#worst goddamn vegetable i swear

[slashingdisneypasta]

Foxy Coltrane x Reader || Oneshot

Plot: Inspired by the song ‘Somebody I Fucked Once’ (By Zolita). Basically you and Foxy fucked once. He’s really fond of you, you’re kinda shaky about him, and oh his siblings are there too. This is just me giving Foxy a try at writing for.

Warnings: This turned out a lot cuddlier than I intended, but there is much swearing- and Otis threatens to make you into a Futon once.

You thought it was odd when there was a knock at your door, at… 1 in the morning. But you got your shotgun and snuck up the door, anyway; Peering out the peep hole carefully to see who it could possibly be this early in the morning… before rolling our eyes deeply upwards and stepping back, setting your shotgun in the umbrella stand - still very much within reach, - and opening the door with a frown.

“Well, hell-o there, Y/N. Sorry… did we wake you??” What an asshole, you think as your Worst Mistake Ever, Winslow Foxworth Coltrane greets you from the porch- his own shotgun lean carelessly on his shoulder. Behind him is two others, a scrawny-santa-looking man you know to be Otis B Driftwood - though, he used to be even smaller. Prison must have fed him well over the years, - and a beautiful woman called Baby Firefly running her hands through the multicoloured metal tubes you have hanging off the roof- the melodic sound they make ringing across the dark, baron street. Her hair looks even better then the one other time you met these two, as well, and you chalk that up to prison shampoo and probably vegetable intake, too.

Because sighing would mean weakness, and weakness is not a thing to show in front of this family, you instead offer this man nothing but a hard glare. “What are you doing here, Fox?”

“Mmm… “He moans instead of answering you properly, sniffing the air before a broad grin slowly slips across his face. “You cookin’?”

“Roast.” You respond, huffing. Look, you had a midnight craving and a chicken in the fridge, and you’re an goddamn adult who knows how to cook- so what in the hell was stopping you from preparing a roast in the middle of the night?? Nothing.

You kinda wish you had just gone back to bed now, though. Then there would have been at least 50 percent chance that you didn’t hear him when he knocked on your door this night, and at least a 12 percent chance that he would have just left and taken his crazy siblings with him.

But you didn’t. You got out the chicken and the herbs and preheated the oven and now the door is wide open and he knows you’re here and there’s no going back.

“Glad to hear we didn’t wake ya.” Like his grins, his drawl is slow and deliberate, and you blame that on the Huge Mistake you made, too. Stupid old man being unnecessarily sexy. Fuck him.

Except- no- that’s how all this bullshit started; The Ginormous Mistake, in fact.

Fox turns his head to address Otis, who is staring directly into your soul, and Baby who is humming and making you equally as uncomfortable. “Guys she is a fantastic cook… Looks like we came at just the right time.”

What- “No, you didn’t. Its all for me.”

“You’re gonna eat a whole fucken roast?” Otis speaks up, trigger finger itching in the pocket of his coveralls. You can tell because he lifts the handle as far against the jeans material as he can and then taps it back against his thigh a couple of times. Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms and set him very a stern look. You won’t be intimidated by a fucken necrophiliac. Ridiculous.

“Yes.”

“Mmmm!” Baby distracts you from Otis quickly, as she takes a deep breath in through her nose and sighs. “That does smell good! Agh… tummy so growly.” She hugs her tummy and pouts, and you roll your eyes again.

“There’s a 7-11 down the road you can knock-off,” You inform her, a deadpanned tone in your voice.

“Oh, come on!!”

“Now if you’ll excuse me- “You try your luck and start closing the door, but unfortunately the late hour has not affected Fox’s agility and a foot wedges itself in the way before you can click and lock it shut. Damn.

He steps in closer to you, the cap on his head damn near whacking you in the forehead. “Now, now Y/N… we’ve got history.” Yes, you do. You acknowledge that. But since that history is exactly what you’re trying to avoid repeating, bringing that up is certainly not going to help his case. Does he care? No- “Why dontcha let us in?”

“Because I don’t like the idea of 3 fugitives from the law, hangin’ out in my kitchen!” You insist, putting your foot down and attempting to stare him down too- to no avail, though, as he smirks in your face.  

Fox is about to say something else to you, when a hand comes out of nowhere and actually shoves him out of the way so Otis can get in your face. Well, at least he’s brushed his teeth with something other than bourbon in the last week, you think as the sent of stale toothpaste wafts unpleasantly up your nose. Baby giggles behind him, though you can’t see her. “Hey!- “

“Shut up.” Otis doesn’t even spare his irritated brother a glance, attention on you. You don’t stand down even an inch, though. “Look bitch, let us in now, or I’ll make you into a fucken futon.”

Now, you sigh Because the idea is deeply unpleasant and ruins your mood even worse than it already was- but also drag out the shotgun you has in the umbrella stand and abruptly hold it up to the man’s throat before he can even take the gun he has, out of his pocket. Then flash a forced smile and he huffs. “Sorry, what was that, Otis??”

“Fuck… “

“Back up, asshole.”

He does as told, miraculously - something to do, probably, with the likelihood of having his skull shot to pieces if he indeed stayed where he was, - and crosses his arms beside his still-putting sister. You suddenly get a really good mental image of what they must have been like as children, and almost smile. “Yeah, yeah… fucken bitch… “

“Come on Y/N… we just need a place to stay for a few hours. A place to sleep other then the van… and maybe a plate or two of your cookin’,” Fox gives a roguish grin, almost charming, as if lightening the air as he takes his place in front of you again. “Promise I’ll be on my best behaviour… and I’ll look out for these two assholes, too.”

Despite your better judgement, his attempt at being polite are wearing you down. Still, stink-face on, you adjust your grip on your shot gun and raise a brow, expectantly. “What does you best behaviour look like?”

Grin broadening once again, because the smug bastard knows he’s winning finally and you’re breaking, he straightens and up and squares his shoulders. “Why don’t you let us in and see, huh?”

Taking in a deep breath, you sigh it out and pull your shot gun away from him. “Don’t go anywhere near my room, any of you.”

“Scouts honour.”

“If you were ever actually a scout I’ll give you a thousand bucks.”

~

After dinner, or breakfast, or whatever the hell that meal was - at which these 3 literally cleaned you out. Not just the roast was eaten, but all the shit in your cupboards, too. Baby’s currently dragging a carrot through a rapidly emptying jar of peanut butter, -, you retire to the living room away from them and unpause the movie you were watching. As you’re getting comfortable, or as comfortable as you will allow yourself to be with 3 homicidal maniacs in your kitchen, Fox strolls in and plops down next to you.

You wedge a pillow between the two of you.

“Hey, what’re you watchin’? Looks good.”

“Just some black-and-white.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you turn your head to look at him. “You done cleaning me out, then??”

“Hey, I wanted to leave you the granola but Otis’ a bit stung from how you did him earlier with the shotgun.” He chuckles, the memory funny to him as he shakes his head at it.

“So, he’s in there eating my granola?”

“Dry.”

At that, you finally give in. You smile, snorting and turning back to the TV. The thought of that groan man choking down a box of dry, 5 month old granola in there is honestly hilarious.

“So she does have the ability to fucken smile.” Fox immediately comments, making you want to clam up all over again. But you don’t, you just force yourself to shake you head at it and point at the TV.

“Watch the movie.”

“… Yes Ma’am… “

~

With a groan, you push off the couch and roll your shoulders back once the movie is over, before grabbing your pillow off the couch and turning pointing sternly over it at Foxy. “Welp, I’m going to bed. Don’t break anything.”

The other two are still in the kitchen, but you can hear Otis snoring from here so you know that at least he’s asleep- if Baby’s still awake then that’s okay. As long as she doesn’t kill anyone in here, you think the house will survive. Fox was dozing beside you while the movie played but was awake enough to commentate on it every now and then in an even slower, sleep-crowded voice, but now has his eyes open, watching you. “No kiss goodnight then baby?”

“Not in your dreams, Winslow.” You laugh, rolling your eyes at him as you step over his long-ass legs to get by. As you’re turning to get around the couch and towards the hall that leads to your bedroom again, though, he grabs your arm and with a sudden tug- you’re back on the couch stuck in the crevice between the arm, and him. “Fox!”

“Shh, people are fucken sleeping. Otis is sleeping, actually. And trust me when I tell ya you do not wanna wake him up. He’s a real dick in the morning.”

“Just the morning??” You ask, eyes wide and blank, making him cough out a laugh at you.

Meanwhile you try to get up and let this be a joke, but strong fingers curls around your waist and dig into your skin unwilling to let you escape. Groaning, you turn to him with a stern glare, reading let me the fuck go even as your faces are close enough to make out; A fact that does not escape your notice.

“Come on… haven’t I been well-behaved?”

“Sure, but you don’t get rewarded with sex just because you’ve been good- you get to stay here. That was the deal. Now let me go back to be- “

“Y/N… “Oh, fuck, your name in his voice and that slow, fucking drawl… So not fair.

“I was dreaming about Tom Cruise in that new Top Gun movie.” You blurt out bluntly in Fox’s face, ignoring the perturbed look, there. “I’d really like to get back to tha- “Suddenly Fox leans down, undeterred by your arguments as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You jaw drops. “Excuse me!- “

“Aghhh… “He sighs there, breathing in the smell of your body wash and shampoo. “I fucken missed this.”

“Winslow Foxworth Coltrane!- “ A big hand weaves up into your hair, rough fingertips massaging gently into the back of your scalp.

“Shhh, remember the long-haired fucker in the other room.”

Defiant as ever, you tense up on purpose and state: “I’ll call for him. This is assault.” Assault that admittedly feels really nice. Damn it.

Fox’s other arm goes around your waist and he just gathers you up against him, hugging you. Your eyes widen as your resolve slips away from you. “Missed you.”

“Ah- “Oh no. What was that? What did he say? “Fox- “You push at him, but to no avail. Plus, you weren’t really trying. You sigh, and give up. “You’re half-asleep Fox, we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

His grip around you just gets a little tighter- not hurting, but… warm. All-Engulfing. “… sure… “He doesn’t sound invested, or even like he cares, but he’s holding onto you like you’re precious and important and it make you want to melt. You won’t, because for all you know he’s high, but you do allow yourself to relax in this dangerous man’s grip. “Come with us tomorrow, wontcha?”

Ha, you chuckle. “No, I won’t.”

“Damn… “Slowly he pulls back, and you see a grin on his, admittedly, handsome face. Even if it is dirty. “Gonna haveta kidnap ya, huh?”

You point a stern finger at him. “Try it, bucko.”

“I just might.”

“Euuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh,” Baby exclaims, suddenly, from behind the couch, and you both turn to find the most disgusted look on her face as she looks between you. “You two are sick! Damn- fuck or something; Get a room. Anything but this. I don’t wanna see that. Ugh.”

#Winslow Foxworth Coltrane x Reader Oneshot #Foxy Coltrane x Reader Oneshot #The Midnight Wolfman x Reader Oneshot #Winslow Foxworth Coltrane x Reader #Foxy Coltrane x Reader #The Midnight Wolfman x Reader #Winslow Foxworth Coltrane #Foxy Coltrane #The Midnight Man #Otis B Driftwood #Baby Firefly #Oneshot #Horror Villains #Horror Villains x Reader #Horror Villains x Reader Oneshot #Horror Villain #Horror Villain x Reader #Horror Villain x Reader Oneshot

[ponkersworld]

I don't trust anyone who enjoys the taste of broccoli. Decidous munching motherfuckers. What are they hiding.

#worst goddamn vegetable i swear #yes im aware i sound like a 5 year old

[y0itsbri]

Falling for You

ballet au one-shot for @gallavichthings 's a.u.gust

summary: dance instructor mickey! ian keeps messing up the lifts with the dancers, and mickey cannot have his girls injured because of this himbo, even if he is hot. he makes ian stay after class to practice on him -- and he swears there's no ulterior motives. but they're so close and his hands are all over him and he can feel his breath and it is so unprofessional but fuck it.

words: 2k

Mickey had a new guy in his class that wasn't doing... well... by any standards. Alright, the dude sucked. Mickey had been a ballet instructor for several years and not once has he met a dancer as uncoordinated and unbalanced as Ian fucking Gallagher.

Somehow, Ian had managed to not only rip the ballet barre off of the goddamn wall in his attempt at a grand plie, fallen flat on his face after pas de chat gone wrong, but he also managed to launch his fellow ballerinas onto the floor instead of the air.

He was a disaster.

Mickey had better shit to do with his time at the studio than patch up his dancers, and studio, after Gallagher's classes. Svetlana's father would have his ass if she got injured on his watch. And Ian being the only guy in their class, there was no way for him not to share the front-and-center spotlight with Svetlana.

Yeah, Mickey wasn't letting Ian any-fucking-where near Svet if he could help it. At least in his current state. Dude was a piece of work.

Mickey figured he would be a lot more upset about all this if Ian's apologetic puppy dog eyes weren't so goddamn convincing.

Fucking Gallagher.

--

"Ayo, Mands! Come help me with this!" Mickey called, echoing in the studio, now nearly empty besides the Milkovich siblings and a six-foot-tall ginger man looking both utterly clueless and utterly terrified. Mickey was utterly hopeless.

Mandy popped in the doorframe, sliding her shoes on but leaving them untied.

"Can't! I got actual shit to do! I don't live and breathe the studio like your sorry ass. No offense, Ian, my brother is great, please stay. Full offense, Mickey, get a fucking life!"

Mickey was left speechless and slightly embarrassed by Mandy's outburst and only managed to flip her off before she was out the door.

"Charming sister you got there," Ian let a quiet laugh slip before schooling his expression at Mickey's lack of amusement.

Mickey sighed and rubbed his hands down the length of his face for a moment. Ian and Mickey held eye contact a bit longer before Mickey abruptly straightened up and clapped his hands together. The noise startled Ian from his own amused trance.

"Alright, Clifford, how do you feel about private lessons for a little bit until you're not tripping over your own feet?"

Ian stepped forward to argue, but, proving Mickey's point, stumbled over the shoes on the floor in front of him. He didn't miss the way that Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side.

"Can't afford extra classes," Ian shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

"It's on me," Mickey swiped his top lip. He didn't miss the way that Ian's gaze lingered on his mouth,"Kinda need you..." really want you, "to, uh, look good..." as if he doesn't already, fucking red-headed alien-looking motherfucker, "on the floor..." of my bedroom, goddamn it, Mick, get it together! "the, uh, dance floor."

Ian paused, considering the way that Mickey was stumbling over his words in a way that one might call endearing, another might call the-worst-fucking-experience-of-his-life.

"I'll do it."

Do me. Seriously, go drink some water, oh my god.

Mickey literally took a sip from his water bottle, hoping that it would at least calm his nerves. He was a professional!

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You free after class?" A pause, "To work on some skills, I mean."

"It's a date," Ian smirked, leaning down to pick up his shoes from the ground in front of him. By the time he was upright again, Mickey had already started walking away, but the blush on his cheeks and the back of his neck could be spotted from a mile away. He was utterly fucked.

--

Mickey yawned and got up from his stretching position on the floor. He walked over to the stereo, systematically knocking his dancer's feet on his way over until they were all turned out and pointed.

"No Orange Boy today?" Svetlana asked, meeting Mickey's eyes with a challenging stare.

Mickey ignored the chorus of "He's so hot!" "Have you seen his arms?" and "Ian's the nicest!" from the rest of the girls.

Svetlana raised her eyebrow in question and Mickey's defenses flew out the window. This goddamn power dynamic was going to be the death of him.

"I put him on private lessons until he's no longer a disruption to the class," he shrugged.

"Aww," one brunette pouted.

"Disruption to class or disruption to tiny bulge in your pants?" Svetlana smirked, earning some scandalized gasps from the other dancers.

Mickey flipped her off, "The fucker made me take out a greater insurance policy with all his accidents, don't be fucking absurd."

A blonde nodded understandingly from the back of the class, "My ankle is still a little funky from the last lift we tried."

Mickey held his arms out in a display of I-told-you-so and Svetlana rolled her eyes.

"Great!" Mickey clapped his hands together, earning the full attention of his class as they hurried to their feet, "Now that all the hot drama is outta the air, let's do a quick warm up combo across the floor. Chasse step pas de bourree double pirouette step arabesque, in 5, 6, 7, 8..."

--

Ian had been waiting outside the studio for the last ten minutes of class, more-so watching his instructor shift around than paying attention to what the dancers were actually doing. That's probably what got him into his current predicament, and he couldn't decide whether that was a curse or a blessing. Mickey's arms flexed as he pointed across the room to call out someone's weak spot.

Yup, it was a blessing.

Oh shit, Mickey was looking his way. Was this a double sided mirror? No, of course not. Why would there be a double sided mirror? Oh, Mickey was definitely staring at him. Fuck. Wait, did he just wink? No way, he must've just blinked. With one eye. Yeah, totally normal. Nothing to overthink, Ian.

Get it together!

--

Mickey dismissed his class five minutes early and it had nothing to do with the Jolly Ginger Giant standing outside his studio.

While most of his dancers wordlessly accepted the easy out, Svetlana stayed back to taunt. "Have fun with private lessons," she sneered, jerking off an invisible cock.

"Choke on it," Mickey retorted tossing her warm-up jacket at her face, which she swiftly caught.

Svetlana turned and made a show of looking Ian up and down, his cheeks turning pink under her intense gaze. She faced Mickey head on, "You will be vegetable stew by the time this man is done with you."

The fuck does that mean?

Sometimes Mickey thought that Svetlana spoke in riddles just to mess with him. He blamed it on the Russian accent, never mind he was part Ukrainian himself. The languages were similar, but not identical, fuck you very much.

But, damn, forget that, Gallagher looked good. He was wearing his usual white tank top and grey sweatpants, but Mickey never got the opportunity to openly ogle in class. Not that that was what he was doing now.

Ian returned the long look appreciatively before stepping closer and Mickey snapped back into professionalism, well as far as professionalism goes, Milkovich-style.

He turned his back on the bane of his pathetic existence and snapped a quick but polite, "Get your shoes on and we can get started."

"Oh, right."

That seemed to be enough to get the gears in Ian's head going again as he dropped his bag to the floor, echoing in the truly empty studio, and dropping down onto the floor himself to secure his ballet shoes, which may as well be clown shoes for as big as his feet were. Mickey fit into the same brand as the girls, but he had to order special for Gallagher.

"Thanks for doing this, Mickey."

Mickey. The way that this man said his name was making him feel all sorts of flustered that he would most definitely deny.

"Mandy said you don't usually make exceptions."

"Gotta catch you up to speed or you're gonna be dancing with the 5 year-olds, man."

Ian tilted his head considering.

Mickey frowned, "Don't do it."

Ian smirked and Mickey had to look away as a grin and blush creeped up on his own face.

"Alright, so we'll start you off with the basics."

Mickey went through their normal class routine, but broke it down slowly, pausing to explain certain positions in details he couldn't afford to spend time with in class, specifically how not to fall. It should have been fairly obvious in his opinion, but Ian still managed somehow. The first few times, he was on the floor before Mickey even knew he was going down.

But the third, Mickey made a mistake. Mickey instinctively reached out to catch him.

As soon as he realized where his hands were, he pulled them off like he'd been burned, which he may have well been. He pulled his gaze to his feet, studying the floor while he composed himself.

"Mickey," Ian waited until he looked up, and then he spoke so quietly, "You can touch me."

And what made things worse was that Ian's dazzling eyes left little to the imagination. They both knew where this was going, and the moment was too intense too quick. The longer their eyes held, the hotter Mickey felt his neck grow.

"Ya know," Ian stepped closer. "To fix my positions..."

Mickey swallowed, "Uh, I think we're done for today."

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He never meant them to begin with. But if Ian stayed any longer, Mickey was going to climb him like a tree and that really wasn't under his personal code of professionalism, no matter how loose those terms may be to begin with. It was getting late anyways, he reasoned with himself.

"What about the lifts? That's the important part, right?" Ian questioned, eyes pleading like he would die without this one skill being taught to him by his oh-so-unprofessional instructor.

Mickey sighed. Ya know what? Fuck it.

Mickey sauntered over to Ian, pressed his back to Ian's front, and grabbed one of Ian's massive hands and placed it on his own waist.

Ian gave an experimental squeeze and Mickey softened in his grip.

Ridiculous.

"We're not doing the lift are we?" Ian murmured breathily, hot air making the hairs on the back of Mickey's neck tingle.

"What do you think, Firecrotch?" Mickey pushed his weight back into Ian's chest, which would be the second mistake of the day.

Ian toppled over backwards, landing with a painful sounding thud and sending Mickey down on top of him before he rolled off the the side with a groan.

Ian started laughing and Mickey was concerned. Was this idiot actually fucking concussed this time? He wasn't sure how he would explain this to his insurance company.

Mickey straddled Ian's lap, gently slapping his face, "Are you good, man? Alive?"

"Never better." Ian was still smiling like an absolute goof.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in concern.

"Seriously, I just can't play things cool," Ian raised his hips to grind against Mickey's ass, "Obviously."

"You're an idiot," Mickey rolled his eyes, and all Ian could do was grin and reach up towards Mickey's neck, pulling his down until their lips almost touched, sharing breaths and excitement.

"Maybe," another breath, "But I still got you to fall for me."

It was Mickey's turn to laugh, more of a raspy exhale than anything. His "fuck you" was almost lost between them as they fell together at last.

(side note: this was the lift that they were going to do, so i feel like the hand on the waist makes sense -- gotta have a visual lmao)

#i might have an idea for a sequel/series if anyone is interested: mandy pov of this and another one shot in their relationship era??? #who knows #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #mandy milkovich #ian x mickey #shameless fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #svetlana yevgenivna #my posts

[someonewhowannadielol]

My name is 01001010 01001011 (Alien!Jungkook! x Human!Reader)

Summary: “So you’re a human?” The alien that looked and acted like a human asked. The only difference between him and you was that he had two upside down triangles starting from his jaw going down under his shirt. Also, he was huge. “I’m talking 8 foot tall” huge.

Warning: Daddy kink, Dirty talk, size kink, cunt slapping, Jungkook being rlly big, fingering, nipple sucking (?), Dom/sub themes, and Jungkook being a curious alien.

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 6.3k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

COVID-19 vs Human kind. Human kind was pretty much fucked. In front of your eyes, the world population went from a staggering 8 billion people to an exponentially low 1 million. Within two years. It was in October 2020, when scientist realized that instead of working on a vaccine, they needed to discover a place where those free from this deadly disease could live. Safely and peacefully.

Then, the people of Jubal, stepped in, and it was pure chaos. You still remember the day, 14thof December 2020. Everywhere; social media platforms, billboards, NASA’s speech, everything revolved around the message they sent us. They wanted to help us. Surprisingly, we knew nothing about them, but they knew everything about us. From our appearance to our food, cultures, languages, and what not. It low key creeped you out, not going to lie.

Nonetheless, we began building the transport link through their help and finally, one year later (pretty much the brink of our extinction), we were on our way to a new life.

Honestly, you had imagined them to look like- or well, to not look like how they looked. You’d expected Pokémons, or weird looking octopus, or even insects. But they looked just like you, expect they were way bigger in size.

After half a month or so, you had started to get used to the atmosphere. Almost similar to Earth, there were two sides to this planet, a much hotter plane, where the temperature never went below 104 Fahrenheit. You remember going there when you first arrived here, and oh god, you hated it. The temperature was too high for you; they didn’t know what ice cream was (how can they not know! You thought they knew everything, yet they’re unaware about one of the most popular desserts on Earth), you absolutely hated sweating and no amount of air conditioning could stop it, and the beach just looked out of place. The sand wasn’t the usual pale brown shade, instead it was just the color of the ocean itself – it adapted to the shade of the flowing water into a green-blue hue. Weird. Also, there was one sun in the morning, and three in the evening, gradually coming as the hours passed by.  

You had also noticed that all of them ate food at the same temperature. Nothing was cold like ice, or hot like a fresh pizza. The concept was new to them, and when you asked for the water to be cold at the first restaurant you went to – the waiter just looked lost. The poor soul, he was told to make the humans feel at home, so when he realized he couldn’t do what you asked to, you just felt really bad. Still, it was funny that a seven-foot tall man was scared of you being uncomfortable. It was cute, honestly.

Also, almost similar to Earth, the two places had different types of Jubals living there. The sunny side had more tan skinned people, with bright, blond hair and bright eyes. Whereas, the cold plane Jubals had fairer skin, darker hair and doe eyes. The one similarity being – they were huge as fuck. The average height was around seven foot for men, and around six foot for females. So, standing at a 5 foot 2 inches (almost three inches I swear!), you felt tiny (and intimidated sometimes, but you weren’t going to admit that.

After finalizing that you definitely didn’t want to live in the hotter part of the planet, you moved to Corellia, it was cold there but not in the way you expected it to be. In the morning, it was perfectly fine, the cold breeze was nothing short of comfortable, but as the evening came, it started to get cold to the point where you couldn’t bear to go outside after 6 PM. Sometimes, you think you might have underestimated the cold here at night, because the two beautiful moons brought such intense cold that you wouldn’t dare go out at night. They gifted you a cozy one bed apartment with a really good heating system, which you appreciated. Also, you had never been so glad that you brought the microwave from Earth, without it, you didn’t know what you would do.

Ever since you moved, you had pretty much been lonely, because of the lack of contact with humans. Most of them preferred to live in the hotter state, wanting to get tanned - and to fuck the surfer Jubal hotties. You still remember parting with your sister and her ranting about this Jubal she met who was so “dreamy” and “good at surfing”.

As usual, you were just trying to get used to the food here, thankfully, they had a smaller section of “human,” food that mostly consisted of cup noodles, vegetables, chicken and chocolates. Getting groceries was intimidating at first (honestly, it kind of still is), because everyone and everything was so large, and everyone just kept staring at you. You still haven’t interacted with a Jubal on your own, it’s not like you were scared – you were – but also you didn’t really know how to go up to one. Until now, the only two Jubals you’ve met were the grocery store cashier and the landlord. Sigh.

You were so happy when you saw the new addition of real, organic milk in the grocery aisle! Thank god you got a break from that horrid almond milk. It was just water pretending to be milk honestly, and whenever you poured it in your cereal, it felt like drowning them in water, yuck. But, as much as you could try, you just would not reach the goddamn shelf. Why did these Jubals have to be so tall! Why couldn’t they just make this aisle according to human size!

You heard someone shuffle behind, but paid no heed until you heard laughter burst and immediately looked back to see one of them laughing so hard, his body shook.

“You- you’re so tiny!” He barely managed to get that sentence out of him, since he couldn’t stop his outburst.  

Of course, you were offended.

“I’m actually not! You all are way too big!” You didn’t really know how to respond, because this was just so sudden.

“Hm, I don’t think so, you’re smaller than average earthlings. But it’s okay, because it’s adorable,” so, you were really surprised when you felt him behind you, reach up to the milk shelf and grab a container of it. Of course, being the dumb idiot you were, you suddenly turned around and had to face him again. You hadn’t noticed his physical features before, but now that you did. Holy shit.

He was tall (I know, it’s obvious by now), and had such, clear, fair skin. Two upside down triangles were on each side of his jaw and went down, disappearing under his coat. He looked at you with such doe, curious eyes, almost as if he was entertained by your mere presence.

“Here you go,” he handed you the container of milk – while still being really close (not that you minded it). Despite the irritatingly bright fluorescent store lighting, his hair shined, and looked so soft.

And after that, he just followed you around the store, and you honestly didn’t really know what to do.

“You know, I’ve been trying to find a human since a month now, but I’ve heard most of them moved to the Southern part. You should’ve done that too, because Corellia is too cold for you. You’re a little slow,”

And you’re a little piece of shit.

“But now I found you. You’re really adorable, the books didn’t tell me that. Ever since humankind moved here, I’ve been really studying Earth. Did you guys really had pink leaved trees? And forests? It must be so cool for so many trees to be in one place. I also really want to meet a lion,”

“You can’t just meet a lion,” you chuckled, he was weird, but somehow, it wasn’t awkward around him. He radiated this warm energy that you hadn’t seen in the Jubal people around you, and it was comforting, made you want to stay by his side – even if it meant answering his dumb questions.

“I can, you can’t. It would eat you, because you’re bite sized for it,” he continued to comment on your petite stature, and the worst part is that you couldn’t even defend yourself, especially when he kept towering over you.

“Hey! Stop making fun of me,” you tried to push him but the basket was too heavy for you, so you ended up just… awkwardly not being able to do it. Suddenly his – huge – hand swoops in and carries the heavy grocery basket as if it was nothing.

“You should’ve told me it was too heavy for you,” he sounded almost as if he was scolding you, and coo-ing at you at the same time. His eyebrows bunched up in frustration as he mumbled something along the lines of ‘how can I protect you if you won’t tell me what you need,’ but you couldn’t really make out what he said.

You were just pulled out of your thoughts when you heard him put something in your basket. Something that the Jubals ate, not humans.

Should I ask him to leave? No, that’s way too rude. Then, should I ask him why he’s following me?

“This is delicious, you should try it,” He spoke while continuing to look around the store, and put random items in your basket. There was a variation of their fruits (this one had a gradient of yellow and orange, with huge spikes coming out from the top), cans with God-knows-what inside (the one he put in your basket had cherry colored pentagons on it, and a juice bottle that contained neon green juice. You were not looking forward to drinking that.

“I don’t even know how to make all of this. What if I can’t eat it?” You were scared of most of these food items, you got sick easily, and didn’t know how to cope if you fell sick here. Without the medicines, you’d probably die.

“I’ll cook it for you if you want to,” He looked at you and smiled, “I know humans are fragile, so don’t worry, I made sure to get the ones which would be safe for you,” he said, while petting your hair, and smiling. You instantly fell in love with it, it wasn’t like the way he laughed at you earlier, but somehow, it was far more beautiful. His eyes crunched up into half-moons, cheeks being bunched up, he almost looked like the small bunny you had as a pet when you were younger. So. Cute.

“But I don’t even know your name, why would you do this for me?” You really were curious, why was a Jubal so interested in humans? So far, most of them have just maintained a distance from you.

“Because I want to keep you,” he looked at you, and the duality of his presence made you shiver. The small bunny smile morphed into a more serious face, his already dark brown eyes, turned into a slightly darker shade, giving you the chills.

“You can’t keep me,” you didn’t know how to fight this argument, you almost wanted to laugh and act as if you thought it was a joke, but you weren’t an idiot – and nor was he.

“I know, I can’t find the Earth word for it, I want to be with you, is what I mean,” he mumbled as he tried to find something in the cereal aisle.

The grocery trip was actually not as weird as you’d expect it to be. While you both didn’t know anything about each other, not even names (not that Jubals had actual names, they just talked through their minds?)

And as soon as you reached the cashier, before you could even take out your money, he nod, and paid the bill.

“Hey! I can pay for myself, you don’t have to do this!”  

Honestly, you didn’t really know what to say after he said, “I’m paying, now be a good baby and stand still,” where did he even learn to speak like that?

It was starting to get cold now, and after you exited the heated mall, it was visible that you shivered every time the cold brushed up against your figure. You should’ve worn the third sweater, sigh.

“So you’re really a human?” He said, as he carried your groceries and followed you, on your way to the apartment.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N,”

“How can you be a Y/N? You just said you were a human,” He asked, really confused. Were you pranking him? He learnt in (one of his many books about humans) that humans liked to prank each other for entertainment. He found the idea amusing, but right now he couldn’t decide whether you were pranking or joking.

He didn’t understand the difference between pranking and joking, either.

“I-  What? No, I mean I am a human, but my name is Y/N,” you were definitely amused at his seriousness, yet you couldn’t help but be intimidated by his tall figure. Also, you felt bad that he was holding all the groceries, so you decided to grab one of the bags from him.

“Y/N!” He stopped dead in his tracks after your fingers brushed against his, “I just remembered you can’t bear the cold after 6pm, so you have to wear many clothes to protect yourself. You’re already so cold,” he felt your hand, and his was so warm and felt right, intertwined in your hand. His hand was so huge, that it enveloped yours easily, and you could really notice the size difference now. 

He quickly transferred all the grocery bags into his left hand, and continued to give you his coat, and held your hand again, and it felt… nice. The fact that he smelled so good, helped too, you couldn’t exactly put your finger on it, but it was really comforting. 

You were quite used to the stares you got on the streets from other Jubals, and always thought that they would go away, but it’s been two weeks, yet they still continue to look at you up and down, so you finally asked him. You still didn’t know his name, and didn’t know whether you should ask him or not, was it insulting?

“Why does everyone keep staring at me?”

“Because you’re so cute,”

What. It was almost like you forgot how to breathe. How could he say that all of a sudden, out of the blue? Also, you actually could not breathe, because while he had long legs that lasted for days, you had much smaller legs and it was starting to get hard to keep up.

“Hey! Could you walk-” you took in a breath, wow, your stamina was really, uh, shitty, “could you walk a little slow?”

He looked back at you, and tilted his head almost as to ask ‘why?’, but understood quickly. Then, he flashed one of his cute smiles, again, the smile that did things to your heart that you hadn’t felt before.

“Do you want me to carry you?” He also had read previously that humans can get really tired, and sometimes not even have the strength to move on. Especially females, they were more fragile, and he could physically see that too, because you were just so small. The average height was supposed to be 5’4 or even 5’6 for human females around your age, but you seemed smaller than that. But you also didn’t seem to be a child because those under the age 18 were always with their parents right? He had almost started to doubt those textbooks he bought on humans.

“No, I can walk myself,” You tried to defend yourself, and started to mentally curse as to why you asked him to slow down.

You finally reached your apartment door. Honestly, you had thought that he would stop following you after you reached the apartment building… but he just continued to bring the groceries in.

Should you invite him in? Did you even clean your living space? You probably had your underwear lying all over the place, since now you lived alone and had no fear of someone else coming in your private space.

“Can I come in?”

Well, you didn’t want to say no to him, he’s been really nice so far, and you had to admit, picking up groceries was really hard to do, and you weren’t exactly physically active enough to carry all those bags that he easily carried in one hand.

He then walked himself to the door after putting the groceries in the kitchen. What really surprised you was how he looked back at you, not how he looked before. Before, he looked with warmth, and now. Now, he almost towered at you, reminding how much power he really has over you. He looked at your lips, and then back at your eyes and tilted his head.

“W-well, it was really nice to meet you,” you said trying to break the tension and to distract yourself from the obviously gorgeous man.

“I hope to see your cute face again soon,” he smiled one of his bunny smiles again, and kissed you on the cheek before disappearing under the stairs.

You curled yourself up in your blanket, and tried to sleep, but that Jubal kept intruding your thoughts. 

Would you get to see him again?

The next time you saw the cute Jubal from the grocery store was next week Saturday. On Earth, entertainment was in the form of movies, arcades and concerts. Similarly, here too, people had a theatre – instead of a movie on a projector, it was shown in 3D form, almost like a live performance, expect there were holographic figures.

You looked around, and by now you had taken into account that Jubal people weren’t afraid to show off their skin – even though it was crazy cold here, their bigger bodies could compensate by giving them more body heat. Unfortunately, your smaller stature couldn’t provide you with the same amount of heat and you always had to bundle up in three or even four layers to keep yourself from freezing or catching a cold.

You were watching a really heated up scene, and it was getting kind of… uncomfortable. While others were simply watching casually, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, you kept shuffling in your seat – so it was a pleasant surprise when you felt someone cover your eyes from behind you.

“Wha-” instinctively, you looked behind, and it was the same boy (or man?), from the grocery store.

“Hey,” again, you waved at him, almost as a form of habit, and he looked at you as if you did something quite weird. Without any questions, he tried to imitate you, but he was really stiff so you couldn’t help but let you a laugh.

“I know I didn’t introduce myself much better last time, but we don’t really have names. Still, I decided to get one for myself, because once I get a human, she should be able to call me something,”

Did he… did he mean that you were his human?

“Well, what did you settle for?”

“My name is 01001010 01001011. I thought it was really similar to the ones that humans have. Do you like it?” He asked with a proud grin, as his face lit up.

You tried to keep your laughter in, you really did but you when it did come out, you felt like wanting to die. His face crumpled up almost as if he was ashamed of his name as he increased the distance between the two of you.

Nice one, Y/N, you made the only person who cared enough for you sad.

“Hey, look, it’s a nice name, it’s just not very human-like,” you explained to him.

“It’s the binary code for a human name,”

Because of the constant conversation you both were immersed in, the Jubals beside you were starting to get annoyed – and while they didn’t say anything, probably because they didn’t want you to feel bad (you still did, for trying to ruin their experience for this live-movie thing), you decided to head out with him.

As you both walked in one of the main parks situated in the middle of Corellia state, he settled on a spot in the corner of the massive area.

“Would you like to give me a name?” he looked at your face with such intensity, that you couldn’t help but feel insecure and want to cover your face.

“Well, what did those binary numbers represent?” you really did want to help his get a name, after all, he was your first friend here.

“I want to be called JK, but my friends told me it was a ridiculous human name, because no one was named JK before. So I settled for its binary number. They approved of that,” his eyes shone of much when he talked about it, his long lashes were uprightly curved and you couldn’t help but swoon.

You fiddled with your sweater as you gave him suggestions, but none seemed to suit him.

“Jake? No,” you were starting to get frustrated at this, “Hm, maybe Jacob?” you shook your head again, unsatisfied.

He just simply continued to laugh at you being so serious, occasionally playing with hair and pressing a finger to your soft cheeks. When he commented on you being soft, you couldn’t help but blush (and when he compared you to one their red fruits, you couldn’t help but blush harder (you denied it, obviously)).

“Jungkook!” you remember reading that word in one of the books you had in high school literature.

“Jungkook? Do you like it, baby?” He played with your cheeks with happiness, he was happy that you were no longer frustrated or angry. Finally satisfied and happy. Of course, you blushed at the word of endearment, but didn’t tell him to not say it.

Oh. Well, after that, he just continued to ask you about humans, and more specifically about you. You were amused by most of his questions,

“What is sarcasm?”

“Why do you like pizza so much, when it’s detrimental for your health? You shouldn’t eat it, I’ll make good food for you,”

“How do you make stereotypes?”

“Why do people get cosmetic surgery?”

And each one of them seemed normal for a Jubal to ask until,

“Why do humans like cuddling?”  

At this point, you were quite tired, but still thought it would rude to ask him out, because he seemed really curious, every question coming right after you answer the last one.

“I guess, we just like to be touchy and close,” you said and you tried to suppress a yawn, but it just slipped.

“What was that? Was that a sigh? Or a yawn? Are you tired? That was so cute, do it again,”

“Just a little tired,” you said as you rested you head on his shoulder without realizing to do so. It was also getting really cold; the second moon had started to show up.

You both got up, and the walk back home was really pleasant. He kept cracking jokes and dancing on the pavement. You tried to imitate his dance, but your flow wasn’t as steady as his. How could someone dance so good like this, yet not be able to wave correctly? Your fingers intertwined again, and you leaned more into his body this time. You could barely reach his mid chest, that’s how tall he was. But somehow, you didn’t mind it because you both fit so perfectly – as if two parts of one puzzle.

As you reached the door of your apartment door again, you felt Deja-vu. He looked at your face, studying it carefully and looking back at your eyes, however instead of just looking at your lips this time, he leaned closer and looked back at you – almost as if asking for permission to kiss you. You nodded, and wow.

As his lips drew closer to yours, you could feel him cupping your face with both hands, one of them gradually descending to the back of your head as it found its place in your hair. They were incredibly soft, and almost overpowered you, because you didn’t expect this. As he slid his tongue and slowed himself, you found yourself wanting more, leaning towards him.

Before realizing that you needed to breathe, you started to choke, as he pulled himself back, and chuckled before saying, “Baby girl, take it slow, I’m all yours.”

“Want more,” is all you can say before leaning towards him, wanting to kiss him again. But unlucky for you, he just moved back before laughing again, and this time you pouted and slightly punched his chest.

“Now, you’re just being a brat, baby, you’ll get what I’ll give you, understand?” You could feel his breath fanning your face, and his eyes were no longer twinkling like they did, but instead were full of lust and an animalistic hunger.

‘’Jungkook, please,” you had never really been serious with boys in your high school, and so, this was the first time you had actually felt something down there. It was almost like someone – or Jungkook – lit a fire in your core, and you couldn’t help but just want more.

Fumbling hands opened the door to the apartment and you both tumbled in, messily but both of you didn’t care as you headed to your bedroom. On the way, he messily kissed your neck that made your knees buckle in a way that even walking was difficult.

He tossed you gently on your bed, that was way too big for the apartment, and ran his fingers through your hair, to you neck, and to your chest. He attacked your neck again, and started to form a pattern with his tongue as he pressed harder on some areas and trailed lighter on others.

You couldn’t help but let a whine escape your mouth when he left your neck unattended to take off your sweaters and cardigans till you were only in your undergarments and a see-through white dress.

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re so beautiful,” he said as he attacked your lips again, this time being harsher with his movements, as his tongue slipped in your mouth, doing wonders to his body.

“J-Jungkook, please,” you felt so much, so sudden, and even in this cold, the heat was too much for you – the heat inside you wanted to escape, but you didn’t know how to ask him.

“Yes, baby? Tell me what you want,” his amused voice made it obvious as to what you wanted, but still he continued to tease you, torment you, put you on the edge, “Tell daddy what you want,”

You took in a gasp as he unbuckled your bra strap from behind, free-ing your breasts, and the very next second, tore your fragile dress.

“Hm, tell me baby girl,” he asked you once again, as he took in one of you nipples in his mouth, his tongue encircling your bud, as one of his hands pinched the other one.

“Jungkook I-” you gasped as you felt a slap on your clit, it wasn’t that harsh because he was being careful, and you were still in your panties – but it just turned you on more.

“Baby, you have to call me Daddy, do you understand?” he said as his free wrist kept putting pressure on the top of you panties, making you want to rip them off, so you could finally feel him where you wanted to.

“Yes,” you said, and whined after he took off his mouth from your nipple to look at you, and after a second you understood what you had to say, “Yes Daddy, I understand,”

“Such a good girl for me, so pretty,” he said as he kissed your cheek, and you just couldn’t stop blushing. He was so harsh, yet so gentle at the same time – and it made your head spin.

“Now, be a good baby, and tell Daddy what you want him to do to you,” he said as he neared your ear, “does baby want daddy to wreck her pussy?”

You couldn’t help but shiver before speaking, “I want Daddy to make me feel good,”

His fingers slowly trailed your body, making you moan and buckle your body up towards him. You looked at him, his ears tinged red, and his eyes were darker than before, he almost looked like a fallen angel. He chuckled, looking at you seem so helpless, so fragile.

You were so soft, so ethereal, like an angel from the sky and he was there to taint you, to make you his.

He teased you by playing with the band of your underwear, he put two fingers in your mouth and you instantly slicked them with your saliva, making obscene noises that blended in with your moans. Then he trailed those two fingers right above your covered clit, and you couldn’t help but buckle up again, wanting those two fingers inside of you.

“Be patient, princess,” and it felt like an eternity as he circled his tongue in your belly button and it so, so, so slowly trailed down and down, and he finally took off your panties with his teeth.

“So wet, baby, you’re making a mess,” he commented as he rubbed you with one finger, and using the other one to encircle your hole. He pushed it a little inside, easily as your slick helped him, before looking back at you to see if you were comfortable, and when he got the green light, he continued to push it entirely in, “Such a good baby for me, think you can handle Daddy’s cock?”

You nodded in exasperation, his finger was long and hit all the right spots, but you needed more. He added another finger, while rubbing your clit with more pressure and making circle patterns with his tongue below your belly button. You were so near, so so near, you just needed that one push off the edge.

“Well, you’re going to have to work for Daddy’s cock, baby, think you can take this monster?” He took out his finger with a pop, as soon as he felt you clench down on his finger.

“Daddy, f-fuck me, please,” you moaned, missing his touch. He looked just as a mess as you were, panting and taking off his shirt. You continued to admire his body, he didn’t look buff like gym rats, but instead he had a lean, slightly muscular body.

He continued to tease you by biting his lip and taking off his boxers extremely slowly. You whimpered when his cock was free against his stomach, and it was bigger than any you’ve been before while watching porn. It was even bigger than the dildo your friend bought as a joke for your birthday present, and you had started to doubt if he would fit inside of you.

“Suck Daddy if you want to cum, princess,” he groaned as he pumped himself a couple of times before you put your mouth on his head.

Not having any experience before, you didn’t really know how to start, but you gave little kitten licks at his head, and then took it in your heated mouth. He didn’t taste how you had imagined, instead it was more like a salted caramel toffee you had, it was delicious and you wanted more. You continued to take more, and more of him and suddenly gagged because you couldn’t take anymore – only to realize you had only taken half his dick in your mouth.

“Can’t handle more? I guess you’re too small for Daddy’s big cock, huh?”

The thought of his not fucking you was almost terrifying at this point and you continued to let your throat loose and tale more of him, until you felt his cock twitch, which made you moan. Tears spilled out as he fucked your throat, fast and hard. 

“Such a good, pretty baby for daddy, taking my cock so good, princess,” he groaned before pushing in it a couple of times and taking it out.

“Such a naughty baby, making Daddy almost cum,” he kissed you again, tasting his own cum, before dipping down again, “you need to be punished, huh?”

“Daddy, please t-touch me,” you whined, grabbing his hand and putting it in between your thighs, and surprisingly he slapped your inner thigh.

“Being such a bratty baby now, I guess I do need to punish you, you don’t deserve Daddy’s fingers,” he said trailing again lightly all over body, but stopping as soon as he neared where you needed him the most, “touch yourself,”

You were dumbfounded, but when you saw his serious look, you shyly dipped your finger into your heat, and circled them around, but even after two fingers, it just wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you needed more.

“Daddy, please, I c-can’t, I need you,” you cried out while rubbing yourself between your legs, filled with your slick.

“Such a needy princess, always demanded Daddy,” he tsked before adding two fingers inside you, and as you gasped, “but Daddy adores you, so he’ll help his pretty little baby,”

You moaned, not holding back, as he pumped those fingers, and let his tongue work magic on your clit. He continuously pumped his fingers back and forth, while torturing your bud and the heat inside of you kept growing and before you realized it, “Jungkook, I’m going to cum!”

“Cum on my fingers, baby, go on,” his movements became more faster and you trembled under gaze, and unconsciously arched your back before letting yourself loose. It felt like heaven.

Even after this, you had been surprised to see that he didn’t stop and the stimulation was too much for you, as you tried to get away from him, but he held you in place, his wrist holding your pelvic in place.

Despite your whimpering and moans, he took his mouth to your perked up nipple again, and scissored his fingers, to prepare you for his cock. Then, he looked at you, cupped you face and kissed you again, this time more soft, as if you were a china doll, going to break at any given moment.

After letting his dick sit on your bud, he slowly let the head of his cock find your entrance and pushed it slightly. You let out a cry, he was too big for you, but he shushed you and pressed against your lips again before letting it enter little by little. You quickly grab his upper arm and clench it, the pain and pleasure were starting to combine again and you nodded, letting him know that it was okay to continue.

The raw emotion in his eyes was enough to let you go on, and when you were finally full, you looked down only to find you could only take half of him, he was just too big for you.

“Baby, fuck, you’re too tiny, can’t even take all of me,” he groaned before moving slowly, and then finally setting a pace that was safe, but unsatisfactory for you.

“J-Jungkook, f-fas-ter please,” you whined as he started becoming harsher, and his finger started abusing your bud again, and you couldn’t help but realize you were close again. This time, it felt more intense, more powerful.

He was so big, that you could feel him everywhere, it almost felt like he was ripping you apart, but the pleasure was almost overwhelming and the way his cock filled you up made you insatiable – you just wanted more, and more. You could feel your walls being pushed everything he buckled inside you, but he just did it so right.

“Baby, you’re so cute, gonna cum for Daddy?” he kissed your nipple and trailed up to your lips before diving a tongue into your moaning mouth. You nodded, and felt your second release come near.

“J-Jungkook, you feel so good,” you moaned as your walls clenched around his cock, and finally you gushed out, and trembled as you rode your orgasm. Simultaneously, he too, slammed his hips a couple times before cumming deep into you. As he took himself out, cum poured out of you, and he chuckled before taking it and spreading it over your face. Globs of cum covered your red cheeks and entered your mouth.

“You look so pretty with my cum on you face, keep it there until tomorrow morning,” he kissed your nose and coo-ed when you squirmed in embarrassment.

You could feel tugging and pulling when you felt someone wake you up and instinctively, you said, “Just five more minutes.”

“But you said that the last time,” Jungkook looked at you, his breathe fanning your face.

Too close, too close, too close. You looked at other way and tried to close your eyes.

“You’re so cute, like a small puppy,” he coo-ed at you, making your stomach feel things you’ve never felt before.

“I- I’m not like a puppy!” You tried to fight back in your sleep, but couldn’t help the blush forming on your cheeks and ears.

You could feel the dried up cum on your face, and wanted to wash it off, but feeling too sore to move.

“Can’t move, princess? Was Daddy’s cock too much for you, last night?” he coo-ed at you, mumbling about how cute you were, and how he wanted to baby you and make you his.

“I’m too sore, Kookie,” you whined into the pillow and were taken by surprise when he lifted you and carried you to the tub.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of my little human baby girl,” he said as he laid you in the lukewarm water and washed your body softly.

CLICK HERE FOR PART TWO

You were starting to feel more at home, even more than when you were at Earth.

A/N: That’s a wrap! Hope you like it. Go to master link for more!

#bts smut #Jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts reactions #bts reader insert #bts preferences #bts #jungkook bts #jungkook scenarios #Jungkook #jungkook reader insert #jungkook reaction #jungkook x reader #Jungkook daddy #jungkook fluff

[kasha-formerlydrabbletastic]

Ranking

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,967

Warnings: Food mention. Possible secondhand embarrassment trigger.

Author’s Note: Fluffy stuff. 

You had never been one for rag mags - celebrity gossip is simply uninteresting at best and horribly cruel at worst - but the bold headline this week on People Magazine catches your eye as you absentmindedly place your groceries on the belt at the supermarket. 

“Seriously?” you mutter incredulously, your fingers wrapped around a bottle of orange juice. 

Is it worthy of a chuckle? Should you keep moving, pretend you didn’t see it? Or... and you can’t believe this thought has even occurred to you... would it be worth the six bucks to bring it back to the compound and share with the rest of the team? The options occupy too much of your brain space as the cashier tells your total, distracting you from the inane tug-of-war in your head. 

“How much?” you say, shaking away the silly predicament for a moment. 

The cashier, hardly older than 16 it seems, points at the screen instead of answering. Before you pay, however, you glance back at the magazine, finally coming to a decision. 

--

The magazine slaps the counter top, its glossy front page gleaming as you unload the rest of the groceries; it gets lost in the vegetables and fruits, the cereals, the junk food... and for a while you forget it.

"Back with the grub, eh, Y/N?" Tony says, swiping up a bag of Doritos and popping it open. "I gotta say, you've done shopping trips quicker than that."

You laugh, gathering all the reusable bags into one and putting them away and say, "Maybe you should don your supersuit and fly over all the New York City traffic if you want it quicker.”

"I believe that would be an unnecessary trip," Bruce mentions from the kitchen table, sipping his tea. 

“Hey, I offered to send someone out to do it,” he replies. “You insisted on doing it yourself, remember? If I recall correctly,” he continues, feigning concentration as he puts on a teasing mocking tone, “you said that you didn’t want to let the fact that you’re an Avenger now make you too... what was the word.... bougie.”

“At least one of us needs to be grounded, Tony.”

Your gaze shifts to Steve as he passes, a subtle smile on his face when he meets your eye; your tummy flutters, having nothing to do with the hunger pang you’re feeling and everything to do with the way Steve’s eyes sparkle in the soothing lighting of the kitchen. You smile back, hoping the burn in your cheeks is obvious to no one but yourself. 

One by one, the team trickles into the kitchen, looking for a lazy Sunday lunch or ingredients for a post-workout smoothie. Your voices mingle together, a pleasant hum in the early afternoon of a rare mission-free, drama-free weekend. 

Or so you thought. 

"I'm not number one?!"

The incredulous shout draws every eye in the room; Tony sits on the counter, eyes wide as he stares into the open magazine in his hand. You giggle, turning back to your lunch, relieved to know you don't have to live with his over-inflated ego for the next century.

"What are you on about?” Thor says, looking up almost mid-bite. 

“This,” Tony replies, shaking the magazine; he flips through the pages, apparently intent on finding his ranking. “It’s the Top 10 Sexiest Male Superheroes, and I’m... not even second... I’m... how am I fifth?”

At this point, you bite your knuckle to keep from bursting aloud with laughter. You lock eyes with Steve, who mirrors your amusement.

“Lang is ahead of me? Are you serious? He’s a goddamn ant! An actual bug!”

“Who’s number one?” Natasha inquires after swallowing a bite of her sandwich.

Tony looks up, annoyed or crestfallen, you can’t tell. 

“Thor, of course,” he answers with a shrug. “Can’t beat a demigod, I guess.”

Thor jumps up from his chair, his arms raised in victory, Clint giving him a congratulatory high five. The kitchen descends into loud chatter, and after many demands to know the full list, Tony gives the magazine up to Natasha, who reads off the ranking. 

“Cap,” she says with a nod to him. “Good job, you’re second.”

“What?” he laughs; if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear it was humility that makes him say it. There’s no chance that his ranking would go to his head.

“It’s gotta be the beard,” Clint laughs. “Otherwise you would’ve been eighth or worse.”

“It’s definitely more than the beard,” you answer.

Biting your tongue might have been the better option, as now you find yourself the center of some very intrigued attention. Perhaps your tone was a little too defensive, or the blush that certainly feels infinitely hotter now has finally caught flame on your cheeks. Whatever it was that garnered such smirks from around the table, whatever your intentions, your immediate wish is for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 

“Care to elaborate on that, Y/N?” Tony asks, seeming to forget his fifth place ranking for a moment in favor of someone else’s total humiliation.

You clear your throat, glancing down at your food, bereft of your hunger. 

“Well,” you begin. “Maybe it has a lot to do with the way he carries himself, you know? There’s a lot of dignity there, a lot of virtue. He’s respectful and honest, stands up for what he believes in. He’s definitely not hideous, either. You know... he’s a - ”

“Y/N,” Steve says, leaning forward in his chair. “You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s really sweet of you, of course, and I do appreciate it, but - “

“No, Cap,” Tony interrupts. “I think we should let Y/N keep going.”

Your throat closes in panic and you clear it again, getting to your feet as you say, “I’m actually just gonna go.... uh... make a phone call. I’ll catch you guys later.”

Steve chastises Tony as the rest of the team breaks into discussion, but you don’t hear any of it. Soon, you’re in the elevator, bumping your head against the wall over and over, wondering if it’s too soon to pack your bags and leave the team with no notice as to where you’ve gone. You barely register your surroundings until you enter your room, locking the door behind you and requesting that FRIDAY ensures that you remain undisturbed until further notice. 

---

Each time your knuckles meet the leather of the punching bag, your mind gets a little clearer. It’s almost as if all the big and little things plaguing your thoughts settle on the surface of your fists, only to be smashed to pieces when you punch. The nervous energy that settled in you at lunch drives your fists forward, burning off into nothing with every movement you make. 

Midnight was the perfect time to sneak into the gym, to get a workout in without anyone bothering you; everyone usually slinks off to do their own things a little earlier in the evening. Perhaps some have fallen asleep by this time. It didn’t matter where they were or what they were doing as long as they weren’t around to say anything to you about Steve.

“Y/N?”

Then again... sometimes you’re wrong. 

You halt in your activity, breathing heavily and dreading turning to look at Steve. Your hands drop to your sides as you pluck up your courage, facing the man with a deep breath.

“Hey,” you reply as nonchalant as possible.

“Hi,” he says softly, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants; his eyes fix on yours, drawing you into their depths as usual as he slowly approaches you. “Can we talk?”

The pit in your stomach grows exponentially, making you regret ever leaving your room in the first place.

“We don’t have to,” you answer quietly. “It’s just a silly magazine. It’s not like it’s about anything important, right?”

Facing the bag once more, you resume your activity, hoping against hope that Steve just leaves it there, that he doesn’t press the matter. The very last thing you want to do is spill your guts about what you thought was just a casual crush to the very man you’re crushing on. You hadn’t expected to become so flustered in such a situation, but with the spotlight on you at lunch, it had really sunk in just how much you feel for him. 

“Y/N,” he continues, but you evade him.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, deciding to give up your workout for the night and hit the showers; he’d never follow you there. 

Before you can get too far, though, he says, “That’s why you’re running away from me, right?”

The anger is a surprise, bubbling up as you turn on your heel; perhaps it’s your shield in this moment, a veil to wear to save face. 

“Don’t push it, Cap,” you insist, making one more attempt at escape. Again, however, you’re stayed by his response.

“You’re definitely not hideous, either,’ he says, and you turn to face him once more; he stands there, wringing his hands, an earnest expression on his face. “You’re funny, and whip smart, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. There’s compassion and a goodness that I haven’t seen in anyone in a long time.”

Perhaps you’ve hit your head and you’re dreaming this. Maybe there’s a chance you inadvertently ingested some kind of hallucinogen at an enemy’s lair. Whatever it is, there is no way that Steve Rogers is standing in front of you, singing your praises like this. Not in the real world. Never once had you imagined the feelings reciprocated, so this must be a figment of your deepest desires.

“What?” is all you manage to say.

Steve’s brows knit over the bridge of his nose, desperation threading through every feature on his face.

“You can’t possibly think I wouldn’t fall for you, can you?” he asks gently. “That I haven’t noticed you? Y/N, you’re almost the only thing I notice anymore.”

"Well, that's a good way to get yourself killed during a mission."

You didn't mean to say it, and the moment solidifies around you, even the molecules in the air coming to a stand still. Steve’s eyes sparkle, blinking in slow motion as he moves forward. The corner of his mouth twitches upward in a sweet smirk. 

“What a way to go, then,” he says, within reaching distance of your hand. 

“So much for our selfless leader,” you giggle.

He hesitates for a moment, but when you move to offer your hand, he reaches out with his, his fingers curling around yours. The blue in his eyes glints in the low light of the gym, hinting not a single bit of insincerity. 

“There is something wrong with your ranking, though,” you say after a moment, amused at the almost-surprise in his expression as he straightens his posture.

“What do you mean?”

You grin before replying, “You should definitely have taken the number one spot.”

Steve relaxes, chuckling as he glances away. His free hand combs through his hair.

“Over Thor?” he says. “No way that’s happening.”

“Please,” you answer, finding your gumption and pulling him closer; the two of you are close enough to feel each other’s breaths on your faces, “There’s no contest.”

One more tug on his hand and his lips meet yours, hesitant at first, but with a sigh, the pair of you relax into each other. Lips parting, you taste his breath, minty and clean, as his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against his front. 

“If you say so,” he says as he pulls away, gazing into your eyes as he smiles, his expression a little dazed, a little satisfied. 

“Oh, Cap,” you reply, your hand above his wildly beating heart. “I do say so.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #steve rogers fluff #avengers fluff #captain america fluff

[katesmemes]

feel free to change any pronouns, etc. || may contain some nsfw!

“You’re the only one I can rely on to stay strong right now.”

“We got fire and shelter-- that’s a start.”

“I never thought I’d be so pleased to see your face.”

“Knew a feller-- got bit by a dog; died an hour later.”

“Thanks for coming for me.”

“Y’know, we’re gonna need to come up with a better story for that scar.”

“So, freezing, bleeding, starving, damn near getting eaten to death, ain’t good enough for you?”

“You always said revenge is a luxury we can’t afford.”

“You know I got your back.”

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“You’re always one with the jokes, aren’t you?”

“I just don’t want anymore people to die.”

“Sounds like he has more than enough to share.”

“Get to work, but stay out of trouble.”

“I’ve seen shit with more common sense than you!”

“You’re my favorite parasite. No...ringworm’s my favorite parasite-- you’re my second favorite parasite. I lied... Ringworm, then rats with the plague, then you.”

“I’ve got an unfortunate face.”

“You won the fight already-- surely that’s enough?”

"I could do with a break from this place.”

“I fear you don’t know how to help anyone excepting yourself.”

“Only the feeblest of men take jobs in the government.”

“Please send him my worst regards.”

“[Name] wouldn’t know sadness if it died in is bed.”

“It’s about time that you started to earn you keep.”

“Why do you have to speak so much? It’s...incessant.”

“Looks like I’ve turned into the goddamn errand boy.”

“You ain’t as tough and dense as all that.”

“That’s not how you are.”

“Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“How did someone even come up with them words?”

“I ain’t chopping vegetables for a living.”

“I’m sorry, [Name], was there insufficient feathers in your pillow?”

“I ain’t afraid of dying.”

“I ain’t here to rob you, though that seems easy enough.”

“Think of it as payback for [Name].”

“I ain’t in the revenge business, [Name].”

“I swear he talked the whole way and never actually said a damn thing.”

“He somehow manages to be both lucky and unlucky at the same time.”

“You should’ve taken the money.”

“You know me; I like to make friends in low places.”

“You mess up-- it’s just one of them things; I mess up-- I’m the prize idiot.”

“You are a man of profoundly limited intelligence.”

“Well, of course, it’s probably a trap...but what’ve we got to lose finding out?”

“Okay, just keep calm until I give you a reason not to.”

“Oh, my dear and trusted friend, with you watching over, I would walk into hell itself.”

“I dream too big; I care too much-- that’s my problem.”

“All you do is complain when things don’t work out-- except when it’s your goddamn fault.”

“If you ain’t gonna be civilized about this...”

“I don’t expect you to understand this, but I have never been more proud of you than I am right now.”

“This place ain’t no such thing as civilized-- It’s man so in love with greed he has forgotten himself and found only appetites.”

“He makes my skin crawl... Some swarthy cocksucker... You know what I mean, friend?”

“If you’re a girl without means in this world, life is very scary...”

“She didn’t love enough, I guess... Or I wouldn’t change.”

“In these books, life seems so simple, but, in reality, I... I can’t make head nor tail of it.”

“Oh, I see that kindly face of yours and I know, for the right inducements, a gentleman such as yourself could be mighty kind.”

“Oh now, you keep saying that, but you don’t mean nothing by it.”

“She is driven by forces I scarcely understand...”

“That’s what love has done to her, I guess.”

“We each got....fifteen dollars. Oh, and a quarter... Don’t forget the quarter.”

“If there’s a problem, it’s for me.”

“I thought you wasn’t getting involved.”

“We are gonna be harvesting mangoes in Tahiti.”

“You better be right about this one...”

“Have some goddamn faith.”

“I am bending over backwards to make a future for us!”

“There simply isn’t a reality in which we do nothing, and get everything.”

“I think he’ll be okay-- if he don’t get a fever.”

“Well, he definitely lacks a certain charm.”

“Don’t you ever leave love aside, [Name], it’s all we got.”

“I possess things you will never understand.”

“Every plan is a good plan if we execute it properly.”

“I’m just trying to stay real about all this.”

“That is one of the most beautiful acts I ever saw.”

“An insect bit you or something? ‘Cause you gone, friend.”

“I will do whatever it takes for us to survive.”

“I still ain’t sure what you’re saying, [Name].”

“This feller is really beginning to try my patience.”

“Nobody knows who you are-- not even your goddamn father.”

“We’ll find each other eventually. We always do.”

“My fair heart jumps for joy when I set eyes on you, [Name].”

“You can see why he has such a high opinion of himself.”

“I’ll wipe that goddamn smirk clean off your face.”

“You could’ve cleaned yourself up a bit.”

“I didn’t realize I was here to impress anyone.”

“Strangeness, I can handle-- It’s the normal business of life I can’t seem to get a grip on.”

“You’re an idiot, but you’ll always be my friend.”

“Well, of course I’m your friend, but...you ain’t always fair with me.”

“If I was fair with you and a good person, I’d have had you hanged a long time ago.”

“So, shut up, and act like a gentleman... or at least try to for once in your brainless life.”

“It’s sort of beautiful, in a gaudy, and tasteless way...”

“Quite ridiculous, but somehow very amusing.”

“You can see why folks don’t wanna come around here-- Ain’t exactly a welcoming place.”

“I don’t owe you nothing!”

“I loved you, you goddamn bastard!”

"She knew the rules, [Name]-- What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You think I wanted to shoot her?!”

“I don’t know anymore... I’m not sure if I even care.”

“Well, the best thing is rest and getting somewhere warm and dry, and taking it easy.”

“We can’t change what’s done; we can only move on.”

“He didn’t have a choice, He was good and he did good.”

“I understand if you don’t wanna help me, but... but... I think of you often.”

“He’s quite the character; I think you’ll like him.”

“Y’know... I’m impressed. You’ve really stepped things up, ain’t you?”

“Hey, we didn’t know if you was even coming back.”

“You have a real habit of stating the obvious, [Name].”

“What the hell is wrong with you? I only left you an hour ago. You can’t stay out of trouble for one goddamn hour?”

“You got that poor bastard killed for his troubles-- I kind of liked him!”

“Insist all you like; ain’t happening!”

“Well, I ain’t the crying sort, but, I’m real grateful!”

“This better not be no stupid revenge mission, [Name].”

“It’s just a simple social call.”

“So, what are we gonna say to him, that needs to be said?”

“This ain’t making a lot of sense, [Name].”

“Business doesn’t give two figs about feelings, sir. Not two figs.”

“Your impudence will be our undoing, sir.”

“Don’t play dumb and superior at the same time, [Name].”

“Feels like the whole world’s closing in on us.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“I think it’s a real bad idea.”

“See, I’m starting to think that you’ve gone soft, [Name].”

“So I was thinking, you go play dead, and I’ll take care of ‘em.”

“You play dead and I’ll cover you.”

“Nice shooting back there!”

“I could use a drink after that.”

“Listen... I know we ain’t always seen eye to eye, and...you find me irritating and a threat...and I like to annoy you...but right now I need better from you, [Name].”

“I ain’t the bad guy you think I am, [Name].”

“There’s a big picture here, [Name].”

“I feel like you should take your woman and child and get lost.”

“it’s that or...well, I don’t see no way outta this.”

“When the time comes, you gotta run and don’t look back.”

“That just ain’t how I wanna die.”

“You rally think that’ll draw attention away from us?”

“Y’know, all that ever mattered to me was loyalty. It was all I knew-- It was all I ever believed in.”

“I’m seeing things a lot more clearly now.”

“I wish things were different... But it weren’t us who changed.”

“You don’t seem yourself somehow...”

“Surely this can be done without killing anyone?”

“We shoot fellers as need shooting, we save fellers as need saving, feed them as need feeding.”

“It’s been quite a while since we helped anyone, but ourselves, and even you know that.”

“I have a plan, you just have to trust me.”

“This is exactly the distraction we need.”

“Hey. Hey-- you know I wasn’t gonna let it come to that.”

“I guess I don’t know what I know no more.”

“May God, in his infinite wisdom, have mercy upon your soul.”

“My whole life, I have tried to fight change.”

“Y’know, you and me... We’re more ghosts than people.”

“I miss him every day... every moment.”

“They turned me into a monster.”

“You’re the best man I’ve known.”

“I think I need to be alone for a bit.”

“Sometimes the correct path, the bravest path...is the least obvious, and also the gentlest.”

“My whole life I have tried to bring peace.”

We can talk if you want to, but don’t feel like you have to.”

“I should not have let you do this for me.”

“I hope you can find peace within yourself.”

“He’s a man who, not so long ago, I would have found weak and pathetic. Now I see as wise and thoughtful, and sensible.”

“We must act with due caution.”

“A failed man is often the most dangerous.”

“Hey, show some goddamn respect!”

“You’ll know when I ain’t showing respect.”

“I had a plan... I still have a plan!”

“I am tired of this constant dissent, long tired of it.”

“I’m gonna try and save him.”

“You’re quite the hero, ain’t you?”

“Come on... Don’t doubt me no more.”

“You saved my life more than once... To give mine for yours...it’s as it should be.”

“Everything is coming together exactly as I planned.”

“I’m afraid I have to insist.”

“Of course, pal... Whatever you think is best.”

“He insists upon it... Insists...”

“Don’t talk to me you son of a bitch.”

“Do it my way, honey. It’s for the best.”

“I’m gonna get you outta this bullshit if it’s the last goddamn thing I do.”

“It would mean a lot to me... Please...”

“You don’t know how much I’ve longed to do this.”

“All there is-- winning...and losing...”

“In the end, despite my best efforts to the contrary, it turns out I’ve won.”

“I gave you all I had... I did.”

“I tried in the end... I did.”

“I ain’t too proud to do nothing.”

“I love you. Don’t you forget that-- not ever now.”

“You stop acting like a goddamn storybook hero, will you?”

“I guess I was dreaming a little. At least give me that.”

“I did what I had to do to protect you.”

“I thought you was dead.”

“You know, speaking in monosyllables don’t make you seem interesting, it makes you seem stupid.”

“I never thought she was a smart woman, but this makes me think maybe I was wrong.”

“No, you’re stuck with me; seems I’m stuck with you.”

“Let’s just hope things don’t turn out like last time.”

“Now, you used to be decent company, but now, you’re worse than a snake with a toothache.”

“Get some self-respect you miserable sack of shit.”

“I just need a bit of peace and quiet from your incessant yapping.”

“That’s kind-- unlikely to be taken up, but kind.”

“You always did have that fine way with words.”

“Do you wish I was more like you?”

“There’s a lot of ugly in this world, but there sure as hell is a lot of beauty.”

“Ain’t you just the leading authority on everything?”

“Sometimes, you just don’t know how things are gonna turn out.”

“I think I’m gonna ask her to, uh, marry me.”

“I never took you for a romantic.”

“It’s been ages since we spent any time together.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you ain’t that much to look at.”

“Why you being so courteous?”

“You’re acting kinda...funny.”

“You know, you’re not very nice to me.”

“Oh, I’m nicer than you deserve.”

“What’re you doing with that arm?”

“I thought you might be cold.”

“You’re acting real strange...”

“Will you marry me?”

“Shut up, you silly man, and kiss me!”

“You’re bleeding pretty bad.”

“I don’t like it...I love it. It’s home.”

#ask meme #roleplay meme #rp meme #rp starters #rp sentence starters #rp starter sentences #sentence starters #starter sentences #roleplay starters #red dead redemption sentence starters #red dead redemption starter sentences #rdr sentence starters #rdr starter sentences #video game sentence starters

[meowdymista]

Van der Driscoll Pt 7

Part 6 - Masterlist

Part 8

This is a bit of a filler chapter, which is stupid for the ratio of original wording to in game script ratio. Next one will be more engaging, I promise. Also sorry for the long wait; I took time off from writing last week because it was my birthday, and then England swept into a second lockdown so it’s been poo trying to prepare especially in work because I process somms for small-medium businesses but whatever. No one is getting much for Christmas this year lol

****

You find, much to your relief and Arthur’s annoyance, that Sean’s chaotic charm and energy swallows everyone’s attention over the next few weeks. He’s loud, boastful and brash: The Irish Terrier as Arthur and his adopted fathers call him.

You can’t help but find his totally unapologetic nature comforting. Whilst washing shirts, you overhear him get Molly to admit she considers him no better than a chimney sweep from the local bog - and immediately crucify her for it, calling her “snotty nosed” and a “right little madam”, much to her dismay. After the weeks of dirty looks (despite little to no actual confrontation), Sean brings a breath of fresh air. With him nearby, you know exactly where you stand and whether anyone in the vicinity is plotting against you.

“Please, Y/N,” groans Arthur into his hands one evening. “Please tell me you ain’t makin’ friends with that bastard.”

“Why?” you ask, genuinely surprised. “Isn’t he like a little brother to you?”

“Yeah, but not in a good way.” He moves his hands to give you a look of despair. “What’s wrong with Lenny? Or Tilly? Or Mary Beth?”

“Karen’s fun,” you muse, earning yourself another groan.

“Always with the loud drunkards,” he grumbles.

“Mmhm, and what was it Dutch said? When you go missing he checks the saloon, and if you’re not there he checks the jail?”

“Shurrup.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you onto his body, grinning as you protest, laughing.

“Don’t play innocent - Hosea’s been telling me stories!”

“Ahh, don’t go listening to him. He spins stories for a living, and anyway I was a kid in most of them.”

“And the stories I’ve heard from Lenny?” you smirk, still fighting despite it proving futile with you laughing so much. He growls, peppering your exposed skin with kisses as you wrestle playfully.

You cry out when a flailing limb makes contact with one of your swollen breasts. Arthur immediately releases you, watching you with concern as you try to rub out the punch without swearing.

“Y’alright?”

“Fine,” you huff. “Just sensitive is all.”

“I’m sorry - shouldn’t be playing so rough with you when you’re… in the way tha’ you are.”

“It’s fine, Arthur,” you repeat firmly, staring him down. “I’m fine. You didn’t knock my stomach, so we’re fine. Like I said, I’m just sensitive.”

He hums doubtfully.

Following a shootout with the Pinkertons and the law in the middle of Valentine, Dutch had ordered the camp out of Horseshoe Overlook and ushered you south east into the state of Lemoyne. On the other side of Dewberry Creek, Arthur and Charles had scouted a hideout chistened Clemens Point. Arthur hadn’t been the keenest to tell you that story, but you had weaseled it out of him.

Micah had recommended the dried out river bed, but when Charles and Arthur had arrived to scout it, there was an abandoned camp nearby, complete with a dead body. Whilst trying to assess the location’s risk to a group of outlaws should they move in, Arthur had moved some crates to find a woman with her two children.

“I guess I saw you,” he mumbled sadly, avoiding eye contact. “An’ the mess I might leave you in one day.”

You rubbed his shoulder patiently. “What happened?”

“I told ‘em to go ‘cause we needed the land.”

You were confused by the guilt still plaguing him and told him so. With a heavy sigh, he described how the girl translated her mother - that their father had been kidnapped and how it took Charles insisting otherwise to convince him to go look.

“So it’s really thanks to him we found this place,” he says gesturing at the open space bordered with woodland and lake.

If anything, you prefer this new destination to Horseshoe Overlook, and not just for the absence of bad memories. You love the sense of freedom swimming gives you: how it makes you weightless, how easy it is to tilt your head back and listen to the low rumble of the earth and water. You also enjoy that the road is more than a stone’s throw away here. A wanderer would have to purposely go out of their way to discover the camp, to hear the noise or see the light of the campfires. Clemen’s Point made you feel safe, even with the occasional canoe sailing by with a wave.

The new location lifted everyone’s spirits. So much so, Dutch dragged Arthur and Hosea out fishing. They returned hours later - singing and surprisingly sober - with deputy badges and a boat load of fish. Whilst the shiny badge continues to earn Arthur a lot of gib from you and everyone else in camp, Dutch insists the news is beyond fantastic.

“We are inaugurated in the local law!” he cries during one of his many speeches. “Hiding in plain sight!”

Still tired and snacking throughout your waking hours, you are relieved to find your morning sickness has passed its peak. Whilst you feel like your veins are popping out of your skin, Arthur insists your stomach is beginning to curve. You accuse him of an overzealous imagination until you try (and fail) to button the jeans from your past life as an O’Driscoll and your shirts that still fasten offer little to no breathing room.

“Think a trip to town is in order.” You jut out your bottom lip, demonstrating the distance between the buttons and their corresponding holes as your lover looks on laughing.

“I think you might be right.” You don’t resist as his fingertips tilt your chin up to plant a kiss on your lips. “Let me go see if Pearson’s got a list and we’ll head out. Think they’ll do another couple hours?”

“Don’t really have a choice,” you grumble, stealing Arthur’s worn blue shirt from under the cot. You can hear Sadie and Pearson bickering even from the edge of camp, so it doesn’t surprise you when Arthur’s tone cuts through the noise.

“-ain’t cooking work?”

Looking over, you see Arthur has taken the expostulating Mrs Adler aside. You look away quickly - there’s no reason to ruin an acceptable day by agitating her enough to start shouting at you too. Her and Pearson have been at each other’s necks since she’s pulled herself out of the worst of her depression, almost as though he has become the target of her grief.

You focus your attention on preparing the cart. A trip to town means a trip for supplies, and with so many mouths to feed, horseback wasn’t a viable option.

"How are you, Miss?"

You turn around, surprised at being addressed directly by someone other than Arthur. Seeing Kieran’s familiar pastiness relaxes you a little. As an ex-O’Driscoll himself, you trusted him the most not to stab you after Arthur and the little boy, Jack.

"Fine," you reply flatly, brushing out the tangles of the shire’s mane.

"We ain't really had much time to talk since we was in Tall Trees a few months back, have we?" You hum in response, trying not to flash any amount of flesh by moving too much. The poor boy was skittish enough. He immediately begins to help you, being the horse fan he is.

"I never even suspected a thing, Miss,” he gushes. “So I bet you anything Ol' Colm won't have neither."

"So you two were close, huh?" You barely contain the sarcasm.

He shrugs off the question awkwardly. "Which feller was you again?"

"Well I must’ve been good if you have to ask." You feed the shire a carrot, avoiding eye contact. "I was Thomas," you admit quietly. The following silence is prolonged. Doubtful.

“Thomas Donoghue?” You shrug your shoulders. “So you were friends with Paeder then?”

“Peter?” You respond coolly. “Never knew him.”

He opens his mouth as if to argue, but Arthur is marching across camp, shouting back over his shoulder to Mrs Adler. Spooked, Kieran bolts to a safe distance, doing nothing but look on as Arthur helps you up onto the back of the cart.

Acknowledging you with a sneer, the other woman takes her place on the bench up front. “So I’ve graduated from choppin’ vegetables to shopping?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth…” grumbles Arthur, reins in hand as the cart moves off. You give Kieran a small, apologetic wave farewell, but it’s difficult to contain the relief of your companions’ timing. Paeder was a private matter, and one which you had no desire to discuss out loud. You’re sure the shaky man meant no harm, but some things were better buried.

“You cooled down then, yet?” Arthur asks the widow, distracting you from your thoughts.

“I guess,” she grumbles. “And I ain’t no scullion! And I sure as hell ain’t takin’ orders from that sweating halfwit!”

You can almost hear his eyes roll. “Well I guess we all gotta do our share, princess.”

“Where’s that letter?”

“Oh, you reading his mail now?”

Sadie throws him a dirty look. “Robbing and killing’s ok, but letter reading’s where we draw the line?”

You stifle a smirk as Arthur pulls it from the inside of his coat, knowing he’s been had. “Here.”

“Dear Aunt Cathy-”

“You are somethin’ else…”

“I haven’t heard from you in some time, so I prayed to the Lord above that your health has not deteriorated further… bla bla bla… s’boring… Oo! Wait a sec, listen to this! Since we last corresponded, I have travelled widely, making no small name for myself.” You all laugh out loud. “Before you ask, I am still yet to take a wife, but I can assure you it is not for lack of suitors.” Arthur barks out laughing again as Sadie giggles. “He ever actually talked to a woman he ain’t paid for?” she asks in disbelief.

“Look, we’re all hiding behind something.” Whilst his tone advises the limit of fun has been reached, the smile is still audible.

“And what’s this? Return to Tacitus Kilgore?”

“Oh that? That’s Dutch’s idea. All mail to be sent to the same alias. Whenever we set up somewhere new, Strauss, he heads into town, tells them to start expecting mail from a Tacitus Kilgore or whatever they changed it to… Here, gimme that back. We got work to do.”

You all sit quietly as the cart rolls into Rhodes. The locals watch you, wary of the unfamiliar faces, but you keep your head high. Strangers smell weakness. It’s better to come off aloof and avoid trouble than to present as vulnerable and be beaten down at every turn.

“Ok, here we are.”

“So what’s the plan?” Mrs Adler points a pistol at the side of the building, squeezing one eye shut as she gauges the iron sights. “I shoot the shopkeeper, while you-?”

“No! You insane?”

“Well I thought we was outlaws…?”

“Outlaws! Not idiots!" he hisses, pushing down the gun as he looks around for any witnesses. "We rob fools that rob other people! These people- they’re just tryna get by! So you head on in there, and you buy us some food to eat. And no guns.”

“Are you sure?”

“This time.” The two of you share a look again as he helps you down. “There’ll be plenty o’ time for killin’ soon enough.”

“What are you doin’?”

“I’m gonna go check the mail, nothin’ exciting.”

Sadie shrugs and saunters off. Arthur sighs and shakes his head, touching your arm. "You gonna be alright?"

"Here's hopin'."

"Any trouble, holler. Stay outta her way best you can though, alright?"

Knowing that his concern lies with your companion's open hatred for anything remotely O'Driscoll rather than your ability to defend yourself, you nod. Blowing him a cheeky kiss, he waves back at you with a grin as you enter the general store.

"-flour, oats, salt, eggs, apples if you have them..."

"Sure, not a problem,” responds the shopkeeper as he begins to gather the goods. “Big family, have you?"

"Somethin' like that." Mrs Adler barely spares you a glance as the titter of the doorbell announces your presence. "And you sell clothes?"

So Arthur had explained to her your purpose for the journey. You're flattered, if a little bewildered at this kind gesture. From the looks she’s been giving you, you’re surprised she has buried the hatchet of your past so quickly.

"We do. Not the widest range of ladies fashion, I'm afraid."

"That's alright. I'll look at everything you got."

"Of course, Mrs…?"

"Kilgore," she smirks, turning to bat her eyelids at you. You realise then that her request is completely unrelated to you. Why wouldn’t it be? You’re not the only person that has been swept into the Van der Linde gang with little more than what you were wearing on your back. From Arthur’s story, she escaped with nothing more than her wedding ring and her nightclothes, so it’s only natural that she is also in need of a new wardrobe. "What? You don't even trust me to handle the shopping by myself?"

"You're not the only one in need of new clothes, Mrs Ad- Kilgore." You force a polite smile at the sales clerk whilst Mrs Adler browses the shelves dully. "What are the biggest sizes you have in stock? Any maternity wear by chance?"

"Ain't many women round here makin' babies," he sighs, pulling out a few options. You can feel Sadie's eyes burning past you at the pile. "You're best tryin' Saint Denis or ordering outta the catalogue. There's a tailor in Blackwater I heard is pretty good for that sorta thing, but it's quite the journey-"

"Too far for me, I fear." You flick through the pages as Mrs Adler leaves to try a few things on from the pile in front of you. Writing a quick list with estimated sizing, you purchase the largest button up shirt and skirt for sale. The trousers will have to wait for another day - you know investing twenty dollars in a pair that you'll breach the waistline of in a matter of weeks is a luxury you can't especially afford right now.

Mrs Adler on the other hand spares little expense with a sturdy pair of jeans. Finally out of the cumbersome skirts, her whole character changes and suddenly you feel the same pit of dread you did when faced with a full camp of spitting Van der Lindes all those weeks ago.

Intimidated, you step outside whilst she settles the bill. You take a short wander up the main road, taking in the familiar buildings with apathy. Who would have thought you would end up here again? Now you’re not so apprehensive about your life span, you can see how rundown this dusty crumbling town is. The few shops that are open have seen better days, and the best kept building is the bank. You feel your skin crawl as you spot the large parlour houses on the horizon. Of course this place is struggling to survive - anywhere that profited from slave labour deserved to rot. Part of you hopes it’s slow perilous march to abandonment continues: it would be disappointingly merciful to see a place be lost to one good shoot out.

“I’ve birthed foals with more strength than you!” Mrs Adler’s cursing sinks your stomach as you navigate your way back to the store where a man is helping her load the cart. “Hell, my sister’s newborn had more strength than you and he came out bright blue!”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder!”

Spotting Arthur, who is strolling back himself, fills you with relief. The shopkeeper walks back to the porch, checking the list before walking back. “I think this is everything,” he says, swinging the sack of salt on the cart.

“Thanks… here, take that for yourself, okay.” She flicks a silver coin and he catches it out of the air, scowling.

“Thanks,” he spits.

“Well, give it back then! Jesus! I didn’t ask for his goddamn help..." She pushes the sack on more securely to stop it rolling off when the cart moves. “OK, get on. I’m about done here.”

“Why don’t you drive?” suggests Arthur coolly after making sure you’re sat safely amongst the supplies. “C’mon lady, get a move on.”

She scowls as she takes the reins. “I like Sadie, not lady.”

“I know. So you get everything?”

“I think so.”

“And some… new clothes, I see?”

“Don’t start,” she sighs, the heat returning to her voice. “I can wear what I damn well want. Like I told you, my husband and I shared all the work. I wasn’t some little wife with a flower in her hair baking cherry pies all day.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that. You sure look the part now. Won’t be long before you’re smoking cigars and playin’ the harmonica.”

“I’ll have you know I used to love playing the harmonica before… well… my house and everything I owned got burned to the ground.”

“I know... I’m real sorry. About what you… you know. Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for another one.”

“I don’t want no pity,” she snaps. “Just… treat me equal and know… nobody’s taking nothing from me ever again.”

Arthur hums in comradery. “Just don’t kill the camp cook…”

A horse gallops up alongside you. “Hey there! What are you folks up to?”

“Just heading home,” says Arthur casually, adding a quiet “keep it cool, Sadie”.

“You’re in Lemoyne Raider country. You need to pay a toll to pass through here.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” The hairs on the back of your neck prickle at the anticipation of conflict. You realise with a sinking stomach that you’re completely unarmed. “How about you pull over right now?”

“Pull over?” he repeats incredulously. Your eyes scan the bags and boxes around you. There has to be something here that can double as a weapon of some kind.

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey!” calls Sadie coolly. “How’s about this?”

A pistol cracks and the Lemoyne Raider cries out in pain. She ushers the horses on with a Go, go, go! as Arthur stands up, drawing his revolvers and firing. You duck down as bullets fly over your head, your hands scrambling for anything that could be of use.

“What the hell was that?” cries Arthur furiously.

“They was gonna rob us!”

“A new pair of pants and you think you’re Landon Ricketts!” He curses loudly as more men run out in the road ahead.

“I’m gonna run this son of a bitch down!” she shouts, pulling the wagon over one raider and off the road.

“Well you wanted to see some action, lady, now you got your wish!” Arthur slings his longarm from his back and shoves it in your direction as he continues to fire. You can see more men coming out from between the trees and you take aim, knocking them down one by one as Arthur clips off any extras over your head.

“You alright there, Sadie?” you shout over the gunfire. Arthur is still firing behind you, but she’s out of your line of sight from where you’re crouched behind sacks of grain.

“Of course! You think I can’t handle these fools?” You don’t retaliate and you can almost hear her voice aim at Arthur. “Told you I could shoot a gun, didn’t I?”

“I don’t remember asking you to prove it,” he grunts, tossing you extra ammo just in case. The last bastard is fleeing south down the dirt track. You take aim, but he’s out of range.

“Yeah you run, you goddamn coward!” screams Sadie before taking a steadying breath. “I think we’re good here. Nice shooting. I’ll drive us back-”

“No! Pass those reins here!”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve caused enough trouble already.”

She doesn’t find grounds to argue, instead looking back at you, her face straight and unreadable. “We showed those bastards, huh?”

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Arthur scowls.

“They was clearly plannin’ to bushwhack us!” she argues, facing forward again.

“You did good, but that’s a lotta mess to make near camp. Hope it don’t bring anyone sniffin’ around.”

“Are you gonna tell Dutch?” she asks mockingly.

“Maybe… if he asks. But, maybe not.”

“So who did they say they were? Lemoyne Raiders?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that. Who knows… Anyway, don’t you go ribbing Pearson about that letter.”

“How dare you? I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“Riiight, you wouldn’t…”

“I have travelled widely, making no small name of myself…”

Arthur laughs. “I won’t be giving you no mail to post any time soon, that’s for sure.”

She chuckles too. “I just wanna peak in that journal of yours. The mind boggles.”

“Not a chance…”

“You didn’t get yourself killed then, Miss Adler?” calls Pearson, strolling over smugly as Arthur pulls up near the horse station.

“Not quite,” she responds truthfully.

“Well, I’d like to say I missed your refined conversations, but I’d be lying.”

She accepts the box shoved into her chest without complaint. “I… I enjoyed myself out there.”

“Yes, we err… Mrs Adler did ok!” He holds up his arms and lifts you down gently by your waist.

“At shopping?”

“Yes, at shoppin’...”

The double meaning doesn’t go unrecognised by Sadie who thanks him with genuine gratitude.

“Don’t mention it. I would ride with you again, Mrs Adler, if you will ride with me.”

“Maybe,” she laughs. “If you prove you can handle yourself.”

“Well, they say I lack finesse, but I ain’t afraid of gun smoke.”

“We got this, Arthur. You’ve already done me a big favour today.” Turning to you with a smile, Arthur accepts the repeater you proffer. It’s best to remain unarmed for now - there’s no need to risk one of your lesser fans finding an excuse to regard you as a threat. “Okay, Miss High and Mighty. And… nice pants by the way.”

“You okay there, Y/N?” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in close to his side. “You manage to find something too?”

“Just about,” you admit. “Had to put in an order. How long do you think we’ll be around here for?”

“Until we can’t most likely. Everything alright? They didn’t catch you or nothin’, did they?”

“Of course not, Arthur.” Your weak smile is genuine and heartfelt at his concern. “I’m not above shouting when I’m shot.”

“‘Course not.” He rubs your back, leading you back to your shared tent. “You gonna try them on, or what?”

“Nah, I figure I might as well make the most of still being able to fit in this stuff, even if it’s only for a few more days.”

He laughs, pulling you into a big hug. “Fair enough.”

From under his arm, you spot the rousing attention of Herr Strauss nearby. You nudge him in warning, but it’s too late.

“Ah, Herr Morgan! How are you enjoying yourself out here?”

“Well enough, I guess,” he replies gruffly. “And you?”

“Well, it turns out the pursuit of freedom is not a cheap business. Not for us, and not for some of the locals.”

“Sharking, already?”

“I prefer to call it banking.”

“You ain’t the one handing out the beatings,” snarls Arthur.

“No, but I am the one feeding the women and children in the camp,” he retorts. “What choice do we have, Mr Morgan?”

Arthur sighs. “Ah, I don’t know. Well, come on then! Tell me who…”

You stop listening as Strauss reads off a list of names, and only tune back in to hear Arthur ask how many he expects to be able to pay.

“With enough encouragement, both of them!” he chuckles, his black eyes twinkling from behind the round spectacles.

Sighing, Arthur returns to where you’re sat on the camp bed. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I’d best be gettin’ on.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You stand up to kiss him. “The gang comes first.”

He grimaces at that, but doesn’t dispute it. You give him another kiss for good luck and wave him out camp before dropping the flaps, not missing the glare of bitterness from Sadie across camp.

#red dead fic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x o'driscoll #meowdymista

[the-thirteenth-fantasy]

Org XIII + Cooking Skills

Suggested by literally nobody I'm just bored.

Xemnas is spoiled and literally incapable of cooking. He's just been getting the lesser Nobodies to do it for him. This is definitely a problem considering he's got expensive taste and would literally rather die than eat a bowl of instant ramen. Literally the only thing he has some vague idea of how to make is pasta. His attempts never end well and he has an appearance to keep up so at this point he's in too deep and has convinced himself that he can't let his subordinates see him fuck up something so basic.

Xigbar is surprisingly pretty good at cooking, but all the things he knows how to make are like. Super weird. Could he boil an egg? No, but he can perfectly recreate any taco bell crunchwrap with little to no effort. Can he make half decent pasta? Nope, but you can bet your ass he can make Twinkies you can't tell apart from the original. Nobody knows how he is so bad at the basics but can fucking clone a big mac. Not even him.

Xaldin is actually pretty solid at cooking. Nothing gets particularly exciting or out of the ordinary and he's a bit stubborn about straying from what he knows, but what he knows is definitely nothing to complain about. He is especially good at breakfast foods and seems to be able to put anything in an omelette without it tasting weird.

Vexen is not good at cooking. Not only is he not good at it, but he's usually too preoccupied to do anything that takes longer than 10 minutes. If somehow he does manage to chill out about his research and do some Self Care™, he is so damn rigid about following the recipe exactly that whatever he makes isn't exactly bad, but tastes almost mechanical. Like something store bought with no soul in it. He does not understand what the others mean when they describe what he makes as almost painfully average.

Lexaeus is pretty damn good at cooking. He used to cook back at the castle, and between the guards needing to be at peak performance, Even constantly not taking care of himself and Ienzo still being pretty young, he got into the habit of trying to make everything healthier. Said habit is still present but nobody but Zexion has noticed.

Zexion has a weird vegetable addiction specifically because of Lexaeus's cooking from when he was Ienzo. We have seen in the manga that Zexion is canonically not bad at cooking, he just makes weird things to try to experiment with what he can do. They tend to be pretty hit or miss, though. Due to some experiments going horribly awry, there is a list of things Zexion is banned from making.

Saïx is usually pretty okay at cooking. He kinda grew up eating Poor People Food™ and has zero idea what most seasonings are, but the things he makes are not horrible. However, he has a bit of a secret. He absolutely fucking loves baking and is incredibly good at it, but he doesn't want anyone to know for fear it will make him seem less intimidating. Axel has known since he first got into it when they were kids. Other than that only Xigbar knows because Xigbar spies on fucking everyone. He uses it as blackmail for free Special Brownies every now and then.

Axel is not allowed to use anything but the microwave because he burns fucking everything he touches. Dumbass that he is, he thinks he can cook things at twice the heat in half the time and does not understand that there are more settings on the stove than max. After an incident where he somehow managed to burn the cooking oil before he put anything in the damn pan, he was officially banned from the kitchen without supervision.

Demyx is the absolute brokest bitch I swear to god. He will microwave everything no matter how much it should absolutely not be microwaved. The only seasonings he knows are salt and that cheesy powder you're supposed to put on popcorn. The worst goddamn thing he makes is this fuckin thing he calls a Trashbrown. He literally just rips some fuckin tater tots apart with a fork, throws 'em in a bowl with some eggs and and a cheese single and sticks it all in a microwave. It doesn't even taste bad but you can fucking feel it slowly killing you every time you take a bite. Stop him.

Luxord only really knows some basic foods and isn't too interested in learning anything else, he knows what he likes. However, he does try to spice things up by straying from the recipe in whatever ways he think might end up tasting alright. Its a gamble to him and there's nothing he loves more than a gamble. Even if what he makes turns out horrible, he's alright with it. He took a risk and now he knows not to do it again, so at least he gained something.

Marluxia has a vegetable garden hidden in the castle and continuously makes hippy foods out of whatever he harvests. He is constantly disappointed when he makes kale chips because literally nobody wants them except Zexion. Occasionally Larxene will take some out of pity (and to get him to quit being a drama queen over nobody wanting his weird chips when there's Pringles right in the fucking kitchen).

Larxene cannot cook. She gets impatient with how long things take and tries to cut corners. Everything ends up a horrible mixture of undercooked and burnt because she keeps taking things out early and calling it good or getting bored and doing something else while things sit there for hours after they should have been taken out. She's generally content to just microwave some mac n cheese and call it a day.

Roxas has been living off hot pockets and sea salt ice cream for as long as he's been alive. He really has no idea how to cook and Axel isn't allowed to teach him because he's still banned from the kitchen. He's either too scared of the other members to ask for help or knows damn well most of the approachable ones can't cook either. He tried one of Demyx's Trashbrowns™ and instantly regretted everything. However, he knows the Dusks are more than capable of cooking and has been trying to get tips off them when they aren't too busy. He's not great, but he's getting there.

Xion also is not great at cooking, but she keeps watching YouTube tutorials in an effort to learn. She keeps getting in over her head in complicated things she thought looked way easier and they end up... Not great. But, she won't let that dissuade her. Every failed attempt gets her closer to figuring out how to do it right.

#organization xiii #headcanons #kingdom hearts #kh #org xiii #fun fact: the trashbrown is a real thing i make when i no longer give a heck #it is so greasy and if i keep eating them it will kill me #please stop me #also saïx is a closeted dork fight me

[whumpiary]

content warning: food paranoia, disordered eating, pressure to eat, referenced violence, panic attack, drugs/drugging mention,

-

It takes Josiah a few hours to calm down before he tries talking to Cass again. There was no point threatening pain because Cass didn’t fear it and there was no point pretending he was the sweet and caring nurse because Cass didn’t buy it.  

Cass knows who he is. Hard, violent, steel. And that’s what he’ll get.

“Alright, Cass. Enough,” he says, armed with a bowl of soup “Either you eat, or I’ll drive you to the nearest hospital and dump you out front.”

“No you won’t.”

“Try me, Ace.”

Cass flinches imperceptibly at the nickname.

“You hate hospitals even more than I do. There’s no way you’re taking me to one.”

“Didn’t say I’d take you in, I said I’d dump you out front.”

Cass scoffs like he doesn’t believe a word but Josiah sees his shoulders tense, his breath catch. There’s a fear there. He leans on it.

“Two nights ago, you drop at my doorstep, half dead, force yourself back into my life after a year of radio silence. I take you in, I patch you up. I don’t ask who did this, I don’t ask if they’re following you or if I’m in danger of them coming to my goddamn house. Hell, when I try asking, you force your way into my fucking head just to stop me.”

“That wasn’t what h-”

“I’ve dropped my whole damn life just to keep you alive and now you’re planning on starving yourself to death on my couch?” Josiah stands up straight, takes up as much space as he can. “You think I’m not begging for an excuse to get rid of you? Palm you off onto someone else? You think I won’t take you to a fucking hospital? Like I said… Try me, Ace”

Cass is breathing hard. Fuming. When he looks up, he seems to be trying to calculate something from Josiah’s face. Josiah stares him down, crosses his arms, hopes his face is impassive enough to hold down the lie.

“I’ll name you again,” Cass says, voice low in a shaky attempt menace and venom. “I’ll get into your head, make you cut your own hand off.”

Josiah snorts. 

“Go on, then. This time when you pass out I’ll let you choke on your tongue.”

Cass holds his gaze, trying to call the bluff. There isn’t one. 

“I didn’t mean to come here, I didn’t mean to…force myself back into your life,” he blurts. Panicked distraction. “It just happened.”

“I don’t care. You’re here now,” Josiah says, resolute “My house. My rules-”

“And I eat when you say I eat, I heard you. You gonna dictate when I shit as well?”

Josiah just shrugs and passes Cassius the bowl. “If I have to.”

Cass is breathing like he’s just lost a boxing match. He stares down at the bowl like he could scry a way out of here through vegetable broth.

Hair loose and hanging over his face like this, he looks impossibly young. Naive and innocent and wounded.

Young and wounded Josiah could buy. He doubted Cass had ever been naive. Innocent he wouldn’t touch with a ten foot stick.

Cass is shaking. His knuckles are white pearl where he grips the spoon. You’d think Josiah had asked him to swallow glass.

“Come on Cass,” he prompts, after a few too many moments of still. 

“I’m trying,” he grunts. Then a shuddering breath. He puts the bowl down on the coffee table, makes a sound of frustration. “I… I want to eat it.” A breaths. “I do.” A breath. “I’m just…” A breath. “I- I can't… can’t…”

He’s hyperventilating Josiah realises, bent at the middle, fingers gripping in long hair. 

“Cass-”

“I’m trying,” Cass whispers, voice thick. “I swear I’m trying, J. I’m trying”

Josiah had been prepared for the worst. He’d been prepared for defiance and snark and for violence and for a fight. He’d been prepared to be named again for Christ’s sake. He hadn’t been prepared for panic. For terror. 

He doesn’t know what to do with this. He really wasn’t the sweet and caring nurse. He wasn’t the person for that. He sits down next to Cass, touches a hesitant hand to his back. 

“It’s okay, Ace-”

“If you… if you call me that… one more fucking time…I really will make you cut your hand off,” Cass says between ragged inhales.

Josiah retracts his hand. He moves back on the couch to give the other man space. He resists asking what do I do like some moron. He counts in his head ten seconds, twenty seconds, as Cass’ breath slows.

“I’m fine,” says Cass, gripping his hair and resolutely not fine “I’m fine. I’m sorry. This is stupid. I’m just. I’m sorry. I’m fine. Sorry. I’m just tired”

“Yeah and probably hungry,” Josiah says, maybe a little too roughly.

“Yes. I’m hungry, alright?” Cass snaps “I’m fucking starving. Shut up.”

Josiah looks at Cass, stupidly. “Then eat”

“I’m trying you stupid fucking-” Cassius cuts himself off with a frustrated grunt. He looks like he could push Josiah’s stupid fucking head through the stupid fucking wall. He takes a deep breath and tries again “I’m trying, J. I’m just… in my head. In my head it's… not safe. The food, the… this place, the… God, anything. I’m so hungry and all I want to do is eat but every time I try my fucked up head tries to tell me that it's… that the food is…”

Cass trails off, gesturing mutely at the bowl. He can’t seem to say it. As though it’s too stupid, too paranoid. His shoulders are bunched up around his ears and he’s sitting on his hands. Everything about him screams shame and embarrassment.

“There’s nothing in the soup, Cass,” Josiah says after a minute. “There’s not even any stock powder, I ran out. It’s just vegetables and water. You watched me make it.”

“Yeah but I didn’t see wh-” Cass stops himself mid-thought again, clearly realising how stupid he’d sound to finish the argument “I know there’s nothing in it. I know that but I can’t tell my body that and I…”

Cassius takes a deep, deep breath and closes his eyes. When he speaks again, his voice is so small Josiah nearly misses it.

“I need help, J,” he says. “Just. I want to eat. Help me. Please.”

Josiah’s heart stops. Cass is asking for help. Cassius I can do my own damn stitches Drake didn’t ask for help. Ace never asked for help. Ever. 

He’d mutter apologies or thanks. He’d take what was forced on him. He’d allow help if you insisted, sure, but he never asked. Even two nights ago, delirious and barely conscious he’d tried to insist on walking inside himself. 

“J, please.”

Cass’ voice brings him back. It’s a whisper, almost a beg. And what else can he say?

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” he clears his throat and reaches for the bowl “I can… look, same as the water, alright? I eat half, you eat half”

“Yeah but what if-” Cass cuts himself up, pulls his knees to his chest. When did he learn to make himself so small?

Josiah raises his brows, “What?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s stupid”

“Cass. I’m not eating half a bowl of soup just for you to come up with another excuse in five minutes. It does matter. What?”

Cass hesitates, closes his eyes, and then let’s it rush out all at once. “What if you’ve put something in that settles at the bottom and then you just leave the… the bad bit for me”

Josiah stares at him like he’s been struck. He brings his hand up to rub over his face, hand settling on the back of his neck. Is that what Cass thought of him now? “Jesus Christ.”

“Told you. Stupid. Sorry. I know it’s stupid”

“Yeah, damn right it’s fucking stupid,” he says, shaking his head. Everything about this is stupid. But Cass needs to damn well eat. Josiah sighs. “Fine. Alright. Fine, whatever. Spoon by spoon then. I eat, you eat. Till the bowl’s done. How’s that?”

Cassius seems to be trying to think it over, pick it apart, find the trick. Then, slowly, he nods. 

Finally.

Josiah takes a mouthful, taking care to very obviously swallow it. He feels like an idiot magician setting up a trick. Nothing up my sleeves! Nothing in the soup!

Then he holds out the spoon.

Cass is staring at the bowl like a viper might leap out to attack him, so Josiah scoops some broth onto the spoon and offers it out again, hoping some numb part of Cass’ brain registers the gesture. Instead of reaching for it, though, he opens his mouth like a baby bird. Josiah breathes in sharply.

This is fucked. Completely fucked.

He wants to walk away. He wants to punch a hole in the wall.

But Cass is terrified. And he needs food. Whatever stupid thing it takes. So he feeds him.

As soon as Cass closes his lips around the spoon he makes a sound like he’s been hit with pure bliss. It’s enough that he closes his eyes and Josiah feels such fucking relief that he almost forgets how awkward and horrible this is. He’s nearly holding back a smile.

It’s an easy process to repeat. Spoon for him, spoon for Cass.

“Fuck that’s good,” Cass mutters after the third or fourth mouthful. 

“‘Course it’s good,” Josiah says. “I cooked it.”

Cassius takes another mouthful, holding the spoon himself this time. “Since when do you cook?”

“Since when do you care?”

They keep eating. One after the other. Spoon by spoon.

“I’m sorry,” Cass says softly, once half the soup is gone. He doesn’t sound sure on what he’s apologising for.

“It’s okay,” Josiah tells him. 

Its a lie. They both know it. It isn’t okay. None of it is.

“For what it’s worth, I do care,” Cass continues, softer still. “About you. I care a lot.”

Josiah pauses. Despite the knife through his chest, he manages to keep breathing. How dare he? How absolute dare he?

He doesn’t want to eat anymore fucking soup. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to run away. He takes another mouthful.

Everything feels horrible. Everything feels like a cruel injustice and a demand he can’t bare. But he does. And so does Cass.

And they’re both surviving.

And Josiah hasn’t hit anything.

And Cass is eating.

And for now, for today, that’s enough. 

#whump #whump drabble #past trauma #panic attack #rough caretaker #comfort #kinda #paranoia #drugging mention #avoiding food #disordered eating cw #paranoid thoughts cw #josiah #cassius #peace out #give this boy some LUNCH #the present

[windandwater]

This is a depressing start to what I swear is a positive story, but: when my grandfather passed away one thing we did during that pretty stressful and horrible time was have dinner with my Great Aunt Sue, who from now on will just be "Aunt Sue".

Aunt Sue married my grandfather's brother and she was actually more what people expect of an Italian grandparent than my grandfather, or my grandmother who was actually Portuguese. Her family didn't actually want her to marry into my family, because my family's from Sicily where the mafia is active (note: my family was way too poor to be affiliated with the mafia) but that's not really relevant, I just think it's interesting and kinda wild.

The point is that she was an incredible cook. And an absolute sweetheart, and a painter (her paintings were gorgeous), and a collector of cool things. She had a vegetable garden and when we had dinner at her house, she served us homemade manicotti and meatballs with tomato sauce made from tomatoes she grew and cooked all day until the sauce was deep deep red and unlike any other sauce I'd had before or since.

My grandmother wasn't a very good cook and anyway, she wasn't someone I could learn anything from. (The short version of why is untreated mental illness, abuse, and poverty.) My dad is a great cook, but only because he took cooking classes in his 20s as a form of rebellion.

Both of my parents grew up to be responsible, amazing parents in order to rebel against their mothers. You wish you were as cool as them.

Anyway. At the time, I was in my early 20s and was looking down the road of adulthood while being confronted with death and loss and all the things I would never know about my grandfather, so, I spent part of dinner with my Aunt Sue pumping her for information. How she made her sauce. The secret of good meatballs. What makes a good antipasta.

Didn't know if I would ever had a chance to implement any of it. But I was worried that this would be my last chance to really talk to her. (It was.) I didn't want her to die without me having the chance to learn from her.

In my early 20s, I thought, maybe I could one day be as cool as my Aunt Sue. Maybe what she knew wouldn't die with her.

I was pretty sure I was never going to hit a point where I felt like stewing tomatoes all day, but maybe I would make sauce at some point. The first time I made meatballs it was kind of a mess, although the ones I did get right were pretty good thanks to her insight. Didn’t think I would ever try again though.

I spent my mid-to-late 20s fully convinced I would never ever be as cool as my Aunt Sue.

Of course I made meatballs again, because, I mean. Meatballs. The other times I made them I did it differently with better results. Made my own breadcrumbs the other day and oh man did that make a difference in flavor. Tried my hand at making tomato sauce and it was kind of a mess but not the worst thing I've ever eaten. And on the flip side, from my mom's side of the family, I've now made gumbo so many times that it's gotten easier and easier every time. Every batch is better. Every year I get better at every skill I have, not just cooking. But I'm a pretty goddamn good cook.

I'm now in my early 30s. I might someday be as cool as my Aunt Sue. It's just that there's no shortcut, no substitute for time and practice. She showed me what to aim for, told me some ways to get there, but actually doing it is something I have to figure out myself.

Pretty soon, I’m going to try making sauce from fresh tomatoes. I can guarantee you it's going to turn out awful. Maybe even worse than last time. But I know what to aim for and theoretically, how to get there.

And I'm gonna learn something from it, and someday I'll be really fucking good at it.

#adventures in text posts #my writing #.... #I didn't mean for this to be in that tag #it was gonna be a short post #sigh #cooking #family #no one send me recipes this is not an 'I need advice' situation #it's an 'I'm going to do something ill-advised but I have to get rid of these tomatoes' situation #literally nothing to lose from the bad decisions I'm about to make

[stu-dna]

how I survived my first semester at uni

somehow I made it through. here’s what helped:

(this is going to differ for everyone based on how you study best & what subjects you're studying! I am a science major so business/law majors probably won't benefit much from this, sorry <3 )

I. NOTES

figure out what type of note taking works best for you

—I started out by handwriting my notes. It was fine until my handwriting disintegrated and even I couldn't read what was happening. Also, carrying around a whole bunch of notebooks and folders got way too heavy for my back.

—I then switched to taking notes digitally. It took some getting used to, but now I absolutely love it. I use Notability for pretty much everything.

organisation is your best friend

—I colour-code by subject, e.g. all biology notes are blue and all chemistry notes are green and I swear to god if one more person tells me that biology should be green imma fight a bitch. That also means that my highlighters in each digital notebook are the corresponding colours, so I’m able to see what subject each page is without having to read too much into it.

—I also separate my notes based on type, for example in-class notes, "pretty" notes, and practice sheets are separate categories. Within these categories the aforementioned colour-coding comes into play.

II. STUDYING

I fell in LOVE with flashcards

—I literally have a 20cm high stack of flashcards from my last exam (which I aced btw :) ). It's like that for nearly every exam.

—Speaking of which... some subjects don't work well with flashcards (for me at least) e.g physics and maths. This is something that you can usually figure out early on in the semester.

—Again, organisation will save your life. I use these boxes to separate my cards by subject, then within the box I use coloured cards (of course corresponding to the subject) to separate card types/sub-subjects.

practice exams are there (legally or not...) for a reason

—Practice exams are how I did well in physics (my least favourite subject). I separated all the questions by concept and then learned what I needed to by solving about 10 problems per concept. Same with my maths exam.

—If you have access to more than a couple of past exams you can familiarise yourself with the problems that tend to come up more frequently and how the professor tends to ask certain about certain concepts.

learn where you study best/most efficiently

—I absolutely cannot study at home. Too many distractions plus my bed is so comfortable...

—I found that the library worked perfectly. If I was out of my house then I might as well stay out and study. Also, the general academic atmosphere really helped me with motivation.

—To music or not to music, that is the question. Again, it depends on how and what you are studying. Physics and maths, for example, were just practice problems, so I would listen to music. I would also listen when writing flashcards. When learning flashcards, I'd either listen to rain sounds or absolutely nothing besides the scribbling of pens and the occasional sniffle. It all depends on how you focus best.

Ill. HEALTH

physical health

—Get your blood flowing. When I was in the library studying I would stand up every 45 minutes and go do squats and stretches in the bathroom. This can also help you focus (!).

—Every couple of hours, stand up and walk around for about 5 to 10 minutes. It gives you a little break and gets your blood circulating.

—I started cycling to uni. It is 5km (about half an hour) each way and I don't think I've been fitter in my life. It has done wonders for my mental health too.

—Drink water!! In the library I would only let myself stand up to stretch / pee after I finished an entire water bottle. This was every 45 minutes. I peed a lot.

—If the sun shines, go stand outside for a couple of minutes. This was a rare treat for me because where I live in Germany the winters are grey, grey, and darker grey. You need vitamin C and serotonin. Get some.

mental health

—Sleep. You need it. Trust me. Staying up really late to study for a bit longer before an exam isn't worth it. It'll lead to stupid mistakes that will bring your grade down and leave you feeling even more crappy.

—Take study breaks. If you are feeling mentally tired due to stress/over-studying, go home. Go to sleep. Let yourself sleep. It's worth it. Trying to cram more material in when you just can't do any more will not help you.

—Don't be afraid to not take an exam. At one point, I had 5 exams within 8 days of each other. I decided to not take the 4th one and to instead give myself a break and prepare for the 5th exam. It was the best decision I've made so far in uni. If you are worried about how not taking an exam will affect you in terms of your uni career, talk to an advisor or older student.

—Remember that you are not alone. Make one friend, even just an acquaintance. Reach out to old friends from school. Reach out to someone online, even anonymously. (I’m almost always online if you wanna chat <3 )

nutrition

—I'm really hypocritical for saying this, but eat breakfast. It makes a massive difference in your energy levels throughout the day.

—Eat a goddamn vegetable.

—Coffee can be your best friend but also your worst enemy. Use it responsibly.

—Alcohol is your own choice. Don't let anyone pressure you into drinking. You can have fun with or without it. And if someone tries to get you to drink even after you’ve said no, get the hell out of there.

IV. MISCELLANEOUS

—Sometimes skipping classes is worth it, but it's up to you to make the right choices as to which. I went to a grand total of 3 physics lectures and got a 1,3 on the exam (;

—You don't need to buy textbooks. Ask your classmates & have a look online (;

—BRING A PHONE CHARGER WITH YOU EVERYWHERE. I have a backpack changer and a home changer, and they live in those places.

—Carry painkillers, antacids, etc. around with you. Either you or someone you know will need some.

—Shower, especially if you are staying long days in the library. It will make you feel more alive.

—Find a cafe that you can retreat to when the library makes you want to rip your own eyes out.

—Treat yourself every now and again. Be it ice cream or a nice notebook or a frozen pizza or a fucking avocado, it’ll be worth it.

sometime in the future I’ll make a couple of posts where I’ll go into detail about some of the things I mentioned above (eg how I use Notability, my flashcard system, organisation, etc.)

unless this was absolute shite; if so lmk and I’ll go hide in a hole <3

#studyblr #stu-dna-ing #harrietsaysathing #uni #studyblr tips #university tips #uni tips #sciblr #German studyblr #note taking tips #ersti tipps

[charmingturkeysandwich]

Lost by Choice

Welp, this is the Naked and Afraid AU that absolutely no one in the world asked for. I’m trying to get back into writing, and last weekend I watched a lot of Naked & Afraid (I usually watch Investigation Discovery, but was exhausted with murder), and I just couldn’t stop seeing an AU opportunity. I don’t know. Maybe someone out there will appreciate? 

Part 1 of 2 Rating: Teen (swearing) Word Count: 2200ish

AO3

In retrospect, a televised challenge with a little less dehydration and mosquito bites would have been a smarter choice. Maybe one that didn't involve literal hunting for food and water. But Killian Jones was always one for a challenge. He was a survivor. He had already lived through a thousand different hells (hyperbole); he could live through this one, too. Except he hadn't slept in 3 days, hadn't had clean water (aside from opening his mouth in the rain) in the same amount of time. Oh, and he was slightly in love with his very naked partner who very much despised him.

Yeah, Killian being a survivor and all, he should have chosen to audition for that show. Not Naked and fucking Afraid. 

But noooo he'd been determined to prove himself. And to whom? He didn't have anyone around anymore to impress. Liam was dead. Milah was dead. Bae made it perfectly clear Killian should consider him dead. He'd lost everyone and everything and apparently the long-lost emo kid inside him decided he needed to take that metaphor and make it literal and audition for a show where he was cold and he was ashamed, lying broken on the floor.

Wait, no, that wasn't it.

(The delirium had set in.)

Surviving in the worst of conditions had drawn him to this particular (idiotic) challenge, but there was something, too, in the partnership aspect. Being paired with only one other person, just as stranded as you, to finish out the task... maybe it was his complete loneliness or, again, the part of him who couldn't resist a challenge, but it intrigued him. How do you put all of your individual experiences together to form a bond, a team, that would keep them alive for 21 days without another soul?

Then he was paired with Emma fucking Swan.

Let it be known: Killian wasn't a creeper. He didn't pick this show so he could stare at some tits for 21 days. The naked part was entirely about being stripped of all comfort and all help. Nothing sexual about it, you wankers. But he'd have to have been blind to not see how goddamn gorgeous this woman was. Toned, lean, yet soft. An innocence about her, but a regal kind of confidence all the same. She was like a Disney Princess and a intergalactic thief all in one. So perhaps his cock twitched just a bit upon meeting her, but he's a fucking gentleman and he could keep it in his damn pants.

(If he'd had pants.)

This was his tactical partner, and nothing more.

They didn't exactly hit it off, but their skills were nothing to scoff at. Killian's past in the Royal Navy, his service abroad, and his extensive knowledge of tropical vegetation made for a great foundation for survival. As for Emma, she was the scrappy one. She was an improviser, a problem-solver, and a bold woman who'd lived without a home for many years. A fact that, quite simply, made Killian sad. He might not have his home anymore, but at least he'd had one. Once upon a time.

But Emma wasn't a fan of his feelings, it seemed.

"Wipe the pity off your face, Jones. I'm fine. I survived. And I'm going to survive now, with or without you." For the first time, Emma awkwardly crossed her arms over her breasts, as if to maintain modesty, and full-on scowled at him. They hadn't been what you'd call friendly yet, but they didn't exactly know each other yet, either. Of course they'd have to ease into it.But it seemed Emma wanted to just ease right back out and jump into hostile territory.

She was skilled as hell. Quite the badass, in fact. When Killian identified the best place for a shelter, she immediately laid out the plan to build it. And then just... did it. He looked at the map and figured out the best place to get freshwater, and as soon as he set out to gather it, she lit the fire. That first day they were productive as hell and those 21 days were looking like a cake walk.

And then there was the nearby hurricane. That first night, about an hour after sunset, the rain began. 

And it never. Fucking. Stopped.

It was freezing, way too cold to sleep. And when he suggested to Emma that maybe they huddle for warmth, she shot razor blades out her (beautiful) eyes at him. "I'm not looking to bed you, Swan, we're just trying to survive here. Princess might need to accept that despite her beauty not every man is looking to fuck her," he'd snapped around 3am, the wind whipping so strongly he was sure their roof was going to fail at any moment.

"Princess? I've been working my ass off here and definitely pulling my weight. Don't act like I'm some spoiled bitch who just came here looking for a strong man to protect me. Nobody saves me but me, OK? And if I don't want you to touch me, you fucking won't."

There was probably a story there, probably something about as tragic as her having lived without a home, but he wasn't going to touch it. There was no benefit to aggravating her further. They had the skills for this. They made a good team, even if she didn't quite see it yet. And he could shove down all attraction for the sake of survival. He would be fine.

(What he wouldn't give for a rice allowance and a reward challenge. Damn him for not sending that tape to CBS instead of Discovery)

The next two days were more of the same. Emma's fire had long been extinguished by the rain and they'd yet to locate anywhere dry enough to attempt to build a new one. The wind was constant and kept changing directions, so even the portions of the jungle with the most canopy were still drenched. The freshwater Killian had found was muddy as hell and couldn't be drunk before boiling it - and with no fire, they had no means to boil.And food - well, they were running on probably 120 calories between them across the 3 days.

Their dynamic was, frankly, exhausting. They'd be cooperating just fine, talking strategy or accident prevention (it was business, all business), and then he'd offer to do just one too many things and she'd shut down. The fact that her walls seemed to attract him more was... problematic. And annoying. He needed one blasted healthy relationship in his miserable life. This woman, though stunning in every way, clearly had baggage so massive she needed a 757 all to herself and yet all he could think was how he wanted to be her pilot. ("I'd fly the fucking plane myself, Jones," she would probably say. If she were in his head. Was she? Is she? Was he talking out loud by accident?)

He was tired and though the rain had stopped for a while, the mosquitoes had sure as hell started and he was the most uncomfortable he'd ever been in his entire life - and he'd stood at a funeral between his (dead) lover and her husband/murderer, half covered in poison ivy from the previous week's (ultimately "successful") search for her.

(No, he shouldn't have chosen Survivor instead. He should have chosen staying the fuck home and watching these complete wankers on the goddamn telly.)

(The British was strong when he was pissed.)

(God, a pint would be nice right about now.)

The lack of sleep, the bug bites, the constant war with his partner, it got to him. It broke him. He snapped. Those were the easy ways of describing the tirade that began that afternoon after her shutting him out once again.

"Why the hell are you even here, Swan? Have you not seen this fucking show before? One man. And one woman. Together. This wasn't a survive on your own thing. Ever! You knew from the start you were going to have to interact with another human. Of which you seem utterly incapable! This place is hell but it would be 100% better for me if you weren't fucking here!"

Emma sat, seemingly gobsmacked, still curled with her knees at her chest, sitting upright against their shelter. But it didn't take long before the fire almost literally shot from her eyes.

"Absolutely agreed! This place would be much better if I weren't stuck with you. I was hoping that I'd be given a partner who didn't know what he was doing and tapped out in a few days so I could just do this thing alone. But. There's nothing to say I still can't." At that, she stood, grabbing her satchel and awkwardly playing with the mic pack around her neck. "If you could just hand me the map, I'll get out of your hair and I'll see you again for extraction in a few weeks, kay?"

Mmmkay, maybe he was rethinking that whole "falling in love with her" thing. Because right now he mostly wanted to set her on fire.

"Seriously, Swan? You're running away?"

"I've been reliably told it's what I do best."

With one last glare, Emma turned away from him, snagging the map and studying it just a moment before trudging off East.

---

Of all the stupid ass ideas she's had in her life, this one had to be the dumbest. She doesn't like relying on anyone else. Or being forced to be around someone else. So why in the name of hell would she sign up for a TV show where she was stuck with one person 24/7 for three fucking weeks?

And, oh, god, the people at home who would watch this. Of course it would be edited to make her look even crazier than she objectively was being. And Killian would look like the hero, AKA the exact opposite of what she wanted. She'd come here to prove that she could survive when you took everything away. Everything.

No weapons... no friends... no hope. Take all that away and what's left? 

Me.

Oh, god. Was she hallucinating Buffy scenes? And not even positive ones. Sure, Buffy kicked some ass after that, but then she lost... everything.

Emma's whole life had been lost. Why did she think she needed any more?Because Lost Girls end up in the jungle of Neverland. Apparently.

And pushing away a dude who has done nothing but try to do like the show is meant for an survive as a team? Downright idiotic. But she's backed herself into a bit of a corner now, storming off like that. And there's a reason they say Pride is the deadliest sin. It makes you do the dumbest shit, and - worst of all - to stick to it like burrs on a sheepdog. So she found a little hill away from the storm runoff and she built a shabby little shelter (too exhausted for the expert work of the first shelter, which, by the way, had mostly withstood the storm to this point, thank you very much). She failed to start a fire, which wasn't surprising, and the rain started up again before sunset, so she curled up on her "bed" of fronds and dreamed of chewing down a heart of palm or a snake or really anything at this point because fantasizing about grilled cheese and onion rings might actually be the one that would inspire her to tap out and run. 

For a few hours she faded in and out of sleep, disturbed by noise and pain and the shame of having treated Killian the way that she did. And had been this whole time. It wasn't his fault he was so damn attractive. It wasn't his fault that he was making her feel things she promised herself she would never again let herself feel. If only it was his toned abs and quite frankly impressive cock that had scrambled her brain the first day they met. No, the nudity wasn't really even a factor, since, you know, she kind of knew it was part of the deal. But she'd been expected an asshole. Or an idiot. Or someone that was just so platonic that they might as well have been a woman. Or a lamp. 

But he was kind and funny and caring and she just knew he had a backstory that could rival hers because faces like that - and bodies like that - absolutely did not build good character when adversity never struck. Nope, that man has suffered.

With all that suffering between them, how they hell did they end up - voluntarily - stranded in a jungle?

(We accept the love we think we deserve.)

Ugh. Now she was haunted by Pinterest memes. 

Protein. She needed some protein, like, now.

When the sun came up, her sole focus was on nutrition. She needed something to eat. Her emotions were running too high and emotional calories were definitely more draining than physical calories. Or something. How had all of her survival research and training just fall out of her head by Day 2? 

Because your brain needs sleep and nutrients to properly process and recall information.

(See, some of it hadn't left.)

Apparently her sense of balance had left, though, because without warning her ankle rolled to the side and Emma slid off the tree she'd been climbing and her body hit every limb on its way back to Earth. 

Well, shit, was the last thing she thought before she smacked into the rock below her, the warmth cascading down her torso the last feeling she had before her eyes slid shut.

#cs ff #cs au #cs ff au #cs fan fic #naked and afraid #reality tv au #keisha writes #i'm honestly not sure how good this is #but i'm posting anyway

[hexagon-imagines]

In Time of War:Man the Barricades

“INCOMING!!!”

Breaking apart from you, Jesse looked around with a furrowed brow. “Grab a gun, and go up there and try and hold them off” He told you pointing you in the direction of a tent with people furiously going in and out. The yelling continued as the troopers and captains ran forward with the armored tanks. Swinging their giant hammers and colliding with the omnics that came close. Running forward and pulling the rifle into your shoulder you shot out a few omnics. Everything around you seemed to pass in slow motion, the kick from the gun was the only thing that felt reassuring. It felt like you were holding your breath, and just maybe if you don’t breath you’ll be alright in the end. “Glad to see one of the girls is competent!” A sassed sounding voice called behind you, breaking you out of your morbid thoughts.

Loading the gun into her shoulder she began to fire. Sharpshooting was never a strength for you, it was one of the things you had to really concentrate on. But oh what a day it’s been. “Morrison to Amari! How are things holding at the west end of the base?!” A panicked sounding voice called from the ear piece. “Things are fine Jack! I’ve got some help down this way!!” She chuckled, shooting with a frightening accuracy. Turning your head back to the mess in front of you, you shot at them, reloading and trying to at least create a weak point something to give you the upper hand in the west end.

“There isn’t enough fire power in the west! If we don’t do something they’ll take advantage of any weak points we have!!” You shouted over the gun fire, trying to at least get someone’s help or attention. Looking toward the east end you saw that most of your teammates were firing but in the wrong place, there weren't enough people spread out and firing. “Can you hold down the fort for a second?!” You yelled, looking over at the woman in azure colored clothes. ‘Yes but not for long! Where are you going?!” She yelled as you ran away to get reinforcements. “WE NEED TO DEFEND THE WEST POINT!” You yelled, reloading your gun.

There was still no disturbance amongst the overpowering wave of omnics. Looking to your left you saw an open crate with dimly glowing orbs. Lightbombs. Wrapping your hand around the pin you looked over at your assumed superior. Glancing over at you and giving a curt nod, she and everyone else stopped firing. Jumping over the low crumbled wall, you ran forward til you were far enough from the base. Pulling out the pin, you threw it into the oncoming sea of omnics. A white flash exploded in front of your eyes, with a sonic boom nearly splitting your eardrums. “AAAHHHGHHAAAA!!!!” You screamed falling to your knees, clutching your ears and feeling pained tears running down your face. It felt like someone had stuck a red hot piece of metal in your ears and twisted it around.

Everything seemed to bright after the blast even though it was dark and ashfallen, your eyes seemed to be blind, and your body seemed dead. Your ears were ringing as you laid on the ground around broken omnics. Maybe heaven wasn’t so far away, maybe soon you’d see the sunrise and birds would sing happily in your ears. “(Y/N)!” Someone called, but it sounded like you were underwater, all the sounds were blurred together and nothing seemed to feel real, like you had woken up and couldn’t move, couldn’t think, and all you could feel was fear and pain. “God are you okay?! Can you hear me?!” They called again. Your eyes felt like they had been cemented shut, unopening to the light of day. “Her vitals are falling rapidly we need to move  her!” Someone spouted out, worry ribbed in their voice. Feeling your body weight shift, you were loaded onto a gurney and carried out of the rubblized disaster.

“Clear the area! We’re looking at ruptured eardrums, broken radius and ulna , and four broken ribs! Check for spinal damage and check for a punctured lungs!” Someone yelled, the smell of bleach and old blood filled your nose. It made your stomach turn, adding to your already sickening headache. You felt so dizzy, like you had gone a carousel with a hangover. Being placed on a cold table, they stripped your pants and felt around the presumed broken arms. As the prodded around you felt a sharp agony, sending painful surges throughout your body. Nothing came out of your mouth as you laid, helpless and nearly dead...Not able to make a sound.

“We’ll have to go in right now.” They whispered among themselves, the sound of gloves being snapped on as they prepared a scalpel, and the bone repairing tool. You had heard the the process is painless and quick. Bullshit.

It felt like the world’s worst burn, as the bone was being fused back together at an unnatural speed. Not to mention they have to cut open the flesh to reach the bone more efficiently. “No spinal damage or bruising of organs and with a few sessions she should be able to have full hearing capabilities.”  A woman sighed. The sound of your arm bones cracking back together faintly;like the sound of a soda bottle being opened,or the sound of a rice crispy treat when you first take a bite. It was sickening, you could feel yourself coming back together, like you were a porcelain doll and they were glueing you back together.

“Alright the arm is now fully healed and mended, grab the wound repair and she’ll have some scars but she’ll be okay.” The doctor said, picking up the scalpel and dragging it down your rib cage, the pain was insufferable. You wanted to scream out in agony, or writhe in pain… But again you laid voided on the table, seemingly dead to yourself. “Starting above the muscle and mending the ‘true rib four’ and working down to ‘true rib seven’.” The doctor said with a sigh, powering up the bone mender and holding it by your side with a sinister sting rippling painfully through your side. “Alright onto the rib 5…” The sighed moving the devilish device over own your side. Swearing and cursing in your mind, not a sound slipping out your throat… Again they moved, til they mended the flesh and moved you seemingly lifeless body.

Being laid on a bed, whether it was yours or a recovery area… Your mind felt fuzzy, like you were half asleep. Maybe they missed something and you were now slowly dying in a corner, another death for the board. Maybe you’d wake up clad in white satin and hear the songs of canary’s and doves, the smell of vanilla and sandalwood lingering in the air. Maybe you’d be ok, and maybe you’d take up Charlotte’s offer of a cigarette, maybe you’d play poker with the older agents and make friends...“Alright, thanks doc.” A familiar sounding voice said, the sound of boots; tapping lightly on the ground.  “God sweetheart you’re a mess.” He whispered, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

Sigh. “I’ll have you know that my ass is being chewed by Morrison.” He chuckled squirming uncomfortably in his chair. “Man I was just starting to like you, but you’re gonna be ok...That’s the important part.” He sighed, fiddling with his hands in his lap. “Hate to cut this short, but I’ve gotta go sugar.” He mumbled, placing a kiss on the back of your hand and walking out of the room. The sound of his boots fading away to the small ringing in your ears. Now you were alone again, laying on a bed like some sort of lifeless vegetable. Sleep succumbed your mind soon after he left, bringing you no dreams but an uncomfortable darkness.

“She may not wake up…” Someone said, their voices muffled like cotton had been stuffed into your ears. “You don’t know that!” Another person protested angrily. “She may be brain dead, I give her another 12 hours, then we’ll have to move her.” They retorted back, before walking off somewhere. “Fuck!” They yelled, kicking something and rushing over to your side. “Please wake up princess. Please don’t give up. We still got work to do!” He grumbled, placing a hand on your hand gripping it tightly, like he could somehow pass his energy into your body and you’d magically wake up and ride into the sunset.

“Jesse, stop crying over your girl toy. We have work to do.” A monotone voice said, obviously annoyed and done with Jesse’s buffoonery . “Fuck off.” Jesse seethed through his teeth. “Why do you even like her? You barely know each other!” They sassed, walking in the room and sitting on the end of the bed. “She sacrificed herself! Everyone else is shitting their pants! Staying behind the tanks and walls!” , “ Well then cowboy maybe you should pray! And then go listen to Garth Brooks and cry into your pillow!” They argued. Back and forth,and back and forth like small children fighting over a stuffed animal.

It was annoyingly stupid. Feeling an anger bubble in your chest, you just wanted them to stop. “Shut up, for fucks sake please shut up!” You grumbled, sitting up with a pained groan and the sound of your joints popping. Staring at you the looked baffled. “What? Can’t get rid of me that easy.” You sighed, pushing your hair back and throwing your legs over the side of the bed. “She won’t be able to fight anyways Jesse, she’s too weak. She’ll have to be sent back.” Genji sighed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not some goddamn broken toy.” You sighed, pushing yourself off the bed. “And I’m not leaving.”

#overwatch drabbles #overwatch oneshots #overwatch imagines #overwatch x reader #overwatch fanfic #jesse mccree imagines #jesse mccree x reader #mccree x reader #mccree imagines #x reader imagines #x reader #genji #jesse mccree #overwatch

[snowpeawritings]

Can I request actual gentleman thief au scenario where Akira is pulling heists under the name Arsene Lupin and S/O is the detective trying to catch him but gets their heart stolen by our charming and stupidly attractive phantom thief? :3

honestly the best (and basic) AU ever. just saying

Reader is gender neutral

CW (CONTENT WARNING): Swearing, suggestive themes

———————————————————————————————————–

“Where is he!?”

“Send more guards!”

“Quickly! To the entrance!”

Out of the loud, clunking of metal armor that the palace guards, you hurried to the top of the tower, hoping that your legs won’t give out on you. Your lungs were already burning by each step but you held out. Not when your target is already so close. The narrow stone walls didn’t help in giving you some oxygen or the stairs so thin that your ankles were almost breaking.

With one final push, you’ve reached the top. You swung open the door and raised your voice to the red-clad thief.

“Hold, Arsene Lupin!”

The man in question stopped his movements. The only sounds were the winds lapping against your ears and your heart’s heavy beating. He wore the bright red coat that was an eyesore to you and the ridiculous top hat that was the basis for his logo. He slowly turned to face you, his face obscured by a white mask. His eyes were dark, full of mysterious intent and his smirk. His goddamn smirk that led you to pull your hair out every time you look at it.

How theatrically dramatic.

“My detective,” He purred, “you grow more alluring each time we meet.”

You swallowed in your saliva and straightened your posture. “Silence, thief! You have no where to go!”

Clearly, you were meant to say that in a threatening tone but with your already burning lungs, shaky legs, and palpitating heart it was like your voice is a rusty knife trying its best to cut vegetables.

Arsene chuckled, extending his free arm out and curled it back in to bow extravagantly. “Til we meet again, my fair detective.”

He jumped off the ledge with the treasure. You gasped as you ran to the edge, hoping that he wasn’t that stupid to jump off without gear. With a strangled yelp, you saw him with a make-shift set of wings to glide away from the palace.

“Damn it all…” You muttered.

After a few weeks (and a sore body) you immediately brought yourself back to the case.

Arsene Lupin, a gentleman thief renown for his insane acts of thievery and the ever famous calling cards. The objects in question were delivered to mostly corrupt royalties and other criminals the state guards can’t catch. You’ve yet to know his true motives, only piecing tiny pieces that he targets only those who “have distorted desires”.

Whatever that means.

It infuriates you to no end that he always eludes you. You’re a staunch detective, one of the best by all means. With Arsene’s wicked sense of justice, you took pride in taking his case. Call yourself delusional (it’s better that than Sae, no joke), but you were dead-set on taking him in prison.

Not in that context.

The worst part of your job is that the youth of the city were against you catching Arsene. They argue on about he’s the true advocate for justice and not the “useless” soldiers they have. They are slightly right though, not going to lie.

Still…

“He’s good.” You concluded to yourself. “Too good for me to even pinpoint his whereabouts.”

You were back at the palace he previously raided. Other detectives were scattered everywhere, searching for any evidence of the thief. Though you knew better they were for naught. Arsene is cunning enough to never leave anything behind.

“Honestly why would I even bother?” You said to another detective. “We know he’s slippery.”

The detective chuckled. “I won’t conclude it that easily.”

You gave him a pointed stare. “How would you know?”

He smirked and grab something from his coat pocket. “We found this inside a jewelry box in the princess’s chambers. I believe this is something you should read.”

You glared at him and lowered your gaze to his hand and gasped. A red card with his logo. With fidgeting hands, you grasped the card, holding it like it’s like a bomb that could go off whenever. You breathed in and flipped it over:

To the marvelous detective that leads a ray of hope for justice,

Your days of chasing my case will soon come to a close

There is one last treasure I’ve yet to take

Meet me where the last time we parted, love.

“He’s dead—” You muttered. “I’m going up to him with my bare hands and slay him.”

The detective immediately backed off from your words. In fact, anybody who stood your way scurried far from you. The people slowly dwindled down as you entered the same tower you climbed.

Suddenly your stomach didn’t feel so good.

“My god…” You breathed out, taking one more step. “I hope he knows what he’s up for when I’m up there.”

You weren’t just going to kill him; you’re going to cut every limb off his body, slowly, and bury them all in different places. With one final push, you opened the tower door. You breathed in and out as many times as you could before confronting him.

And is god toying with you, he isn’t even here.

“Goddammit, Arsene!” You screamed at the empty space. “I will seriously hunt you down with a saber and—”

Gloved, slender fingers covered your vision. “Don’t be like that, love. You look adorable by just trying to catch me.”

You brought your head back to hit him. He let out a short grunt of pain as you turned around to push him away. He was having none of that however, he wrapped his arms around you, trapping your arms inside. With each struggle, Arsene pulled you to himself closer. You squirmed against him, hitting your fists against him but it feels like it’s all for naught. The man wrapped his arms around you tighter. After a few minutes, you slacked your struggling as he lets out a breath of relief.

“What do you want, thief?” You spat out.

He grumbled. “I could do without your poisonous words.”

“Live with it, Lupin.”

He groaned and hung his head low. Then he brought it back up, this time with the god-forsaken smirk on his face.

“What would it take for me to take your heart?”

“Your obituary.”

He huffed, smirk disappearing. “You grow more alluring and more rotten each time we meet.”

“Your lines are getting more redundant each time we meet. Tongue-tied, Arsene?” You teased.

He didn’t say anything, instead grabbing both your hands in his and twirled you around, somehow resulting with you in a dip with him dangerously close to your lips.

“What can I say, darling?” He whispered, breath fanning your face.  “You have me speechless.”

He lifted you up, remembering to keep his strength if you attempted to run. He placed his hand on your back as he clasped the other.

Waltz, eh?

“What are you up to, Arsene?” You said to him, choosing to follow what he’s doing.

“Remember what I said, love?” He replied, slowly swaying your bodies as his left hand crept up to your left chest, fingers hovering over your heart. “There’s one last treasure I’ve yet to take.”

If your heart was beating hard during the climb, it was ripped to shreds when he leaned forward, coal eyes burning with intensity. “Your heart, love. Will you let me take it?”

#akira kurusu x reader #persona 5 #snowpea writes #requests #persona #scenario

[artemismoon12writes]

Title: In Which Clay Plays Mentor

“Summer of Houston” compliant; mention of @margotkris’s Hanover Prefect.

“I am too Bi Yoda.” Clay muttered.

“Heard that!”

Clay was trying to lead the cohort of freshman through their orientation. Or rather Cl-orientation, Orien-clay-ion? Orientlay? He’ll work on that. Basically the real shit you needed to know coming into Windsor before the Prefect got here.

“Okay freshies- and transfers, yeah I see yah Zack,” Clay said in the most obnoxiously New Yorker way he could. This rich West Coaster was grinding on his last nerve not even five minutes in.

“Obviously you are all Windsors. What does Windsor mean? That we’re fucking awesome that’s what.” Clay said with a grin, “Our mission in school? Fuck shit up and don’t get caught. Or blame it on Maximillion, he’s Hanover’s prefect. You could blame it on Stuart but they have a damn teddy beat in charge. Everyone else is a jerk… sort of? We’ll discuss the blond legacies later.”

“Are you our prefect?” One freshman asked, devoid of sense; that was where his pocketbook instead rested.

Clay stared at him, “Hell no. I’m just a sophomore. I’m here to give you the real orientation. Okay- which one of you is from a family with a net worth under 100K?”

No one raised their hand. Typical.

“Okay so take it from a street smart, middle class jerk: in Windsor money won’t solve shit. It will help, but when our prefect arrives and strings you up by your guts for the ravens you’ll wish you listened to ol’Clay. Wit, cunning, ingenuity, and good reflexes are gonna serve you well here.”

“What? Our prefect would-”

“He’s crazy Zack, keep up before you’re sacrificed to strange and wonderful gods.” Clay said briskly with a evil grin spreading across his face. “You shoulda come last year, our prefect’s boyfriend taught us all how to bake cookies.”

Clay paused the tour of the ground floor, “Oh yeah, who can cook?”

Everyone looked fairly confident, but one raised his hand like it was a test, “I got training with our personal caterer.”

“To cut vegetables? Boil water? Or actually make something?” Clay grilled him.

“I can do salads.” He volunteered. “I make a good dressing…”

Suddenly the rest of the group didn’t look so confident.

Clay nodded approvingly. “Okay you are allowed in the kitchen without a buddy. Never attempt cooking without one, at least a fire extinguisher. They are located every ten feet. They will be your lifeline- wait.”

Clay turned, grabbing the nearest one and throwing it up the stairs they were passing to Kaelan. “Third floor?”

Kaelan laughed, “Yeah. Junior with a hair straightener.”

“See?” Clay said before the freshmen started smelling the smoke spreading through the common room. “Learn em. Everyone else, cafeteria is open late so don’t try to be a hero and cook. Only you can prevent dorm fires.”

They reached the fireplace, replaced with a bulletproof-glass gas installation after the football-hockey hybrid last March. Clay considered the group. He’d gone over the dumbwaiter, the worst teachers, and what to do if you needed to make special orders to the school (answer: office administrator. There was a different address for deliveries). What was missing?

“Ah yes! If experiencing a sexual identity crisis do not panic, pass go, or collect $200. Just lie down and accept a rainbow bracelet. Its 2012 you nerds and everyone in this school is hot.” Clay said sagely, pontificating to his captive audience.

“Speaking from experience, he doesn’t follow his own advice.” A voice said from the top of the bannister.

The group looked up to see Todd Hendricks observing Clay’s attempt at chaos reigning. He was holding a large cardboard box packed full. “Don’t listen to him guys. Clay stammered and stuttered his way into the most public bisexual awakening in the history of boarding schools.”

“Why you-“

“The boners were many and obvious Clay. Give it up.”

Todd retrieved the contents of the box. He tossed down a soft velvet bag to each of the assembled, not bothering to even descend the stairs. “Welcome to Windsor gift from your prefect. It’s the current Windsor survival kit under the new regime.”

“Its just a crystal, salt, um holy water? And … shit is this weed?” Zackary asked.

Todd gave him a withering look. “Its sage and other herbs. They’re protection charms. You’ll all be emailed the proper rituals and receive training next week after reorganization.”

“So, the prefect really is crazy?” The deputized cook asked.

“He’s in touch with the spirits. Call him a fundamentalist Christian or a heathen at your own risk. Or if you think you can survive a couple rounds with him out back.” Todd chuckled at a private joke.

Kaelan rushed back down from the top of the staircase. “Incoming!”

There was a scramble of the upperclassmen to clear the doorways, spreading to the edges of the room with Kaelan’s directives. Todd didn’t move, keeping his calm smile at the top of the stairs.

Ball of energy that he was, Shane Anderson knew how to make an entrance; somersaulting through the doors and springing up onto the coffee table. The outer doors smacked in the wind and rattled.

The freshmen looked spooked.

Curly hair flying, Shane could only yell platitudes to his pursuer.

“I swear I wouldn’t scratch your car on purpose!”

A crossbow bolt thudded into the floor where Shane had been. The youngest freshman shrieked. Todd laughed.

“You are gonna pay for that Anderson!” Their tall, dark haired prefect yelled. Empty crossbow in hand he ran after the bouncing senior with the energy of a man possessed; and possessed he did look, with clothes a week old and dark circles to match.

“I swear, I was just backing in!”

“Shane you don’t even have a full licence! You busted my headlamp! She is vintage!” Dwight caught up with Shane, blocked from the stairwell by Kaelan and a grinning accomplice.

Dwight got Shane around the waist, picking him up with ease, other arm around him to stop him squirming. “You are going to pay for repairs in full, file the accident report, and explain to the security guards and campus welfare why you are not allowed to drive for a whole month.”

“A month?” Shane whined.

“That, or I make sure you only have Murdoch as a driving instructor.” Dwight waited for Shane’s yelp before continuing. “And of course the untold horrors Sadie will curse you with. I’m talking curse for boils from last year in discreet places.”

“You wouldn’t.” Shane wriggled like his feet could actually reach the ground.

“I would. I drove here from Florida with only two stops for poltergeist sightings, I haven’t eaten anything except Burger King, and there is a cop who thinks I’m a panhandling preacher hooker which doesn’t even make any sense- but apparently its a criminal offence in Georgia. So just try me Anderson.”

Shane nodded meekly, but not scared like the assembled freshmen. Clay hadn’t seen his prefect quite like this before, but one couldn’t ignore a flair for the dramatic. Dwight let him go. Shane wasted no time scurrying out to the parking lot to make a call.

“Gonna need to clean that up.” He said, fatigue hitting him as he looked at the crossbow bolt in the hardwood floor.

“You always damage property when you’re shooting to scare.” Todd said, taking the stairs two at a time to step up to the new prefect, yanking the bolt out and handing it to Dwight.

“Who are they?” Dwight asked looking at the freshmen who were quaking.

“Freshies.” Todd patted his shoulder. “Go upstairs to my room, take a goddamn nap.”

Dwight rubbed his eyes, “yeah good idea. Wait, did you-?”

“Yes.” Todd answering the question before it was even asked. “I gave them the packets, sent the emails, your salt order is set, and your room has all the assignments in it. You can go over them after you wake up if you want to make any changes, but I figure you’d want to avoid that for now.”

“I love you.” Dwight mumbled sleepily, going in to bump his forehead to Todd’s, too tired for anything else.

“You too honey.” Todd said quietly. “Now shoo.”

Dwight was upstairs and out of earshot when one freshman started shrieking.

“Is this school insane?”

“He’s crazy!”

“He’ll kill us!”

“Is it weird to say I’m a little turned on?”

Clay looked at the last freshman. “The first step to acceptance is acknowledgement. Welcome aboard.”

“Stop it Clay, you’re not Bi Yoda.” Todd called. “If you didn’t get it that was Dwight Houston, new Windsor Prefect and he’s harmless. Shane’s one of his best friends. Now go grab your shit and keep moving in okay?”

“I am too Bi Yoda.” Clay muttered.

“Heard that!”

“Okay mom.”

“Stepmom! Don’t disrespect Mariana like that!”

“Stop calling my mom by her first name!”

“Well, she told me too…”

“Shut up!”

Another year at Windsor begun, another year of chaos to follow.

#daltonfic #oneshot #gen #lols #dwodd #shane anderson #clay rizzo #dwight houston #todd hendricks #windsor #artemiswrites

[himbowelsh]

Have you seen that post here on tumblr about Irish faeries? I wanted to request something around it for good Irish boy Babe visiting Ireland with his boyfriend (either Jules/Gene or his boyfriends Joe and Chuck) and they want to go somewhere after dark and he stops them and gets really freakishly serious looks them in the eye and tells them to sit down or "I swear to God I'm going to tie you to a chair!" and manages to freak them up. This also could work for Winnix and Dick's home.

#Anonymous #im irish american so i love irish myths #but Do Not Mess with the fae #baberoe #babe heffron #eugene roe #my writing