#in his old house his father has kept exactly the same as when he ran away

[raspberrywiskey]

ethan chandler you live in my mind always!

[edb954]

Back to you/The Banshee

(Henry/001/Peter x Fem! reader)

(Summary: where the reader has the banshee scream/is a banshee but, doesn't know exactly what she is, starts working at the lab as a nurse and finds comfort in an old friends arms)

(Warning: death, mentions of death, obsessive behaviour, gore, long chapter)

  When Y/n first started at the lab she hoped nobody would know her secret that she had 'voices' in her head. That unpredictably predicted death. She never knew how or why.

   She remembered predicting her Grandmothers death and letting out a Earth wrenching scream but, her parents didn't believe her. Until, two nights later when they got a call from the EMT saying she had passed two days earlier. You were only six at the time. The more you thought about it, it happened with anyone you knew. Like, your old neighbours the Creel's. You were particularly very close with their son Henry. You were eleven at the time a year younger the Henry.

  The Creel's had just moved in about a week ago, when your parents informed you that you were moving in a couple of months. Henry and you got along well being strangely different from anyone in the family. He knew about your secret and you knew about his. You weren't going to lie, you didn't like him at first he was quite rude but then you somehow chipped away at his wall and he let you in.

  You remember the week before you left, you had met Henry in their garden saying how much you didn't want to leave particularly because of him. Little did you know he was furious that you were being taken away from him. That was the last day you saw him. The 'voices' in your head telling you to stay away from him. The last night, before you moved you had that feeling and your wrenching scream came blaring through the house shattering the lights and window in your room. Your parents scolded you. You told them what was going to happen and yet again they didn't believe you.

  Only to wake up the next morning, to an ambulance and a police car outside the Creel's house. Alice, Virginia, and Henry Creel found dead with their father/husband Victor alive. You spent that day wailing at the lost of your friend. That same day you left.

  During your years growing up your parents had put you into a psych hospital and sent you to many therapists. They all said that it was just a coincidence and said their was nothing the could do. Your father started to get agressive with you while your mother would be at work or asleep in the next room. When you were 18 years old you took as much money as you could from your parents and that you had saved and ran away to start a life that you wanted. You were already an adult so they couldn't stop you. You went back to Hawkins got a job met wonderful people like Hopper and Joyce who became your friends especially Joyce. You soon were able to rent and buy a tiny house and at the age of 25 you got a new job working at Hawkins Lab as a nurse.

  Once, you started working at the lab you met the kindest and not to mention good looking orderly 'Peter Ballard'.

"Ah! Peter I would like you to meet our new nurse Ms. Y/n L/n. And Ms. L/n this is Peter Ballard." Brenner introduced you both. 'Peter' looked over remembering that name- remembering you.

"It's nice to meet you." You smiled and stock out your hand.

"It's nice to meet you as well." He shock your hand, not wanting to let it go. But quickly went back to his position behind Brenner.

"Now Ms.L/n if you need anything we will be around so don't stray to ask." Brenner said before leaving the infirmary.

"Of course sir." You replied. And with that 'Peter' and Brenner left.

  Since that day, you always saw 'Peter' he would come check up on you and would always bring the children to you. You both got to know each other very well, almost like you've known each other for years.

  Henry couldn't believe it was you. He-you had actually found him, he kept a close eye on you as much as possible. Seeing how much you've grown and change, he always tried to be around. Taking the children to you , coming to see you during his breaks. He realised that he had missed you. He remembers that night hearing your screams from the attic, he knew that you knew what he was about to do. Someday you would understand and someday it would just be you and him once again.

   A few months later, and it happened again one of the children had passed. The scream that would make everyone's and anyone's ear bleed. You had tried to tame it so badly which had caused you to start hyperventilating.

"Y/n breath tell me what's going on." Henry tried to calm her.

"It's like it's on the tip of my tongue and I don't know how to trigger it... I swear to god.,. it literally makes me want to scream... I-I promised it wouldn't happen here.." you said, freaking out, shaking,

"Come with me.."

  Henry grabbed your arm and started taking you to a different place but it was to late.  The blood curdling scream, broke breaking the lights making Henry cover his ears, as well as everybody else in the lab. After it was over you fell and passed out in Henry's arms. But, Their was another person in the hall with you and Henry. The one neither of you wanted to face. Dr. Brenner.

  Brenner had never heard anything like it. The more he started to think about it he had heard of the term banshee before but, he had never expected to come across one. Let alone one of his employees. He read the words very carefully.

Banshee: a female spirit whose wailing warns of an impending death in a house.

  You had predicted the death of one of the children. After, you had passed out he sent you to the infirmary and had you on the medical table with wires all over you. When you woke up, you started to freak out.

"It's okay Ms.L/n, this will help." The one doctor said.

   While holding a needle to your throat, you grabbed his hand, sitting up. "Y/n.. DONT!" You heard a voice yell and with that letting out your scream. Breaking lights once again making the needle shatter and the doctors ear bleed making him pass out. You fell back onto the table tears streaming down your face.

"Unbelievable... you have no idea what you are do you?... The wailing women... a banshee.. right before my eyes." You heard and slowly turned around to see Dr.Brenner.

"W-what do you mean?" Y/n asked.

"We will talk more about it tomorrow. Get some rest Ms. L/n... i will make sure nobody tries that again.." and with that Brenner left.

He left you with your thoughts. What was a banshee? Was she one? What did Dr.Brenner mean? How did he know what you were?

"How are you feeling?" A voice knocked you out of your thoughts. You quickly sat up only to see 'Peter'. " I apologize didn't mean to scare you."

"Uh.. n-no it's fine. I-im sorry for what happened be-before." You said as you looked away ashamed.

"It's quite alright. Its not the first time it's happened I'm sure." He replied.

"I-uh.. no.. no it's not the first time.. h-how did you kn- you know what actually never mind.."

"How are you feeling?" He asked again.

"Throats a bit soar but I'm fine.. just tired." You replied, you could have swore you saw a faint smile fall onto his lips.

"Well I will let you get some rest. Goodnight." He said before getting up and walking towards the exit.

"Goodnight, Peter.." You said, before drifting off to sleep as the exhaustion you felt consumed you.

Once, Y/n fell asleep Henry walked back over he had missed you so.. he brushed a few pieces of hair out of her face, dragging a finger over her features. She had definitely grown into your features.. so beautiful.. before, he left he kissed her forehead while smelling the vanilla conditioner.

"I promise, we will be together again and we fill be free from this hell." With that he left.

  The next day, you were feeling a lot better up until you saw Brenner. He called you into his office.

"Ah, Y/n I'm sure your feeling better." Brenner said.

"Yes, I'm fine." She replied.

"I'm sure, you want to know more about what I meant.." He asked, you looked up and nod.

"Y-yes, more than anything.." She replied. Brenner stood up going over to a shelf and pulling a book out.

"This will tell you. If you have questions you can always come to my office but, your a smart young woman so I think you can figure it out. I also advise you, to stay away from 'Peter'.." "why?"

"I know it may not seem like it Ms.L/n but, 'Peter' is very dangerous.. with that being said we have made your room sound proof so the children won't here when.. you have your episodes.. the rules are still the same and if you have a feeling go to the room. I will be monitoring you while you are here. Do I make myself clear Ms. L/n."

"Y-yes Dr.Brenner."

  With that He handed you the book and dismissed you. You took the book straight to your room. Once, you got to your room, you sat at your desk, took a deep breath, opened the book to the page Brenner had marked, and started to read.

  Banshee;

  A banshee is a female spirit in Irish folklore who heralds the death of a family member, usually by screaming, wailing, shrieking, or keening. Her name is connected to the mythologically important tumuli or "mounds" that dot the Irish countryside, which are known as síde in Old Irish.

  Personality Traits;

  Banshees may seem ghoulish, but they have no record of being violent or even mischievous.

  History;

  A Banshee is said to be a fairy in Irish legend and her scream is believed to be an omen of death. The scream is also called 'caoine' which means 'keening' and is a warning that there will be an imminent death in the family and as the Irish families blended over time, it is said that each family has its own Banshee!

   Their were a million thoughts going through your head at the moment as read and read.

'Am I the only one? Their is one in each family? How did i become one? Is their a reason?' You were so deep into your book and your thoughts. You didn't even here someone had come in.

"How are you feeling?" You jumped at the voice breaking your trance. While you snapped the book shut, turning around to see 'Peter'. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Peter.. uh um.. it's fine, I'm doing okay." Y/n said cautiously.

"I know.. that Brenner told you to stay away from me..." She looked him for a moment.

"So why are you here?" Y/n asked, turning back to the desk not wanting to deal with him. You heard his footsteps approach you as he kneeled down to your height. Pressing his chest against your back making you tense. "W-why are you doing this?"

"Because, I'm not letting you go.." he whispered.

"Since, when did you have me?" You asked.

"I will tell you tonight if you will let me.." you turned your face to him just realising how close you actually were and nodded.

"Okay.."

  Later that evening, you heard a knock on your door. You opened it, making sure no one saw and let him in.

"So what did you mean?" You asked. He looked at you hesitant. "I promise, I do want to know. I want the truth. Why it feels like I've known you more than just a few months."

"Because, we have known each other for longer ever since you were eleven and I was twelve." You looked at him for a moment. "It's me n/n."

"H-Henry.." you looked into his eyes.

"N-no, that's not possible Henry's gone, his father killed him and the rest of his family.." Before you could say anything else he pulled up his sleeve revealing '001' . He pulled you back down to sit next to him.

"I fell into a coma Y/n. When, I woke up from my coma only to find myself placed in the care of a doctor, the very doctor I had hoped to escape. Dr. Martin Brenner. Papa. But the truth...the truth is he did not just want to study me. He wanted more. He wanted to control. When Papa finally realized he could not control me, he tried to recreate me. He began a program. And soon, others were born." You looked at him.

"I-it's really you.. H-Henry."  Hesitantly placing a hand on his cheek, before smiling and tears coming your eyes. "I can't believe it's actually you.."

  Before you knew it his lips crashed down on to yours. Finally (almost) getting what he wanted was you. Before, either of you knew he was on top of you. You broke away for breathe looking deeply into each other's eyes before, you both leaned in once more. Wasting the rest of the night away reconnecting *wink wink*.

Few weeks later, you both had actually been able to keep your relationship a secret. You both had also been reconnecting more. You telling him everything that has happened during you're time apart. Him sneaking into your room when, everyone else is asleep or had gone home. And tonight was like no other, or so you thought.

"Henry, what happened?" Y/n asked dragging him, making him sit on your bed. While, unbuttoning his shirt knowing full well what happened.

"He doesn't like me getting close to Eleven." Henry replied. You sighed before getting up to get the bandages and saline. Turning back and starting to tend to his wounds.

"I don't mean to pry but, why have you been getting close to eleven?" You asked finishing, tending his last wound.

"I told you, that I was going to get us out of here." "And by using a five year old is away to do that?" You scolded. He grabbed your hand which forced you to look at him.

"I'm not using her.. she just going to help us."

"What about the other children?"

"It would be to dangerous."

"So why does eleven going to help us?"

"I have a chip in my neck.." he said taking your hand and placing it on to the back of his neck were an abnormally bump was. "Brenner calls it 'sortia' it's binds my abilities.. weakens me and tracks me.."

"Your going to have her take it out for you aren't you.." "Yes." You sighed pulling your hand away about to look away before he pulled you back.

"It's going to work. I'm doing this for us." Henry said, caressing your cheek. You hesitantly nodded.

A few days later, Henry's plan was about to be set in motion and you have that feeling.. the feeling the voices before the deaths but this one seemed different it seemed more harder for you to bare. After, Henry left your room that night, you couldn't sleep the voices becoming louder and louder it sound like a thousand people screaming all at once.

The next day, Henry told you to stay in your room. Brenner had let you have the day off from the lack of sleep you had the night before. The voices and the feeling didn't stop, the pressure became to much and you let out your blood curdling scream but this scream was different. When it was over you felt weak, you felt blood running down your faces and tasting the metallic of blood, Barley being able to breath, and spots began to blur your vision. The last thing you heard were people screaming a few feet away from your room and with that you were gone.

Brenner woke up to sirens blaring and blood streaming down his face, he made a call asking what was happening before hearing screaming. He looked around to see everyone dead. There eyes gone bones twisted.. he knew exactly who did this 001/Henry. Then he remembered you remembering what he read in the book he gave you.

'If more than a handful of people die, it could be hundreds or even thousands of people dying. The banshee will be put to rest, ears, eyes bleeding, as well as their mouth.'

He knew the past between you two and maybe you could stop him. He made his way as fast as he could to your room.

Once, Henry finished 002 he made sure eleven had made it out. Nice to know she did. Now he was on his way to you. Passing through all the dead bodies noticing one was missing Brenner. He got to your room as fast as lighting speed. Once he got their he saw you lying on the floor with blood surrounding you and Brenner.

"What did you do to her." Henry asked, as he lifted Brenner off the floor.

"0-001 please. I need to help her.." His grip tightened. "If I don't help her she will die!" Brenner yelled before his airway closed.

"What do you mean or she will die?" Henry asked loosening his powers on Brenner.

"It's what she is.. because of what you have done, it was to much.. she felt all of them.. everyone that you have murdered.. it said that 'If more than a handful of people die, it could be hundreds or even thousands of people dying. The banshee will be put to rest, ears, eyes bleeding, as well as their mouth.' If I don't help her. She will die." Brenner said swallowing his pride continuing. "And if you l-let me go, I will grant you and her freedom. They will never know it was you. And will think it was me. It's what I deserve for keeping you here and the others.."

  Henry looked at him for a moment before letting him drop and follow him with Y/n in his arms to the infirmary. Brenner tended to Y/n who was stable for the most part and before leaving Brenner pointed a gun to Henry's head and with a blink of an eye Brenner was gone. Henry sealed Brenner's fate with the flick of his head. Before, picking up Y/n and leaving this place far behind to start his life with you.

Word count: 3180

(A/n: WOW! This is a long one! I hope y'all liked it! Can't wait to see all your comments! Let me know how I did *nervous laugh* I couldn't decide on a title. Lol. Requests are still open! Hope you all enjoyed! Bye! :) )

[cartoonfan21]

Wybie's Grandmother's Twin Sister/The Sweet Ghost Girl, theory/headcanon on her disappearance.

In the movie we know Wybie's grandmother, used to live in the Pink Palace before it was separated into apartments. She also had a twin sister, and her sister had a doll that looked exactly like her.

Somewhere around in the 1950's her sister mysteriously disappeared one day and Mrs. Lovat believed she was "stolen."

When Wybie's grandmother became the landlady of the Pink Palace, she split it into three apartments, in fear that history will repeat itself and that the same fate will happen to a different child. (It's possible that she was learning the history of the Pink Palace previous people with children in her town's library). She made a rule, that any tenants with children aren't allowed to rent the apartment.

When she moved out of the Pink Palace, she kept the doll and hidden it so no one can ever find it. As years went by she got married, had a daughter, but...she had a divorce (when she tried to explain to her husband, how she was haunted by the other mother stealing her sister, having nightmares of her sister slowly dying, and how she keeps blaming her for not being able to save her, he believes that she was crazy and immediately wanted a divorce).

She didn't care what he thinks, but was saddened when she can only see her daughter on the weekends. She did her best to be a good mother, but she forbid her from going to the Pink Palace. When her daughter finds a photo of her as a child, she asks who the other girl is.

She explains the girl is her late aunt, and that she was stolen, curious she asks what happened to her. (Not wanting to mention the doll or the other mother, she decided to make it more realistic). It was almost Halloween their mother was getting the house ready for the holiday, while their father was at work. They were in their room (which becomes Coraline's room in the present/future). Showing their costumes she was a Cowgirl, while her sister was going out as a fairy.

Things were going well, until their mother entered the room saying they won't be able to go, because their father wants them in a business meeting to show his superiors he's a family man. They were angered by their father's news, and that they won't even have any time to go trick or treating when the meetings over. (After they leave the room, the doll's been sitting on the bed watching the whole thing).

It was Halloween 4:15pm, everyone was in the car, but before they can leave, her father sees that one of his daughters isn't there, he asked where she was, she and her mother told him she's been in their room all day, while they were gardening.

Her and her parents went into their room to look for her, but she wasn't their her parents think she must've gone trick or treating, but she couldn't because her fairy costume was still on her bed. The family ran outside in the car, hoping she didn't get far. (Unknown to them, there was a key on the floor in the living room, and the doll was near the window, watching them as they panicked).

A week went by, they called the police letting them know of their missing daughter. The police asked if she'd been behaving strange lately, (her parents mentioned that she was having dreams of an other mother and where the world is perfect, but they say they're just dreams). The police searched and searched but they couldn't find her sister, her parents became depressed and overprotective ever since. (She became depressed aswell, she blamed herself for losing her only friend and felted she wasn't able to keep her safe).

After she finished the story, her daughter sees tears coming out of her eyes, she gives her hug and she hugged her back. As her daughter grows older, she finds the doll has changed its appearance. Scared she decides to hide it again, after seeing her daughter was pregnant.

One rainy day she was babysitting her 6 year old grandson Wyborne. Her daughter left to go to work, she'd be usually home by 5pm, but when she heard a knock on the door, she was shocked to see its the police they explained while she was a driving home, some drunk teenage jerks was driving their neighbors car, because the rain made the road slippery, there was an accident.

Heartbroken she becomes Wyborne's guardian and makes sure he doesn't go too the Pink Palace or finds the doll. (In fear the 0ther Mother would become his next victim just like her sister).

Before, Coraline and her family moved into the Pink Palace Apartments. She had a dream/nightmare that she was back in the apartment she finds Wyborne in pain, she walks up to him and asks what's wrong. Wyborne looks at her, his eyes are black buttons just like the doll, he looks like if he's been crying but his tears are blood.

Before she can reach to him, a small door opens revealing a green portal a giant hand comes out, made out of sewing needles it grabs Wyborne the portal dissappears with just a brick wall.

She wakes up realizing it was a nightmare, she checks on Wyborne seeing him sleeping peacefully. Not wanting her nightmare to come true, she grabs the doll and hides it in her trunk of her car.

That's all I have, please leave a comment or reblog if you like to add something to this headcanon/theory.

And please no rude comments. Thank You.

[julianxhunter]

✦ DJ COTRONA, MALE, HE/HIM ✦ JULIAN HUNTER the THIRTY-SEVEN year old has been in Hidehill for THIRTY YEARS and was a ACQUAINTANCE to Ronnie Nilsson, the most recent shadow of Hidehill. Whispers on the  streets are that the NEW OWNER OF THE PLAYPEN who lives in HARTLEY AVENUE are said to be VENTURESOME and MEDDLESOME but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves. 

TW: drugs, gambling

ABOUT

Georgia born to a single mother who claimed she couldn’t be too sure on who his father could be, it was a lie but one Julian never bothered to pick at because the sad eyes she looked at him with said enough and the lack of a father didn’t do much for him when he had so many others looking after him regardless. His mother was a stripper and some of her co-workers were seen more as family who helped raise him while they shared the roof over their heads which never changed from Georgia to Tennessee. At least when they landed in Hidehill they had their own place in Hadley Park. 

With the lifestyle his mother partook in and seemed to have no desire in giving up, maybe he grew up a little quicker and eventually more independently than his peers but in Julian’s eyes what she had done for him was always enough. Even when things were rough for them financially or when she deep dived into the world of drugs, he never saw her as a bad person just unprepared for motherhood. 

School was pretty easy for him to get through when it came to his grades but it was typically overshadowed by the trouble he constantly got himself into, blame boredom. From a young age Julian liked making money. When he was little it came in reward to chores, little jobs within the town; walking dogs, mowing lawns etc. The older he got, the more he wanted and the riskier he got of how he got that money. In reality, being introduced to the world of gambling was a safer option in regards to some of the other things he had done at that age. 

He definitely shouldn’t have been allowed at the table but the company he had while gambling weren’t exactly saints and they figured it was easy money to take home for themselves. Unfortunately for them, Julian learned quick and when he really began emptying their pockets they stopped letting him in which only left him to go elsewhere to throw his money around. Eventually that became his main source of income, in poker specifically, especially when he could actually enter tournaments it only took one big win to hold him over for a while till the money ran low and he did it again. 

The unofficial half job he did as a bouncer at the playpen practically fell into his lap. Being that he grew up around that kind of environment, he didn’t have much tolerance for the customers that overstepped their boundaries nor was he afraid to make it known. Eventually with time and his friendship to Cristal it became official position with more and with the years of that friendship she had entrusted him with the place if anything ever happened, something he thought would never matter until it did. With her death, the keys were handed over to him and all he could do was make sure the transition went smoothly. 

DETAILS + WC

For tournaments he would often fly out to different places and if it was a real big win, he’d fuck off for a month or two without much of a mention as to where. 

He thought because he didn’t grow up with much, the drive to have money went hand in hand with wanting to live more lavishly but he was wrong. His home in Hartley Avenue would often stay empty until WC took his offer to use it since he hardly ever stays there.

Same goes for the trailer he kept in Hadley Park although he feels more at home there, since he scarcely used it after getting his house in Hartley and made no plans to part with it, he let WC stay in it.

[sunshinebingo]

Totally Spies (Valkyries) Chapter 24

@emeriethevalkyriegirl @aelinchocolatelover

Read on Ao3

'’IT WAS AN ACCIDENT I SWEAR,’’ Emerie shouted as she jumped over one of the pool tables to avoid Rhysand.

‘’You will pay for this,’’ he said, reaching out a hand to grab her.

‘’How many times should I say that I AM SORRY?’’ Emerie ran for the door.

‘’Until my hair grows back.’’ Rhysand followed her outside of the game room. The others kept laughing until they eventually resumed what they were doing. Lucien took the laser pen and placed it somewhere the girls would never find it.

Rhysand kept chasing Emerie around the seemingly empty house until he passed next to a door that made him halt.

‘’Hey Em wait.’’ The sudden change in his tone made Emerie stop a few feet down the corridor.

‘’Are you trying to trick me into stopping?’’ she asked.

‘’Look at this.’’ Emerie approached and looked at the empty door. ‘’Do you see this?’’

‘’If you are talking about the door then yes I see it.’’

‘’Not just the door dummy. I mean these,’’ Rhysand pointed at the weird symbols engraved on it. Emerie squinted her eyes and looked closer. ‘’These are the same symbols that the forensics saw on the jasper shard.’’

Without any prior warning, Emerie turned the knob and the door opened. Before Rhys could ask what she was doing, Emerie looked at him and shrugged. ‘’They should have locked the door if they didn’t want us going inside.’’

The room inside was dusty but neat. It was an office with a big desk in front of a massive shelf filled with books from floor to ceiling. The colours reminded Emerie of the bedroom where she and Nesta found the shard. She understood why this place was called the Autumn Estate.

Rhys and Emerie inspected the office more closely. All of the drawers and cupboards were empty. But they did find more strange symbols on the spine of some of the books. The sound of approaching footsteps made them place the books back to their place on the shelf. They managed to exit the room and close the door behind them before Lucien reached them.

‘’Is everything okay?’’ he asked them.

‘’Hey do you know what is behind that door?’’ Emerie asked, earning herself a pinch in the side from Rhysand.

Lucien furrowed his brows in confusion. ‘’It’s my father’s old office but it is empty now. Many of his stuff were destroyed or confiscated by the org when he was arrested.’’

‘’What do those symbols stand for,’’ Rhys asked him.

Lucien walked to the door and traced the little symbols with a finger. ‘’Honestly I don’t know. They’ve been there for as long as I can remember. Why do you ask?’’

Rhysand looked at Emerie then. He didn’t know if he should share this information with Lucien without talking to his brothers first. But since Lucien has been nothing but honest with them, he decided that he would take the risk.

‘’We saw these same symbols on the shard we told you about this morning.’’

Lucien contemplated Rhysand’s words. ‘’Well it is no secret that my father was an evil prick. And that the shard is something that my family is famous for. Maybe there is a link to it but personally I don’t know exactly how they are connected.’’

‘’Do you think Tamlin might know something?’’ Emerie asked Lucien.

‘’Why would Tamlin know anything about this,’’ he asked incredulously. ‘’Beside he hasn’t set foot in this house for several years now.’’

Rhysand and Emerie’s faces held similar expressions of confusion but neither made a comment. Soon, all talk of secret symbols stopped as they walked back to the game room to join the others.

🦄

‘’Lucien didn’t know about Tamlin,’’ Emerie explained to Nesta, Gwyn, Azriel and Cassian in their apartment that same night. Rhysand and Emerie have told them everything about the office and their talk with Lucien.

‘’So Tamlin is doing something in relation to the Vanserras behind Lucien’s back,’’ Azriel said from his seat on the couch.

Cassian stopped his pacing to speak, ‘’it has been a while since they have grown apart so it makes sense that Lucien isn’t aware of whatever he is doing.’’

‘’Especially if Lucien would not approve.’’ Gwyn added and everyone turned to her. ‘’I mean Lucien has been very kind and helpful to us so far. I don’t think he is following in his father’s footsteps and playing us.’’

‘’You are right. Plus he would not invite us in his house if he was hiding things from us,’’ Nesta added.

Rhysand hummed and propped his feet on the coffee table before the couch. Shadow, who was sleeping on said table, stretched and climbed on Rhysand’s feet. ‘’We have more evidence now that Tamlin is the one playing with us.’’

Azriel took the remote control and opened Netlix. ‘’He roams this place whenever he wants. It is possible that he got his hands on whatever was confiscated from Beron’s things.’’

Cassian moved to take a seat on the couch. ‘’You’re right. We should check the security cameras tomorrow and see if we can track every move he has made for the past few months at least.’’

‘’Good,’’ Az exclaimed. ‘’Can we resume this talk tomorrow guys?’’

Everyone agreed and stood except for Azriel who kept browsing through an endless list of movies and shows. Cassian, Rhysand and Emerie walked to the kitchen to grab snacks and drinks while Gwyn and Nesta went to their bedrooms to fetch extra pillows and blankets so everyone can get extra cosy for their horror movie night.

[shawty-writes-a-little]

Bad influence

Aleksander morozova x fem reader [one shot]

Summary: Aleksander uses curse words around the two year old who adapts that choice of words very quickly? ~ domestic fluff bc my no1 boy deserves it

Warnings: Swearing (ofc lol)

Word count: 1.6k+

—

Dim sunlight passed through the blinds of main chamber. Y/n was sitting on the floor cross legged looking over Eric's drawing and the colours he had spread all over the floor, it was hard to tell if the page was being painted upon or splashed with excessive water and mismanaged colours here and there but it kept the gremlin busy for at least a while. Besides y/n wasn't the one to disturb his process she had her own book to read while he was up busy making a brown coloured sky with strange looking animals. This was their usual routine for the later part of the afternoon most of the times Aleksander would join them too.

Like today, y/n heard his steps chatting with someone-probably Ivan. "For once if he could stop thinking with his beardsplitter we might just win a war!" A scoff with his voice followed his steps as he entered the room. Y/n and Eric both looked up to him entering as he bid his goodbye to Ivan. Y/n hopes Eric didn't hear what Aleksander said though he was just a toddler he was very quick to pick up on his father's actions, especially his words. It was adorable at times when Eric would draw Aleksander's beard on his face and mimic his voice, do his hand gestures in order to be the same height as him he would ask Genya to lift him up. Almost everyone at little palace contributed happily to his demands.

He had started speaking Aleksander's words too. He would call y/n Miliya and run away hoping he tricked his mother into thinking Aleksander had called her. It was pretty alright till then, he has started picking up Aleksander's cuss words too apparently.

Everytime he would discuss some council or state issues with y/n he would mindlessly swear and if Eric was around he would surely add it to his dictionary when he could barely pronounce some words right. Erik dropped his brushes and ran to Aleksander as he reciprocated his pace, bending lower Aleksander lift him up at once and hurled him in the air laughing the same time as him.

Putting her forefinger between the book settling the page she closed it putting it on her lap. "How was the meeting?" She asked Aleksander she didn't knew there was one but hearing him use the word thinking and beardsplitter in the same sentence she figured he had met with the 'Tsar today.

"Just the manwhore of a King we have being an arse as he fu-"

"Aleksander!" Y/n quipped interrupting him.

"What?" He asked confused as Erik gestures to wriggled out of his arms, bending he let Erik go and he ran back to his painting probably for the final touch.

"I've told you not to swear around Eric!" She told him raising her brows.

"Oh?" He huffed shrugging his shoulders "Apologies then."

"It isn't trivial! He picks up extremely fast after your words." Y/n debated as a grin spread across his face.

"He probably doesn't even understand them."

"Exactly! He doesn't understand them so he thinks they're normal words and it is alright to use them."

"Are you accusing me of being a bad influence on our child?" He faked a gasp holding onto his chest.

"Yes. Yes I am." She stated at him blankly irritated by his dramatics given not only two days ago Erik asked David if he knew about the word shit.

"Alright." He sighed in defeat taking a seat next to y/n on the floor close beside her. "Eric from now on saying any bad words in this house is treason." He said turning to the two year old with a fake stern voice.

"Tweason!" Erik looked up from his painting and repeated after him.

"Yes and our y/n here could send us to prison or even exile-we wouldn't want that would we?" It was more of a joke directed to y/n who rolled her eyes at him not trying to engage in his banter.

She flipped her book open again as Aleksander shifted closer to her, he took her hand resting on the book inter-wining their fingers together. He looked into the page she was so concentrated on, sneaking his hand by her waist getting her to blush and shifting pages since he was faster reader.

Eric caught both of their attention as she stood up and spoke, "Dada!" He showed his drawing bringing it close to their face.

"Wow! Eric that is remarkable!" Y/n praised the young boy mirroring his smile.

Aleksander tilted his neck trying to make out what it was, "Wonderful I'd say-"

"Do you know what it is?" Eric asked his father with big eyes full of content. Aleksander almost melted at the domesticity of this scene, he paused thinking how many strange paintings he would've done when we was his son's age if the saints were just.

"Uh-it's a—"

"Go on tell him what that animal is." Y/n nudged onto Aleksander's arm finding it funny putting him in the spot.

"I know what it is." He didn't.

"It's a lion!!" Eric exclaimed showing it to her mother too for a better view.

"Yes! A lion!" Y/n laughed sitting up on her knees, bending over Aleksander sitting in the middle she took Eric in her arms kissing his forehead as he went on further explaining her the backstory of the lion.

Aleksander looked at both of them laughing and giggling in awe, he was so foreign with this feeling of a room feeling home, of people feeling home. How he'd catch himself smiling when the day is over to finally he with family. The despair and heavy weight of the war and his ambitions would fade away as soon as Eric would rush into his arms. The day wouldn't begin if he couldn't get a glimpse of y/n smiling even it for a moment. He would long to come home now, knowing someone's waiting for him. If only every fight led him to an afternoon like this-watching Eric play and be close with y/n, jokes and laughter and the indescribable feeling which made him smile even at a single thought of it.

—

Aleksander prepared the bed as y/n walked in the room rocking Eric in her arms getting to the last bit of the bed time story. It was an everyday process to get Eric to sleep where y/n and Aleksander had alternate turns on telling the story.

"Why didn't the fox return the jewel?" Eric asked curiously to his mother in context of the story. Y/n planned to keep the answers short so he wouldn't engage in conversation and drift off to sleep.

"Well-because the fox was a—" she thought to come up for a reasonable word that would make sense to his little mind.

"Cwunt!" Eric replied for her as she paused to think.

"Eric!" Y/n raised both her brows out of surprise with what he said-Aleksander's words were being getting soaked up like water in his mind.

Aleksander right by the bed bursted into laughter as Eric joined him coming to a conclusion maybe the word he said was a humorous one. "Aleksander stop encouraging him!" She scolded him walking over to the bed placing Eric on the bed as she sat beside him.

"It's pretty funny he couldn't even say it the proper way." He added slowing his fit of laughter into a boyish chuckle.

"I—unbelievable." Y/n shook her head in disbelief turning to Eric. "Eric-little sunshine, it was a really bad word that you just used we don't say—"

"Dada says it!" Eric explained raising his brows which made him look just like y/n clearly not understanding his poor choice of words given he didn't knew what it meant. Y/n pointed her hands at Eric for Aleksander to further explain this matter to his influenced.

He nodded taking a seat on the bed across Eric, "Your mother is right Eric we shouldn't say such words they could have a horrible impact if we say it to people we don't want to or mean to, I made a mistake when I said it earlier. Now what do we do when we make mistakes?"

"We deny it!" Eric answered to his question with an answer Aleksander himself had taught him. Y/n's eyes widened at the response but not surprised at this point.

"You taught him that didn't you?" She quipped at him as Aleksander looked away scoffing trying to rub it off.

"Of course not-No Eric not that—we apologise. Sometimes if we use these words out of anger at someone it could hurt their feelings let alone they might think low of us." " He said adding emphasis on apologise, turning to y/n he began "I am truly sorry for the foul words I used I promise not to use them"

Watching his father apologise he felt the guilt for his choice of words "I'm sorry too." He said opening his arms falling onto y/n's shoulders. Y/n couldn't help but smile as she ran her fingers through his messy hair. "Thank you, Eric." she smiled at Aleksander too appreciating his sincere effort that resulted this.

Later Aleksander explained to Eric what a treaty meant and said once he learns to write they could make a not swearing treaty.

—

I missed writing for him AAAAAAAAAA let me know what you think about it :)

Taglist 🏷 (let me know I if you want me to added or removed)

I haven’t posted for him in so long I forgot the one I had

[astaroth1357]

Brothers React to a Demigod MC 

So, I've gotten some interest to do a Brothers follow-up to a previous request of mine (Undateables React to a Cute, Badass MC), however, I've thus far refused to write one. Honestly, this HC actually plays on a trope I personally dislike and had it not been a request I would have never done it to start with. I just can't see any reasonable way a non-magic human can beat a bunch of demons, I just can't, and that hinders my imagination quite a bit. …But someone who’s not so human? That I can get behind. Fair warning, I grew up with the Percy Jackson series so that’s going to paint quite a bit of how I see modern demigods. Ready for things to get super-ultra fanfic-y for a bit?

Intro:

The day to kidnap bring the exchange students to the Devildom has finally come and the demons have all gathered in the Council Room to open their portal to the human world. Really, things started without a hitch - the portal opened with and their future student dropped down out of it and landed on the floor… before they suddenly leapt up, pulled out a weapon, and lunged at them!

… This isn’t your normal human, it is?

Lucifer

Oh Devil, this couldn’t have been any farther than what they wanted… They were looking for a human and they managed to pull out a halfling! A divine halfling no less!! Why wasn’t this in their file?!

Look, Lucifer might not be on good terms with his father, but even he knows he had it better than any children of the pagan gods… The levels of petty vindictiveness that run through that bunch are literally the stuff of legends...

After he and Barbatos were able to restrain the MC before they hurt themselves or anyone else, Diavolo explained everything to them and gave them a pardon for attacking the Demon Prince on sight… After they identified themselves and their parentage, Lucifer knew they were in for some shit…

He and Diavolo had to iron out an apology letter to their godly parent for days just to keep from saying anything that could accidentally cause a second Troy or worse... It was a mess...

But on the bright side, the “human” came pre-prepared for fighting monsters and demons, which honestly took a bit of a load off his shoulders. That’s less responsibility for Mammon - and in his experience, the less responsibility Mammon has, the better things usually turn out.

… Though their ability to actually hold their own in a fight did make things complicated sometimes - like whenever he was their perceived opponent... 

He wasn’t expecting to have to manage a being that was actually capable of meeting him toe-to-toe on the battlefield and it did hinder his intimidation factor to some degree…It was hard to be threatening to someone who’s likely faced worse than you could ever offer.

In the end it probably worked out for the best, as a live exchange student is better for Diavolo than a dead one - but man did it get on his nerves until they made their pact together… Be scared of him, dammit!

Mammon

The first time he tried to threaten the human, they straight up pulled out a weapon and looked like they were ready to whip his ass!! Didn’t they know he wasn’t being serious?? 😫

He really didn’t know why he had to be on babysitting duty, anymore... This huma-er demigod could handle themselves just fine!

When he first ditched them with Levi, he later found out they managed to cleanly toss his brother over their head and make a break for it all by themselves! And Levi’s no pushover either!!

Later, he saw them getting ambushed on their way back from school and they soundly knocked out about five demons before he even caught up to them… and he’s, like, fast and stuff… 

Their strength is kind of unreal at times, but he could tell they were still far from a mindless killing machine. They were more or less a normal person, they had wants and dreams like anybody else, but they just happened to be a long stronger than the average mortals around them. 🤷‍♀️

After he eventually got to know them and a bit about how their life worked, he felt a little bad for them... Who wants to be hunted down just for being born?

After learning about their struggles, Mammon ended up resolving to help keep them safe (even if a part of him knew they didn’t need him that much).

I mean, if the whole world’s against you, then you can use all the help you can get... right?

Leviathan 

Levi found out exactly one thing about them within the first two minutes of meeting them… their reflexes were killer.

After Mammon ditched them on Day One, he tried to drag the human to his room to tell them his genius plan but they broke out of his grip and threw him flat on his back like was just second nature! 

He was stuck on the ground for a full minute, trying to process what just happened, while they ran off into the House all alone…

Did he just get tossed around… by a human?? Was he really that pathetic!?!

Finding out later that they were actually half-god certainly helped out his self-esteem because, man, if he had lost so easily to a human of all things... He might have just never left his room again…

Levi pretty much kept his distance from them until they finally made a pact together and then he discovered that the MC wasn’t so scary after all. If he’s being honest, being in the same house as a demigod was actually kind of cool...! 

Like, it was almost exactly the plot of the show: “Wait, I Thought I Was the Son of a Pagan God So What Am I Doing in a Christian Hell??” but their MC seemed to know a lot more about fighting than the protagonist of that show ever did…

Plus, because he never had to worry about their safety, he had even more excuse to never leave his room. Win-win!

Satan

A demigod, eh…? He had done plenty of research into human world mythologies in his spare time, frankly he thought the old gods had died out - but it seems they were still up and kicking… and making babies for whatever reason? Horny bastards...

Satan's original interest in the MC was purely academic. It’s not everyday that you get to meet someone of such a unique heritage and he fully intended to learn if all the legends about their greatness were true… and well...

He could say that the MC was certainly different than how he pictured humans being. He’d never met very many before, but from what he could gather they were a weak race that really got by on wit and persistence… However, nothing about the MC was weak.

Their aptitude for combat was surprisingly sharp, both in skill and reflexes. He had once blown up at them in anger and not only did they dodge his swipes but they got in a good few hits themselves with a nearby lamp… He never once thought a mortal could give him a black-eye but, somehow, they pulled it off. 🤷‍♀️

Combine their physical skill with what magical gifts were granted to them by their godly-half and they were a force to be reckoned with… Even Solomon seemed to hesitate and think more about his actions around them (which is saying something for a sorcerer of his strength).

It’d be fair to say a part of him grew to respect the MC long before they ever made their pact and that respect only grew afterwards. If he had to be bound to any master, human or otherwise, he’d rather it be one that he could right about consider an equal not only as a friend, but in strength as well.

Asmodeus 

A demigod…? Oooo, he hadn’t come across one of those since he bedded Aeneas all those centuries ago… Such a gorgeous man, got all his looks from his mother~! 🤭

Asmo was probably the most interested in their godly heritage, but it felt like he was treating them like a zoo exhibit for a while… Something pretty and new to look at, but not exactly someone he wanted to know personally...

He openly and readily admitted that watching their little demigod in action got him hot and bothered (or well, more hot and bothered than usual ) but it didn’t take him to see they weren’t interested at the time…

He decided that he just had to have a pact with them after they saved him from Henry 1.0! It was before he noticed the giant snake and he was lurching back to strike, but the human swept in to knock him out of the way. They probably could have made mince meat of the creature themselves if Levi weren’t begging for them to spare his former pet...

Post-pact Asmo treated them with a lot more respect… but also still fanboyed over their fighting skills hardcore. 

Like, their body had to be fit to keep up with all those monsters, right?? What was their training routine? Could he watch?? Oh please say he can watch!! He just can’t get enough of that fighter’s physique…! 😍

Beelzebub 

So… the human isn’t a human but only part human? And the other part is a god? Does that make them any sturdier than normal humans…? Call him curious…

Beel was probably one of the few brothers who was legitimately weary of the MC from the beginning… He can get a certain feel for a person pretty quickly and something about them just felt…frankly, kind of dangerous.

But they also intrigued him a little… Beel’s used to being one of the strongest demons in any room he walks into (not a boast, just a fact) so for him to get that feel from a mortal was pretty impressive. A part of him just wanted to test them… you know?

So. He did. He asked them to help him train his martial arts one day and even with his awareness, he was not expecting the results that he got.

The MC was strong. Very strong. They were not only able to keep up with him and dodge his blows, but they were able to predict his moves and counterattack in kind. They didn’t even need to tell him that they had actually been fighting for their life for years, he could tell. They had a skill you don’t get from practice matches...

After that point, the two would go to each other to train and keep their skills sharp… but also just to spar for fun. Their fighting styles made a pretty good match and they bonded pretty damn quick because of it. 

If anime tells us anything, when you find a good fight buddy, you stick with them. Even if one’s part god and the other is a demon. 🤷‍♀️ 

Belphegor 

A demigod is still human enough to hate, sorry MC. Not that he knew about their godly heritage at first…

Really, he should have been a little more suspicious of how easily they seemed to take to life in the Devildom... Weren’t demons supposed to scare humans? Why did they seem so comfortable down here...?

His confirmation only came when he tried to enact the final part of “Use the MC to Escape the Attic!” plan and take their life to seal the deal… but oh boy, was he outclassed real quick… 

The MC had already socked him in the jaw by the time he got his full demon form out and then they threw him across the room by the tail… the TAIL!! And it hurt like a bitch, too!! Even during the full blown fight that followed, he could tell they were holding back and it pissed him off something fierce...!

Why was the MC so strong?!? Humans weren’t supposed to be strong!!!

His brothers heard all the commotion and the Lilith confrontation ended up happening up in the attic between a somewhat beat-up Belphie and a barely-scratched MC. Had Beel not come to his defense on instinct, it might have turned out worse for him in all honesty… Something about that human just wasn’t right…

He only found out about their god-half after everything settled down and he promised not to try killing them again (not that anyone thought he could...) and that put some things into perspective. So the Lastborn Ruler of Hell isn’t as strong as one mortal demigod…? Ouch. Okay, fine then... Whatever...

He does think it’s too bad he missed them beating the crap out of the rest of his brothers, though (minus Beel)... That would have been fun to see. 😔

So I tried to keep this one God-parent neutral, but I’ve upgraded this to its own series! Check it out if you’re interested! 😊

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Five)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Mild Sexual References

Words: 1,848

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

YOUR POV

Two weeks had passed since you visited your friend Denise in Dublin and it was time for the annual Galway Arts Festival.

Denise had been working on a photography project for the past year and had been nominated for a student award in Galway as part of which ten of her photographs were being displayed during the Arts Festival.

Whilst, as you had expected, Cillian didn’t contact you, you knew that he would be there to support his daughter. Being an artist himself, he was very proud of her and her work and he supported her projects not only mentally but also financially with the caveat that she would finish her degree at Trinity College.

Unlike him, he didn’t want her to drop out of university even though she hated it and you certainly understood his reasoning.

Contrary to Denise, you had no creative bone in your body. You enjoyed art and theatre, but weren’t an artist or performer yourself. Instead, you were an A Grade Law Student who had become rather bored in Galway and had recently applied for a scholarship to Oxford University.

Reading was your passion and you had always been known as a geek. In school, you were the girl that no one liked, nerdy, not interested in fashion or social media and wearing braces, which, luckily, had been removed three years ago.

You were shy and it was only for Denise that you came out of your shell. She was popular in school, mostly due to her name, but also because she was generally confident and, over the years, she helped you gain confidence especially after you had left high school.

But, today, you knew you would be questioning your gained confidence once again since, first of all, you would be seeing Cillian again and the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about him in an intimate way and, secondly, you were featured completely naked on some of Denise’s photographs.

Whilst the photographs were artistic and not sexual in any way and your most intimate part wasn’t visible on them, it bothered you knowing that people you disliked would see you so vulnerable and you couldn’t remember why you had agreed to being photographed like that.

The other woman who Denise chose to photograph was Amalie. She was 23 and had been Denise’s friend for a while as well but, unlike you, she began modelling professionally when she was just 16. You all went to the same private school together and, clearly, her lifestyle had been largely financed by her parents. She always wore expensive clothes and had no interest in pursuing a career other than modelling, which barely sustained her lifestyle considering the few small jobs she got.

***

Just as you served your last cup of coffee to an elderly lady sitting in the corner of the café you were working at, you saw Denise, Amalie and two other friends of Denise walk in.

‘Hey guys, take a seat. I will be right with you. I am just about to finish my shift’ you said as you hung up your apron.

‘Please tell me you will get changed before the Gallery opening tonight?’ Amalie asked somewhat weirdly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you sat down at the table with her, Denise and the others before ordering some coffees for yourselves.

‘No, I thought I would go like this’ you said sarcastically, looking down at your coffee-stained clothes.

‘I bought a dress for tonight’ you then said, after Amalie didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm.

‘Right’ she then said as she flicked through Instagram and you simply looked at Denise who shrug her shoulders.

‘What are you looking for?’ you asked curiously as her eyes seemed to be glued to her phone.

‘She is looking to find more photos of my dad and Laura Jennings’ Denise said, rolling her eyes.

‘Laura Jennings, as in the actress?’ you asked, causing Amalie to nod.

‘Yes, apparently they have been dating’ Amalie then confirmed, causing you to swallow harshly. You knew that you shouldn’t care but you couldn’t help it. Knowing that Cillian was seeing someone made you feel ill.  

‘And you care about that why?’ you then asked Amalie after an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine.

‘Apparently, just like you, Amalie thinks my dad is a DILF’ Denise huffed out before telling you how disgusting you all were.

‘Well, he is though…he is super hot’ Amalie then joked before carrying on. ‘And I don’t understand how you don’t know about Laura Jennings and whether this is true or not. You need to find out’ Amalie then said but Denise simply shook her head.

‘My father doesn’t share this sort of stuff with me and I certainly don’t want to know about his sex life, thank you very much. In so far as I am concerned, he doesn’t have sex, ever…yuck! Also, I would appreciate if you could not talk about my dad anymore, please. It grosses me out’ Denise said and you knew that, all of this had become a common occurrence ever since the day the first episode of Peaky Blinders aired on BBC, a show which Denise refuses to watch herself because of the heavy sexual content and a show which you, only a week ago, had begun to binge watch.

Cillian’s POV

When Cillian walked into the basement after you had left, he immediately saw the small folded up note you had left him but, reading it, made him somewhat uncomfortable.

He was torn about what to do with it and certainly knew that he should ignore it. He couldn’t see you again even if he wanted to.

The fact that you were 23 years younger than him and that you were his daughter’s best friend made it all wrong and highly inappropriate and he didn’t know what had gotten into him in the first place when he gave into you.

He had never felt attracted towards you in any sort of way until that last visit which was the first time had seen you since you and your family had moved away.

You changed in many ways and he wasn’t sure what it was that he liked about you. But what he knew was that it was more than just sexual attraction, which was usually something he knew how to supress.

With that in mind, he placed your note into his wallet and decided to ignore it for now. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it out.

***

With his bags packed it was time for him to return to Manchester and resume filming of the final season of Peaky Blinders.

The first week of filming went well and Cillian decided to spend the weekend with his friend, fellow actress Laura Jennings. Cillian and her had developed a friend with benefits sort of relationship. No strings attached and no feelings involved. After his divorce from Denise’s mother, he wasn’t ready for anything else and Laura would certainly not have been the type of woman he would have wanted a relationship with in the first place.

Unlike him, she wasn’t press shy and, whilst they kept their arrangement a secret as best as they could, she was otherwise quite active on social media.

Cillian, on the other hand, only maintained a private Instagram account with the sole purpose of being able to check on his children. Whilst they were adults, he was still worried about them, especially Denise who had recently gotten herself in a lot of trouble after distancing herself from this Jeremy boy.

***

‘Another wine?’ Laura asked as Cillian was relaxing on top of the doonas, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs, after they had spent the last hour doing exactly what friends with benefits would do after not having seen each other for over two weeks due to busy filming schedules.

‘Yes please…thanks’ he responded as he reached for his phone after a notification had popped up.

It was his daughter Denise who had posted on Instagram and, since she hadn’t posted for a while, he decided to check it out, hoping that she wasn’t with Jeremy again.

To his surprise, three new pictures of Denise and her friends showed up when he opened the APP and, one of them, there was you.

In the picture, you were wearing accompanied by a man in his late twenties, wearing a suit while you were wearing a dark blue dress and he couldn’t help but wonder who the man by your side was.

You looked simply stunning, with your hair long and open and your shoulders exposed. You were wearing only a little bit of make up and showed your beautiful smile.  

‘There you go Mr Murphy’ Laura then said as she returned to the bedroom with another glass of wine, pulling Cillian’s phone out of his hand and climbing on top of him.

‘Round Two?’ she then asked eagerly as she reached for another condom, but Cillian’s thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

‘Maybe tomorrow, I am tired. It has been a long week, sorry’ he explained, causing Laura to pout with disappointment.

But the second round never eventuated as Cillian left Laura’s house the following morning to drive back to Manchester to resume filming.

On his way back to Manchester, he called his daughter Denise to check on her and while he did, he enquired about your companion on the Instagram posts.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Denise asked somewhat confused but Cillian played it cool.

‘He looks familiar, that’s all. Didn’t he go to your school?’ he then asked, playing dumb.

‘Oh god no, he is 29. His name is Connor and he is an accountant. Y/N wouldn’t date anyone our age. You know she isn’t a normal 21-year-old’ Denise joked, referring to your nerdiness and intellect.

‘Apparently not’ Cillian chuckled before asking another question about the stranger on the picture. ‘So, they are dating?’ he asked.

‘I think they went on two or three dates or something. Why do you care?’ Denise asked.

‘No reason. I was just wondering’ Cillian confirmed before changing the topic.

   Tag List:

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@peaky-cillian​

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[foxleycrow]

Thranduil & Túrin playing together in Doriath, for @tolkiengenweek —when I realized they could have been kids in Doriath at the same time, I had to draw them together.

This one also comes with a short accompanying fic about their meeting:

To Wear an Elven Crown

Thranduil had longed to meet the Adan since he had heard the first tales of his arrival in Doriath. His wish had displaced most other longings in his heart. If he could speak to an Adan, he could practice his Mannish and ask him about so many things, like the life of his people and the world outside the Fence. Beleg Cúthalion had found the Adan lost in the woods, and then King Thingol had adopted him! Thranduil had never heard of anyone adopting an Adan, let alone the king himself. If he were now Thingol's son, did that mean he was an Elf, as well as a Man? 

Thranduil had asked his father several times whether he could visit the Adan, but each time he was told the newcomer was too unwell. He had been sick and weak when he was discovered, and he was not yet strong enough to entertain company. This news sank him into a deep state of worry. The Edain could contract illnesses, and were mortal. What if this one became very sick, or even died! Of course, the healers of Doriath were the greatest in Middle-earth, but the Adan had come from dangerous lands far from the protection of Doriath, where anything might have befallen him. Thranduil had heard stories of strange fevers and chills that Edain could suffer from; what if the Elven healers did not know how to treat them?

"If he were to speak with someone his own age, Ada, he might feel better." The Adan was young, like himself. Not precisely the same age, since Edain aged so differently, but near enough in essence. He wondered what kind of games the Edain played. Maybe they had invented some no Elves had dreamed of…

"Do you believe so?" asked Oropher, raising an eyebrow. "An interesting perspective. I did not know you had become such an expert on the matter."

"I would feel better, if it were me." In defiance of his father's eyebrow, he added, "I asked Beleg to tell me everything he knows about the Edain."

"Oh, so you are an expert. My mistake." Oropher's hand settled on his head. Thranduil felt the warmth of his father's skin on his brow and blinked. "He has been through much, little Tuil," said Oropher. "We will not tax him any more than we need to."

After offering a gentle pat, Oropher withdrew his hand. Thranduil lay back, resting his head among the grasses. Thranduil did not expect his father to understand, for Oropher was very old. There were no children in King Thingol's house, and if they would not allow Thranduil to visit and talk to the Adan, then they would not have let any other children in to speak to him; that was obvious.

"I am an expert," Thranduil murmured, closing his eyes. Beleg had told him that the Edain could grow lonely and sad, like Elves, and that they too loved to dance and sing and tell tales. The Adan was named Túrin, and his father had been an Elf-friend. That meant he was an Elf-friend, too. If he was a friend, then he should be treated as one and given a warm welcome by everyone in Menegroth. Surely that would make him feel better than being kept away from others.

"Are you falling asleep?" Oropher asked. "I'll take you back home."

He shook his head stubbornly, the blades of grass making themselves felt on his cheeks and chin. Narrow, but not quite sharp. They did not hurt, but he sensed each one keenly. "No, I want to nap out here in the sun." They were well behind the Fence and close to Menegroth, so these woods were safe and guarded. He could play or explore or rest among the trees whenever he liked, because Queen Melian kept them all from harm.

He heard Oropher's soft laughter and felt his father's hand settle on his head again briefly. Then he was only aware of the warm sun heating his skin and the faintly prickly touch of the grass carpeting the clearing. Soon, he was not aware of the clearing either, lost in a dream, wandering far from the waking world. He dreamed he was journeying through a dark, withered wood, bristling with dead branches. The sky was veiled with dense, gray clouds. There was an unnatural air to them, as if storm clouds had been thickened with smoke.

There was a cold wind at his back, and he was all alone. The dead trees were so tall, they made him feel smaller. He heard something moving behind him, breaking branches and rustling through shriveled leaves. An animal? Or something worse? He did not know, and he did not want to turn to look, so he ran. He ran until he felt he had been always running, yet no matter how quick his steps, the noises behind him persisted, never any closer, but never farther away.

Thranduil woke with a gasp. He sat up and scanned the clearing. It was as green and tranquil as it had been when he fell asleep. He heard the low buzz of insect song and the faint voices of the trees. Father was gone. He saw no sign of anyone nearby, although that was not unusual. The sun's light was starting to fade from the sky. It was that between-time when patches of sunlight were still scattered across the forest floor, while the first stars appeared in the purpling twilight above. Thranduil rose to his feet. He was a little hungry, but he was well-rested, and he wasn't ready to return home. He would rather play, until Father came to fetch him. He left the clearing, slipping into the undergrowth as soundlessly as possible.

One of his favorite games was Marchwarden. It was more fun to play with someone else, but it was a game he could also play alone, simply by moving as quickly and quietly as possible, so that no enemies could see or hear him—exactly like a Marchwarden. He was tracking. Not hunting, but searching for any sign of danger, to keep Doriath safe. He studied whatever tracks he came across, or other signs of passage, such as broken twigs or bent grasses, trying to judge who or what had come the same way, and how long ago. He could wander like this for hours, happily, alone.

He was not entirely happy. He was more uneasy as he searched for signs in the grass, because of his dream. Within the dead wood, he had felt like he would never be allowed to rest, racing with an enemy eternally at his back. Dreams always meant something, but not always what you thought they meant. It took a wise Elf to read dreams. He could have asked his father about it, and maybe he would later. Now, he stalked through the dense growth, crouching low so his pale hair couldn't be seen.

When he heard low and distant voices, Thranduil was still lost in his game, so he crouched lower, listening intently as he crept closer. He slowed his breathing, his heartbeat, hiding as he'd been taught.

"—where he could have gone—?"

"We will find him, and soon. There's only so far...."

"I hadn't thought he was strong enough. I would never have guessed he'd be so quick."

"You shouldn't underestimate—"

The speakers moved away, out of the range of his hearing. Those were two of Thingol's guards. Could they have been talking about the Adan? It was possible, and not only because Thranduil thought of the Adan so often. Who else would they have thought wasn't strong enough? If the Adan was lost, he might grow sicker. Imagine how upset King Thingol would be. If Thranduil was a Marchwarden, then he had a duty to do whatever he could to protect everyone in Doriath: including any Edain. He moved on again, more quickly and with greater purpose.

He studied the forest, down to the least leaf, and he listened to the birds singing, the faint breeze moving through the branches. He listened for telltale noises, or telltale silences. He wondered whether the Adan had had a nightmare, like he had. Maybe that was why he had run off. It must have been hard for him to leave his home behind, especially because of the war: that distant, dark shadow hanging over everything, even the forests of Doriath.

Where would an Adan go? Possibly into the undergrowth, where he was. A place where someone small would hide. Thranduil knew of many secret spaces ideal for concealing himself, but few of them were nearby, close to where the guards were hunting. A slight Adan would leave faint footprints. Like Thranduil, he would have been trained in how to hide, if he were in danger. Thranduil was sure that the great trackers of Doriath could find anyone, but maybe Túrin would be difficult to find, more difficult than they expected.

Thranduil headed toward the Dome—it was a vast, curving structure of twisted woody shrubs, crowned with flowering vines. It was bright enough to draw the eye of a stranger to these woods, and dense enough to provide ample cover and shelter. Thranduil often crawled in there to play, because it was like a fortress. He could pretend he ruled there, lord of the branches and leaves and blossoms.

Thranduil found a faint indentation that might have been left by someone running this way. Shortly after that, he spied a tiny tuft of thread, caught on a hooked thorn. It was bright blue in color, so it stood out more than it might have otherwise. Could he have been correct in thinking the Adan might have been come this way? He had been guessing, but maybe he really was a Marchwarden. He would have to tell Beleg, if he succeeded in his hunt.

Emboldened by the thought that he might be better at tracking than Thingol's own guard, Thranduil sank to his knees and crawled into one of the narrow passageways that led into the Dome. With twisting branches on either side of him, and a ceiling of ivy above, no one outside would be able to see him, once he had travelled the length of a few paces. There were no wider  ways in, the growth here was so dense. Anyone who was much larger than Thranduil would have had to cut their way through. Among the branches, Thranduil caught sight of another slight scrap of blue thread. The branches here loved to tug on clothing.

Encouraged, Thranduil moved faster, until he arrived at a fall of dense vines, pushed through them, and found himself confronted by a pair of dark, shining eyes, staring at him. The Adan gave a start, but did not run. It was hard to travel quickly within the Dome, especially if one didn't know it as well as Thranduil did. Thranduil had half-suspected he was imagining his grand success in tracking, so he sat, blinked and stared back at his quarry, startled and bewildered and pleased.

The Adan was seated with his knees drawn up toward his chest. He was very thin, the thinnest child Thranduil had ever seen. His narrow face made his eyes look bigger. Here, he was walled off from the world—or most of it. He looked a great deal like an Elf, although Thranduil could tell he was different as well. It was hard to say exactly why; he simply felt different, like the night air felt different from the air of day, or the atmosphere before a storm as opposed to in the dry season: different in so many various slight ways, some of which were easier to describe than others.

Although Thranduil had longed for their meeting with joy, he felt unexpectedly solemn, now that it was taking place. "Hello," he ventured, in Sindarin. "I'm Thranduil, Son of Oropher."

The Adan blinked, and for a moment, Thranduil wasn't sure if he would—or could—reply, but at last he answered softly, "I'm Túrin, Son of Húrin."

"Why are you out here?" Thranduil asked. He didn't wish to sound accusatory, so he added, "Did you want to play?"

Túrin looked away, into the shadows between the leaves. "I wanted to be by myself."

Thranduil nodded, as this was perfectly understandable. "I like to be by myself, too."

Túrin's gaze shifted back to Thranduil. He seemed relieved to hear this, exhaling.

"Can I stay, though?" Thranduil asked. "Now that I'm here."

"You can stay," Túrin said.

Thranduil knew that Thingol and all his guards and attendants and everyone must be nervous, but he didn't think a little while longer would do any harm, especially not when Túrin must have run here for a reason. Being surrounded by everyone at court could be overwhelming. Thranduil had never been far away from home and everyone he knew before, but it must be hard. It would be better not to rush him. He would let Túrin rest for a little while, and then he would take him to Thingol—just as Beleg had, before.

"I can show you something," he offered.

After another hesitation, Túrin nodded.

"Follow me," said Thranduil. He crawled ahead, between the branches, into the gloom. The last of the day's slight, slipping in through the leaves and vines above, made soft, pale shifting shapes on their hands and on the ground beneath. After a long way, the structure of the dome opened up onto a green glade, surrounded by dense undergrowth on all sides. No one would walk here casually, and if he and Túrin didn't stand up, no one would be able to see them from outside the enclosure. The glade was also hidden, but there was more room to stretch out, and even lie down. It was a fine place for a nap, with soft earth and open sky above. Clusters of flowers grew in profusion, along with tufts of dense grass. Thranduil and Túrin admired their new hiding place in silence, while birds sang in the trees overhead. It was not yet true night, only early twilight. The birds would keep singing a little longer.

"I come here sometimes when I want to be alone," Thranduil said. In the past days and weeks, he had formulated an ever-growing list of questions he would like to ask the Adan, but he did not ask a single one of them now.

Túrin nodded again, lowering his gaze. He reached down and ran his fingers through the grass. There were shadows beneath his eyes, and he did not smile.

"Everyone's looking for you," said Thranduil. "They must be worried."

"I didn't mean to make anyone worry. They shouldn't worry. I don't know why I—" He broke off, closing his eyes.

"It's all right. No one will be angry with you," Thranduil reassured him quickly, moved by Túrin's pained expression. "I'm not angry. I've been waiting to meet you. I've never met an Adan before."

Túrin's eyes reopened, slowly. "Never?"

Thranduil inclined his head in confirmation. "Never."

"I hadn't really met Elves before," said Túrin.

"But now you have. You've met Beleg, and King Thingol, and me. Everyone's happy you're here, that's why they're worried. But we don't have to go back right away. We can wait until you feel better." He cast about the glade, looking for something else he could show the Adan, to cheer him. Along with the two of them, the glade was bursting with life, all the usual green and growing things, rising from the earth and insisting on themselves… "Here—I'll make you something."

"Make me what—?"

"Look." Thranduil's gaze went to a stand of nearby pale purple flowers. These particular blossoms were edible and often harvested. It would do no harm to take a few, especially at this time of year. Quickly, he plucked a few of them, leaving a length of green stem on each. Once he had gathered enough, he wove them together. Flowers and grasses were easy to weave, especially into a circle. When they were joined, he tapped them with his fingers. He could feel the energy moving through the blooms and stems. He closed his eyes briefly, concentrating on that living force, pressing the separate strands of it into one: forging it into a single, singing ring and willing the flowers—live, preserve. They were no longer separate blooms; they had become a single entity. Their petals, which had been in the first stage of wilting, straightened with pride, made fresh and new. It was such a simple thing to do, yet Túrin was wide-eyed and rapt, staring at his hands as if he had performed a wonder. "A crown for you, Prince Túrin." Thranduil reached out and settled the circlet of blooms on Túrin's head.

Finally, Túrin smiled at him. Thranduil smiled back.

They did not stay long, alone in that green glade together, hidden by a conspiracy of leaves and vines and branches. They were never meant to stay long. The world outside was waiting for them to emerge. While the sun receded and the stars began to show themselves—one by one at first, then all at once, like a rain of jewels scattering across the sky—they played and laughed for a few moments.

As Thranduil predicted, when they returned to Menegroth, Túrin did not receive a single scolding. Thingol wrapped him in a fierce embrace. Beleg was as impressed by Thranduil's skills as Thranduil had hoped. He praised Thranduil for his skill in tracking, and said he could visit Túrin whenever he wanted. Eventually, he was able to ask Túrin every question on his extensive list.

Many long years later, tragedy faded into myth for so many, but not for those who were there. Thranduil rarely listened to the sad songs that touched on the subject of Túrin Turambar, but when a certain mood was on him, he would ask the harpers to play one of the few he approved of. Thranduil had grown very old. Seated on his throne, wearing his own heavy crown, he would lean back and remember the smile of a young boy with his dark hair full of flowers.

[babymetaldoll]

The "Rumple Buttercup" situation (Matthew Gray Gubler/ Reader)

Requested?: Yes!

Hi, I don't know if this is where you take request but I was thinking about a 2nd part to "The devils food cake" chapter about when they think of names they argue about the middle name being rumple (Matthew wants rumple to be the middle name (y/n) doesn't)

Category: Flufflies fluff. Hardcore fluff.  

Summary: Matthew tries to convince his wife to name their first newborn "Rumple Buttercup."

Warnings: Zero. I don't think I even cursed on this one. But you have to know how to handle your fluff.

Word count: 2K

Masterlist

You can read the original one shot here 

A/N: Hello! How is everybody doing this week? Sending love to all my pretty people 💜 I got so excited with this request I made this gif for it ✨

                                         ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The house was oddly silent when (Y/N) walked in. She smelled the fresh baked cookies and... lavender? That was new. The place wasn't a mess when she left the house that morning, but it didn't look like that at all. Someone had been taking care of everything in her absence.

- "Matthew?"- (Y/N) walked in and took a look around. Everything was clean and in perfect order. It didn't loot at all like the house she had left that very same morning.

- "In the kitchen, Bunny!"- he announced with a cheerful voice and (Y/N) followed the delicious smell and the sweet voice of her husband.

- "Welcome back! How was your day with your mom?"

- "Hey! It was good. I had fun"- Matthew smiled at his wife as soon as he watched her walk into the kitchen and opened his arms to greet her with a warm hug.

- "I missed you, Bunny"- he whispered and kissed her lips sweetly, cupping her face with both hands, holding her cheeks, and caressing them with his lips.

- "I missed you too, honey."- (Y/N) murmured and sighed, enjoying the sensation of Matthew's hands on her.

- "And how's my little baby bean?"- he whispered, and his hands traveled from her face to her belly.

- "Baby Gub is kicking a lot today. I think he is having a rave in there."

The way Matthew's heart skipped a beat each time he heard the words "Baby Gub" killed him. He couldn't get over the fact he was going to be a father in four months. He couldn't believe it yet. It was his dream come true.

So, Matthew hummed in response and kissed his wife one more time before looking at her with a big adorable, and goofy smile.

- "I've got you a little surprise,"- he announced and held her hand

- "Really? I noticed you did some cleaning. Is that the surprise?"- (Y/N) asked as Gubler insisted she sat on a couch and helped her taking out her purple Converse.

- "That's part of the surprise,"- Matthew answered with a mysterious smile- "Now stay here and relax for a minute."

- "But no. Wait, stay here too, I missed you," (Y/N) argued, but Gubler just pecked her lips and walked back to the kitchen.

- "It will only be a second, Bunny! Meanwhile, tell me, what did you do with your mom today."

- "She took our baby bean shopping. Can you help me get a million bags from the car later?"

- "Sure!!"- Gubler yelled from the kitchen- "What did you get?"

- "Mom went nuts and got us so many baby clothes. I don't think our baby will have time to wear it all before it's too small for him."- Matthew chuckled at the idea of their baby wearing tiny socks that didn't fit on his little feet.

- "Then, she invited me for lunch and overfed me, but I can't complain, 'cos I was starving, and she took me to that little Italian place near to their house, and it's just so good! I think I ate my weight on garlic bread."

Matthew frowned and looked at the tray he was preparing. It had homemade cookies, a chocolate milkshake, one cupcake, and a heart-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

- "So... you are not hungry?"- he asked, hesitant to bring his wife the snack he had prepared for her.

- "Starving, actually. Your son is gonna make me gain a million pounds."- Matthew smiled and grabbed the tray, walking with confidence back to the family room.

- "That's what I wanted to hear, 'cos I made this for you."

(Y/N) widened her eyes in awed, smiled at her husband when he stood by her side and placed the tray on her legs.

- "I cooked all your favorites while you were gone"

- "Matthew Gray, you are the sweetest husband on Earth"- (Y/N) raised her hands and reached his face, forcing him to lean over and kiss her.

- "What do you want?"- she whispered and smiled

- "What do you mean?"

- "I'm your wife. I've known you for the last... nine years. I know you are going to ask me for something"- Gubler gasped, pretending to be shocked and insulted, but (Y/N) shook her head and took a large sip of her milkshake.

- "Really, (Y/N). I can't believe you think I'm nice to you only because I wanna ask you for something."

- "So you won't?"- (Y/N) raised an eyebrow and chewed a cookie- "These are delicious, honey. Thank you so much."

- "no, you already broke my heart"- Matthew sighed and sat at the other side of the couch.

- "Oh, come on!"

- "I was just trying to be nice with my wife."

- "You are adorable. If I weren't pregnant already, I would actually ask you to knock me up"- Gubler tried not to chuckle but failed.

- "Come on, Gub, give me a smile"- (Y/N) giggled and looked at Matthew- "You know you want to smile."

- "Stop it."

- "Come on, honey"- (Y/N) reached out for his hand and held it- "Just tell me what it was that you wanted to ask me"- Gubler bit his inner cheek and sighed.

- "I hate that you know me so well."

- "It's part of the job of being your wife"- (Y/N) smiled pleased and grabbed another cookie- "So?"- she chewed the cookie and gave one to Matthew.

- "Ok... here's the deal"- Matthew ran his hands through his hair and made a pause, trying to rearrange his thoughts. (Y/N) looked at him, waiting and eating all the cookies on the dish.

- "I'm waiting."

- "Ok, so... we are going to have a kid"- Matthew stated- "And that kid has to have a name"- suddenly (Y/N) knew exactly where that conversation was going.

- "Yes, he has."

- "And we haven't talked about the baby's name"

- "No"- (Y/N) shook her head and crossed her arms on her chest immediately.

- "But I haven't even told you what I wanted to ask."

- "The baby's name won't be Rumble Buttercup."

Matthew opened his mouth to argue, and (Y/N) looked right into his eyes with a deadpan stare.

- "But why not?"

- "Are you serious, Matthew? You already have a "kid" named Rumple."

- "Yes, but it's different, 'cos he is my "first child book," and our baby is our firstborn child."

- "No"- (Y/N) shook her head again and grabbed the sandwich. Yes, she had eaten most of the day, but she really felt hungry. Maybe it was anxiety or cravings, but whatever it was, she just felt hungry the whole time.

- "Come on (Y/N), be fair here."

- "Ok, I'll be fair. Explain your case."

Matthew stood up and cleared his throat, ready to convince his wife. He fixed his hair, though it was a useless attempt to look a little more serious. If anything, he just made her want to laugh more, 'cos he was being adorable.

- "Ever since I was a little kid, I always dreamed about the day I could call my first son "Rumple Buttercup." Rumple is an old family name in the Gubler family, and I am sure naming our baby as his ancestors will assure him a life of happiness and love."

Gubler smiled at his wife, and (Y/N) nodded, chewing the last bite of the sandwich.

- "Who was called Rumple in the Gubler's family?"- she asked, and Matthew almost jumped, looking at her excitedly.

- "Excellent question, Bunny. You'll see, my great-great-grandfather, Rumple Buttercup Gubler, first arrived in America in early 1800, all alone with no family. And he built the first casino of Las Vegas."

- "In the early 1800"- (Y/N) raised an eyebrow and tried not to laugh.

- "He was a visionary. Don't you want our baby to be a visionary too?"

- "I do, I definitely do. But... can we talk about my great-great-grandfather? His name was Yertle, and he also had a vision. And a mustache!"- (Y/N) said and made her best not to laugh, as Matthew raised an eyebrow and bit his lips, trying not to laugh as well.

- "Yertle?"- he asked, crossing his arms on his chest- "Your great-great grandfather's name was Yertle?

- "Yes"- she nodded and smiled- "Yertle the Turtle. It's also an old family name, and most of the man in my family had carried that name after him".

- "I've never heard of one an "uncle Yertle" when we hang out with your family."

- "I've never heard of an "uncle Rumple Buttercup" when we hang out with yours."

- "He has been mentioned many times. All the Rumples of my family has been amazing men."

- "Just like our good old Yertle."

- "But I called dibs on the baby's name!"- Matthew failed and laughed at his own words and sat by his wife, huffing. (Y/N) giggled and rested her head on his shoulder.

- "What if we find a great name together?"- she whispered. Matthew held her hand and played with her fingers between his for a second.

- "Or we can call him Rumple."

- "Rumple Yertle Gubler"- she whispered and shook her head- "I'm not sure."

- "Rumple Buttercup Yertle Gray Gubler"- he corrected and chuckled- "Fine, let's find another name."

- "Thank you, honey"- (Y/N) smiled and sighed- "Wanna split the cupcake?"

- "Yes, please."

Matthew looked at his wife, carefully splitting the cupcake he had made for her, and took half. He could have had a whole tray of cupcakes, but that was the only one that didn't burn. Matthew wasn't really the best baker in the world, but he had tried his best. He wanted to do something nice for his wife. She hadn't been feeling good in the last few weeks. The baby kept her up most of the nights, moving and kicking. She couldn't really rest, and everybody kept telling her it wasn't going to be any better once the baby was born.

- "So... wanna think of names now?"- (Y/N) asked him with a smile- "Wanna think of another man with an amazing vision and incredible mustache to name our baby?"

- "Actually"- Matthew whispered and smiled- "I had a plan B in case you weren't on board with Rumple."

- "Really?"- (Y/N) frowned, wondering what was Matthew going to come up with now- "Suprise me."

- "Vincent"- there was a long silence after Gubler said that name. (Y/N) gave it a little thinking, running all the nickname options in her head.

- "Vincent Gray Gubler"- Matthew added the rest of the name- "What do you think?"

- "LIttle Vincent Gray Gubler... Vince, Vinnie..."

- "Like Vincent Price. He is an amazing man with a vision and an incredible mustache."

(Y/N) kept nodding as she finished eating her cupcake. Her husband turned to her and waited for an answer.

- "I love the name"- she whispered and grinned at Matthew- "What do you think, Vincent Gray?"- she asked, looking at her tummy.

- "Knock once for yes and twice for no"- Matthew giggled and caressed (Y/N) belly. And as if he could hear them, the little baby kicked her once. The Gublers looked at each other with wide-opened eyes, surprised and shocked by the quick answer of their unborn son.

- "It's settled then, Vincent!"- Matthew replied to the belly and kissed it- "You just picked your name!"

(Y/N) looked at her husband and moved closer, holding his face with both hands, and pulling him closer to her.

- "I love you, Gub"- she whispered and kissed him

- "I love you too, Mrs. Gub."

- "Thank you for putting a baby on my belly,"- she murmured, and he chuckled, caressing her hair and looking into her eyes, which were getting a little tearful at the moment.

- "Sorry, hormones"- she excused herself and chuckled- "I'm just so excited we picked his name."

- "I'm excited too, Bunny,"- Matthew whispered and kissed her one more time- "Now, what do you say I get you some herbal tea?"

- "I'd ask you to marry me, but you already did,"- she answered with a huge smile. Matthew kissed her one more time and stood up. Vincent Gray Gubler. Sounded like a dream.  

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Taglist: 

@all-tings-diego​

[bi-bard]

Please Say That You're Joking (Pt.1) - Chuck Shurley Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Please Say You're Joking (Pt. 1) [You can read part 2 by clicking here!]

Pairing: Chuck Shurley X Winchester!Reader

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 2,930 words

Warning(s): mentions of sex, threats of violence

Summary: (Season 4; Season 11) (Y/n) had a single one-night stand while coping with loss in a not healthy way... if only they had a clue about the weight of their actions.

Author's Note: I was recently going back through some of the "lighter" episodes of Supernatural because I wanted to watch something I could chuckle at. That's where this came from.

This might be the most crackheaded thing I've written in a while.

Also, the amount of things I had to bullshit my way through this is actually ridiculous.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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Sam, Dean, and I walked into the motel room. We were all confused and slightly scared.

We had gone to a comic book shop to do some work on a case. However, we were then called fans.

Fans of what?

Well, fans of a series of books about our lives.

I was the middle Winchester child. Two years younger than Dean, two years older than Sam. I was beyond confused when I saw some weird, romanticized version of me on the cover of a book.

"This is so weird," I mumbled, plopping onto one of the beds in the room.

Sam jumped onto his laptop and started researching. Dean was holding one of the books, reading through it. I didn't even want to touch it.

"I don't like how he describes (Y/n)," Dean commented. "It's weird. It's like he's in love. Listen to this..."

Dean dramatically clears his throat and starts to read in an even more dramatic voice, "'Even after a hard hunt, (Y/n) could easily be seen as the most beautiful of the siblings. They mimicked the beauty of their mother more than their brothers. There's no bruise or cut that could take the loveliness away from the natural curves of (Y/n)'s face. If only they could see how everyone else would stare-"

"Okay, ew," I muttered, walking to the table. "What'd you find?"

"Well, it seems like Carver Edlund is a pen name," Sam shrugged. "And the fans are intense."

"As in," Dean asked, closing the book and joining the two of us at the table.

"Well," Sam handed me the laptop so Dean and I could look at it, "there's fanfiction. About all of us."

"What's this, 'Sam/Dean'," I asked.

"It's... me and Dean... together."

"They just don't care that we're related," Dean asked. Sam nodded.

"God, this is so weird."

"So, how do we find this guy," I asked.

--time skip--

We managed to find the publisher of the novels and found her house.

"So, you published the 'Supernatural' books," I asked as we walked in.

"Yep," she nodded. "Yeah, gosh. These books... they never really got the attention that they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap."

"Could not agree with you more," I said. "We're hoping that our article can shine a light on an underappreciated series."

"Yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press, then maybe we can start publishing again," she replied excitedly.

"No, no, no," Dean immediately shut her down. "I mean, why... why would you want to do that? It's such a complete series with Dean going to hell and all."

"Oh my god, that was one of my favorite ones," she rambled. "Dean was so strong and sad and brave. And Sam... I mean... the best ones are when they cry... like in 'Heart' when Sam had to kill Madison; the first woman since Jessica he'd really loved. When Dean had to call John in 'Home' and ask him for help. Or when (Y/n) went back to the motel room after getting kidnapped and just had to sit in their own head and had to truly process not only the death of their mother but now their father. The mixed feelings were amazing."

"You're a really big fan," I noted. She nodded.

"Gosh, if only real men were that open about their emotions."

"Real men," Dean asked.

"I mean, no offense," she replied. "How often do you cry like that?"

"Well, right now I'm crying on the inside," he muttered.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Lady, this whole thing is funny."

"How am I supposed to know this is legit?"

"Oh, trust me," Dean mumbled. "We're legit."

"Well, I don't want some smart-ass article making fun of my boys," she snapped as she sat in her chair.

"Oh, never," I replied quickly. "We actually are big fans."

"You read the books?"

"Cover to cover," I promised.

"What's the year and model of the car?"

"1967 Chevy Impala," Dean smiled proudly.

"What's May 2nd?"

"That's my- uh... Sam's birthday," Sam replied.

"Sam's score on the LSAT?"

"Umm... 174," Sam said nervously.

"(Y/n)'s first hunt?"

"Vampire in Washington," I answered. "Dean was at the motel sick and (Y/n) almost chopped John's head off when he scared them."

"(Y/n)'s favorite memory that's not related to hunting?"

I smiled, "Helping Sam get ready for a date when he was a teenager because Sam didn't trust what Dean had told him."

"Dean's favorite song?"

"It's a tie," Dean replied. "Between Zep's 'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blues.'"

She finally laughed and smiled again, "Okay, okay. What do you wanna know?"

"What's Carver Edlund's real name," Sam asked.

"Oh, no. I can't," she shook her head.

"We just wanna talk to him," Sam continued. "You know, get the 'Supernatural' story in his own words."

"He's very private," she shrugged. "Like Salinger."

"Please," Sam tried again. "Like I said, we're um... big fans."

Sam unbuttoned his shirt enough to show his anti-possession tattoo. Dean pulled his shirt to the side to do the same. I rolled my eyes and yanked the arm of my jacket down and pulled up the sleeve of my t-shirt. I don't wear as many layers as them and I had opted to put the tattoo on my upper arm because I thought it looked nicer.

"Awesome," the lady mumbled before standing up. "Y'know what?"

I looked away as she pulled her pants down.

"I got one too."

"Wow, you are a fan," I slapped Dean's arm. The lady fixed her clothing before grabbing a pen and paper.

"Okay," she said. "His name's Chuck Shurley-"

And I stopped listening after that. I knew that name... why did I know that name... oh... oh no. I'm gonna kill him. We're going to meet this man and I am going to end up killing him.

I followed Sam and Dean as they started walking out of the woman's house.

"Excuse me," she called as we reached the door. We looked back at her. "I'm sorry, but you look exactly like how I picture (Y/n) when I read the books."

I chuckled, "Thanks."

"He describes (Y/n) with so much detail," she smiled. "You could play them in a movie."

"Thank you," I waved as we walked out.

"'You could play them in a movie,'" Dean teased.

"I know who Chuck is," I said, ignoring him.

"What," he asked. I nodded. "How?"

I pointed to get into the car. I got in the back seat and Sam and Dean sat upfront. Dean started driving to the address the lady gave us before I started speaking.

"Okay, when you went to hell, Sam's not the only one who ran off," I explained. "I wasn't gone for four months... just two weeks. In those two weeks, I got involved in a single one-night stand. The name he gave me was Chuck Shurley."

"You screwed the man who wrote books about us," Dean asked, sounding angry.

"Do you think I knew he was writing books based on our lives?"

"He had to have known who you are," Sam added. "This isn't an accident. He has to get visions or something."

"Yeah, I know," I nodded. "He made money off of my name and then screwed me."

"Damn," Dean mumbled. "I missed a hell of a lot."

I rolled my eyes.

--time skip--

I knocked on the door loudly. Sam grabbed my arm, shaking his head at me. The door was opened and I smiled obnoxiously as Chuck. He was in a robe, his boxers, and an old white shirt. He looked tired and like he hadn't had a goodnight's sleep in days.

"Chuck Shurley," Dean asked.

"Chuck Shurley that wrote the Supernatural books," Sam added.

"Nice to meet you," I said. "This is Sam... Dean... and I'm (Y/n)... the ones you've written books about."

Chuck sighed and went to shut the door. I stepped in, stopping it with my foot.

"Listen, I appreciate the enthusiasm, I really do and I remember you," he motioned at me, awkwardly grinning before seeming to shake the memories out of his head. I almost slapped him right then. "But please... go get a life."

"You see," Dean followed me, helping to force our way inside. Sam made sure the door shut behind us. "We have a life... and you're selling books about it."

"Okay, this isn't funny," Chuck mumbled.

"You're right," I said. "We just wanna know how you're doing it?"

"I'm just a writer, I'm not doing anything."

"Then why do you know so much about demons and tulpas and changelings?"

"Is this some kind of 'Misery' thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a 'Misery' thing!"

"No, it's not," I shook my head. "Believe me, we're not fans."

"What do you want then," he asked.

"I'm Sam... and that's Dean and (Y/n)," Sam tried again.

"Those are fictional characters," Chuck yelled. "They aren't real!"

Dean grabbed him and pulled him outside.

"Wait, wait-"

"We aren't kidnapping you, calm down," I rolled my eyes. Dean opened the hidden compartment in the impala's trunk.

"Are those real guns?"

"Yes," I nodded. "And real rock salt, real fake IDs."

Chuck let out a laugh at it, "Well, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really are my number-one fans. That... That's awesome. So, I-I think I've got some poster in the house."

"Chuck, stop," I rolled my eyes, grabbing his arm as he went to walk away.

"Please don't hurt me," he begged.

"How much do you know," Sam asked. "Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Have you not been listening," I asked. "The real question is how do you?"

"Because I wrote it," he explained.

"You kept writing?"

"The books never came out because the publisher went bankrupt," he furrowed his eyebrows.

I stepped back, letting go of his arms.

"Okay, wait a minute," Chuck crossed his arms. "This is some kind of joke, right? Did Phil put you up to this?"

"Oh my god," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. I grabbed his robe. "I'm sorry but I'm really tired. Nice to meet you. I'm (Y/n) Winchester, these are my brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester. You wrote and published books about us, probably knew who I was, and then you still slept with me."

He stared at me in shock.

"What," I asked.

"The last names were never in the books," he mumbled. "I never told anyone about that. I never even wrote that down."

"Then I guess we have a lot to talk about," I let go of his robe.

The three of us followed him inside.

--time skip--

"I got a visit from Cas," Dean explained as he walked in. "I've some important information."

After talking to Chuck and getting a draft of what was supposed to happen, we were all panicking. Dean told us to wait here. Lilith was going to come for Sam and we both thought it'd be harder if there was more than one of us here at all times.

Now, Dean was coming back from seeing Chuck.

"And that important information is...," Sam trailed off.

"He's a prophet of the lord," Dean said, smirking at me.

I shut my eyes, letting my head fall forward.

"Please say you're joking," I mumbled.

"Nope," Dean replied.

Sam looked over at me. He only started chuckling after his brother broke.

Dean was laughing his head off within seconds, "You screwed a prophet!"

"Shut up," I groaned. "I'm gonna kill him!"

"Archangel will kill you."

"I'll happily pay that price," I muttered. "I slept with a prophet."

"At least that means he didn't write himself to sleep with you," Sam tried to comfort me.

"Yeah, God just decided I was supposed to sleep with the guy publishing books about my life," I replied sarcastically. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Come on, it could be worst-"

"Sam, love you, but don't finish that sentence if you even kind of value your life," I muttered.

I was desperate for this conversation to just end.

--time skip--

After all was said and done, and Chuck accidentally helped us chase Lilith away for a while, we gave Chuck a lift back to his place.

I followed him up to his door, offering to look around and make sure that he's safe. He shook his head.

"I have an archangel protecting me," he reminded me. "Can't get any safer than that."

I nodded.

"I'm sorry, by the way," he said. "About us. I didn't recognize you until after... it all... and I didn't say anything because I didn't really know how to explain it. The whole event makes me feel all scummy."

"It's alright," I replied with a chuckle. "It's fine, I promise."

He offered me a nervous smile, "Y'know, in all of my visions, you're the most vivid thing."

With a grin, I leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. I stepped back and headed back toward the impala. I made sure to take note of his nervous and flustered face.

"See you around, Chuck!"

"You... You too," he called after me. I got in the backseat and got comfortable.

"So... screwing the prophet wasn't that bad," Dean asked.

I just rolled my eyes, waving through the window at Chuck as Dean pulled away from the curb. Leave it to a Winchester to end up in a situation like that.

--time skip (season 11)--

Sam and I followed Dean with our guns ready. Dean was following the amulet that he had owned for a long time without even knowing it could show us where God was.

Everyone had been infected by Amara only minutes ago but now it was okay and Dean's amulet was glowing.

"Holy shit," I mumbled, seeing who was walking over to us.

Chuck.

He was supposed to be dead. That's why Kevin's prophet powers had been activated.

"No way," Dean said.

"Hey," Chuck... or God said. "We need to talk."

Despite our understandable hesitation, Chuck reached forward, teleporting all of us back to the bunker. I stepped away from him, slightly overwhelmed.

"(Y/n)," Chuck walked over and tried to grab my arm. I instinctually slapped him. I was nothing but confusion and anger. "I deserved that. Just, please?"

I stepped away again.

From behind Chuck stepped Kevin's ghost. My breath caught in my throat. The poor boy had been through so much shit because of us.

Kevin told us about how we looked stressed and that we should listen to Chuck.

Then, Chuck waved his hand. Kevin turned into a ball of white and blue light before ascending beyond the bunker.

"Where'd he go," I asked.

"Heaven, where he deserves," Chuck promised. I nodded.

I listened to the rant about how Chuck had abandoned us all and how awful things were. Then, the conversation turned to the plan to stop Amara. The boys talked about needing Lucifer and Chuck got incredibly upset. In a fit, he went to leave. I stepped in front of him.

"No," I said bluntly. "Even if you want to avoid the subject of your estranged son, you can't just leave."

"(Y/n)-"

"Sam, Dean," I looked at them. "Give us a minute?"

They both nodded, glaring at Chuck on their way out. I tried to ignore the instincts that were telling me that Chuck was just selfish.

"(Y/n)," Chuck mumbled.

"Just answer my questions," I said. "Then we can discuss what to do with Amara without you storming away recklessly. Okay?"

He nodded.

"Have you been God the whole time," I asked.

He nodded.

"You wrote all of our stories?"

Another nod.

"Did you write that I was going to sleep with you?"

I felt manipulated and angry. I was desperate for an answer. I knew that this could've made me feel like dirt, but I needed to know.

"No," Chuck said. I clenched my jaw, ready to call him a liar. "I told you. I had been pretty much hands-off for a long time. Did I know who were? Absolutely. I'm sorry I lied to you about that. But I didn't plan anything between us. We weren't some divine plan."

I nodded, looking down.

"You know how Dean and Amara are connected," he asked. I nodded, looking back at him. "We're like them."

"And that's not a divine plan-"

"I'm not doing a good job explaining this," Chuck shook his head. "It feels like we're like them. Like there's this bond that just happened as soon as we met."

"You lied to me, for years," I said. "Saying we have some bond isn't gonna fix that."

"I know."

We both fell silent. Slowly, I started laughing. Chuck furrowed his eyebrows, "My only one-night stand... and it was God."

Chuck started laughing with me while I really processed what I had done.

I slowly stopped laughing.

I didn't notice until it was too late that Chuck had slowly gotten closer to me. As soon as his lips brushed mine, I pushed him back. Not hard, but enough to get him to step away.

"No," I mumbled. "Not that, no."

Chuck nodded, "Got it."

"Now," I sighed, "we need to actually plan to stop Amara, and if we need Luci-"

"We don't," he said bluntly. "We can do something else. We don't need him. Okay?"

I nodded. In my gut, I trusted him. Maybe that was me being an idiot but I did trust him. For now at least.

-------------------------------------

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[bluebell-winter]

Tastes Like Poison OCs

"We made a little family because our families are crap." - Belladonna O'Riley

Introducing...

Jessamine "Jessy" Potter

Face-Claim: Felicity Jones

House: Slytherin

Wand: Blackthorn, phoenix feather

Family:

Petunia Dursley

Vernon Dursley

Dudley Dursley

October Hansley

Belladonna O'Riley

Azalea McKenna

Friends:

"Who needs friends when I have my family with me?"

Pairing:

Theodore Nott (Briefly)

October Hansley

Quote: "I say that sometimes you need to walk in darkness to get to the light."

Jessamine Potter, also known as Jessy, grew up cold and emotionless because of the way the Dursleys treated her. It left her feeling isolated, until she befriends another outcast loser like her. For the first time in her ten years of life, she finally feels like she has a friend - family.

She decides that she will do anything for this boy. This person who treats like how she wants to be treated. An equal, someone who wants her around. She was shocked yet delighted when she found out that October is going to Hogwarts too.

At least she's not going in alone. Then she meets two other girls, Belladonna O'Riley, and Azalea McKenna who all seem to come from the same family-less background like her. Who's to say that they can't form their own family?

October Hansley

Face-Claim: Devon Bostick

House: Gryffindor

Wand: Aspen

Family:

Jonas Hansley (Father)

April Hansley (Mother)

Jessy Potter

Belladonna O'Riley

Azalea McKenna

Friends:

"I don't need friends when I have the girls with me."

Pairing:

Lily Moon

Jessamine Potter

Quote: "I'm not scared of walking in the dark. I live in it."

October Hansley is British-American, British on his mother's side, American on his father's side. He moved to Magnolia Crescent when he was ten-years-old.

Due to strange things happening around him, his parents become scared of him and start their anger out on 'that freak of nature'. It led to him becoming withdrawn and he once ran away from home for a week before he was brought back to them.

He ends up meeting Jessy Potter, a strange girl just like him. Due to their oddity, it sparks a friendship and they become the family that they don't have. He would do anything for her, including going with her when Vernon takes off to escape the overflood of letters. Then he meets two other girls and they decide to become the family they don't have.

Belladona "Bella" O'Riley

Face-Claim: Sorcha Groundsell

House: Hufflepuff

Wand: Chestnut

Family:

Emily O'Riley (Mother)

Lionel O'Riley (Father)

Jason O'Riley (Brother)

Jessy Potter

October Hansley

Azalea McKenna

Friends:

Jason O'Riley

"What? I say my brother is my friend. I wouldn't exactly call him family, but he is a friend."

Pairing:

Ernie MacMillion

Wayne Hopkins

Quote: "It's time to kill a bitch." She giggled, "Who would expect a Hufflepuff to have a little darkness in her?"

Belladona O'Riley hates her parents. When she went to her dad to tell him what Emily was doing to her, he brushed off and looked the other way when Emily kept going into her daughter's room at night.

She was glad when she started to go to Hogwarts. She meet Jessamine Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived! She wasn't expecting how cold and detached Jessy seemed to be, but her best friend, October, was outgoing and friendly to make up for it. Azalea McKenna was aloof. However, Bella can tell that there was sadness in them. That was okay, because there was sadness in her too, desite how she tried to be outgoing.

The finale straw came when she went home for the winter holiday, her mother tried to suffocate her with a pillow when she went to bed. She went back to Hogwarts and told her real family what happened. It was relieving that they believed her and they agreed to her decision to kill the bloody witch.

Azalea McKenna

Face-Claim: Jessica Biana Sula

House: Ravenclaw

Wand: Pine

Family:

Maria McKenna (†)

Kevin McKenna (†)

Jessy Potter

Bella O'Riley

October Hansley

Friends:

"Who needs friends nowadays? I sure don't!"

Pairing:

Dean Thomas

Ron Weasley (?)

Quote: "What can I say? I make intelligence look sexy."

Azalea was raised by ghosts. She was eight when her parents died. She's not entirely sure how they died, but she buried them in the backyard and no one knew. She would go shopping on her own and no one seemed to notice. Her parents refused to accept death and they would 'raise' her like they had died.

Keeping her parents death a secret, she pushed anyone and everyone away in case they take her away from them. However, something about Jessy, October, and Bella intrigued her. They seem to be hiding secrets of their own, and she can't help but branch out to them.

Then Bella comes back to Hogwarts in tears over what happened to her over the winter holidays, saying she wanted to kill her mother. Angry over what that witch did to one of her 'sisters' she started to look into poisons in the restricted section.

These people won't replace her parents, but it would be nice to have someone living to talk to for once. She would do anything to protect her family, even if she had to help kill anyone that harmed them.

"They look so close. It's rather sweet to see members of the four Houses interacting and thinking of each other as family."

"There's something...dark about them, though."

Taglist: @arrthurpendragon, @wordspin-shares, @jurassicobsessor, @hoqwaarts, @nixdragon, @mariedemedicis, @carlylynnlaufeyson, @fuckitup-in-style, @raith-way, @ocs-supporting-ocs, @eddysocs, @malafvma, @thelittledarkrose

[fivelakesinwriting]

Side of the Road (JJ Maybank)

Author's Notes: This is somewhat of a continuance of Sour Straws and Short Shorts - same coupling. JJ tries to fix his girlfriends truck... I think I have her name in my head - if this coupling continues I'll name her "officially"

Warnings: Undertones of grief (parental death), Sexual references - sexual innuendos. Mostly just fluff.

Requested? NO, but all requests for OBX are open!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

Throughout the course of his young life, JJ Maybank had accumulated tricks of many trades, but the finer workings of engine mechanics was something he had yet to master. He did alright, but it took him some time to remember what exactly he was doing, especially with older cars.

The hood of her father's old Ford pick up truck was propped up, JJ had brushed the dried leaves from storms passed out from the engine block and looked down, hopping that whatever was wrong with the truck would pop out at him. He scratched the back of his neck as he glanced down at the engine again then breathed out a sigh.

"Are you sure I can't try to hot wire it?" JJ yelled over his shoulder to her as she swept the veranda.

"JJ, if you ruin my daddy's truck.." She stated as she stopped her motion and pointed a finger at him.

"Okay! Just an option for our back pocket." JJ laughed softly as he held his hands up in defense before he stuck his head back under the hood to keep tinkering.

After almost one hour under the hood, the hot Summer sun on the back of his neck, JJ was certain he had hit the mark. He grabbed the bandana from his back pocket, wiped his hands and called her name.

"Come start it. I think I may have fixed it." JJ grinned as he walked towards the house, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

"You did?" She asked as she scurried out of the sun-room and down the steps. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the truck.

"Take the keys, and start it up. I'm pretty sure that I figured it out." JJ smiled as he placed the keys for the truck delicately in her hand, knowing what the truck meant to his girl.

She gripped the keys tightly in her palm, then climbed into the driver's side and turned the key over in the ignition. JJ tossed his hands up in triumph as the truck rattled to life. He watched as she brought her hands to her face and released a soft sob.

"I never thought it would run again." She whispered as her hands ran over the steering wheel.

"Told you I would make get it going for you again, baby." JJ smiled as he held his weight over the frame of the driver's side and looked at his girl. He reached a hand inside the cab of the truck and softly thumbed away a tear on her cheek.

"Thank you, JJ." She whispered, her cheek resting in his hand.

"Of course. So, you gonna take me for a ride in this old girl?" JJ smirked with a smack on the top of the truck.

"Nope. You're taking me for a ride." She replied with a small sniffle as she hopped out of the truck and patted his sides.

"You're letting me drive your dad's truck?" JJ asked as he watched her walk around to the passenger side. The truck was all she really had left of her dad. No jewellery, no books or clothes. Just the pick-up.

"It doesn't feel right to be the driver. Besides, I think my dad would have really liked you." She smiled as she placed her feet on the dash and curled her finger at him to summon him inside the cab of the truck.

"Other then when I wanted to hot-wire his truck." JJ grinned as he climbed into the truck and pulled on his seat belt. He rested an arm over the back of bench and pulled her close as he put the truck in reverse then drove off her property and down the street.

For a truck that had been parked in a dirt driveway for almost two years, JJ thought it handled like a dream. He kept her close against him as he drove through The Cut, the windows of the truck down, the breeze against his sweaty skin.

As JJ turned the wheel for a slight bend in the road he heard a sputter in the engine of the vehicle, and his heart dropped to his feet.

"No, no." JJ muttered as he took his hand off the back of bench and grabbed the wheel with both hands.

The truck slowly crawled to a stop and with a single sputter the engine died again. JJ groaned and with a curse dropped his head down to the steering wheel. She softly placed her hand on his thigh and the truck gave one more groan as it creaked to a halt.

"It's okay, JJ. I can't believe you even got it to start." She stated softly as she reached out and ran her fingertips through his hair.

"It should work. I don't know what I did wrong." JJ grumbled as he pulled off his seat belt and got out of the truck. He walked around to the front of the truck and gave the hood a smack with his fist before he tugged at his hair.

"JJ, it's alright. It was nice to have you drive me around in it for a little bit. I just want to get it off the side of the road and back home. Then we can figure out what it needs." She stated as she hopped out of the passenger seat and walked around front with him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her head rested against his chest.

"Yeah. Let me call Kie, she has a hitch on the back of her car." JJ sighed as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he pulled his phone out of the back of his shorts.

JJ pulled himself away from her and made a quick phone call to Kiara requesting she come get them as quickly as she could. JJ slipped his phone back in his pocket with a sigh as he stood next to his girl and stared at the broken down truck.

"She said she'd be here within an hour or so. She's finishing up a shift at The Wreck." JJ replied as he bit at his bottom lip.

"Well, it's too hot in the cab of the truck. Wanna sit in the bed? We should both fit." She stated as she gave his back a pat then made her way to the bed of the truck and climbed in.

"Don't have to tell me twice." JJ muttered to himself with raised eyebrows as he kept his eyes fixed on her backside then followed her lead and crawled into the bed of the truck with her.

JJ laid in the bed of the truck and pulled her close, her head on his chest as they looked at the tops of the trees that gave them some semblance of shade in the late afternoon. The guilt he felt for bringing her dad's truck so far from home wavered as they watched the clouds pass overhead, and he felt her hands twist the hem of his shirt.

"You know, I think it counts as public indecency to have sex in the back of a truck, even on the side of the road. I think it's even worse because it's your dad's truck. So, I think he'll haunt me if I touch you." JJ smirked as he kept his eyes on the treetops but let her fingers wander beneath the hem of his shirt.

"I think he'll forgive you this one time." She smiled as she rolled over on top of him and straddled his hips, her hands on his shoulders for balance.

"I don't know. Are dads super forgiving about stuff like that?" JJ laughed as he placed his hands on the small of her back and rolled her over, placing himself between her thighs.

"My dad was." She grinned as she ran a fingertip through nylon of his shark tooth necklace.

"You weren't dating me when he was around." JJ replied with raised eyebrows.

"You're right. Probably would've sent him into an even earlier grave." She giggled as JJ playfully pinched her thigh as it pressed against his hip.

"Rest his soul." JJ smirked before he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. He let out a sigh of relief as she pushed her hands through his hair then wrapped her arms around his neck to keep him close.

JJ held his weight on his left forearm, while his right hand reached beneath the waistband of her shorts to twist around the strings of her bathing suit bottoms. With the simplest of tugs they would be undone, but JJ still wasn't sure how he felt about the whole public indecency thing.

"I love you, JJ. Thanks for fixing my dad's truck." She stated softly, her forehead pressed to his.

"I didn't fix it. But you're welcome, and I love you too." JJ replied before he pressed his lips to hers again, his hands on her lower back to brace her against the hard bed of the truck.

JJ could only focus on her fingers in his hair, and her thighs pressed to his hips. He didn't hear her kick off her shoes, but he did feel her toes touch the backs of his legs. His mind only focused on what was in front of him, and that was her mouth.

"Did you guys want me to drive around for a few minutes? Because I can come back."

Kiara's voice pulled the two of them from their frantic kisses. JJ pulled his hands from the waistband of his girlfriend's shorts, untangling his fingers from the strings of her bikini. He sat on his knees and brushed a hand through his hair as he looked down at his girlfriend towards Kiara.

"How..how long have you been there?" JJ asked as he cleared his throat, a hand extended down to his girlfriend to pull her upright to a sitting position.

"Long enough to know you're really handsy." Kiara chuckled as she walked around the front of the old truck and hitched it onto her own car.

"I'm not handsy." JJ muttered as he hopped out of the bed of the truck, turned to grab his girlfriend's hips and helped her down onto the dirt once more.

"You're all hands, JJ Maybank." She smiled up at him with a pat of his chest.

JJ shrugged as he gave her a playful smack on her backside, then nudged her towards Kiara's SUV. He grabbed the keys from her dad's truck on his way towards the other car and pocketed them. As he sat in the backseat on the way back to their destination he ran through all the scenarios he could think of that made the car stall then die at the side of the road.

Maybe it was just old, and passed it's prime. The inevitable bound to happen while JJ pushed on the gas pedal. Or maybe, JJ liked to think as they pulled back into her familiar driveway, someone looked over them that day and gave that car a burst of life for her. JJ didn't want to take any credit because they didn't make it anywhere.

JJ wanted the truck to run again, for real. He wanted it to be her truck. He would figure out how to make it run as good as any Kook convertible on the road, no matter how many times he had to go to the junkyard for spare parts.

"Thanks again, Kie." JJ nodded as he watched as Kiara backed up off the property after they had unhitched the truck from the SUV.

JJ stuck his hands in his pockets, pursed his lips and lost himself in thought. He jumped slightly when he felt her arms wrap around him from behind.

"Think you might want to bring those hands inside for a bit?" She asked as she placed a kiss on the back of his shoulder.

"Yup." JJ replied as he turned around, grabbed her hips and lifted her over his shoulder. He laid a swift smack on her backside and smiled as she gave him one back.

He wasn't the only one that was all hands.

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you for your support! xoxo

Requests for OBX are open!!

[sunnysviolin]

Omotober Day Six

“Bran thought about it. 'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?'

'That is the only time a man can be brave,' his father told him.”

― George R.R. Martin

The walk home had become much more fun since they had met Aubrey. Before they met her it was just him and Kel. That wasn’t to say Sunny hadn’t had fun on those walks. Kel was his best friend, and he never pressed Sunny out of his comfort zones. He did pretty much all of the talking between the two of them and only stopped periodically to check in with Sunny or get an encouraging nod. Sunny loved to listen to Kel’s ranting and wild made up stories, and he usually ended up drawing them once they got back home. But now that Aubrey was there too, it wasn’t just a walk. It was a performance.

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

They continued back and forth, practically tripping over each other in their haste to respond. They had seemingly forgotten anything was around them but their ranting, facing one another as they walked and expertly avoiding obstacles with the practiced ease of those who were used to doing two things at once.

Aubrey had only joined their friend group a week or two ago, but she fit so seamlessly in with them it was hard to remember she hadn’t always been there. Kel had found a sparring partner in her, Mari finally had a little sister to spoil and do girly things with, and Hero could have made friends with a brick.

As for Sunny? Well he wasn’t too sure exactly what he thought of the girl, but he enjoyed having her around. He had never been a fan of loud noises or anger, but somehow with Aubrey it was different. She never stayed angry for long, and even when she was mad, she had never been scary.

“Did too times a million!” Aubrey declared, and Kel gave a disgusted growl, throwing his hands up in the air. She smiled smugly and stuck her tongue out at him, which only started their argument anew as Kel’s fire was rekindled by her slight.

Sunny smiled to himself as their back and forth sped up even more, and he continued to walk innocently at their side. As long as he didn’t call any attention to himself, they wouldn’t remember to drag him into it and try to get him to pick a side. Sunny couldn’t exactly remember what started their argument, or why they were still going at it after being at each other's throats since they had all gotten on the bus, but their shouting was funny.

An unexpected bark broke through his happy haze, and Sunny froze. His good mood evaporated and in its place was cold fear, dripping down his back and gluing his feet to the sidewalk. Hector bounded closer, tongue waving in the wind as he ran towards them. Kel cut off his argument with Aubrey and called for his brother. He intercepted the dog as it got to him, holding his collar fast and keeping him back from Sunny.

Aubrey gasped and clasped her hands together, squealing at the arrival of the furry terror. She skipped over, elated by the new arrival.

“Oh my gosh, who is this?” She asked, holding out her hand towards him. Hector was distracted from his mission to squirm out of Kel’s grasp and sniffed her hand with a laser focus. Once he had determined she was friend and not foe, Hector refocused his efforts to escape.

“This is Hector. He’s my dog,” Kel said, his words punctuated by pauses as Hector jerked them back and forth trying to get his freedom. Hector was only a dog, but Kel was also only a nine year old boy, and trying to hold onto an energetic ball of fur was quite the exercise.

Sunny tried to remember the steps Mari had given him for when he felt like this. Calm down.. Focus. No, he had to focus first, right? He couldn’t remember, and if he couldn’t remember the order, then it wouldn’t work. Sunny shut his eyes tight, letting black starbursts try to distract him from the pain in his chest. It didn’t work, then he was just scared he wouldn’t see if the dog came near him. He opened his eyes again. Kel was watching him with a worried look, and shame colored Sunny’s cheeks. It was bad enough to have such an overreaction to something completely normal, but Kel’s eyes on him somehow made it even worse.

“So cute!” Aubrey shrieked, not noticing what was going on between the boys. She squatted down and let Hector lick at her face, giggling in joy and scratching behind the dog’s ears. She took his face in her hands, speaking to him in a sweet baby voice, “You’re just a little lovebug, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kel said, trailing off. He was clearly distracted by trying to manage everything around him, “Where is Hero?”

Said boy was hurrying up the street, an electric blue leash in his grasp. He was panting from exertion, the same way he always did when what they were doing required any exercise, and Sunny vaguely wondered if Hero had his inhaler with him. It was just running up the street, it shouldn’t trigger an asthma attack, but Sunny also knew that stress sometimes made them worse and could make just breathlessness pull into a full attack. On top of the fear and on top of the shame, now he also had to deal with guilt wrapping around his shoulders for causing Hero to have to run out and help him.

“I’m so sorry guys, Mari and I left the door open to get a breeze and I wasn’t paying attention to where he was,” Hero explained as he clipped the leash to Hector’s collar and pulled him into a heel. Hector walked in circles around Hero and tugged to try and get closer to the group of kids. The second Hero had him, Kel was back by Sunny’s side, blocking him and Hector with his body and quietly checking over his best friend. From around Kel Sunny spotted Mari walking over at a much slower pace, and the steel in his spine began to melt. Mari meant safety.

“Why are you sorry?” Aubrey asked, cocking her head to one side and looking around. She finally saw Sunny hiding behind Kel and she seemed even more confused.

Mari arrived with a gentle smile, walking around Kel and hugging Sunny close without words. He wrapped his arms around her automatically, breathing out a sigh and letting the tension fall out of his shoulders and onto the ground. He had felt better when Hero had intervened, but Mari was the one that made him feel safe again. If she was here, nothing bad would happen.

“Calm down. Focus,” She whispered, and the order clicked into place in Sunny’s mind. Once he knew that, he took an experimental breath. It was easier. He could do it.

“Sunny’s afraid of dogs,” Kel explained as the sibling had their moment, “We always keep Hector in our parents room when he’s around,”

“I completely lost track of time,” Hero said apologetically, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. Now that Sunny was taken care of, Kel knelt down by Hector and shushed the still whining dog, scratching underneath his chin the way he liked. Hector’s leg began to shake erratically and he held his head high to give Kel better access.

“It was an accident,” Mari replied, keeping Sunny close to her. When she worried she liked to have him right beside her, and he never minded. Beside her was the best place for him.

Aubrey hummed to herself, clearly taking in all of the information. She pulled her mouth into a thoughtful frown surveying the scene around her. The young girl walked away from where the brothers were and over to Sunny and Mari. She stood in front of him with her hands behind her back rocking back and forth on her heels.

“He’s a nice dog,” Aubrey stated, shooting Sunny an encouraging smile. She kept her voice sweet and light, the way she always talked to him. He bit the inside of his cheeks, avoiding eye contact with the girl. The shame sitting in his belly got worse.

He knew that Hector was a nice dog. Hector was the only dog that Sunny could even get relatively close to, but that didn’t change the fact that he was a dog. He was loud, and he jumped, and he licked, and the energy was just...too much. Sunny didn’t even have a good reason for being afraid of dogs, he just was. He had always been, and he always would be. It was frustrating. It was humiliating.

“It’s okay, Sunny,” Mari soothed, as if she knew what route Sunny’s mind was bringing him down. She patted his shoulder and turned to Aubrey, “It’s just something that he’s uncomfortable with, it’s not something that has to change.”

Aubrey loved Mari. She liked all of them, but Sunny knew that it was more with Mari. Aubrey looked at her like she hung the moon and the stars, and her word was law. They had only known Aubrey for a short time, but he already knew that she would never disagree with his sister.

That’s what made her next words so shocking.

“My mom says that fears should always be confronted. You can never bring light into the dark unless you open the door.” Aubrey stated, the words clearly rehearsed from hearing them over and over. She ended by holding out her hand towards Sunny, her smile never wavering.

“Aubrey...” Mari started with a sigh, her voice kind but delicately firm. Sunny knew what would come next from that tone.

Mari would gently put Aubrey down from the idea and bring Sunny back to the shelter of their house before anything else could happen. She would wrap him in blankets and hot chocolate and love and he would never have to confront what scared him so badly. It was the option he knew, the one that he should take. It made sense and it was safe, responsible even. It would be foolish to break out of what he knew and go beyond into the unknown.

But Aubrey was still holding her hand out. She still believed in him.

Sunny took her hand before Mari could finish her thought, letting himself be pulled out of his sister’s arms. Aubrey hummed a happy tune as she walked them away from Mari and back towards the boys. They were staring at Aubrey in silenced shock, Kel managing to keep a tight grip on Hector’s collar in spite of being clearly lost for words.

Aubrey, unphased and unafraid, changed her grip on Sunny’s hand and turned it so the back of his hand was facing Hector.

“So what you do is let him smell you. That way he knows you’re a friend, and you know that he’s okay with you being close to him.” Kel and Hero had taught this to him over a dozen times, but trying now wasn’t quite so stressful.

It had to be the way Aubrey held no fear or concern. Every time he had tried this before, his sister and friends had reassured him they were holding Hector tightly and that should anything go wrong, they would be here. The possibility of going wrong was what scared Sunny so badly, but that possibility wasn’t present now.

Hot puffs of air hit the back of Sunny’s hand as Hector eagerly sniffed the offered appendage. Kel still had his arms looped around Hector’s neck and Hero was holding the leash, and nothing had gone wrong yet. A pink tongue darted out and licked at his fingers, and Sunny pulled away. It wasn’t the normal jerky motion that was usually accompanied by a sudden breathless panic, he just didn’t like that feeling. Aubrey giggled and reached her own hand out to pat Hector on the top of his head.

“If you pet him, he won’t be able to lick at you,” She commented, and Kel took the silent direction to turn Hector close to him so Sunny could reach his body, “He’s really soft!”

She was right, Hector was soft. His fur was thick and glossy, clearly cared for and brushed thoroughly to keep it this nice. Sunny had seen Kel brushing Hector in the backyard plenty of times before, but now he could see the appeal of putting in all that work. Experimentally he scratched his fingernails against the dog’s body and he was rewarded by Hector giving a full body shake, turning so Sunny could get to his other side.

This was nice, unexpected, but nice. Mari was coming over now, putting a hand on Aubrey’s shoulder and beaming. Sunny turned around to look at the two of them and awarded the girl’s with one of his rare smiles, both of them lighting up at the unexpected happiness on Sunny’s face. Aubrey let go of his hand and turned all of her attention onto Hector, distracting the pooch with her baby talk.

“Are you fwiends now wiv Sunny? Yes you are, yes you are you sweet little baby,”

Sunny pulled his hand back, but he didn’t retreat. He was focused on watching Aubrey. Strong, confidant, idealistic Aubrey. Sunny finally figured out what he thought of her.

[auty-ren]

Tainted Heart: Chapter 2

The Agreement (Western AU)

Pairings: The Mandalorian x Reader. Din Djarin x Reader. Outlaw!Din x Reader. (Reader is female/fab)

Rating: Mature

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Mentions of blood/injury. Cursing. The kid being adorable. The reader is his babysitter. Pet names. Teasing. Soft-core Smut (kissing, heavy making out, groping, dry humping, mentions of virginity/inexperience, a few touches, unintentional edging.)

A/n: Thank you guys for being so patient, I hope it was worth the wait! We’re finally seeing a little action. Enjoy babes. (gif by @javier-pena​)

Tainted Heart Masterlist | My Masterlist

The wool was rough under your fingertips, a heavy dull gray that almost burned under the harsh tint of the midday sun. They were heavy, soaking with water and suds as you lifted them from the wash pan, squeezing what excess you could out of the fibers. A coo broke through the static that had filled your mind, numb with the monotonous action of wet, wash, rinse, repeat. The child stayed strapped in the high chair, peeking at you through white sheets you hung to dry, his inquisitive hands stretching out when the breeze blew white cotton out close, but just barely grazing the reach of his fingers. He babbled again at the sight of you, squealing when you threw the curtains of laundry away and broke the makeshift barrier between you. 

He repeated the snarl you had given him, playful and disappearing between fits of smiles and giggles.

“Are you a monster, little one?”

He was meant to scare you, giving a growl that was far cuter than it was fearsome in his pretend game of monster.

“You’re too sweet to be a monster.”

He kicked his feet in excitement, gnawing at the bread you tore into pieces on the plate attached to his chair. He offered you a piece of it, forming unrecognizable syllables as he prompted you to take it from him.

You wanted to be selfish, to hide away with your newfound companion and keep him perched on your hip permanently. None of it should be temporary.

It had been years since your home felt so warm; since the fogged windows were lit with a bright, new life that fumbled over every surface. It was sticky, the feeling you had laying on your chest when you were woken to the sound of shrill cries; the ache in your tired bones all but faded at the tear-soaked smile that greeted you in the dim mornings.

Maybe you were just lonely, growing tired of the same life you lived each day when it was just you and Papa. 

Maybe you had mistaken content for boredom.

And now it was unpredictable, a welcomed unpredictability.

You learned the hard way not to leave the little one unattended, even for a moment; not for a few measly seconds. The broken porcelain of an old vase had been enough of a warning, luckily it wouldn’t be missed and after you had cleaned up the mess, you could hardly notice any wrong had happened. 

At least, your father didn’t notice. 

But the child was just curious and his cries as he sat horrified at the pieces of glass surrounding his feet had been enough of punishment for the both of you. 

This arrangement took too much convincing on your father's part.

He only wanted to protect you, but at this point, you doubt he was thinking straight. Your father had sacrificed too much to keep you safe; to carve out a simple life for you on the edges of the real world, to keep it from crushing your spirit the way it did his.

You assumed your father’s anxiousness about the situation stemmed from something you didn't think you could understand; loved ones lost long ago to the evil that had spread to your quiet town.

But there were some things that only time could heal and it seemed for him there was never enough.

He wanted to send ‘Mando’ packing as soon as the wounds stopped bleeding, and the sun lit up the morning sky.

But you convinced him otherwise.

There was no way he would've made it twenty minutes without hurting himself, more so since he had to care for a child. A child who you found very difficult to say no to, especially since he became such good company.

Mando could stay until he was healed. But there was work to be done.

Mando’s right arm had been wrapped in a makeshift sling, leaving his less dominant hand available to carry out whatever your father asked of him. Although you argued he shouldn't be working at all, both of the men disagreed with you. Papa decided it was only fair for him to work, to repay the debt he owed you.

You wouldn't call it a debt, but you kept that to yourself and let your father negotiate the terms of Mando’s stay.

There wasn't much argument, Mando would work odd jobs around your homestead, things that Papa was unable to do anymore, and things he hated to ask you to do; in return, he and his child would be allowed to stay until Mando healed. But there were conditions, terms that your father had laid out and would be considered law as he saw fit.

Mando would not be allowed to sleep in your home.

Your father made sure to bolt the doors once Mando had left after dinner, checking each of them before he could settle enough to try and sleep. A place was made for him in the barn, blankets and an extra pillow for him to sleep with, the least you could do for someone about to work your entire harvest for practically nothing. 

The child would be allowed to stay inside.

Papa had gone into the attic in the early morning after he agreed to let Mando stay, and pulled down the old crib that had been yours once upon a time. You aired and cleaned all of the blankets and toys you had sorted inside of it, hoping that maybe they could get one final use before they crumbled from age. He slept in your room, just down the hall from where you and your father stayed.

You didn't like the idea of separating someone from their child, but your father insisted and Mando made no objection otherwise.

Your attention for the past week was wrapped completely around the fingers of a grinning child, smiling and keeping his curiosity at bay when he grabbed at anything within reach. He used unsteady legs, you being his shadow for the entire day; picking up the small toys that were left in his wake of discovery. 

He was a healthy little boy, just barely big enough to explore some on his own, and he had the energy to prove it. There were only a few times he slowed enough to nap, sleep that weighed heavy on his eyelids as he crawled into your arms, puffing small breaths into the crook of your neck while he rested.

He refused to fall asleep alone, if his fingers weren't gripping yours with an unusual force he didn't allow himself to sleep; he just cried, wailed until you picked him up again, and finally settled when the sound of your heartbeat was within reach.

You couldn't imagine what this child has been through.

There were a few things only you and Papa had spoken about, conversations and theories about your guests, the stranger who slept in the loft of your barn, and his precious companion. Papa wasn't very sentimental towards them, he was gentle with the child and polite to Mando; but the sooner both of them had left, the easier he would sleep at night. 

He repeated the same thing before bed, his voice shaking and eyes worrisome in ways you had never thought would come from him. You didn't protest, just nodding your head and trying to soothe the lines seemingly etched into his brow. You drifted off as he squeezed your fingers in his, tighter than he ever had before, and pressed a worried kiss to your hand.

“Do not trust him.”

You hadn't told Papa about what happened between you and Mando once he had gone to bed, and you'd keep it from him so long as you stay sane. He would never know about how much you thought about it, how part of you wanted something like that to happen again, how you wanted to feel that blossom of heat in your chest ten times over.

Papa was under the impression the two of you had never spoken and it was best it stayed that way. 

He couldn't be a good man.

He had the scars to prove he was a fighter, most of the wounds old and standing out sharply against his skin.

You remember how they looked, how tender and soft the damaged flesh felt when you ran your fingers over it.

That doesn't just happen.

He carried a gun, and two more sat on the saddle of his horse. One fell from the pockets of his rucksack when you lifted it off the horse's back, the other a long rifle that was heavy and awkward in your arms.

You didn't tell Papa about that, you just hid them in the haystack of the barn and hoped he wouldn't find them.

But he was kind.

He hadn't spoken much, not to you. Maybe to your father but, he hardly looked you in the eye; his face was mostly hidden behind the brow of his hat and sometimes by the cloth he wore over his face when he worked.

Or he was cunning.

Maybe Papa was right, maybe the sooner they left the better.

You didn't want them to leave.

Mando wasn't like other men, he had an attachment; something you doubt most low-lives ever considered having.

And you wanted to know why.

The baby was squealing for your attention again, and he giggled loudly when you shifted him in your arms. Papa looked in your direction, watching the two of you sitting on the porch. You gave him a small smile, one he returned in genuine, with promise that reached the crinkles in the corner of his eyes. You busied yourself with taming wisps of the baby’s hair, for the hundredth time that day, soft curls that gently framed his face sticking out in every direction. He giggled again, his hands reaching out in curiosity as he curled his fingers into his palm and babbling away as you sat him on the porch floor. He took a few unsure steps, then taking the lead as if he knew exactly where he was going and you kneeled behind him ready to reach out when he lost his balance.

He made his way to the railing, stopping above the steps that led down to where Papa sat working.

He had bushels of food sitting at his feet; vegetables that had been growing in the fields you kept behind the house. It wasn't too impressive, just enough to suffice with a little leftover that was sold at the end of the season; but it took far too long to pick any of it when the time came.

After years of practicing medicine, your father had fumbled his way through becoming a farmer. Papa had already been working for a few days, and at dinner last night he gave Mando the task of starting the harvesting of the far-garden in the morning while he’d work what had already been picked.

Mando wasn’t much of a talker; he was polite, sometimes even kind when he spoke to you, but it was few and far between. He did everything asked of him, sometimes even more.

You had mentioned at dinner last night you were planning to wash laundry in the morning, gathering clothes and sheets and rags Papa unintentionally littered about the house. It was tiresome and took most of the day, the clothesline filled with garments that took hours to dry even on a summer day. The chill in the air wasn’t the problem at all this time, the heat was.

It was tedious to fill and heat the washpans, sometimes you’d think it better to ignore that step, but the constant cold on your raw fingertips told a different story.

You hurried to eat this morning, making sure the baby was fed and occupied, so you could begin filling the tubs for laundry. 

But someone beat you to it.

You found both of the tubs were sitting out by the clothesline, filled to the brim with steaming water and the laundry stacked beside them.

Papa had been with you all morning, he couldn’t have done it.

You wanted to thank him, but it felt silly to do so, your cheeks getting warm with the thought like some smitten schoolgirl.

You had seen him one other time today, when he came in for some lunch, his boots kicking up dust that tracked from the back door into the kitchen. His pants were just as filthy from digging in the gardens all day, but his sleeves had been pushed up his arms, and his hands were still damp from when he had washed them.

At least he's not a slob.

You don't think he notices you, standing on the far side of the kitchen, quietly watching as he removes his hat, pulls down the covering on his face, and sits next to the kid. He checks on him with a ruffle of his hair, the baby babbling away with a grin on his face as he watches Mando stuff his mouth with some of the bread and meat you sat out for him on the kitchen table.

He ate in silence, quick and rushed as if someone would take it from him before he could get enough to be satisfied. You stood at the other end of the kitchen, watching him eat and interacting with his kid. He said something to him, something so quiet you barely heard it but you saw the way his hand brushed over the curls on his boy's head; just like you had been doing almost every day you watched him. He finished as he drank glass fulls of water, over and over until the pitcher was nearly empty. 

His eyes are like saucers when he turns around to see you standing there, and his mouth opens and closes as if he was thinking of some defense.

Definitely didn't see you standing there.

You try your best to smile at him and move to ask him if he'd like more to eat, but he's gone. He grabs his hat from the table and mutters a thank you before slamming the door closed behind him.

It couldn't be easy with just one arm, nothing your father had given him was gentle and no matter how much he dismissed it, you could tell he was still in pain. Even with the medication given to him regularly, he winced at the slightest movement and was slow compared to your father.

You could barely see his silhouette, still moving out in the gardens and shadowed by the sun setting behind him. He takes a moment, sitting on his ass and looking up at the painted colors of the sky. Delicate pink and orange hues fill a blue sky, mixing until there is a symphony dancing above your heads, dusk settling over the land as everyone prepares for sleep. He stretches his neck from side to side, wiping his face with his sleeve with a huff and pulling himself back to his feet.

“He's a very sweet kid.” 

Papa’s voice interrupted your watching, your eyes snapping over to him taking a seat in his chair, patting his lap, and asking for the child to join him. He waddled over, reaching up with grubby hands and squealing as he was lifted in your father’s lap.

“Why don't you take some time and wash up for dinner.” Papa insisted, nodding towards the door as he settled the child on his lap. “I’ll call for you when it's ready.”

“Nonsense,” you sigh, standing up with a smile and turning towards the door. “Someone has to help you.”

“And that someone has to be you?” He’s grinning, nothing evil or malicious; mostly playful, with just a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes.

Your earlier intentions of dinner are forgotten as you lean against a wooden doorframe, the aged wood scratching at your arm when the sleeve of your dress is pushed up. You watch Papa coo at the child, patting his head with careful hands as the toddler yawned and laid against his chest. Your feet ache as you look down at the worn boots you wear, the leather cracked and crumbling from age at the soles of your feet; they throb as you roll your ankles, switching your weight from one foot to the next until some of the pain subsided.

 It’s just your breathing for a moment, the simple, rhythm rise and fall of your chest; occasionally dueted with the squeak of Papa’s old rocking chair.

“Looks like I'll need help taking this into town,” you gestured to the bushels sitting at the edge of your porch steps, cutting through the silence with a huff of your breath. “Kuill will be excited to see everything we've got for him.”

“Has he said anything to you?”

He took you by surprise, the change in subject hitting you with a force that had your chest seizing up. How pitiful you felt, your heart racing at the mention of a man who probably didn’t remember your name.

“No,” you offer meekly, hoping your father didn’t notice the change in your pitch. “Why?”

“He’s hardly spoken a word since he's been here.”

He rocks his seat back and forth in a steady motion, gentle as the baby in his arms drifts into slumber.

“Maybe he likes to keep to himself.” You shrug, moving to lean against the porch railing and face him.

Your father considered your reasoning, his brows knit with heavy thought and a frown set on his lips.

“Or he's guilty of something.”

There’s something you barely catch in Papa’s words, something like malice but with less bite as the words hit your ears.

“It's only for a few more days,” you pick at the splintered wood under your hand, the edges rough and pointed as they press deeper into your palm. “We'll manage.”

Papa nods his head, patting the baby’s back as he sleeps on his chest; his limbs stretching for just a moment before he settles back to sleep. You run your hands along the child’s back, soothing the tired grumbles that fell from his lips. Leaning forward, you pressed a kiss to your father’s temple, squeezing the free hand he had perched on the arm of his chair.

“You know they would've died if we hadn't helped.” You whisper it into his hairline with another kiss, turning to head back inside before anything else is said.

You keep quiet, somehow afraid of speaking nightmares into existence. They were safe for now, healing and resting what little they could on your farm. A stranger and his baby that dug tiny holes in your chest that you doubt were closing anytime soon. Part of you feared when the time came, you wouldn’t want to let your precious companion or his father go.

“I know.” 

-

An intake of breath is all he allows.

He says nothing, and his face is blank, staring in front of him with discipline as your father digs into his shoulder again. His wounds are still tender, pink, and fresh against his tan skin but he doesn’t even wince; there's barely a twitch in his eye, and the shaking push and pull of his breath is the only indication he felt any of it.

He does groan when your father pours alcohol over it, remnants of blood washing away from the openings in his shoulder, thrown away stitches sitting on the cloth with your father’s tools.

You didn’t ask how his stitches had broken, you could only assume it happened today while he was working, and it was almost dinner before you noticed the tint that had stained his shirt red.

You hold the child a little closer in your arms, turning his head and busying him when he reaches out for Mando. 

The painting hung mounted on the wall, just low enough it was about eye level with you and the child. You pointed to flowers caked in oil paints, their colors faded from years of the sun that breached the windowsill. He cooed as he followed your lead, tracing the petals with his fingers until he gave a big yawn.

You placed a kiss on the top of his head, the soap you used to wash him earlier still lingering on your lips as he laid on your chest. His blanket wrapped around him, the wool warm and green as you kept him snug in your arms.

“It’s time to say goodnight.”

You stayed at the threshold of the kitchen, Mando’s back turned to you as your father put new stitches into his shoulder. Papa paused for a moment, nodding his head in your direction until Mando turned his profile murmuring a ‘goodnight’ to the baby in your arms. He looked at you as he said it, something pulling deep in your belly as his eyes bore into yours; almost black in the darkness and twinkling from the light of your father’s lamp.

Papa cleared his throat, pulling your eyes towards him as you felt heat rush to your face. 

You hoped he couldn’t tell, that you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. When didn’t bring it up later, once the two of you were alone and everyone had gone to bed, you felt the pressure that built up in your chest dissipate. He went right to sleep, snoring loudly beside you while you laid wide-eyed and staring at the ceiling.

You're not sure what time it is, or how long you have been ‘asleep’ but everything blurs; your mind racing too fast for your drooping eyes to catch any sort of rest.

You laid warm beneath woolen covers as you watched the windows tint with fog, the barest hints of a cold breeze slipping between the cracks and leaving a chill in the air.

It must be very cold out in the barn.

You wouldn’t entertain the idea. Mando was a grown man, he didn’t need you to care for him or coddle him like he was a child.

Staying in bed was the right decision, but decision making was never your strong suit.

The doors to the barn looked wicked under the dim moonlight, tall and intimidating as you reached a shaking hand out to them. They groaned as you pulled open, the track they rested on squeaking and shrill in the quiet night.

You just hoped he was a heavy sleeper.

You carried the two blankets you had been washing just this morning, something Papa kept around for emergencies; thick, wooly blankets that were itchy and coarse on your skin.

They were better than nothing.

There was only one lamp lit, everything mostly covered in shadow save for the few feet of orange glow coming from the middle of the room. Hardly any sound in the air, nighttime completely dead save the occasional grunt and snort of the horses sleeping in their stalls. His belongings sat stacked in one corner, next to the makeshift bedding you had left in here just over a week ago. They were in a neat pile, a shirt and coat, his hat, the cloth he used on his face, and his holster.

He was nowhere to be found.

You put the blankets on his bedroll, hoping he would connect the dots whenever he came back. The hay crunch underneath your feet, even with your attempt at tiptoeing through the barn. You pulled the knitted shawl you wore tighter around you, shivering from the chill that seeped from cracked insulation in the walls.

You hadn’t even stood up before you jumped under the sudden baritone of his voice.

“Where are my guns?” 

The chill that ran down your spine wasn’t from the cold, but rather from accusation; deep, rich words that dripped from his words and held no real malice.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” You offered over your shoulder, slowly turning to face him head-on.

His arm was still in a sling, fresh bandaging that stood stark white against his worn clothes. He looked almost handsome in the orange hue of an oil lamp; his eyes bright even with the exhaustion pulling at his cheeks, his lips pouting and curls sticking out at his neck as if you had woken him in the embers of early morning.

“I know you didn't take them,”

He walked towards you, each step he took followed by your retreat until your back landed against the wall with a thud. Your eyes never leave him, never daring to break your stare even as your hand scrambled for purchase on the smooth wood at your back.

“So where are they?”

You counter him, thinking you're clever with a smile and a half-concocted comeback, batting your eyes when his lips quirk in response.

“How do you know I didn't keep them?”

He laughed, amusement hiding behind the rich color of his eyes and biting with the sparkle of his teeth.

“I doubt you've ever held a gun in your life, sweet girl.” His voice lowered at your pet name, sinful words that swirled at the base of your spine until you squirmed.

“I know you didn't take them.”

You take a deep breath, your cheeks burning when his hand comes to rest beside your head, his body coming just a hair closer until you feel pinned beneath him.

“I hid them.”

His eyebrow arches, questions stuck in the back of his throat that filter into one word.

“Why?”

You fiddled with the loose thread of your gown, wrapping the line excess around your finger until it pinched at the tip. Your ears thumped with the sound of your heartbeat, loud and racing as Mando drug his hand from your shoulder, across your neck. He cupped your jaw, squeezing your face in his hand for just a moment.

“You afraid of me, sweet girl?”

His voice rumbled, deep from his chest as he drags every word from smirking lips.

“Don't call me that.”

Any bite you had laced in your words was betrayed by the way you leaned into his touch, sighing when his fingers scratched at the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Yeah?” 

His lips were gentle, chapped, and sweet against yours with a tender kiss.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

You kissed him this time, testing the waters with a playful nip to his bottom lip; earning you a chuckle before he consumes you. Your lips slot lazily together in a clash of tongue as you taste one another, slow and sensual until your fingers thread his hair, tugging until he growls into your kiss.

“Thank you,” His breath puffed on your cheek, warm and wet on your skin as he trailed kisses over your face and neck. “For taking good care of my kid.”

“He's a sweetheart.” You huff out the words around a smile, your fingers tugging on Mando’s curls.

You almost moan when nips at your throat, his teeth leaving a mark on the juncture of your neck until he groans at the salty-sweet taste of soap on your skin.

“And you're beautiful.”

He steals the breath right from your lungs, gasping in between the short moments when his mouth wasn’t molded against yours. His hand on the back of your neck kept you pressed to his chest, your fingers ghosting over the stitches you could feel through the thin material of his shirt.

His leg was firmly pushed in between yours, his body supporting most of you as he hitched your leg to rest over his hip. The muscle of his thigh flexing when you barely rocked your hips against him. The cotton material of your nightgown did nothing to hide the feeling of rough denim on the softness of your thighs, scraping and molding red indents from the back and forth motion your hips made.

You nearly shout when he snakes his hand in between your bodies, cupping your mound while his fingers work against the bundle throbbing in between your legs; sparks of electricity shoot down to your toes and into the tips of your fingers with the slightest of touches. You ache against him, your body moving with him and seeking an unfamiliar end, a delicious coil in your belly that wound tighter and tighter with every swipe of his two fingers.

You’re panting, muffling pathetic whimpers against his ear while he mouths at the deliciously tender spot on your neck. You can hardly hold your head up, your mind swimming in a thick, intoxicating fog until the world blurred around the edges. You feel the build-up at the base of your spine boiling over, almost all-consuming to the point it tingles every nerve in your body with anticipation. 

You grip his forearm until your nails leave pale, pink marks in your wake, and push him away to finally breathe again.

He is about the only thing keeping you upright, slowly he dropped your leg until you stood alone; his touches stopped, leaving a dull, unsatisfied ache that seeped into your bones. The sweat gathered at your hairline was annoying, tickling you to the point of discomfort until you swiped it away with the back of your hand.

“I don’t want Papa...”

You can’t think, nothing on the forefront of your mind coherent enough; like you were hopelessly lagging while your thoughts raged and laid stuck on the tip of your tongue. You squeeze your eyes shut, rubbing your temple with your eyes opened, and find Mando looking right back at you.

If your father woke up to you gone, you’re not sure what he would do, other than assuming the worst.

And you certainly didn’t want him to catch you in the barn, not like this.

“I-I don’t…”

His eyes were almost gentle, sharp and consuming as always, but kind behind the harsh set of his brow.

He brushes pieces of your hair behind your ear, his touch still burning as it did before but with half the intensity felt a few moments ago.

“Go get some sleep.”

You collect yourself, pulling the shawl on your shoulders tight as you tuck your hands underneath your arms. He steps back once you regained composure and watches you even as you walk away.

You only make it a few steps before he calls after you.

“Tomorrow?”

There’s a hint of something in his voice.

Tease? Promise? Flirt?

Something that pulls harsh at your little heartstrings he had wrapped around his finger.

“How'd you like to go hunting?”

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Tainted Heart

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[dinosaurtsukki]

[ the same eyes as you ]

prequel to ‘it’s good to be home’ (read here)

pairing: tsukishima kei x f!reader

word count: 1.5k words

contains: slight angst, tsukishima is a FATHER

anon: henlo can you do one with tsukishima where he breaks up with reader and the reader just found out she's pregnant with his child, and then time skips he saw the reader with a child and he's like shookt and you can do whatever you want after that shhsahagag that's all i got. Sorryy if that's too weird.

a/n: omg YES PREGNANT!READER BUT MAKE IT ANGST !! i’ve been so excited to write this one and ngl it’s a bit short but i hope you like it !!

months ago, you would have never thought you’d be hiding a positive pregnancy test from tsukishima. in fact, he would be the first person you would show it to. in your mind, you could still see the way his eyes would light up despite the nervous quiver of his mouth at finding he was going to be a father. 

but after the fight you two just had, after hearing tsukishima say the words that put a period on your relationship, you kept the information firmly to yourself. you didn’t care if the child in your belly was also tsukishima’s. he said he no longer wanted you in his life and so, you were going to walk out of it. 

maybe months ago, you thought he would make a good father. 

“so, are you going to have the baby?” your friend asked. you decided to move into her place after leaving the apartment you and tsukishima once shared. you bit your lip, placing a hand over your belly, trying to imagine another beating heart inside of you. 

as much as you wanted to, you still couldn’t bring yourself to completely hate tsukishima kei. you wished things to go back to the way they were, that you would open your eyes in the morning and find his arm wrapped around you again or hear him mumbling an apology in your ear and a ‘don’t go’ that you were more than happy to oblige to.

you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of this baby and you were willing enough to raise them, even if tsukishima was no longer in the picture. 

...

tsukishima would rather die than admit that he quite liked it when he had to tour for school field trips. of course, he hated it when kids were rowdy but he found that they weren’t as annoying as adults said they would be. most of the time, tsukishima found that they were interested enough about the museum exhibits to be silent and pay attention. 

and most of all, tsukishima loved the funny questions that they would ask. his favorite one from the tour he just did earlier was when this young girl asked if it was possible that dinosaurs were furry or had hair since the fossils didn’t exactly said that they wouldn’t.

‘you sure are going places,’ tsukishima laughed to himself, shaking his head as he left the floor for another tour guide to take over with a fossil-digging activity. tsukishima suddenly remembered that at one point, he did consider having kids.

except, the person he wanted to start a family with was long gone. 

tsukishima was still filled with regret for saying those things to you years ago. after you left, the realization that the apartment, that was now technically his, was too empty. the bathroom didn’t have its usual amount of your skincare and hair products. the kitchen cupboards didn’t have your favorite cereal and tea. and the bed. it didn’t smell like you anymore. tsukishima actually stopped sleeping there for a week because it felt so wrong

he had half a mind to call you up and ask you back but you also changed your contact info, much to his surprise. and when he finally did get ahold of your number, tsukishima couldn’t press ‘call.’ 

after everything he said to you, would you really want to come back?

tsukishima did try to move on, tried to open himself up more to new relationships and meeting new people. but in the end, things never quite worked out. and tsukishima would always know that you were the one that got away.

‘no point in dwelling in the past,’ tsukishima reminded himself as he entered the museum cafe to get some lunch, which was funny because that’s exactly when the past caught up to him.

right when he sat at his table was when you sat at yours and when you looked up across the two tables between the two of you, your eyes landed on your ex-boyfriend.

“tsukishima kei,” you involuntarily said aloud.

“y/n,” you heard him say in reply. his eyes widened as he took in the sight of you. the fact that you were older was a given, but he couldn’t deny that you looked well. especially since the last time he saw you was when you were leaving his apartment.

“well,” you felt a wry smile tug at your lips. “look at you.”

you couldn’t put a pin exactly on how you were feeling. maybe years ago you would have turned away at the sight of him. but you had raised a whole child by yourself without his help. at this point, there wasn’t anything you were afraid of facing head.

“yeah,” tsukishima swallowed. “how have you been?” 

you had a feeling that tsukishima was drifting in and out of his comfort zone at this point so you knew you had to take some control. and with that, you decided to sit at his table.

“quite alright, actually,” you smiled. “got a job and a house and all that fun adult stuff,” you chuckled. with a pang, tsukishima realized you were playing on an inside joke between you two. he remembered that day you two went shopping for apartment furniture, laughing at the fact that you two were now ‘finally becoming adults because we bought a dishrack now’.

“ah, same here,” tsukishima nodded.

“you work here?” you asked, gesturing vaguely at the museum.

“yeah, curating and doing tours,” tsukishima said. he knew very well that he wasn’t being conversational but that’s because he wouldn’t be able to control himself. years ago, you left because he hurt you and he wanted you back for so long. and now, you were right here in front of him.

and then, you decided to finally drop the bomb.

"when i left, i was pregnant,” you said. tsukishima felt his world go cold as he stared at you in disbelief.

“did you...?”

“i kept it, her, actually,” you laughed before falling silent and looking softly at your child’s father. “...she has your eyes.”

as if on cue, a young girl ran into the cafe and into your arms. “mommy!” she exclaimed. tsukishima watched with wide eyes, recognizing the little girl as the one who asked the funny question about dinosaurs earlier during the tour. aside from his eyes, tsukishima could see that her hair was just a darker shade of blonde than his. but her smile, that was yours.

“hey, honey. how was the tour?” you smiled, fixing the ribbon on her hair that had come loose.

“it was great! there was this really big triceratops skeleton that was even bigger than you and then we had a fossil digging activity and i dug up a lot of them!” your daughter continued to chatter. over her head, you had a clear view of the look on tsukishima’s face. his mouth hung slightly open and other than the rise and fall of his shoulders, you couldn’t tell if he was breathing. his eyes looked close to watering.

“oh, it’s mr. tour guide man!” your daughter grinned, turning around to face tsukishima who looked like a deer in the headlights now. “mommy, do you know him?” 

“he’s... an old friend,” you said, patting your daughter’s hair. “now, why don’t you run along first? mommy’s only going to talk for a few minutes,” you smiled.

“grown-up talk?” your daughter wrinkled her nose.

“yes, grown-up talk,” you chuckled. your daughter hopped off your lap, waved a little goodbye at the man she didn’t know was her father, and ran off.

“i... i have a daughter?” tsukishima whispered, watching her leave. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“i don’t think it would have fixed anything, between us, i mean,” you sighed.

“but, i could have at least known,” tsukishima said. “i... all this time...” he sighed and hung his head, finally opening about what he wanted to say.

“i wanted to reach out to you, to get you back.” 

“why didn’t you?” you asked. “all this time, i thought you wanted nothing to do with me.” 

“i guess we’re even,” tsukishima chuckled mirthlessly. “but, i hurt you more. you had to raise her by yourself, didn’t you?” 

“pretty much,” you pursed your lips, remembering those first few months when you definitely needed someone around.

tsukishima swallowed. he had no right to ask for this, not after everything he’s done or rather, failed to do. but he wanted to at least let you know that he wanted this. “can i be there, for the rest of her life? for the rest of your life?” 

“not going to lie, i’ve been having a hard time letting people in after we broke up,” you said. “but... i have missed you, tsukishima kei.” 

it felt as if a huge weight was lifted off tsukishima’s chest. he didn’t deserve this second chance, but now that he had that, he wasn’t going to let that go.

“we could start small,” he offered. “i could come see you guys once a week if you like.” 

“that sounds good,” you nodded. “she’s a lot like you, you know? one hell of a smart mouth,” you chuckled. 

“i better brace myself then,” tsukishima laughed, genuinely now. “what’s her name?” 

“hikari,” you smiled. 

“hikari,” tsukishima nodded, looking out the window of the cafe and watching hikari, his daughter, laughing with her friends in the museum lobby. “she has your smile, y/n.” 

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