#it's gotta be illegal to be that handsome

[astonmartinii]

fatherhood looks good on you | george russell social media au

pairing: george russell x fem albon reader

there comes a point in the relationship where you take it to the next level

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

- part of the brother's best friend series -

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, landonorris and 783,409 others

tagged: georgerussell63

yourusername: looking so good i want to give you a baby

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user1: WHAT

user2: we really be saying anything on the internet these days

alexalbon: SHUT THE FUCK UP THE LITERAL ONLY RULE OF THIS RELATIONSHIP WAS THAT YOU KEEP THIS SHIT TO YOURSELVES

yourusername: gosh a girl can't have baby fever in peace these days

alexalbon: unless that baby is coming by stork you can put that talk on hold real fast

yourusername: just because lily is busy does not mean you have to take it out on me and george

georgerussell63: alex is it illegal for a man to be handsome?

alexalbon: if it's illegal to be handsome, you'd have the cleanest record known to man

yourusername: STOP RIGHT THERE DIDN'T YOU KNOW THAT LYING IS A SIN

alexalbon: i'm not going to say YOUR boyfriend is hot, no.

yourusername: just because i got in there first 🙄

user3: i don't think she's serious but also george with a baby is just too cute not to happen

user4: george is the perf instagram boyf like he's so ready to pose

landonorris: well that definitely is something we all want to know

yourusername: i know you would LOVE to know ALL the details norris

georgerussell63: she's never going to let your crush go lando, you gotta just hold it

landonorris: i was THIRTEEN

yourusername: you don't love me anymore? 😕

landonorris: i don't know why i always get in these arguments with you

user5: i love how george just instigates things for y/n lmao

user6: your boyfriend should always support your mess

liked by yourusername

georgerussell63

liked by lewishamilton, alexalbon and 1,209,458 others

tagged: yourusername

georgerussell63: fatherhood is a different beast

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user8: alright i am so confused

user9: there's no way y/n can actually be pregnant i saw her down at least three pornstar martinis in hospitality this weekend

alexalbon: this better be a joke or i'm gonna kick you so hard you get a free non-reversible vasectomy

yourusername: stop the violence!

alexalbon: THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR GLEE REFERENCES

yourusername: someone is channelling some serious sue vibes right now

georgerussell63: let it be known i like my reproductive systems the way they are

alexalbon: that's kind of the point of a threat, you aren't supposed to want it

yourusername: he likes threats if they come from the right person

alexalbon: i am about one more comment away from knocking down your hotel room door and throwing george from the balcony

yourusername: and deprive our child from a father... alex i expected better from you

alexalbon: that's it i'm on my way

georgerussell63: @mercedesamgf1 PLEASE PROTECT ME I AM PRECIOUS CARGO

user10: these bitches got me actually combing through tiktoks and hospitality menus to see if y/n was actually drinking

user11: i'm gonna be real angry if this is all a big joke

user12: i know kimi antonelli is young but this is NAWT the way to announce him for 2025

charles_leclerc: guys i need you to spell everything out i am confused

georgerussell63: no can do charles you gotta follow the breadcrumbs just like everyone else

yourusername: it's right there sharl

charles_leclerc: actually alex, wait, i'm coming with you these hoes are annoying me

landonorris: don't forget me

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, maxverstappen1 and 1,409,556 others

tagged: georgerussell63

yourusername: our baby is here!

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user15: A CAT?

user16: i just knew george russell would be a ragdoll girl

georgerussell63: they were right i AM a girl dad

yourusername: finally dilf status

georgerussell63: a title i do not take lightly

yourusername: i can confirm libido has gone UP since becoming parents!

landonorris: shut THE FUCK UP

yourusername: you'll understand in time lando

georgerussell63: you just found yourself at the bottom of the babysitting list

landonorris: i don't want to look after it

yourusername: IT? IT? HOW DARE YOU?

georgerussell63: she can hear you lando that's so disrespectful :(

landonorris: ??? i'm not saying sorry to a cat over instagram comment

georgerussell63: expect the same courtesy when i take you out first corner next weekend

user17: i fear that was not a threat but a promise from george

user18: it's kinda hot

liked by yourusername

alexalbon: NEW ALBON PETS LORE AND NONE OF YOU TOLD ME

yourusername: ella can't wait to meet the gang

alexalbon: no offence but ella is kinda a shit name

yourusername: short for mozzarella

alexalbon: i take it back

georgerussell63: cause she's the lil pearl of our life

alexalbon: i love her already

user19: so we went through all this tomfoolery for a cat? a cat called mozzarella?

user20: you have to agree it's iconic

alexalbon

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 889,304 others

tagged: georgerussell63 & yourusername

alexalbon: i knew @albon_pets would get george at some point

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user22: i love how alex became the chill guy again after it was revealed he was not yet an uncle

georgerussell63: hard on the yet

alexalbon: too soon george

user23: the albon pets signature of approval is a bigger sign that george is in the gamily than if he actually proposed to y/n

user24: they've got a baby now he's an albon

yourusername: horsey is going to kick off over having to share george with me and mozzie

albon_pets: bring it on - horsey

yourusername: alex i'm not arguing with you pretending to be horsey, this ain't roscoe and lewis

lewishamilton: rude

roscoelovescoco: meanie

yourusername: did you just call me mean as your dog?

lewishamilton: you were extra mean

yourusername: fine lets let mozzie and roscoe scrap it out at silverstone - she's got the sass of both me and george btw x

lewishamilton: stay AWAY FROM MY DOG

user25: the merc garage gonna be a whole petting zoo at silverstone i can't

user26: you wanna catch up with red bull? sell meet and greet tickets to the petting zoo

maxverstappen1: this is my official invitation to a play date with jimmy and sassy

yourusername: WE'LL BE THERE

maxverstappen1: is mozzarella civilised?

georgerussell63: of course my child has manners?

maxverstappen1: you crash into people all the time, i had to check

georgerussell63

liked by alexalbon, landonorris and 896,045 others

tagged: yourusername

georgerussell63: all of the family here for the home race

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user27: y/n wearing mozzarella in a baby harness i need to be put down

user28: that really is their child oh my

yourusername: make our baby proud georgie

georgerussell63: anything for you two xx

alexalbon: why do i never get these nice comments

yourusername: they're transmitted through our genes x

yourusername: also george more important 👍🏻

alexalbon: i'm literally your brother? your flesh and blood?

yourusername: george cuter

georgerussell63: can't argue with that

alexalbon: well of course he is this ain't alabama. (sorry logan)

logansargent: i'm from florida?

yourusername: even worse, my condolences

georgerussell63: can we get back to talking about how dashing i am?

yourusername: yes!

alexalbon: NO. SAY GOOD LUCK Y/N

yourusername: good luck y/n

alexalbon: what if i crash and you never said good luck, think about it y/n

yourusername: good luck alex (you're an asshole for weaponising the sport (and you being shit at it))

user29: i think i had about three strokes trying to follow this argument

user30: poor logan is just a victim of the albons at this point

landonorris: have a baby and forget about the rest of us, i see how it is

yourusername: you will never measure up to mozzie lando i hope you know that

georgerussell63: what y/n means is that i love my friends, but a child is a gift from god

landonorris: it's a cat. she can't even talk

yourusername: and yet she makes better points than you, makes you think

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, landonorris and 834,019 others

tagged: georgerussell63

yourusername: fatherhood looks good on you

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user31: mozzarella is so big already 🥹

user32: maybe i'm worse than them cause i'm attached to mozzie as well

georgerussell63: no one else i'd rather be cat parents to

yourusername: you're such a romantic

georgerussll63: such a pleasure to take this next step with the love of my life

yourusername: i love you more

georgerussell63: not possible

alexalbon: you being gross about mozzie was better than what ever the fuck this is

yourusername: @lilymunhe does he not treat you right?

lilymunhe: he's a romantic really, he's just exhausting the protective big brother act until george finally proposes

alexalbon: sue me

maxverstappen1: still waiting on the play date ...

yourusername: monaco?

maxverstappen1: done

yourusername: jimmy, sassy and ella will be like the charlie's angles reincarnated

georgerussell63: can't wait for you to see her IMPECCABLE manners

maxverstappen1: okay princess george

yourusername: hey only i can call george princess

maxverstappen1: you keep that to yourself

user33: disappointed that with all the tomfoolery around mozzie that there was no maternity photoshoots

yourusername: oh do not give me a challenge...

fin.

note: NEW SERIES ALERT? i'll create a masterlist after i post this. i hope you enjoyed, this one is more of a tame brother's best friend take but dw they can get more beefy and more sassy - send me any pairings you might like to see! thanks for reading x

[wendichester]

Heyyy Girl

I’ve been searching for a fic about this for forever but I can’t find one so I decided to request it

Sooo ive been absolutely obsessed with the episode where sam and dean are at the Oktoberfest (s4e5) and I really want to read a fic where the reader is actually German and is on that case too

I don’t care if it’s for sam or dean I’ll take either 😋

But I just wanted to read one with an actual German reader

(Also if you’re willing to do this you can dm me if you need any translation or something since google translate is shit)

Also it’s totally fine if you don’t want to do this <33

₊˚⊹♡ prost, handsome,

pairing. dean winchester x german!reader ft. sammy genre. fluff

wordcount. 437

notes / warnings. hope i did this right! thank you for the request bubs 🩷 // light cultural commentary, beer, lederhosen appreciation

Oktoberfest in Canonsburg, Pennsylvania is… definitely a thing.

You squint at the row of paper mâché bratwurst decorations strung between booths and try not to laugh. It’s like Germany threw up on a dollar store, but hey—points for enthusiasm.

The second you step onto the festival grounds, it hits you: the scent of warm pretzels and grilled meats, the polka music, the sounds of clinking steins. It’s a cute attempt. Endearingly wrong in a million ways.

And then you see them.

Dean Winchester, decked out in full lederhosen, chest peeking out from a very tight white shirt, looking like he just stepped out of a beer commercial written by horny frat bros. Sam stands next to him, half-embarrassed, half-fond, arms crossed and very much not wearing a costume.

You stroll up to them, arms folded, and drop into your accent just for fun. “Was soll das denn sein?”

Dean blinks. “Uh... pardon?”

You snort. “What the hell is that outfit?”

“Oh come on,” Dean grins, spinning dramatically. “You’re telling me this isn’t authentic German hotness?”

You raise a brow. “It’s authentic Halloween store hotness.”

Sam chuckles. “Told you.”

Dean glares at him. “Hey, I did research. I watched like, three documentaries. And Beerfest.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips is hard to hide. “Let me guess, you think schnitzel is a type of dance.”

Dean’s grin widens. “Only if you show me how to do it.”

Sam makes a disgusted older sibling noise and ducks away to “check on witnesses.” Translation: he’s giving you two some space, which he clearly suspects you’ll make good use of.

Dean leans a little closer, the beer-scented breeze catching in his hair. “So, you’re actually German?”

“Born and raised. Bavaria. I have real lederhosen somewhere.”

His eyes light up like Christmas. “That’s gotta be illegal. You, in that? I’d die.”

You pretend to think. “Could be arranged.”

He laughs, loud and full, like it bubbles right out of him. And then, surprisingly soft: “I like your accent.”

You shrug, cheeks warming. “I like your… dumb outfit.”

“Dumb-hot?” he offers.

You smile. “That’s not a word.”

“It is now.”

He offers you his arm like he’s some kind of lederhosen-wearing prince. “Come on, Fräulein. Let’s interrogate some townsfolk. And maybe split a pretzel the size of your face.”

You glance up at him, heart fluttering way too much for something so silly. “Nur, wenn du mich beeindrucken kannst.”

He blinks. “That one I don’t know.”

You lean in, lips just near his ear. “Only if you can impress me.”

Dean’s grin turns wolfish. “Oh, sweetheart. Challenge accepted.”

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I need Stan and Ford's reactions to being cat-called by the reader. Who whistles and flirts back, who gets shy and drops whatever he's holding? Who can't stop blushing like a fool and who starts strutting more because a hottie couldn't contain themselves? We gotta fluster these senior citizens!!!!

yahoo i love this !! yeah let's make these old men shyy

Stanley!!

he needs it, i tell ya. . . there’s no delicate way to put it. Stanley, bless his grumbling, gold-toothed heart, is starved for that kind of affection. of course he’ll roll his eyes and toss back a “real mature, sweetheart” when you whistle from across the mystery shack parking lot as he bends down to haul smth heavy, he’ll absolutely act like you’re being inappropriate, but did you see that little smirk he tries to bite down??? yep

and i think it’s doubled in intensity when it’s you, his closest person, the one he lets fold into his arms after hours. early in the relationship, yeah, he might bark out a sarcastic “hey! hands off the merchandise!” if you swat his ass, heheh. he’ll turn red all the way down his neck, curse under his breath, maybe try to walk away, grumbling what a little pervert you are. but later on, he slaps you back, maybe even an exaggerated “you missed, try again, sweetheart.” he’s thrilled to be wanted by you, desired. that kind of attention makes him shine. you want him? oh, he’ll give you a show. struts more. flexes more. suddenly that tank top that was “just comfortable” is riding a bit higher than usual. he’ll even ask you if you noticed he shaved that morning, and if you didn’t, well, he’ll drag your hand across his jawline and make damn sure you do.

so yes, this man eats it up. eats it up like a free buffet on a lonely thursday. try to whistle at him from across the porch, call him “handsome”, he’s immediately puffing up like an old tomcat in the sun, grinning so hard it damn near splits his face open. hand goes to his belt buckle, like yeah baby take a good look, chin tipping up a little, flashing you his teeth. im sure he’d say some shit like, “don’t start what ya can’t finish, toots.” except he wants you to start it. Stan wants your eyes crawling all over him like ants on honey. and then he’d throw the flirt back at you tenfold

oh but Ford. darling Ford. im sure flustering this man is too easy, and yet the results are so devastatingly rewarding it feels illegal.

so. . . he’s used to being praised for intellect, research. for what his mind can do. im sure lots of people have called him a genius, smart guy, pioneer, marvel. but his sweetheart, you're the only one who dares to whistle when he walks in wearing a slightly newer shade of his sweater. you lean against the shack’s front desk and coo, “oh wow, Ford. . . that color looks good on you. brings out your eyes.” and he’s gone. freezes. literally.

he drops what he’s holding, a mug, a stack of journals, some weird thing from his lab. the sound is loud and so is the color blooming across his cheeks. he stammers smth, possibly denies it even happened, before adjusting his collar and looking anywhere but at you <3

or he does that tight awkward laugh. might even scold you gently, all “really now, that’s hardly appropriate behavior”

but the thing is, HE LOVES IT. he may not know how to receive it, might fumble his words or hide behind a chalkboard, but inside he’s absolutely losing it. FANGIRLING. burning up. scrawling equations in the margins of his notebook that are just your name and a hundred question marks ehehhe

and if you keep calling him pet names, “handsome, genius, baby, sweetheart,” especially in casual, teasing tones while you’re working side by side, oh it makes him aware of his body in a way he never was before. and suddenly, he’s thinking about whether his clothes fit right. whether you noticed the new belt or boots. whether you like how he smells (stinks)

eventually, you’ll catch him fishing for compliments, but it'll be so damn awkward because guys c'mon it's STANFORD PINES. he'll be standing at doorways a little longer, making sure you see him, brushing his hair back before he enters a room. waiting all excited and nervous, silently begging. and if you whistle again, he might groan and say “oh, please,” but his fingers curl and his jaw flexes and you know he’s actually soaked in that affection

so yeah he tries to act unfazed, keeping his notes in order. but an hour later he’s bringing you tea with shaking hands and saying “so. . . you think my hair’s nice like this?” like you didn’t just fry his nervous system an hour ago with one whistle and a wink

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Kinktober Day Five: Sex Worker

Kinktober Masterlist

Miguel O'Hara x female reader

He walks into the place you'd been left in. A small cell, not really a cell but more like a small interrogation room.

You were captured. Not an anomaly, really, just some lucky young thing that had found a way to move from universe to universe, offering your...services.

As Miguel walks into the room, he has Lyla display your file onto the screen on the wall.

Your name, your age, your original earth and your...profession, among other slices of your information.

You're quiet, watching as he reads up on you. You pick at your nails, goosebumps on your skin at the cool ac that makes the room a little chilly. Not that your outfit helps: a tiny dress, thigh-high boots, and very thin lace stockings. You're freezing, really. But you refuse to say anything.

“Can I go now?” you ask after a while of staring at his broad, muscular back.

He turns to face you, red eyes scanning you as you sit on the table. “You know how much trouble you're in?” he asks. “Not only are you in for universe hopping, but also for prostitution.”

You roll your eyes. “It's illegal for me to do what I want with my body?”

“It's illegal to sell sexual services,” he replies, sighing sharply.

“Why? It's my body. I do with my body what I want and I get paid for it. What's the issue?”

He glares at you. “I'm not going into this. It's illegal, you did it, you broke the law. Period.”

You laugh softly. “Oh, come on, it's not like you've never hired a hooker.” He gives you a look. You raise an eyebrow. “You've never been with a hooker.”

“No need. I prefer to avoid the diseases and keep my twenties as spare change.”

You're in character right away. You lean your elbows on your knees, putting your chin in your hands. “Twenties? Nah, honey. I work in hundreds and thousands. You either pay for an hour or don't get any.”

He gives you a look. “I didn't ask.”

“And, no glove, no love,” you add, grinning at him.

“I really don't care.”

“Why are you so mean? You should respect me because a) I haven't been unkind to you, b) you're supposedly a hero, and c) I can help you with your little issue.”

He frowns. “What issue?”

“All that stupid, pent up anger. You know why it is?” You grin and don't give him a chance to answer. “Sexual frustration.”

Miguel scoffs. “What?”

“You heard me.”

He glares at you. “I keep the multiverse from collapsing and you think I need some prostitute to help me?”

“Don't be so condescending,” you say firmly. “And don't undermine my work. I make more than you do.”

He frowns. He checks your file, rushing through some items until he finds that what you're saying is, indeed, true. He looks surprised for a second before turning to you, a little bit pissed.

“I'll make you a deal,” you say. “I help you out with your anger, and you let me go.”

He scoffs. “What?”

You get off the table, moving to stand in front of him, making the size difference between him and you much more noticeable. He's huge, tall and broad, and so handsome.

“Let me help you,” you say, voice soft and sultry. “You know you want me to...”

He glares at you. “What are you going on about?”

You smile softly as you get on your knees. “I know I can help you. You know it, too. Come on, honey, no need to be shy,” you say, giving him a look full of fake innocence.

He doesn't reply. You can see the look in his eyes, a silent desire that aches beneath the surface. You've seen that look so many times, you know it so well...

“You just gotta ask,” you tell him lowly. “Just say the word...”

He sighs and you smile, already knowing you've won him over. You move your hands to his thighs, holding yourself steady as you inch your mouth close to his crotch. His breathing is heavy, his eyes are growing dark, hungry.

You smile sweetly. “Say the word,” you whisper. “Do you or do you not want me to help you?”

“Yes,” he says quietly.

You kiss his cock through the fabric of his suit and he groans lowly. You smile, kissing again. “Does this thing come off?” you ask.

A quiet growl leaves him and he picks you up, turning you around and bending you over the desk until. You gasp at the sudden movement, the pressure of his body on your back, his hard cock pressing against your ass.

“You're in trouble,” he warns, his thick, rough hands tugging your stockings down almost aggressively. “I'm going to have to fuck that stupid attitude of yours out, ¿me oyes?” You hear? He leans down, running his sharp fangs down against the side of your neck. “I'm not stopping until you fucking behave.”

You laugh softly, smoothly. “I don't behave.”

You can feel him smirk against your nape. “Oh, bonita, I'll make you behave.”

-----

@yagirlheree @sukioyakio @obi-mom-kenobi @celestia80s @manlikemilesmyguy @zaunsin @naniiiii12 @everlastlady @avatar-lover @siidmm @dhollandhs @spikedhe4rt @missing2socks @itzraven101 @miguelspookiebear @mochikomochisoft @sunset-euphoria @kishibeswh0re @m4dyy @icreatedthisat317am @keiva1000 @jakescumdump @ravisinghs-wife @tengens4th--wife @oceancerulean @pookiesmookie69 @juwandiko @aisyakirmann @ninebluehearts @vampireluvvr @saturnstringz @4imhry @iheartlinds @pigeonmama @eyweveng @braverthanthenewworld @livingwithinyou @switchiest @httpstoyosi @lyn-soso @6thhokageswife @normsdaughter-alt @thel0velykey190 @tojibreedingme @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @theloneshadow24

*if you want me to add you to my Miguel taglist, comment or send me a message <3

[johnwickb1tsch]

🌻Small Town Girl🌻 ~ Part 1

Tex Johnson thought he was just passing through…until he set his eyes on you. 

A little Tex x Reader fic for my beloved @treedaddymcpuffpuff. I love you bool!!! I hope you like this. It’s a mix of you and me and shit i made up and The Gift and conversations we’ve had and that silly rodeo fic we talked about and probably some sookie stackhouse and justified and longmire and other cowboy media that lives rent free in my brain at all times 😆 this is like 7000 words i apologize in advance…🙃 ILYSM!!!

Warnings: mentions of past spousal abuse, mentions of animal abuse, religious trauma...you know, the usual social problems of depressed rural america... I can say that because I live here. divider by strangergraphics-archive

To be fair, you saw the trouble coming from a mile away.

Or at least…a hundred yards, because that’s where he parked his ‘69 Chevelle outside the diner in the middle of your shift. You watched him swagger up in denim, boots, and a bitchin’ fringe leather jacket out the corner of your eye, because you were taking someone’s order. And you cursed the gods when he sprawled himself in a seat in your section, long legs extended out partly in the aisle. He was going to trip someone–or maybe he was just hoping you’d ask him sweetly to move those fancy-tooled shit-kickers to their proper position.

Your capacity for sweetly went up in smoke about an hour ago.

“Hi, can I get you started with something to drink?”

He looks up at you, all dark eyes and smoldering charm–yes, you’re sure he knows it, too–offering up a half smile that makes your heart stop even though you tried to brace yourself. And wow, goddamn if he doesn’t have the balls to look you up and down before answering, “Think I’m in the mood for somethin’ sweet.” His smile widens as you narrow your eyes down at him. 

“You want a milkshake?”

You swear there is a sparkle in his eye as you ask it. 

“Why yes, I believe I do. What flavor you got?”

You blink, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck. He sees it too, the cheeky bastard, that devil-may-care curl of lips widening more. 

“We have chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and banana.” 

“Hmm. That’s a hard choice, darlin’.” 

“You need some time to think about it?” 

He chuckles at your sass. “Nah. How ‘bout vanilla. With a cherry on top?” 

“Hard to find ‘round here, but I’ll see what I can do,” you deadpan, doodling with concentration on your order pad. 

This tickles his funny bone something fierce, those lovely eyes shining. Good Lord, it’s just not fair, the types of temptation the Devil is allowed to set in front of you mere mortals. 

However, you’re not falling for it. You’re not. You learned the hard way to be wary of tall, dark, and handsome men with a bit of the devil in them. Because before you were y/n y/ln, your name was Mrs. Donnie Barksdale, and you’ve got the scars to prove it.

“Comin’ right up, mister.” 

“Tex.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s my name. Tex.”

He is a charming bastard. You’re not falling for it. You just gotta keep telling yourself that. 

“Obviously an alias.” With the tip of your tennis shoe you nudge his big booted foot out of the aisle. “You’re gonna hurt someone with them things.” 

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.”   

You were not playing footsie with this gorgeous stranger. You were just moving a tripping hazard. 

You’re not falling for it.

You’re not so convinced either, as you go to make his drink. 

***

A little later, when you bring out his burger and fries, he asks, “Why don’t you set with me a while?” 

You roll your eyes, withdrawing a roll of silverware from your apron. “I can’t sit down and jaw with you, I’ll get fired.” 

He gives you a pouty face, and it should be illegal for a grown-ass-man to look so cute. “When’s your break?”

“Not for hours,” you lie.

“I’ll wait for you, darlin’.” 

You snort in answer to that, even while a storm of butterflies goes crazy in your belly. 

“Surely you have somethin’ better to do.”

He shrugs. “I just finished a job. Takin’ time for a little vacation on my way home.” 

“Oh yeah? What do you do?”

“Erm…I’m in situational…solutions…management.”

“Wow. That’s not vague at all. You in the mob or somethin’?” you tease.

He lifts a brow, but doesnt answer immediately. It gives you an uneasy feeling, before he flashes that good ol’ boy smile again.

“Wouldn’t that be some shit?”

Sometimes you get feelings about things, and there is something about this man that makes you uneasy. You think your first instincts were right about him. He needs to be kept at arm’s length. Or maybe the proverbial ten foot pole would be more ideal. The sooner he moves on down the highway, the better. 

He lingers long after his burger and shake are gone, people watching, looking out the window…and looking at you. You can feel his gaze on you, like he is a wolf waiting patiently in the treeline for his opportune moment. You have to walk past him after taking a family their order of food, and he asks you, “So what do you do for fun in a little town like this?” 

“We’re all Baptists ‘round here, mister, no fun allowed.”

He scoffs, eyes still shining, but you can tell, his patience is finally wearing a little thin. Well, good. Hopefully he’ll get the hint and go. You’re sure a man who looks like him, tall and strapping and handsome as a movie star, is used to women throwing themselves at him. Maybe he thought you’d be a quick score because you’d be grateful for the attention. Boy howdy, did he read you wrong.  

“Did I see a sign for a rodeo a street back?” 

“Yeah, the fair and rodeo’s here this weekend.”

“Not your idea of fun?” 

“Yes and no. I don’t like seein’ the animals get mistreated.” Not all of them were, of course. But the boys could be a little rough when they were roping the young steers, and you knew you’d have a bone to pick with the owner of the local petting zoo later. 

“Huh. No, that’s not fun. Someone should do something about it.” That sparkle has returned to those polished onyx orbs, and you are equal parts intrigued and wary. 

“Easier said than done, believe me.” 

“We should team up tonight. Give ‘em hell.” 

You raise an eyebrow to that. Is he asking you out? Your heart does a little flip, before leaping in a swan dive to splat on the pavement. Don’t be stupid. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Aww, come on, honey, give me a chance. I’m not a bad man.”  

He’s charming as a snake with an apple to sell, and you’re pretty sure he’s lying. 

“That’s exactly what bad men say.”

“What would a sweet thing like you know about that?”

You sigh, suddenly feeling about fifty years older than you are. “I know enough.” You don’t really mean to, but in a tick you can’t quite break you brush your hair behind your ear, touching the scar on your temple from the last time Donnie beat the hell out of you. The flesh is still raised, if not faded, the span of a few years softening the evidence, if only on the outside. 

You move your hand as soon as you realize what you’re doing, but not before this sharp-eyed man before you notices. His affable expression darkens, and you decide you would not like to meet him in a dark alley on a moonless night. “Give me a name, darlin’.” 

For a moment you are taken aback. You don’t know this man, and he doesn’t know you. The offer to play white knight for you is both titillating, and tiresome, if you’re being honest. You’ve heard it before from men who wanted to impress you. None of them panned out. No one wants to take on Donnie Barksdale. 

“I don’t need a man to protect me. I’ve got a shotgun for that. You want any dessert?” 

Like flipping a switch, he grins up at you, and though he is being friendly, there is still a hint of fang in it, like a wolf on the scent of something to hunt.

“I believe you, honey. I better skip the pie. Gotta watch my girlish figure.” He pats his slim waist, and you can’t stop yourself from looking. Inwardly, you sigh. With your lip between your teeth you add up his final bill on your notepad. “Feel free to add your phone number on there,” he teases, to which you just shake your head sadly. 

“There are plenty of pretty girls in this town who will be more than happy to entertain you, Mr. Tex,” you assure him.

Again, he shoots you that pout, and jesus god it should be illegal in twenty states, it gives you such a high. 

“But none of them are you, darlin’.” 

You roll your eyes, even if you kinda feel like you’re floating on a cloud right now. Goddammit. 

“You can nurse your broken heart over at TJ’s by the creek, it’s where everyone goes around here.” 

“Including you?” 

“No.” 

“Hmm, Miss Hard To Get. You’re really gonna make me comb through the whole crowd to find you at the fair tonight?” 

“Who said I’m going to the fair tonight?” 

“My gut.” 

You hand him his check with a smile that does not hide your annoyance. “You can pay at the register.” 

You hide in the back, finally taking your break, and deep in your idiotic heart you are sad to see him go. You hear the engine of the vintage sportscar rev from all the way in the kitchen, and you come out just in time to see the back end of him rolling down the road. 

Good riddance. You think it, but a part of you doesn’t really agree. Ah well. You’ve always had a weak spot for strays, but that one would have taken the cake. He was A Bad Idea™ and you were much better off without him. 

When you go to check the table you see he’s left you a cash tip that will cover your feed bills for a whole month, and your knees go a little weak. 

***

When your shift ends you get in your old car and head home, out of town, down the highway and through the woods, to the old farmhouse your grandparents left to you. Maybe you won’t be on the cover of Country Living any time soon, but the battered old clapboard house is home, and has been home to members of your family since the mid 1800s. 

Now, it is also home to the assortment of rescued animals you have picked up along the way. If your grandmother, god rest her soul, knew you kept a five-foot tegu lizard in an enclosure in her parlor she would probably expire all over again. But then again…if anyone had ever forgiven you for your stranger quirks, it was your Mawmaw. 

Your parents, not so much, which was ironic, considering. There was a reason the family farm went to you and not your mother. She never really got the hang of the whole adulting thing, falling in “love” with dirtbag after dirtbag after your parents divorce, ping ponging between bouts of addiction and religious righteousness. How you came to dread the words, “I am saved!” 

You find it funny, that the people who bang their bible the hardest are usually the ones who have the biggest sins to answer for. 

But when it came to bad decisions, maybe your apple didn’t fall far from the tree, considering your ex, but in your defense you grew up with Donnie Barksdale. His family’s land adjoined yours, and they had been in this holler just as long as your own ancestors had. They were well regarded around your tiny rural community, and half the folks in your town could hardly believe the rumors of the horrible things that man used to do to you. The other half thought you must have been asking for it–what can you count on in these parts, if not good ol’ fashioned Christian misogyny?

Once upon a time, Donnie Barksdale had been your best friend. You ran wild through the woods in your youth, building forts and catching critters. You fished in his pond and played in the hayloft of your grandparents’ barn. Then you got a little older, and your shirt filled out and the hormones kicked in, and maybe it was to no one’s surprise when you became lovers. Highschool sweethearts to a married couple, right after graduation. You could have gone to college on a scholarship, but Donnie wanted you home. 

It was easier to control you that way, you came to find out.

He didn’t beat on you at first. It took a while, for the disappointments of real life to set in. He never got drafted to play pro ball, and he was too proud to take up an honest trade. The pressures of living in a depressed rural area, with no good jobs and few good prospects, took their toll. Reagan-era policies made it easy for corporations to run all the little brick-and-mortar businesses into the ground, and trickle-down economics left your little community behind. Alcohol, meth, and Walmart filled in the voids.

With nothing better to do, Donnie started having affairs, and drinking too much, and when he finally got home he took his frustrations out on you.  

You try not to think about it now, but you do, every day. You’re not sure what hurt more: the actual physical beatings, or the betrayal by the boy who you’d loved madly since you were just eight years old. 

But there is something to be said, for the healing to be found with your hands in the dirt. You were such a broken thing, when you took over your grandmother’s overgrown garden years ago. Now, your little farmstead is a pollinator’s paradise filled with flowers and food. There’s something about sitting in the quiet with the butterflies flitting around that makes you feel like you’ve done something right in the world. You feed the birds, and you care for your animals, and you take life day by day.   

It’s a simple life, but a good one. You’ve run a long road, but you’re finally starting to feel like you’re going to be ok. 

And, you intend to keep it that way. That means not going for rides in fast cars with handsome strangers, no matter how lonely you are, or if it seems like he would be good to you, even if just for a night. 

You did good today, sticking to your guns. 

You need another man in your life like you need a hole in the head. “Boys are so rude,” you expound to your chickens, and your hens seem to cluck in agreement, their feathers so silky soft against your ankles as they wait for a treat. The last rooster who hurt your girls for his own gratification lost his head and ended up in your cookpot. If only it was so easy to dispose of belligerent human males.

You get your scoop, doling out some extra scratch grains to lure the chickens into their pen to lock them up early. 

You’ve got somewhere to be.  

As it turns out, Tex  was absolutely right about your intention to go to the rodeo, though you’re pretty sure he was blowing smoke about trying to find you. It’s a small town, but everyone will be there. You’ll be a needle in a haystack, and you take some comfort in that as you put on a black sunflower print sundress and your battered boots. 

You feed the cat, the dogs, your ancient conure parrot, and lock up the house. You have to go see a man about a horse–and you’re kind of dreading it.

***

You are not the only adult in the petting zoo area, which is some small relief. It takes a little while for Dale to even notice you are there, sneaking his skin and bones mini horse molasses treats from your purse in an attempt to help the poor thing put on some weight. It’s starving and its hooves need a trim and you could strangle Dale Manes with your two bare hands. 

You pass his place on the way home, and you regularly throw hay and treats over the fence in an attempt to feed his animals–something he clearly doesn’t seem to think it’s necessary to do much. 

He’s a cousin of Donnie’s, which has never kept him from ogling you. With some extra cash in your purse thanks to your handsome stranger, you’re hoping that maybe you can sweet talk Dale into relinquishing ownership.

Maybe it’s a lost cause, but maybe you can’t help but think about how many times people had looked at you in a bedraggled state, knew you needed help, and kept on walking with a “Bless her heart,” muttered under their breath. 

This little horse gobbles his treats down and bumps his head against you for scritches, leaning on you like a dog.

“Y/n, I see you spoiling my horse.”

You grit your teeth, before facing the music. “Hi Dale.”

“You know, I got you on my game cam trespassing on my property.” You can’t tell by his tone if he’s mad or not. It feels like you’re walking into a trap. Donnie used to play this verbal kind of game with you. It must be genetic.

“Trespassing’s a strong word,” you say, pouring extra sugar into your drawl.

“I don’t know what else to call it. Illegal feeding of animals?”

You give him a sheepish smile, when all you really want to do is kick him in the balls.

“Oh come on, Dale. You know this horse is skinny. It’s ok, I know how things go. I had some extra so I spread it around.”

It is not ok and you have literally lived on ramen cups some months so your animals could eat well and get the medicine they need. 

“Well ain’t you a peach?”

“Dale?”

He leers at you, sidling closer, and your skin crawls.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Sell me this horse.”

He gives you a look. “You’d ask a man to sell his livelihood?” 

You happen to know he gets by on government draw and dealing pain pills just fine.

“I like Ziggy. He’s my buddy. Let him come live with me.” The little horse in question is trying to nuzzle into your purse for more molasses treats. 

Dale takes a step closer, and it takes every iota of your self control not to step back. 

“You really are a piece of work.”

“Excuse me?”

“You conniving little bitch. I know it was you that called Animal Welfare on me last month.”

The sweetness drains from you like a flushing toilet. “Fat lot of good it did, I guess.” 

“You little bitch. You know how lucky you are? If you were my wife I would have killed you and buried you somewhere no one would find you.”

“Wow. I guess that’s why your wife ran off to Florida.”

“Cunt.” He raises his hand to you, right here in front of children and mothers and God and the whole damn town.

“What’s goin’ on here?” A strong arm loops around your waist, pulling you back out of striking range. “We horse tradin’, or are we pickin’ fights we can’t win?”

With wide eyes you look up to see the man from the diner, somehow even more handsome than before because he’s cleaned up and changed his shirt, the good looking bastard.

“Were you raisin’ your hand to this lady?” he asks. His tone is jovial, but there is an edge beneath the surface that does not escape your notice. You learned the hard way, how to dissect the subtle cadences of a man’s words.

“Believe me when I tell you she deserves it.”

“Huh.” Out of the blue Tex’s fist connects with Dale’s jaw, knocking him out cold. Ziggy startles at the body hitting the ground, darting on his little legs to the other side of the enclosure. All the families stare, shocked that someone would dare, though no one rushed in to see if Dale was still breathing. 

“Well, that’s our cue to go.”

“What?”

You are in shock, and it does not even occur to you to fight him when Tex takes your hand and pulls you through the crowd. You do not stop until you are on the other side of the fairgrounds, amidst the games and the dubiously safe rides. 

“Oh. My. God,” you wheeze, when finally you pause by the Whirl-A-Gig. “Do you know what you just did?” 

“You’re welcome,” he answers with that shit-eating grin, and you almost want to sock him yourself. 

“You should have let him hit me!”

“What?” Eyes wide, Tex is incredulous before you.

“God, I didn’t plan it that way but it would have been perfect! He woulda gone to jail, and the county would have to seize his animals.” At least the local Human Society would feed the poor things. 

Tex blinks, looking down at you like you’ve grown a second nose. “Did you miss the part where he was going to knock your head off?” 

“I’m used to it,” you muse absently, annoyed to the soles of your boots that you missed this opportunity. “If I were you I’d git while the gettin’s good. The whole Barksdale clan is going to come after you now.” 

His grin is like a baring of fangs. “Sounds like fun.” 

“Huh. You ain’t gonna think so when ten of ‘em roll up on you in your fancy sportscar.” 

“Meh. I can handle a pickup truck full of cousin fuckers. Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

A chortle escapes you before you can stop it. You cross your arms defensively, trying not to smile.

“The Barksdales are some tough customers, mister.” You had to be, to survive back in the day, but somewhere along the line it just got…out of hand. 

“Sounds like you know ‘em pretty well.” 

“I was married to one of them for the worst six years of my life. Believe me, you don’t want none of what they got.”  

Tex takes this opportunity to step into you, and now that the excitement is over you are reminded that you have six feet of pure cowboy standing in front of you. The pretty tooled embroidery on his shirt emphasizes how wide his chest is. You can smell the heady spiced scent of his cologne, and it hits you like a drug. Goddammit. 

“Sounds like you’re worried about me, darlin’.” His voice is like warm molasses. 

“Psshh. You better worry about yourself,” you grouse with extra venom, annoyed. “I don’t think you have the sense God gave a chicken.” 

He chuckles at that, and you try to back away. Try is the operative word, because he has your hands in his again. “Oh come on, darlin’, don’t leave me yet. Is this the thanks your knight in shining armor gets?” 

His hands engulf yours, long strong fingers wrapped around your palms, and you feel more than a little weak inside.  

“Knight in shining armor my fanny. Your little stunt is going to get us both hurt.” 

“My stunt? Were you or were you not trying to buy that horse when you knew damn well he wasn’t going to sell it to you?” 

You sigh. “Well…I had a little windfall burnin’ a hole in my pocket, and I had to try.” 

He pulls you a little closer–amazingly, you let him. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind when I left that for you.” 

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?” 

“Well…” Goddammit, if he does not take the opportunity to sidle even closer, so that your fronts are nearly pressed together, and you think you just might faint. “I was hoping you might treat yourself to somethin’ nice. Like a pretty new dress.” He looks you up and down, making a low sound in his throat of appreciation. “But I see you already had that handled. Mmm, you look good.” 

You sigh, a long suffering sound of exasperation. Is there something wrong with this man? Because he can’t seem to stop running his mouth. And maybe you’re losing your mind, but…you’re kind of starting to like it.

“I think you might have a screw loose, mister.” 

He grins wide for you, in that moment looking every bit the outlaw, with his shining dark eyes and hair brushing his collar. 

“That may be true…” He leans down towards you, and you think you just might die. “But I’m pretty sweet.” You’re afraid he’s going to try to kiss you, and you’re even more afraid you’re going to let him. But he just bumps your forehead with his before paying you that devil-may-care grin, and you swear your heart stops in your chest. 

This man is such a mistake, but you feel your defenses dissolving like sugar in hot tea. 

“Want to split a funnel cake?” 

As it turns out, it’s the nail in your coffin. 

“Yeah.” 

He grins like a man who just won the lottery, tucking you into his side under the shelter of his well-muscled arm like you’ve always belonged there, and goddammit if it doesn’t feel good to feel protected. Too good, maybe. It’s something you cannot allow yourself to get used to.

“I knew you’d come around, darlin’.”

It’s been a while since you made a big mistake. Like…less than an hour, at least, so you guess you were due up. As bad decisions go… You look this tall cowboy up and down, his denim-clad legs about a mile long swaggering beside you. 

“How did you find me?” it occurs to you to ask.

“I remembered what you said about liking animals, and figured the petting zoo would be a good place to start.”

You pause in your step, almost tripping as you look up at him. Maybe it shouldn’t be this surprising, that a man actually listened to something you said. But god. It twists and squeezes something inside you. It’s painful and wonderful and you really should run before this gets out of hand. But he is looking down at you with those smoldering dark eyes, and a part of you already knows that it’s too late. 

***

“So, my babygirl likes animals,” muses Tex beside you, taking a bite of funnel cake with a grin. “Let me guess. You’ve got a whole house full of strays.” 

You sigh, tearing off a piece, a good crispy bit with plenty of powdered sugar. “And a barn.” You have chickens and ducks and rabbits and goats that came to you post-Easter after people realized the fuzzy little things turned into full grown animals that needed housing and room. You have a conure that outlived its previous owner, and a bulldog whose tongue doesn’t quite fit in her mouth, and the world’s only sweet chihuahua who loves to snuggle and needs medication that seems to get more and more expensive every time you have to buy it. The reptiles came to you from a family whose child changed their mind, and the cat just kinda showed up at your door one day, the way they do…

Most men who hear the extent of your menagerie swiftly run in the other direction. They think you’re a hoarder, or if they stick around they want to be the sole focus of all your attention–and it’s just not going to happen. They leave after a month or so, or you run them off. 

You have no reason to think this won’t end the same way. 

“That’s alright, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with havin’ a soft heart for critters.”

They all say that at first. 

Ah well. It’s not like you’re looking to get married again, anyhow. You just…get a little lonely, sometimes, when it’s just you and the dogs and darkness outside. 

“Hmm. That’s not the review I usually get. So what about you? You know I have to ask if you’re really from Texas.”

He grins. “Guilty. But I live in L.A. now.” 

“Oh yeah? Are you an actor?”

“I was a stuntman for a little while.”

“Anything I’ve seen?” 

He laughs, an open guffaw of mirth that makes his eyes shine and your heart fill to bursting. “Well, you look like a diehard fan of Death Charger II.”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch that with my Grandma,” you tease. 

He snorts and pulls off another piece of pastry. “It was fun for a while, but I could tell I was just going to end up with a broken body and an empty bank account.”

“So…what do you do now?” 

He looks up at you through those long dark lashes, and you swear to god your heart does a pirouette in your chest. 

“I can’t really talk about it,” he tells you, which you guess is actually a more honest answer than feeding you some bullshit lie. “Pays well, though.” 

“Okay…that’s not creepy at all.” 

 He pays you that open grin and offers you the last little crunchy morsel from his fingertips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, darlin’. You’re in good hands.” 

After a long pause you take the bite, your lips just barely brushing the tips of his fingers. But it ignites a fire in his eyes that has you squirming in your seat, your thighs unbearably moist. Thank god you’re wearing a black dress. 

“Let’s walk around,” he proposes, and you agree, even if you’re afraid your legs might not work anymore. 

***

Hand in hand, you wander the fairgrounds, people watching, talking, and playing a few games. Tex is fun, and he is sweet, never once letting go of your hand, except during the clown toss which he swears is rigged (and you agree). He makes a crack about his balls being too big to fit in its mouth, and you break down in a giggling fit as the two of you walk away. It feels a little bit like magic, wandering around amidst the bright lights and the warm night and for the first time in a long time, you realize you’re not afraid of running into one of Donnie’s clansmen with an axe to grind or family honor to hold up or some other testosterone-driven bullshit that terrorizes your waking hours and your nightmares. 

“Haunted house?” 

“No way.”

“Swings?” 

“Don’t trust them.”

“Roller coaster?” 

“I like my spine aligned right where it is, thank you.” 

“How ‘bout the ferris wheel?” Tex proposes with a lift of brows, and even though you know exactly what he’s up to, you finally agree. Tucked into the tiny bucket together in a space that is not meant for adults but god is it lovely to sit with your side molded to his, Tex sneaks his arm around you with a come-hither curl of lips. 

“Don’t even think about it,” you warn him with a venom you absolutely do not feel at this point. You make a show of leaning away, even though there’s absolutely nowhere for you to go in the little compartment.  

“Oh, I’m thinkin’ about it,” he assures you with a devilish glint in his eye, pulling you closer, and off you go in a big vertical circle. It is fun, to see all the lights and the people below, and the rodeo round pen on the other side of the grounds. 

Then the ride stops with a grinding halt that doesn’t feel quite right. The two of you are at the very apex of the wheel, on top of the world. You look around, a little nervous. Oh god, please don’t let you get stuck here. 

“It’s alright, darlin’” he soothes you, with a wolfish grin that is not comforting at all. 

You can see the roping event with a bird’s eye view. You flinch as a cowboy throws a loop around a steer’s neck, jerking it around. At least the second cowboy misses the ankles. You stick your tongue out at them, knowing no one can see. 

“Aww, that little grass puppy’s fine,” Tex tries to assure you. “They’re pretty tough.”  

Once upon a time your family made part of their living running cattle. You know they’re tough, but that doesn’t mean it’s fair to treat them that way just for fun. “There are ways to train them without the rope, you know. They’re very food motivated.” 

“But what’s a cowboy without his rope, honey?”

“A farmer.” 

He chuckles at that. “It just lacks a certain prestige, don’t it?”

“Fuck you very much. My family’s been farming since before this place was even a state.”

He chuckles at your fiery response, clearly enjoying getting your goat. “Erm–no offense.” 

“Pssh. It’s not about prestige. It’s men and their testosterone poisoning, always havin’ to show off at everyone else’s expense.” You’re sure he won’t like it, but you say it anyway. You wait for him to get surly, like all men do when you say what you’re really thinking, and it occurs to you that maybe you should have waited until you’re not trapped in a tin can of an amusement ride with him before insulting him. 

“Hmm. Well…there might be somethin’ to that.” 

He could have knocked you over with a feather…if you weren’t already mashed into an enclosed seat with him. 

“Yeah, there might be,” you say more softly, quickly looking away when he tries to meet your eyes. 

“Hey now.” He strokes your arm with his fingertips lightly, drawing little circles and driving you crazy. “We’re silly creatures, ain’t we? I get it.” 

The fact that this man, who is 6 feet plus of pure masculine energy, would say such a thing to you–well frankly it blows you the fuck away. 

“Showin’ off is fine,” you sigh, still unable to meet his eyes. “It’s just…why does someone always have to get hurt for the sake of it? Usually…someone innocent.”

“You’re right,” he agrees gently. “It shouldn’t be that way.”

Now you do get up the courage to look at him, though it feels like you’re drowning when you do. You really thought you had this man’s number. He dresses like a cowboy and drives a vintage muscle car, walks with James Dean swagger and he even punched a man out for you not but over an hour ago. But here he is, talking to you…like women matter. Like you matter. 

“We’ve been up here a really long time,” you muse, blinking the tears out of your eyes while you peer over the side. 

“Ah well. I’m sure they’ll get us down eventually.” He does not seem worried at all. “I like the view.” He’s looking at you while he says it, curling a little lock of hair from the nape of your neck around his finger, and an embarrassing shudder gallops down your spine. “Hmm, someone’s sensitive,” he says with a little smile. 

You shoot him a glare out the corner of your eye. You don’t think you’ve convinced him by half. 

“It’s just cold up here.”

It is the tail end of summer, and still 80 degrees out with the sun down.  

“Sure it is, sweetheart.” 

You sigh, and you don’t know how it’s possible, considering your position, but somehow he seems to sidle closer. 

“Tex?” 

“Yeah, beautiful?” 

You don’t really know what you intended to say–you look at his mouth, those full, well-drawn lips, and you forget how to breathe for a few crucial seconds. You are lightheaded, the world spinning as he closes the distance, and gently presses his mouth to yours. 

Someone moans, and only belatedly do you realize it’s you. 

You feel him smile against your mouth, before going in for the kill, his long fingers sliding up into your hair to hold you to him. If you’d felt trapped you would have fought him, no matter how stupid and no matter how high up you were sitting in this rattletrap of a ride held together with rusty bolts and bubblegum. But you feel…free, like for a few blessed moments, you’ve found a part of yourself you left somewhere. A part of yourself you needed, even though you didn’t realize it at the time of losing it. 

You let this man devour you, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance you feel all the way in your clit. Pressing your thighs together does not help at all, and he smiles again like he knows exactly what your problem is. When his paw of a hand settles just above your knee, squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh, his thumb finding its way just past the hem of your dress, you smack your hand over his. “Hold up, cowboy,” you pant, knowing you sound ridiculous but unable to put any real steel in your tone. 

His eyes glitter like the night sky as he pulls back to look at you, breathing heavy through his nose. “You sweet little thing. I could just eat you up.” He nibbles your lower lip again, and you think you might expire. He doesn’t force the issue, his hand staying right where you’re holding it. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, a steady timpani roll that does not help with your lightheadedness. The carriage sways slightly in the summer breeze, and you’re not sure that you’re not floating in mid air with nothing to catch you. Your grip on his hand tightens, desperately seeking something to ground you. You’re not sure if this is a panic attack, or vertigo, or unadulterated lust. 

“Don’t get too full of yourself…but I think I might faint.” 

The hunger in his expression turns into concern. “You alright, darlin’?”

“Just…hold on to me, ok?”

“Alright, alright. You gotta breathe for me though. Deep breath.” You do as you’re told. “Then out.” You do this, and you close your eyes, and you start to feel better just as the wheel finally starts to turn again.

As excruciatingly fun as it was to be squashed together with this delicious specimen of a man, you are so grateful when it’s time to get out and put your feet on terra firma once more. Tex steadies you with an arm around your waist, and you just happen to be looking up at the right time to catch the ferris wheel operator’s conspiratorial wink at your ad hoc date. 

“Sonofabitch. Did you bribe him to stick us up there?” 

Tex chuckles, flinching as you poke him in the ribs. “Hey, you ain’t even met my Mamma yet!”

“Did you?” you demand, unrelenting in your attack. He wiggles like he is ticklish, and you feel like you have stumbled upon crucial intelligence of the enemy. 

“I might have slipped him somethin’...”    

“You imp! I thought we were stuck!” 

He is laughing as you tickle him and poke him, until maybe your fingernail goes a little too far in between his ribs and he grabs you up with a growl that you feel in your loins, putting a stop to your antics with your arms pressed to your sides and your body pressed to his. “You ok? I didn’t know you were scared of heights.” 

You’re not really. Scared of feeling things, is another matter. 

“I’m ok.” 

“Good.” He dips his head to kiss you again, and you let him for about 2.5 seconds before turning your head. 

“Tex…” 

“Yeah, honey?”

“I think…I think I better go home.” 

His expression falls like you kicked his puppy. “Oh. Did I…do somethin’? I’m sorry, darlin’.” 

He did somethin’. He’s done everything right, and suddenly you are scared shitless of where this could lead. 

“No, I’ve had fun,” you tell him honestly. “But I have to work tomorrow, and I’m tired. I should go home.” 

“Oh.” He sticks out that pouting lip, and it really should be illegal for a grown man to look so adorable. “Can I…come see you for lunch then?” 

“I guess…I can’t stop you.” 

“Would you want to though?” 

Therein lay the million dollar question. 

“Maybe not?” 

He smiles, and it feels like a special gift, just for you. “Alright. Tomorrow then. Let me walk you to your car at least.”

Considering what you got up to earlier that evening, it wasn’t a bad idea. “Ok.” 

You exchange one last lingering kiss before he tucks you down into your driver's seat and makes ao show of buckling you in. You know it's a ploy to feel you up a little but it makes you giggle anyway. “Tex…I can buckle my own damn seat belt.” 

“I know, darlin’.” He leans on the roof of your car, looking down at you like you’re something precious, preventing you from closing your door. You need to go because if you stay in his company any longer you are going to melt into a pile of goo. 

“Tex…” 

He sighs. “Alright, fine. Tomorrow. You better be ready to take your break with me.” He makes sure your legs are out of the way before shutting your door and tapping on the roof. Why do men do that, like a car is a horse? Giddyup. You think it would be horrifyingly hilarious, if your late-model car decided to play it’s occasional game of let’s not start until you try five times. But no, the old soldier dutifully responds to the turn of your key, and carries you away through the grass parking lot, onto the highway, and away from the man you’re afraid you would like to curl up in bed with and not leave for a month. 

That man is pure trouble…and you are pretty sure you want more of him. 

[saythatuwill]

so... that android au.

reader who is on the search for a new android, not for them necessarily. they're trying to make a new breakout android band. all well and good, there's plenty android musicians out there! specific musician MODELS!

oh but you are not taking the easy route. because the band members you have so far are all made up of androids designed for a completely different purpose. the drummer was designed to be a mechanic, the guitarist was designed to be a detective, and the bassist? an animal caretaker.

there WAS a singer, but after they gained sentience (which you initially didn't mind, just had to be kept secret) they got sorta hostile and aggressive, an incident likely caused them to be shut down and thrown away.

you were being shown around that damn store like all day, staff was clearly not on board with what you were there for. kept trying to point you toward actual musician models. fuck no! and that's when you saw it.

you really did NOT want to go for the ideal partner models because you knew you'd have no choice but to let it live with you, but this one just called to you. tall, handsome face, had the kinda look to him that said he was designed to look like one of those... boy next door, bad boy types. gotta keep the market diverse i GUESS. perfect for an android metal band though.

but hey... cant be TOO HARD having an android like this right? i mean its not like he's going to be an actual romantic partner to you, you were repurposing him the second you got home.

he followed you like a lost puppy the entire way home, albeit sorta shyly? probably part of his programmed personality. at home, good fucking god he wanted to explore everything when you just wanted him to SIT DOWN. took you sitting down for him to follow.

you get the musician parts sorta... illegally. but DONT WORRY ABOUT IT! THE POLICE ARENT ONTO YOU!!! you just... cant really tell the guitarist android either or he'll flip his lid. you're pretty good at this whole parts replacement thing. now he'll be a perfect musician, and maybe his whole rebellious look and shy persona will be a hit with the humans!

except he becomes a sarcastic smug little prick after the parts are installed. and is still insistent on living in your home.

what the hell did you get yourself into?

[under0-0s]

Bucky pushes Steve into the room, the captain wearing a tux and with a ring in hand. Steve is blushing so hard and looking so flustered. Bucky looks at Tony.

"Happy Birthday, Stark. It took time getting your gift ready, cause he was being a pain in the ass, but here it is. A free husband that plans to love you the rest of your life."

Bucky shoves Steve to Tony. Steve whines softly, so embarrassed and shy right at this moment. Hesitantly, he offers Tony the engagement ring, looking so adorable.

"Marry me?"

@askatrigenderlgbt

Tony stared.

Steve Rogers, Captain America, golden boy of the century, was standing in front of him in a tuxedo that looked entirely illegal on that frame — cheeks flushed pink, hands trembling slightly as he held out a ring.

A ring. For Tony.

He didn’t speak right away. His brain was doing that static-buzz thing, like when JARVIS used to crash from emotional overload — which, apparently, was a thing Tony Stark also did now.

Steve looked like he might bolt.

Tony finally exhaled, a soft laugh escaping as he raked a hand through his hair. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“No, no, not like—” Tony shook his head, trying to reboot. “God. You—you’re proposing. To me. Like this. Like some ridiculously handsome, painfully awkward, blushing Hallmark movie lead, and I’m—what? The love interest who didn’t know he was in a romance until the last act?”

“Jesus, Rogers,” Tony said, voice cracking at the edges, softening. “You really went and made me fall in love with you, didn’t you?”

He reached out, took Steve’s hand — steadying it — and closed his fingers gently over the ring.

“You’re lucky I’m crazy about you,” Tony murmured.

[noitsbecky127]

rebecca watches ds9: the wire

alright I skipped liveblogging the last few episodes but I’ve heard enough about this one to know I gotta resume for it. I’ll detail my future liveblogging plans after the ep, let’s go

wait i want to hear more about these aliens that don’t acknowledge the concept of time

“entertaining one of your lady friends?” cmon garak julian wouldn’t cheat on you

time for the regularly scheduled homoerotic book club

a story chronicling seven generations? that feels like too many imo

cardassian literature sounds boring

garak is not fine and i know this bc of osmosis. i’m not quite sure what’s wrong with him but i know it’s bad and i know julian is gonna bust his ass to fix his bf

garak is gonna be the WORST patient isn’t he

i love kira coming in to ask what that was about. local lesbian is concerned about her bi friend and his questionable situationship

that’s an unusual patient you have there julian

jadzia why did you think his medical knowledge would extend to plants

loving the continuation of the “i’m a doctor, not a x”

the impact of bones cannot be overstated

thank god for dr google

“maybe he just doesn’t like going to see the doctor” idk man if i was in love with my doctor i’d probably enjoy checkups more

if having lunch together every week for over a year doesn’t qualify as friendship then what does? i would definitely call that friendship

“if he doesn’t want my help, that’s his prerogative” - man about to force his help on his bf

ah he’s trying out some spying of his own

quark stop manhandling julian lmao

sisko getting hurt from yelling is a mood

julian is doing everything and then some to get answers here

oh god drunk garak

“i’ll make it up to you 😏”

he invited julian back to his quarters and they have a bottle of alcohol. unfortunately i don’t think he’s in any state to consent rn

oh shit down he goes

an implant? guessing it’s malfunctioning somehow and that’s fucking him up

well no one’s better at getting info from quark than odo is

monitoring all of quark’s communications is probably illegal but it’s quark so i can’t exactly condemn it

quark is having a zoom meeting with a random cardassian

i want to kill this random cardassian

obsidian order? i’ve heard that term on the internet but i don’t think it’s been mentioned in the show yet

ah ok the cardassian FBI

i doubt the implant is a punishment device. i wonder what it actually is though

garak continues to be the world’s worst patient

that must be a painkiller of some kind

“i thought i was supposed to be the spy” you’ve been eating lunch with julian for over a year and you didn’t expect to rub off on him?

“it can’t be removed” never doubt julian bashir’s ability to do the impossible

oh ok garak’s from the obsidian order then. not exactly a surprise

and so the anti-pain device has become the source of pain

ohhh it’s addiction

“doctor, did anyone ever tell you that you are an infuriating pest?” “chief o’brien, all the time, and i don’t pay any attention to him either!” he’s so real for that

wait but isn’t elim garak’s first name? i swear i’ve seen him called elim garak online

i’m 99% sure i’ve read “elim garak” on the internet. what is happening

there is no reason for their faces to be this close other than homosexuality

guess the cardassians removed all the info on their physiology when they left

i feel like letting odo question garak rn would go against the hippocratic oath somehow

he awakens?

not yet ig

julian waits patiently for his bf to awaken

NOW he awakens!

ok garak i’ll give you a pass bc you’re under a lot of stress rn but you gotta be nice to julian

and stop fucking this room up

if that first story wasn’t true i’m guessing the second isn’t either

why the fuck does he keep mentioning elim. is he elim or not. i am confusion

don’t forget handsome, garak. smug, sanctimonious, HANDSOME face

“i hate you” no you don’t

i love when star trek becomes a medical drama for a bit

i would love to watch a show that was just a star trek medical drama actually

i can’t tell whether julian’s on the verge of a breakthrough or just grasping at straws

how tf does molecular structure get changed. is that even possible. i’m an english major

whatever garak’s going to say is definitely not the truth

“elim wasn’t my aide, he was my friend” my brother in christ i’m pretty sure elim is YOU

HAND HOLDING

i cannot imagine seeing this scene on tv in 1994. i would actually go insane

is julian going to cardassia rn

is this tain?

yes it is!

julian subatoi bashir. nice name

ok he’s in cardassian space, if not on cardassia proper

julian please do not take anything to drink from the leader of the cardassian fbi

kanar is incredibly blue

i love julian threatening to ramble about his hyperfixations. adhd king

i don’t think (boy)friends let (boy)friends die

why does tain want garak to live? garak’s exiled

oh ok, survival is the punishment

“surrounded by people who hate him” it’s ok he has a bf

ok yeah he’s elim. guess i wasn’t supposed to know that. whoops

garak’s all better now! and ready for his weekly lunch dates again

“i have nothing to hide” - man who didn’t tell his friend his first name for over a year

books are in tubes in the future? fun

and so the homoerotic book club resumes

“they’re all true, especially the lies” - man who has never said anything true in his life

there is no heterosexual explanation for that smile from julian

i don’t know how any gay people in 1994 survived this episode. i’d have lost my mind

ok chat here’s how my liveblogging is gonna go from here on out. I’m gonna liveblog when I feel like it, or when an episode seems like I should (be it from the thumbnail or my having heard of it). I am not all-knowing so I would like you guys to keep me informed on episodes coming up that I should be sure to liveblog. Thanks in advance

Also I love getting replies to these posts! I’d love for more people to leave them, even if it’s just saying what you thought of the episode. Talking to the void can get discouraging. Again, thanks in advance!

[ktownshizzle]

my Bangtan year so far has been studying, studying and more studying 🙃 i actually have a stupid final in a few hours

(gotta make my ex bias proud ✋️)

but i've been low on motivation these past few days and when i was looking for some motivational quotes by Bangtan, this is what i found:

now i remember that one interview when yoongi started shit talking about school and exams and namjoon cut him off (ft. the others dying in the back - especially jimin)

exams aside, can we talk about this yoongi:

i swear he makes me lose my mind at least once a day

such a fine man

if he looked at me like this, i'd be GONE

anyway, i hope you have a great day and that january has been kind to you (one month less until our boys are back 🥹)

Yoongi does not fuck with school. LOL at his quotes. He is just being so real though. But definitely, good luck on your exams! I am sure you'll kill it. I'm rooting for you!

O-KAY. Now on to this Yoongi. Fuck. I remember seeing this Spotify teaser video for his guest spot and I was like are those sideburns??? Those should be illegal tbh. Everything in this whole visual just does it for me. The sleek all-black look is so him. He is so damn DEVILISHLY HANDSOME. I am literally just a girl.

January so far has kicked me in the butt. It gave me way less fic writing time than I'd like, and February is not looking any better workload-wise. I miss writing L&L and T&C in long sessions. I don't have a lot of moments that I get to actually sit down and write these days, but when I do, I get so happy revisiting my couples' stories.

June is so soon. I am excited for our boys to be back :)

[fandomsnstuff]

Design - verb - do or plan something with a specific purpose or intention in mind

Just keep that in mind for the big 2-0 k thanks

@taznovembercelebration

Day 20: design

If Taako sentenced himself to going to Lup's hockey games, the least he could do for himself is talk to the hot guy that's there.

Read it on AO3

The unfortunate thing about being the world's best brother, is that whenever his sister pulls out the elongated “pleaaaaaaaaase?” Taako just can't say no. Which is how he found himself sentenced to spending at least an hour every Sunday in a room full of ice for the foreseeable future. Why Lup had to get into hockey of all things, he'll never understand. But she asked him to come, because she wants somebody in the stands, and Barry's schedule changed recently, so now, a month into the season, Taako's gotta do it. At least he's allowed to leave immediately after the game.

He walks into the arena and inhales sharply. “Jesus fucking christ.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. It's illegally cold in here. He knew Lup was full of shit when she said ice rinks “aren't that bad.”

He scans the pathetically sparse stands. Not a ton of people willing to come out to low-tier women's hockey at noon on a Sunday. There is, however, someone who catches his eye.

Sitting in the back row is tall, dark, and handsome personified. He's wearing a black wool trench coat and leather gloves, one of which he's pulled off as he scrolls on his phone. Taako casually beelines for him.

“This seat taken?”

The man of Taako's dreams looks up, surprise on his handsome face. “No!” He says a little too quickly and a little too loudly. He clears his throat. “No, please, it's all yours.”

“Sweet.” He plops down the dumb little cushion Barry gave him and sits. “So,” he crosses his legs and props his head up on his hand, “come here often?”

He puts his phone away and pulls his glove back on. “Every week. I come to watch my mother play.”

Taako quirks an eyebrow. “No offence, but. Why? You're a grown ass man. Don't you have literally anything else you could be doing?”

He laughs awkwardly. “Honestly? No. I pretty much just eat, sleep, and work. This gets me out of the house.” He seems to suddenly remember he's also talking to someone who's voluntarily come here to watch the exact same game. “Why are you here, If you have something better to do?”

He shrugs. “My sister asked me, and I'd be hard pressed to say no.” He straightens up and holds out his hand, “Taako.”

He takes it, “Kravitz.”

“Charmed.” The gloves feel like expensive leather. “So, Kravitz, explain something to me.”

“Sure?”

“What's up with the box on wheels?” He gestures to the ice, where said box on wheels is just driving off the ice.

Kravitz laughs, “the zamboni? It floods the ice, so it's smooth for whoever's coming on next.”

“That thing can fully reset the surface in, what, five minutes?”

“Pretty much, unless there's a pretty nasty gouge in it.”

“Wild.” The teams come out on the ice and start skating in circles around each half, split up by a foot-wide red line down the center. Taako leans over, “which one is yours?”

Kravitz laughs again. “My mom's lucky number 13 on the black team. You?”

“Well hey, Lup's 18 on that team.”

Realisation dawns on his face. “Oh, you're Lup's brother?”

Taako looks at him quizzically. “Took you that long? We have the same face.”

He gets sheepish, “I've maybe only actually seen her a few times, but I usually sit with Barry, so…”

“Well Barold's tied up on Sundays in academic hell for the next little while, so you're stuck with me.”

Kravitz's brow furrows, “I don't remember him saying anything about that?”

“Don't feel bad, I hardly remember a thing he says too.”

“No, it's just– he didn't say why he wasn't coming this week, but he loves talking about his research, so I would assume if it was because of that, he'd say something? He just told me he wasn't coming, and you were, and that–” he cuts himself off and clears his throat. “Yeah, weird, I dunno.”

“No, no. Finish that sentence. What did my dear brother in law say about me?”

“He just said that… he thought we would get along? And I'm self aware enough to know I'm not super socially adept, but he had a tone that I think he was insinuating… something?”

Taako hums, and looks Kravitz up and down. He looks out to the ice and sees number 18 standing with number 13. Lup holds out a gloved hand and does a “thumbs up? Thumbs down?” gesture. Taako ignores her and presses closer to Kravitz. For warmth. “I don't know much about hockey, so you'll have to teach me.”

Kravitz is silent for a moment, processing the sudden change of subject. “I'm sure I can handle that.”

The game starts shortly, and Taako gets far more into it than he expected.

“What the hell was that whistle for?!”

“They were offside,” Kravitz points to the ice, “the puck has to cross the blue line into the other team's end before any of our players can, and vice versa. Then if the puck leaves their end and comes back in, we have to get out past the blue line as fast as possible.”

Taako crosses his arms and slumps back. “That's bullshit.”

“You didn't seem to mind when it helped us out five minutes ago.”

He glares at him, and Kravitz laughs. Play resumes for a good few minutes, then the whistle blows again for apparently no reason. Taako barely has time to inhale before Kravitz says, “it's because they iced the puck.”

“Now you know I don't know what–” he scoffs, incredulous, “why the fuck are they starting in our end?!”

“Because they iced it. Someone from our team shot the puck from our side of the red line, and it went all the way down the ice and passed the goal line at the other end, and no one got close enough to keep the puck in play before it got there. So they bring it back to our end to start again.”

“Maybe the other team should just be faster and stop that then.”

“But they want to be in our end, so an icing helps them out.”

“I don't like this icing. I prefer buttercream.”

Kravitz's laugh practically echoes around the arena.

The game ends. A victory for Lup's team despite all of the, in Taako's eyes, stupid rules. Kravitz is getting up to leave and Taako says, “hey, Krav. Can I borrow your phone?”

“Uh, sure,” he hands it over, “here.”

Taako takes it and adds himself as a contact, then texts himself, “can I take you to dinner?” He turns it off and hands it back to Kravitz. “Thanks. I'll see you later.”

He leaves, and once he's out in the parking lot, he takes his own phone and responds to the text he sent himself, “sure thing, handsome. Mind if I pick?”

He gets in his car and his phone pings with two texts.

One is from Kravitz: “Absolutely you can pick, just let me know when and were. As we've established, my social calendar is wide open.”

The second is from Lup: “You're welcome.”

[mydysfunctionalvampirefamily]

Ohhhh it's canon?

Ohhhh traveling on moonbeams very magic girl vibes.

Lol insuferably handsome. 😂

Why are all Garrett's character a little less than 6 feet?

Why does a werewolf need a two handed sword?

They all have a lot of titles, I cannot remember them all. I do wanna know what they all mean though.

Noooooo 😂😂😂 not a werewolf named Jacob and then Jacob braun instead of black. Stop right now 😂😂😂that is too funny.

Shadowlord? And a gauntlet? Edgy and badass I love it!

Werewolves have a king?

Orangy spongy flesh??? Oh no!!!! This is bad. 😬

I love sibling relationships.

This is kind of different from Dan and Jesse. It just proves I really know nothing about all of this. I'm sure there's all kinds of hints to lore that are going completely over my head. 😂

Wait what??? She is 12????? And has only spoken for 5 years? That is wild. Did we know that she was so young? Was this said at the introduction and I just totally missed it? She's a little kid!

What the heck are all these rights??

Noooooooooo not Zantosa??? Not again. Will he always torment us??? 😭

Rebecca, the most polite power gamer there has ever been.

Okay what's the deal with this worm stuff??

That's gotta be Ramirez and one of the other hunters

Omg garbage pizza!!!

Is this Sheila? I hate that I don't know the name.

Omg what Ramirez's daughter??? Wtf???? Now I'm even sadder Ramirez is dead.

These people are so serious. Which kind of make sense since they're facing the end of the world and all that. But I've been listening to Ashville and those guys are a bunch of silly billies.

So wait if these werewolves kill the hell house shit that would be really helpful.

Eeeeewswww Lex stop!!! Why is hell house so grossssssss????? 🤮🤮🤮

Okay but a vampire with silver claws that hurt himself, that's badass.

They've hardly even started and it's already going bad and So So gross!!

Wait what she will die???? Thank fuck for 3 successes!!

Nico is such a cute nickname.

No matter the system, hearing they can roll 18 dice damage is always such a rush.

Strength 16?? Wtf? 25 dice? That's insane, it might be illegal.

Tim going all put describing how badass his attack is and what happens and then ending with "I assume" is very endearing.

Don't describe Jacob as a bulge in an intestine so casually!

Even though I am enjoying this oneshot greatly I don't know if I can relisten to it. There's just so much gross description. Though it probably doesn't help that I'm now listening to this early in the morning before having eaten breakfast.

Ohhh interesting, I know we already knew about the eldest, but it's still interesting to get confirmation from the source.

Home wrecker lmao.

[nocluejustexisting]

The Poor Way

Pairing : Ransom Drysdale x Street Racer!Reader

Warning: none for now

A/N : I'm just a reader, not a writer so this is my first time attempting to write like my favorite authors on Tumblr!! 😭🙈 I'm not sure if I'll continue this potential mini-series I'm just doing this out of curiosity if I can create a cool storyline and just for fun 💕 Writing in dialogue and giving details on every little thing is so hard I'm praising everyone that does it for a hobby!! You guys are one talented specimen!!

Ransom craves adrenaline; he thrives off of it. However, as time passes, drinking, drugs, partying, and sex… (maybe not sex) are all just unfulfilling. His impulsive mind wants to do something illegal, but when is he not? He's a trust fund he can get away with anything with a simple call from Harlan. Ransom was very frustrated when he realized he had basically done everything thrilling… except not everything. As he's walking back to his Beamer from his spa treatment he witnesses three police cars chasing a Toyota 86. That car looked familiar to him but he couldn't figure it out until someone screamed “its bolt!!” bingo!!! That's the chick who hijacked his car parts two months ago. That was a bitch to get repaired. Not the money just the begging for his grandfather to buy him a new Beamer. He asked the guy who screamed “bolt” what's her deal was.

“Dude shes the legendary illegal Street racer!” he praised he explained that she's an unstoppable racer no cops could catch her and nobody can beat her at the final race. “You gotta watch her race tonight” he says excitedly

“Wheres the location” ransom asks curiously wondering if he even should bothered. Watching illegal race isn't his cup of tea. It's purely just poor people's way of entertaining themselves. If he wanted the real fun he’ll just sniff some white powder.

“No idea you have to wait 4 mins before they start the race. That way when someone snitches it'll be too late” the stranger says.

As Ransom left the stranger and went back to his Beamer he kept thinking about the speed Bolt was driving. It must have been more than 100 mph. He couldn't help but wonder what the adrenaline must have felt like. The thrill was just seconds of getting caught but escaping leaving them with dust.

As he drove back to his house he decided to get gas first. But as he was on his way to the gas station he saw a small figure hovering over her car. The same car he saw racing.

That's when he got an idea. That little Bolt is going to teach me how to street race.

“Hey!” he screams at her ending up giving her a fright as she bumps her head against the hood. She turns to the person who called out for her and saw a handsom man with a long scarf walking smirking at her. He looks familiar she thought.

“Shit that's the rich dude I hijack his car parts” she thought. As she quickly tried to make a run for it ransom grabbed her shoulder “oh no you don't. I'm here for a purposal” he says

“A purposal?” she ask confused

“You are going to teach me how to street race the poor way.” he says with a smirk

“The poor way?” she ask getting slightly irrated at just being near his presence

“Yeah the poor way! Stealing peoples car parts and ressableming them to your own. Wining the race. And repeat” he says like a little kid asking for a toy

“Theres no poor way you just race” she says pissed off now

[hulijingemperor2]

Xue yang: well well well.

Su she: thank you for volunteering, by the way.

Mo xuanyu: Huaisang wasn't available.

Xichen: *tied to a chair* Team dimple, you literally kidnapped me.

Su she: kidnapping is an inaccurate word, Lan lips.

Mo xuanyu: we borrowed you.

Xue yang: without your consent.

Xichen: that's kidnapping.

Su she: *rolls eyes*

Xichen: now what do you want to do with me?

Xue yang: just going to test out some talismans on you.

It's 50% harmless.

Mo xuanyu: and look at the bright side,

If something happens, then we'll get Yao gege.

Xichen: and what would I get?!

Su she: you'll be attended to by Huangdi's physicians.

Now be grateful.

Xichen: *sigh* let's get this over with then.

Mo xuanyu: good. Now keep quiet for a while, Lan lips.

The smokey smell is coming from the yin iron.

Xichen: got it.

Xue yang: I don't know what would happen though.

Xichen: how don't you know?!! It's your idiotic experiment!

Xue yang: lipsy, relax. There are endless results.

You could turn into a goat, a child. You might become an old man.

Su she: it can make you handsome.

Mo xuanyu: lol, Shanshan.

Xichen: what if A-Yao finds out about this. He might not be pleased.

Su she: how dare you threaten us.

Xue yang: then I'll tell Jiggy that I can fix it.

Mo xuanyu: we'll save the day and Yao gege will fall for us again!

Su she: Are you ready?

Xichen: I don't have a choice, team dimple.

Team d: *releasing their talismans*

There was a spark and layer of smoke. Then a cute little coughing voice was heard.

Team d: *staring at a 5year Xichen, who was grinning and staring back at them*

Xichen: you three are weird.

Mo xuanyu: *screeches*

Su she: what is that thing?!

Xue yang: he's burning my eyes!

Xichen: Sushi gege, have some respect. I'm five years old.

You would be mean to a 5year old??

My name is Huanhuan.

Su she: my name is Su she.

Xichen: *giggles* Su shiiii.

Su she: ugh.

Mo xuanyu: Huanhuan, you're kinda cute though. What do you want?

Xichen: to meet the emperor!

Mo xuanyu: you're not cute anymore.

Xichen: why can't I meet him?

Mo xuanyu: because he's mine.

Xue yang: Huanhuan. Do you want some candy?

Xichen: would shufu scold me? He forbade me from eating candy before lunch.

Xue yang: then we'll get you some food then. *lifts him up* what do you want to eat?

Pork ribs, a lamb? Fried rice? Radishes?

Xichen: VEGGIES!!!!

Xue yang: veggies?

Xichen: mhm. Vegetable soup!

And can you cut them into stars and flowers?

Mo xuanyu: why dude?

Xichen: because it looks pretty.

Su she: well this child gotta eat. I'll call the maids to get him some food. Kid, you play around until your food arrives.

Xichen: ok, Sushi gege!

*runs around, wreaking havoc.*

Mo xuanyu: Shanshan, shanshan. We have to be kinda discreet about it remember. We can't let Yao gege know about this.

Xichen: let Yao gege know about what? Who's Yao gege? Is Yao gege the emperor? *gasps* it's illegal to call Huangdi by his name. Aren't you afraid to be beheaded or something.

Mo xuanyu: *offended*

Xue yang: his close friends would call him Yao huangdi.

But I prefer to call him Jiggylicious.

Xichen: whaaat? Do you have a crush on the emperor?

Xue yang: what do you know about crushes?! Little guy.

Xichen: many things.

Xue gege why aren't you married yet?

Xue yang: I am married. To xingchen and Jiggy.

Xichen: oooooo. Both of them? You seem very busy.

Xue yang: go play somewhere, Xichen.

Xichen: ok then.

Mo gege, why do you look like a ghost?

Mo xuanyu: what do you mean?

Xichen: with all that white makeup, and blush and red eye shadow.

Mo xuanyu: *crying* Xichen! That's my makeup.

Xichen: really?

Shufu told me that makeup are for girls.

Mo xuanyu: so? Why only them?

Xichen: I don't know.

So this is how you seduce the emperor?

Mo xuanyu: Xichen, I'm a beauty guru. And not only me, but Yao gege and Xuan gege too.

Yao gege learnt from observing  taihou, amd Xuan gege and I are self taught.

Xue yang: family of divas

Xichen: oh.

Speaking of family.

Shufu made me babysit my little brother Wangji, after I proved to him that I'm capable! Wangji is only 2 years old and have fed him milk already!

Mo xuanyu: aww

Su she: Hanguang Jun is too expensive. *rolls eyes*

Xue yang: just like songlan. At least Xiao xingchen is rich to afford milk.

Xichen: is thay your second husband?

Xue yang: *glares*

Xichen: *giggling while running off* Xue gege has two husbands! Xue gege has two husbands.

Su she: he's so chaotic.

Xue yang: I'm not able.

Mo xuanyu: I thought that lans were quiet and well behaved.

Xue yang: Lan lips is built different.

Su she: I would say that he's overly energetic and curious like Jingyi.

But Jingyi is now my Huangdi's son, I won't say anything about him.

Maids: *coming in* team dimple, Xichen's soup.

Su she: thanks.

.

Su she: someone got to feed the gremlin..

Mo xunayu: I haven't fed a child before.

Su she: but you fed Song'er, when he was younger. We all did.

Mo xuanyu: yea but Song'er is a perfect little angel. And Xichen is xichen.

Xue yang: I'm not feeding him! And I gave the kid candy already.

Mo xuanyu: *gasps* team d! What if Xichen seduces us with his cuteness. He's always trying to get back at us.

Xue yang: I know right.

Su she: we have created a monster.

Xue yang: lipsy can't seduce me.

Mo xunayu: look at him conspiring against team dimple.

Xichen: *colouring*

Team dimple: *shivering*

Xichen: team dimple gege,

Are you done? At the end of the day one of you gotta feed me, before the soup falls over.

Look, I'm going to look for Huangdi gege. Because you don't know how to take care of a child.

*runs off*

Su she: hey, be careful!

Mo xuanyu: why are you going to look for my Yao gege! He's mine!

Xue yang: let him go. He's giving me gray hair. And I'm too young to have wrinkles..

~

Xichen: *runs, then bumps into this person*

Excuse me, gege. *looks up*

Yao: are you ok?

Xichen: yea, I'm alright. At least it's not shufu and his thunder knees.

Yao: *bends and caresses the child's face* you look very adorable. And you're dressed up just like Xichen.

Xichen: because I am Xichen. Hey how do you know my name?! Did dimple gege tell you?

Yao: what? *laughing* oh my. Child. You're the sweetest thing.

Xichen: are you the emperor?

Yao: mhm. I am.

Xichen: YAY!! my life's pursuits are completed!

*kisses dimple*

Let go gorgeous. We have some catching up to do.

Yao: little Xichen, what's up with you?! And where do you want to go?

Xichen: I just want to take a walk with Huangdi gege! Team dimple wasn't doing a good job in taking care of me.

Huangdi gege, let's go spend some time.

Yao; did you say team dimple? What did they do?

Xichen: they turned me into a 5 year old.

Yao: (*sigh* team dimple.) *lifts him up*

Xichen: yaaayyy!! Huangdi gege is so pretty!! Huangdi gege has smooth skin! Can i touch your dimple?! Can I touch your lashes? Omg!

Yao; of course you can, little Huanhuan.

Xichen: Huangdi gege, Huangdi gege!

Yao: Xiying. Get some snacks for little Huan.  Maybe some grapes and sweet fruits.

Xiying: yes Huangdi.

Yao: do you want pink mochi?

Yao: yea! MOCHI!!!

Xichen: Huangdi gege, dimple gege got me soup, but they were fighting about who would feed me? Am I thar cute?

Yao: *squishes cheeks* you're really cute!!! That's why they're fighting over you.

But don't tell them ok. They'll deny it.

Xichen: ok Huangdi gege.

Yao: *kisses him on his cheeks*

Xichen: you smell so nice! And you have the softest kisses!!

Yao: hmm. Let's go look for team dimple. 

~

Afterwards.

Mo xuanyu: *crying*

Xue yang: what happened to you you?

Mo xuanyu: Lan lips ate my makeup.

Xue yang: so.

Mo xuanyu: Xue yang!!! That's my limited edition, Japanese Vegan, gluten free, organic, non gmo makeup set. Which are made from rare flower dyes and cherry blossoms.  They weren't animal tested either, hence they're 100% good for the environment.

And he ate it!

Xue yang: ask Jiggy to buy more for you.

He imports all your makeup from  Dongying.

Su she: come on, let's don't squander Huangdi's money.

Xue yang: and why did Xichen eat your makeup?

Su she: because he wants to see the world burn.

Xue yang: I agree.

Mo xuanyu: we got to turn him back before he destroys us.

Xichen: dimple gege!!!!

Team dimple: *startled*

Yao: hello team d.

Would you care to tell me how did this happen.

Su she: uh....Huangdi......we....

Xue yang: *hugs* Jiggy Jiggy Jiggy.

Xichen: stop being suspicious.

Xue yang: kid!

Ehem. 

Jiggy, well. We were experimenting.

Mo xuanyu: and lan lips turned into a child.

Xichen: Huangdi gege *points* Team dimple is the culprit.

Yao: *glares at them*

Su she: we're very sorry, Huangdi. Please turn him back.

Yao: ah, it's alright. And soon I'll turn him back.

Xichen: wow! You can do that?!

Yao: I'm the hulijing emperor. Of course I can.

Xichen: you're super cool!

Mo xuanyu: *sniffles* Xichen, we kept your soup here.

If you still want it.

Or do you want another makeup pallete?

Xichen: do you have blueberry flavored lipgloss??

Mo xuanyu: yes. And they're not for you.

I got that from Poland!

Yao: come. Let me feed you some soup.

Team d, you could have fed him.

Su she: we tried, Huangdi. But he ran off.

Yao: ah, that's OK. Children tend to be very hyperactive. They won't stay in one place.

Anyways, all you need to have is a little patience.

Su she: ok Huangdi.

Xichen: be patient with me, team dimple. I'm very tiny.

I like to colour, make a mess, play with rabbits and eat makeup. Makeup tastes like candy.

Mo xuanyu: I'm offended.

Yao: Huanhuan, you shouldn't eat makeup, ok?

*strokes hair* yes they're made from flowers, fruits and herbs. But it may hurt your tummy. Remember, they're fermented.

Xichen: *pouting* ok, Huangdi gege.

Xue yang: do you hear that, kid!

Xichen: I only listen to Huangdi gege!!!!!

Yao: come on, have some soup. *feeds*

Xichen: mmmmm..

Yao: good Huan. Have some more.

Xichen: *burps*

Team dimple: *jealous*

Mo xuanyu: he took him away from us.

Su she: *grumbles* Xichen.

Xue yang: ugh.

Xichen: *smile*

Yao: *wiping Xichen's mouth with his floof*

Xichen: your fur is so soft

Yao: aw, thank you Huan.

I used to wipe Song'er's mouth with it as well.

Su she: Huangdi is so good with children though.

Xue yang: yea.

Well he babysat Song'er and Jinling, throughout their childhood.

Yao: yep.

Mo xuanyu: team d. That isn't a child. That's Lan lips!

Xichen: Done! Huangdi gege, can we go look at butterflies?!

Yao: certainly. Let's go.

Xichen: yay!!!

I'll catch a butterfly for you and Song gege! And auntie Meng too.

Yao: how cute. And I have asked my staff to prepare sweets and fruits for you.

They'll be delivered shortly.

Xichen: you're the best!

~~

Later in the night, A-Yao turned Xichen back to his adult self. Then next morning, he woke up in Huan hall~ surrounded by staff.

Lan gui fei, are you alright?

Have some herbal tea.

Xichen: thank you.

Yea, I feel ok.

More afraid of team dimple, but I'm ok.

Xichen: where's his majesty?

Xiying: Huangdi is here!

Yao: *enters with team dimple*

*rushes to his side* Huan. *caresses face* how are you feeling?

Xichen: I feel great, A-Yao. Since you're here next to me.

Yao: aw, Huanhuan.

Xichen: *affectionately touches A-Yao's cheeks*

A-Yao, I think I had some sort of fever dream. I don't know. I can't remember.

Su she: well don't recall.

Xue yang: lipsy, you drank too much last night.

Mo xuanyu: we didn't do anything, Xichdn.

Xichen: you were in the dream too, team dimple.

I....I think that this actually happened.

Su she: go back to sleep.

Xichen: you three turnt me into a 5year old! First you kidnapped me and used me as a guinea pig.

Mo xuanyu: *gasps* how dare you accuse team dimple.

Ok fine, we did it.

Xue yang: who else would we do it on!

Mo xuanyu: if we turned Yao gege into a child, the hulijings will jail us, and Miss Meng won't let anyone hold him other than herself and Sisi.

Yao: anyways I won't allow you to turn me into a child, because I have an empire to run.

Su she: exactly.

And lan lips doesn't do anything, so.

Xichen: I'm the Regant Lan clan leader, Minshan.

Su she: it isn't an empire, isn't it.

Xichen: agh. *clutches stomach* why is my stomach hurting?

Mo xuanyu: maybe you ate too much makeup.

Xichen: what?!

Xue yang: you ate yuyu's makeup, dude.

Xichen: huh. Surprising.

Su she: not at all.

Mo xuanyu: Xichen why?

Is this revenge?

Xichen: guys I'm clueless about this!

Yao: (*sigh* I think I should erase his memory. So their argument could stop)

Xue yang: can you at least apologize.

Xichen: no way. And I was a child. Children do crazy stuff.

Xue yang: well you'll be trialed as a an adult.

Yao: hahaha.

Please, Huan. Apologize to him, before he holds a grudge.

Xichen: sure. If you say so.

Mo xuanyu, I'm sorry I ate your makeup.

[kalianos]

HOKAY~! SO!

RAndomly at work I am bouncing around the idea because my players are fucking that simpsons meme where the kids are being used for a marketing study to figure out what they want but give the most batshit I don't know what I want answer.

How you didn't ask? :V WELLLLL, After bouncing around planets, doing trading, doing mail runs, etc. They bring up how they would like to to get involved in something on this last planet stop they are at before they setup their definitely not illegal farm ( I have no idea how to handle that yet come to think of it) on an unclaimed world right outside the imperiums borders just a couple jumps away from an Icelandic confederation of separatists that definitely aren't space vikings. Those are the Vargr who are wolf people.

V: AAAAAAAANYWAY!

So I roll a couple random adventures. They brought up how they wanted to do combat.

Two of the adventures definitely would involved combat. Escort someone out of the city who is being hunted by the local cops. Totaaaaallly legit.

Destroy mission, what did I roll on the table? Basically hunt down the new police car and destroy it for another rival company to get ahead selling vehicles to them.

DEFINITELY would involve combat. Sandwiched between these however? Welll there was a murder at the high port and they are being offered to investigate it.

....They grab the motherfucking Murder Mystery.

SO! Okay, roll some characters. Get a Statesman being murdered. Made him a Vargr. Got a conspirator, a doomsday cultist Freed trader, an ambassador, and a crusading Journalist.

Rolled quirks. Crusading Journalist hates the players, Free Trader is the one hiring the players, the Ambassador is secretly taking Anagathics, and the Doomsday Cultist...is stunningly handsome and actually helpful to the players. Oh and the Conspirator has a secret so I figured yeah you are going to be an Agent of the Emperor himself or something.

Starting toying around with how this elderly statesmen is dead.

flipping through the Traveller companion book and saw Nuerodart toxin, yess yesss. Can be ingested but is less likely to do much harm, or being injected where it just goes right for you.

...but what if. The Nuerodart toxin in this guys tea is a ruse?

Cogwheels start turning in the old clockwork noodle.

Recently came across and printed out someone who made a new classification of ship for the Vargr. With a mini-blurb adventure going over that a pirate had one made and it holds vast wealth.

What if the Statesmen and the Conspirator and the Free Trader are in on a plot to get into the Players ship. The High'n'Dry is over 120 years old, and has personally made journey's across the blackness of the rift between arms of the galaxy twice! Also rolling a quirk a while back said that the vessel has secret data, maps, coordinates, that can be randomly accessed but well my players haven't figured out they can do that. for some reason.

So, given the ship recently made the news in a high profile rescue of another planets citizens. Why not stage a murder to entice the players ego's so the Agent can get on their ship and try copy the data over and then run off.

But what about the dead statesman? Well going over the robotics handbook brought up cloning vats, using Creches and being able to download you thoughts memories and ideas into a new body.

....which was kinda what I was going for in a ghost in the shell peoples leader kind of way.

The players will have a few chances to find out whats really going on in solving a murder that's not really a murder after all.

....Also somehow gotta have combat in here so maybe a few armed goons should be a part of the agents entourage as a good distraction.

*nods to self* yesssss yessss excellent. Guess I should finish writing down their names.

[gutterbrat]

She knew Alo to be relatively ruthless.  The entire brood was like that  —but Alo hasn’t even been a part of the brood for longer than a year,  right?  He’s just always been like that.  When he’s not doing what someone else tells him to do,  he does what he wants.  And he’ll do whatever it takes to see either through.  He’d spill blood without hesitation if the ends were meant to justify it.  Hell,  even if the ends weren’t meant to justify  —loyal dogs have no moral code,  true efficacy.  In the end,  they are reliant off of instinct. 

Cee presses the hollow of her cheek against Kerry’s temple,  full mouth drawn into a grim,  unhappy line. 

She doesn’t like how quiet Kerry sounds.  This conversation is taking pieces out of him,  a careful excavation of his internal organs and the contamination of Alo Hughes.  Cee’s grip at the back of Kerry’s neck tightens momentarily in response to his words.  She can feel the energy bouncing off of him like static electricity.  She tries to calm it with a gentle knead of her hand,  re-lighting the dead joint with a surprising dexterity.

       He meant to do that didn’t he…

       I’m smarter than this.  What t’ fuck is wrong with me?

       “Hey  —”  Cee’s voice interjects after a hard drag from the joint,  and she’s craning her neck  —forcing her gaze to meet Kerry’s.  She gives her head a hard shake.  Wills her arm to slip around his shoulders and squeeze.    “You’re sad.  S’nothin’ so wrong with you,  Lange.  Not in the way you’re thinking.  Y’know?”  Dark eyebrows furrow,  imploring,  as she offers Kerry the half-burnt joint. 

       “If anythin’,  he’s gotta give you some room to breathe.  Like,  Jesus Christ,  Kerry.  He’s a bloody B&E offender!  And who knows what else —”

       “—Hey you two!”

The hard boom of a stranger’s assured voice rings out from several meters away.  Cee’s head jerks up briefly,  pale blue eyes seeking out the source of the sound before going stark and white.  Confusion is quick to wrinkle her features. 

       “Shit.  What the fuck do they want?”  She whispers under her breath,  against her pounding heartbeat,  gaze fixed on the two uniformed men currently striding up the stone to confront them.  Her sweating palm presses into the back of Kerry’s neck one more time before dropping down to his shoulder. 

Before Kerry can answer,  the uniformed pigs are standing just shy of a meter,  Cee’s trying to remove the disdain from her face  —regarding both officers with a grimace of a smile.  One officer is squat,  short and red-faced in the sun.  The other is taller,  Black and young.  Handsome.  Cee waves her broad hand,  the one holding the joint.  She might try being friendly,  until she sees the looks on their faces. 

       “Afternoon gentlemen.  We got some complaints from some local businesses nearby,”  the shorter one has a low,  brassy voice and a gut that shivers when he breathes.  Cee has a hard time not looking at it.  “—Are you two in possession of marijuana?”

This gets her attention.  She blinks,  looking up.  Her head cocks.  She looks to the joint in her hand and suddenly wishes she hadn’t re-lit it. 

She also wishes she hadn’t forgotten how illegal pot is. 

       “Em.”  Her pale eyes flicker.  She doesn’t dare look at Kerry.   “…No. It's —something else. Not that.”

Kerry doesn’t answer her right away. Just breathes. Real slow, like his lungs are catching up to something he isn’t ready to say out loud. The river’s moving lazy beside them—brown-gray and rippling with reflections that don’t belong to anything real. Somewhere down near the dock, a gull lets out a sound like a child being throttled. Somewhere behind them, a car backfires. The world’s all colorless noise.

And Cee’s arm is warm around him. Solid. Real.

His eyes sting a bit. He blinks hard, like the wind’s kicked up—except it hasn’t. It’s muggy and still, like the sky’s holding its breath. His throat is tight.

The steamboat in the distance wheezes, lets out a long, ghost-colored breath. It’s all brass trim and peeling paint, bobbing against the dock. Kerry finds himself staring at it too long. Maybe it all reminds him of home.

Not England home, not really. That place is gone. Something younger, more shapeless. Back in the city, when Alo used to sneak into bed at three in the morning with shaking hands and tear tracks still shining under his eyes. When he’d whisper apologies into Kerry’s mouth without saying the word sorry. When Kerry believed it all.

He swallows hard.

Cee speaks and Kerry let's out a cold laugh.

“Yeah,” he finally mutters, voice rough with something brittle. “I'm all fucked up 'bout that too. The key thing... it was a fine excuse. I let him keep the bloody thing too... cause I knew it would continue to be a fuckin' excuse."

It’s not dramatic. It’s just true.

Cee’s fingers graze the back of his neck, all warmth and grounding, and it nearly undoes him. He leans into her without thinking—just a tilt, just enough to feel her cheek against the edge of his temple. He doesn’t deserve her tenderness. He doesn't know why he feels like that these days. Undeserving. Weird and manic and lonely.

He thinks about Alo and the man's manipulations and feels sick about it. Because that was what it was. Alo took the opportunity. He took a shot while Kerry was home, alone. Madonna wasn't there. Alo must have waited until she was gone with Desmond somewhere. He didn't think this clearly at the time. All he thought about was feeling good, feeling close. It crossed his mind that he wanted Alo. He wanted to get back with him. And everything else disappeared. The pain or the shape of pain, wedged somewhere else, further and further away.

Did Alo really want him? Or did Alo just want to show some sort of control over the situation? That was a fine line that was perhaps crossed and only now was Kerry recognizing it with a coppery tang at the back of his throat and a sheen of sweat at his brow. Nerves properly jangled.

“He meant to do that didn't he...,” Kerry says suddenly, quiet. The words feel like teeth pulling out of his mouth. His hand flexes at his side. Then unclenches. He forces a sharp breath through his nose. Tries not to let it shake.

“I'm smarter than this. What t' fuck is wrong with me?”

[banavalope]

hiveswap thinks it can just sell itself to me after 2 years and only give me ONE fresh tagora sprite? absolutely not, thats not how that transaction works, move over let me do it