head in that direction.

That same man is sitting there at the piano, his friends gathered around him. You tilt your head and lean your forearms on the counter, watching as he plays a few notes you almost recognize.

"You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain. Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will. But what a thrill."

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!" sings nearly the entire bar, voices blending together perfectly.

You laugh as the pilot continues the song that you now recognize as a song by Jerry Lee Lewis. It's one of your favorites, you remember your grandfather playing it on the record machine he refused to give up.

"I laughed at love cause I thought it was funny. You came along and you moved me, honey. I change my mind. This love is fine."

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!"

A soft, manicured hand grabs your own and pulls you to the bar. Dixie is smiling, mouth open, and singing along with the rest of the bar. "Kiss me, baby!" She presses a long, exaggerated kiss to your hand and you laugh loudly.

"Mmmm, it feels good!" you sing, grabbing both of her hands as she stands. It's difficult to dance together across a bar, but you make it work. "Hold me, baby!" You bring Dixie up to the edge of the bar and give her an awkward type of hug.

"I wanna love you like a lover should!" she sings with you, cheeks pressed together. "You're fine. So kind!" she pulls away and grabs your shoulders as you wiggle them, sending the two of you side to side, grinning and laughing. "Imma tell the world that you're mine, mine, mine, mine!"

You push her away as she picks up an empty beer bottle and uses it as a microphone. That's what you've always loved about Dixie, how she was always so confident in herself.

"I chew my nails and I twiddle my thumbs. I get nervous but it sure is fun! Come on baby, you're driving me crazy!"

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!"

You laugh and stop singing for the piano solo. You take a second to look at the man playing said piano. He makes it look so easy. He's smiling, surrounded by his friends, and you can't see his fingers, but you're sure they making a blur across the keys. His friends howl and holler at him, Fanboy thumps a hand on the wooden instrument. You notice that his sunglasses have slid down as he slides his fingers down the piano, creating a glissando. He smiles at his friends turned fans, clearly enjoying the attention.

You bounce to the music, continuing to watch Dixie attempt to copy what the pilot is doing. She's failing, quite terribly, but she doesn't seem to care.

"Kiss me, baby! Woo, that feels good. Hold me, baby! I wanna love you like a lover should."

You yourself get lost in the music, leaning across to also sing into the empty beer bottle with Dixie, almost like a duet. Your eyes are closed and your cheeks are red, maybe from the heat, maybe from the excitement.

What you don't spot, however, is the gaze that the piano-playing pilot gives you while he sings. He spots you halfway across the bar, how can he not? Hell, he can even hear your voice from over here. There's some kind of drawl to it, one he hasn't quite heard. But your singing is good, almost as good as his. Your friend's voice, not so much, but you don't seem to care, singing along and bouncing your head, a bar towel in one hand.

He finds himself smiling before looking down at the keys, making sure his fingers are in the right spot, even though he knows that they are.

"Come on baby, you're driving me crazy!"

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!"

The song finishes off with a few final notes and the bar erupts in cheers and howls, quickly turning to a chant.

"Rooster, Rooster, Rooster, Rooster!"

You tilt your head, clapping as Dixie joins the chant, holding a fist up. That can't be his real name, surely. Perhaps a callsign, like Hangman. Still, you somehow think it’s fitting for a man like him.

The pilot, Rooster, stands and does a cheesy dance. He lifts his arms and moves his hips awkwardly and you laugh at how utterly stupid it looks. You're not sure if you imagine it, but you think that this Rooster character looks directly at you and winks.

But you must be imagining it because the next moment he's leaning back and throwing his arms back before standing up straighter as the chants become faster. You laugh and even begin chanting yourself as he pumps a leg up, exclaiming. He pushes his glasses up with one hand, beer bottle in the other, before looking around the bar and smiling.

The chants die down and after a few minutes, someone plugs the jukebox back in and some song by Elton John begins to play again.

Dixie sits back down, pushing her hair out of her face. "Man, I love this town."

You nod in agreement and move to hand out a couple more beers.

A little after 2 a.m., the bar begins to empty out. You stopped selling alcohol twenty minutes ago and most patrons had left an hour before that. 5 a.m. wake-up call was the next day and you couldn't imagine it being easy. Most days you didn't wake up until after 9.

You and Penny are both closing up together. Dixie had left a long time ago with some young pilot, again. You sighed and rolled your eyes, watching her be all blushy and giggly as he pulled her out of the bar, pretending like it was her first time.

"I swear," you say to Penny, sweeping. "I'm gonna be an aunt one'a these days if she keeps this up."

Penny laughs, continuing to wipe down the bar. "You think so?"

"I know so!" you exclaim, pausing at your area by the pool table. "You should hear her. At least once a week, she brings one of those boys by and they keep at it all night long. That girl has stamina!"

Penny laughs again, loud, like she always does. She covers her mouth with her hand, waving a hand to get you to stop. “I believe you, I believe you!”

With a shrug, you get back to sweeping. “I just hope that they’re done by the time I head back.”

Your boss and friend just laughs and you sense her shaking her head. Silence fills the bar again, the quiet songs on the jukebox providing the only background music. You spot a bottle cap hidden under a table and reach down to pick it up, tossing it in a nearby trash can.

Suddenly, you hear Penny curse and turn your head towards her. “What’s wrong?”

“Amelia just texted,” she answers, setting the rag down to use both hands on her phone. “Says she’s throwing up and has a headache…”

You frown. “Aw, poor girl. Hey, you go on home, take care of her. I can finish closin’ up here.”

She looks at you, head tilted and brows furrowed. “You’re sure?”

You nod, grinning at her. “Of course! I’ve closed up enough. ‘Sides, we’re almost done.”

Penny nods and quickly walks out from behind the bar, giving you a quick hug. “Thank you so much.”

You hug her back. “‘Course.” While she heads to the back to grab her things, you finish sweeping, putting all of the dirt into a dustpan and emptying it before tying up the trash, prepping it to be thrown away after you lock up.

Penny comes back through, jacket over one arm and purse in the other. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

With a nod, you add before she leaves, “Get her some ginger ale! Works better than Sprite. For me, at least.”

The woman nods and thanks you before leaving. Soon, you hear her car start up and pull out of the gravel parking lot.

You’re alone. For the first time all day, you’re alone and it feels great. With a little smile, you head toward the jukebox, wanting a particular song. Finally, you see it and clap your hands a little before selecting it.

"Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene," you sing with Dolly, making your way to the bar to grab the rag and wipe down everything one more time. "I'm begging you, please don't take my man. Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene. Please don't take him just because you can."

The guitar and the drums give you a nice beat to move to, and you find yourself walking in step with the music. Years of learning to dance in elementary school and dancing at weddings really paid off.

Dolly Parton has always been one of your favorite female artists. She was your first real introduction to music when your Meemaw played her while baking your cookies. It was one of your earliest memories, one you've always cherished since her passing.

"Your smile is like a breath of spring, your voice is soft like summer rain. And I cannot compete with you, Jolene."

You wipe down the tables again. You've had a habit to wipe them down right before you leave, so you can make sure you've gotten everything. You reach the area by the pool tables and rearrange them, putting the pool sticks back in their correct spots and making a neat triangle in the center of the pool tables.

The door opens, and though you can't see who walked in, you know it's not Penny. Thinking it's someone who doesn't realize you're closed, you shout, "Sorry, y'all, we're closed! We're open at five tomorrow!"

Footsteps on the wooden floor echo through the mostly quiet bar. A voice calls out, "Yeah, sorry to bother you, but I think I lost my wallet."

You pause, hands resting on the furry green pool table. That voice. It's familiar yet not. You tilt your head and turn the corner to see whoever it is.

It's him. The piano player from hours ago. Rooster.

And I can easily understand how you can easily take my man. But you don't know what he means to me, Jolene

With a smile, you put on that bright, southern charm that comes so easily and so naturally. "Oh, for sure. I don't believe me or Penny have seen a wallet, but what's it look like?" You tilt your head. "I'll help you look."

He's not wearing his sunglasses anymore, they're hanging from the collar of his white shirt. His eyes look you up and down but from this distance, you can't quite see what color they are. Still, you can see the way his cheeks warm and how he clears his throat. "Thanks," is all that he says. His voice isn't quite deep, but something about it sends your heart thumping.

"What's it look like?" you ask again, heading to the bar to double-check the box that's been dubbed a lost-and-found. Basically, it was where you and Penny dumped things that had been found and not claimed yet. There were a few wallets, but those ones had been there for weeks. There were a few pairs of glasses, both reading and sunglasses. A couple of cards that Penny was waiting to cut up and even the random shoe. You had found that one, and you and Penny spent twenty minutes arguing about who could walk out while missing a shoe.

Rooster meets you at the bar, leaning his forearms on the surface. You take the box out and place it next to him. You definitely don't linger on how damn strong his arms look and how tanned they are.

"It's dark brown," Rooster explains, sifting through the box. "Got my initials stamped on it. It's thick as shit, I throw everything in it."

With a light smile, you ask, "What's your initials?"

"B.B.," he answers.

With a click of your tongue, you walk out from across the bar to search the booths and tables. You didn't run across it during your sweep or wipedown, but you could've missed it. "Those stand for somethin' other than Rooster?"

You hear him chuckle and it sends a jolt down your spine. "They stand for Bradley Bradshaw."

"Oh." You smile, putting up the chairs as you search. "See, that makes more sense."

He laughs this time. Suddenly it stops and he asks, "What the fuck is a shoe doing in here?"

With a snort, you turn to him from across the room. He's holding up said shoe, an old and beat-up white Nike Air Force 1. It's been there for a week, and you and Penny hadn't bothered to throw it away.

You answer him with an innocent smile and a shrug. "No idea. Penny found it last week, under a table. Asked her what we should do with it, she just threw it in the box."

Rooster chuckles and throws it back in. "It's not in here."

You lift another chair up and flip it over, placing it on the table. You give the man a look and say, "Help me find it then, princess."

He gives you a teasing smile and asks, "Princess?"

With a cheeky grin, you give him no reply and continue to look. You've always been a tease, ever since college. Your friends always told you how a classmate had gotten a crush on you just by one look. Whenever you met someone cute in a bar or at a party, you would give them a look, flirt with them for a few minutes, and then disappear. It wasn't something you really did on purpose (at least not all of the time), it was just something that happened.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene. I’m begging of you, please don’t take my man. Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene. Please don’t take him even though you can. Jolene, Jolene.

For the next several minutes, you and Rooster look for his wallet. You stack all of the chairs up and he searches between the booths and around on the floor.

You search near the piano, running a finger along the keys. This piano is incredibly out of tune and old as dirt, but when he played, it sounded brand new.

“Where’d you learn to play?” you ask, turning to see him by the dart board.

He meets your gaze and something in his eyes change. There’s a flash of sadness behind those hazels. You can see his eye color now, and it reminds you of acorns in early October mornings.

“My mom taught me,” he answers.

The jukebox clicks and the song changes. A Johnny Lee song plays, his voice nostalgic and comforting.

Well, I spent a lifetime lookin' for you. Single bars and good time lovers were never true. Playing a fool's game, hopin' to win. And tellin' those sweet lies and losin' again.

You smile, sweetly. “That’s sweet.”

He nods, glancing at the floor. “Yeah. Apparently my dad knew how to play and she wanted to teach me.”

“We’re y’all close?” you ask, wiping a stripe of dirt off of the instrument. It’s thinner than you thought it would’ve been.

Something in the atmosphere shifts and you look up at Rooster. He’s staring at the green dart in his hands, turning it between his fingers. His brows are furrowed and are his shoulders shaking?

“Bradley?” you ask softly, tenderly.

His head snaps up to you and he quickly says, “Call me Rooster.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause everyone else does.”

Biting your lip, you tell him, “I ain’t everyone.”

I'll bless the day I discover another heart, lookin' for love.

Finally, his face breaks into a grin, his mustache making his smile look ever better. “You know, you’ve got a pretty way of speaking.”

“Yeah?” You walk towards him, hands clasped behind your back. “What about it do ya like?”

He throws the dart at the board and it lands in the inner circle. Then he turns to face you, walking towards you. “I like the way you hold your vowels out. And how you shorten words that don’t need to be shortened.”

You smile. Many people on this side of the states have complimented your accent. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before. But something about it coming from him, Bradley, made it feel different. He was a pilot. An attractive one at that. Tall, blonde, dark and lean. That pornstash your mother always found sexy on Tom Selleck you now found sexy on him. The way he’d lick his lips, always getting the bottom of it wet. Your mind went to the gutter and you wondered how scratchy it would feel somewhere else.

"Where are you from?" he asks, walking closer.

"Georgia," you answer. "Small town named Pearson, it's right by Savannah."

He nods, finally stopping in front of you. He's tall and he looks down at you with a small smile. You're not so close that you're practically touching, but you're close enough to smell him. And you note that he smells like the ocean and sweat and beer. Somehow, all of those scents at once make you weak in the knees.

"How long have you been in Fightertown?"

"Little over a year."

"Have you, uh, met anyone in that year?"

With a smirk, you say, "Nah," and lift up the wallet you found under the piano bench. "Fighter pilots just don't do it for me."

Bradley's face twists into a smile of sorts and he takes the initialed wallet from your head. "What makes you think I'm a pilot?"

Walking away from him, you say over your shoulder, "Call it a hunch."

Lookin' for traces of what I'm dreaming of, hoping to find a friend and a lover. I'll bless the day I discover another heart lookin' for love.

Your nerves are on fire and you can barely feel your legs. But you still keep walking even though you know his eyes are on you. You're nearly done closing up. You just need to take the trash out and turn the lights off before locking the doors.

Part of you is excited you're closing up. It's past two in the morning, you woke up before eight and you're absolutely exhausted. You smell like beer and other various alcoholic beverages. You want to take a shower and pass out for the next nine hours.

But another part of you is upset because you know your conversation with Bradley is coming to a close.

"Do you live here?" asks Bradley, eyes following you as you take the trash up and tie it at the top. "Or are you just visiting?" He goes to the jukebox and turns it off, sensing that you're nearly done.

"I live here," you answer with a nod. "Come on, I want to go home." There's a pile of mostly empty trash bags by the door that Penny was kind enough to put there for you to grab on the way out and you move to them after grabbing your purse and your phone charger that was in the back. "Hey, don't you got early wake-up call?" You make your way towards the door, sure you look awkward carrying four garbage bags over your shoulder. Still, Bradley says nothing while you shut the lights off in descending order before walking out the door.

"Yeah," Bradley admits, holding the door open for you. He even takes the keys from your hands and locks up the doors to the bar for you.

"Thank ya," you say, breathing a sigh of relief at the warm ocean breeze that greets your face. The air smells salty and slightly fishy, but you've never wanted to smell anything more. "Well, what are you doing here still, then?"

He slowly follows you towards the dumpster at the far corner of the parking lot. Normally, you'd be nervous outside at night, but tonight, you're not by yourself. You've got a big, strong navy man to protect you. Not like you'd need it.

"I needed my wallet," he says, honestly. Then he adds, the grin in his voice audible, "Plus I'd never pass the chance to talk to a pretty lady."

"Oh, you're quite charming!" you call, tossing the bags in the dumpster, thankful trash day is tomorrow. Wiping your hands on your shorts, you make your way back to your car, noticing that he parked next to you. "You must make all the ladies swoon."

He scoffs and throws the keys across his car back to you. You catch them in your fist and dangle them around your middle finger. "Maybe. Not enough to keep them, that is."

You tilt your head, heart thumping fast and face flushed from all of this flirting. "Shame. You seem like a catch." Throwing him a grin, you open the door of your old, beat-up truck your father gifted to you the moment you turned fifteen. "Go to sleep, Bradley!" you call, starting the vehicle up.

He smiles, watching you. "Yes, ma'am."

With a small shake of your head, you turn the volume of your radio up just a bit. Some random Miranda Lambert song is playing and you back your truck up, throwing an arm over the seat to watch where you're going. When you're far enough back to clear Bradley's tailgate, you crank the wheel to the right, gravel crunching under the tires.

Bradley is in his car, but you still smile at where he was and tear out of the empty parking lot into the even emptier streets. Taking a left, you head home, exhaustion finally catching up. Your eyelids grow heavy and you yawn. Still, you don't miss the bright red taillights of Bradley's car taking off in the opposite direction of you.

With a satisfied and triumphant whoop, you beat your hands on the top of the steering wheel. Your heart is racing and suddenly your exhaustion vanishes as you recall the last twenty minutes.

Bradley Bradshaw. Rooster. What a character. Piano player, singer, flirt, yet still kind and charming. Chivalrous, almost. You have no idea how long he'll even be in Fightertown. Most people stay for a few weeks until eventually being deployed elsewhere.

You hope that he'll stop at the bar every night and lose his wallet again.

#top gun 2 #top gun maverick #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #x reader #rooster x reader #southern!reader #rooster x southern!reader #rooster x female!reader #originalwork #Spotify

[charliedawn]

Hello It's me Ya boy✨ Anyway Could You write about The reader having allergies ( crab and shrimp) And they accidentally eat it probably because of there friend and got sent into a hospital how would the slashers react??( cause I just did that and uh my friend really won't stop apologizing and I just keep freaking laughing cause how stupid I am 🤣)

Jason *sees you on the floor and starts panicking* : "W—What is happening ?"

Jason would then go warn someone or hold you until you tell him what to do.

Confused boy.

He would understand if you pointed to the EpiPen, but since he's forest boy...Wouldn't know how to use it.

And since he's technically afraid of asking help from people...You'd have to have the stamina to hang in there until someone else appears.

So, yeah. You'd have to rely on someone else on this one.

Five *look of disbelief* : "Are you stupid ? It says right there on the menu. Sea food included. Like...*sighs...Nevermind. Give me the damn pen. I was in the mood to stab someone anyway..."

Five would know how to use the pen and would take sadistic pleasure in it.

He'd also remind you for weeks about that one time he saved you.

He likes seeing people suffer. He's a brat like that.

Jack *sighs* : "...How ? Just how ?"

Would act exasperated while grabbing the EpiPen in your bag and injecting you with it.

He had a son with allergies and even though he wasn't awarded the "Father of the Year Award", he still knows how to use an EpiPen.

Thankfully.

Michael *tilts his head curiously at you*

....Why are you swelling so much ?

Confused, but would still attempt to help you by searching for a nurse.

If not ? Would stare at you and wait to see if it gets better.

...Try to explain him how to help you beforehand. Michael would be able to help, but only if he knows what it is you need.

Pennywise *impressed* : "...Again ?!" *bursts out laughing* "You gotta be kidding me ?!"

It is the third time he had to save you because of your allergies.

Penny called him and Pennywise had no choice but to save you—again.

Pennywise *rolls up his imaginary sleeves* : "Watch and learn." *places his hand over your chest and proceeds to help you by using his powers*

Brahms *PANIC*

Brahms would frantically try to search for help, or your EpiPen.

He'd have no clue how to use that last one though.

So, either he finds a nurse/doctor or...

Yup. You're dead. Sorry.

Freddy *sees you and turns away* : "Nope. Not my problem."

He would to be walking away, only to sigh and come back to crouch in front of you.

"Fine. Let's get this over with. Whatya need ?"

He would then wait for you to explain and do as you say.

He may pretend not to care, but he'd still try to help you at the end.

The Sinclair Brothers *special bonus* :

Bo *red and sweating profusely because—of course he is also allergic* : "....WHY WOULD NOBODY TELL US THAT THERE WAS DAMN CRAB IN THIS ?!"

*proceeds to become even redder and starts choking*

Vincent *looks at the both of you and wonders if he should call someone*

Bo *yells* : "GET US OUR SHOTS, IDIOT !"

Vincent *starts panicking and looking around for them in a frenzy*

Lester *finds the EpiPen, but slips and falls*

Vincent *attempts to catch the pens, but fails and they roll underneath the couch*

Bo *mutters on the verge of suffocation* : "In my next life, I'll ask for smarter brothers..."

Lester *finally finds them* : "GOT THEM !"

You and Bo *passed out*

Vincent *start panicking even more*

Lester *tries to slap you both awake* : "WAKE UP, GUYS ! HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO USE THOSE ?!"

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #slashers au #slashers

[thebluestbluewords]

ot3 week day 3: the princess, the knight, and the dragon

(I do have a rough sketch for this concept as a 5+1 thing, but at this time I’ve only written…an introduction plus two and a half parts of it. So here’s the first part!)

Once upon a time, in a land of rolling forests and enchanted oceans, there lived a dragon. Not just any dragon, but a wicked purple dragon, with fire in her belly and madness in her eyes, and a fondness for causing mischief that often outstripped her capacity for getting herself out of said mischief. 

Traditionally, in a land like this one, fully of fairy tales and magical castles and enchantments, it falls to the resident dragon to capture a beautiful princess, and in turn be defeated by a brave knight, and then the two will do something horribly indecent in front of the dragon's steaming corpse, in the name of true love, of course, and then ride off into the sunset in order to live happily ever after. Sometimes, room can be made in the tradition for a just and kind king to be the one marrying off the princess to the knight, but that variation typically relies on the king being old, and in this land, the king is...

Not. 

He's young. 

Very young. 

So young, in fact, that he may have allowed the traditional story to go a little, teeny tiny, itsy-bitsy bit astray. 

So yeah. Maybe the dragon is in love with her princess, and maybe the knight is a little bit in love with both of them, and maybe the king isn't interested in the princess after all, even though that's the only other way for the story to go, with the princess and the king having a doomed lovers sort of thing, and the knight having some kind of erotic rivalry with the dragon, and all of them dying very tragically in the end. But this king is too good and kind to fit in that sort of story, and besides, the traditional stories really only make space for three, maybe four roles, and none of them have a mad scientist riding in on the back of the dragon to cause even more trouble than either of them could on their own. 

Once upon a time, there was a different sort of fairy tale. 

+ 

The wicked stepsister pauses in her creeping path down the hallway. 

"Evie," comes a smushed sort of voice. "I can't breathe." 

A giggle floats out of the empty science classroom. "Beauty is pain, beastie boy," a low girl's voice says. "Let the princess do her wicked work on you." 

Another giggle. Hannah, wicked stepsister extraordinaire, creeps closer. 'Beastie boy' sounds an awful lot like gossip material, and Audrey and her court of princesses will pay a pretty penny for any school gossip to hit their ears first. 

"...you're sure this is the best way to test your experiment?" the boy's voice says. 

Two people at least stifle giggles. Badly. "I'm so sure," Evie coos. "This is going to be the most perfect makeup line you've ever seen, and it's going to be allll because of you." 

"Because it feels like this is some sort of elaborate hazing ritual," Ben continues. "Not that I'm complaining about helping you. Because I love helping. But it just feels like you're hazing me." 

More stifled giggles. "Now what makes you think that?"

"Oh, nothing. Just that you're painting liquid blush through my eyebrows." 

"I'm testing it for potential secondary uses as a brow tint. You're actually a fashion frontrunner right now."

"I believe that. Totally." 

Hannah creeps closer. The classroom door is shut, but there's a glass window in the front, and if she angles herself just right around the corner-- 

"Don't be such a wimp," Evie says, through her giggles. "But if you insist on being traditional, I'll let you test some lipstick next. You're not even the first to try this one, so put that frown away, I'm not giving you the one with frog venom." 

"Just the nail polish with neurotoxin." Ben complains cheerfully. Hannah angles herself a little closer, pushes up on her toes, and-- 

"Baby," Evie says, leaning in to where she's got the king of Auradon sitting on the science lab table, surrounded by tiny jars and bottles of colorful conctions. "I love you too much to really poison you." 

And just like that, she leans down and kisses him. 

Hannah gasps.

This is it. This is the hottest gossip she's ever going to break. She slaps a hand over her mouth before she can make another noise and give herself away, but she can't tear her eyes away, and oh, she doesn't need to worry about them looking up and seeing her. That's not just a kiss, that's a makeout. 

The king. Making out with a villain. A princess villain, but still. 

Audrey's going to freak out. 

Hannah's seen enough. As quietly as she can, she spins around and creeps back the other way. She can get her science textbook later, or never, for all she cares. She's going to be absolutely famous in the gossip circles tomorrow. 

Unseen, unheard, Evie pulls back. 

Ben's lips are red and wet and stained almost-perfectly with her juicy strawberry-red lip tint. 

"You didn't have to give her a show," Ben says, tipping his mouth up to meet hers again, laughing. "I don't think anyone else is going to understand the appeal of friend makeouts." 

Evie tosses her silky ponytail over her shoulder, and leans down to meet him halfway. "They don't need to understand. I like being gossip fuel. It gives me power over them.”  

"Power to make them buy your new eyebrow tint?" 

Both girls, Evie in Ben's arms and Mal standing guard by the door, giggle. "Totally. You're the perfect model, beastie boy." 

Ben sighs. "You're so mean to me." 

"Because we love you!" Evie sing-songs. "Now hold still so I can do your lashes too.” 

#my fic #descendants #ot3 week