#and i still have no fuckin clue how to draw the guy

[anonymouscreampuff]

sceleritas is a funny guy

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #sceleritas fel #the dark urge #durge #oc: jeff #//don't mind the owl she belongs to a different tav lmao #anyway butler practice bc im doing a funny animatic thing featuring this loser and jeff (the dragonborn) #and i still have no fuckin clue how to draw the guy #i also just really wanted to draw my young durge hiding behind the butler #they're just a lil guy who doesn't know murder is okay actually #(its okay their butler will help them with that <3)

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

to ashes, development

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Summary: a development on a mission means it's time to move on.

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 2,313

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Days Since the Decimation: Three Years, Eighty-Five Days

“Holy shit, you got any idea how fuckin’ hard I am right now?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Oh, gross.”

Clint frowned.

“What? It’s seedy as hell,” you waved a hand. “You take me to the worst places.”

You swore, you could actually see him roll his eyes from the other side of the building. “Not exactly poetic, are they?”

The two of you were on top of an old disused warehouse in Harringay, listening with distaste as the men inside discussed their, ugh, merchandise. What was it with men and guns?

The weapons ring you’d fought in Holland Park was still at large, and Clint had spent the last two weeks tracking them down again. Honestly it was a testament to them that it had taken him this long, even without his old SHIELD connections. Whoever they were, they weren’t street level thugs.

…It made you feel the tiniest bit better about them getting the better of you in the park.

Clint had scrubbed through the local police files for any clues as to where they were setting up house. Between that and his own reconnaissance, he’d managed to track one of their prominent dealers to right under your feet.

“You still clear on the plan?”

Nodding, you unhooked the safety hood of your holster. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

“Y/N…”

You looked up with a raised brow, fixing him with a pointed look. “Are you really about to lecture me about not taking revenge?”

Clint met your eye with an almost exasperated expression. “Point taken.”

“You ready for this?”

“That’s my line.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” you smirked, stretching out a kink in your neck. “Let’s go to work.”

***

You were really getting tired of these guys.

That’s the only thought that came to you as you rolled behind the crates to your left, gun still in your hand. You came to a kneel, your back meeting the wood with a dull thump. They were too prepared, to ready for the two of you.

This wasn’t supposed to end in a shootout. This was supposed to be a quick job, and yet… how did they know about the two of you? They’d mentioned a boss in the park, someone who had guessed you’d been Clint’s back up, but still… they knew you were coming. Not well enough to lay a proper trap, to ambush you before you got inside, but well enough to be ready.

You ducked lower with a curse as wood shattered above you, large splinters raining down on top of you. Thankful for the hood that kept them out of your hair, you exhaled and turned to fire two shots back around the corner. One shot went wide, but you smiled grimly as the second bullet buried itself in a man’s shoulder. He cursed in a heavy Eastern European accent as you ducked back behind the crate.

“Did you have a plan B for tonight, or are we winging this?” you said into your comms. You heard a cry go up among those shooting at you, followed by shouts of confusion and a few wild shots. You winced despite yourself for a second, waiting for a response in your ear to assure you that they’d missed.

“I’m working on one,” Clint replied gruffly, and you released a small, relieved breath despite your faith in him.

“So… winging it, it is then,” you sighed wearily, setting a new magazine into your handgun and adjusting your hold on the grip. “You know, I kinda hate being the one to draw their fire.”

“I’ll make note of it for next time,” he replied dryly, and another gurgling cry went up among the men between the two of you as Clint shot back out of the shadows long enough to take one of them down. He sliced up two – the one you’d wounded and the man closest to him. “Don’t do anything stupid, alright? We’ve got this under control.”

“Do we?”

“You doubt me?”

“I—”

“Fuck this!” shouted one of them – a burly brunette with a greying beard and tattoos scattered over his biceps. “Get one of the pushka out here and end this!”

“Clint—” you said warningly, stealing a glance over the crates.

“Don’t panic,” he warned, and you swore you caught the glimpse of silver in a brief shift of the light to let you know exactly where he was. “You’re not their biggest problem right now.”

“Clint—”

A deafening blast sounded and you fell forward, hands flying automatically to your ears. The crate to your left exploded – as did the wall in front of you, burst apart in a wave of electric blue energy.

“Holy—”

“Y/N!”

“I’m fine, just—”

“Forget the bitch! Get the Ronin!”

You scrambled away from where you’d hidden, throwing yourself behind an old forklift. Too late, you realized you’d left your gun behind, having dropped it when your hands had flown to your ears. Swearing to yourself, you winced as another blast fired. The building itself groaned as they blew another hole in a wall.

“What the hell is that thing?!”

“Just get outta here, Y/N! I’ll distract—”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Barton!”

“Just go!” he barked back. “Now!”

“Goddamn it!” you growled, standing as you heard the men shout that they’d spotted the Ronin above them. You saw the gun – a bazooka-like cannon – turn upward, point directly at the shadowy figure above. “Stubborn-ass-son-of-a—”

The blaster fired, and you swept your arm upward in the same moment. A shield appeared seconds before the energy wave could hit Clint, knocking him to the side. The energy wave just barely glanced off the shield before blowing a hole in the roof and sending debris collapsing down on the men below.

“What are you—?”

“Take the moment, Clint; you can yell at me later!” you spat back through gritted teeth, sprinting towards the group still shielding themselves from falling bricks and timber. “Get out! I’m right behind you!”

Pulling the knife from the back of your belt, you turned it in your grip and plunged it into the hand of the man closest to the crate they’d pulled the pushka from, ignoring the way he screamed. You released it, instead grabbing the first weapon you could from the crate – thankfully, a much smaller hand-gun style weapon – and kept running. A few men managed to get off a few shots before you were clear, and you winced as you felt a bullet tear through your sleeve to graze your forearm.

Feet pounding too loud on the pavement, you made it quickly to an alleyway across the street, tucking your prize under your injured arm as you grabbed hold of the rung of a fire escape ladder with your other arm and swung yourself upwards. You could hear the building behind you continue to collapse as you climbed the ladder, and you winced as a hand gripped yours as you reached the top.

“Are you insane?”

“Are you?” you shot back breathlessly as Clint pulled you up onto the roof beside him. “What the hell kind of plan was that? You were gonna let them shoot you with that thing?”

“I’m faster than I look, Y/N,” he pointed out sourly. “And now they know—”

“They don’t know shit,” you argued. “There’s no way they could see the difference between that shield and whatever the hell they were shooting at us with.”

“It was still really stupid, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome.”

Clint gave you a look that somehow managed to look grateful and exasperated all at once.

“Oh, and I totally get MVP this mission.”

“Is that a thing?” he replied dryly.

“It is now,” you said proudly, finally managing to catch your breath. Ignoring the pain throbbing in your arm, you held out the gun you’d stolen. “Ta-freakin’-da, Barton.”

***

“Lat—”

“What?”

Clint repeated himself louder, but his voice was still muffled by the wood of the door and the spray of the shower.

“What?”

You heard the shower door open and a few dull sounds before the bathroom door in front of you opened. Water dripped over Clint’s bare torso and soaked his hair, one hand clutching the towel slung around his waist. You watched him hesitate as he met your gaze, watched the adam’s apple in his throat bob. “Latveria.”

“Lat– Latveria?”

“This is starting to feel dangerously like a bit,” Clint said dryly, stepping back into the shower stall. You felt heat rise in your face as he closed the door and the towel was thrown up over the top of it. You stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before closing the lid of the toilet and perching on the edge of it. “That’s where the weapons are being made.”

“And they’ve made it all the way out here?” you replied, swallowing as you tried to pointedly avoid staring at the shower. The stall was made of textured, frosted glass, and while it granted Clint modesty, you could still just make out his silhouette against the screen. His hands rose to scrub through his hair, his profile turned just barely away from you.

“They’re global,” Clint told you, raising his voice over the spray. “I heard reports of them turning up in New York back before… Fury had someone else working on it.”

“And we just happened to stumble onto them in a park in London?”

Clint’s hands lingered at the back of his neck. “They’ve been making bigger waves lately. Guess she’s been getting a little cockier since the Decimation wiped out half the authorities that could work their case.”

“‘She’?”

Clint’s hands moved down his chest to his stomach, and you lowered your gaze to the floor, face burning. Your thighs pressed together despite yourself. You knew your voice had broken slightly as you’d spoken that one word.

“Lucia von Bardas.”

The water shut off, and you straightened slightly, your hands threaded together in your lap. The towel disappeared into the stall. “Should I recognize the name?”

“Only if you’re trying to be familiar with Eastern European politics,” Clint told you, the shower stall opening after a moment. “She’s a pretty big name in Latverian political parties. She’s got interests in most of the big exporters coming out of that place, including Von Doom Industries. There’s been rumors of her dealing in some… less than legal businesses for a while now. Guess now we’ve actually got some proof.”

Clint stepped out; the towel tucked securely around his waist once more. He seemed to be avoiding your eye, wiping down the foggy mirror with his palm.

“And?”

“And what?”

“We’re going to take her out, right?”

You stood up, and Clint met your eye in the mirror. He sighed.

“That expression tells me you’ve already decided on the answer for us.”

***

“I’m starting to miss Stark’s money.” Clint sighed, settling back into the seat beside you.

“You’re the one who books these oh-so-deluxe travel arrangements,” you pointed out, attempting to find a comfortable position against the firm back of the bus seat. “You’d think with your super-ninja-spy-magic you’d be able to get us a fancier ride.”

“I’m not a ninja,” he told you patiently. “Or magic.”

“You’re a little magic.”

Clint shook his head with a smile; you were sure there was faint color on his cheeks as he dropped his head back against the headrest.

“So, how long exactly is this ride?”

He answered with his eyes closed. “…About two days.”

“Two days?!” you repeated, when you saw his smile grow slightly, you scowled. “I kinda hate you, you know.”

“I thought I was magic.”

“Magic and despised.”

He chuckled; eyes still closed. The bus pulled away from the curb, surprisingly empty. The sky outside was already dark, and the glow of the streetlights passed over the archer’s face. “We’re less likely to be recognized on the bus.”

“Curse you and your logic.”

Clint didn’t reply, and the two of you sat in silence for twenty minutes before you spoke again.

“It’s a little annoying how easily you can fall asleep.”

He smirked; eyes still stubbornly closed. “I’m not asleep.”

“…How about now?”

“Were you always this annoying on road trips?” he teased.

You laughed, closing your eyes too. “Oh, please. You’d be so bored without me.”

***

You opened your eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep still lingering. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but the wide expanse of road ahead of the bus told you you’d left the city a long time again, as did the faint pink glow tainting the deep purple of the night sky. You shifted, brow furrowing as you felt the warmth pressed up against your side and the rough fabric against your cheek. A comfortable weight rested against the crown of your head, and you frowned against the fuzziness still clinging to your tired mind.

Your eyes finally cleared to settle on the color of Clint’s jacket, and you felt his breath fan softly against your hair. You’d fallen asleep, your head falling against his shoulder, and he’d apparently done the same. His cheek was pressed against your hair, his breathing steady and even. A smile touched your lips as you let the sensation of his chest rising and falling lull you back into rest, and you ignored the sensible part of your brain that was trying to remind you that you were supposed to maintaining your distance from him.

Your eyes fell to your lap as your eyelids began to droop, and warmth flared in your cheeks. Your hand was on your thigh, and Clint’s rested beside it, his fingertips settled on the back of your hand. Your skin was warm and tingled under his touch.

Had he… had he been holding your hand?

.

.

.

tags: @trekkingaroundasgard @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @lol-you-thought @akumune@xxboesefrauxx @enna-core@hearmyharmony@katsies @youralphawolf72 @maenji@rhymesmenagerie@gwianasky @melaclintbartoncorner @loki-is-loved@whovianayesha @bradfordbantams@alice-the-nerd@fanofallthefics @ace-fandom-dumbass @kaelyn-lobrutto24@twsssmlmaa @earth-pig-fish@meeksmusic83@hallothankmas@justanothermagicalsara@janineb86 @darsynia@rhymesmenagerie @thatwelshbi @lauraashley93@darkwhisperswolf

#clint barton #clint barton x you #clint barton x reader #clint barton fanfiction #clint barton fanfic #clint barton imagine #clint barton x oc #clint barton x ofc #hawkeye #hawkeye x you #hawkeye x reader #hawkeye x oc #hawkeye x ofc #hawkeye imagine #hawkeye reader insert #clint barton reader insert #hawkeye fanfiction #hawkeye fanfic #mine: fanfic #mcu #mcu reader insert #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel reader insert #marvel imagine

[bapple117]

Radiostatic feels y'all 📺📻

guys I'm literally FROTHING with how good my radiostatic playlist is like????

SOMEBODY I USED TO KNOW BY GOTYE?? BUT YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO CUT ME OOOOOOOFFFF

RADIO GA GA??? Radio, what's new? Radio, someone still loves youuuuuu

SYNTHETIC BY THE MIDNIGHT *growls and shreds fabric in teeth*

I'm still alive but I can't feel, I got stuff inside but it's not real, They say I'm fine but I feel synthetic. Nothing human left in me, I'm just a machine full of moving parts, I got emptiness where I used to have a heart, I'm still breathing but I'm synthetic

AND A BUNCH OF BOPS ON THERE UGHHHHH *pulls own head off and throws it at a wall*

I really need to make an animatic to Radio Ga Ga but I have no fuckin clue how to go about that *cries in my art skills are shit and I'm slow at drawing but fast at writing* someone's gonna get in there before me I KNOW IT

My flavour of autism means I experience everything through finding the perfect songs for it and HONESTLY I have peaked with this radiostatic playlist I can't cope please everyone go and look at it and praise me I'm begging you. And read my fics lmao *shamelessly plugs self*

#radiostatic #one-sided radiostatic #bluest monday #vox #alastor #vox hazbin #alastor hazbin #bapple chats #bapple writes #bapple listens #radiostatic songs #radiostatic playlist #radiosilence songs #radiosilence #hazbin hotel #hazbin fandom #alastor x vox #vox x alastor

[miheartsedthings]

Part Six

SFW ModernBily x FemReader

Summary: After a fight, Billy is drunk and reckless at a party. You go determined to fix things.

Warnings: ANGST, infidelity, fluff

Words: ~2,000

Music is pounding as you approach the house. You’d followed clues from posts of classmates to lead you here, well past midnight and shivering. You’d rushed to sneak out, forgoing the heavier coat you left downstairs. You snatched a hoodie from the closet and threw it over yourself, swallowing the tiny shorts you wore under it. It wasn’t smart, but you weren’t thinking. You’ve never seen Billy so recklessly drunk and that’s saying something for him. As you enter, your ear is drawn to Amber Letty. You see her in the living room, crouched over a mass of shattered porcelain, broom and dustpan in hand. She’s crying, mascara smudged down her cheeks  demanding one of the jocks kick him out. 

“Are you kidding?” One of the football players says. “I’m not getting my ass kicked.” 

Your gaze sweeps the room, looking for Billy’s hair or his leather jacket, but he’s nowhere to be seen. You rush in, slipping through the crowded space and into the kitchen, only to find a bunch of kids you don’t recognize throwing scrutinizing looks at your outfit. You ignore them and keep going, your heart pulsing so hard it rivals the pumping of the bass in your chest. The living room is full of people, minus the space where Amber and a few others are cleaning. How the other were still dancing and crunching around on glass you couldn’t understand, but then, they all looked wasted. You moved through the surging crowd towards the stairs. 

“Have you seen Billy?”

You ask the first face you come to, a guy mid chug who burps and then covers his mouth. 

“Sorry, nah. He took off like, outside I think?”

“No, he went upstairs,” a girl interjected. “With Molly.” 

“Yeah right, it was Rachel.” 

You press on, rushing up the stairs, telling your frantic, sleep-deprived mind that he’s drunk. He’s not thinking straight and you have to get to him before anything happens. Before he does something he’ll regret. Not just in terms of fooling around with some girl. What happens if Amber calls the cops? So you press on. Upstairs, people are leaning against the wall in line for the bathroom. You open the door to one bedroom to find the air clouded with smoke. 

“Don’t let it out,” a voice calls from the haze and you close the door. You squeeze past the line to another door, finding it locked. You beat the door with a fist. 

“Fuck off,” a girl’s voice yells. 

“Do you know where Billy is?” You yell. 

For a moment no one answers, then footsteps approach and the door swings open. Billy’s clouded eyes look down at you, his brows knitted tight together. His hair is messy, and across his mouth is a faded smear of lipstick.

“The fuck are you doing here?” He asks, his foggy eyes scowling down at you. 

You look beyond him to the bed, where an inebriated Molly Kellerman sits, her lipstick smeared onto her chin. You look back up at Billy, anger plain on your face. 

“This is who you wanna be?” 

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He asks “What did I tell you about wondering around this town at night? Didn’t I say I don’t want you out at night?”

“You don’t get to lecture me!” you yell, drawing eyes, “You obviously don’t give a fuck!” 

You turn to leave. Your chest feels like someone’s punched their fist into it. Billy grabs your elbow, yanking you into the room. You stumble, forced to catch yourself against him. Molly leaves, grumbling as she slams the door behind her. Your eyes are burning and you turn away so he won’t see you tearing up. 

“What the fuck are you thinking going out by yourself?” He asks, “And you’re fuckin naked.” 

You turn on him, glaring. 

“You weren’t worried about me a second ago, don’t be worried now.” 

You move to leave but it’s no use, he steps into your path, stopping you in your tracks. Maybe he hadn’t been so drunk. He looks sober, full of anger and impatience. Then again, he’s been like that so often lately. He points his finger at you. 

“You’re not going anywhere by yourself. Understand? Hate me or not.” 

“I don’t fucking hate you!” you yell, “That’s the point. That’s been my point this whole time but you’re fucking-” your voice drops out and you plop onto the bed. Sitting right where Molly had been. Your heart officially hurts and it’s taking everything in you not to start crying right now. 

“Look, we can both see where it’s going at this point.” His voice is low, resigned. “We tried, but obviously it’s too fucked up…” 

You glare up at him. 

“Do you really wanna break up with me? Never talk to me again, that’s seriously what you want?” 

He falters, agitation settling into his expression. His jaw tightens and he takes a step back. Then shakes his head. You sit there for a moment catching your breath, adrenaline coursing through you. 

“Me neither,” you say, “So we gotta figure this shit out.” 

“That’s the thing, there’s nothing to figure out. We see what the problem is…”

His voice fades, and his expression deepens into one of intense confliction the likes of which you’d never seen on him. It was like watching someone try to speak a language they barely knew, coming up short of words at every turn. It quels your anger a little, drawing your focus back to the reason you’d shown up. Your care for him. 

“Nothing about you is so terrible it’s not worth working on.” 

His blue eyes lift, and he stares at you a moment. 

“You can’t fix me.”

“I’ve noticed,” you answer with a bitter laugh. “But it’s not up to me, it’s up to you. If you’re gonna change you’re the one who has to make it happen, not me. I think you’re capable of it, by the way.” 

He shakes his head. It takes a moment. A long moment when the distant rumble of the party is the only sound, and you watch him work through whatever mental cloud has him stuck. He stands there wearing a cold, empty expression, but his eyes tell the truth of it. He’s scared. 

“Why’d you come here?”

You sigh. 

“‘Cause I love you.” 

The news crumples him, his shoulders going slack. He gets down, as if his body were drained of strength, and puts his head in your lap. His arms loop around your waist. Just like the night you told him there was no baby, you run your fingers through his hair, rubbing his back. 

“We should probably get outta here before Amber calls the cops.” 

Out in the car, Billy's hands are on your thighs, rubbing, trying to bring warmth into them. 

“Still don't know why you're naked.” He grumbles. As soon as he'd started the car he'd cranked the heat, complaining again about you not having a coat. His fretting makes you smile. You can’t help that. 

“I rushed over here. I didn't think about a coat. Or pants.” 

You laugh, still shivering a little. Your mind travels back to when you found Billy and Molly together. “Were you really gonna sleep with her?”

His hands stop, and he looks at you through curly locks which have fallen in his eyes. A cigarette hangs from his lips. 

“No.” He says. Nothing more, nothing less. You watch his eyes. The faded pink on his lips. You drag your thumb across them, wiping away the makeup. 

“Why'd you have to kiss her?” 

He leaned back, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. 

“You always ask me shit like that. Like you don't know.” 

“You're not some hopeless asshole who can't help himself.” He looks at you, surprised by your snippy tone. “You're not hardwired to make bad decisions, you're not some demon boy. You get choices. So why'd you choose that? Tell me right now.” 

He lets down the window, blowing smoke into the night. Looking away, he shrugs. 

“Thought it'd make it easier. Make me forget. Give you something big to drop me for.” 

He looks so miserable when he turns to face you. His expression resigned as if this line of thinking were to be expected. It breaks your heart. 

“I don't wanna break up,” you say “All I wanted was an apology. That's not too much.” 

“Yeah well, if I can't give it what's that tell ya?” 

You shake your head, a laugh breaking through your chest.

“Jesus, I've never seen somebody be their own worst enemy like you.” 

What pops into Billy's head is that he's never seen someone care about him like you. He's watching you, his head leaned against the headrest. He's wondering when you'll get tired of him and run off. He'd rather it happened because he made it happen like he was trying to do tonight. But you're stubborn. You'll hang on until he fucks up without meaning to. He’s not sure when but it'll happen. He knows it'll happen. 

His cigarette shrinks down to the butt and he flicks it out the window. 

It's been quiet for a while. He's been sitting there lost in his thoughts, and when he looks back over you're asleep. He watches you for a minute, maybe two, then reaches into the glovebox. He tears the edge of an envelope and finds a pen. 

You wake to gentle nudging and open your eyes to see your house standing in solemn darkness. You turn to see Billy. He looks tired, but at least he's peaceful. 

“I'm home?” You grumble, rubbing sleep from your eyes. 

“You're home,” he echoes, softly. “Get in there.” 

You look at him, your eyes kissing all over that beautiful face you love so much. Your vision is blurring and you blink fast to clear your view. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Then, you lean over and hug him. An embrace he returns. 

“I love you, you know. I mean it.” 

“I know,” he answers. But his voice sounds so sad. When you pull back, his hand touches your cheek. “I meant what I said about going around at night. Don't do that shit again.” 

You nod. 

“Got it.” 

His lips come to yours, and he kisses you in that tender way you recognize. Later, back in your room, you pull off the hoodie, and a little slip of paper flutters to the ground. You pick it up, finding that it's the edge of an envelope. Written there in Billy's sloppy hand is:

I'm sorry.

The next morning you wait at the gas station, sitting on the concrete bumper in front of the parking space Billy always uses. The slip of paper is tucked into the plastic cover of your binder. It’s a small victory but it makes you feel giddy. He said it, however indirectly and that means progress. You hear the purr of the Camaro and rush to stand, excited to see him. Music is spilling from the windows, and when he pulls up he yells over it, leaning over the center console to shine that fabulous smile at you. 

“Hey,” he says.

You lean with your arms folded on the rolled-down window. 

“Hey.” 

“I need a hottie to ride to school with, and you’re the only one in town. Mind hoppin in?” 

Your smile widens. 

“Not at all.” 

You get in the car and he pulls you into a kiss that blots out the sun. His strong hand cups the back of your neck gently but with so much intention. So much frustration and anger is lost between your lips. So much has already been forgiven and you want to forget it just as quickly. Start over. Better yet, start from now in this perfect place. When you pull apart you touch his cheek to keep him close. You can see a little hesitation in his eyes as one of his brows lift. 

“Yeah?” he asks.

“I’m gonna tell you my dream, but don’t say anything after, okay? Not a word.”

“Fine,” he says, “Now open those pretty lips and talk to me.”

You sigh, a heady peace settling over you. 

“This time next year, we’re in California. We live together, even if it means staying off campus. We spend weekends on beaches all over the coast, including the nude ones.” He grins at that. “Sundays we have friends over and we take turns cooking. When we get bored you take me to your favorite places, and we go on long drives some nights when we can’t sleep. We do this for a long time, and then we get a house, and then sell that house and get a condo.” He laughs, looking at you with unabashed adoration, stroking his thumb against your shoulder. 

You look at him for a long moment, at his cheeks, slightly flushed. He doesn’t say a thing. You head to school on a high, the two of you feeling as fresh as the day you first got together. Everything is right and not even the sight of the drab high school dampens your moods. Billy parks and cuts the music, but you touch his shoulder before he can get out. He turns an inquizitive gaze to you. You lean over and kiss him, putting extra care into it until a little moan sounds from his chest. That’s when you pull away. 

“What’s that for?” his cool eyes focus on your lips a moment. You wait until he looks into your eyes to say the words:

“I forgive you.” 

He seems surprised at first, but then that beautiful, full-hearted smile breaks across his face. You’ll go the rest of your days buoyed by the sight of it.

To be continued...

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #fanfic #billy stranger things #sea swallow me #story #miheartsedthings

[crabonfire]

Mercs and what they call you ♡

prompt: what the title says >:) I am a person who regularly uses petnames on everybody I know and I was like "omg wait I wonder what the mercs would call you?!!?!?!?" SO here u go :)

warning: none!!

characters: all mercs + ms pauling :)

note: if the text is in italic n red then you are talking to them :) oh and ps, some are shorter than others because I probably just don't know what else to say so I'm very sorry 😞😞

♡Scout♡

• toots, sugar tits, babes, dollface, sweetheart.

• I think he will use sweetums as a joke 😭😭😭

• he uses these a lot. he still goes by your name no doy but the way he says it makes it obvious he prefers calling you by those LMFAOOO he ain't slick

• loves it when you call him nicknames. The first time you called him a nickname you were heading out for the night to do some work and was looking for your bag. "Hey baby, could you me my bag?"he was like "WHO? Oh...oh me-YEAH! TOTALLY BABY." He was so happy!!! When you leave for work, he's up all night thinking about it. call him that more please.

♡Soldier♡

• cupcake, honeypie, cadet.

• he doesn't seem like the pet name person but I think he'd use some when he's feeling sweet :)

• though he uses cupcake a lot more than the others!!

• Hes worn out after a contract. you come back from the kitchen with water an a plate of bread. "Honey, I got you some water." Man's looks dead at you. He grins and no not a small grin either a gigantic shit eating grin. "HAHA! THANKNYOU CADET. THIS IS TRULY APPRICIATED!" He's PSYCHED. Doesn't tell you but it's obvious he's looking forward to anytime you call him that again. He will brag.

♡Pyro♡

• sunshine.

• well..you can't hear him well beneath the mask but, he likes to call you sunshine. Calls you that all the damn time now.

• whether it's by writing you little notes and drawing you little doodles, your his sunshine :)

• you were going to be busy and had to leave for work early, so you write him a note and left it for him. "Hey baby, im gonna be at work for most of today im sorry." and he's like "wait...am I supposed to be baby?" He jumps around LMAOOO he doesn't even care that your not gonna see him a lot he's just happy you called him that.

♡Demoman♡

• love, my dear, mo chridhe (my heart).

• a very affectionate guy me thinks, but I feel like other than these nicknames he'd flat out call you the most outrageous things in scottish when drunk. probably.

• calls you nicknames too much. I think he forgot your name.

• you were going to go out for some work and you were looking for your jacket. "Hey sweetheart, have you seen my jacket?" He stops dead in his tracks "SWEETHEART? SWEETHEART?!" He's so excited. HES SWEETHEART? Oh my god he's sweetheart. WHO CARES ABOUT THE JACKET...SWEETHEART?!?!?!?!

♡Heavy♡

• I think the only petnames he will call you are russian ones honestly, and also I don't think he's the type to call you that a lot. But here are the ones I can list!

• myshka (little mouse) moya lyubov (my love) lisichka (little fox)

• yes he calls you this because your smaller than he is. yes it's the cutest thing in the world.

• when you call him a nickname for the first time? he's honestly chiller than the others at responding. He's in the infirmary and you check up on him while Medic is writing his notes. "Hi honey, how are you feeling?" He's a bit surprised, but he's very happy. "Heavy is feeling much better." He will definitely be giddy, and once out-of the infirmary, he gives you a big hug. If you ask why? He just says there's no reason, he just wanted to hug you.

♡Engineer♡

• I got so many nickname ideas for him you have no fuckin clue.

• sugar/sugar-cube, honey/honey-bee, sweetheart, (also) sunshine, teddy bear, buttercup, darling.

• out of all of them? I think he'd have the sweetest nicknames. No not because I'm picking favorites, even spy isn't this sweet with his partners. Obviously. OK I'm joking MAYBEEE I just have favorites. But also he's a texan with a voice smooth as silk of course he calls people pet names.

• he uses them all the time, but your name too of course. It's like balanced out in the middle. he can be sickeningly sweet without realising it.

• the first time you call him a nickname? he melts. he was working all night and you were trying to convince him to sleep early.

“Oh baby, you shouldn’t overwork yourself. Remember to take breaks okay? You can work if your tired!” he pauses for a bit and just has a weary smile. “Aw…we’ll shucks. I guess I can take it easy today..” you convinced him straight off the bat. this man is just smiling for the rest of the night, literally nothing can ruin his mood now you’ve made his entire night. he might seem calm on the outside but this man is absolutely ecstatic that you’ve called him that. please call him more nicknames he loves them. So so much.

♡Medic♡

• dear, darling, mein liebe (my love).

• uses mein liebe to an unhealthy extent.

• I think he's a petname type of person where he has resorted to calling you his love than using your name. he still uses it, only when he's being serious or something happened.

• when you call him a petname? a bit flustered probably. I don't think this man has had many if not any relationships at all, because he's obviously more interested in his work than his love life. But of course, you are the exception.

• you were bringing him some tea after he had worked on all the other 8 mercs, helping him calm down and catch a break. You notice he's still writing down notes and you walk over to him. You place the tea on his desk and place a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh...honey, your supposed go be taking a break. Don't stress yourself out too much." He keeps writing for a bit, it's like you weren't even there. But then he pauses, and realises HES honey. "AH! Yes yes...no need to worry mein liebe. I will take zhe break soon. I just need to finish zhe last folders I have." He gives you a weary smile, with his cheeks now rose tinted.

You let him do his thing, giving him a kiss on his forehead and leaving him alone. Once your gone, OHHH MAN HE IS A BLUSHY DORK. "Archimedes...did you hear what they called me? Honey! I know right? I am their honey! Ahahahhaa!" brags to his bird and actually takes that break just for you. He will not admit it, but his heart skips a bear when you call him that.

♡Sniper♡

• babe, love, sweetheart, dollface, angel.

• oh he's very much a nickname person. He just doesn't have much to call you. not the most affectionate man with his words, more of a physical touch guy. but nicknames help with that :)

• he loves nicknames for you, it makes him feel nice that he can regularly call you these terms of endearment because truly, you are his and he is yours.

• you were with him in his camper van, just taking a small break from all the chaos with the other mercenaries. He was holding you, just being together in a sweet embrace while he listens to you talk about stuff and stuff.

the alarm went off, and it was time for yet another fight. "Oh, there it is." You let go as he got up and got his sniper rifle. "Ah okay. Go get em baby!" You blow him a kiss goodbye. His expression is unclear for a moment, but he smiles. "Will do, angel." For the rest of the mission, he is motivated. Man doesn't get killed ONCE. He won't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

♡Spy♡

• we all know this motherfucker is smooth as hell. got all the fuckin things to make a man flushed bro 🚶

• mon amour (my love), mon cherie/ ma cheri (my darling), mon couer (my heart), my dear.

• he is very affectionate in all shapes of sizes. He was the guy who made the five love languages.

• first time you called him a nickname was when you two were dancing. in his smoking room, as the air filled with sweet smelling candles, the sound of the pleasant music made the atmosphere all the more romantic as he swayed you gently.

"tu es ravissante ce soir, mon amour." (you look absolutely ravishing tonight, my love.)

you sighed, lying onto his chest as you both stopped. "Gosh, your such a sweet talker." You giggled, as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "Mm...just stating the obvious, no?" His gentle eyes stare at you, oh how he loved you so much. "Baby, you really do spoil me."

He's shocked for a bit, but he feels pride. "Only for you, mon couer."

pretty calm actually. in that moment, he feels too much endearment to actually be flustered or panicked, he's just so calm. but later, you'll catch him randomly smiling mid mission. thinking of that word replaying in his mind, he will want you to call him that all the time.

Wooo it's 2 am and I got orientation today but ykw hey tf2 am I right? anyways I think it's funny how spy is the one with the longest text in this when he's the guy I least care about 🚶 jk I love him ig but his son is cuter

#tf2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 x reader #team fortress #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #i love men #tf2 scout x reader #tf2 soldier x reader #tf2 pyro x reader #tf2 demoman x reader #tf2 heavy x reader #tf2 engineer x reader #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 spy x reader #i love men so muxh #i love wome #n

[trashlama]

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ROR (Record Of Ragnarok) headcanons/IDK drabble turned one-shot

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Jack The Ripper

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This is definitely not for kids!

Like if you're under 18 please just turn back. This is 18+ only!

Just to warn you guys, I literally watched this show almost in one night yesterday so bear with me. And then proceeded to write this. It was supposed to just be some headcanons. And then it turned into drabble and then one shot.

Aaaaahhhhhhhhhh

I re-read this thing a couple of times. I tried to search the internet for quotes that would fit. Cause his character is really into quote'in and shit. I'm sorry if it isn't great I don't usually write so I tried my best. I just was filled with so much simpin' juice for this man at the time so I had to write cause I have no confidence in drawing his character with how badass he is.

Please enjoy!

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Really into aura shit

You got a nice aura? Better watch out. He might seek you out for that warmth if it's too similar to his mother's. Before she went kray- kray-.

Brah has a thing for cute shit

Based on his reaction with the Valkyrie chick he Völundr with. He's definitely into Lolita's.

I'm not a hundred sure what else he might be into. I feel like he's into the whole pure thing and wanting to A.) Corrupt it or B.) Cherish it.

Totally see him as a creep/closet pervert

Too much of gentlemen to be straight up creepy, buuutt still manages to push boundaries, tho whatcha gonna do

Brah is V from V for Vendetta but, minus the whole fuck parliament and being a charred turkey whose like woof- woof- for Evee Hamond.

Brah kept giving me flashes back to Batman by Gaslight.(Really good movie, guess what? Fet. Batman & Jack the Ripper. It's some badass shit.)

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Brraaahhh imagine just being some poor samp having to make ends meet in like one of the recognized most shittiest times. And its the dead of the night, walking home after your shift at the pub that ran later than you would prefer. But hey, money is money.

Everything is quite aside from the inebriated stumbling to their choice of den and the ladies of the night who waited on the curbs for potential customers. Preferably the quick and wasted ones.

Although the lamp wicks were burning bright thanks to the caretakers that serviced them. You being a dumb b*tch just trying to get home decide to pull the white girl move in the horror movie and walk into one of many dark decrepit alleys in London that were spread out like a cobble stone labyrinth.

Only to come across this motherfucker while passing through. Humming the London bridge is Falling Down while hunched over something behind one the local comunial waste bins. Obviously whatever it was had the bizarre-o ivory-haired man distracted enough to not notice your initial presence. If you were a normal self-preservation instinct still intact person you would've ran back the way you came.

Buuut that's too easy sooooo, no.

You—, you decide to play Blue's fuckin Clues and go stroll by the dude to see what he dooooin'.(Kinda like when there's a crash and everyone is like yoo I wanna see. But there's traffic so they slow just a little bit down when passing the crash to see what's up. Cause we all nosey b*tches. Don't lie.)

Didn't even take five steps before this crackhead whipped around to see who was approaching. And in the same short amount of time it took the mustached hetero-chromatic eyed dude to analyze your fluctuating aura of emotions. Meanwhile your ass noticed how this dude was fist deep in this lady's guts playin' doctor with a satchel of equipment at his side. Outfit drenched in the same burgundy colored ooze that flooded from the ripped open abscess in the abdomen of the obviously recently deceased women that was prompted up against the corner where the waste bin met the structure.

Before you could even think of back pedaling out of this situation. The pale haired man had launched himself on you. Quick to restrain you against the gross ass cobblestone wall of the ally way. In the right hand a common barbers knife that'd you find in any supplies shop in london—hovered threateningly above the thin skin of your throat. While the other was kept busy planting you against the wall by the roots of your still pinned up hair.

The desire to allow fear course into your veins was strong as you stared trapped in the heterochromatic pools of mania that belong to the person infront of you. Pools of crimson and glacier keeping you pinned. The former of the two holding almost supernatural glow to it. The gleam of it's light piercing through the veil of fog and darkness like the knife he so carefully wielded.

"What's a young maiden like yourself walking around at this hour in a place like this? And without a chaperon?" The mustached man inquired though obviously not out of interest but, amusement. Maintaining the manic look upon his pale aging features as he peered back into orbs of (y/e).

"It is a blind goose that cometh to a fox's sermon." The older gentleman cooed. Warm breath fan across the skin of your face leaving behind goosebumps in its wake.

The guy was definitely creepy.

Though not keen on being a damsel in destress of any kind. Your ass knew you wanted to survive this counter. And no one from the London yard to the hooker you passed on the corner is gonna help you now.

You had three options:

Scream

Fight

Reason

With a blade at your throat you might as well call yourself Marie Antoinette 2.0, if you chose the first option. Fighting with this dude would definitely be one-sided. From the fact that it took him 2.5 secs to over power you and contain you to a single spot. Yeah that's a no-go. And to be honest you weren't a hundred percent sure if reasoning would work on the psycho in front of you. Based off the fact he's staring at you like a mustached Cheshire Cat with a Mad Hatter's attitude. This is one fucked game of perseverance that you wish hadn't walked into.

Your last resort? You weren't completely sure what yet but one thing for sure; the way this night was looking so far this might be your last time underneath the moonlight. You might as well try something. It's not like you have anything left in your life to lose.

As you steeled your resolve in your mind. Your aura told the middle age man everything he needed to know.

At first glance it was nothing special. Just a cesspool of emotions primarily exhaustion and the normal stress that lays beneath every worrisome thought of the future and tomorrow's problems.

He was just going to rip her up like the predecessors that came before her. However, it was when he pinned her to the putride wall of the alleyway that he saw her true colors.

They shifted like a marvelous rainbow. One moment they were a stressful cobalt. The next a surprised cyan. Than a thoughtful calculative lime green.

However resting a deeper emotion sat next to the core in every flash of color. Remaining vigilant against an invasion from outside forces that threaten to penetrate the brigade that kept them at bay. Was a spec of regretful indigo. There it sat safe guarding the very thing that created its very being. So the same thing wouldn't happen again.

The array of sensitive colors dazzled his senses. The alternating emotions keep his interest peeked and the knife from laying any more pressure on your artery. His receptors in his nerves soaking up the vivid feelings like a dry sponge in the bath water. However unlike the sponge, his body just craved more.

He wanted to see the violet purple. The despair fill her heart. It was his favorite thing.

Swallowing a thick glob of saliva your (y/e) irises began to what you think is nonchalant but, isn't very chalant— scanning your surroundings. Looking for an opportunity to present itself despite the current obvious disadvantages. -cough- knife at your throat -cough- head at risk being slammed -cough-.

The creepy-ass grin from the creepy-ass man in front of you didn't help easing any tension in the little space between you two.

" Sir I nought know why you're doing this but, please allow me to pass onwards on my path. I cannot convict you. I don't even know your name nor what you look like." You reasoned (y/e) eyes filled with earnestness and your soul mirroring the same in a vivid courageous orange and a trepidious magenta.

Eyes trained with one another never breaking for a moment. Not even when his hand with the knife pulled away and was swiftly replaced with the left grasping your windpipe.

He hummed amused with your statement. How foolish you were to think ignorance could save you from your sealed fate.

" How rude of me..." He began.

Successfully instilling even further the threat that was to her life tonight. Not the drunktards who came in on a regular. Not the slim shit wages that barely kept her afloat. Not cholera(that one is a joke because of the time period and where they're at).

The mustached man right in front of her.

Typically he just kills whores. The women who remind him the most of his mother. Though if their soul shines a true brilliant viscous scarlet.... he doesn't mind making an exception or two. After all at the end they all become such a beautiful violet before it ends in white.

Taking an actual intake of her appearance she was certainly not a prostitute. Her bosom was properly strapped down by the corset underneath the fabric of her appropriately length dress that clung to her desirable frame. No cheap lard products to cover her natural appeal.

Only upon closer exception does he notice the faintest of a tan line from a band that has long since been removed.

A ring.

There had been a martial union and as evident with the lack of a band clasped around her dainty finger. It has been terminated. Divorced. Day-old goods that no one wants to touch.

The absence of it told him she had no one to return too.

That she was also abandoned.

That she was free for the taking if he pleased.

But, unlike most Lodon's fine selection of men. Jack actually did have manners.

And a criteria.

And before taking her in he needed to test her.

Can't have distrust in a budding relationship now can we?

" My name dear unwanted maiden is.... "

Hands like snakes from Garden of Paradise enclosed around your tranchea . Effectively sealing away the opening for the air to travel into your lungs.

"....Jack,..."

Cheshire Cat grin stretched across his pale complexion. The insanity in his eyes burning red hot like the poker in the fire.

"... Jack The Ripper! " He said with a joyous glee. Finally leaning in close enough that you could finally make out his full features.

"Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest"

Pools of (y/e) widen with surprise as they maintained the direct line of eye contact with the killer who has been stalking the streets of White Chapel.

Tears fell from (y/n) sockets. Not out of fear or the tragedy of your death. But rather the hurt of knowing you'll never get the chance to have a family.

I'm sorry this next part is ridiculously darker than the rest of this one shot/drabble. IDK how I went down this path but, just warning the next part includes talks of divorce, implied inf@cide, implied ch!ld murder, mi$carriage, oh and I almost forgot just dap of pedo alert.0

Please continue with your own discretion!!!

Since the start you never got to have that family. You never knew your parents. They had left you at an orphanage. Lucky for you that they had room to spare. Most became water logged coffins sealing away the babes from undesirable fates.

It wasn't sunshine and rainbows at the orphanage. You had to pull your weight from a very young age. Those who didn't contribute didn't get food, those who resisted got sent away, anyone who didn't listen came back from lectures with welts and concussions. You pick and choose your battles. And you chose them very carefully for the first fifteen years.

Until you felt the need to defend yourself against one of the caretakers who wasn't so noble. You had shed first blood the summer before. And ever since had been on the edge due to prying eyes and wandering hands.

That summer you left the orphanage and headed to London. Hear say from villagers say all the jobs are in the cities now. Thanks to the Industrial revolution offering more opportunities than ever before.

You had gone. Worked at a textile plant for some time until you met your first husband. And became pregnant with your first kid.

....only to lose the fetus three months later due to the stress your body was under. Children take so much. Even before their born. The nutrients get sucked from the marrow and slowly you lost the battle.

Your husband blamed you, and you did too. You tired, tried, and tried. But, they just couldn't be kept.

It wasn't even a two years later that your first husband divorced you.

You always wanted to be able to try again. To have that child to love and hold, to cherish unconditionally like you wished you had been.

Though staring into those mix-matched pools of insanity. In one last attempt to not give into the fear of the impending end. You thought one last time about your dream.

Jack was both pleased and mystified

Instead of the violet purple he saw within most of his victims. He found a light source that resembled the embers that kept the Londoners warm through the ruthless winters. An eradecent hue that blend yellow and pink into what can only be described as a hug to the senses.

Relaxing and comforting. A guiding light to ease one to rest.

"And light is mingled with the gloom, And joy with grief; Divinest compensations come, Through thorns of judgment mercies bloom In sweet relief ".

Slowly hands like steel latches released their grasp from around your neck. Skin already blossoming with bruises in the shape of handprints.

Without the support holding you up your body slid towards the alley way floor to only be scooped up into Jack's arms, as if weighing nothing more than a few sheets of paper.

"There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand."

Too exhausted to fight off Jack's tight embrace between the near death experience and the shift you had worked before ever traversing down this alleyway.

(y/e) drifted shut as you listened to Jack whisper sweet quotes of adoration as he took you away. Going only gods know where.

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd."

As the morning sun rose above the thick pea soup fog. Londoners would be too enthralled in the newest victim of the ripper to notice that there was another woman that the ripper had stolen. With no body to be found.

The five quotes here are quoted by(as in order of appearance)

John lyly

William Shakespeare

John Greenleaf Whittier

Mary Shelley

William Shakespeare

My other fur-baby is fed up with me editing this thing.

#ror jack the ripper #ror x reader #im a simp #record of ragnarok #drabble #drabbles #so lost #im dead #wtf is going on #record of ragnarok x reader #x reader #idk what im doing #idk what else to tag #oneshots #headcanon #headcanons #jack the ripper #record of ragnarok jack the ripper #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere

[lunesprite]

FNAF movie talk - (spoilers beneath the cut) (i did enjoy it it was very fun we saw it twice)

ok now that we're safely under the spoiler bar

I LOVED the set and the animatronics. The costumes were amazing and they did such a good good job with them. You could feel the love that went into making everything and just. Ah! Ah! I thought that they did a good job with Mike! Like yeah, let's stack on the motivation to stay here.

The issues I had are mostly around a couple confusing bits. And I bring them up because I had the mortifying realization as I was explaining to my partner's younger brother that - yeah. I know too much about this.

Anyway.

I think they kiiiind of bungled two of the ghost kids. Freddy's ghost, and golden freddy.

They really, really conflated the two throughout the film, and it makes the line later of him being like 'not freddy :)' quite confusing to someone who hasn't spent an agonizing amount of time in the lore. Like, even in the Freddy death scene with the bite? I am like 90% sure the kid shown leading to that was GF kid, not the OG freddy ghost kid, and it was definitely normal Freddy in parts and services and not golden.

I think they either needed to show golden freddy in that scene, or have the freddy kid ghost shown. By equating and confusing the two there, it really makes golden freddy later... confusing.

I think that actually, having golden freddy get that kill would have worked better. Because then it's shown before it's suddenly in their house! Or have both of them in there. Having just freddy and then being like oh uhh yeah there's five and you've not actually been talking to freddy ghost but GOLDEN freddy ghost hehe :) it's not great. it's a bit sloppy.

Making either direction more clear would have been a good benefit to the film.

And I think really the only other thing coming to mind right now is the kind of climax scene. It would have been stronger, I think, if Afton had kept the mask on. Like ok. Ok. Then the audience doesn't get the OHHHH THAT"S AFTON!!! recognition from the first scene, but then you wouldn't have the kind of weirdness of like... The impression I carried, perhaps wrongly, was that the ghost kids simply didn't connect springtrap with the man who killed them, and that's why in the games he is shown diving back into the suit; it masks who he is from the vengeful ghosts, because the funny bunny didn't hurt them, it was the bad purple guy.

Having afton take the mask off to gloat is a bit weird. I feel like they could have shifted that to have him still talking in the mask but referencing things from their interview talk to have as the reveal instead. Have Mike listen to him say something, idk, that clues him in to the fact that this is technically a set up. Afton with the mask off should, by my understanding, have drawn ghostie aggro. I know this is another canon, but it makes the whole... ghost situation a little odd.

I actually don't have problems with the drawing cluing the ghosts in, I just think the idea that they didn't aggro at Afton with the mask off to be strange. I would think at least GF would have gone aggressive, but again, his role is just... odd.

I also think, perhaps suggesting this is a sin, but I wish they'd sacrificed his iconic line there at the end. If they'd changed it to him just generally gloating about how he'd be back, instead of him always coming back, because like. It's a great easter egg, but you've really gotta be into the franchise to get it. To an outsider, it's just a little weird for him to say.

Springtrap looked fucking great tho, 10/10 loved him.

They were 10000000% right to give him a knife.

I'd give it like. A 7/10 overall. A 10/10 for sheer fun tho.

I am going to buy a big fuckin' poster for this movie and buy it the second it comes out on disc. I am dying to see what extras it will come with.

#fnaf movie spoilers #artalking

[postapocalyptic-cryptic]

6, 11, 23 from the generic oc asks list for Hemlock and 2, 3, 10 for Penchant in the lilia one mwah <3

kiskiskis

6. What kind of person are they attracted to? 

Hmmm this one is hard for Hemlock bc I'm never quite sure if he's aro or just too goddamn busy and stressed to have time to even think about romance. He's definitely not ace, though (he's bisexual questioning aromantic), so just from a sexual point of view, he's attracted to physically fit people. He's very attracted to competence in general, and he WILL get horny for properly done paperwork and well-thought-out procedure. Don't test him.

Romantically, assuming he's not aro or assuming a queerplatonic relationship (either one goes, he has no clue what's going on and neither do I), pretty much the same thing. He also really wants someone who's going to take him seriously and who's willing to separate their time together from his status as a clone and a member of the Coruscant Guard. He's got some serious mental blocks up regarding his "real" life and his romantic/sexual life. He needs so much therapy.

11. What does the most recent text/message/missive that they sent say?

CT-3356/CMO Hemlock to Sergeant Hound: dont even fuckin think about it i will skin you alive

23. Favourite part of their daily routine?

He likes going around the long-term stay ward and doing the morning routine there. It’s very calming for him. Everything’s still quiet and everyone’s waking up and nothing catastrophic has happened yet. He gets to see people at their best, right at the beginning of the day before they can get tired and disheartened. He even gets to pretend the medbay’s ever closed, since the regular, non-long-term medbay is so busy all the time that there’s really no morning opening and evening closing routine.

2.   What do strangers notice about them first?

Appearance-wise, definitely his hair. Since his armor is so dark and he’s usually next to Faie, who has completely black hair, the bleached bits at the top stick out like a beacon aslkdjglkj. He likes to process his hair twice, so the blond is very bright and it draws people’s eyes up to the top of his head.

Personality-wise, they notice how friendly and welcoming he is. No matter what, Penchant has a smile for strangers, and if they’re part of his mission, he’s going to help them however he can.

3.   How does their social personality differ from how they act when they’re alone?

Penchant’s much more outgoing and talkative around other people than he is alone or in a small group. He needs a lot of recharging from doing all that relating to the public and helping and talking and being cheerful.

He’s also a lot more serious one-on-one, and he has a mean streak he tries to hide from other people. There’s a reason he’s so close with Faie. If he was all sunshine and rainbows, they wouldn’t get along.

(He’s also a fucking liar but that’s another post)

10.   What is a weird quality that they have (ie their hands are always cold, they’re always hungry, they snort when they laugh, etc)?

First of all, he absolutely snorts when he laughs. He’s a happy guy! He laughs genuinely, even if it’s not “pretty.”

He’s also that guy who will actually always knock on wood (or idk the space equivalent? knock on plastoid?) when he says it or when he’s afraid he might jinx something. He Has to.

#thank you!! #penchant #hemlock #I love them so much #ask tag #kkrazy256

[dykeminecraft]

Actually fuck it I'm chattering about it Now.

So I'm in a discord for a game series (IEYTD) and that's where all this is happening

The most recent puzzle...transmission...thing we got was these two images & a message

(This is a spy game series dw about it it's not super relevant)

Anyways we got that about 5 days ago. More under the cut bc I'm gonna fuckin Ramble

anyways so this guy...i mean technically speaking he's based on the handler character from the games so i'll just call him Handler. anyways. Handler had a pen pal (as you can see) & we. don't know shit about this pen pal. all we know is that they play a "mean game of chess" and are now in mortal peril. cool whatever we can fix that probably.

first transmission is a threat, pretty bog standard, it's fine. the clues make it come out to "this message is a warning - your friend is a secret". which ok cool doesn't give us much to go on but it's fine

next transmission is a drawing of dominoes (the dominoes are orange, green, purple, blue, & yellow). dots & divider lines on the dominoes translate to morse. yay. orange becomes "burn", green becomes "life", purple becomes "bleed", blue becomes "funeral", yellow becomes "flanter". don't worry about that last one it's an inside joke & the moderators keep poking at us about it. anyway

something that wasn't relevant up until this point is now relevant, which is that while Handler can send us transmissions, we can respond. so we pick green. Handler's like "i hope you're right about this because everyone picked green" (we were right. it's fine).

(it also becomes obvious that he's at least somewhat aware of our other discussions, specifically when it would be funny, because he mentions our concerns that the penpal may be the major antagonist of the game series. he shrugs it off. we're still suspicious).

so we're helping Handler at this point.

next transmission comes in, and it's caeser ciphered, different shifts every line, it's fine it gets solved in 30 minutes flat. but unfortunately the person who kidnapped the penpal (referred to as Hijacker from here on) has gotten tired of Handler using a P.O. box & is now demanding his address (coordinates, actually).

So we have to give Handler a burner location. all good. he gives us options to pick from, we pick somewhere in the city, it's great.

we wait a month.

then this one comes in.

so now that about 3 months has been summed up. time to explain what in the absolute fuck this latest one is.

each number on that sheet of paper has multiple translation options, based on what the corresponding letters on a phone pad would be. for example, 4 could be G, H, or I. and it's not consistent - one 4 could be an I, and the next could be a G.

this took us a day to figure out.

and because of how it is by nature, there's multiple different word possibilities.

all of this is from one line of numbers. it's a nightmare out here. and most of these, yknow, they make sense if you look at them for a second (like that one comes out to "take a short walk to get a short cake")

but the first line is a nightmare. and then there's this funny little line

it took us 3 days to figure out what that said with occasional input from the puzzle manager.

p.th.a² + b² = c². that's what it translates to.

which is a pretty obvious reference to pythagorean's so it didn't take long to figure out what it meant after that, but the translation was rough. but now we know

so anyway we get about...3 lines into translating it, and figure out that they're directions. assumedly leading to that purple building in the map picture.

problem is. the directions aren't just "go left. go right. go straight." this is a list of confirmed correct translations & sentences:

(temptation was a typo on the puzzle manager's part. it's fine i assumed it was on purpose)

these are our current directions. we're pretty sure that this is correct bc the puzzle manager reacts with a specific emote when we get a right answer (which has been fucking instrumental in this puzzle. it's been 5 days)

we think we have it narrowed down to a building/area within that star lookin cluster

what we know now is that -there's a park on the immediate left of the origin point -"poof" isn't a relevant word. apparently. -the second sentence (park port) helps with orientation, and the third sentence (pass pest pair and peer) helps nail down the origin point we're hoping to have it done within the next couple days. but then again there's only two people working on it most of the time (+ the input of the puzzle manager)

#please for the love of everything don't go do that alone. pls #thorn post #so yeah. we gotta figure out which building it is. to tell handler to go into #meanwhile outside of the puzzle myself and the other person are like #it's fun though. it's enrichment

[dzpenumbra]

4/27/23

Okay so... I got to bed at around 2:30. And I struggled to get to sleep pretty bad. Like, tossing and turning and not able to actually fall asleep. I got there eventually, but was woken up by the sound of some really loud appliance, I still have no idea what it was or where it was coming from. This sound was at 5:50 AM. And I was supposed to be up for my apartment inspection at 9. I had an alarm set and everything.

I laid there for - no exaggeration - 2.5 hours trying to fall asleep again. No phone, no apps, just laying in bed with my eyes closed, trying to fall asleep. Doing breathing exercises, doing body relaxation techniques, visualization techniques, you name it. Everything I've learned over like 15 years of studying sleep hygiene techniques. And I just gave up and got up at like 8:30.

The guy showed up for the inspection at like 9:30, it was super quick, just an electrical inspection or something. He even gave me compliments about how clean my place was, which blew my mind. I started on a new abstract drawing, I'm gonna work on it more and I'll post it when it's done.

I went to take a nap around... fuck man, I don't even know. The whole day has been a huge blur, unfortunately. Temporally, at least. I put in the earbuds and put on some binaural beat thing for a 90 minute nap and... same problem. I "forgot" how to fall asleep. I've gotten this before, and it's like... it's a fucking torturous feeling. Being absolutely utterly exhausted... and not being able to fall asleep. And not knowing why, not knowing what you're doing wrong.

I napped successfully, though, and had some of the most intense dreams I've had in a long fuckin time. It was surreally like... norse-age, with these weird mutated people that were cutting off a water supply or something? I have no clue and that probably sounds ridiculous, but this dream was legit one of the most vivid I've had in ages. The colors, the sounds, the imagery; so memorable. I might try fucking with that binaural stuff to see if I can amplify how vivid my dreams get. You know... intentionally... like when I want it to happen.

I woke up at like... 2, I think? My car reservation was at 1, but was until 5. I made sure to book a big window just in case something like this happened, I just didn't expect it to be... like 4 hours of sleep total.

And I looked up like... more sleep techniques and the shit I was doing was literally what they train for people in the military who need to sleep while sitting up and shit. And it didn't fucking work. And it said on there, this might not work with people who have ADHD and/or anxiety issues. Welp, there ya go...

I showered and said fuck it and went. The walk to the car alone had my shins fuckin throbbing. I speed-walk a bit too much when I walk around the city, I'm just... 1). not used to urban environments and they still make me feel unsafe, and 2). not used to walking in shoes, tbh.

But that was remedied (and reminded, which is why I even noticed the speed-walking) by finally getting back into nature.

A quick stop at Walgreens first, to get the steroid cream the doctor prescribed me... a month ago... And they had to redo it, because of how long it took me to get there. XD So I sat there nodding off for like... 20 minutes...

But then I went to the park. And I got to hike barefoot again, and it was such an at-home feeling. I was out there until like 6. I think it was a total of about 3 miles of walking? I explored a bunch, they had some cool constructions like staircases and bridges and shit, very well-made stuff. There was even a beach right on the lake, it was very pretty and peaceful. I found some rocks that I brought home, I'm going to try to clean them up and see how they come out. There was a decent amount of sandstone there, which is actually pretty cool because it's super soft, so it's easy to carve. I'm going to see what working with it is like and then go from there, if I feel like trying to source more. It's cool how different the types of stone are around here.

For real, just being out in the woods alone, no music, no distractions, just me and nature, bare feet on the ground, wind on the skin, it was great. I missed it a lot. It's like... the polar opposite of how I feel when I'm in the city... XD

Driving wasn't as nerve-wracking as I thought. It was fine. Got the car back half an hour early, ordered a pizza. The car did cost a total of $50 for it being mine from 1-7... (I added 2 hours and I'm glad I did) which is like... ugh... But when you consider I never actually drive anywhere and compare that to buying a car, or paying lease payments? It ain't bad, especially when I don't even pay for gas.

So yeah, those earplugs I ordered were delivered this afternoon. Talk about fucking timing... -_- I'm gonna try them tonight. Like I said a few nights ago, I don't have to listen out for pets anymore, so... fuck it. Hope they work for me, I think if I can sleep with AirPods in, I should be able to sleep with earplugs in okay.

Definitely bed time. I can barely keep my eyes open.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

[haikyuuties-xo]

things I'd do/say to (high school) atsumu just to piss him off

because apparently people thought my one with oikawa was funny (or you felt bad for me)

I'm gonna be honest i think osamu and suna have deemed it illegal for atsumu and i to be in the same room together because i would simply chose violence every day

"ya know, you kind of look.....egg-ish today."

"the fuck ya mean?!"

"it's just a feeling. getting major egg...egg man? s o n i c ?"

"what the fuck is wrong with ya"

"so many things. but wtf is wrong with your face"

*shouting ensues*

i'd also call him osamu but—"oh WAIT, sorry, i forgot you're just piss piss boy."

I'd also kick his chair forward in class

inch by inch

but it might fail because my seat would move backwards instead of his

but when he asks what I'm doing i just say I'm trying to move away from him :)

definitely "accidentally" kick his butt if i sit behind him

(it was worth it to hear the "oW WHAT THE FUCK" during the shogun history lecture)

he gets a little glimmer of hope when he receives a little note from me during class with cute animal designs on it

but when he opens it

:)

"hey atsumu 👉🏻👈🏻 i think it's cute that you beat balls all day 💗"

i knew i should run then 😌

puts random trash in his jacket pockets if they're sprawled out on his chair.

so when he starts practice he puts his hands in his pockets and he's like what the actual fuck

out comes gum wrappers, paper clips, little notes like "I'm bored" or "tehe hope you like my new gar-bo despenser 💗"

might tie his shoelaces together at one point (who knows)

I'll definitely do a n y t h i n g 'samu and suna dare me to do regarding atsumu

I'll come up with the ✨worst✨ nicknames without fail

"hey twincest"

"(ノಠ益ಠ)/"

"hey jock strap"

"..."

Things that would balance out my annoying self (so it's a fair fight)

nonnegotiable. i WILL challenge him to a fight but unlike Oinkawa 🐷 i think he will probably just pick me up and plop me over his shoulder

*whispers* "what the hell is going on right now miya"

*whispers back* "i have no fuckin' clue"

i will genuinely apologize and hate myself forever if i ever hurt someone's feelings forreal 🥺

i will probably stupidly laugh at everything he says because i don't know his accent is so fucking hilarious to me and his mannerisms

he's so fucking funny because he's NOT

i draw during class instead of paying attention

1st and 2nd year me would be a straight A+ student and then 3rd year me ohoh

3rd year me doesn't give a single fuck

i honestly never studied and still passed most classes with an A except *breathes heavily* calculus

yo FUCK calculus amirite

atsumu looks like he's good at math but he also looks like he's really bad at math, if that makes sense

he'd say "i love how ya notes are all fancy n' styled n' shit n' yer still failing this class"

"i'M nOT FAILING 😭😭😭😭 I HAVE A B+"

"pathetic"

osamu steps in like "'tsumu you literally have a D-"

honestly it's okay we can be stupid together

hate to bring it up again but like. guys.

I'm so so so bad at sports.

i love volleyball and can play it "okay" but if he ever asks me to play I'm running so fucking far away

i think it's cute i could always get a rise out of him but I'm the same way ;;;

I'm so easy to tease actually

actually I'm just in love with him so i guess i'm 🤡

i wrote this sleep deprived so

#akaashi keiji #haikyuu text post #haikyuu!! #hinata shouyou #kozume kenma #iwaizumi haijime x reader #atsumu #atsumu scenarios #msby atsumu #atsumu fluff #atsumu hcs #atsumu icons #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #lev haikyuu #haikyū!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanon

[shurisneakers]

shut in [4]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: greetings everyone!! how are we all doing? i have nothing to say here tbh so anyway stan sam wilson being a lil shit whenever possible. 

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Alright, thank you.”

You hung up the call, trudging back to the house, discarding the battery along the way.

The air had a chill to it and there was an occasional breeze that went past, rustling leaves providing an eerily comforting background score. The temperature tended to rise as the day went on but nights were especially cold due to the abundance of trees. 

Even though the stress of the situation you were in constantly consumed all your waking thoughts, you still found the time to appreciate how beautiful your surroundings were. 

The last few days were barely memorable. Sam and you tended to stay out of each other's way unless your meal time coincided or you watched the local news together. The schedule had worked out favourably.

He wasn’t very hard to live with.

Most of the time.

His commentary and small jokes were never-ending but were not as unwelcome as you initially thought. It brought some much needed light into your otherwise dreary day. When it came to figuring out how to do laundry due to your now extended stay or whose turn it was to do it, things got a bit messy but were resolved quickly.

He used to disappear often for hours on end. You never concerned yourself with going after him to find out where he went, figuring that unless he was hatching a plot that led to your demise, he was entitled to his own privacy. He’d return a while later, calmer than when he left.

It was fine. Nothing to write home about. Neither of you were dead yet.

“What are you doing on the bed?” You were reconsidering your last thought when you walked into the bedroom to resume your self-interrupted sleep, only to find him face down on the sheets. “It’s my day today.”

“Just give me some time. I’ll be out of here soon enough.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the sheets.

“You can take all the time you need tomorrow when it’s your turn.” You swatted at his legs, earning a grunt of chagrin from him.

“Go eat some soup and maybe you’ll calm down,” he fired back, unmoving.

“Today’s not soup day. Which you would know if you paid attention to our schedule. That we made. Together. The same schedule which says it’s my turn today.”

He groaned, shoving his face deeper into the pillow. “My back’s killing me. Just give me a few.”

“Why, what’d you do?” you asked curiously, letting go of his leg.

“Combat training. Took a few beatings, fucked up my spine.”

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“It comes and goes.” Sam finally rolled onto his back, giving you a view of his face. His bone structure was amazing, even from quite possibly the ugliest angle you could have over him. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

You just stared at him as he linked his arms behind his neck, elevating his head to look at you. He had a small stubble that was starting to grow longer. You wondered if he would shave it. He looked good regardless.

“How’s your beloved?”

“Huh?”

“The person you keep sneaking around to talk to on the phone. I’m not your dad, y’know. You can talk to them inside the house, ‘m not gonna ground you,” he quipped, a small, teasing smile on his face.

“He’s not my lover. Just... an acquaintance.” You felt the awkwardness starting to set in after you trailed off. “Anyway since you’re awake, we need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?”

“What happened that day. We’ve been avoiding it but we need to figure out what went wrong. Or at least a clue.”

“Okay,” Sam agreed, wincing as he sat up straight. “How do you want to do it?”

“Just talk me through how you got put on this mission and what exactly happened that day, I guess.” You took a place on the bed, leaning backward on your hand for support.

He nodded, delaying for a second to collect his thoughts before beginning.

“So basically-”

The sun was particularly relentless that day.  

The ringing bell above the door of his favourite coffee shop was a welcoming sound. The barista smiled at him in greeting, asking if he wanted his usual to go.

His park bench was empty as it always was. Sam liked to think of it as a small gift from the universe; the fact that it was perpetually unoccupied.

He liked to sit there and watch people’s day go by. His iced coffee-

“I don’t really require that much detail.”

“Patience. I’m getting there.”

It was arguably one of the most peaceful days he had had in awhile, and he was hoping to keep the streak going. Nothing seemed like it would phase him, not even the phone ringing, drawing his attention away from the scene in front of him. Caller ID didn’t trace who it was.

“Hello?”

“Wilson.”

Sam gripped the cup so hard he thought it might spill over onto his jeans.

“I told you not to call me, Ransone.”

“But honey we had such a good time last night,” he faux cooed, “You know I have needs-”

“I’m not getting involved in your stupid organisation, Vincent. I told you I’m done,” Sam broke in, not wanting to waste time listening to his stupid dramatics.

“Listen here, Wilson.” The swift change in his tone was looming, threatening. “You’re done when I say you’re done-”

“Wanna bet?” Sam took a sip of his coffee. “I thought we made it clear in Detroit that we’re done. Honey.”

He added the last part out of pure spite just to get a rise out of him. Much to his glee it seemed to work as Ransone let out a deep exhale before continuing.

“That was before we found out there’s a mole in my gang. I want you to kill him.”

“This is way below my pay grade. Have one of your interns do it. Your shitty murder warehouse hasn’t seen much action in a while.”

“This is Pierce we’re talking about. If he’s working for another organisation, his ass is going to be so guarded, these kids couldn’t wouldn’t even get past the gate. Besides, you know my murder warehouse is for special guests only-”

“Man, it must suck real hard to be you right now,” Sam didn’t wait for him to complete his sentence. He finished the last bit of the drink he had left, gathering his things before standing up. “Find someone else. I’m out.”

“You might want to reconsider that. We found him.”

He stopped in his tracks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said steadily, grip on the phone tightening.

“I think you do, though. Had us fooled for a while there, thinking he’s dead. A little more research, some cash into the right pockets and boom! There he is, clear as day.”

Sam felt a chill go up his spine.

“He doesn’t know we know. We’re just keeping an eye on him for now.”

“If you even fucking think of touching him-” his fists were balled up, struggling to keep his anger from rising.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.” Ransone laughed. “I’ll just have one of my interns do it.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Ransone. It’s not somethi-”

“Do this hit and I’ll leave him alone,” Ransone interjected. “You’ve worked so hard to pull him from our radar, Sammy. It would be a shame if it all went to waste.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. Suddenly the day didn’t seem as bright as it was a few minutes ago.

“I’ll text you the details. You tend to leave me on read so I thought I’d make it more fun. Do you want the confetti with the message or the lasers-”

Sam just hung up the call, feet firmly rooted in his spot. He had no idea what he was going to do.

The notification of a new text alerted him. Pierce’s address along with the exact timeline of when he’d be home.

It was across the country. If he botched the mission on purpose, Ransone wouldn't be able to find him for a few days at least, much less reach him. He could go on the run-

‘Do it or he dies.’

His train of thought was interrupted by a picture that made his blood boil.

Especially when it exploded with the stupid confetti effect.

“Okay, basically he threatened you with something to go do the hit.” You didn’t ask him what exactly he was threatening him with and Sam didn’t really elaborate.

“Yeah. Didn’t leave me with much of a choice. He’s batshit fuckin’ crazy anyway, I knew he’d do whatever he felt like.”

“So you ended up going.”

Pierce didn’t seem to get many visitors. Not that anyone could be blamed, this guy was one of the biggest pieces of shit Sam had had the misfortune of meeting.

Over the two days he had staked out in front of the mansion to find out if this guy had as much security as Ransone had boasted of, Sam had come to the conclusive truth that no, he very much did not. He had a standard home security system which was lacklustre compared to the rest of the house.

Maybe he just assumed that being a senior member of the mob would garner some fear to his name. Dumbass.

He found the tall shrubbery surrounding the property to be out of the line of sight of the camera, and climbing it wasn't very hard. He landed softly on the manicured lawn, adjusting his gloves and checking his surroundings before pulling his gun that was secured in the waistband of his pants.

He removed the safety, keeping it close to him as he stalked through the front yard.

The red car parked at the side earned an eye roll from him. If he had one, there was no doubt there’d be more. He just had to find a basement or garage.

Walking around the house, he kept close to the wall, searching for any opening to the basement.

It didn’t take long before he found a set of stairs to the exterior entrance of the basement. He checked to see if anyone was around before making his way down them. The lock was unsurprisingly easy to pick.

The basement was mostly dark save for a few strategic lights placed to highlight the magnificence of his several race cars. The man was moved slower than the second coming of Jesus. The cars just seemed like an overcompensation.

The switchboard was not difficult to find. He pulled open the cover, glancing at the switches before turning all of them off, plunging the whole basement into darkness. If his security system was as outdated as Pierce was, it would have turned off along with the rest of the house.

“Oh, that’s why the cameras weren't working when I showed up.” Bits that seemed amiss were beginning to place itself together the more his story progressed. “I assume you entered the house through the window on the side?”

“Sure did.”

Your guess was right. He’s the reason why it was ajar by the time you arrived.

As soon as he entered he had his gun raised. Scanning the room as he went past, his senses were dialed up to eleven. If he was really under the protection of Serpentine, they were doing a terrible job. He had gotten in completely unscathed.

As he made his way deeper into the house, the sound of some movie playing became louder. But he had cut off the power supply to the house.

His eyebrows pulled together tightly into a frown, he made his way down the hall towards the sound. No one was in the dining or living room he canvassed.

Finally, Pierce’s silhouette became clearer. He appeared to just be sitting there idly while a smaller screen played in front of him. It wasn’t a TV, just an iPad.

If Pierce was asleep it would just make the job easier. Gun raised, Sam made his way into the room silently.

Pierce was still. Sam raised the gun, taking a step closer.

A floorboard creaked.

He immediately cringed, shoulders tensed as he came to an immediate stop. It seemed like forever as he waited for Pierce to wake up, to brandish a gun and try and defend himself.

He didn’t.

Taking a step to the side, Sam moved diagonally. Each one was slow. Ready for any sudden movements from his end.

He finally stopped in front of Pierce.

A bullet hole in his forehead. Eyes open. Chest still.

He was dead.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Sam breathed out, lowering his gun. Pierce’s glassy eyes stared blankly ahead. He didn’t look like had been dead for too long.

A soft thud in another room made his head snap up. It was in the same direction from where he came.

He silently moved backwards to the corner of the room, hoping that the darkness was enough of a disguise as he saw someone stalking down the hallway.

“And that’s when you come in. Thought you were comin’ back to make sure he was dead.”

“I had just got there. Saw that everything was off, and just assumed it was a power outage.”

“What about you? How’d you end up there?” Sam had his legs crossed, leaning forward to listen to you.

“Ransone told me that there was a spy who was sending information out for nearly two years. Needed him gone and he wasn’t sure if his other agent would show up-” you mentioned to him- “I guess that’s you. Told me I had an opening at 8pm. When I got there, the CCTV was off. Found the window open so I just used that.”

You were replaying your memory, step by step to remember what exactly you had seen. 

“Heard the movie playing, found no one when I went down the hall. I saw the car keys on the island, which came in handy later. Entered the room, pushed his head with the gun and he just slumped over like a damn rag doll. That’s when you made your grand entrance.”

“Got one chance to make an impression. Had to make sure I looked cool, emergin’ from the shadows and whatnot.”

“It doesn’t make sense though.”

“Ouch. Thought it was pretty legit, actu-”

“No, no-” you waved him off. “Not your entrance. The henchmen thing.”

He paused, mulling over what you said. “If he was working for Serpentine, he would have been more careful. Why did they show up after he’s dead?”

“I don’t think they work for Serpentine. If Pierce was giving them information, they wouldn’t kill him.” You had good reason to be confident about that. You thought you did, from previous assessments.

“Unless they were scared that he’d switch again,” Sam suggested. You looked up from your fidgeting fingers to him. “Didn’t want any of their secrets going back to Ransone. They got to him before we did.”

“Why’d they shoot at us then? If they killed him and left, why’d they wait for us to show up? Why did they try to kill us?”

“I think we’re ignoring the important thing here,” he paused. You looked at him expectantly, prodding him on. “How did they know we were coming? They should have killed him and disappeared but they expected us.”

You tilted your head. “Are you saying-”

“There might be more.”

“Pierce might not have been the only one,” you finished. “There are more spies.”

“Tipped ‘em off. Told them we were going to be there.”

“And killing us was just to poke Ransone with a stick,” you murmured, eyes downcast, fidgeting with your fingers again. “But that just seems random. It doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this makes sense, sweetheart.” Sam scoffed, leaning back again.

“We’re missing something. There’s something wrong.” You looked at him. “If it’s just a random attack, why did they release our face to the whole fuckin’ country? Why are they specifically targeting us?”

“Finishing what they started. Covering all their tracks from that day. If we’re not dead, we’re a liability.”

“What if it’s not Serpentine at all? What if it’s another gang?”

“Serpentine has the most motive.”

“We don’t know that.”

He looked at you incredulously. “I think there’s substantial evidence to suggest they fuckin’ hate us. Besides, they’d want me dead specifically.”

“Why?” you inquired, eyes narrowing.

He opened his mouth like he was going to explain but closed it a second later, leaving you guessing.

“Fine, but it doesn’t mean they’re the only ones who do.” You made a point to ask him later or at least conduct your own research into it. 

“Okay,” he said, shifting to lean on his elbows, “who else could it be? If Pierce was working for Serpentine and Ransone found out, sends someone to kill him, it’s essentially an attack on one of their own members. I’d say that's a pretty good motive.”

“I don’t know. Hydra doesn’t like us either. There’s Ten Rings too. But Serpentine just doesn’t work out.”

“How are you sure?” he asked. “You a spy for them too?”

You rolled your eyes at him as he raised his eyebrow. “It doesn’t make sense. What if we’re missing something? Did we go through everything?”

“I just went through my entire story down to the most irrelevant details. Twice. Nothing’s missing on my end.” He pushed himself off the bed, taking a long stretch before looking back at you.

“I think we should do it again. Just to make sure.” You rotated your torso to look at him. “We can figure it out-”

“You’re going to lose your mind if you keep at this any longer for today. Take a break.”

“I can’t take this lightly. Everyone’s out there looking for us and there is no one we can trust-”

“And going through our stories for the third time today is going to solve that how?” He had his hands crossed over his chest like a stern parent.

“I’m sorry but our faces are probably plastered in every damn police precinct in the country,” you snapped, “And I think that us remembering something some stupid detail might actually help rather than, I don’t know, taking naps and eating sandwiches. So no, I’m not going to drop it. Because I actually want to get out of here.”

You didn’t mean to sound so angry with him. He had told you everything twice already and patiently answered questions that you had. You didn’t think he was lying. You had no way of knowing but you hoped that some sort of allegiance was being formed between you both.

There was silence for a minute, leaving enough time for the guilt to creep in when he didn’t fire back. It’s what you expected.

“I’m not asking you to drop it. I’m saying take a break,” he said calmly. “You’re thinkin’ enough for the both of us anyway.”

You let out a small exhale, forcing the edge to retreat from your voice.

“I’ll be back in a while.” With that he turned around and left the room. A few minutes later you heard the backdoor open and shut.

Great.

You massaged your throbbing temples, eyes closed. He was right. Your mind wasn’t clear and you had been at this for hours. You wouldn’t be able to think critically.

Or at all.

You dropped back on the bed, grabbing a pillow and pressing it to your face. The coolness of the fabric felt nice.

You just let out a sigh, turning to your side to hopefully get some sleep.

_____

You woke up what seemed like hours later to a dark room.

It took your eyes a while to adjust stepping out into the hallway illuminated by the light in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice rang out. “Made you a sandwich.”

You rubbed your eyes groggily, looking where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a sandwich on the table. He sat at the seat adjacent to it.

“Thank you.” You contemplated sitting next to him for dinner. It would be a first.

In the end you just grabbed your plate, giving him a half smile before making your way to the couch. You settled on sitting on the floor instead, leaning your back against the foot of the sofa.

The TV was already halfway through playing Megamind so you just let it continue, mindlessly chewing on the bread. As far as peanut butter sandwiches go, it wasn’t all that bad.

“Wilson,” you called out sheepishly, eyes not leaving the movie. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It wasn’t right.”

“It’s okay.”

How he let go of it so easily was beyond you. The sandwich was surprising too, but you took it, not wanting to change his mind. He couldn’t have poisoned it. You had checked his stuff.

You sat in silence for the rest of the movie. Your mind kept slipping in and out of thought but it was a comfortable atmosphere you found yourself in.

After the credits started rolling, you went to leave your plate in the sink. Sam brushed past you, grabbing the blanket at the foot of the couch, launching himself onto the cushions.

“What are you doing?” you asked, puzzled as he snuggled in.

“Going to sleep?” He tilted his head to look at you.

“Use the bed.”

“It’s your turn today.”

“Your back’s fucked up. I’ll take the couch.”

He didn’t budge.

“Go on.” You mentioned to the room with a shrug of your shoulder.

“You’re not going to let me argue, are you?”

You pressed your lips into a straight line to hide a smile, shaking your head lightly.

“Well, okay.” He let out a small noise as he got up. “Guess I’m sleeping business class tonight.”

Sam walked past you, careful not to bump into you. You swapped places with him, making your way to the couch, readjusting the blanket that was haphazardly left there.  

“Y/N.” You peered at him from the corner of your eye, only to fully turn when you caught his gaze. “I appreciate it.”

You just nodded, tossing the blanket over yourself as he switched off the light.

Next part

#sam x reader #sam wilson x reader #mcu fic #sam fic #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson angst #sam wilson series #falcon #falcon x reader #the falcon x reader #hitman!sam wilson #hitman!au #shut in fic #marvel fic #marvel #mcu #sam wilson #the falcon #sam wilson fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #sam wilson imagine #sam imagine

[shoutogepi]

His Reaction When His S/O Reveals They Have a Breeding Kink

with Hawks & Todoroki Shouto

genre : [ ✘ (NSFW!) ]  

hc prompt : how would he react when you reveal you have a breeding kink?

author’s note : so this is uhhhhhhh nasty but y’all asked for it (not that i hated writing it or anything heheheeee)

Hawks

honestly you’ve been waiting for a long time to tell him about your dirty little secret. it feels shameful to have such a weird kink, something that gets you dripping wet when you think about it. and you certainly have thought about it, many a time before when he’s thrusting into you. you’ll close your eyes, imagining him whispering those nasty words to you, instantly making you clench onto him— and he has absolutely no clue that your mind is racing with such sin.

it’s taken, well, an embarrassing amount of time for you to finally sack up and just tell him, and now that you’re here underneath him, your heart is racing in your chest. before he’d gotten home you’d been so confident that today is the day you’ll tell him, but now that he’s sucking his mark onto your throat, his rough and nimble fingers slipping underneath the hem of your panties to tug them down your thighs, your voice is silent.

when you finally manage to squeak out his name, hawks stops his assault on your neck and leans back to look at you. the tone of your voice immediately alerts him that you’re uncomfortable, and it startles him into moving his hands from your thighs to rest gently on your hips, those gold eyes peering into yours. “what’s wrong, feather?” he asks, the usual playful tone absent as his thumbs stroke across your skin. “not in the mood?”

you shake your head and look away, heat rising to your cheeks as the moment of truth approaches much sooner than you’re ready for. “i am, i just… i wanna tell you something,” you say, eyes trailing back to lock with his. “and if you don’t, i mean— it’s kind of, uh, weird— so if you’re not comfortable with it, please just forget i ever said anything in the first place, and we’ll just continue like normal, okay?”

hawks is looking at you thoughtfully, and he takes you by surprise when he presses a chaste kiss to your warm cheek.

“well, ‘yanno you’re dating a birdman, so i'm used to weird... but alright, go ahead, dove.” this man never fails to make you smile, even if this time it’s less than half-hearted, the blood rushing in your ears.

after a very uncomfortable pause, you finally say it.

“i kind of have an, um… breeding kink.”

you’re not looking at him but hawks’ eyes are the size of dinner plates. he’s absolutely floored that his sweet little bird indulges in such nasty thoughts— that something so intimate and rather, well, primal could possibly make you squirm.

you take his shocked silence as a rejection, just wanting for this embarrassing confession to be done with, and forgotten. your hands cover your face in mortification, hiding your skin so you can’t feel his judgement “oh god, we can just— please just forget I even—“

his hands grab your wrists, secure enough to pull them away from your face, but gentle enough not to shake your mess of emotions further. a sentiment unlike any you’ve seen before fills his half-lidded eyes, which hold your gaze almost magnetically.

“don’t be so mean, birdie. you’re gonna take it back before we even get to try it out?”

your flushed back hits the cool sheets as he pushes you down, crawling up your body so he hovers above you. it’s your turn to look at him with wide eyes, and that cocky grin is on his lips once more.

“want me to put a baby in you, dove? god, that’s fuckin’ sexy,” he groans, hand dancing along your jaw and dipping his thumb between your lips for you to suck on. his knee slips between your legs, pressing against your pussy so he can feel you twitch in anticipation.

red feathers shiver behind him, the only visible sign you can see that conveys how truly excited he is by the premise of breeding you. well, that and the raging erection he presses into your naked hip, his thin pair of briefs doing their best to hold back his throbbing cock.

“gonna fill you so good, feather, you’re gonna look so good all round with my kid— fuck,” he groans, ripping off his underwear and lining up his swollen tip with your slit. he’s achingly hard and a trail of precum dribbles down his length, another sign of how into this he must be.

he moans as he slips into you, and your back arches as his hips bump yours, his cock nestling all the way inside your ready core. he starts off slow and passionate, taking your leg and slinging it over his shoulder to reach even deeper.

he will not stop his impassioned assault until you’re begging for more— for him to fuck you harder, rougher, faster. and hawks is definitely a tease in bed, so he’s gonna be pretty playful, even while he’s humoring your kink.

“yeah, dove? you want me to fuck you faster? need ‘ta feel these balls fulla my kids slap your pretty pussy?”

“take it, feather— take this cock and show me how bad you wanna carry my kids. fuck yeah, louder— wanna hear you sing for me.”

“god, you’re fuckin’ soaked. y’like hearing me talk about knockin’ you up? y’like it when i tell you i’m gonna make you my mama bird?”

hawks wants to fuck you as deep as he can, so when he cums his seed covers your womb as much as possible. he knows you love it, and it drives him crazy when your pussy clenches onto him as he’s climaxing— like you’re desperate to milk him dry and take every drop of his load, so your body can become swollen with his kids. knowing that only makes him orgasm harder, and maybe he even shoots out a few extra ropes of release because of it.

he will certainly incorporate this new kinky knowledge into your regular sexual routine, and you can safely bet that he will also use it to his very satiating advantage when he’s dealing with his ruts.

GOD when he’s in a rut, this birdman will take you to the next level. his hormones are already screaming at him to mark and claim and fill you, and that extra awareness that you want the same thing just feeds it even more. pray for your pussy during these times. and thank god he has the salary he does, because you’re gonna have to keep buying new sheets, again and again.

hawks will never make you feel judged for having such a kink, because he himself embraces it wholeheartedly. it makes his cock so hard knowing that the premise of him putting a kid in you makes you that wet. he will indulge you to the absolute fullest, and when he’s finished breeding you each session, you’re gonna be worshipped like the absolute queen he regards you as.

Shouto

so if you’re dating shouto be prepared for your friends to assume you like vanilla sex. it’s not that they don’t think he’s not physically capable of fucking you into next year (he’s a pro pero, like, have you seen his muscles?), it’s that shouto has always seemed more of a reserved, analytical kinda guy to most. but as his s/o, you’re exposed to the real shouto, the sassy, suave, and kinky motherfucker.

even if he is kinky, you’re still a bit hesitant to let him know about your breeding kink. the kink is, after all, not the most conventional, and it’s a bit of a… raw and crude kink, compared to others. and of course, you’ve never really revealed this part of yourself to any of your other lovers, because you hadn’t realized you even had the kink in the first place until you met shouto himself.

but the thing is, shouto is such a kind and understanding boyfriend, that you don’t feel too intimidated to keep the kink to yourself for long. actually, it kind of just slips out one night when he’s already balls-deep inside of you, taking you from behind as you’re bent over the kitchen sink.

his fingers are hooked in your hair, bending your spine to his will with his other hand firmly planted on your waist to keep you in place. he’s fucking you so roughly that your submissive nature is oozing out of every pore, your face probably twisted into the most lewd ahegao expression possible.

it’s clear that the reservations of your natural state are tossed out the window in front of you, and it’s not like shouto is holding anything back either with the way his hips are slapping into yours, groans tumbling from his lips.

at some point he’s shifting your leg up onto the ledge of the counter so he can drill his cock into that familiar sweet spot of yours, which coincidentally is located deep inside of you, close to your cervix and therefore your womb. the stars that dance along your vision cloud your brain, and you start babbling numbly as he finds the exact spot with precision.

“p-put a baby in me,” you whimper, pussy quivering to hug his intruding length, your legs nearly shaking at the intense stimulation.

shouto’s hips halt immediately as he sucks in a sharp breath, heterochromatic gaze connecting with yours in the window reflection. for a second he’s wondering if you mean you want to start a family with him, but after examining the carnal lust simmering in your eyes, he realizes what you’re truly asking of him.

and it turns him the fuck on.

“you wanna have my baby, hmm?” he growls and thrusts into you particularly hard, slamming into that sensitive spot and drawing a broken moan out of your breath-starved lungs. the hand on your waist travels to splay against your abdomen, long fingers pressing into your soft skin. “want me to fill you up,” thrust, “flood this pretty pussy with my seed,” thrust, “and make this perfect body swell with my child?”

you’re crying out as he starts pistoning into you, this time much harder and faster than before. he’s jabbing your g-spot with the head of his cock, the veins that decorate his thick length rubbing deliciously against your velvet walls. you can’t even form words, the premise of him knocking you up dominating your brain as you beg for more, for him to give you a baby.

your pleading is really getting him there, his cock aching to just stuff your pussy with his load already, but shouto wants something more. in no time he’s flipping you around, pushing your legs up so your calves rest against his broad shoulders. his hands gripping your waist, thumbs rubbing over your stomach as he eyes your flesh, he frantically pumps himself as deep as he can inside your heat. you can’t help but clench at the look on his face, his eyes fixed on your stomach as if he’s imagining what you’ll look like, belly round with his baby.

and oh my god, his dirty talk is absolutely sinful. he’s really finding enjoyment in exploring this new kink with you. 

“you’re gonna look so gorgeous carrying my baby, angel.”

“i promise i’m gonna give you load after load, ‘til you’re round and full and— shit, you really like that, huh?”

“you’re gonna be a good girl for me, right y/n? be a good girl and say ‘thank you sir’ when i give you this cum— fuck, come on, baby— say it.”

when you both finish (it doesn’t take very long after that), you kinda just laugh together, and even though you’re still a little embarrassed that you were the one to bring it up, shouto makes you feel safe and accepted, because he seems just as into it as you.

it’s safe to say, that isn’t the last time you two explore your breeding kink. after the pair of you have become more comfortable with the kink, shouto finds himself getting perhaps even more into it than you.

he’ll research what positions he can go the deepest in, and will not be afraid to bend you into them because he knows you love it when his cum seeps into you as deep as possible.

he buys you a plug to keep his cum inside of you— “you thought i was gonna stop after just one round? don’t make me laugh, baby, we’ve got another two gos at least until you’re full enough for me to use the plug.”

his mischievous ass will make you wear it out in public, dragging you out on a date or to grab lunch with his siblings. and you have to pretend that everything’s fine, that your pussy isn’t packed to the brim with his seed while you make small talk with his clueless sister.

when fuyumi asks if you enjoyed the meal, he’s quick to answer for you, his eyes meeting yours and glittering with something darker. “oh, y/n’s absolutely stuffed. isn’t that right, angel?”

you’re sure as hell getting dessert when you return home too.

➥ masterlist

➥ prompt party masterlist

#SPPEvent #ngl got very flustered writing this #i enjoy reading breeding kink but damn if i didnt get embarrassed writing this LOL #anywhooo this is the first of many for my sppevent #hawks smut #shouto todoroki smut #shouto smut #bnha smut #mha smut

[kingofkingdom-archive]

1979

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Fem!Reader

Part ONE (Read part 2 HERE)

Rating: T (Teen) - part 2 will be E

Summary: The year is 1979. You need a ride to anywhere that’s far away from where you are. When a handsome stranger in a rustbucket pickup gives you that ride, neither of you could predict any of the events that follow.

Warnings: Smoking (and lots of it), mild violence (a punch is thrown), brief harassment of reader, food, mention of a gun (one is encountered but not used), mention of homelessness, brief mention/description of war (Vietnam), child abandonment, mention of abusive/dangerous father figure, passing mention of serial killers, vague description of non-specific events leading up to reader resorting to hitchhiking, very meta mention of a certain beloved space opera

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: Whew! This one has been in the shop for a LONG while. Originally I meant for this to be a single work, but I’ve hit a bit of a slump with the last bit. I decided to post this to see how y’all feel about it! The second part will be much longer :) Also: I know there has been some discourse recently about Din’s characterization in certain fics, so I hope this does him justice for you! I’m always open to comments, and like I said I’m very interested in hearing what you think! As per usual, no use of Y/N and please heed the tags/warnings.

8:47

You lean against the streetlight, glancing down at your watch and then back up to the motel across the street. You told yourself you'd wait until 8:30 and then you'd go back and reserve a room for another night. As you watch the second hand wind its way around the small, plain face of your 2-dollar timepiece, you've convinced yourself that maybe staying out until 9 is the ticket.

Your ticket, out of this shithole town.

The summer air is hot and thick around you. It's especially unbearable both between your legs and at the band of your bra, the elastic stretched around your middle doing its best to make you feel as sweaty and uncomfortable as possible. At least you're wearing your cutoffs, giving your legs the chance to breathe. You've also got a loose tank on, which flutters in the sticky wind as cars pass you by.

8:51

Your thumb has been stuck out for passerby to see for the past three days. No one has picked you up. You suppose you should be more wary of taking lifts from complete strangers with all the murder and kidnapping that's been in the news recently, but you're more than a little headstrong with a dash of stupid to go along. That's what your mother always told you, anyway.

Some Cadillac speeds past you, blaring what you think is a Donna Summer song, and you watch as the music and taillights fade into the night.

You shouldn't be surprised, you figure, as the minutes continue to tick on by. There's a gas shortage, you reason with yourself as you bend down to pick up your bag, thumb still stuck out, elbow resting on your waist. People don't do this anymore. Afraid of getting picked up by a pervert or a killer. Afraid of picking one up, and then a streetlight just like the one you're under is the last thing they see.

8:58

You sigh, ready to head in for the night. Marvin, dude who sits at the motel's front desk, is sure to give you shit about it again.

You're preparing to cross the street when you hear the low growl of a pickup truck approach. Not looking to get creamed by some fuckin' rusted-out GMC, you step back onto the curb where you'd been posted.

Except the truck slows up, and the window rolls down as it crawls to a stop in front of you.

Your heart races. Finally.

You walk up to the passenger side window and look in, expecting some fat old putz looking to get some tail in exchange for a ride.

That's not what you see.

"Need a lift, young lady?"

The truck's driver is older than you, sure, but you were wrong about pretty much everything else. He's got short dark hair and a 'stache, with some stubble across his chin. He's wearing a leather jacket over a plain gray tee, with a pair of sunglasses hung on the collar. One hand is on the wheel while the other is laid across the back of the bench seat, a cigarette perched in between his first two fingers.

You lean forward on your tiptoes as best you can, forearms resting on the door's open window. Pretending to survey the interior, you look around and take the opportunity to check the man out. God, you think. I wouldn't mind giving him whatever he wants in exchange for this ride. Maybe another kinda ride. Ha!

"As it turns out, I do. You offering?"

You rest your chin on your arms and give him the sweetest smile you can muster. The man eyes you up and takes a drag from his cigarette. You watch with rapt attention as he inhales deeply and then exhales the smoke out through his nose.

This guy's got you all hot and bothered and you haven't even gotten in the truck.

He gestures with his hand. "Come on, kid. I gotta make the state line by midnight."

You definitely like the sound of that. Eager and supremely stoked to finally have a way out of this dump, you pull on the handle, jump in, and swing the door closed behind you. Your backpack finds its place between your feet, and the stranger starts driving again as you pull your seatbelt across your shoulders.

"Where're you headed?" the man asks, glancing over to you and then looking back at the road. The asphalt seems to stretch into infinity, flanked by trees and fields and the occasional watering hole.

"Away from here," you chuckle as you fidget with your fingers. Black nail polish decorates your trimmed nails. It's chipped and uneven in some spots; you never were great at painting your nails, especially your right hand.

"I got that," the man drawls, voice deep and smooth like honey. "Any particular destination in mind?"

You shrug. To be honest, you hadn't exactly thought that far ahead. Your first and only priority was a way out, and anything after that was a problem to be handled when it came to it.

"Nope. Just as far as you're willing to take me."

The guy nods and takes a drag. The smell of cigarettes never bothered you like it does some other people; you find it relaxing, calming, especially when it's fresh and all-consuming like it is in this guy's truck. The vehicle itself is old, maybe 10 or 15 years, and a glance into the bed behind you tells you he's traveling with a couple boxes and nothing more.

It's certainly not state-of-the-art, but that's all the better for staying under the radar.

The silence looms over you like a cloud. The stranger seems content to just listen to the engine and the tires on the road, but you're prone to fill silences unprompted.

"What's your name?" you ask, and look over at him. He glances at you and raises a brow.

He clears his throat, eyes moving back to the road. "You can call me Mando."

"Mando?" you retort before you can stop yourself. "What kinda bogus name is that? Like, what... you got a thing for mandolins or some shit?"

The man huffs. "It is what is, kid. Get used to it."

You sigh, crossing your arms. "Alright, alright... Mando."

He doesn't try to continue the conversation, so you don't either. Minutes pass, and then hours, and you find yourself drifting off not too long after the clock reads 10:00. You shake yourself awake, wanting to stave off sleep until he pulls over to rest for the night.

But the engine is like a lullaby, the soft swaying of the truck a gentle rocking motion, and your eyes fall closed despite your best efforts.

When you wake up again, the truck is no longer moving, and the clock reads 12:30. 

You must have been woken up by Mando putting the truck into park. The darkness outside does not give any clues as to where you are, but as your eyes adjust you can just make out some picnic tables, garbage cans, and signs.

A rest area. Makes sense.

Mando is fumbling with something beside you. It's a map, you realize when you look over.

"Where are we?" you ask with a yawn.

"Just over the border. Made it a bit later than I would've liked, but that's not a big deal. You can sleep here in the cab. I'll take the bed, since I sleep there anyway."

You nod, though you find it odd the way he's... not asking you for anything. He hasn't mentioned payment, monetary or otherwise. You watch as he folds the map back up, and catch his gaze as he stashes it in the glove box.

"I gotta repay you somehow, mister," you mutter. "For how nice you're bein' to me. 'Specially since I made fun of your name and all."

At your words, Mando gives you a stern look from under one of his furrowed brows. "No, you don't. Blanket's under the seat. Get some rest."

He turns away, grabs the keys, and is out the door before you can reply.

It's just so unusual for a guy to pick up a girl like you and refuse payment, much less not ask for or take it outright. It's a shame, really. Any other guy, you'd give him what he wanted sure, but with less than enthusiastic participation. The one man to whom you'd gladly deliver anything he asked... and he seems not to want it.

You suppose you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Better a prude than a murderer, that's for sure.

As you reach under the seat for the blanket, your hand brushes against some sort of canvas bag, long and zippered. You lean over to look in at it upside-down, hair brushing against the dusty floor mats.

It's a rifle bag. You reach in to feel at where the barrel would be, and sure enough, there's something distinctly rifle-shaped inside.

Huh. It's not a surprise that a guy like him's traveling armed, but it makes you wonder. A hunter, maybe? Probably. There's a lot of those around.

You spot the blanket and pull it out. It's gray, scratchy wool, but as you pull it over yourself, you find it keeps the nighttime chill away quite well.

-

You wake up to Mando swatting at your feet.

"Time to get up, sunshine. Gotta get going."

His deep voice pierces through the fog of sleep still hanging thick over your mind. You groan and push yourself up onto your elbows, drawing your feet in to give him space to slide into the drivers' seat. 

It's still dark out. You see a hint of light on the horizon, the beginning of the sunrise peeking over hills and fields.

"What time is it?" you ask, rubbing at your eyes. You're a chronic over-sleeper, so seeing the sunrise is a rarity. It seems Mando has no such problem.

"A bit after six. We'll stop at a diner for something to eat in about an hour. You're welcome to go back to sleep until then." He turns the key in the ignition and the truck rumbles to life, a blast of lukewarm air hitting you in the face. 

"No, no. I'm up," you assure him, shrugging the blanket off your shoulders. As you fold it, you look over at the man beside you. He's wearing the same faded jeans and leather jacket as yesterday, but the shirt underneath has changed. The sunglasses are still hung on the collar, but now it's some faded band tee from like 8 years ago. 

You set the folded-up blanket on the seat between you and him, watching as he puts the truck into drive and starts off. Before you know it, you're watching the early-morning world pass by outside your window. You kick off your sandals and tuck your feet up under yourself, sitting crosslegged on the seat.

About 15 minutes later, you've grown tired of watching farmhouses and cornfields fly by in the dark.

"So, uh..." you start, not really knowing where you intend to finish your sentence, "you like music?"

Stupid. That was stupid.

Mando chuckles. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" you reply, hopeful that he might have more to say.

"Yes. I do like music."

You roll your eyes. "What kind of music? Jazz? Opera? Country-western? Who's your favorite artist? Got any favorite records?"

He glances over at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "You sure do ask a lot of questions."

"Well, I figure if I'm gonna be traveling with you for a good while, I might as well know a bit about you. And vice versa."

Mando just hums. 

"I'll tell you mine, then," you inform him, grinning widely now. "My favorite record right now is Parallel Lines. By Blondie, you know? I really like them. This time last year I woulda told you my favorite album was something by Wire or the Sex Pistols - I was real into punk, if you know anything about it. Now I'm more into poppy stuff. I just think it's fun, to be honest."

You continue to ramble to Mando well into the drive. The sky grows lighter and the road grows more crowded, but he does not stop you. At the end of a tangent about Bowie, you turn to look at him, and he's sitting there like you haven't just talked his ear off for the past twenty minutes.

"Sorry. I jus-"

"Don't apologize. It's... I don't mind," he interrupts, not taking his eyes off the road.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, looking at the sandal-shaped marks on the tops of your feet. "Don't you have any particular songs you like?"

Mando's quiet for a minute. You wait, looking up out the window. The sky is a pale pink and blue, with a hint of orange off to the east. A field of cows comes up on your left - your eyes track them as they pass by, wondering what it's like to pet one.

You bet they're soft. Soft and cuddly and so dumb they're cute.

"You have to promise not to laugh." 

The words come as a surprise. You look over to Mando, eyes wide and interested.

"Never. Favorite music is sacred."

He sighs. His grip tightens on the wheel, like sharing even a small part of himself causes him distress.

"Tapestry. Carole King," he says, though the words are quiet and guarded.

That wasn't the answer you were expecting. "Really?" you ask, smiling brightly.

He just nods, though he spares a glance towards you, like he's gauging your reaction. You lean back against the seat, turning towards him more fully.

"I wouldn't have guessed. Color me surprised, Mando. You have good taste." It's true. The album's a classic, though more so with girls your age, not guys who pick up hitchhikers and keep rifles in their trucks. "What do you like about it?"

Mando shifts, bringing his left arm up to rest on the door, elbow propped so his head can rest on his hand. "Not sure. She writes a good song, that's all I know."

You're not satisfied with that answer. You'll get to know Mando, even if it's like pulling teeth. "Bull-shit. Pink Floyd writes a good song. Paul Simon writes a good song. Why her? Why that record? It came out like ten years ago, there's gotta be a reason - a real reason - you still like it."

The drone of the engine and the road is like a soundtrack in itself to the silences that loom heavy before every sentence he speaks. You wonder when the last time he really got to talk to someone was - talk like this, not small conversation with the waiter or grocer. 

You're no psychiatrist, but it doesn't take a genius to spot someone who's been alone for a while.

Mando hums. "I guess I relate to her songs... in a way I didn't expect to when I first heard her music."

You smile at that, pleased as punch that he trusts you with that information. It's like cupping cool water in your hands on a hot summer's day, fleeting and precious. "What's your favorite song on the record?"

He turns his gaze to your for a moment, dark brown eyes staring at your dirty feet and day-old shirt and messy hair. You're not sure what exactly he sees as he takes you in, but you sit there and allow it regardless.

Mando looks back to the road, watching the small town approaching slowly on the horizon. "I Feel the Earth Move."

You nod. "A classic."

He just hums in response, and you expect the truck to fill with silence once again.

Except it doesn't.

Mando reaches out and presses the button to turn on the radio. Blondie's Heart of Glass flows out through the speakers - and you laugh.

-

The glowing neon sign advertising Lindy's Diner, with her promise of pancakes and eggs and bacon and coffee, gets you more excited than you care to admit. Mando pulls into a parking spot along the street, and you're out the door before the wheels have stopped turning.

Admittedly, you do also have to pee. 

You rush into the diner to take care of your business, also using the provided sinks to brush your teeth and the mirror to comb through your hair with your fingers. 

It's not much, but you do feel better. Hopefully tonight you can stay in a motel at least, maybe take a shower.

You exit the restroom and look around the diner. Mando's sitting in a booth, smoking a cigarette and looking out the window. You head over, tossing your backpack into your side first and sliding in after it.

"I'll be right back," he says, and leaves. You watch him walk over to the men's restroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

Whatever. Kinda rude. Not like you care, anyway.

You lean back in the booth and take a menu from the stand at the end of the table. The classic breakfast platter is looking particularly tempting, with its hash browns and bacon and eggs-however-you-like. You're contemplating scrambled versus over-easy when you hear a pair of footsteps walk up to your table.

Two strange men stand over you, looking at you like they know exactly how homeless you really are.

"You here alone, baby?" the shorter one asks, putting a grimy hand on the back of your booth, right behind your head. You open your mouth to say no, in fact, I am not, but the other guy speaks for you.

"It looks like you are, honey. Just our luck, a girl like you all on her -"

"Is there a problem?"

Mando's deep voice cuts through whatever it was the creep was planning to say. The low timbre of his voice, normally soft and kind, is uniquely dark - almost menacing - when it hides a threat. 

You slowly cross your legs, hoping no one notices the movement under the table.

The two guys turn, and behind them you see Mando, looking extremely pissed. He puts a hand on the back of the taller man's neck, cig still perched between his fingers, and yanks him away from where he'd been standing in front of Mando's side of the booth.

"Jesus, man! We didn't know you were -"

Mando puts his hands on his hips, eyeing them up like a lion might size up its prey. "What? You didn't know what?"

The guy gulps. "Uh..."

"Come on," Mando taunts, something dark glinting in his eyes. "Don't get nervous on me, now."

"We didn't know you were with her, man. Sorry."

Mando shakes his head. "No. Don't say that to me. Say it to her." He nods hid head towards you, subtly positioning his body in between yours and theirs.

You're frozen in your seat, torn between fear and arousal.

The tall guy glances at you. "Sorry," he mutters. The shorter one's still looking at you funny, though.

Your companion jerks his head towards the door. "It's best you both leave, now." 

You realize the diner's gone quiet, customers and employees alike watching the exchange with bated breath. The taller guy glances around and turns, heading straight for the door. His buddy hesitates, gaze shifting from Mando to you and back again. Eventually he also turns to leave, following the other one out.

Mando slides into his seat, though he won't quite meet your gaze when you look at him. Noise picks up in the diner once again and you let out a shaky breath.

You're about to say something when the two guys pass by the window. The shorter one peers in, works his jaw, and spits on the ground on the other side of the window from you. You see him mouth the word 'bitch!'.

Rolling your eyes, you turn to Mando to try and joke about it, attempting to brush off the uncomfortable encounter. But he's not there, and you realize belatedly that he's now storming outside.

Mouth agape, you watch as Mando stalks up to the short guy. Jesus, you think, if looks could kill... 

The creep whirls around, throwing a fist at Mando before he even gets a good look at him. Mando dodges it easily with a step back, looking simultaneously murderous and annoyed. He winds his arm back and sends his fist flying at the creep's face. The guy stumbles and falls, clutching at what is now a bloody and broken nose, landing on his back on the sidewalk. His friend has long run off.

Mando puts a boot on the guy's sternum, pressing down so he can't get up no matter how much he struggles.

You see him lean down, elbow on his knee, and say something. The guy's eyes widen and he nods frantically. Mando then removes his foot and, without sparing the guy a second glance, re-enters the diner.

He slides into the booth again and takes the menu from you. There's blood on the knuckles of his right hand, but he makes no move to wipe it off. He flips through the pages as if nothing happened. You stare at him.

"You didn't have to do that," you mutter, voice soft and wavering. 

Without looking from the menu, he responds. "Yes, I did."

"But, you coulda just... just let him go..."

"I could have," he replies, and turns a page. "But I didn't."

"But -"

For the first time since you both entered the diner, he looks up at you, and you're taken aback the intensity of his eyes. "He deserved worse, kid. Far worse."

He sounds so sure of it that you can't bring yourself to say otherwise. You sigh and clasp your hands together on the table, unsure of where to go from here. 

Just then, the waitress comes up to your table, notepad and pen in hand.

"You two know what ya want?" she asks as Mando puts the menu back in its place.

He gestures for you to go first.

"Uh, yeah. I'll have the classic platter with scrambled eggs and white toast. And black coffee, please."

The woman nods, writing your order on her pad. "And you, sir?"

"I'll have the blueberry flapjacks, please. And coffee, black, for me as well."

The waitress nods and turns away. As you watch her push through the silver kitchen door, you realize that maybe you should be grateful for the way things went. That they didn't get uglier.

That Mando was there at all.

"Thank you," you say softly, doing your best to convey your sincerity to the man sitting across from you.

He simply nods, observing you with a look you can't quite place.

-

After breakfast, the two of you set off down the highway again. Fleetwood Mac flows out through the speakers and you don't expect to stop until after noon, when Mando will have to refuel (both the truck and your stomachs). Until then you kick off your shoes and put your feet up on the dash, window cracked about an inch so the summer wind can flow through your hair.

Despite the rocky start to the morning, the hours pass by easily, weightlessly. Sometimes you talk with Mando, other times you simply sit and watch the world pass by. You don't think you've ever seen this much land in one go, and it thrills you. The idea that there's so much more. 

The topics vary from your time in school to movies to the truck. You're surprised to find out that Mando's never seen Star Wars, a fact nearly unheard of to you. You promise yourself that you'll make him watch it sometime, somehow.

Lunch passes without incident; you insist on paying for your ham and cheese sandwich, because Mando had covered breakfast before you could protest. It hits the spot, along with your ice-cold Coke from the little market's freezer. There's a line to get gas, as there is everywhere, but luckily it isn't too long, since you're in the middle of nowhere. Mando won't be able to fill the truck up again for a few days, meaning you'll have to stop for the night earlier tonight than you did yesterday.

You do find something interesting at the market and you decide to shell out the money for it because it intrigues you. A new style of Kodamatic camera, complete with a pack of instant film - 12 potential photos.

In your mind you see pictures of mountains, and the truck, and Mando, and you stuff the camera in your bag before your mind can wander any further down that road.

You have to admit - traveling with someone who you know can protect you if the need arises is comforting in a way that almost makes you nervous. You keep telling yourself not to get used to it, that this is just a temporary situation for as long as he sees fit to keep you around. After he decides he's had enough, he'll leave you, and you'll be on your own again. You can't get too dependent on him.

Nighttime arrives much too quickly. The sun has just dipped below the horizon when you drive into another small town, not much more than a stoplight and a few bars. You get lucky, though, because the unmistakable neon of a motel glows just ahead.

"Thank god," you groan as Mando pulls into the parking lot. "I need a shower so goddamned bad."

Mando chuckles. His arm rests with his hand out the window, flicking the ash at the end of his cigarette out onto the pavement. The orange glow at the end of it brightens as he takes a drag, and you tear your eyes away from his lips before he can catch you staring.

That's another problem. He's every inch as attractive to you now as he was before, except now you know he's nice. The mustache and the dark curls and the broad expanse of his chest are all only made hotter by the knowledge that he likes Carole King and Elton John (he knew all the words to Tiny Dancer) and blueberry pancakes.

Plus there was that whole punching a guy to defend your honor business.

The guy at the motel's front desk reminds you of Marvin. Greasy blond hair and acne on a kid not much younger than you. You give him a disgusted look when he eyes you up, but he cuts it out when Mando walks in behind you. It gives you a small sense of satisfaction to see him so meek before your companion.

"We need a double for the night," Mando drawls, counting cash on the counter, cig perched between his lips. The sign advertised a night's stay for $22. You'd tried to pay Mando your share, but he'd refused your money.

The kid shakes his head. "Only got singles available."

Mando raises his brows. "Really."

The kid, whose name is Matt according to his name tag, nods. It takes Mando a moment to think on it, and then he looks to you.

You shrug. "I'm fine with it if you are, Mando."

He nods once and pays for the room. 12. You take the key and head over to get a head start on your shower while Mando parks the truck and gets his stuff.

The hot water feels divine. Even the towel feels great, because as threadbare and shitty as it is, it's clean and warm from sitting under the vent. You finish up in the bathroom and emerge in a pair of old track shorts and a loose-fitting tee.

Mando's sitting on the bed, back against the headboard. His jacket's draped across the table and he's kicked off his boots, so he sits with the remote in hand, barefoot. It's the most casual you've seen him thus far, and it makes your heart race.

"Shower's all yours," you tell him.

Mando looks at you from the corner of his eye. It's hard to tell what he's thinking at any given moment, so you fidget with the hem of your shirt as he looks at you. 

A thought blooms unbidden in your chest. I wish I could kiss him.

You blink, taken aback at the sudden, intense nature of your desire to feel his lips against your own. Not knowing what else to do, you cross your arms and turn to the TV. Bonanza is on.

"Seen this episode before?" you ask. It's an old show, but you still like it.

Mando nods, humming. "Used to watch these every week, right when they came out. Only the first few seasons, though."

"Why'd you stop?"

He turns to sit on the edge of the bed, feet flat on the ground. He gives you a small smile, though his eyes hide something pained.

"I got drafted."

Oh. "Oh. I didn't mean -"

"It's fine," he says and gets up, brushing past you to enter the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind him.

You walk over to sit on the other side of the bed from where he was. Drafted. Jesus. You feel bad for bringing it up, even if it was unintentional. The TV plays though you aren't watching, mind wandering to thoughts of Mando in Vietnam. You picture him in the jungle or in a helicopter, the deafening noise of artillery and gunfire filling the air around him.

Maybe that's where he got the nickname. It certainly explains the rifle.

You reach over for the remote and shut off the TV. The clock on the wall reads about 8:00, still early for you, but you tuck yourself under the sheets and blanket regardless. You face the door, away from where Mando will sleep.

Just as you're drifting off, the lamp on the bedside table clicks off. You feel the weight of Mando crawling in beside you, and he too curls up on his side, back turned.

You fall asleep hoping he's not too upset with you.

The next thing you know, you're awake, though the world is still dark outside. Behind you, Mando snores softly, warm breath fanning out across your neck.

Wait.

You blink a few times and realize the two of you must have shifted in the night. Mando's body is pressed right against yours, chest to your back, arm draped over your middle and hand tucked under your chin. Your legs are intertwined and against the back of your thigh you feel -

You feel him.

Sleep is a powerful drug, however, and the realization is not enough to make you move. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you think maybe this isn't so bad. Your tired brain convinces you to revel in it, to enjoy this position you've found yourself in. Before you can second guess that reasoning, you drift off.

And then you're awake again. 

This time it's thanks to a rush of cold wind in your face. You reach back to feel for Mando, but the warm pillow tells you he's not there. You open your eyes to see him standing in the doorway, looking down at something. It's still dark out, but the lights of the motel parking lot put him in silhouette before you.

"What is it?" You lean up on your elbow to get a better look. The nighttime air is cool on your face, smelling faintly of gasoline and rain.

He bends down and picks up whatever it is that's in front of him. You watch as he turns to look left, then right, seemingly in search of something. He turns around and you see what he's holding.

It's a baby's carrycot.

You immediately sit up, heart racing. "Is it -?" you whisper.

Mando nods, closing the door behind him. You get out of bed and rush over to stand next to him, peering into the carrier.

Sure enough, there's a baby asleep inside. It looks to be a boy, about a year old. You bring a hand up to your mouth.

"Why - who would - what?"

Mando shakes his head, staring at the little guy. "I don't know. I heard a knock at the door and there he was - no sign of anyone else."

"We should - what do we do, Mando?"

He brings the carrier over to rest on the table beside his jacket. The boy is out cold - his little hands grip the blue knitted blanket and his mouth is just barely open. He's got dark hair, wispy and soft atop his head. As you observe the sleeping child, you notice the corner of a small piece of paper tucked in between the blanket and the cradle. You reach out and grasp it between your thumb and forefinger, unfolding it carefully.

"What does it say?" Mando whispers. Your voices are low so as to not disturb the child.

"Grogu. Please take him far from here," you read, and feel your blood run cold as the note goes on. "Not safe in this area. His father is dangerous."

It's scrawled in blue ink on half a sheet of lined notebook paper, the fringe from being torn still attached. Your hands shake as it hits you - there's some mother out there so scared for her son that she left him in the care of strangers. That there's a man out there who legitimately threatens this boy's life.

Tears form at the corners of your eyes, rage and sadness simmering in your chest.

"We have to, Mando." Your words are shaky but certain. The man beside you rests a hand on the carrycot, still looking at the sleeping child within.

You turn your eyes to him. He nods, solemn.

"Let's let him rest. We'll leave in the morning, get as far west as we can. Might even be able to make Texas if we leave early enough. We can figure it out from there."

His other hand brushes against your back, and then he's drawing you into his chest. The embrace is soft, unhurried, and you lean your head against his shoulder, hands tucked against his chest. Letting your eyes slip closed, you think back on the previous day, how you never could have predicted this turn of events. How you've never felt so uncertain of things, even when you'd lost everything.

Together you return to bed, but neither of you gets much sleep.

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian fanfiction #fanfic #din djarin fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x female reader #mando x fem!reader #female reader #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

[archerdaryl]

Oblivious.

Daryl gets it into his head that the girl he’s infatuated with doesn’t like him one bit. What he fails to remember is that when it comes to people, she’s about as oblivious as he is. 

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Tags: moody?? angsty?? idiot meets bigger idiot | @madshelily​​ Word Count: 2.7k (approximately) Notes: Request by @petrified-teeth​​ ♥ This is my first time trying something angsty since getting back into writing -- I’d love to hear what people think!

Whispers echoed through the canteen hall as Daryl lumbered through, his crossbow bloody and slung over his shoulder. There was a particularly scathing scowl painted across his grizzly features, one that unfortunately wasn’t the result of a hard day’s work outside the prison walls, and people were quick to move or look away as he grumpily made his way through the building.

To say it had been a long week was an understatement, but he was used to getting his hands dirty. He didn’t mind the aching muscles or the sweat that came with working under the scorching Georgia sun. If anything, he was happiest when he was put to work. He felt useful, like he was needed, which was something he hadn’t ever felt much of in his life.

No, that wasn’t what had been bothering him at all. Not even close.

When Daryl eventually reached his cell, he threw down his crossbow before collapsing onto his bunk. He adjusted his pillow so that he could sit up a little against the wall, eventually settling into the thin mattress with a long, heavy exhale. He was glad to finally be alone, but he still had to simmer in his thoughts which were only getting louder. 

Why hadn’t you talked to him this week? Shit, you’d barely even looked at him. 

None of it made sense. 

From the very first moment that you arrived at the prison, something about you set the archer on edge. You had been on your own, somehow surviving against the world and all its horrors for God knows how long, and yet you hadn’t turned to stone. You were everything he wasn’t in many ways. Unabashedly emotional and full of faith despite it all even though he knew you had experienced some of the worst things a person could. 

He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand you, but that didn’t matter. He just wanted to make sure nothing ever smacked that smile off your face again. 

Daryl’s stomach stirred. His own features softened at the mere thought of your smile, which only made him forcibly frown again. What the fuck was his problem? He had to be overthinking this. Maybe he was just tired, but that couldn’t be it. 

You hadn’t spoken to him all week.

It was driving him insane. 

Looking back, he really wasn’t sure when his feelings for you snuck up on him. He could only pinpoint the moment he realised it for himself that he liked you at all. You had gotten separated from the group on a run, took it upon yourself to divert a small herd away from everyone. You ended up bloody and bruised. Damn well nearly got yourself bit, but you still giggled and told him he worried too much.

It took almost losing you to realise you had chiselled away at the walls he built around himself. You’d made a little home for yourself in his heart and the idea of you turning on him now was making him spiral.

Daryl shifted in his bunk and began to absentmindedly pick at the skin around his fingernails. One soon started to bleed, but he was too lost in thought to notice. 

There was no fucking way you felt the same as he did. How could a girl like you possibly want a guy like him? You personified sunshine and he was a weed that had absolutely no business taking up your time and energy. 

God, if his brother could see him now.  He was pathetic. Merle would tell him just that, laughing in his face and reminding him that he told him so, that no one would ever care about his baby brother Daryl but him. 

And the worst thing was that he could live with that. He could live with you not wanting to be with him. It kept him awake at night and gnawed away at whatever little sense of self he had left but as long as you liked him just a little bit and wanted him around he could live with it. 

So why the fuck weren’t you talking to him?

Daryl started to retrace his steps, trying to figure out if he had done something wrong. He knew he could be blunt, often rude at times, but he meant well. Maybe meaning well wasn’t enough. Maybe he just had to suck it up and apologise and hope it was enough despite not having a damn clue what he had done wrong. 

But maybe that was just it. Maybe he hadn’t done anything at all. Maybe there was something wrong with him.

He was breathing heavily now, eyes squeezed shut and anger building further in his chest. He couldn’t fix this. He wanted to but he couldn’t. The echoes of Merle’s laughter haunted him. He’d been thrown away like he’d been countless times before and he only had himself to blame.

“Hey Da-” A familiar voice interrupted him, quickly sounding concerned, “What’s going on?”

Daryl’s eyes shot open, scowling at the figure who had approached his cell. It was just Rick, but he didn’t want to talk to Rick right now. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

“Nothin’.” He spat angrily, “Get lost.”

Rick sighed and stepped into Daryl’s cell, drawing the thin curtain behind him to try and give Daryl the illusion of privacy. 

“Daryl you can’t keep storming around the prison like this. People are uncomfortable.” He paused, lowering his gaze to shake his head before looking at his friend with sympathetic eyes, “Now what is it? Is it her?”

The archer blinked up at him, unable to respond.

“You think I ain’t noticed?” Rick chuckled, “Like a dog to a bone whenever she’s around.”

“Well she ain’t around. She ain’t fuckin’ talkin’ to me.”

Daryl sat up from his bunk and threw his legs over the side, leaning onto them with his elbows. He couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. He may not have said anything, but Daryl had a language of his own only those closest to him could understand. Rick was one of those people. 

“She’s been bouncin’ around all week helpin’ out with the library. Have you talked to her?”

Again, Daryl was stuck for words. He was starting to feel stupid. 

“Why don’t you just tell her man?”

“Tell her what?” He snarled back, now massaging his fists as if he were in pain. 

He couldn’t fathom trying to tell you how he really felt. How could he? He was no good. He never understood why you insisted on talking to him in the first place, he was just glad you did. Every moment he got to spend with you made him want to make the world a better place for you to be in so that faith of yours never betrayed you again.

“C’mon now. You can lie to everyone else but I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Daryl shot Rick another scowl but didn’t bother trying to tell him otherwise. 

“You talk too damn much.”

“She won’t figure it out for herself, man. D’ya think if she could take a hint you’d be sulkin’ like this right now?”

Dary’s brows knitted together and a sigh of defeat drew slowly from his lips. Rick had a point whether he liked it or not. You weren’t exactly… the most cognizant person when it came to others. You did good and hoped people were good to you in return, but unless someone spelled out their intentions or desires for you, you were left with simply navigating the waters the best you could. 

That was why you got on so well with Michonne. There was no bullshit with her. She told you what she thought, what she wanted, or where to go if you were pissing her off. You were better off for it, never having to second guess yourself, but not everyone was like that. 

Daryl certainly wasn’t. Did you have any idea where you stood with him at all? Did you see him like you saw everyone else? He swallowed hard. 

“Rick?” A voice then called out, “Are you down here?”

“In here!”

Footsteps approached Daryl’s cell and the curtain was pulled open, “Maggie wants you. Something about the library? She should be still in there.”

Daryl glanced up at the new arrival who met his crystalline gaze with a sweet smile. 

It was you. 

His mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry. 

Rick turned to Daryl and cocked a brow suggestively before making his departure. Daryl wanted to shove the smug bastard against a wall, but he stayed silent, clearing his throat and waiting for you to follow Rick without bothering to say another word.

Instead, you stayed and perched yourself on the edge of his squeaky metal desk which was covered in borrowed books and makeshift arrows. He silently cursed himself for not thinking to tidy up a little, especially with the pile of dirty clothes he kept forgetting about building up in the corner of his cell. 

“You charged right past me in the canteen earlier.” You finally said, voice gentle but steady, “Did something happen out there?”

“Naw.” He responded bluntly, “Just been a long week.”

“Oh.” You paused, unsure of how to proceed, “Do you want me to go?”

He was a difficult man to read, but you felt you knew him well enough by now to know that he often just wanted to be on his own. He wasn’t a talker. He was introspective and quiet, never wanted to bother anyone with anything if he didn’t have to, but over the last few months he seemed to have grown to like having you around. He tolerated you at the very least you thought, because he stopped ignoring you and started to speak in (almost) complete sentences. 

Still, something was nagging at you. You weren’t sure what, but in your experience it was best to come right out with it otherwise you’d be stuck in limbo forever. 

“Have I done -”

Daryl looked down at his hands, “Ain’t seen you all week.”

A frown pulled at your features. Had it really been that long? You weren’t even sure what day it was. Maggie had you running around all week trying to get this library in order for the kids and you had never been particularly good at juggling a million things at once. 

Pushing yourself up off the desk, you approached the bunk and nudged his feet with your shoe in a silent request for him to shuffle over. He obliged and you took a seat next to him. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, “I’ve been so caught up in the library I didn’t even realise I hadn’t spoken much to anyone.”

Silence followed. Daryl was chewing the inside of his lip to keep himself from running, unable to meet your eyes that were fixated on him with such care and curiosity. He’d never felt so fuckin’ stupid. 

“Funny.” You continued, “I wouldn’t have thought you cared.”

“What?”

“I don’t know where I stand with you at all, truthfully.”

This girl had to be joking. From an outside perspective, it likely made perfect sense, but he thought about you all the damn time. He wanted to know if you slept well, how your day went, wanted to know the little stories behind the things you did and why you never seemed to give up on anybody or anything. 

He felt like a damn school girl. He liked you so much that he could have laughed at the idea of you not thinking he liked you at all. 

“I mean, I hope you like me. I pretend you do and keep buggin’ you anyways, but I don’t know that you do.”

“Of course I like ya.” He finally met your gaze, “Never gave me a choice.”

You studied his face. Sure, he was rough around the edges, but there was also a tenderness to him that made you feel safe. An appreciative grin tugged at your lips, relieved that you hadn’t been making a fool of yourself this entire time. 

“Don’ think I could hate ya’ if I tried.”

“That’s high praise coming from you. Might start getting the wrong idea.”

Daryl forced himself to snort in response as if he found the notion of being interested in you like that funny, though it came out half-heartedly. He didn’t really think it was funny at all.

“Though,” You teased him further, “Worse things have happened.”

Weaving an arm through his, you took it upon yourself to rest your head against his shoulder. You didn’t care that he was grubby. You had nothing to lose anymore. He just said he couldn’t hate you, which honestly made you feel a little giddy inside. You’d have to bug him more often.

Daryl, on the other hand, thought he had lost the ability to breathe. He turned his head slightly, taking in the unmistakable scent of peaches and vanilla. How was it you could smell that good during the Goddamn apocalypse? Not to mention your hands, almost disgustingly soft compared to his. Except, it wasn’t disgusting at all. You were a fleece blanket and he wanted nothing more than to be engulfed by you. 

“Sorry about lunch.” He mumbled quietly into your hair. You hummed happily, not at all bothered by his previous outburst in the canteen before he continued, “Could get dinner?”

“Sure. I gotta talk to Rick about the run tomorrow anyways.”

Daryl frowned. He was going to have to try and spell it out for her. Fuckin’ Rick and his meddling. 

“Naw I meant,” He hesitated for a moment and swallowed hard, “I meant just the two of us. If ya’ want.”

You glanced up from his shoulder, eyes beautiful and wide. This was one of those times you didn’t know what to think -- especially in regards to him --  but your first instinct was to nod, so you did. You nodded and searched his gentle gaze for some sort of sign, something that told you what he was thinking, whether he just wanted to make up for lost time or whether he was actually… nah. 

He couldn’t be.

And he could see that confusion painted across your face. Goddamn it. Just getting his words out at all was like trying to get blood out of a stone. It’s a date. That’s all he had to say, but it sounded so childish. The fuck did he look like asking out a girl on a date with the world gone to shit? He could hear his heart beating in his ears 

“Damn it,” He grunted, that Southern drawl of his getting thicker the more impatient he got. He exhaled heavily through his nose and tried not to roll his eyes, “I’m asking you out.”

“Oh.” Was all you could respond, soft and surprised. 

Ten minutes ago you weren’t even sure he liked you at all. That giddy feeling in your stomach grew stronger and you tried to stop yourself from beaming. 

“I can still say yes, right?”

Daryl shrugged you off of him, “You drive me nuts, you know tha’?”

“Alright, shit, I won’t come.”

“You’re coming, alrigh’? Now get outa here before Maggie bites my head off.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up and stepped towards the gateway. Daryl watched you, his own gaze drifting from your hair to your waist and up again. That agonising ache in the pit of his stomach was finally starting to subside, though it was being replaced by something entirely different. He sucked in his bottom lip nervously as your hips swayed away from him. 

You only took a couple of steps out of his cell when you stopped in your tracks, turning half-way to glance at him with that sunshine smile spreading across your face. 

Daryl finally smiled back, shy and sweet and more than ready to smack Rick upside the head. 

#the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon #norman reedus #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon oneshot #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #mine

[bimbosupreme]

mephistopheles love post

the equivalent of a mental breakdown tangent is all going under a read more

yes believe it or not that freaky ass literally not even human clown in fgo gets love, and love from who? me and like 3 other people

first off

ok and with that out of the way,

i’m not even familiar with their lore. Reason why i stopped caring about the lore behind faust and mephistopheles is that an interlude happens that shows that mephistopheles is just some homunculi made by some mage nobody named faust. and even then the interlude doesn’t talk about the lore behind the novel, its just you helping mephy kill faust

that being said though i would hope the developers expand on their origins more and potentially even release a “true” mephistopheles (a girl can dream)

So, they’re not even the real deal demon known as Mephistopheles in the first place, and i can hear u going “well that’s lame” and like, no, we just need to redirect our feelings from appreciating a demon to appreciating a homunculi who has a weird characterization in the fate universe

Design tangent:

Fgo was actually my first gacha, and so when I came across this servant I kinda instantly fell in love with their design, I love the colors used in their final ascension and overall appearance. The hat that has horns but they're not quite horns, theyre these weird colorful pointy twisty things, the large garish butterfly ornament on their chest (which isnt ugly at all and somehow works so well with their everything on them) is cool, the tights are so cool to look at, i mean look -- a checkered pattern with golden lining on the shorts portion, the tits out look like yes we get it youre insane, the gloves??? purple and also cool, plus theyve got this gradient thing going on? and the fingers have this line going through them, thats so cool. actually the only other servant that comes close to this in terms of “out there” colorful designs is probably final ascension kama and qsh ( i love them both). Also, mephy has this scissor weapon?? thats so cool lol i dont see any other servant wielding giant scissors (for the love of god give mephy an animation update i need to see them use the scissors while doing flips) and they also have this bomb obsession going on? cant relate, but the bombs designs are so so cool i mean its a fucking centipede -- no idea if centipedes are a thing in the original faust but thats something Ill have to look up at some point. ALSO mephy is wearing heels oh my god anytime people wear heels is an automatic win. No clue whats going on with the hair but its kinda cute (dont question me on that) and it has curls and the hair colors are cool i mean its like a lavender thing with darker purple highlights? i love colorful things and i love people with wacky personalities so. Oh my god their tail how could i forget that its so cute and dumb i almost forgot it was there, like what is that even a whip? i dont.. but its got these little purple tips to them that are kinda cute/cool but more cool because tails are fucking up there alongside heels in terms of cool stuff on characters. and of course their fluffly cape -- again no idea what the designers were going for i mean look its a mess of a design i have no fucking idea what any of it means and i hope they explain it someday because that hair and the butterfly and the tail and the hat and the fluffy garb and a bomb obsession?? and this got the go ahead - yeah lets add that to the game like what

ALSO LETS TALK ABOUT THEIR EYES

appreciate these with me for a second

god.

oh and the blue lipstick and face paint god thats a cool design ugh

they can be normal too or at least as normal as possible i mean they even trimmed their eyebrow here lol but you can see the not so well hidden insanity/goofiness peaking through with the inside of the suit at the bottom being highlighter purple and a green shirt with gold accents underneath the black coat at the front <3, fuckin hate that hairstyle tho bro we gotta get that middle part hairstyle outta hereeeee--

TAKE A DETOUR AND LOOK AT THIS LINK THOUGH THIS IS THE MOST NORMAL AND BEST IVE SEEN THEM IN FANART. THE POTENTIAL IS THERE. WE CAN HAVE NICE THINGS AND THEY LOOK GREAT ITS POSSIBLE. I HAVE TEARS STREAMING DOWN MY FACE FROM THAT DRAWING.

anyways this is me going off all about why i like their design! but we haven’t even touched the nitty gritty of it all. their personality! what personality you may ask? havent they always been some weirdo laughing a lot and saying dumb shit all the time? well yes and no

Characterization:

True to their dumb little clown design mephy also acts like one.

Some servants bond 1 lines are like “fuck off” and some actually talk to you, nah this bastard mephistopheles’ just laughing. and for the second bond line it seems to imply theyre fuckin with you more (showing up and dissapearing and saying ‘afterimage’) so thats nice that theyre actually making some effort to mess with you in a way? some servants take a long time to actually interact with you so this shows theyre not afraid of interacting with you and thats just at bond 2. and of course the third bond line implies they were probably trying to betray you, its stated in more than 1 place that mephistopheles (actually isnt this a caster class thing?) will betray you or attempt to do so. So the third bond line seems to imply that their attempts have been stopped by you and that’s what they say after some failed attempts. So after stopping this freak from doing some shit their next bond line is actually doing a confession! a jester being honest who couldve seen that one coming but theyre 100% not lying, they really arent a demon but a homunculi made by faust

speaking of faust we’re going to backtrack a little into their interlude that i brought up at the start of this post, its one of those dream interludes and it starts with mephy asking you to help him plant bombs for their eventual reuinion/showdown with faust -- in the meantime faust keeps sending golems in an attempt to kill both you and mephy

When you track faust down, it’s shown that faust was your typical mage, inhumane and uncaring. It’s also pointed out that this faust killed innocents, but this typical mage behavior is boring to mephy, and they say that boring typical behavior is why they wanted to kill them

 so i really cant blame mephistopheles for being the way they are, being raised by this type of guy, even if mephy was always messed up and wacky from the beginning its no reason for faust to attempt to kill him.

Mephistopheles also shows up in salem, cu alter’s interlude, and of course the knk crossover event, and some other things im most likely forgetting but those 3 are ones that i find notable

anytime they show up theyre actually helpful, in salem mephy points out that the nature of the being responsible for the salem epic of remnant is something alien rather than a typical foreign god, mephy also tells you that time is also being sped up and in their weird way they try to cheer you up by spouting some nonsense at the beginning (guda needed some kind of distraction from the grim events that had just transpired at that point in the story), i cant quite remember what mephy did in the knk event but they were a part of your group and were helpful the whole time, actually @/zeravmeta does an amazing analysis of their role in the knk event as well as some extra character analysis here

mephistopheles is kinda cryptic in a weird way though,

like overall i mean theyre a jester homunculi in appearance so yeah its to be expected but come on i love morally gray characters, despite their supposed betrayal hints scattered around here and there

they have this one line that always gets to me

and this line is said with a completely serious face too

the rare serious mephistopheles face! its kinda grim to see that line, no laughs, no nothing, their voice is kinda serious and monotone too. of course this could be just to get you to lower your guard but its still kinda out there that they have this rarely used portrait and that line, so i like to take it as being said to you when youre by yourself and with sincerity

and at least sei (with her wacky outfit and all lol) seems to get along with mephy and thinks theyre nice woohoo

so at the end of the day you have this guy that laughs a lot and gives mixed signals

and they fuck with you

and will most likely try to kill you more than once but hey thats just another tuesday at chaldea

Before I finish last thing I want to point out is this snippet from the fgo source material book which provides more information on servants, and this specific translated bit under mephistopheles

at the core of it all this homunculi....can be your friend! you just need to not go into despair i guess

of course this entire post is an overanalysis into an underwritten character, quarantine + all online college classes have done this to me, i have a douman icon what did you expect

OH...BEFORE I REALLY SIGN OFF AND FINISH THE POST HEY CLOWN LOVERS CHECK OUT THESE FANARTS AND FANARTISTS...

THE FIRST ONE IS HASENDOW YES THE DOUMAN DESIGNER... <3

i cant believe they drew mephy

twice !

and for those of you on twitter check out @cuz_pb and @L0VEYAMA003

#mephistopheles #fgo #i just go off on the various things i like about this clown #a whole lot lol #this started bc someone asked about my thoughts on mephistopheles well..