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crowcravesmore · 23 days

Text

Dead Girl Walkin' (Frank Castle x F!Reader)

AKA 'Bounty & Bliss'

Frank Castle x F!Reader (18+)

+ After a mission gone wrong, you end up on the wrong side of Fisks gun, and now you're a wanted woman. You have 30 hours of freedom before every bounty hunter in New York has his eyes on you, so of course you run straight to Frank. Oh how he loves the sight of you.

Word Count: 5.1k ( It's actually impossible for me to write a "short" fic. I'm a wordy bitch, I can't help it. I love to talk.)

Warnings: Cursing, violence, reader getting beat tf up (She's got powers it's fine), explicit content/smut, Frank being such a softie for you, fluff (is that a warning?).

A/N: LETS GO FRANK CASTLE LOVERS! I absolutely adore this man, and I think it shows in how I write him. This is an oldie from my previous blog, but it's one of my favorite fics I've ever written. It's a long one so buckle up. (This fic was absolutely based on the song Dead Girl walking from Heathers the musical. Take that as you will.)

+ + +

It was an absolute fact that you weren't gonna die a peaceful death. Yeah no, you were gonna go out one of two different ways. One, a Bruce Willis, Die Hard type thing with at least two explosions. Or two, someone else is gonna punch your card for you. Full stop. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, that's it.

Frank threw a guess in once. Said you’d probably go out saving a bunch’a kids from a burning building or something, because you're a soft ass like that, Sunshine, that’s why. He was three stitches deep on his right arm, and shooting you looks from his side of the couch. Ain’t that right, Sunshine?

Nope. nuh-uh, not even close. You get a grand total of thirty hours, all Courtesy of Mr. Kingpin himself. Fisk. What kind of name is Fisk anyway? It sounds too much like Fist, or fish, either way it’s awkward. You’re just being pissy, because you got caught, and Fisk is rubbing it in your face.

Third punch is to your jaw, and that’s the one that knocks you, and the chair you're strapped to, back. You’re taking this whole thing in stride, you haven't passed out or anything. Be proud of that. After the fourth punch Fisk finally waves his hand and lets— what's his name? Rick? This guy looks like a Rick —stop. You ever been hit with brass knuckles by a heavyweight? It sucks.

You were hired by an unnamed client to sneak into Fisks club, and put mics anywhere you could. It was easy getting in without being noticed, unfortunately for you Fisk has eyes everywhere. Fortunately for you one of your powers is strength, so a couple of blows by a heavyweight won't kill you. It fucking hurts though.

Fisk says something, but he’s standing on the other side of the room and your ears are still ringing, so he really says nothing. He turns, catches your eyes, and there's a curious sort of smile on his face. Your ears are still ringing but, over all of the noise, you catch him say ‘Again’, and brace yourself for impact.

Rick, son of a bitch, knocks you hard, just under your eye and you can practically hear the bruise forming. You must’ve blacked out for a second because when you blink there’s Fisk, dropped to his haunches in front of you. It takes thirty seconds after you start drooling blood for him to start back up.

“You’re a real woman, you know that?”

“And what does that make you?” Your voice doesn't even sound like you, it’s too scratchy, and your words are hard to make out.

Fisk sort of ignores you and says,“And Because I'm a nice guy,” Pulling a white handkerchief—Christ—out of his shirt pocket and wiping your mouth. “I'm gonna make this easy on you, how bout’ forty eight hours? Sound good?”

You’re so stubborn. Like, way too stubborn for your own good, that’s what you’re gonna tell Frank when you explain why you spit your blood in Fisks face. And because you’re a real woman.

“Thirty hours,” Fisk says, gripping the bottom half of your shirt, using it to wipe his face, and standing up. “Butch,—” So that’s his name, he looks like a Butch. “Show her the door.”

Brace for impact.

You can't be that mad though, I mean come on. After that stunt you pulled at the Quagmire tonight you’re surprised you’re even still walking-uh -running. So yeah, thirty hours and after that you’re gonna be a goddamn beacon of come get me for every baddie in New York. Okay, you gotta stop running or else you’re gonna pull something, and catching a cramp probably isn’t the best thing for you right now...just sayin’.

You pitch from a sprint to a light jog and eventually stop, bowing over and pressing your hands to your knees. A long groan crawls out of you, and you shake your head. The middle of 10th and 42nd isn’t the place to let it hit you. Clear your throat, spit, stand back up, keep walking.

You decide to swerve out of the road and onto the sidewalk, that way you’re not ass out for everyone to see. And it’s a helluva sight. You’ve got a bruise forming just under your right eye and your nose is busted to shit, not to mention the blood- that you’re not even sure is all yours- caked over you. All that and you probably smell like a back alley.

You shift and adjust, turn right toward the dock, and pick up the pace.

‘I can run,’ you think, digging your thumbnail into your palm. ‘haul ass to Seattle, become some poor fisherman's wife.’

That doesn't sound all too bad, besides the fact that Fisk has got eyes all over this goddamn city. You so much as even look toward the bridge and his thirty hours-oh-mercy are gone. Poof! You won't even make it out of New York.

A street light flicks off for a second before coming back to life, and you dig in your back pocket, fishing for your phone. It’s a mess of cracks and smeared blood, but still manageable. You click it on and the screen gives a few half assed flashes of light before turning on. Yeah, still manageable.

You wipe the screen against your shirt and pull it back, checking the time. Twelve oh five. Good, he's still up.

•

Frank's van is static under the west bridge, just next to the pier. It’s a beige camper he’s had since way back when, and is still too sentimental to give up. It’s rusted, a hubcaps gone missing, and the battery is standing on it’s last leg, but don’t ever tell Frank it’s anything less than perfect. Seriously, buddy, don't do it.

You called it a piece of junk once, something mumbled between Frank trying to turn the engine over and almost flooding it.

“If you don’t like it that much, Sunshine, you can walk back.” He shakes his head and turns the key over again. The engine makes an almost awkward sort of noise. Something like a cr-r-r-eek! Before gray smoke creeps its way from under the hood. “God fucking damnit.”

You're ninety percent sure the only reason he didn't knock your head through the window is because he's got a soft spot for you....Eighty-five percent.

Your boot knocks against an empty can, probably oil, and Max pokes his head up. He's lying right outside the van's side door, tucked halfway under it with his head on his paws. You go still and try to remember if this dog actually liked you or not.

When he doesn’t move you chalk it up to a definite maybe, and start walking again. He lets out a few half assed growls before crawling from under the van and barking, loud and proud. You throw caution out the window and speed walk toward him, forgetting the fact that he’s a full grown pitbull, and wave your hands in front of you, shh shh shh! No, doggy. Nice, Max! You got a million different scenarios playing in your head, and none of them are good.

Max is howling now, nose pointed to the sky and oh sonofabitch.

You hear a gun cock over your head and now you're staring down the barrel of a shotgun. This was the fourth scenario. At the end of that is Frank, standing in a pair of raggedy sweatpants, an old NYU tee, and-Christ he's not even wearing any shoes.

You're still a little wobbly in the legs so you press your hand against the doorframe, and lean. That's it. Play it cool, nice and steady.

“Hey, Frank.” You say, and then. “Can I come in?” You're batting against four hours of sleep and maybe a concussion, so hey, frank is the best you're gonna do.

His shoulders slump down and he points the gun away from you, eyes moving three speeds too fast. Like I said earlier, you’re a helluva sight, girl.

“You look like the back end of hell.” He says, side stepping to let you in, eyes catching on your knuckles. They aren’t the worst of it, but you can tell a lot about a person from their hands, and Frank’s getting the whole goddamn story.

You step up into the kitchen—living room?—and focus on everything you’ve already seen before. The sketchy stain on the ceiling, the empty Budweiser cans, your feet. Just for good measure you pick up a roll of gauze and turn it over in your hand, because this is the most interesting thing in the world, not your bloody knuckles. And definitely not Frank who’s staring down your back, shooting imaginary laser beams your way. Pew pew pew. I’m calling it now, he’s gonna get mad. You know it, I know it, so just fucking face the music before he-

“So,” oh-Kay. He clicks the third deadbolt, and leans his back against the door, gun cocked on the wall, and arms crossed over his chest. “You gonna tell me what happened or am I gonna haveta’ guess?”

He doesn't have to guess, because he already knows. But, he's gonna lean back and give you a chance to say it before he starts pulling teeth.

“This was once in a lifetime, Frank.” You're pushing out excuses and he's barely said anything. “There was an opening-”

“Y/n, what the hell did you do?”

Franks more worried than actually confused. He knows you're in some deep-I'm talking chasm into hell deep- shit, he's just worried he's not gonna be able to pull you out.

“I went to the Quagmire, and Fisk was there.” You wring your hands because of the look he gives you. Priceless. “I had a shot, I took it, I—”

“Tell me you killed him.” He's shaking his head, tilt up, and looking at the roof. He's about to start praying, and lord knows he hasn't done that in a while. “Tell me you killed him, Y/n.”

The throbbing behind your eye is enough to remind you that no, you didn't. You came damn close though, I'll give you that.

Frank blinks, slow squeeze, and groans something low in the back of his throat. He drops his head and drags a hand down his jaw, you're gonna be the death of him if you keep this shit up.

“And,” you gotta get it out now, if you don't do it now you're gonna hate doing it later. “I got a bounty on me.”

“Course you do,” he's looking at you again, but his foot is tapping against the linoleum, so he's beyond mad now. “Is it active?”

You shake your head. “No, I got thirty hours.” You would have forty eight, but he doesn't need to know that...or why you don't anymore.

“Shiiit,” he almost laughs. “Bastard gave you a helluva’ lot more time than me.” His eyebrows tilt down and you catch the way his eyes track along your knuckles. You're standing in front of him, and in this light he can finally get a good look at you. And he doesn't like it. “What'd they do to you, Sunshine?”

There it is. You let out a halfhearted dry laugh and say. “Butch, son of a bitch has a solid right hook.”

“I bet I got better,” He says, lips upturning a bit.

You say. “Oh, I know you do.” And that's it, you're both drawn back into a moment that definitely shouldn't happen. Christ, girl, the man's a vigilante with a truckload of baggage. Stay away. Don't do it to yourself.

You gotta dodge this shit, so you say. “So, what do I do now?”

He gives you a quick once over and pushes himself off the wall. “First, you gotta take a shower, get your mind right.” He stalks over to the hall closet, and starts pulling out random things; a towel, a washcloth, sweatpants, and one of his Rolling Stones T-shirts. He tosses a Then we'll talk, and figure out our next move. over his shoulder and that knocks you back a minute.

Our. Don't dwell on that. Nope, nope, do not do it. You nod, walk over to him, and say. “Thank you, Franky.” Franky’s something only you’d get away with saying, just like he gets away with the whole sunshine thing. It’s weird, you’re weird, leave it alone.

When you reach him he pulls back, giving you this half look between you really okay? and it's okay if you're not. Oh, God, he's gonna have your eyes in the shape of hearts if he keeps this up.

“I'm fine,” You reach a bit more, and he meets you halfway, pushing everything towards you. “You better have hot water though.”

“Baby, you know I do.”

“Mhm, that's what you said last time.”

He says. “Just tell me if it's not hot enough for you, I'll fix it.” And you're positive it's borderline flirty. You gotta occupy yourself with turning on the bathroom light, or else he's gonna see fuuuck written all over your face.

You gotta say something back or it's gonna be one sided, and awkward so you push out. “I'll call you if I need you, Franky.” Low and slow.

Did you just?

Franks mouth pulls up into a grin and he's gotta wipe his hand over his cheek, as if he's just feeling the stubble. Look what you did, you're making him nervous.

Before either of you have a chance to react, the door’s closed and you're pressing your back against it. If you didn't know any better you'd think the man was making a move, but you've got a migraine from hell so you're gonna chalk it up to friendly banter.

You're gonna opt for a cold shower though, just in case.

•

The shower does wonders for you. Your regenerative powers help too, giving your body the chance to heal a bit under the water. You walk out dressed and unstressed with your clothes balled up in your arms, just about to call out Franks name when you hear him say. “Back here.”

You turn and walk into the small bedroom space, just big enough for the two of you. He's laying on his back with his arm thrown over his eyes, looking like absolute sin. Okay, yeah, you're cut off from reading tacky romance novels.

“You can just put your stuff on the table, we'll get em’ washed tomorrow.” He sounds tired.

You walk to the kitchenette table and drop your clothes on top of it, before walking back to the room and saying. “Or we could just get my clothes from my apartment, that's a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “We could, and, you know what, why don't we go to the police station while we're at it and tell them about the bad man named Fisk?”

“What?”

“Oh, sorry, I thought we were stating dumb ideas.” He says nonchalantly, before adding. “You and I both know that it's not safe for you to go to your place, or else you wouldn't be here, right?”

He lifts his arm off of his face and looks at you. Yeah, right. You nod and he nods back, covering his face up again. “Right.”

Truth be told, you'd probably still be here even if it was safe. Truthfully.

You crawl onto the bed next to him and the springs groan out something light and metallic. Lay down, face up, be quiet.

“Y/n.” That's not quiet.

“Hm?”

“You're not doin’ this alone,” Okay. You turn your head to look at him but he's still got his arm over his eyes. “Not while there's air in my lungs.”

You say, “It's not your fight.” And Frank finally looks at you. His brows tip and he props himself up on one arm so he's leaning over you a bit.

“Hell it's not, you think Ima’ just let that bastard have at you? Nuh-uh,” He shakes his head. “Sorry to disappoint, but that's not how this works.”

“Then how does this work?” You're not mad, just curious. If this is going where you think it's going, God willing, Frank’s gonna be the one starting it.

He's the one with the brick walls here, so you're gonna let him be the first to break them down.

His eyes drop to your lips and roll over the curve of your jaw. It's sharp and soft at the same time, just like the rest of you. You shift, catch his eyes, and his sight slips off to the wall.

“I, uh.” he rolls onto his back and clasp his hands on his stomach. You're making him nervous and he's the one doing all the work. Jeesus, one of you do something. This is embarrassing.

“I don't wanna die.” What? You-pfsshhh. Yeah, okay, start there.

Frank has to blink that in, but he's still too chicken shit right now to look at you. So he asks. “Why not?”

For the love of God.

“Why not?” You repeat, frowning at the ceiling. Frank squeezes his eyes closed and shakes his head, backtrack.

“No, not-” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and gives himself a second to get it. He doesn't, so he just nods and says. “Yeah, okay why not? Why don't you?”

You sit up and turn to look at him. He's circulating between frowning at you, and the ceiling, and the door, so when his eyes hit you on their third rotation you say. “I don't wanna die, because I'm not ready yet.” Simple.

“Says the girl who went all Annie Oakley on a mob boss tonight.”

“It was his henchmen-”

“-henchmen?”

“-and that's not the point.” You ignore him. “The point is I'm scared. I thought I could do it tonight, but I didn't and now look at me.”

He does. In the weak light from his bedside lamp he can see all of you. The bruise forming (and healing) under your eye, and on the bridge of your nose. The scratch along your neck that dips just below the collar of your-his shirt. It's a lot. You're a lot.

He shifts and pushes himself up a bit before opening his arms. “Come here.”

Then your head is pressed against his chest, with your hand resting on his abdomen. Fingers curled in. You can hear his heart beating, thu-thump. Thu-thump.

His arm wraps around you and you can feel his fingers brush against the middle of your back, right at the dip. A train's horn blares in the distance and suddenly you feel really mortal.

This is it, Kid.

You've finally hit fuck it, because now you're lifting up and kissing Frank Castle. You half expect him to push you off, but nope, his hand pushes straight to your hips, your shirt hitching up around his forearm.

There's no awkward is this okay kisses, nope, you're both just diving for it. You push your hand up to his shoulder and-oh okay, yeah you do that- slide your leg over him, so you're halfway straddling him at least.

You push both of your hands to his neck, thumbs pressed against his jaw, and lean in. It's an awkward approach, something he wasn't exactly ready for this time because your teeth collide, and you're about to pull back and apologize when he reaches down and grips your ass.

Oh-Kay. He tugs you back up toward him and this time you're both ready. Especially you, because your tongue dips into Frank's mouth and he's just here for it.

After a while of just that, you lift up and press your hands against his chest. His other hand scoots up to your hip, and he starts rubbing up and down your thighs.

“Y/n-”

“Hold on.” You scoot so you're really on top of him and sit back a bit, feeling him rub against your clit. He lets out a sharp exhale of a groan and you lift up, before sitting back again and grinding against him. Frank tugs off his shirt and you follow suit, pulling yours up and over your head before tossing it off to the side, and Frank is on you.

You’re not wearing a bra, so he just dips his head down to lick your nipple into his mouth. He reaches up to gather your other breast in his hand, and you bring your hands up to his shoulders just to hold onto something. You bury your face in his hair, shift, and kiss along his head.

Frank starts peppering sloppy kisses across your chest before biting down on your other nipple.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Frank.”

“Mhm,” He’s got a vice grip on your hips, and then he’s bucking up into you. Slow and steady, and meticulous, and—Jeesus. His tongue swirls and bites, and you’re tilting your head back. Eye’s closed just feeling him.

Okay, you gotta-hold on. You push against Franks shoulders and his mouth comes off of you with an almost obscene pop. He starts to ask what’s wrong when you dip your head down and catch his mouth against yours. It’s slow and nasty and good, something almost too sensual to be Frank, but it is. It’s just you and him.

He mumbles. “Com’on.” Against your lips and rolls you over so he’s pressed on top of you. You’re rubbing your hands up his arms and over his shoulders when he —oh Christ, okay—reaches up to grab each of your wrist pinning them over your head. This is more of what you expected, you’re not gonna stop him though.

He peppers kisses along your jaw and down to your neck, before sucking.

“Fra-ank.” God you’re whiney right now, and Franks sucking hickies into your neck, so who the hell cares?

“What’s wrong, Baby?” Frank is an A-1 goddamn tease. Before you can get an answer out he pushes against you. Languid downward rolls of his hips, catching against you and pushing your body up juuust a bit with each thrust. “Hm?”

Your mouths open in an ‘O’ shape, and you’re positive you're not gonna be able to make clear sentences, so you lock your ankles behind him and drag him closer to you. He groans out a breathy ah, shit and pulls his head back up to kiss you again. When he lets your arms go he’s quick to get back on you, sucking and biting his way down your body, and you’re still too dazed to really get what’s happening until he says.

“Y/n.”

He’s sitting up, leaning back a bit onto his legs, with his hands resting on your hips. You prop yourself up on your forearms. “Yes?”

His mouth tips up into a half smile and he says. “I said you gotta lift up,” His fingers tap the waistband of your sweatpants. Oh, yeah, okay. You lift up your hips and he starts tugging your pants down, fingers hooked in your panties too. You lift up your legs and then he’s got everything up and off of you.

He settles back down, onto his stomach, with his head between your legs and looks up at you. You’re still propped up onto his shoulders, and you’ve got a pretty damn good view of him. He dips his head down and starts kissing along your thighs, and again it's strangely intimate for him. Out of your peripheral you catch a car's headlights move past the window, and you think to say something when you feel Frank slide his hands to the back of your knees and fold your legs back on either side of you towards the bed.

You feel him blow cool air against you and you gotta take deep breaths. Scoot, shift, and his face is right between the junction of your thighs. Your hand is in his hair when he drags his tongue up your pussy and over your clit. Your head hits the pillow and you push your other hand into the other one next to you. Gripping.

“Frank,” You breathe for no reason other than it’s just him. “Oh, God, Frank.”

He moans into you and that’s enough to get your back arching a bit. He starts in earnest, jumping between circling your clit, and looong strokes up your vulva. You start to wonder if he’s spelling his name down there, when he pushes his tongue aaaalll the way in until his face is practically buried inside of you. His tongue is pressed flat against your labia and then he’s licking inside you. There’s a pause while you gasp out a ‘Fra-a-ank’, before he starts tongue fucking you. You’re not sure what your sound limit is here so you’re doing your best to keep it to a minimum. Rotating between a string of Oh god, Yes, fuck, and Fraa-aank-just to be safe.

And then he plants his mouth over your clit and sucks, pushing a finger inside of you. Your back is almost full rainbow, pushing your head into the pillow, and your moaning out a loud. “Ooooh, fuck, Frank!”

He hums, and, without missing a beat, his tongue starts circling your clit, and he adds a second finger. Languid and intinse. Faster, tighter, you’re really pushing the sound limit here. He’s still working you to the edge, but has enough time to say. “Come on, Y/n. Come in my mouth, baby.”

You groan. “Oh shit,” But he pulls his fingers back a bit, curve, and he’s finger fucking you against your G-spot. He’s an angel.

You’re loud. Like-you’re voice is probably gonna be strained in the morning- loud. Frank pumps into you, tongue circling tightly, and gets just a little rougher with it. “Ah, fuck, Frank. Please-God-please…” He latches his lips around your clit and sucks, and it's gotta be biblical the amount of times you’ve said God’s name tonight. He presses against your legs and tucks his fingers, moans against you. Your jaw drops and you squeeze your eyes shut, pushing your other hand down to the back of Frank's head and pulling his face into you.

A strain of ecstasy pushes its way through you and you just can’t get out fast enough. “Frank-frank, oh GOD AAaaahhh!!” Your chest has a slow rise and fall to it, and Frank is back to being sensual. Kissing around your still sensitive clit and up your thighs. He lets go of your leg and pushes both of his hands onto your hips, you can feel your wetness on his fingers.

He pulls himself on top of you and this kiss is rougher, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. He props himself up onto his forearm and reaches down to push off his sweatpants, throwing them off to the side with the rest of his clothes.

“You ready?” His voice is wrecked, something you’re really not used to hearing from Frank. You think, and push up on his shoulders before wrapping your leg around his hip and rolling so you’re on top. Franks got this dazed smile on his face, and lord he is cute. Really, Frank Castle is cute.

He grabs onto your waist and lifts you up with almost ridiculous ease, before shifting his eyes down and watching as you wrap your hand around his dick and slowly guide yourself down onto him.

You press your hands against his chest and raise up, just to grind back down, and Franks gotta focus on his breathing or else he’s gonna cum way too fast.

You go like that for a while, a slow and steady rock, but Frank’s been sporting a hard on since you laid next to him so he’s not as patient as he could be. He adjusts his grip on your waist, hikes his legs up so he’s digging his heels into the mattress, “You ready, baby?” and starts to buck up into you. And you thought you were leading the show.

You’re panting out little ah’s with each thrust, and you gotta brace your hand on the headboard for some kinda leverage. Frank pulls you down onto his chest and kisses you full, mumbling a string of “You like that? Huh? Ah, fuck.” against you, before wrapping his arm around your waist. You grind down and meet each of his thrust and he’s done for. He pushes his face into your neck as he starts pistoning into you, lips mouthing at your neck. His thrust start getting sloppy, uncoordinated, and he moans out. “Com’on, Y/n.” Before reaching down and circling your clit.

And it's building and building and you rasp out. “Frank, I—”

He bites down on your shoulder and Oh, okay, yes that. You dig your nails into his shoulder and he’s forcing every ounce of himself not to scream. “Y/n!” Low and breathy. He still does. His hips stutter as he cums, and you pick up your pace, fucking him through it. His hips eventually stutter and he bucks a couple of times before sighing into your neck, spent.

You both just stay like that for a while. Breathing in each other, enjoying the come down. You can’t help but let your mind drift to thoughts of Frank outside of this. Domesticated, and lovely. He just came inside of you, so the idea of having his kids passes through briefly. You’ll deal with that tomorrow. He coaxes you off of him and onto the bed, sliding the sheets onto the both of you. Sliding his arm under your back he pulls you into his side and closes his eyes. You rest your head against his chest, hyper aware of how intimate this is. Neither of you are sure whether or not you should dwell on that or not.

He, Christ, reaches down and plants a kiss on your forehead before laying back and saying. “You’re not getting your card punched, not while I’m still here.”

Does he know what he’s doing to you? You just nod, because you’re not really sure if you believe him or not, and he sees that.

“Hey,” He says, nudging you a bit. You sit up and look at him, and he’s got this look in his eyes. Something like worry, and hope, and so much love for you it almost breaks your heart. “I’m serious, I’m not letting him or any a’ them get to you.”

You’re the closest thing this man has got to a friend, hell even a family, so yeah. You believe him. You nod and lean up to kiss him, before laying your head back onto his chest.

Thirty hours.

A/N: I'm actually obsessed with this man. Y'all please leave comments letting me know if you liked this / what you think. I wanna hear back from you! Have a great day, beautiful.

#I love writing so much what a great outlet #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x female reader #frank castle fluff #the punisher #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #kash writes

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panxramic · 1 month

Text

Sleep Talking

Tallulah was a sleep talker. She didn’t do it regularly, but it has happened often enough for her to deserve that title.

Tonight was no different. Phil had yet to fall asleep, meanwhile both kids were passed out. Next to him, Tallulah began to stir, and a soft mumble came through.

“Tallulah?”

No answer.

“Tallulah are you awake?” He whispered.

After a couple of seconds another mumble. Phil turned on the soft flower night light above him and sure enough, she was still asleep. He laughed to himself, she’s talking in her sleep again.

After a minute of silence, her words became clearer, “… stop … put that down…”

Another minute of silence, and then a giggle, “no papa would get mad.”

And oh? Phil is a curious soul, so he asks, “Tallulah why would dad be mad?”

She mumbles quietly, then he hears something or someone move in the kitchen.

Tallulah speaks again, “he can hear you.”

Phil freezes, “who can hear me?”

After no response he quietly gets out of bed and looks over to the next room, there’s no one there. As he makes his way back to the room she speaks again, “it’s too bright?”

Phil watches the flower light he had turned off slowly start flickering before completely turning off. He feels a cold chill run up his spine as his wings try to shake off the eerie feeling.

Another mumble, but this time she sounds upset. Her eyebrows furrow and her lips downturn, “no… no… stop.” She shakes her head, “…not nice.”

Tallulah continues getting restless in her sleep. What was once her sleeping peacefully turns into sharp movements and discomfort. Phil tries putting a wing over her to comfort her, but she just shoves it off, “can’t.”

Frankly, Phil has had enough of this so he goes to wake Tallulah up, then she starts speaking again, “stop.”

He stops, and she speaks again, “help.”

He hears what sounds like small footsteps next to his bed, but when he turns he sees no one there. He feels like his breath is stuck in his throat as another stretch of silence falls in the room. He thinks it’s over, when one last word leaves Tallulah’s lips, “Bobby?”

Suddenly a crash comes out of the kitchen causing Phil to completely jolt out of bed. He runs but again finds nothing there, not even a broken glass. Everything seems to be in its place, nothing out of the ordinary.

The last thing he hears Tallulah say that night is, “I think he’s gone,” before going completely silent.

What Phil doesn’t see in the dark and under the shadows is a purple like figure slowly retracting its hands from the bed. Its claws are familiar, they fit perfectly into the scars on his wings.

What he doesn’t see is the dead souls who scared him away, the ones that warned Tallulah it wasn’t them.

When she wakes up, she doesn’t remember a thing.

#thought about this randomly last night #was on the phone with Kash #I still am #hi Kash o/ if ur awake #my shot at #horror #kind of #tallulah #qsmp tallulah #qsmp #marv writes #qsmp philza #Ender king #tallulah can hear ghosts

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fatherentropy · 1 year

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mindlessly doodling kinda day feat. my actual Dragonborn Laury and the gaggle of lizards I've acquired recently

I'm having fun thinking about the fucked up time Laury'd have with dealing with a bunch of people who were dropped on him by someone pretending to be him

literally only way his self hating ass would (be forced to) make friends

#The Elder Scrolls #Xelzaz #Lucifer Skyrim #Khash #Kash Skyrim #CWart #Laury #The fanfic I could write if I had energy and focus

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michellemisfit · 1 year

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Thank you @celestialmickey for this week’s @galladrabbles prompt: Flood

Previous Part | Read from the Start

👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅

Endorphins flood Ian’s system at Mickey’s confession. He can’t stop a smile so wide their teeth click as their mouths come together.

Ian swallows a hiccuping laugh at Mickey’s annoyed grunt.

Translation: Get your shit together, Gallagher.

Ian sobers, pulls back a bit, tilts his head, and gently kisses Mickey’s bottom lip, then flicks the tip of his tongue against the top, before trapping it between his own, touching his tongue to the glistening wetness just inside, curling it slightly and teasingly flicking it in and out.

Mickey shudders. Moans. Clenches his hands on Ian’s biceps.

Ah.

That tongue thing.

Next Part

#does anyone actually shop at the Kash & Grab??! 🤔#there’s a suspicious lack of customers…#anyone else noticed that?#who’s writing this thing?!? 🙄#oh. oh yeah. okay. 🤷🏽‍♂️#galladrabbles #drabble #Gallavich #Mys fic #Kash & Grab Boys

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grayintogreen · 5 months

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I took great pains not to describe it much as to not invoke the image directly while describing it just enough to make people wonder, but after nearly a year I can finally admit that Kash and Zahra live in what is effectively a Vasselheim suburb in LitMoR.

#yes Kash is Aware this is where he lives #deep down he is consciously aware of Suburbs #he puts skulls in his yard as rent lowering gunshots #and to scare off the homeowner’s association #life in the margins of redemption #my writing

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ravendruid · 8 months

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Be In My Eyes - Chapter 21

You can read the previous chapters here or on AO3. I recommend reading this chapter on -> AO3 <- because of formatting. @crispysnake picked Keyleth's outfit, and yes, I have the inspiration photos :P Summary: Keyleth spends too long trying to figure out what to wear to her date, only to have an unexpected encounter by the elevator. Meanwhile, Gilmore does boring bar chores and rethinks some of his most recent life decisions.

Keyleth’s stomach fluttered with anxiety. She had been staring at her closet for the better part of an hour, trying to find something to wear to her date (a date!) with Kashaw. What am I supposed to wear? She thought. She had never been on a date before, and while she could ask Vex for her opinion, she was worried about what her friend would say. Vex’ahlia had been distant since Keyleth told her and Pike about the date. She smiled and congratulated her, but Keyleth was able to read between the lines that her friend didn’t look very happy about it. Keyleth couldn’t blame her. The whole situation with Vax was wildly out of control.

“There is no situation with Vax,” Keyleth said out loud, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. Great, now she was talking to herself, too.

Keyleth’s phone chimed on her nightstand, distracting her from her thoughts and the task she should focus on. She picked it up to see a text message from Kashaw, answering the one she had sent a couple of hours ago to ask him if he was still interested in the coffee. Keyleth could have ignored his advances. Kash had given her his phone number, but Keyleth hadn’t given him hers after all. She could have thrown the napkin in the trash and ignored it, but Kash was so nice to her all night, offering her (and occasionally her friends) free drinks. Keyleth felt bad for him. He hadn’t even allowed her to tip him, and she really wanted to pay him back. So Keyleth swallowed her nervousness and texted him, and now he was confirming that he would meet her at the coffee shop in an hour.

Only an hour? Oh gods. Keyleth groaned, throwing the phone to her bed, where it bounced pathetically on the pastel yellow comforter. She returned to her closet to pull out hangers and pieces of clothing she thought would look good on her and formed two small piles on her bed: tops and bottoms. She sorted through her options and tried to pair them to find the best combinations. It took her over half an hour, but finally, she had it down to two options. Now is the worst part. Which one?

One of her options was a mini white skirt with a brown pullover that she would need something to wear underneath because the fabric always flared up her skin. The other option was a dark red turtleneck with high-waisted jeans. Keyleth chewed on the corner of a nail, looking between her two options for longer than she intended. What would Vex do? She thought, looking around. She would wear something sexy, for sure. She groaned at her indecisiveness and paced around the room like a tiger in a cage that was too small for its size. Keyleth’s breath was shallow, but it was so cold and rainy that she didn’t dare open the window and get her and Pike’s bed wet. With one last grunt of frustration, Keyleth finally resigned to asking her friends for help, so she picked up her phone to quickly snap a photo of both options.

[Girls Only]

Vex’ahlia, Pike & Keyleth

Keyleth: I need help. I can’t pick an outfit.

Keyleth: Please. I only have 30 minutes until I have to leave the house.

Vex’ahlia: What are your options, darling?

Keyleth huffed. She expected Pike to answer before Vex, even if she preferred the second’s advice. She sent the photo she had taken of the outfits on her bed and waited.

Vex’ahlia: Check my closet for a black pencil skirt. It should be on the second shelf on the right. Wear that with the dark red turtleneck and black stockings. You can borrow my heels if you need them.

Pike: Isn’t Kash shorter than Keyleth? Maybe you should avoid heels.

Vex’ahlia: Good point. Just don’t wear those damn yellow sneakers, Keyleth.

“What’s wrong with my yellow sneakers?” Keyleth asked out loud, frowning at the phone as if it offended her personally. With one last glance at the clock (20 minutes until she had to leave the house), Keyleth threw her phone back onto the bed and finally started getting ready. Considering the pouring rain outside, Keyleth didn’t do much to her hair, opting for a simple braid. Likewise, she only added a smidge of mascara, eyeliner, and a simple lipgloss. Nothing too fancy. Kash had already seen her at her best the previous night, so if he didn’t like her at her worst, maybe Keyleth should rethink her options.

“What does that even mean?” Keyleth asked herself in shock, looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror midway through applying her mascara. “There are no options, Keyleth. This is just a friendly date between friends.”

It’s not like she was trying to get a boyfriend (Keyleth constantly tried to ignore her father’s words about meeting her mom in college), and even if she were to get one, would Kash really be it? She barely knew him. For all she knew, he could be a psychopath trying to kidnap her… or worse. Oh, great. Keyleth raised an eyebrow at her reflection. The last thing she needed was to give herself a panic attack minutes before leaving the house, so she took one long breath and tried to clear all negative thoughts from her mind.

“Kash is not a serial killer,” She repeated loudly, scowling at the mirror. “He was nice to me, and we are just going to get to know each other. Besides, would Gilmore hire him if he was a bad person?”

Keyleth repeated, ‘Kash is not a serial killer. I’m safe.’ in her mind like a mantra as she put on the brown jacket she stole from Korrin’s closet the day before Keyleth left for Emon (Keyleth hadn’t asked her dad, and Korrin hadn’t brought it up yet, so she assumed he wasn’t mad at her about it) and her small handbag, and walked out of the apartment.

Keyleth cursed at herself internally as she tried to stuff her large keychain in her handbag, a task that distracted her so much that she didn’t even hear the echoing footsteps climbing the stairs by the elevator. If it wasn’t for her anxiety, Keyleth would have seen Vax’ildan’s shocked look as he opened the door leading to the stairwell, not expecting to find her standing in the hallway, much less dressed the way she was. The dark red turtleneck was slightly visible through the open zipper gap of her jacket, but it was noticeable how much it complemented Keyleth’s fair skin and the red of her hair without clashing too much. Her legs were covered with dark, almost opaque, tights that disappeared underneath the hint of a black skirt hem just a couple of fingers longer than the jacket itself. While Keyleth had heeded Pike’s words about not wearing heels, she almost ignored Vex’s plea to leave the yellow sneakers at home, but one look in the mirror confirmed that Vex was right, so she borrowed her roommate’s boots instead. They were way more comfortable than Keyleth expected and didn’t look too bad on her either.

“Hey,” Vax greeted her with a bashful smile. Keyleth’s head whipped in his direction, finally realizing she wasn’t alone. Keyleth took a step back, surprised by Vax’s sudden appearance, and brought a hand to her chest, right above her heart.

“Vax. You almost gave me a heart attack,” She had forgotten how sneaky he was.

“Sorry,” Vax apologized, his cheeks reddening even deeper.

Keyleth finally took a good look at him. Vax was wearing his usual black ripped pants and his leather jacket, and his hair was tied into a wet mess of a ponytail with water trickling down the sides of his face. He held a black umbrella in one hand, his earbuds blasted loud rock music in the other, and his backpack sat on one shoulder.

“Is it raining outside?” Keyleth asked. That’s a dumb question. Of course, it is, and you know it, you idiot. Keyleth admonished herself.

“It is, yeah. Are you going out?”

“Yeah—” Keyleth hesitated. Should she tell him? They were just friends, after all, right? Maybe even just roommates now? And it’s not like she was going on a romantic date. “I’m going to meet a friend for coffee.”

“Oh? Do I know this friend?” Vax’s expression changed from his usual kindness to something Keyleth couldn’t discern. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that change, though.

“I don’t think so. I met him at the bar last night.” She explained. Keyleth knew she didn’t have to say anything but felt she had to justify herself.

“Oh. Okay. Well, I hope you have fun, then.” Vax smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Thanks,” Keyleth replied just as the elevator dinged. “Have a good day, Vax.”

“You too…” Vax whispered after the elevator doors closed. He stood in the hallway staring at the metal doors long enough for an entire song to play through his clenched fist, only moving when he heard a door closing in the distance and footsteps approaching. Vax nodded a greeting to his neighbor just as they passed by and finally walked inside.

The apartment was quiet and dark—just the way Vax liked it—and a chilly breeze ran down his spine. Did someone forget to close the living room windows again? Vax inspected behind the light-blocking curtains. Not only were the glass panes closed, but they were also locked. I’m imagining things again.

His bedroom, just like most of the rest of the house, was also dark and cold. Percy had left early in the morning for the workshop, which meant that Vax would have the room for himself until the late hours of the afternoon, if not the evening. He quickly grabbed a clean change of clothes and hit the shower, making sure to turn the hot water handle as much as he could.

When Vax had left to meet Gilmore for breakfast earlier that morning, the sky was still dark, with only the faintest signs of dawn on the horizon. He hated waking up that early, but Gilmore had been such a great friend and counselor that keeping the man company as he cleaned and closed the bar was the least Vax could do. Besides, it came with a free breakfast bought by the barman, and Vax would never say no to free food. They talked about Keyleth again as they cleaned the stained tables and mopped the gross floor (Vax appreciated Gilmore’s patience to hear him whine about Keyleth all the time), and Gilmore agreed that it was better if Vax talked honestly with Keyleth. The conversation changed topics a few times as the night progressed, ending up with Gilmore complaining about his new hire over a plate of pancakes and scrambled eggs and a steaming mug of coffee at the local diner.

The new guy (Kashaw, according to Gilmore) flirted with patrons and offered girls free drinks all night. He had tried to be sneaky, but Gilmore confided in Vax that the register didn’t match such a high volume of customers. From the sounds of it, Vax didn’t have this Kashaw in high regard. Anyone who ripped his friend off was not in his book of good people, for sure. As if that wasn’t enough, the idea that Keyleth and his sister had been at the bar that night started a flame of anger inside him. Did Kashaw try to flirt with Vex? Or worse, with Keyleth? Could he be—

“No! Stop that,” Vax slapped his face under the burning hot water.

He had been concerned about the girls all night. Although he knew Vex and Pike would be able to handle their own, their safety was still buzzing in the back of his mind. No, it was Keyleth’s safety that worried Vax the most. He felt somewhat relieved when Scanlan texted the boys’ group chat shortly after he and Grog had arrived at the bar to guarantee they were alive. And by ‘they,’ Scanlan meant he and Grog hadn’t suffered a horrible death at the hands of Pike or Vex’ahlia when they saw the guys walk up to the dance floor where the girls were dancing. Scanlan had even sent a photo of them all smiling and holding drinks to further prove his point. Vax had already been in bed by the time the girls returned home, not really sleeping, but not fully awake either, so he still heard their loud stumbling across the hallway that connected the bedrooms, especially the tone his sister used whenever she was too drunk and was trying to keep quiet—which was usually the exact opposite—but the girls sounded fine when they returned, and most importantly, they were alive.

The burning water wasn’t working to release his anxiety as Vax had intended. Not when all he could think about was how concerned he had been all night that someone would try to hit on Keyleth and make her uncomfortable—or disrespect her—and she wouldn’t know what to say or do. A concern that had been nagging him in the back of his mind ever since Gilmore mentioned his new barman hitting on women all night, and that became worse after Vax’s encounter with Keyleth by the elevator. Vax couldn’t shake the looming sense of dread that befell him, colder than a bucket full of ice. Something is wrong.

—

Gilmore loved being an establishment owner because it allowed him to design things to his liking and be creative, but he simply abhorred the administrative side of it. Every day, there was something boringly annoying that he had to deal with, whether it be vendors, restocking, licenses, or bills. Gilmore had been considering hiring someone to help him with the books, but after the experience with his first hire the previous night, he needed some time to really think about it. Meanwhile, that meant he had to sit through countless paperwork to figure out how many crates of gin he had to buy and which bills had to be paid by the end of the week.

“Gods, please save me from this nightmare,” He grumbled, combing his fingers through his loose ponytail.

As if on cue, and much to Gilmore’s surprise, there was a loud, desperate knock at the back door. Gilmore wasn’t expecting anyone, especially not in the middle of the day when he shouldn’t even be at the bar, so he quickly walked out of his office to see who the Gods had decided to bless him with.

“Vax’ildan? Did you forget something?” Gilmore greeted with a flirty smile upon seeing Vax standing on the other side, but it didn’t take him a second glance to change his tone. “What happened?”

Vax was drenched from head to toe from the rain, and, for the first time since Gilmore had met him, he was missing his signature eyeliner, probably related to why he looked so distraught.

“Shaun, I need your help.” Vax propped an arm on the wall by the door jam, the other grasping at the front of his crumbled and soggy t-shirt.

“Come in, please.” Gilmore stepped away to let Vax in, promptly closing the door. Vax stood in the small, dimly lit hallway in the employees’ area, dripping water onto the wooden floorboards, unsure what to do, so Gilmore led him to the small employees’ bathroom.

“Hold here a moment. I’m going to grab you some towels.” He instructed before heading out. When Gilmore returned, Vax was naked from the waist up, holding his drenched-up shirt in a ball in his hands.

“Now that is a sight for sore eyes,” Gilmore bantered, handing Vax the towels.

“Thanks, Shaun.” Vax started drying his chest and his hair in quick movements.

“What happened?” Gilmore pressed in with building concern in his voice. It hadn’t even been two hours since Vax left him at the same back entrance after breakfast. What horrible event could have happened in the meantime?

“What do you know about Kashaw?”

“The new guy? Not much, why?”

“I have a bad feeling about him,” Vax confessed. He had dried himself as much as possible and now stood with his balled-up fist gripping tightly around the towel. Gilmore needn’t ask why. He and Vax’ildan had become close (as one can get within a short amount of time) during the past week, and he knew this was about Keyleth.

“Come, let’s head upstairs.”

“So, what is this about?” Gilmore asked a while later, dropping a manila folder on the coffee table in front of a fully dressed Vax (Gilmore made a mental note about how much purple looked good on his dark and mysterious friend).

“I ran into Keyleth on my way home. She was off to have coffee with a friend she met last night at the bar,” Vax explained. Gilmore nodded, listening attentively. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, and he did not like that.

“And you think this might be Kashaw?” Gilmore asked, clearing things up. Vax nodded. “What makes you think that?”

“You mentioned he was flirting with women all night, right?” Gilmore nodded again. “It’s too much of a coincidence that Keyleth met someone at the bar the same night and got asked out.”

“So, is it a date?” Gilmore grinned. Keyleth was a beautiful woman, and, from what Vax had told him about her, she was also very smart and kind. Gilmore had no doubt anyone could easily become enamored with the girl.

“She didn’t say ‘date,’ but—” Vax groaned and hid his face in his hands.

“Well, little raven—” Gilmore had taken a liking to the man. His brooding nature reminded him of himself when he was younger—not that he was much older than Vax’ildan—so the nickname seemed fitting. “—is there a way to be certain? If I recall correctly, your sister and that adorable little blonde girl were with Keyleth last night.”

“Do you think I should ask them?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?”

Vax shrugged and dug his phone from his back pocket, dialing his sister’s number. She picked up rather quickly, which was unexpected.

“Hello, brother.” Vex’ahlia’s voice wavered.

“Vex’ahlia, hi. Are you alright?”

“Yes, just busy with Trin—Trinket, no! Down!” Vex screamed at the dog. If Vax wasn’t so nervous, he would have laughed at his sister. “Percy, darling, would you mind?”

Vax heard his roommate’s soft ‘Sure, dear” on the other side of the line before a door closed. Vex’ahlia had asked Percival to help her with Trinket’s monthly bath—which Vax had just realized he had completely forgotten about. The list of unexpected events of the day kept growing and growing.

“Sorry. Trinket is an absolute menace today. Did you need something?”

“Uh—Is Percy with you?” That was not the question Vax had in mind.

“Yes. I couldn’t find you anywhere, so I asked Percy if he could help me. Where were you, by the way?” The inquisitor was back.

“Helping out Gilmore close and clean the bar.”

“Doesn’t he have a new barman to do that? Kashaw, or whatever his name was?” Vex asked, annoyed. Vax knew she was rolling her eyes even without seeing it.

“Yeah, good question. Seems like Kashaw dipped out earlier than he should have. By the way, what do you know about him?”

Vex’s sigh at the question was not a good sign. “I assume you know?” She asked him with a sad tone. Vax’s heart dropped a beat.

“Kn–know what?”

“About Keyleth?”

“I found her this morning, just as I was arriving home. She told me she was having coffee with a friend she met at the bar last night. Was it—was it him?”

Twins usually have a special bond, but Vax and Vex’s bond was even more, considering what they went through together. There were no barriers between them, and they knew the other better than they knew themselves. There was no point in being dishonest and trying to step around the subject.

“Yes. Keyleth went on a date with Kashaw.” Vex confessed with a downcast voice. “Vax, I’m sorry, I—”

“No, it’s okay.” Vax interrupted. He was glad he was sitting already because he might have fallen to the floor had he not. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Vax—”

“I have to go, Vex’ahlia. I’ll talk to you later,” Vax hung up the call before his sister could say anything and let his phone fall off his hand and onto the floor. “It’s too late. I’m too late.”

“Oh dear,” Gilmore didn’t need to ask to know that Vax’s worst concerns had been confirmed. The man wrapped an arm around his friend’s shaking shoulders and pulled him into his chest. “It’s alright.”

“It’s too late, Shaun,” Vax repeated, balling a fist on his lap.

“No, it’s not, little raven. Things happen on first dates all the time.”

“That’s not very reassuring, Gilmore,” Vax pulled away, looking at the other man with a burning fire in his eyes.

“I meant bad things. Things that will prevent second dates from happening. You know…” Gilmore threw his hands up defensively.

“No, I don’t.” Vax pulled in on himself. “I’ve never been on a date, Shaun.”

“Oh.”

Uncomfortable silence settled in the room. Vax sat on one side of the couch, fumbling with the hem of the t-shirt Gilmore had lent him, while he sat on the opposite side, looking at the manila folder on the coffee table.

“Is Kashaw a good person?” Vax asked with some desperation in his voice.

Gilmore wanted to say yes, to put his friend’s mind at ease, but he couldn’t. The truth was that Gilmore didn’t know much about Kashaw other than the basic information he needed to hire him. He had seemed genuine during their interview, but it had been strictly professional, which didn’t allow him to assess his new hire’s personality (which Shaun hadn’t even thought about).

“I wouldn’t know,” Gilmore admitted bashfully. “All I know about the man is inside that folder.”

Vax looked at it questioningly, then at Gilmore. “What do you have?”

“Boring personal and professional details. His name, address, work, and academic experience.” Gilmore chuckled lightly, “When I interviewed Kashaw, I didn’t think I would need to know about his life story or his intentions with my friend’s love interest.”

Although Vax tried to hide it, Gilmore saw the soft blush that appeared on his face at the mention of their friendship. Something told him that Vax didn’t have many people calling him a friend.

“It’s a good start. I can see if I can dig up more information about Kashaw.” Vax reached for the folder, but Gilmore stopped him with a tut.

“Now, now, Vax’ildan. For legal reasons, I cannot willingly give you this information or allow you to leave with these papers.”

Vax’s shoulders slumped, but it was his pout that brought Gilmore his demise. He made many mistakes in his life and done many things for love and lust, so he knew the path he was walking on would bring him nothing but trouble, but he couldn’t avoid being lulled by Vax’s mischievous aura.

“I am going to make us some tea, and I will be staying in the kitchen to make sure the kettle doesn’t boil over,” Gilmore hinted at Vax, who looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “There is some pen and paper on that side table.”

“Thank you, Shaun. This means a lot to me.” Vax grabbed Gilmore’s hand before he could leave. Some of his sadness had died down and had been replaced by determination, but Gilmore wasn’t sure which he preferred.

“If there is anything else I can do to help…” Gilmore patted Vax’s hand, being answered with a nod and a soft smile that didn’t reach the pair of beautiful hazel eyes.

“You have to be careful what you wish for, Shaun,” Gilmore whispered to himself as he filled the kettle with water. This hadn’t exactly been what he had in mind when he asked the Gods for a distraction, and it did nothing to ease his concerns about hiring Kashaw, but at the same time, it felt like a blessing in disguise. Gilmore looked at a second brown folder that sat on the countertop. He had purposely left it out of the main packet of information he had given Vax. While the paperwork in that second folder claimed Kashaw was innocent, Gilmore knew Vax would only look at the charges and not consider the rest. It’s for the best. He tried to convince himself. Who knew what kind of crazy thing Vax would do if he knew about Kash’s record. Vax had a life ahead of him, and if Gilmore could prevent him from throwing that away because of a stupid mistake, he would do his best. Besides, a pretty face like Vax’ildan’s was not suited for prison.

#critical role #cr fic #vox machina #vaxleth #modern au #college au #be in my eyes #Kash's backstory got even darker while I was writing this chapter.#anyone want a date with Kash?

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crowcravesmore · 25 days

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At First Sight (Homelander Drabble)

(aka: Knock em' off his feet) Homelander x F!Reader (18+)

+ His first time seeing you. Actually, he's seen you in his peripheral a handful of times. This? This is when he gets a good, long, look at you. He's a little stuck to say the least.

Words: 657 (Short & sweet, I just couldn't help making a point.)

A/N: Oh how I LOVE down bad man. You can't watch the show and not know that whoever has his affection HAS him. This is my first fic on this blog, I've written a lot before, deleted my blog, and came back, Maybe this will bring me back in, who knows. (Ask box open).

Warnings: Cursing, Homelander craving you, a little too wanting.

+ + +

Homelander likes you. No, listen, Homelander likes you. These days he’s so brazen with it, and you can hardly walk into the same room as him without buzzing under his stare. However, I wanna start it off a little slow at least. He started it off slow at least. Kind of.

It’s your third week in when he takes a good look at you. A rushed mission brief is called and Ashley, idiot, decides now is the time to try out a new presentation method. Handouts. She’s so fucking proud of herself when she steps to the front of the room and says, “I want to ensure everyone has a thorough analysis of the plan, as well as some facts about the landscape that I think—“

Oh please, he’s so close to asking her if she was shaken as an infant when he notices you. Supe by supe you walk around, placing a sheet of paper in front of everyone, & God the sight of you. You know how hard it is for someone to catch him off guard? You do it instantly, unknowingly, unabashedly. Honestly, it’s your eyes – wait – your lips. He can’t stop looking at your lips. Then you smile at The Deep and he has to sit back in his seat a little bit, scooch down, and lean over, chin in hand just to get a good look at you. You’re just about to reach Noir when Ashley musters up the gumption to ask, “Homelander, how would you feel about starlight leading this mission while you stay as backup?”

He’s almost too slow to take his eyes off you, but he does & laughs incredulously at Ashley. “Why would I do that?”

She actually quick steps towards him, hand extended holding a sheet of paper, & places it in front of him before you can make it. “We’re working to establish your image with our female audience, ages 25 through 45, as a softer protector.” She says softer with a wince, like she can hear how fucked it sounds. He’s annoyed, and has to deep breathe his way out of showing it. What the fuck is he reading? It's a mess of statistics and a – quite honestly –l ameass excuse for a game plan that he’s happy to pass on to StarLight. Ashley finishes with “Currently you’re doing amazing with our male audience, but we’d like to shift towards a team player, lover of women image.”

He’s a lover. Through and through, and sometimes hard to find. It’s there though, eventually you’ll get it.

You walk behind him, and reach beside him to place a sheet down in front of Queen Mauve. You smell good. He tilts his head just enough to catch a sight of you without being too honest about it. You’re a sight. You know that? It’s enough to make his eyes drag down your body, stopping at your ass and then making a slow track down your legs. He’s a dog about it, and internally says fuck it, because then his eyes are back up and locked on yours.

He hears your heart jump a little, but you’re a pro, because you just smile it off —fuck, you’re beautiful — and say “Good morning.” Before walking away.

Fuck off, ‘Good morning’ , he’s salivating.

“Good morning” he says kindly.

He hasn’t been this turned on, this quickly in a long time. For a human at that? You’re a new feeling, one he can’t even tell if he’s comfortable with. So he’s gotta lock his eyes back on Ashley and pretend like he isn’t gonna think about you later. “Yeah, absolutely –” He waves his hand, & smiles, “– let’s show some girl power, huh?”

One last glance at you, and you’re looking right at him. He doesn’t even hide his stares this time. His dick jumps a little at the fact that you don’t look away, and he makes a mental note to get your name after this.

+++

A/N: *Screams in wanting him*

#the boys #Homelander #The boys fic #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #homelander x you #the boys series #the boys tv #Kash Writes #fanfic

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panxramic · 1 month

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My mind has been working over time in just making Death Family AU’s (it’s how I cope with all the recent news) and this might be the silliest one yet.

So. I was rewatching the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movies and I could not (specifically the first one) stop seeing Charlie as Chayanne.

A boy so kind and generous with a heart of gold. Who is very selfless and considerate of others? THATS MY BOYY. Someone who loves cooking and baking and who would also love Willy Wonka the biggest chocolate/candy maker in the world?

HEAR ME OUT! KASH AND I WERE COOKING AND LISTENNNN. ITS SILLY BUT HEAR ME OUT.

Chayanne and Tallulah are orphan kids that live on the streets. They try their best to get by, with Chayanne working overtime to get them food and and buy the medicine Tallulah needs as well.

Chayanne is the one that finds the golden ticket. He buys in extra bar of chocolate that’s where he finds it.

He brings Tallulah as his plus one to the factory, excited to finally to get a look inside of one of the most mysterious and dazzling candy making places in the world.

In this AU, q!Phil and his partner, q!Missa, run the factory together. However no one has seen them in years, as the factory has been running in secrecy. They are a mysterious pair.

The factory opens to the 5 lucky contestants that were able to find the 5 golden tickets.

Chayanne and Tallulah find inside an entire world of chocolate and candy. Sweets of every kind. And an odd set of workers… crows. They’re marvelous. They dance and they sing and they help make chocolate day and night.

When they first arrive they’re met with Missa, who says Phil is too busy inventing and can’t join them but will appear here and there. Throughout the tour one specific crow sticks to the group and ends up being very fond of Chay and Tallulah, the only two kids who don’t shoo him away.

And sure enough Phil appears every so often. He’s a wacky and strange character, more so than Missa. They’re both… weird. The kids side eye them, look down on them, all but Chayanne and Tallulah, who gleefully laugh and join in on their ruckus.

In the end, when the tour is over, Chayanne and Tallulah are the only ones left. They must say goodbye. It’s awful, they have nowhere else to go, no place to call home. But they must go.

Chayanne has the candy in hand, the candy that he was given and he can sell for thousands of dollars and finally give him and Tallulah a home. Instead of taking it he leaves it behind.

Missa reluctantly lets them go, knowing that this is just part of the test. We think Phil is indifferent, doesn’t want them around anymore. But secretly on the inside he’s hoping, wishing, for Chayanne to turn around and leave behind the candy and not sell him out.

And when he does, it’s the happiest moment for the two. It becomes the happiest moment for all of them.

Phil and Missa have two kids they can pass down the factory too, and two kids they can call their own. And Chayanne and Tallulah finally have that family they were hoping for.

#this is such a silly au #but it made me so happy #and I love brain storming #with Kash sm LUV YA #also based off the first movie #qsmp tallulah #qsmp #marv rants #marv writes #qsmp philza #qsmp chayanne #chayanne #death family #qsmp missa #death family Willy Wonka AU #let’s ignore the fact that #tallulah #doesn’t like candy shhh #we will find a work around

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ardent-fox · 2 years

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Galladrabbles: Birthday (2)

Absolutely loving all the birthday @galladrabbles this week! I have no idea what came over me, but I decided to continue riding my post S7 angst train and spew out another one.

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"Ey", his brother's voice greets him once Ian returns home from the cemetery. "Everyone's waiting for you."

He attempts a smile, vaguely aware of Lip's knowing look cutting through his feigned enthusiasm. A sympathetic swat lands on his arm.

"Just humor them a little, okay? Also, something came for you in the mail today. It's on your bed."

Standing in his room minutes later, Ian's eyes study the postcard on his pillow, vision blurring as they scan over the Mexican stamps.

I'm okay. Miss ya, is all it reads.

He smiles faintly, clutching his favorite birthday gift to his heart.

#in my mind ian saves every card postcard note etc he's ever gotten in a box #and then as he moves from place to place he takes that box with him and keeps adding new stuff f.e. drawings franny gives him #then mickey one day sees it and is like 'wtf is that?'#and ian shows him ancient kash and grab receipts that mickey doodled over and he kept all these years #this postcard is there too #and mickey's all 'you soft motherfucker' but is like 🥺#might write a fic about this ^^#*clears throat* anyway...#galladrabbles #gallavich #100 words #word prompt #birthday #take two #shameless

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afterdark-vp · 2 years

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Kash said he found one those ‘disposable cameras’ at the local vintage market today. Big in the 1990’s apparently. Says he wants to test it out on me one morning.

He always tells me that I’m that pretty I “should be on the front cover of every magazine.” But I find that hard to believe.

I’ve never been one to feel like I was ‘model material’. I always thought of myself as a little odd looking growing up.

But, when i’m around Kash… I… I don’t know how he does it. But something in that smile of his always manages to make me feel like the most beautiful thing in the world… ♡

[jesses diary entry with kash’s camera pov]

#something a little different #i don’t usually write #but i wanted to create a little story between jesse and kash ahhdsbsjd #virtual photography #gaming #cyberpunk 2077 #gaming photography #cyberpunk #cp2077 #ps5 #cp77 #cyberpunk v #cyberpunk oc #male v #cyberpunk street kid

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thepermanentscowl · 2 years

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What's the obsession behind skeletons?

Kash, i am so glad i got this ask.

So, skeletons. What is a skeleton? The framework of bones that supports our body and maintains its posture. It bears all the weight and pressure that falls on your body. In very brief words, a skeleton is made of bones and tissues that help connect the bones, like cartilage, tendons and ligaments. The bones are connected to each other so amazingly that they hold together for the entirety of your lifetime. They bear all the biological and physical wear and tear. A skeleton is the strongest part of a human body.

Now if you refer to skeletons as a metaphor, you can write pages about it. The skeleton is the frame upon which muscles, organs and every other vital part rests. It holds up everything else that your body needs. It is the blank canvas upon which the vitality of the other fundamental parts is painted.

A skeleton is the subject of all the abrasion your body goes through. However, even after enduring all of it, a skeleton holds you up no matter how worse a condition it is in. Even after what it has gone through, it gives up completely only when you are burned; only when your mortal existence is lost to the purity of fire. A skeleton, the foundation that you were born with, supports you till you die. Only death can do you apart. And the irony: bones are used as a symbol of death. Perhaps even death needs a pillar of some sort, a pillar strong enough to bear its sacred legacy.

Coming to death and bones, bones (if not incinerated) continue to exist even after death. What remains of our ancestors does one find in ancient tombs? Bones. The people from distant epochs of time who we remember, whose names rest upon our tongues as prayers, are present today only in the form of bones and memories. Bones can sustain the assault of time, they can keep on subsisting in whatever broken form until all mortal flesh has rotten away.

If you think about it, skeletons have no distinct recognition of themselves. All skeletons moreover look the same. Skeletons defeat human judgement. A skeleton is chaste and untouched by any supposition, any conclusion. It could have been anything or anyone in the life that it was a part of, only that you will never know. It is a beautiful enigma. It haunts thoughts and dreams, but it's true identity is unknown to you. It is just one thing for everyone: the ruins of a body. And that is all it is. It hides nothing. No secrets fester behind its ribs and no unspoken words linger in its mouth. It is beautifully simple.

#i'm afraid this is all i can write for now #i want to tell you more but certain things restrain me #alas i must leave it like this #thank you for this kash #asks #kash

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michellemisfit · 9 months

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Thank you @callivich for this week’s @galladrabbles prompt: Dream

Previous Part | Read from the Start

😴 💭💭😴💭💭😴💭💭😴💭💭😴💭💭😴

Ian’s still caught up in his day dreaming when he turns down their street, and while thinking about Mickey kept him busy (and a little warmer), he’s glad to finally see their fence and unkept front lawn, even if it’s through the fog of his own breath.

Fucking Chicago winter is rolling in and there’s no stopping it.

He shrugs his shoulder and tucks his chin, his coat’s collar covering his ears a bit more, and speeds up his steps now that the porch is in sight, light and promised warmth spilling from the living room window, and —

“Mickey?”

Next Part

#or you know maybe we could write these things not on Sunday evening… how about that for a change?#no? not happening? yeah okay… 🙄#Mys fic #galladrabbles #Kash & Grab Boys #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

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