#and i stared at that cover for SO LONG but the only thing that was different on her face

[often-daydreaming]

Wishes

"I just wish I could help him."

Tim sighed, tired eyes staring at the rows of monitors searching for any kind of change as he recalls the last thing he can remember Bart saying to him before everything went to hell when a barrier appeared around Central City cutting it off from the rest of the world. It had taken three days before anyone even realized what had happened and that was only after Barry returned from a mission in space and ran face first into the glowing green monstrosity trapping his friends inside some sort of otherworldly magical nonsense.

And it was kind of depressing that, that was all they knew after two months.

It was pure magic, old, ancient magic that had his friends living out the kind of picture perfect high school drama you'd find on tv and they only figured out that much after Cyborg accidentally picked up a weak signal being broadcast to anyone who got close enough.

That was the only real way anyone had to check up on everyone trapped inside and in a way Tim was kind of glad it was mainly focused on his friends and the meta kid Bart had been trying to introduce to everyone cause he had constant proof they were alive. Everyone else wasn't as lucky.

He was also mostly annoyed though cause the League couldn't even damage the stupid barrier anymore. They'd cracked it once, but that just seemed to annoy whatever was powering the thing because it spread out for miles in every direction in response to the Justice League's attempts at forcing open a door and ended up swallowing dozens of government agents and heroes who couldn't escape the danger zone in time.

"Any changes?"

"None." Like always.

He knew Dick was just as worried as he was about everyone trapped inside but the glowing green eyesore wasn't reacting to anything anymore.

Science didn't work.

Magic annoyed it.

They'd finally started looking into some of the more off world solutions that were available to them but so far nothing anyone tried seemed to affect it and he should know since he hasn't stopped monitoring the situation.

He's offered up rewards, called in every single favor he's ever been owed as Tim Drake and Red Robin and read up on everything magical he could get his hands on.

He's even hacked every government agency on the planet on the off chance there might have been a possible answer hidden away somewhere and was nowhere near as professional or gentle as he usually was while doing it. He was tired, worried and more than a little angry and didn’t care about how much damage he did to anyone's computer systems as he ripped even the slightest bit of information out of any server he came across taking anything and everything from Waller's own notes on the matter to research material from a rogue sect of the government calling themselves the GIW.

That had led him down a rabbit hole of government conspiracies and cover ups that would have normally kept him busy for weeks but he had passed on the worst of it to the rest of the League and focused on the handful of files they had on an off the books company called Fenton Works.

They apparently had a functional portal with more than enough power to punch a hole between dimensions so hopefully an investigation into them would keep him busy while they waited for a response from the Green Lanterns.

-_- -_- -_-

"You need to stop this Desiree."

"Why, Phantom and his paramour are happy aren't they?"

She already knew the answer since it was her magic wrapping such a large area and her grin only grew as she watched Undergrowth's little champion twitch at her words.

Because Phantom was happy.

He was the happiest he's ever been in a very long time and well out of the way on a long overdue 'vacation'. So what if everyone was taking his absence as an excuse to run a little wild. The avatar of the Speed Force didn't mind and Clockwork wasn't interfering either so she wasn't overstepping anywhere that really mattered since the Ancient of Time usually erased anyone who went too far with his favorite student.

He hadn't even popped in to deliver any of his usual threats when she overheard the little speedster's heartbroken wish so she banished the girl back to Amity Park without a second thought.

They couldn't force her to grant wishes anymore, not after Phantom went out of his way to help alter her curse and their constant whining was starting to get annoying.

If it wasn't Undergrowth's champion then it was the Pharaoh or Phantom's sister.

None of them could take the hint and leave well enough alone.

Cause, the thing is, she left more than enough wiggle room in the wish for Phantom to get free if he ever really wanted to get free and she wasn't sure he did.

Oh, on some level he was probably well aware of something being off about the world but he was purposely ignoring that feeling.

He was happy in the world she shaped around him and his little speedster and Desiree wasn't about to ruin that for either of them.

She'd just head back to her lair if anyone tried.

No one could get to her there, not without wasting a lot of power so maybe she'd finally have a little piece and quit to enjoy her favorite show in peace.

It's not much but I wanted to try and think up a way for Danny to experience his very own version of WandaVision.

Essentially a sad Danny from any kind of reason really but for now I'm just blaming his entire life for this one and a desperately trying to be helpful Bart who has vague memories of a future with Danny get a starring role in a new life that was perfectly prepared just for them at the cost of pretty much everyone else.

I don't remember what it's called but there was a Disney movie about a superhero school so I'm kind of imagining that and a lot of really cheesy musical moments thrown in somewhere while everyone outside of the barrier is left worrying about their friends and family.

I know it's weird, but my mind just comes up with really weird ideas when I'm tired.

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for lee behind the cut, who asked for dealer’s choice Timberkon and is getting “weird amnesia Timberkon”.  (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Okay, so like . . . stupidest question ever time,” Bernard says, because priorities and all. “But are you okay, man? Like, in the sense of ‘do you have money and a roof over your head and maybe, like, I dunno, a job or something. I mean admittedly I don’t know exactly how long you’ve been home or whatever, just apparently it’s at least been a month so–” 

Superboy’s face crumples. Bernard runs back what he just said in his head, and given the timing of said crumpling figures it was probably him saying “home” like that.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure you’re home,” he says, trying not to wince about it. “I definitely remember you being here previously, and I remember not having noticed you being around for a while too, which would presumably cover however long you were out of the reality. Just, like, I have no idea what happened that made the reality forget you during said ‘a while’. Especially not what happened to make the reality forget you and leave me as apparently the only dude you’ve found so far who actually, like, remembers you. Unless you’ve found someone else and not mentioned them yet, but I’m assuming that’s not a thing given, you know, the  whole . . . uh, level of your reaction to realizing that I did.” 

“Sorry,” Superboy says, rubbing the heel of his hand into one of his eyes. The saddest puppy in the multiverse looks like his favorite bone just got stolen, but like in the dirty kinky the-director-of-this-porno-is-a-furry-on-the-downlow/please-give-me-your-bone-master kind of way. Or like . . . whatever. “Sorry, I–I’m being a freak here. Didn’t mean to–like, do that.” 

“I literally just wandered off in my head to make up a porno involving emotionally-fraught puppy play while still actively trying to figure out the timeline on how long you’ve been back and also when to expect my totally-a-normal-civilian boyfriend back from his totally-a-normal-civilian bathroom visit,” Bernard replies frankly. “That is being a freak. You getting, like, understandably upset over getting kicked out of reality and then getting back home just to find out said home remembers literally nothing about you seems pretty logical and standard and, you know, expected? Actually if I were you I’d probably have gotten committed like five minutes in, so if anything you’re doing better than I’d expect.” 

“Sorry,” Superboy croaks again, then starts crying again too. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m sorry, I just–I’m sorry.” 

“How long were you gone?” Bernard asks. “Like, ballpark, at least. I don’t know if alternate realities have easily-translatable calendars or whatever, I’m assuming probably not, that’s–” 

“Eight months,” Superboy says in a very, very quiet voice, just staring at the table as he tries to blink back the tears, the heel of his hand half-covering one of his eyes and sunglasses knocked a little bit askew in his hair. “I thought–I thought Rob and Wonder Girl and Impulse would come get me. Thought they’d–thought they’d notice I was gone, at least.” 

There was not a single person with “Super” attached to their name anywhere on that very short list, Bernard notices.

[chloeangelbaby]

Bad dreams

Crybaby! reader x Rafe Cameron

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The night was unusually quiet, save for the soft hum of the ceiling fan in Rafe’s bedroom. The moonlight seeped through the curtains, casting faint silver lines across the bed where you lay next to him. His arm was loosely draped over your waist, his deep, steady breaths evidence of just how tired he was.

Rafe had been working himself to the bone lately. Long hours at the office, late-night calls, and stress so palpable you could feel it radiating from him every time he walked through the door. You hated seeing him like that, and tonight, you were especially careful not to disturb him. He needed sleep.

But you couldn’t settle.

The dream had been vivid, cruel, and relentless, leaving you shaken and trembling. It wasn’t even clear in your mind anymore—just flashes of panic, confusion, and that heavy weight in your chest. Your eyes blinked open, your breathing erratic, and tears slipped silently down your cheeks.

You lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, willing yourself to calm down. But the room felt too dark, the shadows too menacing, and the lump in your throat only grew. A hiccup escaped before you could stifle it, and your hand shot up to cover your mouth.

Rafe stirred next to you, and your heart dropped.

You turned your face away from him, biting your lip to hold back another hiccup. You couldn’t wake him—not tonight. He had enough on his plate already, and the last thing you wanted was for him to get annoyed.

But your body betrayed you. The tremble in your shoulders gave way to a quiet sob, and no matter how much you tried to stay still, the bed shifted ever so slightly.

��Dolly?” His voice was groggy, rough from sleep, but instantly alert. His hand moved from your waist to your shoulder, his palm warm against your chilled skin. “What’s wrong?”

You froze, guilt washing over you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, though you couldn’t see it in the dark. He sat up slightly, leaning on his elbow to get a better look at you. “Why are you crying?”

You shook your head, trying to brush it off. “It’s nothing,” you lied, though the hiccup that followed gave you away. “I just… had a bad dream. But it’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

Rafe sighed, the sound soft and tired but not annoyed. “Dolly, stop.” He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his chest. “You’re crying. It’s not nothing.”

His embrace was warm and solid, and the moment you were in it, the dam broke. The quiet tears turned into sobs as you buried your face in his chest, gripping his t-shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “I-I didn’t want to wake you,” you choked out between sobs. “You’ve been so stressed, and I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

His hold on you tightened immediately, his hand moving to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. “Mad at you?” he repeated, his voice incredulous. “Baby, I’d never be mad at you for this. Never.”

“But you’re so tired,” you sniffled, still trembling.

“I don’t care how tired I am,” he said firmly, tipping your chin up so you’d look at him. Even in the dim light, his eyes were soft, filled with concern. “If you’re upset, you wake me up. No matter what. Got it?”

You nodded weakly, the tears still slipping down your cheeks.

“Good,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Now, what happened in the dream?”

“I don’t even remember,” you admitted, your voice small. “It just… felt so real. And I woke up feeling scared.”

“Hey,” he said softly, rubbing slow circles on your back. “It was just a dream, okay? You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

The way he said it, so calm and steady, made the tension in your chest ease just a little. You let out a shaky breath, leaning further into him as his fingers continued to stroke your hair.

“Do you want me to stay up with you for a bit?” he asked after a moment.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t want you to lose more sleep.”

“Dolly,” he said with a small chuckle, the sound low and comforting. “I’ll be fine. Just tell me what you need.”

“Just hold me,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“Always,” he replied, pulling you even closer.

You drifted off again not long after, lulled by the steady rhythm of his breathing and the soft strokes of his hand against your back. And Rafe stayed awake a little longer, just to make sure you were okay, watching over you with a quiet devotion that he never hesitated to give

———————————˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊————————————

Please send me some requests babies I appreciate you all so much for showing all the love and support thank you so so much

Love Chloe

xxxx

[lloydskywalkers]

barometric pressure

it's finally getting cold here and actually feels somewhat like winter so!! Zane on the brain, i rewatched s11 again and had feelings about the complete and total lack of addressing everything that went down in the Neverrealm, etc, so here's a shorter snippet of Zangst (that isn't even angst really it's just snow ramblings oops)

Exactly four months, six days, and an indeterminable amount of hours (it is ten) after they returned from the Neverrealm, the clear, crisp skies of late autumn give way to the gray, overcast start of winter.

It’s a painfully familiar sky, one Zane knows nearly as well as he knows himself. The graying clouds are as clear a signal of snow as anything, though he’s already well-prepared.

Vex’s whispers returned to his ears around the same time the first, familiar chill began seeping through the monastery walls. 

For others who are not Zane, though, snow could still mean happier things. He still recalls the expression on Kai’s face the first winter he’d spent with them, snowflakes dotting his eyelashes as Jay wildly demonstrated how to craft a lopsided snowman. So Zane hopes, however weakly, that the rest of them can welcome the snow as enthusiastically as they have in the past. 

His hopes are neatly shattered, however, when the first thing Cole does is set straight out for the woods and return with enough firewood to burn down the entire mountain.

“What are you gonna do, roast every marshmallow in Ninjago?” Jay gapes at him.

Cole rubs the back of his neck, firewood precariously balanced in one mitten-covered hand, his nose a shade darker than the rest of him from the growing cold. “Just thought we should be prepared,” he says. “In case the power goes out, or we just, you know. Wanna have a fire.”

Zane feels the room slip a little colder from his words alone. Or perhaps it’s his imagination — it’s been active, of late. For example, Vex and his whispers are several dozen realms away, and Lloyd is choking on the hot chocolate he’s drinking too fast instead of staring lifelessly at him from a frozen prison. Kai and Nya are fighting over the few coats they have that aren’t torn or stained or covered in what’s either glitter or the fragmented remains of their last enemy’s vehicle, not encased in blocks of ice, voiceless and empty.

Cole is…now distracted and giving him concerned looks, while Jay struggles to keep the firewood from spilling over his arms. 

Ah. He’s drifting, again. 

“How about we start the fire — in the fireplace, Cole, help—”

“Are you okay?” Cole asks bluntly, absently adjusting his hold on the firewood as Jay stacks the loose logs back in his arms. 

“Of course,” Zane says. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

A crucial error. He knows better. Leaving things at ‘of course’ is a risky move, but it’s certainly a better option than flat out asking Cole to pounce. 

Jay makes it first. “Yeah, ‘cause when I’m fine, I disassociate staring out the window for hours all the time.” 

“I was not disassociating.”

“Uh-huh. Hold on, lemme find a dictionary. Right next to ‘disassociate’, there’s a nice little picture of—”

“Lloyd,” Zane says. “You will find my image next to ‘emotionally removed’.”

“That is dissociating, and Lloyd’s next to ‘traumatized’. Nice try, though.”

“We’re all next to traumatized,” Cole mutters, finally giving up and dumping his stack of firewood next to the door. Zane quietly calculates how long it will take Kai to set it ablaze, along with how much it will cost to replace the door if it ends up collateral damage. 

“Not me,” Jay says, hands on his hips. “I’m next to optimism. Which you could all use, you know.”

Cole stares at him in disbelief. “Optimism? You’ve predicted our deaths like, six times in the last month alone—”

“It’s called a joke, where’s your sense of humor?”

“Jokes are only funny if you aren’t screaming them, and — oh no you don’t.”

Zane sags in defeat as Cole snags him by the back of his sweater. He was so close, too. Normally, Cole and Jay’s arguments are the perfect time to make an escape. Either they’re getting more observant, or he’s getting careless. 

“Look.” Cole lets go of his sweater, crossing his arms in front of himself. Zane can’t tell if he’s warding off the chill, or warding off the same dark thoughts that have haunted them all since the snow began sticking. “I know we’re not…there, anymore, so it’s different. But if you’re having a hard time—”

“I am not.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” Cole huffs, his forehead still scrunched up in worry. “But if you were to hypothetically be having a hard time, I’d hope you could talk to us. Any of us. It doesn’t have to be me, just…” He looks away, staring out the window wistfully. 

“Winters have always been fun, with everyone,” he finally continues. “Remember the first time it snowed, when it was just you and me and Jay?”

Zane avoids his eyes. He does remember, of course. He remembers everything, even the things he wishes he could forget. But the memories of those early days, the first few months adjusting to living with others in the monastery, have yet to be tainted with any kind of darkness. 

Jay had been near-comically scrawny back then, hair pressed resolutely against his forehead from his countless attempts to get it to stay there. Cole had been smaller, too — a bit sharper around the edges, his walls a bit higher, but still open enough to make Zane feel like a part of their little team. He still remembers Cole’s laughter, observing Zane’s terrible first attempt at sculpting anything from the snow, Jay his long-suffering teacher. 

It had been the first time snow had meant anything fun, instead of the perpetual silent blanket that cut Zane off from the rest of the world. 

And now here he is, years later, with all of Jay and Cole’s efforts gone to waste. 

“You should come outside with us, after Cole finishes his firewood mountain,” Jay suddenly says, a bit breathless. “See how your snowman skills are shaping up.”

It takes Zane a moment. His mouth is full of refusals, his mind stuck on the fact that the last shape he made from snow was an enormous, vicious ice dragon that nearly killed everyone he loves. 

But Jay looks painfully hopeful, and a bit too nervous that Zane will say no, and Cole’s edges are so soft now, Zane fears his own sharp edges will only hurt him. 

“Give me a moment,” he says, forcing his tone to sound light. “And I will. I will join you.”

Cole’s eyes light up, and a beaming smile breaks across Jay’s face. 

“Sweet!” Jay claps him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go drag Nya out of hiding, but the snow’s piling up in the courtyard, so if we get out early enough we can ambush Kai with snowballs when he comes out.”

Cole rolls his eyes. “I’m not digging you out of your snow grave this time,” he calls, following after Jay. 

“Spoken like someone who wants to take on Nya in one-on-one combat!”

“I’m not insane, I’m not doing that either!” 

Zane hesitates, left alone in the hallway. He crosses his own arms against the sudden chill, tiny stabs of regret already making themselves known. 

It is easy to lie, but what will happen when he actually joins them in the snow? What if the icy chill sets in, miles of white all around, and he loses himself again? 

The others weren’t there. They know his role in the Neverrealm, of course, but none of them saw the monster he let himself become. The depths of his cruelty, his coldness, what he was capable of — all of it remains Zane’s secret to keep. 

Well. 

That is a lie, and with it lies another significant reason Zane should avoid setting foot outside. His presence will only ruin things. 

Yet the quiet, aching part of him seeks out the exception anyways, because deep down, Zane is just as selfish as any other person. 

Lloyd looks little better than Zane feels, his eyes glued to the graying skies with the same look of faint dread Zane stared the drifting snowflakes with. His knees are drawn up tightly to his chest where he sits on the sofa, his mouth pinched as he picks apart the already-fraying edge of his scarf. 

His expression softens when he sees Zane, mouth curving up into a faint smile. 

“You get cornered, too?” 

At his brief look of confusion, Lloyd nods at the thick jacket Zane’s wearing. 

Zane looks away. “They seem to think it will be fun. A snow day.”

“Mmh.” Lloyd turns back to the window. With a sigh, he slides his legs out, standing as he throws the threadbare scarf around his shoulders. “Guess we should get out there, before Jay starts building his nightmare snowmen in the courtyard.”

Zane blinks at him, taken aback. “You’re joining them?”

“Duh,” Lloyd frowns. “I wanna have fun, too.”

“Ah.” Zane isn’t sure if what he feels is guilt, envy, or some odd mix of the two. Confusion, he finally decides on. “It doesn’t…you’ll be alright, in the cold?”

Lloyd’s expression falls, but he doesn’t look away. He fiddles with the edge of his scarf, as if turning words over in his head. 

“I’ll be okay,” he finally says, in the quiet, softer way he speaks now.

He used to be louder. Zane remembers, down to the exact cadence of his voice — straining a bit too low for his throat, acting a bit too old for his age. Less…reserved. 

Younger. 

Then Lloyd smiles, and Zane reminds himself that Lloyd’s voice is also lighter, these days. It’s been growing more so, ever since the last of the Oni attack was cleared away and the unhealthy pale left his skin. Lloyd’s quicker to laugh and easier to poke at. Slower to step into the role of leader, preferring to linger behind with the rest of them, as if he can soak up their warmth like a sadly starved sponge.

“I don’t mind wind,” Lloyd continues. “I like volcanoes. I think I’ll be fine in snow.”

He worries his lip, eyebrows furrowing. “The question is whether or not you will.”

Zane startles. “That is not—” He closes his mouth. The words do not come easily, or much at all. How can he make Lloyd understand, that he has no right to fear the snow? When snow is his element. When any pain caused by it is only his fault, in the first place. When Lloyd still bears the scars of frostbite, when Kai’s hands tremble in the cold, when Jay watches Cole with worried eyes and Nya frets over the water heater each night. 

Lloyd’s hand settles tentatively over his own, a bright burst of warmth that quells the tremors Zane hadn’t realized run through his fingers. 

“How about this,” he amends. “We can either stay inside and steal all Cole’s marshmallows for our hot chocolate, or you can come outside and help me fix Jay’s ugly snowman?”

Zane looks down. It’s a kind trick Lloyd’s using, one he’s learned well. Simple decisions — one a retreat, one a cautious step. 

A part of him still balks at the idea of stepping out into the cold. Vex’s voice lingers in the freezing air, the reminder of bitter ice beneath his fingers and the cries of his friends. 

Kai’s laughter shatters the silence, muffled through the monastery walls but no less clear. He can hear Nya’s quick follow-up, a round of foul cursing that would have Sensei frowning at them all. 

Zane lets out a breath. 

It is selfish. It is self-centered and short-sighted, and it is all but an insult to what he’s done to the people of the Neverrealm. 

And perhaps Zane is a terrible person, after all.

But Zane is not a coward, either. 

And Zane is fortunate enough to have a family, one who would lie and steal and cross realms and frozen wastelands for him, and he thinks, perhaps this once, he can be selfish for their sakes. 

Squeezing Lloyd’s hand briefly, he nods. “I suppose it would be cruel to the poor snowman, to leave him in Jay’s hands.”

A smile splits across Lloyd’s face, a faint echo of the boy who dyed his uniform pink. 

“Okay. Pixal’s got a scarf for you, then.”

Pixel does indeed have a scarf for him, and it is perhaps the most disastrous thing Zane’s ever laid eyes on.

“I don’t understand what happened,” she says, staring at the scarf in his hands. Her face screws up in frustration, lips set in what could be called a pout, if he didn’t know better. “I followed the instructions to the letter. My slipknots were perfect.”

Zane carefully places the scarf around his neck, wrapping the crooked, colorful mass of fabric around as many times as he’s able.

It ends up being about four, and he wonders briefly how many stores Pixal bankrupted of purple yarn. 

“I love it,” he tells her. “Thank you.”

Pixal’s face breaks into a bright smile. “It’s warm, isn’t it? I wanted to be sure, that it was warm.”

Ah. The many layers make a bit more sense now, and Zane’s heart aches. 

He does not deserve this, but the scarf still sits around his neck. Lloyd still waits for him by the door, endlessly patient and hopelessly trusting. 

Kai still beams when he sets foot outside, blinking snowflakes from his lashes as he waves, moments before Nya dumps a bucketful of snow over his head. 

Jay still lets him reshape his snowman, only scowling once at his critique before asking him which of their family they should recreate in snow. 

Cole still smiles, when Zane sweeps out that same warm smile in the snowman that only just resembles him. 

And Nya finally lets her hourly crisis over the water pipes go, handing him a snowball instead and instructing him to let Kai have it. 

He doesn’t know the answer to Lloyd’s question, exactly. Whether or not he’ll be okay, when the snow falls heavy and the reminder of what he’s done presses heavier. 

But he does know that the cold that followed him from the Neverrealm does not reach him, not even as he’s tackled into a heavy drift by Cole halfway through their snowball fight. 

And perhaps, for now, that can be enough. 

[rosedere]

Aquamarine (Floyd Leech x Fem reader)

CW:Forced Transformation (human), Drugging(magic), Attempted non con, Forced mating, Mer marking.

“So if I jump, your for sure going to catch me” You crossed your arms, looking once more down the rocky embankment that was littered around the small island the school resided on.

You were already on edge because of the whole rule about not being allowed to roam off campus; let alone being caught in your skimpy swimsuit. It would be social suicide if anyone caught you with this much skin out.

Or if you were caught with Floyd.

Since you were a girl...

He was the only one who knew you were a female anyway; everyone assumed you were like Epel, a feminine boy from another world. It wasn't like anything bad would happen if anyone knew in theory…

Everyone already would let their eyes linger a little too long on your school uniform ranging from a few of the housewardens and some of your closest friends enough to where it would make you feel uneasy; news spreading about you being a girl would only exacerbate their stares or worst.

it’s why you trusted Floyd as a Confidant and friend here in the otherworldly school.

”Come on (name) the potions about to kick in,” Floyd's nasally voice called from below in the deep, dark blue water below the cliffs edge.

”You didn't answer my question at all!” You huffed, crossing your arms around your chest. “Plus, I hate this bathing suit you brought me—why couldn't you have found an old shirt or something?” you shouted from the edge of the cliff.

Your head was spinning as you saw the distance from the cliff to the water and the rocky, jagged landforms poking out below. Squatting, you sat down with your legs dangling over the vertical ledge, still covering your chest from the merman, only mischievously looking up at your trembling legs.

”I won't answer them until you jump in~”

The sound of his nasally laugh was all you could positively hear from the ledge.

You only looked down at him with unamusement, he knew you hated swimming this was just torture.

”Fine, wait there—“ He sunk into the water, only leaving his face fins treading the waves passing over him.

It was true the potion he gave you was still on you; you didn’t swallow any of it. 

But you could take the glowing green liquid in the noculious shell bottle. 

Or jump in and not fall for his prank he was going to play on you.

Whatever it may be...

”Fine! I will—“ you chortled to yourself as you let your dangling feet hang on the other side of the cliff.

His eyes only stayed in their usual frumpy, lopsided position as he looked over the water rushing to collide with the tall cliff. You smugly looked down at him, pretending you were going to jump, only backing away, watching the mer get annoyed.

“You didn't drink it, did you (Name)”

“No, I took a whiff, and it smelled like you,” you teased.

You were expecting him to come back with a playful insult.

But he was dead serious as he looked up at you from under the waves.

“Well… I guess I'll just have to tell everyone about your secret”

You only laughed this off, his webbed face growing shriveled with annoyance at your playful attitude.

“I mean it (name)” 

His voice sounded a bit more aggressive, feral even.

“Get in”

Finally realizing he was actually angry, you looked down at the vial.

“Why do you want me to drink this Floyd?” You furrowed your brow, feeling the bottle's curves once more.

“It's so you can help me with something,” he vaugly added.

“Why can't you get Jade to help you?” You frowned. “You know I don't know how to swim.”

“Because you're a human, it'll be easier for you to do it,” he bobbed in the water.

You looked down at the vial. You already knew you weren't going to like how it smelled and looked radioactive: The fishy seaweed smell was overwhelming coming out of the small plugged glass. You glanced back down towards Floyd, seemingly waiting.

“Fine, but if this thing kills me, Im going to haunt your slimy ass forever,” you huffed.

"Nah, go ahead (name)”

“Drink it”

This time you bring the vial closer to your face, opening the small cork taking a whiff of the potion.

You retched a bit as you kept it away from your face.

“How much do I need to drink?”

“All of it~” Floyd happily replied below.

Grabbing the vial with your right hand, you breathed in.

Just get this over with so he leaves you alone for the day.

You pinched the tip of your nose before throwing the vial's contents in your mouth. Feeling the warm liquid slide down your throat, leaving the vial empty, you tossed it to the side of the rocky surface you were sitting on.

“Jump in shrimpy,” Floyd swam back and forth.

“Hurry before the potion mixes.”

Silently looking down at the waves, you swallowed your nerves. Getting up on your shaky legs, you decided to get a running start before jumping.

Lunging, you let yourself jump over the edge.

In only seconds, you felt yourself be enveloped by the cold water. Only once you hit the bottom of the sandy shoals with your feet did a large, long shadow appear over you in the murky water.

Pushing up from the silty sand as you'd been taught, you felt your feet glide through the water.

Until you felt a harsh grip grab the back of your neck with sharp talons.

Claws, the points reminding you of a raccoon as it digged into your flesh. You wanted to scream, but you only had a little air left. Fighting against the creature that was pulling at you, trying to keep you from surfacing, kicking into the meaty tail of the creature, frantically grabbing it's finned muscular arm's reaching around wrestling with you.

Suddenly, when you kicked one of the times trying to connect with the teal tail in front of you, however...

Your leg wasn't moving like normally, feeling as if your leg fell asleep. You worried you were about to lose circulation in then from how hard the creature was wrapping itself around you.

Looking down, your eyes almost bulged from your sockets as you saw what was in front of your body.

Long golden and red scales enfused with your skin, your feet now replaced with a long flared tail, golden shimmers and sparkles were all that was left on the bottom.

You temporarily forgot the fight, only looking down at your new legs. 

“Aww shrimpy, your tail is beautiful,” you heard Floyd's voice coming from your aggressor.

Finally twirling around, you saw who it was behind you. Floyd was in his true mer form, the bioluminescent spots glowing under the dark waves his face fins trilling in the water.

“What did you make me drink?” you gritted your teeth, “Change me back, now”

“Yeah, I'll change you back (Name)” Floyd swam around you, letting his long tail entertwine with your finer tip one.

“Once you help me with this small task,” he smiled, Suddenly the water felt warm; initially,  you assumed it was because you were both next to each other as the current swept around your skin.

Floyd suddenly unhinged his mouth at you.

It looked to be a yawning motion, but as he did this, he would hit you with his tail before doing the motion.

Confused to all hell you only copied him, wacking him in the tail with your smaller one before you opened your mouth in a yawn.

The smile that crept onto his face was an eerie one, seeing the sharp, blunt-shaped teeth mouth.

“I'm glad to see it's mutual, Shrimpy.”

You were about to question him, the words on the tip of your tongue.

Until he violently lunged at you once more.

You could only gasp as you felt his teeth sink onto the side of your neck; the crunch of the new scales adorning your collarbone was all you heard. You thrashed, but it was pointless since his tail was still entertwined into your shimmery one.

Sinking down towards the sandy bottom as he kept biting harder, you thought he was trying to kill you. Only as he kept biting you started to feel woozy, almost like a drunk state. You felt like up was down and down was somewhere.

Your mind feeling like it was in a washing machine. Floating helplessly as Floyd began to intertwine himself further around you, squeezing the top of your hips.

The pain from his biting was subdued, though you couldn't even notice he was clawing violently around your mer form, only feeling sensitive around your tail area.

After a while of rubbing your tails together, you felt his clawed paws rub up and down your sides.

His face was annoyed as he kept repeating the motion.

“Aww, what a bummer, Shrimpy doesn't lay eggs yet,” he growled, “A shame, I thought our species would be compatible; I've seen different types of carp mate I thought it would work.” His tail was still wrapped around you, feeling it slither around the bottom of your sensitive tail. You were too dazed to reply, only blinking.

“At least I was able to mark you, Better to do it before we mate anyway so you can't run from me,” he tickled your navel with his lone claw.

“Besides where I'm taking you, there's too many mers that would love a mate with a desirable tail like yours.” 

He was rambling to himself—something about a sea witch he found that could make the transformation permanent.

Floyd wrapped up in his fantasy; your eyes glassy with sorrow as you were carried on his black as he rode the current, your tail fanning behind him, taking you into the depths of the deep ocean.

-

Note: This was requested by: Boo_Its_Poochie_Roo on AO3🩷

(also shh don’t mind me just finally catching the blog up with my AO3 bc I’ve been LAZY)

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Not a Creature Was Stirring

Declan O’Hara x Reader

Words: 2677

Summary: Christmas at the Priory gets more complicated with Maud can’t make it back from London. As Declan’s girlfriend, you try to step in to still make it a perfect holiday for him and his kids. Needless to say, things don’t exactly go according to plan. 

Notes: With my love for Aidan Turner, you guys had to know Declan would be joining my list of stories eventually! I love him so much and I’m happy to have him as the subject of my Christmas imagine this year. I hope you all have a happy holidays, whatever you celebrate and a wonderful new year! (and if you recognized the Poldark quote I totally stole, no you didn't)

-

T’was two weeks before Christmas and all through the Priory, everyone buzzed with holiday spirit. Patrick and Caitlin were back from school, Taggie was busy making hors d’oeuvres for all of the holiday parties she’d been hired to cater and you were enjoying a book by the fireplace. The only one who seemed unable to enjoy the season was Declan. He stomped about, going through receipts and orders and cards. His brows furrowed and his mustache curved with the harshness of his frown. 

“I can’t make sense of any of this,” he huffed. “Everything from the last ridiculous party she planned and I still don’t know what to do.”

You set your book aside. Even though Declan and Maud were no longer together, you knew her approval still meant a lot to him. That, and now that he was the face of Corinium, he was expected to be a bit of a socialite as well. 

“Why doesn’t she plan it herself?” You asked. 

He hated getting into the details of these things. As long as there were good drinks and decent music, he seemed happy. 

He ran a hand through his dark curls and collapsed onto the sofa beside you. 

“Because she won’t get here until Christmas Eve.” Declan blew out a long, tired breath. “And the kids have been hounding me about having something here for weeks. I think they’re too cooped up. Tired of the house. Tired of me.”

Caitlin had complained more than once about her ongoing boredom. 

You brought your legs up, draping them over his lap as you turned to face him. His hand found your calf, rubbing circles to soothe both you and himself. 

“Why don’t you let me do it?”

“Do what?”

You flicked his arm. “The planning, silly.” 

“You want to plan Maud’s party?” He scoffed. 

“Sure,” you shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

Declan grinned, snickering.

“What?” You asked. 

He just shook his head and kissed your cheek, pulling you closer as he stared into the fire. 

-

He’d tried to warn you. From the moment you volunteered to take over, Declan had told you it was not a task for the faint of heart. Especially since you were convinced the party had to be as extravagant and special as Maud’s would be. He wanted to tell you there was nothing to prove. That you didn’t need to dazzle everybody and put on some grand show. But you seemed excited to help, so he didn’t say anything. Besides, it was nice to focus on his work rather than invitations to people he’d rather not have to see more than he already did. 

Taggie knocked on the door of his office, apron covered with flour. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Declan glanced up from his papers. Bills he couldn’t pay and assignments he didn’t want. 

“She isn’t here?”

Taggie shook her head. “I was going to ask what she wanted me to make for the party.”

They looked at each other for a while until Declan shrugged.

“I have no idea,” he said. “She hasn’t told me anything.” 

“You mean you aren’t helping?” 

Declan scoffed. “I haven’t exactly had time, Taggie.” He put the papers aside. “And she won’t let me.”

“She won’t let you?”

“No. She won’t let me.”

She sighed. “Reminds me of me.” 

Taggie muttered, while it was nice not to be in charge for one, she felt a twinge of guilt thinking of you trying to throw everything together on your own. 

“If you find her, tell her I want to talk to her,” Declan said. 

Taggie snorted. “Right. Talk.”

“Your sister is rubbing off on you,” Declan groaned. "Run off."

Taggie left snickering. 

Declan tried to focus back on his work, but couldn’t. Maybe Taggie was right. Was he expecting too much of you? He wasn’t exactly known for his observation skills when the subject wasn’t an official or celebrity he wanted to tear apart. He didn’t want a whole fuss of a party anyway and now he was letting you bend over backwards to make it happen. He sighed, running a hand down his face. It was too late, of course. Declan knew if he said anything, you would assume you’d done something wrong. 

Your current situation did little to help. Having spent the last two hours haggling over second-hand decorations, you still didn’t have enough for both the entry hall and the dining room, not to mention other areas of the house. Plus, you’d need to repaint most of the wooden tree decorations, patch up the banners, and glue the ceramic snowman back together. The rest was a haphazard collection of string lights, ornaments, and brass angels you bartered for a steal. For you, it was enough. But for the O’Hara’s? For Declan? 

It was hard not to feel cast into a shadow when his ex was who she was. 

“Why couldn’t Maud be a minimalist?” You groaned. Maybe the girls could help you dig up some more decor from storage. Surely they had a snow or two tucked away somewhere. 

Stars… 

Now that gave you an idea. 

-

12 hours. That’s all the time you had left to prep the best Christmas party Declan’s family could have.

No pressure, right?

With the decorations set- you nearly broke your neck putting them up- now all you needed to do was make enough food for all the people you invited. Taggie had offered to help, but you insisted she spend Christmas Eve about town with her siblings. Of course, this left you standing in front of a dozen empty pans and no idea how to fill them. 

“How does she do this?” You muttered to yourself, looking over the recipe for the thousandth time. Mince pies, cranberry tarts, figgy pudding… it all could have been delivered, but making it yourself was cheaper. You knew money was tight, not that Declan would ever admit it. So it would be the best- and most affordable- Christmas party. 

Declan walked into the kitchen just as you were putting the first round of mini pies in the oven. 

“Maud called,” he sighed. He smoothed his wild curls only for them to pop out again. “She can’t make it.”

You almost dropped the pudding. “What?” 

“She can’t come home for Christmas.” He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but you heard it all the same. “Apparently there’s a big party with lots of directors who might cast her, so she’s staying in London.”

“Oh.” You turned away so he wouldn’t see your face fall. It was silly, really, to be upset. But you hadn’t realized how much you wanted to impress her until now. 

“I’m sorry, love.” Declan came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I know how much work you’ve put into all this.”

Secretly, a small part of him was relieved, though it was a shame the kids wouldn’t see their mother on Christmas. 

Your back stiffened against his chest. 

“This is all the more reason to have this magnificent party,” you said, shrugging him away so you could get back to work. “It’ll be good for Patrick and the girls.”

Declan stood to the side, watching fierce determination overtake your features. 

He exhaled, surrendering. “Alright, love.”

-

The kitchen smelled like smoke and blackened fruit. Coughing, you pulled the tray of unsalvageable tarts from the oven and set them aside. You’d been so busy finishing up the decorations that you’d forgotten about them entirely. You opened the window despite the chill to let out some of the black clouds and godawful odor. 

Just half an hour before guests would start arriving and you’d just ruined half of the desserts. Pouring yourself a glass of whatever was closest, you just hoped they’d be content with free liquor after dinner. Maybe they’d get too drunk to care. 

“Are you setting fire to the entire neighborhood, because if so, at least spare my dogs.” A familiar snark sounded from behind you.

“Rupert? What are you doing here this early?” You gasped, wiping your hands on your apron. “Declan hasn’t had enough whiskey to tolerate you yet.”

“Then you should have invited more people,” he teased. Rupert entered the kitchen, leaning on the counter. “Why don’t you have Taggie help you? She’s perfect at this.” The admiration in his voice was hard to miss, but you ignored it.

“Because she deserves to spend Christmas with her family, not stuck in here with me.”

He raised a finger to point out you counted as family, but you interrupted. 

“And what do you mean, invite more people?” You put your hands on your hips. “I invited half of the Cotswolds.” 

Rupert winced. “Yes, well, that explains this then.” He pulled something from his jacket pocket. A stack of filthy, water-stained envelopes. “I didn’t find them til this morning. Postman must have dropped them in the garden when he got chased off by the dogs.” He handed the ruined invitations over. 

You stared at them, a lump forming in your throat.

“You mean… no one is coming?”

“I’m afraid not, darling.” He plucked a not-charred tart from the tray and popped it in his mouth. “But isn’t this better. A more intimate gathering with your mustachioed man?”

You shook your head, running your hand through your hair, breathing starting to pick up.

“Maud is staying in London,” you blurted. “So the family is without their mother for Christmas and I thought I could-”

“Replace her by throwing some ridiculous party?” He chuckled. His face fell, however, when he saw your lip quiver. “Darling, you know no one expects you to be Maud, don’t you?”

You looked away. 

“Nobody wants that.” He stepped forward. “Y/N, I’m sure they don’t. I’m a little relieved she’s not here, to be honest. She was always a bit much.” 

Shaking fingers struggled to untie your apron. You tossed it aside. 

“I have to go.” You hurried for the door, grabbing a bottle of wine from the counter. 

“Y/N-” He started. 

The door slammed shut behind you. 

Rupert watched you go, sighed, and stole another tart. 

-

As the O’Haras piled into the main hall, Caitlin pinched Taggie’s arm, spotting the Minister of Sport coming out of the kitchen. 

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she whispered excitedly, earning a stern glance from their father. 

Taggie gulped. “Neither did I.”

Both watched their father put on a tight smile and approach the other man. 

“Rupert.”

“Declan.” Rupert’s smile was genuine, if not a bit arrogant. “I’m afraid I’ve been the bearer of bad news to your lovely Y/N,” he said. “All her invitations were lost to my flower bushes, left undelivered.”

“So there’s no one coming?” Patrick frowned. He’d hoped to meet some of his father’s good-looking TV hostess coworkers. 

“First mummy, now the whole town. Whatever will we do?” Caitlin said, eying Taggie and scooching her forward. When that didn’t work, she poked her brother. “Patrick scared them off with his terrible poetry.”

Patrick rustled her hair, making her squeak in protest. 

Declan ignored them. He ran a hand down his face and looked around at all you’d set up. You hadn’t even gotten to turn the lights on. 

“She seemed rather upset,” Rupert said, noticing Declan’s concern. “Ran off into the night. Very dramatic.” He leaned forward. “Perhaps you should go find her, hm?” He gave him a knowing look. 

Declan’s heart sank. He knew this wasn’t about the party. Not really. He just wished he’d realized it sooner. And before Rupert Campell-Black.

Starting for the door, he stopped, grabbing Rupert’s arm. 

“Don’t-” He narrowed his eyes, “-touch anything.”

He hurried off.

Rupert turned to the remaining O’Haras. 

“So,” he clapped his hands together. “Who knows where Declan keeps his best scotch?” 

-

He found you sitting on a snowy stump at the edge of the property. Declan watched the deep, shimmering green fabric of your dress sparkle in the moonlight, shifting as you lifted the bottle to your lips. You didn’t seem to see him approaching, eyes trained at the stars. 

“You look-” He sat beside you and kissed your cheek, “beautiful.”

“I don’t feel beautiful,” you muttered, taking another swig. The wine stained your lips a reddish purple but you didn’t care. Nobody would see it anyway. “I failed, Declan.”

“You didn’t fail.”

You scoffed. “The dessert is burnt, the decorations are literally hanging by a thread, and- oh yeah- none of it matters because no one is coming.” You raised your arm for another drink, but Declan grabbed the bottle, bringing it to his lips instead. 

Despite your efforts, your lip trembled. 

“I just wanted your family to have the perfect Christmas,” you said. 

“Is that what you think I care about?” He asked. “The extravagant party? The guests lined up down the pather?” Declan took your hands in his, trying to warm them from the chill. “Y/N, you’ve gotten me to look forward to a holiday for the first time in ages.” He brought your hands up for a lingering kiss. “Just by being you.” 

Your shaking stopped, tears chased away by his soft smile. You snatched the bottle back.

“Flattering will hardly make me feel better, Mr. O’Hara,” you teased. 

He raised a brown and leaned forward. 

“Does this?” He kissed your lips. “Or this?” Your jaw. “Or maybe…” The spot behind your ear. 

“Declan,” you breathed. 

He kept his lips by your ear, whispering. “You don’t have to be any more than you are, to be enough for me.”

Now, your tears returned for a different reason. Throwing your arms around him, you crashed your lips into his, forgetting what you’d been so upset about. Your hands found his hair, tangling those perfect black curls around your fingers. He reached one hand around you to hold you closer while the other rested on your thigh, creeping ever upwards. 

“If nobody is coming, can we start to eat?” Patrick called out over the lawn, making you jolt apart. 

You bit back a laugh, Declan’s face turning pink. “Go ahead!”

“Little bastard couldn’t wait ten more minutes?” Your frustrated boyfriend whined. 

“Ten minutes?” You stood, holding out your hand to help him. 

Declan pinched your upper thigh and scooped you up, both actions eliciting a squeal from your lips as he carried you back. 

-

“Ready?”

“Yes!” They all cheered, impatient.

You giggled, holding the switch captive in your hand. “You don’t look ready.”

“Get on with it, Y/N,” Caitlin whined, “turn them on!”

A chorus of pleas joined her. Declan just laughed, giving you a wide grin.

“You heard them,” he said.

“Alright, alright.”

You flipped the switch. All at once, the main hall lit up, and not just around the tree. Lights strung up above their heads created a canopy of color. Rupert turned on the speakers, filling the space with music. Exclamations of awe and excitement sounded all around you.

“Come on,” Caitlin said, dragging her siblings out to dance with her. Taggie glanced at Rupert, blush flooding her cheeks. He simply motioned for her to go on and dance.

Declan grabbed your hand.

“It’s perfect.” He kissed you deeply, making your knees weak as though he held you up in his embrace.

Caitlin made a teasing sound of disgust, but Taggie couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t think she’d ever seen her father so happy.

Rupert leaned over to you as he strutted to join the others. 

“Told you so,” he whispered. You reached to smack him, but he shimmied out of the way.

“Told you what?” Declan asked. 

You curled a black strand around your finger. 

“That I didn’t have to prove something to be loved by you.”

He pressed a kiss to your palm.

“For once, Rupert and I agree.” He lead you out to dance, swaying slowly despite the cheesy song. 

“Merry Christmas, Declan.” You kissed him again, nuzzling closer. 

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

And so you all spent Christmas dancing to overplayed tunes under flashy, colorful lights. 

And it was perfect.

[morningsharksworld]

I wonder what Haz wound be like if his SO got pregnant. Like imagine his big ol hands holding a tiny little baby.

How hazard would be with a pregnant S/O

Hazard would probably be a mix of awe, nervousness, and overwhelming protectiveness when he finds out his SO is pregnant. At first, he'd be stunned—this isn't something he thought would happen, but once it sinks in, he'd be fiercely devoted to ensuring everything is perfect.

His personality would take a softer turn, especially around his SO. He'd become hyper-vigilant, making sure they're comfortable, safe, and well-cared for. Whether that means running out at odd hours to grab whatever craving strikes or gently scolding them for overexerting themselves, Hazard would be all in.

When the baby finally arrives, seeing him with such a tiny, fragile little being in his big hands would be an adorable contrast. He'd handle them like they're made of glass, his gruff exterior melting as he whispers to the baby or rocks them to sleep. Hazard might not admit it outright, but he'd spend hours just staring at the baby in disbelief, marveling at the fact that something so small could mean so much.

Despite his tough-guy persona, he'd be completely smitten—probably to the point where anyone who so much as jokes about the baby gets a death glare. He’d still carry his usual edge, but now with an added layer of “don’t mess with my family.”

(Lil Scenario cuz why not 👹)

The soft hum of the television was the only sound in the room as Hazard dozed on the couch, one arm slung lazily over his eyes. The day had been long, and he’d finally allowed himself to relax. But his peace was shattered when he heard the sound of shuffling footsteps.

He cracked an eye open to see you standing in the doorway, hands resting on your growing belly, a determined look on your face.

“Hazard” you said firmly.

He groaned, covering his face with his hand. “What now, love? I’m tryin’ tae sleep.”

“I need strawberries. Dipped in chocolate. And some salty chips.”

Hazard let his hand drop, staring at you in disbelief. “Strawberries? In the middle o’ the night? Ye ken the shops are closed by now, aye?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “The baby wants them. Are you going to deny your own child?”

“Ach, there it is” he muttered, sitting up with a sigh. “Blamin’ the bairn again, are ye? Not like ye weren’t the one who ate half a jar o’ pickles this mornin’.”

“Hazard!” You whined, your pout deepening.

He groaned as he got to his feet, running a hand through his messy hair. “Right, fine. Strawberries, chocolate, an’ chips. Salty ones, no sweet. Anythin’ else while I’m out wanderin’ the city like some daft idiot?”

Your face lit up with a smile. “That’s all. Thank you.”

“Aye, aye” he muttered, grabbing his coat. He paused at the door to shoot you a smirk. “Ye’re lucky yer cute, else I’d tell ye tae wait till mornin’.”

====

It took him longer than he’d like to admit, but Hazard returned triumphantly, carrying a bag of goodies. He’d even managed to find a 24-hour café that sold freshly dipped chocolate strawberries, though he’d had to endure the strange look the barista gave him.

He dropped the bag on the counter and held up the small container of strawberries. “Here ye go, love. Freshly dipped strawberries, chips, an’ a bonus bar o’ chocolate for good measure. Don’t say I never do anythin’ for ye.”

You gasped, taking the strawberries with a grin. “You’re amazing. Thank you so much!”

“Aye, amazing’s one word for it” he muttered, watching as you bit into a strawberry with a contented sigh. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. “Ye’re lucky I love ye. Or I’d have left ye tae dream about these bloody things instead.”

You smiled at him, your eyes soft. “You’re going to be such a good dad, you know that?”

His ears turned red, and he quickly looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “Ach, don’t get sappy on me now. Eat yer strawberries afore they melt.”

But as you laughed and continued to eat, Hazard’s lips curled into a faint smile. Maybe all the late-night runs and strange cravings weren’t so bad after all.

[seokminfilm]

forever | lee seokmin

🪄 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🪄 warnings, non-idol au, lowercase intended, newly-established relationship, boyfriend!seokmin, hurt/comfort, sprinkles of angst, mentions of unspecified trauma, crying, kissing, hugging, seokmin calls reader love, reader uses nicknames for seokmin, seokmin soft hours

🪄 summary, seokmin finds out something new about you, and still loves you just the same for it.

🪄 author's note, hello hello everyone! i'm back from my hiatus, so please enjoy this quick hurt/comfort fic i wrote (seokmin soft hours are a go)! i love you all so much and have a merry christmas (christmas-themed seokmin fic??)

"love, can i ask you something?" the pet name is still new and brings a flutter to your stomach and a blush to your cheeks, and you nod, smiling at seokmin as he closes his book.

"you do this thing with your hands when you get nervous. why?" seokmin's voice is innocent, and your heart stops in your chest as you turn around, speechless and without an answer to seokmin's surprising question.

"oh, um...do i?" you laugh nervously, and seokmin nods, watching how your eyes darken a little and your smile fades as he nods. "yeah, you do. you're doing it right now."

you look down at your hands, and sure enough, they're moving; they do what they've always done when you're nervous, fiddling with each other and pulling the other hands' fingers. you never realized what you were doing until he called you out for it, and even then, it was just second nature to you. you didn't know how to stop.

"if you don't have an answer to it, you don't have to answer. i just wanted to know. it seems like a nervous tic you have, and you do it a lot around me. i don't know if it's because i make you uncomfortable or anything, and i hope that's not the case but—" seokmin pauses, staring at your eyes as he heaves a sigh.

"if it is, i want to know. i don't want to make you feel uncomfortable." seokmin's voice is soft, sincere, and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, already falling before you get to the bed where seokmin is sitting.

you fall into his lap, arms slung over his legs as your tears wet the white duvet. he doesn't say anything, quiet as his arms comfortably encase you. seokmin's smell is sweet and light, and it allows you to dry the tears quicker than you thought you would, sighing as you sit up.

you explain everything to him, from what happened to give you the subconscious habit you have, to why you do it around him. seokmin was attentive to every word you said, eyes on you and hands around yours as he listened quietly.

"i only do it around you because i'm still really nervous around you, seok. i—i know we've only dated for a month now, but i don't want to scare you away," you pause, eyes welling up with tears again as you breathe a sigh. "it's happened with everyone i've ever loved. like—in a romantic way, i mean."

seokmin's dark brown eyes dance over your skin, free of judgment and hurt. he's understanding of you, and strokes the tear-covered hair from your eyes, slender fingers tracing and cupping your cheeks as he kisses your tears away, soft lips drying your wet face.

"i would never judge you, love, i hope you know that. i'm happy that i've met you, and no matter what happened to you in the past, i'll continue to love you. there's nothing you can do to stop making me adore you." seokmin's smile is warm as he takes your hands in his, thumbs running over your knuckles as you nod, biting your wet lip.

"thank you for sharing that with me. it takes a lot of bravery to share personal things like that, and i'm honored that you consider me worthy of knowing." seokmin blushes, giving you a smile as you stare down at his hands, noting the veins in his forearms and slender fingers that grasp your thigh softly.

"of course, seokmin. i feel like you and i will be a thing for a long time. maybe even forever," you mumble the last part, cheeks heating up as seokmin stares at you, matching your expression. his eyes soften at your words, and you smile at him as he presses a soft, chaste kiss to your lips.

"i know it's going to be forever. trust me, love."

[frostedclock-writes]

Crimson Magnolias part 3

Alastor x F!Reader

Warnings: onesided romance, mature and r rated themes, Hanahaki Disease

-----

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

You really must love torturing yourself. It's official. Your a masochist for your own feelings. Otherwise, why would you be standing here. In the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel, with most of what you own stuffed into two large luggage trunks. The lobby felt larger for some reason as your stomach twisted into knots, like the large peeling murals were staring at you like wolves after a rabbit.

You need the money. And this place at least has room and board included.

At least that's what you keep telling yourself.

Scuttling footsteps.

Your focus was towards the banister and you were about to reach for handles of your trunks. A blue of red and white hit you like a freight train, knocking the breath out of you for a moment. You look don and saw the one large red eye staring up at you with a cracked grin across her face. Niffty. The little maid grabbed a hold of your shirt and used your thighs as a prop for her light body as she looked at you.

"Y/N! Sir told me you would be coming! " She made a small giggle," He was happy that you were coming!"

Your heart squeezed in your chest. " Yeah? He offered a job and well, how can I refuse him?" You make a laugh, forced but it helps the tightening in your throat a little. " A-Anyway, I better go find my room. "

" Oh! " Niffty hopped off of you and took ahold of your hand. " I can show you! Its what sir asked me to do anyway. He picked out the room himself. " She began to gently pull you along, you only had a moment to grab the handles of your trunks before she had you going up the stairs.

"He ... He did?"

" Mmhmm! It's just right up here. "

Niffty took you up several floors, almost to the top. She hummed a tune you didn't know the name of under her breath. The floors looked mostly unused, so you wondered why you were taken so far up. You didn't ask though, you doubted Alastor told Niffty his motivations. He never let anyone know exactly what he was thinking. Bastard. Handsome bastard. But still a bastard.

Niffty let go of your hand as she stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, nothing special about it, the numbers on the little plaque had long since faded and only the little etching remained. Maybe it had once been painted with gold or red at some point. Niffty hopped up and grabbed the handle, the door clicked open and swung with her still holding onto it for a moment before she hopped down and spun to look at you. She was practically bouncing on her little feet.

" Here you are! I made sure all the bugs died in here. Personally. " She covered her mouth as she cackled a little.

You pay the top of her head and smiled. " Thanks, Niff. I'm sure you did it in a way that terrified the other bugs. " You set your trunks down at the end of the bed. Looked a little lumpy but otherwise it was large and clean. " Is Alastor... Busy right now?" Your run your fingers across the bedposts, old and rough to the touch.

" Mhmm. He said he will see you for dinner though. "

Your stomach made flips and you felt the cruel taste of ginger in the back of your throat. You swallowed. " Well, yeah. Yes. I'll see him then. " You take a breath. " I better get unpacked and occupy myself until then. I don't even know what kind of job Alastor wants me to do around here, to tell the truth."

" I can show you my collection now that your here! I've added a few things. " Niffty added. " I'll bring it by later. And I wouldn't worry about it, there plenty to do. Oh, oh! You can help me name the stains in the lobby or polish the silver. "

You make a small laugh and you felt a smile test on your lips. " Alright, niff, I'll keep that in mind. Maybe I'll take you up on that naming stains. "

" Okay! Bye! " Niffty smiled and she scuttled out of the room, leaving the door open behind her. You didn't bother going to close it.

You focused on unpacking your trunks into the bureau in the corner. You carefully folded the clothes and placed them inside, you hummed softly to yourself as you organized and got settled into the room. Things smelled like they had been recently cleaned, you wonder if Niffty had fixed the room up before you came. You pulled an old sequined flapper dress from the bottom of your trunk. Your fingers brushed over the edges of the fabric. The red had faded to an almost pink in color. You make a gentle sigh and tuck the dress away.

You almost didn't hear the creak of the floor boards as someone approached the door. You look over and see snake eyes peering from around the corner. Charlie was in the doorway and cleared her throat. You set your empty trunk down and then towards them. You watch Charlie give Sir Pentious a little pat of encouragement.

" You apologized to Alastor just fine. Now, the other one you could have seriously hurt, is right here. " Charlie smiled and then looked to you. " Sir Pentious is staying in the hotel! And first order of business is to show him how to apologize! " She practically buzzed with energy. " So many new faces! So exciting." She then caught herself and cleared her throat and nudged Sir Pentious again. " Go ahead, I have to go check on the welcome cookies and I will be right back!"

You open your mouth to stop Charlie, wanting to at least have another person with you while this wannabe overlord was 'apologizing'. You sigh in defeat and look to Sir Pentious, you put on a bit of a strained smile. " Hello. "

" Yes, ah, Ms. Y/N , " he slithered a little closer and you watched him closely. " I.... Am sorry I nearly blew you up. I wasn't intending for you to get caught in it. "

" Yes, you were only aiming at my friend. " You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. You ignore the tickle in the back of your throat.

Pentious stood up straighter and he looked like he was sweating. Can snakes sweat? " Oh well . Yes. " He looked around as if looking for help then looked back at you with a cocked grin. " I am sorry for that as well?"

You shifted your weight onto one leg and made a slight frown. " Well, did you apologize to him?"

" Yesss...."

You look at him up and down. Then make a shrug. " Fine. " You crack a smile. " I dont care actually. Not that you could actually hurt Alastor. I've never seen anyone hurt him. At least, not since he got down here. " You make a small laugh.

" Oh... " He blinked. " Well... Thank you?"

You hummed. " Well if that's all, I think I'll get back to moving in... "

" Oh well..."

Pentious cleared his throat and then he shifted, his eyes glanced at the sleek watch on his wrist. Like those touch screen ones that you've seen on T.V. . You look back to him for a moment and make a small hum before turning away from him and heading towards your dresser to feign looking through it. You heard his scales slide across the carpet and a small thump of the door closing behind him. You glance back over towards the door.

" Vox. Silly man. Really needs to learn how to be more creative. " You mutter under your breath.

He wouldn't last the day.

You look around the room and tap your foot. Maybe you should spuce up the place a bit. Maybe before dinner, you had a few hours. You slipped on your peacoat and smoothed your hair out before you left your new room. You made note of the location in the hallway and headed for the elevator you had seen at the end of the hallway. You hoped it worked. You clicked the button and it buzzed to life with creakig cogs and a little bit of green crackle to it. You winced a little and took a breath as the doors slid open. You stepped on it and clicked the button for the bottom floor. You looked up at the top and made note of your floor number.

Okay. You hate this thing.

It creaked and shook as if moved down, it's decent was agonizing slow as well. Now you see why everyone just took the stairs.

Your nerves were on end by the time the metal box you were in settled on the bottom floor and the bell dinged to signal your destination had been reached. You shake your hands and let out a breath as the doors slid back open.

"Never again." You whisper as you left the confines of the elevator.

Your shoulders were grabbed almost immediately. You make a shocked gasp. Charlie had a hold of you, and she was a lot stronger then she looked as she moved you to the side part of the lobby with couches and chairs arranged. You were shoved into a seat without much ceremony and Charlie sat beside you in the middle of the couch. You blinked and looked next to you. Alastor looked like he had been snatched up. The reluctant audience around you told you that most of them were either threatened by the small Vaggie or snagged by Charlie. A plate of cookies sat on the table in front of you.

Alastor's knee was next to yours and he crossed his legs, his hoof touched the bottom of your shin occasionally. " Ah, Y/N, it seems as though you have been coerced into watching this ...." He made a hum and his eyebrow twitched. " Play. "

Oh God. Oh God. So close. You haven't sat this close to him in years. Decades maybe. Your throat felt tight.

You put on a smile. " Ah yes, I was about to run a few errands and-"

Charlie shushed and patted your arm. She made a small squeal. " It's starting!"

You look ahead. Maybe you could focus on this.

Alastor was drumming his fingers on his knees. He was bored and irritated, though he was placating the princess. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, he wasn't really watching the show. You look back ahead, trying to keep your focus on that. Not the taste of ginger and the smell of old wood. His hoof grazed against your shin again. Your eyes drawn to him. He was still so handsome. Even down here.

His already sharp features made sharper down in hell then when he was alive.

Your stomach churned as you swallowed and looked back ahead.

You can do this.

"Y/N, what would you prefer to eat for dinner tonight?" Alastor's voice was right in your ear. The filter dropped for a moment as he had leaned down close and didn't want the rest of the audience to hear.

" I.... Well whatever you are in the mood for Al. You know I've never been picky when it comes to your cooking." You manage out. You couldn't think right now, you focused on not letting the cough bubbling in your throat out.

He made a chuckle. " Alright, fresh meat. I can pick it up after this travisty. "

You nod and give a smile, you look back to your lap. Your fingers curled around the fabric of your peacoat. Breath. Breath normally. You could feel his gaze on you, it lingered longer then normal.

When Charlie stood up to clap, you were immediately on your feet. You excused yourself, covering your mouth with the handkerchief in your pocket. You walked as quickly as you could while everyone was distracted and made your way to the closest exit. You coughed gently at first but then it turned to hacking. Petals fell in wads and clumps. It felt like your lungs were on fire.

You dug your nails into the wood of the outside wall of the hotel. The petals scattered in the lawn in front of you. Your eyes started to sting and you wiped your mouth off. You shook your head. You took a breath. Just relax.

You stomp the petals into the ground with your heel and head for the cobblestone pathway ahead. Go get a few things from your old place and pick up something new.

A trip to the shopping district of the Pentagram could do you some good. Some fresh air, and give you time to mentally prepare. You and Alastor are just friends. That's all. You clutch your chest a little as you make your way out of the gates of the Hotel grounds.

Thankfully it was easy to get to the shopping district from here, store fronts littered with different ads and some filled with television screens and people clammering for whatever product was on sale. You shook your head and stepped up to cross the busy street. You glanced around and took a step out. You skidded to stop as a limo pulled in front of you. Black with blue undertones. Flashy and new.

The window rolled down.

" Y/N, fancy seeing you here. " A shark tooth grin. Bright blue and glowing.

" Vox. "

Taglist: @boldlyenchantingfox22 @sirens-and-moonflowers @kerosene--lamp @girl-nahh-two @phoephan-123

[angelrissa]

Finally decided to finish writing part one to this prompt. Please ignore that I took 2 months to write like this

content warning! : descriptions of gore/injury, slight groping, no dialogue, Also i'm not particularly great with writing, its all just for fun.

wc: 648

Things just seemed too peaceful. Surely there should be more noise than the guttural moans of pain escaping your cracked lips. Yet, there was nothing, no sounds of the excessive nature surrounding you, no wildlife chirping with life, nothing, just the exhausted heaving of your chest as you desperately try to catch your breath, limping to find anyone that could possibly help you.

You can't recall how long it's been since you were separated from your team, but it was long enough to know they weren't searching any longer, but you doubt they searched in the first place, you were somebody people didn't mind losing, deadweight as they'd call it. While the fading sounds of your surroundings echoed in your mind, a sudden sharp pain snapped you back to reality. Blood gushed out of your leg, a deep red color that seemed to somehow look delectable to the raw hunger aching in your stomach. Thank goodness you saw the thick berry jam oozing from your body inviting your fingers to shove themselves into the jar and stuff the two digits down your desperate mouth. You let out a wicked scream of pain when two fingers greedily dug into your wound realizing you had further mutilated yourself, causing your feeble body to collapse to the ground. It's too bad you were oh so close to what looked like an isolated cabin standing solitary in the woods, only just a few feet away from your blurred vision.

Your senses were dulled, each breath more labored than the last, but somehow, the sight of the cabin ignited a flicker of hope within you. Clenching your jaw against the pain that radiated from your leg, you pulled yourself up with weak determination. The wound was ghastly. Hot blood pooled beneath you, staining the dry leaves and soil underneath like a gruesome work of art. But the cabin stood resolute, a solitary figure against the contamination of the forest, a chance that someone lived there.

You dragged yourself forward, each movement sending daggers of agony through your leg. You could barely focus, the world shifted in and out of clarity as you stumbled toward the door before collapsing on the dirty excuse of a front porch. The world twisted and warped around you like a reflection of your child self in a fun house mirror at the state fair. Gasping for air, each inhale felt like swallowing shards of glass that clawed at your throat. Shadows clouded your vision, thick and eerie, covering the world in a muted, dark hue. But something was wrong, completely, irrevocably wrong. One shadow seemed to stand out darker than the rest, it was the shadow oddly shaped like a man. A man so unsettling it was probably best you died here before he got his hands on you. He loomed over you, taking pleasure in your agony. Knowing nobody would ever find you out here, he's not even quite sure how you managed to get here, but oh is he thrilled you did.

His large hands quickly reach down to grab onto your body, calloused fingers roughly grazing over your breasts where your bulletproof vest previously clung to your skin, but now pathetically hung off your frame. You immediately recoil at his touch, wincing from the ache of your wounds. You may have been delirious but you just knew you weren't safe.

How sick of him to stare at you like a piece of meat while you desperately clung to life, praying you won't die like this. But he just couldn't help himself. How could he? You just weakly lay in his arms, so afraid, such a tragic girl. He needed to save you. He would be your savior whether you wanted him to be or not.

(I plan to make this a series if I have the time)

taglist - @ang3lc

[raileurta]

Well this post got me thinking about how the humans would react to Raf's death. It also would not be pretty to say the least.

⚠️ Trigger warnings in the tags ⚠️

Both Fowler and June are devastated at the loss. He was just a kid involved in war he shouldn't have been anywhere near. I bet for the longest time they would blame the Autobots for the loss and resent them for it. They would also become extremely overprotective of the other kids. Especially June who was already protective. This whole thing made her lose complete trust in Arcree's ability to protect Jack. (The femme bot doesn't blame her for it) She would try to keep Jack away from the base for any excuse. Logically she knows he is technically safer there but her heart is too scared of being away from her kid. Fowler also can't help but agree with her. He is much more aware and strict about the kids now too. He was even tempted to sorta kidnap them and send them to a secret base in Washington or something. For now he is going to have the kids being monitored 24/7.

Jack is depressed as hell to say the least. He blames himself for not being able to protect Raf. He was the one "meant" to stop their trio from being hurt and he failed. It cycles through his mind constantly on what he could have done to prevent this, how he could have been better, why wasn't he better?

Jack visits Raf's family a lot and tries to help them any way he can. He feels like he has to atone for his failure in some way. Then when that doesn't work to help free himself of the guilt he would resort to "punishing himself." I'm pretty sure you can figure out what that entails..... 🔪

Jack also is much more aggressive about preventing Miko's reckless behavior. He will tackle, and even restrain her to prevent her from potentially getting herself hurt. They have many arguments now and aren't really on speaking terms. He will text her a lot though just to see if she's alive, Miko will always respond no matter what.

Miko at first just went into shock. Her mind went into a complete shutdown. For two days she barely spoke, ate, or just did much of anything; once the shock wore off though she exploded. She ripped off the posters off her walls, broke everything in sight, screamed, cursed out the world, and even smashed her hand through her mirror. Once the adrenaline wore off she clutched her bleeding hand and sobbed. She doesn't know how long she sat there crying but by the time she was done her hand had stopped bleeding and she was covered in dried blood.

Miko stared at her arm the glass embedded in the skin, and felt nothing but seething hatred for Megatron. It wasn't the kind of usual fiery animosity she held towards the man but a freezing loathsome whirlwind that had frozen itself across her entire body. This wasn't some superhero show anymore, where the hero would defeat the villain in a spectacular explosion of power but a cruel war that was going to end with the excruciating death of Megatron.

She planned, rewrote her plans, researched, planned again and did more research. For one of the only times in her life Miko didn't rush into something. Megatron was going to die and there couldn't be any way he would survive or somehow come back from death again. Miko had to make sure it was perfect, Raf deserved it she almost religiously thought. Early into her plans Miko recruited Bumblebee into helping her. The scout hated Megatron just as much as she did. Bee told Miko everything he knew about how Cybertronians could be hurt and the ways to do it. The autobots always feared transformers tech landing in human hands and they had a great reason to do so. Humans had remarkable twisted minds that could think of things that would disturb even some of the most callous of bots.

Miko is no different, especially when she is motivated by pure unfiltered hatred. It took many sleepless nights and three months of preparation but they finally had everything ready. They just had to wait for the right opportunity. By this point bumblebee's anger has calmed down slightly and he was now starting to doubt if they should really do this. The consequences could be disastrous.

You see Miko had realized scraplets or the rust plague couldn't really hurt her so she could easily use them to defeat Megatron. So she has been breeding scraplets, training them, and trying to selectively breed them so they would be able to resist the plague. Miko had the scraplets micro dosed with black energon so they would crave the stuff and be more powerful. Bumblebee would obtain metal for them to eat and he tried to make sure the other autobots weren't catching on. Once they could get on the nemesis Miko would command the scraplets to infect as many bots as possible. They had made around 100,000 of these suped up mega disease scraplets so there's basically no way anyone is escaping uninfected. They were basically sentencing every decepticon to death.

Bee questions whether Raf would want this and Miko just replies,

"It's not about whether he would want this or not but what Megatron deserves and he deserves to die. If I have to kill every decepticon to do it? So be it. I don't care what happens to them, every bot on that ship is a horrible person. "

He reluctantly agrees with the reasoning and continues with the plan.

After the ship would go down a infected wounded Megatron escapes the scraplets his priority would try and cure himself. When he tries to make it he's in for a horrible surprise; while they were preparing the scraplets they had also set out to purposely destroy ingredients essential to the cure (They of course made a lot of vaccines themselves) Any place he might look for the ingredients he would just find a data pad stating,

//Start message

"Hello Megatron, you may not remember me but I do. My name is Miko nakadai, and I was a friend of Raf, the human charge of bumblebee that you mercilessly had killed. He was just an innocent child but you didn't care, why would you? You're the powerful evil overlord of the decepticons, the bot who strikes fear to every Cybertronian who knows of you. Humans are nothing but organic trash that would be crushed under your foot. That's not going to be the case anymore. You're going to care, you're going to see what you have done, and you will regret having ever laying a figure on Raf. You shouldn't have messed with humans and you especially should have not messed with my friend.

If you don't want to die from the rust come to the coordinates X"00'X0.x" alone and we will provide you a cure. Also don't even think about contacting the other Autobots or you can kiss that vaccine goodbye."

//End message

Megatron then would come to meet Miko and Bumblebee. They would talk/integrate Megatron about Raf. Then Miko would pull out the apex armor, activate it and fight Megatron with Bee. If all goes well they kill him (maybe torture him a bit before that) and drop his remains on Raf's grave.

When they do get a hit on the Nemesis location they slightly panic and rush to get things in order. When they are ready the ground bridge opens and as they are about to leave they hear Ratchet say,

"I should stop you shouldn't I?"

The old bot is standing behind them looking at the ground bridge location pinned in on the nemesis. Miko and Bumblebee don't know what to do for a second before Ratchet's words register in their minds.

Should? They think.

Ratchet monologues for a bit about how stupid, dangerous, this is and how he should stop them from doing it. But..... he opens his servo to look down at Raf's broken glasses. He just can't. Ratchet looks at them tears streaming down his face. The same look of pure hatred in his eyes and demands to be there to help kill Megatron. Miko and Bumblebee look at him, they both just simply nod.

Nobody had said a word about it but they all knew no matter what happens Megatron has to die. Even if that means destroying themselves in the process.

They enter the ground bridge together.

Wow that sorta mini fic came out of nowhere. I'll leave it up to your imaginations on what happens next. Thank you @lets-try-some-writing for the inspiration.

Follow me if you want to see the future stuff I write. ✌️ 

[wolvietxt]

heyy, congrats on 1000!! 🎉

i’d like daryl with the prompt below:

“it’s the middle of a heated argument, voices raised, hands gesturing wildly. suddenly, they stop mid-sentence, chest heaving. “you’re all i ever think about,” they blurt out, the anger draining from their face as if they only just realized it themselves.”

(from the “unexpected confessions” list)

thanks so much!🤍

DARYL was sitting in the corner of the cabin, sharpening his knife, while you paced the floor, words spilling out in a rush of frustration. it started over something stupid. it always did. 

"you can't just keep shutting me out, daryl," you said, throwing your hands up. "every time i try to help, you act like i'm some kind of burden!"  

"ain't about you helpin'," he shot back, his voice rough, eyes glued to the blade in his hands. "it's about you gettin' hurt 'cause you don't think things through."  

"oh, so now i don't think things through? that's rich, coming from the guy who runs off without a word and comes back covered in blood half the time!"  

his eyes snapped up at that, sharp and blue like storm clouds ready to break. "you think i don't know what i'm doin' out there? you think i ain't got it handled?"  

"that's not what i meant!" your voice rose, and before you could stop yourself, you were right in front of him, arms crossed and glare locked on his face. "but you can't handle everything alone, daryl! no one can!"  

"been doin' fine so far," he muttered, standing abruptly and towering over you, his posture tense. "you just don't get it. this ain't about bein' fine. it's about survivin'."  

"surviving isn’t the same as living!"  

he let out a sharp exhale, his hands clenching at his sides. "ain't got the luxury to live, not with how things are. you think this is some kinda fairytale? we got walkers everywhere, people worse than 'em, and all you do is - "  

"what? all i do is what, daryl?" you challenged, stepping closer. "care about you? worry about you? because that's all i’m trying to do!"  

"then stop worryin'! i ain't your problem to fix!" his voice thundered, louder than you'd ever heard it, cutting through the tension like a blade.  

you stared at him, chest heaving, hands gesturing wildly as the words tumbled out. "you’re impossible, you know that? you push me away, but you don't want me to go. you want me close, but you don't let me in. what the hell do you want from me, daryl?"  

he opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat. instead, he stood there, his breathing ragged, shoulders rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. and then, as if it had struck him like lightning, his expression softened, anger draining from his face.  

“you’re all i ever think about,” he blurted out, his voice cracking slightly. his gaze locked on yours, raw and unguarded, like he was seeing you for the first time - or maybe realizing something he’d been trying to deny for far too long.  

your breath caught, the silence between you suddenly deafening.  

“what?” you whispered, barely audible, as if saying it louder would break whatever spell had just been cast.  

his hands twitched at his sides, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “i said… i think ‘bout you. all the damn time.” he looked away, his jaw tightening, but not before you caught the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “don’t know how to stop.”  

you blinked, trying to process his words, the heat of the argument still lingering in the air but quickly fading under the weight of his confession. “daryl…”  

he cut you off, shaking his head like he couldn’t bear to hear whatever you were about to say. “just forget it, alright? shouldn’t’ve said nothin’.”  

but you weren’t about to let him retreat now, not after everything he’d just let slip. “no,” you said firmly, taking a step closer. “you don’t get to do that. you don’t get to drop something like that and walk away.”  

he scoffed, but there was no real heat behind it. “ain’t walkin’ away. just don’t wanna make this harder than it already is.”  

“harder?” you asked, your voice softening. “what’s so hard about admitting you care about someone?”  

his gaze snapped back to yours, and for a moment, he looked almost angry again, but it wasn’t the same. it was frustration, confusion, and something else - something gentler.  

“’cause if somethin’ happens to you, i wouldn’t… i couldn’t…” he trailed off, his voice breaking, and suddenly, all the walls he’d built around himself came crashing down. “damn it, i don’t know how to do this.”  

your heart clenched at the sight of him, this man who was always so strong, so sure of himself, now looking utterly lost. “you don’t have to know how,” you said softly, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “we can figure it out together.”  

he stared at your hand like it was something foreign, something he didn’t quite know how to handle, but he didn’t pull away. instead, he let out a shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.  

“don’t wanna mess this up,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.  

“you won’t,” you assured him, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “but you have to let me in, daryl. you can’t keep shutting me out.”  

he nodded, almost imperceptibly, and for the first time since the argument started, you saw a flicker of hope in his eyes. “alright,” he said gruffly, his voice thick with emotion. “alright.”  

a small smile tugged at your lips, and without thinking, you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing against the stubble on his jaw. “see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?”  

he huffed a quiet laugh, the sound so rare it made your chest ache. “guess not.”  

and then, before either of you could second-guess it, he leaned down and kissed you. it was tentative at first, almost unsure, but when you kissed him back, his hands found your waist, pulling you closer like he never wanted to let go.  

when you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, but the tension that had been simmering between you for weeks - months, even - was gone, replaced by something warmer, something infinitely more comforting.  

“you’re all i ever think about, too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.  

he smiled, just a little, and for the first time, you saw the man behind all the walls, the one who cared so deeply he didn’t know how to show it. “guess we’re both screwed then,” he said, his tone light but his eyes serious.  

you laughed softly, resting your forehead against his. “yeah, i guess we are.” 

ᰔ daryl dixon : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid, @sunnykittyzz

@california-boys-and-sun, @cable-kenobi, @omen-keke, @hhiggs, @iheartpeterparker3000

@withasideofmeg, @corvuscattus

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[vampirekiramman]

HER TREMBLING HANDS | violyn oneshot

synopsis: ever since the day vi’s sister died, her hands haven’t stopped shaking. the only thing that can steady her nerves is caitlyn. so, when she can’t stop shaking, she asks cait to hold her— and she does. of course, she does.

details: ptsd!vi x caitlyn | post-s2e9 | hurt/comfort, angst, and a little bit of fluff

content warning(s): trauma, mentions of death

word count: 1.2k words

It started with a noise, as it often did. Vi couldn’t remember exactly what caused it. Maybe she had knocked over a vase, or dropped a plate. It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, it hit the ground with a thud and the sound of glass shattering into a million little pieces, and that was all it took.

She felt it coming on slow after the initial shock. She bent down with a broom— Where did she get a broom?— and started sweeping the broken glass into a dustpan. Her palms had started to sweat, making it difficult to get a good grip on the wooden shaft of the broom. Her fingers kept slipping down, no matter how many times she let go and grasped it again, firmer each time. Her hands started to shake, the bits of glass she had managed to sweep into the dustpan falling back onto the floor with every tremor.

She closed her eyes and cursed, “Damn.” It was hard to force the word out of her throat. Her breath had started quickening, her chest tightening and a lump forming in her chest. She squeezed her eyes tighter and dropped the broom, clutching her chest. As it clamored to the ground with a series of bangs, that was the moment it hit her.

‘Vi, you can’t save him.’

She knew it to be true. Still, she lifted Vander’s face into the palm of her hand one last time, and sobbed.

‘Vi!’

Her sister’s scream cut across the room like a gunshot, louder in her ears, even, than the sound of Vander’s roars. He pounded on the metal platform beneath her. Boom, boom, boom. She stared up at him, bracing herself for what comes next. It never came.

There she was: Jinx, protecting Vi like how Vi had protected her their whole lives. Vi grabbed her hand as she careened off the edge of the platform, holding her like she was water slipping through her fingers. That’s what she had been the whole time, wasn’t it?

The platform creaked and groaned, Vander’s viscous growls echoing off the walls from beneath them. She felt the metal slipping, the bolts coming loose. Still, she held on.

‘Always with you, sis.’

For a moment, she swore it was Powder’s voice she heard. And then she was gone.

Vi fell to her knees and heaved. She knew she couldn’t have saved Vander. She knew that, but she just had to go to him, anyways, didn’t she? Jinx was right. She couldn’t save him. But maybe she could have saved her.

A guttural scream escaped from her then, coming from somewhere deep inside of her that she had locked away long ago. She rolled onto her back, just like she did that day, and sobbed, echoes of the sound bouncing off the walls around her.

“Vi,” a voice called— Was it Jinx? Was she finally here, ready to take Vi with her?—, then spoke, softly and closer to her ear, “Are you okay, Violet?”

There was only one person left alive that called her that. She opened her eyes and, through the sting of tears, saw Caitlyn crouched over her.

“No. No, no, no. She’s gone, Cait,” she choked out.

“I know,” Caitlyn whispered, sitting down beside her, “I know. Can you sit up? You’re laying in broken glass.”

She pulled herself off the ground and turned her head over her shoulder, shards of glass that had been crushed into tiny bits under her weight and little drops of blood covering the floor. She felt Caitlyn’s hand hovering over her back for a moment. She gave her a nod, and she felt her brushing the glass that had stuck to her body off of her with her fingertips.

Caitlyn put her arm around her shoulder, leaning on her shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s over now. You’re here,” she murmured into Vi’s skin.

“I’m here,” Vi repeated, trying to force herself to believe the words.

She listened to the slow inhale and exhale of Caitlyn’s breathing beside her. She let her eyes bounce off of the walls of the home in Piltover she now shared with her. Framed and hung up were paintings Ekko had made of them all— Vander, Mylo, Claggor, and Powder. Even one of Jinx. She took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of Caitlyn’s perfume. She smelled like cherry blossoms and warm vanilla.

Slowly, she looked down at her hands, turning them over once, then twice, taking note of how her wrists creaked and her fingers trembled.

“I don’t know what happened,” she said, finally. Caitlyn perked her head up to listen. “One minute, I’m cleaning up, and the next I’m back there. I can’t even sweep anymore. My hands- Look. Look at them. I can’t even hold a broom.”

She lifted both of her shaky hands up at the same time and let out a breathy laugh that served only to mask a broken sob. Caitlyn inched closer to her and took Vi’s hands into hers, kissing every knuckle, soft and chaste.

“Then let me doing the cleaning for a while. You can’t be expected to recover from something like that so soon,” she said.

Vi started to shake her head and opened her mouth to argue, to tell her that she didn’t have to do that, and that she should be over it by now.

Before she could get a word out, though, Caitlyn said, “Sometimes, I can still see my mother in her casket, right before we buried her. I’ll see something that reminds me of her and, instead of thinking of all the good times I had with her when she was still here, that’s the only thing I can seem to remember. It’s awful, to live without them. But we have to keep living for them.”

All Vi could focus on was how beautiful Caitlyn was in that moment, not because of how she looked, but because how she saw Vi, really saw her. Whenever she had racked her mind for memories of Powder, in the days before Jinx had ever been created, she always circled back to that final moment. Not the one where she died, but the one where she wished she had. Sobbing on the ground, screaming for her, all while Vi was getting dragged away by an enforcer. The look on her little round face when she had said those words to her. You’re a jinx. Seven years she had spent away from her—, seven years she could never get back—, and when she finally reunited with her, she slipped away from her again before she could even say goodbye.

She knew Jinx would’ve wanted her to keep living without her. She hoped that Powder would’ve wanted that, too.

She didn’t realize how tightly she was squeezing Caitlyn’s hand until she looked down and saw her knuckles turning white. Caitlyn’s fingers were bright red and undoubtedly aching under Vi’s grip, but she didn’t let go. They were alike in that way. They never let go of anything, or anyone.

Vi leaned in for a slow, gentle kiss, softening her grip but still holding Caitlyn’s hands. When she pulled away, she smiled softly and said, “Look. They stopped shaking.”

“Maybe you can hand me that broom and help me clean this mess up, then,” she laughed.

“Only if you’re the one doing the cleaning,” she bit back, tossing the broom into Caitlyn’s hands with a wink, “Cupcake.”

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

Bad Sanses x Reader who is going to wear a very revealing Mrs. Claus costume for a Christmas party? (Maybe with some Jealousy and Mistletoe too >:3)

Featuring: Nightmare, Killer, Dust, Ted, Error, Cross

Masterlist

Nightmare

Back into the bedroom you go.

He's not letting you out wearing these revealing clothes and no you are not seeing a bulge on his pants it's just your imagination.

The king of negativity would never let his partner walk around with such provocative wearing... Especially with his servants around.. he doesn't want them staring at what's clearly his!

Nightmare doesn't let it slide- even if it seems he does throughout the night- just enjoy the party while you can, before your legs stop working for some time..

Killer

If I tell you that he decided to wear the same thing..

The rest of the gang definitely were eyeing you two up and down with a "what the fuck" expression, Ted may even ask what on earth are you two wearing.

"Whatcha mean? We're just matching."

Is it possible that he convinces you to make out in front of everyone? Maybe. Will Nightmare kick your butts if you do? Absolutely.

Ted

At first he doesn't really realize, of course he asks if what you're wearing isn't it too fresh for this epoch of the year? but he brushes it off.

Yet when he sees Killer flirting while holding a mistletoe up between you two, he doesn't think twice before snatching you away to the bedroom. There's a "talk" he wants to have with you..

It didn't take long for him to be rubbing himself against you, pinning your arms on top of your head with his claw while he leaves bite marks all over the visible skin.

Now, he may finish the job right there.. or let you go back to the party with his mark all over your body and needy for the rest of the night.. it depends on his mood at the time.

Dust

He comes from the shadows and hugs you from behind while you're putting the costume on.

"Where do you plan on going with that? Exactly, nowhere."

He's not the type to care about the clothes you wear, yet he's not going to let you go almost naked to the party, not with Killer there! So either you switch clothes or he entertains you with something else..

I mean it's not a surprise that you find yourself moaning into a pillow while Dust rapidly thrusts into you, is it? Seems like you two will open your gifts on the 26th this year..

Cross

Quick to find you a sweater to cover you up, how can you come so exposed to a party in the middle of the winter??

Now, Cross is no innocent, he knows what you're trying to do, but it won't work, not with him! Or will it?

It's so convenient that you're bending down to pick something up when only he is present in the room, don't you think?

Killer already told him- "It's a win Criss-Cross, you get your gift now or only next year huh?" Yet he's sure that's only Killer being slightly perverted, no way you got him to be a type of cupid did you??

In the end, you get what you wanted. He cursing you out while thrusting deep into you, congratulations I guess?

Error

Bitch cover yourself.

It's almost NEGATIVE temperature outside and you're wearing a top with a mini skirt?? OH HELL NO.

He's surprisingly giving you his coat. You better be grateful idiot, it isn't everyday the god of destruction gives his precious clothes to a mere mortal.

Error's eyeing you up and down without you noticing, you think you have the right to provoke him like this?

"Ʉ₲Ⱨ ..ɎØɄ ฿Ɇ₮₮ɆⱤ ₱Ɽ₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ⱧɆⱤɆ ฿Ɇ₵₳Ʉ₴Ɇ ł₥ Ⱨ₳Vł₦₲ ₦Ø ₱ł₮Ɏ Ø₣ ɎØɄ ₩ⱧɆ₦ ₩Ɇ ₲Ø ฿₳₵₭ ₮Ø ₮ⱧɆ ₳₦₮łVØłĐ ɎØɄ łĐłØ₮.."

[paladin--strait]

soulmates part 5

luke hughes x reader

sorry this is so short! i'm hoping it'll kinda be like a filler chapter that'll kinda set things up more. sorry that its moving kinda fast, i'm hoping to keep this series under ten chapters.

tw!!: some language, use of y/n, reader can be depicted as any body shape/size. this story moves kinda fast, since I want it to only be a couple of parts long. this is a complete work of fiction. I am no way saying or implying that these people act the way they do in the story. I am open to any sort of constructive criticism! thank you!

-

"quinn." i say, shutting the door to his room behind me. "we need to talk."

he sits in silence on the side of his bed, staring blankly at the wall. "what." his words have no emotion behind them.

"what the hell is going on?" i cross my arms as i move to stand in the line of his vision.

"nothings going on." he says, his tired eyes flickering to look up at me.

"bullshit, quinn." i step towards him, "i need to know."

"i told you, it's nothing." he shrugs, looking at me with an annoyed expression on his face.

"but it's something."

"it's not your business." he fires back, his tone a little more harsh than i hope he intended it to be.

"but it is quinn," i plead, sitting beside him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "it involves me somehow and i need to know what it is."

he doesn't respond, his shoulders dropping as he sighs.

"i don't want to spend the last two weeks at the lake house with some of y'all being so depressed. there's tension, quinn. and it's killing me already, killing the others. they won't tell me what's going on, so i need you to."

"fine." he says, looking over at me. "i..." i wait for his response, hoping it's nothing bad.

"i made a huge mistake." he sighs and i look at him with a confused look on my face. "i shouldn't have tried to set you and luke up together."

my brows furrow, "why not? i thought you said we would be perfect for each other."

"because..." he looks down at his sock covered feet, "i didn't realize...how much i like you..."

my eyes widen slightly at his sudden confession, "what...?"

"i like you, y/n." he looks back up at me, this time with a look of pure adoration in his tired eyes. "me and luke...we got into it after you left for vancouver. brock said something about the way we act towards each other and it made me realize how much i truly like you..."

my shoulders slump a little, "quinn...i don't know what to say."

"you don't have to say anything. i know you don't like me that way and i'd prefer we stay friends. if you still want to be, that is." he says, his lips pursing into a line after he finishes speaking.

"i'd love to still be friends with you, quinn. you're everything to me. but, i don't like you like that and i don't want our opposing feelings for each other to take a toll on our friendship." i explain, hoping he'll understand.

"i agree completely." he nods, "but luke is upset with me and i don't want me and him to be upset with each other and there be even more tension if the two of you end up together."

"i'll talk to luke, try and work things out." i stand, putting my hands in the pocket of my canucks hoodie. "i think i like him, quinn. he's different than what i thought he'd be. he called me a few times while i was gone to check up on me, he's really sweet."

quinn smiles softly, "i'm glad he's been so good to you. i'm sorry about all this."

"don't be sorry, quinny. everything will be okay. and i'm sure it's just a little crush, you'll probably get over it soon." i smile at him, holding my arms wide open for a hug and he stands immediately, placing his arms around my waist and pulling me in for a hug. it's gentle but loving, his chin placed on my shoulder.

i let go, walking over to his door and opening it to leave, "you'll get over it soon, i promise." i whisper, smiling at him softly.

but i don't hear the words that leave his mouth after i shut the door behind me. "probably..." his words laced with sadness and defeat as the bed dips under him as he sits back down.

-

i walk down the hallway and to luke's room, knocking on the door.

a few seconds later, a tired looking luke opens the door. his eyes are red and puffy, like he's been crying. "hey luke...can we talk?" i ask. he nods, opening the door further to let me in. i walk in and he shuts the door behind me, looking over at me. "i just talked to quinn and-"

"shut up." he cuts me off, his hands placed on my hips as he pulls me closer.

"luke...what are you doing?" i ask, my eyes widening with confusion and almost a hint of excitement.

"what i've been wanting to do for a while." luke's words are quiet and sweet, with a sense of urgency and nervousness hinted in there too. "what i need to do before he takes you away from me."

[nodefinition-found]

ׂ╰ ❝ 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞, 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝? — 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 ? ❞ `

:; — Empty words spewed from hurt cannot be unsaid. They already know "hate" no longer has the same meaning. Can the dead man even pretend to be surprised? Eyes blurring the horrific image of what used to be brother beneath as he tries to blink away tears. He doesn't deserve to cry, not after he could have left but chose to stay. Why does he stare at his hands in horror, as if he wasn't the one controlling them, as if this wasn't a decision and just another mistake? Fingers gripping so tightly there's bruises in their place, teeth stained with blood that is no longer his own. His innocence is long gone, who he was erased.

So far gone, eyes blown from the adrenaline. Patchy fingers traced every scar as if he hadn't already memorized them—he put them there, etched into flesh like a branding. Is the monster even a wolf anymore when he doesn't eat the prey? Instead, just clawing open every healing wound and licking the tendons until the flesh is numb. What wolf provokes the prey to violence just so it can be beaten bloody? Covered in bites and bruises that he will repay with his own. The other used to be so tactile with the pain he inflicted—bullet holes and quick strikes, slow to anger and righteous—but now it is frantic and desperate with shaking hands and bared teeth to mirror that of the mutt's.

Neither of them has ever stopped the other, afraid of losing the only thing that kills the mind and brings the body back to life. Pushing each other further and further, nothing sets them off like the other. Nothing satisfies the violence inside them like one another. Tethered by a hatred so passionate it might as well be love, if violence is all they know then violence it will be. Anything but letting go.

Dizzy with adrenaline, sometimes he lets Liu win. An open invitation for that broken little dove to beat him into the dirt until he can't stand and those leather gloves are stained with scarlet. It feels like being executed by an Angel—clean and perfect, and just. What should elicit fear only evokes a high more addicting than the bloodlust, so like an addict he watches as that spectacle of divine judgement stands above him and spreads its mangled wings to deliver the final blow. He would slit his throat on that halo.

'He looks good covered in bruises,' but Jeff thinks he looks better covered in the blood of sinners.

This took me like 90+ hours and I still have rendering to do on the second page that wasn't included.