#my boi lookin like fire

[remuslovebot]

sirius black being the cockiest mf ever trying to impress his crush and she is not impressed in the slightest to the point he starts getting really shy around her because he no longer knows how to act if his usual bravado doesn't work

but turns out just being his dorky, vulnerable, and still (softer) flirty self works like a charm!!

Sirius would totally the most cocky and immature tactics to get you to go out with him. it would be romantic for sure. im picturing the dance number that heath ledger sings in “10 things i hate about you.”

I hope you enjoy!

𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝐒.𝐁

summery: after Sirius gives up on his boastful ways of flirting, you turn the other cheek and notice the popular marauder is sweet and dorky on the inside.

warnings: not proof read. one inappropriate joke, but that’s all 🫶🏻

pairing: sirius black x reader

Sirius Black was a charmer. That was for certain. Rumors spread like the plague of his roughish ways. You were not a fan of him, which was unfortunate for you because he was a fan of you. Constantly. Every chance he would get, he would flirt you up in the hallway.

“Hey y/n, what are you doing later?” He would ask you. You replied with, “McGonagall’s transfiguration essay.”

Sirius just smirked and returned with his cocky banter, “That’s a shame, I wish you’d do me instead.” He grinned, James and Peter behind him laughing.

It wasn’t genuine, or at least that’s how you felt. You rolled your eyes and replied with, “You wish, Black. In your dreams.”

You walked away with out seeing or hearing Sirius’ response. It frustrated you to no end that he would joke that way. You wanted to save him the trouble. He was obnoxious and too cocky for your own liking.

You missed when he was sweet and genuine. Not the popular boy that has become a staple at Hogwarts.

Sirius on the other hand, genuinely did want you. But no other tactic had gotten him a date. The rumors were misconstrued and he put on a cocky front. But in reality he was just as shy and dorky as he used to be.

One night after a hogsmeade trip, you were reading in the Gryffindor common room. It was a nice quiet night by the fire place. But all of a sudden, Sirius showed up, sat in an arm chair near you and started playing with wizarding cards.

“Could you keep that down?” You asked him, looking up from your book.

You expected a witty and cocky calculated response, but instead Sirius looked flushed. He ran a hand through this shiny hair and nodded, a little shy.

He gave up on impressing you and being so boastful. What did he have to lose? “Yeah sure, sorry.” He replied.

Sirius’ response continued to surprise you. Where were his annoyingly witty comments and jokes? Why wasn’t he flirting?

“Are you okay?” You asked, now a little confused.

“Yeah I’m fine,” he replied, lookin over at you. In his mind you looked so beautiful sitting by the fire. “Urm—actually I wanted to apologize. For making you so upset. I just think you’re really pretty an all. But I’m taking the hint and I’ll stop.”

He sounded so sweet about it and vulnerable. This was the Sirius you liked. The genuine one.

You smiled softly, “Thank you for the apology Sirius. I appreciate it. But you really think I’m pretty?” You asked.

He nodded, continuing to be sincere in his response. “Yeah, could never take my eyes off you love?” He said. It was straightforward and flirty but absolutely adorable and dorky.

You blushed. Why couldn’t be t he like this all the time?

“I like you like this.” You said, with a small smile. Sirius flushed.

“Y-you-u do?” He asked, a little surprised. This was the first time you’d shown him affection.

“Yeah. I mean when you aren’t being so boastful and cocky around me. I like the genuine you, Sirius.” You said.

With that, he sat up and walked over to the couch. He sat next you and both were facing each other.

“Sooo, I guess what you’re saying is???” He teased. You lightly pushed him and laughed.

“I’m saying if you tried to ask me out in a less boastful way. I would say yes.” You explained, blushing.

Sirius felt like he’d won the jackpot. “Really?! Uh I mean oh that’s cool.” He said, earning another giggle out of you.

“Y/n, will you go out with me?” He asked, sincerely.

You nodded, “Yes Sirius, I will.”

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black headcanon #dating sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #all the young dudes #peter pettigrew #anything for our moony #marauders x you #marauders quotes #wolfstar #marauders x reader #sirius black fluff

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt2 to this post. At this point it looks like there’ll be 4 parts in total :)

Robin is basically seething with rage when she walks into Thatcher Tire before the start of her own shift at Family Video. After a month of Steve being happier than she had ever seen him before, he showed up on her doorstep on the verge of tears last night. She had to listen to him talk about Eddie until well after midnight. About Eddie, who had apparently only been “fucking around” with him for the past month, while Steve was falling head-over-heels for him.

Robin liked Eddie, of course she did. But one part of her had not even been surprised about this turn of events. It was the part of her that had never fully trusted Eddie – the part she had tried her very best to shut up because she didn't want to believe in the possibility of it being right.

It was the part of her that had been warning her that something about Eddie and Steve seemed off right from the beginning: how Steve was falling, with complete faith and no safety net, while Eddie was... Well, it wasn't like he was actively mean or cruel in any way. It wasn't like he seemed to be using Steve or like he wasn't really into him. None of that. But there had always been this something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Now she finally knows what it was.

She has dozens of questions ready to fire at him. Did he ever even notice how fragile Steve really is, underneath those leftover pieces from his high school days? How lonely he is? Does he even know how badly that boy wants to be loved? Does he know how much it broke Robin's heart when she couldn't give that love to Steve in the way he wanted her to? Will it break Eddie's heart, too, when he realizes what he has done to Steve? Or did he already know, all this time? Has he just been playing some cruel game for a whole fucking month?

So she barges into the garage and marches purposefully towards the backroom with her battle baret all dusted off for the occasion, ready to tell Eddie exactly what she thinks of him. But she stops in her tracks when she hears Eddie's voice emerge from the room, sounding like he's already caught up in some kind of heated conversation himself.

'Right?! I mean, can you believe this shit?! He just shows up with goddamn flowers like we're – like we're actually together or some shit!'

It's silent for a while and it takes Robin a few seconds to realize that he must be on the phone.

'He's hot, okay?' Eddie continues, in a voice that could best be described as distressed. 'And the kids like him, he's cute, there was no reason not to say yes when he asked me out. But it was never supposed to – we were just supposed to have some fun and leave it at that.' He actually sounds like he's on the verge of tears by now.

'Because this was never the fucking plan!' he answers a question asked from the other end of the line. 'If he's gonna continue like this, all sweet and caring and giving me flowers and shit... I'm gonna fall in love with him, Jeff, I'm serious! I don't even know why he's doing this – he probably just wants to know that he can, you know. Give his ego a little boost and laugh at me when he finds out it's actually working. It's cruel, it's really fucking cruel.'

There's another beat of silence.

'You're a lifesaver,' Eddie then says. 'And bring that one ice cream, you know the one, with the pecan and the – exactly! And maybe some of your mom's chocolate pie if she still has – thank you, my hero. Oh, and don't forget to say hi to your mom from me.'

While Eddie hangs the phone back on the hook, Robin takes her final step around the corner.

'Is that really what you think of him?'

Eddie jumps up when he sees Robin standing in the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her chest and one of her most scathing looks on her face.

'What the hell, Buck? Were you eavesdropping on my phone call?'

'You really think he's the cruel one?' she repeats, ignoring his indignant question. 'Then why did he show up at my door yesterday night looking like a heap of misery and telling me how his boyfriend turned out to only have been his hookup all this time?'

'Look, Buckley, I – wait, what?'

'What?'

'His what now?'

And the utterly confused look on his face tells her more than enough. He didn't know, she realizes. He truly didn't know what Steve felt for him.

'You fucking dummy!'

'I – what did you just call me?'

'A dummy.' Okay, it's not exactly the best insult she ever came up with, but she has no choice but to double down on it now.

'No, earlier, you – you said – his boyfriend,' Eddie stutters out.

Robin merely shoots him an unimpressed glance.

'Steve thought we were boyfriends?!' he exclaims in a shrill voice. He looks at her like she just dropped some news about Vecna returning to Hawkins.

'Do you really have to look that disgusted about it?'

'No, I wasn't – Are you playing some kind of twisted prank on me here?'

'Do I look like this is a prank?'

He narrows his eyes at her. 'But... Why the hell would he want us to be boyfriends?'

'Because he liked you, you idiot!' she yells at him. 'Because he asked you out and you said yes and you were nice to him! Because he basically had those obnoxious little pink hearts floating around his head whenever you were together! Because you treated him with more kindness and respect than any girl he's ever dated before – well, until he wanted to celebrate your anniversary and you basically told him to fuck off when he wanted to take care of you while you were sick! Which you clearly aren't, by the way!'

'Don't be ridiculous here,' Eddie shoots back at her. 'Why would he ever want me to be his boyfriend?'

'Because – are you even listening to me?! Because he's in love with you!'

'Come on, Robin, you can't actually believe that,' he says, a tensed chuckle coloring the end of the sentence. 'He's Steve Harrington.' And he says that name in such a snide tone that it makes Robin flinch on her best friend's behalf.

'I mean, sure, he's fallen from his throne and all that,' he continues, 'but no one really changes that much. He was a dick! Don't you remember how he treated your band friends? Don't you remember how completely invisible you were to him? Don't you remember the names he called people like us? All the people he'd knock down to lift himself up?'

She doesn't avert her gaze, but only lifts her chin.

'You don't need to remind me,' she tells Eddie, trying her very best to sound as calm as possible. 'I remember. But I also remember how he snuck the most nerdy kids I ever met into the back of our ice cream store to let them watch movies for free. And I remember how he stuffed them with free ice cream when nobody was watching. I remember how he spent hours giving Dustin advice about his girlfriend – the advice was terrible, frankly, but that's not the point, it was well-meant.' No, stop, don't get distracted, she sternly tells herself, steering back to the topic at hand.

'I remember how he did everything in his power to get Dustin and Erica to safety when we all got caught in a goddamn nightmare. I remember how he almost died taking a bunch of punches for me.' She takes a quick breath before she goes on. 'I remember how he broke down in my arms because he felt so guilty about the person he used to be, the people he hurt when he was this asshole teenage boy doing asshole teenage boy shit. I remember how dumb he felt when he didn't get into any colleges again, I remember how scared he was when he figured out he liked boys, I remember how you were the one who made him finally feel some self-worth again when you guys started dating... And you know what else I remember? How you broke his heart yesterday. So you don't have to tell me what a dick he is, Eddie Munson. If you need to point fingers and call someone a dick so bad, don't you dare come for Steve. You better look in the mirror for that.'

Pt3 is here!

(Edit: it's actually 5 parts now. You can read the whole thing on ao3 here)

The amount of people asking to be tagged has frankly been unreal, woah! It honestly means so fucking much to me that you care enough about this silly lil story to ask for a tag 🥹 Seriously, thank you so much, and I hope you liked this part / the way the story is unfolding. I’d love to hear what y’all think <3

Taglist: @pluto-pepsi @i-less-than-three-you @estrellami-1 @epiclazershark @angelscoops @missmagillicuddy @fxndom-hoe @chaoticvictorianspirit @itsali-taken @merricatty @its-a-me-a-morgan @lilacrobin @adaydreamaway08 @starman-jpg @irethsune @starry-eyedlune @littlemsterious @7shrewsinatrenchcoat @lostonceandneverfound @a-gae-af-racoon @heartstarstar-blog @ignoretenderness @thehorrorandme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @vampireinthesun @ntwolf69 @thatonebadideapanda @jackiemonroe5512 @tinynebula @obliosworld @sleepy-time @daydreaming-mood @aizawa-emma @leethegay @irregular-child @just-a-tiny-void @evix-syne666

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #let robin be steve's guard dog alright #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #fruity ficlet

[gardengirl222]

husband!rafe and your kids attempt to prepare you a mother's day surprise! 💐

rafe sets down your daughter so she's sitting on the table after helping her put up some pastel ribbons, hearts and banners for decoration so he can walk over and check on the pancakes your son was in charge of.

"hey bud, those pancakes are lookin' a little...come on dude" he looms over the boy and put his hand on top of the little backwards baseball cap over your sons head. 

"it's supposed to be mickey mouse!"

"well it looks like a sad bear...think mom will think they're cute?" rafe makes a face and turns his head to see more of the "sad bears" already on a plate.

"what do i know!?" your son shrugs and drops a few more chocolate chips onto the cooking pancake.

"ehh s'alright we'll just cover'em in syrup, whipped cream or something" rafe reasons with himself when your son arm swings back after trying to flip like a chef, ironically the most decent looking pancake flies to the opposite wall and splat! its ruined. 

"aw man!" your son whines and rafe gasps dramatically. "careful!! jesus!!" he rushes over to clean the mess on the wall when your daughter screams and points to the oven. both rafe and your son's heads turn quickly to where she's pointing. "what? what's wrong baby?" rafe asks all panicked.

"dad! the oven!" your son backs away from the pancakes as the oven pours out black smoke, the french toast on fire. "what is that!?" your son furrows his eyebrows and runs to open a window. "its the french toast- or it was." rafe's face hardens in concentration, hoping the fire alarm wouldn't go off and wake you up, he grabs a towel to start to "put out the fire" or "cool it down" but that just makes the fire worse causing the alarm to ring. your daughters hands fly to cover her ears as she sits there watching, your son grabs the water in the glass jar on the table and hands it to rafe who splashes it on the flaming french toast. 

"what's going on!?" you walk into the kitchen in you nightgown, picking up your daughter and holding her on your hip. the alarm still ringing, you turn your head to see your son stood on a chair trying to get the smoke away from the alarm to get it to stop. "go back to bed mama! everything's fine!" rafe shouts over the ringing and closes the oven quickly, he takes your daughter into his arms so he can shoo you away. 

"kay guys, what do'we got?" rafe sighs after sorta cleaning up the mess and sits on the table with his kids. "we've still got the pancakes." your son points to the now broken plate with ruined pancakes due to the commotion earlier. 

"uh nah bud, we've gotta scrap that." 

"i have bubblegum grampa gave me for easter!" you daughter lights up as she offers. "no princess, you keep your bubblegum, we'll think of something else." rafe smile and smooths his hand over her messy baby hairs.

"well there's vanilla ice cream in the freezer and at least a few chip's ahoys in the pink jar." you son's eyebrows shoot up at the realization. "and strawberry wafers above the fridge." the boy points to where the wafers where supposed to be hidden. 

"right, that works..." rafe smiles and picks up your baby girl to place on his hip and give a bunch of kisses to. 

"oh my goodness! whats this!" you smile brightly sitting in your bed, pausing the movie you were watching as you see your little family come through the door, your daughter runs up to your side and hands you a card she made with glitter and lace. "thank you baby this is very sweet." you place the card against your heart momentarily, rafe walks up and places a silver tray on your lap with little scoops of ice cream, wafers and cookies. "happy mothers day mama" rafe smiles, quite proud of the little breakfast they managed to come up with last minute. 

"thank you baby" you continue to smile, reaching your hand out to place on rafe's cheek as he bends down to give you a kiss. "there's more ice cream if you want s'more after, happy mother's day!" your son says smiling showing all his teeth and handing you a bouquet of casablanca lilies and a few of his baseball cards that he considers presents, you giggle and reach over to embrace him as well.

"s'very nice of you guys, so many beautiful mother's day presents!" you tell your kids.

"its not over yet, i've got s'more gifts for you in the living room." rafe grins and hands you a spoon for the ice cream. "i love you do you know that?" he asks and you nod.

"i do, and i love you, all of you guys very much. what happened in the kitchen earlier? everything okay?" 

"i just wanna say again, i love you so very much." rafe smiles innocently ❤️

i wanna marry himmm

#gardengirl222 #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe cameron thoughts #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #gardengirl'sobx!⋆₊ ⊹ #lenepilar'sobx!⋆₊ ⊹ #dad!rafe #husband!rafe #dad!rafe cameron

[rafescurtainbangz]

Rafe Cameron One Shot - A Goddess +18

Minor DNI Rafe Cameron x Curvy!Female Reader SMUT, drinking, swearing, soft dom Rafe, oral (male receiving), oral (female receiving), rough oral, praise kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, and spanking. *He's a college hockey player. It's briefly mentioned and purely self-indulgent. Just roll with it. Enjoy 💕 Thank you for the ask!

Tags: @imyourdaninow @redhead1180 @gri959 @romaescapes @waywardsoul113 @randymeeksistheloml Tag list: link Master list: link Rafe x Curvy Reader

3.2 K

Rafe's POV:

"Jesus, Rafey. Losin' your touch, baby?" Kelce snickers as he nabs my freshly cracked White Claw off the bar top.

"Uh, yeah. Two more White Claws and a shot of Tito's on his tab, sweetheart," I call to the bartender, firing her a wink. She shakes her head and smiles, draining the liquor in a glass passing two more drinks my way.

"Thanks for the liquor, baby." Kelsey rolls his eyes and scoffs. "And, no. To answer your question, I haven't lost shit."

"Well, you usually got a girl or two by now..."

"I don't need to try as hard as you, Kelc. Don't worry about me. You could learn a thing or two? Been watchin' your game all night. It's rough."

"By all means, King Cameron, show me how it's done," he mocks. I quickly down my shot, chasing it with a seltzer.

Kelce snakes through the thick crowd of college students bellied up at the bar, a packed dance floor in the center. I can't help but laugh at my group, fawning over yet another variety pack of copy-and-paste girls. They're beautiful, don't get me wrong, but it's the same shit every weekend. Kelce struts over to the last of the bunch, leaving me to break away; what a shame.

I walk toward the bar, leaning back into it as I stare into the crowd. "A vodka cranberry. Please." I hear a soft voice come from my left. "Thank you." That same girl hums as I look down in her direction, watching as she scribbles her name across the tab, passing it back. That's a pretty name.

Her beautiful eyes flick to mine. A sweet smile falls on her plump lips. My eyes fall, lashes fluttering as I try my best to hide what an actual fuckin' dog I truly am, but, my god... She's a fucking goddess. Her cleavage is tied with a pretty little bow in the middle of her dress. Fuck me. I feel my cock twitch, eyes slamming shut; cheeks reddening in embarrassment. I'm too ashamed to even look back in her eyes for how long I've ogled her.

My gaze moves to hers again, still met with that same smile but a cocked brow this time. "You okay?" She chuckles.

"Mhmm..." I grunt. That's it. That's all I got.

"Alright... Have a nice night," she giggles lightly before turning away, dress moving with her. The thin material hits just below her perfect ass, leaving her legs on display. Her dress shifts on her round hips as she moves, her ass recoiling with each step making my eyes roll back. 

And, then, she stops just a few feet away. Joining my crowd, one of the girls hugs her. Another, leaning in to whisper something that makes her laugh. She lifts the drink that she bought, surrounded by a group of fuckin' boys who should have bought it for her. A girl like that doesn't need to do that shit. Not one of them is making a move. I hang back, watching her a little as she sips her little drink.

The petite blonde Kelce was talking to gives him a fake laugh and a nod, stepping away; Kelc, obviously struck out with her. His head is instantly on a swivel, looking around the group for another, matching eyes hers briefly before searching for the next. Kelce buries his White Claw before doubling back in her direction. Hell no. I walk toward the two of them, intercepting his efforts; shoving him away lazily. Her beautiful eyes widen in surprise as she looks back up at me.

++++++++++

Y/N's POV:

"Uhh... Hi again. Are you lookin' for Alexis? She just went to the bathroom-"

"Who?" He furrows his brow, the most delicious smile spreading on his lips as he steps even closer.

"Alexis. Sorry, these guys seemed to know her." You twirl your finger, gesturing to the men gathered around.

"Nah. Never met her. What's your name?"

"Umm, Y/n," you chuckle nervously as you look up at him. He's gorgeous, even in the dim bar; light hair, light eyes, muscular... Holy shit. You reach out your hand, resting it on his chest as you lean closer. "I'm just visiting. What's your name?"

He bites his lip, looking down, eyeing the contact between you. He draws a little breath, his arm wrapping around your body, resting on the small of your back. "I'm Rafe."

"Rafe Cameron?"

"Yeah. Oh, shit. What did I do?" He winces.

"Horrible things," you tease, tapping your hand on his chest. "No. I remember your name from the hockey game." He gives you an open-mouthed smile, drawing you even closer. "You were in the penalty box a lot."

"What? Me?" He asks with an exaggerated tone, pointing at himself. "Never." Rafe's eyes trail your body again, just like they did when you got your drink; when you weren't sure if he was interested or just lost in a drunken daze. "You're stunning, by the way," he rasps.

Your cheeks warm up, butterflies swirling in your stomach at his compliment, finding yourself a little too stunned to speak. You lift your drink to your lips, taking a sip as you try to center yourself. "Thank you."

"It's almost last call. Did you wanna get outta here?" He asks.

"Well - I. Umm... I should wait for these girls."

"Eh. They come to our house every weekend, sweetheart. It's up to you. And, if I'm somehow wrong... And hell freezes over. I'll get you home safe. I swear. Scouts honor."

"They come to your house every weekend, and you didn't know Alexis?" You question as you guide your gaze to your gorgeous best friend. You feel his finger hook under your chin, directing your eyes back to his.

"Not my type."

++++++++

"This better, y/n?" Rafe asks as he pulls you in a little closer for warmth. His strong arms wrap around your body, chest pressed against your back as you wait for the Uber. You take in his rich cologne, the warmth of his cheek so close to yours.

"Perfect," you hum.

"So, you're just here for the weekend?" He asks; chills fan across your body as his breath hits your neck, just a slight gravel in his voice making you powerless.

"Just to visit. I'm comin' next semester, so I thought I should check it out."

"No fuckin' way," he asks excitedly, turning you to face his chest instead. "You're comin' here? Well, shit. We can do this every weekend. Huh?"

"This? And, what is 'this,' Rafe?" You ask in a breathy tone. His broad palms move a little lower, just a hair.

"Anythin' you'll let me." You give him a little nod, letting him know he can go a little further. "Words, princess."

"You can do whatever you'd like, Rafe."

A devilish smirk tugs on his lips. Rafe is more than satisfied with your answer as his hands rest on your ass. "You're gonna let me do whatever I want? You sure?"

"I mean, unless you don't wa-" He steals your teasing words off your tongue, kissing you deeply. His hands shift to the back of your neck, pulling you nearer. Rafe slows down slightly, lips parted, letting you slip your tongue inside, rolling slowly. You scratch your nails through his dark blonde buzz cut, making him moan against your lips.

"Anything you'd like," you whisper again, feeling his smile spread along your lips.

+++++++++

The two of you are breathing heavily already, panting into your kiss, his lips on yours before you can even reach his bedroom. He pins you against the wall, lips locked on your neck as you pinch the buttons of his shirt, drawing them open, revealing more skin as you go.

Rafe leads you into his bedroom, throwing the door shut. His rough hands work up your arms, thumbs brushing your straps off your shoulders. Your dress slips to the floor, making him draw back fast. "Y/n, fuck," he groans as his hands instantly caress your curves.

He snaps the lace at your hip, tugging at it impatiently as the other squeezes your tit. "You're so fuckin' beautiful," he smiles, extending a finger for you to twirl under. "Look at this ass, baby. Shittt," he moans as he cracks your skin, making you giggle delightedly.

"Thank you." You slip the shirt off Rafe's broad shoulders, tracing his tanned chest, working your way down as you take in his perfect physique. There's not an ounce of self-consciousness, not with how he's looking at you. You run your nails lightly through the ripples of his abs, tracing his v-lines, slipping just under the elastic of his boxers.

Rafe loops his fingers around your delicate lace thong, drawing it down to the floor, snagging it quickly before lofting it onto his dresser. "Keepin' those. Yeah?"

"M'kay."

"Collateral. I expect you'll come and take them back when you visit me. Yeah?"

"Okay... I mean. Yeah. Of course," You giggle, nipping at your bottom lip. You grab his belt, drawing it open. Rafe pulls them off his hips as your lips meet his neck, sucking roughly.

You move lower, licking along his collarbone. His abs flex as you pass over them, dropping to your knees. "Shit, y/n," he breathes. Your eyes widen as you take him in. White, skin-tight boxer briefs bunched up slightly on his thighs. His shaft and head stick out the bottom, strangled in cotton, leaking from the tip, dripping slightly down his inner thigh, aching to be freed.

You lean in, gaze locked on his as you glide your tongue along the mess. "Holy shit," he whispers, yanking at the elastic, craving more. You tease him further: massaging his precum into his swollen tip as he watches on, dick pulsing with each brush of your finger.

You draw his boxers low, cock, swinging free, standing straight. "Fuck me, Rafe," you whimper, taking a grip on his dick, rock-hard in your hands, feeling your cunt throb. He lets out a drawn-out moan as you wrap your lips around his mushroom tip, watching as his eyes shut softly.

"Mmm... Yes, baby," he praises. You can taste him on your tongue; salty, just a hint of sweetness. Rafe's fingers instantly reach for you, tangling into your hair. He follows your guide as you work his dick inch by inch, pushing yourself to see how much of him you can get. His warm tip kisses the back of your throat. You can feel the blood pumping in his cock.

You sweep your tongue along the bottom, feeling every ridge and vein. "Fuck, y/n. So fuckin' good. Feel so good," he mumbles, the pleasure in his voice making your eyes roll back. You fuck his aching cock deep into your throat, vision clouding as tears gather in your eyes. Blinking your sights, you feel warm tears roll down your cheeks, making Rafe smile. "Good girl," he groans. "Look at you. Shit." Rafe's hips jostle, the muscles in his thighs tightening under your hands.

Popping off his cock you kiss his tip before opening your mouth wide, slapping his dick against your tongue. "Use me," you whisper warmly, taking him back into your mouth as you grip his wrists; Rafe's fingers are already twisted in your hair.

"Where have you been, pretty girl?" He grunts. "So fuckin' perfect." Rafe pitches his hips, dick driving into your throat, taking you by surprise. You relax your throat as he picks up pace. The squelching of spit, groans, and muffled moans fill the room as he ruts deep. You gag on his cock, making his eyebrows furrow. "Gonna cum. Gonna fill that pretty mouth. You ready, baby? You gonna - You gonna be a good girl and swallow it all for me?"

Rafe's head tosses back as he praises your name; that same taste amplified as his cum coats your throat. You drop your hands, gripping his ass, feeling his muscles pulse. "Holy shit, y/n," he gasps, wiping a glaze of sweat off his forehead as he looks down at you in awe. You draw off his cock nice and slow.

"Good?" You pant through a smirk.

Rafe picks you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist as he moves you to the bed. "Good?" He snickers at the ridiculousness of your question. "Not even close, angel," he mumbles as he leans in for a kiss. "M'serious. Alright? Not waitin' 'til next semester. You're visitin' me. You can suck my cock just like that, baby girl, and I can taste this sweet fuckin' pussy whenever I'd like. Alright?"

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm... You're gonna ride my face. How does that sound?"

Your stomach sinks at his request. "Rafe... I don't kn-"

"Nah... M'gonna stop you right there. 'Cause you said, 'Anything I'd like.' Don't be goin' back on your word, princess."

"It's just-"

"I mean, unless you don't wa-" You steal his teasing words off his tongue this time, kissing him deeply. Rafe chest presses into yours, craving you closer.

He lays down on the bed, beckoning you. Rafe touches you softly, brushing his hands up your legs; his lips connect to your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine. "You ever done this before?" He asks. "Or am I the first?"

"You're the first," you whisper, looking down at him nervously.

"A virgin. Huh? You're gonna love it. Alright? Grab the headboard, y/n," he smiles. "C'mon." You feel his warm breath against your pussy, making you weak already.  "C'mon," he growls again in playfully tone, pulling you down.

"Fuck, Rafe," you pant longingly as you feel his warm tongue, licking up your silk to your clit. He moans against your cunt; the vibrations are electrifying; your sensitivity, at an all-time high.

"Mmm, you taste so fucking good, Y/n," he moans, locking tightly onto your clit. Rafe sucks and holds you in his mouth, using his tongue to flick. Your thighs instantly start to quiver. He grips your body, guiding you to rock back and forth. "Sit, baby," he pants, hungrily.

"Rafe..."

"Sit." He slaps you roughly on the meat of your thigh, overpowering you; burying himself in your pussy.

"Oh... Just - Just like that," you moan; bringing your hands up, squeezing your breasts tightly. You feel your orgasm in reach. "Rafe, do I cum like this?" You pant frantically. He doesn't answer, continuing to please you. You cry out as his finger slips into your entrance; his ringed digit gives you a little extra friction. The combination of both is absolutely euphoric. His mouth and hands play together beautifully; jolts of pleasure spur through your body as you grind your hips. Rafe increases his pace, moving at an unforgiving tempo. The sloppy sounds of your cunt, heard through the room as well.

"Rafe," you whimper, breathlessly; your pleasure about to bubble over. "I'm gonna... Oh my god," you scream in pleasure. Rafe runs circles on your clit as you ride out your orgasm.

"God, you're so beautiful, baby," he gasps as he sits up against the headboard. "You taste so sweet. That feels good, princess?" He asks as he brushes a few stray tears off your cheek.

"So fucking good," you barely manage to speak between breaths.

"Good, baby. Can't believe that was your first time..." You can hear the genuine surprise in his tone, boosting your confidence even more. Rafe relaxes into the headboard, biting back a smile as you reach your hands behind your back, unclasping your bra, letting it fall onto his lap.

"Perfect fuckin' tits," he hums. You toss your head back as he kisses you roughly, pressing your breasts together, licking a line in between. He locks down on your nipple; swirling, flicking, and nipping your pebbled flesh. Rafe runs his tongue along his bottom lip, his eyelids hooded. "Mmm... Can I fuck you, princess?" He gives you a hopeful smile as his eyes continue to roam your body.

"How do you want me?"

He looks down, eyeing his cock between your thick thighs. His gaze returns to yours; a smirk spreads on his lips. "Just like this, baby girl. He seizes his dick in his hand, leaning back slightly. You bite your lip, giving him a little nod.

You drop down slightly, your wetness transferring to his cockhead. "Fuck me." He lets out a loud groan; eyes, rolling back. Your lips meet his neck, kissing him roughly, licking and nibbling his skin. Reaching around your back, you skim Rafe's tip with your fingers; he lets out a deep groan.

You press him toward you, guiding him to your heat. Rafe takes a handle on the plush of your hips, pressing you down. Your knees widen on the sheet as you work lower, pressure building between your thighs as he starts to stretch you out. "Fuck, Rafe," you whine. Letting out a sharp breath. You look down, watching as you take the last of him.

"Are you okay, y/n?" He whispers. There's a fire in his eyes. Rafe, fully aware of his size. You can tell he's taking satisfaction in asking you so sweetly as he splits you in two.

"M'okay," you whimper. Rafe smiles wickedly in reply.

"Good. I'm not gonna last long. This pussy feels too fucking good." He chuckles weakly.

You start rolling your body slowly, mewling softly into his mouth as you adjust to him. Your hands move up his tight stomach, resting on his chest. Grinding and winding gradually, you press your hands against him; tilting your body away slightly. Rafe watches carefully as you work him in and out of your wet pussy; hands inching up your stomach, past your rib cage, massaging your breasts. His tongue meets your nipple; fingers delighting the other.

Rafe takes you in his arms, shifting the two of you lower on the bed. You sink a little deeper on his cock; inhaling sharply when he lays flat. He lets out a lusty chuckle as you release a drawn-out moan. "You like that? Not too much?" He taunts.

A wide smile spreads on your lips as you toe the line between ache and bliss. "Just right."

"This body was made for me, I swear," he mumbles. "Bounce for me, baby." You start to push on the mattress, breasts moving with you as your skin slaps against Rafe's lap. "Holy shit," Rafe huffs through his kiss-swollen lips; hooded eyes fighting to stay open as he takes you in. Rafe slips his hands around to your ass, spanking one cheek, then the next. Causing your pussy to tense with each slap.

"Mmm... You gonna cum for me, princess?" He croons as his hand, rests against your pelvis; thumb circling your clit. The added contact makes you lose your rhythm. Rafe fucks up into you, holding you in place as he continues to stroke, fighting back his pleasure; but, it's too much.

"Gonna cum," he mumbles.

"Cum inside me, Rafe," you whisper. "M'on the pill. It's alright."

"That what you want?" He asks with a lust-laced tone.

"Cum in me."

Rafe reaches for you, wrapping his arms around your body, taking you quickly to your back. He spreads your thighs wide. Your breath escapes your chest when he plunges himself back in; his fingers greet your clit. Your legs start to quake, jagged breaths as he starts pounding you into the soft mattress. "Fuck, Rafe..." You cry in pleasure as you gush around his cock.

"Gonna cum in this perfect fuckin' pussy," he breathes, voice wavering. "Mmm... Fuck, y/n," he groans; gripping your hips in his hands, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as his cock throbs; heavy loads of cum buried deep. Rafe expels a deep breath, his mouth connecting with yours the next moment.

He pulls out, making you reach for a breath; as he watches your share release drip out of your puffy pussy onto his sheets. The emptiness is comforted by Rafe's hand on you again, fingers swirling through the wetness, stuffing it back inside.

Sex hangs heavy in the air; your bodies, tangled in sheets. Rafe cups your face in his hand, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. "Tell me you're free tomorrow?"

A/N: Hi! I hope everyone's having a great weekend! 💕 thanks for reading.

Master list: link

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x smut #drew starkey smut #rafe cameron one shot #rafecore #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x curvy reader #rafe #rafe smut #outer banks smut one shot #rafe cameron blurb #rage Cameron smut one shot #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n #anon answered #drew starkey one shot

[milkibabe]

♥ family camping trip w/ kenny (headcanons) ♥

✢ summary: headcanons on going on a camping trip with Kenny’s family

✢ authors note: heyy since my first post blew up i'm deciding to do all of the boys ;p

✢ gender: reader is implied to be female <3

✢ warnings: nsfw, mentions of weed/smoking

Kenny HCs

𝒮𝐹𝒲

Begged you to go camping with him for months.

When you finally took some time off to go with him, he was ecstatic.

"We're gonna have so much fun"

Was confused why you packed so much stuff.

"What do you mean you still need to brush your teeth?"

Boy is an animal I swear, he can be so nasty.

You, Kenny, and Karen played 'I Spy' while in the car.

Kenny loves when you play with his little sister, it makes his heart melt.

"You'd make such a good mom"

Kenny just casually drops that while you're unpacking, like it isn't the sweetest thing you've ever heard.

You cannot escape his kisses, you've lost count of how many times he's kissed you.

You'll just be getting the fire wood ready for the campfire and he'll sneak up and kiss you on the neck from behind.

"There's my pretty girl"

Kenny is already rugged by nature, so camping is really his element.

When it's just you around he'll purposely be shirtless to get your attention.

Seeing him chop wood... while shirtless??? You nearly exploded at the sight.

"Whatcha lookin' at hm?"

He gives you a cocky grin that makes you roll your eyes.

Stupid, sexy Kenny.

He is a night owl. He prefers to do everything later at night with you.

He always sleeps through breakfast, so you always nag him to eat lunch.

"Only if I get to eat you for lunch" He grins at you.

You groan and push him away. Dude can be so cheesy.

Never lets you wear your own sweaters or jackets. He wants you to wear is giant, orange parka, always.

He saw you shiver and immediately draped it over your shoulders.

His parka smells like his cologne and weed.

You always tell him "Babe... you're gonna make my hair smell like weed.

Speaking of weed, boy is always offering you some.

"Babe, can we please smoke by the water?"

You look at your phone. "Kenny, it's like 3 am..."

You, of course, do it anyways. It's fun getting high with your hot, blonde stoner bf.

*Queue Moonlight by Kali Uchis*

He makes sure to bring plenty of water for the dry mouth and your favorite snackies when you get the munchies.

He loves to feed you the snacks himself, he loves spoiling you.

"I want to do this with you every night for the rest of my life"

𝓝𝓢𝓕𝓦

Everyone already knows Kenny is a horny ass man, so it was no surprise when you couldn't get him off of you.

Cannot fucking resist teasing you every second.

Would whisper in your ears in the car while you're just minding your own business.

"Can't wait to fuck your brains out"

The face you made when he whispered that satisfied him a lot.

Everywhere you went on that trip was a place to fuck.

The tent? Yep. Some random isolated place in the middle of the woods? Yup. The showers/bathroom? You betcha.

Asked you to go skinny dipping with him in the middle of the night.

You were freezing cold of course.

This dude has the audacity to say "Aw, you can come to me to conserve warmth"

Obviously, this whole thing was a ploy to hold you while you were naked.

He would instantly start to suck on your neck, while massaging your ass with both hands.

You dug your fingernails into his back and in response he bit your neck.

Your moans made him grin, he loved how easily you melted into his touch.

Turned you around so he could grind his cock between your ass.

Wrapped his arms around your shoulders and whispered into your ear while he grinded against you.

"You're fucking perfect"

When shit was getting super heated, he walked you over to an isolated rock so you could hold yourself up on it while he fucked you.

You held on to that rock for dear life while he pounded you.

He loved watching how your body looked under the moonlight.

His favorite thing about standing doggy style is being able to watch himself pull out all the way and slam back into you.

Always riles him up when you stroke his ego.

You whine out, "Ah, its too big Kenny!"

Kenny smirks and says "Aw, but you take me so well, baby"

He only fucks you harder when you whine and whimper.

Takes him forever to cum, you probably came three times by now.

That's fine by him, he enjoys overstimulating you.

You were losing your grip on the rock and your legs could no longer stand, so he has to hold you up.

Kenny knows his job is done when you are about to collapse.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum"

He finally hits his climax and he pulls out to cum all over your ass.

"My favorite sight in the world"

He's proud of the work he's done but notices you about to pass out and quickly uses the water to wash you off.

"My sleepy little princess"

After drying you off with a towel, he puts his parka on you and carries you back to camp.

"Ooh, remind me to fuck you while you wear this next time"

Dude's always thinking of the next time he gets to fuck you smh.

#south park fanfiction #south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick x reader smut #south park hcs #south park #south park smut #kenny mccormick

[shorkbrian]

Based off of "Chaos Walking"

The Noise from Johnny was frightening.

"Pretty" "Fuckable little thing" "She's got great fuckin' tits" "I just wanna fuckin' bury my face in them" "Little lass has the pretties' eyes too" "Would look so cute 'n bonnie lookin' up a' me while she's suckin' me off"

It was incessant, ceaseless, neverending.

Johnny apologized again and again, face tinged red, his words spluttered after each thought reverberated out from his skull into the air around his head. You weren't from this place, not used to this planet that turned men's thoughts into actual verbalizations, dancing around next to them for anyone to hear.

Johnny sometimes thought sweet things about you too, his mind's chatter conjuring up domestic scenarios, wondering if you knew how to cook, if you'd ever be sweet and make him a fine meal. How cute you look while you're sleeping, how badly Johnny wants to care for you and wipe away your tears whenever you cry about missing home.

It's hard being stuck on a strange planet, monsters and men, the same thing chasing after you.

But no matter how scary Johnny's Noise can get sometimes, Simon's Noise is terrifying. It's terrifying because he hardly has any.

If Johnny's brain was a windup toy, always chattering away as if someone had pulled his string, Simon's was a broken doll, silent and eery, creaking only on occasion.

You had thought he was normal at first, like one of the men from back home. You quickly realized he was the abnormality of this world, a freak, feared by others.

"Pretty girl" Had been the first Noise you heard from him, even before he had opened his mouth to bark at you to ask your name and what you were doing stealing food. Since then there had been relative silence, only an occasional "Clumsy" whenever you'd trip over a log, or a low chuckle followed by the biting comment of "Slow" if he thought your walking pace was such.

Rarely would you hear a quiet stream of unintelligible Noise late at night, when the fire had died down and Johnny was on watch. Simon would sleep with his back to the fire, arms crossed. The Noise that emanated from his shaved skull made you uneasy, only able to make out a word every now and then, things like "Fuck" "Cute" and "Goddamn".

You had peeked over at him once, walking past him to use the restroom, and noticed the front of his pants were tented, protruding out from his body. It made you blanch, worried about his subtle nighttime Noise.

As long as the boys kept their hands to themselves and their Noise in their heads, you'd be fine.

#COD #cod #simon riley #johnny mactavish #ghost cod #soap cod #soap x reader #ghost x reader

[wrens-writings]

Pretty Boy

: ̗̀➛ Jason Grace x clearsighted mortal!gn!reader

: ̗̀➛ In which you witness something horrible and wake up wishing it was just a dream, only to be met with the prettiest man you’ve ever laid your eyes on

: ̗̀➛ oh my gods??? hi??? yall absolutely ATE UP my percy fic??? i was actually SO nervous abt posting my writing, but the positive feedback made me so happy :,) also yes, this is set during HoH. do i care? no! piper is a gay icon and im sorry but i clocked in IMMEDIATELY that she wasn’t straight. my gaydar is just THAT good. also, i’m not entirely the biggest fan of this piece, but i believe in posting what i make. i use it as progress markers :)

: ̗̀➛ WARNINGS: probably out of character, near allusions to a panic attack (mr stapler eater thwarts it quickly 😌), jason being FINE.

‘oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!’ you think to yourself as you stare, unable to tear your eyes away from the Neptune statue that you frequently found yourself at this summer.

you watch as two weird furry things giggle and laugh at two boys. you don’t understand any of what’s happening right now, but you do know that whatever those weird ass creatures are, they stole the boys belongings.

you’ve never been the type to just let people get harassed, even if you don’t know them, or if their harassers are… four foot tall furry things… “hey! those don’t belong to you!” you growl at the creatures, stepping out of the shadows of the alleyway and approaching the broken fountain.

you let out a startled squeak as the shorter boy lights his hands on fire out of shock and defence when you approach. the sound that left your body as well as the EVERYTHING happening around you somehow distracted you from the telltale feeling of lightning preparing to strike on you.

in a flash, golden cords extend from Neptunes fingers, wrapping mostly around the blond boy. one of them misses the brunet, only to latch itself onto you.

just as you’re caught up in the tight golden cords, your body pressed tightly against the blond boy’s, a bolt of lightning strikes Neptunes trident, and suddenly the world went black.

vaguely, you can hear someone telling you to wake up, almost as if they were in a panic. thinking it was your mother trying to tell you that you’re going to be late for school, despite it being july, you curl yourself tighter into the nearest surface.

‘wait a damn minute…’ you think to yourself briefly. ‘this… this isn’t my pillow or my blanket…’

your eyes fly open, and are met with the clearest blue you’ve ever seen. theyre so blue that you weren’t sure if you were looking at the sky for a split second. and then it all comes rushing back.

“oh my god!” you cry, your voice shaking with confusion. it was real? why did it have to be real? why couldn’t this whole thing have just been a dream??

the pretty blond boy was clearly panicking a bit himself. “hey! hey! calm down, it’s okay!” he says over your panicky breathing. “my name is Jason. everything is oka— breathe, dude oh my gods calm down?!”

well that snapped you out of it.

“excuse me?!” you snap, your eyes narrowing with distaste. “don’t you tell me to calm down when i’m hanging upside down with some himbo lookin’ ass who’s acting like this is a regular ole thursday!”

the boy, Jason, bites his lip to stifle a laugh. if he wasn’t so damn attractive, you would’ve been incredibly offended. “sorry.” he giggles.

as you study his face, your own softens slightly. Jason didn’t portray it with his heart on his sleeve, but looking deeper into those mesmerizing clear blue eyes, you could see the horrors. something tells you that he doesn’t get to let loose very often.

“y/n.” you say, much softer than before. “my name is y/n.”

Jason smiles, and the small scar on his lip twitches. briefly, you wonder what the story behind it is. “it’s nice to meet you, y/n. i’m Jason. i wish it could’ve been under better circumstances.” he offers kindly.

you scoff and roll your eyes with a hint of fondness. “yea yea. you know how to get us out of this, Pretty Boy?” you ask with a small, slightly nervous smile.

Jason chokes, clearly not expecting the compliment. “er- yea. uh, just… don’t freak out when i pull out my sword.” he says sheepishly.

your eyes widen. sword?! before you even realize it, there’s a satisfying shrng! of metal in the air. Jason’s golden blade cuts through the cords that hold the two of you up and you tumble to the ground.

you wince and cradle your head. “ow…” you murmur, a frown on your lips.

despite you CLEARLY being in pain, Jason laughs at you softly. he offers you his hand to help you up, and with a shy smile, you take it. “these streets probably aren’t that safe right now… let me walk you back to… er… wherever you came from?” he offers kindly.

you can’t help but chuckle now yourself. “oh, sure, let’s walk to america.” you say with a snort as you begin to walk down the pretty streets of italy with an equally pretty boy. “won’t your friend need help, though?”

Jason shrugs your worry off. “nah, Leo’s fine. he’s as resourceful as they come.” he tells you with a smirk.

you nod and continue walking. “so i assume that there’s a reason i could see those weird things?” you ask softly, almost afraid of the answer.

Jason nods stiffly. he opens his mouth to answer you, but you don’t hear it. you’re too busy staring at him. at those clear, electric blue eyes that are shielded by a pair of glasses and hide so much pain. his soft looking pink lips and the scar along them. his windswept blond hair, as though he’d been flying through the sky without any protection. the way he talks and walks, as if he’s been trained his whole life to be a diplomat.

jesus christ, this boy is pretty as they come.

when you finally tear your eyes away from him, you frown. you’re somehow at the home your family has rented for the summer. already?

“thank you, for walking me back.” you say to him shyly as you look back into his gorgeous eyes.

Jason’s cheeks light pink, just barely, but enough that you can see. “of course. it’s no problem.” he responds as he rubs the back of his head nervously. “take care of yourself, okay, y/n?”

you nod and say your farewells, watching him as he turns and runs back the way you walked, intent on finding his friend. you wonder if you’ll ever see him again, if the fates will ever allow you to cross paths with such a beautiful person ever again.

your eyes fall as you watch him leave, but snap back up quickly. damn! he has a nice ass, too…

#ೃ⁀➷ wrens writings #ೃ⁀➷ wrens ramblings #ೃ⁀➷ wrens tidbits #jason grace x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #house of hades #pjo

[atticrissfinch]

My fluffy lover heart has a HC for MMITB where Joel notices reader being too lonely at the holidays (she bought booze and says she will pass it drunk) and take her to a Miller's reunion under the excuse of "nobody should be alone on Christmas eve", but he really want his mamma meeting her and giving a seal of approval. And yeah, he knows they are just fuck buddies... Right? Anyway, IDK what Mrs Miller thinks of her, but I know the reader will be shocked to see Joel's level of affection and attention to his mom, maybe she'll see him with another eyes? WHO KNOWS!

Ok this is so….🥺🥺 ok idk what happened here but I wrote a thing. THIS IS NOT NECESSARILY CANON!!! But…

I can 100% see this happening ok? Like for real. And I think Mama Miller would absolutely clock how reader is able to match him with her sass and she would definitely have her eyes on the two of them the whole time. And I think she would be a bit weirded out by the gap between them, but ultimately would be the “whatever makes you happy” type at this stage of his life. And as protective as Mama is about her two boys, I think she’d see something of herself in Sugarplum (sugarplum!!!).

She would probably end up elbowing Joel at some point Christmas night when Sugarplum is caught up in a rousing game of Uno with Tommy and Maria and Joel is helping to clean up dinner.

“So what’s going on there, Joelie? I see those moon eyes.”

And Joel just blushing and being like “Mama, knock it off. She’s just a girl who was gonna be alone. And I guess I just…care about her. A bit. She ain’t really got no one to go home to. I offered, she accepted. That’s all it is.”

“A little young for you, ain’t she, Joelie?”

“I’m just lookin’ out for her, mama. That’s it.”

And Mama just muttering as she scrubs a plate in the sink, “Better be lookin’ out that you don’t pop out another mouth to feed in this house, boy.”

And Joel just going beet fuckin’ red like, “Mama! I’m not—”

“Oh, yes you are. You can see it from fuckin’ space. Ain’t no one that fuckin’ comfortable around each other if they ain’t playin’ hide the weasel on the weekends.”

“Mama—”

And she just stabs a wet, sudsy finger at his chest and glares up at him. “You respect that girl, Joel Joseph Miller. You don’t do like your daddy did. She’s young, she’s still got that fire in her. Don’t you blow it out. Or I’ll have your sorry ass roastin’ in my fireplace ‘fore the good lord comes knockin’ for me, mark my words.”

And he just takes her hand, holds it in his, and mutters, “Yes, ma’am.”

And she nods once and returns to the dishes while Joel leans forward on his hands gripping the counter next to her. And finally says real low, “She’s different, I think. This one. Special.”

And she glances over at him for no more than a second before continuing her scrubbing. Then just says, “I know.”

#mmitb!asks #mmitb #asks

[tteokdoroki]

actor!au with bakugou where you’re on the press tour for your up and coming princess movie or something.

of course he’s the romantic interest to your character, the lead, so you’re paired together for the entire junket — seated with one another for interviews across the globe. the whole experience is filled with laughter, smiles, and sharing little facts about one another behind the scenes.

you’re always the first person bakugou searches for on the red carpet at each premier — he reaches for your hand during photos and sneakily slips one around your waist to subconsciously pull you closer towards him.

the fans all think that you’re in love from the way katsuki hangs into your every word when the two of you are stopped for questions. the way he whole heartedly laughs, with his whole body, at a joke you’ve told that’s probably not even that funny.

it’s probably not true. you’re just coworkers who spent months getting to know one another. coworkers who’ve kissed more times than you can count with one hand and who’ve shared secret snacks on set because the days were long and hot but totally worth it for the smiles little girls and boys give you when their princess and her prince bend down to give them a squeeze.

you know that you’ll miss bakugou when this is all over and the movie is out and you’re not showing up to red carpets trying to guess if the PR team will have coordinated your outfits to match those of the final scene in the movie when your characters get married. you’ll hope to work with him again, secretly, praying that you get to be close to him once more.

the final straw that breaks the camels back and gets you to realise that maybe you like bakugou a little more than just co-stars is when you’re both invited for a special interview with big fans of your princess film. children not older than eight or nine wriggle in front of you both with curious questions and katsuki is equally as charmed as you by the costumes they wear that link up with your characters.

for the most part they ask you silly questions like the hardest thing about being a prince or princess, what time you have to wake up for filming and your favourite foods (to which you tell them “he likes spicy tofu, the kind that makes you breathe fire!” and bakugou replies with “are you tellin’ ‘em i’ve got bad breath?” and that makes the kids laugh). but then, the little boy sitting opposite bakugou grows shy and timid towards the end of your time together and the blonde stops the interview from ending so that he can get his question out.

“how did you know that you were in love with her?”

your heart flutters, and you don’t have the heart to tell the poor boy that your acting is make believe and for the silver screen — but bakugou beats you to it, ruffling the kid’s hair fondly.

“i knew ‘cause i was always lookin’ for her whenever we entered a room. she was the first person i saw, the last person i’d want to see,” he rasps, the wisps of a smile on his lips despite the cameras rolling and capturing what feels like a love confession towards his costar. towards you. “i knew ‘cause she was always so kind to me even when i didn’t deserve it, to people who doubted her, to people who loved her. s’been a while since i realised, guess i never said anythin’ but if you like a princess, kid — make sure you tell her before a handsome prince snatches her up first.”

the boy grins eagerly at the blonde’s answer and filming wraps up from there. “they’ll have to cut that bit out,” you say softly, making your way back to the dressing rooms with katsuki. “to avoid scandal, probably.”

but he cocks his head, rolling his eyes at you as if you hadn’t understood a word he’d said. “it’d only be a scandal if it weren’t true. i meant what i said. i like you, dummy.”

you lean against the dressing room door, mouth agape. “w-why didn’t you say anything before?”

“because i was just worried that my princess had already been swept off her feet by her handsome prince.”

“by you, i’d been swept of my feet by you. stupid.”

you take a step back and bakugou follows you forward, caging you in. “guess that makes me your prince charming.” he quips, leaning down to your height.

tilting your head upwards, you smile gently and let your hands rest on katsuki’s broad shoulders. “you’ve been playing that part for the last few months, have you not.”

“yeah, ‘guess i have,” he mirrors your expression, lips brushing over yours in a real true loves kiss.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou drabble #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha fluff #this is definitely inspired by halle and the little mermaid press tour #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted

[fyodorloveclub]

APRIL 29TH

✰ pairing: chuuya x fem reader

✰ cw: cheating, alcohol, drunk reader, vaginal sex, semi-public. 18+, minors DNI!

✰ notes: continuing my tradition of writing lil blurbs for my boy's birthdays but being such a horrible procrastinator its always posted like hours too late :) anyway this is a bit angsty! hope u enjoy. and everyone blow a birthday kiss for the birthday boy chuuya. based off high infidelity by taylor swift, bc it's too fucking perfect how could i not. lyrics in red :)

✰ wc: 900 words

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Chuuya’s birthday. The music was too loud, the room was too crowded, the drinks were too strong, but the grip he had on your waist was just right. He smirked as your hips swayed to the music and you giggled at nothing, throwing your arms around his neck. The two of you had never really spoken before, only brief conversations in passing - but right now his hand was drifting down past your hips, and you weren’t stopping it.

Your invitation to this party was very intentional. The sole reason Chuuya agreed to this whole bullshit celebration, anyway – if it were up to him, he’d be on his couch alone, shitfaced on a bottle of 1947 Château Lafite Rothschild and watching chick flicks no one else was allowed to know he enjoyed. But right now, Chuuya was stone cold sober. He needed to be of the soundest mind to obtain the only thing he wanted for his birthday: you.

He had to approach this situation very carefully, without a drop of alcohol in his system. Why? Because you had a boyfriend. But the candles had already been blown out, the birthday wish sent to the heavens – he couldn’t help what the universe put into place at this point. And he had touched himself too many times to the thought of you underneath him to give up now.

Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

Your head swam and body floated as you fell against Chuuya’s chest on the dance floor, the stuffy air and uncontrollable giggling making it hard to breathe. You pulled back so you could properly take in the man you were dancing with. The man who wasn’t your boyfriend. The man who wasn’t Dazai.

His red hair resembled fire, glowing from the blinding lights littered throughout the house, and his charming smile made your insides turn. He was a beautiful, beautiful man, one who had always caught your attention. You never let your gaze linger for too long, knowing Dazai was waiting at home for you.

But Chuuya’s most mesmerizing feature was his eyes. The flecks of gold hidden within the sea of blue resembled stars, and you found yourself webbing them together. To Chuuya, it just looked like you staring at him blankly, glossy-eyed and mouth slightly open.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, love?”

“I found the Taurus in your eyes,” you responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world, your smile lopsided.

Chuuya just chuckled and smoothly slid your drink out of your hands, figuring you had had enough for the night. Then he leaned in close to whisper something in your ear.

“Follow me, won’t you?”

He intertwined his fingers with yours before leading you out onto the secluded balcony he knew was attached to the second floor. The cool night air that hit your face was sobering, but not enough to resist the way Chuuya backed you against the rail. The metal dug into your back as he pressed his lips against yours, tangling his slender fingers into your hair. It was bad how easily you melted into the kiss, how little of a fight you put up against this man kissing you who wasn’t Dazai, but somehow, you couldn’t find it in you to care. Not with how electrifying his touch felt against your skin.

The moon was nothing but a sliver that night, the only light illuminating your sins coming from the stars above. But somehow, that felt right.

Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

“Bet he never fucks you this good, huh?” Chuuya groaned into your ear, voice deep and raspy.

You could only moan in response, your grip on the cold railing tightening as he takes you from the back. Your dress had been pulled up and panties tugged to the ground to allow for his cock to bully its way into your all too welcoming cunt. Silent prayers and wishes for forgiveness left your lips as he pushed past your tight ring of muscle, but soon were forgotten as he bottomed out.

The music and chaos of the party below you were barely audible anymore, drowned out by the sounds of skin on skin, and the feeling of Chuuya’s cock rubbing against your sweet spot again and again. He had one hand on the railing for leverage, the other leaving bruises on your hip as he pounded into you.

“Please, more,” you found yourself whining, saliva gathering at the corners of your lips. Chuuya smirked.

“Of course, baby.”

Soon his hand was underneath your knee to hike your leg up, allowing for him to fuck you at an even better angle, and you were putty in his hands. Chuuya was almost holding you up at this point, so overwhelmed and so full your body was about to give out.

All too soon you were left empty, save for the sticky white that trickled down your inner thighs and onto the hardwood of the balcony. Chuuya squatted down to help you pull up your underwear and adjust your dress, before trapping you against the metal rail once more, arms closing around you and teeth finding your earlobe.

“Come home with me, darling.”

I didn’t know you were keeping count.

#chuuya x reader #chuuya smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs fanfic #bungo stray dogs smut

[middlingmay]

Gale Cleven never learned to flirt

And I have some HCs about that and how it came to bite him in the ass.

Here, have 2K+ words of the Buckies being an absolute mess.

Gale managed to reach his mid-twenties without ever flirting.

He and Marge had been inseparable since they were kids. Being together was second nature, so by the time their teenage years hit, the awkward rituals of their classmates trying to catch some guy or girl’s attention just didn't apply. Gale simply told Marge whatever he thought and felt. If it never strayed into the territory their classmates were so eager to dive into head (or pelvis) first; if it never sounded like the cheesy lines boys used to ease past a skirt, then that’s because he was too much of a gentleman. Everyone knew it. Marge’s dad never batted so much as an eye when she spent time with Gale, because he was such a good boy.

Really, that should have been the biggest clue among many before he signed up.

But then he did sign up, and he met John Clarence “Bucky” Egan, who flirted with everyone and everything.

No, really—everything.

One night after one too many beers, John was leaning against a coat rack, regaling Gale with some story or other. He gave a particularly enthusiastic wave of an arm, and nearly sent it toppling over, and him with it. But John's reflexes were still good even three sheets to the wind. He caught it before it hit the ground, set it up right and said, “Sorry, doll. I’m normally a gentleman. I’ll show you, sometime.”

It was the first time Gale laughed until he cried.

Gale had been flirted with plenty, of course. Others back home had batted eyelashes at him and sidled up to him and placed fleeting, coy touches in innocent places.

John did absolutely none of that.

He drawled and called Gale doll, sweetheart, dilly and beau. He’d look Gale in the eye whilst talking to someone else entirely and say, “My guy, Buck, here…”

He pressed their foreheads together and grabbed Gale's thighs tight and put an arm over the back of Gale's chair.

He’d chuck Gale's chin and press hands firm into the small of Gale's back, around the curve of his hip, into the dips of his waist and that was usually followed by a quick, deliberate clench of his sizeable hands.

John outright called him gorgeous, “a real heartbreaker”, and the others would laugh but that was always one of the few times John didn’t join in.

He watched Gale’s training and his flights like a hawk, bugging others over the radio: “Where’s Buck?” He’d bugged those in the tower so much, that he nearly got himself banned.

John sang love songs - badly - and smirked at Buck the whole time.

Finally, in the after, when they’d left Wyoming and Wisconsin behind for good, John had stepped up behind Gale in the kitchen in the house they shared and reached forward. He placed a whisky glass of apple juice on the counter and came round to Gale’s side. He leaned his forearms on the counter and looked up at Gale through tumbling curls he’d been letting grow a bit and said,

“Lookin’ awful lonely there, doll. What’s a guy gotta do to be your fella?”

And apparently Gale was easy, because he downed the apple juice to wet his parched throat and lips and threw his arms around John’s neck and kissed him with a fire he hadn't felt this side of a plane.

He threw the rest of himself at John, too, who caught him easy and hoisted him up on the counter. He pulled Gale's hips forward by the belt loops and ground his own hips up against him just as his tongue slid home dragged and teased out the gaps and moans Gale couldn’t control—

That afternoon, evening and night had been incredible. But, if Gale thought finally getting what they had been stepping towards for all these years would have taken some of the pressure off, he was dead wrong. He craved more.

Only, he had no idea how to go about getting it.

He wasn’t like John. Never had been. Flirting and being so damn bold didn’t come easy to Gale. Truth be told, he’d never has a reason to flirt before. And for the first time in his life, John was being absolutely no help.

If Gale didn’t know him any better, he would have said he was being shy.

But ain’t no man who could do those kinds of things with his tongue got any business being shy.

And Gale knew John wanted it, wanted him, just as badly. He caught the heated looks; heard the aborted gasps when Gale did something - anything - that showed off his physique (and his brain, he’d later discover). Christ, he felt it every time he woke up before John in the morning.

But it didn’t seem fair to always leave it to John. John had done the bulk of the legwork throughout their whole relationship, even before they finally figured it out. It was Gale’s turn.

So, he started easy.

The next morning that he woke first, the heavy weight of John at his back, he buried his smiling, blushing face in the pillow and rocked back into Bucky’s hardness. He did it harder than he expected, and Bucky woke with a groan pulled from the depths of him and grabbed Gale and pulled.

Gale revelled in his easy and rapid success and coyly teased, “John. You woke me up with that thing.”

And John abruptly released him, full of apologies and sweet kisses to his shoulders before he toddled off to the bathroom, leaving Gale painfully disappointed.

Disappointed, but not deterred. His next idea involved Bucky’s favourite hobby: lookin’ at Buck. There were horses stabled in a field nearby, and Gale had permission from the owners to take them out for some exercise anytime he wanted.

John had never been, but agreed readily enough when Gale asked him to come along.

Gale made sure to wear his tighter pants, and when they got there stripped off his shirt so he was left in only his tank, and mounted a horse called, of all things, Major.

Gale didn't go overboard. He was still workin’ an animal that demanded respect and care. But he made sure to show Bucky the flex of his thighs, the roll of his hips, the strength in him, staying in the saddle when Major wanted to jump.

He got a little lost in it and wasn’t sure how long it had been. But when he looked up, John was gone.

He found him back at the house, stumbling down the stairs red-cheeked, glassy-eyed and a little breathless. And Gale knew. He knew that look; had seen that look so many damn times since they were cadets in basic.

He looked at John with such vicious fury, that he’d gone and done that without him, that John had turned tail and given him a wide berth for the rest of the day.

Gale was going to pull out every damn hair on his head. He’d tried everything he could think of: pressing up against Bucky whenever he moved past; biting his lips like he knew John loved. He even rubbed Coppertone on John’s shoulders and back when he was out doing yard work in the heat one day. But, when Bucky had turned to him and rasped a husky, “Thank you”, Gale got so worried that John was dehydrated, he’d rushed back into the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water and glowered at him until he drank it all, before fetching him another one.

One day, Gale had had enough and decided to take a leaf out of John’s book. He was gonna flirt with that man like he’d seen John do a dozen times before, even if it made him feel like the stupidest man alive.

He allowed himself a small whisky for courage. In return for John dramatically reducing his alcohol intake, Gale sometimes, rarely, let himself indulged and shared a glass with John.

He downed this one in one go and headed into the living room where John was trying to pick a record.

Gale sidled up to him, placed his arms around his waist and said, “Hi darlin’. Can I buy you a drink?”

John’s eyes crinkled, he smiled so wide, and leaned back into Gale's arms. “Oh, I dunno. My ma warned me about guys like you.”

Gale thrummed with excitement that John was playing along, finally, finally getting the damn hint. He let his hands move from John’s hips to the spot on his belly, just above the waistband. His fingers tickled and traced along the hem. “Guys like me?”

“Mhmm. Y’just wanna get me outta my skirt.”

Gale's breath hitched. He moved the palm of one hand to John’s thigh. Heavy and slow, he stroked it up and up, letting John feel the drag of each finger. “I think you’d look good outta your skirt,” he mumbled with a nip to John's ear. He stilled his hand on John’s upper thigh and with one finger, drew a teasing line across the expansive width of it. “Maybe keep the stockings on, though.”

John choked on a laugh, on thrilled disbelief, and Gale grinned into his neck and let John turn in his arms.

And the best part, Gale quickly decided, was that for the first time ever, he managed to make John blush—at the mention of women’s stockings no less, which he had much more experience in than Gale.

Gale rejoiced as John careened forward, tongue slipping straight into Gale’s panting, waiting mouth, and Gale whimpered in the dizzying satisfaction of it as they fucked their tongues into each other and their bodies writhed standing there, in a promise of what was to come.

But then, John pulled away. Gale watched him suck on his own tongue, like he was savouring the taste of something, before clarity and realisation descend over John’s face.

“Ah,” he said. “That make sense.”

Gale frowned, even as John drew him in close and pressed their foreheads together so softly and asked, “Wanna go to bed?”

Gale could have crowed. “Mhmm. Yeah. Yes.”

John brushed a hand through Gale’s hair. “Yeah. Lets get you all tucked in, before you wake up with a sore head.”

Drunk. John thought he was drunk. And rather than giving Gale what he wanted, he was trying to be a gentleman and send him to bed. But Gale was too frustrated to be endeared by the evidence of John’s goodness. Not tonight. No siree.

He almost screamed and threw his hands up in the air. “Goddamn it, John! I’m not drunk!” He even stamped his foot. “I am trying to fuck you!”

John just stood there dumbstruck while Gale raged.

“I have been trying for days! But you, for the first time in your sorry life, have become as dumb as a bag of rocks! How come a girl used to just have to look at'cha long enough and you were all over her, but I try every trick I got and nothing!”

That jolted John out of his Gale-induced stun. “Tricks? What tricks?!”

“Oh I don't know: how about rubbin' against you like a damn bitch in heat the other morning!”

“You said I woke you up! You haven’t been sleeping good!”

“And showing off with the horses—!"

“That was on purpose?! Buck - I left because I got hard watching you! I didn’t want you to think I was some kind of perv! No one should feel like that around an animal!”

“The I rubbed you down with Coppertone?!”

“I was gonna! I got that one and I was gonna, Buck! I swear to God, but then you made me shotgun water and started yellin’ at me about dehydration!”

Gale had worked himself into a fervour and paced the living room, barely looking at John.

“After that first night, you ain’t come near me like that again. And I know I’m hopeless at this kinda thing, and you got a lot more experience than me. But I don’t want it all to be on you. And Christ, John, I was starting to think you didn’t want—what are you doing?!”

John’s shirt was on the floor and he was using one hand to wrestle his undershirt over his head and the other to unbuckle his belt.

Muffled under the fabric of his shirt Gale heard him say, “You said you wanna fuck,” he finally pulled the shirt over his head and his curls sprung free and wild, “we’re gonna fuck.”

Gale stood with hands on his hips, still in his lecture pose. “Right here?”

John lost the belt and went for the buttons on his pants. “Right here.”

Gale drummed his fingers against his hips and stared as John dropped his pants. “Well…that’s, good.”

John snatched Gale by the belt and dragged him him. “Don't be getting shy on me, now.”

And normally that was exactly the kind of thing that would send all of Gale’s bravado running for the hills, but he’d been so desperate for so long that he pounced on John before he even made the conscious decision, and together they undressed him in record time.

John got him on the floor, somehow, and twisted and flipped them so Gale was on top, and Gale looked at him with one eyebrow arched in breathless judgement. “Really?”

John nodded wide-eyed. “Oh, yeah. Really. I’m serious, Buck. I don’t think I can go near those stables with you again. It’s indecent.”

Gale gave an experimental roll of the hips, and when John keened and bucked underneath him, Gale clenched his thighs and drove him down and brought him back under control easy. So he didn’t see that much difference between the skill this would take and what he used to work Major. But still. After what he’d put him through, John didn’t deserve to have it too easy. “Hm, I don’t know. How long you gonna last like this? You got a lot of making up to do.”

And John looked mortally offended, but he’d learned something about Gale through all of this too, and said, “About a long as you will when you see me in those stockings you’ve been fantasizing about.”

And Gale’s hips jerked without his permissions, and things descended beyond the power of words after that.

Later, as they languished on the living room floor with the throw from the couch tossed over them to ward of the evening chill, John turned to him and said, delighted, “You could just ask me to fuck you, you know. Ever thought of that?”

And Gale smirked and nipped at the finger tracing his cheek. “Don't count on it.”

#clegan #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #fic #headcanon #mota #masters of the air

[alovesongshewrote]

Baby Girl | The Lost Boys x Reader HCs

Plot:  ya call the boys baby girl. just to see what happens. [The Lost Boys x GN!Reader]

Word count:  1420 (nice)

Warnings:  implied horniness???? it's not that bad, it's just paul being a dingus

A/N: again, holy fuck i can't believe i wrote this. even more holy fuck, somehow, this isn't the stupidest thing i've ever written, and the most holy fuck, i think i might do one of these for every fandom i write for. wish me fuckin luck babes.

Marko

Marko finds it hilarious 

You saunter up to him on the boardwalk

Full of confidence and mischief 

You throw an arm around his shoulders 

Lean your weight on him

And you say

“Ok, where are we going, baby girl?”

Yeah, you don’t end up going anywhere, because he starts wheezing 

He just wasn’t expecting it, it caught him off guard

And then you have to stand there for five minutes while he laughs so hard he fails at standing

Boy is on his KNEES losing it at “baby girl”

And you’re just standing over him for a few minutes, ginning like a madman until you kneel down next to him

And holding back your own laughter

You say

“What’s wrong, baby girl?”

And he just falls over

And at that point you also fall over 

And both of you are just cackling at this dumb shit

It’s attracting attention, but neither of you care

Eventually the rest of the boys come back to find you and marko just

On the ground

Dying

And david straight up turns around and walks the other way

It’s great, it’s fantastic

You and marko call each other “baby girl” for at least a week

And you both die laughing every single time

Everyone else hates you but it’s so fucking worth it

Paul

He also finds it hilarious, but like

Slightly to the left

The two of you are also on the boardwalk 

Vibing

Waiting for everyone else to show up

And you’re sitting on one of the rails while he stands like, kind of in front of you?

And he gets distracted by something

As he does with startling frequency 

And you watch him for a few minutes

Admiring him

But eventually, you get bored with that, so you kinda 

Kick him

A little bit

Not hard 

It’s not enough to hurt him

(if you can even do that)

But it’s enough to get his attention 

He looks at you

And his eyes get really big and sad, like he’s silently asking, “Why did you kick me?”

Or alternatively, “YOU KICK PAUL?  YOU KICK HIS BODY LIKE THE FOOTBALL?  JAIL FOR Y/N, JAIL FOR ONE THOUSAND YEARS”

Either way, you power through it

And you go

“Whatcha lookin at, baby girl?”

And this boy just

Lights Up

The sad puppy eyes are Dropped 

And They Are Replaced With The Horny Eyes.

He just

Leans into you

As he looks at you, scanning you up and down

His gaze is piercing and uhhh

It looks like he wants to Eat You.

And goes

“baby girl, huh?”

And you’re like

“Yeah, baby girl.  And you didn’t answer my question.”

Which like

You say it

And you are Aware that you are Playing With Fire

But fuck, the fire is fun to play with

And you won’t complain about getting burned 

So

When he takes another step towards you and like

Smacks a hand down on your leg

You just lean in further and go

“Are you gonna answer me, baby girl?”

Yeah, you get bit

On the neck

You fucked around and found out

You leaned in too far and you got bit

These boys, i swear, they’re animals 

Just fuckin biting

It’s a gentle bite tho

Soft

Teasing 

And when he pulls back he goes

“Doesn’t matter, baby.  All I can see now is you.”

And it’s so fuckin cute that you almost fall off the rail you’re sitting on

Anyway, yeah, you and paul also call each other “baby girl” for a week, but the context is Different 

Dwayne

Dwayne has a relatively simple reaction

The two of you are vibin in the cave

It’s dark outside 

So everyone else is out

And the two of you are alone

And he’s minding his own business

Lounging around a bit 

Reading a book 

And you

You are Bored

And you’re in the mood to cause problems on purpose, so

You slide in

Lean over him

And you watch him for a second

Tilting your head every now and then like a confused puppy

He ignores you

And after a few minutes of standing there, a plot comes to your wicked little mind

You lean in even closer

And you go

“Hey baby girl, whatcha reading?”

And he just

Looks at you 

For a second

Maybe he blinks once or twice

And you don’t budge, you’re just sitting there grinning at him

In silence

And then suddenly 

In the blink of an eye

He pulls you down onto him and into his arms

You quickly find yourself resting on top of him 

Using his chest as a pillow 

And this man

Does Not Wear A Shirt

So that’s fun for you

Anyway, he takes the book and just

Holds it above the two of you 

So that you can both read it

And he says

“Look for yourself, baby girl”

Which if you ask me, is the fuckin Height Of Romance, but you didn’t ask me, and that’s okay

Anyway, yeah, it’s cute

Fuckin

Adorable shit

David

Anyway, time for david

David is

Confused

By his baby girlification 

Like

He’s not mad, he doesn’t expect it

(Kinda like marko, but he doesn't laugh, he just sorta sits there)

It takes him a second to process, because the second the word “baby girl” leaves your mouth and floats his way, he blue screens

Like

David.exe is not working

The first time you do it, you’re in the cave with everyone else

And he’s sitting in his wheelchair, staring off into the distance like the brooding vampire man that he is

And you lean over him and go

“Whatcha thinkin about, baby girl?”

And he just goes

“What?”

And like

I don’t think you can actually say that he says what

It’s more like he breathes it out while his eyebrows furrow together and he shoots you the most confused look you have ever seen on his face

In part, he’s unsure that you’re talking to him

And in another part, you usually use more

Idk

Standard?  Pet Names? 

Darling, maybe sweetheart 

And he wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to weird pet names, it’s just that one time on the boardwalk you heard him call a potential meal “kitten” and you didn’t stop meowing at him for three months

So yeah, he didn’t see that one coming

It doesn’t help that the rest of the boys are there at the time, and you, marko, and paul just start chanting the word “baby girl” over and over again

Side note, i think the boys may have a thing for chants

Anyway

The next time you call him baby girl, he you catch him off guard with your sheer boldness 

It’s not the “baby girl” itself, it’s the words that accompany it

See, he’s drinking something 

Water, blood, whatever

He’s drinking it

And you look over at him and you just go

“Damn, you’re pretty thirsty tonight, huh baby girl?  We’ll just have to do something about that.”

And your tone is like, half joking, but that doesn’t matter, he still chokes on his drink

He coughs for like

A Good Few Minutes

And in those minutes you go from laughing at him, to panicking and patting him on the back

Congrats to you btw, you almost killed known horror icon david lost boys

Good for you

Anyway, he survives, which is good

Bc idk how forgiving the other boys would be of you committing manslaughter (vampire slaughter?) against david

(tbh, they’d probably be pretty forgiving given the sheer hilarity of the situation)

BUT HE LIVES, AND I DIGRESS 

The next time you call him baby girl is in front of max

And like

This is peak 0 brain cell behaviour for you, because you straight up aren’t even thinking about it

You see david in the video store

You walk into the video store

You don’t realize he is in the Middle Of Talking To His Dad

“Dad”

And you go

“Hey baby girl”

And then you wander off to the horror section 

Just

No thots given 

You don’t even notice david and max staring after you

You’re too busy looking at a copy of texas chainsaw massacre 2

And when they turn back to face each other it is literally that one meme

“David, why does (Y/N) call you baby girl?”

“Maybe we should stop talking for a while”

Overall 

David doesn’t mind it, it just fucking surprises him every gd time

You’d think he’d get used to it but nope

It always gets him

#x reader #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x gender neutral reader #tlb marko x reader #tlb dwayne x reader #tlb paul x reader #tlb david x reader #tlb x reader

[when-pigsfly]

WITCHING HOUR, CH 2/3 — [18+]

(18+) - MARKED FOR EVENTUAL SMUT, MINORS DNI!

fem!reader x arthur morgan

summary: the prodigal son returns tags: marked 18+ for smut in later chapters, reader has a backstory kinda (but now a little more than kinda), original side character(s), does arthur count as a tag, he needs his own warning, its more exposition please don't leave

word count: 4.9k

a/n: HERE! DAMN! (i'm so sorry this took so long)

<< previous chapter | read on ao3 here | masterlist

you can find a link to the playlist here! tag list (look how crazy. i have a LIST.): @photo1030

The subsequent mornings are painted with varying shades of gloom. It was smeared over the sky in thick coats, and if it was just a little thicker, it might be able to keep out the spears of light. 

Sometimes, they tickle. Sometimes, they recoil from the rigid mounds of snow and blind you and anything else unfortunate enough to get caught in the line of fire. Pain in the ass, really. A particularly nasty pain in the ass flickers in the cloudy metal of your spoon one morning while you’re shoveling grits into your mouth.

“You planning on eating the table too, kid?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, as does your spine once you lower your spoon back into the chipped bowl. 

“My apologies,” you gulp. “You’ll uh, have to forgive me, Mrs. Campbell. Seems the winter air’s gotten to my head.”  

Mrs. Campbell was a wiry, dark-haired woman of 63, and had spent more time rearing cattle than children. She was rough, tough, and at present, leveling you with a stare so doubtful that you wonder if the look you often catch on the livestock is embarrassment. 

After holding your gaze for a few moments more, she resumes the rocking of her chair from the corner and returns to her darning. A large red sock, the same one she’d whacked Mr. Campbell over the head with after she’d found it on the floor of the living room only thirty minutes ago.

“No, no, you’re alright.” Mrs. Campbell pauses, though her hands continue to work. Under, over. In, out. Not a single finger pricked. “Think that’s the most I’ve seen you take down in one sitting, is all. You bite like a bird.” She makes a funny chewing motion with her mouth—or, at least you think it’s supposed to be funny. It seems to amuse her well enough; most strange things did. 

She then asks how much horse feed is left, and you tell her enough to last for the next two weeks. You ask how her daughter’s baby boy is doing, she tells you he’s been picking his nose, and the two of you return to your respective distractions: the pulling of thread and a spoon fishing around a now empty dish while you consult silently with the peeling floral wallpaper. 

Arthur Morgan’s appearance had set you on edge, loathe as you were to admit it. The fact that there’d been no sign of him since you’d first spoken only hastened the growing dread, more so than the lack of response after your father’s men had been so kindly disposed of. 

Contingencies had been thoroughly accounted for, leaving you mildly inconvenienced at best and dead at worst. There were other conclusions you’d drawn up, of course, but dealing in extremes had its benefits.

You press your thumb absentmindedly into the corner of the dining room table. Could the Campbells have heard your exchange? No, they couldn’t have, too old. And that was excluding the fact that the main house was rather far from the cabin. Given the time frame, it would have been well beyond what was reasonable for your…situation to have been brought up. 

Besides, this was important. Better to sort this out now than when—if—he showed up at your doorstep again.

“I have a question.”

Mrs. Campbell snorts. “I presume you’re lookin’ for an answer.”

You set your spoon down, and stand to clear the table. “Do the two of you get…stray cats often?”

This time her hands waver. “During the warmer months, sure. But in this weather? I mean, if it had the guts to get through all that ‘winter air,’ I don’t see why not.” Her eyes flick up. “Would have to be real hungry, though. Or stupid, which I doubt, ‘cause cats ain’t stupid—sonuvabitch!” 

You jerk as her needle clatters to the floor. She lets a curse slip as she hunches over to retrieve it; another follows as she tugs the string loose, just a little, and her fingers trip over themselves before falling back into a steady rhythm. 

Her brows pinch in concentration. “Never met a stupid cat,” she repeats.

“I…I see.” Moving around to the other side of the table to collect what's left, you frown when you catch your warped reflection in a bent spoon. You pick it up, and your fingers brush over the bump unconsciously. “I saw one,” you say slowly. Mind fumbling over any disastrous outcomes. “A cat, I mean. He’s been hanging around my cabin for a while now. I was only asking ‘cause he’s been spooking the chickens.”

When Mrs. Campbell doesn’t answer, your mouth gets the better of you. “Only, he turned up again a couple nights ago. Acting real docile, you see.” Not docile. The farthest thing from it. “Nearly shot him then and there, but—oh, he just looked so pitiful! He’s real mean looking, all scratched up and such, but I was tired, so when shooing him off didn’t work I let him in. Didn’t hiss, didn’t bite, nothing. But, I think I may have scared him. Skittered right out the door, quick as lightning. He’s been pissin’ me off—pardon my language—but, I just don’t see why he’d go through all that trouble to show up if he was just looking to leave the moment I raised so much as a finger.”

You only cease your rambling once you realize that you’ve bent the spoon too far in the wrong direction. “I…should turn him away, shouldn’t I? If he shows up again?”

Mrs. Campbell lets out an exasperated exhale, smooths out her apron, and sets her mangled sock down in her lap. “He kill any chickens?”

“No, but—”

“You feed him?”

“No?”

“Well, I think you should. It’d be real funny.”

Funny. Funny, she’d said. 

You look to the silverware for consolation, but they can only produce a weak gleam.

“Quit making faces at my utensils, I hate when you do that. If you got something to say, say it now so I can finish this damned sock.”

Instead of making faces at the spoons, you reserve them for the tablecloth. “I just—don’t think it’d be wise.” A wanted man, with a lofty bounty at that, and you were comparing him to a mangy feline. Attempting to see him as anything other than what he so obviously was would be disingenuous. 

And maybe Mrs. Campbell wasn’t the right person to be speaking to about this, because her nose crinkles with such distaste that you have to remind yourself that you’d remembered to bathe. “You’re grown,” she says, “and you work here. I’m inclined to believe that you have enough know-how to keep yourself from doing anything too dumb. If not, oh well.”

“…Right.”

Sometimes you wonder if her daughter had moved out not for marriage, but to escape Mrs. Campbell’s dreadfully indifferent way of speaking. Still, you take her words with relative care and pray that the “feeding” portion of her advice can be altered into something much more metaphorical.

When you attempt to bring the dishes to the water bucket, Mrs. Campbell’s head snaps to you and she clicks her teeth. “Drop it.”

“I was just—”

The sock finds its way into a basket of other half-finished projects at her feet, and she pushes herself up to stand just as tall (if not taller) than any tree before snatching the dishes from your hands. “I don’t pay you to do my dishes, girl.”

You smile. “I don’t believe you pay me at all, Mrs. Campbell.”

“Precisely. Your Pa pays me. And enough with that ‘Mrs. Campbell’ mess; makes me sound like an old crone. Told you to call me Fran, didn’t I?”

Shrugging past the bitterness in her tone at the mention of your father, you turn to the doorway and pull your coat off of the hook you’d tossed it on the night before. It’s only slightly warm from where the sun has touched it. 

The beams have softened their assault on the curtains; it’s still fairly cloudy, but there’s no sign of incoming snow. Chores would be alright, if only for today. 

“I’ll work on it, Mrs. Campbell. But, I do have one more question, if you don’t mind.” You wait for a nod while you pull on your boots with a wince. “How come you don’t take on any other help?”

Like most of her responses, Mrs. Campbell doesn’t give much away. Nothing remarkable that you can discern, at least. She merely winks and carries on with her washing. But just as you set a foot out the front door, she calls out to you. 

“Hey, kid?”

You turn.

“If the worst you can call him is a spooked cat, he can’t be all that bad, can he?” 

You freeze. “Pardon?”

She looks up at the ceiling, as though her next words will appear if she gets her eyes to narrow enough. Glasses had been the first of many neglected suggestions you’d offered upon your arrival. You’d even offered to buy them yourself, with what little you’d been able to bring with you. But Mrs. Campbell, being Mrs. Campbell, had simply laughed.

Squinting, she returns her focus to the bucket and reaches for a cake of lye soap. “Ah, and tell that idiot if he slams my doors, I’ll send my foot so far up his ass that them science folks won’t have any animals left to call him.”

__

Illusory warmth finds you a few weeks later.

It isn’t quite spring yet; winter is a stubborn mule, and though the snow has receded into the dirt it still stamps its hooves into the wind. In the water, too—freezing rain taps its fingers onto the windows. Soft and melodic, it nearly puts you to sleep from your place on the floor before you remember the annoyances it’s dragged along with it. 

There’d been no sign of trouble tonight, and the chicken wire had been reinforced a few hours prior. That’d mostly been the work of Mr. Campbell, though. He’d chirped about some promise he’d made to his “lovely wife,” and went on his merry way after leaving you with some choice words from the wife in question about the importance of rest. 

The rain had started not long after. Which was great, for someone out there. But, bad for you. Pretty bad. Ugly, messy bad—because it was cold, dark, and the dirt hadn’t the moral backbone to keep itself together for any longer than two blinks before your boots were practically swimming in it. 

The trudge back to the cabin was only slightly humiliating, considering the fact that the sole witnesses were the owls you knew were hiding out in the safety of the trees. 

Scampering from the uneven path to the front porch, however, was another story. Although the pliant (no good, backstabbing) earth was quick and eager to drag you to its depths, you were aggravated enough to be slightly quicker, and your palms shot out to catch you just before your chin could meet the full wrath of the wood.

But the word “just” was a pebble cast into a pond, and the first ripple was the metallic tang that flooded your mouth. Diatribes were spat onto the ground alongside the blood, tongue throbbing with a vengeance before you drove the heels of your palms down to push yourself up. The second ripple was a little less red, but just as irritating. The rain had pulled the wet fabric of your work shirt and trousers tight over your limbs, and it had begun to border on painful when water droplets struck like one might strike the skin of a drum. 

“I’m grateful, I’m grateful, I’m oh so fucking grateful…” It was a mantra you often found yourself repeating whenever nature’s pranks sought to drive you mad. Rain was good. Rain was fine, actually, so you’d ignored the creaking of your knees and hobbled your way inside.

And here you sit: back propped up against the wall, shivering like a fool with your knees tucked into your chest. The mud crusting between your fingers barely registers while you work on releasing yourself from your wet clothing.

Which, of course, is when the light tapping on the window takes its cue to crescendo. It’s a rather flimsy cloak for the uneven thunks outside that make no attempt to conceal themselves. But your bones know better. 

Awful timing, that man. 

You feel the weight of his fist against the door before he makes contact. 

(One.)

You shoot up.

(Two.)

You lunge for the table.

You decide against greeting him with the rifle, which is a significant improvement. It’s a revolver. But you did have the good sense not to kick the door again; the rusty hinges were fragile enough without your meddling. Instead, you let it creak open with one hand on the doorknob.

You’re met with a bruise, planted right atop a cheekbone. A swollen bottom lip, blood threatening to split it wide. He’s got a button missing from his rumpled jacket, and the caving of the porch underneath his feet clues you in on the fact that he’s favoring his right leg. He’s been fighting. Fighting, and he looks about ready to keel over and die. Or pick another fight. Probably both.

Part of you unwinds at the sight of him, battered as he was. Present as he was. But the more logical part of you senses that he’s here for something, and the even more logical part of you remembers exactly what it was that stood at your doorstep.

It’s then that the stench of alcohol hits you, and the familiar smell of mud sweeps in not long after. Arthur is completely covered in it, save for his face. And—

There. There it is again.

That look. 

Your pulse trips in your throat, and you pray that he’s inebriated enough to ignore it. “You’re on my porch. Why?”

Bright blue comes back into focus, and his hands fall to his hips. “I can go where I damn well please.”

“That’s all well and good, but why are you on my porch?”

He sniffs. Peers just over your shoulder. “...House call.”

You step to block him. “Now that’s two chances. I have it on good authority that one is just fine these days, but I’m feeling generous.” And confused. Extremely confused.

His face contorts into a heatless grimace, and the doorknob squeals. You’re suddenly reminded of the odd tales of shapeshifters you’d stumbled upon as a child: one moment a man, the next a bloodthirsty predator. Not a particularly helpful development—especially since your talk with Mrs. Campbell—but it was a development nonetheless.

Arthur rattles off the courtesies typically extended toward esteemed guests while you look him over again, and your eyes lock onto his hair. Another familiar connection—doe brown strands, streaked with mud and nearly plastered to his head from the light downpour. Much less ferocious than the rest of him. But, tonight, if you have to pick, he’s a wet dog. A wet, potentially drunk dog, who was missing his hat. 

And suddenly, the natural chatter of the trees comes to a halt. 

“What’d you just call me?”

…You idiot.

“I didn’t call you jack shit,” you lie. Arthur gives a loose smirk, and your next protests become nothing but bluster. “What, the little girl that hit you knock your ears shut?”

“Figured I’d let her get a hit in, out of the kindness of my big ol’ heart.” Arthur sways on his feet a bit, peering down at you through the water that he hasn’t bothered to wipe from his lashes. Gravity finds eventual triumph, and he leans into the post before eying the revolver still in your hands. “Don’t suppose you’re plannin’ on pullin’ that trigger any time soon.”

“What’s it to you?”

Arthur’s face begins to harden, and he crosses his arms tight over his chest. “You know, last time I was here I said you were lucky. Well, I’d like to make an addendum: lucky and stupid, lady.” 

You cast a disbelieving look at the leg he’s been keeping his weight off of. “And you’re drunk. The fact that you got here without your horse cracking your head open is a miracle.”

His brows draw low, and he rubs the heel of his boot against the muddy spot where you’d fallen earlier. Blinks at the ground. Then, with the vigor of a child caught sleeping in church, wipes angrily at a speck of mud on his thigh. “M’not drunk,” he finally mutters, flicking the offending dirt out into the yard and crossing his arms again. “And I’ve got enough trust in my horse to fill at least half of that barn y’all got.”

“Just half? Not the whole thing?”

“Whole thing would be two horses.”

You almost laugh. Almost. When you don’t reply, his eyes drop back down to the gun, gaze contemplative. “You got any idea how easily I could’ve knocked that flimsy thing outta your hands?”

“Why of course I do, Mr. Morgan.” The dampness you’d been struck with pulls at you, bones heavy and patience now worn thin. You give the revolver an exaggerated twirl, the metal snatching what can be seen of the moon through the rain and reflecting it at him. “I’m real lucky you’re here to tell me so, ain’t I? Matter of fact, why don’t you go and fetch me my chair before I topple right on over? ” 

“That ain’t what I meant, and you know it.” You think he sounds somewhat regretful. But somewhat isn’t enough. 

“Do I now,” you say dryly. “You seem to ‘not mean’ an awful lot.” 

Arthur pushes himself off of the post with his shoulder and shoves his muddy hands into his muddy pockets. “I just don’t see why you people are so eager to act like you got your life for dog-cheap.”

“You people?”

“Yeah, you heard me. You people.” He’s looking at everything but you now, eyes wild but body frighteningly still. “You’ll look trouble right in the eye, and lie right through your damn teeth till it gets you laid out cold in a ditch somewhere.” Arthur gestures to the embarrassing height your shooting arm has dropped to in the time that he’s spoken. “I can tell each time you open that door that you won’t shoot. Can’t, I’d argue, ‘cause if you didn’t have my big head within one inch of that barrel, you’d be some deep shit.” His words are a forlorn echo amidst the rain, now nothing more than a light haze. 

You could shut the door and go back inside, you think. Tell him he’s wrong, because he most certainly was. Peel out of your damp clothes, because standing outside in the chill spelled nothing but trouble. Arthur wouldn’t push. He was just as prone to bluffing as you were. 

And yet.

And yet.

“I could say the same about you. Don’t think your kin would take too kindly to the fact that you’re hangin’ around someone that knows your face. Who you are.” You steady your aim. “That’s a loose end, Arthur. You don’t seem like the type of man to keep many of those around.” It’s the first time you’ve said his name all night; you’re only sure because the moment it leaves you, his entire body tenses before he sags back against the wooden post. 

The way he looks at you then might be considered cruel and unusual punishment. You think of butterflies, embroidered into blankets from childhood. Tacked to the wall of your father’s study. The only difference between them and you is that you’re free to leave.

If only you possessed something to sweeten the deal—whatever deal you could come up with in the next five seconds. To mask the returning waver of your voice, now laden with inconceivable realities. “Am I a loose end, Arthur Morgan?” 

He opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Untucks a hand from the arms he’s wrapped around himself to scrub at his beard and finally wipe at the water you’ve been eyeballing from his lids. He opens his mouth again, now on the precipice of what might be an explanation.

“S’dangerous,” is all he says.

You see red.

The arm holding the revolver is dropped so you can poke a finger into his chest. “You’re not making any sense!” Each word is enunciated with a jab, and you cringe at the feeling of rain rewetting the mud underneath your fingernails. “You cut and run, turn up drunk and beaten half to death, practically beg me to let you inside, and then you get upset when I say I won’t pop a bullet into your head?”

Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose, voice beginning to escalate. “Now if you would just listen for more than two seconds—”

You cut him down with a harsh whisper. “Listen? Listen?” Your eyes momentarily check for any sign of a light being turned on in the main house. Nothing. Your finger falls away then, and a violent chill wracks your body from head to toe. “No, you listen. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. You said your piece the last time we spoke, and you left, so why are you on my porch!”

“I don’t know!”

Something cracks, and your vision blurs when you whip your head to recheck the lights. Still nothing. The crack fizzles out into nothingness, and you return to find Arthur close. Awfully close. And your hand is warm and—oh.

It seems his pluck is rather contagious. The noise you’d heard wasn’t thunder, but the sound of your treacherous hand clapping right over Arthur’s mouth.  

Time stills. Or speeds up, more like. The only thing you can be certain of is that ring of greenish gold around his pupils. The brush of his lips against your palm. Humid air being released in slow, steady clouds. You briefly wonder what else this warmth has dominion over, save for your cupped hand. Who else. 

The speed of the exhales increases, and envy wriggles in the dirt of your heart like unearthed worms. Did his mind wander, as yours often did? Surely not as emphatically. It no doubt ambled from one thought to the next, attention snagged only when he had the energy to do so. Had you been interesting enough to snag his?

The spell is broken by a lamp flickering on in the distance. 

“Shit!”

Sheer panic sinks its claws into you before rationality can, and you’re curling a hand around Arthur’s wrist and yanking him inside before he can protest.

You’re both panting ragged breaths once the door shuts behind you, in spite of the mere two steps it’d taken to cross the entryway. Tangible confusion permeates the air, and Arthur looks at you expectantly. It’s only fair that the (secondary) perpetrator speak first.  

But words are tricky, tricky things. And as much as you partook in your fair share of falsehoods, finding the right ones when you didn’t feel that your life was on the line was an unfamiliar practice. 

Voice quiet, you blink at the muddy footprints on the floor. “You left my door open.”

“I remember,” he replies. Simple.

The silence returns, eerily reminiscent of your first encounter. You consider telling him about the warning Mrs. Campbell had wanted you to relay to him. But then you think about all of the other things he’s missed since he’s disappeared, and your mind becomes saturated with just about everything, and somehow nothing at all. But Arthur’s voice, once again, cracks the fragile quiet. 

“God damn it!” He begins to pace, rubbing at the shadows under his eyes. You’re thankful that he’s finally lowered his voice to a whisper, though the close quarters don’t seem to help with the intensity. “I ain’t supposed to be here. Not like this.”

“Not like what? Arthur what do you—” 

“This isn’t how this was supposed to go,” he says, voice edging on the side of desperation.

“How what was supposed to go?” You look at his hands, fumbling with his belt loops. He sucks in a brittle gulp of air when he catches you looking, like he’s surprised you’re looking at him at all. 

And then, miraculously, the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. 

“I’m to kill you. Ideally this evening.” 

Until it all promptly falls apart.

You turn away. Begin to work open the half done buttons of your shirt. Arthur turns to face the door. You decide to humor him. “Who.” 

“Some man, your Pa, I presume,” he says. For the first time in what feels like eternity, his voice is devoid of any feeling. It sounds small. Not defeated, not yet, but oh so small. “Willing to pay big bucks to get rid of a ‘financial thorn’ in his side. Knew ‘bout my business in Blackwater, which I assume you’re also aware of. Said he’d had some bonds on that boat.” Blunt fingernails scratch lightly at the curtains. “He said I could sniff things out, see if I wanted to to his dirty work.”

Shirt falling to the floor, you allow yourself some time to stew numbly in your naivety while you get the fire going; you could be disappointed all you wanted once you were warm. You can hear Arthur scrubbing at his beard again when you begin to drag a chair in front of the fireplace. You sit, or collapse rather, and shuck off your boots with little care for where they land. Where the mud splatters.

“How’s Marlene?” You ask.

Rustling. He’s turned around. More frantic rustling. He’s turned back to the wall. “I’m sorry?”

“Marlene. Chicken. ”

“Ah. She’s uh, good. Eating good. Still pecks like hell, though.”

And, once again, more silence.

You bark out a dry laugh. It hurts—hurts like hell, but it tumbles out of you with a sharp snap. It snowballs into pure, unadulterated laughter. Bouncing off the walls, the drinking glasses, the mud, right into the fire and back out again. It continues until you’re left with nothing but a pathetic wheeze rattling your lungs.

Settling into the back of the chair, your head lolls back till you can see an upside down version of the bewildered Arthur you’d turned away from. The angle is awkward, and the blood rushing to your head makes him look all warm and fuzzy, but it’s precisely why you’ve chosen it.

“Didn’t think finding all this out would be so funny.” He speaks as if poking a tiger.

Another half-hearted chuckle slips out of you. “Good god, I thought you were trying to proposition me.”

“Proposition you?” He scowls. “What on earth would I—” 

Arthur stops. Blinks one of his blinks. Gives his eyes another rub. Blinks again. He’s been doing that a lot, lately. This “blinking” thing.

“Oh.” He frowns.

Frowning right back, you push yourself to stand and toss some old papers from your table into the fire. “No need to seem so put off by it, gosh. Should’ve told me you were out for my head from the start. Would’ve made this a hell of a lot less embarrassing.” Disappointment had beat out the warmth.

You wait for an apology, or a joke. Or something. Anything. But you’re met with nothing. The paper eventually crumbles into nothing, too, smoke tickling your nostrils alongside the smell of rain.

His voice sounds from the back of the room.

“I didn’t say that.”

You whip around.

“Say what.”

He speaks as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn’t say I wasn’t. Interested, I mean.” When you point to yourself, he rolls his eyes. “No, the couch.”

There was no couch.

The two of you watch each other for a bit. Then Arthur finds another annoying spot on his thigh to rub at, and you’re watching him.

“You’re drunk,” you conclude, voice flat. You pull on a blanket, suddenly conscious of the bareness of your shoulders. “You’re drunk, or tired, or both. You weren’t here. I didn’t see you, you didn’t see me. Am I clear?”

You stand on wobbly feet and motion for him to leave.

“You don’t think I’m joking, do you? I meant what I said.” He brushes past your outstretched hand to clunk into the chair, mirroring that same awkward position you’d found yourself in earlier. Strong neck arched, fire light catching the water that’s begun to bead on his cheeks. “I don’t do charity. Don’t think I have the money for it, actually.”

“How kind of you.”

“I mean it. Truly.”

“Then come back tomorrow,” you blurt.

Fuck.

What the hell were you doing? “You come back tomorrow night, sober, and we’ll see.” No, we would not.

But it’s too late—Arthur is rebounding off of the chair, straightening out his jacket (he’s noticed the missing button, finally), and striding to the door before you can retract your mistake. Even so, you follow after him like a besotted moron, only stopping when he turns to face you once the door is back open.

“Tomorrow, then,” he says. Eyes dark. Searching.

And then he’s stooping down. Reaching for your hand. Pulling it to his dry lips, and pressing a chaste kiss right to the top of it. He chuckles when you shiver, still clutching the blanket tight around your shoulders.

You’re released soon after. And Arthur gives you one long look, tells you to lock your door, and leaves.

—

next chapter >>

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #witching hour

[cottondo]

BUTTERCUP | master shake x reader

— 6. | an ego thing

a/n : I haven’t proof read it enough times yet so I’m sorry I’m advance if there’s errors lmao

  "What you did was irresponsible, rude, and quite frankly, a little immoral!"

 

"Well, what did you expect me to do! You should've known better than to put me in charge. It's anything, it's your fault for not being home!"

"I didn't! I put y/n in charge of the house, and you messed everything up and pissed off meatwad." Frylock crossed his arms, an eye narrowing on Shake.

Yeesh, you really didn't wanna listen to their arguing at your job.

You cringe inwardly, glancing around the small diner to see the few people's gazes starting to focus on your roommate's argument.

"Kay- can we like, not do this here?" You speak up, a little look of annoyance starting to flood your features. "You're gonna get me fired."

"So what? What's a job good for, anyway! You're workin' for the man, and not yourself." Shake looks back to your pleading face.

"Yeah, well, thats how I get to buy things, and live with a roof over my head." You respond, going back to filling up meatwad's glass of orange juice.

Shake looks away. "Pft. Who needs that?"

"Your sorry ass, when he kicks you out!" You gesture towards frylock, who was glaring at shake.

Shake huffs, crossing his arms. He clearly forgot about the situation at hand. "He can't survive without me there. I'm the one that holds that house together, if you hadn't noticed."

Frylock scoffs, and you place the cup of juice back down on the countertop with a little eye roll.

"Right— the minute you leave, is the day I finally get some peace and quiet." Frylock sighs, dulling his eyes.

"You love havin me around!" Shake argues.

Frylock carefully picks up the steaming mug of coffee, and sips it. "Keep it up, Shake. One more slip up, and I'm not gonna feel sorry when your ass ends up on Carl's lawn."

Frylock's tone sounded so done with shake. And rightfully so.

Meatwad side eyed Shake with a little knowing smirk hidden on his face. He took another bite of the chicken tender from his plate.

The look clearly didn't go unnoticed, and shake glares the boy's way. "The hell are you lookin' at?" He asks, leaning over into Frylock's personal space in order to scare Meatwad with a death glare.

Okay, this was going on for too long now.

From under the counter, you dip your fingers in the melted corner of the ice case, and flick it at Shake's face with a little smirk.

He flinches, shooting upward and looking towards you with a look of, 'what the hell was that'.

"Hey!" Shake starts to retort, but you grab his plate and slide it towards you. Oh, he did not like that.

"Leave him alone, and shut up. Eat your food, before I have to take it away." You push it back, leaving him with wide eyes of amusement at your behavior.

Just as he was about to retort, frylock came to the rescue.

He sighs, wiping his face with a napkin, and gives you a thoughtful expression. After all, they were causing a scene at your job. "Everyone, just- - try to behave. It's rude."

"Whatever." Shake shuts up, and meatwad goes back to eating the rest of his meal in a guilty silence.

  "Y/N, what time do you get off your shift?" Frylock asks through an audibly tired voice. He tries to change the conversation, and honestly, you were kinda grateful for it. There was just only so much you could tolerate in one sitting.

"I just gotta finish up those two tables over there, but it won't take me long at all." You respond, a gentle smile on your face.

"I was thinking maybe we should go shopping for some groceries later. It has been a while.." you saw the embarrassment creasing into Frylock's face, so you nod along with a soft smile of reassurance.

Things happen, and life gets in the way. You totally understand how that goes, and choose to empathize with him.

"Sure, yeah. We can do that." You turn your attention to shake and lean your elbows on the counter. "What do you guys want us to pick up from the store?"

Shake smirks a bit, stealing a slight glance down the front of your uniform shirt. It was within seconds that you noticed. "I know what I want, baby—"

"I bet you do." You play along with a light curl of your lip, now earning frylock and meatwad's attention in shock.

"But right now, we need to know what you guys wanna eat for meals and stuff."

You think the last thing that shake was expecting, was for you to enable that situation. He prolly figured you'd just get pissed off, and swat him away. But, his attention was starting to grow on you now, so that wasn't necessarily the case anymore. Why not just let this roll?

Frylock clears his throat, awkwardly, seeing the shocked expression on Shake's face.

He was totally noticing what was up now.

A thought came to Shake as you notice the way his smiles stretches. "Lasagna~! Quattro formaggio," shake makes Italian gestures with his hands. Meatwad grins with amusement, looking up at the male beside him.

"Italian food!"

"I've gotta admit, shake can make a really good lasagna dish." Frylock smiles weakly, holding his cheek in his hand with a tired expression.

"Hell yeah, I do." Shake smiles proudly, eyes drifting up to meet yours. With his arms crossed over his chest, you notice the smug little look of pride he had.

"Carl likes it too. Which is half the reason I make it."

Amused, you crack up a little grin. "You make it for Carl?"

That didn't sound like the Shake you knew. He never did anything for anybody.

Frylock shakes his head. "Don't get the wrong idea. Shake likes to mess with Carl's head. He doesn't actually let him eat any of it."

Confused, you turn to shake for answers.

Shake grins, "I just put that shit on a leash, and let him run. Sometimes he breaks his neck, sometimes he lets me swim in his pool." He shrugs innocently, "It's a win win either way!"

Damn, he was really fucked up for that. But how could you not love that about him—?

"That's messed up," you snicker, taking all three of their empty plates and walking them to the dirty buss pan. "But I'm so here for it."

Shake smiles widely at your response; clearly you piqued his interest. Not just anybody would laugh at the cruel pranks he liked to pull. But you did.

_____________________

 

You peer over Shake's shoulder, an intensifying grin creeping up on your face, as you noticed the little annoyances you've been causing him.

Shake was making up that lasagna dish; something you could only believe if you saw it with your own eyes.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to put together my masterpiece, here!"

You only smirk in a retort. "Shut up, you love it."

"I am pretty hard to stay away from. That's why they call me the chick magnet." He shrugs you off with a nervous smile, and focuses his eyes back down on the sauce he was using. "Now listen- I know that only I can make this taste good, but I'm gonna let you put the cheese on it." He takes a step back, eyeing you. "Since you wanna be apart of this plan."

Wow, he was letting you help him? How thoughtful.

"Don't mess it up! It's a delicacy," His shouting made your ears ring.

"Okay, I got it, Fuck." You snap back. Of course, this only made him glare harder, but whatever. 

Shake was so dramatic, fuck.

Rolling your eyes was the only other proper bodily response you could give, before bumping him aside to place yourself in front of the half prepared lasagna dish. It did look pretty good..

Reaching your hand into the bag of cheese, you begin to sprinkle it around the pasta.

Then, he hands you the other cheeses to put into the pan. "Okay, good. Not as good as what I'd do, but it'll probably be fine." He mumbles, standing over your shoulder.

Dangerously close, you noted.

You turn your head over your shoulder to deadpan him with a look of annoyance, but you couldn't help that butterfly feeling that kept trying to crawl up your throat. Shit.

You caught the feels.

You inhale a soft breath, and look back down to the pasta dish. Just try to ignore him! That was super easy- - right—?

Even though now his hand was reaching in front of you to grab the other cheese— oh shit, his shoulder is totally bumping into yours because he doesn't know personal space even if it whacked him in the face.

"Kay, now what?" You break the silent tension you felt, looking to him. Shake grabs the dish, and throws some seasoning throughout it. "We bake it, then the fun can happen." The smirk was bright and cheery on his face.

"Cool," you chortle.

Shake tosses the pan in the oven, and sets a timer for it. His eyes then set on you, narrowing a little.

You frown, looking up at him. What was he looking at?

"What," Your tone came out a little sour, and you didn't mean for it to. He didn't seem to mind, though.

His gloved hand reaches out, and soon enough, you feel his thumb brushing at your cheek. "You've got sauce on your face, dumbass."

Welp, that's embarrassing.

You can feel the heat in your face rise as he wipes off your cheek, not so gently, and sticks his tongue out with disgust.

"Gee, thanks." You turn away, brushing your cheek off with the back of your arm.

Then, a thought floods it's way back into your head suddenly.

Weren't you supposed to be doing something..? 

"Oh!" You rub your cheek, hoping there wasn't any stain still left on your skin. "I was supposed to post you making that," you pout a bit, gesturing to the fact that he was still supposed to be your fake boyfriend. How could you forget?

He looks at you with a questioning expression. "Huh?"

"Y'know- - My boyfriend made me lasagna," you tease, pulling out the phone from your pocket.

Now it came back to him.

He nods slowly, "Riiight. Right!" Shake smirks proudly, opening up the oven door to crack it. "It's not too late." Heat blows out, and you look inside the crack to see the pan sitting there, trying to bake.

You angle your phone camera on it, but you feel your other hand being grabbed.

What was he doing—?

"C'mere," Looking down, shake forces your hand on the oven door handle, and guides you to grab it. He then puts his hand on top of yours, and holds it. "Come on, take the picture already!"

Your cheeks did that weird thing again where they got all hot and clammy. Shit shit shit.

Oh, and now your heart is speeding up a little? What the fuuuuuck.

You take the picture of your hands on the handle, and smile up at him, though it felt pressured now. "Got it,"

He shuts the door, and suddenly his face was flared up, too. Damn, was he sweating?

"Cool, great, good!" He laughs out, but it sounded awkward. "I bet that asshole thinks I'm sexier than him. Like— what were you even thinking? Going for a guy like that," shake laughs at you. Of course, it was just him turning the situation around onto you again, because why wouldn't he be a narcissist?

You let yourself frown slightly.

"You're too good for him, obviously." Shake then adds onto the statement, though his voice grew a bit more honest. There's another smile lingering in his features when he says that.

Your frown turns upward at him slightly. "Yeah . . I know." Your voice is light; not even defensive, because you knew how shitty you let that guy treat you.

"I know you know!" He says, "If there's one thing I know- it's women. And women want me."

Welp, that ruined the moment.

The smirk on his face was enough to make you laugh at him. In all the time that you've known each other, you didn't see a single girl trying to talk to him. Ever.

If anything, you were the first. And that . . Well, that's saying something.

"Yeah?" You ask through a chortle, "Where are they, then."

Shake quickly frowns with annoyance, and crosses his arms. "Well, obviously they can't come around, if they see you next to me." He defends himself poorly. You shrug in response and laugh a little again.

"Riiight. That makes sense," sarcastically, you nod along to tease him. Does he know you're just teasing him? You weren't sure.

"It does! How else can a hot babe come up to me if I already have one next to me? They'd get jealous, obviously!" Shake rolls his eyes. "And, I don't need any more girl drama. Which is why I keep telling them not to come around anymore,"

His voice was so casual when lying, that it was almost kinda insane.

The other thing insane about that story though, was Shake just called you hot.

Score.

Not that you didn't know that already.

"I knew I was hot," you tease, looking over at him with a little smirk. "Girl drama is literally ridiculous though. You're better off with just me."

His eyes widen a little at your comment. Obviously he took it in the way you meant it.

"Yeah, I probably would be. But y'know, there's still plenty of me to go around." He points his thumbs towards himself, and gives off a cocky smirk.

"Shut up, cup." You laugh him off with a light shove on the shoulder, letting his nickname slip from your mouth. It was something you've picked up from Carl over the years of hangin' around the boys. It never seemed to bother him too much, but you knew he'd prefer a less demeaning name.

"You gotta make me," Shake's smile is innocently bright, and all you can do is stare back with a challenging grin.

Ooh, that was it- -

To your right on the counter, you notice the bowl of pudding Meatwad had left out. When you and Frylock went shopping earlier, you should've expected the two ding bats to go on a binge fest of junk food, because they totally did. They left food out all over the place.

The evil grin on your face was enough to show Shake that you had tricks up your own sleeve.

Not even bothering to care how sticky and slimy it was on your fingers, you dipped your hand into the bowl and quickly smacked the pudding to his face.

The challenge was so on.

His eyes widen, shock taking over his body as the chocolate pudding smears across his cheek and mouth. That was not at all what he expected from you when he meant for you to shut him up.

"Y/N! What the hell!"

You laugh loudly, crouching down in a defense stance as he wipes the chocolate from his face.

"I'll kill you," Without a second thought, Shake lunges towards your laughing figure, hands grabbing yours playfully, and soon you find yourself backed into and trapped against the counter.

With your backside to the cabinets, you look up at him with a pleading smile, still finding it absolutely hilarious that you caught him off his game like that.

"I'm sorry! Shake— I'm sorry, I swear," you wheeze out through laughter, hands up and still being tightly held by Shake's.

"Shoulda thought about that sooner!" His one hand let go of yours, and with one swift movement, snatched the glass of water from the countertop, and splashed it at you with a wild grin.

"Hey!" You squeal out and tense up as the water quickly runs down your cheek and neck.

Game on, bitch.

You push him back as he chuckles under his breath.

"Asshole," There wasn't much time to think it through anymore, so you grab the closest food item to you, and smash it at him. Shake dodged, but it ended up still managing to hit his body anyway.

The two of you now wrestled a bit with each other; hands locked, and push and shoving each other playfully.

Actually, it was probably the most fun you and Shake had together in a long time.

"I swear- - Y/N, if I wasn't letting you win, I'd beat your ass," shake glares up at you from the hold you had on him. You now currently had him pinned down to the floor of the kitchen, food everywhere, sitting on his back. The smirk you had on your face was beaming with amusement as your tilt your head down at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, letting me win? I own your ass right now."

He grunts, dulling his irritated eyes up at you. "I'm only going easy on you because you're a broad!"

"Pfft— yeah, right. You couldn't beat me if you tr—" the wind almost gets knocked out of you when you suddenly find yourself being flipped over with your back to the floor. Shake smirks, and now holds you down by sitting on you.

"Ugh, oh my god, fatass, get off me!" You wheeze out, glaring up at him. His prideful smile was enough to let you know that, okay, maybe he was sorta letting you win earlier.

"It's muscle weight! And don't smack me with pudding, then maybe I would!" He declares, eyes narrowing now as the pressure of his gloved hands holds your arms down to the floor at shoulder height.

"I'm sorry," You pout playfully up at him, wiggling your wrists out of his grasp, but not to much use.

"Not good enough!" He says. "I think it's time you learned not to mess with the master~!" Shake was totally not bluffing anymore, and you knew he was unhinged enough to actually hit you, or throw more food at your face- which you didn't want.

So, you flinch, wincing up at him.

"Truce!"

Managing to speak with half of his body weight sitting on top of you was actually so hard to do.

"Wait— Is this the part where I kiss you?" He asks, in the dumbest, most casual way only shake could manage.

"Oh my god," you groan. With some thought behind it, you manage to flip yourself to your side, and kick him off you. Shake lands beside you on the floor, and you remember not to take breathing for granted.

You slowly rise up to a sitting position, and glare look at him. "Lose some weight."

Shake glares up at you, and switches to a sitting position as well. "I can't help that my muscles are too big! You're just too weak to handle the weight." The narcissism rolls off his tongue so smoothly. Shake was always good at turning situations or facts around on other people. It was sort of like a really fucked up gift.

You stand to your feet, brushing off any leftover food that clung to you.

"Want me to pin you to the floor again?" Your threat only made his smile grow, and you could imagine why.

"No, because I'm always on top!" His smile stretched, and you roll your eyes at him. "Haha! Boom! Someone should be writing these down,"

The timer on the oven dings, alerting the both of you.

Whoops, you totally forgot all about the lasagna in the oven during all this play fighting.

"Come on, honey, let's go offer our neighbor some food~" you stand to your feet, and hold out a hand for him. Shake stares at it before locking eyes with you, and smirking.

His hand grabs yours, and stands to his feet.

Pulling you into him, shake wraps an arm around your shoulder and smiles. "A little taste of Italy, right to his door. He should be paying us!"

You lean into his hold and find yourself smiling up at him. "Once we get to use his pool, it'll all be worth it!"

Shake laughs and let you go. "As long as I get to see you in a hot bikini, babe."

#master shake #athf shake #athf #frylock #meatwad #athf frylock #aqua teen hunger force #carl brutananadilewski #aqua teen forever #master shake x reader #shake x reader

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Dear Crowley, I heard this dashing and very intelligent fox beastman is looking for a job. He used to work as a manager at a popular theme park, so he probably has a ton of experience! Maybe he'd make a great addition to the staff?

The way I choked laughing when I read this interaction 🤡

I decided to structure this interaction like a job interview between Crowley and Fellow (facilitated, of course, by the Reader/Prefect's written recommendation). I thought it would be funnier this way! (Note: Fellow is definitely sugarcoating, glossing over, outright lying, and laying it on thick in some of his responses, but since this is framed mainly from Crowley's perspective, these inconsistencies are not pointed out.)

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

This is the one recommended for the open teaching position?

Crowley eyed the man standing before him. He was beastman, as per the Prefect's description, with a pair of red fox ears and a fluffy tail.

A crimson-lined violet jacket, half a cape tossed over one shoulder, was secured over an olive vest and a snug waist. Golden embellishments and starry badges dangled from his lapels, and the same sparkles studded his top hat. Fun patterns cut into diamond windows raced up his dark green trousers. His long legs were crowned by knee-length spats, and he held an elegant cane topped with a fox in his gloved hands.

His look was professional yet playful.

The candidate was handsome—no doubt about that—and the keen gleam to his eyes implied a sharpness, a pointed wit, about him.

A horrible thought occurred to Crowley: He's not more dashing and intelligent than me, is he? No, no, it simply cannot be done! There’s no one fairer than I!

The headmaster brushed off his concerns, vanity placated, and cleared his throat.

"Let's see here... You are Fellow Honest, correct?" Crowley referred his provided resume. It was handwritten and contained a number of spelling and grammatical errors.

"That's my name! Don't wear it out," the beastman chirped with a wink and the twirl of his cane. "Fellow Honest, at your service."

“Please tell me about yourself, Mr. Honest.”

“Well! Not much to say, I’m afraid. I’m just a wanderer down on his luck, lookin’ to find his way in the world. I saw your job posting and thought I should shoot my shot.”

“I see on your resume that your last position was as a theme park manager…? Why the sudden shift in career, if I may ask?”

"You see, I've always been a lad of big hopes and dreams. I went into the entertainment industry wanting to spread that positivity to others.

"My park used to attract quite a few families and their children, so I came to know the kids quiiite well! They'd tell me stories of their school days, talk about the things they'd want to become in the future. So full of imagination and wonder. I realized I wanted to be a part of that process. Teaching them, guiding them... so they can be the best adults they can be!"

Fellow chuckled—it slid off his tongue easily, as though his laugh was slick with honey. "I thought I'd be the one inspiring them. Turns out, the kids were the ones to light a fire under my tail."

"My, what a stirring story!" Crowley cried out. "I can tell that your passion for working with children is true~

“Now then, why Night Raven College? There are any number of schools you could apply to if you wish to lend your assistance to the youth."

"It's true. I thought to start my own school before this," he confessed, "but Night Raven College called to me. Its graduates are influential, the school's reach immense, and the headmaster most magnanimous... I figured if I wanted to make an impact, this was the place to do that."

Fellow hesitated.

"... And, as one bright young boy once told me, Night Raven College is a place where everyone and anyone is welcome. Even someone from as humble a background as myself can fit in here."

Crowley found himself nodding along with his narrative. The shower of praise was making him feel flattered and floaty—and the more Fellow talked, the more the headmaster felt himself leaning into his words.

But the interview questions. They were not through yet.

The thought slowly sobered Crowley up. His resolution returned, duty and honor-bound to pick the most qualified candidate for the job.

No time for fun and games, not now.

"How would you describe your own magical capabilities? As you know, NRC is an establishment meant for training tomorrow's mages. To that end, many of our tenured professors boast a strong history of magic themselves."

"Ah, that." Fellow’s smile was wry, playing off the anxious little tug at his cravat. “That is…”

“Answer the question, Mr. Honest.”

“Dire, Dire, Dire—may I call you that?” He paused, but failed to grant enough time for a response. Fellow moved fast, talked fast—his cane spinning fast, fast, fast. “I’ll be the first to admit my magical might isn’t on the same level as that of your colleagues.”

Crowley frowned. “Then I’m afraid we cannot proceed with the interview. It would be rather challenging for the students to learn from a teacher who has yet to master magic themselves...”

Fellow’s face fell. “You’ve already made up your mind?”

“I apologize, but this discussion is over.”

“H-HOLD IT!!” he protested, his polite facade dropping. Anger and upset flared on Fellow’s vulpine features. “Where do you get off, cutting me out the very moment I mention…”

Crowley’s expression hardened, the grip on his staff tightening. “Oh dear, it looks as though this interview is headed south.”

Dark power roiled up from within him. The binds on his strength, snapping. Fellow whimpered like a fox backed into a corner by a larger predator.

“A-Ahahahah… Please forgive my outburst, sir~” he simpered, sinking back into his seat. “I-I’d still like the chance to explain myself, oh-so-generous headmaster!!”

“You may,” Crowley replied. His face was almost entirely shrouded by the shadow of his mask. His expression, unreadable.

“You’re right. I… I don’t have a lot of magic to spare. But…!! Even if that’s true about me, I don’t want the students to think like that, judging their own worth based on what an institution says is desired or not.” Fellow’s fingers curled into shaking fists in his lap. “In an ideal world… everyone can pursue their dreams without discrimination, without being told they’re not enough.”

“The final question for you,” Crowley announced grimly. “How do you plan to instruct if you cannot lead by example? How will you instill the lessons and values of Night Raven College?”

“Magic isn’t everything,” Fellow fired back passionately. “It doesn’t matter how much magic history they can recite or how many fancy spells they know.

“What’s most important to me… is that the students find enjoyment in what they learn and can make use of it. That’s how I’d teach them. Practically, and in a way that allows them to laugh and enjoy life for the fun that it’s supposed to be.”

“Hmmm.”

Crowley stared him carefully, like a crow nestled amid the tree branches. Watching, listening.

For the first time, he felt as though he was witnessing the true Fellow Honest.

His interviewee heaved a deep, dramatic sigh, a hand running through his hair. He barked out a bitter laugh.

“I get it, you bigwigs never want to hear what us little guys have to say. I’ll see myself out. It was a waste of my time to try this again. I knew I should have struck out on my own."

Fellow headed for the exit, stomping unhappily, his violet cape trailing behind him. From the other side of the door, a small cat boy in oversized clothes peered in.

“C’mon, Giddie,” Fellow snapped, “we’re done here.”

The child obediently followed. He stumbled in boots that were untied and far too large for him. Still, the concern in his young face did not waver.

Crowley’s eyes followed them until their figures vanished out of sight—but the applicant lingered in his mind. He returned to Fellow’s handwritten resume, mind wandering to the answers the beastman had offered. Different answers, but nonetheless ardent ones.

“… Interesting,” Crowley mused, his lips pulling back into a smile. “Most interesting.”

He's an applicant to consider.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Dire Crowley #Fellow Honest #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Two Ravens at the Writing Desk #stage in playful land spoilers

[milliesfishes]

(breaking billy out of jail) billy the kid x fem reader

One night when the two of you are out at the saloon, an accident happens.

While at the bar getting two whiskies for Billy and you, an older man sidles up to you, calling you sweetheart and sliding his hand around your waist. Immediately Billy sees, and he abandons his poker game, appearing at your side and shoving the man off you. Unfortunately, the man is drunk, and he takes this as a threat, tackling Billy to the ground.

You yell in surprise, jumping aside as Billy fights to get the man off him. Somewhere in the struggle, a gun is pulled out; not Billy's but it didn't matter. When it goes off, you cry out, your eyes wide.

The drunk man, as it turned out, was a friend of the sheriff's, and when Billy had pushed the gun away as the man had fired it, sending the bullet into his shoulder, the night ended with your boyfriend in the local jail with charges of attempted murder against him. And with his criminal record, well, it didn't bode well for him.

You'd protested of course, clinging to Billy's arm as they took him away. "He didn't do anything wrong! He was protecting me!"

He'd tried to soothe you the best he could while being put into handcuffs. "Honey, honey, just sit tight alright? It's gonna be okay."

You'd watched helplessly as he was hauled off, tears stinging your eyes. His boys had to keep you from chasing him, and one of them escorted you home, back to your little cabin in the woods.

Tossing and turning, all you could think of was him all alone in that cold jail cell, after heaven knows what had been done to him. It cost you hours of sleep. Finally, after staring at the ceiling for awhile, you threw back the covers. you were gonna go see the one person who could make you feel better.

You hauled yourself out of bed, taking yourself to a particular drawer in your dresser. Within it was a spare pair of Billy's trousers, suspenders attached, and one of his shirts, the one you adored with blue stripes. He kept a few things at your place, in case he stayed the night and he didn't feel like wearing his sweaty work clothes from the day before.

Now, you pulled on his clothes, tightening the suspenders to fit you, tucking the too big shirt into the trousers. You shoved your feet into your riding boots and went to get a hat, shoving your hair up inside it.

It wasn't safe at all for a woman to be out this late at night, especially in the part of town the jail was at. If you wanted to see Billy, you at least needed to give the illusion that you weren't a woman.

The guard at the jail was fast asleep so you easily snuck past him and opened the door. There was nobody watching Billy on the inside.

He didn't recognize you at first due to the darkness and your diguise, but once you got closer, his eyes squinted in recognition. You took off your hat, letting your long hair spill over your shoulders.

Billy's eyes widened. "What're you doin' here sweetheart?"

You ignored the question and knelt on the ground next to him, clasping his hands through the bars. "Are you okay? What happened?"

He smiled, tugging on your (his) shirt collar. "These my clothes baby?"

"Couldn't come here lookin' like a girl," you breathed, smiling softly back at him.

"Think they look better on you than me doll," he grinned, pulling you closer by the collar.

You breathed a laugh, resting your forehead against the bars.

He squeezed your hands, bringing them to his lips. "Ya shouldn't be here baby, it's late. Ya gotta go home f' me okay? Get some sleep?"

You shook your head earnestly, not letting go of his hands. "I couldn't stand it. You being here all alone, especially when you didn't do anything wrong."

"Oh honey," he murmured, reaching his hand through the bars to cup your cheek, his big hand a comfort to you. "I'm gonna be okay. Can't have ya gettin' in trouble cause you're being a sweetheart for me."

"I'm not leaving here without you," you whispered, your hair framing your cheeks as you leaned forward.

"Ain't no way for ya to get me outta here baby," he said softly, tucking your hair behind your ear with the hand on your face. "We just gotta wait it out, see what they wanna do with me."

That could be a while, you knew that. And with his history, it was extremely likely that he'd be sent away to an unknown fate. You didn't care to think about what that would be.

All these thoughts were spinning through your head as you looked at Billy. It was clear he was trying to stay calm for you, but he was thinking the same thing. You shook your head again. "No. No. You're getting out of here right now."

"It ain't possible sweet," he said, his thumb running down your cheek.

"Yes it is," you said, standing up, your mind working quick. He stood up with you, looking confused.

"What-?"

"I'll be right back," you said, tucking your hair back inside your hat.

"Baby-"

You were gone before he could ask any more questions.

Your footsteps quiet, you opened the door and peeked outside. The guard was still asleep. Eyeing the key ring on his belt, you crept toward him. He was snoring softly, and you hoped the noise of it would drown out any sound you might make.

Carefully, you unhooked the ring from his belt, relief washing over you when it didn't wake him. But when you turned to leave, you accidentally brushed his shoulder.

Dread filled your body as the man took in a sharp breath, signaling that he was awake. You turned as his eyes opened, and he looked confused as he spotted the key ring in your hands. The man stood up, his hand going to the gun in his holster. "Now what the hell're you-"

Your fist flew before you could think about it, hitting him straight in the nose and knocking him backwards, unconscious. The motion broke the skin on your knuckle, and you winced, looking down at the blood. A bruise was already forming, but you shrugged off the pain, taking the keys back to the cell.

Billy was leaning against the wall, and he smiled when he saw you again. You took your hat off, holding up the key ring.

"Well you're a regular little thief ain't you?" Billy laughed softly. "Think I'm startin' to rub off on you."

"Well, it's hard to say," you said, pushing your hair behind your shoulder and sifting through the keys, trying each one in the lock. "Maybe I've been a natural the whole time-aha!" You found the one that worked and opened the door as quietly as you could.

Billy walked right out, immediately lifting you in his arms and spinning around. He hugged you tightly to his chest. "M' best girl," he murmured into your hair. "Comin' to rescue me." When he set you down, he picked up your hand, then noticed the injury to your knuckles. He examined it, his brow furrowed. "Now what'd you do while you were out there pretty?"

You smiled coyly, tilting your head. "What kinda outlaw in training would I be if I divulged my secrets?"

He shook his head, grinning. "My baby's out throwin' punches and stealin' keys..." he kissed your hand. "Couldn't be prouder of 'er. My girl knows how to take care of herself."

"We'd better get outta here before the guard wakes up," you said, tugging on his hand. "Don't want the both of us to be put in the cell."

"I dunno, maybe it wouldn't be so bad," he murmured, his hands moving down to your hips. "You're a damn fine sight in my clothes baby."

You giggled, pulling his hand again. "You can love on me back home, let's get going."

"Yes ma'am," he chuckled, letting you drag him out.

Back in your little cabin, he picked you up and held you to him, your legs wrapped around his waist. The sight of you in his clothes, hair falling over your shoulders was one of the prettiest things he'd ever seen and he let you know it, peppering soft kisses over your face. "Missed out on a lot of lovin' on you while I was in there...atta girl, gonna let me make up for it..."

You both knew after breaking out you wouldn't be able to stay in this town much longer, and that you'd be on the run soon enough, but for now he was out of jail and safe and that was enough.

#billy the kid #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid imagines #billy the kid x you #billy the kid x reader #william h bonney fanfiction #william h bonney x you #william h bonney imagines #william h bonney x reader #milliesfishes billy #milliesfishes imagines