#tyler with the heart eyes as per usual

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[mickandmusings]

hell or high water

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader

word count: 3.3k

summary: lazy saturday nights with tyler were few and far between, especially during the spring months, when he and the wranglers found themselves hopping from one midwest city to the next. today the skies were uncharacteristically clear, and tyler wanted nothing more than to spend his night curled up next to his girl.

for the always lovely @fraaaaankiiiiieee , who always supports my delusional ideas <3

warnings: just fluff really, domestic life w/ tyler; situational angst, but no broken hearts in this one <3; some suggestively smutty moments but nothing explicit; inaccurate descriptions of tornadoes (i'm a mississippi girly, we don't even take shelter, we stand on our porches during tornadoes don't blame me); I wrote this at 2am, so forgive any weird inconsistencies or mistakes, thanks

-

The morning had been uncharacteristically quiet, almost eerily calm. Tyler had woken early, per usual, and rose to his feet, earning him a grumble from the girl who slept curled into his chest for warmth. He'd apologize with a cup of coffee later, knowing she wouldn't rise from her death-like sleep for a few more hours at the least.

He'd stumbled down the creaky stairs in only his boxers, starting the coffee machine immediately, and, as it dripped slowly, he used the downtime to stare out the window above his kitchen sink. The weather was perfect-the rising sun shining over the horizon made his view picturesque-almost like a painting in a frame. He enjoyed the view, but he knew the girl upstairs sleeping in his bed would enjoy it more: clear sky days like today meant she had him all to herself. He shook his head to a wasted day, but smiled despite himself. Tyler grabs his phone from where he'd tossed it on the kitchen counter, texting out a quick message to the Wranglers group chat:

'Nothing but clear skies on the radar, so enjoy your day off. Maybe use it to take a decent shower? Maybe wash some clothes? I'm talking to you Boone, you stink.'

The message stirred a frenzy of comments and replies from each of the members of his eclectic group, and he read through them as he sipped his coffee, leaning against the counter. He'd just sent a reaction to a particularly witty remark from Lilly when he felt something grab him from around his waist. He'd been so entranced with his stream of messages that he hadn't heard the pitter-patter of his girlfriend's footsteps down the hardwood stairs, or the yawn that had announced her presence.

"Mornin', beautiful."

Y/N simply gives him an unimpressed, tired grumble in response. She'd clad in one of his old sweatshirts, so well-worn that the neck of it is fraying. Her hair is knotted and messy from her sleep, and her eyes are barely opened. She finds Tyler's greeting ridiculous, but even in her half-dazed state, he finds the sight of her infinitely more breathtaking than the stunning vision mother nature had given him this morning.

Y/N shuffles in closer to him, burying her ice-cold nose into the crook of his neck, and he lets out a sound of discomfort when it hits his bare skin.

"Damn, you're freezin'!"

"Yeah, well, my personal heater likes to get up at the asscrack of dawn, and it's the only time I get to see him these days, so deal with it."

Tyler laughs, bringing his arms around her waist to keep her close.

"Lucky for you, sleeping beauty, the skies are clear for the foreseeable future, so today I'm all yours."

He feels her grin against his skin, and she nuzzles in a little closer. Her groggy morning voice speaks, muffled by her face being pressed against him:

"Then, Ty, my lovely, handsome, smart, sweet man-of-my-dreams...why the hell are we up at six in the goddamn morning?"

Her faux flattery oozes with sarcasm. He shakes his head silently, running a hand through her hair.

"I'll have you know I'm wide awake."

"Well, I'm not, and I never get to sleep in with you anymore. I want to go back to bed, and I want you there to keep me warm, please?"

She'd lifted her face to rest her chin on his chest, her big puppy-like eyes pleading up at him.

"Plus," she starts, bringing her gaze back down to his chest and placing a chaste kiss just below his collarbone. "We haven't had morning sex in like...weeks. Who knows what kind of mood I'll wake up in?"

She gives him a sly smile, and he cuts a knowing eyebrow lift her way. He knows all of her tactics, not that she needs them anyway, he'd never deny her.

"Fine, I'm sold." He lifts her into his arms, her legs around his torso as he carries her up the stairs. She gives him a sweet chuckle, hiding her red-flushed face into the side of his neck, his hands resting across her ass, unabashedly inappropriate.

He tosses himself onto the bed, her frame atop his.

"Promise to wake me up around, 9 or so? I don't want to sleep too much, or else I'll miss out on my whole day with you."

His chest warms as his hand runs through her hair, the other placed precariously on her opposite hip, tracing circles with his thumb.

"I will, cross my heart. Now, sleep, you're gonna need it," his voice deepens almost on command. "Once you're awake, you're all mine, darlin'."

His words drip with sensual flirtation as he places a kiss on the crown of her head. Y/N gives him a grin, her eyes drooping closed.

-

Hours later, after much needed sleep and a rather intense bout of love making, the couple stood exactly where they had just hours before. Tyler stood against the counter, watching as the new pot of coffee brewed. Y/N stood between his arms, her still slighty-sleepy eyes peering out at the sunny day from the kitchen window. Tyler's hand runs through her hair, his other perched on the small of her back, almost dangerously low, but she pays it no mind, too consumed at the pure joy of having him all to herself for the entirety of the day. It seemed silly, but she was rarely afforded this luxury during the spring and summer months.

He pulls away to pour coffee into two mugs on the counter, dousing one in sugar and creamer, the other plain black, the way he liked his. Y/N pays little attention when she reaches for a mug, and he goes to stop her, but the liquid reaches her taste buds before he can reach out for the cup in her hands. Her face wrinkles in disgust as she reaches for the other mug and swallows a sip.

"Jesus, that's vile, Ty. You're drinking straight lighter fluid."

"At least I'm drinkin' coffee, sweetheart. Yours is ten percent coffee, ninety percent other sugary shit."

She rolls her eyes and downs another sip, exhaling at the caffeine now starting to course through her system. She leans her head on his bicep, not wanting to be far from his touch. The pair relishes in the quiet morning, only the sounds of the morning birds and the occasional passerby car filling the air. The moment is so delicately peaceful that Y/N feels her eyes drift back into a hazy state, only awoken by Tyler's voice cutting off her brush with relaxation.

"There's no food in his house, wanted to make eggs this mornin', there isn't any. We don't have any bread, milk's gone bad. Think we finished off the last of the coffee, and you're almost out of that fancy creamer you like."

Y/N's mind instantly thinks of the nearly empty toothpaste tube she'd squeezed out the night before, and the lack of her favorite snacks in his cabinet.

"You up for a grocery run this early?"

He shrugs, giving an unbothered look.

"Get it over with early, don't have to worry about it for the rest of the day."

She nods, leaning back against him.

"Smart," she pauses, letting out a sigh. "Guess I should probably get dressed if that's the case."

Tyler looks down at the girl in his arms, clad in one of his shirts and nothing else. Desire swarms in his gut, and he found the desperate words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Or we could just order them online, pick them up later? We could order dinner from that place on the boulevard you love, get it all done in one trip? I'll go in, you stay in the truck, no getting dressed necessary."

She drops her now empty mug into the sink, wrapping her arms around his neck, brushing her hand across the hair on the nape of his neck. She leans in, pulling him into a rather heated kiss, one that leaves them both panting. She can taste the traces of his own black coffee, and she smiled against his lips before pulling away.

"You get hotter and hotter every time you open your mouth this morning. You've almost got me convinced just to go back to bed with you and ignore all of my other responsibilities..."

He gives her a smirk, shrugging and lifting a brow as his calloused hand sneaks under her his shirt, caressing the bare skin dangerously close to her chest.

"What'll it take to convince you completely?"

She cocks her head to the side, as if she was thinking.

"Hm, remember that thing you did on our third date?"

She doesn't even get a response before his lips are back on hers, his hand tapping her thigh, silently signaling her to wrap her legs around his waist. His half-finished coffee was forgotten, only the sounds of their shared pleasure and Y/N's occasional giggle bouncing off the walls.

-

As night falls, that same relative silence falls over the house. The lights are all out, save for the lamp in the corner of the living room and one of Y/N's scented candles lit on top of the fireplace. A commercial for an insurance company runs quietly in the background, an ad break from the rerun of 'The Notebook' he'd put on for Y/N just an hour ago. Takeout boxes and two empty beer bottles litter the coffee table in front of them, and the sound of light rain falling fills the unclaimed space in the room.

They're both still fresh from the shower they'd shared. His hair is still damp, smelling of Y/N's shampoo, and her skin smelling of his cypress and cedarwood scented body wash. Y/N had stilled within a half hour of placing her head in his lap, his comforting touch in her hair making it physically impossible for her to fight sleep. His hands tugged lightly at her half-dry hair, but his eyes are focused on the window facing his back yard.

Tyler can't help it, he's naturally drawn to the changes in wind speed and precipitation. He notes nothing serious-average wind speeds, steady, even-falling rain, and no hail. He relaxes a bit, watching as Noah and Allie argue on screen. Soon, his own jade eyes felt heavy. He blinks them back open, trying to savor every moment he has with the girl who's managed to make him fall more and more in love with her, even when she does nothing at all.

He manages to stay awake for the rest of the movie, but as the credits roll across the screen, he finds sleep starting to win against him. Just as his hands stop the movement in her hair, a loud blare comes from the once quiet television, startling him awake, his leg jerking in reaction. In turn, it startles the sleeping girl in his lap, her head shifting as she rubs at her bleary eyes.

The three short tones followed by one long tone has him all but springing into action, sitting up straight on the couch, holding the shoulders of the girl still not nearly awake to understand what was happening.

"The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning for the following counties..."

Tyler had tuned it out, he knew the rest. His eyes darted to the window again, and now, through the rain he could see exactly what he'd feared-a strike of lightning before a rumbling roar of thunder. He watches as the wind blows the flag in his yard, trees blowing furiously in the wind. It was mild now, but Tyler had seen the calm before the storm too many times to take chances. He quickly grabs both of their phones from the table and shoves them into his pockets. Y/N had already plopped back down onto the couch pillow, her eyes closed. He sighs and contemplates waking her up, but as the roaring of wind like a freight train fills his ears, he realizes he doesn't have the time. Instead, he scoops her into his arms-blanket and all-and simply bolts them out the door.

The second he hits the steps of the porch, he's never been more glad he'd moved so quickly. The wind is whipping around him fiercely, and the sound of hail knocking shingles off his roof sends his feet moving faster. The entrance to his storm shelter is in clear view, and he speaks down to the girl in his arms, speaking loudly over the noise of the inclement weather.

"I'm gonna take us to the storm shelter, okay? You're gonna get in first and I'm gonna be right behind you, baby, gotta make sure that door shuts, alright?"

Y/N nods in understanding, despite how her eyes are still laced with sleep. He stands her in front of him on solid ground, slinging open the heavy door with a grunt. He lightly shovels her down the steps, seeing that she's completely in before stepping in himself. It takes his full body force to get it shut, slamming the latch down tightly. He takes a moment to sit on the steps, hearing the pelting of hail and the loud winds before he springs into action again. He moves to switch on the small lights in the tiny room, now getting a good look at the girl sitting just across from him.

She looks incredibly small, curled into her favorite blanket from their couch, his own hoodie she'd claimed as her own peeking through. He worries that she's scared, and his heart pangs as he crosses over to her. Wordlessly, he pulls her into his lap, fishing his own phone out in hopes of firstly, pulling up live updates on the storm, and secondly, contacting the rest of the Wranglers, making sure his chosen family was safe. He gets the broadcast up first, a slew of messages from his friends ensuring him of their safety. He sends them back one confirming both his and Y/N's safety before setting it back down against the wall and the floor.

"Hey, you're okay, I promise," he reassured her, his arm slung around her and resting on her waist. She gives him a small smile, brushing a tuft of hair behind his ear. Chasing had been busy lately, and he hadn't stopped for a trim lately. She wasn't complaining, she liked running her hands through the longer locks.

"I know. I'm not scared, Ty," she gives a small laugh, the look behind her eyes reassuring him she was fine. He pulls her closer to him, placing a kiss against the crown of her head.

"Brave girl."

She shakes her head in disagreement.

"I'm not brave, I'd be scared shitless if you weren't here. But you are, so I know I'm safe. You'd never let anything happen to me, mother nature be damned."

He gives a loud laugh that bounces off the walls of their shelter, making Y/N break out into her own smile. She turns her attention to the map on Tyler's phone.

"So what're they saying?"

He pulls his phone closer, a map of colors and city names she recognizes in front of her. His finger points to their town name.

"There's us," He pauses, moving his finger to a patch of dark pink. Y/N looks at the key on the side, noting that the color indicated an 'extreme' threat. "And that's the path of the tornado happenin' above us right now, most likely."

"So," she pauses, looking up at him. "In your professional Tornado Wrangler opinion, how fucked are we?"

He raises an eyebrow.

"Survival wise? I know we'll be fine, we're perfectly safe. Damage wise? Well, my roof needed replacin' anyways."

"What about the others? Have you heard from them? I imagine Boone is losing it."

Tyler brushes hair out of her face and behind her ear.

"They're all in a safe spot, just heard from them all. Don't worry that pretty head of yours about a thing, let me take care of it."

Another roll of loud winds roar overhead, and both Y/N and Tyler dart their eyes to the ceiling. She tucks her head into Tyler's neck, and his arms pull her tighter into his embrace.

"Okay," she starts, her voice small. "So maybe I'm a little scared...I don't see how you're always out there in all this, it's terrifying, Ty."

He wants to reply back, tell her about the rush of a storm, or the feeling of being right there next to it in the moment, but the storms he chased weren’t like the one happening literal feet above their heads. He remains quiet, his hand moving back to her hair, stroking the strands in a gentle motion, providing comfort for her. She’s quiet for a moment, listening to the howling winds and the shaking of the thunderous movements.

“T-Tyler?” There’s a tremble in her voice, and he notes how she’s starting to shake in his hold. “Can you tell me a story? Talk, just keep me distracted, please. Having a full blown panic attack in this box doesn’t sound fun.”

He continues the comforting touch to her head, pulling her in closer to the side of his neck, his opposite arm around her waist.

“Hey, no, no, none of that, you’re gonna be fine. We’re okay, I got you. A story? Um…”

He thinks for a second, until the perfect idea comes to his mind.

“Alright, got one, gonna tell you your favorite story. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…”

His voice takes on a humorous tone, recounting the plot of ‘A New Hope’ from memory. The rumble of his timbre in her ear-paired with him intentionally making up his own scenarios when he forgot plot points-worked effectively in blocking out the deafening noises above. After a handful of minutes, the noise stilled, and Y/N sat with shaking hands as Tyler popped back open the door. He looked around for a moment, making sure the sky was clear before helping her back on solid ground.

Shingles had fallen from his roof, and branches from trees had been strewn across his yard. Just across the clearing, in an empty field, a massive tree had fallen. Tyler grasped her hand tightly as they walked back inside, their power out, but the home unharmed. Once he determined they were completely safe, he wordlessly led them back to his bedroom, tucking Y/N safely under his chin, close to his heart. He didn’t sleep, his brain wide awake in fear that another storm would come and he’d be unprepared. Instead he watched her sleep, watching as her breaths moved in and out, content in knowing she felt safe in his arms.

Tomorrow, they’d venture into town with Boone and Lilly in the back of his truck, Dexter and Dani behind them, all looking out at the disaster that riddled their small community. They’d spend their day passing out food and water, looking for missing pets in rubble, and helping scour collapsed houses for salvageable items for families to hold onto. He’d look on as Y/N helped comfort elderly citizens of their community and laughed with children who had lost their everything, including their innocence. She’d be silent on the way home, and collapse into his arms once they made it through the front door. Her eyes would fill with tears of guilt that she couldn’t do more for every person she'd seen and talked to. He’d hold her just like he was now, hands in her hair and sweet nothings in her ears.

But tonight, he holds her in his arms tightly, thanking mother nature for sparing not only them, but his home too. After his thanks, he issues her a warning: come hell or high water, he’d stop at nothing to protect the girl in his arms-mother nature be damned.

-

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

@fanboysfangirl

[cheralith]

the ghost of you | miguel o'hara

synopsis: you thought he was gone. what you didn't know was that he was waiting for you a universe away... or in other words... miguel is your gwen stacy and in another life, you're his.

word count: 2.5k (unedited as of 07/19 per usual)

a/n: a short (or at least in my terms is short) oneshot of sorts just to scratch that miguel angst itch

you never particularly believed in second chances.

you thought they were something foolish to believe in. often you think that second chances alternated the future that bewitched you with its cruelty towards you, despite knowing that this was what was to become the moment you put on that suit that gleamed to others of pride and glory.

fate as an embodiment is never, and will never, be kind towards you. you never believed in second chances because they were never offered to you because if they were, you could've prevented the entirety that was your life if you could've just chosen a different path.

you could've never gotten the job at alchemax.

you could've never been one of the star scientists that captured the attention of tyler stone.

you could've never met him—the love of your life.

because if you didn't, he would've been safe in the blissful ignorance that was your existence. but now, the haunting image of his face laying woefully in your lap—loving eyes now permanently close, the shallow river of crimson streaming from his nose with pale and dry lips that could no longer whisper sweet nothings slightly agape—is now permanently tattooed in the halls of your memory.

the failure to save the one person you kept to closely at heart served as a reminder that you had a duty to attend to and that you were to attend to it with nothing more than confidence, that you were to never repeat such a feat ever again.

because death offers no second chances to those who he greets. second chances are mere child's play, a figure of imagination that people choose to believe out of hope.

at least, that's what you've chosen to believe.

whenever jessica looks at you, you just barely manage to catch the glimpse of a particular look that you can't pinpoint the exact emotion of. you think it's a mixture of melancholy or apprehensiveness, but you're never able to quite accurately describe the look for it. but it goes away just as fast as it comes, her quickly shooing it away as if it was a pesky spider.

you've never inquired about it. you don't think you should, really, especially considering when she's in charge of possibility escorting you to what you've never known you could desire for.

"i've decided," jess states, a hand going to caress her prominent belly affectionately.

you let out a hum, your gaze not moving from the magnificent view you and her share of your universe's new york's skyline—you wonder how it differs from her own new york. "decided what?"

from her amber glasses, she offers you swift glance. "decided to perhaps let you visit hq once and for all."

it's no surprise that her statement makes your eyes go wide and jaw slack. jessica drew had found you alone in your own universe awhile ago, her being the first proven evidence that there were worlds beyond yours existing... meaning that there was existence of different variants of you. acquiring that knowledge had sparked an excitement in you that you hadn't felt in such a long time, that you didn't even know you could feel.

you wanted to see the other spider-people, a hunger caverning itself within you to know more, see more, to satisfy the loneliness you've felt since the dreaded day you lost miguel o'hara. to know that others likeminded to you actually existed was something you longed to confirm, leading to jessica constantly putting up with your begging to see what the headquarters of the so-called "spider society" was like.

you've met a few already—the rebellious, yet ambitious hobie brown from earth-138, the egotistic, yet grandiloquent ben reilly from earth-94, and the sarcastic, yet compassionate peter b. parker from earth-616. but it isn't enough. a yearn to see all of everyone alike to you grows stronger and stronger by the day, yet jessica is always quick to deny you from seeing hq and the rest of the spider-people, quick to excuse it with her needing to “evaluate you more.”

something about the excuse seemed rather loose to you, as if it was a cover-up for something... bigger? but again, you never questioned her actions because if you did, you could end up screwing yourself over and the possibility of you never joining them was perhaps a pit that welcomed you with open arms.

but now, after what seemed like ages (it was a given three weeks in reality) of consistent "no"'s and "soon"'s, your wish has been finally granted.

"do you mean it?" you whisper excitedly, leaning towards her with a gleeful smile. "like, really mean it?!"

"no, actually i was just joking," jess says with a suppressed grin. you whine aloud with furrowed brows, making her laugh aloud. "i'm kidding. yes, i mean it. i talked with my... my superior of sorts... and they granted me permission to let you into the spider-society."

jess watches with a soft grin as you giddily bounce about the twilight-cladded rooftop, the phrase of "thank you" endlessly on loop from your lips. with no time to waste on either ends, jessica opens up a portal leading to the universe that the spider-society was held in, jutting her head towards it for you to step foot in.

the tantalizing colors of a fiery sunset twirl about in your vision as the hum of the portal whispers itself in your ears. you've gone in portals before, but this particular one forces you to ground yourself and truly acknowledge what was to become of this present moment because the moment you enter this portal, your fate was sealed.

and fate gives no second chances regardless of any situation.

"nervous?" jess asks as she stands still besides you, examining your hypnotized state.

you swallow thickly, despite the smile still lifted atop your lips. "a little..."

"i see," she hums. she studies your features for a bit, admiring the way the sun halos your side profile before her gaze returns to the portal that you still stare at.

jessica suppresses a giggle, with her hand lifting slowly behind you without acknowledgement before it pushes you in with no warning. your screams of terror fall deaf on her ears, her being too busy with a soft fit of laughter at your bewilderment.

"jess!?" you shout from inside the portal.

"sorry, my hand slipped," she calls from the outside, mindlessly examining her fingernails.

"i'm gonna kill you!" you screech before your figure dissipates itself from her view.

jessica watches as the portal expands itself again like a blooming flower before she turns away from it once again, the smile of amusement fading ever so quickly. her wrist lifts itself up and quietly she murmurs into her device, "are you one hundred percent sure about this?"

there's a static that scuffs by before another voice stereos from it, one that jessica knows for a fact that you'll be much too accustomed to.

"there's no going back now."

jessica thinks she might have to put you on a leash. somehow, you've reverted back into a child at a playground from the way you're consistently getting out of her sight, too distracted by all the unique spider-people that pass you.

"i love your armor," you compliment with glowing cheeks to the spider-knight that gives you a salute. "wow, her hair is really cool... i love that guy's webbing! holy shit, is that a fucking t-rex?"

"yes yes," jess sighs and grabs you by your collar, "that's pter. he's one of us, now would you please behave?"

you smile sheepishly at her, "sorry... i can't help but get—a cat!"

jessica slaps a hand to her forehead, rubbing it with annoyance. you're not much younger than she is, but she thinks that there's too much of a resemblance between a five year old and the you that's much too preoccupied petting a content peter pawrker that purrs as you affectionately scratch behind his ears.

while rather a little irked, jessica can't help but feel a little at ease with the more time that gets eaten up as it passes by. she knows it's foolish, but to put off the one thing that you were supposed to come here for was perhaps ideal, knowing that the future truly remains unknown of what to come in the next few minutes.

her anticipation grows more weary by the second, especially as you and her approach the one location that is rarely ever allowed visitors.

she shoots a web and reels you back to her, not wanting to waste any more time than needed. your pleas of wanting to pet spider-cat more are ignored, being replaced with an urgency of, "there's someone i want you to meet."

jess walks you to a darkened and closed off area of the headquarters, one that you didn't know would've existed had she not lead you there. it's dark all around, the wide and vast space only illuminated by the golden glow of holographic computers atop a floating platform. there's no one around, just the hum of the technology filling the void until a voice echoes out from seemingly nowhere.

"you may leave, jess."

your companion offers you a final goodbye, a whisper of "you'll be okay, he doesn't bite." tickling your ear. there's not much time to react, as jessica stalks off faster than you can blink, and the thundering shut of the door bellows in the corridor.

you're left alone in the odd, dark room. it's a contrasted atmosphere to the interior of hq and rather, it unsettles you—especially considering the fact that despite it seeming like you're by yourself, you're not alone.

"are you the person that jess was talking about?" you ask quietly, hoping that despite the timidity and softness of your voice, that it's still heard.

the voice thunders out again hauntingly.

"you haven't changed."

the majority of your voice gets caught in your throat. something about that voice seems vaguely familiar, but seven words aren't enough for you to quite decipher its owner, despite the wisp of the ghost of the past whispering something unintelligible behind you.

"i-i'm sorry?" you state aloud with your voice caught between a question and a nervous laugh.

the owner of the voice stays quiet for a still moment before speaking once more.

"why are you still just as beautiful as the day i lost you?"

your brows furrow. are you supposed to know him? this person?

you're so focused on the platform of computers that it doesn't register to you that someone emerges from the shadows from behind you until the wind of something... someone grazing you. reflexes jumping into action, you gasp and jump back, your feet skidding themselves on the ground too painfully to the point where your balance is lost and your back stumbles first on the ground.

the shadow comes closer to you and fear strikes itself in your heart at last. something about this person is warning you with danger, that something bad is brewing. your hands dig into the ground and shuffle yourself backwards until you hit the wall. your heart is pounding painfully loud, with the rhythm of it pumping through your ears. a scream is begging to be let out of your throat, a certain type of terrified you haven't felt in years clawing at the edge of it, but the only thing that you can let out is a weakened whimper.

whoever the shadow is merely comes closer to you in the same pace he kept himself at, showing no signs of stopping.

the light of the moon that seeps into the rooftop windows suddenly let the light in and spotlights the person at last, making all the resolve in your body evaporate the moment you catch his face.

the face that's supposed to not exist anymore—the face of a dead lover who you watched with your own two eyes slip from your life—is currently plastered itself in front of you.

the face of miguel o'hara stares at you with the same daunting expression you wear.

the last time you saw this face was in the open casket funeral held for him two weeks after his death. you had stared at it for what seemed to be hours in the open rain, trying to come to terms that you will never see it again.

yet here you are, looking at it once more in the life that you thought would never show you any sort of mercy.

"miguel...?"

the person in front of you crouches down to your height and comes shyly closer to you, afraid that if he made the wrong move, you'd scamper away from him like a frightened doe.

unconsciously, you lift your hand up to truly see if what you were seeing right now was real—that your deceased lover was somehow alive right in front of you. the miguel that stands before you lets your hand cradle his cheek ever so gently, like he was made of the finest glass alive. the physical contact jolts you awake again and out of your trance, making you retract your hand as if you had just touched something hot.

miguel blinks. his chest heaves, mimicking your own that pools with longing. he goes to gently touch your hand again, bringing it back up to his face and shuffling his cheek to feel the warmth of it again.

the way his his face fits so nicely in your palm makes your chest burn.

"mi sol..." he murmurs, his lips wisping a soft kiss to your palm.

and suddenly, you're alive again. it's a different sort, the type of liveliness that only love could spark. so when you realize that the very flame you thought could never be lit again is once burning bright, you break into sobs.

your arms wrap around his neck tightly, like he'll be taken away from you all over again. his own go to hug your waist in the same manner, enveloping you in a warmth you could never seem to mimic with anyone else.

"i thought i lost you," you cry quietly, the image of miguel's face during that night flashing through your eyes.

his hand caresses your hair warmly. "i thought i lost you," he murmurs back, his throat evidently tight with a flood of yearning emotions.

you retract back and study him carefully this time, making sure he's here with you right now... alive.

and when his lips connect with yours for the first time in years, it doesn't take long for you to return the favor, knowing that the one thing you've longed for the most for the past years is finally back into your arms.

deep inside, you know he isn't your miguel, just in the same sense that you aren't his (y/n). you know that no matter how many miguels and (y/n)s are out there, no two could ever replicate each other in the manner that the latter wants.

but for now, you let yourself indulge in this second chance you thought could never come to life.

by the power of fate though... it somehow did. and you'd rather not waste any more time questioning it.

[gretavanlace]

Debauchery Defined

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, masturbation, dirty talk, dangerous situations, oral sex (m/rec), illegal activity (traffic related), etc. jake in a hat briefly - cause that shit deserves a warning. Probably typos, excessive italics as per usual, blah blah blah

“I’m sorry, sir, I have nothing under the name of Kiszka.”

The bored attendant, slouched upon a stool beneath an Enterprise sign, doesn’t even have the decency to sound mildly apologetic.

The sign is bright. Too bright for the hour. Too bright for the weary, sleep deprived, burn in your eyes. Just too bright.

Judging by the furrow in his brow, despite his ever present sunglasses, Jake shares your contempt for the fluorescent glow.

“I made a reservation days ago.” You reiterate, spelling his last name once more. Turns out, it’s a lesson in futility, as the clerk doesn’t even bother to type it in.

“I told you,” he snaps, fixing you with a glare. You sense he thinks it reeks of authority. It doesn’t. “There’s no rental reservation. Spell the name all night long if you feel like it, but it isn’t going to change anything.”

Jake, in a smooth rush, is leaned in closer - serpentine and quick in his movement. Yet, calculated, careful, eerily calm in that unsettling way he adopts when irritation is trudging toward anger.

His warning comes quietly, but it bears a menacing aura all the same. “Speaking to her that way is ill advised, I can promise you that.”

Your hand finds his arm, stroking soothingly through the worn hopsack of the blazer he layered on, hours ago, before your flight. “Jake, it’s alright.”

Never aggressive just for show, and certainly never overtly so, when Jacob feels someone is crossing a line with you, he is quick to polish his armor - a knight sweeping in to save his damsel in distress.

He relaxes visibly beneath your touch and navigates back to civility with a deep breath.

“Alright…” he flicks a glance at the name tag that rests crookedly on the other man’s shirt “Tyler. So you don’t have the reservation - we need a car. You have cars. Simple. Why is this an issue?”

He’s tired, and cranky…a long day of travel has leeched the patience from his bones.

Tyler, likely used to overwhelmed travelers frequenting the airport kiosk, remains unimpressed. “I have one available vehicle. Luxury class. Reserved for our most discerning clients.”

Jake rolls his eyes, clearly teetering on the edge of asking this asshole if he’d like to taste the back of his hand. “As it happens, I am discerning. How lucky for us. We’ll take it.”

Papers are signed, keys are exchanged, and finally, you’re schlepping through the hall leading to Parking garage B7, as instructed.

“Luxury for discerning clients.” He scoffs, hefting his bag, and yours, over his shoulder, though you continue to insist you can share the load.

His battered guitar case swings against his legs as he stomps along, “What an asshole. S’probably some boat of a Lincoln or something…I’m gonna look like a pimp.”

The wide-brimmed hat cocked low over his shades will be most fitting, then, won’t it?

Laughing at his dramatics - not so different from his twin, after all - you watch the doors whoosh open to reveal a deserted sea of concrete. Deserted that is, save for one lone sports car waiting beneath a flickering light.

You both stop short. “Or a frat boy douchebag.”

“Frat boys can’t afford cars like that.” You correct, nudging him to get moving.

He picks up the pace dutifully, “So, just a douchebag, then?”

“Yes, yes, Jacob…you’re very refined and everybody knows it.” You tease, ever the soft heart for his antiquated flare. “If anyone sees you, we’ll just explain that your horse and buggy are in the shop.”

His eyes rove across the lines of the car as you approach. Slyly sweeping over the glossy, black curves, almost hidden below the mysterious shadow of his hat.

“I’ll drive.” He mutters as if it’s no big deal, startling your feet to a standstill.

Never, not once, in the entirety of all the time you’ve known him has he ever offered to drive. In fact, now that you’re exploring the subject, you don’t think you’ve ever even seen him so much as graze a finger over a steering wheel.

“Do you…” you pause to collect your jumbled thoughts. “Do you even have a driver’s license?”

It seems strange, all at once - that you’ve never wondered about this before.

“What?” He laughs, finally shaking off the annoyance he’s been wearing on his shoulders for a few too many hours.

You wait while he presses a button on the key fob, opening the trunk with a smooth hiss, asking “well, do you?” as he dumps the bags, and his Gibson, inside.

You’ve seen him present identification hundreds of times, but you can’t recall it ever being anything but his passport.

“Purse in the boot or up front with you, darling?” He asks with an exaggerated swagger and flourish.

“Stop avoiding the question, Jacob.” You sigh, folding your arms as he slings your purse over his shoulder, abandoning Oliver, and moving to open the passenger side door for you. “Do you or don’t you?”

He waits until you’ve settled and then bends at the waist, offering a forehead kiss, and a secret. “I don’t. You wanna break a few rules with me, hall monitor?”

You feel your eyes widen as if he’s just confessed to casual murder for sport.

But you tamp it down and take hold of some perspective, this isn’t murder. Still, you don’t like it.

“Jake, don’t drag me into your debauchery. If you want to endanger the lives of hundreds of unsuspecting motorists, you can do it alone.”

In response, he swings the door closed and jogs around the sloping, gleaming hood, slipping into the driver’s seat, gentle and sleek as a sleepy housecat.

“I never said I didn’t know how to drive, baby,” he tosses his hat in the back and shakes out his waves, “just that I failed to revisit the DMV when ‘the man’ said my time was up.”

“This is stupid.” You slide down in your seat, careful not to reveal how much you’re enjoying the supple leather coasting along the backs of your thighs where your shorts have ridden up.

The opulence is an undeniable high. One you wouldn’t have expected, but there all the same.

He grins to himself, face lit up, beautiful and bright, like a little boy in a toy store. “Debauchery,” his voice is smooth as whipping cream. Smoky. Lazy. Like he plays behind the wheel of a flashy Porsche every day. “Immoral behavior that involves sex, drugs, alcohol, etcetera.”

“What?” You’ve begun to relax already. He is skillfully maneuvering the vehicle through the twists and turns of the garage. Okay, so maybe he does know how to drive.

“Debauchery. That’s what it means. It isn’t this.” He waves a hand, absently calling attention to the car. “But don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours, my love. I’ll have you dragged down into the thick of it soon enough.”

Leaning back against the headrest, you decide to give into his whim and enjoy the ride. It’s lovely to be able to strip off the stress of the day and let him take over the department of transportation, for once.

As you study him, with the hum of the road and the purring engine serving as white noise, you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips.

“Jacob Kiszka,” you allow your grin to widen as it will, “I never would’ve guessed you’d be such a guy.”

He grabs for your hand, pleased that - as luck would have it - he has been blessed behind the wheel of an automatic…the absence of a gear shift leaves him open to holding onto you, and you are his favorite thing to hold.

“What are you on about?” Oliver pops in to say hello again, as is habit when Jake feels a bit too on the spot.

“Never once have you wanted to drive,” you remind him, lacing your fingers through his. “No matter how many times I tease you for being a passenger princess. Wave one fast car with a pretty paint job under your nose and you’re swimming in testosterone.”

A soft laugh is his only response as he coaxes out onto the freeway.

“You look good behind the wheel, baby. You know that?” Your free hand toys with a lock of his hair, smoothing it and twirling it around your pinky.

“I look good, always.” he sighs, feigning boredom as he weaves in and out of traffic to find his desired lane.

The further away from the hub of the city you drive, the more traffic begins to dissipate, until you seem to be adrift along some dystopian highway time has forgotten.

“How long?” You ask softly.

Staring out the window at the scenery whipping by sounds lulling, you might even fall asleep to it, but you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from him, and this calm, capable, skill set you never knew he possessed.

How like him to keep you on your toes, sharing bits and pieces of himself little by little. Doling out tiny Jacob Thomas shaped morsels only when he sees fit.

“Who cares how long?” He glances up at nothing in the rear view mirror. “This is nice.”

“It is.” You agree. Allowing the silence to wrap up warmly around you both again.

You watch him. And you watch him. And you watch him some more.

And you’d help it, if you could. Honest. The timing is most inappropriate. Not to mention, likely a little dangerous, but something about watching him command all that power beneath his hands has you weak. Submissive. Needy.

In moments of weakness in the dark, you’ve confessed that you feel the same watching him play. The way he makes love to his well worn and loved guitar. The way he coaxes sex soaked wails and whines from the strings, working his fingers faster and faster along the frets until the climax crashes apart, exploding into sound where there once was quiet.

The way he talks to her, the way he loves her. The way he knows her body just a little better than he knows yours, or even his own. It all makes you a bit jealous in the most decadent way. It makes you eager to showcase your worth as well, to sink to your knees in service to this god walking around amongst men.

He holds a brand new power and you want to slink into his lap and mewl like a kitten starved for attention. Instead, you settle for moving in closer, brushing a feathery kiss against his neck, nuzzling into the crook of it, unabashedly brazen with your want.

“Hello, my love.” His eyes never stray from the road, but his hand wanders your thigh, welcoming you. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m wet.” It’s a simple admission, but the way you hush it in his ear causes his cock to stir. It takes so little from you to pluck at his edges until he’s unraveling at the seams.

“Why’s that?” He adjusts in his seat, spreading his thighs just enough to make your head spin. “All I’m doing is driving a car. Is that all it takes?”

“Sometimes.” You sound pouty. It’s hardly there at all, but he hears it and he loves it. His spoiled rotten sweetheart.

“Well, I’m a little busy, love.” He slides his hand higher, silently wishing you had chosen a skirt today. “But you go on and be sweet to that pretty pink place I love so well. I miss your pussy, baby…it’s been such a long day. Miss the way you feel, the way you smell, the way you taste. I want you all over my face, fuck. Touch yourself.”

“Right here in the car?” You suck his earlobe into your mouth and the nibble over it as if he is an indulgent treat, because he is.

“Yeah.” He nods, grip tightening around the steering wheel, “Right here in the car.”

Maybe some other time you might toy with him a bit, dangle the string just out of his reach, but you’re further off track than he is at this point, so you shimmy out of your shorts and slide out of your sandals to rest your toes on the dash. Your knees fall apart as your fingers disappear into your panties with the tiniest moan when your fingers brush over your clit.

“Aren’t you such a good girl?” He pats at your thigh in praise, burying his grip into the soft, warm flesh there. Filthy, fucking dirty little thing, touching her pretty, wet cunt in a car we don’t even own just because I asked. So good, baby. Who’s my well behaved, darling girl?”

Sometimes you think his need to praise you rivals your own deep-rooted lust for receiving it.

“I’m your good girl.” You breathe, writhing slowly in your seat, drawing in the scent of sex and Italian leather, laced with the faintest hint of his cologne. It has faded with the hours, handing the spiced teakwood over to something a little more Jake…this is when you love it best.

“Then be my good girl and come over here. Come see me, sweetheart.” He extends an arm, casually inviting you in. You know what he wants, and you plan to give it to him.

For a moment, you're both illuminated in the golden glow of headlights traveling along across the median…he looks like the slickest snake masquerading as an angel. A serpent in the garden, ever tempting and cunning.

It’s all a front, as you well know. A role he plays when he wants to make you quake with desire. His heart is soft and kind, ever mindful of others, ever stuffed full of unending empathy and thoughtful love.

Unbuckling your seatbelt with a click that makes him frown, you slide over to the very edge and toy with the clasp of his belt, panting hot little puffs of breath against his flushed cheek, if only to stir him up further.

“You want that?” He lifts into your touch so you can feel how hard he is, all for you.

“Yeah,” tiny pecks of your lips chart his jawline. “Yeah, I want that.”

“Say it.” His fingers are in your hair now, curling into a loose fist near the nape of your neck, pushing you down. “Say you want my cock. Say where you want it.”

You’re hurrying now, tenderly fumbling with the buckle, hungry and desperate for it. “I want your cock, Jake. Want it in my mouth…in my throat.”

“Fuck…” it growls out of him strangled and tangled up with hot, salacious, greed. “C’mon, baby.”

You long to preen with pride; he wants it so badly, so suddenly - but there are more pressing matters at hand.

Both hands on the wheel now, he watches as you sink down around him, swallowing him so deeply, and with no real warm up, that you gag, sucking him down further anyway as you retch and sputter around his length, throat both fighting the intrusion and pining for more of it.

“Slow down.” His warning grits out through his teeth. He didn’t want to say it at all, slow is the last thing he wants. He wants to float off into it, stare focused and sure on the road, thoughts lost in the way you sound fighting around his cock, sucking and lapping over him, dying for just a little more, just another taste….

You shake your head adamantly, sending your soft, wet tongue slicking back and forth just along the base, nearly nudging at his balls as they tighten up for you. Every reaction his body hands over is all for you. Always for you.

“Fuck, baby,” his right hand drops to pet at your glossy hair as he fucks up into your kiss. “Gonna make me cum in that pretty little mouth. Feels so fuckin’ good. You want it?”

Nodding urgently, you bury your nose into the soft path of hair that trails below his belly button, choking until your throat is squeezed around him, strangling the thick head of his throbbing cock.

He’s twitching against your lips now, straining and pulsing, fucking throbbing. Obscene and depraved. Perfect.

“M’close, baby,” he’s murmuring raspy, stuttering, pleas as his grip tightens until your scalp stings blissfully. “Keep going, just like that, so close…baby, baby, baby, fuck…”

He’s whining and babbling, broken curses and hissing encouragement that barely makes sense. You couldn’t love it more.

Hollowing your cheeks, you suck hard on the updrawn and then relax your throat, plunging him straight to the back of it in one harsh go with a guttural sound that makes his thighs jerk.

You feel the slight hitch in the gas as he loses his footing on the pedal, and soothe him with a palm swept under his shirt until you can feel his heart hammering against your palm.

He regains focus - you can feel it - and then whispers a soft, “Thank you, sweet girl.” Grateful that your wits have prevailed when his own were waning.

You linger at the base, licking at what you can with his heavy weight cradled in your tongues embrace. He flexes violently, and you brace for it, gluttonous for the warmth of his release, and with a groan and gasp of your name, he doesn’t disappoint.

“Gonna cum, baby,” oh, he sounds so pretty. Trotting out the tiny whimpers that are saved for when he’s really lost in it. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, dontstopdontstopdontstop, fuck fuck fuck—“

Your taste buds dance with him, alive with the delicacy that is Jacob. So warm and perfect, covering your tongue, rolling down your throat, until you can feel him inside you, really inside you, in the way you love most.

He’s a mess above you, but you carry on until he is whining with overstimulation and begging you to stop, lightly pulling you away until you can just barely lap over his glistening tip as he softens against his splayed open pants.

You know he’s thinking of all the ways he plans to return the favor when he can properly get his hands on you, but as he catches his breath beside you and steals glances at you tucking his beautiful cock away, you feel completely, totally, blissfully, satisfied.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @gretasmokerising @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn @demolitiondann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @hugorobinson

[snickerdoodie]

“Need you now”

Summary: The Tornado Wranglers weren’t known for staying in one place for longer than a few days; too many storms to chase, fans to see, family’s to help. It required constant movement and you knew that, but it was never easy for you or Tyler.

Pairing: Tyler Owen’s x f!reader

A/N: Funny story about this fic, I actually based it on my grandma and late grandpa. It makes me so teary eyed every time she tells me the story but I love it sm😭. I’m not even gonna lie, I didn’t really know if I wanted to post this cuz it just…felt like it didn’t turn out right. Feel free to listen to the song while reading, it’s “Need You Now” by Lady A. Not proofread, per usual. But I hope you guys like it!

“Picture perfect memories, scattered all around the floor

Reaching for the phone, 'cause I can't fight it any more

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind

For me, it happens all the time”

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Tyler Owen’s; a famous YouTuber, Tornado Wrangler, and an overall state superstar and hero, but nothing prepared you for all this. The waiting, the longing, the empty bed side, the constant anxiety that maybe today was the day he wouldn’t come home from a chase, it was all awful.

And here you were again, laying in bed alone, tucked in the shriveled up covers and blankets staring blankly at the brain dead tv show with nothing but numbness. It’s been 2 weeks since you’ve last seen and heard from Tyler, with every passing day you miss the toothy grin, his warm, strong embrace. You miss it all. It’s like they say; you never know how much something means to you until it’s gone, and right now, you couldn’t miss him more.

Too busy caught up in your thoughts, you barely process the blaring sound of your cell phone going off. Someone was calling you. In a slumped up ball of blankets, you lazily pick up the phone and glance at the caller ID, not expecting the man you missed most to be the face you see. A wave of emotion hits you at the photo. It was a selfie of the two of you cuddled up in the gleaming sunlight by the bed of a lake. Clothes damp and hair wet, you both decided to bask in the blaring sunbeams as a way to dry off and stay warm.

As hastily is possible, you hit the green accept button. With shaking hands and a wobbly smile, you bring it up to your ear, not even registering the sweet muffled melody coming through the other end.

“Oh my god, Tyler,” you blurt, voice nearly scratchy, “God, I’ve missed you so much…I-“ It’s only when you stop to take a breath that you hear it.

“It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now

Said I wouldn't call, but I've lost all control and I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without, I just need you now,”

As you feel your throat close up and eyes brim with tears, you stay silent. In your blindness to hear Tyler’s voice again, you completely missed the pianos intro, deaf to the lyrics all together. But once you hear the chorus, you melt away. The once welled up tears cascade down your cheeks like a broken dam; no matter how many you wipe away they keep falling. The swelling of your chest becomes nearly painful, trying to hold back the choked sobs that threaten to escape, but it’s a lost cause.

In one last hope, you put the phone on speaker and bring your legs up to your chest, burying your head between your knees as one of your hands holds the cell up. Just as you do, a blubbering whimper travels from your throat as a sob follows it soon after. As the song continues to flow around the room, the quiet but definite wails carry on, an unstoppable sound that breaks Tyler’s heart through the staticky reception of the call.

Minutes pass by as your weeping slows to small sniffles, eyes closed as you focus on the last remaining lyrical bits of the song.

“Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothin' at all,”

You don’t trust yourself to speak, the emotions still raw and twirling in your mind, a powerful force that only one person can tame.

“Hey baby...”

You nearly burst into another onslaught of tears at the sound of his voice. It’s quiet and nearly as syrupy as your own, and unbeknownst to you, Tyler had too, lost himself at the sound of you. How could he not? With every twister he went through, he always thought one thing; What if doesn’t come home? What if this is the one that finally takes the Tornado Wrangler down, leaving you with nothing to mourn over. The thought alone gave him goosebumps.

“Tyler..” you whimper, chest swelling at the relief of hearing him once again.

“I don’t even know how to start tellin’ you how nice it is to hear your voice again…god I’ve missed you, sweetheart,” With a smile, you repeat back.

“I’ve missed you too, Tyler…I miss you being here with me..” If you close your eyes tight enough, you can really picture him here with you. His breath winding down your neck as his stubble pricks the side of your face. The smell of his cologne mixing in with the scent of your perfume. Listening closely, you hear shuffling then a deep breath, before he finally speaks,

“I’m coming home soon, baby, I promise you I am.”

“I just need you now,

Oh, baby, I need you now.”

Three posts in one day?!? A new record for me. Lmfao I actually wrote this one today and had a crisis if I wanted to post it or not. I know this song is about heartbreak and wanting someone back after they’ve left…but I wanted to try and make it about longing, like the story my grandma always tells me. I hope you guys like this fic! I honestly might rewrite it on a later date, but I was kinda texting the waters with it. As always, comment if you liked or disliked something, inbox is still open!

[icrypop]

Reckless

Tyler Hernandez x Gn! Reader

School Bus Graveyard

Kinda angst but not really?

I love the webtoon, I love all the characters and my gay ass loves Ash but also Aiden...but the twins have special spots in my heart, mostly Tyler. ANyWay- Requests are open! Enjoy

-Writer Icy<3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The thick fog of the Phantom Dimension seemed to swallow everything around Tyler and Y/n. They had been running for what felt like hours, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Behind them, the faint, eerie glow of the Phantom they'd been fleeing from had finally disappeared into the mist. But in their panic, they had lost track of the group and found themselves alone in the woods a little farther from the bus yard.

Tyler skidded to a stop, panting heavily. "Great. Just great!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Now we're lost in this nightmare, and we don't even know where the others are!"

Y/n caught up to him, trying to catch their breath. "We had to run, Tyler! That Phantom was getting too close. What did you want to do, just stand there?"

Tyler spun around, his temper flaring. "I don't know! Maybe not panic and run off without thinking? Now we're separated, and who knows where the hell we are!"

Y/n glared at him, their own frustration bubbling up. "We wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't insisted on checking the houses in the neighborhood! You always have to be the brave one, don't you? Trying to out-do Ashlynn right?!”

Tyler clenched his fists, his anger rising. "I was just trying to make things easier and find materials! Is that such a crime? It's better than sitting around doing nothing!"

Y/n crossed their arms, their eyes blazing. "Easier? You call getting chased by a Phantom easier? You're always so reckless, Tyler! You never think things through, and now we're paying the price."

Tyler's face reddened with anger and a touch of embarrassment. "Well, excuse me for trying to impress you! Maybe I wanted to show you that I'm not just some hot-headed idiot who can't keep his cool! Maybe I wanted you to see I could be just as much of a leader as Ash!"

Y/n's eyes widened in shock, and they opened their mouth to retort, but Tyler cut them off, his voice louder and more desperate. "Yeah, that's right! I like you, okay? I thought if I could show you I was brave and adventurous, you'd see me differently!"

For a moment, there was silence between them, broken only by their heavy breathing. Y/n's expression softened, and shook their head, letting out a small, incredulous laugh. "Tyler, you're such an idiot. How could you not see that I've liked you for a long time? Why do you think I put up with your crazy ideas and temper?"

Tyler blinked, stunned by their words. "You- You do?"

Y/n sighed, a mix of exasperation and affection in their eyes. "Yes, Tyler. Even when you're being a hot-headed fool, I still care about you."

Before Tyler could respond, the rest of the group found them and they all quickly made it back to the bus graveyard. Everyone was shaken up, tired and Aiden ended up with a small scratch which Tyler commented on per usual and had a small little quarrel. They all relaxed, discussing what all had happened before each slowly started falling asleep. The thick fog around them began to dissipate, and the eerie landscape of the Phantom Dimension started to fade away. The familiar surroundings of their homes came into vision as each of their alarm clocks were mere seconds from going off.

Tyler laid there in bed, trying to process everything that had happened. “Shit…” He rubbed his eyes tiredly and tried to relax before he had to get him and Taylor to school. 

~Time Skip~

He and Taylor walked into Mr. Thomas’ class, everyone in the group following sleepily. They made it through the class slowly until the bell rung, waking Ashlynn and Taylor up from much needed rest. As they started their trudge to lunch, Y/n pulled Tyler to the side and asked to talk. The hallway was almost empty as they stood. He turned to Y/n, who looked just as bewildered but also slightly amused.

"Y/n," he began, his voice softer but still holding slight tension, "what you said last night... did you really mean it?"

Y/n looked at him, a small smile tugging at their lips. They stepped closer and, without a word, leaned in and kissed him. It was a quick, sweet kiss, but it sent a jolt of warmth through Tyler's entire body.

When they pulled away, Y/n smiled and said, "Does that answer your question?"

Tyler grinned, his heart racing for an entirely different reason now. "Yeah, it does."

As the lunchroom buzzed with the sound of students heading to their tables of friends, Y/n gave Tyler's hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. "Ill race you to the table for your fries," they said with a playful smile. “Alright, Bet on it.” he grinned.

As Y/n sped over to the table, Tyler close behind, he couldn’t help but smile, his lips still tingled from theirs. Okay so maybe he needed to be careful…Teams are important and now so were they.

[demdifferentstories-29]

Timelines (Doctor Who (2005) fanfiction)

Story Summary

In Pete's World, Rose has a dream about New Year's 2005 and the Doctor tells her why.

1/1 chapters. For the Tentoo x Rose Microfic Challenge; @tentoorosemicrofics

Prompts: Memories; nightgown; worry.

Rating: General

Pairing: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler

Word Count: 1373

Chapter Content/Tags: Dreams; memories; regeneration; hurt/comfort; angst; married couple.

Link (AO3), or read below!

Story

In a cosy little flat not too far from the bustling city, the heart and soul of London, the lights are off and the home is still. Shoes and coats discarded at the door lead to a pristine kitchen and dining table after an evening of cooking and eating, which opposes the living room which is suspended in time with blankets strewn across the couch and an empty packet of jelly babies sitting on the coffee table. Further down the hall is where the master bedroom resides, and in a queen-sized bed, the occupants of this small yet dearly loved residence are tangled in a cuddle. Legs threaded through each other, a back pressed against a chest, a nose buried in the crook of a neck, arms wrapped tightly around a torso, and gentle, slow, rhythmic breaths passing through thin cotton to warm the skin beneath.

The Doctor, per usual, is the big spoon to Rose Tyler’s little spoon. He is very rarely the one to be held in these circumstances, but it is something he doesn’t complain about nor care for. After everything he has been through with his precious girl, he savours any and every opportunity to hold her and ground himself to her body—a simple, yet such a powerful, reminder that this reality is not a conjuring or trickery of the mind. 

He was born from the disembodied hand of his full-Time Lord self and had spliced into this partly human counterpart. He is living with Rose in a parallel world and is living the life he could only have dreamed of when he had first met his pink-and-yellow human. They are in love, ferociously so, and are making the most of this blessed opportunity they had been granted.

In his sleep, he sighs happily as the hand that is completely human and original slips beneath Rose’s nightgown from where it rests on her stomach and caresses her soft, warm skin, the slightly cool complexion of the metal band wrapped around his ring finger making his wife shiver subconsciously.

In Rose’s sleep, the now older Defender of Earth who is almost thirty, she often shudders to think, furrows her brow deeply and begins to tense up all over. Not because of her husband’s wandering and cheeky hand. Rather, her mind is starting to play images and memories in her dreams that are not familiar. 

She knows a few key details—she’s eighteen in this dream because it’s New Year’s two-thousand-and-five, most definitely in the early hours of the fresh year. She’s at the Powell Estate, and Jackie has just left her after a conversation that feels like the roles of mother and daughter have been swapped. These moments she recognises, remembering the cold nip of the snowy air against her cheeks and fingertips; the desperation she feels to get back into the warmth of the flat; the quiet promise she had made to herself at midnight to have a better year after the fiasco that had been two-thousand-and-four courtesy of Jimmy Stone and a few bad mistakes.

But why is he here, she is asking herself as his pained, winded groan captures her attention. Her dream self doesn’t recognise him, but her disembodied conscious does. Why does he look so sad, so wistful as his chocolate eyes gaze upon her lovingly? Why does he hesitate and speak so vaguely? 

Rose gasps and shoots up from slumber without warning, tearing herself out of the Doctor’s arms as her body and mind panic, the memory vividly playing before her in her mind. This wasn’t a dream or modulation and she knows it—this had actually happened. The previous version of that event slips away from her mind like quicksand and the new alterations fill in the gaps. Seeing the Northerner, blue-eyed Doctor regenerate into the man she is married to is a memory that has a layer of bewilderment and familiarity to it now, recognising the younger complexion as the drunkard who told her she was going to have a great year. 

What was happening?

“Rose!” her husband exclaims, sitting up with her and wrapping his hands around her shoulders comfortingly. “What is it, love?” he soothes, trying to capture her eyes and attention, brow knotted in deep concern and worry for his beloved. 

“You…” she whispers, turning her head to him with tears in her eyes. His singular heart churns and breaks at the sight. “You visited me before we met… in two-thousand-and-five.” His furrowed brow turns from anxious to confused. He hadn’t—it was a simple fact. He had stumbled upon his Rose in Henrick’s; saved her life and changed the course of their timelines for good. 

“No, sweetheart—I didn’t,” he counters as politely and gently as possible, rubbing her bare arms and tucking loose hairs behind her ear. He searches her glassy and terrified eyes, trying to ground her in their world. Perhaps she’s had a bad dream, he muses. Memories and fantasy blending together. “There’s no reason…” he begins, but pauses as he thinks about the situation deeper. His face falls into a solemn look as he considers and accepts his theory. “Oh,” he murmurs, enlightened.

“What?” she questions, now her turn to look confused. The Doctor draws in a slow breath, taking one of her hands into his and squeezing gently. He hates having to tell her this, to break the news, but one of the vows he had made to her was that he would never lie to her; never keep her in the dark about anything. 

“He’s regenerating,” he elaborates with an empathetic frown. She seizes up a little, quietly devastated to hear this. She knows the Time Lord is afraid to move on from his current form, to change and become a new man, but it is a necessary evil. She reflects on everything for a moment and comes to her own conclusions. If this memory came to her new and altered tonight, and if he was just as upset as he appeared in her mind…

“And… and he’s alone?” she guesses, her voice thick with tension and coming out in a slight croak. He nods, drawing his lips into a thin line. A few tears trickle down her cheeks, her heart aching for the man she loves. His twin draws her into an embrace, rolling tender, comforting circles into her back.

“I know…” he coos, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. He thinks back to the regenerations he experienced during his nine-hundred years of living and shudders at the thought of doing it alone. “He’ll be okay. He’ll find someone,” he assures her, another kiss to her temple. She pulls back from him, staring at him with wet, red eyes. He frowns at the sight and cups her cheek lovingly.

“At least… at least he lives on in you,” she manages to blubber out, offering a trembling smile that he reciprocates as tears of his own spring to life. “I’m so glad your hand got cut off that Christmas,” she laughs, which he chuckles at as well, brushing away the wetness that begins to fall down his face.

“I am too,” he whispers before kissing her softly, smoothing away the last of her tears. She does the same to him. They pull back after a moment and rest their foreheads against each other’s, grinning softly in the darkness of their bedroom and just holding each other’s hands.

“Do… do you think he knows how happy he got to be in this world?” she mumbles.

“Oh, of course, he does,” he hums, nuzzling his nose against hers. “I daydreamed about the possibilities of being with you every day, and I’m sure that after he left he thought about all of those hopes and desires and realised that in another universe he’s living out those fantasies every minute he spends with you,” he explains softly, so quietly as he runs his thumb against her skin. “I’m certain that he gets to live in peace with that knowledge.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, stealing another kiss. “Back to sleep?” she suggests.

“I think so,” he agrees, bundling her into his arms once their backs hit the mattress and drifting back to slumber.

[neneeeen]

Baysangur😍

I was walking to work stressed. My long hair falling down my back. I had missed the buss and had to walk. My work was a nurse in a fighting club. I was like a little sister to most of them and to others just a normal nurse.

I was wearing my grey loose sweatpants and a matching grey hoodie with a white shirt underneath. Out of no where I hear a honk. I turn to the side and see baysangur there. I usually called him Baki though. He motions for me to come inside his car. It’s a bmw m4 matte black with tinted windows. I walk to the passenger side and open the door.

“Thank you Baki. The weather is so bad”

I said trying to hide the nervous feeling I get around him. Somehow someway this man made me sooo nervous and flustered. His eyes are always so intense.

“Yeah I know. Why are you walking don’t you usually take the buss?”

My mouth opens slightly. Did he know I took the buss? Basically no one knows that.

“Oh yeah I missed it though”

The way his muscles and veins move in such detail as he turns the steering wheel. He does it with one hand as the other one is connecting the Bluetooth.

“Typical you to miss things”

His accent kicking through. He was teasing me for the time I missed an entire wound on his shoulder. I was busy so I didn’t notice. And he still makes fun of me til this day.

“That was one time!”

I said slapping his arm accidentally lingering for a bit. Clearing my throat as I pulled it back.

Baki parks at the membership parking lot. It was quiet between us. I’ve helped Baki a lot with injuries but I’ve never really known him like that. He seems like nice guy though, and somehow I always end up meeting him when I’m out with my friends.

“Thanks for the ride”

I said smiling towards him. He smiles back kindly and says that it was no problem. We both walk together into the club and go out separate ways.

I was talking Tyler a well known guy at the gym when i felt a pair of eyes on me. I look around trying to find the source but fail. Oh well. Probably nothing.

I fucking hated Tyler. He thinks he can talk to my girl? He’s a pathetic creep. And I’ll make sure he won’t be talking to her anytime again. I mean I wouldn’t call myself a creep. I only check up on her from time to time. Maybe some light shadowing nothing else. It’s not that bad right?

I hug Tyler goodbye and go into the locker room. I was one out of six girls so I had the entire locker too myself. God it felt good. I hear a creek and stop moving. Who and what was that?

“Hello?”

I get no answer back decide it probably nothing and keep changing clothes. I change into short leggings that fit my ass perfectly and a tight zip up long sleeve. I turn around and catch a shirtless Baki standing there. Sweat dripping off his body. Oh. My. God.

“W-what are you doing here?”

I ask looking around feeling a blush creep up my cheeks as I couldn’t stop looking at his big biceps and chest.

“You know Tyler is a well known creep here right? I don’t think you should be talking to him anymore.”

He said, not even answering my question. His voice alarmingly aggressive. Though it turned me on I gulped. I didn’t have anything to say as we held eye contact. His eyes roaming my body shamelessly.

“Thanks for…warning me I guess?”

I said. I liked seeing him jealous. He took two steps and closed the distance between us. Leaning in to whisper in my ear.

“I don’t think it would end good if you don’t take my advice.”

I felt shivers down my spine as I was quiet. He stood back up tall again and walked out as if nothing. I released a breath I didn’t knew I was holding as he left. My heart beating a thousand miles per hour.

A few days later

Two people in our club won the championship so we all went to a well known club like restaurant. Of course one of the fighters had to be Baki. The most talented guy here. I was wearing a tight dress that fit right over my ass. Was it to make Baki jealous in hopes that he takes action? Yes. I’m on the dance floor dancing with one of the other girls in the club when Tyler come up to me. He invites me for a dance and I say yes knowing Baki is watching from somewhere. I look over Tyler’s shoulder as we dance and see him.

God he looked good. Wearing a black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up his big forearms. We stared at each other and I saw the little anger swirling in his eyes. His fingers twitching. Plan succeeded. He stands up and walk through the crowd of people all while looking into my eyes. Baki grabs ahold of Tyler’s shoulder and kind of rips him off me making me yelp.

He says something in Russian before grabbing my waist and arm. Pulling me into him whilst he walked towards the bathrooms

“Let go of me! I was actually dancing if you couldn’t see that”

I whine rolling my eyes to flare his temper even more. He grabs my throat lightly as he pressed me against the wall.

“What did I tell you? Hmm?”

He says. His face right in front of mine.

“I can talk to whoever I want to!”

He squeezed my waist and said my name as a warning.

“I won’t hesitate to bend you over that sink and make you watch in the mirror as I fuck you.”

My breathing gets heavy at the thought of him doing it as I feel his chest press against mine. I make the mistake of looking down and seeing a tent in his pants making a little whine fall out of my mouth as I imagined he was good at using it.

“Then do it”

I challenged. I didn’t have time to react before he manhandled me infront of him and bent me over. Humming in approval at the sight of me bent over for him.

“Wore this dress all f’me tonight? Making you look slutty just to get fucked by me?”

He asks playing and teasing with the straps of them as he slowly puts them to the side making my breast fall out. He groans at the sight as he lifts my dress up. Pushing my panties to the side as he smirks at the sight of my wet cunt.

“Answer me”

He said. His voice demanding as he spanks my naked ass.

“Yes! Yes all for you”

I begged. I was tired of all the tension between us. I needed him. I wanted him.

“Good little slut” He said, kissing the nape of my neck. Collecting my hair in his fist and tugging it making my back arch. I hear the zip of pants and then one of his hands on my body disappeared.

“Baki” I beg. I needed him to hurry up I was desperate. The only warning I got was a quick hiss as he pushed his tip inside me. I let out a moan as he slowly pushed more and more inside me. Wanting me to feel every vein on his dick and feel every inch inside me.

I moaned as he filled me to the hilt.

“You think Tyler can do better than this?” He asked breathless while tugging my hair back and watching my face in the mirror. My eyebrows furrowed and my mouth opened with my breast spilled out the dress.

“N-no” I stuttered out as he started moving back and forth. He started a ruthless pace making my moans uncontrollable. The lewd sound of me moaning his name and his groaning as he kept fucking me.

“Such a slut f’me” He spanks me and the pleasure becomes to much. I feel a bundle of pleasure start to build in my lower stomach

“I-I’m going to-“

I don’t have time to finish my sentence before I climax. He groans as I clench around his dick and pulls out. My legs shaking as both of us are panting. He looks at me through the mirror and I can see his eyes roaming my body once more. A blush on my cheek and drool about to fall from the side of my mouth.

He grabs some paper and cleans me up and helps my fix my look as he fixes the way my dress fit me.

“I don’t want you talking to him again. If you want to get fucked. Just say that.”

He said, grabbing my hand and leaving the bathroom as we sat down with the rest of the team. Using the excuse that I felt like throwing up and he was there to help me.

[parisian-nicole]

A Criminal Minds Evolution GarVez Story Idea

Author’s Note: This is just a very little snippet of an idea that came to me after Zach Gilford’s interview where he mentioned a little hacker rivalry between his bad guy (Elias Voit aka Sicarius) and Garcia. I may continue it or I may not. Just something I thought would be very interesting. This picks up right from the last episode 4, pay-per-view

******

“You know she is just trying to help you, right?” Alvez said to the man seated across from him. “I get that you think she foiled your grand plan of revenge, but if you knew her, you’d know that she has a heart of gold and would go out of her way to help anyone,” He further defended as he frowned up, irritated that this man would not want Garcia’s help.

“Yeah, I get that,” Tyler Green said as he bowed his head and locked his eyes down on the table. “She reminds me of my sister in that way,” He then took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to Alvez again. “I’m not telling you to leave her out of this because I’m mad at her. I’m telling you because I don’t want what happened to my sister to happen to her,” These words sent a chill through Luke’s body and he leaned back in his seat as he regarded the younger man across from him, and pondered what he meant. “Do you think I just found her by chance? No, I found her and reached out to her specifically because ‘he’ found her.”

“Sicarius?” Luke pushed out in shock while both Garcia and Prentiss stood staring in shock on the other side of the two-way mirror. “Tyler, what do you mean he found her?” Luke probed as he leaned in closer to the table.

“You already know that he targeted one of the messageboards she helped write the security coding for, and pointed one of his minions to it,” Tyler explained. “And It took him a while to infiltrate it because she’s good, she's very good. He even mentioned that he was impressed by her computer skills, and said he wanted to meet her face to face someday,” When Tyler stated this Luke’s jaw clenched and he fisted his hands which were atop the table. “That’s why I contacted her, to try and warn her, because anyone who piques this guy’s interest usually turns up missing,” Luke nodded and then stood from his seat and hurried out the door.

“We have to get you into protective custody,” Luke said as he stepped right up to Garcia and place his left hand upon her back, and rubbed it slightly, as a way to offer her comfort. She just looked at him with scared wet eyes her mouth gaping from the shock, then she nodded her head.

“I’ll set it up right now,” Prentiss spoke out as she pulled out her phone to make the call.

“And I want to be on her security detail,” Luke said and Garcia reached up her left hand and placed it on his left arm, as her face displayed her gratitude. Prentiss stalled in her movement to look at him.

“Luke, we can’t spare you. We need you to work the case with us to catch Sicarius,” She protested even as he shook his head at what she was saying.

“I won’t be of any value to you or the case if I’m here worried about Garcia out there somewhere, unsure if Sicarius has found her,” He explained. “I can still work this case … Penelope and I, we both can still work this case at whatever safehouse you place her in. But I want to be there with her, I need to be there with her,” He said this as he gazed at Garcia whose tears had started to spill out, and he reached up his right hand and used his thumb to wipe them away. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?” He said this directly to her and she nodded and cast him a small smile. While Prentiss stood watching them knowing this was a battle she’d likely not win.

“All right, I need to make some calls, but I should have everything arranged within the hour,” With that said Prentiss walked out and Luke pulled a frightened Garcia into his embrace, and she clung to him tightly.

“I swear on my life, I will not let anything happen to you, never,” He declared as he closed his eyes, and said a silent prayer for God to always keep her safe.

[dreamofjoys]

I was wondering if you could have Vampire!Vil overhearing F!MC singing “Totale Finsternis” (“Total Eclipse of the Heart” in German) while she’s wearing a dress that Vil gifted her before that moment. In his euphoria he begins singing too and their song becomes a duet right before he gives her his immortal kiss.

total eclipse of the heart: a classic song that is composed and written by jim steinman. the song appeared in bonnie tyler’s 1983, faster than the speed of the night, the lyrics are assumed to represent love and longing, which is true to an extent. later on, it was revealed that jim steinman originally wrote the song for a 1992 vampire film, nosferatu, the original title was “vampires in love”. the lyrics of the song talks about darkness, power of darkness and love’s place in dark, just like a vampire line.

a/n: thanks for the request! i hope the song description is correct. i posted a picture of the dress, you can just ignore the model and focus on the design of it:)

scenario: singing total eclipse of the heart with vil under a moonlit sky

characters involved: vampire!vil x fem s/o

tw: reader got a little insecure but is nothing major

italic words means that the reader is singing

(italic, covered and BOLD words means that vil is singing)

you trotted across the private forest that vil had gifted you, aimlessly walking and exploring it. the private forest was located behind the mansion that vil owned, only you and vil had access to it.

you arrived at a clearing, and opted to sit under one of the trees. looking across the sky, you could see that the sun was setting. a hue of orange and red dyed the beautiful blue sky. it was a gorgeous sight, and you wished that your boyfriend would accompany you to see the sun set, but he couldn't.

why? he is the creature of the night that looms in the dark. an immortal being that fears nothing but the sun. one touch from the sun is all it takes for him to turn into dust.

you fiddled with the hem of the dress that vil had gifted you yesterday. it was a plain white floral french maxi dress, made of satin. the texture was smooth and nice, as expected from the one and only vil who only gift the finest quality to you.

you stared at the dress, wondering how rich vil, you knew that he was a million dollar rich vampire that owns a cosmetic brand, but you never really know how much he exactly earns and the number of digits in his bank account.

when you asked him about his annual salary, he only smiles and give your cheek a kiss. “don’t let your mortal head worry about money. just know that the money is enough to give you whatever you want.”

a romantic relationship between a mortal and a vampire isn’t unheard of, but still rare and often frowned upon; since vampires likes to drink human blood. was the love between you and vil worth it? you didn’t mind vil being a vampire, you didn’t mind waiting for him everyday till nightfall just to spend some time with him, you love vil for being… vil.

you shaked your head, trying to shake off those negative thoughts. vil loves you and you know it. as long as the both of you love each other, everything will be fine.

every now and then i get a little bit lonely,

and you’re never coming around

you started singing, hoping that it would clear off your mind.

every now and then i get a little bit tired,

of listening to the sound of my tears.

every now and then i get a little bit nervous,

that the best of all years have gone by.

every now and then i get a little bit terrified,

and then i see the look in your eyes.

(turn around, bright eyes)

you whipped your head to the source of the new voice that joined you, only to find vil standing a tree, a metre away from you. he was dressed in an elegant white suit, paired with a white vest and white pants. the gold detailing chains and pattern on his clothes seemingly brings out his purple amethyst eyes. his hair was bummed up as per usual, pairing it with a gold crown. oddly enough, his outfit matches yours.

you stood up and walked towards him, continuing to sing.

every now and then i fall apart

(turn around, bright eyes)

every now and then i fall apart

(turn around)

you reached toward vil as he took your hand and interlock his finger with yours, leading you to the middle of the clearing.

every now and then i get a little bit restless,

and im lying like a child in your arms.

his free hand holds your waist and pulls you close to him

(turn around)

every now and then i get a little bit angry,

and i know i’ve got to get out and cry.

(turn around)

every now and then i get a little bit terrified,

but then i see the look in your eyes.

vil smiles, evidently happy about the choice of your song. not letting you say anything, he pulls even closer, holding you against his chest as he dives down and capture your lips with his.

you closed your eyes, savouring the moment between the both of you. your free hand travelled to the back of vil’s neck, pulling his head closer to you as the both of you mould your lips against each other.

after awhile, the both of you pulled apart to catch breath. a string of saliva connected both of your lips. vil took out his purple handkerchief, carefully dabbing and wiping off his saliva on your lips while he does the same to his.

“so, what’s with my beloved singing a vampire love song out here?” vil asked you as you press your lips into a thin line. “I was just watching the sun set and exploring this forest, i didn’t expect you to be up so quick.” vil rolled his eyes at your response. what do you mean by you didn’t expect him to be up so quick? he has always been an early riser. besides, the only thing he look forward to in his immortal life was to spend the night with you.

“you cheeky little thing. were you perhaps overthinking about the relationship between us? for every time you overthink, i will kiss you.”

“should i overthink more?”

vil pulled both of your cheeks, calling you a naughty potato as you whined.

“seriously love, i will always love you. trust me, okay?” vil’s tone turned serious as he looks at your straight into your eye. “okay vil, i trust you, and i trust us.” you gave him that adorable smile that he has come to love so much. vil chuckles, and once again pulls you into another kiss.

this time, the kiss was longer and more passionate. perhaps giving you his immortal kiss under the moonlit sky would give you more reassurance that you are safe and love by him.

[islesnucks]

LAST NIGHT I TOLD YOU I LOVED YOU - NOLAN PATRICK X READER

this started as a tyler seguin fic, was almost a brock boeser one for a second and turned out to be about Nolan lol

this was not proofread so yeah keep that in mind as you read it 

Word Count: 2k

Warning: mention of alcohol (?)

Smmary: the morning after you drunkenly confessed your feelings to Nolan - slightly inspired by the song Last Night by Lucy Spraggan

Masterlist

Add yourself to the taglist!

-

Last night I told you I loved you

Woke up blamed it on the Vodka

I genuinely thought I was dyin'

And I could see that smile you were hiding

-

You woke up and the first thing you felt was pain. There was a banging in your head and your stomach felt sick. Memories from last night were blurry, there surely was alcohol involved. The last thing you remembered was walking into the bar with Nolan and TK by your side, then there was vodka involved. Or was it tequila? Maybe even both?

Feeling like the slightest move would make you throw up, you decided to snuggle further into the sheets trying to go back to sleep, hoping a couple more hours of sleep would make you feel better. That’s when you heard barks coming from outside the room, making your head pound. Then your eyes went wide when it hit you: you don’t own any dogs.

Looking around you confirmed this indeed wasn’t your bedroom, it was Nolan’s. The curtains were shut so the room was dark and you couldn’t see much, but you were able to make out your dress from last night folded on top of the armchair beside the bed.

You looked down and realized you indeed weren’t using your clothes, instead you had one of his old shirts on. Then you noticed your underwear was still on, a good sign you thought. But still you couldn’t remember anything from last night and that terrified you.

You weren't scared of what you could have done, you knew having the boys by your side ensure you nothing bad would happen. So you weren't scared that you had somehow ended up drunkenly dancing on top of  a table or making out with a complete stranger. No, the problem was that alcohol always loosened your tongue. What you were scared of was having confessed something you had worked so hard on holding in.

Gathering a little courage and still feeling like you may throw up any second, you got out of bed and made your way out of the room. The clacking of a pan and smell coming from the kitchen let you know Nolan was probably there cooking some breakfast or maybe lunch, you didn’t know what time it was. Taking one last deep breath, trying to calm your nerves, you made your way down the hall to the kitchen.

He was with his back to you, too busy stirring something on a pan to realize you had entered the room. That’s when his dogs approached you excited to see you, making him turn around to find you still half asleep, hair in a messy bun, some rests of makeup from last night on your face, dressed in his shirt that were long enough to cover everything. You were sure you looked horrible but he found it cute, the smile that formed on his face showed it.

“Hey, you’re alive.” He turned off the stove and proceeded to place what turned out to be scrambled eggs on two plates.

“I feel like shit.” You took a seat on one of the barstools by the kitchen island.

“Sorry, did the bark wake you? I was keeping them in the living room so they wouldn’t bother you but Charlie sneaked out.” he said, giving the dog a stern look, but Charlie was too distracted enjoying as you petted him to notice.

“No don’t worry I was already awake, agonizing in bed, but awake.”

He placed the plate with everything he had cooked and a cup of coffee in front of you and you thanked him as he took a seat next to you. He was quiet per usual, but the Nolan you knew would have thrown some snarky remark about how much of a lightweight you are and he’s never going out with you again. That concerned you a bit. However he seemed normal, no awkward looks or anything that made you think you had messed up in any way last night.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” he suddenly said bringing you back to reality. There it was, something did happen. You could feel your heart in your throat, but you tried to play it cool.

“No… Wait we didn’t-”

“No!” he was quick to cut you off, slightly offended that you thought that could’ve happened. “You were wasted Y/N, I’d never take advantage like that.” He then realized he admitted nothing happened because you were drunk, not because he didn’t want it to happen; but you were too busy panicking to realize.

“I know, I know. It’s just that I woke up in your bed, with your clothes on.” you tried to explain.

“We ubered back here, you were asleep the whole ride, I helped you change your clothes and gave you my bed. I slept on the couch.” Relief washed over your body, deep down you knew nothing like that could have happened, but hearing it made you feel better, like a huge weight was being taken off your shoulders.

“Thank you Nols, you didn’t have to.”

“Leaving you alone in your apartment in the state you were in felt wrong.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m glad to know I didn’t do anything too stupid at the club.” you said, letting out a deep breath you didn’t even notice you had been holding on to.

“Well you didn’t do anything stupid at the club...” He didn't finish but that was enough to make you choke on the coffee you had been drinking.

“Shit what did I do?”

“Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry.” He brushed it off as he stood with his empty plate in hand and walked over to the sink.

“Nolan …” you questioned him, but he still wouldn’t look at you. Yet you could see the smile he was trying to hide and that was all the confirmation you needed. Something definitely happened. You got off your seat and made your way around the kitchen island.

“Nolan James Patrick. What did I do?” Your stern tone made him finally turn around with a look on his face you couldn’t quite explain, which only made your nerves grow.

“You said something.” 

“Shit.”

“You really don't remember?” He walked till he was standing next to you. “We were here, I had already helped you change, you were in bed ...” he started to explain, hoping it would refresh your memories because he didn’t have it in him to actually tell you what you had said.

And just like that the memory from last night hit you.

~

“This sucks.” you said letting yourself fall on the bed, not even trying to position yourself correctly.

“Well you should’ve stopped after the third shot like I told you.” Nolan was too busy folding your clothes to see the way you rolled your eyes.

“Not that. This. You are being so nice with me and it sucks.”

“You lost me there princess.” he said confused, brows narrowing but with a playful smile still on his face, the way you rambled incongruently was too cute for him not to.

“Because I’m just going to fall harder for you and I shouldn’t because we’re friends Patty. I can’t be in love with my friend.” you let out matter-of-factly, clearly all products of the alcohol that was still running through your veins.

He could not believe what he was hearing. His heart stopped at your words, but he tried to convince himself he had heard it wrong, God knows the many times he dreamed of you saying those words.

“It sucks that I’m in love with you.” you added and there was no denying it, he heard it clear this time.

“Y/N …” he started to say as he turned around but words died in his mouth when he realized you were already asleep.

~

“Shit!” you let out and your hands instantly went to cover your face. You had screwed it big time. Sure you could blame it on the alcohol but Nolan knew you, he knew you wouldn’t just invent something like that. And even if it worked, your friendship would never be like it was before.

“Just forget I ever said that, okay? I was drunk and I didnt know what I was saying. Fuck. I'm the worst'' you started to ramble as you walked around the kitchen, unable to keep still because of the anxious feeling deep in your chest. It felt like your world was spinning out of control and all you could think about was all you had lost the moment alcohol got the best of you and you confessed your feelings.

All of a sudden Nolan was standing in front of you, placing his hands on your sides to stop your pacing. You couldn’t look him in the face, knowing the moment he saw you he’d realized how much you meant everything you said last night.

“Hey calm down” He started caressing your arms gently up and down in a reassuring manner.

“I'm so sorry.” you said, tears threatening to fall down your face any moment. 

“Well I'm not.” he replied with a humorous tone that threw you off. You shoot your head up at him with a confused expression that only intensified once you realized he was smiling sheepishly at you.

“I’m actually really glad that happened because now I don’t have to worry about how you may react when I tell you how I feel about you.”

“I think the alcohol killed all my brain cells because I don’t understand a thing you're saying.”

Nolan rolled his eyes at your comment but couldn’t hide the smile on this face. His hands went to cup your face, pulling you closer to him as he wiped away gently with his thumb a few tears that you hadn’t been able to keep in.

“What I’m trying to say is: I love you too.” he said looking into your eyes tenderly.

“I swear if TK comes out of nowhere holding a camera or something I’m murdering both of you-”

“I’m not joking! I love you Y/N. I have for the longest time and I’m a little embarrassed it took you drunkenly confessing how you feel for me to have the balls to say it.” Nolan’s cheeks turned red and you had to bite your lip to not make a comment about it. His eyes full of adoration never left yours, making you feel the all too familiar butterflies, but this time it didn’t feel wrong. This time you didn’t have to hide it or push it away. No, because this time you knew he felt the same.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly and all you could do was nod. He started to lean in, heart beating fast in his chest just like yours. 

“Wait.” you said, stopping him when he was less than an inch away from connecting your lips. He pulled away to look down at you confused, hands still resting against your cheeks. “I haven't washed my teeth.” He let out a chuckle.

“I couldn't care less.” he said, leaning down to finally kiss you.

It started sweet and gently, neither of you could believe it was happening, too scared any second you’d wake up and realize it was all a dream. That was until your hands met on the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and bringing him closer, deepening the kiss. His hands left your face and moved down your back, pressing you against him as much as possible, clutching to you in any way possible. The kiss intensified with the second and you could not stop, you had been craving each other for so long it felt almost intoxicating to finally know what the other’s lips felt like.

-

thank you for reading, hope you liked it! likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

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[starshipsofstarlord]

Woof Woof

Pairing | Tyler Lockwood x reader

Summary | you were the last person alive that Tyler ever saw himself confiding in. But when the pair of you were the only sober ones at an outdoor party, he has no other choice. Though, he finds himself to be surprised to find out how serious you can really be in the moment.

Warnings | angst, mentions of death, tiny smidge of violence, swearing, implied smut

Requested ☑️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

“Fetch.”

A football rolled at Tyler’s feet, him being unimpressed by the insulting sentiment. The brown and white seamed material became the affections of his prying glare, and if he were a witch, it was undoubtable that he’d have burned the item right on the spot, reducing it to nothing more than ashes encrusted in the encrusted and dead green leaves.

It was summer, which meant, before the new year at school began, there would be woodsy bonfires, and a bunch of teens drinking despite the legal age limit. Matt was tending to the kegs, of which he had bargained with the owner of the grill to sell to him, illegally of course. It seemed that deal had worked out fine, considering that many had drinks in their hands. But today, he didn’t need the mockery meddling with his mind,one day of peace was all he wanted, though seemingly, he was never permitted such a luxury.

With his intent full eyes, he found a you staring at him, a mischievous taint to your irises, you was messing with him; nothing dissimilar to the normal. It was the natural of order of things, and he had rather grown used to your ever so laughable shadow prowling behind him, making up all those stupid jokes, having the heart to return the comments in one way or the other.

The weight of returning to school was already upon his shoulders, adjoined with the priority to keep himself controlled and not kill anyone. That meant, he particularly was not in the mood for your mind games, even if they were not supposed to have that

That part, was what you inclined your humour towards, brashly and bluntly making copious amounts of jokes directed towards his animalistic nature, reminding him that he could never live the life of a normal boy again.

“Maybe I should throw it back far enough so that you’ll be searching for it all night.” The Lockwood sneered lightly towards you, softly kicking the ball away from himself, heading to turn away from where you were trudging over, not wanting to pull an expression that would set off your terrible puns.

“We could get out of here, away from all the noise. I get how much it must be hurting your head, with all the new canine tricks you’ve learnt.” Gulping, Tyler watched as you bent down to pick up the sporting item, twirling it in your hands, as you awaited an answer out of him.

The werewolf nodded, walking ahead of you, as he abandoned the scene that he had once thrived in, now feeling like he no longer belonged around normal people, who were oblivious to the truth, and free of his curse. Not to mention, the truth that you were nothing more than a human, that despite knowing the realism that ran on through the town, killing many people, whether they were passers by, or long term citizens.

And as per usual, they were regarded as animal attacks; and because he killed someone, he had to live in the paws of a wolf. “Good boy.” You snickered at his competence to lean obediently into your words, going to ruffle his brown locks, though his fast and vigilant hand caught yours before you could proceed with the action.

Your other hand released the kick ball, as you focused on how his grip tightened, pulling you closer as his angered expression moved closer to your face. There was no point in trying to pull away, he was far too strong, as all the other lurking supernatural creatures were, and you were not sure whether you should be relieved or not that he was not a vampire.

These woods had a history for disappearances, and deadly attacks, but this time, you felt safe moving away from the grand population of your school, because Tyler was with you. Tyler was strong, and protected the people he cared about, despite what others may think. He was gullible to the premises of relationships, he saw someone caring as him as nothing more sexual intent.

And that was a chore you carried, and another reason that you happened to tease him so. Not only was he an easy target with all these new changes making his bones crack, but he, deep down was a sweet and lost boy, that you were falling for, but you’d never admit that. Not even to Bonnie, who said she was able to see the future or some witchy psychic shit like that.

But perhaps, he was the one that you were supposed to be scared of. A wolf was deceiving, they prowled among the sheep, picking out the weaker ones of the flock, dragging their limbs away to satisfy the contents of their supper.

“You’re hurting me Lockwood, let go.” You winced, feeling how the bone shifted beneath the rough, human skin, and the inability that you had to heal made you fear the pain furthermore. As your eyes flickered up to his, you saw a wrenching gold splinter his irises, their black outlines painting lines around his waterline, making your body tremble. “Tyler, it’s me.”

Still, he seemed mute to what he was doing. You knew he wasn’t meaning to bring pain upon you, but that fact didn’t make it hurt any less. As you huffed your breath out in whimpers through your nose, your eyes filled with tears. And then you did something you’d deny ever dreaming of, you kissed him, suffocating your noises of displeasure upon his lips.

Soon, you felt his hold on your wrist loosen, dropping it suddenly, trying to pull away, scared that he would hurt you again. But with your unharmed arm, you reached up with your hand, tugging him back, as you extended the kiss for a few more seconds, finally disengaging, to your relief, seeing his usual brown hues.

“I hurt you.” He whimpered, feeling guilty. Moving your wrist around, you rotating it, grimacing at the feeling for a moment, but relaxing him a little as he heard no broken bones. “Y/n...”

“I’m fine, it’s just a little sore. Now shut up and kiss me Fido, or I’ll find some other guy that isn’t as pathetic as a castrated dog, and will-“ before you could finish your sentence, Tyler suffocated your mouth with his own, sinking his tongue through the parting of your lips, as he walked you backwards, pinning you up against the trunk of a tree, peeling your jacket from your arms, and discarding it upon the ground.

“You know I’m up against a tree right?” You snickered, earning an annoyed glare from the werewolf, who sighed, knowing that he had to ask the importance of such a thing.

“So?”

“Bark bark.” He shut you up with his mouth, unamused by your constant puns, instead wanting to fathom the dancing of your tongue rather than the words that actually fell from it.

Your hands raked down the back of his head, your nails pinching into his skin, as you mumbled his own name into his mouth, losing speech as he began to suck at your tongue. “Is this what wolves do, fuck in the woods?” Tyler rolled his eyes at you, raising his arms to slip his shirt off, the sight silencing you, as you ran your palms over his exposed chest.

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled, mushing his lips back onto your own, biting your lip, and pulling at it, leaving you certain that you’d have a bruise left upon it later on. Your hands began to tug at his belt, multitasking with the suffocation of his mouth, as you slightly opened your eyes so that you could find the buckle.

“I don’t think I’m going to do that, all things considered.” You smiled, dipping your hand into his pants, plucking at the material of your boxers, licking your lips, as you earned a reprised moan out of the dog boy.

[sunnypogue]

college rafe gets jealous (blurb)

lil bit of jealous rafe per anon request

college!rafe verse bc why the f00k not

note - jealous/possessive boyfriends usually are not the bizzzzz...not trying to romanticize any toxic traits, but hopefully you can sense a bit of growth from mr. cameron here.

(warning: nsfw-ish, possessive!rafe)

you’re sippin’ on bud from the bottle, chatting with your friend michelle & her boyfriend tyler, when he walks up.

it’s one of tyler’s pi kapp fraternity brothers, notorious for getting too drunk & a little too friendly - it looked like tonight would be no different, as he clasped your bare shoulders with his hands.

“wooo!” he yelled over the thumping base of the bar’s music. “I fucking LOVE game day!”

unc had destroyed florida state in a basketball game earlier that evening, resulting in a rather chaotic post-game celebration at the local bar. you, having worked the game, only got to the bar 15 minutes ago, playing catch up with your significantly more drunk friends.

“hi michael.” you winced, his voice booming in your ear - you were NOT drunk enough for this.

michelle laughed at your face as michael swung his arm around your shoulder, leaning down to drunkenly snuggle into your neck (you were never good at hiding your feelings, your face getting you in trouble more often than not). michael was slurring words you couldn’t understand as he started to dead weight himself on you, causing you to slightly stumble under the 6’2” frat boy.

“michael, get off.” you groaned, pushing him on the shoulder. “and lay off the dollar beers, for Christ’s sake.”

michael made no effort to move, instead weaving his arms around you in a pseudo-hug. you rolled your eyes, trying to shake him off. as tyler made a move to help de-tangle his friend from your body, you immediately felt a 220 pound weight lifted from you, the freedom almost disorienting you.

“what the fuck is going on?”

you looked up to see your boyfriend, rafe, angrily fisting the front of michael’s sweatshirt, two buds comfortably sitting between the fingers of his other hand.

“hey baby,” you started, moving to rest a gentle hand on the arm that was holding a very inebriated michael up, trying to disregard the small crowd of lambdas that flanked rafe, in case shit went down.

rafe ignored you, pulling michael closer to his face, “keep your hands off her. I don’t want to have to explain it to you again.” his words were scarily even, face emotionless as he stared michael down.

he shoved michael back towards michelle and tyler, who barely caught the stumbling boy, before rafe pointed a beer at them, “tyler, keep your little bitch in check. shit’s embarrassing at this point.”

you looked apologetically towards michelle, who was trying to simultaneously hold michael up and talk tyler down from a fight, before following rafe, who was stomping towards the front door, knocking the remainder of his beer back.

“hey!” you yelled, tugging on his arm before he started to put back the second bud, stopping him from leaving the bar. “what the fuck?”

he looked down at you. “I should be asking you that.”

you rolled your eyes, “it’s michael. he’s trashed, I genuinely think he thought I was a wall or something to hold him up.”

rafe chuckled mirthlessly, before polishing off the second beer, setting it down on a dirty table. he turned his backwards hat around, pulling it down low over his eyes. “let’s go.”

you crossed your arms. “really? you’re gonna do this shit right now?”

rafe turned towards the exit, growling, “I’m leaving.”

great - he’s deflecting. you thought, as you chugged the remainder of your beer, before hustling after him.

you shivered in your tank top as you caught up to him on the side walk outside the bar, watching as he ordered an uber, his breathing deep and heavy. you wordlessly leaned into his warm body, teeth chattering in the cold january air.

“here.” rafe grumbled, sliding his sweatshirt off to wrap around you. “it’s january, baby. what the hell are you wearing?”

you grinned, half pleased he wasn’t completely shutting you out, half pleased you were cozy and warm. “who cares? I look cute.”

he grumbled again, wrapping his arms around your neck from behind, pulling your back into his chest. y’all waited like that for the uber to pull up, before sliding into the back seat, rafe propping your feet up on his lap, a hand wrapped possessively around your ankle.

you caught his eye about a block from his house, giving him a shy smile and a wink. he growled, hand sliding up your leg.

you couldn’t get upstairs fast enough, practically tumbling out of the uber as rafe stalked after you, still slightly worked up from the incident at the bar. you went to go casually sit on the foot of the bed, kicking your shoes off, when rafe caught up to you, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

“you gonna be pissy all night?” you teased, pulling your hair down from its half-updo.

“what, I can’t be mad about some fucker groping you at a bar?” rafe growled, pulling his hat off to run his hands through his hair. you sat up on your knees, grabbing the hat from his hands before popping it backwards on your head.

“he wasn’t groping me,” you said, exasperated, adjusting your hair under his hat. “he was trying to stay vertical. very different.”

rafe gave you an amused look as you started to shimmy your jeans off while sitting, giving you a hand when they got stuck around your ankles.

“lookin’ good.” he laughed, taking in your appearance - you were down to just his hat and his sweatshirt, the rest of your outfit on the floor.

you smiled at rafe’s more-relaxed demeanor, popping up on your knees. “you’re a lucky man, rafe cameron. I’m not sure any other girl could pull this look off.”

rafe hummed, walking up to the foot of the bed to grab your ass, pulling you in. you squeaked, tipping forward into his chest, the too-big cap slipping down on your forehead. 

you peered up at him, using one hand to steady yourself on his chest, the other to push the hat back - “you better now?”

rafe leaned down to catch your lips in a heated kiss, teeth nipping your bottom lip enough to make you gasp, allowing his tongue to slide in. one hand slid to roughly grasp the back of your neck as he dictated the pace, the other palming your ass cheek, keeping your body flush to his.

you pulled away a couple minutes later, breathless and lips already feeling bruised, hand moving to your chest to settle your heightened heart rate.

“a little better.” he mumbled, hand moving to the front of your neck, lightly tracing your throat with his fingers. “I know what will really help, though.”

(later, you found yourself seated on his cock, tits bouncing as you rode him wearing nothing but the hat, his hand spanking your ass as he made you tell him who you belonged to - you screamed his name as you came on his cock, screamed his name as he came inside you, and screamed his name as he went to eat his come out of you, listening to him growl “you’re mine” as he shoved his face in your dripping cunt.)

as y’all basked in the afterglow, your legs twisted around his, his hand cupping one of your breasts, he breathed out an apology.

“sorry, baby. I know you hate that shit.” he murmured, mindlessly letting his finger circle your nipple.

you wiggled under his light touch, “s’okay baby. you didn’t fight anyone tonight.”

he smirked, rolling your now-hard nipple between his fingers, watching your head tip back in pleasure. “what can I say baby, I’m practically a pacifist now.”

you snorted, smacking his bare shoulder, pleasure forgotten in the humor. “okay bub, whatever you say.” you giggled again. “pacifist my ass. you literally fought a beta in october because he looked at my ass.”

you yelped as rafe tugged you into his side, rolling you under him, his arms bracketing your head. “like it didn’t turn you on.”

you moaned as he leaned down to kiss you again, filthy and slow, tongues fighting for control.

he pulled away a few moments later, brushing your hair out of your face, before his hand cupped your cheek.

you pouted, nuzzling into his palm. “I really should stop sleeping with you after you get all jealous - I think you think I’m encouraging it.”

rafe grinned down at you, slipping his thumb between your teeth, watching as your eyes widened. “whatever babes,” he chuckled, pressing the digit down on your tongue, “you’re mine.”

[marjansmarwani]

Prompt! #2 with Tarlos 🤭

Ask and you shall receive Shaz!

---

It gets a whole lot better

[Read on ao3]

Characters: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand 

Word Count: 1256

Prompt 2: “seeing you with someone else really makes me sick to my stomach.”

Summary: TK thinks Carlos is seeing someone else and it forces him to confront his feelings. Carlos has some good news - for both of them.

------

It gets a whole lot better 

“Hey, you okay?” 

“What do you care?” 

Carlos was taken aback by TK’s hostile response. He froze, halting midstep. He had noticed that TK had disappeared from the bar and had come outside to see where he had gotten to. He wasn’t exactly sure exactly what he had been expecting when he exited the bar, but it certainly hadn’t been this. 

He gathered himself, wiping the surprise off of his face and arching an eyebrow instead.

“Well, you’re the one who left suddenly so I figured I would do the decent thing and come and check on you. But I guess if you’re set on being an ass, I can just leave.”

He turned to do just that when TK’s voice called him back. 

“Wait, god--I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” he broke off with a frustrated sigh as he ran a weary hand down his face. Carlos frowned as he moved closer. 

“Are you okay?” he repeated. 

“I’m fine, just pondering why the universe hates me so much.” 

Carlos’s frown deepened with confusion now, “Am I supposed to know what that means?” 

“No,” TK said sullenly, “just me and the universe hating me, as usual.” 

“Uh-huh,” Carlos agreed sarcastically, “because the universe goes out of its way to mess with TK Strand.” 

“Now you’re getting it.” 

“TK,” Carlos asked bluntly, abandoning the banter, “what’s wrong?” 

TK was silent for a full minute, seemingly weighing his words, trying to decide how best to say what he needed to say. Carlos waited patiently. 

“I finally know what I want,” he said eventually, “but as per usual I am too late.” 

Carlos waited, but TK didn’t elaborate. He sighed and moved closer, stepping up to his side. They were so close now that he could feel the tension rolling off of the other man. “Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t,” he said evenly, “but isn’t it worth a shot anyway?”

TK snorted, “No,” he said more firmly, “I’ve missed the boat. The opportunity is gone. It’s my own fault too - I had the chance, all I had to do was not waste it. But I fucked that up, just like I always do. I’m not made to be happy, Carlos. I thought that maybe here it would be different than before, but I was wrong.” 

“Different from what?” 

“Different from New York. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t ever get anything right. I fucked up everything, all the time. The only thing I was good at was my job. Everything else was a disaster.  My relationship, my sobriety...all destroyed because that’s what I do.” 

He paused, and when he spoke again, Carlos was taken aback by the venom in his tone, “Everything I touch is destroyed. I am a poison. I thought maybe...but nothing is different here. I should just keep to myself; maybe avoid ruining anyone else’s life. My own is already fucked, but that doesn’t mean I have to take anyone else down with me.” 

Carlos was taken aback by the venom in his voice. It dripped with self-loathing. Carlos wanted desperately to help, but he didn’t know where to begin. “Maybe if you tell me what you think you’ve ruined, I can help you see that it’s probably not as bad as you think. You just need to be honest with yourself.” 

“Fine, you want me to be honest Carlos,” TK demanded, turning to face him with a dark expression, “seeing you with someone else really makes me sick to my stomach.” 

There was silence in the wake of TK’s declaration, the only sound the pounding of Carlos’s heart. It was trying to beat itself out of his ribs, to make itself known to the other man. How could he not know?

TK continued on: unaware or unbothered by Carlos’s shock, “I know I had my chance, and I blew it. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, wasn’t sure I was ready for a new relationship, but then I saw you in there with that Captain America lookalike and I realized I had missed my chance. I ruined something else, again.”

As more and more of the pieces fell into place Carlos’s eyes widened. It wasn’t like that, it hadn’t been...but how was TK to know that? 

“TK,” he began, ready to explain, ready to reassure him, but he kept talking; oblivious to Carlos’s attempted interruption. 

“...it’s my own fault, really. How could I be so selfish, so...self-centered as to think…”

“TK,” Carlos tried again, to no avail. 

“...you never said you would wait. Actually, I think I made it pretty clear you shouldn’t so…” 

Carlos rolled his eyes and grabbed TK by the shoulders, turning him to face Carlos. TK’s eyes were wide with surprise and confusion, but nothing compared to the shock that followed when Carlos pulled him closer and captured his mouth for a deep, lingering kiss. 

They pulled apart and there was silence again. TK was staring at him, mouth agape. Carlos arched a questioning eyebrow at him, “can I speak now?” 

TK nodded dumbly, still trapped in shocked silence as Carlos began to speak, “I’m not with anyone else Tyler. I’m not on a date. I haven’t been on a date because I am waiting for you.” 

TK opened his mouth. Carlos could tell that there were many things he wanted to say, so many questions he had, but the one that he settled on was: “so who was that?” 

Carlos rolled his eyes, “That was Trey - we went to high school together. Played on the lacrosse team together. He married his high school sweetheart Rhonda and they have two kids now.” 

TK still stared at him blankly and Carlos sighed, “I was not on a date with Trey. He’s just an old friend I haven’t seen in a while. Nothing more, nothing less. In fact, I haven’t been on any dates because I was waiting for a certain someone to pull their head out of their ass and I think that moment has come.” 

TK stared at him for another moment before chuckling weakly, “I’m the someone, aren’t I?” 

Carlos rolled his eyes, but when he shook his head it was with fondness, “Yes Ty, you are.” 

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, he winced, “I’m sorry, about before.” 

Carlos shrugged, “I’m just glad you finally told me what you were feeling. But you don’t really believe everything you said, do you?” 

TK’s only answer was to turn his face from Carlos’s, avoiding his gaze. Carlos sighed heavily, “Ty, you don’t ruin things. Yes, you’ve had a bad run of it, but it’s not your fault.” 

TK swallowed, “that’s easy for you to say,” he said softly, thickly. He was still avoiding Carlos’s gaze. 

“Yes,” Carlos agreed, “yes, it is. It is because I know you Ty, better than you think I do, and I know it’s not true. I know because you haven’t ruined this, and you won’t.” 

TK finally met his gaze, “How can you be so sure?” he asked softly. 

Carlos raised up a hand to stroke TK’s jawline tenderly, “I’m sure because it takes two to make a relationship work, and I have a feeling we’re going to make a pretty good team.” 

TK’s answering smile was enough to light up the dark night and Carlos could feel his heart skip a beat. They would make this work - he would help to make this work - because Carlos Reyes would do anything for that smile.  

---------

[Read on ao3]

Want more? Send me one of these prompts!

also tagging some mutuals because it’s not showing up in the tags again: @reyesstrand @lonestarbabe @terramous @officerrxyes @benjisvictor @bellakitse @rafaelsilva @sunshinestrand @lire-casander @ladder126 @prodigalleverage

[writingithink]

If the Doctor Dances Rated: T Word Count: 4402 Summary: After Canary Wharf, the Doctor has a lot of regrets. Notes: This is a fic for @sunniebelle ‘s prompt at @doctorroseprompts. The prompt has tons of spoilers so I'm just leaving it as a link :P. sunnibelle, I hope you like the fic! All of the gratitude to @hey-there-juliet for being the best beta ever! All mistakes are mine, as per usual.

READ IT ON AO3 [copy/paste link] -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/27631036

The moment the TARDIS had safely entered the Vortex, the Doctor wasn’t sure it had been a good idea to refuse Donna’s offer of Christmas dinner. It would have hurt, spending the holiday without Rose, trying to keep up the facade that everything was okay, that he was fine . Then again, he wasn’t sure that it would have hurt more than this.

Alone on his ship, the TARDIS’ hum was the only thing keeping the silence from becoming truly oppressive. Even so, he felt like he was being bombarded with her absence.

The Doctor glanced down at the controls. At any given moment he usually had countless ideas for where to go next, an unending list of places and times and historical figures it would be interesting to see. He still did.

It was just …

What was the point?

What was the point, if he couldn’t show it all to her ? Experience it with her? View the wonders of the Universe through Rose Tyler’s eyes, their hands clasped together as they ran through time and space?

None of it felt like it mattered anymore.

Over nine hundred years, and he had lost so much, been through so much. He didn’t know how he was possibly expected to get through this.

His anguished cry echoed through the room as he pushed himself violently away from the console and forced himself to march down the corridor before he did something that he would likely regret later - like destroy the last TARDIS in existence. Right now he wouldn’t put it past him. He couldn’t trust himself.

The Doctor paused outside of the galley. Maybe a nice cuppa would help him begin to sort through the pain that was threatening to rip him into pieces. He opened the door, took a step inside, and then froze.

Rose’s favorite mug sat on the counter next to a plate of half eaten toast. Three open jars of jam were near it - they had been taste testing.

Throat tight, he turned around, fleeing the room.

Without too much thought, mind forcing him to relive memories of Rose bringing him cups of tea while he worked on repairs, the Doctor entered the library. Before he could collapse onto the sofa, his eyes locked on her favorite throw balled up near the armrest. On the coffee table sat a complete collection of Shakespeare’s work. They had been reading Much Ado About Nothing - she enjoyed the plays more when he read them aloud, said that the strange words made more sense that way.

With each breath he took it felt as though shards of glass were piercing his lungs.

He ran out, not paying attention to where his feet were taking him, vision blurred with tears that he foolishly tried to hold in. Was there nowhere on the ship that didn’t ring out with her absence? The Doctor blindly opened a door, eyes closed as he gave in.

I love you, she’d told him.

He would never see her again.

It had been his last chance to say it. His last chance, and he’d run out of time. Now she would never know that he loved her, too.

The Doctor dropped to the floor, legs messily criss crossing as he covered his tear streaked face. He didn’t want to know where he’d ended up, certain that wherever it was would only echo sharply with it’s lack of Rose Tyler. It certainly smelled like her, and that was bad enough.

I love you, she’d told him, and why couldn’t he have just said it back?!

Then at least she would have known. Because he’d known how she felt even without the words - Rose had shown him constantly. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same for himself.

Sure, more recently he’d begun to try, but his attempts were laughable. Any chance to really show her, and he would deflect, make a poorly timed joke, or run away. Always running.

They should have had more time.

He’d been so afraid of the mere decades she’d had left to live, certain that they would ‘only’ have years together before Rose would be too old to want to run around the Universe with him - that even though she’d promised him her forever, she would need more than he was able to offer her.

Now the Doctor wished that he’d given in to every human-y impulse he’d had, because holding back obviously hadn’t lessened the pain of losing her. They could have had so much more.

With a sharp breath, he opened his eyes only to immediately scrunch them closed, hands curling into fists, nails painfully digging into his palms.

Her room.

He was in her room.

His insides felt hollow as he stood, fully intending to run out, but instead found himself clumsily crawling onto Rose’s bed, wrapping himself in her duvet, and burrowing his face into her pillow. If nowhere on his ship was safe, then why shouldn’t he stay here?

Gripping the blanket tighter, the Doctor couldn’t help but let out a few choked sobs as he rolled to the side and took in the mess she’d left.

He’d never get to tease her again about making so much clutter.

They should have had more time.

Not just more time, even. He should have used the time they’d already had better , instead of being scared of what it would do to him when this day came.

His eyes landed on a dress strewn haphazardly over the chair in front of her vanity. She’d worn it out the last time they’d landed on a peaceful planet for an evening. Had actually convinced him to go back to the TARDIS to change when they’d happened upon a restaurant with dancing. Rose had, of course, asked him to dance that night.

She always did, despite the fact that he refused her every time.

He’d thought it would be too hard to pretend they were nothing more than the best of friends, that he didn’t want anything more than that, if he were to hold her close like that.

So he always refused her, and she always let him. He had spent that evening leaning against the bar, pretending not to be scowling everytime she looked his way as she’d danced the night away, a line of pretty boys always seeming to be vying for her attention. He used to slip away, telling her there was maintenance to be done on the ship (usually there wasn’t).

It had been awhile since he’d been able to do that. To leave her. The Doctor had been certain that soon he would break - they would dance together, and she would just know. It hadn’t stopped him from trying to hold out for as long as he could.

He should have never tried to begin with.

They had danced together once … but only once.

It was - and would likely always be - one of his favourite memories. Everyone had lived, and he had danced. And spinning around the console room with Rose Tyler in his arms, he had finally admitted to himself that his hearts were no longer his own.

But it hadn’t changed the fact that she was human, and he was a Time Lord. The last of the Time Lords.

And as he sat in the console room that night after Rose and Harkness had gone to sleep, he had been terrified . Certain that if he gave in, it would break him.

So; no more dancing.

No giving in.

Yet here he was - broken.

It hadn’t mattered in the slightest. He loved her, and just because she didn’t know hadn’t stopped her from consuming him.

They should have had so much more time.

His brain was a broken record, stuck on the thought. How many changes he would make if he’d known how short their ‘forever’ would be.

The Doctor hadn’t thought he’d be able to stop crying now that he’d started, but his next sob cut off with a gasp.

He was a Time Lord. The last of the Time Lords. So what was stopping him from changing it?

Sure, he couldn’t actually go back and do it all over again - it didn’t work like that. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t make one teeny tiny paradox, now did it?

His ship screeched in his head as he raced into the console room, lights flashing in distress. The Doctor ignored her, inputting coordinates. She was just kicking up a fuss - there was no harm in planting a teeny tiny suggestion into his past self.

“Stop being so dramatic,” he said aloud, voice rough.

He was a Time Lord - he knew what he was doing, and he had perfect recall - knew the first time Rose Tyler had asked him to dance after the Blitz, and knew just when he would be able to get himself alone.

Harkness had suggested it and he’d, of course, refused. Unfortunately, Rose had managed to flutter her eyes and he’d ended up caving. So here they were, at the Moulin Rouge of all places.

The Doctor crossed his arms, doing his level best at projecting an air of unapproachability. It wasn’t as effective as usual, with how intoxicated most of the patrons already were. Jack had already gotten himself a bottle of absinthe, and he was just thankful that Rose had refused to join him, content to drink only non-hallucinogenic alcohol. On that end, she was currently walking towards him with what appeared to be a glass of champagne.

“So, are any famous people here?” she asked as she sidled up to him and took a small sip of her drink.

He made a show of looking around, and while he did think he recognized a few patrons, the Doctor couldn’t be sure and also was aware that Rose was unlikely to know their names.

“Naah,” he said. “It’s early days, May of 1890. They only got their first review a month ago, and it won’t be until the fall that the Prince of Wales visits. By next year, Toulouse-Lautrec will release his first poster. Got us in before the crowds, me.”

“And before that show Jack wanted to see. I’m pretty sure I recall him specifically requesting 1893,” Rose smirked. “Mentioned something about Cleopatra and naked ladies. Think he knows the date?”

The Doctor shrugged, looking around again to locate their companion. It wasn’t hard to find him, and while they hadn’t even hit the half hour mark yet, it seemed as though his drinks were kicking in.

“I don’t know,” he told her, “but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t care if you told him.”

She followed his gaze, giggling as they caught Harkness lean towards an attractive French bloke and nearly trip over his own feet.

“Think this is the start of another one of his stories where he ends up starkers somewhere?” Rose asked before quickly finishing her drink and sitting the glass on the tray of a passing waiter.

“Fancy making a bet?” he laughed.

“Mmm no. I think we both know how it’s going to end. Now c’mon, let’s dance,” she grinned, taking his hand.

The Doctor frowned, looking down at their clasped fingers. The music was fun and bouncy, and Rose looked beautiful, as always. But …

“No,” he forced himself to say, “think I’ll pass. You go on, though. Have fun.”

His smile felt wrong on his face, like baring teeth. He doubted he was fooling her.

“Why not?” she asked, frowning.

He wished she wouldn’t frown. That just made it harder.

“You know me, not much for dancing. Best save it for a special occasion,” the Doctor lied, because he couldn’t tell her the truth: that he was afraid to ever dance with her again. Afraid of what would happen if he continued to let his guard down.

Rose didn’t look like she believed him, but shrugged her shoulders anyway, letting him off the hook.

“Suit yourself,” she said, before walking up to the dance floor.

It was mere moments before one of the pretty boys that she seemed to draw in like a moth to a flame walked up to her, and then they were dancing. And of course she would choose him, why wouldn’t she? It’s not like she’d needed him to dance with her. She’d just been being nice. The Doctor was sure that Rose was much happier with her current dance partner than she would have been with him.

Scowling, he turned away from the dance floor and tried to relocate Jack.

It took a little longer this time, but he eventually found him sitting at a booth in between two dancers, seemingly telling them a story. The Doctor rolled his eyes, and seeing as he didn’t fancy getting dragged into a can-can once all of that started, and he hadn’t wanted to go to the cabaret to begin with, he quietly left the building. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d gotten separated, and everyone knew to meet at the TARDIS - though he hated to think of how long he’d end up waiting on Harkness.

It was a warm night, summer quickly approaching, and he strolled leisurely in the direction of his ship. No matter what he tried to think of to distract himself, he couldn’t manage to get the grimace off his face. Really, Rose Tyler made it awfully difficult for him to ignore how he felt about her. Lines of potential suitors seemed to follow her around, none of them good enough for her in the slightest.

Not that he was. He would be the worst for her of all of them.

The Doctor turned a corner and then slowed - someone was leaning against the building right in front of the alley where he’d parked the TARDIS. Probably harmless, but best to act inconspicuous.

“Beautiful night,” the bloke commented as the Doctor walked past.

“Yup,” he agreed with a noncommittal shrug.

“You’re wasting it,” the man snarled before he could turn the corner.

“Excuse me?” The Doctor paused and turned, looking him up and down. Their eyes met and he realized exactly who he was speaking to. “What are you doing here?!”

The future him didn’t deign to respond, instead turning his head to stare in the direction the Doctor had just come from.

“C’mon, then! There must be a reason you’re risking a paradox. Get on with it!”

“I’m sorry,” the future him - another bloody pretty boy out to ruin his night, of course - sighed before refocusing. He hadn’t seen such a melancholy look on his face since the first time he’d looked in the mirror after-

After.

“It’s fine, just tell me what you’re doing here.”

“I’m sorry,” the other him repeated, scuffing his trainers against the wall before standing up straighter.

“Yeah, I got that, b- wait. Are you trying to tell me that you traveled back in your personal timeline to apologize?! For what?!!”

“I don’t know. It’s … complicated.”

His eyes were black holes, but … they really didn’t seem to carry the years any more than his own did.

“Complicated. Right. Just how far into my future are you?” the Doctor asked.

“I can’t tell you that,” his future claimed, shaking his head of ridiculous hair.

“We both know I’m going to have to forget this, so if you could stop trying to act all mysterious, that’d be great, ta,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

“You know what, fine ,” the pretty boy wearing plimsolls with a suit snarled. “Not long. Maybe about, ohhh, two, two and a half years? Turns out we’re quite jeopardy friendly ourselves. Happy? Good.”

His future self spun around and began walking away, toward the cabaret.

For a moment, the Doctor stood there, stunned. While the other him hadn’t said when it was that he regenerated, it was a very small window. This body should last him hundreds of years! Really, he’d barely used it.

Thankfully, he snapped out of it and quickly caught up with the next Doctor, who was walking stiffly, hands shoved into the pocket of the coat Janis Joplin had given them. It was the only part of his ensemble that the Doctor didn’t necessarily hate.

“Just where is it you think you’re going?” he asked, letting his tone communicate the implied accusation. 

There was something … dangerous … about this version of himself. He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. At least, not yet.

“Earth, Paris, 1890 - I’m taking in the sights. Get a croissant, catch a show, maybe even check out the Eiffel Tower. It’s brand new, you know. The possibilities are endless.”

“You’re heading toward the Moulin Rouge, I’m not an idiot - though I don’t look forward to becoming one. All looks and no brains, the Universe is going to fall to pieces. What’s going on? Is Rose in danger?”

His future self stumbled, an audible gasp escaping before he corrected himself.

A sinking feeling washed over the Doctor as he asked his next question.

“Where is Rose? Your Rose.”

This time the other him stopped completely. They were both silent for far too long as the Doctor waited for his answer.

“I lost her,” he finally choked out. “She’s trapped in a parallel world. We- we can never see her again.”

The pretty boy in pinstripes offered no resistance when the Doctor immediately gave into the urge to punch the tosser he was about to regenerate into right in the face.

“You lost her ?!” he found himself shouting. “ How?!”

The future him covered his cheek, an unsettling look of determination in his eyes replacing the former hopelessness. He didn’t answer the question.

“I have so many regrets,” he said instead. “We wasted so much time.” His future self looked around him as if really seeing his surroundings for the first time, a manic gleam in his otherwise dead eyes. The Doctor took an involuntary step backwards, a natural reaction to seeing a Time Lord that seemed to have gone insane. “We’re in France?!”

“Yeah, France. That is where the most famous Paris on Earth is, and the original Moulin Rouge,” the Doctor said slowly, if not more than a bit cockily.

“But Rose hates France. Ah, wait. No. Will hate France. My bad. My fault, actually, if we’re being honest. So many regrets,” the other him groaned, ruffling his hair before whirling back around and picking up the pace as he continued toward the cabaret.

The Doctor clenched his fists. He had a general idea of what his future self had in mind, of what he was capable of if there was no one around to stop him. If there was no Rose Tyler.

“You can’t take her,” he all but shouted, grabbing the next him’s arm in an attempt to stop him only to get shaken off. His whole being tingled in a bad way as the temporal disturbance worsened.

“I’m not going to take her. She isn’t even going to know that I’m me. You. Eh, you know what I mean,” the pretty boy said with an absent wave of his hand as the Moulin Rouge came into view.

The Doctor was running out of time.

“So what exactly are you doing, then?”

“I’m going to dance with her,” he stated, matter-of-fact.

“You’re going to put the entire Universe at risk for dancing ?!” the Doctor exclaimed. Of all the stupid, ridiculous, idiotic things!

The other him simply shrugged, and the Doctor could tell that he really didn’t care. None of it mattered to this broken version of himself, shattered in a way that he didn’t believe he’d ever been, even right after he’d ended the Time War.

“Alright, tell me this,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “All pretty as you are, were you and Rose- ?”

“No,” the future him breathed. “You know us. Cowards, every time. I just wish-”

The Doctor didn’t find out how that sentence would have ended, as he’d finally found the stun gun he’d confiscated from Harkness the day before, and now the other Doctor was a crumpled heap of pinstripes on the dirty cobblestones.

“I’d say I was sorry, but I’m really not,” he grunted as he struggled to get his future self into a fireman’s carry. “More trouble than you’re worth.”

It didn’t take him terribly long to find the future version of his ship, where he left the next him leaning against the door after carefully entering his own mind and forcing him into a regenerative coma in the hopes that when he came to he’d be sane.

Finally, after all of that, the Doctor reached his TARDIS. Exhausted, and quite ready to forget that he’d ever run into a future him, he slid his key into the lock, and … nothing.

He pushed at the door. Nothing.

He pulled on the door. Nothing.

“What are you playing at?” he scowled at his ship.

In response, he received a hum that managed to be both smug and irritated. The Doctor jiggled the key, trying to get it to turn - it didn’t. He scanned her with his sonic screwdriver - all of the readings were normal.

“He’s fine ,” he assured the TARDIS, taking a guess about what had her so upset and rolling his eyes. “Well, maybe not fine . Off his rocker, but I don’t know what more you expect me to do about it. I’ve maintained the timeline, that’s all I can do.”

Another frustrated hum, and then a vision of him and Rose dancing together.

“What, you think I should have let him?!”

The hand he had still pressed against the door was zapped, and the Doctor quickly removed it as the vision played again, this time with a focus on him . This him.

“You want me to dance with her? Why ?!” he asked, boldly trying the door again. “Of all the- if I wasn’t going to before, I certainly can’t now. I’ve got future knowledge that says I never-”

His eyes slid shut and the Doctor slumped against the TARDIS as she helped him initiate a memory lock. A minute later he jolted back up, furiously pushing at the door of his time ship.

“Of all the meddling-”

Zap!

“Since when do you care if I-”

Zap!

“Bloody hell! Fine! One dance. And it’s not going to be the can-can!”

The Doctor walked back to the Moulin Rouge, muttering unflattering things about his interfering ship the whole way. When he re-entered the cabaret, Jack was nowhere to be seen - not surprising. He quickly spotted Rose, still on the dance floor, smiling at a different pretty boy.

He frowned and crossed his arms, wishing for once that the alcohol on Earth affected him the way it did humans. Unfortunately, there was nothing for it. One dance, just to make the TARDIS happy (and what was that even about, anyway?) and then he’d leave again. The Doctor dropped his arms, straightened his shoulders, and marched into the fray.

“Oi! Mind if I cut in?” he asked once he reached Rose and her overly friendly dance partner, though ‘ask’ was a strong word - he pushed the bloke to the side and took Rose’s hands before either of them had time to respond. “Didn’t think so. Go on then,” he told the man, gesturing with his head toward the bar before managing to spin himself and Rose away.

“Hey!” she complained, “What the hell was that about?! I thought you didn’t even want to dance?”

“Changed me mind,” was all the Doctor said in response, as he didn’t really have an answer for her first question.

Well, he did. It just wasn’t something he wanted to admit to.

For a moment he was absolutely positive that Rose was about to start shouting at him, but then she sighed, cast her eyes skyward, and then … smiled.

“Fine. Not that I want you makin’ a habit of this, but alright. Let’s dance.”

 The Doctor came out of his healing coma slowly, disoriented as his brain sluggishly came back online. He panicked for a moment, not knowing where he was or how he got there, calming only when he realized that he was leaning against the TARDIS.

Streets seemed Earth-like. European, late 19th century.

Paris. He was in Paris.

Why was he in Paris?

The last time he was in late 19th century, Paris was-

His eyes widened and his respiratory bypass kicked in as the Doctor as it all came back to him. He remembered, and was horrified .

How could he have done that?! Why had the TARDIS let him?!

Well, maybe because it had already happened. Circular paradox. Thank Rassilon his past self had been able to stop him.

The Doctor still couldn’t remember what exactly had been going through his mind when he’d decided to cross his own timeline. All he knew was that it had something to do with Rose.

He braced himself for the crushing pain that filled him everytime he thought of her … but it didn’t come. Before he could properly wonder why that was, new memories began to unlock in his mind, running parallel to his original memories. To his original timeline.

While he’d thought he’d been disoriented before, it was nothing compared to this. Still, he slowly rose from where he’d remained leaning against his ship, only stumbling once as a wave of vertigo hit him.

What was true? What was reality now that he’d managed to alter it, despite knowing for a fact that his past self had repressed the memory? Was the Universe even safe? Or was time about to unravel around him?

The TARDIS hummed soothingly as he slowly pushed open the door.

“Doctor?”

His respiratory bypass system kicked in, and for a moment he stared at the grating, afraid to look up.

“I’ve been lookin’ for you all over. Where’d we land?”

It was the voice of a ghost. But not. The Doctor closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe.

“Nowhere,” he answered, finally raising his head. “Got the date wrong. Have to try again.”

Rose Tyler looked stunning, dressed in a denim jacket, a floral dress, tights and some boots. She always looked stunning, no matter what she was wearing. And now he was going to make sure he told her. That he always told her.

“Alright then,” she laughed. Such a brilliant laugh. “And where are we supposed to be going?”

“How do you feel about dancing?”

[swarmkeepers]

3, 4, 14, 30?

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do?

“but the petal-soft blade” by @/reluming is The blueprint for how i write gorgug/zelda/ragh but also frankly for how i write gorgug/zelda! 

i also honestly try to pastiche tyler @/myclericalromance’s style for a Lot of things frankly but especially how they write soft love in fics like “take my heart and take my hand” or humor mixed with emotions in fics like “you put me on and said i was your favorite”!

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

i’m on a queen’s thief kick rn (read: blasted through the six books in 48 hours. i can’t in good conscience recommend the experience but i do recommend the series) so

when you wake there's something for it by Blyth3 (queen’s thief)

everything else left up to you by hippolytas (queen’s thief)

and it is a kind of love, is it not? by saintelmotxt (fantasy high)          

14. Do you have a personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not?

i don’t! i feel like my fics tend towards getting too long rather than being too short (prime example is the d20bb with a 10k minimum that ended up being 30k. oops.) concision is a goal and i actually prefer not to drag on a fic, but if i’m writing a 5+1 i generally will try at least at the start of writing it to keep all the sections roughly similar in length even if i abandon that later (usually ~500 words per section)!

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

from a “5 times esther cried + 1 time ricky cried with her” wip from last year that’s near-abandoned even though i still rlly like it

The voice in her head is her mom’s—or not her mom’s, but the Fury of Rage that stole her mom from her: The time will come soon for you to join us. 

When Esther goes to Tompkins Square Park once a year to talk to its coven, she holds her voice steady and she refutes it carefully—I defy you, I defy the prophecy, I defy all this.

Right now, Esther is nowhere near that in control. She spits back at the voice in her head (it’s not her mom, and if this works, it won’t be her mom), her mental voice choked with tears, Fuck you.

Her body does not feel defiant as she stumbles out of Ricky’s car, a red so bright and loud it cuts through the teary haze. Esther doesn’t even remember to look for Kugrash and the crown. She can’t see, she can’t breathe, she can’t. 

The next real thing Esther remembers is powerful magic vibrating right through her arteries, as obvious as Maserati red. The blindness clears but the tears don’t; trees move to surround the car and arms move to surround her. Esther dashes the back of her hand roughly across her eyes but the tears don’t stop—and then much gentler fingers follow after her own, smoothing more tears away. Her mom’s fingers. Her grandmother’s fingers. Not Furies’ fingers. 

The tears don’t stop, and they’ve never felt so good either. Her mom’s talking to Kugrash, maybe, through the haze, but her hands are still holding Esther and that’s what’s important right now. 

Esther is free, and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever stop crying, and fuck if she cares. 

ask me things! from this fic writer ask meme