#NEVER ENOUGH STINKY BASTARD MAN

[lozchi]

A little tiger?

A/N: first fic, edited, I don't think I could balance the length to separate it into chapters, so here ya go XD Decided to write for Hoon-ie after not getting enough fics of him. I read every possible fic in existence, so now I'm joining the rabbit hole. Pairing: Taehoon Seong x !F reader (Gender Neutral, actually. But it steers more towards a female reader.) Themes: Fluff, profane language, actual fluff

i am convinced this man wears eyeliner.

There were a few things that you came to agree on with Taehoon before you moved in together, in which he took the time to hash out the nitty-gritty details that would shape your lifestyle.

First things first, cleanliness was non-negotiable. Clean up after your own mess, get rid of those stinky socks on the coffee table, and don't you dare delay washing those dirty dishes. A fair share of chores is just as important. Fuck gender roles. That shit doesn't matter to Taehoon, neither to you. You embraced a fair distribution of chores, because who needs traditional gender norms cramping your style?

Communication was key to keeping your domestic life intact. You made it a rule to give each other a heads-up before inviting anyone over. Taehoon didn't want to be caught by your dad walking out of his room after he just woke up, walking around the place while he was shirtless, and you couldn't blame him. No free fanservice for your old man, sorry.

And then, there was the ultimate deal-breaker: absolutely, ABSOLUTELY no pets allowed. Sad, but necessary. You both recognized the responsibilities and potential burden that a furry friend could bring into your peaceful (chaotic mostly, thanks to your petty bickerings) haven. So, you made the tough call to keep your space pet-free, even though it meant missing out on endless cuteness.

These seemingly straightforward house rules were the backbone of your cohabitation. You can see where this is going at, just basic house rules you'd need to abide by. Easy peasy, right?

-

Dragging your exhausted self through the threshold, you fumbled with your keys, the metallic jingle filling the air as you struggled to unlock the door. With a half-hearted stretch and a lazy rub of your bleary eyes, you muttered curses under your breath. Fuck them. The sheer stupidity of your project groupmates. Ugh, seriously, could life get any more frustrating? But hey, that's fine since you have-

"You cute little shit. You're mine."

Are your ears lying to you? Is your menace of a boyfriend baby talking someone… Who's not you?!? To hear him speak so sweetly that he would never even bring himself to talk to you in the same way as he did just now. That's right, give him a piece of your mind.

Brows furrowing in frustration and jealousy, you'd speak up. You need to talk to him, he deserves a little lecture. As you walked inside your humble abode, you grumpily stomped your way to the bedroom.

"Taehoon Seong, What the f-"

Caught red-handed, Taehoon's eyes widened as he notices your enraged expression. In a panicked manner, he swiftly hurled a nearby blanket into a corner of the room, as if hoping to hide the evidence of his silly stunt. You'd rarely see such a horrified look on his usually stoic expression, Calling this pretty boy other than the stupid nicknames you give him feels so strangely threatening, almost like stepping into uncharted territory. Hello? He's "Hoon-ie", "Pretty Boy", "Sneaky Link", "Sexy Bastard"… Who the fuck is "Taehoon Seong"?

But before you could launch into a full-blown confrontation, a soft and unmistakable "Meow" reverberated through the air, breaking the awkward tension. Busted. Who would have ever thought that Taehoon, the seemingly more composed and level-headed one in the relationship, would dare to break the sacred "no pets" rule? It was unbelievable, mind-boggling, and to make matters worse, it wasn't even you who did this cheeky act. This left you momentarily stunned.

Now, off to berating your boyfriend.

"Oi, I thought we–"

"That was me."

"Didn't know that my man can meow like a harmless creature–"

"Shut the fuck up…"

An awkward silence fills the air for a moment, with you thinking about the act Taehoon pulled, while he starts contemplating whether or not he should break it. The tension was then interrupted by this "unwanted guest". Of course, the cat manages to escape from the blanket, heading its way towards you, its tiny paws padding across the floor.

You know that you can't stay mad, especially when Taehoon is being unusually soft – except that it's not being directed towards you. Your boyfriend is an immature dick of a tsundere, deal with it.

Leaning down to stroke the adorable creature that had stolen your boyfriend's heart, you couldn't help but be enthralled by its soft, velvety fur. Okay, let's admit it, the cat was undeniably cute, but that didn't mean you could suppress the pangs of jealousy that surged within you as Taehoon showered the little feline with affection.

"Why on earth didn't you give me a heads up about bringing this cute shit home? Seriously, you've broken not one, but two rules,"

You exclaimed, unable to hide your frustration.

He glanced at you, a hint of guilt flickering in his eyes.

"I acted impulsively, and I'm sorry."

Is what you imagined he would say. After all, he should apologize for his thoughtless actions. But let's face it, again – your boyfriend had a knack for being a dick. Instead of the heartfelt apology you expected, all you received was a blank stare and a nonchalant shrug.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

You exclaimed, exasperatedly. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you let out a weary sigh. Finally, he broke his silence, bringing an end to the internal debate he seemed to be having.

"I brought it home because it reminded me of you."

And that's a good thing right? He probably brought it home since the cat was cute, like you, right?

"Where did you even get this? Did you buy it, take it from an animal shelter, take it from the streets… Or did you steal this from someone?"

Too many questions, Taehoon is NOT willing to answer them. But he does anyway because you being an interrogative bitch needs to stop.

"Took it from the streets after I-"

Taehoon began, but you interrupted him, already familiar with the story.

"Lemme guess, another round of beating assholes up?"

You asked, a hint of sarcasm in your voice as you gave him that annoying, knowing, AUDACIOUS smirk. It turns him on a little though, not that he'd admit that.

"They were hurting it."

So, instead of mindlessly beating the shit out of random thugs just for 500 won, he had actually stepped in to protect the defenseless creature? For once, Taehoon had an actual reason for his actions – okay, maybe not once – but it caused a surprising warmth to spread through your heart. You couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for him. It was as if he genuinely wanted to provide a safe haven for the cat, and that realization melted away any lingering resentment.

You looked at Taehoon, noticing a glimmer of excitement in his eyes as he gazed at the little feline. You could've sworn he looked so determined to keep the rascal. In that moment, your heart softened at the oddity of your dear menace.

"Okay, but for real, why did the cat remind you of me?"

Ugh, seriously. Stop with the questions. It's slightly pissing Taehoon off to the extent that he'd kick your ass (only lightly though, knowing full well that it'd rile you up anyway).

"Weak and helpless like you. Especially during training. At least sometimes. Most of the time."

If you expected a better answer than that, then prepare to be dissapointed. He's Taehoon Seong after all, you brought yourself into this.

"And in bed too-"

You send a series of aggressive smacks on his ass. His comment was a little uncalled for! Oh, come on, Taehoon!

"And cute. And cute! Stop it, bitch!"

He chuckled in amusement; those little hits would do little to no damage. And once you stopped, the both of you would look at the cat with another question in mind.

"What are you gonna name it?"

"Ratface."

"Disgusting. Let's go for it."

"Bitch, I was kidding."

"Hoon-ie Junior, then?"

"That's a shitty name."

"It stemmed from yours though-"

"Exactly."

"Meow~"

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Taehoon's naming skills were straight up shitty, and it was painfully obvious considering the ridiculous names he had come up with so far. Some were unnecessarily flamboyant, meant purely for sarcastic amusement, while others were downright horrendous. But let's face it, naming a cat after a character from Tekken would be a vast improvement compared to "Ratface." It had been ten fucking minutes, and neither you nor Taehoon had managed to think of a decent name yet.

"What about 'Hwoarang'?"

"Seriously? Haha, you're terrible at this."

You couldn't help but sneer at Taehoon, teasing him mercilessly as he futilely attempted to push your face away, only for you to playfully bring it even closer, peppering his face with kisses. Deep down, he wanted to do the same to you right now, but his entire focus was fixated on finding a proper name for the cat.

"Bitch, you're no better yourself,"

He retorted with a scoff, rolling his eyes in exasperation. I mean, who in their right mind would name something as sweet as this little feline "Tabasco"?

"Pocachip."

You suggested, realizing that both you and Taehoon were nowhere near finding a suitable name.

With a defeated sigh, Taehoon gave up, flopping down on the bed with the cat resting in his lap. It seemed better to leave the poor thing unnamed than to burden it with a ridiculous moniker. Naming could wait for now.

Ugh, if you ever considered having mini Taehoons then- whoops, too early for that.

But honestly, if you couldn't even come up with a name for a cat, how on earth would you manage to name your own children? Then again, it was too early to think about starting a family, and having kids wasn't currently an option on the table.

"I'll go out and buy some things for the cat."

Leaving again? You just got home. Not on your pretty boy's watch. Before you could make a move, Taehoon swiftly grabbed your wrist, his expression turning blank as he stared at you intently.

"I already took care of that."

He stated firmly.

This man was full of surprises. It was evident that he truly wanted to take care of the cat. Seeing Taehoon in this soft and caring state was unusual but endearing. If you got to witness this side of him every day, then you had no choice but to happily play the third wheel while he tended to the little kitten.

"You're really serious about this. Hah! I always knew you were a softy deep down~"

Bitch, you're teasing him so much. Stop poking his cheeks and shit, it's making him feel all giddy. He smacked your hand away, but you could have sworn to god you saw a faint pink tint on his usually pale complexion. Damn it, his fair skin made it difficult for him to hide the blush.

-

Minutes, hours then days pass by in a blur. Yet you and Taehoon are still no closer to giving the furball a decent name, not that the little stray needs one. The cat shall remain nameless for now, no big deal. Your life's still pretty much the same, at least a little.

Though there were times you felt a pang of jealousy creep over you as Taehoon would DELIBERATELY sweet talk the kitten just to get a reaction out of you. LOL! You have no idea how smug he feels whenever you pout or sulk in the corner of the room. He knows what he's doing, and once you caught on, he turned it down a little. Keyword: A little.

You thought caring for the adorable kitten while Taehoon was away for taekwondo practice would be easy-peasy-Taehoon-tease-me. But you were so wrong.

"Psspspspss kitty kitty!"

You call, desperately trying to gain the cat's affection. But to no avail. How does Taehoon make it look so effortless?

Every time you and Taehoon want some lovey-dovey time, that furry menace does everything to steal your man's attention. The lion, the witch, the audacity of this bitch. This goddamn motherfucker's gonna keep Taehoon all to itself.

"Cockblocker."

You sigh in frustration.

The furball has now wormed its way into your hearts. Yet giving it a name seems impossible. For now, the nameless stray shall remain…causing mischief and mayhem, one purr at a time.

"Hoon-ie, I have no idea how you get that little shit listen to you."

Other than Taehoon being the one to bring the cat home, is there really something else that would make the fluffball listen to him? Okay, he's intimidating, that's a plus. And it's the same reason as to why Hobin and Snapper would have to deal with his antics.

"My words are law."

"Not to me, they're not."

Taehoon chuckles. Oh, how could you be so stubborn? Accept the fact that this man will get anything he wants, no matter what sort of measures he'd take.

"I'm just better than you at everything else."

You gasped in mock offense, though deep down you knew that his statement was about 49.99% correct. But hey, at least you're better in making his heart pound of his chest. He gets all tingly and warm, ew, cringe. You make him feel so weak and you're not just better at it, you're the best.

"Huh? Wanna bet, pretty boy?!?"

Once you've started, know that you shouldn't back down. After all, you don't want to deal with Taehoon's teasing all week for such a petty argument.

"Alright, how about this - whoever can get the little shit to sit on their lap first wins."

Damn, this pretty boy loves you so much to the point he'll participate or even suggest bullshit.

"HAH! YOU'LL SEE."

You and Taehoon shoot challenging glances at each other as you call the cat, trying to lure it over with treats and toys. The furball pays you no heed and walks between the two of you, seemingly ignoring your bets and bickering.

"We really need a name for it."

And "Pocachip", "Tabasco", "Hoon-ie Jr." is not allowed. Taehoon starts to think whether or not you were hungry during thinking about those names. "Sh-"

"No."

#taehoon x reader #seong taehoon #viral hit #ptj universe #help idk what im doing #viral hit taehoon #how to fight taehoon #taehoon bb #seong taehun #seong taehoon x reader #taehun seong #doyouhave500won #taehoon seong #i wish there was only one way to spell his name I'm struggling

[holylulusworld]

Mount Asgard

Summary: You want to climb Mount Asgard.

Pairing: Thor Odinson x Short!Reader

Warnings: size kink, short reader, size difference, the reader takes what she wants, light smut, unprotected, fun

He does it again. 

Thor stretches his arms above his head, groaning deeply as he tries to get the kinks out of his back and shoulders.

You whimper, feeling your size kink kick in once again. Your eyes are glued to his wide back and broad shoulders as the blonde Asgardian god gives you a great show.

“Brother, can you just not,” Loki complains loudly as Thor takes off his shirt and carelessly drops it to the ground. “We are at the kitchen, Thor Odinson. Show a bit more…decency.”

“Little one, what do you think?” you feel your heart flutter and heat shoot straight to your core as Thor turns around to look at you. “Y/N?”

“What?” it’s a struggle to take your eyes off his chest and look Thor in the eyes. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I asked you if it’s alright for me to take my shirt off,” Thor asks. He watches you intensely, eyes glued to your face as you try not to give away you want to jump at him and lick the few droplets of sweat off of his chest. “Little one?”

“Yeah. I’m cool with it, really,” you hastily say. “If you want to take your pants off too, it’s fine too. We are all friends here.”

“What did you just say?” Loki huffs behind your back. “Last time I wanted to take off my shoes you complained!”

“You’ve got stinky feet, Loki,” you smirk as the raven-haired man almost looks offended at your insult. Almost. 

“Take that back,” he quirks a brow, ready to fight you. “I’m going to get my daggers out and make sure you’ll know your place, pet!”

“Brother, that is enough. You should go back to your training, or something,” Thor tries to calm his brother. “I’m sure Y/N didn’t mean it that way.”

“She sure did.”

“I sure did. He’s got stinky feet.”

“I’m going to kill you one day,” Loki snarls in your ear, “and make it look like an accident. Thor can’t always be around to protect your tiny body.”

“I’m not tiny, bastard.”

“Just tell this to yourself. My brother would never even look at you twice. You’re just a little ant to him.”

“I’m going to kick your bony ass one day,” you warn, making the trickster chuckle. “Or kill you.”

Three hours after the incident in the kitchen Thor sits on the couch in the communal room. He happily munches on a snack you handed to him.

“So what's your type,” you blur out. 

“Type? I don’t understand that reference, little one.”

“What do you like in a woman, Thor?” you step a little closer to the couch, eyes dropping to his spread thighs. God, his legs look so long and thick up close too. 

“I like…I don’t know. Jane was smart and caring. The others before her were warriors or you know…” he chuckles as you look at him with glassy eyes. “That’s a bad idea, little one. Your so petite and I’ll hurt you…in any way.”

“You won’t,” you whine as he gets up from his seat. “I can handle a big guy. I’m a big girl too, you know.”

“No, you won’t,” he towers over you. Your panties are already ruined when he cups your cheek to run his thumb over your skin. “You’re soft and sweet. Let’s not…”

“Like hell,” the giant yelps as you push him onto the sofa. Thor grunts, the sofa creeks under his weight, and you…well, you jump at him to crawl into his lap. “I wanna climb Mount Asgard tonight and you won’t stop me.”

“What?” he furrows his brows as you wiggle in his lap. It’s too late for him to stop you as you already freed his cook from his sweatpants. “Little one, no!” a deep guttural growl leaves Thor’s lips as you run your hand up and down his massive cock. “You are going to hurt yourself.”

“I can take you,” he watches you let go of his cock and get off the couch. Thor sighs, hoping you learned your lesson but to his surprise, you shimmy out of your panties. “Watch me.”

“Y/N…little one,” you are back on the couch before Thor can tug his cock back into his pants. You grip his shoulders, squeezing his flesh tightly as you angle your hips. “Just give up.”

“Put it inside,” you purr. “Come on, give me something. My tight little cunt will stretch for you, Thor…baby…” pressing your lips to his you smirk as he guides his cock to your entrance. “Yeah, that’s good.”

“Fuck, that’s only the tip,” he groans deeply as you grind against the tip. “It won’t fit, little one. I don’t want to…oh fuck me…” Thor curses loudly as you simply slam down onto his huge cock. “What? How?”

He stares at the spot where your bodies are connected, eyes widening in shock.

“Fuck, I knew that huge dildo would pay out,” you grin as you follow Thor’s eyes. “It was worth the money.”

“I-fuck you’re so tight around me. I shouldn’t…this is wrong,” he shudders as you start to rock your hips. “Y/N…little one.” You cup his face, and silence his protest with your lips. 

“I wanted to climb Mount Asgard, and I did. Now let me make sure you give me all of your cum to make my belly bulge. I want you to ruin my tight little cunt, Thor.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” you hiss as you end up underneath the giant. He presses you into the couch with his weight and gives you a few shallow thrusts. “Fuck, yes…please…”

“I hope you know after tonight; you are mine and ruined...”

Tags in reblog.

#Mount Asgard #thor odinson #thor odison x reader #size kink #thor odinson x short reader #short reader #thor odinson drabble #thor x reader

[mermaidmoose]

Inspired by @montyuh & @callsign-relic first contact AU oneshots - here’s the first fanfic I’ve written in literal years so uh, it’s a bit rough.

Soaring through the depths of space, far beyond the reach of man traveled a ginormous starship- the Lost Light. Measuring 15 miles long and 10 miles wide it was certainly spacious enough to comfortably accommodate a large crew … and one tiny new resident.

Back on Earth, you had signed up to be part of an expedition to an inhabitable planet far from home. In exchange for food, shelter, and the adventure of a lifetime you eagerly packed your bags and said your goodbyes to loved ones. The trip was supposed to take a few years total give or take. Nothing too strenuous.

To quote Murphy’s Law: “What can go wrong will go wrong”. The company responsible for creating the expedition’s starship had cut corners- lots of them. When the starship jumped into warp drive it shook so violently that your whole body was rattled and smashed into the ceiling of your capsule bed. You were lucky to get away with only severe bruising and a bloody tongue. Exiting the jump left the ship stranded, drifting aimlessly as everyone scrambled in the dark to collect themselves. With several of your more experienced crew-mates dead or injured, you and the few survivors chose to route the ship’s remaining power to fuel the escape pods to try to navigate back to Earth.

After a week of travel (according to your pod’s calendar) you were carefully navigating through an asteroid field when a large shadow fell over you. While you are grateful the giant-ass starship that appeared out of nowhere hadn’t obliterated you and your escape pod, you weren’t expecting to be kidnapped either. By giant alien robots no less! With a language barrier! And no sense of personal space or boundaries! Shit! You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the situation.

Well, you had tried quietly crying about it while wandering down one of the vast halls of the Lost Light, until a blue mechanical horror emerged from an adjacent hallway. To you, Whirl looked like something that had stepped out of a horror movie, with his gangly inhuman build, long neck, and large yellow optic that felt like it drilled right through you.

Whirl barely gives the fleshy creature a cursory glance, noting that it had stopped moving and making those weird noises. He hardly knew what all the fuss was about over such a small, fragile, stinky creature. One misstep and he’d be cleaning gunk out of his foot for several cycles. As he looked away and began ruminating on who he could heckle at Swerve’s a sound made his antennae twitch. It was the pitter-patter of tiny feet running away from him at a frantic yet pathetically slow speed.

Ok, so maybe he could gain some entertainment out of the thing at least. “Hey? Where you goin?” He drawls as he slowly follows after you. It was almost comical how slow he had to walk to not catch up right away. Did you really think those tiny legs could outrun him? “If you don’t pick up the pace I’ll pinch ya!” He leans forward and clacks his pincers menacingly at the empty air behind you.

You were scared shitless. Once Whirl started plodding after you, you contemplated if this was the end. Murdered or eaten by a metal alien monster and all because you wanted to explore beyond earth. ‘I wish I could go back in time and throttle myself’ you seethe as another pinch draws closer. ‘I wish I had never left home. I wish-‘ pre-death regret-thinking is cut to a halt by the appearance of a gap in the wall paneling. In an instant, all thoughts disappear as your body bursts forward with a surge of adrenaline. With a quickness neither of you were expecting, you squeeze yourself into the gap.

You heave a sigh of relief at your successful escape. Your victory is short lived however when Whirl’s optic comes into view and blasts you with what feels like the light of several hundred light bulbs. “Ow! Bastard!” you snarl. Without even thinking you blindly lash out and slap the offending optic. Whirl jerks back in slight surprise, not expecting to feel … whatever that was. Was that an attempt to fight back? Damn, this thing was pathetic. “Oh? Think you’re a tough guy? You’ll need to hit harder than that!” He jams one of his pincers into the gap above your head, trying to wiggle the wall panel open.

As Whirl is focused on the wall panel, you desperately squint around, looking for some means of escape. Thankfully, his loosening of the panel opened another gap on the opposite end. You make a break for it and rush out of the gap, not daring to look back. As you feel a rush of wind and the thrumming of danger (or is that the vibrations of something running?) a shout breaks through the chaos.

“Whirl! What do you think you’re doing!?” Before you can even register what’s happening a smaller, orange mech runs up and scoops you into his hands, holding you in a protective grasp. Though muffled you can still hear what you’re pretty sure is angry robot speak.

Rung rolls his optics at Whirl’s theatrics and sighs. “We’ll discuss this further at your next session. And don’t think this will go unreported- Ah, poor thing, you’re shaking” his attention is drawn back to you. The mech softly coos, gently running a finger along your back in soothing strokes. Truthfully at this point you’re shaking from a mix of adrenaline and relief, not fear. But you lean into Rung’s finger and note how much gentler he is compared to the other bots you’ve met so far. Orange eyebrows bot is now #1 in your book … whatever that means (god your brain is fried. you want a damn nap).

“Are you trying to kill the poor thing? Organics are much more fragile than us Whirl, even enough stress can kill them. Such as being chased by a giant mech! And don’t think I didn’t see you try to grab them!” Rung hardly raises his voice at others, but if Whirl is going to be a threat to the organic, he needs to intervene now.

“Tch! Relax eyebrows, we were just playing around. Y’know, bonding and all that slag. That’s what the captain said we were supposed to do right? Well,” He clicks his pincers. “This is how I bond. Bet we’re already besties! See?” Whirl stretches his neck out to get a closer look at you, but all you do is cower further into the orange mech.

Whirl lets out a dramatic gasp and places one servo over where his spark would be. “Did you see that doc? Rejected! Betrayed! I’m never gonna emotionally recover from this!”

“…It wasn’t that bad” the blue mech grumbles, somewhat affronted by Rung’s scolding and the weird itching at the back of his processor. “Whatever, I’ve got better things to do than hang with you two losers. Like getting drunk!” With that, the blue mech takes off with a cackle, leaving you and Rung in the dust to process everything.

‘I need to find my escape-pod as soon as possible, or else I’m gonna die here’ you morosely conclude.

#transformers #mtmte #mtmte whirl #mtmte rung #first contact au #I am so rusty at writing and it shows #the ghost of 12 year old me possessed current me and wrote this #maccadam

[s0lar-ch3ri]

spoilers for ep 107 but im a writer guys

Gillion had expected to have his head hurt a bit when a fountain was thrown at him. What he didn't expect was (from Chip's description) the same void Chip was in when fully petrified. The same darkness Chip felt coursing through his veins from La Alma's boss. The same kind of room as the world of the Pearl, or even the mirror he was in about an hour or so ago.

Jay had expected Gillion to be able to take a small hit. After all, he had a plan, and when it came to fighting, he was a tank for being hit. What she didn't expect was her invisibility spell to be used on a now dead target. Jay's eyes widened, being the only one who was in on Gillion's plan, as she heard the crunch of bones and triton blood too sticky to have been faked by magic illusions. No my friends, this was real. Gillion Tidestrider had died...for a bit.

That was until a special figure appeared in the sky. Those tiefling horns and ever so fancy outfit pissed Chip off so badly. What did that man want now? He just lost his friend for good, was about to be captured and put into enemy hands, and now him? Chip didn't even need anything more to know this was Niklaus Hendrix.

"Well, you Riptide Pirates seem to have quite big adventures." Niklaus had landed and was standing by the rubble. He stood inspecting it. "Yep, he's really died. I didn't think he'd be that easily knocked over, but I guess one of you 3 got lucky." The 3 creatures seemed tense at his sudden arrival.

The chaingel (Chip came up with it himself, so clever) spoke up quickly after the comment. "And who might you be? A child of God too?" (Chip will never get over that he got bible baited).

"Ah, the name's Niklaus, or the Wish Doctor. Desire Daddy works too," he winked at Chip for that one (The fuck kind of fruity tension did these two devolpe? Jay will not understand men's allure to her stinky bastard co-captain). "And I am here because of a special deal I have with the Chosen One here."

"Chosen One?" the minotaur called out (Chip was daming it to hell for what he's done to Gillion).

"He didn't yell out his titles at you? Well, that's a first." He talked, still smirking as he picked up Gillion's body from the rubble.

"What are you going to do to G- our captain, LA-LA?" Queen called out. As Chip looked behind him, Gryffon was getting ready to blast the fucker to bits (that's how he would have said, Chip just knows it).

"Calm down Queen, all of you. Consider this a free favor from me, as a gift for doing what I've asked, and because I still have a plan for you 3." As they all watched, Gillion seemed to have a small glow to him (Jay swore she saw him get remoisted) and soon enough, he was coughing for air.

"Owie."

#yes i referenced this one art thing i saw #it was titlted smth like #what (hopefully) would have happened if they were too late #in reference to ep 99 where gill almost died (or it could have been around ep 98 im bad with memory) #its so silly ik #anyways #i dont have a tag for me writing on tumblr so we just gonna put it in #the rambler. #i also got a theory i wanna write but homework i have to write #the duality of man #<- is am man #dnd jrwi #jrwishow #jrwi podcast #jrwi #jrwi show #jrwi riptide #just roll with it #jrwi spoilers #jrwi gillion #gillion tidestrider #tw: death #tw character death #okie bye ill make me some tags later #the bright smoothie of words #jerwee supreme

[onebluebookworm]

Should You Fight Them? - Jane Austen Romantic Runner-Up Edition

Companion piece to this post. Because I still think I'm funny, even with this horribly outdated meme format.

John Willoughby: Even if you don't take into account the lying, the two-timing, the manipulation, the abandoning of a pregnant teenager, and the fact he's a whiny toddler man who could have solved most of his problems by not being a gold-digging shit, he still seems utterly insufferable to be around. Fuck this little bastard up.

George Wickham: It's honestly hard for me to choose who between him and Willoughby I hate more, but at least Wickham has the smarts to realize when he's fucked up with one Bennett sister and move on to the other. Still a stinky garbage boy who belongs in the toilet. I would say fight him, but let's be real here, Darcy would beat you to it.

William Collins: Yes, we all know he's insufferable and pompous and boorish, but I honestly can't bring myself to hate him all that much. I don't know, maybe it's the BBC miniseries clouding my judgement, but he also has this wet beast (derogatory) vibe about him that makes him kinda pathetic. Don't fight, but you could like...I dunno, maybe trip him?

Henry Crawford: Henry, I wanna root for you, pal. You're a lot like Willoughby, where if you just stop being a philandering little doofus and actual focus on being a good person, you would actually be really fun to be around and potentially even husband material. Don't fight, but definitely shame him over the fact he could be so much better than he is. You're not mad, just disappointed.

Philip Elton: I know he was never in Emma's league to begin with, but I can't not put him on here, simply because he's just the worst. An absolute feeb and a loser. He and Mr. Collins would be friends if either of them were capable of being likeable. Absolutely fight, and maybe take on his wife while you're at it.

Frank Churchill: My dude. My guy. My sweet little meow meow. Please just tell people things. At least let one person into your confidence about this whole "secret engagement with Jane" thing. Please, bro. You're decimating the vibes, bro. Look at your girl, Frank. She's got anxiety, Frank. Fight, if only to knock some sense into his idiot head.

John Thorpe: John wants to be a Willoughy or a Wickham so bad. Just so clever and cunning that he breaks a bunch of hearts before landing himself a wife that will give him all of the money. Unfortunately for him, he's just...not that smart. I'm not saying Willoughby or Wickham are necessarily smart, but they at least get their plans off the ground. John doesn't even get his foot in the door. He figures out Catherine doesn't have any money and panics. You could fight him, but I honestly think this poor dunce has suffered enough.

William Elliot: Remember how I said Frank ruined the vibe? William Elliot does that too, but on purpose. Just an absolutely rancid man. Fight him and show no mercy.

James Benwick: He's just a little guy. A little fella. A little creecher. He doesn't even have any proper dialogue throughout the whole book. You're gonna fight a little creecher who doesn't even say anything? A little birthday boy? You'd fight him?

#book humor #sense and sensibility #pride and prejudice #mansfield park #emma #northanger abbey #persuasion #jane austen

[blackberrywars]

I just realised I wasn't following you yet? Which is honestly a crime. For your Witcher ficlets, I'd love to see some grandpa Vesemir bonding time with Ciri as a child. Just a lot of fluff, preferably modern where Vesemir gets to spend an afternoon alone with her

Hi hello sorry for the delay and thank you for this prompt!! It's very cute, and the fluff was a nice treat.

Title: Grampa's House

Rating: G Words: 1,945 Relationships: Vesemir & Ciri, Background Vesemir/Guxart, Background Yennefer/Geralt Additional Tags: Family Bonding, Fluff, Young Ciri, Grandparents & Grandchildren, The Magic of Your Grandparents' House

Summary: Vesemir struggles to figure out what to do while watching his five year-old granddaughter for the weekend because he’s an old-ass man with old-ass man hobbies, like bird-watching, whittling, gardening, and making coffee on the stove because who needs a fancy machine anyway? Turns out, she’s happy to do all those things with her grampa.

AO3 LINK

——————————————————————————————

When his idiot son drops his squealing granddaughter onto his porch, not even Yennefer can hide a sheepish grin. “Business trip,” his bony ass. He can smell a swinger’s party from here. Still, their hesitation doesn’t stop Ciri from running toward him and wrapping her skinny, freckled arms around his thighs.

“GRAMPA!!”

She hits him with the force of a gale wind, and Vesemir can’t help but run a hand through her hair. Whiter than his, but not quite so pale as Geralt’s. Before that thought overwhelms him, he takes both a deep breath and her little, inexplicably sticky hand. She proudly shows him her missing incisor as she yells hello, and she’s so much bigger now, but even still, the straps of her tiny backpack barely fit over his elbow. Her wolf plush toy has a dark stain that might just explain the state of her fingers, but he holds them anyway for the goodbye kisses and hugs. Yennefer gives him a less-stiff hug than usual, and Geralt shoots him a wry smile over her shoulder, nodding in what he probably thinks is encouragement. Vesemir just shakes his head. The pair of them slide back into the ever-beloved shitbox, Roach. Which leaves him with a five year-old granddaughter.

He’s raised several boys over the years in the Wolfe home, all of them hellions in their own special ways. Half of his grey hairs have nothing to do with his age.

That was nearly twenty years and two knee surgeries ago.

Guxart had told him in the morning that he’d do just fine, but that was just before the bastard had blown him a kiss from the driveway and sped off, off to his own weekend away. It was right about then that he realized he has no idea what little girls like to do. Ciri has only been with his son for two years, and they’d got along well, but he’s never watched her for more than a few hours. She’d been littler then. What can he offer her, now that he is old and his own boys are grown, most of their favorite toys destroyed, given away, or lost? When he was younger, this might have been easier. He had more energy then, enough to chase and tumble after a tot without fearing his worse knee would give out.

Cleaning her up is probably a good place to start.

That decided, Vesemir finds an old stepstool and guides her onto it, making sure she washes her hands. He takes some dish soap to Mr. Wolf, who is much fluffier, but just about as gray and scruffy as himself. All the while, Ciri tells him about her life.

“At recess, we play Lions and Ant-lopes! I run really fast! I like taking my shoes off, but Mama gets mad when that happens.”

“Oh? And why is that, lass?”

“It gets my socks dirty. An’ stinky. And —kitty!”

She points to the edge of his windowsill, just behind where the dish soap had been, to a tiny wooden cat figurine. The chubby little creature had been yesterday’s work, hidden in its little nook where his partner would never find it, because the bastard hates washing plates more than anything else. Vesemir chuckles.

“Hm? Oh, yes, for Guxart. It needs some work, but it’s almost done now.”

“You made that?” she asks, eyes wide as dinner plates, “How?”

“Well, if you’re interested…… I suppose I can show you.”

“YES!” she balks a bit, smiling sheepishly, “…please?”

Vesemir spends the next two hours answering that please. He gives Ciri a full tour of the garage-turned-woodworking-shed. Explains to her the difference between his chisels —paring, mortise, tang, that fancy one Eskel bought him that he still doesn’t know the name of— and almost starts in on the mallets before he stops, with no small amount of trepidation. The poor lass must be bored to tears. He braves a look down at her face and finds wide blue eyes and pursed lips. One of his larger chisels is polished enough to show her reflection, shining with curiosity. As deftly as he can, he pulls the little cat out of his pocket, holding it out to her.

“As for this little beast… are you listening?” Vesemir tweaks a pale curl, just to hear her giggle (and to distract from the chisels because she probably shouldn’t touch those until she’s at least eight or so), “What he needs is to be sanded down and polished so he’s shiny.”

“Howdja do that?”

“Sandpaper. The grains smooth out the rough bits. Here. Feel it.”

He fans out his collection, arranged from 40 to 180 grit, and lets her pet each one. He doesn’t worry for her soft skin even though she winces at the roughness because she quickly reaches for the next one. She picks out the 120 grit sandpaper —a bit too fine for this, but he allows it— and lets him show her how to gently smooth out the figurine. Her fingers are still small and clumsy, but she dutifully keeps to the direction of the grain, and the cat feels even softer than her little hands once they’re through. She paints it with a sponge brush and his own polish, a mixture of olive oil and lemon juice, gasping as the red bubinga wood reveals all its colorful stripes. Again, it receives pride of place on the windowsill.

“So…” Ciri asks, somehow even more excited than before, “whad’we do now?”

She’d liked his workshop, dusty and turpentine-smelling though it is.

“Hmm. Why don’t we go outside? I have some birdhouses I made there.”

— — — — —

Ciri squeals over the birdhouses, especially the dark purple one that “looks like Mama!” but the real noise comes when the painted bunting couple —unusually late in the season, spirits bless them— pops out of it. The little husband’s rainbow coat is vibrant as always, and while Vesemir scolds Ciri for trying to chase him, he can’t blame her for wanting to pet his colorful feathers. She agrees, thankfully, apologizing to the ruffled pair. Vesemir settles into the rocking chair he made, and once she finishes cooing at the green little wife, Ciri leaves Guxart’s alone in favor of his lap, and they sit to watch the birds until his hips start creaking.

His garden provokes similar wonder. Vesemir points out each plant and all the weeds that had sprung up in between the rows, which she happily plucks. Ciri categorizes his herbs by smell and taste, ranks sage as her favorite, and eats a little bit of dirt as a control group. He nods approvingly, because little immune systems need help, and then offers some dandelion roots instead, since they still have dirt on them and are more nutritionally useful. Maybe tomorrow they can take a walk and he’ll teach her how to forage properly. It’s good knowledge, especially for a tot. If her stomach is anything like the bottomless pit that was Lambert’s, she should know what will be delicious and what could make her sick, spirits forbid.

By the end of the afternoon, his knees are dirty and sore, and he desperately needs a coffee. Sunshine and sweat have tired Ciri out, but she’ll be up again before long, which he’d need more than a little artificial energy to survive. Quickly, he herds Ciri back inside and into the bath with as little contamination as possible. Once his sleeves are soaked to the armpits, he sets her into a chair with two pillows stacked atop it and heads over to his wood stove. The greca is an old, battered thing now, but it still makes his brew as sweet and strong as it did the day Guxart brought it home. As soon as it’s full, he pours himself a mug and turns back to the table.

“Do you want some?”

Ciri wrinkles her nose, “Coffee tastes icky.”

“That is why your abuelo uses lots of milk and sugar.”

He adds both into her sippy cup to fix what Guxart calls a tetero and puts a suspirito on the plate beside it. Then gives her another three because he’s a grandfather, and it’s his job. They eat in mostly-silence, aside from the gummy sound of her chewing the cookies through her first missing tooth, and the clink of his own mug on the table. Ciri finishes her cup with an exaggerated ah! and he can’t help but smile.

“You liked it, lass?”

“Mmhm! I din’t even taste the coffee.”

Which is usually exactly what Vesemir says to Guxart when he’s making fun of him, but it’s hard to argue with this kind of sincerity. Especially not when she tips her mostly empty cup back again, trying to get the last few drops between the gap in her teeth.

“Grampa, can we watch a movie now? Do yours have color in them?”

His knees cheer for joy even as his eyebrows quirk of their own will, which might just prove her point, along with the fact that he barely had any movies at all. Thank the spirits Geralt had given him a DVD along with her overnight bag. He remembers the fat, seal-like creature on the cover.

“Yes, we can watch a movie. How do you feel about Neighbor Toto?”

“Grampa!!” Ciri bursts out laughing, knocking over her sippy cup, “Nooooo, it’s My Neighbor Totoro!”

“My Neighbor Tot-ro, then.”

“Noooooooo! To-to-ro!”

He smiles and takes their dishes to the sink, letting her pester him until he finally says it right. She nods imperiously, and he can’t help but ruffle her white-blonde hair. She’s more or less a quiet presence beside him as he cleans the greca, right until he pulls out his jar of popcorn kernels. Apparently, those are supposed to come in a brown paper bag, and they get cooked in a microwave. Vesemir owns neither.

“Well, lass. This way is more fun —watch, now.”

For once, he’s glad for the new glass lids Guxart bought, since they let Ciri ooh and ahh and the popcorn exploding with butter (and a little bit of brown sugar). It’s easy enough work to herd her onto his admittedly-ancient couch. Less so when he has to remember how to play movies.

“Spirits, how does this damn thing work again?” he grumbles, unsuccessfully starting to put the brick through the slot, and then pivots back to Ciri, with her wide blue eyes and perked up ears, “Don’t repeat that.”

“Why not? Papa says bad words all the time.”

“Yes, well I tried my best with him. You’ll have to be better.”

“Aw damn.”

He barely restrains a laugh, settling for a cough as he retrieves the ever-so-slightly burnt popcorn. The movie is made slightly grainy by the TV he hasn’t changed in twenty years, but it plays nonetheless, and he can understand Ciri’s defense of it. She’s utterly enraptured, practically bouncing in her seat before she settles in beside him. He wonders if he could carve a Totoro before Ciri has to leave. By the time he hears Ciri go quiet beside him, he’s fully planned out the size and polish he’s going to use, but should he paint it? It’s never been his strength, but he should try, at least. A gentle snore interrupts his thoughts, and the weight against his side grows heavier. Ciri is fast asleep against his arm, drooling ever so slightly from the gap in her teeth. He’ll have to wake her for dinner and clean the (yet again) sticky child, but he can let her sleep until the credits roll. He yawns.

She can help him paint the Totoro on her next visit.

——————————————————————————————

Well that was some tooth-rotting fluff, and I enjoyed every second of it. I tried my best to keep the story in line with Vesemir's gruff disposition, but softened for the modern era and prompt. Ciri gets to be baby, and an utterly curious delight.

greca: a stovetop mokapot, popular throughout Latin America abuelo: grandfather tetero: baby bottle/Venezuelan term for coffee made with lots of milk and sugar, usually given to children or used to mock people who drink coffee this way suspirito: a small, bite-sized meringue cookie

Taglist: @karolincki, @hellinglasses, @girls-and-honey, @halehathnofury, @the-butch-of-blaviken, @keirametzbrassknuckles, @t4tlambert, @alllthequeenshorses, @round--robin, @on-a-lucky-tide (if anyone wants to be added/removed, pm me and I'll have it done no problem)

#berry's fics #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #vesemir #ciri #guxart x vesemir

[galeforged]

{ ooc } So I spent most of yesterday playing the Three Hopes demo and now that I’m presumably almost finished with it, my gOD I’m already frothing at the mouth over all this new lore and world-building. While it’s not the complete story just yet, I think I’m confident enough to start building on Forwin’s Three Hopes verse(s) so I’ll be sharing some notes and impressions under the cut!

FTR, I’m going to stick to Scarlet Blaze and save my Azure Gleam and Golden Wildfire play-throughs for when the full game drops. Only real reason for that is the demo for just one campaign is already several hours long, so if I’m to do so two more times... I would want to have the added renown points for previous game completion at my back come that point lmao-

ANYWHO FIRST THOUGHTS YOU’VE BEEN WARNED FOR SPOILERS LET’S GO:

So Shez is a complete unmitigated disaster child at the start of the game and I love that for him so much. That Arval went and actually kept count of how often he almost died makes for excellent sass material. “I’ll jump off a cliff to get tougher!” AND HE YEETED HIMSELF THREE TIMES-???????? UM?????????????????????????

Also veeeeeery curious to see what you and Agarthans have in common there buddy-

I went with f!Byleth as the antagonist this time around and uh. Mommy.

Man the prologue really did just speed-run through the Academy Phase, huh-

MONICA IT IS SO GOOD TO FINALLY MEET YOU AND SPARE YOU FROM A TERRIBLE FATE OF GETTING KRONYA’D—and my goodness does she have an obvious hard crush on Edelgard and want to be praised by her while butting heads with Hubert all the while. I LOVE her timeskip look and can’t wait to see all her supports at length (especially the A ones with Shez, Hubert, Edelgard, and Dorothea I think so far, so sapphic-leaning bi-game strong if Three Hopes allows for Three Houses-style paired endings?). And Minor Crest of Macuil confirmed! Verdict? She is cute. She is so very cute. You’re doing amazing sweetie- (also “never forgets a face” huh? HMMM-)

DADS. DADS EVERYWHERE. I CAN’T HOLD ALL THESE DADS?! Leopold von Bergliez! Waldemar von Hevring!! They both look so good and I am living for their constant ribbing at one another!!! Oh and there’s Grégoire von Varley too I guess. Gross. Disgusting. Stinky bastard man. You do not deserve good things in life (CHIEFLY BERNADETTA) and I hope those assassination attempts mean you will never enjoy another good night’s sleep ever again. As Hubert said, it couldn’t have happened to a better man.

Okay but dad-rants aside I am very curious to see how Edelgard will fare with TWSITD coming for her while warring against the Church. That she managed to wreck their plans and bare her fangs against them this early compared to Three Houses—all because she and the other house leaders encountered Shez in the woods instead of Byleth—has me excited for what’s to come! FINALLY we’ll get to see the fights that were just TL;DR’d in Crimson Flower’s ending!!!

WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES—okay Abyss was just prominently mentioned towards the end but it sounds like the Ashen Wolves really just stayed disconnected from the prologue and kept to themselves? And now the Church is calling on them to bolster their own forces come the Empire knocking at their door... but evidence suggests they’ll be recruitable mid-battle. Good. Good.

As for Duke Gerth... it doesn’t seem like they’ll build upon him more than what little they’ve done for Three Houses, since technically speaking he was already introduced there and only got a passing mention from his fellow nobles here. EXCELLENT NEWS FORWIN, WE’RE STILL SAFE. I CAN WORK WITH THIS!

#{ ☁️ winds at rest beyond the sky ☁️ ooc ☁️ } #{ ooc: zeph plays three hopes and is lOVING IT- } #{ be warned - thar be spoilers }

[inflagrante-delicatessen]

i love him ur honor

him: absolute rat bastard stinky bastard man

#pst #txt #hole boy and the archive crab #elias Bouchard more like eliar bitchard amirite #i just needed to make a post about absolute rat bastards and the stinky bastard man snuck in there #and theres only one stinky bastard man for me uwu #helen is neither cuz she has never stooped low enough to get herself messy #unlike SOME entities #anyways id say those two are my 'love to hate top 2' but no everyone is an asshole #except sasha and the admiral

[grimgrinnr]

)LET THE NEGLECTED SCREAM(

@xdeerxhealerx​ said: “Hello there!”

“ Tell me. ”

The figure comes lumbering forwards, metallic clicks, scrapping, and winding noises coming from its joints as it moved in such an unnatural way. The way the creature moved, and the way its voice sounded, were so unnatural. It was human-like but more force, more effort, had to be put into even the littlest thing.

And yet, it still seemed as though someone could easily believe it was just someone inside of a big cumbersome suit. He was much more than a man in a suit now.

“ What do you believe in? ”

His eyes glowed like the eyes of a predator animal when light is shown in them. The lumbering of his body continued as he simply approached, a horrible stench that smelt of a mixture of rotting flesh and old dirty fabrics coming from his body.

“ I believe in ghosts. ”

His hands went up to the sides of his forehead and he began to push up, causing his upper jaw to unhinge and open wider and wider. Exposing the rotting flesh of a face, a head, who’s skin and meat and tendons and veins have been reduced to some sort of leathery substance that stuck to the bone and metal inside of the hallow animatronic’s skeleton.

“ I think you should too. ”

#text post #ask #Let Me Call in a Favor (ask memes) #xdeerxhealerx #fnaf // #(i used to have a fnaf multi muse blog way back when) #(fnaf vr hadn't even come out yet) #(don't even think the trailer had come out yet) #(but like) #(it never took off and i lost the muse for like) #(most of them) #(but MAN) #(writing this reminded me of how much i miss my stinky bunny bastard Springtrap) #(ya'll might get to see ALL of the fnaf muses on that multi blog if enough of these are sent in lol)

[dawndelion-winery]

Worlds Apart

SAGAU! Joining your team<3

Ft. Diluc, Kaeya, Dainsleif, Childe, Zhongli, Scaramouche

Diluc:

Look at you, dragging the winery master around Teyvat to complete quests and commissions

If it were anyone else, he'd probably excuse himself, preferring not to get involved

But since it was you asking,,,,

He doesn't regret taking that leap of faith on your standard banner, his face almost flushing when he heard your excitement at getting him on your team

"I'll take good care of everything, traveller," he promised softly, knowing you'd never hear him anyway.

Does he ever not crit? He tries his best, hoping it'll be enough for you to keep your eyes on him and not bench him for a limited five-star

One of the most reliable mains you could get and honestly? He's the designated responsible adult of your team

Even his non-crits have hella sexy numbers, doing those big digits to bring home the bread for you<3

You see that lil wink every time he ults?

Yeah, he's just proud you're relying on him to carry the team (pls don't bench him) Mans will incinerate all the enemy mobs if that's what you want from him

Kaeya:

One of the first on your team, he was a little worried you might get bored of him

Which may or may not have led to him sending his constellations your way on the standard banner

He's honoured you still want him around and does well to show all your other characters that he's earned his spot on your main team

A little reckless, but that's the fun of it, he always settles the problems he starts anyway

Anything to remind you just how useful he is to you

Every time he calls you a slacker he chuckles as you get frustrated with him knowing you can't hit him

Which is another reason why he sent his cons your way - so he'd have a shield for when you made him stand in fire out of spite

Dainsleif:

He's been waiting ages

Watching you gather characters, warmly welcoming each one, he could only watch from the sidelines waiting for the day it was his turn

He knows he has lots of competition with the many characters in your archive, but he's not quite as excitable as Diluc when it comes to impressing you

He gets the job done, and the longer you keep him on your team, you just might start to see a teeny little smile on his face when he's idle for too long

He likes remembering your reaction to pulling him

That's not to say he doesn't want you to be impressed with him

Let's just say that if he ever feels his position in your team is threatened,,,he just might have to vent those worries on the mobs you fight AND remind you just why he's your DPS once again

Childe:

Awful bastard, comes home shockingly early when you're pulling for a four star on his banner and now you're stuck with a ginger

He's so smug about it too

Which he really shouldn't be since he never crits

But then his non-crit numbers are pretty decent, so you figured it couldn't hurt to keep him around

WRONG

Awful, awful stinky gremlin, he annoys your entire team by bragging about how much you love him

You can't even be mad because it's not like your pity was high enough for him to ruin anything

You benched him once and suddenly it turns out he knows how to crit the next time you give him a chance

That's right, asshole, you'd better crit

Zhongli:

Your team is in safe hands once he comes home

*slaps jade shield* This bad boy can take so many hits

He never shuts up with his idle lines, but really, he just wants to talk to you

It's a mere misfortune that he can't speak his mind with you, being left with programmed words he can only repeat

But he'll take what he can get with you

He was ruthless during the archon war, and even now that he's mellowed out for the most part, well, that gentleness only extends to you and your team

But mainly you tho

It might have something to do with how he made you go broke pulling for him and ascending him but hey, it's a pretty fair trade, right?

Scaramouche:

Terrible. Just straight up refuses to come home.

We're talking maximum pity. 180 pulls and even then you weren't sure he was coming home simply because he's that stubborn

He's such an ass like that but at the same time, once you've hauled his obstinate ass home, he's such a good unit

He's surprisingly versatile, then again that could just be because he's that petty that he just has to be your best character

He will do bigger numbers than your DPS and then bully said DPS to tears for not doing their job well enough

"What does the traveller even see in you to make you the DPS, huh?"

Please have an emotional support character in the team or Scara will emotionally destroy them all

He does a good job though, acknowledging your effort in bringing him home, so he'll make sure you get his signature weapon in your first ten pulls as a little thank you

Also as an incentive for you to build him better

Taglist[send an ask to be added]: @myluvkeiji @pluvioseprince @altair-ation @teyvattherapist @euphoric-author @paradise-creator @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @serenenation @loverofthe-stars @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @howlantic @codename-hiraeth @andreiling01 @callmemeelah @stunningstratagem @yuezhong

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc #kaeya #dainsleif #childe #zhongli #scaramouche #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #dainsleif x reader #zhongli x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin diluc #genshin kaeya #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #genshin zhongli #genshin scaramouche #genshin dainsleif #winery specials #sagau

[anenbylittlepotato]

MC introducing roasting the bros to new exchange students

Side dateables here

"The scary looking guy there is Lucifer. He seems like a dick at first, and you will eventually learn, that he is, actually, a dick. He hasn't really stopped. But he's got enough moments of being nice and soft that he gets a pass I guess. He's also fucking gorgeous so I think it's excusable. But, just a heads up, don't piss him off and almost get killed by him twice as I did. I almost died. It was terrifying. And also hot. But mostly terrifying. Also, he acts like every fatherly figure that's ever been in my life! Emotionally absent, makes shit up to accuse me of, reacts to things with violence, prioritizes how I make him look over my mental well-being, and lectures me for three hours over something small! Hooray!"

"The guy over there that looks like the biggest fuckboy ever is Mammon. He is the CEO of getting bullied. He also might try to steal your wallet, but luckily he's a fucking dumbass, so he'll probably fail. Probably. He always gets in trouble because he has literally no impulse control, which is honestly a mood. He can't keep his mouth shut for the life of him, and it always makes Lucifer very angry. But at least he won't try to kill you, unlike some people. He might threaten you but he most likely won't follow through with it. Actually... I don't think I've ever seen Mammon get angry enough to hurt anyone... I... Huh... Wow... Anyway, he's also simultaneously incredibly clingy while also being the biggest tsundere ever. Which makes no sense but okay."

"The guy that's sulking over there with his Ruri-chan phone case is Leviathan. Honestly, you'll probably only ever see him at meals because he pretty much never leaves his room. Unless his limited edition Ruri-chan body pillow just came in. Then expect to hear him screaming as he rushes across the entire house faster than you'll ever see him move otherwise. And then he'll be panting and wheezing as he walks back to his room because that boy is out of SHAPE. He's also the biggest weeb ever if you couldn't tell. Biggest anime nerd ever. Seriously, he has an unhealthy obsession. He needs to go outside and touch some grass or sumn like fr. He also makes a great gaming buddy. Unless you're playing PvP and aim to win. But otherwise, great gaming buddy, we play Genshin Impact together a lot."

"The guy watching cats videos over there is Satan. He may look like a chill guy, but that's just what he wants you to think. He's actually a ticking time bomb and the pure, unbridled rage that hides beneath his facade could bubble over if you so much as look at a cat the wrong way. However, if you are a cat - or any animal, really, but specifically cats - he will love you unconditionally. He's also very big-brained. The biggest brain. If there's literally anything you need to know, just ask him. He'd be happy to show off how much better than Lucifer he is. He's also the living embodiment of daddy issues and teenage rebellion. He's probably unironically said, 'It's not a PHASE!'"

"The pretty boy taking selfies and putting on makeup over there is Asmodeus. That man is whore KNEE, like DAMN. That man would flirt with anything that moves tbh. He's also the living embodiment of 'Gotta look cute so they forget you don't know basic math.' He's a little creepy because he's not against incest and that's a little icky. But hey, if you want a [REDACTED] then he's your guy, I guess. He's also got all the tea because he is a gossip QUEEN. And he's practically obsessed with himself. He needs to go outside and touch some grass too. 😔"

"The guy over there that's knawing on a vintage candle is Beelzebub. Uh, can someone get that candle away from him??? I don't think he should be eating that. Oh, thanks Belphie. ANYway, now that that's over uhh, as can see, he really likes to eat. A little too much. He eats everything in the fridge on a regular basis 😔. But like, he's literally the bestest boy??? He may be a demon, but he's just so sweet and soft-hearted, and caring??? Like bro??? I would literally die for him??? Unless you eat his food, then he'll kill you. Instant death. One hit KO. But otherwise, he's basically a giant teddy bear. Big wholesome boy, too pure for this world."

"The My Chemical Romance lookin fucker over there is Belphegor. Don't let him out of the attic..................................... Anyway, he is an evil gremlin man. Horrible goblin man. Stinky bastard man. He bullies me >:( Also, little known fact, but he is actually not a demon but, in fact, a cow. Cowboy. Also, he does not know how to function as a person, and, instead, opts to sleep for 17 hours a day which... Fair enough with this family. Just don't fuck with Beel or he'll kill you. And so will I >:( Also, don't fuck with him either or Beel will kill you. Those two are basically two peas in a pod. The literal only way they could be closer is if they were Siamese twins."

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me shitpost #obey me belphegor #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me belphie #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me headcanons #obey me writing #obey me shitposts

[lucysarah-c]

Treats

This is a little spin-off, nothing serious. Like almost all the other spin-offs, you can understand them without context but they are better with it.

Warning: implied sex, sexual topics and strong language ('cause Levi)

Summary: Levi understands why Kenny liked what he liked, perhaps like father like son? (he's not his father, I'm aware. It's just a way of saying it)

Kenny’s advice were like learning how to read for others. You simply can’t forget them. He taught me everything that I know, or most of it, at least. I wish I remembered more of what my mother taught me, but it’s been so long that at this rate it’s probably like some pure intuitive shit, like how to clean your ass, than something I could remember learning. I thought I had squished every single drop of knowledge that Kenny had left behind in my brain until one last lesson appeared, even when it had been over 10 years since he abandoned me to my own luck.

It was still fresh in my memory, staying closed up in that one room dirty flat, with cracking walls and humidity stains everywhere. Waiting for him when it wasn’t safe for me to go out on my own just yet. I may have been around eight to nine years old, Kenny’s age standards to leave me alone for days with some money to do chores but the rules were clear, when the working hours of the underground started (around 9 pm), back to that shit hole that smelled like piss. Days would go by with knives and technique practices, muddy bread that I could cut the greenish edges off, milk that wasn’t actually fresh and some lucky times cheese. I regularly waited for that door to open up to reveal his towering figure, show him how much I had advanced. Just for that dirty old man appeared completely wasted and in a shitty mood. To all that fucking monotony there was one more thing to join, Kenny’s obsession to ramble about Capital city’s girls. Not any other chick, those spoiled Sheena’s wall brats. Over and over again.

“Those little shits, they think they can trick me, ‘ya know” There he went again, shit faced while he took his stinky leather boots off and lay on the bed. “Those little witches”

‘So, that’s where you were,’ I thought. The asshole would leave for weeks, making me wonder if he had gone for real. Floating on some river or leaving me on my own. I wanted to complain that he left too little money and I was starving, but nothing good would come out of busting his balls. Kenny was like that, better than be completely left to die in that room but far from being a security figure to attach yourself to. He was going to leave at any moment, but I lied to myself that if I did well enough; if I made him prideful enough, I would make him stay.

“Capital girls, those little shits. They’re the fucking devil, spawns of hell and are going to be my fucking death” Again, that was the topic. “They call your name with that fucking accent of them and make you feel like a king on a throne when they suck the leaving shit out of you. They act all sweet, the well-raised bastards, then they fuck you in those expensive apartments that daddy brought for them or on those manors that their stupid ill-breed husbands buy to keep those witches away”

Back then I’d never seen a manor, less a Sheena’s wall flat, so I just used my imagination. Those weren’t topics for a brat, but Kenny didn’t mind it. I saw worse shit on the streets every day.

Kenny chuckled at his drunkenness as I saw him from the frame of the door, not trying to interfere and get him angry. “What would a rat like you know? Fuck them, their skin is so fucking soft and pumped from those milk baths that they take and all the shit they put on top.”

‘Milk baths? they take baths on milk? Is that a real thing?’ It only made me hungry to think about it, but not the type of hunger that Kenny seemed to be on. The actual meaning of the word.

“They wear this lace handmade sets that it looks you’re unwrapping a present and what a fucking tight present” Another chuckle “I bet it’s because their sick old husbands can’t even get it hard”

I couldn’t even say how many shitty times I heard that bullshit, with different variations. Unlike other women that Kenny brought from time to time, who were kicked out quickly after they were done. Those Mitra’s girls were like some sort of tale-tell; they were never physically seen, but they existed… I fucking guess, unless he made all that shit up. When I turned older, I got it. The royal highnesses never went down from their high-asses to bless us, the street rats, with their fucking presence. The women that I saw and fucking heard weren’t pampered little shits who thought the world owed them a favour. Only once, perhaps a couple of months before Kenny left for real this time, I saw one of those. In the underground, we call them untouchable.

“Oi, do you see that rat” Kenny grabbed my face and forcefully direct it in a specific direction. "That’s a shit you should never do, it’s like blowing up your fucking brains”

It was some gang dragging around a little girl with some sort of uniform. I frowned in confusion before looking up at him as much as my eyes allowed me while he kept my face still.

“That’s a brat from the chick’s Mitra’s school. The place where nobles keep their candies” I guessed that with candies he meant the girls. “Those assholes are fucking doomed. Nobles solve their shit under’ desks, but they don’t forgive the stupid mortals who messed up with their property”

Turn out, I learned that lesson way too late and I should have kept it in mind. Even with all those Farlan’s plans, I should have refused. Messing up with wealthy well-raised bastards never ends up good for us, for the street rats like me. Going back to the fucking point, Kenny had a kink, or better said, plenty of them. But one that he was most vocal about was his fetish with Mitra’s Girls.

In my mind, it has always been the most stupid shit ever. It was just chicks, wealthy or not. I hated to admit it; they say that with age comes wisdom and if there was something that old fucker knew about was cunts. I had to swallow my words when she came around. I understood a bunch of shit that Kenny rambled about, why they called them candies, for example. Because I felt like delivering a dessert when she wore that stupid greyish sort of blue dress matching the coat. Her legs were on the side of the horse because it was too long for her to part her legs and her figure fitting between me and the horse’s neck. The make-up, the hair, the clothes, even the fucking perfume was delicate, sweet, innocent and fucking expensive. It was, overall, a treat. A treat that another well-raised bastard was going to enjoy after a party full of other high pedigree assholes. Wondered if I looked like him, that retarded from that pig-piss gang that dragged the expensive-looking girl, while I ride her to the closest city to be picked up to that ball.

My mind refused to bless Kenny, where ever that bastard was, with the pleasure of admitting he was right. It was even harder to refuse when she called my name to ask me to open a jar or complaining about some degrading nickname I gave her. Perhaps it would have been better if I’d never tasted it. Like trying an expensive tea, after that, normal quality feels like an insult to your taste buds. Because her legs felt as if they have been washed on milk on how soft they were against my head, her expensive matching lace lingerie did feel like unwrapping a present and her expensive accented voice echoing in the castle did feel like I was a fucking king. She always looked perfectly put, from head to toes and admiring her blushed messy appearance made you smirk and think, “I bet this wasn’t what your rich daddy had in mind when he closed you up in those girls-only schools”

At some point I just admit it, ‘Fuck you, Kenny, you are a fucking old creepy asshole and you made me a creepy asshole. But you were right all those times you came shit-faced to ramble about how much you liked to fuck Capital’s girls’ Because she walked around the scouts, looking perfectly put together, untouchable while talking to her friends. Then she did eye contact with my and gave me that cheeky smile. Or she showed off around with those little outfits of her and asked me, “How do I look?” making me wonder if behind those “goody two shoes” clothes were a pair of that matching sheer lace undergarments that covered almost nothing. The total energy said, “Levi, you know I’m not a bad girl… I just do bad things with you”

Like when she always raised from the bench of the mess hall’s tables with closed legs because “Ladies don’t sit with parted or crossed legs” but they were wide open for me. It was twisted. It was kinky but fuck me; I was way too lost from salvation. There’s just one thing that’s raising red flags in my mind. It’s that Kenny never seemed to complain about them having someone else apart from him.

Since they broke up, is full of these brats that are wet behind the ears trying to fancy her. Yet, it’s entertaining to see Erwin’s face contour despise and bounce back to its usual nonchalant expression each time. He was so fucking used to everybody respecting the “she’s my chick” title that now he has to swallow the fact that she’s now “available” Setting aside all the sexual tension between us even when she likes to call us “friends”. Ha, friends? Who said friends? I know you better without clothes. She’s so sweet, so kind, smart and caring. ‘It’s like she put a fucking spell on me. I’m not thinking straight anymore. That’s why Kenny called them witches? is she poisoning that tea that she serves me in the mornings? You were right, she’s going to be the death for me’

I was being selfish, but I didn’t like the “available” title either, because she wasn’t. I dug my teeth and claws into her and all the rest of the fuckers could fuck off. Sharing has never been in my dictionary and I was sure of reaffirming the lack of that term in my personal preferences each time she asked me to sleep on my lap during night watches. Unlike Erwin, I know how much expensive shits costs and I know to be responsible with them. I’ve starved my whole life. I had to live with the bearable minimum and stand those humidity-stained and cracked walls my whole life.

I deserve a treat, a really sweet one.

#levi ackerman #aot #levi #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #captain levi #snk levi #levi aot #attack on titans #captain levi ackerman x reader #captain levi x reader #captain levi fanfiction #captian levi x reader #captain levi/reader #shingeki no kyojin levi #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi heichou #shingeki no kyoujin levi #holy ground

[clonewarslover55]

May I please request Boost relationship headcannons? I love all of your work! Thank you!!!!♥️♥️♥️

Boost relationship headcanons (SFW and NSFW)

Masterlist

You absolutely can!!! I did some for Comet and Sinker so why not for Boost?!

Notes: Remember when Sinker said Boost smells? He was right.

SFW

Boost, as we all know, is a sarcastic boi who does not shower enough

His red hair and gnarly scar draw attention easily to him

Not that he is really complaining ;)

Similar to Sinker, he’s a flirt, just not nearly as smooth.

You most likely meet this handsome scarred clone at 79’s

He goes there when he's on leave with his brothers

They all deserve time to relax, plus it’s either that or stay at the barracks

Where he’d just clean his gun, annoy Wolffe, nap, etc.

He likes to keep busy, he never really stops

So he keeps himself entertained when he can

Boost is a very sarcastic man, so when you meet him you’re in for a surprise

Sarcastic remarks? Flirting? Handsome smirks? You bet your ass

Eventually you and Boost jump into a relationship and things really get started

Boost wants to spend as much time with you as possible

He tries not to be clingy; but it's hard, he’s addicted to your touch

Please give this man a hug

And a shower

“Not showering that often helps keep my hair dye from fading too soon!”

You scowl at that and offer to help him keep his dyed hair maintained if it means he’ll fucking bathe more often

Boost, of course, agrees

Anything to keep you close and touching him

Boost is more sarcastic than a joker, but he still has his moments

He never fails to make you smile

Especially out in public

Boost has no shame, I mean like at all, so he is all for PDA

Holding hands, kissing your cheeks, etc etc etc.

In front of his brothers he is always touching you

You’re his and only his, and the Pack needs to know that

The Wolfpack loves you though!

They love it when Boost brings you to 79’s

Mainly so they can tell you embarrassing stories about him

(Boost has reached across the table at Comet once)

You enjoy the stories even if he doesn’t!

Boost tries his hardest at being romantic

He isn’t the best, but damn does he try

Boost will secretly learn how to cook, and attempt to make you dinner!

He attempts, which is all that matters……

You end up mostly cooking when he’s on Triple Zero(Coruscant)

Boost is a good kitchen helper though!!

He’s willing to help you cook, wash dishes, etc

This man has never washed a dish in his life, so you have to teach him

You have to teach him many ways of being a clean person

Dirty stinky bastard man I am telling you

He’s the type that smells his clothes to make sure they’re not “Too dirty” before he throws them on

You will never break him from being a stinky boi

No matter how hard you try

He slowly gets better as you two progress in your relationship

But he is definitely not perfect. He still does the shirt smell

At least he showers once he gets back from missions!

He always brings little trinkets and such back for you as well!

It is mostly things like animal teeth or anything that draws his attention (So a really cool rock)

Boost has a big thing for animals

Especially their teeth, bones, skulls, etc. So he brings those home!

Seriously good luck getting him to not do that if you’re not into that

Boost loves cuddles, but he is the big spoon

He is obsessed with holding you in his arms, especially after being away from you for so long

Like all clones, he has nightmares, but he tells you he has them before you two stay together whenever he’s on Triple Zero so you’re prepared

After a nightmare he wants you to hold him, his head on your chest so he can hear your heartbeat

He is no longer self conscious about his scar, similar to how Wolffe doesn’t give a shit

So you’re welcome to trace it and ask about it!!

Boost’s love language is definitely sarcastic remarks, poking you, bear hugs, etc.

Give this sarcastic little shit any sort of attention and food and he’ll love you forever

He won’t let you forget it either

So expect many forehead kisses and pokes!

NSFW

Boost is experienced, like I said, he likes to keep busy ;)

So he knows what he’s doing in the bedroom for sure

Similar to Sinker, he sure knows how to dirty talk

He doesn’t run his mouth quite as often though

Boost speaks more through his actions, unless you ask for dirty talk

Plus his mouth is better for other things ;)

His kisses are ones that leave you craving more

His mouth always has to be on you, licking, biting, nipping, sucking

Boost loves marking you up, in many ways of course

When he gives you oral expect many hickies in many fun places

Boost, being great with his mouth, loves to give you oral

He loves to receive it too!

Please give him some kisses for the love of god

Mark him up too, he loves showing off that he’s yours!

He will take a bath/shower if it evolves you ;)

Sadly the only way you can get this stinky motherfucker to bathe sometimes

Boost is a clone, so he is a king of self control

Therefore foreplay is a fun time for you both

He’ll tease the fuck out of you, leaving you begging for him

Eventually he’ll get riled up himself, but not after dragging a few orgasms from you

Boost does enjoy a bit of teasing himself, but it just causes him to get a bit rough and worked up

So tease Boost if you want some rough sex ;)

Boost is definitely in for most things, but more so on you then him

He’ll try everything at least once for you, which means he really loves you

Public sex is a big yes for him though! So be warned

He’ll tease the fuck out of you in public, he just wants people to know that you’re his!

Quickies are a yes if it means public sex. But behind closed doors he wants to take his time with you

He wants to hear you scream his name all night long after all

Boost may enjoy some rough sex, but he’s quite gentle when it comes to aftercare

He makes sure to take good care of you, cleaning you both up

Boost will absolutely try to clean you up with his mouth, even after a long session

But after everything, he makes sure you fall asleep in his large scarred arms, your head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat.

Taglist: Currently making a new one so stay tuned!

#wolfpack #clone trooper boost #boost #boost x reader #boost x you #plo's bros #plo koon #104th #104th battalion #clone trooper comet #clone trooper sinker #comet #sinker #commander wolffe #wolffe

[necros-writing-stuff]

S- Stinky bastard men being forced to accept feelings for sweet, sunshiny PC? With Whitney, Bailey (young au or current, up to you) and Remy (maybe with Bailey's kid)?

I love this dynamic. Tame the bastard man!

Under the cut for length!

Bailey (current PC)

Honestly it's pissing him off how you stay so hopeful and bright despite everything. Is always waiting for the moment you break down and become as jaded as he is.

But you never do. Just keep smiling and laughing.

Until one day he finds you crying to yourself in the garden at night. He thought it would make him happy to see you upset, but instead it's unsettling.

He needs to know what broke you. So he sits, takes out a cigarette, and asks.

You go on this long rant about how you feel a constant pressure to be a source of stability for everyone, and how you're tired and will be fine after you've cried a bit. It's like pressing the re-set button, you'll be fine in the morning.

Bailey can empathise, there. He's taking care of all of you, so the man understands that pressure.

Leaves you to it, and sure enough your back to sunshine the next day. Why does that make him glad now?

After a few more weeks like that, confused and angry at why your smile brightens his day a little, Bailey comes to the horrific realisation that he likes you more than he should.

Tries to stomp those feelings down. Keep them as buried as possible. But you've also started coming into his office every so often and just sat there chatting with him. You view it as a safe space to relax. You view him as a comforting presence.

"Have you eaten?" you ask, and he can't believe that you're starting to take care of him, too. No, he hasn't eaten. Yes he would like a sandwich. He's not saying thank you.

When you crawl into his lap one night, he can't find the heart to stop you. Or when your soft hands start stroking the stubble along his jawline while he fills out stupid bills.

Stays still when you press a gentle kiss to his cheek and thank him for letting you stay before you go off to bed.

You do the same the time after that. Bailey makes no comment about it. As long as no one sees, its fine.

It's an accident, when he kisses you. He's about to ask you something, turning his head as you go to kiss his cheek, and your lips meet. Neither of you pull away.

This is fine. Its nice. You make him feel less stressed. You can keep coming to his office at night and telling your silly stories. Keep him entertained while he works. Keep kissing him good night.

It's more than fine and he knows it. But he won't say it out loud. You don't need him to, anyways. If Bailey didn't care he would have shoved you away long ago.

Remy

The first time he meets you, Remy is endlessly entertained. Bailey made you? That grumpy, sardonic fucker made you? Oh this is amazing.

Flirts a little with you despite Bailey being right there, gets warned to keep his hands to himself.

He backs off, knowing not to go too far, but still waves goodbye when you leave.

You end up coming to him, rather than Remy waiting for the next meeting. Visit his riding school, all eager to learn and happy to accept his praise.

You fall off a horse and jump straight back on, confidence never wavering.

He gives criticism, and you don't falter and take it personally like others might.

When the younger students get hurt, you're the first to comfort them and encourage them to keep going.

You stay afterwards and help clean up. How responsible and helpful.

Curious to know more, Remt invites you into his home one night for some tea. Finds himself enamoured with you, how you talk and giggle with him. There's no fear there. No restraint in your mannerisms. It's cute, a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else.

Keeps inviting you back. Wants to have all of your attention on him in those few hours.

One night you turn him down, saying there's something important you have to do, and Remy feels rather lonely when he sits drinking tea by himself.

Finds his thoughts turning to what it would be like to have you properly. Maybe the ranch could become a family business. You would be a wonderful parent while he worked.

Has to shake himself to clear his mind of those thoughts. Surely he wasn't actually getting attached? You were just a point of interest. A way to get information on Bailey, even.

Thats bullshit, and the farmer knows it.

Will confess eventually. Will make a meal for the two of you instead of just having a drink, and hold your hand as he tells you he'd like to try something.

Then he'll pull you in for a kiss and be delighted when you kiss back.

"My dear, your smile shines brighter than these candles ever could," he'll say as he cups your cheek. Smiles along with you when you giggle at his compliment.

He'll have to keep you safe, from now on. Keep that sweetness from fading.

Whitney

You're so fucking annoying. When Whitney pushes you into a locker, or burns you with a cigarette, you just keep smiling at him and acting like he told you you look nice.

Cry! Beg! Something other than pure fluff would be nice.

And you're starting to bother him at the fountain. Buying him a scarf to make sure he's not cold, asking him if he's okay because he looks sad.

Leave him alone, he doesn't need to be coddled.

But you never give up. Keep coming back even when he throws you into the fountain. Keep asking if he needs cheering up.

One day you don't show up. He's even sticks around an extra half an hour, and there's no sign of you. At school the next day he hunts you down, drags you into an empty classroom and demands to know where you were.

"I'm sorry, I had to work a little extra. I thought you found me annoying, anyways?" your head cocks to the side as you say that, and he feels like pulling your hair out of pettiness.

You're right though. He should find you annoying. But he doesn't anymore. He likes when you fuss over him. Like feeling like he matters.

He'll storm off after telling you it doesn't matter, he doesn't care, he hates you.

But he still feels his heart beat a little harder the next time it rains. Practically runs to the park. Pretends to not notice you approach.

Says nothing when you slide under the umbrella and wrap an arm around his.

"Can I kiss you?"

His head snaps to look at you, all blushing and nervous. And he practically crushes you when he pulls you in for a full on make-out session.

"You're mine now, got it?" he'll say when he pulls back, and you look so cute smiling up at him like that, lips a little swollen.

Yeah this is okay. He'll still have to bully you to make sure everyone knows he's not going soft though. Can't have that.

#degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity whitney #degrees of lewdity bailey #degrees of lewdity remy #younger au

[elizabeethan]

The Swan and her Handler

Emma Swan was cursed, and the only way to break it is with True Love's Kiss. Try breaking a curse with True Love's Kiss when you're a damn swan.

Yes, it's true, I've written a CS AU based on Walnut the Crane, a crane who fell in love with her handler. I'm ashamed at how idiotic this is. It’s by far the dumbest thing I've ever written in all my life. It’s nothing more than crack written in about an hour, un-betaed and barely edited. Sorry, and you’re welcome.

Rated T for language

~2000 words

Read my other stuff

Read on Ao3

These damn idiots can’t get anything right. It was bad enough when Emma showed up on their doorstep with perfectly clear care instructions that were completely ignored, but now they keep trying to get her to reproduce as if she’s some kind of zoo animal. 

  Of course, given her current living situation, it does make at least a tiny bit of sense. 

  Ever since the curse, Emma has been stuck in a wildlife refuge and has been unable to get any of her stupid caretakers to figure out how to help her. She knows exactly what she needs, but unfortunately, no one here speaks swan and she can’t exactly hold a pen. Her care instructions were translated upon her transformation, so the one thing that could have helped her now looks like chicken-- er, swan scratch. 

  “She needs a mate,” one of the jack asses points out. “She’ll probably want to mate for life.”

  True, she thinks, although, not with any of the stinky fluff balls you have sent my way.  

  First it was Neal. He tried to mate with her, so she killed him. Last week, they put Walsh in her enclosure, and she pecked at him violently until they took pity on him and sent him to the medical unit. 

  Although today seems different, because her newest caretaker has shown up, and she realizes that he just might be exactly what she’s been looking for. 

Emma Swan, unfortunately very appropriately named, requires a mate who can break her curse, True Loves Kiss the only thing that can bring her back to her truest form as a human adult woman. And when the new dark haired, stunning eyed veterinarian comes strutting into her enclosure, she hurries towards him to get a closer look at his name tag. 

  He jumps away, making some comment about her being fiery , and she blushes, squawking at him as she tries to get closer. Killian , it reads, and if she had lips and not a bill, she would smile. 

  “We think she’s depressed,” the stupid one with the big eyes says. “She’s killed every mate we’ve tried to pair her with.” 

  Good, she thinks. I must have done more damage on Walsh than I initially thought.  

  “You’re just misunderstood, aren’t you, love?” the angel-man asks, making her squawk in agreement. She thinks she could make this quick, this man obviously understanding her horrible twist of fate, so she lunges for him once more, trying hard to kiss his hand and hoping beyond hope that it will transform her back into the woman she's supposed to be. No more feathers, she prays. 

  He exclaims again, jumping and complaining of his hand hurting as she pecks him, so she rolls her eyes and squawks angrily. “Alright, darling,” he says with his hands up, his smooth, accented voice making her heart flutter inside her chest. Her breast? She knows very little about swan anatomy, despite having been turned into one. “Perhaps she’s stressed about her environment. Have you tried giving her a dark, quiet place to nest?” 

  “Not yet,” the dumbass admits. 

  The handsome one, Killian, a name she could get used to rolling off of her tongue, steps away from her, so she hurriedly follows. “Perhaps here in this corner will do.” 

  I would love to spend time in a dark corner with you, she thinks, giving the man what she hopes is a salacious smirk. She watches appreciatively as he sits down, crossing his legs as he starts to fiddle with some sticks as if she would be interested in them. Rather than helping him to make a nest out of the twigs and leaves, she plops herself right in his lap, nestling herself into his crossed legs and gazing up at his beautiful features, earning a smile from him. 

  “There we are, love,” he says happily, clearly surprised that she chose to plant herself upon him, although he shouldn't be. Just look at him, for god’s sake. “Comfortable?” 

  She squawks loudly, making him cringe, then fluffs her feathers in an attempt to gussy herself up for him. If she’s going to earn True Love’s Kiss from this perfect specimen, she’s going to have to work for it. The man chuckles as he looks down at her-- is he gazing? -- and lifts his hand slowly, placing a finger gently upon the top of her head and petting back down her neck, sending a chill down her spine, at least she thinks it’s her spine. She pushes her head towards him again, demanding more attention in an effort to get him to fall for her. It shouldn’t take long; she’s very enchanting. 

  “She’s never been this calm,” the dumb one says, making her snap her head towards him with a glare, shouting at him in disapproval. Killian shushes her soothingly, his finger softly stroking along her stupid feathers once more and making her shut her eyes. 

  “She just needed a bit of attention, it seems.” 

  “We’d best be careful,” someone else says, the bookworm who always thinks she knows everything about swan science. Of course, she probably knows more than Swan Emma. “We wouldn’t want her to imprint on you ,” she seems to joke. 

  “That’s quite alright, isn’t it love?” he asks her, essentially giving her permission to fall in love with this handsome bastard. 

  He comes by a few times a week for the next several months, each time sitting with her in her tiny, dirty nest and not seeming to care that his pants get soiled. She’s always careful to do her business elsewhere, making sure that her prince can sit in comfort when he arrives. She gets angry with him when he brings someone new, a sickly looking male named Graham who she assures is not welcome, so Killian gives up trying to get her to mate with someone. For some reason, they're concerned about her procreating, but she can assure everyone that she will not be giving birth to a damn swan baby while she’s under this curse. 

  One day, when Killian visits near the end of his shift, he’s finally alone, leaving behind the dumb one and the book worm and giving her all of the attention she desires as his strong hand softly pets along her soft feathers. She can’t wait to get rid of these stupid feathers. 

  “You’re quite funny,” he remarks as the sun starts to set. “Unlike any swan I’ve ever met.”

  She squawks at him-- I’m not a damn swan-- and he smiles. “Quire the personality. It always seems like you’re trying to communicate with me.” 

  Yes, you stupid handsome man, that’s exactly right! She tries to nod, lifting and dropping her head in quick succession and making the beauty laugh. She nudges her head against his hand in demand of more pets. 

  “What is it you want me to know, darling?” he asks gently, his voice soft and soothing and deep. 

  She groans, a sound that comes out like a pained cry, and his face shifts. “Are you alright, love?” 

  In pure frustration, Emma drops her head against the man’s chest, likely assaulting him with how badly she smells like bird shit, and he chuckles again, letting his hand run along her feathers some more. “There, there. I know life as a swan must be difficult. All you seem to want is for someone to listen.” 

  She looks up, hoping that her expression conveys her complete and utter irritation at the fact that he’s literally hitting the nail on the head and yet he has no idea. 

  “Such a personality,” he says again. “I’ve got to head home now, love. I’m looking forward to having Chinese for dinner. Perhaps I'll bring you an eggroll tomorrow, or is that insensitive?” 

  She squawks, half because she’s laughing, and half because she would quite literally kill another potential mate for an eggroll. Wanting to beg him not to go, she gives him her best sad face through her inability to emote, and nestles her head against his palm one more time. 

  “I’ll sneak you one, love,” he laughs, and as he does, he finally, finally , leans down towards her, and plants his stupid, dumb, lucious lips upon the top of her stinky bird head. 

  Cramps start to run through her whole stupid bird body, the same ones she felt when she was cursed on Halloween decades ago. He stands, not seeming to notice her pain and discomfort until he’s a few steps away, and he turns back around. “Swan, are you alright?” he asks, as if she could answer, and she shouts back at him wordlessly. 

  She praises whatever gods might be listening as she feels things start to change, her feathers shedding as her skin is exposed to the chilly fall air. The webbing between her toes retracts, her legs turning flesh colored rather than that horrifying orange. Her bill turns back into her nose and mouth, preparing her to smooch her savior rather than peck at him. Finally, she’s back!

  “Bloody fucking hell,” Killian breathes as he stares on, Emma transforming back into her old self, laying in a heap on the ground as she brushes off the dirt and twigs and leaves. 

  “You did it,” she praises before clearing her throat, raw from misuse after all these years. She grins at him as she’s been wanting to since they met, and is met with a horrified, shocked look on his face. His jaw is gaping, his eyes wide as they catch the light of the setting sun. “I knew you would.” 

  “What the fuck?” 

  “You broke the curse,” she says happily, standing up and exposing her nude form to him, cursing the lack of feathers although she vowed she never would. Immediately, he removes his jacket, despite his shock still clearly running through him, and hands it to her. 

  “I did what now?”

  “I was cursed. Why do you think I was such a miserable swan?” 

  He’s looking around, his mouth snapping shut and dropping open in succession as he tries to process the fact that there was a swan in the enclosure just a second ago, and now there’s a frankly beautiful, naked woman standing before him. “You were cursed,” he says doubtfully. 

  “Yes, I was. An evil witch cursed me on Halloween decades ago and I've been stuck in that infernal bird form ever since. All I needed was True Love’s Kiss to break it, but imaging trying to fall in love with someone as a damn bird.” 

  “So you… you fell in love… with me…?” 

  “Obviously,” she smiles, taking a step towards him on shaky legs, tripping and falling into his waiting arms as he catches her, careful not to grope her, although she isn’t sure she would mind. “And you broke the curse, so… Do I have to tell you what that means?”

  “I-- I’m having a lot of trouble processing the fact that I've evidently been in love with a swan for months.” 

  “Well, my name is Emma Swan, so you can be in love with a Swan for the rest of your life, if you’d like.” 

  “Emma,” he murmurs, staring into her eyes and smiling when he seems to recognize her. She’s never been able to see herself in the mirror, because the book worm was worried she would attack it, but based on the way he’s staring, she would guess that the evil witch let her keep her eyes. “Do you know it just happens to be Halloween tonight?”

  “Kismet,” she says softly, gazing up at him. He lifts his hand like he did while she was planted in his lap, and she’s finally able to feel his calloused finger along the skin of her cheek, then of her neck, just as he had done before. 

  “Aye,” he agrees. “The spirit of the holiday does make this whole thing a bit easier to accept.” 

  “Yeah,” she says dismissively. “Now take me home. I was promised an eggroll and I haven't eaten anything but grass and stale bread in almost thirty years.”

~~~~

Tagging (with apologies):

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza @captainswan21 @hookedmom @lostintheskyfaraway @undercaffinatednightmare @strangestarlighttree

#Captain Swan #Captain swan fanfic #cs fanfic #the swan and her handler #cs ff #the swan ff #cs crack #crack fic

[molina-fix]

Bygones ::: Angel (Maverick 1994) x Reader

Well, my lovelies, I honestly don't know what to say about this except: I am so horny for this man, it makes me do things I didn't ever think I would do. Angel has quickly become one of my favorite Molina bastards. I love this filthy, stinky cowboy way more than he deserves. 

I have taken a few creative liberties due to the limited information we get about Angel (like his last name) and the ridiculous amount of research I've fallen into for this man.

Chapter 1 ::: Next

-

Summary: Angel has a bounty over his head. You plan to collect.

Rated: M, for the first chapter. Things get pretty damn spicy after this.

Words: 3.1k words

Warnings: 18+ content, youngins steer clear. Profanity. Mild blood.

Other: AFAB reader, gender neutral terms used. As always, tagged as Alfred Molina just so it reaches the rest of my fellow thirsty hoes.

This work is beta'd by my lovely bestie @weenis-beenis, to whom this is also dedicated. Without them, I don't think I would have finished this first chapter.

So without further ado, Enjoy!

Or! Read on AO3!

-

You should have killed him. Damn it all to hell, you should have shot him on the spot. Two rounds in the chest and this hell would have never begun. No one would have questioned you had you dragged his stiff carcass back to town. They would have taken one look at him, flinched at the gore of his chest, and paid you. They would have paid you every single cent. Damn it, you should have killed him. Now, it’s just too late.

-

The sleeping man at your feet snores without a care in the world. It isn’t often you catch your quarry in their sleep, but you sure do like it when it all works out. Catching them asleep means less fuss for you, means your job is easy for once.

His hat is pulled down over his eyes, the brim obscures most of his face from your view. You take another look at the crumpled, dirty page in your hand. The printed sketch is crude and messy, but the image is just clear enough to make a basic impression of what the man you’re hunting looks like. You use your boot to push the hat out of the way. After all, you want to be sure you kill the right guy.

When the hat pushes back, you just stare at him. It’s dangerous, the way you freeze. Downright stupid. He could wake up at any moment, as you gawk in horrified stupor. You’re lucky he doesn’t.

You shake your head even as you stumble back a step. A war of emotions surges through you. A rage boils inside you, it forces your grip to tighten on the gun in your hand as it conflicts violently with a desperate urge to flee that has you turning back to look at your horse, just a few feet away. You swallow hard and thick, refocus your attention back to the page.

It's him. The sketch is awful, but you recognize most of it as him, from the thick eyebrows to the scribbled goatee. The nose, however, is all wrong. The drawing is a little too small, a little too straight to look anything like his nose. It’s a pity, he has a nice nose.

Folding the page, you put it in your shirt pocket. He’s still snoring, peacefully oblivious to you standing above him in the early hours of the morning. The gun in your hands is a heavy, solid, familiar weight. You aim the barrel at his chest, caress the trigger.

You want to kill him. Heavens above, you want nothing more than to put a hole in his chest. One pull and your worries are over. You settle your finger on the trigger, grit your teeth, and look at his sleeping expression. You feel your heart clench at the sight of him, tight and uncomfortable. Slowly you remove your finger from the trigger.

Damn. You turn to look at your horse again, decide the best you can do is leave now. Leave before the man on the ground ever knows you were here. You take a step towards her when you remember the black numbers on the page. It’s a really good bounty… and you really need the money. Maybe you can’t kill him, but you could still turn him in. Even that thought causes you to frown.

Cursing your indecisiveness and the confusion at what you’re feeling, you balance the gun between both hands and turn back. You really need the money, and you won’t be the one putting a noose around his neck.

The sun is cresting over the far-off hills, promising another warm day. You aim your shotgun at his chest and push his leg with the toe of your boot. His snoring hitches for a moment, before falling back into deep heavy breaths.

You push again, a little harder, it shakes his entire body. He snorts, but still nothing. Bastard, you wish you could sleep that well. Reeling your foot back, you kick him as hard as you can in the thigh.

Choking out a pained grunt, he curses in a manner that would have made your grandmother faint. “Jesus, fuck! What the-.” He sits up and nearly crashes his nose into your double barrel. The metal catches the faintest glint of the morning sun as he swallows thickly. He flicks his gaze up to meet yours, “You even know how to use that?” You don’t answer, just push until the barrel touches the tip of his nose. He goes very still. “Alright, alright. Let’s not be too hasty.”

“You Angel Baeza Cortez?”

“Since the day I was born.” His eyes bounce nervously between you and the gun. “Might I ask what I’ve done to deserve such a rude awakening?”

Taking out the page you give it a shake, letting the corners fall open.

“Ah.” That’s all he says. Angel leans back on his hands, looking far too at ease for a man staring straight into the business end of your weapon. “Well, you got me at a disadvantage. Which was probably your plan, catching me in my sleep.” His tongue flicks over his lips and he pointedly locks eyes with you.

You get the sensation you’re stepping into something you don’t fully understand, facing a danger unlike any you’d faced before. He’s smart. Too smart. You can almost see him plotting, planning, devising a way so he can get out of this mess. It turns your stomach, the way he looks you up and down, sizes you up, measures you. This time he licks his lips, slow and wet.

Angel comes to some sort of decision as his shoulders sag and relax. He leans away from the shotgun but makes no other move. “Well, now what boss?”

Somehow, he’s put you more on edge than you had been before. He hasn’t moved, isn’t even being all that threatening but your mind goes off in warning. He’s dangerous and you won’t be taking any chances. “Turn around. Face the ground and lie on your front.” He smirks and chortles. It fills you with an angry heat. Is he laughing at you?

“Sure thing, boss.” He gives one last long look at the shotgun and far too quickly for a man who had woken up only a few minutes before, Angel lunges forward and grabs the gun in your hands. Your finger, already on the trigger, pulls. He manages to just barely push it away from himself. The blast rings in your ears as you stumble back.

Angel scurries to get to his feet but you recover before he has the opportunity to get up all the way. Taking the gun, you swing at him. His head snaps sharply to one side and he falls back. “Fuck!”

Panting, you attempt to focus on him through the haze of adrenaline. He twists onto his side, spits blood onto the dusty ground. His fingers prod at the spot where you hit him. They come away clean, bloodless. His mouth is another matter, red pools behind his bottom lip.

“Alright,” he mutters, taking another moment to spit out the metallic taste. “You made your point.”

The click of the gun as you cock the other barrel makes him flinch. “I got another bullet. If you want to try that again.”

Angel shakes his head; his dark hair falls messily across his forehead. “No. Reckon I ain’t keen on that.”

Nodding, you force your hands to steady their grip on your weapon. “Face the ground. Lie flat on your chest.” He obeys wordlessly. You watch him every step of the way, but he seems pacified for the time being. He turns his head, lies his uninjured cheek in the dust. There is a bright red mark marring his skin from his jaw to his cheekbone. The sight of it makes your chest tighten.

Once he’s settled, you step forward, grab at the rope you usually carry at your waist. “Don’t move.”

“Whatever you say boss. I’ll be good.” He grunts again as you kneel on his lower back and grab his hands to cross his wrists. You wind the coarse rope around them in a practiced motion.

Getting up you fish around in your pocket for another pellet. You reload the barrel, snap the gun closed. Angel has turned onto his side and is looking at you expectantly. Sighing through your nose, you grab his arm to help him stand. Now standing at his full height, it is impressed upon you just how large he really is. You’re glad for your foresight, catching him off guard had been the right call. You are nowhere near a match for him physically.

Angel grins at you through pink stained teeth. “Much obliged, uh…,” his thick brows furrow, “You got a name?”

“Not one you need concern yourself with.”

“Fair enough.”

You raid his things while he watches you. He’s traveling light, carrying only a beat-up leather bag, a canteen, his hat, and a rolled-up blanket. The bag only has a few basics: food, some rope, and a few dollar bills in a small pouch.

“Ain’t got a horse as you can see. Lost it two days ago.” You grab the length of rope from his bag as he speaks. “Guess I’ll have to ride with you.”

Like hell was that going to happen, but you say nothing. He smirks as you walk back to him, eyes the ropes in your hands.

“You sure do like tying things up, don’t you?” Wrapping the rope around his waist, you have to get close to grab the end from the other side. He pushes into you, pressing his body against yours. You reel back, but your grip on the rope pulls him towards you regardless of your intentions. “Don’t worry, sugar. I don’t bite. Less you want me to.”

Sneering with as much disgust as you can muster, you tie the rope tightly around his waist. He flinches but that damn smirk never fades. Stupid, smug bastard… You ignore him and tie the other end of the rope to your saddle.

“Hold on!” The panicked indignation in his voice makes you smile. “You don’t expect me to walk, do you?”

As you pack his things away along with yours, you discover a smartly hidden gun in the blanket he’d been using as a pillow. You open it to find the chambers are loaded. You’re real lucky you caught him off guard. “You didn’t actually think you’d be riding with me, did you?”

Finally, he stops smirking, a scowl overtaking his features. You finish tying your saddle bags. He’s just glaring at you now. You feel a spark of joy at the fact that you’ve managed to upset him enough to lose the smug attitude.

Mounting your horse, you check the rope tied to the saddle horn once more, before gently spurring her into a walk. The rope pulls taut.

“How far are we goin’?”

Glancing back, you watch as he stumbles, forced to move as you start heading off. “Two days by horse. Should take us three days.”

“Three days? I can’t walk that far in three days!”

“I don’t mind draggin’ ya.”

Angel mumbles something incoherent before speaking up once more, “What about breakfast?”

“Already ate, thanks.”

He’s blessedly quiet after that.

…

You don’t stop until the sun is high in the sky. Your prisoner gratefully drops to his knees when you do. His shirt is soaked in sweat, face red from the unforgiving sun. The mark on his cheek has darkened, a nasty bruise forming where you struck him. Your stomach turns and you look away from it.

Dismounting, you grab his hat and canteen. Angel watches you approach through narrowed, untrusting eyes.

Uncapping the canteen, you hold it out to him. Angel sneers and turns away. “Page says Dead or Alive. Ain’t my problem if you die from thirst.” He doesn’t turn back to you.

You hate that he isn’t looking at you, that you’re left to stare at the spot where you hit him. He can’t die. He needs to drink. You’re suddenly overwhelmed with that singular thought, don’t die. Don’t die. You’re marching him to what is almost certainly his death and yet… You cap the bottle once more. “Have it your way. We ain’t stoppin’ ‘til sundown.”

He grumbles. “Fine.”

You bring the canteen up to his lips. Angel isn’t too proud to lean into it, to greedily take as much as he can. He drinks noisily, panting harshly after every swallow. His eyes flutter closed, stay that way even when you pull back. Water drips down his chin. You follow it as it travels through his goatee, down his neck, until it mixes with the sweat at his neckline. He swallows and you’re drawn to the way his Adam’s Apple moves.

When you look up again, his eyes are open and he’s smirking.

“More?” He nods. This time when more water escapes his lips, you do not trace its course down his neck.

At that point, there is a shift in his demeanor. It makes you uneasy. One moment, he’s hostile, enraged, looked about ready to fight you again. Now, as you pull the canteen back, he relaxes, leans back on his legs. His smirk eases into a smile. “Thank you very kindly.”

You don’t like the way Angel is looking at you, nor his sudden casual manner. You were comfortable with his anger. You expected it, in fact. This, whatever it is, makes you wary. When you shove his hat onto his head, you push it down with a lot more force than necessary.

It doesn’t take long for Angel to get chatty as you continue your trek. He talks about nothing in particular, though at one point he does make a remark on the width of your horse’s ass. Despite the fact that you give him absolutely no reason to believe you might be listening, he keeps talking. It begins to grate on your nerves.

“Hey!” You look over your shoulder at him. He jogs a bit to keep up next to your leg. “I gotta piss.”

“No.”

You spur your horse into a bit of a faster walk. Angel huffs as he manages to keep up. “I’ve been holding it all day!”

Fucking… “Fine.”

“Gonna untie me?”

You look down at Angel. There is no way in Hell you’re going to untie him. You drop down next to him; find he’s standing too close. You want to put as much distance between you and him as possible. Instead, making it obvious that you are highly displeased, you pull him forward by his pants and begin to unbuckle his belt.

He makes a sound that brings heat crawling up your neck. “Well, shit darlin’. If you wanted to touch my dick, all you had to do was say so.”

You know you’re blushing, the warmth that has now reached your cheeks, unmistakable. You hope your hat and lowered head are enough to hide it from him. You definitely do not want to look at his dick, absolutely do not want to touch it. You avoid all contact with it, as you hastily, roughly open his pants enough to push them down.

“Ain’t gonna take a peek? I don’t mind.”

You push on his chest to make him stumble back and turn away. “Hurry up.” You drink water, hoping to fight your blush. You could play off your color to the heat of the day, to the long hours you’ve been riding, but you know better. And you feel like he’d know too.

“All done here, darlin’.”

You make it a point to look off to the side as you help him once more. Your knuckles brush against him and you quickly snap your hand back to yourself. Angel’s laughter fills you with shame.

“Don’t be scared. It won’t hurt you.”

Grumbling, you grab him and stuff his dick back down into his pants with a rough shove. He grunts, even as he chuckles. You don’t think about the leftover heat in your hand or the now phantom weight. You do not clench your fist, desperately trying to keep the memory of the size of him.

When you stop to make camp, Angel all but throws himself onto the ground. He doesn’t even complain when your horse moves, dragging him along the dirt for a few feet. You set up camp without a word and he’s  exhausted enough to stay silent, watching you from where he lies on the ground.

It doesn’t take long for you to finish, making camp is an easy and familiar routine. A small fire heats two cans of food as you tie the end of his lead around your own waist.

You feed him with his own spoon, taking turns to feed yourself and then him. It’s a quiet affair and you’re thankful for the reprieve. Your body begs for sleep, for you to rest. You want nothing more than to drop back onto the ground, stare up at the indigo sky and count each twinkle until your mind goes quiet.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” When all you do is lift your brow at him, Angel keeps talking. His mouth is still full of food. “This morning, you coulda killed me. Had me dead to rights. Page says Dead or Alive. Why didn’t you?”

“You looked heavy. Didn’t know if I could lift you onto the horse.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. You notice the way he wraps his lips around the spoon, the way he tongues the bottom of it as he pulls back. “That ain’t it. You could have, should have in fact, killed me. There is no way you rather be doin’ this,” he looks between you, gestures to your feeding him, “Than draggin’ around some dead fella.”

You look away, take your own spoonful of soupy beans from the can. You know exactly why you didn’t kill him. Why you couldn’t kill him. Of course, you know, but why would you tell him that you couldn’t stand the thought of it? Why would you let him know, that seeing him sleeping there had caused you enough turmoil to have nearly turned back before he’d been aware of you? You should have killed him. You were angry enough at the time to do so. But there was simply no way you could ever do that to someone like him.

Shaking your head, you feed him his last spoonful. “I don’t like killin’.”

He hums and says nothing else.

#angel (maverick 1994) #angel (maverick 1994) x reader #angel x reader #alfred molina #fanfic #molina-fix writes