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withcolebrock · 3 years

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Lovely

Corpse Husband x fem reader

Summary: Y/N surprises Corpse on his birthday

Warnings: a few swear words

Word count: 1,818

Author’s Note: happy early birthday Corpsey!! I thought about writing a birthday fic and this is what I cam up with, I hope you guys enjoy it. Also please tell me I’m not the only person that remembers Mario Super Sluggers, one of the best Mario games and I stand by that, that’s all.

~~~

Corpse was never big on birthdays. He hated the attention it brought on him, he hated the idea of celebrating himself like that. He stopped recognizing his birthday when he was fifteen. Never acknowledge the day as something special. Until he met Y/N. Three years ago he met Y/N through social media and she was the first person he felt comfortable enough to show his face to.

The two were never romantically involved, per say, but they definitely had romantic feelings for each other. Their friends were big on teasing them about their feelings for each other, Felix and Sean always had a field day with this. Their friend group thought it was peak comedy. Even Corpse would admit that it was hilarious listening to Sean try to impersonate his voice.

Y/N and Corpse first met on his birthday, he invited her to come over and hang out. She happily accepted the offer. Ever since then Corpse has started to look forward to his birthday because he knew they would spend all day together. He knew he would be happy and smiling the whole day because of her.

He was laying in bed watching one of Dream’s Manhunts. He lifted his phone from his side table to begin to scroll through Twitter. It was the same old tweets and not a lot of tweets from his friends, quite boring. He reached to place it down when he saw a phone call from Y/N. His pinked lips curled up softly as he spent a few seconds admiring the photo of her in his merch hoodie that he took.

“Y/N, Hey,” he said while putting the phone on speaker. He cleared his throat while he rested the phone on his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Corpse,” she whispered, a small whimper left her lips. Corpse furrowed his eyebrows as he adjusted the pillow under his head.

“What’s wrong, Hun?” he asked.

“I can’t make it tomorrow, my car won’t start and my brother came to look at it and it looks like I need a new battery and possibly an alternator, I’m so sorry Corpse, I really wanted to see you,”

Corpse let her finish talking while he felt his heart sink at her words. She was all he was looking forward to seeing for weeks. He spent a few days cleaning his apartment, making it spotless. He went out to the store to buy her favorite alcohol and other snacks. “It’s fi-Don’t worry about it, it’s okay,” he whispered. He tapped his finger against his laptop while clenching his jaw.

“We will still celebrate your birthday, I promise, we will still have a good day, okay?” she offered.

“Yeah, of course, it’ll still be good. Yeah, we can-yeah we can do something over discord,” he explained while he tossed his computer to the other side of his bed as he slowly pushed himself off the bed.

“Are you mad?” she asked, her voice was barely audible.

“No of course not, it’s something out of your control, it’s okay I promise,” he responded while he left his bedroom. His gaze looked all over his freshly cleaned apartment, that never looks this nice and put together, “I was just excited to see you is all,” the words fell from his lips without realizing. His eyes widened as she was silent on her end of the phone.

“I was excited too,” she whispered. After a few more minutes they ended their phone call with a quick shared goodbye. He rested his phone down on the counter as he continued to frustratingly clench his jaw. His gaze shifted towards the bottle of Vodka in the corner of his kitchen. He sighed while he reached for it and quickly untwisted it. He brought it to his lips and took a quick sip of it. He cringed as he set the bottle down on the counter while twisting the lid back on.

“How does she like this shit,” he muttered as he shook his head again at the after taste. He walked towards his bathroom, while dropping his head slightly. He rested his phone and his watch down onto the bathroom counter. He looked into the mirror briefly before shifting his gaze back towards his feet. He started to take off his clothes to get into the shower and to try and rush the end of the day. He wanted to try and sleep to get Y/N off of his mind.

~~~

He was surprised when he woke up when he realized he did in fact fall asleep for a while. It was late past nine o’clock when he reached for his phone on his side table. He opened Twitter to see hundreds of thousands of birthday tweets from fans. His face softens as his lips curled up into a smile.

Over the years his fans would tell him happy birthday, over social media but this year felt different. The constant messages rolling through slowly started forming tears into his eyes. The amount of endless love he always received from his fans always made him feel better and slightly more secure than last time. His eyes filled with more tears as he saw his friends tweet sweet little birthday messages. A few tears slipped his eyes as he began to reply to their tweets and private messages.

He raised his hand as he wiped his eyes. He shook his head as she slowly stood up from his bed while he kept his phone in his hand. The birthday messages and wishes were a quick and short distraction from the one person he wanted to see. The one person who made him excited for his birthday again. He sighed as he opened his fridge, taking a bottle of water.

The silence in his apartment was heartbreaking, despite the love and appreciation he felt from his fans and his friends, he was still alone. He never wanted to remember the feeling of being alone on his birthday again. He loved the joy and love he felt from Y/N when she would spent the day with him. He wiped his eye as he rested his phone beside his bottle of water when it started to ring. He quickly cleared his throat as he answered the phone.

“Open the door,” she spoke. Corpse’s eyebrows furrowed as he stood silently while he waited for her to elaborate, “Open the door, please,” she continued. He chuckled nervously as he kept the phone to his ear as he wandered towards the door. He looked through the peep hole to see Y/N standing holding a small cake. He chuckled as he pulled the door open. She smiled widely when she saw him. His smile was as wide as it could go as he was at a loss for words. His body was tense as he looked deeply into her eyes. “Happy birthday,” she whispered as she stared towards him. Corpse slowly brought his phone down into his hoodie pocket as he reached out for the cake.

“I thought you couldn’t come,” he said as he walked towards the kitchen. She placed her phone into her jean pocket as she kept her gaze on Corpse.

“Suprise?” she let out while she ran her fingers through her hair. He chuckled as he turned to face her. He leaned his body against the counter while he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Come here,” he said, barely audible. She rushed towards him delicately wrapping her arms around him as he slowly did the same. He took a long deep breath as he ran his hand slowly up and down her back. His eyes shut as he fought off the tears of joy filling his eyes. He sniffed, as she pulled away from him.

‘Are you okay?” she asked as she stood in front of him, anxiously playing with her sleeves. He nodded as he chewed at his bottom lip.

“I’m just happy you’re here is all,”

~~~

They sat together with a half eaten chocolate cake with a half a bottle of wine, with Mario Super Sluggers on the TV screen. She leane her head back laughing as she watched Corpse try and get Bowser to get to first base. “Come on, come on, come on, Oh fuck that!” he yelled through a few chuckles. Y/N gets Diddy Kong to get Bowser out. “Oh come on Bowser you’re supposed to be all strong and shit what is this bullshit,” he complained while he sat back down on the couch. She leaned her head back as she began laughing hysterically.

“I think it’s just you, Hun, this aint got nothing to do with Bowser,” she explained. He shook his head while laughing.

“I am so good at this game, it’s definitely Bowser for sure,” he continued. They played the game for a few more rounds, there was tons of trash talk and laughter shared. A full bottle of wine and a few vodka sodas later they were both drunk and still making their way through the cake sitting on the coffee table.

“I’m so glad you came, honestly would’ve been a shit day without you,” Corpse said as he took another fork full of cake and he slowly brought it to his lips.

“It’s been a great day, it’s always a great day with you, Lovely,” she turned her head towards him. He tilted his head to meet her gaze. A small chuckle leaves his lips as he stares into her eyes, admiring the color. “Why are you laughing?” she chuckled as she spoke quietly. He shook his head as he pressed his lips together.

“That’s a new nickname,” he whispered. She furrowed her eyebrows as she tilted her head back slightly, “Lovely,” he hummed before leaning slightly closer to her, “I like that one.”

“I’ll start using it more then,” she said while she turned her head away from him briefly, “Lovely.” He smiled widely as he rolled his eyes playfully. He lifted his hand and wiped his hair away from his eyes as he reached into his pocket for his phone. He opened his camera. “What are you doing?”

“Smile,” he said while he held the camera facing her. She furrowed her eyebrows and laughed nervously. She smiled towards Coprse. He took a few of the photos and held his phone up as he looked towards her through the phone. He admired her smile, the way her nose scrunched up slightly when she did. He slowly lowered his phone as he kept his gaze towards her.

“What,” she let out nervously, her lips still curled upwards. He shook his head as he reluctantly shifted his gaze back to his phone. He went to Twitter and picked his favorite one. He captioned the photo, Great Birthday with my Lovely :).

He drunkenly posted without thinking about the repercussions that would’ve occurred.

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse husband imagines #corpse husband x reader #corpse fanfic #corpse fics #corpse x reader #corpse x fem reader

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fairyaali · 3 years

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Hi! Could I please request a fluffy chat noir fic? Maybe where he and the reader are cuddling and he starts purring and the reader teases him and thinks it’s adorable? Tyyy -Bhad Bleep

Hello Bhad Bleep ! <3 I hope that you enjoy what I wrote for u bb uwu. Also i hope that it’s fluffy enough too >.< anyways, enjoy !

Pairing: Chat Noir X Reader

Warnings: just some swearing.

Tags: Chat is tired pls, purring ;), He’s just adorable tbh.

Candles, homemade cookies, pillows, a red picnic blanket, bubble milk tea and soft music playing in the background while you gazed at a duck floating on the lake with the moonlight shimmering over it.

He was always late so you’re used to this but for some reason you couldn’t help but feel a slight anger overcome you.

The only thing that was missing was him.

Your boyfriend, Chat noir.

Or maybe it was worry because usually when he’s this late it meant that something bad has happened.

You sighed to yourself and poked a hole in the plastic lid of your bubble tea, sipping it and chewing on the soft, jelly like tapioca.

You shook your head.

No, he could take care of himself.

It really sucked because you had no way of contacting him because you simply couldn’t know anything about his real identity.

Nonetheless, you trusted him with your whole heart. You knew he would come soon.

“Mon ange, sorry im late.”

You almost ended up choking on the tapioca pearl.

Coughing, you looked up at him and he widened his eyes walking to you and rubbing your back.

“Chat…You’re hurt.” You whisper, a frown evident on your face but your eyes filled with worry.

You looked at him, he had a bruise on his cheek and his suit had a cut on his right bicep.

Your coughing eased and you lifted a hand to brush your thumb over the bruise.

He holds your hand against his cheek and gives you a small smile.

“You should’ve seen the other guy.” He winks and you and it makes you chuckle.

He always had to try and make things less serious than they were because he hated seeing you frown.

“Do you want me to pack up everything and go home so you can rest?” You ask.

He quickly shakes his head.

“That wont be necessary beautiful, especially when I haven’t even had one of your famous homemade cookies!” He pulls you up on his lap quickly, making you yelp in surprise but ultimately giggle.

“I’m sorry I came late Ma belle.” He whispers and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

He kisses you softly and you close your eyes, leaning more into the kiss and wrapping your arms around his neck for support.

You pull away and look into his bright green eyes, half lidded but full of love.

“darling…” He says and lifts your chin up to make you look at him. “You know I can-“

You sigh and shake your head.

“Please Chat, I was just worried about you. It’s hard when I can’t even contact you, you know.” You huff and cross your arms over your chest, looking down.

“Can’t give me any personal information because my identity must remain a secret for now.” You continue for him. “Yeah I know. I just care about you.” You murmur.

He lets out a breathy laugh and shakes his head. “Nothing’s going to happen to me babe.” He says and looks at you straight in the eyes. “Plus, you’re dating one of Paris’ most respected, handsome, strongest, superheroes. Villains aint got shit on me.” He says proudly, placing a hand on his chest.

You roll your eyes playfully and laugh.

“I got your favourite by the way.” You smirk and move down from his lap to get the drink. “Honeydew bubble milk tea!” You exclaim and he gasps grabbing the drink from your hand, a huge grin on his face.

“Please don’t ever say that again.” You say.

“Thank you Mon ange!” He says and quickly kisses your cheek before popping the straw through the lid, taking a long sip.

His eyes roll to the back of his head and he hums in pleasure. “This shit bussin’” He says and you close your eyes, sighing while pinching the bridge of your nose.

He snorts and puts the bubble tea down.

“can i?” He asks while pointing to your lap.

“I got perfectly good pillows and you still want to use my thighs to rest your head?” You say and quirk an eyebrow up.

He smirks and nods and you could already tell what’s going on in his head.

“Come on kitty.” You say and chuckle at him as he scoots over and rests his head on your lap.

You sigh happily as you look at him.

You longed for times like these with him, it was always your favourite time of the day.

He was a breath of fresh air, a distraction, your paradise.

You start playing with his hair, letting the soft blonde locks run through your fingers.

You wondered what he did in his personal life.

From what you could tell, he was gorgeous enough to be a model.

He had the physique, soft skin and luscious hair.

Or maybe he’s a pianist.

His fingers were long and delicate and he mentioned that he knew how to play so maybe it was his profession.

Maybe he fences.

You saw the way he fights. He keeps his back straight, he’s observant and very good when it comes to reflexes.

You may not know these things but you were at peace with knowing that you fell in love with him because of who he truly his.

You hoped you’d see what he really looked like underneath the mask one day though.

You looked at him and widened his eyes and he shot his eyes open.

Your thoughts were cut off when you felt vibrations come from the superhero laying on your lap.

He was purring.

“Did you just..” You trail off and you can see his cheeks glow red.

“No- I-It was probably the wind.” He chuckles nervously and gulps.

You giggled at him and he nuzzles his face in your hand.

You notice that your hand was right behind his ear this time so you start to gently scratch it again.

His eyes close, his lips part and vibrations emerge from his throat.

This was adorable. Just like a little kitty.

He stops nuzzling you and his purrs get softer, his eyes were still closed.

He was probably too happy and blissful to even care about the fact that he was purring anymore.

Or maybe he was so tired that this was the only way he truly felt at peace.

“Chat?” You whispered. No response.

He was asleep.

You smiled to yourself.

Maybe this was all that you ever really needed in life.

He made you feel whole, even if there was a part of him that was missing.

You hoped that you’d do the same.

#chat noir #chat noir x reader #mlb #miraculous ladybug #adrien x reader #adrien agreste #cat noir

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anyotherwriter · 3 years

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Split Decision [5]

Masterlist

You ever write something and wonder why and think, "that doesn't make any sense at all"? Because that's me. But I wanted to have this ready today. I've never been good with deadlines or schedules and I'm making an honest effort. It was rough. My daughter really put me through it today and my brain feels like it packed up and left for a six week vacation. I won't sleep if I don't post this and get it off my list of things to do. I proof-read once, I think. I have an ending to the series still but don't know what the fuck any of the middle of this story is anymore because I went way off the outline I wrote.

Anyway. Gif is not mine, credit to whomever made it. Regular TWD warnings, continue reading at your own risk I guess. You can find the playlist for this series (and Daryl in general) in the masterlist.

And if anyone ever tells you that being a stay at home mom is a gravy train, punch them in the teeth for me. Okay, love you, bye.

\\\\\\\\\\\///////////

It seemed as if the buzzing in Y/N's chest was shaking the entire room. She was lying on a bed in the infirmary trying to distract herself by counting the spots in the drop ceiling… or were they dried blood spatter?

The winter was about a month from letting up and Siddiq was tired of watching Y/N hobble around when he knew how to fix it. "I read it in a few books, I can do it." He told her several times. She wasn't quite sure how he'd manage to convince her this was a good idea. It wasn't, not even a little bit. Maybe he just wore her down, annoyed the shit out of her enough that she capitulated to get him to shut up.

"Ya aint gotta do this." Daryl said from his place across the room anxiously chewing on a fingernail. He could tell the moment he first saw her this morning that she was scared and unsure. He didn't want Y/N to feel pressured to do something she didn't want to do just because a doctor had never done this before and wanted to "give it a shot". It didn't settle well with Daryl but he also knew that he couldn't stop her if she wanted to go through with it. He'd been glued to the same spot, listening to the questions and the answers (if there was one), the concerns and how it could potentially make all the problems worse. The only thing that was certain was the panic that laced her voice, no matter how much she tried to square her shoulders and put on a brave face.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Y/N attempted to be sarcastic, but the look in her eyes made Daryl's knuckles clench in frustration. They had already been over this, all of the 'worsts'. Rosita chuckled from beside her as she neared the bed and turned her attention to Siddiq.

"Can't walk right no more. More pain." He said to her, his voice low, but voicing the two concerns that bugged him the most. They stared at each other for a minute. She could tell he was concerned, not missing the way his brow crinkled a bit. His eyes showed worry. She reached out her hand for him. Daryl hesitated at first but then crossed the few feet that separated them. He took her hand firmly as she started to lay back and tried to fluff the flat pillow beneath her head. He leant on the bed beside her with his free hand, hovering over her a bit. She shut her eyes tight. He looked over to Rosita briefly, her eyes fixed downward into the denim of Y/N’s jeans. He hoped that Rosita would say something, maybe try to reason with her… talk her out of it. But she stayed silent.

"Tell me again how you did this the first time?" Siddiq asked as he prepared the area around him and unpacked his supplies. He stood at her feet now hoping he didn’t get kicked in the process. He, too, was nervous. It was a simple thing in theory. Modern medicine before the apocalypse made resetting a bone an easy task. Re-break, re-mend.

"Fell down a small rock face. Only about a ten foot drop, I still remember the sound of the snap." Y/N said breathless as Siddiq removed her boot and then her sock. He rolled her ankle in his hands a few times, trying to pinpoint where the popping was coming from with his forced motions, and felt for any disfigured bones in the area. Without x-rays, he would never be able to be a hundred percent sure. That’s where his uncertainty came from. It wasn’t enough to make him call it off. He was confident that he could help. There was just a nagging feeling in the back of his mind trying to push forward to remind him that he could create even bigger problems for her in the future.

"How did you set it yourself?" He asked to distract her and tried to clear his own mind. He was the one they relied on to fix people, not to break them. He took a slow deep breath of his own as he nodded at both Rosita and Daryl. Y/N had missed this, but she didn’t miss the way Daryl leaned down closer to her.

“Ya sure? It’s gonna hurt ya.” Daryl asked. She opened her eyes and was made aware of how close he had gotten to her. She could see a bit of stress-grays peppering his chin and the small ring of green that surrounded his pupils before it exploded into blue. She nodded and shut her eyes tight again. “I don’ want ya hurtin’.”

"Took a while to climb back to my pack” she started, trying her best to push past what Daryl had said and answering Siddiq’s question. “The mountains are harder to navigate when you're injured. But when I got back to my camp, I broke a smaller branch in two and-" And then silence consumed the room for about five seconds. Then the silent scream turned into a loud and tearful scream. The initial shock of pain from the ankle that Siddiq had just rebroke started to grow and grow and grow. It reverberated up through her leg and into the hip.

Daryl watched her eyes grow wide in time with the snapping of her bone, a sound that would haunt Daryl, and he dropped his torso lower over hers and his other hand snaked into her hair as he massaged the crown of her head with his fingers. He allowed her to muffle her cries in the breast of his shirt as he held on to her. Rosita tried her best to hold Y/N’s legs down so Siddiq could work.

"Yer a'ight." He said gently even though his brain was yelling at him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He shouldn’t have let her agree to it. There was probably a better way, but he didn’t know of any. Siddiq had spent the last two months trying to help her with pain management, even having her sit with her foot buried in the snow from the calf down to numb it. They were temporary fixes but nothing stuck. They could see how much the pain affected her and Daryl stuck by her and hoped he could offer her comfort if she needed it, in any way. He’d fetch ice packs, rest her ankle across his lap as he’d gently massage it, let her lean on him on a particularly rough morning...

The tight grasp she had on the shoulder of his shirt began to loosen as her cries turned into ragged deep breaths.

"You couldn't count to three or something?" She mustered out, her words sounding shaky and heavily muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Her breaths came out quickly, the rise and fall of her chest harder with Daryl's weight rested over her. She was thankful for something solid to hold on to, even more thankful it was him.

"Would that have made it easier?" Siddiq asked with a small smirk on his face. His eyes were focused on her ankle as he set it the best he could. That nagging that reminded him this may not work was trying to come back, but he wasn’t going to let it affect his efforts. He wanted Y/N to be comfortable and pain-free if he could help it. He just hoped she'd give it an honest shot at healing, something he'd have to rally a small group to drill into her head.

"Fuck no." She exhaled deeply. Y/N was coming back from the initial shock and was now hyper focused on every move Siddiq had made at her feet, but also on the archer who hadn't lifted his weight off her yet. He smelled like campfire and oil and cigarettes and his hair was tickling her upper lip. His fingers were still moving around in her hair. She continued her hold on his shoulder and not letting him stand straight just yet. The weight of his chest pressed on top of her was keeping her distracted enough as they continued in silence for a few more minutes until her ankle was wrapped tight and secure. The loss of Daryl resting on her as he started to push himself up made her whine again. She hoped she could mask that one as a pain reaction as her cheeks flushed a bit. He then helped her sit up; she refused to let his hand go. The jostling of her new injury caused her to flinch.

"You really have to stay off it." Siddiq demanded with his full attention on her. He knew there was a very good chance she wouldn't listen. "If it heals wrong again, you'll probably be in more pain than before."

"Remind me why I let you do this again?" Y/N mumbled as she stared down at her foot. Luckily she couldn't see the swelling and bruising beneath the wraps. Siddiq handed Daryl a pair of crutches and Y/N groaned.

"A lot of ice, no walking, stay hydrated, eat." Siddiq said to her plainly. He didn't sugarcoat much for Y/N anymore the way he would for most of the Alexandrians, not after she merely attacked him for trying to help her that first time. So he treated her accordingly. "Don't do anything stupid."

Y/N rolled her eyes and she sat staring at the crutches that Daryl offered out to her. She didn't make a move to grab them.

"Take 'em." Daryl encouraged and she pouted. "Ya won' like the other choice."

Y/N recalled the last time she had crutches. She'd fallen in gym class in middle school and sprained her ankle, the same one that was currently broken again. She remembered the armpit pieces messing up her shirts and rubbing her skin raw. She remembered a few kids making fun of her for being so clumsy, one even tried to trip her. She wished she had the balls back then that she did now to take a crutch and whack that annoying bully across the chest with the aluminum.

She felt a heavy sigh leave her as she finally dropped Daryl's hand, taking note of the crescent moons her nails had left behind. But Daryl grew impatient and started towards the door. He opened it, making Y/N think he was going to leave her there. But he only peeked out for a few seconds and then handed the crutches to a very short someone waiting outside. She could hear Judith asking Daryl if she was okay. He then came back into the room, walked up on her quickly, and slipped one hand around her back and the other beneath her knees. The quickness of his movements hit a hard stop when he quietly asked if she was ready, careful not to jostle her ankle too much, and picked her up off the bed. Y/N made a small squeak as she tightened her arms around his neck as he began to carry her out of the infirmary, down the steps, and back to her room. Judith trailed beside them, crutches awkwardly clutched in her small hands. Nobody saw the way Rosita rolled her eyes.

After a minute of feeling Daryl's arm wrapped around her back and the hand that held her tight on the side, she glanced at his face. It seemed blank and void of emotion as he stared straight ahead. They were getting odd looks from passers-by and Judith took it upon herself to keep them at bay. She was telling people that Y/N was just fine. But Y/N wasn't. Sure, she willingly let an apocalypse doctor snap her ankle on purpose and it hurt like hell; that she was fine with. The thing that was making her want to implode was how Daryl hadn't seemed to put more than six feet of distance between them today on his own volition. She'd told him several times he didn't need to stay, she could find someone else to help if he was too busy, and that she'd be okay. But he'd shake his head, or mumble a "nah" or ignore her completely and stay anyway. That is why she wasn't "fine". She'd given him several outs and he hadn't even considered one of them.

"I have to tell you, Dixon," Y/N almost whispered. His eyes peered down at her for a few seconds before looking straight again "This is a much better choice."

And she laughed at the way his neck and ears turned red. She just hoped he would hang around for the next six weeks the way he did today. Maybe longer.

****

The air would change in her bedroom to match the person visiting. When Siddiq would drop by, it felt professional. He'd examine her foot and change wraps if needed. The bruising was fading well and when no one was looking, she tried to rotate her ankle. Bright side was that it still worked. That was something. He'd give her some pain killers, make sure her water was filled, and leave.

Judith would bring her a new book or a deck of cards and want to play to pass some time. Y/N would tell her about cool places she'd been growing up and the places she never got the chance to. Judith would always listen intently and the atmosphere would stay light.

Rosita brought a sense of duty with her. She cared about Y/N's well-being and missed their late nights where they would just sit in silence together on the wall. So she'd come to Y/N's room to do the exact same thing, typically bringing food with her or some minor gossip from around the community while still being a little reserved.

Aaron felt like a warm hug. He asked her how she was feeling and if she needed anything. He let her vent about hovering and people not letting her do anything. She complained about how she just wanted to leave the room without someone hot on her heels acting like she was fragile. She'd often thank Aaron for letting her get it all out and he'd offer her a hug every time. He, too, would bring food with him.

When Daryl showed up, the room would feel small. Since the day he’d carried her into the basement and placed her in her bed, he’d show up like clock-work. He would triple-knock and wait until Y/N would call him in. He didn’t typically talk when he came in, leaving Y/N to carry most of the conversations. He would just make himself comfortable on the floor with his back resting against the wall right beside her bed. Sometimes he’d bring supplies with him to make new bolts. Other times, he’d bring a few guns to clean. Rarely, but a few times now, he’d come in with nothing and fall into a light sleep. With any minor movement or sound of discomfort or even a sneeze, his eyes would open back up. So in the times he did decide that he was comfortable enough to find some slumber, Y/N would be as still and quiet as a mouse.

Tonight seemed like a sleeping kind of evening for him when he walked in. He carried himself slowly, like his limbs were too heavy to go any further. He glanced at her when he first opened the door before stepping over to his usual spot and making himself comfortable.

"Daryl." She called quietly. She had the tape playing beside her at full volume but turned it off completely when she saw his eyes close slowly. He offered a small hum in response. "Did you ever have those glow in the dark stars on your bedroom ceiling?"

"Nah."

"Me neither." She'd say, her voice sounding wistful. "We'd travel a lot and go camping and outdoorsy stuff and when we'd put the fire out, we would sit there and star gaze for a bit before bedtime. Even when I had real stars, I always thought about those stupid bright green ones they'd sell at the dollar store."

When she'd look in his direction, he'd be looking back.

"Wha' happened to yer dad?" He'd ask softly.

Y/N was surprised he had asked but also equally surprised it had taken him this long to. It wasn't like she'd kept him a secret; she'd talk about him often.

"He must've been sick. We traveled into the mountains, heading east, when we just got comfortable. We were able to trap small game and build shelter and walkers can't climb rocks. It made sense to stay. So we camped there for a while, even braved the winter in an abandoned bear cave. It was rough, but we did it. Then one morning, I was collecting some berries and walnuts and I heard the growling. We didn’t encounter many walkers up there, but we’d get a straggler every now and then. When I turned to kill it, I froze. I didn’t expect it to be my dad.

“I cried and I screamed and I… I didn't understand what happened. I was stuck in this place where it was my dad but at the same time it wasn’t, ya know?”

Daryl did know. Small, faded flashes of his brother came to mind. He didn't say anything, though, but still left the wall to scoot closer to the side of her bed. She had her hands folded on her stomach as she stared at the ceiling.

“I froze too long and he got too close. I didn’t have enough motion to put him down kindly. I lost my footing and we both toppled down to the ground and I was trapped. The only place to go was down; that’s when I broke my ankle.

"You know what bugs me the most?" She asked, turning her head to look at Daryl. The flicker from the lamps and candles around the room cast a warm glow across his cheeks. He hummed again. "I couldn't bury him or anything. When I dropped down, his body followed. But it didn’t catch on the ledge with me. It hit the edge and I heard his bones smash as he continued to tumble down the steep side of the mountain. I didn’t look for his body.”

"Aint yer fault." He said.

"I know." She said with a sad smile. "But it doesn't make it hurt any less."

"Wha'dya do after tha'?" He asked. He noticed that her eyes were beginning to droop and her speech was getting slower. She was close to sleep, too.

"Camped out for a while, let my ankle heal. Then packed up and headed east again.”

"Why east?" He whispered.

"Never seen the ocean before." She mumbled. She unclasped her hands to seek out his arm with her right. He didn’t hesitate to cover hers with his. The position looked awkward for her arm and his was starting to fall asleep as he rested his weight into it, but he didn't pull away. And as she fell asleep, he only thought about Oceanside. He'd seen the beach plenty of times, never once giving a damn about it. He hated the way the sand would slip into the opening of his boots and cake down by his toes. He hated the way the salt in the air made his skin feel. The waves were too loud. Hunting was sparse and he wasn't a fan of fish. But sitting there watching her sleep, he decided that when she could travel safely again and it was warmer, he was going to take her there.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #trash day #twd fanfiction #daryl x reader

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trackpup · 2 years

Note

Charles getting home after a triple header and needing to unwind so he decides to get off. He quickly strips himself of his clothes save for his jock, clambering atop his bed and shoving a pillow between his legs, tired of finishing by hand for the past three weeks. He takes an experimental grind, his breath stuttering at the feeling. He’s wound up, desperation rising in his gut and his toes clenching at the sensation as he continues to rub himself off. Little pants and grunts are leaving his lips as he clutches at the covers of his made bed. He picks up the pace, draping himself over the soft mound and humping wildly, whines and mewls bouncing off the walls of his room. He’s quickly turned into a pitiful sight, looking like a desperate puppy who’s too focused on cumming than he is aware of anything else around him. The feeling of his cock, confined in the fabric of his jock, sliding against the pillow is enough to make him drool, tongue lolled out as his vision becomes fuzzy from pleasure. He’s huffing as he grinds with more force, chasing his orgasm. He finishes with a loud whimper, collapsing on top of the pillow, cum dripping out of his underwear and making a mess of his pillow. -💫

charles in his jockstrap now THAT is something I want to see, fuck. id chew through a cinderblock to witness it

he's a dumb, needy little thing aint he? cheeky little pup, humping like a horny mutt to get off. his cock being so heavy and barely being held back by the jockstrap whilst hes writhing and wriggling back and fourth? fuck me

give me the jockstrap afterwards I want to sniff

#💫#cl #answered #my dear you spoil me as always

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altagraye · 3 years

Text

Faith miniseries (part 1)

**T. W.!!: self harm, suicidal thoughts, self doubt, sad reader.

*this is my first xreader ever so i hope it aint sloppy. 💋

There were very few things that scared the Winchesters but tonight their fear was palpable. Most of the time they were passive and observant. Even Dean didn't want to open that can of worms. Ever since that hunt a few weeks ago, the one no one talked about on the 2 day drive home, something with you has been wrong. Like you got your wires crossed and you haven't been the same since. It has been gradual, like watching someone sinking in quicksand or dying of cancer.

You weren't stupid, you could tell that they have been distantly observing you as if you had a ticking time bomb strapped to your torso at all times. You noticed the change of mood in the kitchen when you'd finally gotten yourself out of bed to grab a cup of coffee. It's like your presence sucked the life out of a room, much like a Dementor from Harry Potter. You didn't know which hurt more, the deafening silence, the obvious coaxed smiles from Sam, or the steady stares from Dean when your back was turned. Sometimes when you were awake enough, you heard the brothers arguing about something, you'd tricked yourself to overhear certain words in their heated arguments, and convinced yourself they hadn't been arguing about you. But they clearly were.

Cas, the usual flat faced stoic of the Bunker had twinges of concern in his oceanic orbs. Were you that messed up? That a fuckin' angel was concerned about you? What the hell happened? It started with that hunt. That much you know, right? Maybe it started before that? When it did sink in, you started to spend much more time cooped up in your room. You liked the softness of your bed and the warmth of your bed-covers. Suddenly you didn't want to go...anywhere. You spent your days sleeping and struggling to keep your eyes open enough to hear what Sam had conjured up about a potential case. The nights, those were the worst though. In the night you couldn't get to sleep if you tried. And that was when you felt most alone. You hated being awake, if you were awake you were thinking. And thinking means remembering just how much of a screw up you knew you were.

Team Free Will just came back from a hunt which you had to pull teeth just to get to stay in the confines of the Bunker. It had been a few days. You don't remember the last time you ate. Was it when you ate the second to last slice of apple pie in the middle of the night when your insomnia was at its peak? Or was that this evening when you woke up to a grumbling stomach that you couldn't ignore, so you quelled it with warm chicken broth. You didn't feel deserving enough to eat solid food today. Your lips were cracked and severely chapped even though you knew you kept your lip balm in the bedside table, within reach. Your long hair is disheveled in its bun and you can't stop sneezing because you forgot to take your medicine today, again. What a failure. You can't take care of yourself. It would be so much better if you could just lay down in your bed and sleep. Sleep and dream, forever.

Face it, the Winchesters are so much better without you. Dean doesn't need you burdening him. He would only have to carry your dead weight around on cases. You can't even muster up the courage to walk up to houses and round up info on the local legends, doing door-to-door sweeps. What in all Hell makes you think Dean could be attracted to someone, some frail little girl trapped in the past? You weren't his type anyhow, a plus-sized book worm didn't turn him on. How could it? You saw his porno-mags. Those girls were, perfection. Miles away from what you were. They were tall, sculpted shades of golden skin. They were the definition of success, confidence, beauty. Qualities you'd convinced yourself you weren't. You saw their type in multiple bartenders that you painfully watched Dean flirt with. From your table at the bar, it stung to see Dean's pearly whites brighten in the lights of the illuminated bar. His expression full of child-like glee, effortless and innocent. Sam was next to you for protection, his face buried in his tablet searching diligently through lore and articles of missing peoples.

You shuffle your feet audibly into the kitchen. Even though you don't feel like eating, you need to eat at least a sandwich in Dean's presence. The brothers were sipping beer at the table in the kitchen while you fixed yourself a wimpy pb & j. Sitting down at the very edge of the metal table you stared for a long moment at your sandwich. I hate this, it's making me sick to even look at food, you think to yourself. You take a bite and chew slowly, wanting so hard to spit it out. You're too fat already. Why do you eat in the first place? Those thoughts stew in your head as you notice the Winchester brothers are staring at you. You notice someone is talking to you but it doesn't register. You swallow the bite unwillingly, closing your eyes like you had just done something terrible.

"Y/N? Earth to Y/N?" You recognize the husk in the voice to be Dean's. You flinch and look at him, wishing immediately you hadn't stared into those perfect green orbs. The expression on his face let you know that he knew there was definitely something wrong with you. God you're such a freak. You drag your tongue on your left canine, the one that has always been particularly sharp. Feeling a cold sweat begin to drip down your neck, you start to panic. You drop your sandwich on its plate and rise from your seat. You need the sanctuary of your messy bedroom, the softness of the mattress. You need the coolness of the sheets. Your small feet tap the tile of the floor beneath you but you notice sound behind you that will your body to go faster. They were following after you.

You'd never been more afraid that they'd find out what was in your head. That Dean would find out how you felt about him and about yourself. That can't be an option. You knew what would be next, what was inevitable. The dreaded talk. You finally reach the knob of your bedroom door, your palm slipping as you fumble with it from sweating. Just as they are about to reach you, you open the door and slam it shut behind you, locking it. You heart is racing against your chest. Locking the door isn't enough. So you barricade the door with your dresser. As you do so, you feel yourself breaking and hot tears flow down your face soaking into your hoodie.

"Y/N?! C'mon, open the door." Sam says.

"Whatever it is we can talk about it. Y/N. Please?" Dean's tone is almost unlike him. You'd only ever heard him use this kind of tone with children who were in the midst of trauma from an awry hunt. Is that what he thought of you as? A wounded child in need of coddling? Or maybe even worse, a wounded animal.

You don't answer and there is a long pause. You need relief and release in the only way you know how. You rummage through your bedside table drawer and find a thin hunting knife, the one Dean gave you a few years ago. Your first gift from him. You pull down the fleece-like fabric of your sweatpants to reveal scars, left over from self-inflicted pain, years gone by. They were raised and pink lines. They wouldn't understand. You hear thudding from the other side of your door, that can only mean the brothers are getting more desperate, using their bodyweight to try and get inside.

"Y/N!!" Dean yells for you in between the thudding.

"GO AWAY!" You yell as you drag the sharpness across your skin. Red bubbles up from the cut and for a few seconds you feel relief. But it doesn't stop the pain. You cry more, sobbing uncontrollably. The salty tears blurring your vision until they spill over staining your cheeks. You need more, so you add more cuts, one by one. Oddly you chuckled at your macabre artwork, thinking you just made your thigh look like a piece of lined paper. You start your work on the opposite thigh, digging in a little deeper with each line.

You hear someone suck in a breath sharply. Someone was in the room with you. During your release, you never noticed the dresser move or the door opening. Looking up from your bloodied thighs you see Dean staring back at you. His blade still in your hand, red dripping down your skin and slipping into the pure white sheets.

"Y/N? Hey, that's okay. Put the knife down, alright?" He said to you smiling at you flashing his bright white impeccable teeth, Sam in the background of your bedroom doorway with his hand clasped over his mouth in a blank stare. More tears sear themselves into your eyes and flood over. Your lips are quivering. You drop your knife released from your trembling hand, it thunks itself into the wooden floor below. You don't dare look back at Dean. You curl yourself up as best as possible granted the size of your stomach won't let you pull your knees to your chest.

You collapse onto your bed facing your pillows, you sob into them and hold one tight to your face in a feeble attempt to hide yourself. You feel Dean sit next to you on the bed, and he begins to stroke your back in soothing motions. His effortless acts of kindness make you break more. You feel the onset of a nasty headache forming, from the intensity of your sobbing. You can barely make out Dean telling Sam to bring a first aid kit and water. Dean shushes you and continues to stroke your back and your arm.

"You don't have to tell me anything. Just take deep breaths, 'kay? Here, I'll do it too." He breathes deep in and out, hard enough to be audible. Why was he so nice to me all of a sudden?? You begin to feel numb, and you weren't sure if this was from the emotional break down or the blood loss. Had you cut too deep this time? Sam returns with the first aid kit. You note its metal clink on the bedside table. You unbury your face from your pillow only to get a breath of fresh air. You don't look at Dean or Sam. You couldn't. Dean thanks his younger brother for the glass of water and the kit.

"Can you give us a minute Sammy?" Dean asks.

"Sure. As long as you need." Sam confirms and you hear the heavy footed thuds of his boots exit your room. Dean does something that you don't expect. He lays down on his side, with you. Spooning up against your form. You mentally whack yourself in the head, he's getting his jeans all bloody, that you're sure of. He continues to stroke your arm softly. He hooks his chin into the nook of your shoulder.

"Whenever you're ready. I'm all ears." He tells you, the gentleness in his tone brings you to tears again. You weep silently. Was this really happening? You don't budge or say a word as sleep takes you over and you feel so amazingly content. You melt into the rhythmic breaths that Dean takes. The act soothes you into dreamland. For the first time in a while you think, I want to wake up to him next to me. And you swear you smile in your slumber.

End part 1.

*criticism is taken constructively.

*comments are golden.

#dean x reader #self doubt #mental health issues #plus sized reader #depression #suicidal thoughts #sad reader #fluff

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saccharine-honnebee · 5 years

Text

On Three, We Jump

- Arthur Morgan x Reader -

Word Count: 5000~ boy howdy

Notes Before the Fic: I think i went a little overboard on this :/

It was quite the risk to rob the wealthy family you'd been serving for the past few years, you'd told yourself this countless times.

You had no prior experience in thievery, no sort of reference to go by, and certainly no guarantee you'd even get five feet away from the Miller estate before being found out.

All you had going for you was a burning determination, and a few sparks of luck.

It just so happened that the Miller family was just about the stupidest group of people you'd ever met.

They were far too trusting with their house staff, they told them everything, from where the safe that held their family fortune was kept, to how much was in there, and never seemed to be aware in the slightest that this information could be used against them.

So far it hadn't, and that, more than anything, felt like a sign to seize the opportunity while it was still in your grasp.

All five of them (a mother, father, older sister, and two younger brothers) were leaving for a holiday out in one of their various houses in the countryside, taking with them a few important members of their house staff, and sending the rest away for the week. That left you, one of their most trusted servants, all alone, to take care of their home while they were away.

You were giddy when you were helping the daughter pack her suitcase, and you were practically vibrating as you watched them pile in to one of their carriages, waving farewell along with the rest of the house staff.

By sundown, it was just you, alone in the estate, and after checking and rechecking you had all the supplies your saddlebags could carry, and your horse was safely munching on a pile of hay, hitched to a post you could see from the window of the upstairs drawing room, you finally felt secure enough to begin.

You could feel a slight shake in your hands, from both nerves and excitement as you gripped the handrail of the grand staircase, and made your way towards the oldest daughter's bedroom.

You already knew you wanted to start there. That girl owned more pieces of jewelry than any one person should be in possession of, and you knew several items that you could live off for months that would hardly be missed.

Even so, as you reached the top of the staircase, you found your glee fading ever so slightly as you met the passive gazes of the large family portrait that hung at the entrance of the second floor.

Looking at their painted faces, you couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of guilt dampening your spirits.

You had spent years with these people, getting to know them under the good, steady paying job they had given you. And they had never treated you nearly as bad as you knew other families were to their servants. You could live a decent life here with the Miller’s, if you wanted to.

But that was the thing, wasn't it? You didn't want to.

You didn't want to live the rest of your days living the life of a servant while waiting on a family that had more money than they'd ever spend, not when you could take some of that wealth for and go live the life of freedom and self-dependence you'd always wanted.

You wanted better for yourself, knew you deserved better, and you were going to get it by any means necessary.

You turned your nose up at the portrait and walked right past it. You could feel remorse later, right now you had a job to do.

Finally reaching the eldest daughter's room, you immediately go for her vanity, and quickly opened all the drawers you knew she stashed her jewelry in.

You felt a tingling sense of excitement as you rummaged through the overflowing drawers, and you can suddenly picture yourself as a skilled thief or conman, the kind whose name was known by all but seen by few, and could rob the pants off a man and be half way across the country before he’d even notice they were gone. The kind of person who lived by their own rules, away from the strict hierarchy of civilization.

How childish, to be dreaming about such things while doing something so monumentally real, but you couldn't deny how thrilling that fantasy was when you actually pictured yourself in that situation.

Once you had taken all the jewelry you dared, you plan to visit the parents room next, you knew the mother had plenty of jewelry as well, and you’d always admired the father’s pocket watch collection-

Suddenly, the sharp sound of shattering glass cuts through the silence around you, and your heart nearly bursts out of your chest in panic.

The first thought to pop into your head was that the family had returned, and you'd be caught red-handed before you’d even began. Then you think, of course it isn't them. If the Miller’s were back, they would have simply walked through the front door.

No, whoever was in the house with you (and you could definitely tell there was someone now, you could hear them stumbling about through the shattered window) must be here to do the same thing you were.

Not on your watch.

You weren't about to have your one-way ticket to freedom be stolen or forcibly shared. Whoever was down there was either going to be walking out of here empty handed, or never walking anywhere again.

You had planned to try to off them with the pistol you knew the father kept under his pillow, but before you could try to sneak out of the room, you hear the footsteps of the intruder start to make their way up the stairs.

You curse, knowing there wasn't anything in this room lethal enough to make this quick, so you pad over to the wardrobe in the corner of the room as quietly as you can and stuff yourself inside. The element of surprise will have to be your weapon of choice.

The sound of heavy footsteps reaching the top of the stairs can be heard from inside the dark cupboard, and as they entered the bedroom, the ominous sound made your heart race and your palms sweat, but at the same time, only fueled your determination.

You listen for a few moments as they walk further into the bedroom, and thank your lucky stars when for some reason, they pause before the wardrobe.

Taking a slow, deep breath to steel yourself, you place your hands flat against the back of the door, then shove it open with all of your strength.

You feel great pride in the sharp smack you hear as the wood comes in contact with the intruder’s nose, and you watch him stumble back from the force of it, clutching his nose in his hands and groaning, before you throw yourself at the man and tackle him to the ground.

He hits the floor with a thud, his hat detaching itself from his head on impact, and looking properly disoriented as you straddle his chest. As much as you'd like to take the time to pat yourself on the back for taking down what you can now see is a very large, well built man, you have a job to finish, and you pull back your fist, ready to deliver what you hope will be another disorienting blow to his throat.

Before you could even try, suddenly it's you who’s on their back, as the man looms over you in a dark silhouette. His big, rough hands have your wrists pinned to the ground, and it seems he's every bit as strong as he looks, any attempt you gave to try to wiggle yourself free was proven fruitless as he held you down with his weight. The bandanna he wore over the lower half of his face forced you to stare directly into his eyes, which were currently regarding you with something you couldn't quite discern at the moment, too blinded by your own frustration at this turn of events.

"Back off," you growl. "This house is mine, find somewhere else to loot."

The look in his eyes changes, brows pinching together as he leans back from you slightly.

“Aint you a house servant?”

His eyes flick downward across your body, and you were nearly offended, until you realized he was merely looking at the uniform you were still wearing.

"So?" You spit back.

He’s quiet for another moment, thinking, and you can already tell you wont like what he comes up with as you watch the gears turn in his head.

“So that must mean you know where everything is around here.”

"And what makes you think I'll tell you?"

He sits up slightly and shifts both of your wrists into one hand, and you watch as his other goes to wraps around the handle of the gun against his hip.

You tense at the sight of it, and just know he's smirking at you under the bandanna.

"That enough to convince you?"

You chew at your lip and seethe, the last thing you want is to admit is that he has you intimidated.

"Listen," he starts again, hand moving up to the piece of fabric covering his mouth and hooking a finger under it. "I didn't come here to hurt you. And so long as you behave we can keep it that way. Now here's what I'm suggesting-"

He undoes the bandanna and brings it down to your wrists, and you would've started squirming again if it wasn't for the sudden realization that hit you as you stare up at his now unobscured face- you seen this man before, on a wanted poster. This was none other than, Arthur Morgan a notorious outlaw with a hell of a bounty on his head, and now he was here, pinning you to the ground and proposing a deal.

"You're gonna show me where the family's safe is," he continues, voice low and threatening as he secured the fabric around your wrists. "And help me get it open. And if you can do that without causing me any trouble, I'll let you take anything else in the house, and we can pretend neither of us saw the other."

Of course he was after the safe, you wouldn't be surprised if the whole country knew the Miller’s kept all their riches within their home. And sure, they had plenty of nice things that would fetch a pretty penny once you pawned them off, but they couldn't provide a life long support like the money in that safe could. So even though there was a very real fear starting to speed up your pulse as you looked down at your bound wrists, now as the mercy of this incredibly dangerous man, there was also an idea forming on how you could turn this situation back into your favor.

"Alright," you conceded, trying to make your voice sound small and unassuming, and he nods.

"Good choice."

Finally he gets up off of you, then pulls you up to your feet by the bandanna between your wrists.

"The safe is behind the family portrait at the top of the stairs," you grumble, and he nods, leaning down to pick up his hat and place it back on his head.

"Shoulda guessed," he chuckled to himself. "Thing's too ugly for anyone to keep around without a good reason." Then he grabbed you by your wrists again, and all but drags you back to the top of the stairs.

Now standing in front of the large painting, you watch from behind him as he inspects the intricate frame, before finding the side that unlatches, and swinging it open like a door.

While he’s distracted, you test your bonds, frustrated to feel that there’s practically no give whatsoever. You might be forced to chew yourself free if you couldn't find something to cut it with.

“You know the combination?” He asks, drawing you from your plotting.

You shake your head. “The Miller’s are stupid, but they aint stupid enough to just give away that kinda information to anyone.”

He sighs, sounding tired as he gets down on one knee so he can press an ear against the safe, then spins the dial a few times to reset it. “Guess we’ll just do this the old fashioned way.”

You watch him for a moment as he goes through each number on the dial, waiting for a tell-tale click or the feeling of some resistance, while you try to think of some way to incapacitate him once he’d finally gotten the thing open.

Just as you were imagining strangling him with the bandanna around your wrists, and maybe even turning him in to the law to collect his bounty, you hear Arthur let out a frustrated groan. You’re surprised to see the safe door is open, considering the type of noise he made, until you step closer to peer inside, and see that instead of the overwhelming riches you both had been expecting, there’s a metal box sitting there with yet another lock keeping it shut.

You make a noise of disbelief, surprised that the Miller's of all people would think to take extra precautions, and suddenly you're very glad you didn’t attempt to strangle Arthur the moment the safe was opened.

“Don’t suppose you know where the key to this is?” he asks, inspecting the silver padlock for a moment then letting it clatter back into place.

You shake your head again. “I didn't even know that was in there.”

He seems annoyed, but not overly bothered by this new hurdle to jump over, as he fishes a small, curved metal tool out of his boot, assuring this was nothing he hadn’t handled before.

You watch curiously as he sticks the metal piece into the lock, twisting it one way or the other until there's some give, then he turns back to you.

"You think you can find me a hair pin?"

You nod, now feeling almost eager to aid him in this task, and scurry back off to the daughter’s bedroom, in search of a pin without any sort of ornamentation on it.

You can feel the same tingling sensation in your fingertips from before as you sift through the various drawers. Just earlier this night, you’d been imagining yourself as an outlaw, and now here you were, working side by side with a real one to steal from the wealthy and dole out your own personal sense of justice against a world that had forced you to the bottom of the food chain for far too long. It felt almost dirty to admit, but you like this feeling, going against the law to strike back at the system that held you down in the lowly position you were born into.

You liked it so much in fact, that it had you dutifully marching back to Arthur, presenting a single, plain hairpin with both of your hands still bound, the thought of attempting to loosen the bonds while you were left unsupervised never even crossing your mind. Not when all that money was so close you could taste it.

You lower yourself onto your knees when he pats the ground beside him.

“You're gonna help me with this,” he says softly, plucking the pin out of your hands, then guiding you by the wrists up to the metal tool already stick out of the lock. “Hold that still for me.”

You do, and you watch him as he slowly works the pin into the keyhole beside the piece you're holding. You watch him work in silence for several moments, his eyes cast off to the side as he envisions the inner workings of the lock and searches for the correct pins that will open it up. You almost assume he’s forgotten you were even there until he speaks up again.

“So what are you doing, robbing the family you work for?"

The question definitely takes you by surprise, and you debate for a moment on if you should even answer, if it would be wise to give up any information at all to a man like Arthur Morgan.

“I just… don't want to be a servant anymore.”

“And you’d rather be a thief?” You can see him looking at you from the corner of his eye, and the judgment behind his question irks you.

“I would if it means I get to live freely.”

He looks away after that, and you do too, suddenly very uncomfortable with the closeness between your bodies, but not daring to try and put some distance between you two, for fear of losing all of your progress if you shift in the slightest.

“So what does that mean to you?” he starts up again, breaking the stretch of silence that had fallen between the two of you. “Living freely?”

His question surprises you again, you didn't think a hardened criminal such as himself would care to know these things, and you have to stop and think for a moment to find your answer.

You think about how you've felt tonight, fancying yourself an outlaw like him, someone who roamed as they pleased, dodging the law and pulling schemes, and never having to dust a piece of ancient furniture in a stuffy parlor for the third time in two days.

You told yourself that the first thing you would do with your money, if you were successful, would be to buy a nice plot of land and spend time lying low and making it a home, that that would be all you would need in life, but now when you thought of the future, it was clouded by that wonderful spark of adrenaline you felt when you committed acts that would surely have you doing time if anyone were to find out.

Was that life what you really wanted?

You spend some more time wondering how you would put any of that into words for Arthur, but before you could even begin, he's suddenly turning to you with a triumphant look on his face, as the lock finally clicks open.

You untangle your limbs from each other as you slide your tools free, and you both leave the previous question unanswered as you crowd yourselves around the metal box in anticipation.

“Let’s hope there ain't a third box in here,” he says as he grips the sides of the lid, and you would’ve chuckled if the suspense wasn't starting to eat at you.

Loud, theatrical sighs of relief are let out by the both of you as the sight of several stacks of green bills come into view.

Arthur quickly counts through them, and just as you get to your feet, remembering your earlier plans to cross him, hes grabbing you by your satchel, and stuffing a good amount of cash into it.

"Sixty/forty," he says, when you give him a bewildered look, and you struggle to find your words.

“I… thank you.” There was definitely much more to this man than you thought.

He just shrugs and goes to stand himself. "You helped get the thing open, s'only fair."

The rest of the money fits into his back pocket, and you watch him for a moment, before blurting out, "I didn't think wanted men cared about fairness."

He pauses long enough for you to begin to question if it was a bad idea to let him know you knew who he was, as you watch multiple emotions flash across his face.

"Decent ones do," he answers after a long, deafening silence, and something about the way he says it sounds loaded.

A moment longer and you wouldn't have been able to stop yourself from asking if he was one of them, but then you hear it- the clatter of carriages coming down the pathway.

You tense, and Arthur frowns.

"That ain't-?"

"It is."

For whatever reason, the Miller's had returned, not even a full day from what was supposed to be a week long trip, and were going to come home to see their entire fortune shared between the pockets of you and a notorious outlaw.

Arthur grabs you by the wrist, and tries to lead you down the stairs, but you stop him, you had a better idea.

“This way,” you whisper, leading him further down the hallway till you reach the drawing room.

He throws open the doors, and you both slip inside and out onto the balcony. Over the railing, you could see that thankfully your horse was exactly where you left them, beside a pile of hay that looked cushioned enough to not break the bones of someone hurtling towards it from two stories up.

“We’ll have to jump,” you tell Arthur, who had no doubt already assumed your plan, as he stared wearily down to the ground.

“On the count of three,” you attempt to offer as you throw a leg over the railing. But before you could even say ‘one’, Arthur had already jumped, taking the plunge and landing safely in the sea of hay below you.

You watch him shamble to his feet in disbelief, ready to curse him out for what seems to be his betrayal, ditching you to be found by the family and take the fall for everything, only for him to turn back around, arms held out high above his head, looking to you expectantly.

"Come on, I'll catch you," he says, as quietly as possible for it to still reach your ear.

You have to stifle a laugh at the almost... chivalrous act, mainly at how unnecessary it is, but you appreciate the thought behind it.

You almost wanted to make him wait for a moment, just to tease him, but then the faint sounds of an opening door and confused voices reaches your ears, and you're throwing your other leg over the railing and pushing the rest of your body off of it.

The fall is short, with little time to panic, and you're safe in the arms of Arthur Morgan before you even registered you'd left solid ground.

Instead of grabbing you by the bandanna around your wrists like he's been doing so far, he chooses to hoist you over his shoulder and carry you over to your horse (you would've scolded him for it if its wasn't over so fast), and tosses you stomach-first onto its back, before unhitching the reins and mounting as well.

He whistles, sharp and pointed and you cringe at the sound of it, knowing it wasn't doing anything to help keep your location a secret.

A second goes by, and then another horse is coming into view, and a beat after- just like you feared, one of the Miller sons.

"Hey!" He shouts, pointing at Arthur with fear in his eyes, and you can only imagine how this must look. One of their servants, bound at the wrists and thrown over the back of a horse with a dangerous looking man dressed in dark colors at the reins. At least you'll be more likely to be remembered as a victim than a suspect.

Without another thought, Arthur spurs your horse forward, and into the surrounding forest, his own horse easily keeping pace, and you watch the house go as pure adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You felt triumphant, a little annoyed by the constant jostling of your body as Arthur rode hard and fast away from your pursuers, but triumphant nonetheless.

You've done it, you actually managed to pull it off.

Eventually, Arthur comes to a spot in the trees he deems safe enough, and slows both your horses down to a trot, before stopping them completely.

He dismounts, then goes to grab you around the waist to help you to your feet, chuckling when he catches the look on you face- wide eyed a breathing heavy from the peril, but with a hint of a smile on your face.

"That always gets the heart pumpin’," He laughs, two steadying hands on your shoulders as you find your feet again.

When you're no longer swaying in place, he finally goes to undo the knot keeping your wrists bound, and you watch him with silent admiration for the ease with which he works your free. He rubs at the skin of your wrists with those big, rough hands to get the blood flowing again, and suddenly it's the nicest feeling in the world. You let him work his magic, telling yourself you're simply too tired to wave him off, but really, you know you just like the feel of his hands on you. You almost suspect he knows too.

When he finally pulls away from you, you’re brought back to the present, and your high starts to fade ever so slightly with his next question.

“So,” he starts, as his horse comes up to him, and starts to nudge at him until he gave it a few pats. “You know what you're gonna do now?”

“Well,” you say, slipping your bag off your shoulder and attaching it to your own horse’s saddle. It turns its head to you, and you offer a few reassuring strokes to its coat. “I didn't get nearly as much as i was planning to. I should be alright, though. But I might have to find work somewhere else.”

When you turn back to Arthur, it's clear he's thinking something over, almost looking like he's about to offer you something, but you continue before he could say whatever was going on in that head of his.

“That, or I could just pull this scheme again. Being a criminal don’t seem too bad now. You wouldn't happen to need a partner in crime, would you?” you ask, only slightly joking.

He doesn't look very pleased at your words as he shakes his head.

“Trust me, a life of honest work is better than running from the law. More suited for someone like you.”

“‘Someone like me?’” you repeat accusingly, and he nods as his hands go to rest on his belt buckle.

“Don’t mean nothin’ by it. I’m just saying, if you have any other options, you best take ‘em.”

You take a step towards him, a smirk forming on your lips. “I think you just don’t want any competition.”

“I think you’d be dead in a week if you tried to live the way I do-”

“You're just afraid I’ll be better at it than you,” You tease, taking another step forward. “Robbin’ every homestead before you even get the chance.” And another.

You're practically chest to chest now, and the glare he's giving you would've been deadly if you didn't like being the cause of it so much.

“What,” you say, giving him a playful pout. “You don’t think I’d be any good at it?”

“I think you need to appreciate what you have now,” he says in a low rumble of a voice, nodding over to where your satchel rests against your saddle.

“Oh, well, then let me thank the man who made it happen.”

You weren't sure if it was the last bits of your adrenaline wearing off, or if something really has been awakened in you, but right at that moment, something about being in the presence of Arthur Morgan made you feel reckless and dangerous, yet invincible at the same time. So with almost no thought to your actions(there was very little thinking done tonight), you took a risk and threw your arms around his waist to bridge what little distance there was still left between you, and smash your lips into his.

His whole body immediately tenses, and even tries to pull away, but you've got a firm hold on him, and after his initial knee-jerk reaction, he seems to relax ever so slightly into it, and you swear you felt him lean into you. But you're pulling back soon after, can’t let him enjoy it too much.

You try to rein in your smile when you see the way he tries to keep his face hard and impassive while blushing bright red like a tomato, the color clear as day even under the shade of night, and you wonder where that big, tough outlaw from before went.

You drag your hands across his sides, letting one of them crawl up his chest and ghost over the exposed skin at the opening of his shirt, pleased to see him watching it, while the other went to rest behind your back.

“See you around, Cowboy,” you whispered, finally pulling away to back up towards your horse, taking great pleasure in the way he tries to hide behind the brim of his hat, and fiddle with his belt buckle to avoid looking into your eyes any longer.

Poor fool must not have been kissed in some time, you think as you mount your horse and spur it onward, down the pathway to the new life you’ll make for yourself. He couldn't even tell you'd stolen his cut of the money right out of his back pocket. ‘Someone like you’ he said. Heh.

"Pool fool, indeed," you tell your horse, as you pat the stack of bills now safely tucked away in your own pocket.

"Hey!" You hear Arthur shout. It's faint, you've already put a good deal a distance between you, but you can still hear the rage in his tone, and it makes a smile spread across you face. "Get back here!"

You urge your horse into a full sprint, just about cackling as you tear down the pathway.

"You're gonna have to catch me first!"

AN: Not necessarily a low effort fic, cuz there was an effort made, but it's definitely not meant to be a masterpiece. Just a bit of fun with a silly idea I thought of. So you're gonna have to forgive me if ol Artie is a little too ooc, I did get a bit carried away lol

Also there's not really any romance?? But trust me, I'm gonna make up for the lack of it here with the other fics I'm currently working on

And i think i gave the reader a bit too much of a personality, and for that I apologize, I’ll do my best to keep that to a minimum

I think a ‘I hope someone other than me can get something out of this’ is in order :P

((note to self: don’t ever try to post something when you’ve only gotten 3 hours of sleep. youll end up misspelling the title of your own fic))

#This is like my third rewrite and im still not 100% happy #But i've got school to worry about again #So im thinking i just need to post this and be done with it #This might be absolutely atrocious #Idk i can't tell anymore #Someone pls tell me if this is dumb #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x gn reader #rdr2 x reader #honne made posts #🤠2

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

For Your Safety, Chapter Six (Branjie) - Kite

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for all of your lovely comments so far!

-x-

“I can’t do this. I’m not right for you.”

“Brooke, wait.” She hears Vanessa yelling, then feels a tug at the sleeve of her robe. She turns to face her and feels her breath catch in her throat. Vanessa is staring up at her with her jaw tightened and her breathing is ragged. She looks angry and hurt and confused all at the same time.

Brooke takes a deep breath and looks up whilst blinking away her tears. Then, reluctantly, she pulls away from Vanessa’s grip. “I’m sorry. I really can’t do this.”

She makes it no less than two steps away before Vanessa is gripping her arm again, tighter this time. “Don’t you dare walk away from me right now.” She yells harshly. “I mean it.” She adds in a much softer tone.

Brooke turns back to face her once more, guided by Vanessa gently pulling on her arm so that they are face to face. Brooke has to shift her eyes upwards and away from Vanessa. She can’t bare to see the look on her face. Can’t bare to see her tears.

“Vanessa, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let that happen. I shouldn’t have let any of this happen. You deserve so much better than me and I was a selfish asshole when I asked you to stay. I’m just going to do what I should’ve done months ago pay for you to fly back to Tampa-”

Vanessa shushes Brooke softly, as she rambles, stroking her fingertips soothingly down the side of her face. “Shush now, baby. Calm down.”

But Brooke can’t stop. “I can’t. I just can’t do it anymore. It’s too much.” She’s shaking her head almost violently as her breathing quickens into harsh pants. It’s like someone has sucked up all the air in the apartment.

The edge of her vision is fuzzy and she can feel her heart pounding in her ears.

“Look at me.” Vanessa whispers, cupping Brooke’s face in her hands and forcing her to look down. “Baby, I know you’re scared of this. You get all these feelings and shit and you try to bottle them up inside you like they don’t mean nothing. I’ve tried to give you time to get your head on straight but I’ll be honest with you, mama, this is fuckin with me too.”

Brooke shakes her head softly. “What do you mean?”

“We keep getting so close and I think it’s finally going to happen between us and then it just… doesn’t.” Vanessa looks away and starts chewing her lip. “I get it if you don’t want me. It’s fine. But you gotta tell me, baby.”

Then she takes a deep breath and drops her voice into a low, sultry tone. “Otherwise, you’ve gotta get back down here and finish what you started.”

Brooke brings her hand up to cover Vanessa’s that rests on her cheek and squeezes her eyes tightly shut.

“Brooke, it’s okay.”

Fuck it.

Brooke opens her eyes and looks down at Vanessa gazing back up at her, then stoops to capture her lips in a kiss. Vanessa tilts her head back and moans softly when their lips meet and pulls Brooke closer.

It’s softer this time. Not frantic or rushed. It’s gentle and leisurely. They have all the time in the world.

Vanessa delicately tugs on Brooke’ lower lip with her teeth, deepening the kiss slightly. After a few moments Brooke pulls back to press their foreheads together. She wants to say something, but nothing feels right. Then she feels Vanessa’s hands on the belt of her robe, causing all the thoughts to fly from her head.

Brooke covers Vanessa’s hands with her own, stopping her. “What are you doing?” She whispers.

“I’m taking your robe off.”

Brooke swallows and shakes her head softly. “We should wait.” She’s so afraid of what just happened that she wants to make sure Vanessa knows they can take it slowly if she needs to.

Vanessa smirks back at her. “Brooke, I’ve wanted this since the first night we met. We’ve waited long enough.”

Brooke’s face breaks into a smile as she sighs softly, and before she knows it their lips are colliding once more. They alternate between kissing and giggling as they stumble into Brooke’s bedroom. The robes are abandoned somewhere in the hall.

“Fuck off outa here.” Vanessa mumbles whilst Brooke nudges her backwards into the bed.

Brooke freezes and pulls back. “What?” She stammers.

Vanessa laughs loudly. “No, no, not you baby. These damn kitties are behind me.”

Brooke is unable to stop herself from laughing too. It’s so stupid. So perfect. Together, they attempt to wrangle the cats out of the door through fits of laughter.

“Get outa here, Mary, I’m tryna get my ass laid.” Vanessa yells as she flaps her arms towards the cats. “Your mama is about to have the night of her life.” Brooke is practically crying with laughter as she watches.

Eventually the cats scurry off down the corridor and as they do, Brooke pulls Vanessa into a tight embrace. When the laughter dies down Brooke drops her face into the crooke of Vanessa’s neck, nuzzling into the skin.

“You bring so much light and joy into my life and I’m so sorry for making this more complicated than it needs to be. I really do love you.”

She hears Vanessa’s breath hitch then feels her fingers tangling in her hair. Vanessa tugs Brooke away from her shoulder gently so that their gazes can meet. “You aint just saying that? Cause this has been a long night and emotions are running high, and I don’t want you to be saying that cause you think you gotta. And I don’t want you to regret it in the morning or something.”

“I’m so fucking sure about this. I spend my life worrying and doubting myself, but falling in love with you is one thing I’ve never doubted. I adore you.”

Vanessa chews on her lip and inhales deeply. “Brooke, I’m not so good with words so I can’t say all that shit like this is some kinda movie, but you came into my life and did all that stuff and everything is better now and it’s like Toronto is my home even though I used to hate it and I thought I was gonna be alone and-”

She’s rambling. “Ness.” Brooke says softly, cutting her off.

Vanessa blushes and smirks up at her. “ I’m just trying to say that I love you too, baby.”

Brooke pulls her into a delicate kiss… which doesn’t say soft for long. “Bed.” Vanessa practically growls between kisses. “Now.” Brooke is more than happy to comply.

Usually, Brooke likes to be in control, but when Vanessa crawls on top of her to straddle her lap, she’s more than happy to yield and let Vanessa guide her. She trusts Vanessa so much that she allows her body to relax rather than letting it succumb to nerves. She rests one hand on Vanessa’s hip and drags the fingers of her other up Vanessa’s side, tickling her gently.

Vanessa’s hands are less calm and somehow it feels like they’re everywhere at once. Tangled in her hair, cupping her face, clutching her shoulders, palming her breasts. When Vanessa’s thumb flicks over her nipple, Brooke lets out a moan and feels Vanessa grinning against her lips. Then, Vanessa drops her lips to Brooke’s jaw and starts trailing wet, open mouthed kisses downwards.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening.” Brooke breathes out.

“Less – talking – more – enjoying – baby.” Vanessa smirks, punctuated by kisses.

Brooke chuckles softly. “Right, sorry.” She says with a blush, but after a moment her thoughts bubble up once again and she props herself up on her elbows. “But isn’t it just so much better than you ever could’ve–oh.”

Vanessa’s mouth around her nipple cuts her off mid sentence. She twirls her tongue slowly, then releases the nipple with a pop. “You thinking too much, baby. Just relax. Enjoy it. We can talk after.” Vanessa whispers as she peppers Brooke’s chest with kisses.

Brooke nods quickly and settles back into the pillow, desperately trying to push away all thoughts other than how great Vanessa’s mouth feels on her skin. Eventually, when Vanessa’s kisses begin to trail down her stomach her mind goes blank and she draws in a sharp breath in anticipation.

Gentle lips ghost over Brooke’s inner thigh, planting soft kisses into the skin, inching closer and closer to where she wants them to be. She feels Vanessa’s devilish smirk against her skin as she squirms beneath her, writhing in excitement for the pleasure she has not yet felt. “Vanessa.” Brooke groans, practically pleading her to stop teasing.

With that, Vanessa swiftly adjusts so that her arms are hooked beneath Brooke’s thighs, and finally, her lips make contact.

She drags her tongue up the length of Brooke’s centre, then gently sucks on the tight bundle of nerves at the top. Brooke wonders if it’s possible to blackout from pleasure. If it is, she’s pretty sure she’s going.

Vanessa alternates between kissing, lapping and sucking at her with such precision that Brooke is sure, without a doubt, that this is the best sex she’s ever had in her life. Its gentle, yet firm. Too much, yet not enough. She tangles her fingers in Vanessa’s hair as she brings her closer and closer to the edge. Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut and her breathing comes in fast pants as Vanessa’s tongue thrusts against her.

Maybe it’s because she’s wanted this for so long, or maybe it’s just because it’s been close to a year since she last had sex, but it only takes a few more minutes for Brooke to finish. As she does, she throws her head back so hard against she pillows that she’s surprised she doesn’t injure herself. Vanessa kisses gently at the skin of her inner thigh as her ragged breathing slows and she rides out her wave of post-orgasm bliss.

As the haze clears, her mind is suddenly whirring at full speed as she goes over what has happened that night. Less than an hour ago, she was picking a fight with Vanessa out of some twisted bitterness. Of all the ways Brooke had thought this night would turn out, this was not one. God, she’d told Vanessa she loves her. Twice. And Vanessa had said it back. Brooke can feel all of her muscles clenching as she worries about what this means and where they go from here, but then she feels Vanessa nuzzling at her neck.

Vanessa curls her arm around Brooke’s waist and tangles their legs together, pulling them closer, forcing Brooke’s anxieties to melt away. Brooke quickly brings her arms up and circles them protectively around Vanessa’s petite frame.

Now that she has her, she’s never letting her go again.

After a few minutes of cuddling, Brooke tilts Vanessa’s face up into a slow, soft kiss as she grazes her hand down Vanessa’s side, determined to reciprocate a hundred times over, but Vanessa catches her arm before she can move any further.

“Its okay, baby, you can barely keep your eyes open.” Vanessa whispers, lacing their fingers together and nuzzling back into Brooke’s side.

“I want to-”

“God, I do too. But you need to sleep.” Vanessa chuckles. “I’ll be here in the morning.” She tells her, then delicately kisses the skin beneath her earlobe.

Brooke wants to protest, but Vanessa is right, she can barely keep her eyes open. Reluctantly, she lets out a deep sigh and pulls Vanessa tightly against her chest. “You promise?” Brooke asks through a stifled yawn.

“I promise, baby.”

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #smut #angst #lesbian au #police au #kite #submission #for your safety

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girlwithbird-blog · 7 years

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Okay, I'm looking to get a cockatiel. I've been looking into them for WEEKS now, but I still feel unprepared, and I really want to get some actual first-hand knowledge from a person. I'm really not sure what to ask specifically! ^^; Any tips you'd give me, this being my second bird--after a budgie--and my first cockatiel? (Any knowledge at all would be helpful! from recommended cage size to what might be a good healthy diet!~) Please and thank you~~

hey darling!!! god sorry its taken me forty years to get to my ask, i’ve been so swamped at work IT SUCKS

THIS IS GONNA BE LONG

OKAY, HERE IS THE INFO I CAN GIVE YA FOR A COCKATIEL:

1) ALWAYS ADOPT. i know you see that cute birbo in the pet store window, but please, PLEASE, refrain from purchasing him. there are currently THOUSANDS of homeless birds in north america alone that need you to be their guardian. i know you want to save that baby from the pet store, but doing so continues the cycle. they’ll just replace him and the horror continues.

2) GET THE BIGGEST CAGE YOU CAN AFFORD! do not listen to what the pet store clerk says (lol i worked in a pet store and straight up i would discourage people from birds EVERYDAY and tell them to rescue and that none of our cages are big enough, and they listened and adopted and im surprised the boss didn’t find out and fire me HAHAHHA) i would go to a bird specialty store to find your cage - you want to make sure it is durable enough, the bar spacing is correct (for a cockatiel you want them no more than half an inch space, theyre little and you dont want them to get stuck!!) i suggest powder coated cages, they’re easiest to clean the poop out of!!!!

3) GOOD DIET IS SO IMPORTANT. STAY AWAY FROM SEED!!!! seed despite popular belief is not very good for them. it causes fatty liver disease and can make them ill and shorten their lifespan. (rose is now put on milk thistle-it buffersthe liver, as from the shit sanctuary she was from… god knows what she ate so now im in the process of getting her liver spiffy clean!) a good PELLET DIET is SO, SO SO SO IMPORTANT. and dont be discouraged, it is very hard to change a birb from seed diet to pellet. so you have to change it over gradually and honestly, it can take a year to get that done. rose is picky as hell, but i found a pellet she likes which are the Zupreem fruit pellets. they’re not the healthiest, but they’ll do as now she is eating by herself. i used to have to hand feed her ALL THE TIME like the diva she is.

Here is a list of good pellets!! (from best to ok)

- Goldenfeast Goldenobles (quinoa based instead of corn, i wanna change rose to this when she’s ready!!)

- Harrisons Fine High Potency (start with high potency and then go to adult formula - gives em the nutrients they need for switching. corn based, and not my fav but it is vet reccommended but id say goldenfeast is better as corn aint that great)

- Pretty Bird (fruity and like, kinda okay? its better than zupreem lmfao but its very sweet, and makes their poo colourful)

- Zupreem (available at most pet stores, comes in fruit, veggie, nut, and natural flavours. what Rose eats and its a pretty good food. i believe its corn and soy based, not the best, and there is sugar in it, but its a good starter for your bird as they will most likely eat it because its colourful and sweet!!! from having Rose on a pellet diet - her plumage looks AMAZING)

all those brands come in different size pellets, i would go with the SMALLEST as it is easier for them to eat, and if you mix it with seed it kinda blends in hehe

4) DON’T JUST FEED PELLETS. A birbos diet should be 80% pellets (give or take) and 20% fruits, veggies, grains, and good stuff!!!! making a chop is a good idea, and you can freeze it and take out some everyday for their breakfast/dinner!!! Rose is very picky, and a rescue may be too, but do some research on what good fresh foods are good for birds!!! rose’s fav are zuchinni, peppers, pasta, scrambled egg (shes obsessed with egg) and chinese snow pear!!!

5) LOTS OF TOYS, AND THINGS TO DO!!! PIMP out their cage with dope toys, various perches and material (AVOID SAND ONES, HURTS THEIR TOES. get natural wood, rope (if u know they wont shred and accidentally eat it) and various thicknesses!!!) and im not saying spend a fortune (whcih i have with rose omfg) undyed popsicle sticks are amazing, paper, toilet paper rolls, cardboard etc they LOVE. but also, a good store bought toy is nice too!!! but most you can make from home!! plus i have a store where i have handmade toys, ill be posting more selection too!!

6) BE PATIENT WITH THE BABY! they most likely won’t warm up to you RIGHT AWAY (i mean they might, depends on their personality!) so do not feel discouraged if they dont want to play or cuddle right away. and heck, they may not even like cuddles. they’re as much as individuals as we are as humans. rose is usually attached to my shoulder all day, but some days honestly she just plays by herself and doesn’t want me to play with her HAHAHA. when you bring them home, introduce them to their cage and let them hang inside and get used to it. sit near them and chat and offer some millet and let them come to you. its a whole new world for them, so allow them some time!!!

7) and the most controversial topic… TO CLIP OR NOT TO CLIP? okay, my two cents on clipping goes as written. if it is safer for them in your house, please get their wings properly by an avian vet or an experienced staff memeber at a bird specialty store. clipping them incorrectly can cause balance issues and confidence issues and trust issues. NEVER CLIP THEM YOURSELF AS THEIR OWNER. THEYLL BE PISSED AF. and most likely scared of you. if your house is unsafe -ie people coming in and out, small space, lots of windows, forgetful people that leave windows open, PLEASE CLIP THEM. it will save their life and prevent any deadly accidents.

if you HAVE THE SPACE. and know that they will be safe, and you believe they will be okay, leave them flighted!! it is much easier i must say having smaller birds flighted as they won’t be as cramped in a house as a big bird would be. Rose is flightless as she chews her flight feathers, but they are growing back. and even if they all did, my place is way to small to allow her to fly properly so i would keep her clipped for her safety. also, if there was an emergency - such as a fire - it is much easier to evacuate a flightless bird than a flighted one. i have really bad ocd when it comes to impulsive thinking and i obsess over how i would get rose out in a fire all the time… so keep a pillow case by the cage, and if god forbid that happened, grab your baby, toss em in the pillow case (protects them from smoke inhalation) AND HIGH TALE THEE FUCK OUT OF THERE. and that would be easier if they are clipped… just food for thought.

anyway i hope this helped you and others maybe too!! im sorry this took forever to get to, my lifes been insane. please do TONS OF RESEARCH TOO and look into rescues. if you need any more help let me know my love

#cockatiel #cockatiels #bird care #bird help #birblr #asks #bird facts #petblr

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