#HOLLERING CRYING WAILING

[canonically47]

how do people hate calepriya it's literally "she falls first he falls harder" "sunshine x sunshine" "guy who looks scary but would never hurt you x girl who looks like she would never hurt you but would" GUYS WAKE UP!!!!!!!

[saltpepperbeard]

Y'ALL

FUCK

IT IS LUCIUS

IT IS IT IS IT IS

LOOK AT THE FINGER

[azurexsnake]

whenever you're away for too long vash sprays your favourite perfume on the inside of his wrist, and smells it while his heart throbs. missing you so much, your scent comforting him🫶🏻

THE WAY YOU JUST MADE MY HEART STOP!!!

[toastybugguy]

i know i’ve done a hard day’s work when i put up some new art and all the tags sound like a horde of rabid squirrels hopped up on amphetamines, a venti iced coffee and a dream

[catsr-reallycool]

I HATE MY STUPID BAKA LIFE

Inktober day 4: This is how it should be

You guys saw it coming, didn’t you? Don’t worry, he’s fine. He’s just sleeping :’>

[the-kinning-hour]

Ok now where are the ao3 authors that will rewrite the entire last arc of the my hero manga 😋 I know you’re lurking somewhere

[welcometothejianghu]

We! Rate! Eunuchs!

Sure, we all love eunuchs. But have you ever found yourself with an emptiness in your heart because you were unable to objectively measure your eunuchs? Well, now you can! Thanks to our handy Eunuch Measuring Scale, you can visualize your eunuchs and even see how they stack up against other eunuchs. Enjoy this handy demonstration of how it works!

The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty

Sleuth's eunuchs are absolutely unmatched in the complexity and fuckability departments, and also get full schemesy marks. Their style is sharp but not particularly varied, and while they do call on their beloved emperor, they don't particularly get a good solid holler going about it. Still, Sleuth's little meow meow eunuchs are high-quality, top-of-the-line eunuchs, practically the industry standard.

The Blood of Youth

Imagine -- eunuchs that not only have stunning outfits of their own, but that coordinate with their coworkers! Hats with architecture that defies logic! It's the style score that makes the Blood of Youth's eunuchs truly stand out. While they are admittedly less fully realized than their Sleuth counterparts, one must chalk this slight deficiency up to how difficult it is to get any screen time in a show with eight billion other characters. They're still full of schemesy goodness, though, leaving you always wanting more.

Nirvana in Fire

Nirvana in Fire presents a special eunuch challenge, as there's only really one eunuch to speak of: Gao Zhan, the emperor's loyal attendant. While his primary function in the show is to feign ignorance so he doesn't get into trouble, he can fretfully wail for his head of state like none other. It's tough to singlehandedly bear the responsibility of all eunuch represenation in a property, but Gao Zhan performs admirably in all areas an emperor could desire.

Story of Yanxi Palace

In contrast to Nirvana in Fire, Yanxi Palace has a substantial number of eunuchs, and every one of them is absolutely plotting something at all times. While the sex appeal of these identically dressed eunuchs is on average low, Yuan Chunwang brings the fuckable score up single-handedly by being the rare canonically fuckable eunuch. Note that the Yanxi Palace eunuchs lose a few points on a technicality: By the time they're around, the emperor is a huángshàng, not a bìxià, and it's much more difficult to get a good mournful cry going when you can't exploit the natural trajectory of two falling tones in a row.

Sleep better at night knowing you can now objectively measure your eunuchs along these six important axes! I know I will!

Eunuch Measuring Scale: because dudes gotta measure something

[twizzie-lairs]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 10)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |

Part 9 | Part 10

Part 10:

Your head felt like it was splitting, you could feel your brain pounding against the outside of your skull.

"Ah shit... everything fucking hurts...." you can barely whisper out loud due to your dried-up throat.

You clear your throat and open your eyes, to your surprise, you weren't left for dead on the street.

Instead, you see two girls hovering over you. One held your hand clasped in theirs, and the other had a spear pointed at your throat.

"Oh my gosh, you're awake! Finally!" The girl holding your hand said, leaning closer to your face. The girl with the spear and an 'X' over one of her eyes squinted at you and nudged the blonde girl back with her spear, "Who are you, and why shouldn't I kill you?"

You try to sit up, but the spear gets shoved closer to your throat before you can move. You sigh, "My name is (y/n). I don't want to hurt anyone. I just... I need help..."

Your answer earns a glare from the girl with the spear, but the blonde girl just nudges her with her elbow, "See, Vaggie? I told you!"

The blonde takes both of your hands in hers, "Hi (y/n), I'm Charlie! Charlie Morningstar and you're at the Hazbin Hotel! We aim to help rehabilitate sinners and offer them a chance at redemption to go to Heaven!"

The girl you now know whose name is Vaggie glares at you, "Are you even interested in redemption?"

You look at both of the girls, "I... I don't know. I'm not so sure but... I don't have anywhere to go and I need help finding someone.." You trail off as you start getting teary-eyed thinking about your love, Alastor.

Seeing you near tears clearly startled Chalie and Vaggie, it wasn't a response they were used to when asking sinners to stay at the hotel.

Vaggie set down the spear, deciding that you clearly weren't a threat. She could see the look in your eyes, one she knew very well- love. Meanwhile, Charlie is sniffling and getting teary-eyed right along with you, "Oh my gosh, we will do everything we can to help you find that person! Who are they, how can we help?"

You look up at the ceiling and then look at Charlie with a weak smile, "The love of my life... I miss him so dearly... I know he has to be here in Hell too." You chuckle lovingly, knowing he'd forgive you if he ever found out you said that out loud.

The floodgates were blown wide open and Charlie started sobbing and wailing, "Vaggieeeee, VAAAGGIEEEEEEE, th-they! They're looking for their LOOOOVEEEEEEEE. IT'S SO BEAUTIFULLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!"

Vaggie walked over to Charlie and scooped her up, giving you a gentle smile, "Hey... (y/n), sorry about threatening you earlier... I gotta take Miss Princess and calm her down, and then inform the other residents of a new arrival. But if you need anything, just give us a holler, okay? You're still healing so... take it easy."

You nod as a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, "It's okay... No offense taken... Thank you Vaggie, and thank you Charlie, for agreeing to help me.."

All you hear as Charlie is carried away is the sounds of wailing and crying muffled sounds over the words, "SHE'S HERE FOR LOVE... WAAAHHHHHH, IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL VAGGIEEE!!!!"

You try to sit up again, this time, no spear to bar you from trying to move this time. Your body groans in protest, though it doesn't hurt nearly as much as before, but as you assess the condition of your body, you notice you have bandages all over you. They must have been treating you while you were unconscious.

"Such sweet girls... they didn't even know me, yet they saved my life.... I need to remember to thank them again later.."

Very slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and with a bit of effort, bring yourself to your feet. Hands holding yourself against the wall, you make your way over to what you assumed would become your bathroom during your stay here.

Your hands grip the sink as you look in the mirror when a small doubt enters your brain. You didn't look completely the same as you did when you were alive, which meant you had no idea if Alastor was even going to recognize you. Perhaps he even forgot about you... since it's been so many decades since you've been in Hell. Hell, you weren't sure you were even going to be able to recognize him...

"Enough of this... I'm sure he'll remember me.. he has to..." you whisper to yourself in the mirror as a crooked but tear-stained smile graces your hell-altered face.

After washing up your reddened face from all the tears, you made your way back to your bed. A deep sigh left your body as you plopped down gently on the bed.

Though you can't help but feel restless, as you sit there, just thoughts consuming your head.

In as bad of a shape as you might be, walking around even just a little bit helped you regain a little bit of strength, so you decided to make yourself decent after you had discovered that there was a change of clean clothes for you in dresser in the corner of the room.

Looking at yourself in the full body mirror on the back of the bathroom door, you smiled because it felt good to not look like a hot garbage fire- even though you could still see most of the bandages, at least you weren't all tattered and visibly bloody anymore!

Another deep sigh left your lips yet again, though this one was filled with determination. You turn the handle on the door and exit your room.

In your head, you thanked whoever built this hotel because you were so thankful that there were railings or some type of furnishing to hold onto whenever you felt yourself getting wobbly.

You didn't know where Charlie or Vaggie, or where any of the staff or other residents could be, hell, you didn't even know where the lobby was!

But on that last note, as you wandered around and regained some strength in your legs, you started to have an idea of where the lobby was located because you started to see more light and heard some voices talking.

Might as well go introduce yourself, right? No time better than the present to start making introductions, even if you still felt a little bit like shit still. You felt even shittier just laying around, you felt like if you weren't on the go constantly- you'd never make any headway on finding Alastor.

So there you were, slowly descending the stairs to the lobby when you heard Charlie call out your name, " (y/n)! Oh my gosh, you shouldn't even be up right now! Are you feeling okay??"

A weak smile creeps up on your face as you start to feel embarrassed that Charlie is fawning all over you in front of what seems to be her friends.

You chuckle, "Yeah, haha, just feeling kinda restless and thought i'd introduce myself is all!"

Charlie gently takes your hand and pulls you over to the rest of the group that had been chatting while seated on various sofas and armchairs that were centered around a coffee table- no TV's in sight, just a single radio perched on top of the mantle in this living room/lobby hybrid space.

"Guys! I am honored to introduce you to the newest guest to the Hazbin Hotel, this is (y/n)!!"

"Nice to meet cha, the name's Husk, the bartender."

"Hey there toots, bet ya look mighty fine underneath those bandages. Better not give me a run for my money as most gorgeous resident! Oh yeah, the name's Angel Dust, by the way."

"Hi, i'm Nifty! Nice to- BLEGH, you're a woman! Ew!" Nifty said before cackling as she scuttled away to stab some bugs nearby.

"Well, you already know me and Charlie," Vaggie said as she patted you on the shoulder gently.

"It looks like the only one who isn't here is Alastor. Shouldn't he be back soon?" Charlie said as she pulled out her phone to check the time.

To her, that seemed like such a mundane and normal sentence. But to you, it felt like time stopped and you froze upon hearing his name.

Alastor.

Alastor... here?

-> Part 11

[accioscarheadthings]

Oooo Kenji Sato x a curvy girlfriend please? I wanna see how emi and kenji are upset and “arguing” who’s turn to cuddle the reader while she and professor Sato are eating snacks

heree youu go, hon. sorry abt the wait. enjoyy<33

She's mine

kenji sato x curvy!fem!reader

this contains: fluff, cuddling, silly banters.

summary: kenji amd emi quarrel for your attention.

masterlist !

"you think they'd stop this nonsense anytime soon?" professor sato asked you, pushing the box of donuts towards you.

you picked one with the strawberry filling, "highly unlikely," you bit into it, watching the drama unfold in front of you with professor sato.

kenji and emi arguing by the workplace, voices raised and hands moving around exaggeratedly.

kenji's finger was pointed directly at emi as she adamantly flailed her arms in response. her face was drawn down in distress, clearly feeling frustrated and unheeded by his stern demeanor.

"you had her last week!" kenji argued, "now, it's my turn,"

emi squealed in protest, flopping down on the ground with a cry.

"oh really? you think you can have her by throwing a fit?! not gonna happen, princess,"

you rolled your eyes at the scene, lips tugging upwards in amusement.

"no can do, missy!" kenji hollered at the kaiju baby, "she's mine. i got her first! you came around like what, a few weeks ago?" he pretended to think, "get in line, young woman!" he jabbed a thumb behind his back.

growling in frustration, emi sent a ray of sound waves his way. kenji barely dodged it at the nick of time, gaping up at emi. at the nerve to do so.

"this is so stupid," you face-palmed, sliding off the chair from professor sato's side and headed towards the children's quarrel.

"okay kids," you got in between them, speaking sternly, "mommy's here. behave yourself-" you yelped when you were pulled into kenji's arms, made to stand in front of him.

emi pouted, making grabby hands at you, cooing in need.

kenji pulled you into him in such a way your back was flush with his chest, "i don't even need to argue or explain myself to you whatsoever, emi," his palms splayed on your love handles, holding you possessively, "she's mine," he kissed your neck possessively, making your squirm in place, his fingers curling on your soft skin of your stomach.

emi's cheeks wobbled her and shoulders sagged in defeat, assuming you had picked him over her.

her cheeks wobbled and emi wailed loudly, kicking her legs on front of her.

he scoffed at her, "you think she's gonna coddle you- honey, don't coddle her," kenji uttered to you when you slipped out of his arms and headed towards emi.

you strode towards her, climbing the high-rise stool and sat cross-legged on it, "my poor baby, c'mere," you cooed at her, stretching your arms put in front of you, "s'okay, my love,"

"i thought i was your love," kenji mumbled lowly, ducking his head. but you heard it.

you shot him a stern glare that spoke 'not now, kenji,"

your boyfriend groaned loudly, stomping over to his father's side and sat on your seat. he grabbed a donut, stuffing his face to cope up with the annoyance that was bubbling in him.

"shh, shh, i'm right here," you hands spread on her cheeks when she leaned towards you. you pressed a loud smooch to her orange beak, making her sobs stop instantly.

kenji rolled his eyes, "cheap trick-ow!"

professor sato hit his son at the back of his son with his cane, "get it together!"

you had cuddled emi to sleep, her arm slung over your lap. you brushed your palms on her round cheeks to ease her into sleep.

you carefully slipped out, heading towards the corner of the basement where kenji was making his daily coffee.

he heard you approach and looked at you over his shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief, "can i have you to myself now?"

you gave him a nose-scrunched smile, arms held wide for him.

kenji rushed into your awaiting arms, pulling you into him. his face burying into the crook of your neck, "finally, all mine,"

you slipped your hands into the hair at the back of his neck, "you need to grow up,"

you stilled when you felt him kiss your jaw, muttering desperately, "missed you so much, baby. you have no idea," he huffed into your chest like a needy child, clinging onto you.

he sat on the couch behind, pulling you on his lap. his hands were at the back of your thighs, making you straddle him.

his fingers squeezed your thighs, as though to make sure you were actually with him

"kenji...?" you rested your hands on his shoulders, your tone questioning.

"shush, sweetheart," kenji silenced you with a kiss to your lips. your chest against his, both hearts beating in sync, "you're not going anywhere. and m'not gonna lose you to a kaiju baby, for god sakes,"

[miiroki]

𝘿𝙖𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙚𝙣 & 𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙘𝙚! 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧/𝙤𝙘

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥'𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢�� 𝘩𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯?

Warning: targcest, (niece and uncle) 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

one: ✶ two: ✶

It was in the wee mornings on a warm day that Prince Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the City, had been forced to partake in breaking fast with his family.

Consisting of his father Prince Baelon the Brave, his mother Alyssa Targaryen, his elder brother Prince Viserys, and his lady-wife, Aemma Arryn.

For a young prince of merely 16 name days old, Daemons world was small, and only consisted of his family, sword fighting, and Caraxes. His thoughts of marriage and husbandly duties were of no importance to him, and held no precedence in his mind.

Daemon walked the bustling halls of the Red Keep, his head held high as the servants, guards, and common men alike showed respect by bowing slightly to the young boy.

Reaching the dining room, he was welcomed with the smell of warm food, his mother calling out to him and patting the seat next to her.

Daemon quickly situated himself, readying his stomach for the food and quickly pounced on the meat pies across the table, slightly splashing Viserys’ beige tunic.

—

The day seemed to drag on for far to long. It was late into the afternoon that Daemon was made aware that he was now an uncle to two Targaryen babes.

The news had him running to the birthing chambers, where his brother and his wife sat, cooing at the whining twin girls.

Feeling awkward, Daemon stood rigid near the entrance of the large room.

“Brother, come. Would you like to see them” Viserys had hollered. If Daemon didn’t know any better he would have guessed that Viserys himself birthed the babes, he looked even more elated than Aemma did, which was hard to achieve.

Daemon shuffled quietly near the couple, and peered down at the babes. He couldn’t help but poke the cheek of the one in Viserys’ arms.

“Be gentle Daemon” Viserys somewhat scolded him.

Before Daemon could retreat his finger, the babe had grasped it with both her tiny hands, babbling quietly.

When Daemon broke free from her grasp, she started to wail, and wail she did. So he quickly extended his finger to satiate the crying newborn.

Viserys and Aemma let out a shared chuckle, before offering the babe for Daemon to hold.

“What if I drop it” He whispered.

“It is not an ‘it’ brother, her name will be Rhaella” Viserys stated while softly stroking the girls head, “and the youngest will be Rhaenyra”

Daemon reluctantly held the babe awkwardly in his arms, adjusting to fit to the curve of the squirming girl.

Once settled Rhaella quickly found comfort in her uncles arms, and fell asleep, chest slowly falling up and down. Daemon kept his eyes on her, and his gaze never faltered. He wasn’t much for babies and children, but he knew he’d adore his new niece.

Aemma giggled from her position of the bed, “Rhaella seems to be quite fond of her uncle already” she rocked the sleeping Rhaenyra calmly. “Let’s hope young Rhaenyra will feel the same way”

—

“Rhaella, come out!” A man’s voice had echoed in the gardens of the Red Keep, situated behind the throne room.

Daemon was now 1 and 20, while his darling niece was only a mere 5 name days old. She was currently playing with him by hiding in the palace bushes, that littered the gardens of the Red Keep.

“I’m coming to get you…” Daemon said tauntingly, knowing that Rhaella can hear him well thanks to her frenzied giggles, that bounced off the stone walls.

Daemon slowly stalked deeper into the garden, while his eyes followed a girl shaped shadow that darted from bush to bush.

He sighed and stopped in the middle of the grassy area, hands on his hips. “Where is that little girl? When I find her I'm going to gobble her up” he dramatically stated to himself, making sure he’s heard.

Rhaella had wanted to move to the bush to his far right but before she could leave her spot she was caught and lifted into the air.

“I got you now!” Daemon declared, lifting her by her arms and bringing her closer to his chest while he pretend to eat her dramatically like a dragon.

Rhaella’s giggles and laughter could be heard all throughout the halls of the Keep, as she flailed her arms and legs out, trying to escape the dragons grasp. “Not fair uncle” she whined, when Daemon finally settled her on his arms.

He grinned and laughed slightly, brushing parts of Rhaella’s hair away from her face. “Don’t you think your uncle is mighty and clever enough to find you wherever you are?”

Rhaella huffed and flopped into Daemons chest admitting defeat.

Daemon laughed louder as he held onto her tightly, bundling her up in his arms even as she giggled and squirmed.

[assortedvillainvault]

Disney villains reacting to you nonchalantly calling them your husband/wife please?

Sure thing Anon! You didn’t specify who, so I’m going to go for Hades, Jafar, and for funsies...Mim.

Disney Villains vs The Accidental Matrimonial Pet Name Slip Up

Hades

MHM!

Yeah baby flex his title, say his name! He can’t stop his flame from swooshing up and only barely resists the urge to pump his fist.

VERY likely to holler it across the street at random incidental strangers. Hey, you! Yeah schmuck you heard, he’s your HUSBAND, get it right!

Honestly he’s smiling like SUCH a goober, he can’t keep his hands off you now. Shoulders, waist, lower back – pretty much everything to say you’re an item without actually hollering it across the street like he just did to some poor bozo.

He’s also gonna swing you round into a big ol’ kissy and amp up the PDA.

Have you considered maybe matching outfits babe? Not- y’know, that he’s into ‘coordinated looks’ and all that garbage, but, know, maybe same pins? Same colours? Anything really, to mark you out as an item on his arm.

Much as he loves claiming you and making that abundantly clear, he’s also very much into being claimed in turn, y’know? Nice to know you’re proud of being with him, gets him all happy and excited. Loudly and proudly claim that he’s your husband in a public space (esp in front of his family) and he’s going to be an absolute sap for anything you wanna do.

Aphrodite has never seen such a lovestruck fool in all her life and honestly? She thinks half of Olympus could take notes on what love looks like after marriage from you two. Not that she’s ever going to say that when Hera is within earshot...

Jafar

He's startled... then sinks into a smug smile at how adorable you are.

Yes, he IS your husband, isn’t he? Why, he wouldn’t mind you saying it again, slower, maybe….

He’s one to get touchy, like Hades, but much more possessively. He’ll play with your hair, tug you close when you least expect it, and is a BIG fan of pulling you into his lap as a break from work.

Granted, he’s also very fond of subtly using his status as your husband to manipulate you into doing things for him. It IS your duty to him, after all…why is he holding his staff up like that-

Make sure to collaborate with Iago to push him down the stairs every once in a while to temper his ego. Put mousetraps on his side of the bed. Fill his shoes with sand and bat your eyes at him when he complains. Give and take.

He expects you to use your status as his partner for your own gain. Of course? Why wouldn’t you? Go on, tell the guards who you’re married to, see how quickly they get out of your way.

He’s also going to kiss you with tongue about it, but that’s a given.

Madam Mim

I have genuinely no idea if you’ve actually managed to get a ring on this menaces finger or just called her wifey for the vibes and a joke.

Regardless, she’ll blink owlishly...then a slow cheshire grin full of unpleasant promise and gleaming green eyes will split her face and honestly? You’re beyond help.

The Game has begun.

Will IMMEDIATELY use her wifey title to nag you then knock something over.

She’ll burst in to whatever room you’re in to trip you up, ‘straighten’ your clothes and force feed you a meal that could wrench whole kingdoms into developing indoor plumbing four centuries early.

The sound of mad old woman giggles is going to follow you everywhere you go.

If you chicken out and try to tell people she’s not your wife she will LOSE IT

Crying, wailing, screaming - throwing herself dramatically over public furniture to ‘cry’ about how you’ve betrayed her and how she ‘does so much for you’ and oh! The INGRATITUDE, taking advantage of a poor old woman-

Ants! Wardrobe full of ants for 10’000 years.

Thanks so much for the ask!!

[shotmrmiller]

okay so !!!! so what if you’re a jealous and possessive pet? like your boy tells you it’s okay to play with the other boys and the other pets and even encourages you like sucking their cock or riding them or eating out one of the other pets but the image of him doing that with someone else’s pet just shatters you. if they’re in a different room that’s bad but being able to see it happen is even worse. you can see the smile they give and the sounds they make and you thought you were special to them but it doesn’t feel like that — how would the boys reconcile something like that?

like knowing the other boys and pets are sharing and playing and you feel bad, especially when they’re all together and everyone is playing but your boy is the only one who’s not and it tears you up because you want him to enjoy and have fun but the thought of him kissing someone else or fucking them, finishing inside them… you could cry.

(bonus angst where one of the boys goes and visits another pet and comes back smelling like them, maybe marked and obviously fucked, and you hadn’t necessarily talked about that yet and it just crushes you and you refuse to sleep in the same bed as them for…. well, for awhile.)

UGH. YOU. I LOVE ANGST.

im a whore for hurt/no comfort so ill try to help write something here cuz if it was me, they can kick rocks. but its not. So.

for the first part, oh man. It's a bottle-it-in situation, imo, because i feel this in my soul. The low grunts you worked so hard to wrestle out of them are easily tumbling out of their mouth now, because of your hard work. It's something so gut-wrenching because that face of ecstasy should only be for you? Then the insecurities kick in. What if they're prettier, what if they're tighter, what if they're simply in another league altogether? (this is me as a hit dog that is hollering)

he's never treated your playdates as a chance to essentially cheat without cheating, he honestly only wanted you to make friends—wanted to expand on the kink you live and breathe by. But regardless, that's how it feels. And this is where the shutdown begins. The silence, the lack of enthusiasm for wanting to put on your collar, the distancing, and when he says, "Does my pet want to play with me today?" you burst into tears. Ugly sobbing, loud wails.

He freezes, for a second, because never in the time you've been together has he ever heard you cry like this. It's agonizing and when he immediately throws himself at your feet, he tries to cup your face with his large hands when you jerk yourself away from his touch.

You've never rejected his touch.

His heart cracks with hairline fractures because this is his love, his future that's falling into pieces in front of him and you don't even want his comfort. He lowers his hands and fists at the fabric of his trousers to hold back from reaching out to you.

For the first time in a long time, his eyes well with tears, and he swallows thickly, trying to open up his throat a bit to be able to say something, anything.

His voice warbles as he says, "Baby, talk to me." He gives you plenty of time to respond, but you don't. Once the tears are exhausted and your body is worn out, you simply turn your head to the side, eyes away from him. The tears that had distorted his vision now fall, dripping onto the cold floor he's still kneeling on. You don't even want to look at him.

"Talk to me, baby, please." His forehead touches your knee. "Please." His tone is desperate as he begs. The sight of a man who's killed people with his bare hands, sniveling by your feet pulls at your own heartstrings. Sigh.

"Would you like to know where you erred?" He whips his head up to look at you, nodding like an idiot.

"Your mistake, was assuming I wanted to share and be shared." He opens his mouth to say something, but you're not here to listen to him. He's here to listen to you.

"No. You presumed I wanted to the same as the other pets, just because we share the same kink? I had to sit there and watch— listen to you fuck someone else, and I couldn't say anything because then I would've been the buzzkill."

You clench your jaw and look directly into his eyes. "Do you know what it's like? No. You don't. You forget that the boys are your friends, your brothers in arms. Not mine. I sat with acquaintances, at best, and had to stomach whatever the fuck that was."

"I no longer wish to—" but he panics here, adapts a crazy-eyed look and cuts you off.

"No, no, no. Please, god no. You're my everything, you, I—" he hiccups, and his shoulders start to shake once he wraps his arms around your waist, and lowers his head onto your knees again, and chokes out, "I am nothing without you. Please."

Having cried all your tears, your sadness fades into sharp, biting anger. "It didn't seem like it though. You were quick to pass me around like some harlot. You're just gonna give me to anyone you see? Hm? What about the neighbor that has been hitting on m—" and he jerks his head back up, eyes deadly, dark with hostility.

"I'd fucking kill him for even having the audacity to ask if he could touch you the way I do."

Scoffing, you say, "And that's how I felt. Fucking strangers touching what should be only mine, kissing what is only mine," your tone turns hushed, "what I thought was mine, anyway."

Holding his gaze, you purse your lips. "I need time to think. You broke my trust. I'm not sure how to move forward from here."

--

this is too long im sorry uh, so he gives you all the time in the world, all the space you need, for which you're grateful. He's not overbearing, never crowds you. never says anything out of line. He seems fully repentant, dotes on you like his only reason for existing is to keep you as happy as you can feel. He tells you he loves you every bloody day, even if you don't repeat it back. He says it firm, unwavering.

And that's the balm that allays the pain in your heart. But you love him, still, so so much. With a deep breath, you tell him that you're not going to leave him, that you love him still and that's why it hurt the way that it did. But he'll have a ton of groveling to do.

The shaky smile he gives is full of relief. He pulls you to him, in an embrace so tight that you can barely even breathe. And after, he holds your face so tenderly, as if you're made of porcelain, and asks for a kiss, one you agree to. It conveys everything he's been sayings all this time, that he loves you.

and months pass, intimacy slowly turns back to what it was, but with reverent kisses and worship spilling from his lips. Words so sweet, that you break down in tears mid-act because you feel something finally shift back into place. Ofc, he freaks because "Darling, oh god, what's happened" but you pull him in for a kiss, and just tell him that you love him so much. His smile is soft as he says it back.

Then you pull out the collar again, and he panics but you calm him. That you feel ready. You want to play with your owner, and your heart is in his hands, to please take care of it.

A couple of tears fall from his eyes as he clicks your collar back around your neck and swears to never hurt you this way again.

Playdates turn into him being the only one to touch you and vice versa. And he answers to no one when they ask why.

i had a good time im sorry its so long I JUST LOVE ANGST PLEASE.

I hope i gave you what you were looking for ❤

[dood-itsradical]

Hoya? Goo drabble again? Chat help I didn't sleep at all today.

Opening your eyes from your slumber, your vision meets the ceiling. Letting out a big yawned, you then turned to your side.

"Morning, jagi." Goo grinned as you hollered in surprise and fell back off the bed. He peaked his head over to you as you groaned before standing up. "What the fuck?! What the hell are you doing here??"

He rested his arms back on his head, making himself comfortable on your bed with fully dressed in his expensive suit.

"Just checking in. How you doin'?"

You gave him a face. "The fuck does it looked like? How did you get in? You know what? Stupid question. Get the fuck out." You pointed with your thumb.

He pouted, "That's not so nice of you to say that to your wittle boyfwend."

Your eyes narrowed, "You're not my fucking boyfriend, you freak. You're not even my type."

He barked a laughed, "Okay, nice try but we both know you don't have a proper type. Besides what is 'type'? I'll do you one better. Best ideal type is money." He gestured dramatically.

"Name your prize. Dinner? New set of lingeries? Us finally hitting it off, huh huh?" Slightly pulling his glasses down while cocking his eyebrows coyly.

"Fuck you." You spat.

"Done." He leaned closer with a duck lips but you tossed a pillow to him which he dodged effortlessly.

"Let me rephrase that; fuck off." You stated firmly. "Just go back to your dummy boyfriend." He sighed, "Even Gun left me on read. Dude acts like he's on his period. I think he have a side chick with him."

"Don't come crying at me. Solve your own problem." You grumbled, getting back on your bed to continue sleeping. He wailed, "But I need a side chick too. I'll be a good boy."

At his words you opened one eye. Eventually agreed to his term in exchange of free feet massage from him.

Masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Best 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker

Summary: The newly-single sheriff sets his eye on an unexpected match.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The sheriff drives down the dusty backroad behind the Percy farm. You lean against the door, trying to keep as much space between you and him as you can. You're only thankful he hadn't made you ride in the back like a real criminal.

You know he's up to something. He's trying to teach you a lesson, but why? He could go bother Greta or any of the other girls down at The Horn. You give yourself a look in the side mirror and huff through your nose.

"Whatcha bein' so puffy about?" He reaches over and slaps your thigh, kneading it roughly.

You pull your leg away from him, crossing it over the other as you clutch the seatbelt, "is that illegal too?"

He chuckles and lets off the gas, slowly rolling through the gravel.

"You're sure mouthy, huh?"

"It's just a question--"

"You actin' so innocent but you can't control that tongue of yours," he tuts.

You sniff, "aren't we going to the station?"

"You're many things, darlin', but you're not dumb, are ya?" He asks as he brushes his fingertips down your arm. "I don't mind dropping charges... you just gotta loosen up."

You stiffen and clamp your lips tight. You knew he was a creep but does he have to be so obtuse? There's lots of girls dying to ride with the sheriff. You're just not one of them.

"Why don't you call Greta--"

"This ain't about her," he grabs your arm, trying to pull you towards him as the wheel veers.

"Sheriff," you cry out and he slams on the brakes.

"See the trouble you're causin'," he chides, "you're gonna get us both hurt."

"I'm not doing anything. I didn't do anything," you bluster, heat radiating across your cheeks, "please, just... why are you doing this?"

"I don't know why you're actin' coy," he sneers as he shifts into park and unclicks his seat belt, "I just want a taste. I saw the way you were eyein' me up. You don't gotta worry about that ditz, Greta, it's me and you, girl."

"Ew, stop--" You bat at his hand as he grips your arm tighter.

"Ew?!" He echoes, "now, you ain't gotta be nasty."

"I'm not... I just... don't know why you're doing this," you try to wriggle free, "sheriff, I really am not into you--"

"Ah, you don't know what you missin' out on, is the problem. She told me you never been with a man,"

"I did it, okay? I stole the gummy bears. Just take me to the station," you plead as he yanks on your arm, "I'll confess--"

"I don't care about the damn candy bears," he snarls and pushes you back against the seat, "just a little fun, huh?"

Before you can react, he bends over and dives head-first into your lap. You cry out as you grab at his head, trying to push him off as your other hand claws at the door. You catch the handle and the door swings out but you're trapped by the seat belt.

"Christ!" You holler as you bring your elbow down on the back of his head.

He grunts and you feel around, jamming your thumb down on the button, releasing the belt.You fall sideways out of the car and throw your hands up to catch yourself. You drag yourself onto the ground, kicking behind you in a panic as you feel Bodecker reaching for you. You don't have time to think about the siren wailing in your head; what the hell is wrong with him?

You roll onto your stomach and get your knees under you. You scrabble across the dirt as you fight to get your feet set. Before you can stand, you're bowled over. You cry out as the heavy metal cracks off the back of your head.

You fall into the ditch next to the road, tumbling down as the flashlight bounces beside you. You look up as the panting sheriff stands above you at the crest of the earth. You reach to hold your skull as he puffs out his stomach.

"That's assault on an officer, girly," he growls, "lot worse than a slap on the wrist for that."

He steps forward and stops as gravel crunches. You blink dizzily and babble. Tires cruise forward and stop on the other side of the road. You can't see anything as you struggle to push yourself up.

"Everything okay, Sheriff?" A voice calls out.

"All good," Bodecker turns, resting his hand on his gun. You freeze. "Just stretching my legs."

"Alright, well then, have a good one," the man calls out. You think it might be Cole from down the way but you can't know for sure.

The sheriff waits until the driver leaves before he turns back. You gulp and jump up, spinning to climb out the other side of the ditch. He hops across as you haul yourself up. He kicks you back down and you yelp as his foot knocks the air out of you.

"Now, we ain't gonna be doin' all that," he tramps down the incline and grabs you by the hair. "I see how you like it. Rough."

You groan and grab his wrist, whining as he tears on your roots, "please--"

"Oh, don't you worry, you'll be begging real good," he turns you over to your stomach and straddles you, dropping your head as you writhe. He bends your arms back and cuffs them tight, the metal pinching your skin. "Ya know, you can just ask ya friend, I can be nice..." he grits, "just too bad you can't.”

[eldritch-spouse]

What if Catalina had a human coworker that genuinely wanted to be her friend? And put themselves between her and demons when they felt it necessary?

You're what she needs.

It doesn't really matter how you ended up working there, you just needed one look at Catalina to know that something was very, very wrong.

It's not even that she's having a hard time as a waitress. Not at all. In fact, she seems plenty capable of defending herself when others holler and attempt to touch the small, voluptuous bat woman. You'd even say she's gleefully violent at times. It's that she never smiles.

Never a true smile, never a genuine look of amusement. You ask about her plans at the end of the day and she always has some variation of "nothing much" prepared. No one calls her, the regulars don't get too close to her, she didn't even seek you out at first, only bothering to teach you the basics of your new job before promptly detaching and doing her own tasks.

Fair, you suppose not everyone is at work to get chummy. After all, she was perfectly polite to you, until it was near closing hours and you could smell the alcohol on her, Catalina would mumble some replies that almost sounded rude, but whatever. You didn't mind, it wasn't your business. Maybe you even let her get away with some things because of how pretty you thought she was.

Your dynamic was dry and strained by the obligatory nature of work.

Until a certain day.

A band of infernal clients walked in. Nothing new to you, but the way Cat immediately tensed and avoided them like the plague was jarring. For the first time ever, she didn't look drained or exhausted or irritated- She looked terrified. You'd notice the scornful glances the woman would sometimes spare halflings or demonic people, but the difference between those moments and this one, was that there were at least five of them together now. Large men with loud voices to match. They seemed perfectly normal, in good moods actually, but she was giving them a deer in the headlights look, frozen, as if they had come to tear her apart.

You realized then that your coworker wasn't just mildly racist, there was history behind her attitude.

In the moment, you merely stepped in front of Catalina and waited the clients yourself, gently calling out her name and suggesting she go eat something inside because she seemed "pale".

She stayed in the back throughout the entire time those demons were hanging around, huddled in a corner, tail between her legs. The woman felt distant, eyes staring off beyond the walls, though her massive ears twitched at every little noise. You'd warn Catalina every time you were coming in and out of the back area, and waited every client until they were gone, letting the bat woman recover.

As soon as they're gone, your coworker rises as if nothing had happened, and easily returns to the prior work rhythm. She doesn't mention a thing, neither do you. At the end of your shift, Catalina looks even drunker than usual, but she manages to waddle her way to you and grab onto the edge of your shirt as she thanks you, gaze averted. She probably wouldn't have made it out of that corner if it wasn't for you.

Curiosity struck you then.

You had to ask. You had to know what was going on.

It didn't take much prodding for her to toss a glass bottle away and start blubbering everything out. She told you who she was before, who she had met in Hell, who bewitched her into a life of immeasurable luxury and who betrayed her as soon as things got serious, as soon as her own child was conceived. Catalina all but soaks your clothes in miserable tears as she chokes past the part of what she had to do, how she had to abandon her own only son and live hidden like a cockroach. How everything is killing her.

The emotional stress, paired with her heavy inebriation, has the woman crying out for her son while you rock her. She sniffles and wails and sobs until there's nothing left, and you realize, Catalina is asleep in your arms.

There was no way you could leave her alone in this state. Which led to a very awkward night where you let her crash on your couch, hear d her get up to vomit in the middle of the night and offered her some meds.

She was gone by the time you were finally able to catch some sleep. You found Catalina back at work, and her demeanor towards you had shifted from night to day.

Nowadays, the woman actually smiles at you with real joy. She chats you up when there are less clients around, helps you with heavier trays, even protects you from some less respectful cat-callers and pervs. In turn, you offer her the company she now desperately seems to crave, and serve all infernal clients on your own.

It's kind of silly how she's started to baby you recently, insisting on fixing your outfit and bringing you stuff she cooks, insisting you need to try it. Catalina even asks why so many people are constantly calling you at work, gets in the middle of conversations with clients as if to gently shoo them. Sometimes it's nice, other times a bit unnecessary.

She asked if you wanted to go watch a movie today. From the franchise on that shirt you sometimes wear before changing into the work uniform. It's very thoughtful of her to remember such a small detail. Of course you're going with her.

[leviathanleva]

Sugar Bomb

Pairing: Findlay 'Hazard' Docherty x Fem!Reader

Description: When a gig goes wrong, Hazard is brought back barely breathing. You're left with both fighting for his life and keeping yourself from completely breaking down.

[Blood and Injury]

[2.4 k words]

Chapter 4

Every mission had a chance to go astray. Every time the crew left you worried your little self until a headache bloomed in your skull. But you trusted them, knew they’d always come back to you, no matter how bad it went and how close to dying they had been, they’d always come home.

Now wasn’t any different. They all came back, you just didn’t expect them to be dragging Hazard along like a corpse while blood and Vanadium trailed behind them. You nearly sank to your knees at the sight, threw up your dinner all over the floor as a panic attack wracked your bones, and simultaneously twisted every nerve in your body.

It all happened quickly, but seeing him in such a state, looking at him slumped over both BoomSlang and JackDaw’s shoulders, felt like an eternity. Your very own slow-motion hell was unfolding itself right before your eyes as you tried to process what the hell had happened.

Whatever plans you’d had for the rest of the night were canceled and Touch-Up was dragged to the makeshift infirmary immediately.

Your mind was screaming, hands shaking as you fetched whatever was needed to stop the bleeding – gauze, towels, stitches, anything to clog the seeping wounds. You didn’t notice the tears streaming down your face until they plinked softly against his torn shoulder.

“What happened?” You manage to croak out while pressing down on an oozing gash, desperate to stop more of his essence from spilling out.

They all looked beaten down – bruises, cuts, Susie was missing her fucking leg. They were all in need of treatment, but compared to Hazard, they’d gotten off lightly. They’d brought him home half-dead.

“S-set up. They set us up…Haz took the big blow so we could escape.” BoomSlang rasps while tending to her gushing palm and hissing when the disinfectant makes contact with her tender flesh. Her eyes lift to you and she bites the inside of her cheek to keep her lips from quivering. “We tried to stop him, babe. We really did.”

“Drill – ”

“ – I don’t understand, we did everything right – ”

The world begins to spin, the ground beneath your feet begins to quiver and in the center of it all is the unconscious Scotsman who’s a living, breathing massacre painting. It all makes you nauseous, you want to throw up all over again. You’re forced to swallow back bile just to keep from doing so.

“ – It’s not your fault – ”

“ – Driiil – ”

“ – I double-checked all of Susie’s intel, I – I did every – ”

“ – Rookie!” Touch-Up hollers at you, and snaps her fingers fervently in your face as you sob uncontrollably. “Focus on your task. We fuck this up and you’ll have more to cry over. Now quit it and give me the drill!”

Her words shake you to the very core and it takes all your might not to break down and crumble to the floor. But she’s right, she needs you, Findlay needs you.

“Yes.” You force out, and swallow the snot and tears that are trickling down your tongue. “Yes, ma’am!”

You’re rushing through the tiny infirmary as Hazard lays limply on the operating table. Drill, gauze, disinfectant, metal plating, cables, screwdrivers, and anything Touch-Up needed was placed in her waiting hand within seconds. You wiped your lashes again and again in your sleeve, but the waterworks kept going, the sobbing wouldn’t stop although now it had evolved into sharp gasps for air and tormented wails. Beads formed on your foreheads as the minutes ticked by, your whole body was damp with sweat and soon enough you had thrown off your top and clambered around in just a thin tank top.

You tried your best to help the others while assisting Findlay’s treatment – cotton balls were pressed into cuts, lathered in Rivanol, wounds being hastily taped up until the next tool you were asked to fetch. Thankfully all of them suffered from minimal damage, there was nothing that needed immediate treatment aside from a cleanup and wrapup.

Susie left first, murmuring that she’d see to her scratches herself, find a way to reattach her leg with the instruments she had on hand, then BoomSlang bade herself stable enough to go to bed and quit being in the way. Lastly, JackDaw wished you good luck after you were done sealing a nasty slash on his thigh, he pulled his jeans back up, gave your shoulder a reassuring pat that everything would be okay, and then left.

It was just you and Touch-Up now, bless her and her skills, she was slowly working towards saving your beloved anarchist, she was doing miracles. You tended to Hazard’s milder wounds while she repaired his arm, made sure to wipe the sweat off her forehead because she was too concentrated and his condition was too dire for her to care.

You wish there was more you could do than patch up cuts and hand her tools, but she was the expert and even if you could, your emotions were too turbulent for you to be trusted to do much beyond only surface-level damage control.

The night turned into early dawn, the sky outside the infirmary window was slowly blooming into a ruddy pink, the sun wasn’t yet peeking over the horizon, still too sleepy to bother.

Instead of being sullen in a corner and waiting for the next order, you decide to risk leaving Touch by herself for a few minutes and head to the kitchen to make you both a cup of much-needed coffee. The place was dead silent, everyone was asleep, you decided against turning on the lights in the corridor and kitchen, instead letting the weak dawn hues guide you.

You can remember the last time you pulled an all-nighter, maybe in college before an exam, or at your first job interview, having been too stressed to get a wink of sleep. You weren’t a kid anymore though and the consequences showed – achy limbs, burning, itchy eyes, a fuzzy mind, a slight numbness to your senses.

The coffee machine whirrs to life and you lean against the counter with a sigh, still wobbly on your feet and with a knotted stomach.

You know Touch-Up is a genius, you know she’ll do her best to help yet worry still gnaws at your gut and you don’t have the strength to fight it off anymore. You let it consume you, prepare for the worst.

There had been so much blood…

You’d never seen Hazard in such a state before. The sight had broken something inside you, the anxiety was overwhelming, and the waiting, while he was unconscious, was worse than any torture method you’d ever heard of.

Would he even wake up?

Would he be able to recover completely or be left even more of a cripple than he already was?

It didn’t matter to you, you’d love him all the same, but the burden might be too much for him to bear, he’d already suffered so much and lost nearly everything before. You didn’t want him to go through such trauma all over again, even if you were ready to be there for him.

The coffee machine beeps and you push the intrusive thoughts away before retrieving two mugs and filling them to the brim. Steam comes off the dark liquid and you take a long whiff to try and calm your nerves before heading back to the infirmary.

The walk back is excruciating, the silence is deafening, the darkness is unbearable, but you try to keep your spirits up, someone needs to. Subtly not to wake anyone up, you make your way back with the two coffees in each hand. Your eyes are scanning over the floor for nothing in particular, taking in the carpet that needs a good scrub, it’s littered with footprints. Pictures hang from the walls, past events, some of which you were a part of, good memories, they comfort you in that moment of cold reality.

You squint when the automatic door slides open. The blazing white lights nearly blind you.

“Oi, bonnie.”

You’re greeted with a grin shining brighter than the lights glaring down on its owner.

You want to chuck the mugs at his face, but instead, you clench your teeth until your jaw starts burning.

“Fancy meet’n ya here.”

“You almost died, Haz.” You manage to whisper as you set both mugs down and motion for Touch-Up to take whichever. You sit on your little wheely chair next to him, making it squeak and slightly roll to one side under your sudden weight. There’s a lump at the base of your tongue that you can’t seem to get rid of, your hands are clammy and trembling, you’re a mess. “Findlay…”

You swallow thickly as you take in his grazed chin and swollen eye.

“ ‘S fine. I’ll be a’right.” He soothes, but even his voice sounds strained with pain.

And just like that, the tears come back in full force and you bow your head to hide from him. Your hands clasp together in your lap, fingers clinging to each other so hard your knuckles turn bone white.

You see his body slightly shift, leaning closer to you as a strained grunt manages to escape despite his clenched jaw.

“Fuck you.” You snarl. “Fuck you. No it’s not fine. You’re not fine!”

You were ready to beat him to a pulp if only he wasn’t so broken already.

“You almost fucking died!”

Touch-Up smells the argument brewing, takes the hint and despite her work not being finished, she gives you a look, takes her coffee, and leaves you the privacy of the infirmary. You watch her walk out and the door slides shut behind her, her footsteps echo deftly, then there’s nothing but the Scotsman’s labored breathing and you meager sobs.

“ Ey now…Is okay, hen.” He coos and reaches up with blood-stained fingers to wipe the angry tears off your cheeks. Your face is ravaged by rage, terror, and dread, and all he can do is offer words to feed your devastated soul and torn-up psyche. “Am still here ain’t I?”

“And what if you weren’t?” You bark back, spit flies out of your mouth and sticks to your bottom lip, slapping his affectionate caress away because you wanted to and deserved to be enraged. You’re convulsing with sobs of fright, but you face him now, let him see everything he’s done to you over the past few hours. He deserves to suffer just as you suffered. “What if they couldn’t drag you back home?” You manage to string together words coated in bitter poison, stab him verbally over and over again and you didn’t care that he was already hurting because if you had lost him, you’d have lost everything. “What if you had your whole face blown off?”

“Then I’d get a brand neu faceplate!” He jokes back, trying to lighten the mood, make you crack a small smile even if it was brief. “Twins with Susie ‘n all tha’.”

But you don’t budge, though. The tears keep coming, reddened eyes stare at him with malice, eyebrows tremble, fingers shake and lips part but aside from hiccupped wails, nothing else comes.

His chest tightens at the pitiful sight, he wants to sit up properly and squish you until you’ve cried your fill and fallen asleep on him just like you had the first time you’d met. He wants to be there for you, take your sorrow away, and make it his, to hell with it, he’s already in so much pain, what’s a little more going to do?

You’re his wee hen, his little ray of warmth, you deserve better than to watch him crumpled up like an old tissue on an operating slab, barely able to move. He’d done it for you, he didn’t want you to lose more people when you’d just joined their family, but he didn’t know he was the one you feared losing the most.

He reaches out again, but you dodge his hand with a hiss, then punch him weakly in the arm.

“Fucking idiot.”

“Ow, ow. Easy nao.” Findlay pulls back, lets his arm fall to his side. Denial hurts more than any wound he’s ever had to bear, but he can swallow all that if it means you’ll be okay in the end.

“I thought I lost you…” Your eyes lower to his hand; you place yours over his and let loose a shaky breath.

He twists his wrist, wraps his fingers around your hand, encasing it into his palm as his thumb rubs gentle circles into your skin. You will yourself to entangle your fingers with his, it’s a silly difference both in softness and in size, but to you it’s just perfect. You even almost smile, his hand is warm, it feels like home, it is home. He is home.

You’d nearly lost your home again, the thought was unimaginable, it pained you to even consider it. But it’s fine now, he’s safe, he’s with you, you can feel his touch, his scent. He’s here.

“Nevar.” He says softly, tries to catch your gaze. “Nevar gonna lose me.”

“Promise me.”

“Ah promise.” A single nod, then you feel a tug on your wrist and watch him like a bystander as he pulls you forward until you’re draped over his upper body like a blanket. “Commi ‘ere.” He beckons tenderly and you need no further persuasion to wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his neck as he presses his nose to your hair, inhaling deeply and letting out a haggard breath, one of relief. “Just wanna smell ya. Y’ smell like home.”

“I love you, you fucking idiot…”

You nuzzle into him, closer, warmer, more of him, you can’t get enough of the smell of gunpowder, metallic blood, and an aroma that’s specifically him. He murmurs something delightful into your hair, but you don’t understand, instead, you nod in acknowledgment and squeeze your eyes shut, letting his being engulf you completely, listening intently to his breathing, his soft hums of comfort.

“I love you, Findlay…”

You wish you could bring yourself to say those words now more than ever, but they’re stuck in your throat, they’re scared to come through and let him know that even if the whole world turned against him, you’d be right by his side. You didn’t care for anyone or anything, all you needed was him.

Your hazard.

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