#home on the range
Excerpts from Free-Range Angel Produce by Joan Tierney
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Song Kang aka Son of Netflix as;
- Hwang Sun Oh in Netflix’s Love Alarm (2019-2021)
- Cha Hyun So in Netflix’s Sweet home (2020-)
- Lee Chae Rok in Netflix’s Navillera (2021)
- Park Jae Eon in Netflix’s Nevertheless (2021-)
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Soooo…….HotR Codywan proposal snippet if you’re still taking requests? I feel like they’d be absolute saps about it and I am Soft
OOOOOH! Oh! They're going to be SUCH saps, fair warning! Let's have some family time and sweetness and a proposal on this fine Friday morning! (No spice in this snippet, only SWEET).
Autumn slipped away, eventually, and Cody wasn’t sorry to see it go. Ben’s civil case wrapped up towards the end of the season, leaving him with enough funds to cover the memorial costs for his uncle and some extra, besides.
Mostly, he knew Ben put the money towards his school expenses and loans, though he also insisted on paying half when they bought a new bed for Cody’s place, replacing the one they’d broken so impressively.
Winter brought with it true cold, the dropping temperatures no longer teasing at freezing. Often, the sun didn’t rise until long after Cody was already up and working, but he was used to that.
And he had someone warm to curl up with in bed after a long and chilly day, burying his nose against the back of Ben’s neck so many nights.
Ben mostly slept over at the ranch, though he’d kept the apartment. He said, when they discussed it again, that he thought he ought to at the least keep it until the end of the school year. He’d stayed there through most of his work during finals, but….
But, in general, he went to sleep beside Cody and woke up beside Cody. In general, he was there, sharing meals just the two of them or with the rest of the family, going to the triplet’s games, or taking Anakin for walks with Boba.
He was there on New Year’s Eve, watching with a bemused expression as Boba and the triplets helped Jango load fireworks into the back of the four-wheeler.
“Aren’t fireworks...generally a summertime thing?” Ben asked, leaning against the porch as they loaded up box after box.
“New Years is during the summer where I grew up,” Val said, coming down the steps, offering out steaming cups of coffee - decaf, Cody hoped - as she did. “Jango and I were used to New Year's fireworks. So…” She shrugged.
“Do you do this every year?” Ben asked, expression curious, and Cody left them to it, making sure the four-wheeler was appropriately loaded up. He’d handled fireworks the past few years, but Jango wanted to take care of setting them off again, with Rex and Ahsoka volunteering to help with the lighting, so…
So, he ended up sitting beside Ben, huddled out on the porch and wrapped up in a blanket as the four-wheeler set off into one of the nearby fields. “Warm enough?” he asked, feeling the heat radiating from Ben’s body, all along his side.
In fact, it didn’t feel that cold on the porch, not with so many of them sitting so close together. But the air bit, still, cold and crisp, even with the blanket of clouds overhead. There’d been flurries, throughout the day, and they were starting to come down more heavily, drifting through the air, heavy and white.
“Mm, yes,” Ben said, arm curled around him, shifting to make room for Wooley on the step below them. He looked tired - but nearly midnight was late for both of them, early risers by nature and habit - with darkened circles under his eyes.
“We’ll go to sleep, after this,” Cody promised him, and got a smile in return, sweet and fleeting.
“No sleeping yet,” Val said, wading through the pile of them, followed by Bly, who started handing out cups. They didn’t keep champagne flutes or even enough wine glasses. Everyone got what was available, coffee cups, tall glasses, and even a few mason jars, already filled.
Most of them contained sparkling grape juice.
Cody and Ben got champagne, by the smell of it, and Ben raised an eyebrow. “Don’t drink yet,” Cody told him, with a little grin, and Ben huffed a laugh, opening his mouth, only to be cut off by Echo, who stood quickly, holding up a hand.
“Get ready!” Echo shouted, everyone shifting around, vibrating when he started counting backwards from ten.
Cody nudged Ben at one, gesturing to his cup, and they all managed to drink more or less on time as, off in the fields, the first of the fireworks went off with a flash of brilliant color and a crash of sound.
Ben made a sound, both surprised and delighted, and Cody set down his glass, curled an arm around Ben’s shoulders, and pulled him over, kissing him as the first seconds of the new year ticked over, feeling something stretch out, filling up the entirety of the space inside his ribs, realization unfolding not in a flash but in a sweet, inevitable wave.
He stared at Ben, when they pulled apart, Ben turning to watch the fireworks lighting up the night, and knew that he wanted to kiss Ben every New Year’s for the rest of their lives, wanted to sit and watch fireworks with him, hold him after a long day at work, eat breakfast beside him--
“Hey, man, fireworks are that way,” Fives hissed in his ear, at some point, while elbowing him in the ribs, and Cody shoved back at him, but blinked and shook himself, turning his attention to the show up in the sky.
They’d gone all out.
They usually did.
The fireworks echoed out across the fields, the sound held close by the cloud cover. Cody knew, from experience, that there would be cars parked out along the roads leading to the ranch, neighbors and people from further in town, who came out to see the show every year, watching colors chase each other, heralding in another year.
Ponds started the cheer, when the last of the fireworks finished echoing, leaving bright afterimages on the inside of Cody’s eyelids, and they all pushed themselves up, gathering blankets and cups while excitedly talking, half of them cleaning up the porch while the other half of them lit out for the fields, going to help find the firework casings, making sure nothing had landed where it ought not.
Cody ended up standing at the sink, rinsing off glasses that Ben dried, listening in as Echo’s girlfriend - who had never attended before - talked to Ben, her hair pulled back and her cheeks rosy.
He was glad Ben had someone to make conversation with. Cody’s thoughts were buzzing, thrumming along. He felt...not quite distracted. More waiting, with the tension in his gut of anticipation and something larger.
It was snowing in earnest by the time the clean up was finished and Jango, Rex, and Ahsoka returned as conquering heroes, to cheers and applause. The flakes swirled around them when Cody and Ben finally managed to say their good nights, stepping off the porch and heading back to their space.
Cody held Ben’s hand, gloves in the way, both of them leaning together as they crunched across the frozen ground.
Cody made it to his porch before he pulled Ben to a stop, standing there in the softly falling snow and just...looking at him for a moment. Seeing the whole future, spread out around him, feeling - feeling everything, all at once, wild potential just waiting for him to embrace it.
And he’d never been any good at ignoring that feeling, at hesitating once he knew what he wanted. Indecision wasn’t a valuable skill in his career, nor a feeling he’d ever been comfortable with. He exhaled, just looking at Ben for a long moment, lovely and cold and--
Everything he wanted.
“So,” Cody said, tugging on both ends of Ben’s scarf, pulling him in closer, cold noses brushing together when he went on, the words just slipping free, like they were meant to escape his lips, “What would it take to convince you to marry me?”
He was close enough to see Ben blink several times in rapid succession, eyes so clear and so bright, even as Ben asked, “What?”
Cody felt his mouth curve, pulling on the scarf again, stealing a fast kiss as Ben’s hands came up to rest on his sides. “A nice ring?” he asked, thoughts running ahead, wondering what kind of ring Ben might want. Something practical, likely. He wasn’t the ostentatious sort. He kissed Ben again. “A big wedding?” Ben’s hands squeezed, his breath came out in a pant against Cody’s mouth. “A fancy honeymoon?”
“Are you - are you being serious?” Ben asked, voice wavering, and Cody could acknowledge that this was...a bit sudden.
But he knew how he felt. He looked at Ben and saw the future unfurling outwards and wanted it, wanted to make it his, to shape it into being.
He made a rough sound, let go of the scarf to cup Ben’s face, and pulled him into a proper kiss, long and deep. And, when he pulled back, Ben looking dazed, he said, “Yeah, Ben. I’m being serious. What would it take? Tell me, and it’s yours.”
The snow was starting to fall in earnest, thick flakes swirling around them, landing on the copper strands of Ben’s hair and his eyelashes. His cheeks were tinged red from the cold. Maybe from the kiss, but Cody didn’t want to presume.
Not even with Ben swallowing, staring at him without blinking, eyes searching.
Cody wanted to prompt him for an answer, even though it hadn’t been very long, perhaps a heartbeat. Maybe two. And then Ben exhaled shakily and said, voice thick and quiet, “Well. You could ask. Properly.”
Cody groaned, the sound torn from his chest, fingers clenching in Ben’s hair as he rasped, “Will you marry me, Ben?”
He felt Ben shiver, watching his eyes flutter, delightfully, and had a moment to grin - feeling victorious, that same heady kick that came with looking over at the timer during a competition and knowing he had the best time - when Ben murmured, “Yeah, Cody. I will.”
And then Ben was kissing him as the snow swirled around them and the world went on, unnoticed.
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Trans cock n cunt is either home grown with love and care like free range chickens or is custom built with the best hardware and addons.
i have absolutely nothing to add to this correct observation
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| loki x reader | fluff |
shower blurbs 🚿
“I’m home, darling” Loki’s voice rang out through your apartment.
A smile broke out onto his face when he caught sight of you. You were stood in the kitchen, flour covering your hands and clothing, even swiped across your cheek. You were obscenely messy from baking, though you’d managed to keep the kitchen halfway-decent.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Loki inquired, stepping forward with cat-like movements.
“M’baking,” you answered innocently, eyes wide as you gazed up at him.
“Oh, you’re baking? It looks like you’re just making a mess.”
You shook your head, suppressing laughter as Loki tickled your sides gently. You squirmed away from your boyfriend, trying to escape his touches.
“Careful or I’ll get flour on you!” You warned, and the god’s eyes narrowed.
“Naughty girl, you know better than to threaten me.”
A shriek left your lips as your clothing vanished from your body, your hands quickly going from your chest.
“Loki!” You snapped, though you were unable to hide your amusement.
“You’re filthy, you need a shower anyways,” your hand was seized, and you were dragged from a now magically cleaned kitchen.
“Where are my clothes?!” You demanded to know as you waited for the water to warm.
“In the laundry, where they belong. Quit whining, now.”
Really, you weren’t as annoyed as you pretended to be, but you liked to give Loki a bit of grief whenever he used his magic on you.
Any desire to misbehave immediately faded as you were ushered into the hot shower, water washing away the flour and batter on your skin.
“My sweet girl,” Loki hummed, brushing hair behind your ear. He gently cleaned your face with a cloth, his touch incredibly tender for the mischievous mood he has exhibited before.
You pursed your lips, signaling him to give you a kiss. He pulled you closer, catching you in a searing kiss. You grinned against his mouth, pulling at his wet black locks.
“I love you,” Loki said, kissing your cheek before guiding your head under the water.
“Love you more,” you started to say.
You were interrupted by the water getting in your mouth, making you choke and cough. Loki’s eyes widened, and he freaked out, making you laugh harder.
“Gods of Valhalla, you’re such a mess,” he shook is head, though his tone wasn’t unkind.
“Mhm, my mess,” he agreed.
The two of you spent too long under the water, enjoying the steam and closeness. You tied a waffled-fabric robe around your body before pulling the cookies out of the oven, your hair dripping on the kitchen floor. Loki came behind you and tied it up on your head before kissing the back of your neck.
Arms wrapped around your waist, and you were pulled back against the god, away from the tray of sweets.
“They’re not ready yet,” you swatted his hand away as he reached for one.
“I could eat you, first.”
“I’ve just gotten out of the shower, don’t dirty me yet!” You squirmed out of his grasp.
His fingers closed around your arms, dragging you back against his chest, prohibiting your escape. His hand went to your throat, holding just tight enough to keep you still.
“Fine, darling, but remember that you didn’t want it,” he spoke darkly, kissing the sensitive spot on your neck that made you needy.
You were released with a wink, and the god grabbed a cookie off of the tray before leaving you alone in the kitchen, suddenly regretting your denial.
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I read you were taking requests, so if you’re up for it, Codywan, but cowboys! I’ve been reading @glimmerglanger “Home (On the Range)” fic and Cody is a cowboy hehe. If you haven’t read it yet I HIGHLY recommend the last chapter is coming out Friday :3 Also I love your art it makes me so happy, have a lovely day!
Aw thank you! ❤️ I’m happy you enjoy it! And yesss I binge read this entire thing the other day and I LOVED it! That porch scene after they get caught in the rain was my favorite thing ever 🥰 this whole fic is full of soft and cute moments, I definitely recommend giving it a read if anyone hasn’t yet.
Also, @glimmerglanger you’re an absolute genius and I love you for sharing all your amazing work with us 💕
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I Love It
an: the sequel to my blurb I Hate It! Seeing the boys all pretty and smiley today is kinda making up for what we went through.... but not really. But Mat is so cute!!!! Baby faced!!!! Also, I'm sure a bunch of people already wrote a fic like this but meh I want my own
summary: mat comes home and needs to be taken care of.
word count: 1.2k
Your baby was coming back to you.
Last night, Mat had collapsed into your arms in a way he hadn't in a long time, worn out and absolutely devastated after losing to Tampa in Game 7 and ultimately getting knocked out of the playoffs. It was worse than having a bad game, it had ended this season's hopes for the Cup, and you could see the devastation on his face. It wasn't often he cried, but the second he stepped off that plane, his eyes red and rimmed with sadness, he had collapsed into you, sobbing against your shoulder. You were his safe haven, and he always knew he’d be safe, taken care of in your arms. You would never judge him, you would never tell him to man up or to try harder in games. You understood him.
You'd driven him home- he actually let you have control of his Range Rover for once- and led him up the stairs to your apartment before finally falling down into bed together.
The moment you found yourselves under the safety of your covers, Mat was burrowing back into your neck, still sniffling yet red and bashful to be so emotional in front of you. You whispered to him that it’s alright, that he should let it out, that you were here, bringing a hand up to stroke through his hair.
“You gave it your all, Mat. And you fought all the way to the end. No one's upset with you, okay? I want you to know that. You’ll come back even stronger next season.”
Mat finally peaked up from the crook of your neck. It looked like his tears were done for now, though his eyes were still rimmed with sadness and absolute defeat. “Thank you for being here. Thank you so much. I needed this.”
“Of course. I love you.”
You leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. One that was comforting, that would send all your love for him his way. Instead, you whined and flinched back the second your lips touched his face. You had forgotten how much his facial hair had grown out. They had made it all the way to Game 7 of the third round, and what had originally been stubbly was a thick, prominent scruff by now. And you hated it.
Mat chuckled, the first soft smile you’d seen since he left for the airport before the last game. "You really hate it that much?"
“It looks good on you, babe.” You reached up and stroked your hand along it, and he instinctively tilted his cheek in against your palm. “But it’s too scratchy to kiss. I want my baby faced boy back.” You said it with a whine, a little pout as you continued to rub his scratchy cheeks. Mat chuckled and sat up a little bit in bed, pulling you up with him and letting the blankets fall to your waists.
“I think I have a little more energy in me. Why don’t we shave it now?”
And that’s how you got here, sitting on the bathroom counter, his razor in one of your hands, and a bottle of shaving cream in the other. You were both in your pajamas, and Mat's face was covered in thick shaving cream, and he was giggling, waving a dollop of foam at you and dropping it on your nose. You would’ve scolded him, but you were just so happy to see him his smiley self again. Ten minutes ago you were worried his sunshine was gone for good, but here he was again, making you feel warm.
“Mat, you have to be still for me, baby.” You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer to you, and he flattened his hands on each side of you on the counter, leaning down so you had better access to his face. You lifted the razor and pulled a short little stroke down his cheek and there, hidden under that layer of scruff, was your baby, glimpsing out. “Mmmm, my smooth-faced boyfriend is starting to peak out.”
“Yeah?” Mat laughed again, his body vibrating in joy.
"Stop laughing, Mat! I don't wanna cut your pretty face…" You rinsed the razor off in the sink and went in again, cupping his face steady with one hand.
Mat fell silent and watched in quiet appreciation as you continued to follow the contours of his face gently, delicately, making sure not to nick him anywhere. You were dead silent with concentration as you curved his razor over his jaw to get the hairs that traveled down his neck. And with every little, gentle stroke, you saw more and more of your pretty boy underneath. And with more and more of his smooth skin showing up, you were getting happier and happier.
It was strangely intimate to shave him. Being let into such a usually personal thing like this. It was such a simple act of care, of closeness, of domesticity, letting him know you would help, and the fact that he trusted that you wouldn't accidentally cut him was making your heart soft. It was silent and tender in the bathroom as you focused on getting it perfect for him.
Finally, you felt it was all done, and you smiled up at the man in front of you. God, he was so pretty. Mat bent his face down to wash the remaining foam off in the sink, then, he looked in the mirror, running his hand along his face and admiring your work. "Not bad, babe."
You couldn't contain your happiness anymore, and leaned into him. "Look at you, Mat!" You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, pressing your lips against his smooth cheeks over and over. He smiled at the smooches, and you marveled at the fact that you could still make him so incredibly happy. "My pretty baby boy is back!"
"Baby boy?" Mat smiled tenderly at your pet name, and though his words were teasing in tone, you could tell he honestly loved it.
"Yeah, you're all pretty and baby faced. I love it so much."
"I can tell." Mat laughed as you continued to pepper kisses down his neck, and broke away from you for only a second to pat some cool-smelling aftershave to his cheeks. Then, he picked you up into his arms and carried you the short distance back to bed, peppering you with kisses all the way. He climbed in beside you, facing you and curling his arms around you, and pulled the covers up, curving his body into yours like before, though this time you didn't need to dry his tears. You just needed to be there. Mat hummed and pressed his face against yours, so close you could smell the crisp, clean scent of his aftershave. You kissed him over and over and over, and Mat swore he hadn't gotten this many kissed in the entirety of the playoffs. So now, he told himself, he'd cherish them.
"I could kiss you forever, now that your face is smooth again. You have such kissable cheeks."
"Please do. We can lay here all night and kiss." A gentle drizzle had picked up outside, and as the two of you lay in bed, cuddled up under the covers and kissing each other like you hadn’t seen each other in years, Mat knew there was nowhere in the entire world he'd rather be. He may not be getting the cup this year, but he had you. And that, in his head, was perfectly fine. He would choose you and your kisses over any trophy, forever and always. And that thought made him choke up, the thought that you were everything he needed, and that if he had you, he was happy. Content. He smiled away the happy tears though, and instead whispered to you again. "You really hated that beard, didn't you?" and peppered kisses to your cheeks. You smiled at the feeling of his smooth face pressed against yours, and he smiled back. He understood why you loved his face bare, now. Skin on skin, warm and soft and tender against each other.
"I mean, I liked the beard. It was hot. But this?" You ran your fingers up his cool, smooth cheeks, cupping his face between your hands and cherishing him, leaning in to press another big smooch against his lips, smiling again at the absence of hair on his upper lip. “This? I love it.”
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That Time of the Month
Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader
Summary: When your period knocks you off your feet you're just glad you have Tom to look after you.
Request: Hey, if its okay to ask for a request about Tom Hiddleston x reader where R is on her period and the symptoms are horrible and Tom is there for her (movie night, candy, chocolates, etc). Just fluff stuff, pls :)
Word Count: 1,525
Warnings: descriptions of period symptoms, fluff
It had arrived. That dreaded time of the month. And you couldn't recall the last time your symptoms had been so bad. Despite the painkillers you'd taken and the hot water bottle currently pressed to your abdomen, the cramps persisted and they were getting worse.
Tom had made most of the day bearable. But upon noticing that you were low on supplies, he'd offered to pop down to the shop for you. And despite it being a relatively short trip, you'd been positively miserable since he'd gone.
You whined into the empty room. The pain you were currently experiencing danced on the line between being torturous and unbearable. You groaned with frustration, knowing there was nothing you could do but wait it out and hope mother nature would have mercy on you.
You vaguely recognised the opening of the front door from where you lay buried under layers of blankets on the sofa.
“Darling? I'm home.” Tom's voice rang out and you answered with a quiet groan, letting him know that you were in the living room and in fact, still alive. Tom placed his grocery bag aside and made his way into the front room. But his bright grin quickly faded into a sympathetic smile when he took in your appearance.
“Still not feeling any better?” he asked as he crouched down beside you and delicately brushed his hand against your cheek. You shook your head no, the movement alone bringing on another wave of fatigue. Tom frowned.
“I'm sorry you're unwell, darling. Is there anything I can get you?”
You shook your head again, this time more timidly. Despite your current state, Tom's words prompted a small smile to tug at your lips. He'd apologised as if he were somehow to blame for your monthly suffering.
“I'm good for now,” you said and reluctantly, Tom nodded.
“Alright. But if you change your mind just let me know. It's not an inconvenience, I'm happy to help in any way I can,” he assured you with a gentle kiss. “I am but your humble servant.”
You giggled at the statement and Tom smirked, glad that he could better your mood even just a little. However, your laughter soon trailed off into a whimper and ended with a hiss when a harsh pain split through your middle.
Tom's brows furrowed and his eyes clouded with worry.
“Are you sure there's nothing I can do, love?”
In truth there was nothing Tom could do that you hadn't already tried. You'd taken ibuprofen every four or so hours and you hadn't let go of your hot water bottle all day. All the usual remedies were just not working. At this point laying alone until it all eventually passed seemed to be your only option. That's when an idea crossed your mind.
“Actually,” you started and Tom immediately offered you his attention. “Right now I really want to spend some time with you.”
He complied with a smile and wordlessly joined you on the now space-deprived sofa. A string of quiet apologies fell from Tom's lips as he made himself comfortable beside you. Each movement and jostle sent a jolt of pain through you and you failed to bite back your whimpers.
“Still paining you?” Tom asked sympathetically and you nodded.
“It feels like I'm being stabbed repeatedly with a blunt butter knife.” You recoiled when the pain suddenly worsened. “That's wrapped in barbed wire.”
Tom's expression twisted with concern and pity at the vivid description. He hated seeing you in such discomfort and his inability to do anything about it only made it worse. His hand casually slipped over your stomach and he raised an eyebrow when you breathed a sigh of relief. He was confused initially, but the moment he caught on he positioned his palms directly over your abdomen. His hands were warm and gentle and as he carefully caressed your middle you felt the pain lessen ever so slightly.
You allowed your head to fall back on his shoulder as you turned into him, your nose brushing along his neck. Humming softly, Tom pressed gentle kisses to your head.
You answered with a curt nod and tired smile.
You stayed like that for a long while, simply laying together and enjoying each others company. But it wasn't long before the serenity was broken. You squirmed against Tom's chest, huffing out an exasperated sigh. A horrid feeling of discomfort settled over you as you began to feel uncomfortable in your own skin. You grew so uneasy you couldn't even pinpoint what exactly was causing the surge of emotion. Though you figured the fact that you were on your period to begin with was as good an explanation as any.
Tom hadn't failed to notice your unrest and as always he read you like an open book. He slowly sat up, prompting you to turn to him with a somewhat disgruntled expression.
“Darling, why don't you go take a nice long bath, hmm? And then afterwards we can cuddle up and watch something nice, how does that sound?”
Tom's offer sounded like the set-up to the picture-perfect afternoon. It was precisely what you needed. The only issue was you had absolutely no motivation to move from your spot on the sofa. If anything you were completely willing to let the furniture's fabric swallow you up and hide you away from the outside world. At least until this bloody nightmare passed. But as Tom offered you his hand you found the mental strength you needed to get up. You knew Tom's suggestion would undoubtedly make you feel better, even if your lagging mind and aching muscles weren't initially fond of the idea.
After a long warm bath, (that Tom had completed with rose petals) you changed into some fresh clothes. You already felt more relaxed and at ease, the warmth of the water working miracles. You were left feeling calmed and refreshed.
As you made your way back towards the living room, the sight you were met with caused you to stop in the doorway. The curtains and blinds were pulled and the lights had been dimmed to the point it was near romantic. A handful of candles had been lit, filling the room with a calming, homely aroma. The coffee table was lined with plates that were each overflowing with your favourite snacks and candy whilst two familiar mugs sat at the table's edge.
And there, among it all, was Tom. Rummaging around near the TV and battling with the remote. The television was still stuck on the home screen so you figured he was fighting a losing battle. Tom had never been the most tech-savvy of people.
At the sight of everything he'd set up and the length he'd gone to for you, you couldn't help but grow a little emotional. Tears began to brim your eyes and you failed to blink them away before Tom could notice.
His giddy smirk fell at the sight.
“Y/N, what's the matter?” he asked hurriedly. He crossed the room to meet you, his hands finding your shoulders. You merely shook your head with a teary smile.
“It's nothing, I'm fine,” you managed despite the lump in your throat growing heavier. Tom didn't seem at all convinced. He raised an inquisitive brow and you could only shrug. “This is all just really sweet. You're really sweet,” you emphasised. “I really appreciate you doing all of this for me.”
Tom's expression brightened at your words and his worry fell away. He pressed a kiss against your cheek before taking your hand in his and guiding you to your seat.
“Anything to make you feel better. Now, I'm in a bit of a Disney mood but that is entirely negotiable. We can watch whatever you want.”
You nodded along to what he was saying with a dismissive grin, not really caring what you watched or did as long as you got to be with him.
“Disney is always a win.”
As you relaxed into the sofa and made a grab for your blanket you were pleasantly surprised to find the fabric warm beneath your fingertips. A warmth settled in your chest at Tom's thoughtfulness as you draped the blanket over you both.
You settled on The Jungle Book. It was Tom's personal favourite and over the course of your relationship it had quickly become a comfort movie for you both. You recalled the long nights spent in hotel rooms abroad when you'd both watch the old movie. Or when Tom would return home from work in the late hours of the night and you'd both be too tired for conversation. So the film would simply be played on repeat in the background as you lay together.
Now, with the combined efforts of the warm blanket and Tom's careful hands, you felt your pain and cramps begin to disperse.
“Thank you,” you mumbled quietly, not entirely expecting Tom to hear you, let alone respond.
“For taking care of me,” you clarified.
Tom chuckled quietly.
“That's my job, darling. To take care of you,” he reminded you. “And I do so gladly. Because I love you.”
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The Fugitive: Finding Home, Pt. 5
Karl Heisenberg x Reader
Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes
Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You’re quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?
The Fugitive: Finding Home Masterlist
Factory Heisenberg stood tall against the mountainous ranges of rigid rock that sprouted in the distance. An assortment of pine and oak trees hugged the cliff fall outskirts of the plateau-like area that the metal structure stood. Dirtied boots walked the same path they had for years, defining once undefined dirt roads sprawling across the yard. He needed time away.
“Heisenberg.” Miranda always managed to sneak up on him. No matter how many times he tried to home in on her, she continually evaded. During his time of the year, she rarely visited, not that she visited much in other seasons. It just seemed that long summer hours that faded into cooler fall had her holed up in that deplorable basement she called a lab.
“Mother Miranda.” He tilted his cap and adjusted his sunglasses, attempting to put on a mask of confidence. Nothing was going on as far as she was concerned. “What seems to be the occasion?”
She observed the man, her sharp eyes crawled through his subconscious, urging the truth. “Your devotion knows no boundaries, my dear child.” The words slithered from her parted lips, but the sound came from no particular direction. “Am I correct to assume so?” She was playing games, and he knew it.
“Of course.” He adjusted his feet on the ground, swaying the entirety of his weight from one to the other.
“Then tell me.” Her head moved slightly. “What do you think of the foreigner’s passing?”
A pregnant silence fell between the two as Heisenberg’s lips twitched. He inhaled deeply, desperate to end this conversation as soon as possible.
“I think Alcina should have watched her more closely.” Any sense of nervousness melted into an effortless arrogance, he shed all notifiers of guilt. “You’d have probably had the perfect vessel for your daughter if it hadn’t been for her.”
The answer seemed to satisfy Miranda, who nodded and turned slowly on her heel to face the Factory’s gates.
“I trust you’re telling me everything. The truth, yes?”
The warming rays of the newborn sun gently peaked through the frosted glass of the windows. This was the first time you’d been able to wake naturally in weeks. It was an odd sensation. Fatigue finally plagued your body, grasping its bony fingers round your ankles and wrists as it held you in place in the heap of pillows and blankets. Aching bones screamed as you sat up, taking quick notice of the missing body that once filled the crater beside you. He had left.
To your surprise, the floor was fairly warm beneath your bare feet. Whatever ran below the ground sent waves of heat wafting upward through the two large chimneys that jut from the frostbitten sheet that laid upon the outer walls. A pot of steaming water bubbled from the stove, the residual warmth of a burnt out fire kept it alive. On the counter sat a single cup, the remnants of crushed coffee beans pooled at the bottom in an ungrateful lump. It looked to be the one he’d used last night.
Your clothes were disgusting, and what the Duke had managed to scavenge from your backpack were no better. The shirt that clung to your back was assaulted with splotches of dried blood and black soot. Your pants were no better. Small tears drove themselves horizontally across your knees and shins, a typically trendy look back in the states was far from functional in this village. Your hair had greased from the sweat of survival, thick beads strung together close to your scalp.
The bathroom was a private refuge, even though the door didn’t quite shut. A few dust balls and a thin line of wear were the only indications of filth in this room. Towels hung from bars that had been forced into the walls, looking out of place but being completely functional. The mirror was cracked from the center, spider veins of rigid edges sprawled from side to side. The faucets creaked and the pipes jostled as you waited hopefully for the flow of water. Thank God. It was hot.
You’d not seen yourself correctly in weeks. The occasional reflection in a silver bowl, a glance to Alcina’s mirror when you’d spoken to her, and the frosted, faded expression of a broken woman in the windows of the castle were the most you had. It wasn’t as bad as you expected. The skin beneath your eyes was shaded, not visible from a distance. Your cheeks hadn’t sunken, your eyes still held a glint of self behind them. The only noticeable difference in your appearance were the red flecks of damaged skin along with the deadly discoloration of your cheeks. Your shoulder dipped funnily now, a portion of fat served as a lycan’s last meal. Karl’s shredded shirt was discarded, sitting in an unemptied garbage can that sat below the sink.
He found you standing in the bathroom, breathing steadily as your eyes scanned your body in the mirror. Hot steam danced from your warmed skin. Your last clean shirt hung loosely on your body, paired imperfectly with the cleanest pair of pants you could find while rummaging through his drawers. They were baggy, engulfing your legs like sacks, pooling at the ground around your feet.
“Even pawned a pair of my pants, I see.” His finger hooked through one of the large belt loops, pulling slightly before letting it fall back in place.
“Mine are dirty and gross.”
Compared to his typical choice of clothing, Heisenberg was considerably dressed down. A green t-shirt left the majority of his arms exposed, putting years of trauma and work on display for all to see. His leathery hat was teetering on the knob of a wooden chair with company from his glasses that were folded neatly on a stack of papers. The man had a fondness of shades of brown. His pants matched yours, as they should considering they were his own, the only difference being a leather belt that held his in place.
“What are we doing today?” You implored, tying your hair back with a rubber band you had found in a drawer.
“We?” He shook his head. “You’re going to stay up here. I’m going down to the factory.”
“What am I supposed to do up here all day?”
Karl lifted his hat from the chair, placing it atop his head. “You’ll figure something out.”
The factory groaned and creaked, the sounds growing louder as the day grew to a close. You sat, listening for the sound of footsteps that never came. He really expected you to keep yourself busy. And so, you did. While comfortable, his bedsheets were horribly disgusting. It was evident from sweat stains and the lurking smell of musk that they hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. You wouldn’t be surprised if he admits they were never cleaned at all.
There was no defined staircase to get down from his living quarters, but you swore you had climbed some to get up here the day prior. Maybe you were finally losing your mind. Luckily, the sink was large enough to wash things in fourths, dipping and dunking the sheets down into charcoal water that you had made from the multiple bars of soap that he had reduced to shapeless pieces and discarded on a shower shelf. Ringing the water from the fabric, you cringed as weeks… maybe years… of dirtied water filled the basin, swirling around in a hurricane of filth. His shirts and pants were no better.
Large chimneys served as dryers, the cement staying at a warm temperature as whatever was fueling the factory blazed. It was noon by the time you finished washing everything.
Heisenberg returned by the time you were remaking the bed, a new cut ran down the front of his shirt, but no scar or wound lay beneath. He leaned against the frame of the door, “playing housewife?”
“Your bed was disgusting.” You tucked a deflated pillow into its newly washed case, fluffing it the best you could.
“Our bed was disgusting.” He remarked, pushing his body from the frame to join you further into the room. “Are you not going to ask?” His hand glided over the torn shirt.
“You always have questions.”
“You never have answers.” The last of his shirts sounded like velcro as you pulled it from the chimney wall, scrunching it up with your hands to remove the stiffness. You threw it to him. “I figured it was easier to stop asking.”
“Smart girl.” He clapped his hands together and spoke in a tone reminiscent of speaking to a dog. The torn shirt landed in the trash as he tugged the clean one over his head.
Drawers opened and closed as he prepared something to eat. “Okay. One question.”
He hummed, waiting.
“Will I ever get to go home?”
It felt as though all the clocks had stopped. The buzzing of the factory died on your ears as you waited for a response. You’d been slowly losing hope of returning home as each uncertain day passed. The rise of the eastern sun awakened a glimmer of hope in you each morning, only to be extinguished as it bid the land adieu and fell below the horizon. The moon brought doubt in its gentle hands, awakening the creatures that lurk in the darkness. Until now, you’d spent the nights feeling alone in a room full of people.
“That depends on you.” His hands grazed over a cutting board and knife, slicing a hearty piece of bread from a newer loaf.
“What is that supposed to mean?” You squinted your eyes, amusing him as he set a plate down in front of you.
He mused. “You’ll figure it out.”
“E’re.” A dark bundle of fabric surrounded your face as whatever Heisenberg had just thrown wrapped itself around your neck. “You’ll need that.”
“A cloak?” You questioned, unfolding the material in your hands. It was dark brown in shade, matching that of the richest Belgian chocolates, a thin golden thread could be seen lacing itself through the hems and seams. “Are we going somewhere?”
“No.” He reached for a piece of bread that had been cooling on the countertop near a cracked window. “But I imagine it could be useful, in the right situation.”
“Are you having guests or something?”
“In the week that you’ve been here, have you ever seen anyone besides me?” The bread crumbled in his fingers, squishing slightly under his grip.
“I saw one of the villagers stop by the gates yesterday with the order you placed with The Duke.”
“You went to another family meeting yesterday.” You started, attempting to break the silence that he had instilled over breakfast. The only times you really saw Karl were meals, and even then, he rarely showed up for lunch.
His leg shook as he bobbed it up and down, a nervous habit you’d noticed he had. “A meeting.” He ascertained. “What of it?”
“What do you guys talk about there?”
“You’ve been to one.” A clean mug had been filled with filtered coffee. You’d grown tired of drinking the gritty muck that he was accustomed to.
“So, you’re delegating where the ‘sacrifices’ go?”
From the corner of your eye, you could spot him nodding, confirming your suspicions. The meetings were becoming more frequent in just the week you’d spent with him. The second day of your stay, he’d left at night for one, returning two hours later. The next meeting was longer, you’d gone to bed without him. While uncomfortable at first, sleeping near him grew to be one of the only things that made you feel safe. He’d always wake an hour or two before you, the soft desperate mumbles never went unnoticed throughout the night. Nightmares plagued him. Most nights, the things he said were bizarre, others he’d manage a few things that hinted to his past. A pre-Miranda life was something he would grumble about, something he clearly wanted for the future.
“Why do you never get any of them?”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re lonely?” He picked at his teeth. “Does my pet need a playmate?”
Your face went crimson, a hot blush coast from ear to ear. Without thinking, you brought your hands to cover your face, nearly knocking your plate from the table. “Please, don’t say that.”
“Does talking like that embarrass you, kitten?” Without looking, you could hear the tug of his lips, the egotistical smirk evident in his dialect. He was practically getting off to this.
“Ah, ah, ah.” He scolded, raising his mug. “I think I prefer something different. I hear people like the use of the word ‘daddy’ now.” He hummed, taking a dangerous gulp of the steaming liquid. “I think it suits me.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
“You’re too easy to embarrass.”
Two weeks of living with Karl Heisenberg had been two of the better weeks in this village, even if he had been keeping you inside and only allowed to the top floor of the factory. You had made good use of your time, cleaning the upper level so that even the most detailed of inspectors would label it habitable. Dust rarely collected upon the high shelves of the kitchen nor in the crooks of the bathroom. Even the storage was organized and the food that had gone bad was discarded… or more aptly called, it was disposed of via a metal bin that disappeared once a week. He told you he’d been throwing the food into the Reservoir.
“Moreau won’t mind.” He drawled, placing the bin down at the kitchen door.
“Who is Moreau again?”
A hand landed at shoulder height, “about yay high,” it moved about a foot down, “face here,” he joined you where you sat on the bed, “super fucking ugly.”
“Is he a Lord?”
“Something along those lines.” Karl shed his overshirt, already having removed his gloves and glasses elsewhere. “Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been here for six weeks, and I don’t feel like I’ve got a clue as to what’s going on.” You flopped backward, staring up at the ceiling. You hadn’t dusted that yet, evident from the swaying spider webs along with the strands of hell knows what. “Like, I know that Miranda’s got the town all cooky from her…” you sighed, “her whatever. I know Alcina eats people, because why the fuck not, I guess.”
He gave a quiet snort.
“You’re here doing something in the basement which, I willfigure out eventually. Moreau is at the Reservoir, apparently. That doll,” you recalled it clearly, “it’s sentient, yeah?”
He trilled in a sing-song response. He laid on his back now, leg bent at the knee with the other resting lazily atop it. His hat rested over his face.
“That’s fucking disgusting.”
“That’s Angie, Donna’s doll.”
“Well Angie can politely never come near me again.”
“Congrats.” He droned in a tired manner. His cadence had slowed, a clear hint of exhaustion threaded its way into his gravelly voice. “You’re now officially the expert on our fucked up little family.” He hated that word – family.
“Then what are the lycans?”
The bed shifted as you turned on your side, watching Karl as he rhythmically tapped his hands to his chest. He could feel your eyes trained on him. “Failed experiments.”
“So, if Alcina’s experiment failed, I would have become one of them?”
“Not exactly.” Karl moved his leg, stretching out. “Affinity to Cadou is different depending on the person.”
“Something gross.” He lifted his hat and looked at you. “You don’t want to know.”
“I don’t like being left in the dark.”
“What does it matter?” Words slowly began slurring into one another as he tossed his hat to the side, taking to lying facing you. “You’re so hell bent on getting home. Why would the power dynamics here bother you?”
A butterscotch curiosity wandered through his eyes. He truly didn’t understand you most days. Your canary soul shone brightly against the rugged background of bleak obsidian. When you rolled into town, you brought with you an otherworldly outlook that breathed a breath of fresh air into the village. It was almost infuriating how you easily evaded Mother Miranda’s grasp.
“Because, well.” The corners of your lips turned down. “I mean… It’s hard to not get invested in something when you’ve been thrown into it for as long as I’ve been here.” You asserted, attempting to keep an amethyst look across your features.
He hesitated before shaking his head, choosing to change the topic of conversation. “I’ve got a few errands to run in the morning.”
“Leaving me alone here again?”
“Get to sleep.” He sighed, closing his eyes.
“Oh, come on, I’ve met the guy before. He’s not going to sell me out.” You argued, following Karl just missing his heels as you practically walked into his back. “I’m sick of being kept inside! Just let me go out for once.”
“Miranda could fucking see you.”
“At this point, I’m starting to not really give a fuck what Miranda sees or doesn’t see.”
The heavy door slammed open against the wall, shaking a thin layer of dust from the rafters. Karl turned on his heel to face you. “Stay.” He commanded, pointing his finger at the landing the two of you stood on.
“This is absolute shit.” You balled your hands into fists, watching as the staircase of scrap manifested behind him. At this point, it didn’t bother you. He’d done it enough that something as absurd as this was normal. “You’re the only one I’ve talked to this entire time!”
“My company isn’t good enough then, I take it?” He began descending the steps. “Would you please just listen, for once?”
“For once?” You gawked. “I practically do whatever you say like a dog. Please just let me come outside.” You whined, opting for the juvenile tactic seeing as argument wasn’t getting you anywhere. “Please, please, please. Karl, please.”
The look on his face mimicked that of your parents when you’d done the same thing as a child. His shoulder slumped, his eyes held a dead expression, and his mouth was tugged into a paper-thin line. His tongue wet his lips as he contemplated the repercussions of letting you have free range of the yard. Miranda was typically holed up somewhere. Alcina wouldn’t touch his factory with a 50-foot pole. Moreau was probably engulfed in some vintage movie. Who cares what Donna or that doll were doing. “Fine. Come on. But if this ends with you strapped to a table, it’s not my fucking fault.”
Bits of broken stone and dirt stuck to your feet as you descended the wobbly steps. Your shoes sat where they always did next to his wardrobe, staying in the flat meant your footwear often went unutilized. With Karl already being on edge, you made the quick decision to leave them behind.
The grass was as you remembered, soft beneath your feet and ever waving in the gentle Romanian breeze. Whisps of cotton white tufts flowed like the soothing waves of the ocean. You’d forgotten how spectacular the view was from here. Karl grumbled, kicking his feet into the dirt as he walked, leaving small brown clouds behind. He wanted so badly to be upset with you, but after seeing the reinvigorated lilac excitement that settled upon your shoulders, he couldn’t help the dispersal.
“Ah,” The friendly voice of a familiar face had you on your toes, flowing over the countryside like a trickling stream. “Karl Heisenberg.” The Duke’s head peaked out from over the top of Karl’s, “and company!”
You couldn’t help yourself, greeting him with a toothy grin. It felt so good to be outside.
“It is so good to see you again.” The Duke nodded as he guided his carriage through the open gates. “You know, you’ve caused quite the fuss at the castle. Lady Dimitrescu has been missing her favorite shade of claret lipstick.”
Karl scoffed, “You stole and sold her lipstick?”
“I did not steal it.” You felt heat rise to your face. “The other maids tried to get me in trouble after I found it in the kitchen. That’s why I’ve got this nasty gash on my hand.” You rubbed at the cut, it was scarring now leaving only a whisper of evidence that it was ever there. “But, I did sell it.”
“Anyway,” The Duke started, “I’ve got your order here. Tricky items to find, you know?”
“”ve got to order from you.” Karl shrugged, leading the two of you back toward the factory’s entrance. “Nobody else around here is competent enough.”
“Nobody else here keeps to their own business.” He smiled widely, casting a glance in your direction.
“Right you are.”
The two sorted out Karl’s order together, debating for a moment about pricing before a small pouch of coins were exchanged. A few crates were left at the door, the wood would likely join the piles just inside.
“I’ll be off, then.” The Duke’s carriage rolled past. “Do remember what I left you with last.” He slowed as he reached the gate, waiting for it to open. “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
The gates closed, leaving you with Karl. “What did he tell you last?”
“Be careful.” He reminded you, admiring the lipstick as it glint in the golden morning light. “Home may be closer than you think.”
“Home may be closer than I think.” You recalled. While insignificant when you’d initially met The Duke, the words rung a thoughtful bell in your ears that reverberated to no end. This place wasn’t truly your home, was it? The Factory was dark and miserable. Its depths knew no bounds and you’d never even stepped foot below the surface. Home was cozy and warm; rosebud feelings and comfortable aromas of heated spices were home. “Profound, huh?” You joked, folding your arms over your chest.
“Yeah.” He jeered. “Profound.”
“Thank you.” Your words caught him off guard. What was there to be thanking him for?
“Bringing me outside.” Facing the sky, you basked in the sun, its rays penetrated your icy skin, warming it to the touch. “It’s been too long cooped up in that studio.”
He had to admit, it was nice being outside with you. It felt, right. Your innocent beauty complimented the picturesque backdrop of roaring mountains, or even the rapidly flowing waters of the reservoir. He hated the feelings that grew in the depths of his chest, but he couldn’t help it.
A laugh left his shoulders bouncing up and down, “Maybe I need to get you a leash and collar. You’d enjoy going for walks more often. Wouldn’t you?”
“Karl!” The flush of your cheeks made him smile. Your eyes squinted. “Don’t say that.”
“You’re too uptight.” He nudged your side.
“Says the man who kept me locked up in his bedroom for two weeks.”
“When you say it like that, it makes me sound like a pervert.”
The two of you walked together, heading for the factory’s entrance. “When you call yourself ‘daddy’ and use all those pet names, I’d say you’re a perv.”
“You love it.”
You hated it, but you did enjoy the attention. Especially, his attention.
Maybe Miranda’s influence was stronger than you think.
Part 6 - Burning Red
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so ectoguns = paintball guns, and paintball guns = illegal to shoot outside of: 1, home; 2, approved range. exactly how many years do you think the fentons have been petitioning whatever government they can get their hands on to classify the entirety of amity park as an approved paintball firing range?
the Fentons must have an incredibly determined and chronically exhausted lawyer
wait hold up what's Walter Weston's job, do we have fanon for that?? he has peak lawyer energy and him working for the Fentons would be fucking hilarious
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✰︎ you’ve got to be kitten me ~ S.R.
⤷ a/n: just wanted to start off with something simple ♡︎
⤷ pairing: spencer reid x reader
⤷ word count: 1.2k
⤷ summary: you take in a stray cat and wait for Spencer to come home so you can tell him
⤷ genre: fluff
It was a good day. Not because of the nice weather, the easy day at work, or the wonderful morning you had with Spencer. No, those were all great, but they weren’t the full reason why it was a good day. It was a good day because you found a cat. And, you may or may not have taken in said cat. Though it was a good day, not a great day. Because, there was still a small problem you had yet to resolve. Spencer didn’t know.
He was going to know, one way or another. He could come home and find you miserably attempting to hide the mellow animal, or you could call to tell him and hang up before he had a chance to respond, giving him time to think it over on his way home. He’d be okay with it, right? Why wouldn’t he be? All you did was take in a stray animal whose essence was to hate humans. Yeah, this was gonna go well.
Choosing to surprise him when he gets home, you pick up the tired cat and take her to your bedroom where you place her on the bed. Watching as she steps onto your pillow and lies down, you realize something. “Oh, you don’t have a name yet, do you?” you ask rhetorically. “How about...Duchess? Like Duchess from Aristocats!” It seems like a fitting name, so you go with it. After all, what could be better than Disney?
You don’t want to spend too long fawning over your new feline love, as you have no idea when Spencer will be back. You make sure she’s alright on the bed, then scurry out of the room, closing the door behind you. Eyeing your phone on the counter, you consider calling Spencer to ask when he’ll be home. But, what are the chances he’ll pick up? So instead, you brew some Turkish coffee to help convince Spencer that you should keep the cat. You were hoping that he’ll be home in time for the two of you to enjoy it.
By the time you’re finished with it, Spencer’s still not home. Checking on Duchess, you notice that she’s fallen asleep. It’s an adorable sight, but you can’t help feeling antsy as you wait for the said brunette. You dither for a few moments before giving in, you return to the counter and pick up your phone to call him. It goes to voicemail, which isn’t too unexpected. Hopefully Spencer will be home soon, right? He did mention that he’d try to be home early. But then, early is a wide range for an FBI agent.
Thinking there’s no harm in rewatching Friends as you wait for him, you end up falling asleep on the couch. It’s not until near midnight that you wake up when you feel something hitting your face. Opening your eyes, you see a familiar blur of grey fur extending a paw out to wack your face with. How Duchess managed to get in her current position is beyond you, but it’s not the most important thing to think about. You spring off of the sofa and scoop the small cat up in your arms.
Before attempting to hide her away again, you step into the kitchen. The coffee you made had gone cold and you sigh, it looks like he didn’t make it home in time for the coffee after all. You may have jumped the gun on making it, but it was alright. You could always brew a fresh pot in the morning. For now, your main focus should be what to do with the sedentary animal you were holding. Like, finding a new place to set her down while you both wait.
This time you take her into the bathroom and place her on the counter to wait for Spencer. To keep her busy, you grab one of your boyfriend’s ties that he hasn’t worn in forever and let her toy with it. She’s surely going to tear it apart, but you know Spencer won’t mind. Speaking of him, you were starting to get worried. It was a quarter past midnight and he still wasn’t home. Checking your phone wasn't any help, as he hadn’t called or left any messages. If he wasn’t called out on a case, is he alright? It wasn’t often that he stayed at work this long.
Luckily enough, before you can begin to panic, the door opens and Spencer steps inside. He was home! Walking over to him, you engulf him in a tight hug and ask, “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine love, I’m sorry I got caught up with paperwork and lost track of time,” he explains. As long as he’s safe, coming home late at night isn’t an issue.
“Alright, well I’m glad nothing bad happened,” you smile up at him, mind racing about the best way to bring up the feline you’d taken in. “Though, um, there is something I need to tell you,” you say sheepishly.
He begins walking towards your bedroom, most likely to take a shower. “Did something happen while I was gone?”, he doesn’t sound worried, which is good.
Though you can’t let him stumble upon the cat before you tell him about her. So, you try to rush in front of him, hoping to delay him just long enough to spill the secret. Unfortunately however, he was just a bit faster and made it into the room before you could do anything. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
He stops at the bathroom door, his hand on the doorknob and asks, “Oh? What’d I miss?”
“Well,” you start, but you’re interrupted by a soft purring noise coming from inside of the bathroom. Spencer whips his head over to the room and temporarily removes his hand from the door in shock.
He turns back to you with a raised eyebrow and asks, “y/n, what was that?” His curious tone is laced with amusement, and you’re sure he’s already caught onto what was happening.
“That would be what happened,” you answer. You watch as he opens the door and is instantly met with the sight of the cat that you’d brought home with you.
“Is that my tie?” he asks, noticing a piece of fabric between her claws. Without waiting for you to answer, he picks up Duchess and says, “You know cats are really smart. Their sense of smell and eyesight aren’t as strong as ours so they rely on body language for the most part of their communication. They’re like small, feline, profilers!” He was talking with joy, and you were taking that as a good sign.
“I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing,” you softly laugh.
“What’s her name?” he asks.
“Duchess,” you tell him. “Like the movie.”
“What movie?” he stares at you as you answer.
“Aristocats,” you reply, but he still looks confused. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen it!”
“Maybe we can change that tomorrow?” he says with contentment.
“We’re gonna have to,” you agree.
Spencer looks down at the small animal in his arms, then back up at you. “So, does this mean we get to keep her?”
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hi!! Can i request zhongli being jealous? HDJFJF I JUST LOVE THE TROPE SO MUCH!! Feel free to ignore this if you want!! Be sure to take breakss!!!
oK so I have some jealous!Zhongli content in here but it's noodle Morax becos brainrot. Not sure if it counts but i will count it since this request is...rather vague...if you want something else then perhaps you could suggest something more specific? I'm sorry if it didn't meet what you expected
@love-impact part 3!
Just because he has been turned into a miniature form of his exuvia doesn’t mean he’s any less interesting than in his human form! Zhongli lashes his tail in annoyance, pawing at your arm while you talk to Childe.
You simply lift him onto your lap and continue your conversation, striking a deal with the Harbinger over a meal which was his treat. The deal was important for your business, even if you had to deal with the Fatui.
“So how long until he turns back to normal?” Childe asks, gesturing towards the dragon that had slipped off your lap, sniffing for something.
“About five more days? But that’s being optimistic. In the worst case, another week,” you keep an eye on him as you finish up your meal, worried that he may stray too far. He was far smaller and harder to spot from afar in this form, and your parental instincts didn’t help either.
“So which form is cuter?” he teases.
“All his forms are cute,” you smirk back at him, setting your now empty bowl on the table. “Thank you for the meal. A few more meetings and we should have secured a contract, yes?”
“Of course. And out of generosity, I will continue to treat you to the rest of the meals,” Childe hands a bag of Mora to the cashier, waving you goodbye.
You nod, picking your dragon boyfriend up before he can try to steal a sip from a cup of tea waiting to be served and placing him on your shoulders, “just because you’re smaller doesn’t mean you can get away with more things.”
He lets out a sad whine, head resting on his paws. A headpat is all it takes for him to perk up again and you chuckle, “when we get home you’ll have all my attention, I promise. This deal is important, so I need to pay attention to Childe, alright?”
He lets out a huff, shifting into a more comfortable position as you head home, resisting the urge to take a bite out of your hair.
He does get plenty of attention as promised when the both of you reach home, ranging from cuddles to tea to pillow forts and his favourite part - you reading to him. He’s satisfied with the amount of attention you’re giving him, for now.
At least until you meet Childe again for a business meal.
Each time you go for a business meal, you notice how Zhongli scampers off, forcing you to keep an eye on him while discussing terms. You brush it off as him becoming more restless in his dragon form but notice how he always ends up on Childe’s shoulders, biting his hair to distract the Harbinger.
Was he...jealous? But these were business meetings, it wasn’t like you were hanging out with Childe more than usual. Maybe you were, considering how the meals always ended with casual talk. It wasn’t as though you didn’t lavish your boyfriend with attention and headpats afterwards, so why was he jealous?
Shaking your head, you push the questions aside and focus on the matter at hand - finalising the contract.
What you didn’t know was that Zhongli had been taking the opportunity to steal a Mora from Childe with every business meal as it was all his tiny mouth could hold without getting caught.
For what reason? Even Zhongli had no idea. All he knew was that ever since he had turned into a miniature dragon, he had a fascination with Mora that was difficult to suppress. His hoarding of Mora in various places had caused much frustration for his partner which he felt bad about, thus he had tried his best to control the urges but he would slip up from time to time.
Until he realised there was a better target to unleash his instincts on - Childe. The Harbinger was never short on Mora, and taking a coin wouldn’t make a noticeable difference, would it?
And so it began - the nabbing of a coin every time he saw Childe until he was found out. Thus far, it was going well. Neither his partner nor Childe had noticed the disappearances, with him stashing the Mora collected in a secret spot only he knew about.
The number of meetings with Childe increased, taking precious attention away from him which created an uneasy feeling in Zhongli’s stomach, something humans called...jealousy? His dragon form seemed to lack the usual restraint he had, and minor actions such as aggressively biting Childe anywhere and “accidentally” hitting the Harbinger with his tail began to appear.
For now, it seemed that his partner didn’t catch onto the jealous acts, although Childe most definitely did since each business meeting was being concluded faster and faster.
On the very last business meal, Zhongli quietly laid on your lap after he ate, a stark contrast to his usual activities.
“Are you tired?” you murmur, scratching the spot behind his horns. He doesn’t respond and curls up into a ball, huddling against you.
You take this as an improvement, focusing on concluding the deal which you do successfully and return home victorious, albeit tired from the negotiations.
The moment you throw yourself onto the bed, Zhongli nips at you, “I would like to show you something.”
“Hmm?” you respond groggily but follow him nonetheless. He never disturbed you without good reason.
He leads you to the living room where something gold glints on the table, reflecting the lamp light and you stare in shock at what lies before your eyes.
It was simple, but something you appreciated. He had spelled out the letters “ILY” with Mora and proudly settled above his creation.
“Zhongzhong…” your voice trails off before something hits you. “Where did you get the Mora from?”
“Childe?” he blinks at you, eyes wide as he tries his best to avoid being scolded. You sigh, taking out your kamera to capture the display before collecting the Mora and placing it into the savings box.
“Well, since Childe didn’t seem to mind, I suppose we can keep the Mora,” you can’t help but laugh. He bounces on the table in excitement before leaping at you.
Startled, you stretch out your arms to catch him when the spell decides to wear off and he turns back into his humanoid form, crushing you beneath him.
“My apologies,” he quickly scrambles off you, face turning red when he realises he’s buck naked.
“I-” you’re not even sure what to say. Zhongli quickly rushes off to grab some clothes while you sit there, silently cursing and thanking the spell for undoing at that moment.
You head to your shared bedroom, plopping onto the bed and ready to sleep when Zhongli looms over you again, pressing a kiss to your lips before rolling over to lie next to you.
“It has been quite a while since I last did that,” he notes before indulging himself with another kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing back and feel him smile.
“I’m glad you’re back.”
“Likewise, my beloved.”
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BY THE WAY aside from the fact that it's jack's birthday, today is also the birthday of THEE aeli_kindara/@gravelghosts!!! may i suggest streaming some classics in celebration of the fact:
teaching poetry to fish
home range (wip)
date verse (wip)
the 36 questions that lead to love
OR browsing her ficography and finding other gems!
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list of my favorite disney villains ever.
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forgotten disney movies
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on a little patch of heaven way out west 🌼
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day 2 of yeehawgust and decided to draw some rdr’s john marston safe and happy on his ranch.
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#every day on tumblr dot com
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Sketch crossover-au from Home on the Range
Daniel sings and steals children, forcing to join in his cult
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