#I need a tag for my weird dreams I wish I could go back to

[theshadowrealmitself]

I had a dream I was watching a movie and it turned out to be 14 hours because it was a movie and all it’s sequels

And in one of the movies, toward the 7 hour mark, the protagonist was a brunette who up until this point had been more of a side character in the earlier movies, and it turned out she was a scientist of some kind? (Up until this point, all the characters had been very average characters in comedy movies which made what the plot turned out to be for her so wild and unexpected)

Anyways, she witnesses a train crash and apparently the train came from the company she worked in and that was a really bad sign, so she goes and rushes back to work (also because this was a really weird dream, the train was sentient and evil and trying to crash into people, and although the tracks were above water, everyone else was floating in water that was just everywhere, so her rushing was her trying to swim quickly in water)

So she gets back to the building, no else is aware that there’s bad stuff happening and they’re all excited to be leaving the building in the morning because everyone was going on vacation, so the protagonist finds a place to sleep where she’s hidden (because again this was a weird dream so all employees sleep at the building), and in the morning she didn’t go with anyone else and just stayed behind, hidden, while everyone left

And it turned out other scientists stayed behind too, evil scientists, and one of them was Olivia Octavius from the ITSV movie, and the brunette was actually Spiderman (except technically “Spiderwoman” but you know my brain did not give a fuck and proudly called her Spiderman) and this was her origin story as well as sorta Doc Ock’s

Instead of being changed by a spider bite like other Spideys, she was closer to Doc Ock where she used a suit she had built (still looked like a spandex spidey suit) that latched onto her brain and mimicked the spidey powers

So she’s trying to stay hidden in her suit and figure out what’s going on, but Doc Ock finds her, and it turns out they were besties, and Doc Ock was actually in love with her and didn’t want her to get dragged into this, but ultimately she chose her evil scheme in the end and knew Spidey wouldn’t join her on this path so they had a dramatic “breakup” (the kind of breakup you have with your bestie when y’all are in love with each other but don’t realize you’re gay) while fighting and Spidey fakes her death, leaving behind a devastated Doc Ock who only meant to knock her out

(I also remember very clearly going “wow I can’t believe there was this other Spidey before the other ones, Miles should run into her at some point” during it)

Then I woke up because my roommate called me and I’m heart-broken that this isn’t a real character that everyone knows about and that I can’t go read fanfics where they get their happy ending together

(Also in the dream, because this was “origin” stuff, Doc Ock was clearly much younger, but still a couple years older than Spidey, and Spidey looked up to her and respected her as a more senior scientist before it came out what she’d been doing with her science, also I don’t think the company was Alchemax, I think it was some nonexistent origin company she worked at before joining Alchemax)

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey love! if you're still accepting requests, could I get an extremely wild, rough and feral nsfw Daemon x wife fem!reader please? (feel free to ignore and sorry if the request is weird, but I'm thirsty for this handsome fictional man who unfortunately doesn't exist)

Frost Bite

Daemon Targayen x Stark!Reader

Summary: You were travelling back to home soil in anticipation of your wolf's heat cycle. Besides the fact that you could not stand the sound of your prince husband's breathing and the fact you were certain he would perish in the cold, there was one more reason why you did not want him to join you: the fact the heat was affecting you too.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Basically PWP, 5k+ SMUT T_T (non-con [daemon touches her while she's asleep], virgin!reader, she cries for various reasons, fingering, choking, biting, degradation kink, corruption kink, spitting, marking, edging, oral [fem receiving], breeding kink, cream pie), RIP feminism, opens with a wet dream, brief mentions of near death experience in a snow storm, dark!daemon (but imo its just canon daemon) fem!reader, wife!Reader, soft!daemon, typos, etc.

A/N: YEAH MINORS DNI. LOL SO I was planning to write this for my part 2 of my Stark!Reader, but i got lazy and didn't want to create a whole plot leading up to the smut, so i removed it all together, which I guess worked out swell for you nonnie, since I was planning something absolutely unhinged. I hope you liked that fic of mine since you're basically getting a p3 of it So here's part 1, here's part 2, but you don't need to read any of them to understand, but i suggest you do for background cos lol this is PWP T_T Next part ig but its a blurb "✨Magic✨" OMG NEXT PART BUT ITS NOT A BLURB "Moon Cycle" Also nonnie, i wanted to tell you albeit asking for smut is pretty awkward HAHAHAH you gotta process these feelings somehow you know. i mean, we could have been criminals, like Daemon, instead but we're not, and that's what matters (unless you are a criminal in which case im closing my eyes) this gif of him is so large on pc but idc he's so hot MATT I WANT YOU SO BAD FUCK OFF if someone snitches to big brother again like in In Your Defense /: Idk if you want to be, but I'm tagging everyone I tagged in the previous fic, as well as the others that commented there SO HI THIS IS SMUT YOU CAN GO IF YOU WANT LOL HAHHAH @aralezinspace @em-the-lurker @blue1006 @mukduk-not-murder @min-jianhyung @deniixlovezelda @moonmaiden1996 @thatmysteriousblog

I caught him. I caught him doing the very thing I dreaded to catch him do. The one thing I accused him of doing every night, though in my heart of hearts I wished he did not... not that I would ever admit it to his face. Because why would I? Admitting it would mean- "You want me," Daemon heaved against the neck of the woman beneath him. He cranes his neck up as he thrust into her, smirking, eyes dark, "you want this to be you," he pants as he stares at me, "don't you?" I am in my place, frozen, watching and hearing the woman come undone underneath my husband who kisses her tenderly. "Daemon," I whimper helplessly, teary eyed, "Daemon please." "Fuck off."

I jolt awake, sweat sheening my neck and chest. I turn to my bed, empty, because though Daemon insisted we sleep together and I could not fight him in his decision, he did not return to me until nigh dawn.

I wipe my face as I recall my intensifying dreams.

It seems my travels up North would come quicker than anticipated.

And as much as I wanted to tell him I told you so, oh to all the gods, how badly he deserved it, there was no time for me to gloat when Daemon did the very thing I warned him not to, fall into the icy river.

It was instantaneous. The cracking of the ice, the splashing of water, the scream that escaped me. Maybe I should have left him in the cave we kept Caraxes, who he insisted on bringing. But then again he would have insisted on joining me to the cabin, the way he insisted on joining me here up North in the first place.

And now I had to deal with the consequences of his actions.

It was sheer miracle that I got him out of the river without falling into it myself, sheer stupidity of me to rid him of his coat and offer him mine when the blistering snow storm was not relenting, and quite clearly the sheer will of the gods that both of us made it to the cabin... barely.

The moment we walked in, I shut the door and scrambled towards the fireplace. As my fingers shivered, I thought of Havoc, and how at least I know she would find mine and Daemon's corpses if ever we do not make it. I had sent her away when the storm came out of nowhere because we had to find cover for Caraxes, and she would not have been any of help to us if she were here with us anyway.

My poor pup. She would be heartbroken if she saw me frozen. And Caraxes...

I curse the flint, I curse the cold, I curse the gods, and I curse Daemon for every time I failed to light a fire. I thanked the Stranger for finally allowing me the mercy of my eventual success.

Once the fire was burning steady, I get on my feet and run to Daemon, hauling him over to the fire roughly in haste where he helpelessly kneels in front of. He could do nothing but shiver as I scramble to get some dry clothes and sheets for the both of us.

I yank him closer to the fire and begin to undress him.

Seeing as he is nothing but docile to my actions and how his skin was turning grey, I began to grow frantic, "you cannot fucking die, you prick!"

I rip his top off and quickly clothe him, "I did not go through all the trouble of marrying you for nothing. I refuse to be forced into another marriage because your stupid ass froze to death."

Daemon's shudder comes out in a thick condensation.

"Fuck," I whimper, as I struggle to get him out of his boots and breeches.

I shrivel up at the feel of his frozen fingers then brush against my arm and I shake my head rapidly, realizing there was no choice. The only way I can warm him quickly enough is if I share my own.

I strip him naked, pulling off the shirt I struggled to put on him as well, then wrap him in a fur blanket in the meantime. I then take off my own clothes and hiss at the nipping cold.

The fact Daemon does not even look at my naked form strikes a chord in me.

I straighten him up and fix the blankets on his legs and thighs before I sit on his lap. I press my bare chest against his and whimper at his dangerously concerning coldness.

He shivers against me as his face rests helplessly on my shoulder. His breath that hits my skin is not even hot.

"Remember, you're too fucking stubborn to die," I say as I wrap my legs around his torso and graciously place his fingers beneath my bottom.

His lack of warmth literally brings tears to my eyes.

I reach out for the other blanket and wrap it over myself, consequently Daemon, before I wrap my arms around him and breathe hotly against his face.

I rub his back, "will you allow irony to take you? The hot blooded prince defeated by the cold?"

He releases a shiver and moves his head. He mutters something, but his quaking body does not allow me to make sense of it.

"Do not waste your energy," I chide.

And so for a long moment, we stay like this, wrapped in each other's arms, sharing each other's heat. I do my best to warm him. I even nuzzle against him, the way Havoc did me, just so I could warm his stupid face.

Daemon finally finds it in him to lean against my touch, and when he does, he mutters under his breath, "irony-" shudder, "-would be if the- N-Northern princ-ces-s-ss died in the cold."

My face contorts and yet I cannot help but chuckle at him, glad he can sputter his nonsense again, "then I should make Caraxes burn you for your stupidity."

I shiver when I feel his icy lips kiss my neck. Goosebumps form on my skin when I feel the hot breath that follows. My hands rake up to his nape, where I then dig my fingers as I pull away.

"N-n-nno!" he stutters, hands coming around my hips to brace me tightly, "I ss-swear I'm not warm yet-t-t."

I pull back again though to face him when I said, "I only wanted to tell you," I lean my forehead against his face, "I fucking told you so, you stupid idiot."

I rest my face on his shoulder and close my eyes, knowing I would not be off him any time soon.

I dream about him. I dream about kissing his shivers away. I dream about pulling the fur blanket that separated our legs away, and riding him until he was warm.

I dream about how good he feels, and how he burns inside me. I dream about calling his name, unlike how I did in my other dreams. I was no longer calling out in betrayal, I was calling out in pleasure.

Daemon.

Daemon.

"Daemon," I trail off in a groan, willing my heavy eyelids open. I feel pressure building up inside me before I understand what's happening.

I not know how, but I am laid on a bed, head on a pillow, form still naked. Daemon is sat up beside me, peering down at me and his hands.

I whine.

His fingers-

"Oh fucking hell," he groans as his other hand begins to knead at my breasts, "you feels so good wrapped around my fingers, I-"

I cut him off with my squeak, hands flying to his arm, thighs closing shut, squeezing this hand in between my thighs.

"Daemon," the dazed quality of my voice is gone.

He tilts his head, face twisting, a challenge.

When I struggle and wrangle against him, all it takes is his hand on my throat to make me go still. I barely manage a choke and my breath continues to leave me as his fingers quicken their pace inside me.

He only releases me after I shake and shudder when I come.

It is overwhelming and nothing at all like I have dreamed or imagined, unlike all the times I've touched myself in secret. It was intense but there was a shame tied to it.

My entire body is hot and tears prick my eyes at his relentless ministrations.

"You were too fucking ready for that," Daemon mutters dryly as he quickly pulls away and shifts in his spot, "how long have you imagined fucking me, hmm?"

Before I even have the brain to do something, he crawls down the bed, "was it when you caught me touching myself to you?" He sinks down, grabbing my legs, "or have you done it before and withheld me of your sweet cunt for no fucking reason?"

All at once, he brings his face between my legs and begins to lick all the slickness off my pulsing core.

"DAEMON!" I scream, pressing my thighs close as I push myself up on my elbows, trying to break free of him.

He ignores me and forces my legs open even as I kick them in protest, "you will not deny me something you so clearly want yourself."

He grunts and pushes my legs down before grabbing my hands that were shoving him away, "you fucking bitch," he grips me tightly, "you will not find it in yourself to fight me off once I make a whore out of you."

I growl at his words, feeling my stomach drop along with my tears because of it.

I was realizing just how strong he really was, and how in moments where our arguments got a bit physical, he has probably holding back. The revelation of this does not cease my attempts at freeing myself, but it is as pointless as I feared.

Daemon rises up from his spot, nearing me, up until he is breathing against my cheek and rubbing his hardened length against my wetness.

I turn away from him, unable to really do anything else and shudder as he speaks, "you said it yourself, you did not go through all this trouble marrying me for nothing."

I screw my eyes shut, feeling tears fall, "Daemon."

He shushes me, pulling my arms up above my head, "you should not worry. I refuse to die now that I know of your lust."

I whimper as he rolls his hips against me, "still, the idea of someone claiming you- fuck-" he groans gutturally, "had I died..." he trails of in another groan, "someone else would have gotten my prize and it would have been all be your fault."

Daemon squeezes my wrist in one hand then grabs my jaw, forcing me to turn to him. I keep my eyes shut though as he heaves hotly, "I should utterly ruin every part of you so you can never have anyone but me. Though make no mistake, I would never let that happen as I so fucking breathe."

"Hypocrite," I scoff.

He laughs and I tense at the feeling of his vibrations, "she speaks."

I dare to look at him as I pant, "you do not desire me. You're just a spoiled brat who merely wants to wet his cock, just like how you do every night."

"Oh," he groans, "is this jealousy I hear?" He squeezes my cheeks, "is my pretty whore jealous that she is not the only one?"

"Fuck you!" I manage out though muffled.

Daemon laughs at the feel of tears rushing down his fingers, "do not cry, foolish wife. I'll have you know I have not wet my cock ever since I called out your name when I fucked someone else before our wedding day."

He releases my face. I attempt to even out my breath.

"I hadn't even realized until she asked me who-"

"And you think you deserve an award for that?!" I quip through my heavy breathing.

He lets out a laugh that makes me whimper, "I think you ought to know that mine own want for you has made everyone else undesirable," he licks my cheek, making me pull my head away from him, "I have been so pent up in want and for what? Because you're too bull headed to allow me anything other than my lonely hand?"

I try to wrangle out of his grip again, and he presses his whole body on me in response, "it's quite adorable that you still have it in you act like you didn't just call my name out loud while you dreamt of fucking me."

He rubs his nose against my jaw, "you wanna know how I know?"

"Fuck off-"

"You were rutting against me like a hussy," he sighs, "by the gods, had I known you were so wanton at night, I would have never granted you the insult of sleeping alone."

I could feel myself burn hotter with each word that leaves his lips despite myself. I did not want him to catch me like this, but there was no use; I was already caught.

As Daemon rocks his hips on mine, he hisses, undoubtedly feeling how much wetter I had gotten was beneath him.

"Fuck," he trails off, "here's what going to happen," he whispers, rutting against me rougher.

I cannot for the life of me withhold my whimper.

He chuckles as he presses his face against mine, "I'm going to make you come with my tongue and then I'm going to fuck you until you cry."

"Daemon, please stop-"

"Your heartbeat against my cock and how fucking wet you are disagrees with your protest, little liar," he croons. He lifts his head, then leans his forehead against mine, "don't worry, my little virgin, you will not cry because it hurts, you will cry because you'll want it so bad that it hurts."

"Daemon-"

"You will not refuse me," he whispers, though it is anything but sweet, "not when there is not a sliver of doubt in my mind that you want this too."

He brings his hands to my neck again and I wait for his grip to tighten, but it does not, "now say it."

I look up at him as my breathing quickens.

"Yield," he commands, breathing heavily all of a sudden.

I look up at him feeling my belly swirl in ways I could not ever explain.

"Admit to both our ears that you burn for me just as I have been fucking burning for you."

I yelp when he puts pressure on my throat then releases it.

"Say it," he barks.

"I-"

"Say you want me," he says softer this time.

I am disarmed by his quick change in tone and a shiver leaves me as the cold finds its way to my belly as he pulls away. Daemon releases my hands then begins to crawl down. His eyes are fixed on my as he mutters once more, "say it."

I shudder as he presses my thighs against his cheeks then whispers, almost begging, "say it."

I turn away from him and close my eyes, awaiting his next actions, for it was not like I could stop him if I refuse.

"Say it," he urges louder, "you know you want to."

I clench my jaw, "just do what you want and be done with it."

He growls, and goosebumps form on my skin when I feel him bite at the inner most part of my thigh. I grip at the sheets at the feel of teeth and tongue. I bite my lips tightly to keep myself from making any noise.

"I should, shouldn't I?" Daemon mutters.

I yelp and look down at him when his finger strokes my core.

His eyes are dark as he airily chuckles at my reaction, "after all I have given you my name, my Targaryen queen. You are no longer your own, you are forever mine."

I watch him as he lifts his head up and kisses my sopping heat. I flinch when he nips at me, drawing my nub out with his teeth. He lifts his head as he releases my flesh. His chin is glistening with my slick as he says, "I want you."

My breath leaves me when he says this.

"And I know you want me too, but I have to-- I need you to say it." He repositions himself in my thighs, "you are after all married to maniac," he breathes against me, "now, say it."

He shakes my thighs, "SAY IT!"

"I want you," I snap, "Daemon, I-" a loud cry rips out of me before I can even continue.

The sound of him lapping his tongue on me, eating me out as if I was his final meal, was somehow louder than my cries. I cannot help but so violently react to him as he devours me. He forces me still in his grip and fights off the movement of my thighs with his face.

It seems as though my admittance has reduced me into nothing but needy sounds.

Without another thought, my hands reach down at him and dig into his silver hair. I arch my back and pull at him when his tongue flicks into me.

"Fucking slut," he mutters, squeezing my thighs as he pulls me apart.

I scream out his name as he digs his face deeper into me. I lift my head up when he pulls away to laugh, "look at you, rutting against me like the needy whore you are."

I don't have time to find offence in his words because I still, not even realizing I was in fact moving my hips against him. He laughs as he continues his work, leaving me no time to feel embarrassment and only hot pleasure.

He is fucking good at what he does. He's so fucking good that my mind wanders where it should not. How much practice has he gotten to be this good? It is precisely because of this that I finally break, "all for you, Daemon," I grab his cheeks, "all for you-- all mine."

I do not see how his eyes dart up to me for I then throw my head back and whine. I feel myself come close to my undoing, "fuck, Daemon, don't stop."

I shriek when I bites me.

Just as I am inching so close, all at once, he pulls away from me.

I pant and stiffen as I hear and feel him spit on me. Much like all other moments, I do not have time to react. When I turn to him, he grabs my legs and shoves me to my side.

I begin to panic when he rises to his knees.

"I'll be fucking damned if I don't make you come on my cock right now," he grunts, making my eyes drop down to the very thing, erect, hard, and angry.

"Get on your knees, bitch," he blurts, though he doesn't give me much of a chance to as he drags me up into the position he wants me by my hips.

I haven't even propped myself up on my arms yet when he unceremoniously begins to pound into me.

I am certain if anyone could hear us in the middle of this storm, they would think I was mad, or worse, being tortured.

"I'm going to breed that prurient wolf in you, just as I'm sure your wolf, Havoc, is being bred right now."

I growl at the idea and feel my belly tighten at his words.

Daemon groans before he chuckles, "that's it, isn't it?"

His relentless thrusts begin to grow sloppy. Suddenly, he yanks me by my hair and lifts me up. His other hand slaps to my throat to offer painful support as he pulls me up against him.

I choke on my spit when my form presses against him with difficulty. He sinks down on his knees, my core wrapped around his length as he shifts me in a snug position atop him.

His hands make their way to my breasts to roughly grope them. His teeth sink down on my shoulder.

I release a wild sound as my own hands come on top of his. I am left moaning at how his mouth sinks into my skin.

Daemon makes sure to suck hard before pulling away. For a moment he catches his breath before speaking, "you did not want me here because you are affected by your wolf's heat, aren't you."

The way I begin to slowly bounce on top of him is enough of an answer to him.

He laughs as his hands depart from my tender breasts, one going down to my sensitive nub, the other sealing my throat again, "you are a fucking selfish bitch for keeping your cunt from me."

My breathing becomes arduous when he tightens his grip around me.

"You would have preferred to touch yourself to the thought of me?" he questions as he rubs on my sensitive nub.

"Daemon," I gasp, pushing my head back as his lips latch on my neck again.

He ceases the moment of his fingers as he finishes grazing on my skin. "Yes, my pretty whore?" he mutters in between his kisses, "what do you want, hmm?"

My breathing strains when his hand tightens around my throat more. I catch my breath when he releases his grip to push my hair off to the side, "tell me what you want me to do to you."

I call out his name. He calls out mine.

I find myself grabbing his hands as I moan out, "I want you to fuck me."

Without another word, I am thrown down to the bed. The only reason I'm still on him is because of his hands that latch on my hips.

I am nothing against his strength. He handles me like a ragdoll, fucking me with absolutely no regard and nothing else in mind.

I make sounds that mean nothing. His name is polluted by my whimpers and cries that you cannot make head or tail of.

I would not last any longer with how he was handling me, even if I wanted to, even if I tried.

"That's it my easy bitch," he pants, "come around me like the needy whore you are."

"Daemon-"

"Your eager cunt will take my seed well when I fill you up," his one hand leaves my hip and rips my head back by my hair again, "don't you think, pretty wife?"

"Yes," I reply without thinking, "yes, yes, yes, yes-"

"And you will give me your pups," he mutters, "bare my dragons, like a dutiful wife will you not?"

My only response is my body breaking orgasm. I shiver beneath him, falling powerless as I scream his name and crumble, absolutely boneless.

Daemon lets out a string of curses as he milks out my reaction for all he's got.

He does not waver once bit and it maddeningly delicious.

My voice hikes up when I feel him release inside me not too late after.

"Fucking come slut," he barks as he snaps his hips in me, "take it all just like that."

I bury my screams in the cushions he presses on, unrelenting. When he finally does grow sloppy, I take a moment to catch my breath and relish the feel of him.

I whimper when he pulls away and slaps my ass.

"The absolute mess you've made of yourself," he coos, as he rubs the skin he slapped.

I can feel myself leaking, I can feel it all over my legs, on the sheets, and I could practically feel his pleased smile as he watches the lewd display. I could not bring myself to care at all though, not when my legs begin to fall.

I squeak when Daemon rearranges me on the bed. He is not at all as rough as he was with me a while ago, but his strength and my lack thereof does not really allow him to be gentle.

He falls onto the side of the bed next to me and gathers me into his chest. When I roll over to him, I groan at the feeling of my wet thighs pressing together.

"Do not make issue of that," Daemon says as he watches me squirm. He pulls me close to him, arm over my shoulders. His other hand hooks behind my knee, dragging me atop him. I whimper and push my hand on his chest when I feel core empty out on his thigh.

He does not allow me to pull away and I turn to him because of this. Daemon forces me close against him, "are you so haughty over my come that you cannot bare the thought of it-"

"But it's getting everywhere," I start off loudly but end with a whisper.

Daemon's nostrils flare as he shakes his head, "I should sure hope so."

I feel my cheeks burn and so I decide to hide my face in his chest.

His laughter intensifies, and I do not enjoy how my head bounces on his ribcage because of it.

"Oh meekness suits you well, my dear."

I weakly mumble, "fuck off."

His amusement continues as he rubs my arms, "you mean, 'I want you to fuck me, Daemon.' "

"I did not say it like that!" I quip, lifting my head as I turn to him, finally making him cease his stupid laughter. The sight of his stupid smug face still glimmering in slick renders me frozen.

Suddenly I am aware of how cold the room still was.

"Pray tell, how did you say it?" he hums, pushing hair behind my ear.

I furrow my brows and press my cheek on his chest again, admitting lowly, "I didn't say your name at the end."

"My," he draws shapeless figures on my skin, "I'm glad to know the moment is burned in your very being."

"Fuck off," I mutter under my breath, scratching my eye. It dawns onto me that my face was equally as wet as Daemon's. Heat rises up my face again when I realize I really did cry because of how good he felt.

"Don't fret," he sighs, "there is a reason why you should not worry yourself about how your pretty cunt is leaking blood and come. I shall fuc-"

I turn to him in concern and push myself up.

Daemon furrows his brows and shakes his head, "it is normal," he soothes, grabbing my cheek, "or did you just forget your maidenhood was still intact after imagining fucking me?"

I am suddenly aware how real everything was. My husband has finally gotten me to consummate our marriage and all his talk of me bearing his seed could may well come true. My chest begins to constrict as my mind floods with endless scenarios.

"Well, if you start frowning like that, I might actually feel bad," Daemon mutters, lifting himself up on his elbows, "what's wrong?"

I look at his concerned expression and find myself speaking before I realize, "did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" he clarifies quickly.

"That you want me," I quip just as fast.

He stares at me for a moment, as if he was taken aback or measuring the truthfulness in my voice. When a prolonged moment passes between us, he realizes I was serious.

"Fuck," he drops his head back, "it must be exhausting to be a woman with your overthinking."

"Well, pardon me for not-"

"You are pardoned," he blurts, making me whimper when he suddenly flips us over.

I am beneath him again. He does nothing but press his weight on me, but I struggle beneath him, not enjoying the idea of remaining in an uncomfortable position.

He misreads my intentions and hinders me from moving, as he wraps his arms around me, "I just told I want you, that I burn for you, that I want you to mother my children. Do you honestly think I am one to say that to anyone?"

I gulp as he shifts to nestle his face in the crook of my neck, "I..." he breathes against my skin. He does not continue as he opts to kiss my neck instead.

When I move to wrap my own arms around him, he speaks again, "I am at your mercy. You saved me from freezing to death when you could have easily decided to rid of me."

I press my cheek against him and begin to comb through the long hair on his back, "I was serious about my distaste to remarry."

"Well, you will not," he quickly retorts, "you will have me until the end."

I bring my legs around him as I release a sigh, "consider me overjoyed by the thought."

He chuckles as he shifts, "you do not sound-"

"I did not want to admit it," I cut him off, "but I think I..." I turn to him as he lifts his head, "I think I... care for you, Daemon... I-"

"Love you," he finishes, staring at me with an unreadable expression.

And for the first time since our nuptials, he kisses me. He kisses me not because he has to, not for the sake of showing everyone present, but because he wanted to, for the sake of showing me.

He is nothing but warmth, nothing but fire, nothing but him. Daemon is not sweet, but in this moment he put even honey to shame.

He begins to stir on top me, though he makes sure his lips do not leave mine. It is because of my moan that we are broken apart, the moan that leaves me when I feel him slip inside me.

"Daemon-"

"You know how I fuck," he sighs, rubbing his nose against mine, "but now we'll both know how I make love."

[runnning-outof-time]

Back To Her | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: It’s been years since Tommy and (Y/N) have last seen each other…will it be a bad thing now that he’s finally found his way back to her?

Warnings: language, drinking, mentions of minor character death

Word Count: 4355

A/N: oh my does it feel good to be writing again. I don’t quite know what this one is, but the ending of it is one of my absolute favorites. I hope you don’t mind how long it is - it kind of grew a mind of its own. I hope you’ll stick with it though. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

Tommy Shelby tugged on his tie, straightening it out as he waited with a lump in his throat. What was taking so long? The maid must've told him to wait in this room several minutes ago. Each second was dragging on and it seemed as though his heart rate was increasing because of it.

This mansion had felt so foreign, yet so familiar at the same time. Even from only being in the foyer and the drawing room, he could see the subtle intricacies that the woman he was meeting used to talk and dream about having one day. Seeing them brought to fruition here - in the grandest scale possible - filled him with a sense of elation, a feeling that had been tucked deeply away and probably hadn't seen the light of day since he last heard her speak. One that he still felt that day, even though the words she spoke struck him deeper than any bullet had.

They hadn't left off on the best of terms, but she wished him the best. Now he was wondering if the time that was put between them turned things sour, and if she would even want him to be here. He'd stand and bear it though. He needed to see her again, even if it meant he'd be admonished for it.

The thought made him tug on his tie again, wanting it to be perfect for her. He wanted everything to be perfect for her. Maybe if she approached him and he asked that question - if everything had turned out to be perfect for her, and she gave her response and nothing else, he’d consider this a victory.

Footsteps then echoed throughout one of the grandiose hallways. Soon enough, a voice was heard: "who are you?"

——

-1919-

"Arthur Shelby! I'm going to need you to tell me what you said last night at the Garrison, but this time don't leave the parts that Tommy wouldn't want me to hear out," (Y/N) announced as she marched into the Shelby family's Watery Lane home.

She hoped that the eldest Shelby sibling was present and heard her exclamation - after all, he wasn't in his other, usual places. Her hopes were fulfilled when she found him draped across the couch in the sitting room; looking quite like death personified.

"Oi, what're you screamin' for, (Y/N)?" Arthur questioned, just barely lifting his head up from the couch's arm.

"I'm unhappy, Arthur," she started with a huff, dropping her hands to her hips before she continued, "you had me up half the night just thinking, and now Tommy's been acting weird around me...I need to get to the bottom of this."

"The bottom of what?" he still sounded confused.

"The plan of Tommy's you were telling me about," she wasted no time in telling him. "You were saying something...something about an opportunity being dropped into his lap; one that doesn't come around often," she continued on, hoping to jog his memory, "what was the opportunity, Arthur?"

Arthur furrowed his brows together as he racked his brain. What was he telling her last night? He couldn't quite remember. She was looking at him expectantly though, and he became more worried by the minute that she'd pounce if he made her wait for too long.

"What has Tommy been planning?" she asked another question after a few moments of silence had passed.

"He's..." he trailed off, swallowing as he prepared himself for what would follow, and also hoping that the pause would buy him more time, "(Y/N), he's found something, and it's something that's going to help us all out."

"What is it, Arthur?" she asked for more detail, becoming slightly upset that it wasn't shared with her outright.

"They're guns," he finally told the secret, "government guns, and at first I didn't understand why he was keeping them, but Tommy's got a plan, he's..."

"Oh he's got a plan, huh?" (Y/N) cut into his statement, a snort following her question.

"He does! He said that he's going to keep them in our corner and use them to bargain. Polly's tried to tell him to get rid of them, but he won't listen. It's no use going against it; we might as well ride it out," he tried to get her to understand how he was looking at the situation.

(Y/N) wasn't buying into it. "This is how it's always been, Arthur...Tommy has a plan, Tommy stays steadfast on said plan, and then usually the bloody plan blows up in all of our faces!"

"This one feels different though, (Y/N)," Arthur stated, sounding a bit like he wasn't up for the argument he was currently in.

"I think I'll have to be the judge of that," she huffed, running a stressed hand over her forehead, "these plans'll be what kills him one day...I just know it," she muttered then, shaking her head as she looked down to the ground.

Arthur sat up straight after hearing her musings. His brows were furrowed as he trained his eyes on her. He could tell the amount of struggle that was going on inside her mind, and it was clear how Tommy's dealings were affecting her. "Here, come have a seat," he said, waving his arm in her direction as a physical cue.

(Y/N) glanced over at him, seeing the compassionate look on his face. She then exhaled a sigh and made her way over to the empty space on the couch, sitting down and resting her head against its back.

"Tommy and his plans can get to be a bit much," he started off. (Y/N) held back her snort. "He's wantin' us to trust him on this one though. We've gotta see it through."

(Y/N) was unsure of what to say. So many things were running through her mind at the moment; so many different scenarios and ways that this plan could bring about a terrible end. Instead of voicing any of those worries, she said nothing.

—

Tommy was sitting at one of the main tables in the betting shop, reading through some of the recent race outlooks when the door to the shop opened. He looked up and found (Y/N) walking further into the room. Before he could say anything, she stormed right past him, going over to the doors that connected to the Shelby's living quarters so that she could lock them. He sat and watched as she moved about the room, checking the various doors and making sure that they were all locked.

"Something happening?" he decided to ask her after she went back to the door she entered through and locked that one as well, "anything I should be worried about?"

"No," her answer was abrupt, "just wanted to make sure that I could speak to you without any interruptions," she moved over to the table he was sitting at.

Tommy watched her intently as she sat down across from him, clasping her hands together on top of the table as she looked at him expectantly. "Heard anything from Ada?" he decided to ask, wondering if this could be about his sister, who'd been effectively avoiding him for the last few weeks.

"No, this isn't about her," she answered, shaking her head slightly. She couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness at the mention of her best friend, who'd practically disappeared. She remembered the last time they spoke; how Ada had told her that she needed to break away, to live and make decisions for herself. She was happy for her friend in doing that, but it didn't make the distance hurt less.

"What is it then?" he asked her, his eyebrows raised slightly as he waited for what she had to say.

"Pol said you're going to the derby..." she started off, trying to keep her voice level while her stomach did flips. She knew that this conversation wasn't going to be an easy one, but it was one she needed to have.

"I am...John and Arthur are also. There's an important matter of business involving Kimber that we need to see to," he answered.

Fucking Kimber. Hearing his name made her frustrated. It had been the talk of every family meeting since he found his way into Birmingham a few weeks ago. "She also told me that you're taking Grace. Tommy why are you bringing the fucking barmaid with you to the races?" she asked the question that had been stewing in her mind since she became aware of these plans.

"I can't tell you, (Y/N)," he responded, speaking in a low voice so as to keep his frustration down...he couldn't keep having all of this questioning happen.

"You do know what this looks like though, don't you? You, taking the barmaid to the races instead of the woman you're with; the woman you've been with. This will make people 'round here talk, Tommy, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to take that. Tell me why...tell me, why her?" (Y/N) doubled down, feeling more and more sick with each word she'd said.

She'd been with him for years now. They’d gotten together before the war and she stayed steadfast by his side through the conflict, promising him that she'd be there for him once he came out on the other side. There were hard times...really hard times, but she relented, staying by his side through them. Now she was starting to panic. Was he going to throw it all away over a barmaid?

"They'll talk, but their words will hold no truth, love," Tommy decided to reply to one part of her statement. Of course, it wasn't the one (Y/N) was looking for answers to.

"Why are you bringing her?" she asked yet again, shortening down her questioning to get right to the point.

"I can't say why. It's part of the plan, and you just need to trust me on it." (Y/N) opened her mouth to speak, but he continued before she could get a word out, "this is as hard on me as it is you."

(Y/N) pursed her lips upon hearing the second half of his statement. She didn't quite know what to think and was shocked that he could make a blanket statement like that one. It took a few moments for her to speak again. "That's rich of you to say, Tommy. For you to use such a statement to try and compare your feelings and thoughts to mine, especially when you know what it is that's going on. The plan is yours...you don't need the answers. And I've said it before that it'll be these bloody plans of yours that'll put you in the ground one day. I..." she paused, her voice wavering and all of the venom that had been building up vanished at once as she thought of what she'd say next. She took a deep breath before continuing. It's for the best. "I don't think I can be around it for one moment longer."

The words pained her to say, but she knew that they had to be said. And immediately she was having second thoughts on uttering them when she saw the drastic shift in Tommy's eyes. He may have closed himself off since coming home from France; considering himself dead and taking everything else that came to him as extra, but (Y/N) knew that she could still see his emotions through his eyes...and right now it looked as if he'd just taken a grave shot to the heart.

"What?" was all he was able to ask, his brows furrowing deeply together.

"I can't do this anymore...I can't jump from plan to plan and hope that you'll make it out alive from it. I love you too much to see it through. I think I need to go my own way now."

"It'll just be this one. One and done, (Y/N)," he tried to speak with as much reassurance as he could muster.

(Y/N) shook her head, a solemn look on her face, "it's never just 'one and done' with you, Tommy. You're a gambling man...you always have been. This plan'll work out, because they always seem to for you, and you'll become hungry for more. You'll keep going until it kills you, and I can't be around for that," she rehashed her words, showing him that she was staying steadfast on her stance. She then stood up and reached over the table to where his hand was sitting on it. Gingerly, she took hold of it, hating that doing so also brought their faces closer together. "I wish you all the best, Tommy, I really do. I love you," she spoke from the heart, her eyes not straying from his, even when her voice broke as she said the final three words.

She left without giving him the chance to respond. It was almost as if she knew that his words would pull her back in and assure her that everything would be ok...Tommy could convince someone just like that. But if she had stuck around, she would have seen that he had nothing left to say. He went to repeat the three word phrase that she ended off with, but it died on his lips as he watched what was possibly the best thing in his life walk away.

——

-1922-

Anxiousness was coursing through (Y/N)'s body. She fluffed out her dress for probably the hundredth time and listened to her friend tell her, yet again, that it was going to be ok. She didn't know why she was nervous. This was supposed to be the best day of her life, right? She'd found a man - a good man - and he was head over heels in love with her. Hell, she felt the same for him. Agreeing to marry him came without a doubt in her mind. So why was she a bundle of nerves now that she was only moments away from walking down the aisle?

The doors opened as she was trying to answer that question. There was no time left. In a short time, she'd become Mrs. Harold Drimouth.

——

-1925-

It felt good to have the family around again. It didn't take much for Tommy to notice the difference. Arrow House hadn't been this full of life since before he lost his wife.

Everyone had traveled in for the Christmas holiday. It was a big feat, but Tommy agreed to host everyone at his home. Charlie was thankful for the influx of children, and Tommy was happy he didn't have to be alone; especially after everything that occurred in Small Heath in the months prior. It was so far from a cause for celebration, but celebrate seemed to be all that they could do. They'd made it out of the vendetta alive...although that couldn't be said for every member of the Shelby family.

After dinner and the opening of the presents, several of the adults had decided to spend some time in one of the quieter sitting rooms while the children played with their toys in the adjacent room.

"If you really think of it...a celebration of this size wouldn't have even been thought of for us ten years ago," Ada mused, steering their previous conversation into a new direction.

"So much happens in that span of time. You only start to notice the differences when you look back on it," Polly added, looking at Ada and sending her a nod.

"We have Tommy and his ambitions to thank for it," Arthur called attention to the host of the party, raising his glass towards his younger brother, sparking a similar reaction from the rest in the room. Tommy only nodded his head in acknowledgement of his brother's statement, holding his whiskey up with the rest of the group before he went back to being focused on the fireplace.

"Do you remember that one Christmas we had back in Small Heath...before the war?" Ada then attempted to jog the group's memory, "(Y/N) and I stayed up half the night trying to get the gifts ready just to have John..." she paused, a smile forming on her face at the memory of her late brother while she took a moment to recollect her thoughts, "come in and start rooting through them because he couldn't remember if he'd gotten anything for anyone. I remember being so upset, but (Y/N) was ready to do them all up again."

"(Y/N)," Arthur began, letting a breath of a laugh out in the remembrance of her, "she was one of those kinds of women that you only meet once in your life."

"It's a shame no one kept in contact," Polly commented with a shake of her head.

"She left without a word. We couldn't have connected with her if we'd tried," Ada remarked, trying to stay stoic, but the guilt was apparent in her expression. Out of all of the Shelbys - excluding Tommy, obviously - (Y/N)'s leaving impacted her the most. They'd been through thick and thin together, so to come home and find that she was just gone struck a deep chord within the younger of the two women.

"You've not spoken to her at all, Tom, have ya?" Arthur decided to question the person who'd seen her last.

Tommy's gaze snapped away from the fire at the sound of his name, and although it took him a few beats to recall what the question was, he ultimately shook his head. "No," he started, shaking his head again, "no...she wished me the best and then she left. I've not heard from her since," he finished his statement by tipping back the rest of the contents in his glass. He then silently cursed it for there not being nearly as much alcohol as he needed at the moment.

All this talk of (Y/N) was leaving him reeling. From the first mention of her name, he'd been transported back to the times that he shared with her. She was his first...truly everything, and you really can't forget someone like that, no matter how much you try to, or who you attempt to move on with. Those memories were still as raw as the day they were made.

And so as the rest of his family continued on with sharing memories of the years gone by, Tommy found himself lost in a whirlwind of questions. He couldn't keep himself from wondering what had happened to (Y/N) since he last saw her, and how she fared out once she went her own way.

If he knew one thing for certain though, it was that he now needed to see her again. His main goal now was to find his way back to her.

——

"Who are you?" the voice came from the left side of the room. Tommy's eyes snapped over to see a young girl, probably around the age of four, standing in the opening of the hallway. Her head was tilted slightly, and he had to suppress a chuckle. She looked exactly like Charlie did when he was questioning something.

"I'm, um..." he began to speak, but more voices cut him off and made him look to his right.

"I was unaware of there being any scheduled visitors today." He knew that voice...he could recognize it anywhere.

"I know, Ms. Drimouth...this visitor was not on the schedule," the voice of the maid who'd escorted Tommy into the drawing room answered as their footsteps came closer.

Then she appeared. The breath instantly got caught in his throat when his eyes fell on her. She looked even more beautiful than the day she left. Seeing her made him feel like he was frozen. His mind was empty and now completely taken up by her.

"I'm so sorry, if I'd known I was expecting company, I would have worn something a bit more appropriate," (Y/N) stated, her eyes focused on her house dress as she fidgeted with it, trying to make herself look more acceptable.

"No, you look fine...beautiful, actually," Tommy said the first thing that came to his mind, and his words made (Y/N)'s eyes quickly snap up to see him. If he thought his breath was taken away before, now he was sure that his lungs had collapsed.

(Y/N) froze the second she saw who was waiting for her. She never thought she'd see Tommy Shelby again, let alone have him turn up at her estate unexpectedly. Everything else in the room seemed to disappear as her eyes stayed locked on him.

"Who is this, mummy?" the child's voice broke both adults out of their trances, making them realize that they weren't the only two in the room.

(Y/N) managed to break her eyes away from her first love to see her daughter, Margaret, looking between them in confusion. "Darling, this…this is an old friend. His name is Tommy, Tommy Shelby," she stuttered out an introduction. ‘Old friend’ was nowhere near what he was to her, but the label would do for now.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Shelby," Margaret spoke properly, a smile present on her face as she looked up at the man dressed in black as if he was also a friend of hers.

"You as well, Margaret," Tommy managed to pry his eyes from (Y/N) for a few moments so that he could address the child.

"Maggie, why don't you go and find Bear to play with?" (Y/N) suggested, knowing that she didn't want to have her daughter present while she reconnected with Tommy.

"Yes, mummy," Margaret nodded before she exited the room the way she'd come in.

Neither Tommy nor (Y/N) knew what to say next. It felt like hours had passed with them being lost in each other's gaze before (Y/N) finally broke the silence, "you...you found me?" her voice inflected to make her words sound like a question, but she wasn't so sure if she intended it to be.

"I did. I...I went looking for you, exhausted every connection I had. I had to find you, (Y/N). I had to see you again," he answered her, not caring at the moment how this admission sounded.

"May I ask why?" she questioned, hating that the words sounded a little more snide that she wanted them to, "why now...after all these years have passed?"

"I wanted to apologize to you; for all that I put you through back then, and for the things that I left out. You deserved to know," he answered, his words holding an utmost sincerity.

"I wished you the best, and you went and made quite the name for yourself, Tommy Shelby," she commented, a smile forming on her face. She couldn't help but be proud of him. "Your name was spoken quite a few times amidst my late husband's circle."

"Late husband?" he asked, putting emphasis on the first word.

"He passed in 1924. Complications of an illness. Margaret was only two," she informed him, a tinge of sadness present in her voice. Tommy nodded at the information, a knowing look forming on his features. "Do you have anyone?" she decided to ask, hating that her heart rate increased while waiting for his answer.

"I did, but she died. I have a son, Charlie...he's four now," he offered some of his own life story.

"My daughter will be four come the end of the year," (Y/N) couldn't help but add, a small smile now present as she spoke of her pride and joy. Tommy sent a similar smile in response. It was so good to see her smile again.

Silence fell between them then, but it was one that felt comfortable. Tommy held his gaze on her for a few moments before ultimately being the one who broke it: "I, uh...I won't waste anymore of your time. I just wanted to say that I was sorry," he said to her, hating that it felt like his heart was breaking because she was leaving his life all over again.

Nothing more was said as he moved past her, heading to the archway of the foyer. He was just about to step through it when her voice stopped him: "Tommy wait!" it came out a little bit louder than she wanted it to, but it did its job in getting him to turn back around.

"Yeah?" his question came out like a breath, his heart rate increasing again.

"Maybe...maybe we should have dinner some time. There's a lot of catching up that's needed to be done between us," she offered a suggestion, biting on her lip to conceal her smile.

"I'd like to see you again, (Y/N)," he agreed with her in an instant, a ghost of a smile forming on his face.

"Very well," she tried to keep calm, but inside she was as giddy as a school girl, "how does tomorrow sound?"

"Perfect," he nodded.

——

-1927-

Anxiousness was the furthest thing from (Y/N)'s mind as she stood behind the closed doors of the church. Ada told her multiple times that everything was going to plan and that she'd be getting her turn next. (Y/N) didn't care to hear about the perfection...she'd go forward with doing this if it were happening in a field amidst a rainstorm.

She didn't know how she managed to have this be her life, how she had gotten lucky enough to be given this second chance. The doors opened one last time to let Margaret and Charlie walk down the aisle with the flowers and rings. Is this what the best day of your life is supposed to feel like?

The doors opened as she was trying to answer that question. There was no time left. In a short time, she'd become Mrs. Thomas Shelby.

She couldn't wait.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[laiosynth]

come away, oh ghostly child... (pt 2)

( PT 1 <-) (-> PT 3)

For about 3 months now, there's been a ghost in Gotham. He's young, maybe 3 or 4.

The people of Gotham have come to accept this ghost (who says his name is Phantom) as a regular part of life, just like the heroes, villains, and other general weirdness surrounding Gotham. He has his own twitter and tumblr tags, #phantomwatch and #gothamsnewson respectively. He's as much a part of the ecosystem as the rest of Gotham.

She kept her promise, the city is his playground.

But Danny is lonely.

Maybe that's why he starts to frequent the heroes' haunts more often.

Nightwing is Danny's favorite. He's kind, more so than even his parents had been to him in his hazy memory. He's strong, too, and he protects people. And he's like Danny- he has a secret identity! Nightwing puts on a mask to keep himself safe, just like Danny.

The other vigilantes are the same, but some of them smell- literally. They reek of rotting, decayed, corrupted ectoplasm. It's gross. Icky. They're still fun to be around, but Danny wishes he could help. The one time he did try to approach one- Red Hood- to help, the vigilante had been busy.

That night, though, Gotham visited him in a dream.

"Danny, my lovely child, you are not my only. These Bats, they are my children too. They are your friends, your brothers. They are safe. They will keep you safe. I know you are lonely, little one. They will keep you company."

The night after that dream, he resolves to meet one of his new brothers. Nightwing is kind, surely he wouldn't mind!

And so, that night, he follows Nightwing! On the way, while Nightwing is resting, there is a churro stand. The smell is heavenly, and he's so hungry, so how can he resist?

So he approaches the churro stand.

"Hello, Mister. Can I please have 1 churro?"

The man running the stand doesn't take kindly to Danny's appearance.

"Back, foul demon! Evil Creature!"

The look on the man's face as he grabs a cross and exits the stand to go after Danny makes him remember his parents, chasing him with ecto-guns and weapons. It makes him cry. He sobs, his wails filling the street, echoing off the walls unnaturally.

"No, no, no! Stop, stop, please!"

The man does not stop his berating. Instead, he raises his cross over his head, intending to bring it down on Danny.

The man does not get that far, because Nightwing has grabbed his hand, and is saying something to the man that makes him flee back to his churro stand. Then, Nightwing kneels down to him.

"Hey, buddy. I'm sorry about that guy, are you okay?"

Danny wails, because he's scared, and he still remembers.

"Hey, hey, Phantom, can I touch you?"

Danny looks up at Nightwing, kind Nightwing, and nods.

Nightwing picks him up, and then they're flying, a different kind of flying than he's used to, and despite himself, he giggles because it's fun and feels funny.

They settle on a roof, and Nightwing moves Danny to his lap, carefully checking him over.

Danny reaches up to Nightwing's face, brushing his gloved fingers over the black mask.

"Yeah, that's my mask. It keeps me safe."

Danny knows all about that.

"I'll be quiet so you can be safe," he whispers, "They can't find out. That would- that would be very- very bad."

Danny wonders what Nightwing needs to stay safe from. He hopes it isn't right around the corner!

"Yes, shh, they can't find out. Very good, Danny."

Danny reaches a finger up to shush him, scared.

"Shhhhh! If they find us, they'll disstect us. Molcle by Molcle..."

Danny wants to cry again. He doesn't want Nightwing to be dissected!

Nightwing cups Danny's face with his hand, and suddenly, Danny feels a lot safer.

"It's alright, Danny. They can't get us up here."

They can't get us... Danny's safe. He's really safe!

Danny lets his ghost form fall.

Suddenly, he's very, very tired...

...

tags: @basilf1res @angelheartgamer @justgray15777 @terzatheunderscorerima @phantom120 @undead-essence @crazydoughnutlady @big-flrda-kys

(tell me if this works, im still very new to tumblr ;-;)

[ofaatuu]

Similar

Ronal x Tonowari x poly!reader

part 4! Part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here.

it’s been so long I’m so sorry guys I got super duper busy with work, but I’m back! Words spoken in blue is spoken in Navi. And words in this is basically you talking to yourself.

You heard norm and max bickering over some bs while you were eating your breakfast when you get a call from Jake. “this is Y/n speaking, what’s up Jake?” You say answering the call, “hey y/n are you guys checking up on Kiri today?” You sigh “not sure why what’s goin on?” “She said she’s been having some weird dreams lately and I was wondering if norm and max can come check up on her.” “Got it, bye.”

“Normmmm, Maxxxxx.” You say while walking the halls of the lab, you enter a room and see them standing next to your avatar. “What Y/n.” “Jake wants a checkup, sayin Kiris having some weird dreams.” you mumble out while cleaning the inside of your nails, “alright we’ll get ready we’re heading over soon.

You wake up and find yourself in your avatar. As you head over to your beloved aircraft you see norm and max loading equipment in and offer to help. “Yeah actually thanks, can you go grab the rest of the stuff in the lab room?” “Got it.” You run to grab it and run back. As you’re setting the stuff in the aircraft your stomach starts to bubble with nerves, you haven’t seen Ronal or Tonowari in a few weeks and it’s nerve wrecking seeing them again. Ronals big yellow eyes.. Her thick course hair, don’t get me started on Tonowaris hair, you think about his big ass arms and beautiful tattoo work on them. Just like yours, when you were 18 you decided you wanted a tribal tattoo just like your father and got it as soon as you could. After thinking and snapping out of your haze, you jumped into the front pilot seat and asked the two nerds if they were ready, they replied yes and you started the aircraft named “Mahina”, by you of course and took off.

As soon as you got their multiple navis gathered, still very interested in the aircraft after seeing it multiple times. You unloaded things for Norm and Max set it into Jake and Neytiris mauri. You felt the same set of burning eyes on the back of your head, but didn’t look back yet. “Hey guys, how’s everything?” You ask trying to make conversation because it’s too quiet.. “good, what about you Y/n?” Jake replied seeing what you’re trying to do and giving into it. “Could be better.” like sleeping..

You then turn around and see Ronal. You smile nervously at her, just like how you did when you first ever met her. You walk over and greet her, “Hello Ronal, how are you?” You say trying not to make eye contact with her big ass eyes.. kind of hard to do, “Demon, it’s been long, where have you been? How’s that big cut on your shoulder? Have you been growing your hair? Are you staying the night here at the reef again? “Do you wish to sleep in our mauri?” Your eyes widen as you’re bombarded with so many questions, “woah slow down tsahik, yes it’s been awhile. Yes I’m staying here for awhile, me and my partners need to stay for kiri due to her dreams being a long-lasting test their running. And I am growing out my hair thank you for noticing.” She notices your gaze is focused on her nose and not her eyes. “Demon is something wrong? Why will you not look me in the eye?” “It’s nothing Ronal, how’s Tonowari and your children?” “Their fine, come to my mauri let me look your gash.” As you’re walking to her mauri you start sweating, this is so nerve wrecking and you don’t know why. As your getting checked you hiss due to her pressing on the gash, which turned into a scar very quick. “The paste worked. I told you it works on everyone.” you continue to talk to her as you hear the mauri flap being opened by no other than Tonowari, “Hello syulang.” great another reason to sweat even more.

translations; Mahina; Moon, Syulang; flower

ughhhh it’s been so long since I wrote, sorry if this was rusty. tag list! @sakuuo @zoexme @ellabellabus07 @yeosxxx @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @ratchetprime211 @musictheatrenerd16 @unicornicopia1 @manumanulau @belos-simp69 @weepingwhitchofthewest

[natimiles]

Safer With You (Isaac x reader)

Summary: When you wake up with a nightmare plaguing your mind, Isaac is the first person you think of for comfort, so you go to his room.

Words: 1447

Tags: sfw; fluffy; literal sleeping together; can be read as platonic or pre-relationship; gender neutral reader.

Notes: by the end of the month, you’ll be loving Isaac as much as I do. That’s my goal.

It’s been a whole year, and you’ve grown accustomed to life in a mansion filled with vampires. Despite the legends you’ve heard, you feel safest when you're around them. Every time you need help, you seek them out — more specifically, you seek Isaac.

Out of everyone, he was the closest to you. You two built a strong relationship. Even Comte found it interesting how the shy, anxious, and socially awkward physicist was more relaxed around you. Sharing secrets, practicing for his classes with you, stargazing in the garden, chatting about physics — even though you didn’t understand a thing — and whatever random thoughts your mind came up with. For every little thing, you knew you could count on Isaac, and vice versa.

That’s why, when you wake up with a nightmare plaguing your mind, your sweet friend is the first person you think of. You wish you had a phone to text him and ask him to come to you. It would save you from having to get up and walk through the silent and dark mansion to his bedroom. A chill runs up your spine as you recall the weird dream. You know that in the morning, you’ll look back and consider it silly, but right now, it’s still too vivid, too scary, and too real.

Taking a deep breath, you swing your legs over the side and stand up, padding your way out of your bedroom. The mansion is unusually silent tonight — not even Mozart is awake composing. You quicken your pace towards your final destination. Thankfully, there’s light seeping from under the door.

You softly knock, glancing around the hall while waiting, ensuring no one else is awake. It doesn’t take long for him to open the door, a look of confusion on his face that deepens into an even more perplexed one when he realizes it’s you.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

You don’t reply instantly; instead, you gently nudge him to the side so you can enter his room and close the door behind you. He continues to stare at you, confusion deepening as he takes in your frantic, scared face.

“Sorry to bother you,” you murmur. “I had a nightmare… Can I stay here?”

You make your way to his bed and sit down, crossing your legs. He remains standing, analyzing you and processing the information.

“Stay? Like… Sleep here in my room?” He blushes furiously.

“Yes, if it’s not too much of a bother for you.”

“A-ah, no! It’s fine. I can sleep on the armchair, I guess,” he mumbles, thinking aloud. He looks at the armchair, trying to figure out what he’d have to do to make it comfortable enough to sleep in.

“Isaac?” you call, and he hums in acknowledgement. “Could you… sleep here with me?” you ask uncertainly, patting the mattress with your hand.

He shoots his gaze back at you, his eyes widening and blinking frantically. He opens and closes his mouth three times before actually saying something. “I-in the same b-bed?”

If you weren’t so scared, you’d probably laugh at his expression, and how he could still be so shy in your presence. It’s probably something big and inappropriate for the century you’re currently in, but you don’t want to think about it now. 

“Do you mind?” you bite your lip and frown, whispering, “I don’t wanna be alone.”

“And you think… I… can help?” 

“You know I feel safer with you,” you reply, gazing into his cherry eyes. “But if it’s too much for you, it’s okay. I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“You’re not a bother,” he stammers. “Don’t… go to anyone else. You can stay.” He sighs and fiddles with his hair. “I’ll just organize these things; you can... um, you know…” He gestures to the bed.

You give him a tiny smile and nod, whispering, “Thank you.”

He had some things to finish before going to bed, but he thought you’d want him to lie down with you soon. He tidies up some things, just to make sure he doesn’t lose track of where he stopped his work when he goes back to it the next day.

Meanwhile, you make yourself comfortable on his bed. You crawl to the right side and adjust as best you can, pressing your back against the wall and pulling the blankets up until only your nose is visible. Isaac only has one pillow, so you leave it to him; you don’t want to bother him more than you already are. Now that you think about it, he probably had more things to do, and you just went there and ruined his plans because you were afraid of a stupid, silly nightmare.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the lights turning off. Thankfully, the moonlight casting from his window helps with your brief blindness, and you can see his figure approaching the bed in slow steps. He stands for a few seconds, and you hear him actually taking a deep breath before sitting on his own bed, still a little unsure of what to do.

“Get under the blankets with me,” you say softly.

“Alright,” he mutters under his breath.

He adjusts himself next to you and lays his head on his pillow, looking at the ceiling. Letting out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding until now, Isaac glances at you from the corner of his eye. Sensing something is odd, he turns his head to get a better look at you and realizes you’re without a pillow; he’s using the only one he has.

“What’s wrong?” you ask when he’s been staring at you for almost a whole minute in silence.

“S-sorry!” He blinks out of his thoughts. “I just noticed you didn’t bring your pillow.” He props himself on his elbow to push his pillow towards you. “You can use mine, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “Don’t worry, I’m good just being here and not being alone.”

“But isn’t it uncomfortable?”

“And won’t you be uncomfortable without it, then?” You smile, and he pouts from not being able to come back with something. You push his pillow back to him. “Please, use it. Besides, if you don’t mind… I can use you as my pillow.”

You never thought it’d be possible to see a blushing face with the lights off, but there is Isaac, your closest friend in the mansion, with his whole face red as an apple. He flops back down on his side, his gaze still lingering on your face, probably searching for any trace that you were just teasing him. However, he didn’t find it; he knew he wouldn’t. Despite your playful persona, you never teased him like this. Yes, you tackled him to the floor and tickled him until he started crying once, but you wouldn’t tease him like Arthur, just to make him blush and stutter. He realized a few months after being your close friend that you were just too honest, and what sounded like teasing was just your honesty kicking in.

“Sorry if I startled you,” you murmur, sensing his anxiety spiking up. “I didn’t mean to tease you or anything.” As he thought. “Like I said before, I’m already happy just not to be alone.”

For the second time in a short span of 10 minutes, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Thankfully, he is a vampire and can’t just die from being out of oxygen for so long. He stares at you for a whole minute before shifting, opening his arms.

“You can come here,” he invites you sheepishly.

You smile softly and shimmy your body to meet his in the middle. Isaac wraps his shaking arms around you, and you throw yours over him; you both sigh without even noticing, a calm feeling taking over your bodies.

“Thank you, Isaac,” you mumble on his chest.

“Don’t mention it. Now go to sleep,” he hums. “I’ll be here. Good night.”

He kisses your head before thinking, and you smile, squeezing him affectionately.

Your hands absentmindedly start to slowly travel up and down each other’s backs in a relaxing caress, lulling you into a tranquil sleep.

The next morning, even Napoleon is already up, and you both are still sleeping in. The former emperor goes to Isaac’s bedroom to see if he’s still there and knows where you are. When he opens the door and sees you two sleeping soundly and cuddling, he only smiles and closes the door again. He makes sure to tell Sebastian you’re both okay and that he’ll be the one helping him out in the morning until you wake up.

Masterlists

[killersfool]

hiiii i’ve a wee fluff imagine idea for bobby!! : )

bobby and the reader live together in a flat in dublin and the reader goes to trinity uni to study english literature (or smt else that has like a lot of reading and essay writing anol that craic) and she’s falling behind in a lot of her assignments and it’s all piling up and she’s just all overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to cope.

she ends up breaking down into sobs or shutting down at random points in the day due to stress and rob hasn’t got a clue what’s wrong and keeps noticing these random break downs throughout the week.

basically he comforts reader and helps to organise herself and just all fluffy cute comfort fic <333

If I could flip back time, bend the seconds and go back three years ago, I would do it right now.

Pile after pile of flashcards, annotated books with pastel post-it notes shooting out of the sides, folders of Irish poetry I can hardly understand, tattered photocopies of Hozier lyrics, every work of Shakespeare staring at me from my overcrowded booksheld — dusty, messy, probably even dank. Miss Carter has decided to set three more assignments onto my workload for the week. An essay on crime fiction (I haven't even read the first book on the reading list), my creative writing portfolio and then another essay analysing a piece poetry of my choice. Reading and highlighting Hozier's lyrics of 'I, Carrion (Icarian)' is the only thing keeping me going. Phoebe Bridgers blasts through my ears. It's quarter to 11. I need a break. An early night would be nice. Or TV. But do I really want to sit next to Robert whilst he watches his weird YouTube videos?

I kick my table. Not out of anger. Not out of irritation. I just want to see all of my notes topple ontp the floor. They do. Then I'm kicking the table three more times. Or maybe eight. All my flashcards are on the carpeted  floor, next to my discarded, empty packet of pinballs. I'd stolen them from Robert's stash. He'll never find out.

Climbing over my pile of unread books by my doorway, I push open the door. It squeaks. Some oiling would be nice. Trinity college really provides the best for their students! 

I still wish my roommate was also doing English, someone to bond with over shared trauma, to gossip about our nightmarish teachers and fellow students. But no, this guy is doing a degree in bloody mathematics. The complete dichotomy of English. No similarities. No way of comparing the courses to eachother. Him and his terrifying videos that he watches with his shoes up on the armrest, cheek in his open palm, drinking a cup of tea. Like it's that simple. Numbers and sin, cos, tan and circle theorems and whatever tragic nonsense is being spouted in his lectures.

He hardly speaks to me. Three years together and I barely know him. Sometimes I tag along with him when he goes out for breakfast. Once every two weeks. Sunday morning. We talk about school, about friends, about anything that pops in our heads. Yesterday we spoke about music. He originally wanted to pursue a career in music. A band. But they didn't work out. He took a gap year to pursue this group. So he's a year older than all of the other third years. He doesn't let that faze him. When he told me stories about his band, 'Inhaler', I had to lose eye contact, look down at the pink marshmellos floating about in my cup. He looked lost. This wasn't the place for him. He missed the confidence upon stage, the ability of making something out of nothing. Life is unfair. That is when I realised it. Hearing about shattered dreams and names of songs that were never produced.

I also realise life is unfair right now, as I accidentally bang my hip onto the kicthen island, the knife-like corner lodging itself into my skin. It's like the world is against me. 

Sometimes I wonder if Robert thinks I'm an idiot. I feel like I'm an idiot when I walk past his bedroom, hunched over his laptop, headphones on as he works through the most difficult maths questions I've ever encountered in my life. He makes university seem easy. Has his allocated times for study, going out with friends, the gym, practicing bass, going though record shops, meals, watching TV. Everytime he gets home, he drops his things down in the kitchen. I sneak a glance at the big green 'A*' on all of his test papers. I look up to him. His intelligence, his masterful management of time. I'm always too frightened to ask him how he does it. He'll think I'm stalking him. 

Me, on the other hand, I waste time. I don't have balance. I never have time to be with my friends. Always locked up in my room. A prisoner. Essay after essay. Poem after poem. Book after book. A constant cycle I've been in for three whole years. The stress is weighing down on me like a hundred bags of bricks. I need to stop for a second. To breathe in. To calm down.

So I do the last thing I would normally do. I go into the living room and sit beside Robert on the sofa. He's half asleep, jeans cuffed, hair all over his face. He sees me walk in, glances up, eyes big and speculting. He instantly moves his spindly, spider-like legs from the armrest to give me some space. I can hear some sort of maths video playing on the TV. I'm scared. At least it's not English. I'm immune to maths. It doesn't affect me anymore. Whatever logorhythmic scale this American YouTube man is yapping about isn't making my face contort at all — it's like sorcery.

This could be a way of winding down. Maths. I'm calmer now. No changes of focus or narrowing of perspective. No pathetic fallacy or magical realism. Just messes of words that don't really make sense at all.

"'D'you want to watch TV? I can turn this off if you want." Robert has his thumb on the home button.

"Leave it on. I just need a moment."

He dubiously puts the remote back down. He yawns, stretching out his arms and leaning back. I hate it when boys do that. With his parted, manspreaded legs, adams apple bobbing, head rolled back. It's idiotic. Completely idiotic. He doesn't seem too intrigued by Mr American man. The video is a guy next to a whiteboard writing millions of brain-numbing equtions. Robert is nodding along. I think I'm going to cry. I don't know why I want to right now. My hip is actually starting to throb and ache. I look down at my jeans. There's a hole in them. There's blood. It's wet. I hadn't noticed before. It's properly pouring out blood.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I exclaim, hand pressing down onto the cut through my jeans.

Robert swiftly nears me. He's looking at me up and down, hands trying to find a place to move to. It's dark in the room. He reaches for the lamp switch. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm bleeding. Jesus christ. That kills. Fuck me."

He passes me his jacket and says, "Apply some pressure." 

Then he runs out of the room. Fast as a plane. A man on a mission. Long curls dancing to the rhythm of his steps. Mr American man won't shut up about algebraic expressions. He's got a really bald head. Glimmering. 

Robert is back. He has bandages. I don't know where he got those from. Antiseptic wipes, plasters, sweets, even a cup of tea. He was only gone for about five seconds. How did he manage to get all of that? He hands me the cup of tea and sweets whilst asking, "What happened?"

"I walked into the island like an eejit. I'm so feckin' stupid."

"Just breathe, okay. You're not an eejit. I do that every day." 

I have to unzip my jeans to let him check the cut. Which is awkward, to say the least. He's looking at me like a doctor — not really caring about seeing my skin — but I'm still so shy around him. He sees me struggle with the button. He undoes it, fingers coming in contact with mine. They're slender. So very perfect for the bass guitar. Then he's unzipping my jeans. Only the tiniest bit. A mere centimetre of my knickers appear out of the top. Any more than that and I'd be flush as a tomato. I've always had a little crush on Robert. Being stuck with a really smart bass guitarist with the dreamiest eyes for three years is enough to make a person fall. The reason I've been avoiding him lately has been due to that fact. I don't want to make it obvious.

He finds the cut. It's bled through my knickers, making a big blot of dark red. He pulls down the waistband of my pants, prepared to wipe the wound. I have to grind my teeth together to prevent a sob from escaping me. I'm crying. Stressed and hurt and just wanting to dissolve into nothing. The cold draft of wind isn't improving the situation. If only there was no such thing as coursework and I couldn't glide my way through university like Robert. 

More and more blood. I think I might pass out. The blue-eyed boy is knelt down on the floor, knees biting into the carpet so that he can properly see where to put the bandage. 

"So how's English going?" He's not looking at me. Only at the wound. I don't think he's noticed that I'm crying. I don't want him to. I cover my face with bloody hands, accidentally smearing the metallic substance onto my nose. 

I don't know what to say. Do I tell him how much I regret picking it? Do I make this already awkward situation about ten times worse? I hate when people pity me. I hate when I feel like eyes are lingering for far too long when I cry. But when Robert looks at me, it's different. The pools of serenity circling his iris aren't looking down at me with a sort of aristocracy. That's how my English peers stare me down. No, instead, he's looking at me like there's a billion questions rushing across his forehead. He just needs to decide which one to ask. Or to simply say nothing. Like I am. We've both learnt how to cohabit in silence. To walk past eachother and ignore the feathers of conversation falling between us. We're busy. Always busy. Except for those perfect Monday mornings that I always look forward to. Especially the one time when he showed me around his favourite record store. He had asked me to choose him a record to buy. I walked through the entire shop, fingers shifting records, reading unfamiliar artist names. Then, I saw it, the — now bane of my existence — Hozier's 'unreal unearth'. He bought it. He'd told me he only really knew 'Take Me To Church'. I'd leant against the till as he paid and said, 'it'll change your life.' Then he'd locked himself in his room. Through the ever so thin walls — paper thin — I could hear each track hum into my room. I never got the chance to talk to him about the album. I think the thought of bringing it up made me feel sick — due to the English essay upstairs still waiting patiently to be finished.

Now there is an excuse. To talk. I'm injured. I don't want to move. He's still attempting to wrap a bandage over my stomach, then across my back until it's around my torso. I feel his fingers graze my skin with every subtle movement, along my spine, the small of my back, my abdomen, my hip bone. He's still looking at me. Searching. Like I'm a new island and he's an explorer trying to name me.

"What's up, sweetheart?" He finally talks again. His words are throaty, emananting from the pits of his throat. He's still wrapping, waiting for an answer.

"Just college. You know. It's killing me."

He shakes his head. "You're so smart."

"Says you."

He shakes his head. "Look, this might be a bit weird but sometimes when you leave random essays lying around or even creative writing. I read them. They're incredible. Your mind just works in such an interesting way."

I'm at a loss for words. He reads those? Those are usually just failed attempts that I toss aside. Scrap paper. Strange drawings. I don't even want to look at them.

"You get top grades in every test," I sigh. "I'm barely passing. I'm the worst in the class. My professors hate me, I've got so much work, I'm falling behind in every assignment—"

Then I'm properly crying. Sobbing. Breathing so heavily I think I might collapse. Heaving. Sniffling. Covering my face so he can't see me. I'm like a child. Pathetic. Stupid. Worthless. I was never good enough for Trinity. Why did they let me in?

Warm arms, press of skin. Just above the wound, over my chest, arms dig into my body, hugging me from behind. Head burrowing onto my shoulders, knees into the sofa. His lips ghost the back of my neck. Tears are falling down. He turns me around to face him. I hate how he's seeing me like this. My cries are usually saved for when he's out with friends or blasting music on his record player. He's never seen me this vulnerable, just utterly ripped into shreds by the hands of life. His scent is making me feel better, the tissue now on my cheek makes me feel better, the quiet words of 'breathe, let it all out, it's okay' make me feel better. He's calming me down. I start to forget what I was even crying about when I look into his eyes. This intense eye contact. Remembering his height. Even sat down, his torso is far longer than mine.

"I've got an idea," he murmurs, peeling his body away. I miss the warmth. I miss the touch. 

"What is it?"

"We should go somewhere. Get out for a bit. Say it's a 'mental health field trip'." He curls his fingers to accentuate the apostrophes."Maybe down to the Cliffs of Moher. When you're all healed up of course."

"Give me a week."

"A week? I'll be the judge of that." He raises an eyebrow, now tying up the bandage.

"Where did you learn all this?"

"I'm actually first aid trained. Did it in my first week of uni." He takes a deep breath, settles back onto the sofa. 

I take a sip of my tea. My eyes are surely blotchy and red. I bet there's mascara all over my face. "Thank you so much."

"No problem at all. Do you want to tell me what's going on? Is there any way I can help?" He's referring to my school work. "I was alright at English in high school. No where near as good as you are. But maybe another opinion might help you."

"I'm really stuck on a Hozier analysis."

"I never told you how much I love that album. It's perfect." His eyes glow like they do when he's talking about something he loves. Usually it's caused by talking about playing bass, but right now it's due to the beauty of Hozier's music. "I learned the bass line of De Selby part two."

"Show me. Now." I don't even ask. It's simply a demand. Anything to take my mind away from that cut still bleeding profusely. A little concert would be nice. Especially if said concert involves watching Robert play bass. I sometimes peek through the crack in the doorway to see him sat down on his bed, pick between his index and thumb, bass guitar on his lap, headphones over his ears. The pure concentration on his face is unparalleled. Notes thrum quietly through the room. He falls into any piece of music.

"Alright." He laughs at my enthusiasm. "Then I'll help with your English."

"Thanks." This is probably the most I've ever spoken to him. I'm mumbling each word, not wanting to look into his eyes.

He disappears once again. This time I hear the thudding footsteps over creaky floorboards. I hear a door squeak open, the faint patter of rain upon the ceiling, the quiet murmur of distant sirens as night blooms. It's tranquil. For a moment, I'm at peace. Until I remember the stack of unread books in my bedroom. I groan into my hands. Everything just keeps getting worse and worse and—

He's back. Not empty handed. Bass in one hand, Hozier lyrics and my pencil case in the other.

"I emailed your professor about the trip. I'm sure she'll be okay with it." He's off again. He comes through the door with his amp and lead. He plugs both in. 

"You're a life saver, Rob," I say.

He starts twisting around the knobs on the bass. Volume up. Then he's tuning. He smiles up at me. I think I'm staring. I think he can tell. His long fingers, tattoos, rings. It's all too much. My fingers are restlessly tapping the armrest. My legs are up on the coffee table. He pulls out his phone and plays the song. Then I'm lost in the music. His eyes are closed as he slides his fingers up and down the neck of the bass, as he stomps his feet down on the carpet to every drum beat. If only I could go back to the days I'd go to concerts every day. If only I could go back and see 'Inhaler' on a world tour, watch Robert from the crowd, completely in his element. Exhilarated, chanting, knowing every lyric like it's my mother tongue. Sometimes I wonder what life could've been like if the band had worked out. If the world did realise just how incredible they are. But, here, appreciating each pluck of every string, the grin as he watches me. I can't take that for granted. 

[thebiggerbear]

WIP Wednesday - 7/17/24 - Russell Shaw x Reader

A/N: I started this back on May 27th I think it was, which came about because of this weird yet interesting dream I had the previous night that had nothing to do with Russell or any other Jensen character or anything like that, but I knew I had to write it and Russell popped into my head as a perfect fitting. This is currently one of the projects I'm attempting to finish up over the summer. I took out any specific spoilers. All unbeta'd.

Please let me know what you think in the comments below.

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Tracker Taglist: @nancymcl

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx; @lyarr24; @rebel-paladin

The doorbell rang for the second time as you quickly made your way to your front door. You had just been able to have a moment of peace for the first time today. Then someone had to try that godforsaken doorbell; you seriously needed to disconnect that thing already. You increased your speed when you heard the loud chimes begin a third time. Whoever stood on the other side of the door was going to regret it. Were they trying to ruin your night?

You saw a familiar yet blurry form through the glass. It couldn’t be. You opened the door and sure enough, there stood Russell with a smirk on his face. Oh, so someone was trying to ruin your night and here was the culprit.

“What the hell do you want?” You snapped.

He held up a to-go bag as his answer. “I told you our next dinner would be on me.” He then held up his other hand which contained a bottle of wine. From a quick glance at the label, it appeared to be a very nice red — one of your favorites actually. You wished you could snatch the wine and food from him and shut the door in his face, but you had to forego the wine and you already had leftovers heating in the microwave. Which was a real shame; you really could use a glass of wine after today.

“I thought we could also catch up.” One look into Russell’s eyes and noting how suggestive his smirk became, you automatically knew what he was here for. And that wasn’t happening by any means. 

“Yeah, that’s not happening. Besides, I already ate,” you lied.

That didn’t deter him just as you knew it wouldn’t. “Come on, you’re not still mad at me, are you? I said I was sorry and I’m here now. We can pick up right where we left off if you’re game.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “I’m not.”

The smirk from before was gone. “Y/N, I can’t make it right if you won’t let me.”

“There is no making it right, Russell. Not ever,” you hissed. 

His brows furrowed slightly and his eyes softened as they stared into yours. “Look, I get that you’re pissed that I didn’t call but I was on job after job for a good few months there and I couldn’t—”

Suddenly, a sound started up behind you. You spun on your heel, glancing back in terror. “No, no, please,” you whispered. 

Sure enough, because your life was a stunning case in the practice of Murphy’s Law ever since you met the man standing on your front porch, the sound began to get louder. You turned a glare on the man who was watching you with wide eyes. “What is that sound?”

As you knew he inevitably would, he ruined your night. You snatched the food bag and wine from him and promptly closed the door in his face, dropping both items on the couch and running for into the next room, never once seeing Russell stick his foot in the door to keep it from closing completely.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this upcoming work.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

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[25centsoda]

DinLuke Fic in honor of AO3 Down

Chapter 1 of my five-chapter wip (currently getting my ass kicked by chapter 3) to feed the starving masses on this terrible day of AO3 Down. Fic and summary subject to change by the time I finish, edit, and finally post it. Fair warning this chap is 9 pages on my google doc.

Summary: After rescuing Grogu, Din retired to a quiet life as a lighthouse keeper with his son. Unfortunately, his life is determined to be anything but quiet.

Tags: Mermaid au, DinLuke, Din Djarin, Grogu, Luke Skywalker, Cara Dune, Moff Gideon, Darth Vader, Emperor Palpatine, Little Mermaid-ish, fantasy au, modern au, AAC, autistic Grogu, nonspeaking Grogu, Din was a hitman

EDIT: AUGH apparently AO3 came back up while I was posting. Was supposed to be down for 3 more hours...smh. Anyways, enjoy ig!

There was a merman lying on the rocky beach, above the tidal line, not twenty feet away.

Din rubbed his eyes. Blinked. The merman was still there.

He turned around.

Turned back.

Still there.

His gaze drifted up to the clouds as he thought, mind churning like stormy waves. Had he had breakfast that morning? Or water? Dehydration did things to the brain, right? Maybe the kid had kept him up too late and he was dreaming…

A rock landed very near his foot. He looked down.

The merman was waving to him. Propped up on one pale arm, with blue…gills? Fins? Waving merrily just behind his ears. There were more fins along the back of each arm. He was smiling and mouthing something, but no sound was coming out.

Din better not be hallucinating.

He picked his way across the rocks and stopped in front of the…fish. Man. Gods above, there were scales on this man’s bare stomach, and just below his belly button the skin faded entirely into blue scales, and his lower half was…

The merman flapped his tail, silently laughing. It slapped the ground with a wet sound.

Din could only stare.

The merman waved his hand, bringing Din’s attention back to his face, which was unfairly beautiful, a fact that Din elected to ignore. He began signing animatedly and mouthing something, but it wasn’t any sign language Din knew, and he’d never been great at reading lips.

Din shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t understand.”

The merman stopped signing with a huff. He bit his lip, looking around. There wasn’t much to see. This beach was isolated—that’s why Din had chosen it. There was nothing around except for chunks of pale rocks in varying sizes, the water, and, distantly, grassy dunes. And the lighthouse Din was paid to keep.

“Hold on,” Din said. He got several steps away before another thrown rock reminded him to say, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get something that will help.”

It was a long walk back to the lighthouse, but it was a walk he made every other day, to ensure that nothing weird or dangerous had washed up. And it was a good thing, too, because evidently something had washed up. Or…someone? Din wasn’t really sure how to refer to a literal merman. He still wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing.

Grogu was waiting at the door for him, one little hand holding the doorframe as he leaned out of it, waving his device. “Ba!” he shouted. His black hair fell into his face—Din needed to cut it soon—as he looked down to make selections. As Din neared, the device read out, “Dad where go? Why back soon?”

Din tousled his son’s hair. “Just came back to grab something real quick, buddy. I’ve gotta go out again.”

Grogu tilted his head in question.

Din passed him, entering the kitchen. “I don’t know what I’ve found. Somebody that needs help, I think.”

.

.

.

Din made his way back to the beach. The merman was still there. Din wished he had thought to grab himself a bottle of water, or a snack or something, but the fact that the man was still there boded well for Din’s mental faculties, if not for the logic of the universe.

“Can you read English? D’you even know English? Do you know what I’m saying?”

Din felt stupid, talking to some hallucination-man-fish-thing, but the man nodded, so Din took that as a yes.

“Okay. Uh, well I have this.” He held out the communication board that he had brought. It was laminated—they all were, so that they would last longer—so it wouldn’t be bothered by the fact that the man reaching out a hand to take it was still dripping wet. Din had grabbed the hospital board rather than any of the core boards or fringe vocabularies, thinking that it would be the most useful. It wasn’t like Grogu already had a single-page board for mermaid trapped on the beach, and Din figured that the man was likely to be injured or hurting in some way, being so far up on the rocks. “Point to whatever you want to say.”

The merman examined the green board with interest, front and back. He seemed to read every icon carefully. The back had the alphabet and “YES”/”NO” along the bottom, a section labeled “I WANT”, a section labeled “I AM”, “I WANT TO SEE”, and a section containing icons for yes, no, thank you, stop, pen/paper. The front had pictures of a blank, uncolored body showing the front and back view with a pain scale in the middle, and icons describing different types of pain like itches, stings, can’t move. Along the sides of the front were requests for items, bathroom, and like that, don’t like, repeat that, speak louder.

After a while, Din said, “Well? Are you, uh, injured, or anything?”

The man scanned the board again, and finally pointed to the image of a glass labeled Water. As he did so, Din noticed that his fingers were webbed halfway together, with shimmering blue, nearly-transparent webbing. He looked up at Din.

“Right. Right.” Din found himself swinging his arms as he looked around the beach. He forced himself to stop. “I can. Uh.” How heavy could a fish-man be? Probably very heavy. Still—“I can bring you back to the ocean?”

The merman shook his head vehemently, eyes wide. Din noticed for the first time that they were blue, like the man’s fins. The man pointed to the red icon labeled NO over and over.

Din held up a placating hand. “Okay, okay. No ocean. Got it.” He didn’t understand in the slightest, but the message was clear. “What if I bring up a bucket?”

The man nodded.

Din…didn’t have a bucket on him. Luckily, there was a storage shed not too far from here—there was a dock about half a mile back. Once he had a bucket and filled it with water, he hesitated.

“Do you want me to just—” Din made a motion like he was going to throw the water on him.

The man gestured for the bucket. Din handed it over. The man dipped his hand in and splashed the water on the fins sticking out of his head.

Huh. Maybe those were his gills, or…something. Din didn’t exactly know that much about fish biology. Mostly what he knew about was killing. And, slowly, how to care for a nonspeaking toddler.

“Are you lost? Are you, uh, hungry?”

The man pointed to Thank you. 

Din was suddenly seized with the urge to know—”What’s your name? If—if you can spell it.” If a merman knew English, he could spell his name in English, right? Or would it be all clicks and whistles, like a dolphin?

He watched as the man spelled L—U—K—E.

“Luke.”

A nod and a smile.

“Luke,” Din said again, and wasn’t it enough that the man had an unfairly attractive face and, if he was already admitting things to himself anyway, body? Did he have to have a name that moved in Din’s mouth like that?

N—A—M—E—?

“What?”

Luke spelled it out again.

“Oh, my name.” Gods, Din was an idiot. “It’s Din. Din Djarin.”

Din. Luke mouthed the name, smiling. Din felt like he was going to combust.

“Uh, if you’re not going to go back in the ocean…” Din paused again. Luke shook his head wildly, almost unbalancing himself. Din forged on. “...would you like to come to my house? I have a bathtub I can fill with salt water for you; it’s probably more comfortable than these rocks.”

Luke pointed to Yes.

“Okay, great.”

It was quite the job getting Luke to his house. He’d thought he was pretty strong, but they had to take several breaks for Din to catch his breath. The merman was slimy in his arms, his scales rough. Luke held on to the (emptied) bucket and the hospital communication board. By the time they got back to the house, the sun was beginning to set, Din’s arms and shirt were rubbed raw, and Grogu was angry—at least, he was until he saw what Din had in his arms.

Grogu squealed. His device read out, “Mermaid! Mermaid! Mermaid!” He did a little dance, flapping his arms and twirling excitedly in the doorway.

“Move, kid,” Din grit out, muscles shaking. Luke waved from his arms.

Grogu got out of the way and Din made it all the way into the bathroom before he had to set Luke down again lest he drop him. Luke shivered on the cold tile. Din had to reach over him to turn on the tap. Grogu waited in the doorway, watching.

“Oh—sorry, do you need salt water?”

Luke pointed to Yes, his hands shaking. His golden-blond hair was drying now, into thick waves around his gills. Some of the blue spots on his skin were turning colorless, as well, which probably wasn’t great.

“Kid, stay with him a minute, I’m gonna get salt water.” Din pulled the drain open and stood, shaking off the water.

More buckets. More trips back and forth to the shore. It took more than Din had thought to fill up the bathtub. Luke splashed himself every so often as he waited. Grogu had brought in the whole folder of laminated communication boards, and pulled down the laminated booklet on a hook from the bathtub, and he and Luke were engaged in a vibrant conversation that meant that Din had to watch where he stepped lest he slip.

Finally, the tub was full, and Din hauled Luke up one last time, and into the water. Luke slapped his tail excitedly, splashing water everywhere. Grogu squealed, raising his little hands up to the sky. Din was entranced by the water shining off Luke’s blue scales, the almost translucent…skin?...on the bottom fin, the rigid, darker blue spines that held it together.

An alarm shook Din out of his thoughts.

He stood. “I’ve got to make dinner and get everything set up for the night. Are you two good here?”

Luke held up a beach vocabulary board and pointed to Yes. Grogu squealed again, nodding vigorously.

“Try not to make too much of a mess,” Din said. He put two towels on the floor in front of the tub, which soaked up some of the water. He held back a sigh. Fighting mold was a constant battle, in a building so close to the ocean. Hopefully any mold-related damages wouldn’t get taken out of his paycheck, even if they were in the bathroom and therefore probably his fault.

Attending to his regular duties kept Din’s mind off the merman in his bathroom for a while. He stood outside long enough to get a sense of the weather, and reported it on the radio, then listened to the airwaves for a while to see if there were any nearby boaters that needed rescuing—an über-rare occurrence, on this island. He briefly entertained the idea of radioing in his “rescue” of Luke, but what would he say? “I found a merman”? Saying that would be a one-way ticket to a psych eval if not a hospital stay - in other words, losing this safe haven where he and his son lived. Besides, without the merman in front of him, the whole thing felt like a dream. A dream that left raw skin on his chest and arms. A dream he wouldn’t breathe a word about.

He walked around the perimeter of the lighthouse and the station house, noting down any damages that would need repair or repainting soon. Took inventory of foodstuffs—they were starting to run low, but a supply was due in a week, and they had the garden, as long as a storm didn’t take it out. Tended the garden—ripped out some kudzu that kept somehow finding its way onto this isolated island, squirted bugs off the rosemary with one of Grogu’s little water guns. Checked on the water filters, generators, and radio antenna. Luckily everything was in decent order in spite of a day of neglect.

The sun was well and truly set by the time that Din went back inside the station house and started making dinner—chicken fingers, Grogu’s favorite. After some hesitation, he threw some frozen fish sticks on the baking tray as well. Maybe Luke would eat them. Din hadn’t gone fishing in a few weeks; Grogu had had him working their way through a craft book Cara had brought them at the last supply drop, which didn’t leave a lot of time for much beyond his daily duties, time consuming as they were. If Luke wanted fresh fish, Din could go fishing tomorrow.

He stacked up three plates on his arms and brought them into the bathroom. Not a large bathroom to begin with, it was a crowded space between the adult, the kid, and the mermaid. Setting his own on the white marbled sink countertop, he handed a plate of chicken fingers and broccoli to Grogu and a plate of fish sticks to Luke.

“It’s fish,” he explained. “With breadcrumbs.” At Luke’s blank look, Din hastily explained, “Bread is, uh, it comes from grain, wheat, and so it’s kind of…like…well, it’s a carbohydrate. I dunno if you have those in…the ocean. Try it, and tell me if you can eat it, or if you need something else.” He sorted through Grogu’s communication boards scattered on the tile floor, and found one with ocean creatures, which he set on the rim of the bathtub.

Grogu turned his nose up at the broccoli with a huff.

“Come on, kid, you’ve gotta have vegetables.” Din was too tired to really argue the point tonight, but Grogu didn’t need to know that.

Luke reached one dripping hand out of the tub and pointed to the broccoli on Grogu’s plate, with an encouraging sort of Go on expression, nodding. The broccoli got a little damp at the touch of his pale finger. Din grimaced, sure that the salt water would ruin whatever little chance there was of getting the kid to eat his vegetables.

Grogu surprised him by digging in.

Din blinked.

Alright then. He’d keep slightly soggy in mind, on his list of ‘things that get Grogu to eat.’ Kids were mysterious creatures sometimes.

Din ate his own plate of chicken fingers and broccoli sitting on the closed toilet seat, watching the two of them interact. It was, of course, mostly silent, occasionally interspersed with one of Grogu’s noises like “ba!” Luke picked at his fishsticks (after scraping off the breading), Grogu picked at his chicken fingers. Their hands were pretty occupied with the boards. At this angle, he couldn’t see all that they pointed to, but he saw the fairytale board, ocean, and mythology. And home.

.

.

.

After they finished eating, Din cleared the plates, and let Grogu and Luke talk for another hour while he cleaned up and checked the weather again.

“Alright kid, bedtime.”

“Ba!” Grogu said angrily, his little face scrunched up. Din’s heart melted in spite of himself. 

“No, come on, it’s time for bed.”

Luke waved his hand for Grogu’s attention. Once he had it, he exaggeratedly stretched and yawned, then put his hands together and leaned his head against them, breathing big in, and out. If he was underwater, Din was sure that there would be enormous bubbles coming out of his mouth, adding to the effect.

Grogu giggled. Luke peeked with one eye and smiled, then went right back to it.

Din gathered up all the communication boards and knocked them up on the counter, making them into a neat stack. He grabbed Grogu’s hand.

“Come on, I’ll sing to you.”

Luke broke out of his acting and waved goodbye, flapping his hand.

“I’ll check on you before I go to bed,” Din promised over his shoulder. He left the door open a crack, so that Luke could hear them move around and know that he hadn’t been left in the house alone.

Luckily Grogu’s room had a bathroom attached to it, so he could still have a quick bath—the salt water he and Luke had been splashing in all evening didn’t count—and brush his teeth before bed. Din brushed his teeth beside Grogu, glad for once that he still kept his toothbrush on his nightstand instead of in the main bathroom, an old habit from more chaotic days.

Finally, Din got Grogu clean, dry, in pajamas, and tucked into bed with his favorite frog plushie.

Din knelt beside his bed with a groan, cursing old injuries and unstretched muscles. “Alright, kid, what do you want me to sing?”

Grogu made grabby hands for his device. Din pulled it off the charger and handed it over. Grogu navigated through the pages swiftly, before finally selecting, “Sun.”

“Alright.” Din cleared his throat, and began to sing. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me hap-py, when skies are gray.”

Grogu snuggled down in his blankets, clutching his favorite Froggie close to his chest, watching Din with absolute love and trust in his eyes. It made Din’s heart clench. Stars, he loved this kid. He would move heaven and earth for him. He had, when he’d rescued him. Although really, it was Din that had been rescued that day.

He reached a hand out and caressed the soft brown hair atop Grogu’s head. “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take, my sun-shine a-way.” He kissed his son’s forehead. “You all ready for sleep, big guy?”

Grogu squealed softly.

“Alright.” Din pressed his forehead to Grogu’s one last time as he took his device and set it on the bedside table, and turned out the light. “If you need anything, just yell.”

He closed the door softly, leaving just a crack to let light through.

Luke was waiting in the bathroom, arms folded on the rim of the bathtub, his head resting on top. He perked up when Din came in, but not much.

“How’s your, uh, oxygen?”

Luke gave a thumbs up.

“Tired?”

Luke nodded.

“Yeah, me too.” His muscles were certainly sore from lugging all that water and the merperson. He needed to work out more, probably. As busy as this job kept him, it didn’t maintain his physical fitness the way he used to. He’d let himself get…soft, as Grogu’s dad.

“You good for the night? Need any fresh water?”

Luke shook his head. Thankfully. Din didn’t particularly want to go out in the pitch dark. It would be hard to hold a flashlight and a full bucket at the same time.

“Can you write?” At Luke’s nod, Din took out a weather resistant notepad and pen and set them on the rim of the bathtub beside Luke’s head. “We’re expecting a supply run in a day or so. If you need anything, or want anything, I can radio shore and have it delivered then.”

The merman perked up. Thank you!!! he wrote, with three exclamation marks. Din huffed a laugh.

Luke wrote, head bowed, for a while. Din watched his golden hair, long dried except around his…gills, bounce softly, reflecting the overhead light. It was mesmerizing, like watching light bounce off of water.

When Luke held up the notepad again, Din had to shake himself a little to refocus.

Salmon

Oysters

Something soft to lay on the side

Something I can help you with, as payment for taking me in

Din blinked. “I don’t need you to help me with anything.”

Luke’s gaze was pleading. No: Begging.

Din shook his head. “Really. Most of my job you can’t help me with anyway; unless you can repaint the lighthouse or pull weeds.”

Luke frowned, his lip stuck out. Din couldn’t help having a little thrill at the sight. It was adorable.

“Really! I guess I could…” He really thought about it. He supposed…that the counter could use a little basket for his keys. One of Grogu’s favorites from the craft book was basket-weaving. He could show Luke how to do it, and thus keep them both occupied, and Luke could feel useful. “Do you know how to weave baskets?”

Luke nodded eagerly.

“I’ll collect some materials for you from the wildflower garden tomorrow. Grogu can help.” Din broke off with a yawn. “I’ll tell our supplier to get the rest of it. Sleep well.”

Luke pointed at Din and mimed sleeping, with his head on his hands, then nodded as if to say You too.

Din smiled and turned to go. He paused in the doorway with his hand on the light switch.

“On or off?”

Luke tilted his head, brow furrowed. To demonstrate, Din flicked the lights off, then back on. Then again, saying out loud which was which.

“Thumbs up, on. Thumbs down, off.” He showed how to do it as he spoke. Luke gave a thumbs down. “Lights off it is,” he said, turning them off. “Goodnight. See you in the morning.”

He left the door cracked open again and made his way up the stairs, stifling a yawn.

He wouldn’t be surprised if the bathroom was empty in the morning. Weirder things had happened.

Although, if he was honest with himself—no, weirder things hadn’t happened. Sure, he’d had some odd jobs in his old life, but none of it had involved the supernatural. No, it was all kingpins and businessmen and whistleblowers, hackers, grifters, thieves, and the occasional unopened suitcase. Once, on his last job, a child. Never a merman.

Well, this made two that he’d kept instead of killed. Two that he’d saved.

He’d definitely gone soft.

But he found…he didn't mind it.

[tangerinesgf]

Waiting Out The Storm

Tangerine x gn!reader

Summary: Tangerine just got home from a long job and you wanna go see him, but it's storming outside.

Tags/warnings: nothing really, just a bit hurt/comfort (mostly comfort not so much hurt actually), fluff, language (it's still Tangerine after all)

A/N: Here's a fluffy fic for ya'll before I come back with my angsty one, cause I already have a great (some might say horrible) idea for one. Also I spend a weird amount of time researching various British terms for weather for this fic.

"I know, love, I wanna see you too, but you don't 'ave a car and mine's total loss."

'I can just walk over, it's not that far.' you proposed, knowing full well it's at least a 15 minute walk.

Tangerine walked over to the window by the kitchen that looked out on the dim-lit street. It had been tipping down all day, but since Lemon had dropped him off at home it really started raining cats and dogs. London weather, everyone.

He should've just asked Lemon to drop him off at your place, but he had wanted to clean himself up a bit first. Yes, he had shown up at your doorstep covered in blood more than once, but he liked to avoid it if possible. Unfortunately that meant that the both of you were now stuck at home, talking over the phone instead of wrapped around each other.

"Use your eyes, darlin', it's raining sideways, there's no way I'm letting you set even one foot outside in that shitstorm."

'I have an umbrella.'

"Nice try, I'll come by in the morning, don't think it's goin' to let up tonight." He could hear you groan from over the phone at this.

There was nothing Tangerine wanted more than to hold you in his arms right now, tell you how much he missed you while placing little kisses all over your face. Unfortunately he was limping because some bastard had hit him on the leg with metal pipe and he wouldn't risk you getting sick only to see him.

"Go get some sleep, love, it's late."

'Fine.' you mumbled, clearly not happy about this, but it's not like you had a lot of other options at the moment.

"I love ya, sweet dreams and all that." He could hear you chuckle at that and he wished he was with you to see that smile on your face, however small it may be at this moment.

'Love you too, Tan.' And with that he heard you hang up the phone, finding himself alone once again.

After staring outside for a couple more minutes he decided that he should probably go to bed as well, after all he hadn't gotten a lot of sleep while in Madrid either.

About an hour later Tangerine was still awake, not used to sleeping alone. Just when he decided to pick up the book you had recommended to him, he heard what he thought was a faint knock on his frontdoor.

He climbed out of bed, put his joggers back on and strolled towards the door. When the knocking on his door became louder, seemingly more urgent he made a grab at the gun he kept in his drawer.

Pointing it in front of him, he slowly crept to the front door. Unlike your small apartment, Tangerine's house didn't have a peephole in the door. He made a mental note to go get one sometime this week. So for the lack of better options he threw the door open and pointed the barrel of the gun towards the figure on his doorstep. Their hands flew up in the air at the sight of the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Tan. Paranoid much?"

Wait what?

Slowly the person lowered their hands and pulled the hood covering their face down. "It's just me."

You were standing on his porch, completely soaked without your previously mentioned umbrella. Luckily you did wear a raincoat, although that didn’t stop your pants from getting wet. He could clearly see the the difference between your light blue jeans that had turned darker because of the rain.

"Fuckin' hell, what the fuck are ya doin' 'ere?"

"Couldn't sleep, I needed to see you." Your voice was barely audible above the rain, but neither made a move to get inside yet.

The rain will still pouring down, completely soaking your previously covered hair. Your face was red from the cold and Tangerine could hear you repeatedly sniffing your nose. That would probably turn into a cold later.

"So ya decided to walk to walk almost a kilometer in the storm?! Are you nuts?!"

"Look I'd love to continue this conversation, but can we please move it inside, I'm fucking freezing."

It only really hit him in that moment that you just walked almost 20 minutes in the rain and were currently still standing in it, practically shaking from the cold.

"Fuck, yea ofcours, come in."

Tangerine stepped aside, making room for you to set foot inside, and placed the gun back in the cabinet.

"You can put your coat on the heater, I'll get ya some towels and dry clothes."

"Thanks."

He quickly walked upstairs and grabbed the pajama pants you'd forgotten last time you were here and one of his dress shirts for you to put on.

When he came back you were still standing by the front door, rain dripping onto his welcome mat. Tangerine handed you the clothes and you made your way to his bathroom, leaving wet foot prints all over his house.

Once you were cleaned up you walked back into the living room. Tangerine loved it when you wore his clothes. His dress shirt was way too big for you, it basically swallowed you, but he absolutely adored it.

Once you were sitting on his couch, wrapped in his softest blanket Tangerine offered you a cuppa and sat next to you.

"What were you thinkin', love?"

"I-"

Tangerine cut you off before you could finish your answer. "I told ya to stay home."

He wasn't really upset with you. In fact Tangerine was ecstatic to see you again after 3 weeks, but he didn't understand why you couldn't just wait until morning. Why you would risk your health just to see him. In his opinion he really wasn't worth all this trouble.

"I know." You simply said.

"Then why'd ya come?" His voice was soft, truly just wanting to understand you.

"I had to see you, see that you're okay." You mumbled just loud enough for him to hear.

Oh.

Tangerine followed your eyes, but you avoided him. He knew that you worried about him, how could you not with his particular job. However you had never really voiced that to him, not like this.

"I'm sorry." you murmured.

With your apology all the remaining tension instantly left his body. All you had wanted to do was see for yourself that he made it home safe. Tangerine had told you that he had only gotten beat up a bit, but it was only now that he realized that every time he returned from a job he went straight to you. This was the first time where he hadn't been able to. He had never realized how much you apparently needed that physical confirmation.

Tangerine moved closer to you, gently took the mug from your hands and placed it on the coffee table. "C'mere."

He pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arm around your waist. As you buried your face in the crook of his neck, Tangerine placed a gentle kiss on your crown.

"You could 'ave told me. Don't want you worrying about me." He tried to make it sound teasing, almost like a joke to lighten the mood, but it didn't really work.

"I'm always going to worry about you, Tan."

Tangerine wished he could just take all your worry away, promise you that he was always gonna make it back home to you, but he knows he can't.

He can't promise that he won't accidently catch a bullet to the neck and bleed out in some god forsaken country with you on the other side of the world. The thought of leaving you behind has him sleepless at night. Tangerine knows you felt the same way, tonight was only a confirmation of that.

"I know, love." He pulled you impossibly closer to him.

There wasn't much else to say at the moment. Tangerine knew the two of you should probably talk about your feelings, but that could wait 'till morning.

He could feel your warm breath on his neck as it slowly evened out. When he looked at you, your eyes were closed, fast alseep. Tangerine leaned his head on yours, finally able to catch some much needed sleep.

Taglist: @waiting4ff @venusthepirate @megumisbabymomma @bratdoll666 @assmaster37 @wrendermeuseless @kpopgirlbtssvt @dontknownameauthor @earth-elemental18 @thirstyfortangerine @ilovetangerinewithallmyheart (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed)

[aphicelend]

Misaki Shirayama

26 y.o | 1.52 cm | Japanese | April 4th | Aries

(APH) Human | City Ver. | Colorful AU | BOX AU

Tags: #Art/HC tag | #Posts related to her

Wanted to do a profile for her here 💦 Misaki has been one of my fave oc's since 2012 and i'm having fun drawing her a lot again, and I love to put her in my other oc's stories 💃 so here's info of her hetalia AU(?

i wrote everything in spanish and im lazy to translate it properly so, google translator yay

| Personality

Introverted | Temperamental | Stubborn | Agressive | Kind | Caring

Misaki is a young woman with a fiery personality, she has little patience for stupidity. She is a hard worker, and likes to put effort into what she likes. She is also stubborn when it comes to opinions if it is not her way she will not do it, she tends to violence when someone bothers her. Her pride is something precious to her.

Despite this, when she gets upset she needs her time to calm down and then apologize. Even so, Misaki is a girl who cares about others, her way of showing her appreciation is through actions, especially cooking.

Socially inept, having lived surrounded by “nations” Misaki behaves awkwardly with other humans, for some reason she always feels distant and finds it difficult to understand them.

Having grown up with nations, Misaki did not develop “parental affection” or someone to consult her problems with, because she considered that Japan would not fully understand her.

He usually feels a constant feeling of loneliness, his heart is a hard shell that makes it difficult for him to let in emotions like love.

| BACKGROUND (Hetalia AU)

Strip about her background

In this AU, Misaki was raised by Japan who took care over her as she was abandonated. Her childhood was kinda chaotic, surrounded by nations of course she didn't grow like other kids, she felt distanced.

Japan tried his best to give her a normal life, of course he wasn't used to raise a kid. Misaki always wondered why did he took her? He felt lonely? She would never know.

She always had a sense of loneliness, a feeling of she doesn't belong where she is. Mother? Father? What's that, she only had "weird uncles"

Misaki was very problematic at school, her classmates teased her a lot and she answered back with violence.

Through her adolescence, she kinda developed a crush on Yao, and she was rejected, of course, the man only saw her as a little sister.

More about it here.

Time heals, she tried to moved on. On Uni, she meet a guy named Kazuo, they clicked and became a couple, Misaki thought that finally had someone who cared for her deeply, but no. The guy cheated on her. That was the point that made her close herself.

-> She lives alone in an old traditional house that Japan left for her, she works as botanic in a national park in Kyoto.

| Interests and facts

She LOVES gardering and plants. She has a traditional garden on her house and it's her first priority.

She's very good at cooking, Japan and China taught her very well.

Also Romano as shared with her some italian recipes so she could "learn something good"

Her way to show love is giving you food.

Her dream is to open her own restaurant.

One of her interests are kimonos, she likes to make her own

Favorite station is autumn, she loves when trees go orange.

Loves cats, and bunnies, loves cute things.

She likes minimalist clothing, plain clothes or stripped patterns

Her face may look annoyed but she's kind, and gets along better with girls.

She has been mistaken for a minor

Does she feel something for Alfred?? who knows.

She's just afraid to someone break into her heart and get too attatched.

| RELATIONSHIPS

I made this chart

| Music

Mostly vocaloid because i'm a weeb

Balsam / Misaki - About her loneliness

The Beast / Misaki - Her fear to open her heart

I'm glad you're evil too / Misaki - Her wish to find someone

Girl Pilot / MisAme - Their dynamic, Alfred trying to reach her but he can't

I can't stop the loneliness / Misaki - the song says it all lol, maybe her fear that its too late?

Hammer Song And The Tower Of Pain / Misaki - Pushing everyone away it's the best

MAD HEAD LOVE / MisAme - Their dynamic, they're idiots.

----

If you got this far here's some old misaki drawings, old hetalia? ocs? she used to have friends and now she's DEPRESSED.

2012 | 2014

[angelsanarchy]

Fever Dreams: Mike x Y/N One Shot Series PRT 04

Tagging: @icarus-star @chainsawgvtsfvck @romanroyapoligist @liquidsmoothdomme @madamemaximoff06 @drazenka @blacksoul-27 @444rockstargf @kappasbbgirl @luzclarita57 @tempt-ress

Y/n is sitting at the desk inside the garage. It was a fairly quiet day and Leff was sitting in the office with his feet on the desk, talking on the phone to someone making new import deals. Sicky came busting through the door so hard, it hit the wall.

"I've fucking had it! I'm done babysitting this kid. He's been complaining nonstop all fucking day and I'm going to kill him." Sicky threw his hands up and Mike came in behind him shaking his head.

"Did you do all the drop offs?" Y/n looked at her watch and Sicky growled.

"No because princess over here has to stop every ten minutes to piss or get cigarettes or jerk off." Sicky looked back at him.

"I had to piss twice and it's not my fault these places are smoke free. This is fucking New York. That's stupid." Mike argued.

"I can't handle it Y/n. You take over or I'm going to skin the kid." Sicky lowered his voice so only Y/n could hear him knowing that threatening Leff's blood loud enough for him to hear would always be a no no. She stood up from the desk and chuckled.

"You remember this the next time I have to do a shipment at the bar." Y/n put a gun in her ankle holster and grabbed her jacket off the hook.

"Come on loverboy." Y/n grabbed the collar of Mike's leather jacket and he gave Sicky the finger.

"Do you care if I smoke in your car?" Mike asked hopeful.

"You can smoke in my car but to answer your question earlier, you can't smoke at client's establishments unless they offer you a smoke. It's disrespectful. These are business partners and when we enter their home turf, they have the advantage. We must show respect to keep business relations on the up and up." Y/n explained as Mike lit his cigarette.

"I fucking hate this job. Honestly, I almost wish Leff would have left me to figure my own shit out. At least that way I wouldn't be stuck being his little bitch delivery boy." He blew smoke out of the cracked window.

"What would you rather be doing?" Y/n asked honestly and Mike looked over at her to see if she was being serious.

"If I tell you, you can't laugh." Mike said making Y/n smile.

"If you say male stripper or rancher, I'm going to laugh." She warned making him chuckle.

"I want to be a musician. Start a band and get the hell out of here. The music scene in New York is dead unless you're a rapper or making a techno pop set in someone's basement rave." Mike explained.

"Musician? Do you play an instrument or are you a singer?" She asked. Mike could see she was genuinely interested in his answers and he tried to hide his blush.

"I play guitar but I definitely would need a singer. I'm not much of a vocalist." Mike took another puff from his cigarette and ashed it out the window.

"Well you could absolutely find a singer in New York but you'll want to go South if you want to get any sort of band off the ground. Everyone knows Texas is where aspiring musicians go." Y/n pulled up to a stop light and looked at him.

"What's your sound? Despite the cowboy look, the leather daddy that accompanies it gives hard rock or grungey alternative." Mike had to laugh out loud.

"Did you just call me a leather daddy?" He asked furrowing his brows.

"Shut up, don't act like you don't love when I give you pet names." She teased from behind the steering wheel. He noticed something he hadn't really noticed before. She had a tattoo on her neck behind her ear. When she smiled wide, he could see a little black rose etched into the skin.

"If only you would take me up on my offer to use them with less clothing and more privacy." Mike flirted making her shake her head at him, putting her hand out to take his cigarette and take a puff. He watched her suck the smoke into her mouth, let it out of her nose and back out again.

Every thing she did turned him on in the weirdest way.

"Get some furniture first and we'll revisit naked hangouts." She teased. Mike took that as a promise and motivation to get a couch.

"How do you know so much about the music scene in Texas?" Mike asked curiously.

"I used to work at a night club. A lot of guys would come through and tell me their life stories and dreams of making it big but what they don't realize is New York is more for performing arts. Classical musicians and acting are on the rise but places like Austin are where all the big music producers pick and choose people to throw together to make an album. Plus the food is superior." Mike kept his eyes on her.

"The night club...were you a-"

"Yes Mike, I used to be a dancer so if you have any stripper jokes, keep in mind that I'm currently behind the wheel and you aren't wearing a seat belt." She glanced over at him.

"I mean we're literally pushing drugs and weapons. I don't think being a stripper is some sort of classless gig. We're clearly doing a lot worse." He shook the duffel bag.

"You aren't wrong." Y/n pulled up to the drop location and put the car in park.

"Besides, Sicky said you own a bar now so that's cool." Mike added making her grin at him.

"You're talking to Sicky about me huh?" She teases and he rolls his eyes.

"Shut up." He finished off his cigarette before getting out of the car and when Y/n handed him the duffel she held onto it.

"Hey, this shit is only as temporary as you want it to be. You want out, you have to find something that will get you out and keep you straight. All Leff needs is reassurance that you'll be able to take care of yourself. That's all he wants." She said sincerely.

"I'll keep that in mind while I'm peddling this cocaine to a biker gang." Mike said making Y/n scrunch her nose.

"Sicky's right, you're being a princess." Y/n teased making Mike take the bag from her and give her a mocking middle finger. She smiled giving him one back and watched his back as he knocked on the door. She moved her gun from her ankle holster to her lap and watched him carefully.

He didn't know it but Y/n was already willing to kill for him if she had to.

[yuristarz]

Hello! Welcome to the first real chapter of Krampuslauf. I know i just posted the prolouge a bit ago, but I'm so excited about this concept right now that I just had to continue writing. I hope you guys like this one!

Prolouge

(English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes)

🌲Krampuslauf(1/?)🌲

Summary:

A nice Christmas getaway, this is what this should've been. An out from your regular stressful life, but things quickly turn from sweet to sour after a certain someone or something invites himself into your life.

A König x fem!reader fanfic inspired by the folktales of Krampus

Disclaimer: he talks about hurting reader but not in detail!!!

This is an 18+ story, so minors please dni!

The bathwater is luke warm when you get out, the wine glass is empty and you're well relaxed. After taking one of the fluffy towels you wrap it tightly around yourself and go towards the sink it's time to get ready for bed. Your luggage can wait, you'll have time for that tomorrow.

Reaching the master bedroom after quickly pulling your pajamas out of your suitcase you smile to yourself. This bedroom is a massive upgrade from yours back home. A king-sized bed a great view and even a fireplace. Yeah you can definitely manage with this place.

Falling into the bed felt like falling on a cloud, soft, warm, and fuzzy. The amounts of blankets and pillows comforting to the touch. Immediately the exhaustion sets in, the jetlag and the long drive finally catching up. After getting comfortable you quickly fall into a dream-less sleep.

You made it almost pitifully easy for him to stalk you. Leaving your curtains open like this, like you want someone to watch you be so vulnerable. His masked head tilts as he focuses on you. Leaning against the windowsill, his eyes glowed an ominous redish blue through the two holes at the front.

After a while of watching you a thought made its way to his head, he could just break in right now...do horrible things to you, unspeakable even. Make sure after he's done with you, people will fear him again. No, not tonight it's too early he tels himself. he'll let you live a bit longer.. let you settle in.

And when the time is right, he'll make you wish you had stayed wherever you came from...

The morning sun makes you squint your eyes as you slowly rise from the bed and stretch. You look around the room again, and your gaze stops by the window. Weird... yesterday an even coat of snow covered the windowsill. You were sure of it, maybe it was a bird or squirrel or it was always like that. Probably nothing to worry about.

After getting up and making your way downstairs you rummage through the cupboards and fridge. There isn't much to eat, mostly dry stuff and a few cans of fruit and onw with stew. You'd definitely have to drive to the small village at the bottom of the mountain to get some more things to eat.

After a quick meal consisting of crackers and some marmalade, you take your suitcases and drag them up the stairs to your bedroom. Opening the big doors to the wardrobe you start to stuff your clothes in it, making sure to put together an outfit together on the way. Now done with stuffing the wardrobe, you push your empty luggage under the bed and get changed.

You walk down the stairs once more and put your winter boots on by the door. As much as you'd love to just stay holed up here in the mountains for the next 14 days you still need food, so that meant driving down the snowie roads and getting enough food as to not make another trip down.

He watches silently as you walk out of the cabin and get in your car and start the motor. Good. That would give him some time to think about the best way to go about this.

_________________________________________

Hi! Thanks for reading chapter 1 of Krampuslauf! It's a bit short but I think as the story continues they'll get longer. I hope you guys liked it. Constructive criticism is always appreciated <3

Since you wanted to get tagged :) @kneelingshadowsalome

[m-jelly]

Can I get a Mike x reader please? I really want a fic where he lives!!! Reader is a cadet, a very strong one like Ackerman level strong but kept it a secret. She didn’t graduate in the top ten despite being able to. Nanaba is the only person who knows her strengths as they confide in one another. She’s in Mike’s squad as he saw potential in reader and he secretly harboured feelings for reader but never acted on it and vice versa. The day that Mike dies, I want reader to come to Mikes rescue, thus her secret strength is unleashed and Mike lives. Then they confess

Protection and confessions

Pairing: Mike x Fem!Reader

Genre and tags: Canon AU, confessions, romance, love, kisses, saving Mike.

Concept: When Mike freezes and thinks his life is over he is saved by the one person who came to mind when he thought of regrets. You snap Mike out of the hold the beast Titan has on him and help him escape the Titans.

A chill ran up Mike's spine as he heard the Titan speak. He felt the cold hands of death wrapping around him. Tears stung the corners of his eyes as images of you came to mind. Mike wished he had told you about how much he loved you, or that he wanted to leave the scouts with you and have a farm together. He wanted to raise animals and train dogs.

"MIKE!"

He flinched at hearing you call his name. He felt a warm breeze against his skin. He frowned at the heat of the sun burning his skin. He felt the sweat running down his back. He felt his heavy thick muscles twitch a little under him.

"MIKE!"

He blinked a few times and pulled his gaze away from the beast Titan to see you flying closer. He watched in awe as you ripped into all the titans that had been getting closer to him. He saw the desperation in your eyes and knew he had to move.

"MIKE!"

He reached out for you as a Titan dove for him. He waited for your embrace. He wanted to escape, but his gear had been taken by the beast. Mike needed you more than ever. His eyes closed when your body connected with his. He accepted your embrace and flew up with you.

Mike hugged you tightly and held on as tightly as possible as you flew with him somewhere safe. He watched the beast titan slowly fade from view. He closed his eyes for a moment and felt at peace. He let the wind rush by under he smelt soil and trees.

You landed on a thick branch and dropped Mike. You slumped back and groaned. "You're heavier than you look."

Mike gazed at you. "How did you manage to kill them and run off with me?"

You ruffled your hair. "I'm stronger than you think. You know the weird strength Levi has?"

"Yeah."

"I have it too." You looked at your hands. "I don't know what I am. I tried to hide it otherwise I might be dissected or something."

Mike shifted closer to you. He reached over and held your hand. "I'm glad you kept it quiet so we could be like this. You saved my ass."

You hummed a laugh. "I did." You giggled. "Nice to hear you so talkative."

"Hm."

You laughed. "Don't go back to hums and grunts again."

Mike smirked at you. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." You lowered your head. "I don't know what I would have done if you died."

Mike placed his big hand against the tree behind your head and leaned closer. He smiled a little when you blushed so sweetly. He eyed your lips and moved closer towards you. He saw you lick your lips and lean towards him. He pressed his lips against yours and sighed through his nose.

He pulled back and softly said your name. "I love you."

You cupped Mike's face and smiled. "I love you too. Are you sure we won't get into trouble for this?"

Mike sat and pulled you onto his lap. "If they don't like it then we'll leave the scouts and start a farm. We'll train dogs too."

You giggled as you sat in Mike's arms. "That sounds like a dream come true."

"Maybe we'll do that."

You tapped the side of your head against his chest. "Oh, Mike."

He played with your hand. "We'll stay here for a bit so you can recover and I can come to grips with the fact I could have died."

You cupped his face and kissed him. "I'm glad I got to you in time."

Mike bit your lip a little before pushing his tongue into your mouth. He moaned when you clung to him and kissed him back. "I love you. I thought about you when I thought I was going to die. I realised I fucked up. I should have told you sooner how I felt."

You welled up. "Me too. I should have confessed sooner. Shit, Mike, you're everything to me and you're the only reason I'm staying in the scouts. I can't lose you." You shook your head. "Maybe our time here is over. After this mission, we should both step down."

Mike nodded. "Yes. I mean, I have plans to marry you."

You felt your cheeks burn. "Really? Oh, well I would love that. I would like to be married to you."

"My last name would fit you well."

You wrapped your arms around his neck. "I think so too."

[captain-lessship]

The Cobains Pt. 1

A/n: Here’s a fun water drinking game (We all need to stay hydrated) take a sip every time I use the word ‘soft’ in this.

You had the life of your dreams. 

You were simply finishing up the dishes when you heard a familiar thud. Your cat, Turnip, popped his head out From around the corner of the kitchen doorway.

“Is it who we think it is?” You asked the animal you treated like your own kid. The door rattled like someone was unlocking it, “I think it is!”  

You quickly dried your hands off and picked Turnip up, holding him as if he were a swaddled baby. Just as you left the kitchen and went into the hallway just as he walked in.

A smile came to your face. It was Kurt. He’d been away for a tour and was fun back. 

“Hey honey!” He called, not realizing you were standing right there. When he looked up and saw you; all exhaustion left him.

He loved you. All of you. Your smile, your eyes, your mannerisms and your heart. You were a good person who made other people strive to be better. 

When you two first met, he was drawn to you. 

It was at an album party for Nirvana and you tagged along with your friends who were part of the production team and because you offered to help clean up after, which was a complicated endeavor. Especially after someone threw ranch in a food fight. 

He was stealing glances at you, trying to figure out if he knew you. Being a shy person at heart, he didn’t want to come up to you immediately. But Dave, who he was holding a conversation with, noticed.

“Ya know, if she catches you staring at her, she’ll think you’re a of creep.” He said, taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah, it is kinda weird.” His attention went fully back to Dave, continuing with his conversation. 

Then a tap on his shoulder broke his attention again, he looked to see you. 

“Hi! I just noticed you were looking at me and like, I do that too, I don’t think I know you personally but you seem nice.” 

“Uh, yeah I don’t think we know each other but we could get to know each other?” He said, a smile coming to his face.

Dave just smiled and rolled his eyes as he walked away and left the two of you.

You loved him. All of him. His oceanic blue eyes, his calm demeanor and his gentle voice. He was a calming presence, instantly melting your worries away with a single step into your vicinity. He eased your heart.

You had a habit of taking on too much. A certain instance came to mind: it had been a few months into your relationship and Kurt had stayed over and fell asleep on the couch, which you took as a opportunity to do some of the stuff you had overburdened yourself with:

Help your friend move, been bribed into a different shift and we’re going to night classes at a college you worked hard to get into. 

You were exhausted as you were sitting on table, surrounded by papers. You didn’t hear Kurt get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen.

“Uhh, what’re you doing?” He asked, confused and half asleep.

“Wishing I had a clone.” 

He simply walked to the kitchen table and looked at the papers, “Well, do you want some help? I am not a clone but I can read and have hands.” He joked, doing jazz hands. 

A bright smile came to your face, “Hi!” You exclaimed, “Look who also came to say hi!” You held Turnip out to him.

“Hey buddy,” He took the cat from you, “Aren’t you in a lovey mood?” 

“Where’s your stuff? I probably need to do two loads of laundry cause there’s my clothes too.” 

He softly smiled, “You haven’t even given me a kiss and you’re trying to escape to the laundry room?” He joked.

You rolled your eyes as you walked up to him and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I guess it’s in the car.” 

Kurt gently put Turnip down, “Yeah, I will go get my stuff in a bit. Can we just, ya know, relax for a while?” 

Just one look at his tired eye and you knew what he wanted to do. You smiled as you took his hand and walked him through the house to the  back porch where there was a bench swing. You sat  on the far right side and he promptly laid down, resting his head on your thigh.

You carded your fingers through his hair, slightly twirling parts of it. The swing gently swung, almost putting the extremely overworked man to sleep.

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you too.” You said, gently closing your own eyes. 

“You know, this is the life.”

“Hm?” 

He lifted himself up to look at you, “Sitting on the porch with a beautiful woman, just existing.” 

You took this as an opportunity to scoot closer to his side and lay your head on his shoulder. “There’s only one thing that’s make it better.”

“What?”

“Ocean waves.”

He laughed, which you felt like a low rumble, “You’re still in Hawaii, aren’t you?”

“It was the best vacation ever.” You justified.

“We had to leave your precious baby alone.” He joked.

“People hire babysitters for their kids, why can’t we hire one for our precious Turnip Von Cobanius?” 

“Because he isn’t our kid.”

You feigned an offended gasp, “Kurt! How dare you denounce your son?”

“No son of mine is going to be forced to wear bow ties by his mom.” 

“It was for Christmas.” You said, “And he looked precious.”

“God, I’d hate to see what’d you dress up an actual baby in.”

You paused, “Kurt. You’ve been talking about a baby an awful lot.” 

He looked at you, “Oh, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just figured that, well, since you never said you didn’t want one, we could maybe talk about it but if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.” 

You thought. You had always wanted a kid in your life and there was no one else you rather have one with. “Are we ready for one? That’s the real question.” 

There was a lot of logic in that thought. Unless you weee both at the peak of readiness, you rather not bring a child into the world.

“Financially? Yeah. Health wise? Sort of, I’d have to stop smoking or smoke less and we’d just have to take care of ourselves a little bit better.”

You had given up smoking due to the stains it was making on your fingers and having developed chronic sinus issues. “I think we’d be good parents.”

“Yeah,” he was deep in thought, “I think I want a kid.” 

“Boy or girl?” You asked. 

“Girl.”

“What’d we name her?”

“I don’t know, definitely not something like Elizabeth or Sara.”

“I like Elizabeth though.”

He scoffed, “It’s too basic.” 

“That’s what makes it beautiful.” You said, looking at the distant clouds. “It is a boy, I want to name him Peter Vincent.”

He scowled and then began repeating it for a moment, then the realization hit him, “No. No matter how much I love you,” you sat up and looked him in the eye, which he promptly yet gently held you by the face, “Our child is not having the same initials as a type of pipe.” 

A fit of laughter spring from you, “Come on! It’d be great.” You pulled your face from his hands, opting to hold one instead. 

“It’s a no. And we reserve the rights to veto names that we absolutely despise.”

“Alright Mr. Cobain,” you huffed, “What would you name your son?”

He thought, “Well, Mrs. Cobain, I would name him Erin. E-R-I-N.”

“Middle name?”

“Daniel.”

You thought, “I like Erin but not Daniel.”

“Erin Vincent.”

“I was kidding about the Vincent thing, darling.” You thought, “What about Graham?”

“Erin Graham? Wait wait, now hear me out,” he seemed as if he had a genius idea, “We do that thing where we wait a few weeks after and let their personalities show, then we pick a name based on that.”

You rolled your eyes, a amuse smile on your face , “Sure, our weeks old baby is already going to have his or her personality planned out.”

“Its a good idea and you know it.” 

It was later that night as you watched Kurt in the reflection in the mirror. You knew the man was close to tumbling over with how sleepy he stumbled around.

“Kurt, come to bed already.” You said, try to entrance and coerce him to your shared bed. 

He looked your way, “Coming, Honey. I just need to wash my hands and turn the light off.”

Ever so truthful, after he did that, you felt the weight of him fall into the bed. The heavy sigh he let out let you know exactly how tired your poor lover was. You rolled over, a soft smile on your face.  You gently moved your hand up and down his back, rubbing it. 

He let out soft, happy sighs at this, “Thank you, baby.” He whispered.

“Mhm, you’d do it for me.” You acknowledged. 

“Might put me to sleep.”

“That’s the point, darling.” You whispered, not what to disrupt the growing lull you were putting him in. 

Soft snores eased your worry of disrupting his trance.

[lonelychicago]

temptation tuesday! 🪐

i have a few ideas going brrrr in my brain and so im dumping them all here!!!

sooo that time capsule/hs au fic where it's almost the end of the summer?? and buck and eddie are about to start college. they used to be beat friends but kinda grew apart when hs began, but they buried this time capsule on buck's backyard when they were ten to open on buck's 18th bday. he does it alone and find that one of the notes/wishes for the future eddie left there was 'i wish evan was in love with me' and idk buck is shocked but he goes to eddie and things happen???

i had a weird kinda sad dream where like, imagine s5 eddie breakdown era and you know how he tries to call some of the soldiers he saved when the helicopter went down??? and they're all dead??? turns out buck was one of them and he's not dead. eddie calls him and he answers and they're both in a really dark place and yeah idk. (blame @monsterrae1 for this one)

bakery owner buck! who makes cookies for dogs and takes them to rescue vet clinics and stuff and vet eddie! (idk what im gonna do with this but also blame @monsterrae1 )

buck and eddie meet in peru. buck is a bartender and eddie is just on a vacation with his cousins before college?? idk. they have a party on the beach and it's late and there's a bonfire, buck takes his guitar and sings some songs and it's all very summer-y love fling vibes. they have sex on the beach?? idk

fake/pretend relationship between musician/famous buck and bodyguard eddie bc why not. he needs some good press??? and hia fans have been shipping him with eddie since he started working as a bodyguard for him so his pr team is like you're dating him!!! and there's a stalker somewhere in this fic too if i ever write it idk. lots of angst and drama ig.

buck and eddie recently started dating when eddie has to go to texas??? chris and buck stay in L.A, chris gets appendicitis and it geta really bad and he has to be rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery??? buck is freaking out and he thinks eddie will break up with him bc he had to take care of chris!!!! and he failed!!!! and the kid almost dies!!!! (eddie turns out is just thankful buck was there and buck comes to the realization oh, they really are family and he is chris' second dad idk)

figure skater buck! and hockey player eddie! (maybe buck recently lost his figure skater partner and he's never skated solo and eddie's team is missing a guy so buck is like, i could try out hockey?? why not??? i would love to be part of a team!! and eddie is so annoyed and whatever idk i haven't thought it through)

soulmates au where you realize who's your soulmate when you die. (buck dies and eddie brings him back with cpr)

tagging some ppl (no pressure): @monsterrae1 @cowboy-buddie @buddierights @alyxmastershipper @thespermdonorstorylineisstupid @honestlydarkprincess @911onabc @buck-coded @the-likesofus @bigfootsmom @spotsandsocks @elvensorceress @dorkydiaz @maygrantgf @dollhousejee @prettyboybuckley @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @shortsighted-owl @messyhairdiaz @scarcrossedbuck @comaboybuck @loveyourownsmiilee @lovebuck and anyone else who wants to do it!