#Based off something I saw on Pinterest.

[izvmimi]

cw: food. izuku is very proud of his body apparently.

“so that’s why it’s better to hear the villain out before-“ izuku’s mini-anecdote is cut short when he can hear his watch notify him of a text message. distracted by your name flashing on the tiny screen, he lets his sidekick know that he has to make a short phone call and they should go off and have lunch, and smiling, he turns into a hallway to hear what you have to say.

he replies to your text that says not much more than ‘…’ instead with a call, grinning to himself as he leans against the wall. he can imagine right now you’ve sat down for lunch after running all around the place this morning at work and it’s before 2pm so he’s delighted that you’re eating the bento he made you at a reasonable time.

when he hears your voice, he can’t help but snicker.

“midoriya.” you say, tersely.

“yes, baby?” he’s still holding back laughter as he senses the defeat in your voice.

“why is there a roided out bunnyman pastry in this lunch you packed?”

he fake gasps, dramatically pressing his hand to his chest. on the other line, you’re looking at a breaded representation of the most muscular bunny rabbit you’ve ever seen, equipped with glazed washboard abs and rippling biceps, and holding two sausages in its strong arms, parsley covering the base of its bunny ears.

“‘roided out? no, first of all that’s me, and i’m all natural, honey. you know that.”

your silence on the other end of the line only makes him laugh harder.

“do you know how silly i look eating this?” you whine. you lift it up and look closer at the face, and it really kills you how much the dot eyes and curled smile and even the pinpoint freckles on its cheeks remind you of your playful husband.

“so loved it’s silly, of course.” he responds.

you scoff, but you’ve taken a picture of the entire bento intact for further reference, then take a short video of you biting the head right off.

you send it while still on the call.

“that’s what i think of your bunnysona, by the way.” you tease.

“head first, i see. glad to be nourishing you.” he laughs once more and it makes you smile from ear to ear. you can’t see his eyes sparkle or his lean in but you can hear the hope in his voice as je asks, “is it good?”

you look at your husband’s now decapitated avatar, already missing its cute face. and his.

“of course it is, baby. thank you.”

you can hear him beam through the phone. “good. i love you.”

you take another bite of a leg, and think about how much if it were up to you, you could truly swallow your cute husband whole.

“i love you more. see you this evening.”

[5weetmeat]

I liek drawing this freaky creature

[periipheral]

and she was..

[adventuretolkienlover]

Varian: They say revenge is best served cold. And that it's sweet. So revenge is basically ice cream.

Hugo: ... Varian? What are you up to?

Varian: ... I'm going out for ice cream.

Hugo: Goggles, NO.

Varian: You want some ice cream too?

Hugo: ... Sure.

*Two hours later*

Cass: Why are you both carrying boxes of toilet paper and eggs?

Hugo: We're getting ice cream.

Varian (Loads Toilet Paper Launcher): Yep. Ice cream.

Cass: Can I get in on this? I like ice cream.😈

*Another two hours later*

Eugene: Okay. Please tell me. Why did you toilet paper and egg Doctor St Croix house?

Cass, Hugo, Varian (Matter of factly): Ice cream.

Eugene (Sarcastically): Of course! That answers everything!

[saeiken]

more jojo sketches :>

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … princess going digital! ♡

bsf!jj followed you on all of your social media accounts. well, he thought he did. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

your instagram was adorable and demure. photo dumps and stories of your daily iced coffee in your little manicured hand. you had pinterest boards too — jj had seen you scrolling through endless pictures of clothes on his bed and asked questions. you helped him make his own account so he could find new ideas on how to customise his board. he hasn’t opened the app since, but it seemed like it made you happy so he couldn’t find it in himself to delete it off his lockscreen.

he followed you on twitter too. he knew he did because he saw your tweets all up and down his timeline when he would be scrolling late at night trying to find porn. tweets about the cashier that was rude to you, or about that one song you just can’t get out your head.

he thought he’d covered all bases with you. he liked to be in tune with everything you were doing — and maybe that was wrong for a best friend to want, but the two of you were close! it only felt right. it may also have something to do with the fact he’s head over heels for you.

you were laying on your front on his bed. contrasting so sweetly against the boyishness of his room with your cute little hello kitty shirt and denim skirt — epitome of girly girl in such an unfitting space. it made him smile, and he nearly forgot to tune into what you were saying.

you were ranting about your mother again, the woman making it her mission to constantly bring you down.

“seriously jayj, if you saw the way she spoke to me...” you mutter with a frowny little pout as your fingers tap away at the screen, assumably responding to a text.

��i have seen the way she speaks to you. the lady is a nut job, no offence.” jj leans back slightly, tossing a balled up pair of socks from his laundry in the air and catching it.

“her texts are even worse.” you huff.

“s’alright. i’ll be your mommy.” he quips as you’re distracted by pulling up the correct screen.

“jj.” you tsk before turning your phone around. “look!” you whine, and he knows he’s meant to be looking at the texts displayed infront of him. but with undiagnosed adhd, jj couldn’t help but find his focus on the notification sliding down at the top of the screen. the twitter icon, notifying someone reposted your tweet — however, it was accompanied with another username he’d never seen before. an account ran by you assumably, that he no idea about.

“huh… yeah, no yeah. she’s batshit.” jj shakes himself off as he takes mental note of the username, leaning back and hoping you don’t ask any questions knowing he didn’t read the texts at all. you seem none the wiser, continuing to complain and go about your business. that evening, it’s time for you to head home. jj squeezes you at the doorway, cups your cheek and tells you that if your mom is giving you grief, you can come right on back. it seemed to comfort the pout off your face, and you skip off.

now it’s time to sate his curiosity.

when jj gets into bed that night, he types the username into twitter. it takes a few tries to get the specific spelling right, as it had been a few hours and slipped his mind — but finally, the account filled his screen.

your age is attached to the account, yet no name. there was definitely a sense of anonymity— to the point where you hadn’t even told him about it. he considered doing the right thing and clicking off — but jj didn’t always do the right thing, and this was one of those times. the first thing he notices is how clearly you the account is. the header, the profile picture — even the font in your bio was so… you. all curlicues and girly and pink — it was undeniably his best friend.

and then he scrolls.

‘want my best friend 2 hold me down n use me so bad :(’ a tweet from 3 days ago. the blonde sits up in bed, blinking at the screen. that was him, right? eagerly, he continues his scrolling — finding endless tweets about your sexual desires, fantasies, anecdotes about jj himself. it didn’t take much longer of scrolling until he comes across a video — his face heating and crotch stiffening at the familiarity of it all. it was your bedroom, and your face was cropped out. that one pair of pink panties he occasionally caught peeks of beneath your skirt hang off the ankle of your knee high clad legs, pretty pussy on display, glistening as you roll your hips, desperately fucking a pillow.

“god… damn.” he breathes, hand coming up to rub his chest as if to attempt to still his quick-beating heart. he stuffs a tongue in his cheek, part of him wanted to be mad that you were letting strangers on the internet see you like this before he got to. it was a childish type of jealousy that made his hands sweat and the back of his neck all prickly.

a bird squawks outside his window, causing the maybank boy to jump out of his skin like he was about to be caught watching his best friend get herself off. he juggles the phone, quickly checking the screen to make sure he hadn’t accidentally liked any posts. he hadn’t, and he exhales— but with the commotion, he’d accidentally refreshed the page. the loading wheel disappears with a pop, and a new tweet displays itself from three minutes prior.

‘my bsf looks after me so good :( he shld make me feel btter by letting me cum on his fingers <3’

it would be stupid to make a move. he would be potentially destroying a friendship, and on top of that — you could be mad at him for snooping. it was kind of a betrayal of trust after all, similar to if he’d read your diary. but his dick was hard and had taken over the steering wheel that operates his brain — and like he always said, stupid things had great outcomes all the time.

so with a clammy hand, he calls you.

“whats up jayj? did i leave something at your place again?” you croak, sounding all sleepy and cute. god, he couldn’t believe he’d waited so long.

“uh… so, like — imma cut to the chase, with everything goin’ on at your place, i don’t love the idea of you stayin’ there tonight. i’m comin’ to get you. you’re stayin’ here.” he makes up a quick excuse and feels kind of bad about it. his own desire toward you being masked as genuine concern for a friend. he expects some questioning, maybe even some resistance— but you perk up instantly.

“okay!”

and that’s exactly how you end up cradled in his lap with the rings at his knuckles tickling your opening from how deep in your greedy, drooling pussy they were.

“hmm— mm—huh—” you’re whining, all incoherent and fucked out with your cheek smushed against him, only two orgasms in. jj is grinning ear to ear, like some kind of sicko — never in his life thinking you’d want him like this. he almost wished he’d kept up the act for longer, preyed on your twitter account for longer to see what else you’d say, but he couldn’t help himself. he’d wanted you since you met in high school, and he was hungry.

“what’d i tell ya about not asking for things? could’ve just told me dude, i literally wanted this more than you.” he thinks out loud and you groan, pulling yourself up face to face with the handsome blonde.

“don’t call me dude when your fingers are n’side me!” you slur, lip all puffy and pouted. he smirks, unable to stop himself from finding amusement in your neediness and tilts his head a little so he was breathing right into your mouth.

“i’m sorry that’s my bad. baby.” he corrects himself, before pressing his lips to yours. that was much better.

[iateyourparents]

change | j.g.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend changes your style.

warnings: use of y/n, i have no idea how actually emos dress like so it’s based on pinterest and my imagination, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry, english isn’t my first language)

an: i actually didn’t plan on writing for johnnie but few people were asking for him, so hope you like it guys <33

pictures are from pinterest:)

“Hi guys, welcome to my channel!” You did quick intro to your video “Today I’m here with Johnnie!” said boy waved to the camera “And he will…”

“I will change y/n’s look to emo girl for today!” he explained with huge smile.

“Exactly! Are you excited?”

“Yes!” he nodded vigorously “I’m sure you will look great. And how you feel about it?”

“I’m kinda scared.” you laughed “I believe in your abilities to not make me look like a monster, but I think emo is more like dark colors, chains and strong make up. And that’s totally different from my everyday style. But I also can’t wait to see how I will look.” you kissed johnnie’s cheek.

“Hot, for sure.” he moved his eyebrows suggestively and you laughed “I have really nice outfit prepared for you. And yes, it’s more dark than what you wear everyday but you will look lovely anyway, you could make trashcan look like the best designer’s clothes.”

You felt blush creeping onto your cheeks and you quickly said few more things to the camera and then you and Johnnie went to your bedroom where he already had prepared everything, from clothes and shoes to make up products and jewelry.

“Oh, let me also mention guys, that it will be the first time ever when Johnnie will do my make up.” you told your viewers “But I have good feeling about it.”

Finally, Johnnie started styling you. At first, he gave you the clothes he wanted you to wear. It was red tube top with black, web like, thingie on the shoulders, black leather pants and pair of black high boots that actually were from your closet.

Then he also added jewelry and showed you and your fans the bag he wanted you to hold when he will be completely done.

“So now, make up.” Johnnie sat you down on the chair so everything could be seen by camera “I need you to look up baby.”

He started with eyeliner, and to be honest, it turned out great, then he did your lips with deep red lipstick and asked you to contour your face and do brows the way you do it everyday.

Then he positioned you and the camera so you could show off the whole look.

“So what do you think love?” Johnnie asked when you were looking into the mirror.

“I like it, not really something I would wear everyday but it looks good.” you smiled at your boyfriend.

“I think you look fabulous baby.” Johnnie kissed you.

Then you made an outro for the video and you both decided to order something for lunch before you would have to go out to meet with your friends.

“I think I will go in this.” you told Johnnie. You saw how he looked at the outfit and you knew he liked it.

“I’m glad you like it.” he looked proud of his work.

“Would you want me to dress like this more often? I can see that you like it.” you tilted your head, waiting for his answer.

“I think you look hot but I also love your everyday style. I wouldn’t be opposed to you dressing like this more but only if you feel good with it and not because of me. I actually like it when I look like I look and you are in your cute, light colors outfits.” he shrugged with a smile and kissed your lips.

“Yeah I also like it.” you agreed “I saw a comment saying that together we look like golden retriever and doberman.” you both laughed at your words.

“I love this comparison. That’s really accurate though.” he shrugged.

[ilovepaigebueckerss]

long nails? no problem

paring: p.b. x fem! reader

summary: based off this request!!

im so sorry that my reqs have been taking so longgg. my writing has been so SHITT and ive just hated everything ive tried to write. honestly dont like this that much but I had to post for my babies so. NOT PROOFREAD YALL ALREADY KNOWW

————

You weren’t the type to get super long nails considering the fact that you were a short nail girly at heart. (and gay) But something came across you making you want a tiny change.

You saw the cutest XL set on pinterest and you just had to get it. So you sent it over to your nail tech and she said you could come the next day at 3.

Now here you were on your way to your techs house at 2:40.

my dumb blonde: Sent $100

note: for ur nails 💗😘

You chuckle at the notification knowing she doesn’t know what you were getting would bother her just a little. You type a quick respond and put the car in drive.

thank you pretty💗💗

————

The sound of the front door creaking open causes Paige to jump off the couch and run towards the door. She stops in her tracks when she looks down to see that your nails are longer than usual. You notice her looking and speak up, “Ya like?” You hold your hands up wiggling your eyebrows.

Paige walks closer and grabs your hands to get a closer look. She begins to pout, “Babyyy” She whines. You giggle, “Im sorryy, they were too cute NOT to get them” You shrug your shoulders and give her a sympathetic tight lipped smile.

You begin to walk towards the kitchen to set your things down while Paige walks back to her spot on the couch. “Remind me to send me your change” You say looking into the fridge. Paige hums in response and continues to look at her phone.

You quickly close the fridge and turn to face Paige, “I know you’re not giving me the silent treatment” You say rolling your eyes in a joking manner. Paige looks at you but doesn’t respond. You begin towards her sitting on her lap. She immediately tenses up.

You lean down and whisper in her ear, “You know I dont just have to use my fingers right?” Paige shivers as your cool breath touches her ear. “Show me then.” She says huskly, causing you to immediately get up and lead her to the bedroom.

————

use ur imagination for the rest 🥰 (im sorry i js CANT write smut)

[lavender-menace-420]

Road Trip!!!

I have once again drawn something based on a tumblr post i saw on pinterest three years ago. basically an AU where the fears only exist in the UK and the main crew just fucks off to australia instead of dying. if anyone finds the original post please let me know so i can link it :)

[astralnymphh]

YES PLEASE. BLOCKBUSTER ELLIE?? 90’s?? SIGN ME UP. WHERE DO I PUT MY NAME??😖😖🙏

- 🩵

a/n + cw; OMGG AN EMOJI ANON i haven't seen you guys in a hot minute, but YESSS BLOCKBUSTER ELLIE!! specifically x customer reader. it's a cute duo! and let me relay why from my very scrambled 3 am jot-down. was going to make this a blurb, but it better translates through something more structured. ++ SFW! kinda mean!reader tbh (but ellie likes that), very fluffy you might squeet, quickly written, awkwardness, ellie being a nerd. [first pic from amoaeIIie on pinterest]

Imagine Ellie, in her blockbuster getup, leaning her butt into the edge of the register counter, jamming to whatever is playing on her hand-me-down walkman; earsbuds in, eyes downcast, head bopping slowing - soundly unaware of you awaiting service on your over-due rental. "Hello?" your volume divides the soft ambiance of the store, but it isn't enough to rope Ellie's mindspace from the clouds. Calling out again, "Hell-looh?" you extend beyond the cash register and wave your hand - nothing, nada.

How the hell has this girl not gotten her ass fired yet?

After numerous roadblocks, a brazen last resort comes into play. You cut around the counter briefly to take things into your own hands (literally) because you have not the time, nor the patience, for her slacking off.

Beryl eyes drop sharply to the walkman in her pants pocket when a single earbud is spooled from her ear, assuming it fell - but to her surprise, it hung low from your finger, and a glance above that finger was your face. Risen of one brow, flat-lined of your lips; impatient.

And her entire focus blanks out when you begin to speak, curtly and satirically, "Hey, I know busting out your Dad's old walkman in public makes you feel cool and whatnot, but you're on the clock." handing the slim cord back over to a stunned girl, flushed behind the pop of her freckles. Maybe your tone of voice sent her higher into the clouds, past a coven of angels, because her lips part narrowly and remain still for a single second - save two or three. Or maybe it's 'cause you specified it as her 'Dad's' which was.. spot on.

And whatever excuse she had quickly cherry-picked for you, hesitated audibly in her throat before it split from it, "O-Oh, right, shit sorry - was about to end my shift n' thought the store was empty. My bad." scrambling to stuff the other earplug in her pocket and avert all attention to you. Very eagerly.

"Looks like you've got a late fee on this one.." her pitch pummeled deeper, and coarser as she concentrates on the clunky screen she hunches slightly to use. Scrunching the freckles of her face together, hogging the blue-lit screen. Poor girl probably forgot her glasses at home. "Annnd are you looking to rent the sequel?" she peeks her auburn head from the screen and holds up the cased movie, tracing her index over the plastic cleft, tapping twice. "To this - it has a second part."

There's no denying it: she is cute - and guilt rolls your guts around for being so snippy and sullen to her earlier. But based on her demeanor growing enthused the second she saw what movie you had in hand - she doesn't seem to care a hoot.

"Out of stock," replied you, indifferent-sounding - and strking; crossed arms, bent knee, stiffly-standing. Comparable to a millpond. "Guess I won't be the only person with late fees." you take a breath to jest, shaking loose strands of hair from your eyes.

"Haha," you're no world-class comedian; that joke wasn't all that funny, but the need to hurl any affirming noise at you, was necessary. Relenting to reflex. What can she say? Love at first sight! "Yeah, that seems like the agenda these days," Ellie sighs out, molding the plump of her lip under her teeth and reshapes it into a dorky smirk. Isn't she just a sweet chocolate-box of adorability?

"Hmm, bummer."

That hum and word trips into her ears, knocking some brain-cog, and an idea limns her features; they glow wide. "Actually - um, I've got a copy of the sequel at my place. Technically it's my Dad's, but.." her pitch fluctuates, mindlessly thumbing the case between two fiddly hands. "Maybe you can - if you want, not pressuring you or anything - come over?" she throws a pointed thumb backwards, motioning a potential future. "Watch it? If you weren't planning on watching it with somebody else."

Slick trick to seeing if you're single; of course you'd watch movies with your boyfriend - or girlfriend.

"Hmmm.." you hummed longer this time, and this time it admitted the mushrooming of an almost aggravating anticipation in her belly. Like you meant to torture her with 'hmms' and nothing but 'hmms' as your answer hung high in cloudy abeyance, until, "What's the name on your tag - ah, Ellie."

"Yeah?"

"Ellie," you confirm her name twice, and speak it to enthrall her full-scale attention. Made it sound fucking sugary sweet, through a swirly whisper and a twist of your head. "If you can give me a discount, or a full wipe on that late fee, then yes. It's a date."

Light panic ensues. "Date?" she croaks and laughs it off, "I mean - pshh, guess that's one way to put it." backtracking to her hunched, elbows-on-the-counter pose.

"You put it that way."

"Yeah, I just.. didn't wanna admit that." immediately, she uncurls her spine again, relaxing her muscles to somewhat peer at you. "Sure. No more fees." Rounded eyes lost - adamant on indirectly staring at you and the space below you, because Goddess forbid a stroke of idiocy flickers through her while gawking at you.

The store runs dead-quiet in the background of your conversation, leading you to one golden question. "Your shift over after this?"

Oh damn, her cheeks are pink. "Uh-huh," bet she's oblivious to that red-hot beam nearly bursting the seams to her face, too. Nasal lines fold as a severe smile tugs, shadowed by her bent thumb poking at it. "Takin' my car?"

And that's how you pick up girls at a video store in the 90s - the Ellie Williams way.

this isn't even the full idea

[monalisahyperdrive]

Primarchs and Christmas Classics - christmas songs and festive primarch/legion headcanons.

The final week of the winter semester has run me over so I'm blasting Christmas music to cope & inspire fuzzy warm feelings. This is once again entirely subjective and largely based on my (British, somewhat Catholic) own Christmas experiences. All good fun while I avoid working on these essays. I struggled with some of these so they might be a little off. ⇒ divider by @/cafekitsune

Alpharius & Omegon / Alpha Legion

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus - The Jackson 5. The most confusing Christmas possible. Don't worry, Alpharius will be home for Christmas! Several dozen of him. You get the distinct feeling that the Alpharius who sat and laughed while playing charades earlier (you lost, badly) is actually not any of the Alphariuses sat at the table for Christmas dinner... but you just can't prove it. Is Omegon there? Of course he is. Which one is he? Good question.

Angron / World Eaters

Lonely This Christmas - Mud. Attempts a quiet peaceful Christmas, fails miserably every year. His sons love him very much, in their own way. He just sort of disappears into his home over the festive period. They come find him anyway. Small groups, well spaced out. They send one or two marines with gifts from a dozen or so every few hours. They don't get invited in, he greets them at the door, often gritting his teeth from the pain. He gets his rest, but he'll never be truly lonely on Christmas. Not anymore.

Corvus Corax / Raven Guard

Santa Claus Is Coming To Town - The Jackson 5. The Raven Guard just sort of... show up to Christmas. Was there even a knock at the door? Well, they're here now. You think. You were sure you just saw Corvus but you've lost him again. The whole thing is a relatively private affair, no real coming and going... as far as you can tell. The Raven Guard present seem to dissipate some time between late afternoon on Christmas Day and the morning of Boxing day. The presents are all freakishly accurate to what was wished for. Don't worry about it.

Ferrus Manus / Iron Hands

Christmas Time (Don't Let the Bells End) - The Darkness. (subject to change) Christmas with Ferrus and the Iron Hands is a rather rudimentary affair. 'For morale', they say. Admittance of actual celebration would be an admittance of weakness. Christmas dinner is served in a mess hall, and largely differentiates itself from the typical nutrient paste with... something that might be mashed potato and the slice of what seems to be the idea of turkey... if turkey was suspiciously nutrient dense and stiff. Presents are largely ignored, as are any decorations beyond the occasional string of lights. Time off is necessary in order to maintain efficiency. They're watching Die Hard for morale. Ferrus is watching along with them... for morale. Shut up.

Fulgrim / Emperor's Children

All I Want for Christmas Is You - Mariah Carey. Of course it's Mariah. The only way it wouldn't be Mariah is if it was Jingle Bell Rock, Mean Girls style. Yes, with the outfit. The Christmas decorations have gone up early and it all matches, right down to the last detail. Think those gorgeous monochrome Christmas trees you see on Pinterest. The table all set for Christmas dinner is both the most meticulously and yet effortlessly breathtaking you've ever seen. If anyone's got festive charger plates, it's the Third. There's singing, there's dancing. There's an elaborate charcuterie board for snacking on on Christmas Eve. Good luck going five minutes without your wine/champagne/juice glass refilling while you're not looking. Matching outfits for the Christmas cards but in an incredible chic way. Probably the classic matching pyjamas approach. Perfection is a must, and Christmas is no excuse.

Horus Lupercal / Luna Wolves & Sons of Horus

Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow! - Dean Martin. Cue shit eating grin, singing along, grabbing Lady Lupercal and- oh is that mistletoe up there? He hadn't even noticed. Well since you're already there... might as well? 30k Luna Wolves Horus is leaning full tilt into the Hallmark movie Christmases. The Mournival are even here for Christmas dinner and look they brought presents - isn't that cute? Post Heresy Horus (copium) is still just as meticulous with Christmas but it's a little more... off the rails. Everything is perfect, come sit down for Christmas dinner! Don't worry, he'll do the talking. All of it.

Jaghatai Khan / White Scars

Driving Home for Christmas - Chris Rea. One of the biggest and warmest Christmases, up there with the Salamanders and the Space Wolves. Everyone - and I mean absolutely everyone - is home for Christmas. Don't know anyone's names? Doesn't matter. The driveway is absolutely packed. They're parked out front all down the street, too. The living room barely fits everybody. There's not even nearly enough space for everyone to sit. It's cozy.

Konrad Curze / Night Lords

Wonderful Christmastime - Paul McCartney. Vague lyrics, nonspecific, bang on. It sure is a wonderful Christmastime, just... not what you might be thinking of. Merry Christmas from Nostramo. Please don't call. Sevatar is there. Christmas dinner is... meat, for sure. The fact there's so many Night Lords in the same place not snapping at eachother like a pack of unruly dogs is actually pretty impressive. Don't ask what the wrapping paper is made of. The first rule of Night Lord Christmas...

Leman Russ / Space Wolves

Merry Xmas Everybody - Slade. Primarily inspired by my drunken male relatives stopping everything to sing along and start dancing around the living room. Of course a Space Wolves Christmas would be boozy, it's a celebration isn't it? Feasting and drinking and laughing is the name of the game. All the presents are surprisingly thoughtful. Leman awkwardly hovers in the back while some of the presents are opened and suspiciously vanishes off into the next room with some of the wrapping paper and reemerges with presents wrapped in what he'd scavenged. After that is totally the type to sit by the youngest on the couch and be overly eager to offer his knife for them to use to get into their presents easier. Asleep the second he gets back to the couch post Christmas dinner.

Lion El'Jonson / Dark Angels

Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) - Darlene Love. A man who frankly needs to sit down over the holidays but physically cannot do it. Christmas? Stupid meaningless holiday. You're staying over though right? People are coming for dinner though right? No he's not going to decorate the tree. He's going to stare at you doing it though, and then he'll complain when he has to get up to help you place the star on the top. Acts entirely unbothered by Dark Angels showing up. Would be pacing and staring out the window all day if they didn't.

Lorgar Aurelian / Word Bearers

Mary's Boy Child / Oh My Lord - Boney M. Yeah, you're going to church for the Christmas service. But so is everyone else! And I mean, everyone else. Midnight Mass, Carol service, the whole shebang. Lorgar, however, is absolutely overjoyed! He has several Nativity sets he brings out every year. There's an angel for the top of the tree. He delights in listening to the carollers that come to the door. Has the whole family over for the holiday. Yes, including Kor Phaeron. There's no avoiding it. Picks out a new special ornament each year. Decorating the tree is a family activity that takes hours due to all the reminiscing over all the different ornaments that have been collected over the years and the story that has to be retold after they get carefully unwrapped before they can be hung on the tree. It's sweet, it just takes a while to get done.

Magnus (the Red) / Thousand Sons

I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday - Wizzard. Ah, the bane of my existence at school around Christmastime growing up. The Christmas quiz. If you don't think the Thousand Sons are having the MOST intense Christmas Quiz fighting tooth and nail (intellectually) for those points every year, you may be kidding yourself. Everyone knows exactly who won the year before. And the year before. And the year before that. Need I go on? Magnus himself writes and reads the questions, and it's Magnus who decides whether an answer gets a point or not. Christmas boardgames include Trivial Pursuit, Scrabble, and so on. Scrabble gets heated. The dictionary gets brought out. And a second if the first isn't convincing enough. Every year it's declared to be banned from Christmas. Every year it gets brought out again.

Mortarion / Death Guard

Do They Know It's Christmas? - Band Aid Before Nurgle there is no way in hell Mortarion celebrated. After being taken under Grandfather's metaphorical wing? Oh absolutely. There is nothing Nurgle would delight in more than getting the whole family together. Eat, drink, and be merry! Don't... don't worry about the food, sweetness. Even Typhus has come for dinner, isn't that sweet? Poor tired Mortarion. Best keep him looked after. Not to worry, Grandfather has it all under control!

Perturabo / Iron Warriors

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas - Perry Como, The Fontane Sisters. It's a stupid holiday. What? Of course he's celebrating this year, are you mad? Didn't seem excited for the festive season? Oh he'll show you excited. The lawn, the house, everything is absolutely plastered in decorations. Is this enough Christmas lights? No. No it's not. Hang them on that tree, too. Absolutely has the light up sleigh and reindeer on the roof with the Santa decoration climbing the chimney. Absolute chefzilla in the kitchen cooking Christmas dinner. Best turkey you've ever eaten. Don't worry about the way he'd been fiddling with the oven for the last couple days. In fact, don't even step into the kitchen. He's going to feed his stupid sons who he hates. Spends the rest of the day sat on the couch doing a jigsaw on the coffee table. Don't talk to him, just let him have this.

Roboute Guilliman / Ultramarines

Christmas Wrapping - The Waitresses. Respectfully, I don't think Guilliman - especially 40k Guilliman - would have the energy or time to be particularly festive. Any time off would be spent napping in an armchair in the corner dad style. Do NOT let this man take on any of the Christmas dinner cooking stress, but let him cut the turkey so he can still feel important and valued. He deserves a nice sit down in front of the tv and a glass of Baileys. His sons will handle the rest, and they'll do a damn good job of it, too! Seasons Greetings from Macragge, here is your festive email with an attached picture of Guilliman asleep on the couch in his sweater.

Rogal Dorn / Imperial Fists

Baby It's Cold Outside - Idina Menzel, Michael Bublé. No seriously, baby, it's cold outside, this is Inwit. Dorn's house is the safest possible place to spend Christmas anyway, fortified beyond belief. The Fists show up for Christmas. Sort of. Mostly they come and stand around awkwardly. The most active things get is when Jenga gets brought back out its box - winning is of course a point of pride. Gift favourites are of course, various iterations of building blocks.

Sanguinius / Blood Angels

A Spaceman Came Travelling - Chris de Burgh. Slightly more niche but the one that makes me think of Sanguinius the most. Christmas with the Blood Angels isn't the warmest fuzziest thing around. There's a difference between being revered and truly beloved and Sanguinius knows it like the back of his hand. It's comfortable, it's quiet. Dante is there. The Blood Angels all show up bearing presents on Christmas day. They fawn over him. He speaks to each and every one of them with a smile on his face. Eventually the knocks stop coming and the doorbell stops ringing, and he can collapse onto the couch and relax. He spends the season with his nearest and dearest. He takes a walk after Christmas dinner. He gives up Christmas day to being humble, and he lets himself be selfish on Boxing Day, with several glasses of... something red and some truly terrible Christmas movies.

Vulkan / Salamanders

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year - Andy Williams. And he damn well means it! Christmas with the Salamanders is incredible. Got nowhere to go for the holidays? Now you do. Decorating starts the second December does. The actual event starts bright and early Christmas Eve morning. Vulkan truly comes alive during the holiday - so many loved ones around! Christmas Eve is all movies and food and board games and jokes and stories by the fire. People even sleep over into Boxing Day. He greets each and every one of the people who'd attended personally, waving them off at the door with a big grin on his face. All his sons have Christmas sweaters that match his own. Expect some incredible Christmas cards in the mail with a whole host of posing Salamanders on the front. Oh well since you're all here already... you might as well stay for the New Year? Outstaying your welcome? Don't be silly.

[lxvme]

jus thinking abt how simon ‘ghost’ riley wld be ina relationship…

hc list under cut

simon riley is said to have his mask on for oh so long in the first half of his relationship. this, i kinda see. i think he would wear his balaclava, per say, but he’d def wear those lil surgical masks everywhere. does he wear it in his house? sometimes. if he has company (rarest occasion on earth) he isn’t entirely close with, like a friend of soap’s or something, its likely you’ll be greeted with a mask. (in mw2, he did take his mask off in front of ale and rudy, though, but thats maybe bc they almost died tg 😭 civvies n friends r different) i think if you two r having sex within two months of the relationship, you’ll be seeing his face.

kinda going from above, simon riley doesnt keep his mask on to hookup. he’s not simon riley in the mask, he’s ghost. he doesn’t want for his lovie to see that he’s a ghost, if they’re showing themselves to each other. im not sure he’ll like it if you try n wear one of his masks to turn him on, either- it just wouldn’t work. even if either of u is getting head, mask stays off. (that being said, if you’re just a hookup, and not a gf of any kind, mask is on fs)

hugs. from. behind. this man, when close with his girl, will be clingy. always needs a hand on you, in fact- to prove he isn’t crazy and hallucinating, and to make sure youre safe (he’s extremely paranoid abt u getting hurt because you can b bait for him, due to his job- more on that ina minute) he also likes how small you can be compared to him, it makes him feel quite prideful he can protect his lovin’ bc he’s a big boy. BUT, continuing he’s clingy- you’re cooking? he’s latched onto u the entire time, asking if you need help. reading? his head is rested on your thighs, underneath as you hold ur book above his head. (bonus points bc he might be reading too) he’s home from literally any other place than home? well, he missed you, so ‘gimme a kiss, love,’ and then proceed to hold him, or just let him hold you. laundry? oh, well, he’s actually already done it. (housewife.)

he’s veryyy paranoid that an enemy or sum will end up taking you for bait. in fact, he’s already very hesitant to date in general- he’s not used to the feelings it brings and whatnot. (ill b expanding on this in the future) and thats why he can b extra protective- he wouldn’t be able to handle it if his pretty girl was kidnapped, all because of him? the horrors it brings to him are a little much for him to take, sometimes, so he’ll end up pushing u away for a lil while. (i genuinely live for poor bb simon)

like laundry, among other things, he’s suchhh a housewife at heart. mainly because, he likes to be clean and tidy- it helps him rid the dirty feeling that seems to linger from missions. dishes? he did them this morning, possibly in a hope to drown out those nightmares and plaguing thoughts that always seemed to shatter his mind. all in all, the man needs cleanliness. however, if youre a messy girl (in the sense that there are clothes everywhere and tossed aside blankets and pillows on every surface, sometimes a small pile of dishes in the kitchen sink, and a general ‘lived-in mess,’ also this is def not catered to how messy i am) he can definitely adapt, it’ll just take around 3 years :)

showering tg. bae adores to hold u against his chest, water dripping on both of you, while his other hand is in your hair, gently rinsing out soap. (i’m not sure whether to base my simon hcs n writing off of the comics or not, bc reboot!ghost is NOT the same 😭)

moving onnnn… simon riley is the type of boyfriend to:

stalk the absolute fuck out of every single social u have- in fact, he didnt even know what pinterest or instagram was until he saw you on it. (he’d definitely make an spam account that’s pretending to be another girl)

make you a lot of lil gifts out of his own things- keychains, a lil necklace (mhhh my hearttt) or a bracelet out of the collar of his t-shirt (he’d also def make himself a bra bracelet, if u two dont already have matching ones x)

be your handyman. no other words.

thats all i have for u lot bc i have ZEROOOO motivation, but i’d like to expand ona few more things eventually. i’ll also start writing for other cod men when simon riley loses his fucking death chokehold on me (maybe he’ll have it forever…)

[scribesoflex]

| mutual help ; l. berkshire

genre; smut 😜

warnings; bickering, NOT e2l sorry every1!!, no actual sex, mentions of blowjob, food play (?), oral (f receiving), public sex, fingering, dirty talk, name calling (baby, honey bc that’s readers nn and babe)

a/n; idk i saw these pics on pinterest and thought they were cute and then i just got to thinking abt how i could make smth and use them and yeahhhhh — but i actually like this a lot so im thinking this isn’t the end 😅😅 pt.2 maybeee

playlist; meddle about by chase atlantic, single by the neighborhood, cry baby by the neighborhood.

You smile around the ice cream filling your jaw, cheeks puffing out in a way that makes enzo's pants grow tighter, some of the pinkish-white cream dribbling from the corners of your mouth, making a mess that stains the pristine collar of your dress shirt.

He toys with the mechanical pencil in his grasp, running it along the seam of his lips, pressing them into a cat-like grin when you look up at him over the top of your textbook, eyes turning to crescents when your grin widens. Your book thumps against the table when you lean forward, caught between your chest and the hardwood, making you stutter over whatever you were gonna say, shiny lips falling into a confused pout, blinking down at the pages before you roll your eyes, nudging it to the floor with your elbow, letting it clatter against the wood without a care.

“You’re going to get us in trouble – ” Lorenzo warns, watching as the ice cream cone in your hand melts over your knuckles, seeping into the cuffs of your cardigan, forming sticky lines between your knuckles “Finish that, or i’ll throw it away.” he finishes, arching a perfectly trimmed brow as you bring the strawberry cream to your lips again, licking a thick strip from the base of the cone to the top of the cream.

You hum in satisfaction, ready to bring the cone back for another lick, when a group of students brushes past, one of their shoes knocking the back of your chair, grip on the come loosening for a moment before it topples from your fingers and lands in the crevice of your thighs. You gasp, scowling at the fifth years as they giggle, rushing around a corner.

“God damn it, honey” enzo growls deep under his breath, snapping his book shut, making you flinch as you look up at him from the mess between your thighs. Your brows draw together in confusion, used to hearing the nick name in a more saccharine tone. This wasn’t your fault.

You tilt your head “they bumped into me!” you whisper yell, uncomfortably rubbing your thighs together, only spreading the sticky mess further.

Frowning he scoots his chair back, leaning back enough to see the drying ice cream, something straight out of wet dream as you spread your thighs, chasing some sort of relief from the uncomfortable feeling - he can see your white panties, delicate lace trim along the edges and a cute little with bow just below your navel.

“You’ve made a fucking mess” his tone is annoyed, shoulders tensing as you gaze into his puppy like eyes, puffy lips parting in a pout once again.

This has been torture – weeks of tutoring you, dealing with the innocent pouts and whines, begging him to just lie to professor snape for you. Games of on and off, that he knows he’s definitely winning, because you were practically begging for his cock a fortnight ago. He’s thought about you so many times – thought about beating the shit out of the guys that talk about you.

He can’t fucking take it anymore, cock throbbing in his boxers as you squirm around in your chair, huffing out delicate breaths, wide eyes turned glassy – you look like you might even cry, and makes him tick, knuckles pale from how tightly his fists clench against the smooth hard wood table.

Gripping the table with one hand, and the hem of your skirt with the other, you sigh “I can clean it up enzo” you plead, nervous as he shifts in his chair, tugging the sleeves of his dress shirt up his forearms.

The whole library falls silent when he looks at you, rasping out a command that makes your eyes go wide “spread your legs” he mumbles. He drops to his knees not a moment sooner, brunette head of hair disappearing under the table, the drag of his chair back to the table making you gasp.

Fingers wrap around your ankles, forcing your legs apart, unveiling your clothed pussy to his sparkling eyes when your skirt rides up your thighs, the fabric is damp and stained with strawberry ice cream, molding your warm folds to the cotton, puffy pussy straining for attention against the threads. He blows out a soft breath between puckered lips, chuckling hotly when you squirm, thighs trembling against his strength.

“Lorenzo — we’ll be caught” you whisper, glassy eyes meeting his own dark ones, a gentle blush spread across the bridge of your nose and the apples of your cheeks. He tuts, leaning forward just enough for his nose to rub your clit, breathing in the musky-sweet scent emitting from your core.

“You don’t want me to help you out?” He murmurs, tongue darting out to lick a stripe along your seam, planting a wet kiss against your hole as one of his hands creep up the inseam of your thigh, toying with the outer hem of your panties.

You sigh, cradling your face in your palms, unable to voice the denial you thought you had wanted to say, overwhelmed by the heat from his breath ghosting your cunt.

“be a good girl and keep quiet” he mutters, peeking up at your flushed face between your fingers before he tugs your panties to the side, the threads snapping under the pressure, ripping the crotch right out of them, ruined as they fall to the floor.

he takes his time, as he leans in, eyelids fluttering closed, jaw hanging slack – pressing an open mouth kiss to your spread folds, humming in delight at the sticky slick seeping from your core, pressing in deeper for more, nails digging crescents into your sticky thighs.

his tongue toys at your entrance, the warm muscle prodding your tight walls until you let out the softest wine from above him, hips bucking forward against his face, pressing his nose into your clit.

“s’fucking good” he mouths against your cunt, shaking his face side to side, making your squirm against the wooden chair, thighs threatening to squeeze around his head if he were to let go.

“shit- enzo '' you chirp, drooping eyes casting a weary look around the library, despite knowing your meticulously tucked away study corner is shielded from most prying eyes.

one of his hands drifts from the inseam of your thigh, to the top of your pussy, pulling the hood up so he can wrap his puffy lips around your clit, gently tugging on the nub with his teeth, before giving it a lewd suck, slurping and smacking sounding from between your legs - he’s the one being fucking loud.

his other hand glides down your pussy as he pulls away, spreading your folds to watch your greedy hole wink, pulsing for something to fill you up - seeping wetness that runs down your asshole and the wooden chair, staining the hardwood floor below you even further.

he groans as he presses the pad of his middle finger to your pussy, watching as you suck him in, gliding to the second knuckle with ease “you can take more than that, can’t you baby?” you hum from above him, thighs spreading further in a silent agreement, etching a wicked grin across his lips.

he slides a second finger in with ease, cock jumping in his trousers when he feels the suction of your velvet walls around his thick fingers, clenching around him with need even when he doesn’t make a move.

when he leans in to flick your clit, your thighs clamp around his head, one hand tangling in the hair the crown of his skull, the other gripping the edge of a textbook so harshly you fear the pages will rip.

he groans against your heat, eyelids rolling back in his skull as he makes harsh thrusts in and out with his fingers, alternating between quick sucks and nips at your swollen bud, the weight of his cock in his boxers becoming unbearably heavy with every jut of your hips against his face, precum making his boxers stick to his length in an uncomfortable manner.

“m’so close enzo, baby please” you croon, leaning back in your chair to lock eyes with him, tears brimming at your lash line as you press a palm to your mouth, muffling the sounds that multiply with every passing second.

he doesn’t stop at your confession, the words spurring him on, desperate to swallow your cum and taste it on his tongue for hours to come, cock twitching at just the thought alone.

his hand drives into you with so much force that wet smacking sounds start to ring out, so fast and frequent that if anyone were near they’d surely know what you were up to.

it’s only a couple seconds later that you’re falling apart on his fingers, thighs squeezing around him so tightly that he begins to go lightheaded, surely not helped by the way he desperately laps at your seeping cunt like a man starved, groaning and moaning into your folds until he’s satiated, and your hips are squirming away from his mouth, pussy swollen and sensitive against the cool air of the library when he finally does pull back.

you look down at him through a bleary gaze, flushing at the sight, covered in a mix of sweat, cum and strawberry ice cream, smeared along his jaw and across the tip of his nose, you lick your lips, shaking your head when he meets your eyes “now we’ve both made messes” you mumble, using the cuff of your sweater to wipe some of the liquid from his face, glancing between his legs to where his cock strains against the zipper.

“now i should help you then, right?”

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

I saw this edit on Pinterest..... do what you want with this but I was literally freaking out on this part. I wanted to see if it's possible to write something based off this .. *look.* Maybe the reader just constantly likes to tease Hiccup but one day he just had it and just did ... The look. I would be flabbergasted. <3

Thistle, Scout and Scottish Bluebells

Pairing: Grumpy!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2094

Things don’t happen the way they’re supposed to. The universe sends you to compensate.

Tags:  httyd 1, aged up, au, time travel

Next>

 The sounds of rustling ferns and the ends of pine trees larger than you’d ever seen them, of crackling twigs and wind whistling past fauna and over dirt made its way inside past thin wooden walls and through large cracks in between shuttered window sills and other things.

You sat, knees touching, head resting over folded arms. The chair below you was slightly wobbly, the table beneath your hands uneven.

You listened to the sound of gently sloshing water, watching as boxy, freckled hands dipped unevenly fired and sealed clay into an old, scratched bucket. One of the bucket’s handle’s hinges was broken and the metal bars holding it together were discolored in many places, scratched and dented in others.

A man crouched before the table on the side opposite to you by the door, donning a long, old worn tunic in green. It’d been torn and hastily sewn back together many, many times. That much was obvious.

“...And you have no idea how you got here.” He grumbled. He was crouched along packed dirt floors, wiping cribs and washing leftover bits of stew off your one shared plate.

He boasted a head of slightly fluffy hair, verging on auburn. It usually looked much darker, but he’d washed it recently, though ‘washing’ was a particularly strong word for whatever it was he’d done, going over it with a slightly damp cloth and ridding it of the thick oils and soot it’d worn like dressing.

“None at all.” You responded, the same way you’d been saying it for the past… However long you’d been here. The words spilled awkwardly from your mouth, tongue running over unfamiliar vowels and deeper tones.

Honestly, you missed home. You missed the convenience of a washing machine, for both dishes and otherwise. You missed the way the sun felt on your face, the way the sidewalk felt beneath your feet, the sound of people moving about, the sound of cars, the way paper felt beneath pen and the way the world sounded when it wasn’t filled with the constant sound of war, animals bleating and screaming and great, scaled beast letting out fervent death-cries and the dwindling numbers of a miserable warrior people.

“Any idea how to get you back?” Hiccup asked from the floor. He wasn’t near as quirky as he had been in the first movie, but that was just as well. He was a teen, then. He was a man, now.

“Nope!” You said, voice bordering on mischievous. As you spoke, something quite melancholy made itself known somewhere deep and sensitive. You made efforts to suppress it.

You weren’t lying when you said you weren’t sure how you’d gotten here. You were lucky, you guessed, that you’d been found by who you had been... Or maybe it was that you had been unlucky. 

You weren’t sure yet.

You thought he probably appreciated the company- or he detested it. It could go either way, really. Regardless, he never kicked you out.

“You… You’re....” He started, grumbling, “The worst.”

You heard the sound of drizzling water, watching small drops hit the bucket again as he stood, sighing.

“Says you.” You rolled your eyes. “Hiding away in the woods like a, ah, a hermit.”

“I was never this annoying.” He kept on grumbling.

The ‘he’ in question was your host. This was his shack, technically. His own miserable fortress of solitude.

You hadn’t… You hadn’t really figured out how to say his name, yet. Not in Norse. It was only the two of you here, see, which didn’t give you many opportunities to learn, even as you went romping around the village. 

It hadn’t posed a problem yet- it was mostly just the two of you, and so all you really needed to address him was ‘you.’

“You probably weren’t.” You shot back. “Maybe.”

It was mostly supposition, half based on what you saw and mostly gleaned from what little of the first movie you could remember. 

You weren't that close. You’d had maybe one or two conversations, some serious talks about life and other things that had only been half understood, at least by you. Now, whatever acquaintanceship had grown in the silence between you two as you struggled to learn more about Berk had dampened slightly as you’d begun pestering him.

You kept your arms carefully positioned over crinkled treatise, fingers gripping the edge of one splayed piece of cloth off to the side.

You were careful not to smudge the charcoal marrying each page, though your efforts were probably all for naught. Charcoal was a flakey medium, and your sticks had been perhaps left in the fires for much too long.

Perhaps too tired to say much else, he grunted and looked away, shaking his head slightly. 

You knew you were wearing his already thin patience even thinner.

“I want to shoot down a dragon.” You said, lifting your head and leaning it against your hand.

You’d been asking for a while now.

It was stupid, to keep pushing and pushing and pushing this way. You kept doing it anyway.

“Hand me the rag.” He said without looking at you, holding out one hand.

His hands were littered with scars, small and medium, from a life spent working in the forge. They dusted his knuckles, lying in wait in between and around patches of small freckles and moles and little croppings of baby hairs.

You’d never felt them either casually by accident, nor did you intend to, but still, his palms looked both rough and nice-to-the touch.

You shifted your elbows over your papers, slightly jostling your notes and resting your weight against a cleanly sealed note. The rough face of the cloth was scratchy against your thumb. “If it will lead me closer to dragon-shooting-”

“For just a moment, can you-” Your host stopped himself, gritting his teeth and looking you in the eye.

He had a nice pair of forest green eyes and tapering brows, moles and freckles scattering his cheeks. His face was slightly red from the sun, something which lasted the whole summer months, growing as the sun got brighter and staying throughout the colder nights. 

His chin was lined with a hearty dusting of fuzzy, peachy hairs.

His shoulders were set wide, mouth slightly handing open, as if to expel the force of all of his annoyance from his slitted open mouth, his head tilted downwards with a glint in his eye that might have looked menacing on any other person but only just looked a measure exasperated on him.

 He stared into your eyes, looking at you sideways for a very, very long moment. 

In that expression, you could almost see the shadow of the man he was supposed to have been; perceptive, determined, and a few other things, too.

Right now, those were the eyes of a man who knew exactly what you were doing

You kept your face resolutely blank.

“Help me shoot it.” You responded stiffly.

All in a moment, the man you saw was gone.

If you really thought about it, you might say that whatever spirit he’d once had had been killed a long time before you’d met him.

His brows were almost perpetually furrowed, his eyes weary, the lines under his eyes prominent, mouth stuck drooping. 

His shoulders were almost always dipped, too. If he wasn’t slouching, his shoulders were at a most imperceptible incline.  

While his face was not nearly wrinkled enough to be easily mistaken for the Chief, he looked a great deal older than twenty. He looked like his father- or, what you could remember of his father.

The darkness of the shack and the waning, settling light from the outside made it all look that much more severe.

“You’re not being serious.” With cinched brows, he looked at you as if to ask, ‘Are we really going to keep playing around like this?’

The answer was, ‘Yes-’ as long as the Night Fury remained in the sky and as long as your own project -the one hidden out back by his poor excuse for a well and hand-water pump- was in pieces, you felt quite obligated to keep going. 

“...No.” Your host finished, finally.

He looked down pointedly as you pulled your feet closer to you, heels just missing your chair’s legs as they came to rest before the pile of junk you’d hastily hid underneath. 

You dipped your head back towards your arms, miming bashfulness, though you didn’t feel too bad at having been caught. Stubbornly, petulantly, you continued on; “Why not?”

“Because-” He started, grimacing deeply.

You raised a brow, half expecting him to give up- to go silent.

“Because I said so.” He ended firmly, emotively.

“No.” You said, stubbornly.

“You’re- we’re doing this now?”

“As long as we need to,” You paused, “Until you help me shoot down a dragon.”

“You can just go and do it.” He snapped.

You didn’t mind it. You didn’t intend to stop, even if you drove him crazy.

You could be as crazy as you wanted here. You could run around naked, screaming in tongues and It’s not as if anyone would listen. Your words held no merit. The people were busy and you were just… not a member of society.

 You tried talking to people, once. People other than Him. They’d probably assumed you had brain damage. 

Honestly, you very well could have. When you’d woken up, your head had been aching pretty bad. 

Maybe this was all just an illusion and you really were still back in the real world, probably wandering around the streets, homeless, or locked up in a hospital or a mental facility somewhere, talking nonsense about Dragons and wanting to go home.

Wouldn’t that be a hoot?

There was also a very small part of you that didn’t want to say anything to these people. Really, you didn’t trust your host any farther than you could throw him. 

You hardly knew him.

“I need you to do it.” You insisted. Truthfully, you felt encouraged.

This was probably the most you’d heard from him. Ever.

You might have heard more if you’d spoken to him more, but to be fair, a man of little words attracted very little conversation to himself. Despite what you’d heard, he wasn’t… He wasn’t an easy conversationalist.

“Then you’re not going to be the one shooting down a dragon.”

“So, will you do it?”

He didn’t respond, shaking his head slightly, less so as if he was telling you no and more so as a general expression of his disapproval and of his frustration.

You tapped your finger against wood and paper, feeling at thick, packed paper ends.

It was time for a change of tactics.

“There was, uhm, a missive.” You said, “Someone delivered it while you were out. I think it’s from your dad. It says…”

Dried pulp felt rough against your hands, the wax seal clumsy and easy to peel apart as you unfolded the note. 

You wondered if opening someone else’s mail here was illegal. Hopefully you wouldn’t be arrested… Or thrown into the dungeons, or anything else. Beheaded, maybe?

You resisted the urge to snort.

You made a show of opening it and reading it, which was bullshit and you both knew it because you couldn’t read old norse. You kept your expression still, voice as serious as you could make it, “It says you have to help me shoot down a dragon.”

“No, it does not.” The man hunched for just a moment before turning back around quite abruptly, “Give me- Give me that.”

He reached over the table, snatching it from your hands.

“What does it say?” You asked curiously.

He shot you a look.

“...I think I’d rather shoot down a dragon.”

“So are we-” You tried again, feeling some sort of joy shoot its way up your chest and burst into a million little adrenaline-filled pieces.

You needed him to agree. Now, preferably.

You didn’t know why you were here. What you did know was what the movies told you and, well, you had two eyes, you could tell, quite obviously, that things had not happened the way you’d been told.

It was a one-plus-one sort of situation; a bunch of half-assed guessing and clumsy hoping, but you worked with what you knew. Maybe, if you made things right, then you’d finally be allowed back home from wherever this was. 

“No.”

You huffed. Instead of Hiccup the Useless, his name really should have been Horrendous the Stubborn.

You’d wear him down eventually.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎModern Americana౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: nudity pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: billy time travels into the present author’s note: based on our chitchats as of late! I hope you like <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The crash sounded like it came from your backyard.

You looked up from your laptop, eyes darting to the window. Could the raccoons be back? They'd been terrorizing your garden for about a month now, and you'd just about had enough of it. The noise, not the raccoons. They were feral, but every time you looked out and saw their adorable little faces your heart melted a little bit.

Standing up and stretching, you made a mental note to call your grandfather in the morning. He owned the property you were staying on, and he'd be able to sort things out with the little creatures. But for now, you padded over to your window, tugging at the hem of your tank top. You wanted to see them at first, maybe catch a glimpse of their cute fluffy ringed tails before they darted into the night.

When you flipped on the porch light, there was nothing to be found. No masked wildlife, not even a tuft of fur. You frowned, tilting your head. Maybe it was something from one of your neighbor's yards? But it had sounded so close to you-

There it was again. That clatter, like someone had been thrown against the wall. You snatched the baseball bat leaning on the side of the porch railing, holding it at the ready as you leaned over, trying to see into the dark. The glow of the lights didn't extend to the side of the house, but you tensed when you saw something moving.

Crouched and leaning against the wall, the shadow was shifting, like it was looking around. You gripped the bat in one hand, your phone in the other. The police were only a dial away.

"Hello?" you called tentatively, not daring to leave the safety of the porch. Besides, you'd forgotten shoes, and the grass was probably cold. "Is someone there?"

"¿Quien es?" The voice was quiet, but you still jumped back. So it was a person. You hadn't heard the telltale creak of the fence swinging open. How had they gotten in, you had no idea. You still didn't lower your weapon. This was how serial killers got people after all. By acting weak and innocent. While you were sympathetic, you weren't stupid.

"Come out." The two words were spoken with more confidence than you knew yourself capable of. You weren't sure if whoever it was would even understand what you were saying. Trying again, you repeated their words. "¿Quien es?" Who's there?

The shadow rustled. You lowered your phone. "I'm not going to do anything," you risked, craning your neck and squinting. "Just come into the light. Are you hurt?"

When the figure began to move, straightening and standing up, you gripped the bat with both hands. They could be armed, and you could at least bonk them over the head from your elevated position on the porch.

The dry grass rustled as they moved forward, shadow looming a few feet ahead. You couldn't tear your eyes away as a tall man made his appearance, hat shading his eyes.

His clothes were the first thing you noticed. Dusty and faded, indicating years of use. From the style of his shirt to his boots, he looked like a Western cowboy. Was it a costume of some kind?

You held the bat firmly. "Who are you?"

The man held up his hands, tilting his head to upwards to meet your eyes. "Billy."

"Billy," you repeated, still holding the bat up. "Why are you dressed like a cowboy? Why-" you gestured to his belt. "Is that real? The gun?"

He looked taken aback, maybe even a little offended. "'course it's real."

Caught off guard, you tried to shake it off. "Okay, just checking." You gripped the bat tighter. "What are you doing in my yard?"

Billy was determinedly meeting your eyes, averting them from wandering any lower than your collarbone. "I don't know how I got here."

"Are you drunk or something?" He didn't seem like he was under the influence. Now that he was looking at you, you could see how blue his eyes were. And they didn't have that hazy look like he'd taken something.

"No, I..." Billy dropped his hands, taking off his hat on the way down. His brown curls were messy, flattened almost. The sight sent a twinge into your heart. He looked so...vulnerable. Helpless almost. "I was comin' downstairs an'...an' I heard someone. Then I blacked out and now I'm here." His hat moved between his hands as he twisted it, seeming nervous.

You knew liars, especially male ones. They permeated your life, crawling up and down the lengths of it and sometimes nesting there. Over the years you had learned their telltale signs. The shifty eyes, the tone that was ever so slightly off. Your knowledge on this subject was all engraved into your body as if a part of your genetic code.

Which is how you knew Billy was telling the truth.

Exhaling softly, you set the bat down, moving down to the porch steps, closer to him. He was standing in front of you, hands at his sides now, gun belt low on his hips. You were puzzled by it. Why did he need to have a gun so close? Was that even legal?

Sitting on the porch steps, you patted the spot next to you. He hesitated, but took it, eyes trained on the ground. You watched him for a minute. Heavy accent, strange clothes. Resting your elbows on his knees, you gestured to his body. "Is this a bet or something?"

"No." Again, he seemed mildly offended. You sucked in your cheeks, looking at the ground.

He spoke after a brief moment of listening to the sounds of the neighbors, from their cars to their doors shutting. "Y'know, if you've gotta horse, I can be out'f your hair by morning."

"A horse?" you raised your eyebrows.

He half-smiled. "Don't know a better way to get around."

You started to laugh until you realized he was serious. Furrowing your brow, you stared at him for a second, an idea forming in your head.

No. It sounded impossible, but you really weren't sure. All the signs were pointing to it. Almost like the roots of a tree grown from a strange kind of seed, realization sprouted into your mind. Turning your gaze back to Billy, the question fell from your lips before you could figure out a graceful way to ask. "What year do you think it is?"

He raised his eyebrows as if it were obvious. "1881."

Oh.

The way he said it so effortlessly, his direct eye contact, the little nod as if he were trying to convince you of something. A cold feeling ran over you like water, and you put it together before you fully realized. Your eyes lingered over the leather suspenders holding his pants up, and the old-fashioned handle of the gun sticking out of his belt.

Your heart told you that you weren't delusional. It was real.

Exhaling softly, you met Billy's gaze. If you hadn't already decided what to do, the bright blue you were looking into would have done it for you.

"Hold still." You reached for the buttons of Billy's shirt and he immediately stepped back.

The crease in his brow was almost adorable. "What are you doing?"

You raised your eyebrows. "You can't take a shower with your clothes on."

He shuffled on his feet, looking down. "Do I hafta?"

"Billy you look like you've been sleeping buried underground," you said, exasperatedly. He pursed his lips and you folded your arms. "You'll feel better when you're cleaner."

Lifting his eyes to the shower behind you, you saw a world of confusion in them. "It looks like it's gonna hurt me."

"It won't," you promised, reaching for his collar and tugging on it. "I use it every day. Now could you please take your clothes off?"

Frozen for a second, you wondered if he would actually do it. It'd been a miracle you'd been able to convince him to remove his boots and leave his gun belt at the door. His hat was sitting on your kitchen counter. And you were well aware that standards had morphed over the last centuries into something nearly unrecognizable, but it hardly mattered now.

Maybe you should have been more concerned about finding a cowboy in your backyard. After all, he'd appeared out of literally nowhere, looking and talking like he was from a different time.

But he didn't at all seem dangerous. Just...lost. And so here you were, standing with him in your bathroom and trying to get him to undress.

Billy looked away, refusing to meet your eyes. The lighting of the bathroom only made it apparent how dirty he really was. You could see dirt dusting his face, sprinkled at his collar. If you wrung out his clothes you were sure the water would turn brown. "I...fine. How d'ya work this thing again?"

You smiled, turning around to demonstrate. "Turn it on like this-" the shower water hissed as you twisted the handle. "And you can adjust the water to be hot or cold." Leaving the shower on, you looked back at him. "I'll leave you alone. Yell if you need anything."

It took a lot not to laugh at his relieved expression when you said you would give him some privacy. But you kept a straight face, hoping you seemed reassuring. "I'll get some clothes for you, okay? And wash these after you're done." You tugged on his collar once again, and the side of his mouth twitched up.

The shirt and sweatpants you fetched used to be your ex's, but he never came back for them after the breakup. You were happy to have a reason to use them now, instead of being haunted by their presence in one of your drawers. Slipping into the bathroom, you set them on the closed toilet seat, where you knew Billy would see them.

As you bent down to retrieve his old clothes, a thud echoed from behind the shower curtain. You gasped, standing up. "Billy?"

For a moment you only heard the steady flow of the water. Then, "I fell."

"Oh-" you automatically moved to the shower but hesitated. "Do you need help?"

A pause. "Which soap do I use again?"

"Let me just-" you pushed aside the shower curtain to reveal a wide-eyed Billy. His mouth opened and he started to shake his head, but you cut him off before he could speak. "I'm not gonna look at you. Just let me help."

He stared at you, hair sticking to his forehead in curls. You did your best to resist following the path of the water trickling down his chest. His hands were occupied, covering a certain area between his legs.

You lifted one leg at a time, stepping into the tub. It was rare that you actually used the second half of the double-function shower, but sometimes you daydreamed about the option. Billy stared as you stepped under the spray with him, still in your shorts and tank top.

When he realized what he was doing, he averted his eyes. "Sorry-"

"No, it's okay," you said gently, reaching for his elbow. "Could you sit down? I can't reach you from here."

He followed your lead, bending his long legs so his back was against the wall. You reached for the bottles of soap, ignoring how strange it felt for your clothes to stick to your skin this way. Pushing a string of wet hair behind your ear, you flipped the shampoo bottle upside down and squeezed a little into your hand.

Billy shifted to the side, back facing you so you could reach him easier. You uttered a quiet thank you before sinking your fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp gently. His body was perfectly still, but he tilted his head back just slightly. You smiled when his shoulders untensed, and he murmured a soft "Thank you."

Repeating your motions with the conditioner, you nodded at the third bottle beside it. "Use that one to wash your body. Everywhere."

"Doesn't the water do that?"

"Billy-" you smiled, tilting his head back to wash the soap out. "When you get out, I've got clothes for you on the counter. I can wash your old ones."

"Thank you," he said, turning his head over his shoulder briefly. Billy bit the side of your cheek, then asked, "What year is it again?"

"Twenty-twenty-four," you said, smoothing his hair. "Pretty far in the future."

He swallowed, giving a single nod. "I have a lot of questions."

"That's okay," you said, squeezing his shoulder. "Just finish up in here and you can ask me anything you want."

Billy faced forward again. "Alright."

You stared at his back for a moment, following the bumpy line of his spine. He was strong- you could see it in his back muscles. After he was done interrogating you, maybe you would ask something of your own. What had he done for a living? Did he know what brought him here?

Shaking it off, you got up, and he took your cue, doing the same. Turning around, Billy drew you into his eyes once again, and you tried not to gape at his chest. There was no doubt about how handsome he was. Pictures from the 1880s didn't do their men justice.

Looking into each others eyes, you felt something undeniable there. A pull that nearly brought you into his chest, a feeling that was far to strong for having just met him. And yet, you felt as though he was an old friend. Someone you were destined to know. It was nearly electric; hotter than the water pouring from the showerhead.

"I'll go," you said, tearing your eyes away and looking down. "Just twist the knob to the right when you're done. I'll be in the kitchen."

"Okay," he breathed, and you took that as your cue to step out. Pushing aside the curtain and wiping your feet on the rug, you took your brush and combed your hair out before exiting the bathroom promptly, scurrying to your bedroom to change into fresh pajamas.

Maybe ones that wouldn't cause your cowboy to look away.

[melomlr]

🐕💥 (based off something i saw on Pinterest)