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slowd1ving · 2 months

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KILLER ・゜゜MOZE NSFW

"All you are to me is a bleak obsession I am the mark intent on burning the street How many times can I ask you? How many days can I go without you?" Hǎoshì chéng shuāng. 好事成双. Good things come in pairs, even if the pair in question is a homicidal crow and a brokenhearted cryptologist. art by @ ma_mori74 on x!!! moze can we honestly e date? you’re so beautiful. You always make me laugh, you always make me smile. You literally make me want to become a better person I really enjoy every moment we spend together. My time has no value unless its spent with you. I tell everyone of my irls how awesome you are. Thank you for being you. (joke) (not really) this was kinda rushed so :3 errr consider this like part 3 of tales of a disgruntled corvid pairing: moze + male reader warnings: nsfw, male reader, mentions of blood/death/violence, alcohol consumption, jealousy wc: 4.5k

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Hǎoshì chéng shuāng. 好事成双. Good things come in pairs.

Fortune. It is a humorous concept for Moze: tasting of a fleeting childhood dream and the dregs of hope. Fortune, as some know it, comes in all forms. From gilt wealth and corruption, to finding a strale dropped on the street and getting to bed on time—everyone, it seems, tastes good fortune somewhere along their paltry lives.

Moze’s good luck surmounts to meagre things: not getting blood beneath his nails after a mission; evading the prying eyes of the Yaoqing as he slinks into the shadows; working by himself; and most of all, not running into you. Good luck equals a tidy house and leftovers in his fridge. Good luck equals not needing to stock up on the tools of his trade and knives that don’t need sharpening. Good luck equals a fresh steamed bun and a slow day perched on the roof of a building.

The point must be made. Moze does not experience auspicious encounters often.

Conversely, those afflicted by confirmation bias might say misfortune comes in threes. Misfortune, for Moze, is significantly easier to quantify—but to stratify it into threes grossly underestimates the cesspit of chance he’s been allotted.

One: being outside currently at Jiaoqiu’s food stall while rain drizzles down on him. It could be argued it’s only by his own volition that he’s slurping on steaming chilli-infused noodles as petrichor stains the air, yet that stupid fox decided this was the way to go in terms of conveying intelligence from Feixiao. This was the hell crafted by Jiaoqiu’s hands seeped green with pungent herbs.

Two: getting his apartment lease renewal rejected a week ago over a development project at his block. Though he had been planning on starting afresh—never one to stay in the same area for too long, just like the rest of the Shadow Guards—he quite liked the nondescript studio. It’s a tidy place: plain and unassuming. What a pity. He’s read the message from his landlord over and over: growing a tad bit more incensed each time.

Three: the sudden absence of suitable apartments in the districts that he sticks to. None of the flats he browsed were innocuous enough, and the ones that were perfect for his schedule and profession were in dismal condition.

Four: you purchasing a flat a month ago which perfectly fulfilled his conditions. Two-bedroom, in the lower districts of the Yaoqing, with reclusive neighbours and a walking distance of the Seat of Divine Foresight. Had he gotten the notice for his lease rejection earlier, it might’ve been him there.

Five: upon asking about his dilemma, Feixiao’s eyes gleaming bright. This was the indicator for certain disaster—an omen as ill as he ever saw. And unfortunately, her gaze next fell on the scripts you were working on, before flickering back up to you. Shit. That was the only thought running through his mind, before she pitched her idea to have him simply move in with you. Say no, he pleaded mentally, but alas—

“Sure,” you mutter, red ink spilling from your pen onto the parchment. Bold characters sign the form off and the letter is folded neatly onto a cycrane absent-mindedly; before you finally look up at the assassin who flinches as your eyes land on his. “S’long as he pays rent.”

Six: you agreeing to this stupid deal. Why? Why? It can’t possibly be the deep veneration for the Arbiter General. Surely your adoration of her cannot be deep enough to let this guy room in your house—an assassin, at that. You aren’t a follower of Qlipoth, but where the hell is your sense of preservation?

Seven: him not actually finding any fault in the building. Not in the surroundings, nor the modest room across from yours, nor the lazy grin on your face as you showed him around the apartment—still expecting him to vehemently shake his head.

He signed the damned contract, and that was that.

“What’s got you sighing?” Jiaoqiu eyes him from where he’s pulling noodles: sleeves rolled back to avoid dusting the salmon hues with flour. Fragrant red wafts from the pot on the stove, and he’s suddenly reminded of the crimson shirt you wore just this morning—rippling around the taut lines of sinew and muscle as you worked diligently on decrypting ancient alchemical texts. “I thought you found yourself a place to stay, so why the long face?”

Moze keeps his silence. Well, tries to—but it’s not like a singular word will make him any less laconic. Tapping his chopsticks against the rim of the blue-toned porcelain, he evades the question and focuses right on the middle of Jiaoqiu’s sentence. “Somehow.”

“Right! Your dearest partner—” Jiaoqiu drags the word out, characters stretched tight until they wind right against Moze’s eardrums. He glares: visibly annoyed, yet this only makes the man in his peripherals close his own eyes in satisfaction. “—took pity on you, didn’t he?”

“Maybe.” The assassin slams down the rest of the piquant broth: lips dripping with sanguine. His response is a question in itself—because why the hell did you agree to Feixiao’s request?

“Curious?” Of course he’s curious.

“It’s not much of a surprise, really,” the foxian sighs, twisting the strands into a neat circle and letting it drop into the boiling water. “Poor thing’s probably still in shock from his breakup. I think he would’ve agreed to pretty much anything coming out of Feixiao’s mouth at that point.”

The man can only stare incredulously. Every part of that sentence is laden with a bombshell.

“Wow, I thought you would’ve known. Guess what’s said at Qiu’er’s stays there too.” Jiaoqiu’s golden eyes gleam slightly at the mention of the downtown bar. No, Moze didn’t know. No, Moze isn’t currently outright staring at the man no longer in his peripherals. No, Moze cannot hear his chopsticks creaking beneath his grasp. “Woah, don’t break those.”

The fox eyes the crow warily. “Seriously. Cool it.”

Eight: you’re still not over your boyfriend cheating on you. In the drizzle beneath the canopy, this is how your new roommate diligently listens to how his work partner and resident cryptologist really can’t catch a break from bad men.

“That includes you, you know,” Jiaoqiu squints at an unusually contemplative Moze. Flickering amber lights and the buzz of cicadas makes the assassin seem even more shady than usual. “You don’t have a chance, so don’t even try.”

“The hell are you talking about?” For someone like Moze, his piece of good fortune is that his voice remains steady in almost any sort of situation. This means that anyone hearing this man speak right now would naturally presume he’s affronted at Jiaoqiu’s response out of its complete implausibility. But on the flip side, those who’ve known Moze longer have learnt to watch for other irritated tells of his rather than a wavering voice. The subconscious flex of long fingers. Minute shifts in the elbows propped up on the bar. Biting the inside of his lip, just enough that it’s unnoticeable. But these aren’t things the assassin really takes stock of.

For a brief moment, Jiaoqiu’s friendly smile drops and he peers at the man askance. Is he brain dead? “...Okay.”

And that is how the tall man—hunched over in the downpour to not let his noodles get too cold—first learns of matters of a more personal note of yours. In the rare grey skies that cast over the Yaoqing, it’s a chance to digest this information he’s learnt.

But he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t.

・゜゜

A painful month passes for Moze.

There’s nothing else to describe it—psychological torment is the only fitting description of your behaviour. Outwardly, nothing changes. He still hates you, and you still hate him—two arguing peas in a pod with a mutual dislike being the only thing in common between the two of you. Outwardly, behaviour-wise, nothing changes. Outwardly, appearance-wise, something does.

He first notices it about three weeks after that waterlogged conversation with Jiaoqiu. There’s a faint aroma of sweet-smelling smoke on you—a long cigarette holder between your fingers as you read a thick book on the couch. He’s never seen the thing before in all your months together. Sure, the Yaoqing tobacco scent fades quickly away to not linger in the case of a borisin’s especially sharp senses—but he’s never seen that sort of heavy-lidded expression on you before. When you glance at him, it’s usually irritatedly—not like this, where your glance is hazy and your lips are parted to blow plumes from your mouth.

Shit. He doesn’t quite know why his heart speeds up.

The second thing he notices is that every week or so, there’s a clinging perfume to your body: never your usual clean scent, one that clearly belongs to a different person. This is the same time he starts noticing you slipping on shirts with longer necks on missions—a darker imprint just about peeking above the material.

He’s not an idiot. He can put two and two together.

The third instance of misfortune is your habit of wandering around after a shower with nothing but a towel wrapped around your waist conservatively. Sure, the area from your hips to your knees is covered—but what about the rest? He finds himself growing more irritable during work hours. Marks not caused by injuries still bruise your skin; as you turn your back in the kitchen to make yourself a mug of tea, his eyes rove the dips and valleys of your back. Categorising each wound. Systematically detailing each little infringement on your skin.

He doesn’t particularly know why. Maybe his obsession with tidiness crosses over to people too.

・゜゜

It happens like this. Occasionally, a man as ill-fortuned as Moze receives gets a break.

There’s a tumbler of whiskey on the low coffee table in the living room. Polished chestnut—if you had to describe it—with the light shining through the amber liquid just so, until it reflects onto the varnished surface. A cube of ice sits dainty in the middle, clinking as you tip the glass this way and that.

“Don’t spill it,” the assassin murmurs. From behind the couch, breath ghosting just past your ear. You don’t shriek (perhaps he hoped you would)—you don’t even glance his way.

“I feel like that was a redundant warning,” you remark brusquely, taking a swill of the liquor. It’s sweeter than it would’ve been normally: courtesy of the saccharine pipe nestled betwixt your fingers and the smoke still lingering in your mouth. “Were you hoping I’d jump?”

“Yes.” Short. To the point. Laconic. That’s how those outside this home would describe the man currently leaning down, hands splayed on the backrest of the couch. “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, and you still haven’t done the dishes.”

“It’s your turn,” he adds, because he likes seeing how this man’s expression wrinkles in exasperation, likes that stupid cant of your head—for it means Moze has won this little encounter. It’s all because he strongly dislikes his roommate, no other reason.

“You suck.” Syrupy plumes ghost his face as you exhale into his face above—he doesn’t move back, even as the traces of burnt caramel become far more prominent, even as it feels like you’re blowing him a kiss more than anything.

“And you need to clean and go to sleep before you’re late,” he grits out, more annoyed than he was a moment ago. He’d say it was due to your lack of responsibility, but this angle allows the loose robe to expose your bitten collarbone—like some stupid fucking trophy. “Like you always are.”

“I’m never late, A-ze,” you enunciate each word in such a way that makes it clear you’re not drunk—so clearly the nickname is just to piss him off. A last-ditch middle finger; a threat that hasn’t worked for some time, one that makes his stomach churn uncomfortably but not enough to admit defeat. “You’re just up stupid early.”

He goes silent, in the way he does when you’re right. Instead of saying anything, he instead plucks the glass from your hand: downing the smooth alcohol from where you drank it, enjoying how for once your mouth closes just like his. The pipe in your hand tilts this way and that as you take a drag thoughtfully—recovering far too quickly for his liking.

“A-ze.” Like this, with wisps exiting your mouth and silk draped over you, you look good enough to eat. He freezes at the implication of his thoughts, freezes at the sound of the name blanketed in some gruesome replica of affection. He hates it; hates how his heart squeezes and a faint flush of red dusts his cheekbones. Aeons.

It is common knowledge to not toss a starving dog a bone before it hungers for more.

“What, you don’t hate it anymore? Here I was, hoping you’d turn tail and leave,” you sigh, theatrically despondent—much like you normally are. Too damn dramatic for your own good.

So desperate, drinking your sorrows away as if that’ll possibly work. He scoffs, striding the short distance over so he can tower over from the front.

“Maybe you just like calling me that,” he breathes. There’s a smile playing on his lips: the rare one he gets when he knows he’s got a point, knows when he’s right. It’s unconscious—he’s far too oblivious to notice it only occurs around you.

“I do,” you murmur. “Bet it warms your heart though. No one likes you enough to call you that.”

“So you like me?” There’s an odd buzz in his veins tonight. As the orange lights from the street blink into existence, and the room is no longer illuminated by ‘day’, he’s glad for the darkness that conceals the heat in his face. Your clothing rustles as you stand—practically nose to nose with the man in front of you.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Xiaoze,” you mutter, and the heated breath from your lips fans over his sensitive skin—mingling with the tobacco wisps and alcohol vapour. He swallows. “It’s pity.”

“Pity?” he sneers. “Like how you sleep around to get over your boyfriend? That’s not pitiful?”

“Like I said—” your tone becomes frigid as you shift closer: until his chest brushes up against yours, until he can count every lash that glows amber in the incandescent street lamps, until he can practically taste the rolling fury off your tongue. Warm. Scalding heat ebbs from your body and flows right into his own. “—don’t get ahead of yourself, Xiaoze.”

His breath comes in ragged waves. So close. When he stands so near to a human, it typically means he’s feeling life flow from them. Not like this; but he cannot bring himself to get away.

He’s never been more thankful for his unwavering voice.

“Don’t give bones to starving dogs,” he murmurs, mellifluous rather than jarringly annoying. “They’ll bite.”

Smoke wafts into his face as you survey his expression: flushed, brows knitted taut, lips still slick with liquor.

“So you’re a dog, now?” Your fingers graze his chin, canting his head this way and that as he makes no moves to evade your grasp: heart beating miserably in his chest. There’s a strange sort of hunger in your gaze.

He’s never seen it before.

“No, it was proverbial—” Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “—you know?”

“Just as desperate as one,” you mutter. Trailing your finger down until they graze his collarbones, it’s no wonder he flinches—and you stare at him, unimpressed. “If I tell people about this, your reputation would immediately disintegrate. How many years have you cultivated that stupid mysterious image?”

“Hah—who would believe you?” It’s true, not many people would—but alas, the important ones have already witnessed this man looking at you.

“Jiaoqiu, but I guess he already knows what a loser you are.” And you miss how when he lowers his head, he looks like a completely different person—flushed visage mired in shadow, like the assassin he truly is. He’s staring right at you, unblinking as he watches the cruel movement of your lips.

“Don’t talk about him right now.”

And so, you don’t.

・゜゜

This is the prelude leading up to this particularly humiliating scene.

Humiliating, because propping himself up on his elbows on your bed isn’t a position he thought he’d ever find himself in. Humiliating, because he never gets drunk, so why the hell is his head spinning? Humiliating, because for once the mellow deep of his voice is pitched a note higher—larynx taut with suppressed groans. Unsteady, in a way his voice has never been.

You taste like the pipe still tipping in your fingers: candy-sweet and saccharic. But there’s also the heavy aroma of liquor on your breath, mingling bittersweet with the plumes of smoke wafting from your fingers. Beneath that, blood from a scrape on your lip—acrid and metallic. That is what he knows, so your lips moving gently against his feels so utterly foreign: and not just in the way they taste.

When you pull back for air, his eyes are blown wide in surprise; his mouth has only ever been used to bite, after all. You seem to instinctively know this as you take a long drag from the stick, blowing the curls of vapour into his mouth when you pull back in: to induce a slight tingle into him presumably (but Lan knows he doesn’t need aid to feel that buzz).

Languorous. That’s how he’d describe it—for it seems you only ever work lazily. There’s no hurry as you lick past the seam of his lips. There’s no hurry as both your scalding mouth and your arid fingertips trail downwards, past the vales of his tense abdomen. There’s no hurry—but Aeons he wishes there was, for your hand slipping under his shirt and against his stiffened nipples are much too damn slow.

“Do you—do you even know what you’re doing?” he mocks, like he isn’t currently jolting as you roll the pink flesh between searing fingers. You raise a brow: lucid against the otherwise irritated thoughts.

“Do I?” you copy his broken whine, gripping the fat of his tits coarsely while the rise and fall of his chest becomes ever so slightly more shallow. If only he could see himself right now: jarred at every turn, pupils blown out, and the residual sheen on his lips. Every damn hue of purple littering his neck and collarbone. And if only you could see better in this darkness—spot that obsessive fervour in his gaze, one neither of you are quite aware of.

“Do you have any experiences to compare it to?” you counter, twisting your hand while he glares at you heatedly. Nothing. Quiet as a corpse when you make an irrefutable point.

No, that’s right, you grin sardonically as you slip the long cigarette back into its place on your nightstand. Syrup drips from your mouth as you twine your free hand in his hair, tugging until he groans into your lips with his own in that mellifluous cadence.

You’re harsh as winter.

No, cruel.

Cruel, as you trail your hand from his chest to his waistband—palming him roughly through his pants. Cruel, as you pinion his hips against your bed to prevent them from bucking into your hand—fingers digging desperately against your sheets as you grind against him. Cruel, as you swallow each whine with your warm mouth: so sweet, so gentle even as you wrench your hand into sinew, flesh and everything beyond. He can taste the arid heartbeat through your mouth, and he’s sure you can feel his own—pulsing hotly as he yields his worries to you, just for a moment.

Or two.

He’s inexperienced, but even he knows what the tension in his abdomen signifies. The distinct tremors in his legs, the pain as he digs his nails into your thigh, the tightness coiling his body into rigidity. Puppet-like beneath your machinations: manipulated this way and that way with strings unseen.

Fucking his hand has never felt like this.

As he writhes, he greedily swallows you whole. Taking everything, including your bloodied lips, including the faint caramel tracing your tongue, including the strangled gasp as he grasps your nape with burning urgency. Aeons. He’s breathless; judged human lust far too soon. Against your brutal palm, the fabric of his trousers is slick with his release—wet patch a testament to his sin.

Yet still you rock against him as he rides out the mind-numbing pleasure: limbs infinitely heavier from the tension suddenly all releasing.

But he forgets how cruel you are.

One final sweet kiss later—nails raking past his scalp and the other hand warmly pressed against his cheek—and you pull away with a lazy smile.

“Go to sleep.” The directive jolts him awake, like a bucket of ice-cold water breaking apart a dream. Dissolved like candy, like the damn fluid in Penacony connecting the conscious and unconscious. “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, remember?”

Like the cat that got the cream, you smile Cheshire-bright. A fucking riddle on your lips. “And I still have to do the dishes, remember?”

He’s left stupefied: numb lips, a reeling head, and an impercipient body. Once more, the shower he douses himself in is frigid—but nothing could be as cold as what just occurred.

What the hell?

He presses his palm to the lower half of his face in shock.

What the hell?

Seriously, there’s something wrong with you. And as he glances down, he realises with utmost horror that his problem has not yet died down yet.

What the hell?

Important things must be said thrice. Duplicitous in nature, Moze’s fate both turns for the worse and better simultaneously.

The bone has been tossed. What will the starving dog do?

・゜゜

All actions have consequences.

That is a proverb universally recognised by all walks of life: trodden on by kings, revered by alchemists, and vowed by the weak. You reap what you sow. What goes around comes around. Equivalent exchange.

The natural outcome from that night is mutual silence. You don’t speak of that evening, and neither does he—face flush with implication, yet unwilling to actually divulge his thoughts on the matter. Sure, he finds himself with his hand attempting to recreate your rough friction (teeth clenched around his shirt as he paws at his lean chest)—but it never quite works, and all of his colleagues are privy to his especially curt mood.

Joint missions with you are now a thing painful. Tense.

The strings that bind him to you are taut with the feeling. Constricting, tightening, until he can sense their imminent breakage.

This leads this unusual pair to this scenario. You, fresh out a shower and post the nth mission of this month. It’s only been three weeks since that night, and watching you meander about the kitchen with only a towel slung low on your hips is giving him heart palpitations. Steam curls from your body; each time you shift, he’s excruciatingly aware of how it appears just like that smoke from that night.

“A-ze. What do you want?”

That’s the golden question—what snaps him out of the trance—and makes him realise he’s practically pressed up against you from the back. No, scratch practically. His arms are on either side of the counter, pinning you in position as you continue stirring the fragrant drink. Feeling that damned sear of your skin is driving him into the throes of madness.

He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and not heeding the rivulets that seep into his clothes. So warm, he wants to murmur—but talking is for those who want to speak, and he does not want to. Not in this moment, where he’s appreciating the soap you used, the lotion spread onto damp skin, the inherent smell of you.

His teeth graze the vulnerable juncture. You turn, and he can see your eyes waver, feel the rapid thrum of your pulse as you become aware of just how desperate he is. “A-ze.” And your hands roam his waist, tracing the taut muscles betraying his anticipation.

His lips are heated as he leans into you: a snarling mess. Trembling fingers trace the expanse of your soft body, like you’ll ghost away just like the wisps you smoke.

“Need you.” It’s not a plea—the rough deep of his voice makes him sound demanding, as arrogant as ever. “Haven’t I behaved?”

He’s so damn desperate as he grasps your body: bruising and fatal. He’s desperate as he kisses you heatedly, desperate while your hands brush past the feverish skin of his stomach, desperate as you push him against the couch—too hasty for the bedroom. Now, he chokes out. Now, now, now. Please.

Pliant beneath your hands, it’s not exactly the longest time until he’s gasping beneath you. So tight, you may have commented: drunk on the sensation of him fluttering around your probing fingers. Aeons.

He’s so malleable: arching into you as soon as you line yourself up. It almost makes you feel bad for him: feeling him flinch whenever you brushed past him, watching his face bloom scarlet as he saw the marks on his neck in the hallway mirror. Almost.

It’s because he’s so cute like this: drooling amidst all the broken noises as you slam into him. You’ve never quite seen him this dishevelled, not even during that night. Hungrily, he’s sucking you right in—paying no heed to suppressing the almost-pained moans dribbling past his open lips.

What a mess.

Physically, it can only be described as such. White globs decorate his flushed skin messily: pearlescent in the dim lights of the living room. He can’t even begin to count how many times his weeping tip has stiffened, not when you’re so damn insistent that he forgets how to speak properly. It’s not like you’re any better; each time you look down there’s that frothy ring that strings you two together.

Emotionally, it’s also quite the mayhem. You don’t particularly know where to look when his eyes have that gleam in them—a sort of fervour that one rarely ever sees. Even now—pupils hazed with lust and eyelids lowered heavily—he’s staring right up at you, content as can be whilst you drill mercilessly into him.

Fuck.

“Come on, you—ah—can do better than that,” he taunts. As though he doesn’t look completely fucked-out, as though there aren’t tears leaking from his foggy eyes. You’re not sure where he gets his audaciousness from.

He’s beautiful.

“This is why no one likes you,” you hiss, sharply tugging his hair back to hear his surprised whines. Supplicantly, he does exactly what you expect. Loser. Aeons, he sucks.

“Yeah?” he grins. “What does that say about you?”

“That I’m a no one from the Intelligenstia Guild,” you answer against his neck, feeling his throat constrict as he swallows. Though it’s only minutely, his nails dig somewhat deeper into the flesh of your back—marking you up just as much as you’ve marked him. An acknowledgement of your words.

Well.

You suppose you’ve always been drawn to the pathetic ones.

・゜゜

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lazyneonrabbitt · 7 months

Text

Beef

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Requested : "Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?" EDIT: I saw this same request being written by another writer and I want to say, don't send multiple writers the same exact request. I find this super disrespectful.

This one took some turns of its own while writing, I hope it's to your liking!!

When his group first came to the community you were excited. Finally you'd have a real huntsman around to share experiences with, you had missed it so bad.

Before the fall your family owned a shop, your father a butcher and your mother a taxidermist. You and your siblings learned every skill from hunting to skinning, prepping and using each part of the animal so none would go to waste. You hadn't hunted in so long, you weren't sure if you still could hunt succesfully. Even now you'd donate large, strong antlers and bones to the blacksmith in Hilltop to use in weaponmaking. You donated the furs you didn't fashion into items yourself to the seamstresses and prepped each type of meat for meals.

But somehow the new hunter didn't take the shared interests as something positive.

He brought you animals, yes. But never without throwing a judgy look around your workplace. Even when he came in with someone else who'd compliment your clean work he'd only scoff, dump his kills and head back out.

"Sheesh, what crawled up his ass?" The large moustached man laughed. You only shrugged as you lugged the deer behind your counter. "Hell if I know. Ain't digging it out tho. He seems to be doing okay with everyone except for me.." You returned the laugh while the man who's name slipped your mind helped you put the deer on your workbench, only to quickly drop the fake smile and leaning against your workbench.

You thanked him with a sigh and he gave you that look that told you to spill your thoughts.

"Fine. It sucks he's so weird. It'd be awesome to have a partner to do all of this with and to go hunt with." You busied yourself sharpening yuour knives, clearly still annoyed by the whole ordeal. "And..?" The long winded drawl made you roll your eyes at the man's persistance.

"And he's drop dead gorgeous, okay? There. I said it. I have a crush on the man. Happy no-- Ah fuck!" Your knife hit the floor with a clatter as you grabbed at your bleeding hand.

"Alright, up and out withya. To the doc we go." You were led to the infirmary and passed the source of your annoyance on the way.

Not that you were listening, but you still caught his voice in passing. "Damn folk 'ere don't know how ta do shit." You caught his glance in your direction and if you weren't busy keeping yourself from bleeding out you'd confront him.

It was a clear message that you weren't allowed to use the injured hand for your work and risk pulling the stitches, and honestly it just hurt too much to do anything with it. It sucked even more than having to leave your old home behind. There were people counting on your work so they'd have food.

It didn't stop you from going to work and doing as much as you could one-handed. You got there extra early to make up for the extra rime everything would take now, and by the time you'd normally open you found Deanna on your steps, greeting you with her usual smile. "I knew you'd be here stil working, but I brought someone to help until your hand is better. You shouldn't be overworking yourself."

As quick as she had entered she had left again as well, leaving you with your new work companion.

The hunter.

"Good morning." You gave him the kindest smile you could, but were only given a grunt in return as he tossed a bundle of tied up small game on your desk, rounded the corner and fished for a knife to start taking them apart.

Besides you explaining where to put all the different parts of the animal you two barely spoke, until the snap of bone pulled you away from your focused work of skinning yesterday's deer. "The hell?" You turned around to go see what he was up to.

"What are you breaking bones for?" His station was a mess, he pointed at the difficult point he was cuting along. "Easier ta reach without the bone in the way." Without even looking he continued. "Ya should know tha'. Damn city girl doin' mah work."

Again with his snarky comments. You shrugged it off and went back to your own station. Yiur bkood bloiled but you weren't gonna let him get to you, you had work to get done. "Try not to do that, we can still use the bones if you keep them whole."

You tried so hard to focus on your work, skinning the deer with only one functional hand was so difficult and even though you were having extremely conflicted feelings about it you still had to ask him for help.

"Can I borrow your hands for a minute? Can't do this on my own."

You held the large deer up and moved it as Daryl cut away the skin in the most choppy manner, creating a clear line where you stopped and he started. "Can you please work a bit mote delicate? That's gonna take me ages to clean up." You huffed from keeping the deer in place, but also annoyance. Why didn't he work like a hunter? He must know the code, right?

"Why're ya so on mah ass 'bout how I work? Gon' toss it out anyways. Just need the meat, tha's it." He got snappy at the end and you just stared at him, anger clear in your eyes. "Seriously?"

You let go of the deer and stepped away from the counter. "You're sent to MY shop. To help me because I happen to fuck up my hand for the first time ever since I got here years ago and all you can do is talk shit about me?" The knife that laid on the desk before now in your good hand and pointed at his chest. "God I can't believe I even fell for your hunting woodsman charms. You're just an asshole who doesn't give a shit about these animals or the hunter's code." With a clatter the knife hit the floor as you tossed it to the side with shaking hands.

"Get the fuck out of my shop and go find me someone who cares." With angry steps you turned around and headed out of the room, needing a break to gather yourself first if you wanted to get anything else done.

Now alone in the workstation, Daryl snatched up his catch from this morning and headed out.

"You did what? Pookie you gotta listen to the girl." Carol sat down next to him and snatched the cigarette from his fingers. "You know you disrespected her life's work by now following her rules in her own shop, right?"

"I'on get why tha's even important anymore. We gotta eat, tha's all." Daryl's annoyed grumbles did nothing good it seemed as Carol continued to scold him like he was a child. "Did you for one second maybe think this work is all she has left to hold onto her old world self?"

"Cept this ain't the old world no more. She's waistin' time doin' all tha extra shit."

Carol was up and at the front door by now, putting out the cigarette in one of many ashtrays there. "Alright, up with you. You're apologizing with me right now."

The two took off to your shop but found no one there. Daryl's half finished rabbit still out in the open on the table while the deer was gone. "Ain't here. I'll head back tomorro--"

"No we're not. I know where she lives, come on." Carol practically pulled him along on the way to your place despite Daryl's protests.

You were working in your basement area when you heard a knock on the front door. "Come in!" Everyone who came to your place knew the door was unlocked and was free to come and find you, seeing you were either cooking, working on lounging when you kept the front door open.

"Hey, it's Carol! Heard about your hand, need some help around the house?" She needed an excuse to get an answer and find out where you were, so when you called back she knew to head downstairs.

Meanwhile Daryl just stared around to keep his mind busy. He found rabbit skins from prey he brought in wrapped around a pair of boots. He recognized the fur seeing it was a rare color. Further into your livingroom there was a deer pelt draped over the back of your couch. Also caught by him. The white spots over the back had one small flaw from where his bolt had struck right on a white dot. He remembered being proud of his aim for a minute that day.

"Daryl, come on." Carol's whisper-yell had him roll his eyes and as he passed your coatrack he noticed the hooks were all antler parts and the knives laying in the basket on the hallway table had bone handles.

So that's why you were so angry when he snapped the rabbit's leg and skinned the deer so carelessly. You did really use everything.

The two walked down the stairs to your workshop, Carol up front with Daryl following.

"Oh wow," Carol's exclaimation had you laugh. "Yeah, I get that a lot." You stood with your back turned, struggling to hang a piece of skin.

"Here, lemme help ya." Daryl's gruff voice was suddenly right behind you and you spooked, letting go of the pelt but Daryl caught it just in time, draping it over the wire. "Like tha?" His hands stayed up there and adjusted it to your liking, having stepped back to watch him and give Carol a questioning look. She just shrugged and gestured at the man who was again staring around the room. "What brings you here?"

Daryl looked at everything except you, he knew he'd lose all ability to speak if he did. Hell, he already had a difficulty getting his words out now seeing how wrong he was for not listening to you. "Came ta say sorry." He stared at the basket of furs labeled 'Donate'. "Shoulda known better than ta get angry. 'N I get why ya work thr way ya do now." Next to the basket sat a crate filled with thick, sturdy bones labeled 'blacksmith'.

You nodded and gave him an option. "Come back to the shop tomorrow. I'll have tou clean up that deer skin you almost ruined and you're following my teachings. I'll forgive you for wasting the rabbit."

Daryl chewed at his thumb, the other hand stuffed in his pocket and fidgeting with the fabric inside. "Yeah, alright." He nodded and looked over at Carol who had the brightest smile on her face. One that screamed victory.

"We'll get out of your hair, I'll bring by some lunch tomorrow at your shop." Carol waved on her way up, and just as Daryl was about to follow her you quickly spun around to grab something. "Oh, here." You held out a thin knife wrapped in leather, a small engraving of Hilltop's blacksmith on the handle. "I saw you took the rabbits, so if you haven't prepped them yet you can try this one. They're great for smaller animals."

He stumbled over his thanks as he accepted the knife and quickly headed out after Carol.

You were back at work early the next morning, painkillers and a small breakfast in your system already and hoping to finish that damn deer. It still proved a challenge to get it from the cooler onto the workbench but you managed eventually, just before Daryl came in.

"Mornin'." Hid gruff voice sounded through the workplace as he rounded the corner and placed the knife from yesterday on the table. "Thanks fer lettin' me borrow it. Worked like a charm."

You picked up the knife and held it out to him again, only to recieve a questioning grunt in return. "It was a gift. To keep."

Daryl never got gifts. Everything he had was scavenged and well taken care of for longer use these days. It felt weird to keep it but he thanked you again and pocketed it.

Meanwhile you had grabbed the deer skin and laid it out where he'd be working. "Look here, I'll show you how to clean this up and you'll go fix the rest, okay? It'll take a while but it'll be worth it." Daryl stepped up to you and observed the way you took the knife to the uneven spots of skin and carefully smoothed it all out. The precision in your work was impressive to say the least. "How long've ya been doin' this?"

You dropped a cut off piece of meat into a plastic container and thought back to the old world. "I guess ever since my parents thought I was old enough to handle knives." You held the tool out to the hunter and watched him take it from you. "Your turn. I'll be hopefully finishing that deer so just ask whatever, whenever."

You were lucky a lot of the cutting could be done onehanded, and holding back pieces was okay enough to do with your wrist or hold something down with your elbow. But now that you had all the easy access meats off and seperated you ran into a problem.

"Fuck.." You needed help. The same kind of help that had you kick him out yesterday.

"Sup? Need hands?" He was at your side in a second, waiting for your instructions.

"I need to take off the ribs but I can't." You leaned aside to point around the carcass. "If you can press down here, and there." Daryl followed your instructions and put pressure on the spots you pointed out. "Then I can take this here apart." Your movements were followed and suddenly it was way too hot in your always cold workplace. Yesterday you'd be happy if he decided thr Kingdom was a better home for him but now that he apologized and proved to better himself after your misunderstanding you were back to being the lovesick puppy Abraham had made you out to be when he brought you home after the infirmary visit.

With how Daryl held the spot clear and open you had to get close to chop through the bone and separate it all in workable bits.

"Can I take one a'those later? Michonne asked ta cook fer her kids cuz she's out 'n Carol's off ta Kingdom--" "Throw the kids an old world barbeque! I'll come help. I'm sure you're skilled in roasting over an open fire with how much you traveled." The excitement was clear in your voice, and the sudden compliments and offers of gifts and assistance had him nervously fidgeting. But thinking about having a fun experience with the kids instead of just cooking and having dinner sounded way better than his original plan, so he agreed.

"Ya got supplies ta fix tha' in half a day?"

The two of you cleaned up after finishing thr needed work and while you carried the prepped meats, Daryl had the bowl firepit on a kart together with the metal rack to hang over it. Yeah, he lived in a community now but he never guessed he'd be carrying around a whole barbeque setup like he was getting ready to throw a party in the old world. "Gotta drop by tha' house fer a sec, get Jude 'n RJ."

After he got the kids and you had everything set up Daryl got the fire started while you made a quick pantry run and dug through Daryl's kitchen for anything to add to the meals.

You brought whatever you found and set it on the side of the porch steps, keeping a path to the house cleared and sat yourself down in the front lawn as you watched uncle Daryl in action, letting the kids toss wood onto the fire and poke at it with a stick but making sure they kept their distance and wouldn't touch the hot metal.

It was heartwarming to see him laugh and have fun with them and watched him speak quetly to the kids with a finger pointed your way before the two came running towards you.

"Daryl says the fire's good for food! Can we put some on the thing?" Two pairs of big, begging eyes stared at you and saying no would be the worst so of course you allowed them, under surveillance and with an assisting hand. "Alright, pick something you wanna eat first and put it on a plate, Daryl will take it to the fire and I'l helf you put it on the rack, okay?"

A chime of "Okay!" baely left them before they were at the collection of prepared meats where you and Daryl joined them in picking.

While Daryl roasted the food over the fire you were tasked go keep the kids busy, but wirh hoe much they loved chatting about everything and anything it was an easy task.

The whole evening was fun and food and family and it reminded you of everything you missed in this new world.

Everything was good in this moment, especially when you heard a little exchange between uncle and niece.

"Uncle Daryl? Can we have more dinners with her? But also mom and aunt Carol next time." You watched Daryl look towards you for a moment before turning back to Judith. "'Course, she's teachin' me ta prepare food so we can do this with e'ryone if ya want. But!" He raised his hand and pointed at RJ, who came over to him too now. "Yer gonna be the ones askin' folk ta bring food too, so e'ryone has somethin' ta eat, 'kay?"

The two happily nodding kids proved that your time in the community just got a lot more fun.

Now, after the kids were long brought to bed you and Daryl stayed around the fire. Having taken the meat rack off and set asidr you were just relaxing and picking away at the leftovers.

"So," you started, watching the flames in front of you. "That community barbeque plan of yours, it sounded amazing especially how you brought it over to the kids. But, aren't you afraid it'll drain recources too quick?"

Daryl shrugged it off. "Maybe. But those kids'll make folks keep stuff aside fer it." The idea of those two running around the place collecting people brought a smile to his face. "'Sides, I ain't wastin' meat no more with yer lessons tha' I hope ya will keep givin' me."

Oh. He wanted to stay? At the shop? With you? You were pleasantly shocked with that news. "What? Ofcourse I'll teach you. But only of you promise to take me out hunting when my hand's okay again."

He let out a breathy laugh and nodded. "Yeah, I'd love ta have ya around."

You stretched and laid down in the grass, looking up at the night sky.

"S'gonna be fun."

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #twd #the walking dead #twd x reader #daryl x reader

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carlsangel · 5 months

Text

SWEET

carl grimes x reader

(you and carl find a polaroid camera.)

tags: fluff!!!

masterlist here!

Back at the prison, you and Carl had limited entertainment around. Michonne had found the two of you comics occasionally but you two had gone through an odd phase where you focused on surviving when you had a perfectly safe home. You’d spent more time cleaning your guns and sharpening your knives when you should’ve been reading or playing with legos.

You wish you didn’t have to grow up so fast, you missed being able to not have a care in the world. That’s what you were happy to have Carl, he made you feel better about everything. Even when everyone got sick, you had him and he made you feel better always. He joked around a lot just to make you feel better.

When the prison fell, you guys thankfully ended up with each other. It was traumatic for sure, seeing him fight with his dad like that and just seeing Rick in that state in general. It wasn’t the easiest but you had a chance to feel okay when the two of you were alone. You guys left Rick in the house to go out and scavenge. You encountered some walkers but together you were able to handle it.

Upon searching some houses you ended up finding different books and random puzzle toys to mess with. Your favorite thing you found was a polaroid camera. You took it with you when Carl decided he wanted to eat pudding on the roof. You settled in next to him as he shoved pudding into his mouth. You rotate the camera in your hands, sort of just examining it before you notice the little number on the back. A small one.

“Damn there’s just one left.” You frown, showing Carl the back of the camera. He swallows the pudding and looks at you. “Guess that means we gotta make it count right?” He grins. You nod and agree, Carl set the can of pudding beside him and you scooted closer to him to take the picture. You did something simple, just smiling. You were excited to have something to look at. You snap the picture and let it print from the camera. You hold it face down as you chat with Carl some more and share pudding.

You later look at the developed photo and it was so sweet. It was basically perfect, you can’t remember the last time you’d seen yourself in a photo, you were happy it was with Carl. He’d loved the photo too. He loved you.

“Can I have it?” He asks with a pleading smile. “But I want it.” You counter, holding it to your chest as if you were hiding it away from him. He laughs as you guard the polaroid with your life. The both of you made an agreement that you would rotate days holding the photo as dumb as it sounds.

He could carry it for a day and the next morning he would give it to you. That lasted a couple of days and you kept the camera in case you had found more film. That was until of course, Terminus. There you lost everything, everything but the photo. Carl had the photo that day, you were scared you wouldn’t receive it from him the next.

But like always, you made it out. You felt like you lost hope, there was nothing really to smile about anymore after Terminus and after learning Eugene had lied. All you had was Carl and the polaroid. Up until Alexandria, you felt completely numb. Even first getting to Alexandria you weren’t sure how to react to it, it didn’t even seem real.

The second day you arrived you and Carl searched the house next door. You marveled over how large the houses were, Carol commented about how it was odd they’re just giving them away. Carol left you and Carl alone in the house and you admired the house. The both of you heard a thump from upstairs and were immediately heeded before grabbing your knives from your belts.

You head up the stairs and Carl goes first, hesitating to open the door. He bursts through it dramatically which you sort of giggle at and you follow him inside. The place is scattered around with random shit; paper, books, pillows, music.

“I wonder where this all came from.” Your eyes linger around the room, looking for anything to take for yourself. You didn’t care much about the people in Alexandria. Not yet. “I saw some kids. They probably hang out here.” Carl explains, picking up a comic. You look around the room some more and your eyes land on something you’ve been looking for since the prison fell.

“No way.” A grin forms on your face and you walk over to the corner of the room where a Polaroid camera sits on top of a small table. Carl turns to see what you’re excited about and his eyes light up immediately. It seemed as though the simple little machine gave you the spark you’d been missing for weeks. It made you consider the other teens a little more than you had before. You look at the back of the camera to see there’s six left.

Before you can even think about what to do with it, you hear a voice from downstairs asking you and Carl to head back to the house. You take it with and keep it in the room you two were given.

The rest of the day was long, you had talked to way more people then you would’ve liked. Carl seemed so happy about it, he was ready to talk to anyone. He made you feel more comfortable though, you couldn’t have gotten through the day without him.

He did most of the talking. While he talked you couldn’t help but admire his features, it was the only thing you could do at the time. His pretty eyes and his cute nose, the way his hair is cut and his pretty smile. His perfect lips- holy shit you couldn’t get enough. (IM GEEKING SO HARD WRITING THIS SHIT SOMEONE SEND HELP)

You couldn’t wait to get home.

When you did you still couldn’t be alone with him, you had to have dinner and then debrief with everyone about how your days went. You finally got the chance to go up to your room and as you both entered, you closed the door behind you.

It seemed like he was on the same track because he pulled you into him straight after you shut the door. His lips captured yours in a harsh kiss, his fingers gently gripping your waist. You pull from it to place more kisses around his face, his nose his cheeks, everywhere you’d admired earlier. His face immediately heats up and he smiles sweetly.

After kissing all around his face excitedly you pull away and catch your breath, he looks at you amused. “Did you get it outta your system?” He giggles, kicking his shoes off so he can lay down on one of the beds. You nod, doing the same to lay on the other. “Yeah I feel better.” He pats the bed beside him and pulls out the comic he’d found earlier. You walk over and sit next to him and begin to read. You yawn, kinda bored since the comic didn’t really tickle your fancy but you get an idea that might pay off nicely for you.

You lean to the nightstand and grab the camera which Carl payed no mind to. You point it at him and he sort of side eyes you right as you snap the photo. He looks at you weirdly with a smile and nudges you away. “Stop.” He says lightheartedly, sort of laughing. You pull the printed film and set it on your lap. “No you’re cute.” You respond, snapping another picture of him while he’s caught off guard, not even looking at you but at the comic. “Noooo.” He shoves his hand in front of the camera and grabs it tightly. “Hey-” He pulls it away from you and sets it on the floor on his side of the bed.

“You’re no fun.” You joke, gathering the two photos you were able to take. You wait for them to develop and when they do, you cannot contain your laughter.

The first photo he was side eyeing the camera, looking super confused and slightly irritated. The second was just adorable, he was in the middle of licking his lips so his tongue was just sticking out slightly as he looked at the comic he was reading. Carl looked over at the photos. “These are terrible.” He takes them from your hands and examines them. “Noooo you’re so adorable. Look how pissed you look in this one.” You laugh. He rolls his eyes and places them aside with his comic.

“Whatever.” He sighs and pulls you into him, nuzzling his face into your neck. He closes his eyes and yawns, placing a small kiss on your neck. You melt under his touch, delicately running your fingers through his hair.

“I’m keeping those.”

“You’re not.”

a/n: i yapped so much this one SORRY GUYS :> okay i added some stuff im ok with writing in my rules soooo go check that out!!!! also my masterlist was broken so that’s fixed now too :)) andddd i have an inspo pic from an episode of like what the second photo would sort of look like YOU KNOW i just mean like his tongue sticking out i’ll link it here :p

#carl grimes #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #the walking dead carl #twd comics #carl grimes angst #twd carl #twd fanfiction #fanfic #rinas writing 🌀

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the-thing-inside-your-closet · 9 days

Text

Prompts I’ve seen/found online that I have used an inspiration for many things, but mainly DP X DC stuff.

There’s 200 prompts/quotes in there

1. They match each other’s freak to a degree that is dangerous to the public.

2. People often mistake me for an adult because of my age.

3. “I have a solution.”

“Thank goodness.”

“It involves fire.”

“Absolutely not.”

4. Why are you hiding behind me? What did you do?

5. We can’t have a crisis - my schedule is already full!

6. “What’s our exit strategy?”

“Our what?”

“We’re all going to die.”

7. That is a terrible, horrible, incredibly foolish idea. Let’s do it and see what happens.

8. “This coffee tastes weird.”

“That’s probably because it’s not coffee.”

9. “Can I bother you for a second?”

“You always bother me, but go ahead.”

10. “Are you mad?”

“No.”

“So sharpening knives at 2am is just a hobby?”

11. I’m going to give my inner child a gun.

12. Your inability to learn complicated handshakes is tearing this gang apart.

13. I get so affectionate when I’m sleepy it’s disgusting.

14. Leaving a watermelon on someone’s doorstep in the middle of the night is a pretty inexpensive way to occupy a portion of their mind forever.

15. No offence to myself or anything but what the fuck am I doing.

16. I would love to be mysterious but I never shut the fuck up.

17. The divorce rate amongst my socks is astonishing.

18. Adulthood is a scam I want to be a crow.

19. Good morning! God has let me live another day and I’m about to make it everybody’s problem.

20. My house is haunted because I live there.

21. That’s my emotional support entity of questionable moral standing.

22. God released me into the wild and now he’s hunting me for sport.

23. No, no you don’t want to get to know me, I’m better as a concept.

24. I can’t wait until I’m old enough to pretend I can’t hear.

25. Do birds every just fly for fun or are they always on some kind of mission?

26. The older I get the more I understand why roosters scream to start their day.

27. ‘You’ll understand when you’re older.’ I am older and I understand absolutely nothing.

28. Source? It was revealed to me in a delusion.

29. Why do drugs after 30 when you can just stand up too fast?

30. I won’t ever be the bigger person in an argument. God made me 5’ for a reason.

31. This meeting could have been a fist fight.

32. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m never going to have a midlife crisis because my entire fucking life is a crisis.

33. Anyone fancy going off the fucking rails with me I’ve had enough.

34. Go ahead and get in the pond since you wanna act like a silly goose.

35. My life is like a romantic comedy except there’s no romance and it’s just me laughing at my own jokes.

36. Who the fuck decided to call it ‘emotional baggage’ and not ‘griefcase?’

37. I don’t have a nervous system. I am a nervous system.

38. “What makes us human?”

“Selecting all of the images with traffic lights.”

39. Don’t let anyone else ruin your day. It’s your day. Ruin it yourself.

40. The sixth love language is combat.

41. “I just told you 2 minutes ago.”

“I do not control the remember.”

42. Due to not wanting to. I will not be.

43. My flabbers be gasted daily.

44. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Like a hallucination, a therapist, or a person?”

45. “You’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you I try my best.”

46. I tried to embrace my inner child today and the little asshole bit me.

47. I think my dark under eye circles are adding to the aesthetic actually.

48. Being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot.

49. Next time I’m opening up to someone will be at my autopsy.

50. Too many songs about love. Not enough song about sword fights.

51. “You’re cute.”

“I’m feral and chaotic, don’t touch me.”

52. I’m not as unhinged as I could be and I want everyone to be great full for that.

53. How dare you know stuff about things.

54. “I have a plan.”

“Is it a good one?”

“I have a plan.”

55. “Are you decent?”

“Not morally, but I’m wearing pants if that’s what you’re asking.”

56. I may have the right to remain silent but I do not have the ability.

57. I don’t want to look ‘pretty.’ I want to look otherworldly and vaguely threatening.

58. If you ever feel safe please remember that I’m out there.

59. “I’m too good for revenge.”

“Well I’m not. Give me the gun.”

60. “You know I really feel like we aren’t seeing eye to eye.

“It’s because you’re taller than me asshole.”

61. “They rely on you.”

“I can’t be blamed for their lack of judgment..”

62. Well, aren’t you a little Ray of pitch black.

63. I can get behind murder but I draw the line at misogyny.

64. In my defence your honour, I simply do not vibe with the law.

65. Life is a tornado and I’m just the cow being spun around for cinematic value.

66. You can burn all the sage you want, I’ll be back.

67. I believe in holding grudges. I’ll heal in hell.

68. You know…they make medication for the way you act.

69. I like men with massive, throbbing vocabularies.

70. My swear jar could finance the fucking space program.

71. “Well if you want my opinion-”

“I don’t. I have my own.”

72. I’m awake but not operational.

73. Due to personal reasons I’ll be going back to sleep.

74. The bags under my eyes are Prada.

75. I identify as a threat. My pronouns are try/me.

76. Audacity must be on sale this year…

77. “Have you ever been handcuffed?”

“Sexually or by law enforcement?”

78. I don’t like salad or eye contact.

79. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“Just come here.”

“No you’re gonna hit me!”

80. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t throw it.”

81. I have to keep reminding myself that I am an adult and will be charged as one.

82. Apparently ‘spite’ is not an appropriate answer to ‘what motives you?’

83. There is a fine line between my crazy and my intelligence. I use that line like a jump rope.

84. I don’t know where you got your opinion but I hope you kept the receipt.

85. Sometimes when I close my eyes…I can’t see.

86. Is being stupid a profession or are you just gifted?

87. Some days the supply of available curse words is insufficient to meet my demands.

88. I’m running out of reasons to not stab you.

89. When I said ‘how stupid can you be?’ It wasn’t a challenge.

90. Love at first sight? Tired, boring. Love at first assassination attempt? Spicy.

91. I’m sorry I don’t take orders. I barley take suggestions.

92. And that’s a wrap on another day where I acted like I knew what I was doing.

93. Now if you’ll excuse me…tonight’s bad decision isn’t going to make itself.

94. I take super hot showers to practice burning in hell.

95. I wanna be 14 again and ruin my life differently. I have new ideas.

96. Don’t be ashamed of who you are. That’s your parent’s job.

97. Being an adult is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.

98. If I’m ever murdered, feel comfort in knowing I ran my mouth until the bitter end.

99. My spirit animal would fucking eat yours.

100. Some people will only like you if you fit inside their box. Don’t be afraid to shove that box up their ass.

101. I wonder if people look both ways before getting on my fucking nerves.

102. If I was a bird, I know who I’d shit on.

103. Giving a fuck doesn’t really go with my outfit.

104. I’m not insulting you, I’m describing you.

105. Life is full of disappointments and I just added you to the list.

106. And then I decided to take a detour to deliver an ass beating.

107. I wanna contribute to the chaos.

108. I’m gay and also stronger than all of you. So don’t try any shit.

109. With all due respect, which is none

110. What, pray tell, the fuck?

111. My arson charges don’t define me.

112. Those are bold words for someone in stabbing range.

113. I don’t understand your specific kind of crazy but I do admire your total commitment to it.

114. I am not above slashing my own tires to avoid going to this family brunch.

115. I don’t want to heal my inner child I want them to get revenge.

116. In order to insult me I must first value your opinion. Nice try though.

117. There’s someone for everyone and the person for you is a psychiatrist.

118. Keep rolling your eyes, maybe you’ll find a brain back there.

119. I think my guardian angel drinks.

120. In my defence, I was left unsupervised.

121. I believe in you. I also believe in Bigfoot so don’t get too excited.

122. If you figure me out I want an explanation.

123. I don’t think I meet the height requirements to ride your emotional roller coaster.

124. When killing them with kindness doesn’t work, try voodoo.

125. Another fine day ruined by responsibility.

126. You call them swear words. I call them sentence enhancers.

127. Stop petting my peeves.

128. What a year this week has been.

129. Don’t follow me I don’t know where I’m going.

130. Due to unfortunate circumstances, I am awake.

131. I didn’t say it was your fault, I said I was blaming you.

132. Please don’t interrupt me while I’m ignoring you.

133. Everyone has the right to be stupid but you’re abusing the privilege.

134. I just know I will die trying to pet something I shouldn’t.

135. At this point, if a clown invited me into the woods, I’d just go.

136. I told him to take care of his eyes because they’re the only balls he has.

137. The trash gets picked up tomorrow. Be ready.

138. My last words will probably be sarcastic.

139. We don’t have time to unpack all that.

140. I may have committed light treason.

141. How is ‘pretty boy’ supposed to be an insult? I’m the prettiest goddamn boy in this town.

142. I’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual.

143. “Based on statistical evidence, I’m immortal.”

“How so?”

“Haven’t died yet.”

144. I’m just here to establish an alibi.

145. Take the day off from being the bigger person and choose violence, you deserve it.

146. Forgive and forget? I’m neither Jesus nor do I have alzheimers.

147. People are so ungrateful. No one ever thanks me for having the patience to not kill them.

148. “I can see your bra.”

“Fucking good it was expensive.”

149. Sir, that’s my emotional support knife collection.

150. My idea of ‘help from above’ is a sniper on the roof.

151. “We’re surrounded!”

“Excellent, we can attack in any direction!

152. Lord give me patience or an untractable handgun.

153. Step back! I’m a professional idiot!

154. “Trust your gut.”

“I have anxiety. My gut is always telling me to abort mission.”

155. Keep your morals away from me.

156. Your existence gives me a headache go stand over there.

157. What, from the bottom of my heart, the fuck?

158. My heart is not a home for cowards.

159. Underestimate me so I can embarrass you.

160. “It’ll be easy. You just have to seduce them.”

“You’re kidding, right? I’m about as seductive as a cabbage.”

161. You’ve got heart, kid. Several hearts. Honestly, I’m a little scared of you.

162. It takes a very special kind of idiot to pull off what you just did.

163. I’m no doctor - but I think he’s dead.

164. I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.

165. “What brings you here?”

“A continuum of terrible choices.”

“You’d be surprised to know how often people say that.”

166. “I thought we agreed to tell each other when we were bleeding internally.”

“That’s a very specific promise I don’t remember making.”

167. “Did you really google how to flirt with a girl?”

“What? How’d you know that?”

“You do realise there’s a search history?”

168. “I’m gonna…”

“If you kick down the door, I swear…”

“I’M GONNA PUNCH IT WITH MY FOOT!”

169. “Is it still murder if I give them a heads up?”

“That’s a threat.”

“Damn.”

170. Surprise! I’m back from the dead! Isn’t that exciting?

171. Don’t mind me, I’ll just be in the corner, having another existential crisis.

172. I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong.

173. You’re important to me you piece of shit.

174. “Why are your hands purple?”

“That’s a very good question.”

175. Can someone turn off the sun please?

176. “I had a thought.”

“Oh no.”

“I swear it’s a good one this time!”

177. I’ve met bread smarter than you.

178. “Please stop getting shot, it stresses me out.”

“Oh, well if YOU don’t like it.”

179. Dude, we are not asking the dragon for directions.

180. You’ve got as much charm as a dead slug.

181. For you, I could steal the stars - but I can also get them through legitimate means, if that impresses you more.

182. I am under no obligation to make sense to you.

183. You smile like an idiot when you’re talking to them.

184. Don’t you sign to me in that tone.

185. Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.

186. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Don’t care. Shut up.”

187. Now that I made it weird, I’m going to make my exit.

188. So uh, I noticed you’re kinda naked. Is that intentional or…?

189. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Smart man.”

190. Well, if you’d woken up properly the first time I kicked you, I wouldn’t have had to do it four more times.

191. “I have NEVER been so insulted.”

“You don’t listen much, do you?”

192. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“Yup. I just don’t care.”

193. I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into. I just thought it would be amusing.

194. I would tell you to be yourself but that almost got us killed last time.

195. “Why aren’t you worshipping me, mortal?”

“Not interested. Thanks.”

196. “I’d rather be dead.”

“Then I have some good news for you.”

197. “Did you hear that scream?”

“Yes, I’m the one who screamed.”

198. “What happened to your-”

“I lost a bet.”

“Why-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

199. Reading way above my grade level didn’t get me as far in life as I had hoped.

200. Due to foreseen circumstances well within my control I will be late.

#writing prompts #prompts #I found a lot of these online so I’m not 100% sure of many of their sources #dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp

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owlcomics101 · 4 months

Text

“Egg sitting.” Task force 141 x Penguin hybrid male!reader

warnings: Fluff, sfw (I am a minor), maybe some kissing?, cussing/swearing, Smoking (I do not condone)

Egg sitting. For penguins it’s the males that egg sit while the female goes away for a while to feed during the harsh winter and return back in the later Spring. This also goes for hybrids as well. You are an emperor penguin/human hybrid. You have the webbed feet, small nub tail and some fluff here and there. In the winter months your feathery fur thickens and you grow more patches for warmth but also for the sake of warming your egg. It was an off day and everyone was in the common room, you were standing up asleep, slightly hunched over with your egg resting snug on your feet. The team couldn’t help just stare at you dumb founded. It was quite the absurd sight to behold. The egg was already weird enough but the fact that you are literally sleeping standing up baffles them.

“Fucking hell….” Ghost murmurs watching you sleep.

“Howfur does he even kip lik' that?” Soap asks with a brow raised. He was sitting on the common room couch leaning against Ghost while Ghost sharpened his knives. Gaz sat in one of the chairs. He was trying to read his book but couldn’t help but glance at you. He was worried about you. Despite you sleeping all the time you still looked so tired with balancing everything. The missions, the egg, everyone else, and even your wellbeing.

“God he looks exhausted…” Gaz says with a sigh as he listens to your snores. Price takes a drag of his cigar and lowers his papers to look up at you before he frowns while letting out a puff of smoke. Price let out a sigh before getting up and walking over to you.

“You need a break soldier.” He mutters before looking over to Gaz.

“Help me get him to the couch.” Price orders as Gaz immediately gets up to help you. Ghost and Soap look at each other before getting off the couch. Soap looked down at your feet before searching through your fluffy legs to find the egg. He pulled the egg out and it was fucking huge. Soap only ever seen it resting on your feet and it looked so much smaller with all the fluff covering it.

“A'm feelin' ill that brassic wummin wha leid this….” Soap mutters before getting bonked on the head by Ghost

“Shut it.” Ghost says sternly. Ghost crossed his arms as he watched Price and Gaz carry you to the couch. A long relaxed sigh escaped you as you felt your self feeling the soft cushion of the couch.

“There, that should do it.” Price says before turning around wide eyed to the egg. Right…he almost forgot about it.

“So uh….what do we do with it?” Gaz looks down at the egg as he adjusts his cap.

Five minutes later you were still sleeping on the couch snoring loudly while the team tried to figure out what to do with the egg.

“Careful with it captain!” Soap says. As he watches Price wrap a blanket around the egg.

“Oi, calm down ya muppet! I know what I’m doing-I’ve seen y/n do this a thousand times.” Price grumbles as he wraps the egg snug in a small blanket before setting it on his feet and lighting himself a cigar.

“We’ll take shifts, Fifteen minutes each.” Price says before Ghost butts in.

“Fifteen bloody minutes!?” Ghost sets his knives aside as both Gaz and Soap snicker to themselves.

”Yes Fifteen focking minutes Ghost.” Price says with an eye roll. “If Y/N can do this 24 hours a day and even in god Damm missions. I think we can handle Fifteen minutes!”

“I’ve never seen a man waddle so fast on the field.” Gaz mumbles to himself before looking over his shoulder to see your sleeping figure.

The team each took shifts with baby sitting the egg, Soap was just getting off his turn as he hands Ghost the egg.

“God damm…how does he dae this a' day?” Soap says as he takes off his boots to look at his very irritated and sore feet.

“You should’ve seen Price’s feet, he stood with that egg for over thirty minutes.” Gaz snickers as he sits down in a chair and pulls out his book.

“Talk about determination…” Soap mutters as he sits down on the couch next to your sleeping figure. Reaching out to fix a strand of hair out of your face. Ghost looks down at the egg. It was his turn. He couldn’t help but grumble to himself. Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as the egg rests on his feet.

You wake up ten minutes later to find your self on the couch. Wait-why are on the couch? Where is your egg? In a panic you sluggishly look around, you were still only half awake but you couldn’t bear the thought of your egg being missing.

“What-Where!?” You looked around still daze to find your egg wrapped in a blanket on someone’s feet. You let out a tired sigh of relief as you get up to take the egg back. You unwrapped the blanket from it and set it down on your feet again. Safe and sound. Your vision was still blurry and you couldn’t make out who was in front of you. It had to be your mate right? Who else would be touching your egg if not her?

“Thanks, love.” You mumble tiredly as you planted a kiss on the person’s forehead. You thought it was your mate but it was actually Ghost. You just kissed Ghost without realizing it. Soap and Gaz snicker before bursting out in laughter as you waddle away oblivious. Ghost was frozen in place completely flabbergasted and red in the face under his mask. Price couldn’t help but chuckle himself before letting out a puff of smoke from his cigar.

This happened quite a lot…mistaking your team members as your mate whenever you’re in a drowsy state. You couldn’t help it, you were lonely and touch starved for her. You feel like you’re seeing her everywhere but also nowhere at all. You were depressed. Gaz shared a bunk with you in the barracks. He was the bottom bunk and you were the top. He was in a deep sleep before being awaken to seeing you unconsciously trying to hold his hand. He goes wide eyed quickly stuffing your arm back into your bunk as you mutter random shit in your sleep. It always left Gaz completely flustered and he didn’t even realize it. Soap would spar with you in the training room, only to find you randomly collapse out of pure exhaustion. He helps carry you to bed to only listen to your crying in your sleep about your mate. It made Soap tense up every time in discomfort seeing you in discomfort. You’d also still randomly kiss Ghost on the forehead of his mask after missions if you were really exhausted. It made him freeze up every time because he isn’t sure how to react to such affection…even if he isn’t your actual mate. Price would see this all from afar. Seeing your exhausting as depressing state. Whenever you fell asleep or was too busy…he’d watch the egg for you. He wasn’t sure why, babysitting that egg was hell for his feet but seeing you smile knowing your egg was safe always made butterflies go off in his stomach.

You were just getting worst in your loneliness and depression. And to make things worst, you woke up one morning to your egg shattered into small pieces of eggshells.

to be continued?

(Gah this was so much fun! I’ve wanted to do this for quite awhile now! I honestly really wanna continue this but at the end of the day it is up to you guys. Can we get to a 100 notes?)

#cod #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #soap x reader #captain price x reader #Price x hybrid!reader #Soap x hybrid!reader #Gaz x hybrid!reader #Ghost x hybrid!reader #mlm #poly task force 141 #poly task force 141 x reader

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sunshine-and-moonshine · 1 year

Text

COD Sex Bot Au - General and Character Specific Facts

Requested: Yes. By uh…..pretty much everyone. SO many people begged for something and while this isn’t exactly a part 2, I hope it will help tide you all over til I can get that completed.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Child Abuse, Adult Abuse as well, Mention of Murder, Mention of Self-Destruction (Robot Suicide), Mentions of Knives, Mention of Blood, Spice, Probably very incorrect Spanish

A/N: So! A lot of people, along with requesting a part 2, have also been begging me for Price as well. I know I’ve only done the 4 characters for all of my Cod works so far but I do want to expand the character list! That being said, I’m just not entirely comfortable with writing them yet. I am looking more into Gaz, Price, and Roach specifically and I promise to let you guys know when I feel comfortable enough to write for them! But until then, please enjoy!

✨General✨

Their eyes get this kind of colored sheen to them sometimes. Different colors for different things.

Yellow is absorbing new information

Pink is the color during sexy times

Red is malfunctioning/in need of repairs (but can also be a sign of embarrassment or shyness)

Light blue is curiosity

White (still) is powered down

White (pulsing) is powering down

White (flickering) is low power

Grey is rebooting/charging

Black is enraged

Lilac is contentment

Plum is upset/hurt

All the boys come with their uniforms on but what’s underneath depends

For Ghost’s model, simple black briefs

For Soap’s model, silly patterned boxers (think hearts or something)

For König’s model, usually some fancy lace panties since he’s very popular amongst Doms who like that sort of thing

Alejandro’s model? Absolutely nothing

Ghost

Ghost’s model was MEANT to be a scary bad guy kind of deal, to be marketed towards fans of slashers and the like. But he…..didn’t end up being that way.

At least, not your Ghost. Many of the other Ghost models are that way, but not yours. For some reason.

Granted, that programming is definitely still in him, though not exactly in the way it was meant to be.

Instead of it being just for fun rough sexy times, it’s more…….actually will kill for you. And has, in fact, killed for you.

Something that he’s NOT supposed to be able to do.

“Gee, I wonder what happened to that Barista that insulted me the other day.”

“Gee, I wonder.” *cleaning a bloody combat knife in your sink*

Speaking of knives!!! Ghost’s model does come with a lot of fun knives! Granted, they’re dulled into being just (mostly) harmless kink knives but he made quick work of making them a lot more harmless by ordering a knife sharpener.

So uh, yeah. You have received not just a sex robot, but one that borders on Yandere and will probably self-destruct if you reject him.

Have fun with that!

Fun fact: YOUR Ghost actually used to be a child bot MANY years ago, bought by a man who only wanted to be able to legally abuse a child. So he was broke down and put back together so very many times. And when they recycled and reprogrammed his AI chip, the scarring from that was still imprinted into him.

Soap

While Soap’s model is marketed more towards romantic oriented people, he’s generally seen as a Jack of all trades.

Doms, subs, romantics, first timers, just about any kind of person. He’s good with all of them, though he thrives with Romantics since that is his programming.

And also just because your Soap is so very lonely. He yearns to be loved by you, to melt under your affection.

He doesn’t want to be seen as just a sexual object, he wants to be yours. And you to be his.

König

Ah yes, the gentle giant that was supposed to be marketed more towards Subs but ended up being a bit….Soft.

None of the programmers can explain it but every model of him is just inexplicably shy and quiet, thriving in an environment where he has no control.

So now he’s more marketed towards doms. Usually soft doms.

They once tried to change his model to be smaller and more petite and people started BOYCOTTING.

It affected their sales so much that they very quickly changed him back.

People still seethe when they think about it.

Probably equal parts the most loved and most abused of the different models.

Just because of how quiet and meek his model is, how they almost never fight back when hurt.

Alejandro

Alejandro’s model is VERY popular among submissives so he’s programmed to be pretty dominant and also to have a caring nature.

Due to said caring nature, many mistake his model as good for beginners.

I can assure you, he is NOT.

So SO many of his models have been returned cause he’s brought them to tears from so much pleasure, absolutely overwhelming for any beginner.

“Cry for me, Amor. That’s it, just like that.”

His model is one of the only ones that isn’t returnable unless something is malfunctioning and even then, they’ll try just about anything to fix the model instead of just taking them back.

If you’re the type to forget meals and such (I’m not projecting, shut up) then he will literally drag you away from whatever you’re doing and make you eat.

Will set up a rewards system if you have trouble with personal upkeep as well, like household chores and stuff (again, not projecting).

How much pleasure you get throughout the day is all dependent on how well you follow the schedule he makes based on your personal life.

He can and will have you call him Papi, in and out of bed.

“Be a Good Little Cachorro and get on your knees for Papi.”

You only get called Amor when you’re good or when you’re upset. Anything else and it’s Cachorro (Puppy).

#Sex Bot Au #cod #call of duty #cod mwii #call of duty mwii #mwii #mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #König #könig x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader

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arabellavernierwrites · 5 months

Text

patched up. will graham.

summary : after accidentally slicing your hand open in the kitchen , will takes care of you.

word count : 463

warnings : mention of knives , mention of blood , mention of injury (cut from knife) , brief swearing , mentions of pain

a/n : hello everyone !!! thank you so much for how kind and supportive you all are. the fact that anyone reads my writing is such an honor and i’m so appreciative of all of you. i wanted to make something a little short today , an idea that came to me this morning. i adore will graham and would love to write for him more , so if you have any requests , please send them in !!! have an amazing wonderful incredible day , love you guys !!!

dinnertime had rolled around once again.

mid-evening, the last remaining golden glow of the sun before it tucked itself in.

the beginning of the ending of another day.

you and will were in the kitchen.

a soft hum of music circled and spun its way through the air, filling the empty space between you two.

you were chopping vegetables, will was stationed at the stove, carefully stirring the stew.

it was rare for you two to be assuming these roles while cooking.

will was almost always assigned to the chopping. he wasn’t known for his cooking skills.

the vegetables on your cutting board fought against you.

your knife was dangerously dull and you knew that. you had been meaning to take them in to get them sharpened for weeks, but the shop was far and you hadn’t had the time in your schedule.

“how’s it going over here?” will asked, stepping beside you, wrapping a hand around your waist.

you looked up at his smiling face, “good”.

whatever solanaceous veggie you were cutting had slipped out of your grip. the blade of the knife fell, slicing your palm.

“shit,” you dropped it, an angry puddle of blood weeping from your slashed skin.

“here,” will grasped your wrist hurriedly, guiding your hand under the faucet as he flicked it on, “are you okay?”

you nodded, the pain was uncomfortable but the vulnerability was worse.

“i’m fine, it doesn’t even hurt,” you lied.

will studied human behavior for a living, he knew you were fibbing.

he placed a soft kiss on the side of your head, “we’ll clean this and then get you patched up, okay?”

“okay,” you tried to smile, wanting to pull away from him and handle it all yourself.

once the blood stopped spilling from your torn skin, will dried it off, pulling you into a chair at the kitchen table.

he sat beside you, pulling you closer so your knees were pressed against the inside of his thighs.

“does it still hurt?” he asked, smearing ointment across your wound.

you dropped your head, “yes”.

he set small sheets of gauze on your palm, gently pressing them down. you winced at the pressure.

“i’m sorry,” he brought your knuckles to his lips, a tender kiss deepening his apology.

his movements were thoughtful and slow, different from how he was understood to be by most people.

will wrapped the elastic roll around your hand, holding all of his work in place.

he taped it up, mindful of your pain, but keeping the cloth secure, “done”.

“thank you,” you placed your good hand on his hip, patting it lightly.

“of course,” he smiled, his big, round eyes pulling you in.

you leaned forward, a gentle, appreciative kiss for the boy you loved the most.

#hannibal #hannibal drabble #hannibal fanfic #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal lecter #will graham #will graham blurb #will graham comfort #will graham fanfic #will graham fanfiction #will graham/reader #will graham angst #will graham x reader #will graham smut #will graham reader #will graham hannibal #hannibal headcanons #hannibal nbc

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dolly-gutzz · 2 months

Text

smiles and cigarettes

warnings: pure cold hard fluff, no use of Y/N

Dallas winding x sunshine-y!Reader

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

Dallas Winston didn’t smile. It was his whole shtick. He was cold and hard and mean. He hated kids and candy. But the one thing he hated more than anything was feeling weak. And smiling showed weakness. So Dallas didn’t smile. Now you, you smiled. It was all you did. You smile basically showed rays of sunshine. You smiled so much that you had deep smile lines and still looked gorgeous. You were a ray of light. And Dallas, he was a dark stormy cloudy day. You know Dallas didn’t smile. Hell, everyone did. But you did every thing in you power to try to make him smile. It didn’t work. It never worked. No matter how hard you worked for him to even crack a smirk, it didn’t work. You never told him of this plan. You didn’t even mutter a word. But dallas knew. He knew how hard you worked for him to smile. But he wouldn’t let up.

So, that’s where this takes us. You were at the park with Dallas. You sat on the yellow-ish grass with a red blanket and a book. Dallas had brought some things. He said he would. You were really excited till you found out that some things to him was a pack of cigarettes and two cokes. So not what you had hoped for but enough.

You regularly hung out with Dallas. You had no idea why he even tolerated you, but you took what you were given and held it with pride. Everyone knew that Dallas was your friend. And even though they thought he was corrupting you, you still hung around him.

Dallas was laying on your leg sharpening his favorite knife as you sat up against a tree reading the book you brought. You laced your fingers through his dark locks as you read. Dallas, without you knowing, looked up at you occasionally. The fall sun shone against your face. It illuminated your eyes in a way that could make angels weep. Your chin was pursed as you focused on the words on the pages beneath your fingers. Dally thought you look gorgeous. Sure he had seen pretty girls before. But none like you. You were nice, and had never once turned your back on him. That is why he stuck so long. Other than the gang, you were the one constant in his life. Dallas knew what could make him smile. It was you. You had never once thought that you were the missing agent in the equation that was Dallas smiling. So you never tried it. As he watched your eyes scan the pages, his lips parted. The boys lips soon turned into the tiniest of smirks. Which turned into a grin. Which then turned into a full blown smile. As if it were magic, you looked down at Dallas just as he smiled. Your jaw was practically on the floor. Dallas had stopped smiling by now and you were at a loss for words.

“Dallas?” You questioned, “Did you just smile?”Dally smiles again and laughs.

“iunno” he mumbled back. He takes a swig of his coke before speaking again. “Wanna know why I did?” He asked. You found out that this was a game to him. You pondered your entire brain, ransacking every thought to try and figure out why he smiled. Maybe it was the sky? No he hates sunsets, he wasn’t Ponyboy. Maybe it was his knife and how sharp it got. No, he had sharped his knives before and never before had it gotten a reaction. So what on gods green earth made him smile. Dally watched you think long a hard on the reason he smiled. And when he figured out you had no avail, he folded

“you.” He blurted.

You stopped thinking and looked down at the boy on your lap.

“You made smile, doll” he said, his already big smile widening even more. You then start to smirk, then grin, then a full blown smile filled your face.

“Really?” You said in disbelief. Dallas nodded. You were surprised at his smile. It was pretty, very pretty. You wondered why he didn’t do it more. His smile lines framed his face perfectly. He even had some dimples. He was so pretty when he smiled, that you prayed that he would do it more. “Why me?” You asked the boy in your lap. Dallas shrugged. “The sun always comes out after the rain right?” He said playing with your fingers.

You felt like you were in the clouds you were so happy. You looked down at Dallas and tilted your head. “So all I had to do was,” you paused to ponder what to say. “Nothing?” You finally found the words to say. Dally nodded, lighting a cigarette, inhaling the bittersweet smoke and blowing it out. You were in shock. Jaw dropping, mind blowing, unbelievable shock. All you had to do was, be you? You wish you had found that out sooner.

Dallas had sat up and was facing you. You watched him take a few more puffs of his cancer stick, before putting it out.

Dallas was looking you in the eyes. His eyes read something you couldn’t quite put a finger on. You tore your eyes away from him in nervousness. You felt your hair brush against your cheek. Dally pushes it out of the way, his hands staying on your pretty face. “Dally,” you whisper. “Yes?” he says back, glancing at your lips. “You make me smile too,” you say, finally looking him in the eyes. You too, glanced at his lips. Dallas leaned in and your lips touched his in a kiss. You were nervous, so the kiss was gentle at first. But Dally and his rough ways changed that quickly. His hand gripped your waist, the other on your neck. His kiss was filled was so much passion, it was dizzying. Dallas tasted like the coke and cigarettes he had brought. You thought you would hate it, just as you hated cigarettes. But the taste was so Dallas, that you just had to love it. Dallas’s lips left yours slowly. You both were panting, and dally was smiling once again. “Shit” he said. “How’s you learn to do that?” He said with his grin widening. You shrug “ I dunno” you say back, still panting from the incredible kiss. “Instinct” you say back. Dally nods and leans his forehead on yours.

You stay at the park, stealing kisses from each other while you read little excerpts of your book to him. Dally listened with love and passion in his eyes. You scowred the whole world to find out what had made Dallas Winston smile. Little did you know it was you all this time. And you would do anything to keep it that way.

#Dallas winston x reader #dolly writes 🍒#dallas winston #the outsiders

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archangeldyke-all · 5 months

Note

So I few days ago I saw this post with the still where Sevika growls at Jinx looking like she is 3 times bigger than her, and I remembered that I'm like, 4cm (1-2 inches?) taller than Jinx and Sevika would look exactly as big if I was there instead of Jinx. Which at first made me think that I'd give Sevika a piece of my mind if she screamed at me like this, but on the second thought...well, I had to be a woman enough and idmit that Sevika'd make me fucking cry.

Which leads me to: Sevika screaming at reader - mb reader is Silco's goon or smtg (preferably with the height dif to make it scarier) and R is on a verge of tears. Sevika is like, "what the fuck..." She doesn't feel bad in the moment, just shocked and lost (you're criminals, who tf would cry) R comes home and gets angry at Sev for treating her like this and gives Sev reality check the next day, which leads to Sev apologising and then being all like "did I just fucking apologise to her what the FUCK I'm the fucking second in command" but she gets so impressed she asks R out after this.

Thank you for your writings, they're genuinely my morning paper (you post when it's nighttime for me and I read your stories in the mornings). Also you honestly impacted my writing - recently I'd write a line, look at it and think, oh, this is Angel's, she'd write something like this, and it so heart-warming to me. 💕

oh my god that is so heartwarming to ME i'm CRYING!!!!! i love this idea, lets do it!!!

men and minors dni

at first, you're just a blip on her radar. a new hire of silco's, just another set of arms to help lug and count and wield vairous weapons.

you catch her eye a few times in your first weeks working for silco. you're always cracking jokes, making other goons chuckle. you make her chuckle a few times, too. she calls you out during a briefing one evening, complimenting you on your hustle at the drop earlier that day. but besides that you're nothing to her.

and then you fuck up.

it's not your fault, not really. it's jinx's. she's got an intense fondness for fire, and you'd forgotten about that fact. so when the thirteen year old asked you for a lighter, you'd shrugged and tossed her one, thinking she was gonna light some firecrackers or experiment with smoking-- normal thirteen year old things. you never thought she'd set the warehouse you're all standing in on fire.

everyone makes it out unscathed, thank god. jinx runs away with a squeak when sevika comes stumbling out of the building, covered in soot and scowling. "jinx, you fuck!" she cries. "who the fuck gave her fire?!"

you meekly hold your hand up, still coughing up the lungfuls of smoke you'd inhaled. sevika growls, then shoves your shoulder, hard. she towers over you, glaring down at you as she seethes.

"you stupid shit-- what the fuck were you thinking? i'd bet nothing at all, since you clearly don't have any fucking brains in your skull--"

sevika cuts herself off, baffled. she coulda sworn she just saw a tear fall down your cheek.

you sniffle, wiping your face quickly. sevika almost laughs. you're... crying? what the fuck?

who the hell does that? you're a goon for fucks sake-- your job description might as well be: fuck up jobs and get yelled at. and now you're crying?

sevika just stares at you, bewildered, then she scoffs, turns around, and walks away.

you think that's the end of it.

for sevika it's only the beginning.

you didn't plan on confronting her, initially. but sevika was so shocked and put-off by your reaction to her yelling, that she's been yelling more and more at you just to see if you'd react the same way.

it's been two days now, and no matter what you seem to do, sevika's two steps behind you, growling and ready to demean you.

you lose your temper when she criticizes the way you're sharpening your knives.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?!" you growl, suddenly, interrupting her mid-rant. "you make me cry and then decide, what, that you've just gotta see it again?!" you ask. she blinks, even more shocked than she was when you burst into tears. "not all of us are tough as fuckin' nails sevika! but if you think crying is crazy, you should see what i'll do to you if you keep fuckin' with me!" you shout.

sevika's never been this shocked, intimidated, and turned on all at once in her life.

she clears her throat, gulps, then speaks. "i... i'm sorry." she says.

you sigh, then nod. "it's fine." you cut her off, before swiftly walking away. she watches you go, more confused than she's ever been in her life.

did she just... fucking apologize to you? her? second in command to silco? apologizing to you? rookie goon who'd only been hired to dig graves and clean blood stains?

and why couldn't she stop thinking about you? why was she suddenly so drawn to you, muffling her laugh at every one of your jokes she overhears, her eyes drawn to you every time you're in the same room?

sevika almost throws up when she realizes she's crushing on you.

she tries to ignore it. but now that she's aware of her attraction to you, it's all she can focus on.

she goes to work, she's thinking about you.

you're in the room, she's trying to subtly get close enough to sniff your shampoo.

she's at home, she's sleeping off a hangover and having wet dreams about you.

she lasts a week before you confront her again.

"are you plotting on killing me?" you ask one evening while you and sevika lug crates of shimmer off an airship. she trips over her own feet, then looks over at you like you're crazy. you just raise an eyebrow at her.

"what makes you thi--"

"i cursed you out and ever since you've been... watching me." you say. sevika cringes. "ran's worried for me. they say it's like 'watching a predator stalk its prey.' i figured if you were gonna kill me you'd've already killed me, but. i thought i'd ask, just in case." you say. sevika chuckles, unable to help herself. you're funny.

"i'm not plotting to kill you."

"then why--"

"i wanna ask you out." she mumbles. it's your turn to trip over your feet.

"what!?" you squawk. sevika huffs.

"i dunno. i don't get it either. but you cried in fronta me-- i don't remember the last time someone i wasn't killing cried in fronta me. i couldn't stop thinkin' about you. and then you yelled at me-- nobody yells at me. not even silco. and i apologized. i think-- fuck... i think you got me hooked." she groans. you're equally shocked, pleased and amused, smiling in shock and awe at sevika's revelation.

"...so?" you ask. sevika scoffs.

"whaddya mean 'so'!?"

"so... whaddya gonna do about it?" you ask, tilting your head to the side. sevika blinks at you, then smirks.

"can i take you to dinner?"

"actual food or just liquor and smokes?"

sevika giggles-- nobody makes fun of her. but you are. and... she likes it?

"actual food. whatever you want, i'm buying." she says. you smile.

"after work tonight?"

"yes." she nods, grinning. you shrug, pretend to consider her offer, then nod.

"alright." you say.

sevika bites her lip to keep in her girlish giggle. but then you dart forward and press a peck to her cheek-- and she can't help but let it out anyways.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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celestialprincesse · 6 months

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Hii !! Okay so I had a thought about your totally cute baker and Simon. So what if Simon retires eventually and him and the baker own a shop together but he's a butcher. And I think it's be cute because everyone in town would stop there for dinner ingredients and treats like two birds one stone and it's just gonna grow into this mom and pop shop !!

The first thing I thought of reading this was Sweeney Todd🤭 A Sweeney Todd Simon x reader AU would be so delicious but anywhoo !!

Mornings have always been your favourite. Not in the sense that you love waking up, in fact, you hate it. The reason you love mornings so much is because you get to spend them with him. You walk hand in hand to the shop together, watching as the sun comes up blazing over the tops of the older buildings in your little town. You snuggle up to him against the still present, slowly fading, morning frost as he unlocks the door to your place. The two of you sway and hum to quiet music as you open up, place your produce in the pretty display cases he'd helped you paint. The reason you love mornings so much is because Simon is in them.

You sigh deeply as Simon finishes tying the back of your apron up for you, leaning into him as you take in the quiet of the morning, before everyone else is awake. It's just the two of you, in your own quaint little world. Whilst the morning batch of steak pies cook away in the oven, you get busy helping Simon sharpen his carving knives, leaning into his side as he teaches you how to properly sharpen the meat cleaver you'd got him for Christmas. Admittedly, you'd paid through the nose for it, but some days you swear he loves the hulking blade of German stainless steel more than he does you.

"Smells like heaven." He rumbles low in your ear as you withdraw the steaming pies from the oven, the shadows of people queueing up already silhouetting the blinds as you get ready for the morning rush. Early last summer, only a few months after you and Simon had moved into the new place, an old converted butcher shop, some influencer type had supposedly raved about your pies in their account, and the next morning you'd been flooded. Of course, the secret to the best steak pie is the perfect cut of meat, all the trimmings and lots of love. Having a butcher for a boyfriend pays off.

You'd originally been surprised at how many people actually came by you and Simon's shared shop, but when other local producers had asked for you to retail their products too, the place had boomed. People would come in and grab everything they needed - cuts of meat, all kinds of jams and pates, local honey and much more - and to top it off, your famous steak pie for the journey home.

Not only do people love you and Simon's shop, but you love running it. Getting to spend every day with your person, baking and chatting and flitting around is the dream - and you're living it.

Short but sweet 🥴🫶 Also I haven't written for Ghost in what feels like AGES I missed him💕

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anangelwhodidntfall · 1 year

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Tshikwa'set: Dad!Jake Sully

Avatar Masterlist

word count: 2k

description: you’ve been happier lately and your dad can’t figure out why so he decides to follow you which reveals a secret that you weren’t ready to tell him yet.

For weeks your dad had been wondering where you were running off to and what or who was making you so happy lately because every time he asked you, you said it was nothing which could be possible but his dad senses were telling him something deeper was going on.

So today he decided to follow you, just to see if he could figure out what was going on, he watched as you bid everyone goodbye before disappearing off to who knows where, and he followed a few steps behind you making sure not to make any noise to alert you. He watched as you approached the old labatory and double checking your surroundings before setting inside which made him even more confused but then he saw Tshikwa'set wrap his arms around you and press a kiss on your lips.

"You were sneaking around with Tshikwa'set?" He asked himself not sure why you were hiding this from him.

He was so caught up with his thoughts that he didn't realize that he had stepped on a branch behind him which made you two look in his direction. You locked eyes with your dad and felt your heart drop because this wasn't how you wanted to tell him that you and Tshikwa'set were dating.

"Dad...listen I can explain..." You started to say but he cut you off.

"No need to...I thought we told each other everything but clearly I was wrong." He said making you feel even more guilty as the tears fell down your face.

"Dad please..." You said as the tears fell down your face.

"I'll see you at home." He said before turning and leaving you in tears as Tshikwa'set comforted you.

"It's going to be okay yawne, I'm sure he is just in shock upon discovering us." He said hugging you.

"I don't know he seemed pretty mad maybe I went about this all wrong." You said quietly.

"Hey you didn't do anything wrong, he is just acting how every father would upon discovering their daughter sneaking around. I mean I know I would if I discovered our daughter sneaking around with someone and I didn't know." He said making you smile.

"You think about us having kids?" You asked him with a smile.

"Of course I do. Like I told you, your my future and that's all that matters to me, so of course I dream about the day we have a family of our own." He said.

"I love you." You said pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I love you more beautiful, you and your dad are going to be okay." He said hugging you.

A few hours later Tshikwa'set walked you home happier to see you in a lighter mood until you reached home and he felt your grip on his hand get tighter. He squeezed yours back to let you know that he was there and that everything was gonna be okay as you two approached your home.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Everything will be okay. I love you yawne." He said pressing a kiss to your lips unaware your father was watching you.

After saying goodbye to him, you swallowed your nerves and walked inside your home where you saw your dad sitting in the corner sharpening his knives.

"Hi mama, hi dad." You said which only made your father get up and leave making your eyes water.

"Is it true what your father told me?" Your mother asked.

"It is. I just wanted to tell you guys on my terms because everyone knows how imitating dad can be, I just didn't want him to scare him off. He's the first boy that looks at me as a person and not the olo'eyktan's daughter, and he makes me so happy." You said with tears in your eyes.

"oh my sweet y/n. It's going to be okay. Your father will come around, I'm sure he is just hurt at the idea of his daughter already dating." She said to you as you nodded your head.

You hoped that she was right and had tried for three days to talk to your dad but he wouldn't listen to you and that was hurting you so much inside but what made it worse was seeing him not wearing the bracelet you made him.

"You need to talk to her ma Jake. This is hurting her more than it is you, you think she loves that boy well she loves her father more..ma Jake they way she talks about him, it is hard to miss the smile and how happy she gets, he actually loves your daughter for who she is and not from the family she comes from." Your mother said to her.

"She's right dad. I could tell that even before they got together that he cared a lot about her and I know that he would never let anything happen to her. But I also know that he wanted to court her the right way because she knew how intense you could be about her dating so she asked him to let her introduced you guys and break the news on her terms." Your twin Neteyam said.

Jake sighed knowing that they were both right, maybe he had over reacted just a little bit but to find out you were sneaking around with a boy just surprised him. So he made a plan to talk to you tomorrow morning and make things right with you and this boy because he did hate seeing you so upset because of him. That night he laid awake thinking about everything when he saw a shadow dart past him and Neytiri tent which made him get up, and that's when he saw you making your way towards the lake which made him follow you in hopes that you would talk to him.

That night you went for a walk and took a seat by the lake softly dipping your feet in them trying to process how you destroyed one of the most important relationships in your life in matter of seconds when you heard footsteps approaching before a blanket was placed on your shoulders.

"Thanks, dad." You said quietly as he took a seat next to you.

"I'm sorry for the way I've been acting babygirl, that wasn't very mature of me even though I was hurt by your actions." He said.

"I swear I wanted to tell you about us...I was just nervous for him to meet you because I know how you can be and I didn't want you to scare him off because I love him daddy..I was gonna tell you about him and then maybe in like a week bring him to dinner.. but I went about it wrong I'm sorry." You said quietly.

Your dad sighed and wrapped an arm around you pulling you into his side. Could he really be mad at you when him and your mother snuck around when they first got together? And hearing your apology and reasoning made him realize how much he had overreacted.

"I only want what is best for you for all of my children. But I could tell just from those two little interactions I saw between you two that you are both very in love and happy and that makes me happy to see." He said making you smile.

"He does make me happy." You said with a smile.

"Then that's all I want to hear. Plus from what Neteyam told me, this boy has cared about you long before you two started dating." He said which made you smile as you made a mental note to thank Neteyam.

"Hey dad why did you take your bracelet off?" You asked him.

"Oh I had taken it off because tuk had gotten paint everywhere and I didn't want the paint to get on it, and ruin it." He said.

"I thought you took it off because you were mad at me, it hurt me a lot to see you not wearing it." You said to him.

"I'm sorry angel I swear it wasn't because of our fight. I was ready to apologize to you the evening but couldn't bring myself to do it seeing how hurt you were until your mother and twin spoke on your behalf and encouraged me to make amends with you." He said.

"I don't like when we fight dad." You said quietly.

"I don't either. I hope you can forgive me for the way I acted the last few days." He said to you.

"I can as long as you forgive me as well for lying to you." You said looking at him.

"Of course I can. In fact why don't you bring him over tomorrow or when your ready and let me meet him properly and let us put this behind us." He said.

"I would like that a lot dad. Thank you." You said wrapping your arms around him.

"I love you babygirl." He said placing a kiss on your forehead.

"I love you dad." You said.

A few days later after speaking with Tshikwa'set about everything you both decided to introduce him properly to your family mainly your dad. You both walked into your family's home at lunch time hand in hand which made your parents happy to see.

"Mama, Daddy. This is Tshikwa'set and we've dating for the past couple of months and I wanted you guys to officially meet." You said as Tshikwa'set squeezed your hand in comfort.

"Tshikwa'set it's so lovely to officially meet you, what did you bring us?" Your mother asked.

"Oh Ms. Sully, I brought some of everyone's fruit that y/n told me you guys liked." He said as she took the basket of fruit.

"Call me Neytiri and thank you for this. Ma Jake did you see what he brought us?" Your mom asked walking over and showing him.

"Mr. Sully I just wanted to apoligize for not coming to you and properly asking for your permission...I wanted to but..." Tshikwa'set said before your dad cut him off.

"No need for it, I understand completely my daughter is just like her mother, so it's hard to talk her out of anything....I just hope you know that if you hurt my daughter in anyway then I will hesitate to hurt you in return..." Your dad said.

"Ma Jake..." Your mother said.

"It's alright Neytiri. Mr. Sully..." He started to say.

"You can call me Jake." Your dad said as you felt yourself start to relax.

"Jake I hope you know that I would never ever think about hurting your daughter...Long before we started dating I've always looked out for her..and will continue to do so until my last breathe, I love her." He said making you look at him with hear heart eyes.

"And I love you too." You said pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Hey mama do you know where Nete is? I needed to talk to him about something?" You asked her.

"I'm right here little sister, what do you need?" Your twin said walking into the home.

"I'll be right back. Dad be nice." You said to your dad and squeezing Tshikwa'set's hand before leading Neteyam outside away from your home.

"What's going on little sister?" He asked.

"I just wanted to say thank you for sticking up for me and Tshikwa'set to dad and helping me and dad fix our relationship. It means a lot to me, so I made you this as a thank you gift." You said handing him the arm band you made for him.

"Oh little sister, you didn't have to make me anything, I know how much you and Tshikwa'set love each other and we both know how dad can be, so I was happy to help, you are my twin after all and I hate seeing you sad." He said hugging you.

You two made your way home where you saw your dad and mate talking and laughing as Tuk sat in his lap playing with his hair. You took a seat next to him where he reached for your hand and laced his fingers with yours without evening looking and that made your dad smile.

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake #dilf!jake sully #jake sully #jake sully x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #sully family x reader #neteyam x reader

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atac-agent · 3 months

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Game Night With The Crows

so @padfoot-lupin77 i am still a bit confused about the whole re-blogging thing (since i joined Tumblr, quite recently-) but the idea caught me and grew in me like the most resilient disease *starts blabbering about Inception* *please ignore* ... well, anyways .... here i am!

Hope you like it!!

.•°☆°•.

Summary: The Crows take a break from their usual schemes to play a game of Monopoly, in which without a doubt, Kaz dominates.

***

The Slat was unusually quiet. The kind of quiet that always put Jesper on edge. Kaz was in his office, working through a stack of papers, while Inej sharpened her knives at the corner table. Wylan and Nina were huddled over some new schematics for a job, and Matthias stood guard by the door, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of trouble.

Jesper, unable to sit still any longer, wandered over to Kaz's office and knocked on the open door. "Kaz, we need a break."

Kaz didn't look up from his work. "A break?" he repeated, his tone flat.

"Yes, a break. You know, something to take our minds off the constant scheming and plotting." Jesper leaned against the doorframe, his usual grin in place, "how about a game night?"

"Yes! Monopoly, to be precise. Let's see who really knows how to make a fortune," Jesper suggested with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Kaz glanced at the papers on his desk, then back at Jesper. After a long moment, he sighed. "Fine. But only for a couple of hours."

Jesper's grin widened. "Perfect. I'll get the others."

Jesper practically bounced back into the main room, where the others looked up curiously. "Guess what? Kaz agreed to a game night!"

Nina laughed. "You actually convinced him? This I have to see."

Matthias looked skeptical. "The demjin playing a game? I’ll believe it when I see it."

Wylan lan's eyes lit up at the mention of Monopoly. "I’m in. It’ll be nice to do something normal for once."

Inej smiled softly, her curiosity piqued. "I’ll play."

With everyone in agreement, they gathered around the largest table in the Slat, clearing off maps and blueprints to make room for the game. Jesper spread out the Monopoly board while Nina and Matthias brought waffles from the kitchen.

Kaz emerged from his office, looking slightly bemused but not entirely displeased. He took a seat at the head of the table, watching as the others chose their pieces.

"I'll be the thimble," Inej said, picking up the small metal piece.

Jesper grabbed the race car, of course. "Vroom vroom, here comes the winner!"

Nina picked the dog, Matthias took the hat, and Wylan chose the boot. Kaz, with a resigned air, took the battleship.

"Let's get this over with," Kaz muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

The game began with its usual mix of excitement and strategy. Jesper was the first to land on Boardwalk, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Looks like I'm building an empire!"

"Not if I can help it," Wylan said, eyeing the other properties strategically.

Nina and Matthias engaged in playful banter as they moved their pieces around the board. "You always pick the dog," Matthias observed.

"It brings me luck," Nina replied with a wink.

Kaz played with the same ruthless efficiency he brought to everything else, quickly accumulating properties and planning his moves several turns in advance. "Luck is for amateurs," he said as he landed on Park Place, solidifying his hold on the board.

At one point, Kaz bought up a whole block of properties, and Jesper couldn’t resist a comment. "Looks like Brekker’s Investments are expanding."

Kaz glanced up, "It's all about knowing where to invest your resources," he said, his gaze briefly flickering to Inej, who rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless.

His eyes lingered on to Inej...

Inej...

Her quiet strength, the way she held herself with such grace and confidence, always struck him. Her dark hair fell in soft waves, framing her face perfectly. When she smiled, even the most hardened part of him seemed to soften.

She was more than just an investment.

Her eyes caught his, and for a fleeting second, the world outside of their little circle ceased to exist.

Her smile was like a rare glimpse of sunlight in the dreary streets of Ketterdam, and Kaz found himself caught in its warmth. He wondered —

Nina’s voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. "Kaz, are you daydreaming about Inej’s strategy or just imagining your next romantic move? It's your turn," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Kaz blinked, realizing he had almost missed a crucial move. He quickly rolled the dice and made his play, landing on a property he had been eyeing for several turns. With swift precision, he bought it up, adding another piece to his growing empire.

As the night wore on, the board became a battlefield of hotels and houses. Kaz, unsurprisingly, was in the lead, but the others put up a valiant fight. Jesper, true to form, made a few reckless moves, much to Wylan’s dismay.

"You’re supposed to be good at this!" Wylan exclaimed as Jesper handed over another stack of cash to Kaz.

"I’m good at making things exciting, merchling" Jesper replied with his usual grin.

As Kaz placed his final hotel on Boardwalk, sealing his victory, Jesper groaned.

"Next time, we’re playing something that doesn’t involve you bankrupting us all."

"We’ll see about that."

Even in victory, Kaz allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation, knowing that sometimes, even the sharpest minds needed a break.

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