@wxiba1 YOU DARED TO CHALLENGE ME AND HERE IS YOUR RESULT!
Honestly not having a reference image and just kinda guessing how he was supposed to look from a book and LITERALLY EVERY POSSIBLE ATTEMPT TO NOT USE A REFERENCE IMAGE made this a little more difficult than it needed to be lol.
I got the little skill on his shirt from google bc i can’t draw skulls unless they’re animated skeleton cuties who live under the ground with kickass theme songs lol.
Isak and Even x international women’s day - one shot by Nate
I had planned to post this on international women’s day a few days ago but I didn’t have the time to finish it due to school! But here it is anyways! I hope you guys like it!
💙and doesn’t drill me on my dialogue work because that’s a sore spot for me and I know I have a lot of improvements to do.
It was a late Wednesday evening and Isak and
Even had just got back home to Isaks place. It was international women’s day
and Even had been the one that had tried to convince Isak the importance of
participation for weeks in advanced. Even had always been reading about equal
rights and it was often something he discussed many times with his mom during
family dinners. Isak on the other hand had previously really not cared at all. Not
until recently when he briefly had searched up information about equal rights since
Sana had brought the discussion to the table during one of their biology study
sessions a few weeks before international women’s day. Since then, Isak had
spent loads of his free time googling about the issue of feminism at the same
time as he started following new accounts on Instagram that frequently posted
about it. The more research Isak did, the more he felt like he just couldn’t
ignore the issues anymore. So when Even had asked Isak if he was interested to
participate in international women’s day for the gazillion time, Isak was more
than ecstatic to finally come around and say yes. After all, despite the fact
that Isak had been reading up a lot about it he was still always willing to
learn even more so what day wasn’t more perfect for learning all about women’s
rights and feminism than on international women’s day?
I know the fandom’s gone over how the probabilitypart of this issue before, but long story short… it would be pretty odd and out of the norm for Stan to- in canon- not have shared his brother’s polydactyly, as identical twins. (As them being identical twins IS what canon seems to suggest.)
While it’d be rare but not impossible for Stan to have only five fingers when his brother’s identical genes gave him six, I give you an alternate concept to consider:
What if Stanley Pines was originally born with six fingers as well?
And their parents wanted to do something about their twin boys. Ma worried about the scorn they might potentially receive from their peers once they ere older, Filbrick more worried about the potential embarrassment it might place on the family… So they decided to have the extra digits on their twin sons surgically removed.
But once learning how much that surgery would cost, they realized they only had enough money for one to undergo the procedure. They picked one son at random, and that son ended up being Stanley. The doctors removed his extra digits with barely even a trace… leaving only a small crease that perfectly blended into the natural ridges of his hands.
They planned to do the same for Stanford a few months later when they earned enough money, but by that point the doctors warned them that his nerves developed enough that preceding with the procedure would likely leave him with nerve damage that would hinder his motor skills for the rest of his life.
So Ford kept his extra digits.
And past then, when you have one child with the normal five fingers and one with six, how are you supposed to explain that you had Stanley’s extra fingers removed when he was a baby, like having six is wrong? Unnatural? Unwanted? Ma dreaded the thought of ever having that conversation, and so she never did. She, nor Filbrick, ever told Stanley the truth.
And Stanley never asked about it. Never once considered. To him, some people were born with five, and others with six. Just like him and his bro. He never had any reason to suspect his parents were hiding anything from him.
Stanford, however… began to suspect in college, after going through a genetics course and conducting his own research on the topic. At some point he called Ma and asked about it. Asked her, pointedly, to not keep the truth from him. Reluctantly, Ma admitted what they did some twenty years ago… admitted that they only had enough money to put one through the surgery.
Years pass. Ford was thrown through the portal… into the thickets of the multiverse. Every once and a while he stumbles upon an alternate version of Stan who had fallen through instead of him. Some of these Stans have six fingers. Some of the Fords he meets on his journeys don’t.
Some thirty odd years later, Stan and Ford are at sea, peacefully reminiscing about their happier memories together. After a while, recollection of their past turns to confession, and Ford imparts Stanley with the knowledge he learned from their mother years ago… That Stan was born with polydactyly too. The pair search across the side of Stan’s palm, eventually discovering an aged crease that didn’t quite fit in with the rest of them upon close observation… one that Stanley never thought to look at with much scrutiny before. Tears built up in his eyes, and he laughed, the sound both joyous and melancholy, somehow at once.
“Guess we were both Sixer, then,” he says, holding up his hand against his twin’s and imagining a world in which the number of fingers on their hands matched.
So these odd drawings are for the wonderful @rumpledspinster who in a post requested if I could make this horrible movie called ‘Rollergator’ (yes-that’s its name) into something Rumbelled in a way.
I took that challenge and made an AU where Bae and Rum are humanoid like magical crocodiles, and Bae runs from home after a fight with his father to see the human world and learn how to become one (thinking that what he and his dad are is bad). He ends up in SB but is unable to return home, lost and alone he is found by the town librarian who takes him in and tries to help him return home with magical chaos abound (while a worried and frightened big bad croc Rumple searches desperately for his son).
As for the rollerblading part… Eh, I guess Belle does that to get around SB-perhaps she’s trying to entice people to come over by delivering books?
Bioware Men - The Kissing Edition (updated) (Long)
(Author’s Note: I know I haven’t gotten ALL the Bioware men, but I’m working on it! (I’m missing Sebastian, but only because I really need to go mom up and take the kids to the library.) The Men of the Inquisition will end up here eventually. Er, once I actually finish the game.
As always, major props to my betas, Galleywinter and Zeroredemption!)
Kaidan is intense; lips, hands, every sense trained on you as if memorizing you through osmosis. His hunger is leashed, contained with the ruthless control that saw him through his first tour on the Normandy. He can’t contain it for long, though - not anymore, not after all this time, and all that formidable focus is entirely tactile, entirely on the task at hand, which is making you pant and writhe and scream until he can finally let himself trust that you’re real.
* * *
Alistair is reverent, worshipful; with him, a kiss is a paean to the Maker, a thing out of time and space. Delicate, as if he’s not sure quite what to do, or if you’ll disappear if he’s too quick, too harsh, or if his hands stray. But the strong, sword-calloused hands that won’t go below your waist are trembling, and his reverent mouth quickly heats to almost clumsy hunger, as if he wants to absorb you into himself where he can safeguard you from everything that’s coming.
* * *
Carth is rusty, as if he hasn’t kissed anyone in years and isn’t too sure he should be doing it now. His kiss is angry and hard, but he’s hungry, too…. so hungry for you. His hands bite into your shoulders, and he’s trembling; you’re honestly not sure if it’s from grief or rage or desire. Maybe he doesn’t know either. His Force presence is a whirl of so many things, but it’s your name on his lips as they follow the line of your jaw, your name he groans when your hips meet and rock together.
* * *
Zevran kisses like he kills; with skill, flair, and a certain amount of showmanship. He smiles against your throat, catlike and smug, whispers charming obscenities and flatteries in that exotic Antivan accent of his, until you’re drunk on him, everything about him. But when you kiss him back, that’s when that practiced smile starts to slide off his face. That’s when his golden eyes heat, when the lean muscles under your hands tense, when you can taste honesty mingled with desire on his tongue.
* * *
James is tequila-flavored adrenaline when he finally lets go and just takes your mouth like he takes every other military objective, all power and purpose and driving need. His big body is hot against yours, all muscle and undeniable strength; you knew he wanted you like hell burning even before he pulls you tight into him, lean hips surging into the cradle of yours as if he’s already inside you. His kiss might everything you expected, but you never dreamed how soft his lips were, or how the velvet brush of his shorn hair against your fingers made want pool inside you, hot and liquid and quivering.
* * *
Joker Moreau is stunningly physically restrained when he kisses. But where he’s physically cautious, his mouth is anything, anything but. The things he whispers against your neck, the low, hot whispers of a lover about your skin, your scent, the feel of you, what he’s imagining doing to you, how long he’s watched you, wanting you… His commentary is all spiced with a generous helping of his trademark snark and punctuated by the kisses of a man who is truly gifted. Joker can turn a simple kiss into an act of blazing eroticism - precise, probing, mimicking everything he wants to do to you, with you, in you with just his tongue, until you’re shuddering against him, locking your fingers into the back of his pilot’s chair and moaning into his mouth in helpless surrender.
* * *
Garrus doesn’t kiss, not like a human does, but there’s something stunningly, suggestively erotic in the way his eyes hold yours as he leans down and presses his forehead to yours. He’s humming - a low, subvocal intonation that gets into the marrow of your bones and liquifies it, until his hands, his arms, the look in his unfairly blue eyes are the only things holding you up… until they’re not, and you discover that Garrus is very, very good at calibrating things other than firing algorithms.
* * *
Everything about Zaeed is hard lines and gravel - he’s the first to tell you his good looks were lost long ago, and he has the voice of a seasoned soldier, rough from too much battlefield smoke and way too many nights in a cigar-fumed nightclub. So it’s a complete surprise that he touches you with such care, tracing the curve of your skull, tangling your hair in his fingers as if he’s savoring the texture, leaning close to sample the scent at the hollow of your throat. The way he kisses is a surprise, too, all delicacy and finesse, and very, very thorough, until you feel like he’s mapped every nerve ending you have and is taking his sweet time about lighting them all on fire, one after another, with a lazy mastery that’s as arousing as it is irritating.
* * *
Fenris is equal parts desperation and fear. His kisses almost snarl with impatience, as if he’s been waiting years to let loose, let go. To have you. To have something in his life that’s just for him, and from the way his hands are moving over you, mapping you, that’s just what he’s thinking. Where his mouth is clumsy, his hands, all clever fingers and sharp gauntlets, are not, daring to claim every inch of you, daring you to claim him back. When you do, he growls low in his throat, and he snarls something in Arcanum that could be a curse or a prayer or a threat to the Maker not to take you away from him before he can steep himself in you, sate himself on you, bury himself so deeply in you that nothing in Thedas can untangle what the two of you have become.
* * *
Thane is decadence; leashed, lethal, and elegant, and that’s the way he kisses, too, as if a single, simple kiss is the equivalent of a hundred acts of simple carnality. His mouth, so delicately scaled and lush, is your lodestone. Your world spins around his axis as he kisses you with exquisite eroticism, committing you to memory with lips and tongue. You’re hazily aware that he could break you in a dozen ways and you’d never feel it, but you’re even more aware that he could make you erupt in a dozen more, and you’d never forget it. And neither would he.
* * *
Steve Cortez is precision, soft-spoken but devastatingly thorough in his exploration of your mouth, your jawline, your neck as you let your head fall back against the cool metal exterior of the shuttle. You can’t get your breath, you just can’t, but when you do, the air tastes like him. Like chicory coffee and determination, like love. Like home. And you can’t help it, can’t help but respond, hands streaking paths of want up his back, feeling the flex of muscle as he shudders, leans into you. You get a little equilibrium back by the time you’re cupping the back of his head, the lean planes of his cheeks, and you meet his precision with your fire. You kiss him back, letting him know with tongue and teeth and muted moans that you refuse to lose him every bit as much as he refuses to lose you.
* * *
Jacob is honesty; there’s honest admiration in his eyes as he looks at you, honest desire in the strong hands that slide from yours up to your shoulders, pulling you into a lazy, seductive dance around the cabin. Honest desire on his tongue when he finally kisses you, managing to tease, to seduce, to woo you for only a moment before honesty takes him, too, and you’re both trembling, both seeking out skin hidden by clothing, seeking to share vulnerabilities. And then it’s honesty of a different sort when you tumble to the bed, wrapped around each other as if you can each shield the other from everything outside this room.
* * *
Anders is hunger and loneliness and longing all wrapped up in a kiss that tastes faintly of lyrium and a faint, exotic tingle that can only be Fade energy. He crowds you against the wall, lean body hard against yours, trembling hands framing your face, fingers tangling in your hair as if he needs to have all of you, right here, right now, as if you’re going to be ripped away from him at any second. When you wrap your arms around him to soothe, he shudders, and his kiss changes to something dangerously erotic, all hot lips and bold tongue and aching hunger, as if this is it, this is the act entire, and he can bring you both to completion with just this….
* * *
Nathaniel is hard - hard lines, hard, sinewy muscle, hard, calloused hands on your skin, hard lips against the back of your neck, hard flesh against the curve of your backside as he presses against you. His voice is hard, too; aristocratic accent wrapping easily around base words as he whispers what he wants to do with you, wants you to feel when he does them. But for all his hard edges, he’s soft, too, and it shows in the brush of his hair against your throat as he bends to taste your collarbone, in the stroke of his tongue, warm and wet on your shoulder. His archer’s precision shows when he moves to map your spine from bottom to top with a chain of tiny kisses that leave no skin unworshipped, when his hands slide between your legs, pressing where you burn hottest for him. Your head falls back against his shoulder, and when you shudder, so does he, and you know then what his restraint is costing him.
Jensen breaks up with you thinking you had cheated on him, however, you were actually pregnant. The reader tries to hide but gets discovered, then moves to make sure she doesn’t get noticed at all. When Jensen finds her he tries to get her to come home.
Jensen and Reader
Angst, accused of cheating, depression, breastfeeding, sweet fluff
When I was with him, I was always on
cloud nine. We had been together for three years, then suddenly one day, he
breaks up with me. He never explained or gave me a reason, just shattered me
completely. I was at home that day, finding out the most amazing news, I was
pregnant. Jensen would be thrilled or so I thought, I never got the chance to
Instead I was packing my bags and
leaving my life behind. The worst thing though, Jared, Misha, and Mark stopped
talking to me. Vicki was the only one who kept in contact with me after
everything. She never understood why it happened, it was so random. So, I moved
to Dallas, I found a little ranch with a couple horses. It wasn’t much but it
was home, something I had lost along the way.
I didn’t tell anyone about the
pregnancy, so I just went through the pregnancy alone. I found out I was having
a girl, and I was ecstatic. I was eight months pregnant when I was spotted by Gen
at a store, I was picking out things for the nursery and she saw my huge bump. I
saw her walk up to me with a questioning look on her face. I sighed “It’s Jen’s,
I never got a chance to tell him” I started crying and got out of the store as
fast as I could.
Once I got home, I sobbed until my
eyes hurt, that’s when the calls started. Now they wanted to talk? I turned off
my phone and decided to get a new phone number tomorrow, right now I was starving. So,
I grabbed my food for the night, and vegged out on the couch. I knew it was a
matter of time before they would find me.
I did the only thing I could think
of and sold the farm, I packed up my truck and loaded the horses on the
trailer. I had left a note with the realtor to give if one of them came around.
So, I left Texas completely, I went to Nebraska. I found a beautiful little
farm that I could settle in nicely. I was about a week overdue at this point,
and I was never more scared in my life.
I had a sweet older gentleman
helping me with the chores, and feedings of the animals. I woke up this morning
not feeling well, so I left a note on the door asking him to watch over the
animals while I went to the ER. Once I made it, I knew I was in labor, they got
me settled and the contractions started growing closer and closer together.
Once it was time to push, I found
every ounce of energy to push. It felt like a lifetime of pushing, until I
heard her cries. They placed her on my chest and I fell in love already, she
had his eyes and dirty blonde locks. I missed him so much but she’s my
connection to him, she was amazing. I decided on Ava Rae y/l/n, she was
beautiful and she was mine.
I was in the hospital for three
days, and then we could go home. I carried her into the house and took her to
my room. I put her in the bassinet and laid down for a nap, I woke up to
hearing her crying. I looked at the clock and knew she needed to be fed, I got
comfortable and watched her with amazement. Once I knew she was fed, I burped
her, changed her and then put her back down.
I heard a knock on the door and
hesitantly opened the door to see Dave, my ranch hand. “The misses made some
meals for ya” “Thank you so much” “She was happy to do it, and a gentleman came
by and dropped this off for ya” I grabbed the letter and opened it up. I knew
the hand writing, but he didn’t deserve a chance. “I know it’s none of my
business, but he looked like a man who lost something very important”
I made him a cup of coffee and
explained what had happened over the course of what had happened. I could see
the sadness in his eyes, he could also see how I still felt about Jay. “You
should talk to him, I’m not saying take him back but that little one needs a
momma and daddy.” “Your right Dave, I should at least talk to him” We said our
goodnights and I sent Jay a text to come back around lunch time.
Lunch time came quicker than I
expected, I had made a small lunch and waited for him to knock. I waited all
day, and he never showed. It came to about ten at night when I heard a knock on
the door. I opened the door to see him with a bouquet of pink roses, I scoffed
and walked away leaving the door open for him to come in.
I heard Ava crying, so I went to
check on her and I knew automatically she was hungry. I picked her up gently
and grabbed a blanket to cover me up while we talked. It was a tense silence,
neither of us knowing what to say. “Why are you here? You broke up with me” “I
know and I will never be sorrier with how things happened” “Why did you? I was
always faithful and always by your side” “I thought you were cheating, I saw
you pulling away and thought the worse” “You couldn’t talk to me? Instead, you
dump me when I needed you most”
“When Gen came over that day and
told me what was going on, I broke right there, I sobbed the whole day at how I
treated you. I tried calling and tried tracking you down, but it was no use”
Once Ava was done I fixed my shirt and patted her on the back. I walked over to
him and put her in his arms. “Jen, I want you to meet Ava Rae”
He smiled a watery smile and looked
down to see this little human being we both had created. “Y/n please come back,
I miss you, actually we all miss you. I will do whatever it takes to make it up
to you and this little one.” I sat on the couch and just cried, I was absolutely
broken and the walls came down. He sat down next to me with Ava in his arms. “I
missed you so much Jensen” “I missed you too honey, please come home” “I would
He kissed me, just like he always
had, there was no time lost. Over the next week, we had everything packed and
ready. I put the ranch in Dave’s name, and he was happy that we had fixed
things. I did hear him threaten Jay that if he pulled that stunt again he would
be castrated. I hugged him tightly and thanked him for the help, and he just
reminded me that I was the daughter he never had.
We packed and headed back to Austin,
I was ready to be home, ready to be around the people that I call family.
As you sat in the WAGs suite you began to worry. All you saw was Andre blocking a shot and then writhing in pain on the bench. Then, he got up and walked towards the locker rooms. You were hoping he would be fine and that it was just a precaution to sit him out for the rest of the period. However, when he didn’t return after intermission, you began to worry.
Heading down to the locker room you hoped it was nothing too serious, but when you entered the room and saw him still sitting there, his hand was completely bruised with shades of purple and blue. He didn’t notice you at first, a group of medics still standing around him, asking him to rate the pain. Finally, after what felt like forever, they all looked up and saw you standing there.
REQUEST(S):“Tough AF Brooklyn chick is pined after by Race Higgins” - anon
“Hey could you write something with a badass girlsie who the boys are kind of afraid of? Sorry it’s kind of vague I just don’t see many SUPER badass ones. Maybe she beats up the delancey brothers by themselves and the boys are like WTF?!!! And could it be racetrack x reader? Love you tons your writing is amazing!!” - @impractical-impala
SUMMARY: In which Y/N makes Race nervous
A/N: ayyyye guess who finally wrote something? but seriously, i can’t write fight scenes??? like idk how to do that so sorry if this sucks :( also, i know Y/N isn’t like super super bad ass in this so sorry about that too, i’m not really sure how to write that either. hope you like it though!
Y/N was headed to Manhattan to deliver a message from Spot to Jack Kelly. She’d already finished selling her papes for the day, and Spot trusted her the most out of all the other Brooklyn newsies. It was a simple (stupid, in her opinion) message, but she didn’t mind taking a walk on such a nice day. The sky was blue, the sun was out, and there was a nice breeze.
She’d come to Manhattan a few times before, and if prompted she would begrudgingly admit that, besides Brooklyn, it was her favorite part of New York. It didn’t hurt that she liked a couple of the Manhattan newsies. Jack was enjoyable, Crutchie was too sweet not to like, and Specs was endearing. Then, of course, there was Racetrack Higgins, who flirted with her endlessly. She pushed him away or ignored his efforts every time, but he kept coming back. She found that she didn’t mind too much. She found she also didn’t mind that he - that all of them were a bit scared of her.
When she made it closer to the Manhattan lodge, she could feel eyes on her. On instinct, she took in her surroundings, searching for whoever was watching her. Spot made jokes a lot about how she was like a guard dog, always tense and ready to attack. Slowly, she walked towards an alley, listening to their footsteps as they followed her.
Once they were tucked into the alley, away from all people, she whipped around. In front of her stood Morris and Oscar Delancey, grinning menacingly.
“Wouldya look at that? It’s one o’ dem Brooklyn goil newsies,” Morris spoke.
“Brooklyn? Ya think she’ll put up a fight?” Oscar asked. They were acting like she wasn’t there, but their eyes stayed trained on her. She was waiting for them to move first before she did anything. If she hadn’t already guessed their intentions when they followed her into the alleyway, she sure as hell knew them now.
They both took a few steps toward her and she slowly clenched her hands into fists. The closer they got, the more she tenses up. The second Oscar’s hand brushed her arm, she landed a punch right on his jaw. He stumbled backwards, but Morris came charging toward her. He threw a punch but she dodged it, kicking him in the shin. Oscar was back up and he grabbed her from behind, locking her arms behind her back. She lifted her leg up and swung it backwards, kicking him in the crotch.
He let out a groan and fell backwards, hands covering the area she had hit. Morris came at her again, but she grabbed his suspenders and pulled him down so she could knee him in the stomach before punching him in the head. He dropped to the ground with a bloody nose and wavering consciousness. Oscar tried one more time, but all it took was one swipe at his legs with her foot and he was down.
“Woah.” She looked up to find Crutchie and Race at the opening of the alley, staring in awe at both her and the Delancey brothers lying on the ground.
“Mush came ta get us,” Race explained. “Said the Delancey brudders had followed some goil into an alley and they ain’t lookin’ too friendly.”
“We came to help,” Crutchie clarified, smiling slightly.
“Thanks, but I think I got it handled.” Crutchie laughed loudly, but Race continued to stare at her. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open slightly. If she had been really thinking about it, she would’ve realized he looked a little love struck. “You boys wanna walk me to the lodge? I got a message from Spot for Jack.”
Race nodded quickly, closing his mouth and erasing his previous expression from his face. As they walked, Crutchie stayed slightly in front and Race and Y/N walked side by side. Every so often Crutchie would glance back at the two of them walking in silence, grin, and then shake his head and look forward again. It was no secret to the Manhattan newsies how smitten Race was with Y/N.
When they reached the lodge Y/N was taken up to the roof to talk with Jack, leaving Race staring after her. All the other boys watched him, whispering and teasing.
“I’m gonna do it,” he spoke suddenly. The boys were silenced.
“Do what?” Specs asked nervously.
“I’m gonna tell Y/N how I feel.” His face was set and he was determined to finally tell her. Immediately, there were protests from the boys.
“She’ll punch you if you even try to touch her!” Someone shouted, warning mutters of agreement.
“She could kill you!”
“I heard once that ‘er and Spot got in a fight and nobody’s seen the guy since.”
“No way! I heard they found the body washed up under da bridge.”
“Would you lot shut up?!” Everyone was silenced by Race’s outburst. He looked nervous and he was wringing his hands. “I’m tellin’ her and that’s that, so you can stop blabbering 'bout it!”
A little while later, Race was outside smoking to calm his nerves. The boys had convinced Y/N to spend the night rather than make the trek back to Brooklyn while it was gettin’ dark out. None of them doubted that she’d be able to hold her own, but Crutchie had pointed out that she looked tired and wouldn’t be at her best if something did happen. She had eventually (reluctantly) accepted the invitation.
He felt his heartbeat speed up as he thought of telling her how he felt. The boys were right, if he said the wrong thing he would most likely end up dead or severely injured. Wasn’t that some saying, though? Love hurts? Love. Because didn’t he love the way she could fight better than any boy he’d ever met? Don’t he love that she wouldn’t let anybody control her or undermine her? Didn’t he love the way she rolled her eyes when he winked at her? Didn’t he love how she hadn’t threatened him to make him stop flirting with her like she’d done to Romeo? That had to mean something good, didn’t it?
He whipped around suddenly, startled by a noise behind him. There she stood, an eyebrow and raised and her arms crossed as she looked at him.
“You got some big date comin’ up or somethin’?” She asked, joining him where he was sitting on the curb.
“W-What?” He could feel his hands start to shake slightly.
“You don’t usually smoke this late. Plus, you’re chewing that cigar like you ain’t eaten in weeks.” She wasn’t wrong, but he pleasantly surprised him that she noticed the change in his behavior.
“I actually been meanin’ to talk to ya,” he said, trying to calm his breathing. She nodded for him to continue and he took in a sharp breath. “Ya know how I’m always flirtin’ with ya?” She nodded again, furrowing her eyebrows. He could see the growing confusion in her eyes. “Well, I just - I wanted to make sure you ain’t gettin’ the wrong idea, 'cause I - ”
“I get it,” she cut him off. “You flirt with every goil, you ain’t tryin’ to settle down, blah blah blah.” She rolled her eyes but her words were harsh, and she looked almost angry. He gulped, this certainly wasn’t how he’d planned for this to go. “That all?”
“No.” She sighs and looked at him, absolutely no interest shown in her eyes. “No, no that’s not what I meant. That’s - that’s the idea I didn’t want to give you. I ain’t goin’ 'round flirtin’ with other goils, Y/N. It’s just you.” She wasn’t looking at him anymore, and she stayed silent. He felt his nerves spike up and launched into a quick ramble.
“I just mean that I really like ya, and I mean it’s fine if ya don’t like me - 'cause I really can’t expect ya to. And you know I just wanted to get it off my chest, 'cause it’s real hard bein’ 'round you and pretendin’ like I don’t have feelings for ya. You can punch me now, the boys said you would. Pretty sure that got a bet goin’ in there. Some say youse gonna hit me, other’s say I’m dead, and then, ya know, some of the boys said you had feelings for me to, which is completely -”
His anxious ramble was interrupted by her hand over his mouth. She was smiling slightly at him, amusement written all over her features.
“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” she whispered. “I’m gonna kiss you now, that okay?” He nodded quickly and she leaned in. Their lips met and it wasn’t rough like he’d expected it to be with her. She was kissing him gently, and her lips were soft. He kept his hands folded in his lap, tightly gripping his cigar. He was afraid to touch her without any spoken consent, but she had her hand cupping his cheek.
When they pulled away she laughed at the expression on his face. She looked nice when she wasn’t constantly waiting for someone to attack.
“So, who gets the money if I like you back?” She asked, smirking.
“Oh, um - just Crutchie.” He was still having trouble breathing, but for an entirely different reason. She smiled and let out another laugh at his answer.
“Perfect. He’s my favorite.”
“Not me?” Race joked, finally able to act like his non-nervous self. She grinned at the fake pout on his face.
“Sometimes,” she shrugged. He smiled and haphazardly threw his arm around her, feeling his heart pounding in his chest when she didn’t push him away.
Hi there! I'm wondering if you could possibly write me a little some from prompts 33 and 53? MSR?
Dear Anon, this somehow turned into a sequel to this prompt.
33. “Are you sure
that’s the decision you want to make?” + 53. “Do you think I’m scared of a
They’re lucky, for once; the ER is mostly deserted. No other
disoriented, disorganized agent in here with an unexplained injury. The nurse
told her that a doctor would be with them in just a moment, but Mulder can’t
keep his eyes open. His head keeps lolling about only to snap back as soon as
it hits anything solid. Whether it’s her shoulder or the window in the car
“Drunk, huh?” The doctor, a short blond female greets them with a
sharp nod, snaps on her latex gloves and smiles at Scully. Who feels strangely
protective of Mulder at that moment.
“Actually, no,” she answers not knowing if it’s
the truth; for all she knows Mulder is drunk and has been ever since he showed
up at her apartment earlier, “he hurt his wrist.” Mulder, like a lost
puppy, offers his swollen wrist. The doctor grabs it and he winces.
“Yeah, we’ll x-ray it,” she says, “so what
“I had an accident,” Mulder’s words are slurred;
Scully is certain that he did not sound like this earlier, “Just an
“Is it just your wrist? Did you hurt anyone else?”
She turns to Scully, who shrugs. She doesn’t know anything and for the first
time this night she thinks maybe she should have asked Mulder beforehand. This
is not like her; she is unprepared in every sense of the word,
“No one else hurt,” he assures them, “no,
wait!” Both women turn to him. Scully tries not to think about it. Maybe
he got into a drunken fight. Or he hit someone with his car. There’s an endless
string of possibilities running through her mind; this is Mulder after all.
“My pride,” he grins, “I think I hurt my
pride.” Scully feels her cheeks burn. She feels sorry for the poor doctor.
But her pity is limited; at least doesn’t have to take Mulder home with her and
nurse him back to health. That job lies with her and her alone.
“That's… it would really help, Mr.-” she checks
the chart, “Mulder, if you could give us some information about what has
happened. Is anyone else hurt? Another human being?” He shakes his head
“I went running,” he quickly glances at Scully,
before he looks at the ground, “and I took off my shoes in the bedroom. I
always do. I took a – a shower. I forgot the shoes and well. My hand stopped
“No alcohol was involved?”
“No,” Mulder sighs, “I took a couple of pills
to make the pain go away.”
“What kind of pills?” Scully asks before the
doctor can and earns a confused glare.
“She’s a medical doctor,” Mulder explains for her,
grinning from ear to ear, “I thought it was Tylenol. I don’t think it
really was Tylenol, though, Scully. I feel dizzy.”
“Come on, Mr. Mulder. We’ll just x-ray your wrist and
then you can sleep it off.” He follows the doctor and a young nurse
“I’m not drunk,” he tells them, “Scully, tell
them I’m not drunk.”
“I hear you, Mr. Mulder. Given your current state, I
think it would be a good idea if we kept you overnight.”
“I’ll take him home with me,” Scully interjects
quickly and Mulder smirks, “and make sure he gets all the rest he needs. I
am, like he said, a doctor myself.”
“All right,” the ER doctor is not convinced, but
Scully couldn’t care less right now, “Now let’s get your wrist
Scully watches them wander over and fights the need to
follow. Mulder doesn’t need her to hold his hand. Their voices are fading as
they slowly make their way down the hall; it’s quiet here this late and the
white walls echo only Mulder’s voice, louder than usual. Or maybe she’s just so
attuned to him that she can hear him amongst all the chaos in the world.
“Do you think I’m scared of a woman?” She hears
him ask and she sees his face turn towards the tall nurse. “If you’re
talking about my partner then you’re absolutely right. She shot me once, you
know.” The words put a smile on her face and it’s the last thing she hears
for a while; the nurse gently pushes Mulder into a room and closes the door.
When Mulder returns, finally, his wrist is in a bandage.
Scully throws the magazine she’s been reading aside and quickly joins him.
“Just a torn ligament.” He answers her unasked
question, grinning at her as if he won a prize.
“Mulder, it’s not funny.”
“I agree. It really hurts. I think the pills are
starting to wear off again.”
“Here’s some ibuprofen you can take, Mr. Mulder.” The
nurse hands him the pills and Scully takes them from him immediately. The nurse
“I’ll make sure he takes them.”
“Of course. I’ll finish the report.”
“Oh Mulder,” Scully sighs, gently examining his
bandaged wrist, “come on, we’re going home.”
In her living room, Scully removes the melted Ben &
Jerry’s container as Mulder, still wearing his jacket, examines the VHS box of
Scully’s movie. He holds it up like a piece of toxic waste.
“Did you watch this?”
“We can’t all have your excellent taste in movies,
Mulder.” She mocks him, making sure the molten ice cream doesn’t drip on
her carpet. She throws the container away and stares at it longingly for a
moment. This is definitely not how she imagined her quiet weekend at home.
“We can watch it,” Mulder almost yells, “I
don’t mind, you know.”
“Mulder, you need to sleep. Whatever you took earlier,
you should sleep it off.” Scully makes a mental note to check the pill
bottle tomorrow when she takes Mulder to his own apartment. And then take it
away from him.
“I’m not tired. I feel like I slept all day.” He
doesn’t look like it, though, she thinks, biting her tongue.
“But Mulder,” Scully sighs; she doesn’t want to
complain, she really doesn’t, but it’s late and he’s looking at her like that
puppy again. Ready to be walked, ready to be entertained, “I’m
“Then go to sleep. I can,” Mulder looks around,
“I’ll find something to do.”
“Mulder, please.” Scully begs of him. For a moment
he remains still, but she can almost feel the wheels turning in his head – and she
has a distinctive feeling she’s not going to like whatever he’s going to say
“How about we make a deal.” His lips curl upwards.
“What kind of deal?” Scully asks carefully.
“I think I remember you wearing a certain garment
earlier. Or was I hallucinating?”
“Mulder, no.” The grin disappears and his lower
lip comes forward just the tiniest bit in a sneaky pout. Scully can’t help but
think that he knows much how that affects her. He must know.
“Then I’m not going to sleep.” He tells her
decisively, turning away from her. She rolls her eyes; all she wants right now
is to sleep and she knows it’s not going to happen if Mulder is out here,
“Mulder,” she begins, but he refuses to look at
her; just like a little child, “Are you sure that’s the decision you want
to make?” He nods, playing with the lapels of his jacket. It completely
slipped her mind to help him out of it.
“Mulder, look at me,” he doesn’t, “I have a
deal for you.” His head snaps into her direction.
“Let me help you out of your jacket first.” Mulder
lets her take it off for him. They manage to avoid coming into contact with his
wrist. That’s something at least. Until she remembers that she’ll have to help
him out of the rest of his clothes, too, in the near future.
“What’s the deal?”
“Ask me again about the tank top,” he opens his
mouth, “when you’re no longer high on drugs. Now come on, g-man. We need
to get you into bed.” He mumbles something, but follows her obediently.
“I’m not high on drugs, Scully.” He mimics her.
“Of course not,” she not so gently shoves him into
her bedroom and he sits on her bed, waiting, “We have no idea what you
took, Mulder. So I’d rather wait for it to wear off.” For once he decides
to remain silent. He lets her help him out of his pants; he’ll have to sleep in
his boxers and t-shirt, Scully decides. Mulder watches her as she reaches for her
pajama pants she threw on her bed earlier.
“I’ll be right back,” she tells him gently,
“get under the covers.” She almost winces; she sounds like his mother
and that’s not at all what she wants. As she enters the bathroom, she hears
rustling and she sighs in relief. In the bathroom, she quickly puts on her
pajama pants. For a moment she debates whether to leave the t-shirt on or not;
it stays on, she decides, turns off the bathroom light and joins Mulder in the
already dark bedroom.
“About what, Mulder?”
“Everything. I crashed your evening and I realize I – I
probably should have called. And I didn’t mean to, with the tank top. I know I –
just ignore me, Scully. You’re probably right and I’m high on drugs. Good
night, Scully. Thank you for letting me stay here.” With a sigh, she grabs
the hem of her shirt and takes it off. It lands with a soft thud on the floor
“Scully?” She’s aware he can’t see her in the
“Shut up, Mulder,” Scully says, lying down next to
him, “And sleep.”
He manages to stay quiet for a couple of minutes; long
enough for Scully to almost fall asleep. Almost.
“Scully? Are you – I must be hallucinating, but… are
you wearing the tank top?”
“Mulder, if you shut up now you’ll wake up to me
wearing it in the morning.” Scully expects him to say something – anything
– but he remains beautifully quiet. She doesn’t tell him that if he’s his
normal, drug-free self tomorrow, she might even let him take it off.
had all, up until this point, unanimously steered away from any statement that
might bring up the general awkwardness of two Club members possessing very
unusual circumstances with their childhood as well as anything too raunchy,
largely because everyone was keenly aware of Momoi’s presence.
all in all, the game had been fairly tame so far, and Momoi felt like it was
her responsibility to start the ball rolling, so to speak, if they were ever
going to fully bond as a team, so she declares, “Never have I ever had sex.”
Sakurai says feebly, but then Imayoshi picks up one of the lemon slices and
bites into it, much to the consternation of the rest of the team.
you have not, you liar,” Susa says.
don’t know everything about me,” Imayoshi says mildly, and then he spits out
the lemon peel. (In the absence of alcohol, given that they were all underage,
cutting up the lemons Momoi had brought for practice seemed like a suitable
didn’t know that,” Ryou says, looking hurtfully at his cousin.
don’t know everything about me,” Imayoshi says.
live with you, and I don’t believe you,” Aomine says, a little more irritated
than Momoi feels like he should sound, and she thinks that in this particular
instance he’s embarrassed he didn’t have to bite a lemon.
swore an oath to tell the truth in this game,” Imayoshi says, in a way that
really only makes it sound even more like he’s lying. “Anyway, it’s my turn.
Never have I ever brought porn to school. Go suck on a lemon, Aomine.”
rolls his eyes as he reaches for a wedge, “And I’ll suck it with pride.”
Momoi says, as their Center surreptitiously tries to grab a lemon while
everyone is distracted by Aomine.
It was once! Er. It was a dare,” Wakamatsu looks decidedly uncomfortable with
where this conversation has turned, even more so than Sakurai. “Who’s turn is
Susa says. “Never have I ever been sexually attracted to anyone on this team.”
takes her lemon and Aomine smirks at her. She sticks out her tongue and says,
“No one said I was thinking about you, Dai-chan.”
on this team or in this club?” Wakamatsu asks, and then shrinks when
Aomine glares at him.
this club,” Susa says brightly, like he’d just discovered a new avenue for
remaining starters all go for a lemon wedge and Aomine glares at all of
them while sucking on his lemon, “You perverts need to stay away from Satsuki!”
be so hasty, Aomine,” Imayoshi says through his lemon, “Maybe it’s because
we’ve thought about you.”
that’s definitely better,” Momoi says when Aomine starts sputtering.
it’s my turn,” Aomine says, still glowering. “Never have I ever had a fantasy
involving two dudes.”
cheerfully takes another lemon and then nearly chokes on it when Imayoshi does
the same (it is not, however, a surprise when Sakurai takes one).
I don’t believe anything you’ve said this game,” Susa tells their
I’m hurt you don’t think I’d suck on lemons honestly,” Imayoshi replies.
we please play a different game?” Wakamatsu begs.
we can’t go back to poker, Momoi keeps winning,” Imayoshi says.
don’t know about you,” Momoi says dreamily, “But I’m pretty sure I’m winning
this game too.”
A/N: These requests all came in around the same time and it was one of those things
where I wasn’t sure if they were all from the same enthusiastic person or if a
whole bunch of people randomly really wanted AoMomo bonding with Touou at the
same time, but either way, sorry it took so long, anon-friend or anon-friends!!
(I have this strange feeling I’ve written a “I Have Never” fic before in D:M
but I don’t think I have? It’s one of my favorite tropes, though, so I’m
honestly surprised it’s taken me this long.)
A penniless dock worker inherits a title and his family’s destitute estate. In order to save the house and grounds, he puts an ad in the paper for a wealthy wife from the United States. The damaged Emma Swan is desperate for a new start anywhere but New York. Together, will they save Kentledge Hall?
Awash in several glasses of Champagne, eighteen year-old Emma
Swan had been easily tantalized into the Conservatory at the Vanderbilt Mansion
during a New Year’s celebration, ringing in the promises of 1916. Despite the December
chill, there was a lingering warmth in the Conservatory.
The young society darling and her date were surrounded by
all manner of exotic plants and flowers, blooming in the moonlight. She,
herself, was the most colorful thing in the room; she wore a gown of gold and
black, covered with a wine-tinted gauze and cinched at the waist with a
decorative band of gilded embroidery and mother-of-pearl. Her moonlit hair was
tucked into a pile of curls, secured with a large gilded comb bedecked with
Neal Cassidy, a young, handsome attorney from Delaware, was
her tuxedoed date for the evening’s festivities and they had just managed to
ditch Emma’s tipsy aunt Regina Mills back in the ballroom downstairs.
Emma giggled with delight as Neal swung her around the tiled
floor of the room, his arm wrapped around her back. They were dancing much
closer than they would have been allowed at the party. She closed her eyes as
Neal bowed his head to place kisses along the side of her neck, a smile
spreading over her lips.
“Mmm,” Emma moaned softly, sliding her fingers between his.
“You really shouldn’t do that, you know.”
Neal chuckled and let his lips find hers. He walked her
backward until her calves came to a stop against the end of a chaise longue.
“Why shouldn’t I?” He asked against her lips. “I’m going to marry you, Emma, my
The idea made her giddy. A grand wedding with all sorts of
fanfare and a milky-white gown of everything in the finest, her best friends
all with large bouquets of white roses and lily-of-the-valley…it was everything
Emma wanted. And Neal was such an entertainment to her over the past few
months. Lavish dinners, ferry rides, and even a day at Luna Park in Brooklyn
where he had won her a small pink porcelain figurine. He really knew how to woo
a girl. He grasped her by the waist and carefully laid her back onto the
chaise, taking a seat dangerously close to her.
“Neal,” Emma whispered, blushing profusely, “no, stop that…someone
will see you and think the worst.”
“With me, it will hardly be the worst, darling. Don’t you
want me, Emma?” He asked. The music downstairs grew louder, and Emma knew they
must be nearing midnight.
“After we marry, of course,” she insisted, moving her hands
to his shoulders to push gently.
in which Percy falls and hits his head because he’s too busy staring at Annabeth
Warnings: Language, but whatever.
Percy’s been to the gym tons of
times. Hell, he goes to the gym thrice a week, at the least. And every one of
his visits includes about an hour in the pool. Once in a while, there’ll be an
attractive girl doing laps or water aerobics or whatever, but Percy never ever gets distracted. Bikini-clad bodies
and pretty faces don’t affect him as much as it does other guys.
But, for some fucking reason, the girl with the blonde hair and tan skin floating
at the opposite corner from where he was gets his attention immediately.
She rolls her eyes and momentarily
glances behind her, straight at him, which causes Percy to stop breathing for a
full five seconds.