#i haven't written in a while :')

[luxwazhere]

Should I makes a romantic Genie hc post for my fellow Genie self shippers and others..........

[imthursdaysyme]

nancy wheeler the eldest daughter

Thinking of Nancy always worried over her siblings. Guilty in her choices because she should’ve done more, and angry. Angry that she sees Mike and Holly but can’t see where the line is drawn between sibling and child. Hates that she is unsure whether to laugh or scold when Mike blows bubbles in his milk or sneaks food from their fathers plate. Hates that she tells them to brush their teeth before bed, get to school on time, do their homework, finish their chores and wonder if their chores were given to them by her or their mother. 

She wonders if thats why they hate her. They hate that she’s hot and cold and never lukewarm. That she teases and pulls their ears in one moment and scolds them in the next. Wonders if they hate her because she tells them how to navigate their fathers mood swings, how to please their mother, and how to live in a home where they have two parents but somehow she is both. 

-

(they don’t hate their sister, of course, they’re worried. Worried that somehow they are doing this strange thing called growing up wrong, because Nancy didn’t do this at my age, Nancy didn’t feel like she would explode at any second. 

Holly still lives in bliss of loving her sister that’s really her mother. While Mike steadily grows and grows and wonders if he wasn’t growing up wrong, but rather wonders if Nancy ever grew up. Was she ever a child, like him? Was she ever prickly in her own skin and scared of her own emotions and the heart in her chest? Or was she rather something entirely different.) 

[rosesvioletshardy]

cowboys need love too - r.a.

authors note: okay so i had this idea at work and decided to go with it or else i'll regret it

i legit cried while writing this so i hope you all like it this is my first time writing again since october

masterlist

rhett masterlist

warnings: mention of injuries, trauma, post partum depression, pregnancy, kids, angst (i guess) but mainly fluff, some suggestive stuff but just a little at the end

no use of y/n, but she / her pronouns are used

# of words: 2,088

*italics are flashbacks*

Silence.

That’s all Rhett heard when he woke up. There wasn’t a sound to be heard in his room. Something he still wasn’t used to since moving from Wabang to Cheyenne.

He was used to hearing the voice of his mother calling him and everyone else for breakfast in the morning, his father’s anger while talking on the phone or informing his wife about what was in the newspaper that he didn’t like. 

Looking around, he could see the sun peeking out from the curtains and the other side of his bed empty before getting out and seeing the two cribs empty as well.  If he would’ve told his 15 year old self that he would be married to the love of his life with twin daughters, he wouldn’t have believed him. Even now at almost 29 years old he still couldn’t believe it. After everything that happened with the Tillerson’s, all charges against were dropped and he decided he needed to renew his life while he still could. He remembers the day he told you he wanted to marry you and leave after finishing a ride. As much as he loved his family, he knew that it would be best for him to not be caught up in any mess in Wabang. 

----

“What did you just say?” you questioned, making sure you heard him say what he said

“Marry me.” he let out once more.

“I know this is all of a sudden and I don’t exactly have ring yet but-” he tried to finish before you interrupted him

“Yes” you responded while smiling before he let out a sigh of relief, pulling you in to kiss him

“And I don’t care if you don’t have a ring, I don’t need one to prove you’re mine forever” you told him as you pulled away to hug him, making sure you were careful of his shoulder after he injured it again. He laughed because he already knew he was going to get you the ring that you deserved.

“Wait, but what about your family? I don’t want them to think it’s because of me” you mentioned as he shook his head

“They knew for a while now, especially with everything, that I wanted to leave but never had a reason too until you came along. From the moment we met, I told my mom that I was going to marry you and that I was going to move out. Looking back at it now, I’m glad that 17 year old me was that delusional and that it came true” he laughed out, his hand caressing the side of your face and wiping away a tear that had fallen

“What happened to my strong cowboy who was scared to admit that he was in love with me after our first date?” you joked making him laugh

“Well, he got some sense knocked into him after getting thrown off a few bulls and hit upside the head by his older brother.” he smiled

“And don’t worry about Amy," he stated, already reading your mind

"I know she’s going to miss us that’s why I promised her that we’ll visit from time to time and that her favorite aunt will get to have a girl’s day with her” he added on knowing how much Amy loved you, even more than her uncle Rhett (which he won’t admit hurt him a little but he’s glad she has someone to look up to with her mother still missing)

“Well then, what are you waiting for cowboy? Let’s get hitched” you said, taking his hat on his head and placed it on top of yours making him groan

“You’re going to be the death of me woman, and if that’s the case, I hope I die a happy man” making you laugh as you pulled his (good) arm and heading back to his truck

----

Snapping out of his memories, he got out of bed, stretching and taking a moment to himself before heading downstairs to find you and your daughters. He was still in shock that he was a father. Just like marrying you, he didn’t think that it would happen. The three positive pregnancy tests in your hand as you left the bathroom smiling with tears in your eyes, making him smile uncontrollably as the two of you hugged each other. He never admitted to you that he was terrified about being a father, let alone to twins, but with reassurance and talks with a therapist, he was ready. You knew that he was scared, had trauma from growing up and realized, even though his father loved him, he didn’t want to end up like Royal and put his kids through the same thing. As soon as he moved out, he started to see a therapist as much as he could and he never regretted it. He wanted his daughters, and even his future kids, to know that he loves them and wants them to be open to him about anything.

The two of you had a great support system throughout the entire 9 months. Perry finding any of Amy’s old baby clothes and giving it to you, Royal making matching cribs for them, Cecilia offering any form of support from tips on morning sickness to being with you whenever Rhett had a rodeo and making sure you didn’t do anything that Rhett didn’t want you to do and helped you through a tough delivery.  

“Look who’s finally awake” he heard a voice he recognized as his wife’s, as he turned around to see you, still wearing his shirt, carrying your 6 month old twins.

“There are my 3 beautiful girls” he smiled as walked over to give each of the twins a kiss on the head, before kissing you on the lips a little longer before being interrupted by the oldest twin whining for his attention making you two laugh.

“Okay my fussy girl, here we go” he spoke, voice still laced with sleep and his usual western voice, taking her out of your left arm and blowing a raspberry on her open neck causing her to laugh and him smile. Other than your voice and the sounds you make, both of his daughter's laughter was one of his favorite things in the world.

“Both of them have been changed and fed and we were just letting you get some rest knowing that you’ve been doing so much recently” you told him as you both walked downstairs

“Darlin’ you didn’t have to. Remember, we’re a team and we do everything together” he said while taking your hand into his, a perfect fit he always thought

“Baby,” you started as you both set the girls down in their play pens as you went to turn the coffee on for him

“You just got back from a week long rodeo-”

“Last week I came back” he added as you gave him a look, letting you to continue

“I can tell your shoulder has been bothering you and that back hurts as well. Just because we’ve been together for years now, doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about everything. I know usually after a bad rodeo, your left shoulder tends to hurt a bit when you hold one of the girls and you’ll switch arms after a couple of minutes just like you did not too long ago.” you mentioned, knowing that you were right

“You deserve to rest. After they were born, you did so much for me. You went out of your way to make sure I still felt like the woman you fell in love with before they came along and were reassuring me about everything, even during the 9 months, from the moment we found out. You were always getting up in the middle of the night for my weird cravings and were still making sure I was eating right. You canceled anything you had to do just so you could come to the ultrasound appointments. Your mom told me that you would listen to their heartbeats from a voice memo before you went to sleep when your dad needed help with the pasture for the weekend to ease your anxiety knowing you were only 2 hours away and that I was safe. You keep different pictures of us everywhere; one in your vest when you ride, one in your sun visor in your truck, one in your hat, and a whole album in your phone dedicated to from the moment we found out to now. You were always lifting my bump to ease the pressure off of me and made sure I was on bed rest. ”

at this point, rhett could feel everything he was holding in about to let go, but letting you continue before he crashed

“When my postpartum depression was at its worst, you spoke with my doctor and made sure I was consistently loved and that everything wasn’t going to be perfect all the time” you said, your hand reaching up to wipe away a tear that escaped his eye

“You stayed home with them and reassured me everything was alright the first time I went back to work and gave me updates all the time about everything.” you smiled

“You make me calm when my anxiety gets bad every time we’re away from them, telling me that they’re safe and with people we trust the most.”

“Rhett James Abbott, you are the best father in the world and you need to know that it’s okay to want to be loved too. You need to be taken care of too. Not just me, not just the girls, but you too. I can see it in your eyes and the way you push off everything to make sure we’re rested and taken care of, but you need to realize that you need rest too.” you finished.

“Do you remember the first thing you told your mom after you met me?” you asked him and he nodded knowing that his mother told her months into their relationship

“You told her, “I met this girl and ‘m going to marry this girl. She’s way out of my league, but she makes me feel like I'm cloud nine and ’m going to marry her someday” and how Perry laughed at you for knowing he was in the same position before.” you said making him chuckle and nod

“That’s how I feel. How I still feel. I feel calm and safe. From the moment we wake up, to the moment we sleep. You’re my safe place, you make me feel so loved. You remember all the little details about me that I’m sure people would’ve forgotten after I’ve told them. You make feel like I falling in love with you all over again”

At this point Rhett couldn’t hold back his tears any longer and let them out. You let him cry into your neck, not even caring about the mess. He had never felt this much relief in his life, not even when he talked to his therapist. He knew he was never a bad person, even back in Wabang when he’d get arrested for bar fights or peeing on a cops car. He felt like all the weight that he’s been carrying on his shoulders, had been lifted off of him.

Pulling away, you wiped his tears away before kissing him, tasting the small remains of his salty tears. 

“There’s the handsome cowboy I fell in love with” you whispered, pushing his hair behind his ears

“I love you and the girls so much.” he whispered before giving you a small peck on the head

“Thank you for everything. I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me. And I didn’t even realize how much I’d been holding back--” “It’s okay baby.” 

“Whatever you have planned for today, cancel it. I just wanna be with you and the girls.” he said looking over at them smiling and cooing at each other as if they’re talking and playing with the toys with them before giving you a kiss on the lips

That’s exactly what you did, you both put your phones on do not disturb and took the girls and your dog, dusty, out for a walk, obviously you putting on pants and him a shirt on. Taking advantage of the nice weather that was displayed currently in Cheyenne before ending the night with the girls in bed and him taking you to bed and showing you how much he loves you.

[kibblz-n-bitz]

I'm going to write luffy going into a rut caused by his devil fruit because I want to

[rains-inky-mind]

Heads Up Seven Up

Tagged by @sanguine-arena

Tagging: @epnona-the-wisp @sleepyowlwrites @ren-c-leyn or whoever else wants to!

"People like us need to be pushed around a bit sometimes." The corner of her mouth tilts up almost unnoticeably. "But if you ever lay a hand on me again, I'll break it." 

He nods. "Understood." 

She leans heavily against the wall. "So..." 

"We're good," he finishes for her. 

"Good." 

[gamerexdrex]

My family has a guardian angel

My grandmother remembers hearing her own grandparents talking about their grandparents experiences with him.

He could tell us anedoctes of our family with near perfect memory, yet I have seen him get lost in the parking lot of the grocery store.

My aunt mentioned once how he broke the wrist of a mugger in her store, yet asks my dad to get rid of spiders he finds whenever he stays with us.

Speaking of which, today he's staying in my house. His long white hair covers his eyes, which makes me wonder how in the world can he see the math ecuations on my notebook.

"My apologies my dear, but understanding this-" he gestures at my homework "-thing seems beyond my compehension"

I bang my head on the table. Godammit.

"Please don't do that dear, you will hurt yourself"

I don't respond, just stay there, drowning in agony over our shared inability with maths.

I feel a gentile hand on my back, and look up to our angel's kind and understaning eyes, his smile gentile in his imposibly young face.

"Say, little one, we both could clear our mind; would you like to go to that park you love so much?"

That does sound more appealing that being stuck doing homework I don't understand.

I grab my jacket and drag our angel towards the park. It's a small thing, but has this lovely beds of flowers that light up the place. I sit in a bench enjoying the afternoon sun and the cool breeze, while our angel goes to fetch some ice cream when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey there!" Says the man "what's a kid doing here alone?"

He's tall, but he has a hoodie covering his face.

I answer "I am not alone, I'm here with family"

The strange man replies "Oh, I know your parents!" He says with a smile "They told me to come look for you!"

His hand tightens on my shoulder.

"Come on, I can take you with them!"

He's starting to drag me when he suddently stops. Right in front of him is our angel, towering over the man, with a look in his eyes that could kill.

"Excuse me sir" he snarled "that kid is mine, and I would apreciate if you would let them go" He grabed the man's wrist and yanked it away from me

The mine, shocked, tries to free himself from his grip, to no avail.

"Now" our angel continues "if I see you again around here, you better expect to know from me"

He let's go of the man's wrist, and he scampers off

Our angel turns to me and kneels down, smiling, but with his eyes filled with worry "are you alright dear?"

I hug him

Our family has a guardian angel who loves us very dearly, and we love him just as much

Most immortals become the angsty “everyone I have ever loved is gone” kind of immortal. You, on the other hand, instead took it upon yourself to be a loving presence to entire generations of your chosen family, because they are descended from someone you once loved long ago.

[cangrellesteponme]

wife

[katiefrog217]

AziraCrow | Book Reading

(Scroll down for mini story vvvv) + (Companion Piece)

Aziraphale liked books, especially the old ones. They were the main reason for owning his bookshop, after all.

He loved reading them, too. Sitting quietly in the back of his bookshop with a good book and the occasional accompaniment of an old record made for quite the delightful evening, in his opinion. Despite his being handless (and therefore, fingerless), Aziraphale was perfectly capable of turning pages on his own. Not with his talons of course; Heaven only knew the trouble that would come from attempting to turn the aging and potentially fragile paper with such unreliable instruments. It would be a simple enough fix if a page did happen to tear, but the memory would haunt him forever. Instead, all it took was a flick of his wing and woosh, the pages would turn themselves. Sometimes he just had to ask nicely. However, there were times that he didn't need to expend the effort.

Those times just so happened to coincide with a particularly serpentine visitor.

Crowley's visits were irregular and not always predictable. Most of the time he would pop in to complain about Who-Knows-What and disappear off to Who-Knows-Where. Sometimes he would stay longer, and they would share a glass of wine or some other alcohol, chatting a lot about nothing and reminiscing about times long passed until the shadows grew long. On rare occasions they would sit in comfortable silence, doing nothing more than enjoying each other's company. Aziraphale would then pick a book to read and Crowley would slither over to join him.

Of course, Crowley didn't like reading - or at least claimed he didn't. 'Not worth his time,' he'd say dismissively. Still, he (bored expression and all) would come, make himself comfortable by coiling around both the book stand and Aziraphale, and just watch. Just about anyone on Earth would likely be uncomfortable being stared down by such an intense gaze, but not Aziraphale. Over the many millennia, he has grown used to being observed by those golden eyes. Dare he say, he even found it comforting in a way, but that was besides the point.

He wasn't sure how it started; perhaps Crowley found himself overly bored that day, but he began turning the book pages whenever Aziraphale raised his wing to compel them instead. It had started him at first, and he had looked to Crowley with much confusion, though the demon had nothing to say in return. He merely shrugged (or at least it could be considered the serpentine equivalent of a shrug) and turned away. A few more pages in, and he'd turn them again. This happened over and over until Aziraphale heaved a sigh gave in, allowing the serpent to do as he wanted. At first, it was quite awkward to give verbal cues, and there were times when he became so engrossed in his reading that he forgot entirely, but eventually they settled into a comfortable rhythm. Nowadays he didn't even bother. It had become almost automatic: Aziraphale would finish the page and it would turn, no questions asked.

Aziraphale suspected it would baffle the minds of many to see a demon treat anything so gently, yet Crowley turned the pages in such a way that they were never bent nor crumpled. In fact, it seemed to him that the older the book was, the gentler Crowley'd be. He seemed... 'content' was the wrong word to describe his attitude towards the activity, but he never said a word otherwise. At least, not to Aziraphale.

He never pointed this out, of course. Crowley would stop doing it if he did, and he didn't WANT him to stop. He enjoyed it too much.

Once in a blue moon, Crowley would make a comment about whatever Aziraphale was reading at the time. It was often snide, mocking, not always audible. Hisses of exasperation or an exaggerated eye roll were not uncommon either. Then he would turn away, bored despondence washing over his face, shutting down any attempts to further the conversation. Not that he would respond if Aziraphale did, though that hadn't stopped him from trying. On one occasion Aziraphale had tried to push the topic, only for Crowley to deflect, insisting that he had only glanced the passage at random. He stopped turning the pages then. Aziraphale never tried again and settled with only giving him sidelong glances when he said something particularly egregious.

And so they would read, the silence broken only by the ticking of an old clock and the occasionally rustle of a page.

...

Aziraphale liked his books.

He liked reading them alone in his bookshop.

But he liked them best when Crowley was there to turn the pages for him.

[elv-arts]

I put him in hl2 hope that's alright lol. Hl1 is his brother's territory I decided. Mostly I wanted him to beat the shit out of a metrocop :)

He'll probably be fine. He's survived his life so far including one end of the world and his nerd brother's mad science antics. What's a little more of the same old bullshit?

I was just gonna do one or two doodles cuz I couldn't think of much. But then i was having fun :)

@bbg100

[seelestia]

conclusion: aventurine likes being the only thing on your mind (to which he, in fact, is).

1.1k wc. established relationship, cringy fluff x10000 pls have mercy. petty & jealous aven says hi (ft. his beef w/ an inanimate object, help). a drabble hastily strewn together to celebrate my birthday on oct 13th! ‹3 as u can see, this silly guy is still in my head 🙏

aventurine likes to think that he is a man with sharp eyes. it makes perfect sense because if not, why else would he find sneakiness—or rather, attempts at it—to be so endearing?

all the more so, considering how you've been glancing at the display case behind him for a while now.

thrice, four times, five times. the way you try to catch more glimpses of it eventually grows from tentative to curious. he wonders if you caught on that he's been keeping track of this very top secret, very well-hidden agenda of yours – but as your eyes wander from his face for the nth time, he guesses not.

are the story he's recounting and the cup of sundae you're sharing with him not riveting enough? to have your attention be so easily stolen by whatever thing in whatever shop behind him. . . the mere thought is enough to form some kind of pull at the corners of his lips. it's insistent, it's going downward, and it's costing him some significant ounces of self-control not to pout.

(do you think the pendant is prettier to look at than him? hm, he's feeling neglected.)

but playing the fool is getting boring; finally, aventurine decides it's time to shed his veil of ignorance and lets his acknowledgement of your actions be known within the form of a jovial question.

“does it strike your fancy?” he asks, scooping a spoonful of melting sundae to his lips with a lack of enthusiasm. it tastes good—would taste better if he had your full attention and if you were the one feeding him—but alas, he digresses.

you blink, taken aback. no doubt it's at the fact you're caught red-handed. adorable, he thinks to himself. “it looks pretty,” you reply with a sheepish smile, the awe in your voice doing very little effort to conceal itself. so adorable, his mind chimes in again.

(aventurine still thinks there are better sights out there, though. like you in his eyes and him in yours, for example.)

he notices the vague hint of affection in your tone and suddenly, his interest is piqued to its limit. you rarely use that tone unless it's directed at him. when the frivolous merchant turns around to have a look for himself, his motions are oddly quick and swift – definitely not fueled by a sense of rivalry or anything of that sort. absolutely not.

in any case, he still takes in the sight of the accessory with professionalism. in the wide cosmos, aventurine has come across many of its kind that he either bought for his own collection at the cost of a pretty penny or won in a gamble at the cost of his life. your fascination with it is justified, he'd say, take it from the perspective of an avid collector.

a quaint design, smooth surface, intricate carvings, reasonable price (he doesn't mind the jaw-dropping amount of zeros), and from a make he's heard of before. . . but he'll stop at that because if he says more, he'd surely lose his appetite and the sundae still has a few more spoonfuls left.

(whatever, he's still feeling vengeful towards that thing.)

ironically, though, aventurine's eyes are the ones who wander this time as they flit from your profile to the display. back and forth, a few times in succession. you tilt your head in confusion – but all he requires is only several seconds of your time to accurately visualize the pendant adorning your features. luckily for him, your face is such a familiar sight in his memory that the vision forms itself quite effortlessly.

and when aventurine finally takes a moment to admire the finished image in his head, he smiles contentedly. who wouldn't, at the face of a beauty like yours?

“mhm,” he says dotingly, evidently satisfied at the conclusion he arrives at. “it'll look good on you.”

it's not difficult to predict what comes next when he starts reaching for the card in his pocket – or so, he thought as the sound of your laughter stops him dead. yes, you're laughing, so heartily to the point that your shoulders shake a little.

aventurine expects a demure shake of the head or a weary sigh as he eagerly offers to spend credits for you, yet again. it's common knowledge that he favors spoiling you with his riches: because he likes pretty things and he likes you, thus it's understandable why he likes you in pretty things. but this? he isn't expecting this.

of course, the sight of your expressing mirth at the silliest of things has always been kept framed in his mind but as happy as he is to see it, it still doesn't change the perplexed state he is left in. what, does he have sundae smeared on his face or something?

“thanks, but—” you giggle, a familiar melody that flows like silk to his ears. “i was thinking about how it'd suit you, silly.”

a moment of silence, just enough to let the realization sink in.

“. . .me?” the slight disbelief in aventurine's voice is unmistakable.

“yeah,” you nod with a hum, “the color really brings out your eyes.”

(and his pathetic heart skips a beat.)

oh, how a poor man's world could be flipped upside down with just a sentence. the said man dramatically places a hand over his face as if to shield himself from the light radiating off your very being. “how disappointing. i've fallen right into your trap,” he relents with a long sigh so exaggeratedly that you have to stifle a chuckle at his reaction.

he's smiling so widely, though, so is he truly disappointed? and to that, aventurine will confidently say: no, there is no reason to be disappointed when he has been the one occupying your thoughts all along.

(so, the bad blood with that pendant was for nothing, after all.)

“you're so mean to me sometimes,” he pouts, it's his right to do so after being tricked. “will you forgive me then?” you smile, then he melts just like that in the snap of a finger.

“i can never say no to that,” aventurine sighs in defeat, leaning in for a kiss to soothe his non-existent wounds. it's not like you want to say no to him either.

“wait—” you place a hand on his chest and he makes a questioning noise that sounds akin to a whiny huff. then, a gentle sensation as your thumb brushes against a certain spot on his cheek. “you got sundae on your face,” you chuckle, failing horribly at trying to hold in your laugh all over again.

darn it.

“c'mere—”

all kinds of self-restraint and public image be damned, aventurine immediately closes the distance without further delay – and when his lips meet yours, nothing else matters.

yes, not even the sundae that has melted into sugary soup by now.

[ ☆ THANK YOU FOR READING! © seelestia on tumblr, oct 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own. ]

[whatswrong7]

Part 2 Part 3 Ghost didn't think much of you at first. You were just the incapable rookie to him. Constantly getting lost and needing backup on missions. He was actually annoyed at you and your incompetence, trying to stay as far out of your way as possible. But without fail, on almost every mission, your voice would pop into his ear calling for help as you inevitably fucked up, or bit off more than you could chew, or got yourself injured. He didn't even understand how you made it onto the task force, and he told Soap as much, which would usually just get a laugh and not much of a real response. He'd avoid your attempts at chit chat and small talk, barking orders at you to go do something else, unless you were at base, where he settled for just ignoring you until you furrowed your brow and went off.

And then you saved Johnny. His earpiece had gotten destroyed a few minutes earlier, the last thing he was able to say a vague description of his location. Price, Gaz, and Ghost were all preoccupied with their own fights. Ghosts mind seized up as his body continued the motions, aiming and shooting with deadly accuracy. He was gone. Soap was as good as gone, and just like his family, he wouldn't be able to save him. He couldn't breathe, all the gear too heavy on his body as his lungs threatened to collapse. Dead. Dead, dead, dead, all because of him, him, h-

"I got him"

Your voice rasped through the tiny machine, sounding out of breath and unsteady. You didn't respond to anything else, the rest of them hurrying to finish up and head to the chopper, Ghost silently hoping, praying. And there Johnny was, huffing and breathing heavily as a medic took care of him, quickly confirming to the newly arrived team he would be just fine. Ghost breathed a sigh of relief, just to turn to you and get the breath knocked out of him again. You were also getting quickly helped, blood coating you as the medic worked to remove the bullets from all areas of your body you had been hit in. Your usually bright eyes were heavy lidded, as you lazily looked around, barely glancing at Simon. Your shoulder had to get put back into place after popping it out of its socket- and by god, you were a proper mess, thick blood all over your skin and blending in with your uniform, your arm hanging limp by your side as it was held and shoved back into place, and barely able to keep your eyes open.

Ghost had never seen anything more beautiful.

[jazeswhbhaven]

Just a little something for ya'll:

Angel Intimacy Headcanons | Back Kisses

Raphael: He's always fussy when you don't see him often, met with him pouting, ignoring you and turning his back to you. The silent treatment doesn't work, and he knows that but there's a reason he does it. Your fingers trace his back, each muscle contorting to your touch. When you reach the areas where the base of his wings are located, he reacts by arching and covering his mouth to muffle his moans. You stop, but he's immediately complaining by ripping off his shirt and demanding you touch him again. You do but this time with your lips, leaving gentle kisses. His halo glows, and he whimpers. You back away so he has room to allow his wings to appear without slapping you in the face. He stretches them, and looks back at you with a contorted expression to keep kissing him. You do, your lips and fingers caressing the skin around each base of his wings. He shivers and palms himself, knowing the chastity cage is stopping him from reaching climax but it's always up to you to remove it. This time you don't, and he's left in shambles just enjoying your touch.

Michael: He says that you took too long to show up, wanting your affection immediately upon arrival. He places his head in your lap, wanting praises for not burning down another village or city in Hell, and keeping his temper under check. He keens when you pet his head, massage the wing that grows from the nape of his neck. He sits up so you can continue to massage and kiss down from his shoulders all down his spine. You continue to praise him, affirm his good behavior, and promise you'll visit more often and sooner than usual. All of that excites him, his wings stretching out and twitching when you kiss the skin around each base. He cries, for once tears of joy that you're showing so much attention that he can't stop. The two of you will start a flood if you aren't careful, but you're always happy to show your angry angel that you care. And he's so clingy. Maybe you should visit him more often.

Gabriel: If you thought his brothers were a lot to deal with, he's the worst offender. He's been so upset with your absence he's sent other angels to try and find you. He's attacked the countries in Hell just because he's frustrated. He's even terrorized a few humans trying to see why exactly you haven't come by to see him. You can only apologize, which he doesn't accept. But you know a way to soothe him. Compliment his appearance, how nice he dresses, how there's no possible way you could forget him when he's all you think about. But humans are busy, right? He doesn't believe you but you show him how serious you are, removing his shirt to delicately kiss his spots. Collarbones, behind the ears, and his back. Once you brush your lips past where his wings are normally located he folds, on his knees to pray that he doesn't do anything too sinful while accepting your affection. He doesn't release his wings at first, but after a few compliments and kisses he does and loses himself. After one day of your kisses he has to recoup for a week, which during that time everyone gets a break from his tantrums.

[billdenbrough]

TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS OF KEEPING A VAMPIRE AS A RESCUE

aftg · kevaaron · 10k, t. vampire au · multiple pov · kevin is doing his Best™ as a vampire for @kittkatattacks, as part of the @aftgexchange · fic graphic art by my beloved @naturecalls111

In a perfect world, someone else would be on Kevin duty today. “You are literally a vampire,” Aaron grouses. “You don’t need sleep. How the fuck are you so bad at getting here on time?” “I am immortal,” Kevin says patiently, as if what he’s about to say is reasonable instead of—undoubtedly—infuriating. “Time is irrelevant.” Yep, Aaron was right. Fucking infuriating. “I will stake you,” he grumbles, then wraps his hand around Kevin’s wrist. “Come on, we’re already late.”

It’s not every day that you go monster-hunting and end up with a pet vampire instead. Aaron really just wanted a dog, but he supposes this isn’t so bad.

(It’s not every day that a monster-hunter finds you, and instead of staking you, brings you home and teaches you how to do laundry. Kevin’s not sure what he wanted, but he’s glad he got this.)

read on ao3

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

LaDS Boys when their S/O' sees a Bad Doctor's Doctor won't Listen (Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne, Sylus)

I hate dealing with shitty doctors. I really do.

Rafayel x fe!reader, Xavier x fem!reader, Zayne x fem!reader, Sylus x fem!reader

Rafayel

Raf isn't usually my favorite--in large part because we'd be the biggest disaster couple on the planet--but I feel like in this case, he'd be great

seriously, the moment the doctor stops listening, thr doctor gets the full force of Rafayel's aloof, arrogant demeanor

Raf is not the kind of person who hesitates to be a Karen if he thinks it's appropriate. And messing with his person definitely counts

Doctor: blah, blah, blah

Raf: Excuse me. I'm taking my person and we're leaving

Then you go get something to eat while he makes sure that you're ok because it's pretty disheartening to be not listened to by medical "professionals"

Xavier

he isn't with you at the doctor (probably at home sleeping or fighting wanderers) but he sees you crying when you get home

obviously he's not particularly happy to see you crying

his first priority is comforting you, maybe cuddling or inviting you to nap

then he insists you change doctors and the two of you do research to find a doctor who will listen

Zayne

As if this would ever happen

I can't see Zayne letting this ever be a problem to start with

He knows all of the best doctors in different fields

And even if the person you saw wasn't the best, just knowing that you're THE Doctor Zayne's S/o, I don't think they would dare try to give sub par care

I mean if they did, it might end their careers. Zayne would not hesitate to warn others away from that provider and Zayne's words hold a lot of weight

Sylus

Uh, you didn't tell Sylus what happened when it first happened

I mean, Sylus doesn't really hesitate to kill people and fucking with his kitten would piss him off.

Nobody messes with his kitten. They just don't

Of course, he found out about it. Mephisto was probably skulking somewhere in your vicinity while you were upset about it. And even if he hadn't seen through Mephisto's eyes, he'd have figured out when he asked you about the appointment

Sylus: How was it?

You: fine

Sylus: you sure about that, sweetie?

To his credit, he doesn't do anything to extreme. Much. He wants you to see that doctor one more time with him in tow, just so that he can tell the doctor they're fired in person

I don't think he'd kill the doctor, but he's certainly not above threatening them to make sure you get the care you deserve

The next doctor you see his one that he has personally vetted

[varpusvaras]

Dick had many soulmarks.

Not as many as someone would've thought, probably, with the amount of friends that he had, but still many. They adorned his forearm like jewelry, circling around his skin in intricate patterns. Every single one of them just as beautiful as the other, just like the people they belonged to. Dick thought every single one of them as a blessing.

He had done so especially after the first two had faded away.

They were still there, of course. Nothing could ever truly erase a mark on someone's soul, after all. Not even death. Dick would've been even more devastated if the marks would've disappeared with his parents, even if sometimes looking at the now liveless marks hurt.

They had hurt, physically, when it had happened. When the bodies had hit the ground and Dick's heart had been ripped into pieces, the marks had burned, searing hot white pain latching onto him, pulling at his skin the same as his heart.

Not that Dick had really noticed it, then. He had been hurting too much otherwise to really care about it in the moment.

He had latched onto every new mark with all of his heart afterwards. It had hurt, when Bruce's had appeared, as it made the white, faded color of his parents' marks stand out even more, but the joy had been enough to chase the hurt away. Alfred's had not hurt nearly as much, and with his friends, he had simply been happy.

Dick would've never said it out loud, but he did have favorites. His parents', even faded. He didn't think anyone would blame him for that one. Bruce's, in a sense, as it had been the first live one he had gained.

His absolute favorite, though?

Jason's.

Jason was...different. He wasn't his parents, nor was he his caretaker. He had no obligations to Dick, even if obligations did not really affect the formation of the marks. He wasn't Dick's friend, either, not the same way anyone in the team was.

He was Dick's little brother.

And Dick would've given him the world.

Jason had been ecstatic when the marks had appeared, and, to be perfectly honest, so had Dick. They were such beautiful marks too, the lines twisting around themselves to form images of wings in flight, shining when light hit them just right, every new angle bringing out a new detail.

"Birds of a feather, right?" Dick had said, grinning wildly. "That's what we are, Little Wing, and the marks know it."

He had ruffled Jason's hair, and Jason had grinned back at him, and for that moment, Dick had been able to forget everything else. No argument or hurt had mattered even in the slightest.

It had just been Dick and Jason, in their own world, one that was only for them.

---

Dick was exhausted.

In a good way, for once. If there was a good way to be exhausted. Maybe saying that he was exhausted in a better way was more correct. No one was hurt too badly, and the day had been more or less a success. All things considered, at the very least.

He missed home. It was maybe a stupid thing to say, Dick knew that so many people back home would've given everything to go to space, but Dick was tired. He was tired of being the leader, tired of seeing his friends get hurt, tired of failing in some way every single day.

He missed home. Even if things with Bruce were not perfect, everything was still much simpler back at the Manor, at least compared to this. Alfred would be there, with his gentle yet firm words and reassurances, and Bruce, even when Dick wanted to mostly scream at him, was still a familiar presence in a familiar space.

Jason would be there, too, talking Dick's ear off, making the house lived in, making it feel like an actual home.

Dick just wanted this whole thing to be over already, if he was being completely honest. Today had been a good day, all things considered, and all Dick wanted to do was to faceplant on his bed and sleep without too many worried for once. Sleep and hope that it would bring him closer to getting back home.

Of course, he couldn't do that, not just yet. Even if no one was hurt too badly, he needed to make sure that everything was in order, make sure that they had all they needed, make sure-

One moment he was thinking about all the things he needed to still do, and the next he was on the ground on his hands and knees, being torn to pieces and burned alive.

There were voices around him. Someone was touching him, hands warm on his skin, tilting his face up, but Dick couldn't see who it was. His heart was beating erratically, like it was trying to tear itself to shreds and out of its place. It burned, searing hot, white pain, that had turned him into a human torch.

Distantly, Dick knew that he already knew this pain.

He got a breath in to his burning lungs. Then another one. He was still on fire, but he could see again.

Kory was right in front of him, holding his head. Dick was mostly on the ground, now, laying on his side, only barely holding himself on his elbows.

He had no idea when he had gotten there.

Kory seemed to notice that he had come back to himself. Her face relaxed ever so slightly as his eyes met hers.

"Dick?" She asked. Her voice was low, and she was clearly trying to keep it soft, but it was still pinched with worry, just like her eyes. "Are you alright?"

Dick didn't know what to say to her.

He knew he wasn't injured, not badly at least. He knew that, but he didn't feel alright, not in the slightest.

The pain was still there, curling around the edges of him, his skin feeling like embers that were still smoldering, even though the fire had gone away. He couldn't feel his arm properly, and Dick wondered if something had-

Suddenly he felt cold.

He pushed himself up, ignoring how shaky he felt. He almost fell down again, and Kory tried to put her hands on him, maybe to push him back down or to help him up. Dick didn't know, and he didn't have the time to stop and figure it out.

His suit was on the way. Dick tugged at it, then dug his teeth on the sleeve and ripped the seam open with force he hadn't known he possessed in his jaws, and he dug his fingers in it again and continued ripping the sleeve off of his skin.

There were voices around him again, someone's hands on his shoulders, but Dick didn't pay any attention to any of it. He needed to get it off, he needed to get it off, so he could see, he needed to get it off so he could see-

Jason's mark was gone.

It had been between Bruce's and Alfred's, golden and warm and brilliant, wings in flight, and it was gone.

Dick tilted his arm, tried to catch it in light, like he had done before, to make it shine like it always had, and-

It was there.

It was still there.

Faded.

White.

Dead.

Just like his parents.

The fire burned again where his heart should've been, freezing cold, hollowing him out from the inside.

The world disappeared from around him as Dick screamed.

[goodfish-bowl]

Bunker in White

Danny Phantom x Supernatural Crossover

Masterpost

DP Crossover Angst Week Day 1 - GIW Experimentation

Summary: Sam and Dean take up a job to go investigate a government base that had been attacked by vampires.

Warnings: vague descriptions of blood and gore

Notes: hmmm, I have never written anything for Supernatural before, but I've seen a good portion of it (years ago). Probably takes place earlier in the show.

Word Count: 2044

AO3 Link

Sam and Dean had gotten this particular lead from Bobby, who in turn got it passed onto him from someone else, so it wasn’t a surprise this particular job was a mess. 

Apparently, a group of vampire’s had decided a weird, underground, government bunker would be the perfect hideout, resulting in a bloodbath between the government goons and the vamps. It was a large group too, which was a point of concern among the hunter’s who turned down the job. No one really knew who’d won inside between the vampires and the government, but Dean had placed his money on the vampires. He honestly doubted that some government agency with an obsession for the color white had any idea what they were up against, much less the correct tools for the job. Dean got proved wrong when they came across the first dead vampire. 

The bunker’s fluorescent lights were harsh against the darkness outside. The entire base still seemed to have power despite not being connected to any sort of power grid or system. It had made it an absolute pain in the ass to find, but at least that meant Sam and Dean didn’t have to wander around in the dark. The harsh lighting and bleached interior revealed a slaughter inside, staining the white walls with both vampire and human blood, leaving very little to imagination. The humans, all agents in once-white suits, looked to have been mauled by the vamps, while the dead vampires had holes blasted through them and were covered in green-tinged burns. Dean kicked one, trying to make sure it was actually dead. Yep, dead vamp, the whole place unfortunately smelled like it too. 

Sam had found one of the more physically intact agents with a large bazooka-like weapon next to him at the back of the hallway. Rummaging through the agency's pocket’s Sam tossed the ID card over for Dean to read over, while Sam picked up the weapon. 

Dean flipped open the wallet, and huffed when the agent was only referred to by a letter and position. No personal information whatsoever. 

“This asshole is apparently ‘Agent B, senior heavy weapon specialist of the Ghost Investigation Ward’, which means shit to me,” Dean complained. 

“‘Ghost Investigation Ward’? Is that supposed to be some sort of knockoff hunter’s group? Because points for vampire killing, less points for dying,” Sam added. “Either way, they were messing around with something supernatural, and had weapons that could blast straight through a vampire. Think we could find something here?”

Dean shrugged, “I’m down to take their weapons at the least. New tactics are always appreciated.”

Sam took the bazooka, and Dean picked up any other weapons of interest, from weighted nets, to more guns, storing them in piles to collect and ferry to the car later. The ID got them access to a couple more rooms, including a security camera and file room, which Sam said he was going back to later. The deeper they descended into the base, the more spaced out the bodies were, and the more violently the agents had seemed to fight, like they were protecting something. 

“Do you think they actually managed to catch a ghost here?” Sam tossed out. 

Dean snorted, “Doubt it. Sure, you can blast a hole through a vamp, but you can’t blast a hole through a ghost. Just trapping one is a pain, let alone moving it to the middle of bumfuck nowhere, Illinois.” 

Hydraulic doors hissed as the brothers entered the next level, only to pause from the sudden change in pattern. This one opened up into a laboratory, partitioned off by thick glass walls, rather than the collection of offices and storage the upper floors had been.  

Dean’s eyes narrowed at the carnage inside the laboratories. 

“What the hell were they taking apart that bleed fucking green?” Dean cursed.

Dean completely ignored the bodies of who he assumed had been the scientists. There were tons of vials of various liquids, most of them being that same saturated, radioactive green. There were also jars, lots of jars, of what he assumed were the bits and pieces of whatever creature bled green. 

“Doesn’t look like whatever they were dissecting was dead while they were taking apart,” Sam commented, pointing out the restraints on the bloodied autopsy table. 

“Fuck, that’s sick. At least kill whatever you're taking apart first.” 

Dean watched as Sam went over to a stack of papers, filing through them quickly with a grimace on his face.

 “Well, they seem to believe they caught a ghost, at least. They definitely caught something before the vampires wiped them out. The reports refer to it as Subject P-1.”

“Think it’s still here?” Dean asked. 

“Maybe. This report is a few days old, and we know the vampires attacked within that same time frame, so it’s possible that ‘P-1’ is either still here, dead here, or managed to escape in the crossfire,” Sam guessed.

“I suppose we’ll find out. We only got one more level to go.”

Dean left the lab, going down the elevator to the last level. There was nothing there, except for a singular glass cell with what looked like a blast door as its entrance, all shining with some sort of green energy. There seemed to be automated weapons and cameras all pointing at the cell, and Dean considered it a bit extreme. But also down there was the biggest collection of dead vampires they had found so far. 

The weapons in the room had obviously activated for whatever reason, considering the number of vampires with holes blown through them compared to the agents, of which there only seemed to be two, who looked more like they had also been caught in the crossfire of the weapons, rather than becoming vampire food like most of the guys upstairs.  

“Dean…” Sam shoved him, and pointed to the cell. There was…something inside. 

Dean walked over, shoving bodies out of the way with his foot to stand in front of the cell. The green… whatever it was, shone along the glass and hummed with energy, reminding Dean vaguely of an electrified fence. The inside of the cell was a mess but in a different way than outside. It reminded Dean of a few of the cells he had seen monsters hold people in before. It was dirty, and covered in blood, both red and that unknown green. There was no cot, or toilet, or any other sort of accommodation. 

The only thing in the cell was a small figure, dressed in nothing but tattered scrubs, and covered in its own blood balled up in the corner, head between its legs. Dean could only make out pale, emancipated legs and feet, and a mess of matted, black hair. 

“Is it alive?” Dean asked, tapping on the glass, which surprisingly didn’t zapped him.

Sam had a grimace on his face. “I…think.”

“Hey!” Dean shouted. 

No reaction. 

Dean pounded more heavily on the glass with his fist, “Hey! Are you alive?”

No reaction. 

“Are you P-1?” Sam asked instead. 

This got a reaction. The figure picked up their head, placing empty, hollow, and frighteningly blue eyes on Sam. They seemed to be a young boy, face pale and thin, deep bags under his eyes. His eyes were glassy and distant, looking through Sam rather than at him. 

“Well, that’s unnerving,” Dean muttered, giving Sam a look before shoving his shoulder. “Tell him to do something else.”

Sam frowned, thinking for a moment before saying anything. “P-1, state your status,” Sam commanded. 

The boy, P-1, remained silent.

“I don’t think it talks, Sammy,” Dean snorted. 

Sam sputtered indignantly. “What do you want me to do then? We know he’s P-1 now, and that he’s still somehow alive.”

“Well, we know he ain’t human, and that he’s whatever these goons have been picking apart. No clue what he is, but in that state, I doubt he can do much. The lights are one but no one seems to be home, Sammy,” Dean said. 

It was a harsh suggestion but, “We could just put him down and be done with it. The vamps are all dead, there’s nothing here except braindead P-1 over there.”

Sam, apparently, very much disagreed with that idea. “He’s a kid, Dean! And he’s been tortured for who knows how long. We’re not putting him down!”

Dean groaned. “Do you want to take him with us or something?!” Dean asked incredulously. 

Sam was silent, apparently thinking over the idea like it was a legitimate suggestion. 

“No,” Dean immediately denied. “Nope, no way, Sammy. We’re not adopting whatever-the-fuck that kid is. He’s not a dog. We have no idea what he’s capable of, let alone if he’s dangerous!” 

 “Then we keep an eye on him! You said it yourself, in that state, I doubt he can barely move. We could even put him in Bobby’s panic room if he acts up, but honestly,” Sam glanced over to the boy, “I doubt he would even notice.”

Dean hated the idea. He didn’t want the kid to potentially go ballistic, and there had to be some reason he was locked up in the first place. But he couldn’t think of any other reasons to leave the kid there. If anything, they could figure out what the kid was so that they knew how to defeat anything like him in the future. 

“Fine!” Dean relented. “But you’re taking care of him.”

Sam seemed to untense and turned back to the boy. “P-1, move to the door,” he ordered, before more quietly adding, “We’re getting you out of here, kid.”

The boy stood up, swaying on his legs, before approaching the door, standing just outside of it. Dean watched as Sam fidgeted with the door, before eventually having to pull another ID from one of the nearby agents to get the door open. Sam led the kid out, who didn’t have much of a reaction at all. Dean frowned at how small the kid was, now that he could get a better estimate literally standing next to him. He couldn’t be older than 12. 

“Okay, we’re leaving. We got some cool things and you’ve adopted a weird kid. We can confirm the vampires all died here too. Anything else we need to grab before we go back?” Dean huffed. 

“I’m going to see what I can pull from the record room on the way back. Could you take him back to the car?” Sam asked. 

Dean looked at the kid again. Yep. No one home at all. He doubted the kid even knew what was going on. At least he wouldn’t complain about Dean’s music choices. 

“Fine, but you take too long and I’m leaving your ass here,” Dean stated. “Come-on, P-1.”

Dean took the elevator back up the entrance, still careful to check around if they had missed anything still-alive, only to have silence. The kid barely made any noise as he moved, Dean decided he didn’t like that after the third time he jumped at the kid standing directly behind him. 

“I’m getting you a bell,” he grumbled. 

Back at the car, Dean tossed his looted weapons into the trunk, glancing at the kid before rummaging into his and Sam’s duffles for some spare clothes. It looked really suspicious to have a bloodied kid in a medical gown walking around. It would be oversized, but Dean grabbed a flannel, jeans, and a belt. Bobby would probably have something from when he and Sam were that small. 

“Hey, kid, P-1, put these on,” Dean held the clothes out to the kid, who didn’t react. 

Dean groaned. “Oh come on! This is why Sam’s your caretaker. I don’t know how to dress a kid!” 

Dean approached. “Gotta fucking command him like a dog,” he muttered. “P-1, arms up.”

The boy raised his arms, and Dean untied the medical gown letting it fall to the ground. Dean froze, bile building in the back of his throat, fighting the urge to throw up. Images of the jars and vials passed behind his eyes. No wonder the kid was mentally gone, Dean couldn’t see anyone surviving, let alone living long enough to walk out.

God, they needed to get the kid to Bobby.