#like it is already fucked up and miserable?

[princesseilish]

PARROT

Billie Eillsh x Fem!Mom!Reader

Warnings: slight swearing, use of y/n? a pinch of funny

Synopsis: billie couldn’t help herself, and now Rosie can’t help herself either

It was supposed to be a simple grocery trip.

Y/N had explicitly instructed Billie to keep it together. They were just grabbing a few things for Rosie’s upcoming second birthday party—balloons, snacks, maybe a cake mix. Nothing complicated, nothing that should’ve been an issue. But Y/N should’ve known better.

“Babe, do we need more of that organic juice Ro likes?” Billie called from the next aisle, pushing the cart with Rosie sitting happily inside, her tiny hands wrapped around the bar.

Y/N, examining a box of birthday candles, glanced over. “Yeah, grab a couple bottles. The mango one.”

“Got it.”

It was going fine. Too fine, actually.

Until they hit the produce section.

Billie was trying to grab a bundle of bananas from the display when, naturally, the entire pyramid of fruit decided to betray her. A bunch tumbled to the floor with a loud thud, rolling in every direction. Billie, already flustered, muttered under her breath, “What the fuck.”

Y/N’s head snapped up like she’d been electrocuted.

“Billie,” she hissed, eyes darting to their daughter.

But it was too late.

Rosie, wide-eyed and always eager to mimic her favorite person in the world, opened her tiny mouth and proudly repeated, “What the fuh!”

Y/N’s soul left her body.

Billie froze, bananas still in hand, her face a perfect mix of horror and disbelief. “Oh, shit.”

“Billie!” Y/N practically dropped the candles as she rushed over, grabbing Rosie from the cart like she could somehow squeeze the word right out of her.

Rosie giggled, thinking it was all a fun game. “What the fuh! What the fuh!”

Y/N’s jaw clenched so tight she thought her teeth might crack. She turned slowly to Billie, who was trying—and failing—not to laugh.

“Billie Eilish,” Y/N said in a tone that could curdle milk, “what the actual fuck—I mean—heck—heck is wrong with you?!”

Billie bit her lip, attempting to stifle a snort but failing miserably. “Babe, I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to?” Y/N’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as she pointed at their gleeful toddler. “Her second birthday is in three days. Do you really want our daughter to be the kid who blows out her candles and yells ‘what the fuh!’ in front of everyone?”

Rosie clapped her hands excitedly. “What the fuh!”

Y/N shot Billie a glare so sharp it could’ve sliced through steel. “No, Ro, that’s a no-no word. Bad Billie.”

Billie winced like she’d been physically slapped. “Hey, c’mon, it’s not like I taught her on purpose.”

Y/N set Rosie back in the cart and grabbed the bananas out of Billie’s hands with a dramatic huff. “You’re on cleanup duty. And you’re explaining this to my mom if Ro slips up.”

Billie groaned, rubbing the back of her neck. “Your mom already thinks I’m a bad influence.”

“Well,” Y/N muttered, pushing the cart down the aisle, “now she has proof.”

Later that night, after Rosie was tucked in—without uttering any forbidden words, thank God—Billie shuffled into their bedroom looking like a guilty puppy.

Y/N was curled up with a book, doing her best to ignore Billie’s presence, even as Billie flopped dramatically onto the bed beside her.

“Babe,” Billie whined, nudging Y/N’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

Y/N didn’t look up from her book. “You corrupted our daughter.”

Billie groaned, rolling onto her back. “It was an accident! I swear, I’ll fix it.”

Y/N finally glanced at her, arching an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And how exactly do you plan on fixing that?”

Billie grinned, pulling Y/N’s book out of her hands and tossing it onto the nightstand. “Simple. I’ll just teach her other words to say instead.”

Y/N sighed, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Like what?”

Billie sat up, her face serious. “Like… ‘What the fudge!’ Or ‘What the flip!’” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Or we could go full grandma and teach her to say, ‘Oh, sugar!’”

Y/N finally laughed, shoving Billie’s shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love me.” Billie grinned, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “And I love you. And Ro. Even if she’s a tiny parrot.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her heart melted all the same. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Billie wrapped her arms around Y/N, pulling her into her chest. “Lucky? Nah, I’m just smart. I got you and Ro, didn’t I?”

Y/N sighed, snuggling into Billie’s warmth despite herself. “Just… try not to turn her into a sailor before preschool, okay?”

Billie chuckled, kissing the top of Y/N’s head. “Deal. But if she slips up… I’m blaming you for teaching her ‘heck.’”

Y/N groaned, but she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. Life with Billie might’ve been chaotic, but it was theirs—bad words, bananas, and all.

[ladywaffles]

A little ditty about the first time Maverick preened Ice’s wings for him… thanks for letting me play in your sandbox! :)

It happens during Ice’s molt, the year they decide to call a spade and spade and stopped leaving before dawn. They send their second class back out to sea three days before Ice molts. Maverick has been an instructor for almost a year, but this is Ice’s first molt as an instructor.

He’s not unused to flying, but it’s been a while since he’s put this many hours in the sky, pulling the maneuvers that Top Gun teaches. He wakes up at three in the morning with an itch in his wings that makes him want to crawl out of his own skin.

It’s hell.

Ice trudges to the bathroom and closes the door before he flicks the light on, careful to make sure that it doesn’t bleed out through the doorway and wake Maverick up. If one of them has to be awake and miserable at oh-dark-thirty in the morning, there’s no sense in the other one suffering when they’re in between cohorts.

He gets a look at his wings in the mirror, and it’s rough. He hasn’t looked this bad since he was nineteen and putting himself through the rigor of daily PT in Annapolis. Sighing, he stretches a wing out and starts plucking at the dead feathers, massaging them out until they fall to the floor. It’s a mind-numbing task, especially in the middle of the night when he could be in bed, pressed against the warm line of Maverick’s body next to his, but he knows well enough that he won’t be able to fall asleep until he’s worked most of the way through his wings.

He’s just about to reach for the awkward part by his shoulder when the bathroom door swings open.

Maverick looks about as tired as Ice feels. His hair is rumpled, sticking straight up on one side of his head, and he blinks in the harsh light from the bathroom vanity like a drunk trying to focus on walking in a straight line.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Maverick squints at him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Ice says.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Maverick pouts.

Ice stares at him blankly. It’s too goddamn early (late?) for him to figure out what Maverick wants from him.

“It’s the middle of the night, Mav, you should be asleep,” he says.

“We should be asleep,” Maverick replies and drags him out of the bathroom with a steel grip on his wrist. He makes it all the way to the edge of the bed, pushes down on Ice’s shoulders until he’s sitting on the ground, then sits on the mattress with Ice between his legs.

“Maverick, I can take care of this, really, go back to sleep,” Ice tells him.

“Will you just shut up already and let me get on with it so we can both go back to bed,” Maverick grumbles.

Ice does as he’s told and shuts up. Maverick’s already irritable enough, and Ice doesn’t want to piss him off more.

Mav is faster than he is at working the dead feathers free. It helps that he’s got a better vantage point and can actually reach all of Ice’s wing without contorting his arms into twisted poses, but Maverick really is better at preening than Ice is. It feels nice, to have Mav’s nimble fingers running through his feathers. It’s a good feeling on a normal day, when they’re cleaning up after a day of blasting the kids out of the sky, but when he’s molting and every feather out of place is that much more annoying? Ice would bottle the sensation if he could.

He doesn’t realize how deep he’s out of it until his cheek smacks into Mav’s thigh. Ice jerks up, his wings puffing out as he snaps awake.

“You undid it all,” Maverick moans. “Will you just calm down and let me work?” He pushes in between Ice’s shoulder blades until Ice relaxes, then threads his fingers through Ice’s almost-too-long hair and guides it back to rest on his leg.

“No, I want to stay awake,” Ice protests. “You’re awake too, I woke you up—”

“Kazansky, I would not be here if I didn’t want to be,” Maverick says.

“But—”

“Let me take care of you, Ice.”

Ice wants to twist around and look at him, but Maverick curls his own wings around them both, cocooning them away from the rest of the world. It’s hard to fight the lure of comfort then, so Ice lets himself melt into Maverick as he works through the molting feathers.

He falls asleep at some point, and it’s nearly dawn by the time that Mav tugs him into bed properly and drags them both under the covers. Ice drapes himself over Maverick, their chests pressed together, until Maverick winds his arms around Ice’s body and holds him close.

“Thank you, love you,” Ice mumbles, straight into Maverick’s skin.

“Tell me again when you’re awake, hotshot,” Maverick says.

///

The sunshine wakes him up properly. It’s mid-morning, and Maverick is already awake, scratching his fingers along the base of Ice’s wings.

“Good morning, grumpy,” Maverick teases.

“Don’t stop,” Ice whines, tucking his head under Mav’s chin. He feels Maverick’s laugh in his chest, but Maverick does as Ice asks and runs his hands over Ice’s back.

“You could’ve woken me up,” Ice says.

“Funny, I think I said the same thing to you last night.”

Ice lifts his chin enough to look at Maverick. “I didn’t want to bother you,” he says.

“Am I sleeping in your bed?”

“Mav—”

“It’s a yes or no question. Am I sleeping in your bed?”

“Yes.”

“How long have I been doing that?”

“Four months, give or take.”

“In the past four months, have I ever given you the idea that I don’t want to be here?”

“No.”

“Logic and clear thinking would indicate then that I want you to bother me by walking me up when you’re uncomfortable, wouldn’t it? Because it wouldn’t be a bother.” Maverick cups his cheek. “C’mon, Kazansky. I know you’re Mister Ice-Cold-No-Mistakes, but I think you’ve got room for me. I want to be here. Let me be here for you.”

“Thank you,” Ice says. He doesn’t know what else to say. “It’s… been a while since someone did that for me. I usually just ride it out myself.”

“Two fuckin’ years since we met, and you never thought to ask for my help?” Maverick grins.

Ice tries to think of a retort, then last night comes back to him in crystal clear picture, like the sky above the Pacific on a cloudless day.

He knows exactly what to say.

“I get it. I know why you want me to wake you up when I’m up and uncomfortable,” Ice says, pushing his weight onto his elbows so he can hold himself above Maverick.

“Yeah? What is it then?” Maverick asks.

“I love you.”

He watches as Maverick passes through a carousel of emotions in a matter of moments.

“You said to tell you again when I was awake,” Ice continues.

“I did say that, didn’t I,” Maverick replies, breathless. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“If you keep talking to me like that, we’re not gonna make it out of bed in time for lunch,” Maverick says.

“Promise?”

There’s a playful glint in Maverick’s eye, the same one Ice saw the day he asked for a flyby for two.

Ice smiles back. “Love you.”

First post of the new year (even though I started this pic in december shhhh)

and what a surpise, it's more wing!au :) I just like the juxtaposition of admiral Kazansky (2 star here), polished to such perfection even his feathers are gleaming, versus just Ice, casual, rumpled feathers being diligently seen to by his loving partner.

Maverick has trouble sitting still usually, but preening Ice like this gets him to focus like nothing else (except for when he's flying a jet, of course)

[kind-of-a-writer]

the usual

Gator Tillman x fem!reader Gator takes you in the shitty bathroom at your shitty job. wc: 3k a/n: hello i am back missed y'all sm<3 lmk if i missed a tag.

contains: mean gator, power play, harassment, name-calling, bathroom sex, p in v, creampie, slight dubcon if you squint?, rough sex

The bar wasn’t known for its quality, to say the least. And nor were you its finest waitress. But the alcohol was cheap, which attracted even cheaper people, and things conveniently managed to slip under the radar around here. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but you needed it to get by, and that’s all that mattered. 

Which, of course, had all come crashing down today. Your boss had pulled you aside before your shift, saying tonight was going to be your last shift. Something about not working hard enough, receiving ‘one too many complaints’ from one of the regulars. When you asked who it was, all he said was that it was one of the cops that frequented the bar.

You knew exactly who your boss was talking about, and it angered you like you couldn’t believe. 

Truth be told, you couldn’t give a shit, and there was no denying that. It was a shitty fucking job at a shitty bar. You earned just enough to pool together your hourly minimum wage and the crappy tips to be able to afford rent. But it was a job, it was something at least. Now you had nothing, and it was all thanks to that stupid deputy who found amusement in your misery.

It was another long, dreadful night. You had grown accustomed to the loud music and dim lights by now; this job had been your routine for months. Still, your feet were aching and your head was starting to pound, and your shift was nowhere over tonight. At least it’d be your last. Except, that meant you had nowhere else to turn, and even landing this shitty job had taken you so long. Still, you had to suck it up for the next few hours.

The bar wasn’t slow, but it was a Thursday night. Not exactly packed either, which meant less tips. You wished your boss had at least given you till the end of the week, but there was nothing you could do. He’d already hired someone new, she was replacing you tomorrow.

You had heard him and his friends enter before you even turned, they somehow had managed to be louder and more infuriating than the shitty bar music. They were rowdy, loud, messy, and the worst kind of table you’d want on a night like this. Or any night, really. But tonight specifically. You didn’t want to see him, the reason you had gotten fired. 

Gator Tillman was, of course, leading the pack of cops, with his stupid deputy vest and cargo pants as he strutted into the bar with confidence. His hair was slicked back, albeit starting to come undone. They must’ve just gotten off work. 

Unfortunately for you, Gator and his group of dumbfucks were regulars, often making your already-excruciating shifts more miserable. Often claiming you’d got their order wrong, whistling at you like a dog or yelling at you to catch your attention, bumping into you and spilling drinks on the floor which they’d relish in watching you mop up. It was worse when the bar was packed; full of drunk sweaty men who didn’t take kindly to the floor being sticky.

And Gator was, of course, the worst of them all. You’d never hated someone more. Even the sleazy customers who’d grab at your ass or hit on you were manageable; you knew how to handle them. But there was no handling Gator. He was, quite literally, the law. It was his way, or you were getting no tip (not that he was very generous), or a drink spilled on your clothes or shoes.

With a deep breath in, you approached the table, hoping tonight would have semblance of normalcy - whatever normal was with him.

He was the first to notice you, his signature smirk plastered on his face when you approached. “There she is,” Gator drawled, as if he was excited to see you. Excited to ruin your night probably. Well, the joke was on him. Tonight couldn’t get any worse. He seemed to notice the fatigue in your stance, reaching out and tugging on your half apron harshly. “This new?”

You tried to step away, but his grip only tightened, as if he had anticipated your move. 

“What can I get you guys?” you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral. Subtly, you glanced down at your outfit. You were wearing a white t-shirt and a little red skirt, nothing too special. But you were irritated, how did he know it was new?

“The usual, a round of beers for everyone,” Gator replied, his fingers still digging into your skirt. “I like this on ya, sugar. Though I gotta say, it does make you look a little slutty. Or d’you like that? Is it gettin’ ya a lot of tips?” 

You wanted to yell at him, call him names. Your patience tonight was already at an all-time low, and it didn’t help that his friends were cocksuckers who loved giggling at every single thing Gator did to piss you off or rile you up. But you held it in; you didn’t want to cause a scene and your shift to end early. You couldn’t afford to miss out on any cash now; even the minimum wage you received hourly at this stupid fucking job. 

With a tight-lipped smile, you turned away. You guessed that was a mistake, because his hand dug down into your tights, causing it to tear with a loud rip. You glanced down in disbelief.

“Oops,” he said smugly while his friends laughed loudly, causing your cheeks to burn. “Butterfingers.” 

Maybe it was the fact that you had just been fired tonight, or maybe it was that you were tired of Gator’s antics, but your eyes stung with tears. Before he or his dumbass friends could notice and give you shit for it, you turned away quickly, walking to the bar. 

You returned with their drinks, sliding over the glasses of beer. In the corner of your eye, you could tell Gator was watching you closely, but you pretended not to notice. God, you wanted tonight to be over. 

With another forced smile, you had started to turn away. But Gator wouldn’t make your life that easy. Swiftly, he lifted his beer and splashed onto your chest and down your skirt, the cold liquid making you flinch. Your ears were starting to ring, overwhelmed by the sounds of his friends laughing like he was the funniest man ever; their leering eyes on you as your white shirt clung against your bra, the beer seeping into the fabric.

“Oh, clumsy,” said one of Gator’s friends with a sneer. “Givin’ us a real nice view though.”

Frustration bubbling up, you turned to look at him, your lips parted to cuss at him. “You fucking asshole,” you snapped before you could help yourself, stepping back. That caused a low whistle from someone in the group. You’d surprised even yourself. “You’re so-”

Gator blinked up at you with a scarily blank expression, as if challenging you to say anything else. The clench of his jaw shut you up, and you walked away to grab a rag. 

After you were done with cleaning up the table and floor, Gator and his friends watching with amusement, you had finally managed to enter the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

Your cheeks were burning with humiliation and you were almost trembling with anger. You didn’t know why; you were used to Gator being an asshole. It was nothing new. 

Dabbing at your skirt with wet tissues, you knew it was a lost cause. You were going to have to endure being sticky and stinking of beer for the rest of the night. 

You glanced up when the door swung open hard, hitting against the wall with a loud thump. In strided Gator. 

“You’ve got a mouth on ya tonight, huh?” he asked, watching you continue to dab at your soaked skirt. “What, you think you can swear at me-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Gator blinked, momentarily surprised. He was closer now, leaning against the sink beside you. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this; fiery and snappy. For the sake of your job, you’d mostly managed to keep your mouth shut and endure his stupid little games. But now, you couldn’t give less of a fuck. You wanted to offend him, make him feel as angry as you were.

To your surprise, however, Gator was suddenly grinning, as if he found all of this very amusing.

“Ah, look who’s finally snapped,” he smirked. “There’s that bitchy attitude.”

You turned back to your skirt. You snatched your hand away when he tried taking the tissues from you. “Fuck off, Gator. I’m not in the mood.” 

“Jesus, what crawled up your ass?” he questioned, eyebrows furrowed. “Just tryin’ to help your sweet little ass clean up, it’s a sexy fuckin’ skirt.” 

Before you could register what you were doing, your palm made contact with his cheek, the loud smack echoing through the walls of the bathroom. He let out a soft grunt, clearly caught-off guard. “Fuck you.”

He didn’t move. His jaw clenched as he towered over you, taking a step closer. “Try that again and see where it’ll land you.”

“This is all your fault!” you snapped. “Because of you, I’m getting fired, and you always have to be a fuckin’ asshole-”

“Whoa, hey, whoa,” he smirked. “It’s not my fault you’re a shitty waitress. Y’know, maybe if you flashed a smile once in a while, you wouldn’t be getting fired.”

You knew that was partially true, but you were too blinded by rage to even care. 

“Fuck off, Gator, I know it was you who complained to my boss.”

“Look, it ain’t my-” He shot you a confused look, pausing. “What the fuck are you even talkin’ about?”

“Stop fuckin’ lying, I know it was you. My boss told me it was one of the cops.” You lifted your arm again to slap him, but he was faster. 

Gator grabbed your wrist before it could reach his face, his fingers digging into your flesh. “Now,” he said lowly, his eyes darkened, “normally, I might’ve felt sympathy for a hot thing like you gettin’ fired, but you’re pissing me off.”

You squirmed, trying to lift your leg to knee him, but he was quick to push you back.

“You’re really askin’ for it, huh?” he grunted, all the amusement from before vanished now. He took another step closer.

Blinking up at him, you scoffed. “What are you going to do? You’ve already snitched to my boss like a little bitch-”

He swiftly turned you and slammed you against the nearest wall, causing your chest to squish up uncomfortably against the cool tiles.

“I warned ya,” he snarled in your ear, causing a shiver down your spine. “Don’t say I didn’t. And for fuck’s sake, it wasn’t me.”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of this. As much as the Gator infuriated you, made your shitty job even shittier, you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards him. You hated it. 

You swallowed thickly as his large, calloused hand drifted up your skirt, ripping your already-ruined tights even more.

“Gator-” you said, voice slightly shaky.

With haste, he tugged the tights down so it pooled around your shoes. His hand was back up your skirt, squeezing the supple flesh of your ass. His fingers brushed against the fabric of your panties, causing a soft noise to leave your mouth. 

You could feel the heat growing between your legs, clit starting to pulse. A small part of you wanted to push him off, but really, you didn’t. Now that he had started, you didn’t want him to stop, and you hated yourself for it.

“Fuck,” he groaned into your neck as he tugged your panties off. “Been wantin’ to do this for a while. What a pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

“Wait, hold on,” you started as he started tugging your panties off down to join your tights, his fingers dipping between your slick wet folds, drawing out a moan from your lips. “You’re- you can’t be serious-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Gator groaned, biting at your neck as his fingers circled your swollen, pulsing clit, making you whimper. Then he pulled his hand back. 

You squeezed your thighs together at the sound of his belt unbuckling, groaning when you felt his hard, leaking cock press up against your ass. You glanced back, heart pounding and eyelids heavy with pleasure, licking your lips. You knew he had to be big, but the sight of his large cock pressed up against your ass made you moan loudly. 

“What a pretty fuckin’ sound,” he said as he pressed his leaking tip up against your folds. “You want it, huh? You try to act so uninterested, yet here you are…” 

“Fuck you,” you breathed, your palm grasping at the tiles on the bathroom wall. Your voice had no real conviction in it, and it seemed like he knew.

His free hand tugged at your hair harshly, tilting your head back. “You’re such a fuckin’ bitch, don’t know when to shut the fuck up.”

Gator let out a soft groan as he pushed his thick cock inside you, pain and pleasure swirling together, causing your eyelids to flutter. He kept his grip tight on your hair, the feeling of his cock burying  himself so deep you were sure you could feel him in your stomach was making it hard to care about how much you hated him. 

You pushed your hips back to meet his, causing a moan to leave his mouth. You hated how it made your stomach flutter, his breaths hot in your ear, gripping your hip tightly it was starting to hurt. His grip on your hair loosened, just slightly enough to let you press your forehead against the wall.

“Oh, God,” you whined as he started fucking into you, giving you almost no time to adjust to his length.

“What a cockslut,” he said lowly. “What if someone walked in right now? Saw you taking my cock raw and deep like this? What would you say? I bet you’d want me to keep goin’ like the slut you are, huh? Not such a bitch now that I’m fuckin’ you?”

“God, shut the fuck up,” you managed to say through rapid breaths, each thrust causing your breasts to press up against wall uncomfortably. You whimpered when he shifted behind you, slamming into a new angle that made your eyes roll back. “You- you want this just as fucking bad-”

He laughed, breathlessly, like he was struggling to keep his composure. “Don’t flatter yourself, darlin’...” he said, which was a lot less convincing than he intended, because he whined as soon as you thrust back against him. 

Gator’s whine sent your stomach swirling with pleasure, your clit throbbing at the sound. As defiant as you tried you sound, however, you found yourself glancing back at the door, like you had just realized the possibility of someone walking in. 

“Aw, you worried?” he crooned, not slowing down his movements, each thrust more aggressive than the last. “Worried someone’s gonna see you takin’ it so good for me?”

He glanced down at you, and it felt like your eyes meeting for the first time, properly. His eyes were heavy and slightly glassy. The intensity of his gaze made your cheeks flush, and you turned back to face the wall.

It was pathetic, how you were starting to drool, clenching around his cock tightly, biting your lip to stop yourself from making a sound, but it was useless. His fingers were starting to bruise your hips by how firmly he was keeping you in place. The sloppy, wet sounds of skin against skin echoed through the bathroom, along with your moans.

Gator released your hair, moving his hand to your mouth as he felt you clenching around him tightly. “Mhm, shut up,” he grunted, as if he wasn’t just moaning a second ago. “God, you’re takin’ it so well. Should’ve just done this a long time ago.”

“Gator,” you whimpered against his hand, tears forming in your eyes.

It was embarrassing how loudly you cried into his large hand as you climaxed, white hot pleasure surging through your body as your thighs trembled. Your fingers were gripping at the wall helplessly, trying to stay upright. 

Hot spurts of cum coated your walls as Gator let out a soft groan, his breaths heavy as he came inside you with no warning. He bit at the crook of your neck as he rode out his orgasm, his thrusts sloppy until he finally came to a stop.

Breaths heavy, you stayed leaning against the wall as he pulled out. You could hear the sound of his belt being buckled. Cheeks flushed and eyes barely open, you turned your head to watch him fix himself back up.

“You better take a fuckin’ pill, you hear me?” he said harshly as he zipped his trousers on. You couldn’t help but notice the slight flush on cheeks, despite how neutral his expression was. Like he wasn’t just moaning and whining in your ear. You almost wanted to laugh in his face, but you couldn’t, too spent from your climax. 

Then, without another word, he left the bathroom. Leaving you there standing, his cum still dripping out of you, your skirt still stained with beer.

Somehow, you had gone home that night with a generous tip from Gator’s table. They were gone before you’d even managed to clean yourself up and leave the bathroom.

And two days later, to your surprise, your boss had called you up, practically begging you to come back and work for the bar again. You noticed that one of Gator’s cop buddies had black eye and cut lip, avoiding eye contact when they showed up at the bar again - this time, to your surprise, without Gator.

You knew what this meant, though. It meant you owed him.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Golden Girl Texts

Written for @jolapeno's Dear-uary challenge. I chose to do texts between Dieter and Golden Girl throughout their friendship. General warning for drug and drink mentions... it is Dieter.

Thank you to @devineconjuring for her help and accepting my rambles. She also made the Sweets bride pic much more ~Golden~

The texts start from when Warren & GG get engaged and end at Dieter leaving for London at the end of So It Goes.

FYI, the texts receivers switch. Check the top first for whose phone it is. 🫡

Blue is Dieter. Pink is Golden Girl.

✨July, 2016✨ Dieter’s Phone

There’s that familiar hot pit in his stomach, it burns brighter as he zooms in on the ring. Fuck. He should have done something… or at least told you how he felt about you, but instead he stayed quiet, finding solace in illicit substances and people. He’ll respond tomorrow. Right now, he’s going to pop some pills, fuck someone, and try to forget the text. 

✨September, 2016✨ GG’s Phone

Oh Sweets, you're too good to everybody around you. Too good at finding the best in anyone. A broken man like him doesn't deserve your concern. He hits repeat on "Self Control" waiting for the lines that always makes him think of you:

Wish I was there, wish we'd grown up on the same advice And our time was right Keep a place for me, for me I'll sleep between y'all, it's nothing

✨April, 2017✨ GG’s Phone

Why are you zooming in on the picture of your husband's best man? Why do you wish he was sitting on the lounger next to you at this luxury five star resort? Why does Warren have to insist on working during your fucking honeymoon? Why is it only 1 PM and you've already had three piña coladas?

✨September, 2018✨ Dieter’s Phone

You got it. Your dream house with the picket fence and the pretty lawn. You got the large backyard with the picturesque view. You're going to fill that home with cool art, unique finds, and beautiful memories... and he'll just be a visitor.

✨January, 2020✨ GG’s Phone

New Years is bullshit. It's something he's always believed, but it's made worse when he has to watch the woman he's in love with inside her beautiful home kissing her husband at midnight. Bullshit.

✨August, 2020✨ Dieter’s Phone

You call Dieter, he answers all bleary eyed with a huge smile lighting his face at the first sight of you. You talk to him for three hours, comforting him, telling him all of this will be worth it. You put a package of cookies in the mail for him the next day.

✨September, 2020✨ Dieter’s Phone

Of course you're happy for him. Of course you don't know that when he stood at the altar in that dingy Las Vegas chapel and Anika walked out, his heart sank when he realized she wasn't you. Of course you don't know he's already miserable.

✨April, 2021✨ GG’s Phone

You knew it wasn't going to last, but you still wanted to believe that maybe one day Dieter would find his soulmate.

✨June, 2023✨ Dieter’s Phone

Damn, he's getting brave with these mixes.

A selection of songs from Dieter's playlist For Sweets #16

"Sun In The Morning" - Future Islands

"Pretty Please" by Dua Lipa

"Red Eyes" by The War On Drugs

"Amoeba" by Clairo

"The Color In Anything" by James Blake

"Bodys" by Car Seat Headrest

"Foreign Kicks" by We Are Scientists

✨June, 2023✨ Dieter’s Phone

Dieter doesn't answer, as amazing as Vegas sounds. Frankly, he's sick of Warren and his bullshit. He barely even recognizes him these days... he wonders what you think.

✨September, 2024✨ GG’s Phone

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🐕‍🦺1k 💜💜💜💜💙💙💙💙 ooo excited to see Eddie's POV in a cranberry story!

WOO! Let's go.

1k for the girlie (dog):

---

But the thing is, Cranberry is potentially one of the most perfect creatures in all of existence. He can’t say that out loud. Buck already says he babies her too much. As if she isn’t an eternal baby? She’s just easy to exist around. Happy, quiet, sweet. He doesn’t have to be anything around her, because she’s sort of obsessed with him for no reason, as is. So, yeah. As much as he’s grateful for Pepa and Carla, he’s sort of eager to see his dog. Buck’s dog. Whatever. 

“In the crate,” Chris grumbles, looking sour about it. “I knew you’d want to see her.”

“Christopher,” Pepa scolds. 

“We didn’t want her to jump or knock into you,” Carla explains. “We know she gets a little over excited about you.”

“Training goes out the window every time Eddie gets home from work,” Buck admits. 

“I want to see her,” Eddie says, feeling snappish. “Let her out.”

Pepa and Carla look surprised. 

He’s not usually… Well he knows he’s being short. He knows they did what they thought was right. But still. He wants the damn dog. Why is no one getting her? Does Eddie have to go get her? He will.

“Okay, uh… I’ll go get Cran,” Buck says, upon reading that Eddie is dead serious. “Eddie, why don’t you go sit down, okay? Or, if you need to go to bed…”

“I don’t,” Eddie says. “I’m just… Yeah, I’ll sit down.”

‘

Pepa looks at him nervously. “Can I get you anything, Edmundo? Water?”

Eddie shakes his head. He just wants the damn dog.

“I’m good.”

🦮🦮🦮

Cranberry comes tearing through the house towards him, squealing with excitement that he’s home. But right before she crashes into where he sits on the couch, she stops. She looks at him blankly for a moment. Eddie tenses. Chris is sitting beside him, watching both of them. Eddie doesn’t want to react to the dog acting differently, so he keeps very still. But why? Why did she stop? Can she sense that something is missing about him?

Cranberry takes a tentative step forward and starts to sniff his legs. 

“It’s okay, Cran,” Chris says. “Dad is okay. He missed you.”

Eddie keeps still. His throat feels very tight. He feels like he might cry. 

But then Cranberry wags her tail, licks Eddie’s knee, and hops up onto the couch.

“Careful!” Carla calls across the room. “Oh, be careful.”

Eddie ignores it. He uses his good arm to stroke Cranberry’s head as she lies across his lap. She stays very still, presses her head into his stomach. 

“Good girl,” Eddie whispers. “Thank you, good girl.”

Buck walks into the living room, pausing in the entryway. He watches them. Eddie pretends he doesn’t see. 

iii.

Buck takes even more time off work. 

He’s already been gone for a week to be beside Eddie in the hospital. He takes another week.

Eddie feels guilty about it. Guilty, guilty, guilty. Shameful. How many days did he take off when Buck lost his leg? None. How many days did he take when Shannon died? Three shifts. Three. What kind of fucking person is he?

Buck is such a good caretaker, too. Astounding really. Eddie has everything he needs, all the time. Never misses wound care or medication doses. He does it all while caring for Chris, the dog, and minding Eddie’s shitty mood. He’s a miracle. A force of nature. Eddie loves him. He appreciates him. He wishes he’d remember to say that more now. For some reason, the words are stuck on his tongue. Thank you. I love you. What would I do without you? Why can’t he just say it?

He just has to hope Buck knows while he tries to shake his brain free of cobwebs. 

Eventually, though, Buck does have to return to work. He does have to leave Eddie. Eddie dreads it. Quietly. He doesn’t say he’s terrified about being alone with his thoughts today. He doesn’t say he’s sore and miserable. He doesn’t say knowing Buck is in the other room, doing dishes, while Eddie sleeps, makes Eddie feel safer. 

On the morning Buck is due back at Emergency Ops, Eddie wakes up to Cranberry laying her head on his chest. He’s been having trouble getting up in the morning. The meds make him sluggish. Eddie insisted Buck wake him up before he goes, but when he opens his eyes, Buck is dressed and ready, trying to sneak out of the bedroom. Which doesn’t make sense. Because Cranberry is in bed. 

“Buck,” Eddie rasps, pinned in place by the dog. 

Buck pauses, then turns to Eddie.

“Hey, hon,” Buck smiles. “I’m just about to go. You need anything?”

“Uh, no… But, why aren’t you taking Cran?”

Buck frowns. “Um… Well… I put pull tabs on the fridge and some drawers. I put your meds in a velcro bag she knows to target. She can do other basic retrievals.”

“Buck…”

“She won’t be any work!” Buck interjects. “She’s been fed, done her business, and has enough water to get through the day. She’ll be fine if you can’t let her out until I’m home. She doesn’t need anything, but she can help you.”

Eddie sighs. “I know she’s not any work, but Buck… She’s yours. You need her.”

“Yeah, and today she can help both of us,” Buck says. “Because… Because I think you need her more than me. And knowing she’s here with you will put my mind at ease, okay? If you need me, drop your phone but can’t… She could get it for you, you know?”

And how the hell is Eddie supposed to say no to that? Because, honestly? He’d feel better with her here, too. 

“Okay,” he says. “Thank you, Buck.”

He manages to say it that time.

[aliennazero]

☆Headcanon: brother-sister coding, hear me out

I need to get this post done before whatever that will happen in chapter 192. So even if I only got two more days for this theory to be around, I'll be glad that I finally let this out from my chest after a while. So, don't take whatever I will ramble about as something super serious.

First of all, maybe you guys will look at me and says, "what the fuck Alie they're like two different unrelated characters" and while that's true for now and so far, I just... can't really took my eyes off from this "siblings coding" the more I read Chainsaw Man. And I have some reasons and theories why (disclaimer: I did a crazy reach all over the direction) and I found it very interesting.

Reason no. 1: Their First Meeting & Re-occurence

Hirofumi is the first part 1 character that Asa meets (even before Denji). So, I think it's reasonable for me—the reader to be intrigued on what is Fujimoto's plan for their seemingly "not important" (but why be the first?) relationship.

My initial thought is that: oh, they might become friendlier in the future or even become lifelong enemies. Then I remember Hayakawa Family—Aki and Power as the first ever Denji's buddy, specific on Power.

Because even though narratively and character writing-wise Power and Hirofumi are fundamentally different, both of them are written initially to form false narratives that they'll become a token love interest for our protagonist(s) aren't they? They also share a somewhat similar strawberry cake motive, makes me wonder why.

Alsoooo, I think the way Hirofumi & Asa's Devil Hunter Club "date" being portrayed as very differently from Hirofumi + Denji and Hirofumi + Fami "cafe date" (a.k.a. work-related mandated date) is important, somehow.

Reason no. 2: Personal Motives and Untold Family Narratives of Asa Mitaka

We know since the very first time we met her that Asa is very lonely and her motives circling around getting a companion (either a boyfriend or a friend) and living selfishly (which as we can see right now is backfired rapidly, but I'll talk about this separately later, maybe in the future).

However, there's one aspect of her motives that's kinda underlooked, and it's her relationship with family member. Yes, we got a glimpse of Asa and her mom (never with her father so far) and Asa with her lovely pet—Crambon, however they already died years ago, and Asa blame herself for it.

It's unfair that in this world, she still had her family, as they said. So maybe she already gives up on that idea. Which is where the true weights of this headcanon come from. What if, she still could have it? Even though she never asked for this directly. Her getting a family again that she was maliciously accused of unfairly having, could be very nice, actually. Even if it's a very insufferable or a miserable mess workaholic kind of brother (or twin brother).

Reason no. 3: Hirofumi's Motives

This deserves its very own post just like my plan to talks more about Asa's living selfishly motive but to make it simple, Hirofumi lied at the very start because he already formed a parasocial relationship with both Asa and Denji by giving them options to have a somewhat nicer normal life (Denji not becoming Chainsaw Man, and Asa making a distance from Denji to prevent her from turning him into her weapon and thus also prevented her to feel down because of the guilt) even though he knows that another choice never really exist to begin with.

(Asa doesn't necessarily have to be his sister to add more depths to this motive. I just think won't it be very funny if Hirofumi was like collecting information all around, confirming that Asa Mitaka is indeed the incarnation of War Devil in weird case then he took a look at her Koseki then boom they have the same dad!? What the fuck was that. Here comes new responsibility that his father left behind, I guess)

As what we know so far, Hirofumi took his job and his responsibility very seriously and very neat about which one he could improve or "change" for everyone's sake involved. IF Hirofumi and Asa are indeed siblings (or half siblings) however, this gives more explanation on his involvement and his own personal interest. Hirofumi is not easy to read, but he still overshares to Asa (chapter 121 when he agrees on Asa's takes about solitude) and "taking care" of her.

Reason no. 4: Just Take a More Look at Them

Taller than average? Check. More athletic than average? Check. Insane face card? Check. Unbelievable amount of yearning? Check. Arguably suicidal? Check.

Both of them being a human stuck in status quo between human vs devil war like hostages in their own prison—Hirofumi stuck as hollow used cop for Public Safety and Asa stuck as War Devil very own vessel—with absolutely nothing, no one really on their side (Fumiko and Fami as mean of even more control over both of them)? Check.

Even as concept alone, child soldier and war maiden incarnate siblingsm could be developed to be something, very interesting.

Okay, now into more theories territory.....

Theory no. 1: Asa and Hirofumi are the Result of Kishibe Fucking Around and Found Out Post Quanxi Rejection Era

Why Kishibe would do that? Idk but it's a funny math because if Kishibe is in his early 50 now then 17 years ago would be him in his 30s. If Kishibe become devil hunter in his early 20s and meet Quanxi shortly after that and become buddies for 9 years then, the year just lined up lmao. How much chances of them being an oopsies baby thus explaining their very different last names but strangely similar physiques and even narratives? Not zero.

There are two options regarding this though. It's either they're twin siblings or half siblings. Half siblings mean they have different mothers but same dad, and twin siblings mean they have same mother but got separated at some point during their lifetime (Hirofumi went with Kishibe and Asa went with her mama who probably re-marry or just simply raising Asa alone and lying about her dad getting eaten by devil or something because her love story with that drunkard crazy man is just that bad).

Kishibe avoiding child support for 17 years and this is the consequences, also both of them got their ass kicked out by the very same lesbian who rejects their father, I'll say it's a beautiful storytelling.

Theory no. 2: Sinister Look on Vol 17 Cover and "Hirofumi will appear in Asa's Dream"

We will get into a more sinister area here because I believe the Makima-esque vibes, "necessary evil" narratives Hirofumi brought up to the table are not coincidences or neglectable at all. Even more sinister because his cover is him standing in front of alleyway just like how Makima cover is her in front of the door in Denji's dream.

Which led me to think that this could indicate something. However, kinda different on how it was portrayed, I think this make things clear that Hirofumi is not endgame antagonist since his cover came a bit too early than what we—the reader anticipated (there is absolutely no fucking nobody in the fandom that expecting Hirofumi to get a cover during before the cover reveal). However, he might be the key into Asa's end dream reveal later on.

Maybe he will appear on her dream being vague as fuck, or maybe direct her dream into a more "false happiness" directions since all he did is lying (see reason no. 3) to distract her focus on dead chickens. Personally, I think the latter will be more interesting because it will be the opposite of what Makima did in Denji's dream, if this "Hirofumi will appear in Asa's dream sooner or later" theory is true. The government and the church need Asa in her stable conditions to unleash Yoru anyway.

"Then what does this imply into your siblings theory"—because siblings should take care of each other, ideally. And I think it will add more depth, if true of course.

Theory no. 3: Hirofumi Cares About Asa (maybe more than what we see on-screen)

To put on more disclaimer, this is just what I imagine to fill out the gap in between narratives and it connects to reasons number 3 (again). Despite how he positions himself and blending in the crowd like invincible, Hirofumi is actually easy to care and feel guilty too (and the reason why he could kill the Immortal Brother assassin in part 1 is because he has the ignorance privilege, but with both Denji and Asa? Not so much).

I have no strong basis for this theory I just have my own feelings and a dream, and this is basically what I think Hirofumi has done so far for Asa (subtle) in the story:

Hirofumi just let Yuko loose and kill Asa's bullies during Justice Devil Arc. This may sound dark, but it fit his character in a way that he's okay with doing violence as long as it could benefit his mission (and maybe this time his personal interest too). Because he knows Asa got bullied at school. If this could solve her bullying problems, then why not? That's why Hirofumi is just sitting around during the whole fight until Denji interfered.

Hirofumi is the one who brought Asa to hospital after Falling Devil Arc (which is somehow in line for how I think he's Denji blood-giver in the same arc). Because well, I don't think Public Safety cared enough to get her conditions checked, but Hirofumi is aware about her injury conditions (arguably this is so that she could be a bargaining chip for Denji but we know that the main chip is Nayuta, I think Hirofumi just want to let him know just because also let me have this imagination for the sake of this agenda).

The reason why Hirofumi didn't or more likely can't kill Asa during CSM Church Arc is not necessarily just because War Devil has become stronger. Paneling focus on their face's expressions indicate that Hirofumi just can't bring himself more to do so (after he saw Asa's hand and her in pain), thus making him fail this mission to capture War Devil dead or alive. It's the guilt kicking in.

I think Hirofumi is somewhat relieved after he saw Asa's hands are back (yay) in Aging Devil Arc. Also, that's what he put his focus on FIRST after he got vomited out before asking his own situation even.

Personal View and The Main Takeaway (really): I need this to be real just because I think it will be so fucking funny

To end this unbelievably long ass post, I think it's important to note again that they have like five screentime together and I'm just insane. But if I should be honest, this is not me being rational at all, I just think the whole situation would be funny up to seven more factors if my ramblings are true.

Because this headcanon imply that the fandom meltdown towards them (as individuals or as in characters dynamics) is unnecessary at all. Like aside from Hirofumi being read mainly as queer, maybe him acting kind of mean and nonchalantly distant (and somewhat awfully playful) towards Asa are just because he like being petty and doesn't want to look like he wants to bang his sister (as a sister myself, yes I do feel the need to annoy my other siblings whenever I can just because I could and it doesn't have to be hatred, sometimes it's the love aggression kicking in).

Lastly, thank you guys for coming to my yapping ted talks.

[asklesbianonceler]

I have not posted any of my analysis to reddit yet and I think I might just post it and ghost it. I've already spent too much time looking at other people's threads on there to feel any way good about interacting with folks.

I already went in an added the "I know you're going to bring this up let me save you the time" section which is exclusively touching on the frequent topics of:

"well what about the fingerprint nostrum and finger mimics? He is clearly just a crackpot"

And

"it's definitely some weird elaborate sacrifice to Metyr thing"

[itscherryterry-again]

yea

[nthflower]

Cuno should join Hardie boys in the future not RCM btw my unpopular hot take opinion thingie.

[diogeneswannabe]

This tweet is peak French culture lmao

"We're not even hyped up for the sports we just want to see how catastrophic it's gonna be, it's gonna be peak entertainment lmaoo"

[transmechanicus]

T LEVELS FINALLY UNDER CONTROL, THANK YOU ESTROGEN MWAH KISS

[g00seg1raffe]

Adar knows how King and Court think of the Peredhel, like some bittersweet tale of fantasy, like the scion of some distant history told to sleepy little elflings by the fire - but do not fear, gwinig, for the beautiful prince was saved from his cruel captors to live in happiness forever after with us. They speak of him like he's something quaint. Doesn't he look so like Lúthien, so like his forefather Fingolfin? Isn’t he as dignified as the Princess Idril? Isn’t he wise like Elu Thingol? How sweet!

And so in the golden light of Lindon do they lie to themselves - for Elu Thingol was ruthless, unshakeable in his convictions even unto his death; yet the courtiers tut at Lord Elrond’s stubbornness. Idril Celebrindal was trapped, as hidden as her city as darkness crept up the walls and into her home; yet Lady Galadriel shrugs off her friend’s warnings. Fingolfin held Morgoth at bay for four hundred years, unfailing strength carved into his very bones; yet the King both censures his Herald for his forcefulness.

And Lúthien, ai! Tinúviel, wrathful, relentless, unearthly - when friends flinch from your gaze and Lords shift uneasily when you talk, when the wise cannot bring themselves to look on you for fear of what they will see, when Kings lie and placate and spin gossamer traps because they know you could unmake them - that is Lúthien.

- from the fic I’m writing about Elrond from Adar’s perspective. I'm on 100 words so far and idk how I'm going to make it to 5k... you're welcome to talk to me about it tho :)

[mrmeepsmadmind]

human(?)formers wavewave teehee. um don't hit readmore if u don't like some RLLY scribbled gorish (‼️) anatomy. nothing rlly detailed, tumblr takes my quality of already low quality art & gargles it with pebbles & rocks so it's not like. terrible but. ( the gore, not my art LOL) but still! hiding it under here just incase! take a peek if u like

tortured genius, literally, LOL -- read in soundwave's monotone

[hwangyeddeongie]

it gets to a point.

[moghedien]

i swear if you people start uwuifying OCD like you did with ADHD and autism I'm going to start attacking

[hope-ur-ok]

Can someone kill me now? please and thank you