#GOD there's a scene in. lemme check

[wizardnuke]

what’s the uh. what’s the fanfic.

the sea the stars the dreamers for all of ur space opera fantasy scifi wizard foursome needs ft. most of the rest of the nein

[skittlewaffle]

oh my GOD I really am bad at keeping my promises. Have some long awaited and underwhelming depressed Toon Sun content :((

The above scene is something I had planned in the spin-off of the Toon AU where Y/N is a camera person instead of the viewer, living with the boys. I was actually writing a drabble on it, but I’m iffy on the ending because I don’t wanna write too much and it therefore cuts off awkwardly. Lemme know if you want me to clean it up and share it on Ao3!!

Some of these traditional doodles are in the context of this specific scene 👀

… god i actually drew all of this a long time ago and it looks so silly now bahaha, hope you enjoy regardless <:)

Encouragement from others makes me more inspired to make content of my AUs, and I’ve made like ,, zero content as of late, so it would help to check out my AU tags and maybe reblog some stuff 🥺 I would appreciate it very much and do my best to make more !!

[rea-can-yeet]

Not me casually dropping part two after a long time of me being MIA. Sorry about that! Y'knowzzz life and all hahahaha! I edited my tumblr pinned post where I put my current status there so yeah if you wanna know what's going on with me you can check it out haha anyway here's chapter two of 'mutineer'! Does anyone still remember this?? Or even this blog??? Oh god what if y'all thought this blog was dead??? Or worse- sagau ain't a thing much now? Wait lemme double check after I post this-

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REMINDER: This is gender neutral for all readers. Sagau stands for Self Aware Genshin Alternative Universe, but this is leaning much towards the God/Creator AU where the characters are aware that they’re being controlled but not aware enough to know that they’re in a game. This story is set in God/Creator AU, imposter AU, and lastly villain AU. This contains religious and cult themes, graphic violence, and probably some suggestive scenes (not this chapter yet, but the series will show some) so viewer’s discretion is advised.

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🔻

🔻

♦️

𝕄𝕌𝕋𝕀ℕ𝔼𝔼ℝ

"Damn, Y/n. There you are."

A friend, who she met when they were little and still vibe with even when they first became aerospace engineer students, commented while leaning against the old chipped doorframe. Her eyes landed on s/c skin, the arms to be specific, sweating. Her friend was huffing while holding a wooden bat, hair covering e/c eyes from her view.

She looks around at the damage the h/c haired had caused. Broken glass bottles, wrecked armchairs, holes in the blackboard, mirror shards around the floor, some damaged computer screens, and keys from shattered keyboards near the left cracked wall.

If this classroom wasn't abandoned or owner-less, she would have to use her wealth to bail her angry friend from being punished.

She had to witness Y/n being reprimanded for something they didn't do.

Stealing.

Ridiculous, she thought. Just because you hate a student doesn't mean you get to blame them for stealing your stuff just cuz they happen to be the last one to get out of your classroom, stupid petty karen teacher. If her friend wanted something, she knew that her friend wouldn't try stealing. And besides, she was willing to buy whatever Y/n asked, but she knows that idiot wouldn't like to ask for a lot of money from her. Y/n is greedy, but she knows Y/n is not that greedy. And of course, not greedy enough to steal.

And if the Y/n did resort to stealing, Y/n would have never been caught. She would bet her whole wealth on that.

Not only that, her prototype project for Aerospace Design class was dropped on the floor, breaking it. The culprit? One of the rowdy jocks. The man didn't even apologize and proceeded to run to who knows where while being chased by his friends.

And as if two bad things were not enough, Y/n somehow left a very important item back home; lunch.

That must have been their breaking point. So she had to follow Y/n. It took some time to find them, but she somehow found a Primogem keychain and thought 'Ah yes Y/n must have been here', and was led by crashing and banging noises. That was how she found this abandoned school a few streets away from the main road leading to their university and into the woods.

She knew Y/n's side that they rarely show to some extent, knowing her friend's tendency to be a daredevil, but she didn't think that Y/n would actually go destructive if being angered without a proper cause. There's an inkling feeling, of course, just being proven correct was a whole different feeling.

Her friend got a bad record and is being under surveillance and suspicion, hard work was unjustifiably destroyed, and lunch was left at home.

One bad thing after the other.

"Sorry." Uttered her friend, not much making a move of some sort, not even a turn of a head, still catching their breath.

She only sighs and lets out a little chuckle. Y/n is a nice person, loyal, and dependable. She understands that people have their own bursts of anger sometimes. Though, her friend has a little destructive flavor to it.

"You okay?"

"...Yeah." Y/n takes a few more breaths, taking in a deep one, then exhale. "I calmed down a bit." They say as they stood properly and turned to the person leaning on the busted doorframe that Y/n may or may not have also hit a bit. Dropping the bat carelessly, glass clinking from the impact, Y/n dragged up an armchair that miraculously survived their wrath. They sat down and wiped the sweat from their brow, their friend pushing herself from the doorframe and proceeded to sit on the armchair's table.

"Here." She pulls out Y/n's favorite drink. "Got you your bag and some sandwiches too." She hands them and Y/n accepts them with gratitude. Y/n puts the bag beside the chair and opens their drink.

"So question, how'd you find this place?"

"I have an attraction towards signs that have 'do not enter' or 'danger, not safe' on them if you didn't noticed. Or places with rusty barbed wires in the middle of nowhere." They take a swig of their drink. A breath of relief and satisfaction escapes them after. "This place was abandoned because of a strong earthquake years ago. This place will be bulldozed into a new establishment soon. Until then, this has become one of my 'Escape Places'."

She had to ask about this list of places her friend tends to escape to when she gets the chance later today when they play genshin at her mansion.

"How'd you get in the barbed wire fences anyway?" Asked Y/n as they eat their sandwich, e/c eyes turning to her.

She just takes out her assortment of skeleton keys. "I'm not athletic like you who can jump or scale over wired fences. I went through the gate. The padlock was rusty so it took some time."

Y/n hums, impressed. Then the face of amazement turns to surprise when she just drops the key on Y/n's lap. "You can have it."

"Why???"

"I found a shop that sells these in any color you want. I want them pink so you can have these since I'll be buying new ones anyway."

"You gotta stop giving me free stuff, I'm being spoiled rotten." The friend just laughs, picks up the keys, and shoves them into Y/n's bag. "You also gotta stop shoving people stuff when they try to refuse."

"Hush my child, eat and replenish. You have to help me farm soon. Those Regisvines are a pain." She zips Y/n's bag shut and sat back. "So... What are you gonna do now?"

Silence came between the two, though it wasn't uncomfortable. Her eyes scanned the destruction caused by her friend. She knew Y/n was a kind person at heart, and they tried their best to be good. To mind their manners, to be respectful. But she knows Y/n gets these impulsive thoughts sometimes. But she knows Y/n is goodhearted. Y/n knows their limitations and where the line is drawn. A very good friend.

But she knew that if being pushed to a corner, left with no choice, being wronged unfairly... Y/n wouldn't just stand by. And if given an unholy amount of freedom or autonomy, in short, freeing Y/n from any restriction or any 'leash', who knows what Y/n might do.

Y/n's chewing could be heard after some seconds before gulping followed.

"Not to worry," there, she saw it, that smile, that fucking smile that only meant one thing.

Throughout the time they've been friends, practically became soulmates, she knew Y/n had a variety of smiles that indicate different things.

A smile that meant Y/n was not okay.

A smile that meant Y/n's up to something.

A smile that meant Y/n's on their last bit of sanity.

A smile that meant Y/n found something interesting.

A smile that meant Y/n is in trouble.

There were many smiles belonging to Y/n where she knew what they suggest.

And this one... This smile meant only one thing...

"I happen to catch a glimpse of that asshole's ID and locker number, I'll be putting that skeleton key to good use. And I got a receipt at the same time the crime happened. But I won't stop at just proving my innocence. I happen to know how to retrieve deleted CCTV footages."

A smile that meant Y/n had won.

.

.

.

.

.

Bennett walks around the edge of Dragonspine in hopes to find any treasure in his ‘adventure’. It may be uneventful, but his optimistic self continued on his path determined that today may be different.

Of course, he wishes to go on adventures with his creator guiding him again. Adventures with the divine one spreading their warmth upon him has always been the best feeling he has experienced, thrilling adventures brightly shining on his path. But he understands that someone as mighty as his god can also have weeks where they’re busy. In fact, he is already grateful to be one of the lucky people graced with their god’s blessings and guidance. Bennett never once thought that he’d be one of the blessed vessels in his lifetime. As if all his bad luck was meant for this very good one.

So while he waits for their holiness to come back, he embarks on another adventure on his own.

It was getting dark, but the moon was kind enough to illuminate his path to the camp he had set up. As he walks along the trees, he notices something swirling in his chest. The same warmth he feels when his creator was visiting Teyvat. His lips formed a huge happy grin as he jumps excitedly around. He awaits for the dreamlike subconsciousness to seep through.

He waits…

And waits…

He stopped to raise his palms, he was still in control.

That is strange. By now, he should have started running around or scaling high mountains, visiting foreign lands, or even doing simple commissions for others. He puts one hand to his chest, and he takes note that the divine aura felt strange, different even. As if the aura itself was thin and feeble, yet, it was not unnoticeable that’s for sure. As if the aura was swaying along the cold eternal winter wind from the near mountain, unlike the warmth that usually resides within him.

As if the aura feels less like an ‘aura’.

He can’t quite put a finger on it yet, but the change in the usual sensation of being guided by his god was concerning. He was just about to leave when he notices something from afar, much deeper into Dragonspine. He squints his eyes at what seems to look like a leg. Was there a person behind that bush? Worried for someone’s well-being to be threatened by the harsh weather of Dragonspine, he immediately runs to it.

But upon arriving to assist the person, his eyes widened at the sight before him. Laid behind the bush was a figure he frequently see around Mondstadt’s church, little statues of them on altars in households around the city. A face that he sees in paintings and on some Bibles. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, not trusting his eyes as they could be playing tricks on him.

There stood before your unconscious body was Benny, eyes wide with only one thought running in his mind.

Is he actually looking at the Creator right now?

He snaps from his frozen demeanor when he realizes that he was supposed to help you. He can’t leave you laying here in the freezing cold. But Bennett was hesitant, not sure how to approach you. He shakes his head from the nervousness, ready to help regardless of what identity you may have.

He kneels beside you, taking note of the rising and falling of the backpack on top of your chest. You were breathing, which was always a good thing to him while he places his hand on your shoulder to gently shake you awake.

He hears you groan, making him sigh a bit in relief that you were not completely out of it. He backs away on reflex as the person he is currently helping gently pushes the foreign and weird-looking backpack to the side. You inhaled deeply, making Bennett realize that the bag must have been making it hard for you to breathe due to its weight.

“H-Hey! Are you alright!?”

He can see your eyes still hazy and unfocused, but the air in his lungs was stuck to his throat by the sensation he was feeling from your waking presence.

It was undeniable to him now.

No wonder the aura felt less like an ‘aura’. Because it no longer felt like an aura, it felt more like …a presence.

He is kneeling beside his god. They’re there, with him, in the flesh.

His god blinks a few times, e/c eyes that he reads about shine under the moonlight. Glimmering eyes that seem to be glaring angrily towards the sky. Bennett stops his staring to avoid being rude and checked your body for any injuries.

“…That’s some rad Benny cosplay.”

You spoke, and Bennett never felt so stunned to hear the same voice that whispers around him to be murmuring coherently in front of him. And their first words were about… cosplay?

You sat up, with his help of course, and you looked closely at him. He sweats while casting his eyes away from you, unnerved to be narrowly stared at by his god. You looked around and Benny can tell that you were confused.

“Okay, what the… This is not my friend’s garden. And I swear it was summer. Why am I seeing snow?” You said as you looked at him, seemingly looking for an explanation. Of course, he is also as lost as you. But he did manage to find his voice and answered.

“Oh, um, we’re in Dragonspine…?”

And your immediate response was to laugh. “And you sound like him too!! Hahahaha! Oh man, and I’m in Dragonspine? Pff! Funny man.”

Benny only smiled while trying to make sense of your words.

“Man, not only does your voice sound similar to Bennett, your costume is so on point! Like- look at the detail! The shop you buy from is literally doing justice for Mihoyo’s drip marketing.” You looked around again, becoming more concerned. “No seriously, where are we? I don’t see my friend or her mansion or the tree house I fell from.”

You turned to the boy who held a nervous and unsure look on his face. “And what’s your name, exactly?”

“You just said it, your grace…”

“… You’re Bennett?” E/c eyes wide as saucers stared back at his green ones.

“Yes. I am. Your grace.”

You stayed seated, ignoring the cold as you stared into his eyes, looking for any traces of a lie. You trust your instincts in evaluating a person, your survival skills were honed by your parents after all. But it was still so surreal. You? in Genshin? No fucking way.

No fucking way.

You're in Genshin.

You see a flaming flower stamen nearby, and a sweet flower. The familiar sky. Dragonspine from afar, HD and all.

No fucking hell.

"... I'm actually in Teyvat."

You were well aware this isn't a dream. Despite your ability to discern reality and dreams, you tried pinching just in case. Yup, you were in your game alright. And surprisingly... you're not actually losing your shit.

Surprised? Sure.

But you can blame it on your survival reflex behavior to be whelmed in an unbelievable situation. You could release your burst of excitement later, right now there was an important matter at hand.

It'd be nice to chill in Teyvat if only you knew how to get out. Yeah, you weren't just gonna decide to stay forever. Teyvat may be cool, filled with characters you simped for and adventure and magic you could only dream of!

But you have a life.

It may not be perfect, it had downs and failures, but you couldn't just abandon that.

You wanted to become an aerospace engineer! Be close to the stars! Further the studies of astronomy! Help humanity reach the furthest parts of the universe, however small your contribution is!

Animes! Shows! Fics! Games! There were so many on your lists that you haven't checked yet and some are still unfinished and waiting for updates!

And also there were some people you want to get back at too. There's no way you're going to hell without settling some scores. You promised that when you're successful enough, there wouldn't be any reasons for you to stay as a goody-two-shoes anymore. And you would have to show those who wronged you who's boss, directly or indirectly, depending on that person and how they slighted you.

So you can't stay. You want to go home.

"Um..." Let out Benny as you turned to him. He was unsure. Not the unsure of someone so strange suddenly showing up, no, you were not that dumb or oblivious. It was much more. As if he wasn't sure what to tell you, movements showing that he knows what to say but is unsure when is appropriate.

He knows something you don't.

He called you something earlier. Your Grace. Were you some kind of high-status person? Is this a reincarnation scenario? Where you wake up one day as royalty who turns out to be the villainess in a novel for someone's amusement while stuck in class?

Nope, you checked yourself, and still in the same state as you were before you and your friend were falling to the ground. Dang, you hope your friend was okay, it looks like you were the only one who got sent here, which was good in a way. You like your friend's company, but dragging her to a place where she could get plummetted by a wild boar? Yeah, your friend would not survive long enough.

So what's with the title? You seem to have some sort of identity already in Teyvat despite being here for the first time, at least with the memories that have served you so far.

Maybe you could ask right now. But you want to butter him up first, get him comfortable. Of course, you know what kind of person Benny is. But with the off chance that Benny would be different than what Hoyoverse has displayed, you want to play it safe. At least, complete the evaluation to be sure that Bennett is the same Bennett that you knew in the game.

"Hey... I'm also at a loss here. I don't know how I got here. But I do want to find a way back somehow. Do you think you know where I could get help?" You asked, smiling nicely.

"I-I-I-!" You notice that he looks so surprised, there was a linger of disappointment too. Interesting, he wants you to stay a bit longer?

"I w..." There was a pause, you noted, "I could show you to Acting Grandmaster Jean. She should know how to help you!" You smiled happily, showing him you were grateful for the help. He slightly gets flustered and says that he has something to warm you up in his bag as an excuse to hide his face.

As soon as he distracts himself finding the item that might have probably been dropped somewhere with his luck, seeing as he's frantically still looking for it, your smile dropped, and stared at him.

He seems to know you to some degree, but he did not explain further, only saying that you should meet Jean for help. He should have explained something, seeing that he held no suspicion on you when you knew his name, and with the title he used for you, there was something. You heard his hesitation before he suggested Jean. He looked like he wanted to say something else. Of course, you could tell that he doesn't have any ulterior motives, but more so that he chose a different action instead.

Is it out of caution? Was he trying to be careful?

You have no choice but to gauge that out of him later when you get him comfortable enough.

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End of chapter 2: Rhododendron

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[cevans-is-classic]

18+ only, please. Language, sexual themes, beefy Bucky

Masterlist

Sebastian Stan

@sergeantbarnessdoll (sorry it's short, dear, but I hope you enjoy it!)

He texted hours ago hoping you’d be home when he got in. All he could think about was curling up on your couch, cuddling down with some movies and some snacks before taking a very extended nap. Maybe some other fun stuff, too. 

Nap first though, he needed some sleep, possibly food before that happened. 

He smiles when your car comes into view, his driver dropping him off beside it. Every step closer makes his stomach warm with being home, being with you. 

“Hey baby,” He calls out when he swings the door open, “I’m putting my stuff in the bedroom real quick.” The TV is on, the mumble of voices growing faint as he drops his suitcase off. He hears you laugh, a sharp bark, and he grins before slipping into a pair of sweats and making his way toward the living room. 

He hears the music first and pauses in the doorway — it takes a moment to recognize what you’re watching. When the scene shifts and he sees RDJ he laughs — startling you. 

“Dude,” You look back at him, “Oh, Hello.” 

Seb wiggles his fingers. “Hello to you as well.” 

You flush, fidgeting, “Welcome home.” 

He moves through the living room, sitting on the couch behind you. You shimmy until you’re between his legs and he can drop a kiss on your head, “Mind if I ask why you’re watching Civil War?” 

“Yara and I played a drinking game last night for how many times Steve and Tony say each other’s names. We started with Avengers Assemble but made our way to the movies. I got kind of hooked again and had to keep watching them.” Your eyes never stray from the movie, even as your hand reaches back to grab his.

“Right here.” You point at the screen, “They forgot to put your arm on, or CGI it, whatever, but you can see your real arm and lemme tell you -” You lean forward, “Beefy Bucky is the best.” 

“Beefy Bucky?” He squeezes your hand. 

“Yes.” 

Sebastian watches the screen, eyes following Iron Man as he fights against the Winter Soldier. He remembers the choreography of this scene, how many takes it took, and when he’d switched out with his stunt double. 

He follows Chris chasing after him and watches Bucky try to fly the helicopter away.

“Yeah, I got beefy for this movie,” He pauses. “I felt like I had to size up to the others, which thinking about it now, makes no sense. The only one who I was up against, in my mind, was Chris.” 

“Cap is an asshole.” He knows you have a little frown. “Poor Bucky, though.” 

He laughs, “Yeah poor Bucky.” Both of you keep watching the movie playing on and he has to admit it’s been a while since he’s seen it. Everyone did an amazing job and watching Chadwick- it squeezes his heart. 

“Oh! Oh!” You jump forward, “You missed it, ugh. The fucking motorcycle scene. Baby, babe, he literally throws someone off the bike, but my god it’s gorgeous. Bucky is gorgeous.” 

“First off,” He pokes your shoulder, “That’s my stunt double you’re calling gorgeous. Second, you know I play Bucky, right? Me? The man who is currently sitting behind you?” 

“Yes,” You look back at him, “and you’re hot while doing it.” 

He grins at you, raising a brow when you turn around to face him, “You know, when I first saw this movie I was super drunk and told my partner at the time I was going to suck your soul through your dick.” 

Seb jerks a moment, his stomach tightening. “Yeah?”

“Never fucking thought I’d get the chance though, one in a million shot, right?” He didn’t notice you pausing the movie until the music stopped. 

Your hands trail up his legs as you rise to your feet. “You said you read some comics, right?” 

He grabs your hips, sliding his hands up your back as you settle in his lap, “Some. Why?”  

Your fingers trace the collar of his shirt. “You’re too tall.” 

Seb blinks, “What?” 

“Bucky is only five foot nine in the comics, I think? I’ll have to check.” Seb shakes his head, your fingers touching the edge of his jaw. “I think you make a great Bucky, though. Really brings him to life.” 

He squeezes your waist, digging his fingers in until you squirm in his lap. “You’re welcome.” 

That earns him a wicked smile, your tongue coming out to wet your lips. He follows the path, thinking about the feels of your lips against his and how warm your mouth would be around him. He leans forward to kiss your chin, then your cheek, over to your lips.  

You pause for a breath, “On a scale of one to ten how cool are you with me shouting Bucky while you fuck me?” 

Seb hums, brushing his lips over yours. “Let’s find out.”

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

old habits ian in his emt uniform AAAARRRGGHHHHH

[ old habits ]

mickey's halfway to the mailbox when he stops dead in his tracks, his eyes immediately zeroing in on ian chatting with lucy one driveway over. he doesn't give a fuck about lucy on a normal day - but today it's like she's not even there, because ian's clearly just come home from work and holy fuck...

mickey's caught glimpses of his emt uniform, but never out in broad daylight like this - every inch of the well-fitting blue button-down - the shine of his silver badge - the clean cut and crisp lines all tucked perfectly into place and jesus christ, mickey practically drools, his hand reaching blindly into the mailbox almost as an afterthought. no man should look this hot in a uniform.

lucy can't resist the call either. clearly. but lucy isn't getting turned out in ian's comfy bed every other night like mickey is, now is she? no, she isn't! and it isn't lucy who ian's noticing and sending a little wave over to, is it? no! it's mickey! and it's also mickey who saunters his way over to interrupt, happily, with a composed, "ay doc, you got a thermometer in that fanny pack-a yours?"

it gets them both tucked away inside ian's house with a laughably low amount of effort. and now that he's here, mickey can put his plan to action, watching his personal emt emerge from the bathroom with one of those concerned brow furrows. "you got a fever...?"

ian's got the thermometer, but it's the back of his hand that he uses instead, pressing it to mickey's cheek to check his temperature. then softly over his forehead. mickey mumbles something noncommittal. whatever will keep ian's attention on him like this.

"hm..." after his forehead, ian's hand drops to the back of mickey's neck - more comforting than anything - and god damn, does is light him up from the inside out. "you're definitely runnin' hot..."

an understatement of the century.

but mickey is the perfect patient. opens his mouth real good and everything when ian tells him to, keeping that eye contact as he feels the thermometer slip under his tongue. "stay here for me, alright kid?"

uh huh. yup. whatever the fuck he wants.

mickey watches ian move around the kitchen. takes in a greedy helping of how nicely those slacks hug his ass. how fucking snatched his waist is with that thick belt. how his back broadens into strong shoulders under the pressed blue fabric of his shirt. jesus fucking christ, this man. no way motherfuckers ain't passing out on the spot when he arrives on the scene. damn, mickey would do some highly questionable shit just to get him-

beep beep! beep beep! beep beep!

"lemme see."

mickey opens up exactly as asked, the thermometer slipped out from under his tongue.

in front of him, ian reads the numbers, mickey's scheme about to be put to rest once he realizes there never was a- "hm..."

mickey frowns. flicks his eyes to the thermometer and then back up. "what?" he asks. "the fuck you mean 'hm'?"

"you weren't kiddin' - you really got a fever going."

and-... wait a minute. "really?"

"mhm. looks like you're gonna need some follow-up care."

mickey's brain plugs along slowly, trying to wrap around what's happening. "...what-"

but the rest of his confusion is snuffed out as ian moves forward, scooping him up in his arms and getting that bespoke heart attack to set in - gloriously. because he's carrying mickey toward the stairs, "gonna have to be on bed rest for quite a while, i'm thinkin'..." the thermometer with mickey's temp left on the kitchen counter.

99.1

[chronic-ghost]

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

rating: M (just for language)

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 5619

summary: you're a human lie detector-- so you tell the handsome man at the Jim Bo’s Burger Barn at 3AM. Too bad you're too drunk to catch up to his lies.

warnings: language, references to drugs/cartels, drinking, smoking, this one is pretty tame, no use of y/n

a/n: this is my Poker Face adjacent fic and inspired by the scene where Javi so innocently flirts with that american wife in the lounge. might become a series but not quite sure yet. lemme know which direction I should take this, if I should take it anywhere at all!

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You attract trouble.

You attract trouble like you put on your nicest dress, did your hair, fixed up your tits, and doused yourself in trouble-pheromones. Like you found trouble curled up on the side of the road, sad and alone like a lost dog, and you gave it a cookie and now it swings around your ankles, always moments away from knocking you on your ass. Except it’s not a dog, it’s a chimpanzee that’s finally snapped and it’s pissed–  it’s beating on the bars of its cage, it’s yowling, howling, it’s coming after you to eat off your goddamn face and–

Okay, back up a bit. 

You have a thing that gets you into trouble. No, not like a self-destructive habit or a weird twitch. It’s not drugs or alcohol or even a dumbass ex. It’s this thing you’ve always been able to do, always known, and because of your big mouth, it’s always gotten you into hot water with the wrong people.

You know when someone is lying. Don’t ask how. It’s a thing. But you know, without a shadow of a doubt, if what’s coming out of someone’s mouth is the God’s honest truth or total and utter bullshit.

You know when someone is lying and generally, folks don’t really appreciate it when you a) catch them on a lie and b) call them out on it. You and your big mouth.

Okay, that’s two things that get you into trouble, but it’s primarily the lying thing and the mouth thing is more or less a fun bonus. Used for good or evil, or whatever. 

The point – the point is – you know when someone is lying. Every single time. So, sure, the audience may say, it’s a weird quirk, kinda bizarre, may or may not be difficult to prove, but trouble? Real actual trouble? How could you possibly get into chimpanzee-face-eating trouble with just this little thing?

Well, rather easy actually. If you don’t have any particular skills, that is. If you barely finished high school, and street smarts was the only kind of smarts they were selling the day your mom smacked you on the ass and told you to find your way in the world. It was hard keeping a job too. Minimum wage living is terrible, especially when the customers lie to you, or to each other, or to their children. Even worse when management lies about why there’s no cash payout this month or why they’re late with this month’s checks. Getting by is fucking hard as shit, but when you know there’s something wrong being done and you’ve got this big fucking mouth, well, you’ve never been one to not court trouble. 

Maybe trouble is easier to find because you like to wave and flirt with it when you drive by. Give a little wink.

You work here, you work there. Nothing serious. Always temporary. And then, one day, during your shift as a maid at the Economy 99 on route 10, the elderly night guard asks if you’ve ever played poker. 

Nah, you say. Go Fish, that’s really your game. 

So he offers to teach you, along with a few of the other maids and staff waiting around for someone to blow chunks in the swimming pool because you always managed to find the really classy places. 

Okay, so you barely finished high school, you don’t have real marketable skills, you’ve got a big mouth and you’re not afraid to use it and –

– and –

You’re really fucking good at poker. 

And who here would like to venture a guess as to why?

You always know when someone is lying and what is poker if not Advance Bullshit for Adults? Fuckin’ Astronomical Physics for Liars and Dumbasses. Hell, you gotta fuckin’ PhD in Bovine Excrement and it’s time you graduated to the big leagues. Sayonara community college, hello Stanford for Assholes.

Okay, maybe that’s just regular Stanford. 

You learn to hustle too. Lose a few rounds so they don’t catch onto you and can’t accuse you of anything as you wipe their clocks clean. You change your name too, in different towns, in different back alley poker halls, because unfortunately the poker and casino community in this place is too small.

This place being all of the United States. 

You can’t exactly go online and work your literal magic– you gotta at least see or hear the person to know if they’re lying. Bluffing over pixels just isn’t the same. Isn’t sexy enough. 

So, with your big mouth and exceptional poker skills, you go hunting off the coast. It was an invite only poker tournament in Florida. You hadn’t managed to burn your ‘Marlene Green’ identify just yet and she was fucking crushing it up and down the east coast. You barely blinked at the ten grand buy-in– baby money, suckers ducks, little Tikes casino royale.

This was also the last one, you told yourself. One for all the marbles. 

Because the thing about disreputable poker halls, they tend to be filled with unpleasant, disreputable, very angry characters that, like a chimpanzee, will rip your face off and eat it if they think they’ve been cheated. 

Exit strategy. Mama always said you gotta have an exit strategy. Well, Mama said a lot of things and the actual literal exit strategy was Monterey Marina with a gorgeous trawler for sale. Older than shit, but damn that baby could purr. You were gonna take the money, offer up stone-cold cash (no questions asked), and sail off into the sunset. Or, well, sunrise because you were definitely getting the fuck out of Florida. 

But here it comes, the real kick in the goddamn teeth, the real screw in the rack. This is where your mouth and your talent– gift, power, is this a fucking superhero movie?– whatever– tended to get all mishmashed with one other thing that always– and you mean always– got you in the hot seat. Got you in Trouble, with a capital T, that rhymes with P and stands for pool hall – breathing down your neck. 

You alway had shitdumb, bad, fucking luck. 

So it’s not some lowtime, grumpy townies you piss off when you win the pot, it turns out its members of a goddamn drug cartel! And they are PISSED.

P-I-S-S-E-D

You don’t wanna ask the barrel of their guns if they’re going to kill you because you don’t actually want to be sure of their answer, so you’ve got your hands up, thinking this is definitely it– I’ve played my last hand, I’ve sunk my last boat, I’ve cursed my last fuck– when police sirens go off. It’s not a relief, but a distraction.

You’ve got a big mouth, wacky abilities, and reflexes like someone who’s been running their whole life. You smash a bottle against the back of the head of the blonde one closest to you, flip the table– chips and bullets go flying– and with the case holding the winnings still in your hands, you sprint out the back door. 

To your lovely Chevy Camaro waiting for you. 

And you drive.

“And I drive and I drive and I drive, all the way down to this lovely little diner in . . .” 

You swivel on the red seat, nearly knocking over the five little plastic bottles of Crown Royal on the counter that is making your head thick and puffy. You squint at the sign that boasts the best burgers in – “Texas, yes, thank you, Texas! Lone Star State. The most hated state, of all fifty of them, for Wile E Coyote. His nemesis. His haunting. His apocalypse now . . .” 

The man seated next to you, the same man who’s been there for an hour, quietly listening to you drunkenly ramble at the counter of Jim Bo’s Burger Barn, smirks. His mustache twitches.

“Why is it the Wile E Coyote’s least favorite state?”

Your mouth drops at him. You slouch as though indignant about his very question. “Roadrunner, duh, state bird of the Lone Star State. That and blue bonnets. I mean, the flower. Blue bonnets are the state bird and the road runner is the state flower of the Looney Star State . . . wait . . .”

He laughs, softly, his elbows under him as he leans forward on the counter, his brown jacket looking like it smells amazing. Drunker than you meant to be, you eye him from his classic cowboy boots, up his hips, and to the edges of that lovely brown jacket as it hangs around his waist. He has the prettiest eyes. 

“You were saying something about driving here?” He asks, very much aware of your shameless staring. “Do you still have that money?”

“Sure, sure,” you mutter and turn back to your chocolate milkshake that’s pretty much just chocolate soup at this point. You snatch up a remaining fry from your long gone burger and swirl it in the soup. “Got the keys and the money locked up tight. I worry more about someone fucking with my baby more than the money, you know. Lots of sentimental value in that car. ‘Is where I lost my virginity.”

At that, the man sputters on his coffee, his third of the night. Black, almost as dark as his hair. 

You sigh, frowning into your lumpy, ice-creamy soup. “So hard to get laid when you’re running for your life.” 

You swivel back to him as he’s patting his jacket dry of coffee. “Wait. You.”

“Me what?” You think his cheeks warm pink for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing out here at 3AM, listening to me babble endlessly? You don’t look shifty, but maybe you are.” 

He smirks again and tosses his napkins into the now empty coffee mug. 

“I’m Javi,” he says in a deep, soothing voice as he extends his hand across to you. You take it, with the proper amount of trepidation. “And I’m on my way to see my niece in Flagstaff.” 

You click your tongue and withdraw your hand, disappointed. “Bullshit.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I mean, your name is definitely Javi.” You pick up your own coffee mug and see that it’s unfortunately empty. You pick out some fleck that’s fallen into it. “Well, almost – is that short for something? – but you are definitely not on your way to see your niece in Flagstaff. Does she not live in Flagstaff or . . . do you not even have a niece?” You gasp, mouth agape. He has the decency to look uneasy. His eyes narrow at you. You scoff. “That is fucked up, hombre. Starting off a conversation with a lie is not a good way to make a friend.” 

“Why do you think I’m lying?” 

You roll your eyes, the coffee cup dangling loosely in your fingers. “We’ve been over this, my dude. See the court documents. Jeez, how hard is it to order a refill at three in the morning? Paragraph B, Subsection I’m really fucking good at poker. I don’t think, I know. I have this thing, always had, and when people lie to me, I . . . wriggle. Squirm. Not exactly ‘spoiled lunch meat’ but not ‘just clocked a hottie from across the bar and I like their vibes’ either.” 

He watches as the waitress, glaring, comes over and refills your mug. You immediately dive into five packets of sugar, shredding them like a racoon with a bag of popcorn. 

“But I don’t take it too personally,” you continue, flicking the sugar packet to make sure every single crystal falls into the cup. “People lie all the time. About stupid shit too. I don’t think they even mean to do it. It just happens.”

“Does it bother you? That people lie?” 

“Eh. Once upon a time. But fuck, if you could hear the bullshit firehose that comes outta people’s mouths on the daily, you’d stop shaking it off too, if you know what I mean.” Satisfied that you’d be able to see through both time and space with your sugar high, you take a sip. Needs milk. You reach across his plate, wobbling on the edge of the seat, his chest inches from your forearm, and snag the little tin milk pitcher. Your cup becomes more milk than coffee. “People lie for the best of reasons, mostly. Or at least, best for them. Either to save hurting someone else's feelings or their own. We humans don’t like pain, generally, as a rule. But rules are meant to be broken, I suppose.”

Javi, or as close to his real name as you’re going to get, is quiet. That tends to be more of his natural state, given that he had barely said two words while you recounted the past few weeks to him whether he wanted it or not. You sip your coffee again, delighted to have found the right balance of sugar, milk, and burnt coffee, when he taps the rim of his mug with his nail. 

 “I do have a niece, but she lives in Austin. Haven’t seen her in a while, actually, but I want to.” 

“Oh, yeah?” That was all true. You bend forward, eyes trying to watch him as you sip the delicate, hovering brown line that threatens to spill over the edge of the cup. “What’s stopping you from seeing her?” 

“Work.” 

Well, that was fucking ominous. 

“Wait. Fuck. What do you do for a living?” 

Javi slides off the seat and turns those slim hips towards you and, like a fucking idiot, you just now register the bulk at his waist. 

You whimper. Of course the one nice person who wanted to spare you a second glance was from the cartel. They found you. Somehow they tracked you down to the middle of nowhere, which was exactly what you wanted when you still had your life ahead of you. But now it seemed like a terrible fucking idea because there was no one around to at least make sure Baby Girl Camaro went to a good home. 

“Ah, fuck. Fuck! That’s a gun. Fuck, you’re gonna kill me right here in this goddamn diner,” you whine and put your head on the counter, hands covering the back as if you were preparing for a tornado. 

He sighs. “I’m not going to kill you.” 

Truth. 

“Then what do you want with me?” You glare at him, bleary-eyed. “Because the whole cover as a kindly stranger with baby cow eyes is officially fucking blown, my guy.” 

“Let’s go outside and – wait, what? Baby cow eyes? What the hell does that mean?” 

“What? You’ve never watched Dr. Pole? TV veterinarian?” You unwind from your prone position and frown at him. “He takes care of those little baby cows, lookin’ up at their mama with those big, sweet, gentle, loving brown eyes. Cutest thing in the world. Almost made me wanna give up beef for a whole two minutes. But seriously, dude, there’s this hamburger joint in Miami that makes you just wanna lick the juices right off your fingers– hey!” 

He grabs you by the upper arms and, as casually as a kidnapping can go, hauls you out of the diner. The bell above the door rings joyfully as he pulls you through. 

The reality of your situation hits you like a sixteen-wheeler truck and tears spring up in your eyes as panic bites into your spine. His grip is like iron around your bicep. 

“Dude, I’m so sorry I rambled on like that but I swear I didn’t know who you were. Please, please don’t kill me – o-o-or hurt me. Please don’t take me back to the cartel. You can have the money, I swear, j-j-just take it–,”

His eyes widen and immediately lets you go. The neon sign and lights of the diner behind him blur his face in shadow. You wipe at your eyes. 

“Lady, look, if you’re gonna survive on the run from the Cali Cartel, you can’t be telling your whole life story to anyone who asks.” He’s got his hands on his hips as if disappointed with you. You pout with your bottom lip out.

“Wasn’t telling just anyone. Was telling you.” You cross your arms and sniff, suddenly rather embarrassed to be crying in front of a man so genuinely hot it makes you go a little cross-eyed. Well, it was either him or the whiskey. TBD. “Not that I’m encouraging you or anything, but if you don’t kill me, aren’t your cartel bosses gonna be pissed?” 

“I don’t work for the cartel. I work for the DEA.” 

If crying was embarrassing, you are going to be fucking traumatized if you puked all over his cowboy boots.

“Aw shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.” You press your knuckles into your eyes, groaning. You wander backwards. Your head starts to spin and so do you. “The fucking government is after me? Holy shit, this is not good.” 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

You frown and spin back around. He looks exasperated. 

“Well, how many words does it take to read me my Miranda rights?” You tick off the words on your fingers as you speak them aloud. “You. Have. The. Right. To. Remain. Silent. Anything – is that one word or two? – You. Say–,”

“Jesus Christ–,” He claps his wide hand over yours, squishing your tally between his palms. “Are you always like this or just because you’re drunk?” 

“I’m a delight, pal, okay?” You scowl up at him. “I am a barrel full of monkeys at all times. I am a waterslide with chocolate and whipped cream, okay? I am a–,”

His hands leap to your shoulders. His touch is gentle like he knows he shouldn’t scare you but he’s considering throwing you into oncoming traffic. 

“Just . . . show me the case of money you stole,” he begs with his baby cow eyes, “alright? Let’s start there.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “If I do, what’s to keep you from knocking me out and throwing me in the trunk?” 

“I’m not going to do that.”

No tingle. You purse your lips and wiggle out from under his palms. “Say it. Say, I’m not going to knock you out and throw you in the trunk and steal all of your money.” 

“It’s not exactly your money, is it?”

“Say it!”

“Fine!” He says, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m not going to knock you out and throw you in the trunk and steal all of your money.” 

Still nothing. No tingle. Well, no tingle about him lying anyway. 

“You passed the test. Now come here.” 

Hesitantly, he nudges towards you, those thick eyebrows dipping down as if expecting you to pull a bazooka out of your bra.

“C’mere, c’mere. Good.” You clap a hand on his shoulder and lean into him. You shift your weight onto one leg and wiggle off your other boot. You get a whiff of his cologne – dark, woodsy, a little too much, as if to cover for a lack of deodorant. “Now, as you so annoyingly identified earlier, I have had a little, insy-tintsy bit to drink, and if I tried to take off my shoe by myself, I would, as the kids say, eat shit. And once you’ve fallen on your ass in front of one cop, you’ve fallen on your ass in front of them all.”

His warm hands find your waist, steadying you, just as you pop your heel out of your boot. “I’m not a cop,” he grumbles.

“And I’m not a walking lie detector.” You shake your boot and your car keys tinkle as they hit the dirt. “Ah, ha! Got ‘em.”

You shake them in front of his baby cow eyes, grinning, before spinning back to your car and popping the trunk, hopping as you went to slide your boot back on. 

“Do you work out?” You ask as he rounds the edge. Half of you is buried in the trunk, feet in the air. 

“Uh, yeah, when I can. Why?”

“What do you bench?”

“256. Why?” 

“Oh, then this should be easy for you.”

You groan, struggling with something and he dives to help you – and his knees buckle. 

“Why the hell do you have a tire for a sixteen wheeler in your trunk?”

“Same reason you’re sweating, toots. Heavy as fuck and hard to move. But now that we have . . .”

You pull out a slim silver case. You pop the handles and sigh.

You haven’t moved a single bill since that night. You haven’t even breathed on it, as if doing so would set off a series of alarms, bells, and whistles.

“So small for so much trouble,” you whisper as he crowds in next to you. “Fifty thousand dollars. Make or break a life. Well, at least, a life like mine.” 

Javi makes a face. “Should be one hundred, but those fuckers switched it out.” 

“Wait, how do you know that?” 

He sighs and slams the lid of the trunk shut. You snatch up the case before he does and hold it tight to your chest. Javi stands there for a moment, with his hand on Baby’s trunk, head down, thinking.

“Look, I want to help you . . . and I can. But you’ve gotta start being honest with me. How did you really get into that poker game?”

“What do you mean?”

He crosses his arms, frowning. “That little party trick you do. The human lie detector thing. What is it? How did you know Veracruz had that shit hand?”

“Uh, because I asked him and he said he didn’t have a shit hand, and I knew he was lying.” 

“Yeah, that. How did you know he was lying?”

“I just did.”

“Bullshit.” 

“That’s my line!” You glare up at him, very much aware of his height and very much aware how hot he is. “I’m not lying to you. I just know when people are lying. If you believe it, I’ll know.” 

Javi rolls his eyes. “That’s not a real thing people can do. Have you done forensic work before? Studied body language somewhere?” 

You scoff and step back, showing off your black fringe vest, dirty jeans, and combat boots. “Do I look like I’ve studied anything anywhere ever? Where would I even have gotten the money to go study somewhere? Oh right, the forensic fairy, just beating the shit outta people with a bag of cash.” 

He puts his hands on his hips and you match him because you can do the scary cop thing too. It’s not that hard. 

“I broke my arm when I was seven on a bike ride.” 

“True.” 

“I had a dog named Benji.” 

“Dog’s right, but not named Benji.” You grin, rubbing your hands together, then putting them on your thighs. “C’mon, gimme something you’ve never told anyone. This is exciting. Your mustache does this little twitch thing when I’m right.” 

“When I was twelve, I cheated off my friend’s math test.” 

You frown, dropping your shoulders. “That’s your big secret? Whoof, buddy, and here I thought the big scary man gunning for me was mean and lean, when he’s actually just an All-American—,”

“I need your help to arrest the men who are trying to kill you.” 

Your mouth snaps shut so fast your teeth click.

“That’s what all of this is about.” He crosses his arms and leans against Baby. “Aren’t you curious how I found you so fast? Faster than the cartel who's been on your ass for two weeks now?” 

“I’d like to think it was just kismet that we found each other,” you grumble. “Serendipity. Movie magic. Lady Luck doing me a fuckin’ solid for once.”

“That case has a tracker in it. We had a plant in that game who was supposed to win, but not before he could distribute the cash out in the pot. We’d be able to follow them back to their stashes and track their movements.” He bit his lip, disapprovingly. “And then you showed up. Cleaned their fucking clocks like it was nothing. Had their goddamn numbers from minute one and none of us could figure it out. Steve was probably relieved when you knocked him out with that bottle.”

“Oh, shit, the blonde was your partner?” You grimace. “My bad, dude, my bad. Is he, uh, okay?”

Javi nods, eyes distant, as if subtly trying to work something out in his brain. Like testing to see if you could read minds or something. “He’ll be fine. His wife Connie is thrilled to have him home for a few weeks.” 

“Ah. And that means you pulled the shit straw to go after the girl who ran off with all your government money . . .” It was finally all coming together. “Shit, should I add your wife to the list of people I’ve pissed off? I can’t imagine she’s thrilled about any of this.”

His jaw works, as if he was chewing on something, eyes dark, before he pulls a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket. He holds one out to you.

You stay where you are, hesitant. 

“C’mon, don’t tell me you’re not a smoker.” He spins an unlit cigarette between his fingers. “I don’t bite.”

You scowl and trudge forward. You snatch the cigarette from his thick fingers and wait your turn for the lighter.

“What gave it away? I haven’t had a smoke in hours.” 

The shadow of the flame flickered in his palm as he held out the lighter close to your lips, his hand blocking the wind. His brown eyes looked black in the absence of light. 

“Chain-smoking and playing poker with idiots is a combo deal. Two vices for the price of one.”

“Ha. Ha.”

You match his lean against Baby’s trunk, the pair of you watching the occasional car or truck go by on the interstate in the distance. The paper crinkles when you suck in the smoke. God, there really is nothing like the first bite of a cigarette. 

“So, what’s the play here?” You ask, after a moment. “You have the money. Why do you need me?” 

“You won’t have to worry about kindly strangers with baby cow eyes for starters.” You scowl at him. Maybe it’s the orange light of the flame, but you swear you see a twinkle in his eyes. “But you tell me. You seem smart. What would the government want with you?”

He likes a chase, you realize. He likes to play, to tease. He likes to be in control. Something inside you knots up, threatening goosebumps on your skin, but you shake it back. Down, girl. 

You take a sip from your cigarette, thinking. 

There is nothing else around except the highway and this diner. Seemed like such a good idea at the time. Who’d ever find your ass all the way out here? You lick the bottom of your lip before pulling it between your teeth.

“I’m your only witness to the mountains of coke being produced out in the open when they brought us in. Everyone else at that table was cartel or DEA. You want me to testify. 

He nods slowly. If he was impressed, he didn’t show it.

“We didn’t know who the hell you were when you showed up and planned to arrest you before everything went tits up.” He taps the ash onto the gray dirt and you watch his fingers. “If you do this, you’re out from under the cartel. We can give you a new identity, and you can start grifting again across America. All of this’ll be a bad dream.”

He flicks the butt of his cigarette into the dark, just at the edge of the light from the neon sign. You follow suit a second later. The keys to Baby are still in your pocket. 

“And if I don’t? If I don’t do this, then what?” 

His answer is a single arched eyebrow.

You dart to the left, trying to get around him, but he’s there first, arms outstretched like he’s guarding a goal. He frowns at you. Seriously? 

You lunge again, this time to the right, and he’s again in front. 

Your brow sweating, you hook your foot onto Baby’s trunk, desperately trying to scramble over the top. You get about halfway up before those annoyingly large hands snatch you around the waist and haul you off the car.

“Would you stop it?” He plops you down between his solid chest and the car door. This close to him, air temporarily leaves your lungs. “I’m being honest when I say I’m here to help you.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Am I lying?” Again, that beautiful eyebrow of disapproval. 

“No, but I’ve officially decided you’re shifty.” 

He shakes his head and steps back, allowing blood flow to return to your brain. 

“Is this what you want for your life? Driving from small town to small town, picking up bullshit jobs, sleeping in shit beds, when there’s so much more you could do? You’re smart, resourceful, funny, weirdly agile . . . but you wanna spend your life hiding from the world.” 

There’s something hot and sharp in your throat.

“It’s what I’m good at,” you croak. 

His expression softens. The gravel crackles beneath his boots as he comes closer. Javi, the DEA officer, has temporarily left the building. In his place, this Javi is smoothed out, dulled, not all jagged edges and razor burns. Maybe tastes sweeter than day-old coffee and stale cigarettes. You want to tell him there’s nothing wrong with either– you happily take both– but seeing him unguarded, even for a moment, threatens to topple you over. There’s a light in his eyes when he takes in your face. Your eyes. Your nose. Your mouth. 

He looks . . . hopeful. 

One hesitant finger brushes away a stray strand of hair from your forehead.

Do not tremble. Do not tremble. Do not do it, I swear, ladies, keep it together!

“I bet you are,” he says softly. Jesus Christ, his hands are so big up close. “I bet you are good at a lot of things. You seem like the type who could genuinely surprise me. And I think you might surprise yourself one day.” 

You grimace, deeply, deeply regretful. 

“Yeah,” you mutter glumly. “I do surprise people a lot, actually. Unfortunately, you didn’t seem to be listening.”

“Wha–,”

From your other pocket in your vest, you yank out a one-time-use stun gun and stab his thigh through his jeans. Fifty-thousand volts lights up his entire body, arched, and tensed, before the grown man collapses at your feet. 

Unconscious, Javi hits the ground so hard you squeal, landing on his face and no doubt earning a nasty bruise. 

“Exit strategy, dude! Always gotta have an exit strategy. But I’m so, so sorry!” Grabbing his deadweight shoulder, you roll him onto his back and try to get him in a comfortable position. There’s dust in his mustache. .You fold his hands onto his chest like he was casually napping. 

Then because you were in fact the nicest or stupidest person on the planet, you dig your arms under his and pull him out of the parking lot. It would be a true sin if he got run over and anything happened to that beautiful face. Huffing, you drop him off by the bike rack. “I’m sorry. You are so gorgeous but I gotta get outta here and I can’t have you following me. This hurts me way more than it hurts you.”

You bend down and rifle through his jacket. You find what you’re looking for and take his phone out of his pocket. Old, probably a burner. With a shake, you crack off the battery and throw it on the ground. The crunch is loud beneath your heel. That should give you some more time. Can’t haul you back to HeadQuarters if he can’t call them.

This close to him, you can see the bags beneath his eyes. You remember he didn’t eat the entire time he sat with you in the diner. He didn’t respond to your question about a wife. Guilt clangs into your ribs. Slowly, you loosely brush your fingers through his hair. It’s soft, curls around his neck and ears. He looks like he needs sleep. 

You had been blasting across state lines, hardly eating, barely sleeping, restless and fearful. Maybe he had been too.  

“God, I am such a fucking idiot.” You grimace as you see a ripe purple bump growing on his cheek. “I am so sorry and I am so going to hell for this.”

Over the road to the highway, the dawn rises, purple and pink and heavy.

Baby purrs, when you start the engine, welcoming and warm. Where to today, Mama?

Jim Croce’s twang eases out of the radio as you adjust your mirror and see his long legs still out by the concrete. Somebody would find him soon enough.

Uptown got its hustlers

The bowery got it's bums

42nd street got big Jim Walker

He's a pool shootin' son of a gun

Yeah, he big and dumb as a man can come

But he stronger than a country hoss

You shake your head, guilt gnawing at your gut. Baby roars as you pull out onto the road and up onto the highway. Into the burning dawn.

What was it that he said? 

And when the bad folks all get together at night

You know they all call big Jim boss, just because

He called you funny. Resourceful. Full of potential. And smart. He thought you were smart.

Liar, liar. 

And they say

You don't tug on superman's cape

You don't spit into the wind

You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger

And you don't mess around with Jim

[gaslysainz]

Lost (PG10) pt4

Summary: The world is utterly unfair. He was her most prized possession, her life, her first ever commitment of love. But to him, she was just a mere person lost in his big world.

warnings: ; unrequited feelings; Pierre is a douche , arrange marriage, angst, explicit scenes and languages.

Author's Note~ Heya guys! I present to you the 4th part of my fanfic. I'm overwhelmed by the response ❤️ Really Thanks a lot to everyone who had liked the story so far. Something's have started to cook. Hope you look forward to it. Love You All 😘 Here's my first ever story for you guys. As soon as I finish this one, I'll start taking requests maybe! Till then please show your love and support for "LOST".

This one's a filler chapter, so please bear with me.

Something completely different happened today. A knock at my door woke me up from my 1 hour nap which has unfortunately turned into a 3 hour nap. I stood up from the bed and opened the door only to find my husband standing there and running a hand through his curls. Oh! What a sight! He looks like a Greek God.

"Hey! Did you need something? I'm sorry I fell asleep, also you can come inside"

He thanked me and entered my room, this is completely new. But nonetheless, I had to take a chance. He was looking around the room and the pictures hanging on the walls. His eyes stuck to one picture in particular. A picture captured by Pierre's mom of Isaac, Pierre and myself. It was Halloween and Isaac wanted to be a Vampire and on the other hand Pierre and Me were Romeo and Juliet. He was 6 and I was 4! We did not even know who Romeo and Juliet were! It was because of the elders who had insisted on these costumes! Oh! What I'd give to have those days back.

"You need something?"

"Ah! No, um actually yes, I have to attend an event with the rest of grid tomorrow. And you have to come with me. So be ready by 7pm tomorrow, will you? Wear something nice. I'll send someone with dresses for you to choose today in the evening. Just pick something from there."

There it is! Like I've mentioned before, he only remembers me when he needs something or needs to go somewhere to show off the world our so called amazing married life. *Scoff* But I'm not mad, at least I'll be able to meet HIM after so many days. The only person who happens to care even a little bit for me. Who always greets me with a beautiful smile on his face. A friend? Nope, he's like an angel for me.

I really hope everyone gets a friend like him!

" *Cough* *cough* You there?"

" Oh yea! I'm sorry, I was a bit distracted. Umm, Why don't you take Julia with you? I'm sure she would love to accompany you and also I'm sure she has several dresses in her wardrobe already. Won't even have to buy a dress last minute"

The look Pierre gave me after I mentioned Julia simply yelled 'ARE YOU CRAZY'. I mean I knew why he wouldn't take Julia, but I just find a different kind of satisfaction by reminding it to him.

"Um, I'll be ready tomorrow. Don't worry. By the way, where's Julia?"

"I sent her home, no need for her to stay here for these two days, either way we'd be busy. It'll only distract us."

Oh well! That was odd! Distract us from what exactly? Sometimes this man leaves no tables unturned to confuse me to no end. Anyways. I know better now than to crack my brain over these things. It's actually useless cause I won't get anymore clear answers from him than this.

"Any specific colour that I need to keep in mind while choosing the dress?"

"Not that I'm aware of, just keep it a bit formal. I'll get going. If Julia calls or comes asking for me, just tell her I've been out for a meeting since morning."

And then he rushed out the door, not before checking our childhood photo once again. Okay! That was highly confusing! I mean why was he avoiding Julia? Or am I reading too much between the lines? No one knows. I better go eat something until then.

But still, I'm a bit lost here.

LOST in confusion.

PS - Please lemme know what do you think about LOST and also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list ❤️

@peachiicherries @crimeshowjunkie @oblomovissad @torossosebs @janeholt3

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Bloodweave vampire feeding "explained" using canon information

I got confused and asked for information about Astarion feeding on Gale and here's what I learned:

In a Tav playthrough, Gale specifically warns him not to bite him because he tastes disgusting.

If you ORDER Astarion to Bite Gale anyway (click the bite action and click Gale) he gets a poison de-buff for 3 turns, against ability checks and attacks, gets covered in a green goo splash, and says "Gods,your blood tastes like bile"

Regardless of magical items consumed or what act you try this in, I believe the result is always the same

In a Gale Origin Playthrough

Bite scene is the same as any other playthrough except instead of saying yes you can bite me, Gales dialogue option is "you may bite off more than you can chew"

When Astarion bites, you get a unique interaction. "His bite is like ice, but Something inside you stirs, and the Cold fades"

Astarion, obviously in pain and clutching at his throat, says "UGH UGH YOU TASTE LIKE BILE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU"

Oddly, after this scene, you can continue to ask him to feed on you like in any Tav playthrough and he reacts with the same base game dialogue and actions as with Tav, completely ignoring all this information about Gales blood throughout the game going forward

I have not seen the Astarion Origin cinematics yet. If any information I have in here is incorrect, or you have more information, please add it!

Seems like he was supposed to be un-drinkable, but they left in the "you can feed on me tonight" dialogue and never again address the information. Interestingly, if you order Astarion to Vampire Bite Gale during a Gale origin, I think he STILL GETS THE POISON DEBUFF but if you say 'you can feed on me tonight' he doesnt ???

Larian what were you intending here 😂😂

Again, if I have anything wrong here lemme know. Not trying to Dunk on Blood Weave I love you guys it just seemed like the game was giving conflicting info and my conclusion is: the game gives conflicting info 😂😂😂

[lover-lyn]

i wanna request sum lemme be ur first request OKAY HERE ME

ACE X READER GOING TO PROM PLSSS

This took so long and FOR WHAT, not very proud of this tbh, first time writing a one-shot so, hope you like it my love :)

Fem reader implied (reader wears a dress) but no pronouns used, Teen!Ace, modern AU, reader is called "pretty" and "sweetheart"

Stupid in love

Let's get married in Vegas

We don't need guest list

I don't wanna think too much

Let's get matching tattoos

I don't wanna think it through

Baby, I'm so stupid in love

MAX HUH YUNJIN↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

During his short life, Ace had been in many situations that he never thought he'd find himself in

But this won the number one spot for most surprising and nerve wracking

He had been given detention for months on end, he had been grounded by Dadan for an entire year, he had even been arrested before, yet he didn't doubt that he'd be in even more chaotic situations in the future.

Here he was, Portgas D Ace, certified trouble maker and self-proclaimed womaniser stood in front of your porch wearing a suit and holding a flower bouquet

Currently, he was glaringly the door as if it had wronged him. In truth, he was nervous, and incredibly so.

a couple days ago, Ace had been standing on this very porsh, holding a single Hibiscus flower, waiting for you to open the door so he could know the answer to the question hed spent weeks trying to work up the courage to ask, needless to say that he'd been overjoyed upon hearing that you were only waiting for him to ask.

yet for some reason, he feels even more nervous now.

a couple minutes pass until Sce finally felt calm enought to knock, the door opened almost instantly

"there you are, i was starting to think you stood me up"

and there you were, in a ruby red dress, a Hibiscuss flower pinned to the neckline of the garment

"Ace?"

"sorry, hi sweetheart" Ace`s blushing only increased as he heard your quiet giggle "hi" you you replied

"you look pretty, really pretty"

seems as though it was your turn to blush "thank, you don`t look half bad yourself" that was truly a understatment, if anything, Ace looked like a prince straight out of a royal ball with a blood-red three piece suit, his hair was slicked back with just a couple strands falling out of place and onto his face

"can i give you your flowers or would you like to keep checking me out?"

"oh i'm the one checking you out? didn't you forget how to talk as soon as as i opened the door?"

Ace's smirk only widened "come on now, you wear my signature color and expect me not to stare? that's so unfair"

"your color? whoever said red was your colour?"

"me, now take your flowers and let's go"

"hey good lookin'"

"Sabo i swear to God if you don't shut the fuck up i'm going to castrate you"

as expected, the night had turned out a disaster, how could it not? all of the 'ASL' brothers were attending, granted the youngest had snuck in thru the vents after hearing that their would be a buffet

so while everyone was still inside dancing the night away, both you and Ace sat soaked head to toe in the water foutain, Sabo was relentlessly teasing you while Koala filmed the whole thing for blackmail material

it seemed as tho everyone had forgotten about Luffy, who was curently hiden under the buffet table exitedly stuffing his face full of food he'd nicked from plates the second the security turned his head the other way

yet, looking out onto the scene, you and Ace shared the same thought

there was nowhere else you'd rather be and no one else you'd rather experience this moment with

[inanisomnia]

ೃ⁀➷the apricity of your touch / chishiya x gn!reader

summary: who knew that a single touch brings back strings of emotions and memories?

warning/s: mentions of blood, implications of sex, slighty ooc, s2 spoilers, profanities, and slightly ungrammatical

word count: 1663

okay but damn this got me researching about things that are medically related - basically me trying to sound proficient and knowledgeable in the medical field... and ngl i enjoyed writing this i hope you do find this read enjoyable as well TOT

oh and btw my writing style here is inspired by @archieimagines ' antidote (a chishiya ff as well) bc damn we were having a quiz in physics and it randomly pops up in my head making me all giggly. idk if i did chishiya justice here tho, i tried istg tot

++ reqs are closed; will finish my remaining works first before i open it again ^^

if you enjoyed reading this, lemme know by liking and reblogging it would mean a lot - only do it if its okay with you. <33 enjoy !!

"i'm sorry. we did the best that we can do." a glum voice spoke out that was soon drowned out by a series of wails, and pained cries of desperation coming from the woman with a frail body, her body shaking from the pain of it all. this is a sound that has been a little too familiar to the ash-blonde-haired man that stood a few blocks away from the scene for he was a former messenger of unpleasant updates. he took a deep breath and tore his gaze away from the weeping woman, and walked away.

his footsteps reverberated throughout the bland and empty hallways; the shiny, vinyl composite flooring – all covered in a pale color. sullen walls painted in white, glass walls separating each room, and compartments, decorated with nothing but a single table, and pair of chairs planted in front, and ivory curtains that hid the examination bed from behind the doctor's table. there was a bit of greenery found inside each room – a small pot of succulents and snake plants, a forlorn attempt at making the area look somewhat lively and comforting. louver lights flickering and blinking - illuminating the dust littered particularly in the air. empty hallways filled with the ghosts of past mistakes and hope delicately revived.

everything about the premise is melancholic and a reminder of how futile and vulnerable humans can be once a part of them starts to fluctuate and fail.

"shuntaro, you have a patient at the consulting room, i think they're here for a brief check-up." a silvery voice chimed in from behind the reception lobby, her hair tied in a sleek ponytail, with a clean make-up look.

the man named chishiya nodded in response and immediately head towards the elevator. Its been 3 months and a half since the meteor struck their city - thousands of people died brutally, and multitudinous casualties.

for quite some time, after chishiya woke up in the same dreary bed located in the lackluster rooms in the hospital, he had a few realizations - actually, lots of realizations to be honest, as if something inside him cleared. if you died for a minute, for sure after you woke up you would look at life in a different light - that’s what chishiya thought.

aside from this, he also has this gnawing feeling in the pits of his stomach, that hefty void in his heart he can’t explain at all, as if he was missing something or he was meant to do something but he forgot about it - and god, this was frustrating as hell for the platinum-haired man.

the elevator dinged signifying that he reached the floor he needed to go to, abruptly disrupting the enigmatic trance chishiya was in. his slender, veined careful hands turned the cold knob of the consulting room, and there, he saw a dainty figure, hunched over - hands placed on their knees, delicate fingertips drumming in anticipation.

you seemed to be lost in your own reverie because you didn’t lift your head up when chishiya entered the room - you were biting the insides of your cheek, and your hair stubbornly falling on your face despite being tucked behind your ear.

“good afternoon,” chishiya greeted you, his voice husky yet silvery at the same time, caught your attention as you instantly whipped your head towards the man who spoke in front of you. his hands were both inside his pockets, a single black pen clipped in his lab coat’s chest pocket.

you stood and greeted him back - the man briefly smiled and quietly walked towards the consulting table. his hair was gracefully tied up in a ponytail. the air conditioner in the room blew a gentle, wintry breeze, and the moment chishiya entered the room, it seemed like his woody, and musk scent delicately mixed into the whole ambiance.

the man wearing the medical coat then initiated the check-up - he asked a series of questions and listened to your concerns and as your words stretch into hazy sentences, something about you feels oddly familiar to him who intently stared at you as you talk, nods every now and then and he tried to analyze, not what you're trying to say, but your features. god, you look so familiar, but he can't even remember when and where he saw or met you. was it at that coffee shop downtown? or on the thrifting book event that was hosted 4 months ago that he accidentally stumbled upon? he sighed and looked down.

“i’m really sorry for the inconvenience, i -” you apologized, apparently, you were here for a monthly check-up but dr. kobayashi wasn’t around, but it didn’t bother chishiya at all - he was intrigued by you.

“It’s fine, no worries.” chishiya replied, shaking his head as he smiled and waved off your statement. he mentioned you to go to the examination bed located near the window, a few blocks away on the left side of the table.

there was tranquility laced in the atmosphere, a comfortable silence, between the two of you - chishiya followed you close behind, after grabbing his stethoscope from the drawer.

ೃ⁀➷ i don't wanna live forever ; zayn malik and taylor swift

the distance between the two of you was closed the moment chishiya carefully placed his stethoscope two intercostals beneath your left collarbone - “take a few deep breaths,” he requested, voice low and hoarse, but incredibly honeyed. the cold metal of the stethoscope’s bell seeped through the fabric of your clothing, making you heave your breath deeper.

chishiya’s eyes lose focus every now and then, torn whether to look in your eyes or anywhere else as he listens to your hushed heartbeats. your body was tense and stiff - so was your gaze. “nicely done, just a few more and we're done.” he mused, because somehow, he can’t breathe as well - there was this electrifying aura that engulfed the two of you; he switched his instrument and placed it the same exact distance beneath your clavicle, this time on the right side.

“Where the fuck were you? I was so worried.”

maybe two or three harsh flashes of vivid images popped up in his head, an array of disorganized thoughts and memories he doesn’t know where and when happened - he gulped. what the hell is happening?

down. he placed his stethoscope on the 4th intercostal space of your ribs, between your chest- “breathe,” he repeated, this time, with emphasis.

perched at the second floor’s railings, you were staring down at the people partying their lives away, their hands either full with glasses of cocktails and whiskey paired with intoxicating lit cigarette sticks, dim embers falling gracefully on the ground, contrasting the scintillating array of led lights that surround the premise, there you were, directly proportional to him, eyes full of genuine adoration and fleeting lust.

ೃ⁀➷everything has changed ; taylor swift and ed sheeran

down, again. beneath your chest, located in the middle of your 5th intercostal space - “come find me after we get out of here, okay? i’ll wait for you.” your ragged, and sweet voice croaked out before you fell to the ground. chishiya watched as you bathe in your own pool of blood, body covered in stab wounds, bruises, and fractured bones that you acquired after your fight with the king of spades.

ah. yes. you - the one who pulled him back to the halo of hopes amidst the hell that most of you players call, borderland. his saving grace, the only thin thread of humanity and sanity that keeps him in check every now and then. you, who he shared most of his nights with, souls and bodies entangled under the sheets, finding solace and pleasure in each other. you who would join him in his insanity on starless night skies boring each other's insecurities and deepest regrets to each other.

you, who he considered as his serendipity of kindness that he found in the discord of hostility - the person he never knew he would fall for, and give his all to see back again, after the hellish nightmare both of you shared.

“all done.” the taller one smiled, as he helped you get off the examination bed - he held your hands to assist you and your skin felt warm against his freezing ones, soft against his calloused touch, your gaze calm contrasting his frenzied eyes, masked by a half smile, and curt bows.

seconds stretched into entangled minutes - and chishiya was contemplating whether to ask you about what he suddenly remembered upon relishing in your serene presence.

“thank you. have a nice day ahead.” you bowed as you bid your goodbye to him.

fuck.

he thought, the uneasiness crawling under his skin violently the moment you were gone from his sight - should he take this chance? or was he just hallucinating? would it be weird if approaches you and ask you that question? he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or anxious around him.

but damn, those memories that popped up in his head are as real as he could feel in his heart, mind, and body. he sighed and ran outside. he won't overthink this one anymore.

hasty and desperate footsteps echoed on each hallway and floor that he strided in a hurry - upon reaching the lobby, he whipped his head to search for your figure only to find you almost outside. he heaved a deep breath and called your name that halted your pace towards the main door.

“i’m really sorry to ask you this question and it might be unprofessional of me, but i’m sure we’ve met before.” he breathed, his bangs covering half of his confused face.

you chuckled. “i thought you forgot.”

relieved, he smiled back. “almost.”

“would you like to have lunch with me, dr. shuntaro?” you quipped, and offered your feeble warm hands.

“it would be an honor.” and placed his hand on yours - the apricity of your touch reminded him of what comfort and cloud 9 felt like.

<33

[rosewaterandivy]

won me over in spite of me

summary: after having met at the 2020 rock n' roll hall of fame induction ceremony, eddie munson will not leave you be. keeps going on about this guy who'd be perfect for you, but you're not interested in another set-up.

a/n: long live rockstar!eddie and his meddling ways!

🎶 you are the bearer of unconditional things, you held you breath and the door for me, thanks for your patience 🎶

“I’m so sorry,” you say, badly covering yet another yawn. “I don’t know why I’m so tired today.”

A lie. Of course you knew, how could you not?

“Something keep you awake?” he asks, voice soft against the crashing tide.

You’re walking side by side in the fading light, the salty breeze tickling your nose. He’s holding your boots in one hand, insisting that they’re too nice for you to resign them to the sand, your socks tucked into his back pocket.

An amber glow cuts across his face, making him even more handsome, impossibly enough. You bite your lip, looking quickly away when his eyes meet yours— mossy green and flecked with gold.

“The jet lag, probably.” You huff and laugh, turning to watch the sunset.

He hums in thought, “We could’ve rescheduled.”

“What? like we haven’t done that several times over already?”

His bark of laughter is loud and brings a smile to your face. Steve Harrington, the talented and in-demand actor, laughing at your motor mouth. Who would have thought?

Well, Eddie Munson, for one.

“Eds,” you growl picking up your phone, “It’s 4 in the fucking morning.”

“… shit, sorry.”

You roll over onto your stomach, wedging the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Well, what is it? What couldn’t you possibly wait to badger me about?”

He sighs down the line, you can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “Remember how you were drunkenly lamenting the lack of decent men in the dating scene?”

“I told you that in confidence, Edward.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off, “And apps are the worst, even if they claim to have a screening process like Raya— that’s not your scene.”

“Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Will you just lemme,” he lets out an exasperated huff. “I am trying to you a solid girly.”

A brief consideration.

“You know how I feel about set-ups.”

“Okay, but it’s me? I’m not gonna set you up with some creep who has like, a collection of Furbies or some shit.”

“Long Furbies or normal Furbies?”

“Was any Furby truly normal? More like demon spawn— but that’s beside the point.”

You sigh, smooshing your face into the pillow and mumble out something unintelligible.

“C’mon sugar, use your big girl words.”

God, you could kill him.

“I said,” you enunciate pointedly, “I’ll consider it.”

“Hell yeah!” he crows directly into your ear. “Only a year of bugging you and you finally see reason.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Munson.”

He ends the call by promising to send you the details. so, after your set in Munich you read through a few emails— put out a few fires your publicist expressed concern about, and check your texts.

eds: steve harrington

you: i’m sorry who?

eds: … are you fucking with me?

you: no??

eds: omg 😆 he’s gonna love that

you: the guy you’re trying to set me up with gets off on people not knowing who he is? not really selling it to me here, munson.

eds: no, that’s not— i’ll send you a pic

you: if there is a whisper of dick, i am throwing my phone into the isar river

eds: [IMG]

“Really?” you greet once he picks up, “That’s the pic? How is that supposed to be helpful?”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Shut up, nerd. I know you don’t sleep. Just answer the question.”

“Ah, you caught me,” he laughs softly. “It’s his contact photo in my phone— whaddaya want from me? You said you didn’t want a dick pic.”

You take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Eds, why would you have seen this guy’s dick, much less have a photo of it?”

“Truthfully, it was an accident, both times.” You can hear him shuffling across the line. “But there is nothing wrong with dudes checking out each other’s rigs.”

“I—" your mouth is gaping open like a fish. “I need to drink myself to oblivion to forget this conversation.”

“I mean, it’s noice, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says unhelpfully.

“GOODBYE Edward!”

Thankfully, he calls not long after the disastrous text exchange. You were doing fuck-all lounging around the house since finishing your festival circuit. Technically, this was supposed to be a writing day, but the muse had not been kind to you lately. Studio time was booked for a few weeks out, and you were struggling to come up with the motivation to finish the last few songs for the album.

The buzz of the phone provided a needed excuse to pack it in for the day. Shutting your journal and tossing a pen onto the coffee table, you answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Uh, yeah. Hi." He cleared his throat briefly, "M'glad you picked up, considering how much of an idiot I was. Sorry, by the way."

Steve's voice is low and raspy, but warm and inviting. You lean back on the leather sofa, sinking back into the cushions suddenly not so nervous.

"Well, I'm a nice person, second chances and all that."

He laughs at that. "Very gracious of you."

"Though," you say, "You never did confirm that this is, in fact, Steve Harrington that I am speaking with."

"No?"

"Nope," you pop the 'p' for emphasis. "So, I'm gonna have to ask for some sort of proof because Eddie was less than helpful."

He scoffs, "Typical Munson."

A moment later your phone pings with a notification: s.h. sent an image. Opening it up, you compare it to the images that pop up when you Google his name, and, sure enough, that's him.

"Better?" he asks, after giving you a moment.

"I suppose it'll do. Not like I'm about to suggest facetime," you sigh, running a hand through your unkempt hair. "Especially when I'm rocking writer's retreat chic."

"Mmm," he hums, "Sounds comfy. I'm jealous."

"Yeah?" you laugh, "They not let you roll up in sweats and bleach-stained shirts for your shoot today?"

His laughter greets you, "Y'know, oddly they don't?"

The conversation flows easily from there. He tells you what he can about his current project and you regale him with tales from life on the road, including special appearances by one Eddie Munson. Steve is easy to talk to— effusive and funny, which you hadn’t expected.

You hate to admit it, but Eddie may have been onto something.

“And then he—" Steve stops short, mid-story about a prank gone awry onset of his last project, muttering an apology and you can hear him open the door.

"Mr. Harrington, they're ready for you on set."

Trying to ignore the sour pull of your gut, you heave yourself off of the couch determined to do at least one productive thing today. He had to get back to set, you needed to get something done today, and the conversation was coming to a close.

The door closes with a soft click, quickly followed by Steve's sigh. "So, I gotta get back to work."

"Yeah," you clear your throat. "I guess I should too."

"I, uh, I'm really glad we got to talk." His voice was softer now, "C-could I call you later?"

"Oh, sure." You swallow the nerves creeping up your throat and ignore the kick of your heart in your chest. "I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

You screw your eyes shut, feeling yourself growing hot. "Don't get a big head about it, Harrington."

He laughs, breath blowing in huffs down the line. "Might be too late for that honey."

Numerous phone and FaceTime calls, messages, and several reschedulings later, you were going on a date with Steve. A first date at that, and you couldn't recall the last time you'd been on one of those. His assistant and best friend, Robin had called to confirm with you and promised to drop a pin of the place in Malibu where you'd meet him.

You were lucky enough to fly relatively under the radar most of the time, but since releasing and touring with your sophomore album, it was becoming more difficult to pull off. Not that you didn't like being nominated and winning awards or receiving feedback from your peers— you did, it was just a cosmic catch-22.

Steve completely understood when you'd mentioned not wanting anything especially public for the date. Just said he'd take care of it and for you not to worry about a thing.

But here you were, doing just that staring at your closet trying to find something to wear. In a panic, you'd called Eddie who was currently rifling through your dresser and tossing things behind him. The only thing you'd been able to agree on were the denim shorts, laid out on the bed awaiting the rest of your outfit.

"Aha!" He tossed a red top onto the bed, turning back to face you. "Those," he gestured to the shirt and shorts, "With your boots— the Docs or Blood—"

“Blundstone.”

"Right," he nods, "S'what I said."

You appraise the articles of clothing warily. "Okay."

"Now the lingerie situation is where it gets interesting."

You scoff, "Absolutely not." And begin herding him toward the door, "Consider your services done for the evening."

Shutting the door to change, you hear Eddie talking indistinctly in the hallway. Tieing the hem of the shirt into a knot, you let Eddie back in to assess.

With a nod of approval, he ends the call. "What's up, hot stuff? Harrington's not gonna know what hit him!"

You smile and walk to the mirror in the bathroom to see what can be done about your hair and makeup.

"Speaking of which," Eddie trails after you. "That was him on the phone. Fashion emergency, would you believe?"

"Uh huh," you roll your eyes. "Okay, Miranda Priestly."

"Anyway, I gotta run." He gives you a quick peck on the cheek and a smile. "You're gonna knock 'em dead!"

And he's off.

"Hey," Eddie shouts from the first-floor entryway. "Keep your hair down and do a red lip with that, sugar!"

Steve meets you at the beach. He’s dressed down in jeans and t-shirt and a red bomber jacket— you try to hide the smirk creeping its way across your face; Eddie purposefully curating your respective sartorial choices to match. What a little scamp. You park the car, a vintage cream Mercedes convertible and give yourself a final look in the mirror— hair voluminous and wind whipped (shout-out to leave in stylers), red lip matching your top to a tee.

Well, here goes nothing.

“Hi,” he greets you, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. Steve opens the door for you, allowing you to step out and put your sunglasses on.

The door shuts with a soft click.

“Hi,” you reply with a small smile, willing the nerves bubbling in your chest to stay at bay. You nod to the bundle of flowers, “Those for me?”

“Oh, right.” As if he’s just remembered them. “Yeah, your assistant said these were your favorite so.” He extends the hand holding the bouquet toward you, almost hesitantly.

“They are,” you say, fingers brushing against his as you accept the flowers, paper and cellophane crinkling in your grasp. Bringing them to your nose, you breathe in the fresh fragrance of the flowers. “You did good Harrington, thank you.”

He ducks his head and smiles, one hand coming up to run through his hair. “Uh, you're welcome. I’m glad you like them.” He jerks his head toward the beach, “We’re set-up a bit further down. You don’t mind a walk, do you?” You can feel his eyes on you, even as you look away to the shoreline.

A shake of your head, skin warming from the sun overhead and excitement at the possibility of this new thing between you and Steve. What might it be like? To put yourself through it all again, with someone new?

“No,” you answer, jarring yourself from any further lines of inquiry. “I don’t mind at all. Lead the way!”

He slows his pace to walk beside you, sunglasses hiding his gaze. You hold the flowers in your left hand, leaving your right— the one closest to Steve, free. He walks on the right, keeping the damp sand of the shore from you. It reminds you of something your grandmother said way back when you had started entertaining thoughts about dating for the first time: A gentleman always walks on the outside of their date, it’s a sign of chivalry and respect.

Your hands brush a couple of times, pinkies grazing one another. Steve is quiet, more so than you’d been accustomed to— he’s a regular chatterbox on the phone and a texting fiend, more often than not. Maybe he’s nervous? He certainly wouldn’t be the only one. Hands bumping against each other once more, you take it upon yourself make the first move.

“If you wanted to hold my hand so badly,” you laugh, twining your fingers together, “You could’ve just asked Steve.”

He looks at you, pink flush on his cheeks and a beatific smile. “Sorry,” he says with a squeeze of your hand, “Guess I’m a little rusty. And nervous,” he admits shyly. “You’re just so—“

“Intimidating? I get that a lot.”

Steve stops short, looking at you once more. “No— I mean, maybe to some but,” he pushes his sunglasses up into his hair. “You’re … beautiful.”

It’s an interesting phrase and you notice that it’s not the usual you look beautiful. But instead he’s said it as a declaration of fact— you are beautiful. Not in the way that relies on your looks or the clothes you’re wearing. And it’s nice— it’s sincere because that’s just how Steve Harrington is, as you’ve come to quickly learn.

“Sorry, was that—“

“Don’t apologize,” you say, when you’ve found your voice again. “I— thank you.” You duck your chin to hide your stupid grin. “You’re beautiful too, Steve.”

The walk resumes, both of you more at ease now. The conversation flows easily between you— work, friends, schedules— and you allow yourself to relax. First-date jitters subsided with the cadence of his voice and the warmth of his hand engulfing yours.

Maybe, just maybe this could become something real.

And, if so, Eddie Munson would never let you hear the end of it.

[mochie85]

HELLO💖

had a quick thought that could maybe turn into something? Not sure lol

Okay well, I was crawling on the floor like an idiot trying to dig up my slippers from under the bed (I have short arms) and I had a thought…Loki finds y/n in a similar situation and just can’t help but stare, becomes a bit a flustered mess if you will, god forbid anyone catches him off guard tho (especially y/n), something fluffy or something funny, anything goes, up to you! He also may selfishly put y/n a similar situation or two after the first instance just to get repeat of his first view bc he’s a mischievous little prick, y/n isn’t stupid tho and catches on quick, starts playing into his games, and starts making it unbearable for him after she starts wearing skirts or something, ok lemme shut up now

Enjoy✨

To Fold and To Flex

One-Shot Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: Loki didn't realize he was in love with you until he saw you from a new perspective. A/N: I hope you liked this @loopsisloops. Sorry, it took so long. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: Mostly fluff. No details of smut, but very suggestive scenes. Dividers: @firefly-graphics

The cloud inside Loki’s mind wouldn’t lift. It wasn’t a headache perse, more of an annoyance. He’s felt like this for a couple of months now. A feeling of something he’s missed. It was almost within his grasp but he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what it was.

It was better whenever he would spend time with you. The clouds would go away and he found joy in your laughter. He found excitement in your shared love of mischief. He found peace in the late afternoons with you, sharing your love of music with him.

However, whenever you were not around, the fogginess in his head somehow got worse. It traveled down his body, onto his chest. Squeezing him tight. Making him unable to breathe at times. What unexpected power you had over him?

You did not have any magical talents as a witch or perhaps a mutant. Loki has checked your file multiple times and asked both Wanda and Strange to look into you. Strange just rolled his eyes at him - the nerve! Wanda - Wanda wouldn’t stop smiling after Loki explained the situation to her.

“Maybe you should just hang out with her more often. Make those clouds go away for good!” She suggested with a smirk.

“What kind of half-brained idea is that? Would you tell an alcoholic to drink more liquor? Or an addict to take more of their narcotics?” Loki shouted back as he turned and walked away from her. They were ridiculing him. They must be. No one here ever thought him serious.

Hence, here he was, sitting up alone in his bed. His head in his hands trying to figure out where this heaviness came from. What was it about you that made him think of you at all hours of the day? Why does every melody he hears remind him of the twilight evenings listening to old records with you?

Walking down to the kitchen, he decided to raid Tony’s liquor cabinet. A habit he picked up from you whenever you needed to stop overthinking about something serious. Then maybe tomorrow he would confront you about your power over him and perchance he could bargain with you to let him go. You must have some sort of control or spell bewitching him.

Perhaps you had some elven blood in you, some Aether. And you weren’t aware you were doing it. He could help you! He could help you control your powers. Yes! It would undoubtedly lead to more time spent together. But if it’s for your own good. For your own safety. Then he would risk this dense cloud over his heart and mind a little longer to help you.

As he strode quietly to the kitchen, Loki could make out loud clinks of glass coming from the bottom cabinets of the bar. There could be any number of you still awake at this time and he turned to go back into his room. He found the thought of making small talk with anyone from the team tedious and insincere.

“Ugh, where are you?!” he heard your muffled groan. He stopped midstride, turning back around towards the kitchen, with a wide grin on his face. He was about to say some amorous remark about how you needn’t look any further, for here he was – the perfect specimen - standing in front of you.

But he couldn’t. He rounded the corner and was met with your curvaceous rear end in some remarkably tight leggings. Loki’s eyes widened. He tilted his head as his mouth opened to an appreciative shock. He found you on your knees as you were reaching for something deep in the cabinets. Your small grunts and curses invaded his head.

It wasn’t until he saw you, in that precarious position, that it hit him. A hard blow to the lungs. Like the clouded air was knocked out of him and all he could do was just stand there and look at your luscious arse.

I want her. He finally admitted to himself. Loki closed his mouth and snapped out of it. Is that drool coming out of my lips?

“Ugh…come on. Just a little closer,” you grunted. Loki bit his bottom lip at hearing your phrase. “Yes!” you breathed out as you found whatever it was you were looking for.

As if the gods themselves slowed down time, he watched you stand up. Your hair gathered to one side of your face. Your body slid up along his and he felt warmth emanating from you. The light in your eyes turned the color into a new hue. When you looked up at him, you had released your bottom lip from the bite you held it in.

And Loki’s heart skipped a beat.

“Shit!” You whispered. “I wasn’t stealing anything!” You said hiding the bottle of whiskey behind you.

“What are you hiding dear?” His wide smile made your heartache and double over. He pushed his arms under yours and around your waist, pulling you closer in his embrace. The scent of his cologne muddles your senses as he reached for the pilfered bottle you were holding behind you.

“When did you get here? I didn’t hear you come in?” you asked him.

“I haven’t been down here very long. I heard the sounds of thieving and was wondering who would be brave enough to rob the Avengers in the middle of the night.” You giggled at his words. Gods, he loved the sound of your giggle.

He took the bottle from behind you and opened the twist cap with his nimble thumb. The cap opened so fast it flew off the bottle onto the counter. Loki took a swig of whiskey. His eyes never left yours while his other hand still wrapped around your waist.

“Hey! That was mine. I stole that fair and square!” You stomped your foot. Gods you look adorable!

“Why are you up so late?” Loki smiled, offering the bottle back to you.

“My mind wouldn’t rest,” you said, taking the bottle and drinking a sip yourself.

“Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” Loki asked as you moved away from his embrace. He fought the urge to squeeze you to keep you in place.

“Ya. I’m still jetlagged from the mission.” You offered. It wasn’t a lie. But Loki knew it was only a half-truth. “That’s my excuse. What’s yours?” you quickly asked.

You, he wanted to say. “As I said, I heard someone trying to steal something in the kitchen. And I thought I would be proactive and stop the evildoer from doing any harm.” He teased you. “Or from stealing all of Tony’s beloved liquor.”

“Stop. I wasn’t stealing!” You jokingly pushed him on his right peck, feeling the strong hard muscle underneath. He caught your hand as it was touching him and he held it against himself for a short while before conventionality made it seem awkward. He couldn’t stop wanting to touch you.

“I’ll replenish what I sto-borrowed.” You said blushing. You busied yourself finding two old-fashioned glasses for the whiskey. Trying to hide the dimpled smile forming on your face.

Your hair had fallen down, covering you. Loki wouldn’t have that and he delicately pulled your strands back behind your ear. You turned to face him with a warm smile, “Thanks,” you said.

Loki was stunned. All this time, he never once saw you as anything more than a friend. How could he? He was resigned to the thought that no one here in this realm would ever want to be with him. He couldn’t – no, wouldn’t – think of anyone here that way because he didn’t want to get himself attached and subsequently get hurt.

So he turned off that side of him. Looked at the world through the hazy filter of friendship and amiable companionship. That cloudy filter inevitably obscured his view of you and your relationship together.

But one look at you in that indefensible position - your beautiful body offered up before him like a sacrifice to an insidious god - he couldn’t help but break that filter and replace it with lust-filled longing and a desperate stare.

It went on for quite some time. His stare. His longing. It was like he was looking at you through new eyes. Your soft supple skin, your buoyant laughter, that round curvaceous ass! He couldn’t stop thinking about that night he found you, on your knees with your plump cheeks in the air, tempting him to run his palm around you. He had to see it again.

“You got a little something…” Wanda said to Loki, breaking his train of thought. “…right here.” She said motioning to the side of her lips. “Are you drooling?” Loki quickly went to wipe his lips only to find them dry. Wanda started laughing.

Loki was upset at being mocked. “Why are you here? Come to give me more asinine advice on my predicament?”

“It’s the tower’s gym, Loki. I’m here to train. Just like everybody else. Although, you’re spectating more than you are working out. What, or rather, whom are you watching?” Wanda’s eyes followed Loki’s stare.

They watched you mount Wilson on the mat. Your arms and legs wrapped around him in a chokehold. Wilson tapped your arm, yielding to your capture. How Loki wished it was him your arms were wrapped around.

“Uh-huh. I’m glad you took my asinine advice! You’re welcome by the way.” Wanda provoked.

“I beg your pardon?!” Loki asked confused and heartbroken.

“I overheard Bucky trying to ask her out for a cup of coffee and she said she’s flattered but that she’s seeing someone.” Wanda relayed. “So I assumed you took my advice and asked her out. That’s why you’re drooling in the middle of the gym making that heart-eye emoji face.” Wanda rounded her fingers shaping them into a heart against her eyes as she walked back to her yoga mat.

Loki looked back at you. Were you being courted by someone already? Had he missed his chance? He watched as you bent down stretching your back. Your legs spread apart as both hands reached for your left ankle. You did a quick little bounce and reached over to your right ankle.

Loki groaned inside. He swallowed hard, as he watched you stretch your upper legs and back muscles. You stood back up and turned towards him. Both of your eyes briefly meet. Norns, I got caught staring. Loki quickly resumed his own workout of…for fucks sake, what was I working out? Loki conjured weights in his hand and he proceeded to do reps.

“Hey Silver-tongue, what’chu working on?” you asked as you strode towards him.

 “498, 499, 500…oh, hello darling. How can I help you?” You watched him do his bicep curls. His lean muscle stretched the thin fabric of his shirt. You could follow the veins in his arms as he made them taught and then relax.

“I was hoping for a spotter. I wanted to work on my quads.”

“I would be happy to oblige.” Loki quickly agreed. He had no idea what a spotter was or what part of your body the quads were located in. But seeing that you chose him over anyone else in the gym - over the seething Barnes who was watching with narrowed eyes over in the corner - he couldn’t help but be elated.

Loki quickly learned what he had to do and now he regretted putting himself in this predicament. How could he possibly get out of this without embarrassing himself in front of you?

He stood behind you as you carried a long bar over your shoulders with heavy weights on either end. You proceeded to do squats. Bringing your body down and then back up again. “What exactly am I to do again, darling?” Loki asked as you continued to do another squat.

“Watch my form. Make sure I’m doing it correctly. One misalignment could mean an injury or at the very least aching muscles tomorrow morning.” Oh, he was watching your form all right.

“And this is supposed to help…” Loki’s head tilted as he watched you squat down, “…your thighs?” Those delicious thighs.

“Yes. And I know you can take this weight off me easily if I can’t continue.” You grunted as you stood. The primal sound embedded itself in his imagination. “I know how strong you are. You can probably carry this weight with your pinky finger.” You complimented.

Loki huffed. “Are you flattering me? And they call me ‘Silver-tongue?’” he smiled.

“I’ve seen you Loki, I know how strong you are. You shouldn’t hide under so many layers.” You winked at him.

“Watch what you say around me, darling.”

“Or what? It’ll inflate that ego of yours?” you giggled. As you stood up from your last squat.

You watched him come closer behind you. A smirk on his lips as his tongue peeked out. He leaned in closer to your ear and whispered, “Or else, I’ll have to show you the genuine reason why they call me Silver-tongue.” His voice vibrated in your ear, tickling it, sending shivers down your side.

You dropped the barbell behind you. Loki caught it with one hand. “Looks like you did need someone to spot you after all.”

Is Loki flirting with me? You looked into his glinting eyes searching for that familiar friendly gaze. The one he always gave you after he said such things. The one where he placed you back in the box labeled ‘friend’. Only this time, it wasn’t there. There was something deviant in his eyes. As if you were seeing them for the first time. Clear and dark.

His eyes roamed your body as if he were imagining all the lewd things he wanted to do to each and every single part of you. You shivered at his gaze. What changed? You wondered. When did he stop being my friend and started wanting something more?

Neither of you could help it. The tension was too irresistible to fight. Flirting with the god of mischief was dangerous. You trusted your friend, Loki. The one you would spend afternoons listening to music with while he read to you on the couch. But Loki - the silver-tongued god of mischief? Silver-tongue was someone different. He was darker. More dominating. He was confident and arrogant. And you would be lying only to yourself if you said that it didn’t turn you on. Neither of you were bold enough to admit your feelings to each other. And both of you were too proud to give in. The two of you stuck in an endless game of cat and mouse.

You started wearing skirts to tease him. But he would play into it, knocking down whatever you had in your hand with his seidr, just to see you bend over. Short of doing “the Bend and Snap,” you teased him by running your hands up your thighs, then your hips. Lifting your skirt slightly as you slowly got up. You would roll your eyes secretly. You knew Loki was around somewhere watching you, but you didn’t know where.

You would get him back though! Whenever you would pass behind him you would drag your fingernails across his back, shoulder to shoulder. You never passed up the opportunity to touch him. You particularly liked it when he would wear his long hair up in a messy bun. You would have access to his long neck and you would run your fingernails lazily along the back.

 He would shiver in response. You especially liked it when he was around other people and you caught him off guard and he would just freeze and stop whatever he was doing. He’d close his eyes and just relish in your touch as you softly play with the hairs on the back of his neck.

It all came to a head one night when Loki was on his way down to the kitchen for some more of Tony’s expensive, top-shelf liquor. He heard some rustling in the cabinets again and wondered if it was you. Eager, he came around and saw you fishing the cabinets for the whiskey he purposely hid in the back of the cabinet. Loki stood there, mesmerized once again by your curvaceous body in your sleep shorts. The fabric riding up so high they barely covered you. His hand involuntarily moved closer. On their own, they reached out to you. You quickly found the bottle and stood yourself back up with ease. Those squats really do help.

“Darling,” Loki said as his hands curled around your waist. He couldn’t resist any longer. You were surprised to find him behind you.

“Loki. What are you doing here?” you asked. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

“No. Not with you running through my mind all night.” His hands felt warm against your body. He buried his nose on the side of your neck. His lips threatened to kiss your skin, but he was still hesitant. He knew that as soon as his lips touched your body, there would be no going back. He would crave you more and more and there would be no satisfying his addiction to you.

You placed the bottle down on the counter, forgotten, and placed your hands on top of his. You guided him up your torso, to your eager breasts. He moaned as he leaned into you. Your body was trapped between his growing length and the cold kitchen counter.

Your hands continued up towards his hair, splaying your fingers and reaching that sensitive part behind his neck. Making a fist in his hair, grabbing it, pushing his face closer to your neck, aching to feel his lips on your skin.

“Don’t tease me, Silver-tongue.” You simpered. That pet name does things to him. Only you would be able to call him that and make it sound so wicked. So desperate, yet so reverent.

“Unlike the way you’ve been teasing me, kitten? With those scratches on my back. Touching me the way you do.” He growled, giving in to the taste of your honeyed skin on his lips.

“I thought you liked my hands on you.” You asked naively.

“Hmm. Why do you think I started wearing my hair up?” One of his hands roamed up to your neck, while the other pulled your hips flushed against him. “Do you know how many times I’ve pictured taking you, bent over for me like a common harlot? Every time I see you bowed over, presenting your delicious curves to me like a maiden offering up herself to a selfish god.”

“Why do you think I started wearing skirts?” You asked playfully. You could feel Loki’s smile against your skin. He pulled your face towards his, finally capturing your lips in a deadly kiss. His thumb stroked your cheek as he sucked on your upper lip.

Loki broke off the kiss, his lips lingering a little longer over yours. “Come,” he commanded. He led your dazed figure back towards the bedroom hallways.

“What are we doing?” You asked beguilingly. We. He liked the sound of ‘we.’

“Neither of us can sleep. I know a couple of ways to make us tired,” he said as he picked you up over his shoulder, laying his hand on your delicious ass and smacking it.   

All Taglist:

@alexs1200 @a-witch-with-words @britishserpent @crimson25 @el-zef @fictive-sl0th @gigglingtigger @goldencherriess @huntress-artemiss @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @immersed-in-mischief @kellatron55 @kkdvkyya @lokiprompts @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @lokischambermaid @loopsisloops @lucylaufeyson3 @luvlady-writes @michelleleewise @mischief2sarawr @muddyorbs @nopenottodayson @one-oblivious-nerd @ozymdias @salempoe @theaudacitytowrite @user13cabs @vbecker10 @wheredafandomat @xorpsbane

[muldermuse]

A Halloween Announcement (Fox Mulder X Reader)

Halloween Costumes and a pregnancy announcement

Ok so I got an anon suggesting a halloween pregnancy announcement???? when i tell u i GASPED like out loud randomly in my flat

if u have halloween fox mulder thoughts/thots pls pls pls lemme know them <;3

Fox knew you weren’t well, you looked tired and your emotions seemed to be all over the place. You constantly felt uncomfortable, and the meals you loved to sit and watch Fox make for you now had you running for the bathroom. You put it down to the change in seasons, your low mood was due to the the end of the summer, work had been draining so that’s why you’d been exhausted and the sickness? There was a bug going around, someone at the grocery store was talking about it and that was all your questions answered. 

Until a friend made a passing comment to you over a coffee (you couldn’t face your usual macchiato so you sipped a lukewarm water), “sounds like you’re pregnant”. 

How hadn’t you thought of this?

You’d been stressed and run down but to ease your mind and to stop your friend insisting, you went to the drug store and bought a pregnancy test. You downed a bottle of water as quickly as you could and went to the toilet, your friend knew you were feeling anxious so she idly chatted to you as you counted down three minutes. 

You and Fox had always talked about having kids, thinking out loud on Sunday evenings wrapped in your duvet discussing the pros and cons of creating your own little family. There was always more pros than cons obviously. Fox didn’t want to tell you but he was so in love with the thought of having a family with you and you felt the same. Desperate with the idea but too terrified to verbalise it. 

You checked your watch and saw that 2 minutes 15 seconds had passed, you couldn’t help yourself and had to take a peak.

Two lines.

Two bold lines.

Your friends voice faded into the background and the light in the cubicle felt like it was burning your skin. Your breathing got heavy as you held your stomach, suddenly aware of the cells growing inside you and what that would mean for your relationship. 

Leaving the store was a blur, you vaguely remember your friend hugging you and pressing excited kisses to your cheeks but your mind was elsewhere. Fox wasn’t home, he was away on a case for another 2 days and when he got home it would be the 31st October. The day of Scully’s annual Halloween party. She honestly hated Halloween but seeing Fox dressed in a costume once a year made the holiday all the more bearable for her. This year Fox was in charge of deciding the costume, couples of course, Fox argued that in your relationship- couples costumes were compulsory. 

The idea came from a drunken evening watching an old VHS of Return of the Jedi.

“I bet you would look so hot in that outfit” Fox said as soon Princess Leia’s bikini’ed frame came onto the screen

“Fox, is the only reason you chose this movie because you wanted to see this scene?” you giggled as you took another swig of your beer

“All I’m saying is that Halloween is in less than four months baby”

Fox had a Han Solo outfit and, much to Fox's upset, you had gone for the classic Princess Leia look rather than the scantily clad bikini. The perfect idea suddenly dawned on you and you had less than 48 hours to execute it.

***

Fox couldn’t wait to get home, the trip away wasn’t traumatic or terrifying or particularly taxing- it was just boring. A boring few days in a boring state with Scully- who was more bored than he was. He was looking forward to showering (with you), getting ready (with you), going to the party together and then going to bed (hopefully you’d do what you usually did when you missed him after a trip- god, he really hoped you’d do that for him).

Before he knew it, he was letting himself into your shared home; his keys opening your front door with familiar ease. He could hear the low hum of your music playing as the smell of whatever candle you were burning hit his nostrils. He was home, he’d spent so long fighting for it but now he had it and he made sure to cherish every moment. To cherish you. To cherish your life together.

As he walked up the stairs, he called out to you but to no avail. As he walked into your shared bedroom, he could hear you humming from the en suite bathroom and smiled when he saw you’d pressed his Han Solo outfit so it would be perfect for him to wear. 

He was wearing the costume as you walked back in. You looked stunning, your hair perfectly twirled into two buns on the side of your head, your make up made your face glow but he didn’t have time to compliment you before you pointed a black toy blaster at his face.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you right now?” You teased.

“Okay Leia, I’m pretty sure this is very out of character for you.” Fox grabbed your blaster and threw it onto the bed as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed kisses to every inch of skin he could reach. “God- I missed you so much. I swear I’m only interested in X Files that are in a 5 mile radius”.

Before you could mention that the only local X file would be the stray cat that eats an abnormal amount of dog biscuits; Fox saw the small gift bag placed on the cabinet.

“Oh baby, you didn’t need to get me a present” Before you could get to him, the bag was opened and a look of confusion crossed his face.

“Is this a baby Chewbacca costume? This is very cute but I’m sure that it won’t fit Boo, her whiskers will get in the way and that time we put a cat baby grow on her she nearly had a fit with anger”

You took the bag from him and took out the pregnancy test, setting it in his hands “Fox, I’m pregnant”. You placed the positive test in his hands and rubbed your thumb along his hand and with this movement; you were unsure who you were trying to comfort. 

“We’ve talked about it before and I mean…I wasn’t expecting this, I’m sure you weren’t either and I’m sorry to have done it like this. In my head it was really cute but you immediately thought of the cat and I do-“

“You’re pregnant- we’re pregna- you’re having a baby…my baby”

“I’m pregnant with your baby…and I can’t wait”

[purplebehittindifferent]

You need a partner?

Well, lemme just-*leans against a wall in a flirty and charming way and say in my most attractive voice I can muster* All alone on a *checks watch* Sunday night? God... me too....

-The Mixed Signals Anon

I like to imagine you jumped out of a window after this scene and I stare out longingly at you wondering if I’ll ever be graced by your presence again

[supersecretmetalocalypseblog]

some more screenshots because apparently i still don't think I have enough

the original title for this post was just impossible to read check this shit out

"Screensh wife stime ot picture of whife im sure theters something in teh series I haven't screenshotted satyet."

still slightly high, this post is gonna jump all over the series, but it's probably mostly MMA and CFO

Technically I already have this one, uh, twice, but you know, more the merrier. and i will be merry.

ALSO quick commentary for me. Why isn't he bloodied up here? all of the other revengencers (including the kid) are all bloody and stuff, but he's just chillin with his shirt off for some reason. i've always wondered, like is he not partaking in the cannibalism? i think that's ironic right? what with the whole...,,.. cannibal corpse thing...or does he just have better manners than the brainwashed zombie people. using a napkin or something? plus uh i have to admit i think they should've just covered him in blood for the vibes, but he look suspiciously clean comparatively it's like weird to me also WHY IS HE JUST HANING OUT ShirTLESS?????? i mean I get it, i would if i could too, but come one he doesn't need to be doing all that.

there she is my beautiful princess

my everything!!!!

seriously. gonna have EVERY frame i swear to god.

AFSAJKFNSHAUIFBHOASJFPIOS OMFG OMFG YOOOOOO he's so offended?!?!??!?!?!? "UH WHAT THE HELL DON'T BUMP PEOPLE????"

">:0"

"had" strong hands. The wistful way he says it, the way he sort of lingers on that comment for a beat. His attempt at relating to Skwisgaar. sure okay whatever.

also charles, please, next time, maybe just.... maybe just be like "you okay buddy?" he's great at buisness and stuff but man does he fumble when trying to like, talk to people (gee I wonder what that could mean)

i know no one is even around anyways and you probably wouldn't even notice it, but way to look suspicous/

"Oh, gee, I'm sneaking in. Lemme look nervously from side to side"

despite most klokateers serving as cannon fodder, id rather just kms instead of fight one, 216 fucked agent 216 up.

OHHHH and also just real quick while I'm thinking about it, i think MMA is like, wearing the smae stuff as the Klokateers/maybe is reused parts of one?

Same boots, gloves and pants (albeit with some cool new pockets.) Anyways I know it's just like, the same boot model or something, but I thought it was interesting or something i dunno. i'm drinking cherry limeade and still sort of sick and high, so you know whatever.

in love with her pouty self, like girl would it kill you to just :) just once anytime throughout the WHOLE sereies?

ANOTHER one fromt this scene. but in my defense, look at my wives here????

the girls are fighting :( hey i'm sorry if that's super annoying to yalll like im sorry it's just been "my wife" this whole post I'm sorry I'll call them something else

doing all this and for what? he's so mad he lost one (1) fight to charles so now he just keeps going back for more. if you'd have just shot him when you had the chance this would've ended a long time ago.

but also don't because I love charles.

grabbing swords or sassily putting hands on hips?

ahhhh I see.

well uh yeah folks that's all she wrote, i can't think of aynthing else i wanted to get, i think this is most of it ueah uh yeah.

[pixelatedraindrops]

Okay lemme be real with you all.

I LOVE it when someone touches someone else's cheek to check their temperature. Sooo good and sooo tender 💕 One of my top favorite prompts when it comes to an illness scene.🌡️

So I had to make a quick edit of this. Poor Yuma tries too hard...😞 At least there's a sensible adult in the room to tell him so. (and even his death god partner thinks he's pushing it)

A scenario of Yuma about to leave the agency, but Yakou KNOWS something's wrong. The trainee looks tired, he’s panting a little, and his face is tinted red. So he stops him, walks up to him, and puts his hand to his cheek to check.

And turns out, he was spot on.

Yuma tries to deny it, but Yakou ain’t havin’ it.

Then he IMMIEDATELY puts him to rest. Practically pushing him onto the couch (it only takes one hand like what is yuma gonna do lol)

I like to believe Yakou’s like a worried mother hen for his agency's staff. Panicking as a first-time caretaker in years. ESPECIALLY with Yuma since he's very likely the frailest of the bunch. (he's a father now :3)

Shinigami tries to help in her own way too

Yay for duo caretaking >w<💕💊

(...yes I know its the SAME freaking couch edit template here I'm sorry, ITS ALL I HAVE OKAY? LEAVE ME ALONE X’D)