#<- one day someone is like “who’s who?” ALL OF EM ME>:D

[knizuu]

Me whenever I get something in my inbox, something to chat with/p:

[gonzodangerfeels]

I always wanted a beanie with a helicopter on it when I was little, but I never got one.

I grew out of wanting it long before I was close to double digits in age

But sure, keep mentioning it.

Look I am trying to be cool and I had determined you needed the level of cool I was trying to achieve for you.

By the time we were neighbors...somehow you had surpassed me in coolness though. That Is how I saw it. Hot, beautiful, probably Troubled girl in a strange situation.

No, in hindsight, especially with fans at games...*shrugs*

I am sure it was conscious going with a different look too. You are....very consistent with changing looks.

As long as you don't look too much in my eyes you're alright. Yes, though. I burned many holes in you when I saw you in passing. For a young...hot...teenager with a personalized impressionable demeanor...you were having your bare spirit being examined very closely by the guy you were Really into.

[spencerlicious]

could i request emily x polyglot!reader? someone finds out r can speak multiple languages, so naturally derek challenges her and em to see who can speak the most languages

so emily and r get into a language competition (?) and the 2 make a bet of whoever wins, gets a special prize from the loser *wink wonk* pls? it starts with innocent foreign banyer then ends up gettin dirtier if that makes sense? top!em pls 😊

thank u for reading, if ur not comfortable its all good! :D

hi anon!! thank you for the request <3 this is a super good idea, i was very excited to write it. it kind of morphed from your request a bit, but the main idea is still there. i do want to specify that i am by no means fluent or even proficient in any of the languages used in this fic (besides english 😭) because let’s be real— 4 years of spanish did *not* stick with me, so i used quite a bit of google translate. you might want to keep it handy too! i hope you enjoy :)

p.s. this is my first fic in a very very long time, please be kind <3

love language

emily prentiss x fem!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: smut, cursing, oral (r receiving), fingering, dom!emily, i think that’s it?

w.c.: 1.3k

It was a long day for the members of the BAU. Back-to-back-to-back cases on short amounts of sleep were starting to wear on the team, and it didn’t help that the current case was stumping them.

“Oh, look at this, guys,” Morgan says, showing a picture from the newest crime scene. “Looks like there’s some writing in another language.”

You drop your head into your hands, taking a deep breath as you try to reset yourself and focus on the case.

“Looks like French, where’s Emily?” JJ asks.

You study the picture for a second before speaking up. “Dire la vérité— tell the truth.”

Morgan’s eyes cut to you. “Y/N, you speak French? And really, where is Prentiss?”

You’re about to respond as the door opens and Emily walks in from the bathroom. “Emily, did you know Y/N speaks French?”

Her face is surprised. “Huh. I didn’t. What else are you keeping from us?” She jokes.

Your eyebrows raise and you smile. “I speak a little bit more than French,” you say, not wanting to brag.

“What other languages do you speak?” Reid asks curiously.

“Well, French, and also Spanish, German, and Italian. Mostly Romance languages,” you say.

“Here’s a challenge,” Derek says. “Which one of you can speak in a different language for the longest?”

“¿Cómo no sabía que eras políglota?” Emily asks, effectively starting the competition.

“Nunca surgió en la conversación,” you respond plainly.

She laughs. “¡Podríamos haber estado teniendo conversaciones secretas todo este tiempo!”

“¿Qué tipo de conversaciones secretas te gustaría tener, Prentiss?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

She blushes slightly, flustered. She switches to French, trying to keep you on your toes. “Eh bien, je ne sais pas. Des trucs qu'on ne veut pas que Morgan écoute.” Her eyes flit to Morgan’s as she mentions him and he looks confused.

“What are the two of you talking about? And what are you saying about me?” He asks, looking between you and Emily.

You let out a small chuckle. “Tu ne veux juste pas que Derek m'entende te traiter de jolie et qu'il devienne jaloux, hmm?”

“This is all well and good, but shouldn’t we be getting back to the case?” Reid interjects.

“Yes, definitely,” you say, straightening your hair and pulling yourself back into focus mode.

After some more discussion on the use of a foreign language at the crime scene, the team decides to break for lunch. You take a quick trip to the bathroom and end up washing your hands at the same time as Emily.

“So, what was that?” She asks.

You’re caught off guard. “What was what?”

“You think I’m pretty,” she replies. “You told me I’m pretty in French. What was that about?”

You stammer a bit. “Well, I do think you’re pretty, Emily. I think you’re beautiful,” you admit.

“It’s interesting,” she says, stepping closer to you and placing a hand on your waist. “You speak three romance languages, and while it’s not the same meaning, you picked the most romantic language to compliment me in. Even if I couldn’t tell from the long glances and the way your heart is pounding right now, that alone would’ve told me what I’m pretty sure I know,” she finishes, looking you dead in the eyes.

Her hand is heavy on your waist and your mind is racing. “And what do you know?”

Emily’s other hand trails from your shoulder to your jaw and pulls your chin up so you’re forced to look in her eyes. “You have feelings for me,” she states.

You hold her gaze for a second. “I hate profilers.” There’s a noticeable tension between the two of you before Emily smirks at you. You feel yourself inching closer to her and then you’re pressing your lips to hers. She reciprocates the kiss without hesitation, and you feel her hands pull you in by your hips.

The kiss gets broken and Emily rests her forehead on yours as you catch your breath. Your eyes meet and you share a smile. “Embrasse-moi encore, s'il te plaît,” you say softly.

“Oui chérie,” she replies, already leaning into kiss you again. Her lips meet yours in a passionate kiss and she pushes you up against the door of the bathroom. She flips the lock of the door. Emily doesn’t want anyone interrupting.

Emily’s breath was warm against your neck as she kissed the tender skin. Pulling the collar of your shirt aside, she sucks a deep purple mark into your collar bone, drawing soft whines from you. “Shhh baby, don’t want the others to hear you, right?” She says, kissing the skin she marked soothingly.

She switches languages again and whispers in your ear. “¿Que quieres, hermosa?”

You meet her eyes and can feel the lust practically radiating off of Emily. “Want you to touch me,” you respond.

Within seconds, she’s on the floor in front of you, unzipping your slacks. Her fingers trace you through your panties. “You’re soaked, baby,” she says.

“For you,” you say, bracing your hands on the wall behind you as she teases you.

Emily pulls your panties down and rests your leg on her shoulder as her fingers find your clit. It’s almost electric, the way she rubs tight circles into the bundle of nerves. “Emily,” you moan out her name.

Her ministrations stop, causing you to whine out again at the loss of contact. “What did I tell you? Not a sound, or I’ll stop completely.”

You nod, covering your mouth with one hand as Emily runs her tongue through your wet cunt. She groans at the taste. “You’re fucking delicious,” she says, voice deep and dripping with arousal. It’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as her lips close around your clit, teeth gently scraping, making your legs tremble.

Your hands find a home tangled in Emily’s hair as you hold her face close. Her tongue slides back from your clit to your entrance. Your teeth clamp down against your lower lip as Emily’s tongue plunges inside of you. Her face is wet with your slick as she tongue fucks you, the sight alone bringing you close to the edge.

Emily then licks back through your cunt, sucking on your clit as she pushes a finger inside of you. Clouded in pleasure, you can’t focus on anything except the need to cum as she adds another finger and your walls are clenching around her. “Squeezing me so good baby, you want to cum?” she asks.

Your head nods frantically. “Yes— please, wanna cum,” you say breathily.

Emily curls her fingers up to press against that spongy spot inside of you. “Cum for me,” she commands, returning to suck at your clit as she hits your G-spot over and over again.

Your body shakes as she sends you over the edge of your orgasm. Her name is falling from your lips in a quiet whisper as you soak her fingers and face.

“You did so good for me,” she says, standing up and kissing your temple.

Catching your breath feels difficult, but you begin to fix your clothes and look presentable.

“Это было так хорошо, озорная девчонка,” Emily says, fixing her lipstick in the bathroom mirror.

“You may have just rocked my world, Prentiss, but I did not gain the ability to speak Russian,” you laugh.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, which starts you both up laughing, when a knock sounds from the door. You freeze, flushing in embarrassment.

Emily unlocks the bathroom door, opens it, and finds an impatient JJ awaiting you. “What are the two of you doing? We have an unsub to catch,” she says, turning around and heading back to the rest of the team.

Emily throws you a wink and follows after JJ.

You’re pretty positive this isn’t going to be a one-time thing.

[silentmoths]

A lick and a promise

Its been *squints* Seven months since i cooked.

god damn its been seven whole ass months CRIES

Boothill got me so fkn good i cant even BEGIN to explain why he's such a comfort character for me ok he just IS.

Boothill x Reader (fem but it's really only mentioned in regards to anatomy.)

NSFW

Enemies to Lovers (kinda?), Smut, Hurt/comfort (kinda?), Oral sex, fingering, boothill is a gd kendoll (sorry boothill genatalia nation i just...wanted to write this like he was a ken doll LEAVE ME-)

7k words, NOT PROOFREAD

The first time you run into the Galaxy Ranger known as Boothill, you’re not sure what to make of him.

You were just an unsuspecting casualty, the pilot, nothing more. Flying ships for the IPC had to beat minimum wage, right? This was your first real gig with them, something a little more secure.

If you managed to make it off pier point without having a gun aimed at you that is.

A…cowboy. You’d heard about them, of course, but seeing one in this day and age was almost unheard of unless you travelled to planets far out in the west, ones untouched by the IPC and their ‘modernizations’.

Yet this cowboy also seemed to be touched by said modernizations, considering almost all of him was made of metal. Hell, all of him might be synthetic, nanotechnology was a terrifying thing, it could eat away the organic and replace it with the inorganic, mimicking skin and its blemishes, hair and all its different shades, like the curtain of black and white you see before you. 

“Han’s where I can fudgin’ see em.” He warns quietly, pistol pointed directly between your eyes. You do as he asks, why wouldn’t you? You weren’t being paid enough to put your life on the line for…whatever the hell you were carrying, you didn’t know, the IPC didn’t enforce ledger-checks- You tell the cowboy as much when he asks.

“Yeah that tracks.” he mutters with a roll of his visible eye. “Lookit’ you, still wet behind the darned ears.” 

“D-do I get a pardon i-if I told you it was my first day on the job?” you manage to squeak out, a terrible habit really, opening your mouth in times you should really stay silent…but the cowboy cracks a grin, a very sharp-toothed grin.

“Ah heck, really?” He chuckles, shaking his head as he spins his pistol in his hand and tucks it away into its holster. “Look I aint’ got no beef with ya. ya ‘ aint even wearin’ an IPC uniform-” “C-contract work.” You cut in with your explanation, only scolding yourself after the fact for, once again, interrupting the one with the gun. “The IPC really gettin that desperate, huh?” He snorts, his robotic fingers flexing as he himself goes to check the ledger, it was obvious he’d done this a few times…perhaps thats why the IPC had started hiring a third party, someone new for him to kill.

And yet he doesn’t kill you. 

He ties you up, sure, but he’s not an entire ass about it, he even apologises when he pulls the rope a little too tight and you squint.

“S’a formality.” He mumbles as he ties the knot tight “y’understand.”

“I guess…Just…thanks for not killing me I guess, Mr.Cowboy.” You shrug, perhaps you were still in a little bit of shock, perhaps you were coping with humour and ‘funny’ comments…perhaps, inside, you wanted to cry because of course of all the times to be held at gunpoint it was your first day working for the IPC.

“Name’s Boothill.” He corrects. Boothill, huh? You’d read about that…some eons old name for gunslinging cowboys who should have been dead. 

After you had been discovered, set free, and promptly fired, you decide to look up this ‘Boothill’ character; you find little other than his bounty…whoever he was, he kept himself pretty closed off…made sense for a galaxy ranger.

-

The second time you encounter Boothill, you’re working on a satellite array. It’s a shit job, it was freezing cold out here, and the welding masks given to you and your coworkers by your bosses were cheap, low quality, offering little protection from the welding torch and its bright, concentrated glare.

After your firing from pier point, no other freighting company was willing to take you on, and in a desperate attempt to get some damned food into your belly, you’d taken this job on some far out meteorite, repairing this shitty, run down satellite so the IPC could extend their reach further.

If the bosses had bothered to do a background check, they would have seen the unfortunate mark next to your name.

’Banned from all positions within IPC jurisdiction’ 

But considering the shit pay, shit hours, and shit accommodation? The old hand’s out here didn’t really care much for the ‘official’ rules; so long as you weren’t being actively hunted.

There was no sun out here, so every few hours there was a mandatory UV break, in which you all got to return to the little sleeping pods that were nothing but glorified transport containers with a wall sectioning off one third to make a bathroom; just to sit beneath a UV bulb. 

Whoever had lived in this one before you had stuck up a picture of a beach on the wall you had to stare at beneath the lamp, and faintly, you wonder if they ever made it there- or had they just keeled over dead from overwork? That seemed more likely, considering nothing had been cleaned out of your pod when you’d arrived. 

As you bask in your shitty, simulated sun, an explosion wracks the entire facility, sending you toppling to the floor as the world spins, cracks apart, opens like the gnashing teeth of some horrific space creature.

Was it a space creature? Had the meteorite collided with something it shouldn’t have? You didn’t want to find out, but you sure as fuck weren’t about to stay here and probably die once the oxygen field around the place sputtered out. The emergency guide tape’s you’d been forced to watch are nothing to help against the real thing, a real emergency. There are sirens blaring, the stark white light’s had all died, replaced by that infuriatingly anxiety inducing red as you struggle to put your space suit on. 

Just make it to a shuttle, they weren’t far, thats all you had to do.

It’s a mantra you tell yourself as the ceiling above you begins to crack and crumble, your time here was up. 

As you wrench open the door to your pod, you collide with someone. Considering you yourself looked like a glorified marshmallow in the emergency suit, you certainly weren't expecting the person you collided with to be as…hard as they were, solid like steel to the point you’re sent toppling back and unceremoniously onto your back, like a turtle.

A familiar pistol is pointed at your helmet.

No fucking way.

Boothill stands there, grin on his face and a gun in yours as he looks you up and down before howling with laughter. “Now what in the hay is that?” he wheezes as you struggle, only to stop when you push the visor of your helmet up, revealing a face he recalls. “No fudgin’ way-”

“You again!” You screech, flailing your limbs as you attempt to stand in this…ungainly suit. “What the fuck are you doing here now!?”

“I could ask you the same mother forkin’ question!” He barks back, yet despite it all, he withdraws the pistol and even shows some mercy, reaching down to pull you back onto your feet “the fork you doin here?” 

“Well, someone got me fired from my last job!” you snark at him “and now it looks like I'm out of another, what did you do!?” “Blew up tha’ satellite!” He chuckles as if he’d just won at an arcade game and not caused millions of credits in damages. You open your mouth to…you don’t even know- Shout? Scold a wanted criminal? Beg for mercy? When the world tilts again, the sound of rock cracking and metal creaking fills your senses; resulting in you simply screaming out of fear. 

This was it, this was where you died. On a rock, in the middle of space, blown to smithereens by a cowboy. Except, the cowboy reaches down, and for a moment you think he’s going to kill you, just to stop the screaming. Instead, he grabs your arm and yanks you upright without a word, tugging you along behind him like you weighed nothing in this stupid marshmallow safety suit. (perhaps, to a cyborg, you didn’t weigh anything.)

Boothill cares little for the smoke and the flames, and you are just a leaf in his wind, guided through it all with scary precision until there is suddenly nothing and you realise what he’d just done.

This fucking cowboy galaxy ranger had just leaped off of the edge of the meteorite, dragging you along with him. 

Correction; this is how you die, once you left the gravitational field, you’d just be stuck…floating in the void of space forever…no one would ever find your body-

Before your thought can finish, you crash into something hard, a ship, you realise, you had fallen into the open loading hatch of a ship, unlike boothill who landed on his feet, you’re simply a pile on the floor.

You hear the cowboy laugh as he turns to look at you, and you thank the fact that you’re face down from keeping your likely red, teary face from his scrutiny. 

“Y’alright down there?” He asks.

“Peachy.” you mutter back, your muscles ached, but the adrenaline was already beginning to wane, suddenly the suit felt…heavy, impossibly heavy as you listen to the sound of the ship’s hatch closing. “Why’d you save me?”

Boothill thinks on it for a moment. Why had he saved you? It wasn’t really his M.O, saving people, especially when they worked for the IPC…he supposes a part of him felt a little bad… you hadn’t been working for them directly last time…and because of his stunt, you’d lost that job and had resorted to working for them in this backwater shithole of an array. 

“Eh, Y’aint worth killin.” he responds after a moment “S’not like you’re the mother fudger I’m looking for anyways.” 

Something about the way he says it…stings. Not worth killing? 

Slowly you sit up, a terribly ungraceful affair in this stupid space suit as you pull the helmet off entirely and toss it to the floor, there was no point hiding the tears anymore. 

“Wh- hey now! What’s got in yer’ boot?” Boothill balks at your teary face “what’s tha’ matter?”

You hate how stupid you must look, crying, red in the face…embarrassing really. But after the scare you’d just had, you don’t have the forwithall to keep your composure anymore.

“Whats the matter?” you mutter, staring at the cold, metal floor of the ship “what’s the matter is that you have single handedly managed to lose me not one, but TWO JOBS!” 

You don’t mean to shout, really, you should be thanking him for saving your life. 

“I’m BANNED from working for the IPC!” you cry “I wasn’t even meant to be working here! But where else am I meant to go!? EVERY job is somehow overseen by some division of the IPC, I can’t work anywhere else! Now you say I’m not even worth killing!?”

Boothill stares, the gears turning as he simply takes the emotional vitriol thrown his way. It had been…a long time since he’d found himself faced with this kind of problem.

“Aw shirt…” he mutters, realising his words had only worsened the situation. He takes a knee, pulling his hat off as he watches, he sees the way you’re shaking, your fingers flexing; he might be ‘old fashioned’, but he could recognize a panic attack. “C’mere, let's get this great forkin marshmallow suit off ya.” 

You don’t even have the faculties to push him away as cold, robotic fingers begin tugging away at the velcro, the zippers and the straps. Breathing was getting harder, everything ached. Only once the galaxy ranger had pulled you free of the confines of that damned suit could you expand your chest properly. Too small, you realised, the suit you’d been given was way too small.

“Easy, easy, easy.” Boothill mutters as he sits you down “jus’ breathe.” 

Easy for him to say, did a cybernetic cowboy even need to breathe?

He could see the struggle, but what the hell was he meant to do about it? It wasn’t wrong..the IPC had their fingers in so many pies… finding a job untouched by them? That’s like finding a needle in a haystack. 

It wasn’t often Boothill felt…guilty. But somehow…you’d managed it.

“Aw c’mon, don’t gimme the waterworks.” he sighs “Look…ah’ll admit I forked up your job prospects, I’ll fudgin’ take that responsibility… will ya at least lemme see if I can help?”

“What can you do!?” You cry at him “If the IPC catches wind that I’ve somehow been caught up with you again-”

“Lemme take ya to a planet the IPC don’t care ‘bout.” He cuts in suddenly, an idea forming in his mind. “Been there plenty, they’re good folk, they’ll help ya.. Ya just…gotta trust me.” A planet untouched by the IPC? That seemed like a pipe dream…

“Impossible.” you mutter “any planet the IPC finds, it conquers.”

Boothill grins, that same toothy grin you remember from your first encounter with him. “I know, right? But this one? This one’s special.”

Eyama II was a small planet with little in the way of resources the IPC wanted or needed, a dwarf planet no less, nothing but a speck of dust floating through their air filters. It was a self-sufficient, homely type place…if he was being honest with himself, it’s where he would want to retire if he ever saw his goal through…living the simple life he used to know before the IPC had ripped it from him. 

He knows it’s not the most…elegant solution, but he knew some fine folk there, some fine folk who might just be willing to help the poor outcast he’d created. -

It’s a long trip. It had to be if it was out of the IPC’s gaze…but that did mean a long trip with Boothill.

In a tiny two person at most ship.

You didn’t really know what to expect, if he’d just tie you up and put you in the corner…but as it turns out…he’s somewhat hospitable… ok more than somewhat.

After you’d calmed enough to be reasoned with, he’d handed you a bottle of nondescript nature. Without much thinking, you’d taken a swig, eyes widening at the distinctly alcoholic taste. It wasn't anything strong like whiskey, but it was enough of a shock.

“Malt juice.” He clarifies as he takes a seat at the helm, setting the warp drive “figured it’d help calm ya nerves.” You blink down at the bottle before slowly taking another, more temperate sip.

It…wasn’t bad…actually it was pretty good. It burned your throat just enough to keep you in the present.

You both talk…small things, you ask him how he knew of this planet, and tells you about all the planets he’d visited that weren’t under the IPC’s thumb, how all of them were nice, simple places.

He tells you that he thinks you’d like Eymaya II, he thinks everyone would like Eymaya II. It had rolling hills and green valley’s. The people were mostly farmers, ranchers, common folk just going through the motions to get by, but not in the same nihilistic sort of way most did. Good, honest living, as he says.

Part of you wonders if there ever was a time this ranger worked a good honest life, if this whole…cowboy thing was a facade, or if it was real, remnants of a past he couldn’t return to. You’re not sure if it’s his conversation, the malt juice, or both, but you eventually begin to open up, about your home life, about your terrible habit of cutting into conversations when you were nervous, all of it. 

And when you begin to fall asleep? Your head nodding slowly where you sat, you feel a cold, metal hand rest on your shoulder.

“C’mon, you need ta’ rest.” He tells you, guiding you to the cot that looked seldom, if at all used.

For a wanted criminal who had put you out of two jobs and nearly killed you both times…he was surprisingly kind.

-

He wasn’t wrong about this planet. It was beautiful, the air was fresher than you could ever recall, living in the city.

Apparently, the look on your face says as much. Boothill chuckles, tilting his head softly as he watches you take it all in. “Told ya ye’d like it.” He hums, something in his mechanical chest whirring with..pride perhaps? Satisfaction? He wasn’t entirely sure, but seeing a face that, so far, all he’d seen from was fear and upset finally show…wonder…it felt good. He wanted to see it more, perhaps even a smile one day. 

He takes you to the inn, sets you up with Jodie, an elderly woman who had been around the block quite a few times, she didn’t put up with Boothill’s antics, more like…a curmudgeonly aunt at first as she barks at him for not calling in sooner, only for it all to melt away into an almost familial warmth as the cowboy explains himself, explains you.

“now child I know you did not lose this poor thing not one but TWO jobs!” She scolds, hands on her hips. 

There is a lick of satisfaction as you watch boothill shrink beneath the innkeeper’s rage. 

“Donchu’ worry hon, we’ll getcha set up here, somewhere this block for brains can’t accidentally getchu fired. Only thing that’ll do that around here is laziness…you aint lazy, are you?” she asks, turning to you and squinting her beady, aged eyes at you, making you stiffen up as well.

“N-no ma'am!” you bark instantly “I-I promise to work hard and earn my keep!”

This atleast, seems to settle her some, and before you know it, you have a hot meal and an ice cold drink in front of you, and you want to cry again.

You actually feel…somewhat sad when boothill has to leave…anxiety twisting in your gut… would you really be okay here? Would you survive? 

But he pats you on the shoulder and grins, and something about it is…comforting.

Something about it made you want to try.

-

It’s five years until you see Boothill again.

Jodie had grown too old to continue running the inn, and somehow, against all odds, it was you who had taken over. The entire place was yours, and you were happy. 

Not a day goes by where you don’t wonder how you ended up here, but then you recall, the enigmatic cyborg cowboy who had hijacked your ship, and then blown up a satellite array.

Somehow, your outlook on him had turned from disdain to…a strange sort of affection. The frigid anger had melted away, and what replaced it was a sense of…thankfullnes for what he’d done for you. Working here, away from the almost all-encompassing reach of the IPC had opened your eyes to just how…corporate everything felt, and how it so desperately wasn't you. 

It’s a late evening, you’re closing up for the night, the bar had emptied of all it’s usual late-staying regulars, and those who had rooms rented for the evening had already retired. 

You’re polishing a few glasses when the door swings open.

“Well now, there’s a face I ain’t seen in a forkin long time.” 

The voice is familiar, and has you turning, a small smile tugging at your lip. A mixture of feelings racing through your chest.

“Well well, come to let me collect your bounty, Sir?” you snicker, placing the glass you’d just polished beneath the malt juice tap to pour him a glass.

Boothill laughs, sauntering in with the swagger you remember as he drops into the stool closest to you. “How’ve you been, Boothill?” you ask him, setting the glass in front of him and waving away his credits. You owed him one drink, atleast, “what’ve you been up to?”

The galaxy ranger snorts, throwing some of his long hair over his shoulder “How long ya’ got there, sweetheart? S’gonna be a long story.”

“I own the place now, and we’re closed, so all the time in the world.” you hum, deciding to pour yourself a glass as well after locking the door. “Shoot, really? What happened to ol’ jodie?” He asks, voice tinged with legitimate concern as you drop into the barstool beside him.

“She’s fine, she’s fine..just old is all.” You assure him, finding a little comfort in the relief that washes over his features.

“Ah, fork don't scare a guy like that.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair “thought Jodie had up n’ left us.”

“Nah, she’s got a while on her yet.” you snort, taking a sip of your drink.

The conversations run long into the night, catching up, listening to the thing’s he’d done, places he’d seen…IPC operations he’d torn apart at the seams. He listens to you too, as you tell him about how things have been here, catching him up on anyone he asked about. It was like talking to an old friend. You weren't sure…what boothill was to you…a friend? An acquaintance? It was…complicated. 

More malt juice enters your systems, you ask if it actually has an affect on him.

“You know…being a cyborg and all..” you mumble, feeling a distinct warm dusting to your cheeks as the malt settles. 

Instead of responding with words, the galaxy ranger reaches out and takes your hand into his. He feels…

Warm.

“You tell me, darlin.” He chuckles after a moment, watching you though half-lidded eyes. You barely even notice, more curious about how the alcohol affected him. Without even thinking, you run your fingers along his exposed arm; you weren’t going crazy, he was warm, almost humanly so. 

Your fingers continue to wander without much thought until they brush along his jawline; the sudden transition from steel to skin is what finally snaps you out of your own thoughts, pulling back with a squeak.

“O-Oh aeons I’m sorry!” you fluster at his face, his eyes are wide and his mouth slightly ajar. “I-I got carried away I’m-”

His hand reaches out again, clasping yours and pulling it back towards his face as he rests his cheek into your palm.

“Don't.” He murmurs, softly, softer than you’d heard him before. “Keep goin…please.”

A realisation settles across your mind.

“You…you can’t feel most touch…can you?” 

He doesn't look you in the eye, but he does sigh, only burying closer to your warm palm, worn after years of working hard…but still human.

“S’not that I can’t feel…I can…but..s’mtimes it’s so forkin dull I might as well not…but..my face is…”

“One of the few places you can feel.” You finish the sentence for him, feeling a pang of sympathy. You didn’t know how long Boothill had been like this, but you could wager long enough that he was more desperate for a kind touch than he probably even realised.

“Yeh…” he mutters, his lips turning down into a frown “sorry…ah know it’s probably-”

“Shut up.” you mutter, turning to face him fully, your other hand coming to rest on the other cheek as you watch this man, this gunslinging galaxy ranger, falter. His eyes widen before he shuts them entirely, leaning into it, starved of this type of affection.

“F’ya don’t stop this bullshirt m’gonna think you might have some feelin’s for me, darlin’..”

You didn’t know if thats what it was…but you didn’t want to stop either, a part of you wanting to sate you own selfish curiosity…another part wanting to do this for him.

“It must be a lonely existence, living like you do.” the murmur leaves your lips before you even notice you’d spoken out loud, thumbs stroking over his cheek bones. Boothill stares at you in silence for a long moment, his gaze calculating, probing. 

“I thought ya’ hated my forkin guts…” He mutters.

“Perhaps once, for a little bit, I did.” You admit “But then you brought me here, and I’ve never been happier..”

A beat passes, then another, and another. Boothill stares at you, the feel of your hands on his face something he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

And then he leans forward, lips crash together and the taste of Malt juice and perhaps a little bit of oil is on your tongue.

You don’t pull back, if anything, you lean into it shamelessly. 

Robotic hands grip your waist as your own finally shift from his face to wrap around his shoulders. At some point his hat goes flying off elsewhere, but neither of you care; too strung tight, too wound up to care.

His teeth are as sharp as they look, but he’s careful with them as he nips at your bottom lip, swiping his tongue over the little beat of blood he manages to draw.

“Shirt-” He mutters against your lips, his eyes shut tight, you can hear his inner mechanics whirring, like a mechanical heart about to rabbit from his chest “fudge, if you don’t stop me now darlin I’m gonna keep taking-”

“Then take.” you mutter back at him, tangling your hands into his surprisingly silky hair and yanking. “Take what you want.”

“Oh trust me, I would but..” Boothill’s growl trails off, and for a moment he looks…embarrassed. You can’t for the life of you figure out why until he steps closer, your knee brushing between his legs- oh.

“Flat as a forkin’ brass tack.” he mumbles. 

You’re not sure why, it might just be the curse of your horrible humour, but your attempt at not giggling only sets you off into laughter that you attempt to muffle into his shoulder.

“Ey, watchu laughin at?” you expect boothill to be…mad at your outburst, but you can hear the amusement in his voice, feel the tremble of his own laughter “t’aint funny.”

“It kinda is.” you snicker out, pulling back to look him in the face. He looks a little sheepish, but thankfully, mostly just amused. “It’s okay…we’ll figure something out..”

His toothy grin settles back into a dangerous little smirk as the moment passes again, the kind of smirk that makes your belly twist a little. “Oh yeah, I got some other tricks up my sleeves.” 

Without much more to say, you find yourself being lifted, thrown over the cowboy’s shoulder- as you open your mouth to say something, you’re interrupted with a harsh slap to your ass, resulting in nothing but a squeak.

“Where’s yer room?” He snickers as you glare at him. 

You consider not telling him, being a brat, but the charming smile he returns to you is… yeah it does something stupid that goes right to your crotch. 

“Upstairs…first door on the left.” you mutter, flustering at the way his grin widens. 

If you didn’t know better you’d almost describe Boothill as practically skipping up the stairs, the angle for you however was a little trepidatious, and you find yourself clinging to him for a little more stability, right up until he carefully tosses you down onto the plush of your bed, landing with a soft thud.

He’s back on you, and your hands are back on him without him needing to ask; you can see the relief it brings, the way his eyelids flutter and his brow pinches as your fingers glide across his cheek, down his chest and along his arms, still warm, you note…

His lips return too, his own hands untucking your shirt just to get under it, metal fingers gliding over the smooth of your belly, up the your sides as he groans into your mouth. You wonder how much he can actually feel, if it was still dull, or if the alcohol had heightened his mechanical touch sensors somehow. You didn’t care, he looked happy, legitimately happy, like a dog being scratched behind the ears as you indulge him. 

His lips move from yours and he begins to nip and taste elsewhere, his nose brushing against your own as he leans in, nuzzling at your cheek, nipping at your jaw, revelling in the little sounds of pleasure he pulls out of you, especially when his wandering hands wrap behind your back and find the clasp of your bra, it comes undone with a surprisingly expert tug and you moan softly at it. 

(Who could blame you? You’d been wearing the damn thing all day.) 

You wished there was something you could do for him, something to pleasure him like he was doing for you, but you forced yourself to be content with touching him, running your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp and tugging at the soft strands; running your thumbs over his cheeks, tracing the shells of his ears.

Boothill however, seemed just as hellbent on touching you, but he had far more room to move, to explore, to play. 

Metal thumbs find your nipples, embarrassingly hard and sensitive after being trapped in the confines of your bra all day, and you moan as he rolls them both, back and forth in a slow, methodical rhythm that leaves your breath light, and your stomach twisting in knots. 

Pointed teeth find your throat, nibbling and worshipping every inch of skin they could catch. You’d have to wear a scarf tomorrow if he kept that up, lest the regulars at the bar notice the strange bruising… but you don’t stop him; you were all in on…whatever this was now. 

A metal hand pulls away long enough to pop the buttons on your shirt, leaving the plane of your torso open and exposed to his gaze, nothing short of hungry as he stares down at you. 

“Fudge…” he mutters, his voice husky “That’s a nice view…” 

“Tease.” you huff.

“Tease? Oh ah’ll show you tease.” He snickers, his mouth returning to your skin, working lower, biting at the junction of neck and shoulder, nibbling along your collarbone before the cowboy shifts further, his tongue darting out to lap at one nipple whilst a hand works the other.

You gasp and moan, a hand quickly coming to muffle your cries, cheeks alight with embarrassment at the sudden outburst. Boothill only chuckles, his eyes trained to your face as he lays, settling between your legs as he rests atop you to continue his work, but at least he doesnt pull your hand away, too engrossed on what he could feel opposed to what he could see and hear. 

He switches breasts while his free hand trails down, over the soft plane of your belly and to your belt, unbuckling it with ease and sending the strap of leather flying across the room before those fingers return, popping the button of your work jeans and dragging the fly down. You groan softly in appreciation at the relief it brings, only to feel those metal fingers working the waistband down.

Just what was he planning? you wonder internally as he gives your nipple one last, harsh suck before releasing it, making you keen beneath your hand. 

“Feelin good, darlin?” he whispers. He sure sounded like he was feeling good as he nuzzles against your skin, nipping at your stomach and trailing lower, hands gripping at your jeans, pulling them and your underwear away in one swoop, leaving you open, exposed, and embarrassingly wet. “Y’sure look it..” he adds with a low whistle “aint that a sight.”

“B-boothill-” You mumble, an attempt at closing your legs out of embarrassment only sandwiching his head betwixt your thighs. He grins at you; it’s such an endearingly handsome thing, it makes you feel like this wasn’t a first time thing between you both, like he knew you, like he was comfortable with you, which only added to the heat in your belly.

“Aw don’t go gettin all fudgin’ coy on me now.” he snickers “After all those drinks’ ya’ gave me downstairs, I’m still kinda thirsty.” 

His metal hands part your measly human thighs with shameful ease as he leans in close; you squeal when you feel his hot tongue lave down your inner thigh, warm breath so achingly close to your cunt it was maddening.

But it seemed Boothill was just as desperate as you were, his mouth attaching to your cunt after only a moment, taking in your squeal as his teeth gently roll your clit, the added danger only serving to make you wetter. 

“F-fuck! Boothill-!” you moan out, forsaking keeping yourself silent as your own hands scramble across the sheets, searching for something, anything to ground yourself as his tongue laps at your folds with fever; they eventually find and settle in his hair before giving it a tug.

Boothill groans, the sting is only arbitrary, but he loves it, he loves being able to feel something. The warm plush of your thighs around his ears, the heat of your cunt as he sucks on your clit, only made sweeter by your cries. He’d missed this, he’d missed this a lot..

“Y’aint seen nothin’ yet, darlin.” He growls low and loving against your thigh in the brief moment of reprieve he gives you. You stare down at him with hooded eyes,your knees already trembling from his vicious onslaught; he nips the soft, sensitive flesh of your thigh with a cheeky smirk, holding up a pair of fingers, watching your face as he slowly drags them through your wet folds, collecting your slick; you gulp. “Like a’ said, I got a few fun lil’ tricks up my sleeves.” His mouth returns, lapping and pulling you right back into the overwhelming, wonderful pleasure as a slick metal finger circles your entrance, slow, methodical, torturous. You nearly sob with relief when he finally presses the digit inside, the metal actually making it easier. He hums his approval at how easily his finger is sucked in, pumping it slowly in and out, in and out; taking things at his pace- perfect.

After a little while, you feel that finger beginning to probe, to prod and search for your G-spot, and before long he finds it, signalled by a loud gasp and a sharp tug at his hair, only pulling his mouth closer, his tongue working away at your clit like he wasn’t driving you absolutely mad with pleasure.

Once he’d found the spot, he retreats, slowly adding the second finger and beginning the cycle again, stretching you, filling you stupidly well; it was an absolute tragedy that he didn’t have a dick…at this point you were so stupidly horny, you would have climbed on top of him just for a chance to ride him.

(somewhere in the back of your mind, the saying ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’ reverberates) 

As you’re right at the height, right at the edge, he suddenly stops, his fingers cease their movements and he pulls his head away, resting his chin on your naval as he stares up at you with such a stupidly loving look that it makes your heart twist; his chin was absolutely drenched in your slick, but he looked so very content.

But you weren’t.

“B-boothillllll-” you whimper, tugging at his hair again, why had he stopped!? Now of all times? You could feel his metal fingers pressed against your G-spot, but unmoving, they did little to pleasure you. You clench around them, but that too, yields little results.

“Sorry sweetheart, just wanted to see your face when I did it.” He chuckles, his smile twitching up in the corner.

“D-do whAT-” your question cuts off abruptly when the fingers inside you suddenly burst to life with vibrations, the strength of which you’d never experienced before. Your body coils and you nearly scream as he rams those fingers into your G-spot, stars exploding behind your eyes whilst pleasure cuts through your belly like glass. 

“That.” He hums, satisfied as he returns that sinful mouth of his to your clit, adding another layer of pleasure. His fingers were harsh and rough, crooking into your G-spot one second, and then splaying out the next, dragging rough and harsh against your walls; his tongue however was soft, gentle, slowly and carefully rolling circles around your poor little nub. You were going to go crazy, he was going to drive you insane and you were absolutely letting him. Your body reacts on its own, thighs squeezing hard around his head, spine arched upward; your hips prevented from bucking thanks to one of his arms, wrapped solidly around your thigh and holding you down to the sheets, forcing you to lay there and take it.

You knew the walls here were decently soundproof, but even you began to question if they could muffle out your cries, made worse when Boothill suddenly sits up, pulling you up along with him, practically folding you in half as he continues to feast on your pussy like he hadn’t eaten in centuries, his vibrating fingers plunging somehow deeper.

At first you struggle for air with the new position, your knees almost at your chest, but then he switches the angle of his fingers and aeons-, you didn’t think it could get worse than this. But the pleasure this new angle brings, it’s new, its terrifying and you don’t quite know how to articulate that to the galaxy ranger causing it all. Your hands scramble clawing and tugging at any part of him you could get ahold of, his name falling from your lips along with incoherent babble, desperation and worry all balling into one feeling you couldn’t describe as he continues to piston those fingers into you, hitting your G-spot with such accuracy, the flame in your gut turning from a high heat to a near-volcanic overload as you jerk and struggle.

The final straw is when you crack open an eye, catching sight of him, staring back at you with such…love, such unbridled affection.

You scream his name as you cum, harder than you’ve ever cum in your life. Your faintly feel yourself make an absolute mess of his face, arms, your back and the sheets below you as your world turns white.

–

A soft, damp cloth carefully rubbing over your skin slowly pulls you back into reality, rousing you from the soft and gauzy subspace of post-orgasmic bliss. You try to shift, to sit up…to…something- but a hand carefully manoeuvres you to lay back down on a thankfully, dry patch of sheets.

“Easy, darlin’” Boothill’s familiar southern drawl hushes you down “Nearly done.”

You crack an eye to find him carefully cleaning you off with said damp towel. Methodical but careful. You’re trembling from the exertion, but boothill looks absolutely fine, the bastard. 

In fact, he looks better than fine. A smile plastered on his stupid face as he works away, wiping sweat and other…fluids, off of you. 

When he was done with that, he wraps you in a clean sheet and lifts you, sitting you down on the trunk at the end of your bed, just so he could change the set you’d obliterated with your unexpectedly rough orgasm. You sit there, watching him, half asleep and pleasantly dozy before he pulls you back into bed, pulling you into his side. A glass of water is pressed against your lips as he encourages a few sips into you. 

You spend the night sleeping with him curled around you; the quiet whirr of his mechanical body providing a pleasing, soft white noise while hands stroke through your hair.

–

“Do you have to go so soon?” You ask as he reaches for his hat.

He’d been here a week, and it had been…for lack of a better word; wonderful. 

But all good things had to come to an end you supposed. The look on his face was enough to tell you what you didn’t want to hear.

“I gotta. I ain’t done yet.” He tells you quietly, despite this, he holds out a hand, a silent request for you to walk with him…the inn and the bar would be fine for a little while.

“I’d ask ya t’come with me, but that’d be the biggest forkin mistake I could ever make.” the cowboy admits. He wanted you to, he’d never felt so content as he had in this week, but bringing you meant putting you in danger…aeons know he’d done that enough already.

“Will you…at least come and visit me?” 

Boothill snorts as they meander their way towards his ship “O’course I will.”

“How often?”

“S’often as I forkin can.” 

You both stop beside the ship, it had a few more dings and dents than you remember, but it was still in surprisingly good condition.

“Well…” you mumble “at least you know you’ll always have a room at the inn while I still run it.”

“Y’mean yer’ room?” He snickers. “I forkin hope you intend on running the place as long as possible, I pulled in a good favor from jodie to get ya yer’ start ‘ere.”

You smile at him. Boothill thanks every aeon in existence that his cybernetic eyes had a camera function, so he could save that face and look back on it when he was drifting through the universe.

Slowly, he pulls his hat from his head, holding it to his chest as he leans down to press his lips to yours, one last time for the road.

“I’ll be back as soon and as often as I forkin can…y’hear?” He murmurs, you nod; fighting away the sting behind your eyes as you step back.

“I hear…and…Boothill?” you ask as he turns around to step onto his ship, looking at you over his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e @moraxsthrone @mysnowmanandmebaby @inlustris-is-slowly-dying @pvbbyb0y Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

[twola]

Two words: messy blowjob.

Teehee, let’s go. 

Also, s/o to @revolversandlace, who mentioned writing a possible 1k+ scene literally describing a blowjob, so obviously, I had to give it a try myself. 😉

Convalescence

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Feelings are realized as you nurse Arthur back to health after his run-in with the O’Driscolls. Actions, however, are a bit limited during his convalescence.

Everything hurts. From the searing pain in his shoulder to the overall ache of his muscles, this definitely ranks as one of the most painful experiences of his life.

Regards sent to Colm O’Driscoll, of course.

He opens his eyes and a shadowed figure slowly comes into focus, a small, feminine frame seated on a stool next to his cot.

It’s you, but your normally tressed hair hangs limply in a ponytail, your eyes bloodshot and puffy, and it was obvious that you’ve been crying as his vision clears up.

“Wh- why are you cryin’ there, sweetheart?” He hoarsely whispers, voice rough from disuse.

You rub at your eyes, but it is mostly in vain as you can’t stem the flow of tears tracking down your cheeks. “When y-you fell off your horse when you came back, I-I thought you were d-dyin’.”  

Your voice cracks on the last word.

Arthur frowns, “Sweet girl, I ain’t worth them tears. Save ‘em for a good man.”

“You - you’re such a fool,” You grit out, teeth clenching, “You - you are a good man. The best of them, Arthur Morgan.”

“C’mon now, darlin’. Stop your lyin’.”

“I’m not lying.” You move to sit on the side of the cot, hovering over him, “Why can’t you see what a good man you are? Why are you so blind to it?”

He remains silent. Silly girl. You haven’t seen what he can do - what he does - to other men. The blood on his hands. You’d be far less likely to be praising him, far less likely to be…

…leaning in closer to him.

A pang sears through Arthur’s chest, sharp as a whip, when he realizes you aren’t pulling away from him.

“You’re by far the best man I’ve ever known.”

“Reckon you haven’t known many men then, little miss.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and in that moment, you lean completely over him and press your lips against his, a move he’s not completely surprised by.

His good arm, unburdened with the wound on his shoulder, winds around your shoulders as you press against his chest gently, still hovering so as not to put too much weight on him.

Arthur allows it all, from the first timid press of your lips on his to the far less timid pressing of your tongue, demanding entry into his mouth. He groans in response as he lets you in, and a mewl works its way up your throat.

It's only then, with you hovering inches above his chest, lips, and tongue working against his own, that he realizes that this is quickly turning into a predicament. Of course, it is, considering the view he’s gotten down the front of your blouse.

Someone, god, hopefully not you, stripped him of his bloody union suit, which probably did need to be burned, but failed to re-dress him. He was nude as the day he was born underneath the blankets, and it became increasingly clear as he felt his blood rushing toward his groin. 

Of all the times to act like a damn teenage boy-

He cannot help the groan that wells up in him as you shift, the curve of your waist at the flare of your hip pressing against his own - pressing against his hardening member.

He internally curses when you slowly pull away. 

But your eyes are lust-blown, a red blush settling on your cheeks. 

“Darl-”

“Let me take care of you.” You say, slowly sitting up and reaching for the edge of the blanket with your small, thin fingers. 

He wants to tell you to stop, that you don’t have to do this, that you don’t have to do anything, that he’s been smitten with you since you rode in half-starved and doe-eyed on the back of Davey’s horse all those months ago. 

But silent he remains as you slowly draw the blanket down his body. Your nose crinkles as your lips turn downwards as inch by inch of his chest is revealed to you - bruises and lash marks and signs of the torture he received at Colm’s hand.

“Oh, Arthur.” You sigh sadly, eyes watering over again.

“ ‘m gonna be fine, sweetheart. Just a little uglier than usual.” He tries to lighten the mood with self-depreciation, but the deepening of your frown tells him that’s not working. You blink the tears collecting away and continue to pull the blanket downward, revealing his navel and the trail of dark, wiry hair leading downwards.

He sucks in a breath as the collecting fabric brushes against his ramrod-hard cock.

Finally, finally, your hand slowly pulls the blanket over his hips, first over the curls at the bottom of his pelvis, to expose his cock, leaking from the tip and laying heavily over his thigh. 

You look back at him, and he’s wide-eyed, biting his lower lip, looking down at you hovering over his hips. You can see his chest expanding with his breathing, speeding up as he stares at you. 

You lean down and Arthur’s good arm swings over his head to block his vision, because if he sees this, he’s sure to make embarrassing noises loud enough for the whole damn camp to hear.

He feels your small hand wrap around his cock, and he bites his lip not to make a sound as you gently pull it upright.

But he is not able to stifle the noise he makes when his cock is enveloped in something wet and warm - his arm flies upward and he cranes his head to watch you take him into your mouth. An embarrassingly needy whine escapes his mouth, but that’s better than the shout he wants to let out as you suck gently at the head, your tongue pressing against the weeping slit of his cock.

“Jesus Christ.”

You let go of the head of his cock with a pop, and he bucks up slightly, as if to follow your warmth as you look up at him.

“You alright? Need me to stop?” You ask, one hand still wrapped around his length.

“Oh, darlin’, please, please don’t ask me that.” His forearm slides across his eyes again as his other hand.

“So you want me to keep goin’?”

“Jesus fuck, of course.” He replies incredulously, flabbergasted that you could doubt this felt amazing.

You smile for a moment before turning back to his length, enveloping him once again in the velvet warmth of your mouth. His head hits the pillow as he loudly sucks in a breath.

You slowly, deliberately, work your way down his length, bobbing up and down, sucking on his skin gently as you take more and more of him into your mouth.

It feels like years you’re doing this, inch by inch of velvety skin warmed by your wet cavern. 

Finally, you gag slightly as your nose touches the chestnut curls at the base of his cock, saliva dripping down from your lips and slowly running down toward his heavy, full testicles, and he has to actively clench the sides of the cot to stop himself from bucking upward. 

“Oh, oh god, woman.” He mutters as you slide back up, fingers once again grasping the base of his length as you suck in a breath, looking up at him with a hint of a smile, your lips and chin shimmering with your spittle. His cock shines against the oil lamp’s yellowed light, absolutely dripping wet from your mouth.

You lean back down again, but instead of taking his length into your mouth, you run your tongue down its side, all the way down where you nuzzle against the globes at the base of his cock, gently sucking one into your mouth. He whines, whines, this gunslinger, this outlaw, this hardened mountain of muscle beneath you. All being torn apart as you suckle on him.

After several moments, you pull back, and he’s panting, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat developing over his clavicles, and the bandages wrapped tightly across his pectorals and shoulder.

Your thumb presses gently on the underside of his cock, and he closes his eyes and lets out a low, long moan. You smile, rubbing at his hip affectionately.

“Christ alive, woman, you’re killin’ me.”

“Ain’t done yet, Arthur.”

And with that, you resume, leaning down and retaking him, sucking harder than you have before, leaving him squirming beneath you. 

You suck, and bob, you squeeze his balls and rub at his thighs. Lord almighty, he must have died at Colm’s hand - this had to be heaven.

The burning in his gut reaches a fever pitch, and he knows he’s not long to last.

He tries to sit up, but can’t with his shoulder bound, and finds that he just has to make enough noise to tell you to get off of him.

“Darl- darlin’, I’m gonna come- you- you need to move-”

His sentence goes unfinished as you look up at him, mouth full of his cock, and slowly, deliberately, slide all the way down, saliva dribbling out of your mouth again as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat.

Arthur’s eyes go as wide as saucers, and he audibly swallows before his head hits the pillow once again. You slide up and down, sucking, tongue working around his length, the gentle suction of your mouth causing him to whimper.

He grunts, hands clenched around the wooden sides of the cot, hips moving despite his attempts not to. He is completely at your mercy - each lick and suck of his cock sends him further down that road of unabashed pleasure.

“Sweet- oh god, oh - fuck - I’m -” Arthur cannot finish his sentence before he trails off into a groan, his hips bucking up as you press down, and he shoots his spend down your throat, you pull back, gagging slightly, and as you sit up, Arthur can barely believe his eyes as he watches a dribble of his white, milky spend drip from the corner of your mouth. Christ, it makes him want to come again.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, clearing your throat, and pull the blanket up to Arthur’s chest once again, where he just looks at you, stupefied.

You cock an eyebrow at him as you slide up the side of the cot, sitting next to his chest. “You alright? That wasn-” You frown, “God, I hope that wasn’t bad.”

Arthur’s good hand grabs the collar of your shirt and yanks you down, where he presses his mouth to yours desperately, not caring at all that he can taste the bitter tang of himself on your tongue. You draw away after a moment, and Arthur tucks a strand of your hair that escaped its braid behind your ear.

“Woman, you’re the only one takin’ care of me from now on.”

[gfmima]

c. 東京卍リベンジャーズ | tokyo revengers + f!reader t. you’re WAY out of his leagues and he knows

sano dojo, it reads.

an hour before to your arrival, mikey decided to text you his home address, inviting you to meet him prior to your date at the beach.

it was weird to say the least.

you two already had a habit of meeting at the location itself to save time thanks to his busy schedule and whatnot. your mind overflows with different thoughts all at once — some whisper it was bad news, others reassure it was nothing for you to worry over.

the very last thing you need to do is freak out on such a nice day… or was it? maybe you should’ve brought an umbrella? is it too late to go back? maybe you can ask mikey to bring one just in c—

“can i help you, miss?”

your body tenses up.

a man stands opposite you with an equally clueless look. he holds the door open on stand-by to hear your response until a wave of recognition washes over his face.

“you must be mikey’s girl! hold up… y-you’re mikey’s girl!?” he opens the door wider and welcomes you inside his home with an expression of disbelief. he then introduces himself as your boyfriend’s eldest brother before guiding you to the kitchen where he stayed.

you try to ignore the bizarre looks he sent you and walk two steps behind him. was there something on your face? your hand reaches to grab your pocket mirror.

“oh, mikey~! look who’s here to see you~!” shinichiro says in a sing-song manner, forcing all eyes to be on you now.

you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t feel the least but self-conscious by their reaction. it wavers from surprise to stupor like they’ve seen a real-life ghost and you can feel your nerves prickle from their intense stares.

with his unruly blond hair obscuring his face and dried drool on his cheek, you would’ve chided him for wasting precious time if his siblings weren’t studying you like a new organism under a microscope.

“i’m not interrupting something, am i, ‘jiro?” you scurry over to his side, holding his forearm like a frightened child.

mikey shakes his head and reached to rest his arm over you immediately, his expression visibly brightening at the sight of you here. he looks at izana, who scoffs at him, and sticks his tongue out as if he wasn’t a full-fledged adult.

“ha! i told you she’s real!”

you tilt your head. huh?

shinichiro offers an apologetic smile for his brother’s idiocy, whereas emma and izana continue to gawk. the pair glance at you, then at mikey, then back at you.

“you’re lying. no way a woman like her would date someone like you. back me up, em!”

“uh, i’m staying out of this.” she raises her hands and backs away. “you two handle whatever this is on your own.”

your boyfriend purses his lips in a serious pout. he turns his back on his older brother, scoffing, “well… you’re just being jealous!”

his comment spurs them to continue arguing like little kids. you stand in the middle of the crossfire as it ensues, greatly confused by the entire ordeal. should you step in?

“i’m super, duper sorry about them. boys are boys, y’know? they’re dumb.” emma’s sheepish tone pulls your focus from the chaos. “so… you must be mikey’s girlfriend! you’re very pretty. i can see why he always talks about you!”

then there was izana… who cuts the conversation short just to look at you closely and demands, “quick! blink twice if he intimidated you to be his girlfriend!”

“is he really not paying you to do this?” is the last thing you bank on to be the first thing your boyfriend’s older brother would say to you.

your mouth opens to give him piece of your mind, though, it promptly closes, not sure of what to tell him. you must have look like a fish out of water as your mind wrestles to process what he said to you.

your foots taps along in an uneven pace, counting down the seconds in your head until rindō came home from his short trip to your go-to restaurant for dinner take-outs.

“what do you mean?” you settle on asking him, as you try to keep your tone neutral as possible.

ran picks a piece of lint off his sleeve and looks at you in the eyes. “what i mean is, he isn’t the most popular with women because of attitude. breaking news, right? and, well, you’re very easy on the eyes. it’s weird to think my own little brother was able to convince a pretty little thing such as you to be his.”

he didn’t mean it to sound as harsh as it did.

he just impressed by how long rindō was able to keep silent about your relationship. he didn’t even realize anything was amiss until he returned one day with you clinging to his arm like a high-strung puppy.

the fact his baby brother — a twenty-one-year-old man — was no longer, a baby, albeit endearing, was baffling.

“i’m not interested in hearing about his dating history. rindō treats me right and that’s all i care about.” the blunt edge in your tone piques his interest.

huh, you weren’t paid to play pretend girlfriend after all. you appear genuinely upset with what he said. still, he can never be too sure. he lived with rindō long enough to know he was just as stubborn to prove him wrong.

“there’s no need for the attitude, sweetheart. i’m just…” ran chooses his next words carefully. “expressing how shocked i am. that’s all. you understand, right? you’re the first girl he brought home and introduced to me — the only one without a three-week expiration. he’s like a changed man.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. what on earth is he trying to imply?

“i’ve got no clue what you did to him but he’s been happier lately.” if you strain your ears, you can hear him offer a tiny, “thank you,” under his breath.

“trust me, the feelings mutual.”

ran shows you a silver of a grin.

despite your cumbersome start, it was obvious he cares for rindō like any other older brother would, putting in the extra effort to embarrass him any way he can. you suppose going here wasn’t a bad idea after all.

delighted with your answer, he offers to show off every baby photo of your boyfriend, especially the unflattering ones. he even lets you take a few pictures with your phone.

“he was so pale then, plump too… he kinda resembles those daifuku mochi, no?”

[payasita]

Good job getting ADHD medication! I’m so proud of you :D

thanks so so much im very happy and so hopeful for the first time maybe ever but also it TOOK ME LIKE. A YEAR. A YEAR.

like yall for real?? for real. for real i have been diagnosed since i was like six. (funny story my teacher thought i was on the spectrum so my parents get me tested with the nodes and shit and according to mom, who loves this story, my neurologist did all that and talked to me and then just turned to my mom and went "she's not autistic. she just hates the other kids" but they DID find an adhd diagnosis in there so net win for all of us)

diagnosed since i was SIX. on stimulants until i turned 8, and you know why i got off em? my pediatrician retired. we could not find another who would take our low-income insurance. so i just had to rawdog The Rest Of My Fucking Life. diagnosed when i was six. legally neurodivergent for 20 slutty slutty angry years.

and it still took me like. a few months to get a psych appointment. a few weeks to reaffirm my diagnosis as an adult. a few more weeks for another appointment for meds. he doesnt Want to do meds first, because i must have been doing fine without them if its been two decades, right? i got a job and a car and everything. well gee fuckin shittickers Dr. Brain Guy, just WHAT was my alternative? would you prefer i be maladapted to the point of incapacitation; is that what it takes for someone to be considered? i cheated my way through school. every day after work i sit for an hour in my car because i dont have the executive function to stand up and walk the ten steps to my house. garbage just appears around me. i have three empty bags of hot chip and two cans of sprite on my desk as we speak, neither from today. at that point i hadnt had a debit card for six months because that would have required me to Drive To The Bank, a location that was new to me in this area, so i just did everything on credit. is this all normal? is this fine? am i GOOD, actually, Dr. WeirdBrain?

so we cordially agree that yes i should probably be medicated. i want to do a stimulant. he does not want to put me on a stimulant. "stimulants can mess with your heart," he says, "and you're young, you don't want heart problems." i say ok because i dont want to make him think im just looking for narcotics. even though i am. because they WORK. i agree to try some kind of antidepressant.

the antidepressant gives me tachycardia. i go to the emergency room after reading a heartbeat of, oh, 140 bpm, which is about like double what it normally is and juuuust below the You Are Having A Heart Attack threshold. i get to the ER and the doctor there is very obviously convinced i'm a local addict having some sort of episode. it is the most ironic experience i've had all year and i feel an abrupt and all consuming kinship with those birds in australia that will swoop you and peck at your face for seemingly no good reason.

so yeah, we narrow it down to the antidepressant. as it turns out, these particular meds are known to, semi-commonly, Mess With Your Heart. i have my next appointment with my psych and somehow refrain from pecking his eyes out. he puts me on a noreprinephrine inhibitor(iirc) that isnt actually FDA approved to treat ADHD specifically(i DEFINITELY rc) but it IS given to smokers to help them quit. i dont smoke. i may very well fucking start before this whole ordeal is at the point where someone listens to me

it obviously does a combined total of jack and shit, and the man waffles with this one because he has "had success" using it as treatment for other ADHD patients. he ups the dose. twice. three months on the smoker meds, which are also apparently notorious for destroying your appetite, but they didnt even do THAT. no change to the average amount of hot chip on my desk.

he wants to try quelbree after that. i finally tell him i'm tired of this shit and would like to have more than two hours of usable daylight to function before it all falls to uncontrollable youtube shorts binges and a daily experience i like to call The Weighted Nothings and i would very much like to PLEASE. TRY A STIMULANT.

he's been friendly enough with me over these past four or five or whatever months but at this he gets suddenly very very business-baseline. gives me the whole spiel about the north american shortage. gives me a spiel about how i absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, lose or sell this medication, because they will not refill it if i do. i am sitting here wondering if he he's telling the truth about having other ADHD patients at all like ever in his career, and also, am i nuts or should the "don't sell your prescription drugs" bit apply to EVERYTHING? i dont fuckin know man i just live here

he says he wants a urine test first. its scheduled for two weeks out. i take it.

"hey uh, your piss came back with cannabis in it" "well it'd be weirder if it didn't, we are in california and i am a kitchen manager" "you can't have weed if you want adderall" "fine i'll stop" "we'll schedule you another test in a month" "aight bet" it didnt go exactly like that but this is kind of what the vibe between us has devolved into by this point.

anyway i wait a month and get a good grade in piss. i get the meds prescribed. i go to fill out the prescription

all i really need to say to you are the words "prior authorization error" for most of you to get what happened next.

the psych isnt even aware. i wait another month for our next meeting, which was yesterday. i do not yell at him. he tells me to take it up with the pharmacy, and yell at them. i am going to yell at them.

so i go, and guess what, it actually went through a while ago! NO ONE TOLD ME OR DR. FEEL-BAD OVER HERE. but we can't fill it right now because its a controlled substance so come back in a few hours. hey it's ready where the hell are you? TAKE YOUR METH AND GET OUT

anyway i started it today, reorganized my pantry, and fixed the fire alarm in my hallway that's been chirping at me for a week. i no longer have to wear earplugs to bed.

and with my newfound executive function superpowers, i will be spraying my weed-free piss all over Reagan's grave.

[yuriisclumsy]

HELLO !! I SEE THAT YOU WRITE FOR CALE HENITUSE :d you've got good taste that man makes me feral i love that unbelievable idiot :D

Whadoyyathink about Cale being with someone who's weaker than him but she's kinda useful (one of pookie's powers is to boost someone's abilities, it generally doesn't matter if the one she's aiding doesn't have magical powers, they just have to be good at something like for example, painting and swordsmanship—she can enhance their ability and knowledge temporarily).

She's a mage that's dying the more she exploits her mana. She tried to not use too much, but in a reality where she and everyone suddenly got thrusted into war? She couldn't help but use, use, use.

None of em knew her degrading lifespan until one day she just told em casually when the gang asks wtf is wrong w u why do you look like u r boutta die and why do you keep passing out sometimes

If this is too much feel free to ignore, though thank you for reading :D

Will you stay by my side forever?

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,443

[Authors Note]: This thing took me so long to make because I couldn't figure out what setting to write it on. Besides getting a bit tired of only writing for Cale back when I was consistent with the requests. But, hi! I'm back! At least just for this one. This request is back from May 💀. I still have two more, one from June, the other from July. So I might come back and do those. Do people want a part 4 for Love's Dance?

»»►Ouuu, what a fun scenario.

»»►Apologies in advance if it’s a bit weird, haven’t read or written for Cale in a while, so I might have lost my touch.

»»►Warning (I never really do these, but I thought it would be appropriate): could be inaccurate to the Henituse War Arc because I have yet to read it.

»»►Also, the POV is different on this one.

Dragons.

Powerful beings, capable of destroying us all if they wanted to.

One thing they weren’t meant for was to let humans ride them and control them like animals. They had far greater intelligence than any being in existence. 

So why should they submit to us?

The skies are filled with erratic bat-winged lizards; their flames and roars were scattered all over the field.

This was a war.

Dragons…What pesky creatures. I already have one to deal with, I don’t need more.

“Choi Han!”

“Yes, Master Cale?” said man came within seconds and kneeled in front of him.

“I need you to scout out the area in the east for me,” I commanded.

“On it,” and with that, he left as fast as he came.

I already know how all of this will pan out, but a little safety never hurt no one…

“Master Cale!”

“Hmm?” I turned to see one of the city guards running in a hurry towards me. “What is it? Why are you in such a hurry?”

“I-it’s lady [Name]! S-hes…” the guard gasped for air from the run.

“Easy, calm down… Now tell me, what’s wrong with [Name]?” I patted him in the back.

Recuperating the lost oxygen, the guard went serious and looked at me. “Lady [Name] has lost a great deal of blood and fainted..! S-she just started to cough and— M-master Cale–? Where are you going?!” The Guard shouted at me, but all noise was shut down by my mind.

That instinct to check on those you care about kicked in the moment I heard the word blood being uttered.

I ran.

Ran, and ran, until I was able to see the camp where she had been stationed at by me. A camp far from the battlefield, but close enough for me to constantly check-up on her.

How could a thing like this happen to me? I had just checked on you a few hours ago, so why? Why are you suddenly bleeding?

The men there stood aside as I ran past them. They understood not to be on my way with the expression I wore on my face.

“Where is she?!” I yelled to the men crowding a tent. I already knew my answer when they looked at me  and then at the inside with sad expressions.

I burst in and scanned the area to look for the woman I ran miles to see. I paused. There, on a bed on the far corner of the shelter, was her. [Name]. Medics surrounded her with yet more sad faces.

I walked slowly towards them, not wanting to know if what I had in my mind were to be true. “Is she alright?” I asked when I was a mere few feet away from the bed.

The head doctor looked at me with furrowed brows and sighed. He then gave me a smile when he saw my eyes, filled with worry.

“She is fine,” he said. I let the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “But she has lost a great deal of blood. I need her to stay in bed for a few days, and another more of pure rest until I see her health back up again.”

“I see… Thank you.”

“No need, it’s my job,” the doctor looked at the other two, who I believe to be his apprentices, and gestured to them to exit with him. “I’ll leave you alone with her,” he patted my shoulder as he left.

I stood there for a bit, before I went and sat on the bed right next to hers. I stared at her face; the face that made my heart jump from excitement wherever I saw a smile; the face that l would look at and made me feel better instantly; the face that made me fall deeply in love with her.

“...Cale?” a voice rang in my ears which made me snap out of my trance. My eyes meet with hers.

“[Name]...you’re awake,” I let out simply. She smiled at me, relieving me from the aching I had in my heart moments prior. “Are you feeling better?”

She nodded. Her eyes were filled with a love I can’t put in words, stared at mine. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she said sadly.

My eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What are you sorry for? None of this is your fault.”

“...” she stayed silent. She turned her head to the other side, blocking my view of her expression. I knew this move of her’s. She did this whenever she was hiding something. And then I realized something. I hadn’t asked what the cause of the blood was.

“[Name]...” I called to her, “..this wasn’t your fault…was it?”

“...I’m sorry,” she apologized and let out a low sob. “I didn’t want for any of you to find out this way….”

I was in disbelief. What possibly could she have done to cause such blood loss other than a stab wound…had she...?

“[Name], tell me… You didn’t cut yourself, have you?”

She quickly looked at me, “no, of course not, I would never do something as bad as hurting myself!” She reassured me.

That’s good…but that doesn’t answer how she had lost a lot of blood.

“Then…why were you bleeding?”

“...That’s..a long story.”

“I have all day,” I crossed my legs and rested my head on the palm of my hand.

“...”

“...”

She sighted thinking I would give up on the subject, but I’m far too stubborn to give up. “I lost a lot of blood because…”

“Because…?”

“Because of my ability…” she finally said.

“Your ability..? The ability to enhance abilities?” I asked in thought.

“Yes.”

“How exactly does your ability work then?”

“Well, you know that I can upgrade someone's abilities, yes?” I nod, and she continues, “but what I didn’t tell you was the toll it comes with.”

“Toll? Wait, have you been hurting yourself while using your ability?” I accuse her.

“No! Well…yeah, but exactly how you think…” that wasn't very convincing. “Whenever I use my power, it takes energy from my body. The more I use it, the weaker I get.”

“...”

“Please don’t be mad at me…” she pleaded with puppy eyes.

“...I’m not mad.”

“I feel like you are.”

“Well, I’m not,” I straightened my back, “but I will have you permanently stop using that power of yours.”

“What!?” She sat up at lighting speed, and groaned out of pain.

“Don’t sit up so quickly,” I got up and held her back.

“Y-you can’t just…prohibit me from using my power! How else would I be useful to you? How would I earn money!?”

I didn’t say anything. Then an idea came to mind. My ears were burning at the thought.

Taking courage, I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat at the word I was about to say.

“...I’m firing you,” I said.

“...Huh?” She looked heartbroken. Oh, how I can’t see you like that. “no…No, no. Please, let me work for you. Please, Cale!” She grabbed my arms in an attempt to make me rethink my decision.

“No, my choice is final,” she was at the brink of crying. “Instead… I want you to stay by my side.”

“What..do you mean?” Her eyes gawk at me with tear drops threatening to spill out.

“Let me rephrase myself so you can understand,” I cleared my throat, “I would like for you to be mine.”

We stared into each others eyes. She shed a tear from before, but not out of frustration, or grief of a lost job, but out of love and affection. She chuckled.

“Is this your way of courting me?”

“Is it bad?”

“No! No, it’s…interesting,” she lowered her head to laugh at my proposal.

“So?” I placed my index finger under her shin and tilted her head to look at me. “Are you going to accept?”

“Hahaha… Yes. I accept,” she gave me the happiest smile I had seen from her.

And in that moment, I knew I was the happiest man alive.

Fin

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Master-List

[lunajay33]

Change Part.10

•🩰🎀🩷•

Summary: Y/n is a loner but loves ballet but her family doesn’t have enough money for her to dance at the studio, Daryl is a redneck who hates people and prefers bikes, until one day these two run into eachother and their lives change drastically, will Daryl toughen her up? Will y/n soften Daryl? Or both? How will things go when people start coming back from the dead

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

A/n: This is going to be a series, it’s gonna start with how they met eachother and their lives before the apocalypse, eventually it’ll blend with twd story line!!

Part.9

•Masterlist•

It’s been a few days and it’s been hard not really knowing who I am, having to learn everyone’s names and not understanding what they’re talking about, for camping everyone sure was busy and fighting a lot, it all just made me feel confused like I was missing something big picture, but everytime I asked someone they just said it was nothing

After breakfast Daryl and I went back to our tent to get ready for the day, I unzipped my bag rummaging through looking for a pair of shorts that still fit when I pulled out silky pink ballet slippers and suddenly a pain shot through my head

“I know they’re not much but they’re something”

A young Daryl was pictured in my mind then another

“Dance fer me sunshine, see what the big deal about black swan is”

He asked as he was sat on a bed in a very pink and white room maybe my room

“Daryl?”

“Ya sunshine?” He said as I turned around seeing scars littering his back but it wasn’t the time to pry and if I was seeing it he must be comfortable around me and I didn’t wanna ruin that

“Did I have a pink and white room and did I ever dance for you?” His expression lifted as he kneeled in the tent infront of me

“Ya remember! Yes ya had the most girly room, decorated in ballerina stuff, ya had this pink rotary phone ya use ta call me on always envisioned ya layed on yer bed twirling the cord around yer finger blushin as I talked ta ya, blushin like ya are now” he said running his thumb across my bottom lip

“I want to remember Daryl, how can you still be with me if I can’t even remember our lives together”

“Oh sunshine, nothin and I mean nothin will stop me from lovin ya, they’ll come back, ya just had some maybe we gotta do stuff to bring em back”

“Like what?”

“Can I kiss ya?” I nodded excited been waiting to know what his lips felt like since I woke up with no memories

His hand ran through the back of my hair bringing me closer his lips brushing against mine, the smell of cigarette and woods overwhelmed my senses when finally we kissed slow at first until I craved more, pushing him back as I straddled his hips never being close enough feeling my body heat up

“Yer so beautiful” he said as another pain zapped me

“Can you please stay with me tonight Daryl, I don’t wanna be alone”

“Ya sure ya want me to stay?”

“Cute panties”

“Yeah like yours are any better”

I pulled back from the kiss desperate for air, his hands tight on my hips

“I asked you to stay with me, you said I had cute panties” I laughed

“They were, ya had these little pink panties with white lace, that was the first night we shared a bed together, yer dick of a brother and his friends scared ya, ya didn’t wanna stay in the house with him alone”

“His name……his name was Jackson right?”

“Ya baby, yer doing good�� his hands traced up my back

“You know I’m pretty lucky I have someone like you to help me through this, can I ask some more questions?” He nodded in agreement

“What do you do for work?”

“Work at a bike shop, fix em up, use ya take ya fer rides on my bike, ya loved em”

“Use to? Why not anymore?” Then he got that expression like everyone else

“Oh ummm ya didn’t wanna ride with the baby”

“D you’re lying to me, everyone is, what’s really going on, why are me camping so long?”

“Can ya just trust me that I’ll keep ya safe, it’s not the time ta tell ya it’ll be too much, can’t risk ya passing out again”

“Okay but you’ll tell me eventually right?”

“Of course baby, now I gotta go huntin how bout ya spend the day with Maggie, ya know she loves baby talk” he said smiling as he strapped the bow over his shoulders that made me all tingly inside

“I do have to say I’m one lucky lady hot damn” I giggled as he huffed as we left the tent

“Be safe I’ll see ya later” he said one last time kissing my cheek before he left

The day went by slowly but Maggie was amazing company but all I wanted was to be in Daryl’s arms

“You miss him don’t you?” Maggie asked breaking me out of my trance

“Yeah, it’s just after losing my memories he’s the only one I feel……..normal around, he doesn’t treat me like I don’t know like I’m just another burden, I don’t know what’s really going on here but I wanna be useful Maggie”

“You’re not a burden sweetheart, you’re a blessing you and this baby are a light in this dark world, that man adores you why don’t you take a nap in the house for a little we’ve done a lot today”

“Okay but only because you said so” I laughed as she handed me an apple before I walked into the house laying in the same bed I woke up in, slowly I drifted off to sleep

“Angel, the day ya stepped into my life I knew it was gonna change, my lil ballerina, never thought I’d be so lucky ta get a woman as sweet as ya but I wanna spend the rest of this life with you, will ya marry me Angel?”

“Daryl somethings wrong, people are coming back from the dead and eating each other please come get me I’m scared”

“I don’t wanna leave this is our home, where we were gonna raise this baby”

Memories swirled around my head as I woke up in a panic of hot sweat and voices around me, looking around I notice Maggie and Hershel and Rick in the room

“What’s going on is everything okay?”

“It’s Daryl he had……an accident” Rick motioned to the bed next to me, I turned and there he was unconscious on the bed blood covering his face and dirt all over him, my heart tightened in pain

“What happened? Will he be alright Hershel?” I asked as I held Daryl’s hand in mine

“He’ll be alright darling, I’ll get him patched up and he’ll just need to rest” I took the wet cloth Maggie had and wiped the blood away on his face

After the others left and Daryl woke up it was just the two of us in the bed

“You scared me half to death Dixon” I said running my hand up and down his arm

“Sorry sunshine, but I made it back didn’t I”

“Barely, what even happened I thought you were just hunting?”

“Damn horse bucked me of a cliff” I sighed feeling the stress of the day weigh on me

“But forget about it, what did ya do today” he asked twirling my hair in his fingers

“Not much helped Maggie out, then I had this dream”

“Bout what baby?”

“You were proposing to me, you said you were lucky to have a woman like me, called me you angel”

“And it’s true, not a day goes by I don’t feel like I won the lottery” god I loved this man

“Then I had another one, we were in our home crying because I didn’t wanna leave, saying that was where we were suppose to raise our baby……Daryl do we not have a home anymore?” He was silent for a while before nodding

“It’s gone angel, we worked so hard for a home of our own and ya were so excited ya have the baby there but we’ll never go back again” I sat up at the realization that something really bad is going on in the world and I don’t even really know what the normal life was

“Oh god” I gasped feel a sudden pain course through my belly

“What ya alright?”

“I don’t know Daryl *gasp* it hurts”

“HERSHEL” he screamed out

“What happened?” He asked as he came running into the room

“I don’t know she just started hurting”

“Where does it hurt honey?” He asked kneeling infront of me

“The baby, somethings wrong, Daryl this wasn’t suppose to happen, we aren’t suppose to be here like this” I screamed as panic set it further

“What were you talking about?” He asked Daryl

“Some of her memories, told her about our old life and……and we can’t go back”

“She’s just overwhelmed and it’s affecting the baby, listen honey you have to calm down you know this man right here would never let anything happen to you, no matter what’s happening in this world you’re safe” he stated directing me through breathing

“Feelin better?” Daryl asked rubbing my back

“This is a lot and I don’t even know what normal is suppose to be really, I only have a few memories, is there anything I can do to bring them all back”

“I’m not a psychologist, just time, you have to take it easy for the baby”

“Thanks doc” I laid back in bed sighing as Daryl draped his arm over my belly bump

“Would askin more questions help ya?” I nodded my head turning to look at him, just looking in his eyes I felt at ease

“When we were younger were we crazy, did we do what teens do?”

“And what do teens do baby?”

“You know wild things, smoking, drinking, crazy sex”he laughed

“You? My lil princess didn’t do anything crazy, so innocent felt like I’d corrupt ya in some way, I do remember one night tho ya had yer first cigarette”

Sitting outside as the stars shone above and the warm summer wind blow through my hair, Daryl at my side as we sat in the field outside of town

Daryl lit up a cigarette as I watched the end glow in orange, I use to hate the smell but being around him so much I’ve associated the smell with him mixed with cologne and woods and now I crave it

“D?”

“Ya?” He asked as the smoke slipped through his lips

“Can I ummm….maybe try that?” I asked pointing to the cigarette

“Nah it’s bad fer ya, don’t wanna ruin them pretty lil lungs”

“Please just one drag, please pretty please”

He eyed me up for a moment before he sighed and handed it over, I took it between my fingers and placed in between my lips sucking it in, feeling the smoke envelope my lungs , slowly blowing it out

“Bet I didn’t look as hot as you smoking” I laughed as he took the cigarette back

“Looked pretty good ta me” he said as he took another drag but I straddle his legs breathing in the smoke he blew out

“Pretty bold tonight Angel” he blushed gripping my thighs

“I just want to be near you D”

“I love ya sunshine”

“I remember it a bit how handsome you were, but I do have to say I love the way you smell, the smoke it intoxicates me”

“Ya got more bold over the years, was fun seeing ya crack outta yer shell”

“No crazy sex?” He laughed again

“Nah we took things slow”

“Well what about now?” I asked flustered

“Ya certainly have your kinks, we’ve explored a few but yer always to shy ta tell me the others”

Kinks? Interesting

“So what are the things we’ve tried?”

“How bout we save that fer another time when I can show ya”

“Can’t wait”

Part.11

What’s everyone like to see in the story to come plz comment

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[ask-the-four-lords]

Don't know if this has been ask if so ignore this lol.

To all the lords, dimitrescu sisters and mother miranda what is your type?

:D

(I'm going to have them all answer honestly because if we're being realistic they'd all lie either a little or about basically the entire question)

Alcina Dimitrescu: Adorable, tasteful, intelligent, amusing, talented, strong-willed *seductive tone* yet entirely submissive at the right times.

Donna Beneviento: *Swallows* U-understanding, caring... no... no... I-I just want someone... to-to really love me *sobs*...

Salvatore Moreau: Someone... *barely keeps down some acid* someone whlo is nod afraid uh me... *cries* l-loving... like in muh-muh movies... *fails to keep down acid, it gets all over the floor* (He doesn't say it but also someone who fits the mommy bill)

Karl Heisenberg: Heh, smart, pretty, witty, charmin', and most impordenly, they're a real fighter, don't let any motherfucker hold em down but occasionally ready to be held down. *realizes there are some similarities between his statement and the 'big bitch's', gags. He speaks after in a rare moment of vulnerability* Hones'ly, I just don' wanna be alone anymore... I got no one but Sturm at the momen'. *Grimaces* Speaking of the fucker... YOU STUPID SACK OF SHIT! I BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS SICK FUCKING WORLD AND I'll TAKE YOU OUT OF IT!

Daniela Dimitrescu: *Giggles* I'd like an adorable little maid... romantic and pretty.

(Sorry I didn't do Bela and Cassandra I am really sleep deprived, I'll probably be back to edit and add them in the next two days)

[suryp]

Date: unknown

Year: inconsequential

Region: central Tartyryn straight

The snow crunches beneath our feet, the wind howls like the devil, and while we all show fear, I've reason to think my brothers know not that we walk over a frozen sea, more than 30 metres deep with fish heavier than our entire platoon. I doubt my commander knows, either, but that suits our real mission just fine.

The mission. Ha. Everyone knows the only safe spots for a town are off shore, we've already done the math, there's nothing out here worth finding.

Good thing Commander Reijean is such a greedy fuck, then.

"HALT!"

Thats him right there. Most would say he just wants to prove himself, but I know better. All humans hide their worst traits, tone 'em down for the public. We're all worse than we seem on the outside.

"..."

"whats out their c-"

"shut your trap private, I won't have my skill split be-"

*Crack*

"Mission complete, I suppose"

In an instant, Clark pulled out the rifle on his back. it was cheap shit, like all the gear for this trip was, but He's among the best "weapons guys" I've ever met.

Fortunately, the gun jams, and he vanishes into the blizzard.

"Clark? Buddy? Clark? Clark!"

"Circular formation, weapons up, we are-"

"...Commander?"

Just a few more to go. Our platoon used to be larger, but wandering for days on end through an empty void of ice and snow will take its toll. Just a few weeks ago, we might've won this fight.

Good thing banshees are smart, then.

"SpLit up!"

"Commander?"

"Split Up!"

"h- He's right. we're no more than a larger target like this."

"Just gotta find the right time for it."

Sabotage wasn't the plan, and it leaves a bad taste, but there's nothing for it.

"Now."

"..."

"..."

*Cr'Ack*

"..."

*Crunch*

"..."

And finally, a blood curdling scream cut short, by a few extra holes in the lungs.

I stand up, spread my arms wide, and make myself the most clear and easy target I can."

-...-

Two hours later

The blizzard dies, I see my siblings dead in the snow. Three have a mulch of bone and Metal shards, alongside frozen blood, in place of their heads. Commander has a crushed neck. Charlie's kevlar is punched through, frozen blood all along his chest.

There's a sixth carcass, some ornitherian, I think, though it's hard to tell considering how much was eaten. The ribs are gone, and only Two and a half legs remain.

I begin to walk off. A meal, even the frozen remains of a hippogriff corpse, is the last thing I d-

*crunch*

"..."

"you not fight me. why?"

"..."

"all humans try to kill us. take sea from us. take tyk'yk from us."

"...take egg from us."

"..."

"you not fight. why?"

-

alright thats a wrap! The official intro to Fisher and the Flame and the world of... well, I suppose she doesn't have a real name yet but hey, we can make this work.

for a bit of context regarding appearances, if you need that, "Ornithere" and "Hippogriff" refer to pterosaurian animals, most similar to (and heavily based on) Trollman's "Cuvier's Isle" a small spec one-shot. It does not refer to the serinean animals of the same name.

Banshee are a bit easier to describe, being a rough combination of Utahraptor osstramaysi and a Leopard Seal, very similar to @tales-of-kaimere's *Updated* xuul design, along with the Adzakoordu and the White Cockatrice, as well as the Tamakai.

The narrator, Jake Fisher, is getting a drawing, by someone who appreciates men far more than I.

now go read about kaimere on Keenan Taylors twitter, bluesky, deviantart, and youtube channel, along with trollman's various sickass works on the same websites.

-

edits: minor word changes, removal of unneeded dashes, and Commander is now cishet, because killing the first queer confirmed in story feels a bit too rude.

Reijean is still his name tho, since there has to some reason this unit was sent out.

also added a new tag. sorry y'all.

(im just gonna use the most extreme and broad tags that, since im exceedingly apathetic but do want to tag things correctly)

[morganbritton132]

PLEASE ELABORATE ON THE BRACELET WITH EDDIES NUMBER ON IT

Was there a time Steve sleepwalked and someone did call Eddie? Was there another time it came in handy when Steve lost Eddie (or Eddie lost Steve) or something other?? Please I need more that is so cute

Just a warning, I made this sad for no reason.

Once when Steve went on tour with Eddie, he wandered off in a post-ictal fog and ended up lost in the city. It took them a few hours to find each other because Steve didn’t know where he was nor did he have any money on him. After that, he would write the phone number of Eddie’s manager on his arm since he was the only guy on tour with a cell phone.

Pat, Eddie’s manager, wasn’t thrilled with this arrangement because he didn’t particularly like Steve, but after Steve channeled the coldest version of his mother and reminded Pat that only one of them was replaceable – “And managers are a dime of dozen” – he begrudgingly agreed.

He was never called.

Steve actually got the idea for the bracelet from one of his second graders.

After a pretty bad allergic reaction, one of his students came back to school with a little silver bracelet on her wrist. It had her mother’s phone number on it and the words ‘Peanut Allergy.’ She smiled up at Steve when she showed him and said, “My mama says this will keep me safe!”

He smiles too, “I bet it will.”

The bracelet is a surprise that Steve never gets to tell Eddie about. The day it comes in the mail, Eddie is over at Gareth’s for a D&D campaign so Steve never even gets the chance to tell him. He goes to bed before Eddie gets home and wakes up in the Emergency Room.

He’s cold and his feet hurt, and there are cuts on his hands and medical tape on his face, and for a second, he thinks he’s in the backseat of a blue Camaro with the world’s most reckless driver. He tries to sit up and it sets up an alarm and then there’s a hand in his, squeezing it.

It takes Steve a second to recognize the rings, to follow the rings up an arm, up to big eyes and messy curls, and Steve breaths out the only thing he can think, “Wow.”

“Wowza, big boy,” Eddie grins back at him, and Steve loves him. “How are you feeling?”

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah, uh. Sleepwalking again,” Eddie hums and then he smiles again. He taps a ring on his free hand against the metal bracelet on Steve’s wrist, “This is fucking brilliant, by the way. Did you think of it?”

Steve’s jaw kinda hurts like he’s been clenching it, but he smiles anyways, “Yeah.”

“You’re a genius, babe. They called me immediately,” He says, kissing his knuckles. Steve frowns, seeing a bruise there. Eddie notices and his grin takes on a chaotic edge, “You punched a security guard.”

“What?”

“For real, babe,” Eddie laughs at the panicked look on his face. “I don’t know what they did to trigger you, but you fuckin’ decked one of ‘em.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to jail.”

“Nah, it’s all good. I took care of it,” Eddie says and then to the skeptical look on Steve’s face, he rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. The guy is a fan and I gave him tickets not to press charges. Also, he feels pretty bad about spooking you since you clearly weren’t in your right mind.”

“Was in my left mind then?” Steve half-jokes, half-yawns. “Who brought me in?”

“You did.” Eddie’s smile dims in a way that’s a little sad but full of love. “You came here on your own actually – without shoes. We’re gonna have to teach your left mind about shoes – and, uh. Based on what I’ve heard, you were looking for a patient.”

“A patient? What patient?”

“They, uh. They said you were looking for Max.”

[starlightshadowsworld]

Something was off with Eddie.

Steve wasn't sure exactly what it was but the resident metal head was acting werid.

Well, weirder than usual.

He was squinting at Steve when Steve wasn't looking at him.

Like he had something in his eye.

And when Steve did look at him.

He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.

He looked nervous and Eddie Munson wasn't supposed to be nervous.

It was freaking Steve out. But nothing short of the actual apocalypse would allow Steve to interrupt D&D.

The kids would probably kill him. "Something on your mind?" Asks Eddie soo after.

The kids finally, finally remembering their was food and had abandoned their game for a feast.

The other members of hellfire grumbled but noticeably didn't object.

While they were still warming up to Steve, no one could deny that the man could cook.

Speaking of, they'd been acting werid too.

Not as obvious as Eddie but they would sneak glances at him.

And whisper behind his back.

"How Max and Dustin are going to fight over who gets my car when they kill me."

Honestly always helped with Eddie.

"My bets on Red." Said Eddie, trying and failing to contain his laughter.

Steve nodded, taking a sip of his coke. "Didn't think you were one to muse on death." Eddie added, he had that look in his eye again. 

And it hadn't escaped Steve that the other wasn't addressing him by name.

"Oh you know, wondered what would happen if I interrupted your devil's and doormans game." Said Steve nonchalantly.

Eddie snorted "hmm yeah they probably would. And don't think I don't know you know what it's actually called."

Their was a teasing glint in his eyes, but their was something else.

Something Steve couldn't put his finger on.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't." Shrugs Steve, trying to defuse the air. It was just them in the kitchen now, the kids happily eating with the rest of hellfire.

He wished Eddie would just join them.But Eddie had other plans. "No, no I think you do, Evie." Says Eddie, folding his arms and leaning against the door.

Steve knew it was probably just a joke.

Another nickname from the man who gave them out like free sweets.

Didn't stop his blood from running cold.

Fear to overtake his face just for a few seconds before Steve bottled it up.

But Eddie had seen it all.

It was all the proof he needed.

"You know, the kids were snooping about the other day. Nosy little buggers, found some old photo from middle school." The more he talked the slowly he was moving toward Steve.

Who was frozen in place.

"Told em, don't snoop around my shit but the werid thing is... Is that they didn't find it in my room. But that's impossible because the only other person who'd have that picture, moved away years ago." Eddie stopped walking, standing infront of Steve.

"At least, that's what I had thought." He added softly.

Steve opened his mouth, shut it, opened it and shut it again.

He couldn't speak.

He couldn't move.

Of all the things for Eddie to notice, Steve hadn't betted he'd ever notice that.

There was nothing to say.

What could he say to defend himself?

"Eddie I..."

"It's true isn't it?" 

... And that's when Steve noticed that Eddie wasn't angry.

Wasn't glaring at him, wasn't looking down at him like he would have looked at King Steve.

Eddie was...

Eddie was crying.

His eyes were all teary red rimmed and tears were spilling out onto his cheeks.

He didn't even make a move to hide them. Only looking at Steve with a pleading expression.

And any lie Steve may have thought about died on his tongue.

Steve looked down.

"Yeah... It's me."

Instantly he was pulled into a hug. A warm, loving hug. Steve couldn't remember the last time someone had held him like this before.

A stray tear escaped his eye.

"I'm so sorry." Steve blinked, looking up at Eddie, who was now the one who couldn't meet his gaze. "I should've known it was you. I should've known you wouldn't have just vanished into thin air and moved away... I should've known!"

Steve couldn't take that, this was his mess and Eddie shouldn't be blaming himself for it.

"You weren't supposed to."

Eddie went quiet at that.

Steve took a deep breath "my dad left us, my mum remarried. They were in town and he went through my stuff...

And I lost another fight so I had to change or they'd kick me out too. So I did move, I guess, I had to make sure no one would know.

I had to dissappear, I couldn't be that anymore I had to..."

Conform.

Lie.

Pretend.

Steve "Evie" Strauss had to vanish.

Steve "King Steve" Harrington had to take his place.

 "But I couldn't get rid of it...and I guess the kids found it." Steve added lamely.

He wanted to be mad but he couldn't.

All he felt now was dread.

He waited, waited for Eddie to let him go.

To storm out.

To yell.

To scream.

Because what Steve had done, was doing was unforgivable to someone like Eddie.

To someone who was so unapologetically himself that hurt Steve to watch.

To turn on your own....

Eddie did none of those things.

"I'm gonna kill em." Steve blinked, looking back at him and seeing fury on his face.

Fury that faded when Eddie saw Steve looking at him. Gently, almost hesitantly Eddie held Steve's hand in his.

Looking at him, with nothing but fondness. 

"And here I was thinking you couldn't be any more metal." He said with a smile, before frowning. "Can't believe all it took was for you to change your style for me to not see you." 

Steve leaned in to the touch.

"You're not mad?"

"Mad? Oh I'm pissed, I'm absolutely going to cash in on those murder charges and get your parents sent to hell."

It shouldn't be possible for someone to sound fond while talking about murder.

But that was Eddie for you.

Constantly breaking every presumption someone made.

"But for you, might be the second happiest day of my life."

Steve raised an eyebrow and Eddie grinned. "Sorry love but you can't surpass the day I got my sweetheart so easily."

Steve couldn't help it he laughed, all the anxiety fading away.

He always felt safe with Eddie, with them all.

He never thought coming second to a guitar would make his heart flutter.

"That's not how murder charges work."

"Ah you'll see, baby bat." Steve snorted "bet you didn't imagine the demobats back than."

Eddie grinned "nope but, it's fitting you know. Can't wait to tell the others..." He looked down, awkward "erm they've guessed but... They don't want to assume and be wrong."

"I don't want to tell them." Said Steve, clasping Eddie's hand in his. "I want to show them."

A smile wormed it's way onto Eddie's face. "Well, dont let me stop you."

Steve smirked "You not coming with me?" Eddie chuckled "as tempting as that may be, I can't wait for the grand reveal... But" he caressed Steve's cheek and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

"Either way my darling is right here."

And with that Eddie headed back inside.

And yet Steve never felt less alone.

Having to forget hellfire...Having to forget Eddie was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

And Steve had many things he'd rather forget.

But them...never.

His heart broke when he watched them look for him.

Knowing he was right there, not a touch of make up on his face or his product in his hair.

He'd grabbed his mothers hair spray in a rush and just guessed.

Steve had been content to look from the side lines.

Hiding a smile at Eddie's table speeches.

Watching the kids he'd grown to love, who reminded him of better times.

Steve hadn't made any other friends his age other than Robin.

She was the only one who knew, of course she did. She was half his soul afterall.

He had spilled after Eddie got blamed for Chrissy's murder.

Broke down into tears on Family Videos bathroom floor about his past.

That Eddie could die without him ever being able to tell him.

And yet Steve couldn't, he was too afraid.

It was easier for them to hate King Steve.

To hate the facade.

Because if they all knew who he truly was and hated him.

.... Steve didn't know what he'd do.

Robin walked into the kitchen, an I told you so look on he'd face.

"Well, heard your having a grand reveal."

Steve snorted but followed her up to his room. He remembered when the ugly plaid walls were full of posters.

The bits you could see he'd drew and painted on them.

Now it was like Steve himself, covered in something else.

And now, now it was time to lift that cover off.

He had kept as much as he could.

It had been hard at first but when the vists stopped so did the bedroom inspections.

Robin bustled about, grabbing the bits of pieces he'd scattered about.

Together they somehow mashed together an outfit.

It was something considering most of this stuff Steve hadn't touched since the beginning of high school.

But some stuff he'd made in between... When things got to rough it was nice to remember the past.

"And remember, you've got this. If anyone says anything I'll knock em out."

Steve wasn't sure Robin could knock anyone out but he knew better than to underestimate her.

They parted ways and Steve took a deep breath in. Looking at the assembled pieces, a smirk making it's way onto his face.

Oh this was perfect.

____________________

Eddie was into the game but not entirely.

He was bouncing a leg impatiently and looking at the door every so often that it was suspicious.

Robin was similarly nervous but she was also death glaring anyone who dared to question her why.

"Okay what's going on with you two?" Whispered Gareth, giving Eddie a pointed look.

Eddie grinned from ear to ear and pressed a finger to his lips.

Gareth was about to re-ask when heavy footsteps came down the hall.

Everyone paused and looked at the source.

No one was prepared for what they saw.

There was Steve except it didn't look like Steve at all... His usual perfect hair was all mussed up, teased with a comb in all directions.

He was wearing a cropped hellfire top but it wasn't one any of the kids had seen.

Because it was one of the originals.

He had a battle vest with "Harrington" cut out from his old old letterman jacket. It was decorated in safety pins and various badges.

One arm had a black fingerless glove. In the other was his infamous nail bat.

His nails were red, his lipstick was purple and was wearing eyeliner.

"Evie..." Whispered Gareth, slowly walking towards him.

"It's me."

That was all Gareth needed to run over and jump into his arms.

Steve dropped his bat and hugged him tightly.

"I thought...we thought..."

"I know... I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry..." Steve looked at the rest of hellfire who all looked similarly awe struck and emotional.

"My dad..." He didn't have to say more before the rest were hugging him close.

"I knew it! Knew you reminded me of him."

"God, Evie we've missed you so much."

Steve blinked, tears in his eyes. "How are none of you mad? I lied to you? I went to the darkside."

Gareth snorted, shaking his head with tears in his eyes.

"You could've been an actual serial killer and we'd still be happy to see you, dumbass."

Steve laughed, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"So... That photo was real... You're really, like them?" Asks Will, Steve nodded.

"Cool."

"See, told you. We all love our Steve but no one could replace Evie... And look at you, being the 2 coolest people on the room." Said Eddie, unable to take his eyes off Steve.

"And now we don't have to hear Eddie wax poetry about your eyes anymore." Says Jay.

Eddie flips him off but the rest sigh in relief.

"Or the soul crushing melodies about being torn apart by his love for the two of you." Says Gareth, dramatically holding his hand on his heart.

"Eat shit and die Gare."

"Eat shit and live." Countered Gareth with a grin.

Steve snorted, batting his eyelashes "aw come on I wanna hear all about it."

The original members of hellfire and Robin all laughed as Eddie went red.

"You will, believe me... We've got a lot of catching up to do." Says Eddie, pulling Steve close and kissing him.

Steve melted against him, resting his head on Eddie's shoulder with a smile.

"Get a room!"

"We're in one, get your own."

Steve rolled his eyes, idiots... He'd missed them.

Dustin who had been silent the whole time suddenly jumped up and yelled.

And what he did sent the rest of the party into outrage and everyone else into laughter.

"Wait... That means Steve knew about D&D the whole time?!"

[The party: Steve hiding that he was a secret metal head who knew hellfire and Eddie and in love with with Eddie 🤭

The party: Steve having known about D&D the whole time they knew him and never telling them 🤯😡!]

[silverskye13]

wait silver if renbob visits hels has he met the red king? and if so are they disastrous or iconic together

"Deliiiiivery! :D" Renbob calls in a sing-song voice, holding a stack of boxes in his arms. "RK, where you at my brother?"

He stands in the empty loading dock at the back of the Colosseum, smiling expectantly at the vacant bay. He likes hels. It's warm, and the people are interesting. It could stand to be a little more colorful, but not all pretty places are colorful. Like the beach for example! It's mostly just yellow and blue and hot, and it's still pretty.

(That's perfect actually! Hels makes him think of the beach: hot and monocolor, but somehow still interesting once you get past all the sand. Hah! Imagine a beach in hels! It'd be like a sauna, all steam and rocks.)

"RK I know you can hear me," Renbob calls again. "I can't hold these boxes all day! Well I can, but I will get bored you know?"

There is a grumbling, growling sound that comes from everywhere, but mostly the back of his head. It starts as several whispered and snarled words, and slowly coalesces into a string of coherent thought, "I don't answer to the name RK here, lad."

"My bad, must've gotten you mixed up with someone," Renbob chuckles. "Do you want your delivery?"

"Loading bay?"

"They won't let me park the van anywhere else, my brother. Oh! Please bring your favorite sword, if you don't mind? :)"

There is a cacophony of barks and growls as Red's presence slips out of the back of Renbob's mind. He wonders if Red knows that's the sound his thoughts make: an angry pack of wolves. They aren't kind wolves. They whisper a lot of unkind things when they trail after Red's thoughts. He wonders if that's why Red is always so nice to people: he's keeping the wolves from the door, so to speak.

Red strides into the loading bay, one hand on the wall as a guide until it ends in the open room. He steps confidently even when the wall is gone. The iron crown, sunk down low over his eyes, either doesn't hinder his sight, or he's memorized enough of the Colosseum that it doesn't bother him anymore.

"What sound do my thoughts make :O ?" Renbob asks. Red, who'd been walking a little too far to the left of him, twitches his big, wolf-like ears and realigns his path, meeting Renbob where he stands in front of his camper van.

"What sound do ye... Thoughts make?"

"Yeah, do they make like, sound? I always figured you'd hear a pleasant background of guitar and ukulele music."

Red tilted his in an expression that probably meant he was raising his eyebrows. It was hard to tell with the crown in the way. "Ye thoughts sound like yer voice. Though there do be a slight... Birdsong type noise."

"Is it chillaxin?"

"Aye sure."

"Groovy! :D" Renbob laughed. "I'll take it then! And like, you can take these."

He passes the stack of boxes to Red, who struggles a bit with their weight.

"What all have ye brought for me lad?" Red grunts, giving up on holding them all and setting them down. "All I asked for were some of those hot chips, and ye lemon squares."

"Oh it's just some bits and bobs, mostly," Renbob hums brightly, counting on his fingers. "There's a shulker of emerald and lapis (you said you were looking for a new color to go with all the red? :V those are opposite on the color wheel might be a good place to start! :) ), a shulker of flowers for dyes (all labeled. Are you color blind? I can't remember. Anyway I labeled the dye colors they make ^_^), three boxes of lemon squares (for you and your hand and a box for your Colosseum buddies! I'm sure they'd love some :D), two bags of spicy chippies, and I got you two bolts of fabric (your cloak is getting so torn up :( you've gotta take better care of your stuff brother!). Oh, and there's a few diamonds in there I nicked from Ren. (He won't miss 'em I promise ;) )."

Red tilted his head to the side, "How...? In the world...?"

"Hmm? :)"

"How do ye make...? With your voice...? Ye know what, it be unimportant," Red chuckled, a growling noise that fractured on the edges, a hint of the wolf-thoughts that leaked into real life. "Alas lad, I did not know ye would bring so much, else I would have had payment ready for such finery."

"Oh perish the thought, RK!" Renbob grinned, waving a dismissive hand. "You know you don't have to pay me!"

"Er... Red."

"That's what I said. :3"

"I see, ye be jesting?"

"Jest so!"

"Ah," Red smirked and leaned against the tower of boxes. "Ye said ye visited Ren. How fares our little brother?"

"He's older than both of us Red!"

"Aye, but he also be shorter than both of us."

Renbob laughed, bright and hearty, and for a moment, sunshine flickered in the Colosseum. Flowers bloomed around Renbob's feet. "Right you are, brother! Though I think he might be taller than me if I took my platforms off."

"Aye, but I see no universe where ye be making that particular wardrobe choice."

"I dunno. I was thinking about going to the beach after this. Do you guys have beaches in hels?"

"Aye, if you fancy soul sand by the lava lake."

"Oh man, I haven't taken a good lava bath in awhile!"

"Ye do love those an uncanny amount."

"It's exfoliating!"

"Makes me smell like burning hair."

"Well, to like, really enjoy it you have to get past the-- wait! You asked me a question?"

"Our little brother."

"Right! Ren's doing well! Gave him a ride over to his new season with his boyfriend."

Red, who had found one of the boxes of lemon squares during the conversation, coughed out a bite of lemon. "Begging your pardon?"

"You know, those go down a lot better with milk. I think hels dries them out a little. :("

"Ren has a boyfriend?!"

"Oh! Yeah, mister Docm77," Renbob beamed. "I don't think they've made it like, Facebook official yet, but they sure were making a lot of plans together for next season!"

Red sighed out a breath of relief, holding a hand to his chest. "Ye be jesting again."

"Mostly. :)"

"Well, when this great Book of Faces writes their names side by side, ye let me know."

"Certainly!" Renbob crossed his arms behind his back. "Oh, hey, before I go, like, could I ask you a huge favor?"

"Aye, lad?"

"I need a sword. Gonna be hopping to some dangerous orbits soon I think, and like, I'm real peace love and plants and all, so I can't make my own. But I can accept a gift, if you catch my drift?"

"Ah, suddenly all the gifts make sense," Red hums. He reaches down to his sword belt and unbuckles it, passing it off to Renbob, sword, scabbard and all. "Must ye take my most precious one?"

"You know how I work, Red. Only gifts given with love," Renbob grinned. It was a little sharper than it needed to be. Red couldn't see all the teeth. But it was nice to smile wide sometimes. "I do really appreciate it, my brother."

"Of course." Red smiled back, also showing a few too many teeth. Renbob felt a swelling of fondness for Ren's helsmet.

(It really was nice to be with kin sometimes, the people you could really be yourself with. Red didn't think he was unsettling, or fae-like. Red didn't go making a big deal about how widely he smiled, or how much he changed when his whims stretched him around. Red didn't begrudge the odd little pacts and rules he had to follow.)

"Well I'll like, catch you on the flipside brother!" Renbob said cheerfully. "Don't die while I'm gone, ya dig? :)"

"Don't go being any stranger," Red returned, picking up a box to carry back to his rooms. He would need help carrying them all.

[unholywriter]

Stars | Jaime Reyes x Fem!Reader

Warning: Fluff.

Paring: Magic Reader x Symbiotic alien infused bug boy.

a/n: I know it’s definitely not the time of year for Christmas but enjoy. 💙🪲

It was later, and your shift was ending. Working at a bar downtown in Palmera City, you never knew what kind of rambunctious shenanigans would unfold. But, for Christmas Eve, it was quiet. It was a godly slow day, not many stopped by aside the few occasional regulars wishing good holidays. Thankfully, it was coming to an end. Setting up the bar stools on the table, and making sure all was clean, capped and put away. You slid out the door, locking it behind you. Palmera was nippy, but it doesn’t get too terribly cold around this time of year.

Pulling up your scarf you walked looking at the text message from Jaime, your lover. A smile blanketed your face.

Jaime: Close went good?

You: Yes. Just stepping out now.

Jaime: Need a pick up? I’m near by.

You: What, a roof top a block over?

Jaime: Hey, rooftops are peaceful. 🥺

You: So is being wrapped up in my bfs arms but, sadly you like rooftops more. 😈

Jaime: You’re not going to let me live that down huh? Also, lamp post. 😂😭

As you read the last part you halted immediately. You were a few inches from running into it. You took a breath in and smiled looking up to the sky to see a silhouette of a particular blue looking suited boyfriend of yours. But you knew he was grinning ear to ear underneath that mask.

“tfihs em oot sih edis.” You whispered. Now it was your turn to grin ear to ear as you materialize right beside him. You swore a squeak left his mouth.

“Dios mío mi amor!” He hitched his breath, dramatically placing his hand on his chest. “You know you could have just let me come down and meet you right?”

“Maybe I like the rooftops too.” You smile, and move in closer to embrace him. He embraced you back, and just like he read your thoughts, and well. Khaji reading his; the suit’s mask dematerialized revealing his gorgeous face underneath. And damn those beautiful brown doe eyes of his.

“You were just teasing me about it.” He rolled his eyes, his grip gently squeezing you.

“I know.” You placed your lips against his tenderly, running your fingers though his hair as he kissed you back just as sweetly. “I’ve missed you JaiJai.”

“Sorry for being gone a week, I thought we caught wind on a lead for Ted.” He said grimly. His mood changing only made you soften your expression with more concern.

“How’s Jenny?” You pulled away slowly. You still didn’t leave his touch though. But you knew making sure he was okay and being his emotional support is more important than craving deep intimacy at the moment from him.

“She’s doing well for someone who found out her father is alive. Just not knowing where he is, you know. She’s worried.” He began to explain, his tone and pace nerve racked. You could only assume because, Ted, being his predecessor. A man he’s never met before. Definitely an unregulated, stressful situation. Not only that, Jenny and Jaime had some moments together. But, she stepped away knowing you two were more or so in love with each other without each other knowing. She was the one, (and Milagro) who gave you both a push ironically. Now it’s been a few months after Jaime had Khaji Da infused within him, Victoria Kord, and Jaime’s father almost dying. It’s been rough, but you’ve been there. As a best friend and his lover. He is thankful, and you know it. Just as much as you’ve been thankful for him all these years.

“I’m glad, but we’re here for her. She has you. And Milagro always makes it her business to make sure she and all of us are okay. So honestly, Jenny will be alright.” You smile, entangling your fingers within his. “You will be alright too, got that mi querido?”

“Loud and clear.” He smiled brightly, fighting back his tears. You reached up, rubbing your finger against his cheek.

“So, do you still want to visit the tree in town square?” You ask, making sure he’s up for it. Yes distractions are nice too get away from everything but you can’t always run away.

“Of course. But I actually had a better idea.” His grin pulled further, a bit of mischief being one of your favorite signature looks that spread across his face.

“What do you have in mind?” You grinned back, curious to what your boyfriend had in store.

“Just trust me?” He grabbed both your hands gently and started to walk backwards, leading you too the edge.

“Always.” You tittered softly, turning back into a soft smile. He then lifted you into his arms. His wings materialized and off you two went. The view was beautiful, of course you’re used to flying via magic yourself but being in his arms with the breeze hitting you even if it was chilly was very peaceful. Soon you could see Palmera City Square, the large Christmas tree erect in all its multicolored glory for season cheer.

“So pretty.” You spoke softly. “What now?”

You both now hovered a far distance from and over the tree. The crowd gathered below enjoying the festivity. “I thought we could have a once in a life time experience not many normal people can experience.”

“Oh?” You tucked some of his curled hair behind his ear still nice and snug in his arms. “So we’re not normal?”

Your tease made him laugh. “I have an alien symbiotic peice of technology infused into my back and connected to every cell in my human body and you? Well, you’ve never been normal mi tesoro.”

The tease back earned him a gentle smack to his shoulder. “Wow, if this is your way too whoo me tonight I might just have to up my game.”

“Hey! I meant you not being normal in the best way possible!” He cheesed. And you gave him a kiss on his cheek.

“I know my love. So what now?” You beamed happily. Patiently waiting for his goofy, lovable plan of his. Because well, both of you were sixty or so feet in the air and you were beginning to wonder if people looked up wondering what or who was hovering above them.

“Well.” He then begin to help you to where you were now dangling closely together. But your feet hung out, and gravity wasn’t to kind. “Uh.” He laughed nervously, his plan not working in his favor for the moment. “I was going to see if we could just, dance? But, I honestly didn’t think this part through.”

“It’s okay Jaime, that’s why having a girlfriend with magic comes in handy.” You giggled. Holding him close. Taking a breath in you closed your eyes and met his again. “Ekam eht ria a ecnad roolf, kaolc su nihtiw eht thgin.”

With ease your feet met an invisible flooring underneath the both of you. He looked down awe stuck with bewilderment but quickly smiled back. “What did…?”

“Now we can dance.” You took your arms wrapping them around his neck. He tenderly held you by your back. From below Christmas music rang, the smell of peppermint and pine filled both your senses. Laughter and happiness from people all over could be heard. It was truly magical.

“Okay, so bear with me mi amor. My two left feet might become a problem.” His cheeks turned a tint of pink, and soon an even more embarrassed expression crossed his face. “No Khaji!” He looked over his shoulder in a fit of sheepishness. Your smile pulled further.

“What did she say this time?”

“She said she could help me learn because she indulged herself to the internet the other night.” He rolled his eyes yet again.

“Oh no, that poor thing.” You gasped in actual horror. “I hope she didn’t delve too deep into the endless web of dark and treacherous Fortnite dances.”

“Do not give her any ideas.” He widened his eyes. You laughed again. Waiting patiently. “Besides, even if I trip over my feet as long as I’m dancing with you no matter how bad I am - that’s all that matters to me”.

You blushed softly. “Me too. Then lead the way Jai.”

Slowly, he began to lead. His steps a bashful disaster. But, he kept at it, soon both you moving in a circle of rhythm. “I think, I think we got!” He looked down and snapped back up with his playful, dramatic expression of giddiness. One of the many things that you fell in love with about him.

“We are!” You pressed your lips together tighter, and he then placed his forehead against yours.

“Feliz navidad mi estrella.” He said softly as the bells began to chime signifying midnight. “I love you so much y/n.”

“Feliz navidad Jaime. I love you so very much too amor de mi vida.” You softly spoke back. A gentle kiss was exchanged, and the both of you continued to dance above the city square. Locked deep in each other’s arms, but more importantly deep within each other’s hearts. And man, were the stars so pretty tonight as they watched the both of you fall in love deeply.

[freyito]

I'm in that 'damn I'm too feminine guess I'll die' phase right now, pretty sure it happens monthly, so, I was wondering if I could ask for Liu Kang with a ftm reader who's normally happy just crashing down one day, specifically because they think they're too feminine for people to perceive them as a guy?

Thank you for writing such amazing stuff btw!! :D

anon, you saved me. you SAVED ME. ive been in such a mood and ive been wanting to write something comforting!!! but i havent been able to think of a prompt and i didnt really have the energy for anything in my inbox. and then you BLESSED me with this absolute banger of a request oh em gee.

and don't worry, you're not alone either anon, im also lowkey goin thru it. twinsies!!!! letting you know, from a very feminine (androgynous, but apparently i seem fem aligned) trans man, its okay to feel this. there really is no definition to masculinity and you are a man regardless of what people say!

added some bonus characters for myyyy self indulgence if you don't mind

cw: male reader, ftm, just fluff, implied romantic relationships w/ all, proofread

ʟɪᴜ ᴋᴀɴɢ (ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴏɴᴜꜱᴇꜱ) + ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ꜰᴛᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

-Liu Kang...

is almost disheartened at the sudden change of behavior. Just the other day you had been so vibrant, bringing color, a certain tone to the world. Something even he didn't think was possible. When he had met you, he was smitten. With your positivity, your optimism, and above all else, you.

To find you, quiet, sullen, hiding from him, it was heartbreaking. The absence of your voice and your light was something that very clearly rubbed off on him.

Finding out you've broken because you do not feel yourself, because you cannot look in the mirror without seeing the man you aren't, it fills him with sorrow. Because, he sees you as a man, regardless. He always will, and it will never change.

To be honest, he's quite unsure how to comfort you. He's by your side, reassuring you that you are masculine, that he and many, many others see you as a man. And he wants to make sure you see that. The best he can be is sympathetic, it hurts that he can't necessarily understand you on a deeper level.

However, that does not change how he sees you. Nothing defines masculinity, nor what makes a man in his eyes. Even as a god, he believes there really is no definition to anything, aside from what you make it.

He lets you know exactly that. There is nothing in the world that could change his mind, no insecurity- no matter how big- you find will ever change his view of you.

-Kuai Liang...

originally thinks you are playing a game with him. So suddenly, you disappear. He looks for his sunshine around every corner, every closet, any possible hiding place he can think of. You are the light of his life, your shining brilliance cannot be matched.

So when he finds you sulking in your room, hiding, back turned from him and the world, suddenly concern eclipses his light. The pit in his stomach forms, ever expanding with worry.

Hiding because you do not see yourself as... yourself. You can almost hear his heart shatter. You are afraid other people see this, too. That you are not a man in anyone's eyes.

At first, he believes someone had put this through your head. Someone had told you this, had made you feel this way. And the fire burned within him, something telling him to find whoever had said this to you. Yet, when he finds out it is simply you perceiving everyone else's looks towards you like this, his mind slows down.

Kuai insists you are wrong. His usually calm temper replaced by him adamantly denying that you are seen as anything else. You are a man, regardless. He has never seen you as anything else but one.

Knowing you put yourself down this this claws at him, he partially feels guilty. But he puts in the effort to make you feel exactly like who you are, to bring your radiant light back into his life again.

-Johnny Cage...

can't stand loosing your positivity, your light is an ever-burning warmth that keeps him rather grounded, despite his wit and charm.

He's plunged into sudden darkness when he wakes up to you with your back turned to him, pushed as far away as possible at the edge of the bed. In an instant, it feels like his whole world is ripped away from him.

But, he's determined to make sure it isn't, and he begins with the questioning almost immediately. This was the quickest you've ever seen him wake up. And to find the reason you've pushed yourself away from him is because you don't see yourself how he sees you, and that you are ashamed- no, no. He can't have that.

Johnny cuts you off immediately, showering you and pampering you with affirmations. He does not allow you any room to let your mind twist your identity. He makes it known that you are a man, he sees you as a man, everyone sees you as a man.

He's serious, too. All traces of the signature Cage tone are wiped out, his voice soft, yet heavy. He doesn't let you, not even for a second, get back into your dysphoric mind-space. He tries, real hard, anyways.

Johnny only lets up when he finally sees even a potential smile on your face. And once he's so sure he's affirmed your gender,- and you've affirmed yourself- he's back to his over-the-top persona, bathed in wit and perhaps even a little bit of pride.

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