#i just love scar so much hes genuinely taking over my brain

[k9wa]

if i started writing for wuwa would u guys gaf or do u all want me dead :/

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

HI ALLIE CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR 1000 FOLLOWERS I THINK ABSOLUTELY DESERVED BECAUSE YOUR WORK IS INCREDIBLE YOU ATE THAT UP SLAYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I............ I have never submitted a request, unless I was explicitly asked by the writer because ksjdjdjjjsjsj ME ASKING FOR SOMETHING?????? SNSJSJSJ ANYWAY I was like it should be fine because it's for your celebration SOOO hear me out. Remus Lupin ? IM GOING THRU A REMUS THING ? 1000 scars/1000 glances???? WHICHEVER IS FINE YOURE GONNA EAT WITH THAT

WEE OK BYE I LOVE YOU BYE

xxx

ilysm and I hope this only deepens your Remus fixation 🫶🏻 thank you so much for all of your love and support, I genuinely get excited when I see you pop up in my feed or notifs. my favorite hanni 🤍

1000 inked scars | R.L.

feat. Remus Lupin x tattooartist!reader

cw: mdni 18+, possessive!Remus, marking kink, oral (fem receiving), tattoo needles and tattooing, mentions of injury and scars, probably inaccurate representation of tattooing in the 70's, no war

1000 things prompt list (closes feb 1!) | masterlist

“Quit squirming or I’m going to turn this constellation into a penis,” you griped, lifting your machine from Sirius’ leg.

“Maybe if you didn’t handle that gun like a cudgel—”

You slapped his fresh tattoo and he yelped. “Pull yourself together, Black. You’re almost done.”

He groaned, slumping back onto the table with his arms slung over his head. “Sadist,” he hissed.

You resumed your tattooing, packing black ink to the map of stars. “Said the masochist that paid me to stab him a million times.”

He glanced down at you. “Are you flirting with me?”

You glared up at him.

Just then, the bell on the front door or you shop chimed. A tall man with sandy hair, dressed in jeans and thick sweater stood in the foyer, looking around at the art and plants strewn about. Given your profession, you immediately noticed his lack of tattoos, and the scars marring his hands and neck, one even stretching from his sharp jaw towards his nose.

“Moony!” Sirius called, jerking his leg and nearly inking himself.

“Sirius,” you bit, but he was already out of the chair.

“What’s—uh, what’s up, Pads?” the stranger, Moony?, said, glancing down at Sirius’ rolled up pant leg and the nearly finished tattoo on his calf. Then, his eyes flicked to you, a deep brown and sallow with exhaustion, but his beauty struck you like a blow, the lines of his face coalescing in a way that would make the great painters weep.

Based on the countless stories Sirius had told you in the hours spent on your table, you surmised that this was Remus Lupin, his level-headed, long-suffering schoolmate.

“I wanted you to meet my friend!” Sirius grabbed his by the elbow and dragged him towards your station.

You sighed and set your machine aside. Clearly, you were taking a break.

“Remus, this is y/n, the architect of my beauty,” Sirius said, gesturing grandly in your direction.

You slid off one of your gloves and extended it to Remus. “Pleasure. I’ve heard loads about you.”

“Oh?” Remus asked, shaking your hand with a light touch, his skin warm and a bit rough. “Terrible things, I wager?”

“The worst,” you chuckled, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile.

“Well, then there’s no where to go but up,” he said with a cheeky wink, and your heart damn near leaped out of your mouth.

“I asked Moony to come hang out for the last bit of the tattoo so he could pick your brain,” Sirius said, hopping back up onto the table.

“Sirius—”

“Pick my brain about what?” You asked, pulling up a chair for Remus and sitting back onto your stool, putting on a fresh pair of gloves.

“I, uh—”

“Moony wants to know if you can tattoo over scars,” Sirius said, earning a glare from Remus.

“Absolutely!” you chirped, hoping to dispel Remus’ clear discomfort. “Just takes a few extra passes, but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Remus gave you a small, grateful smile. “Really?”

“Really. I’ve tattooed over dozens of scars, cover-ups, or decorations. I’d love to work with you.” Merlin, did you just say that out loud? You needed to get it together; you were a professional.

“See, Moons? I told you!” Sirius propped his leg back up, and you fired up the machine. “And it doesn’t even hurt.”

You lowered the machine back to his leg, taking a few quick warm up strokes.

“AHH YOU WITCH!” Sirius wailed. You and Remus both jumped at his shouting, but he quickly dissolved into laughter. “Bloody hell, I knew you two would get along. You’ve got twin scowls,” Sirius chuckled, leaning back against the table with his hands behind his head.

You glanced at Remus, and he looked back at you. A flicker of connection flared between you, and heat rose in your cheeks. Quickly, you looked away, turning your attention back to Sirius’ tattoo.

“So, what are you thinking you want to get, Rem?” Sirius asked after a few moments of quiet, the buzzing of the machine filling the air.

Remus shrugged. “Hadn’t really thought about it. Just wanted to do…something.”

“Well, if you want, we can try and cover any up. But I find that people really get more out of going the decorative route,” you supplied, looking at Remus while you picked up more ink. “I can hand draw a few designs that flow with the scar, turn it into an art piece itself.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, contemplative, and Sirius gave you a knowing smile. “I think I might like that, yeah,” Remus said, his voice soft, almost awestruck. Like he’d never ever considered the possibility before.

As a tattoo artist, you were intimately aware of how much a person’s skin could impact their well being, scars in particular weighed heavily on many people’s spirit. Remus, it seemed, was no exception.

Sirius guided the conversation in another direction, giving Remus a chance to process the implications of what you offered, and you finished the tattoo half-an-hour later. While you were wiping it down, Remus hovered over you, looking down at the piece.

“You’re really good,” he murmured, close enough that you could smell the wool of his sweater, the lingering notes of cinnamon and tea from his cologne. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, Rem,” you said, smiling up at him, and he smiled back, a flush creeping up his neck before he hurriedly stepped away.

You patched up Sirius and sent the boys on their way, an appointment for Remus on the books for the following week. All he’d given you to work with was placement, his forearm, and that he wanted something natural, like a plant.

Having no more appointments for the evening, you folded yourself into your studio couch with your sketchbook. You sketched a few things, lavender and roses and chamomile, but your fingers itched to draw something else. Remus’ profile floated into your minds eye, sorrowful and striking, and your pen started to move of it’s own accord. His expression came to life under your hand, with long lashes and a crooked nose and that jagged scar.

You clapped your sketchbook shut, sitting back with a sigh.

Next week couldn’t come quickly enough.

You paced around your shop, pouring over your sketch for Remus. You wanted it to be perfect for him, lest you scare him off a tattooing forever.

The door chimes, startling you out of your concentration, and Remus strode in, carrying a tray of drinks and a paper bag

“Morning!” You chirped, hugging your sketchbook to your chest.

“Morning,” he said, passing you one of the cups. “I asked Sirius what you liked, so if it's awful, blame him.”

Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach. It wasn't unusual for clients to bring you coffee and food, but with Remus it felt…different.

“Oh! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, Remus,” you said, taking a sip. It was your favorite drink, and it's familiar warmth settled some of your nerves.

He gave you a small smile, but you could tell he was nervous. He set the bag on your desk. “I also brought some pastries. Sirius mentioned you like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate.” You beamed. “Come on in, we can sit over here and go over the design.”

Remus nodded, shirking his coat and following you over to the couch. He was like an anxious thundercloud, tense and unsteady, and it made your chest tight with empathy.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, patting the spot beside you.

He sat down, coiled in on himself despite his long limbs. Like he was afraid to take up too much space. “Ah, fine,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. Earl gray, from the smell of it.

You arched a brow. “It's okay to be nervous, Rem,” you said. “But it's just us, and nothing is set in ink. If you change your mind, it's totally fine.”

“It's just—” he sighed, lifting his arm. He started to roll up his shirt sleeve, dexterous fingers folding the fabric neatly over itself, revealing inch after inch of his forearm. Lightly tanned and taut with lean muscle, veins tangling with the map of scars littering his skin.

He watched your face, gauging your reaction. You tried to stay neutral, but you were practically salivating. He was so beautiful.

“Are they too bad?” He asked, his voice rough with tension.

You met his brown eyes. “Not at all.” You pulled out your sketchbook, flipping to the page you had ear marked. “And it's perfect for what I sketched up.”

He managed a half-smile, some of the clouds disappearing from his aura, and accepted the sketchbook when you handed it to him. His eyes widened.

“Goldenrod,” you said, shifting closer to look at the sketch over his shoulder. “Used to treat pain.”

Remus traced his finger over the tangle of stems, the delicate florals. “I take it almost everyday,” he murmured, looking over at you, his eyes warm and full of something you couldn't quite place.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, your gazes lingering on one another.

“I think it's perfect,” he said, and you smiled, genuinely thrilled that he liked it.

“Okay, ready for me to start sketching?” You asked, and he nodded. You led him over to your station, already set up and waiting for him, and he hoped up onto the chair,, his long limbs dangling near to the floor. To break the quiet, you put on a muggle record, and Remus seemed to relax a bit, sipping on his tea and watching you putter around through dark lashes.

When you settled onto your stool, ink pen in hand, anxiety bloomed in your stomach. Remus was about to watch you draw on him. You’d drawn on hundreds of clients, but like everything else, with Remus it felt…different.

“It might tickle,” you warned, resting his arm where you wanted it, your fingertips tingling from the contact. “And try to stay very still.”

“Whatever you say, love,” he murmured, getting comfortable. Entirely oblivious to the way the petname made your thoughts turn to static.

You placed your sketchbook just beside his arm and made the first line, a quick stem arching alongside a scar stretching from wrist to elbow. Slowly, line after line, the sketch started to come together, flowing with the natural shape of his forearm and it’s scars. You got lost in the act, sinking into the labor of creating.

It wasn’t until Remus made a soft, approving hum in his throat that you peaked up him, breaking your focus. His eyes were almost sleepy, heavy-lidded and soft and the corners, a smile tugging at his lips.

“No wonder Sirius like this so much,” he said, tracing your face with his eyes. “Watching you work is fascinating.”

Heat roared to your cheeks. “Oh, I don’t—he seems more interested in teasing me than letting me work.”

“That does sound like Sirius,” he chuckled. “I like your focused face much more than that scowl.”

Merlin, what was happening to you? You felt like you could melt into your chair like a pile of pudding. Was he flirting with you? Or does he always talk like a romance book hero?

“How long have you guys known each other?” You asked, changing the subject and ducking back down to your work to hide your expression.

“Decade at least,” Remus said. “We met our first year at Hogwarts. Never thought I’d befriend the Sirius Black, but y’know, stranger things have happened.”

“Why’d you think that?”

Remus shrugged, the muttered a soft apology for moving. “Sirius is…Sirius, and I’m…”

“Charming? Sweet? Clever?” You asked, glancing up at him. “Sirius talks about you like you hung the moon.”

A flush creeped up his neck. “He’s dramatic.”

“And brutally honest,” you said, holding his gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” Now it was his turn to change the subject.

“Of course,” you said, capping your pen and setting it aside.

“Why haven’t you, ah, asked?” He glanced down at his scars, and you know what he was implying.

You shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me if you felt comfortable. I’m not here to pry, just help.”

His eyes flitted over your face, swallowing hard, and it seemed he was at a loss for words.

“Ready for ink?” You asked, giving him as reassuring of a smile as you could muster.

He exhaled, turning his wrist to inspect the design. “Ready.”

The rest of the appointment flew by, with Remus sitting like a stone while you tattooed him for close to four hours. You didn’t speak much, letting the music fill the empty air, but it was a comfortable silence, broken by the occasional question or annecdote. Remus seemed to appreciate being able to relax, and you were happy to give him a safe place for little while. Holding space for what this moment meant to him.

When you were finished, Remus stared at the tattoo in the mirror for a long time, and when he turned back for you to wrap it up, you could see tears collecting on his lower lashes.

"Thank you for this," he said, clearing his throat. "You were--this was amazing."

You knew he meant the art, but still, the praise made your heart glow all the same. "Of course, Remus. I'm glad I got to be the one to do this for you."

Before leaving, he placed another appointment on your books for the following week, this time asking for a tree along the back of his calf, the roots spreading across the scaring he had there.

After Remus’ second and third appointment, you noticed a change in him. He seemed more confident, a little more outspoken. He was coming to life before your eyes, and you were starting to see the fuller picture of the boy Sirius loved so much.

Already, you felt so close to him. Connected. And you were starting to miss him those days in between, his appointment becoming the highlight of your week. Your sketchbook was filling with sketches of him, like you mind needed a place to spill your overflowing thoughts of him. With him, it was like every sound was heightened, every movement sharper, the very colors in the room more vibrant. Overwhelming in the best way.

But then he cancelled your fourth appointment, citing illness, and you didn’t see him for two weeks. It wasn’t until he sent and owl requesting an appointment for this coming Friday that you finally felt like you could breathe.

Sorry again for cancelling. Are you free this Friday? Thinking a moon and stars on my chest, with those gorgeous clouds I saw in your sketchbook. Can’t wait, RL.

When Remus walked into your studio, you had to stop yourself from hugging him, you were so excited to see him. He looked tired, a little dimmer than the last time you saw him, but he greeted you with a warm smile and a bag of pastries, and that was all you needed.

You had him sit up on the table, busying yourself with the station in avoidance of the inevitable. He was going to have to take his shirt off. Your heart was palpitating just thinking about it.

“Alright, Rem. Strip for me,” you said, ripping the metaphorical bandaid off.

He huffed a laugh, seeming a bit shy himself. “Yes ma’am.” In a fluid motion, he hooked his fingers under his sweater and tugged it overhead. His chest was tanned and lined with lean muscle, the kind built outdoors, not in the gym. The scaring was worse, deeper gauges in softer flesh, but you barely registered it, too busy staring at the half-healed red slash across his ribs.

You gasped. “Rem, what happened?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was in a fight club?” He rubbed the back of his head, averting his eyes from yours.

“No, but you don’t have to tell me anything. Just that you’re alright,” you said, unable to mask the warble of concern in your voice. You were already starting to gather that Remus was…different. And you'd only met one other person with scars that matched his, and they also always cancelled around the full moon.

His eyes softened. “I’m alright, dove. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m the only one that gets to gauge you with weapons,” you huffed, grabbing up your sketching marker.

He barked a laugh, head tipping back on his shoulders. “Fair enough. Only you get to wound me permanently from now on.”

“Glad we reached an understanding.” You propped the sketchbook on the table and leaned in to start sketching. Remus sat up as straight as he could, resulting in your head hovering around his clavicle. But, with his long legs, you couldn’t get close enough.

Remus seemed to pick up on your dilemma and slowly spread his knees, allowing you to step between them. The heat of his body was intense, drawing you closer, but you swallowed your impulse, trying to focus instead on the moon and constellations you were mapping out.

As you drew, you started to shift closer, drawn in by the work and his proximity, the clean smell of his skin, until you were practically leaning against him.

“You smell nice,” he hummed, close enough that you felt his breath tickle the hair around your ear.

You nearly dropped the marker, but managed to keep your grip steady. “So do you,” you said, unable to come up with something clever.

“Y’know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I—I missed you the last two weeks.” Remus’ voice was low, just above a whisper, resonant like a drum in his chest. You wanted to wrap it around you like a blanket.

You looked up at him, lips slightly parted in shock, so close you could brush your nose against his if you moved a hair closer. “You did?” You asked, certain that if pupils could turn into lovehearts, yours would be beaming out of your head like a cartoon.

His hand came up to caress you jaw, tentative and gentle. “Being with you is the best I’ve felt in ages,” he said, tilting your face a little closer to his. “I don’t—”

The bell to your studio rang loudly, and you jumped back from Remus’ hold, nearly tripping over your stool.

“Hey Moony! There’s my favorite artist!” James came plowing through, wrapping you up in a bearhug that squeezed the air from your lungs. “How are you, sweetness?”

“I’m good, Jamie,” you wheezed, and he set you back on your feet.

The boys clasped hands, a quick, almost automatic handshake.

“What are you doing here, Prongs?” Remus asked, trying and failing at not looking irritated.

“Sirius said you were getting some ink today so I figured I’d swing by and have you take a peak at how mine’s healing.”

“James, it’s been like six months. Your antlers healed fine,” you reminded him.

“You did his antlers?” Remus asked, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes.

You nodded. “Yeah, you didn’t know?”

He shook his head, glancing sidelong at his friend.

“I suppose it might be time for a touch up. Let me see,” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest.

James lifted his shirt, revealing a peak of his washboard abs, framed by a pair of sprawling antlers across his hip bones. You leaned a bit closer, checking for any faded spots or ink spreading.

“Looks perfect, Jamie. All good,” you said, sitting back on your stool, mildly impressed with yourself.

“Brilliant. I love them, and they’re very effective.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you and Remus rolled your eyes.

James hung out for another hour, chatting with Remus while you finished the sketch of the tattoo. Your bodies were just as close as before, but with James, you were forced to keep it strictly professional. But the proximity without being allowed to touch was melting your mind, making heat pool in your lower belly. You could feel every breath Remus took, feel the rumble of his voice in your chest, the warmth of his body mingling with yours.

It was maddening, and you could tell Remus was growing more impatient by the second, the muscles around his neck taught with tension, his fingers twitching against his thighs.

At one point, you laughed at one of James’ jokes and swatted at his chest, earning a smile from him. When you glanced back at Remus, his jaw was clenched tight, eyes glaring a hole into the drink in his hands.

Was he…jealous?

He had no right to be, but still, the thought of him being possessive made your heart rate quicken.

Finally, James left, leaving you and Remus alone in the simmering tension you'd built. He watched you closely as you returned to your station, prepping the tattoo machine.

“Would you ever get a tattoo like that?” You asked, glancing up at him through your lashes.

He leaned back on the seat, bracing his hands behind him. Showing off the lean expanse of his torso, the rugged look of him that stood in sharp juxtaposition to his style and personality. “Not sure I could pull it off.”

You scoffed, allowing him to see you peruse his body. “I strongly disagree.”

He chewed on his lower lip, a nervous habit. A flush started to spread across his chest, reaching towards his cheeks. “What would you suggest?” he asked, a sultry edge of his voice.

Unhurried, you stepped back between his legs, letting your fingertips graze along the valleys of his lower abdomen. “Perhaps a snake.” You traced the shape along his skin, his muscles tensing to stop himself from shivering. “Or ferns. Maybe a wolfs jaw—”

“A wolfs jaw?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You met his eyes. “You should give me a little more credit, Moony.”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback that you knew his secret. “You knew.”

“I do now. I've only seen scars like yours once before, on another werewolf. And with the nickname, your tattoo choices, being MIA on the full moon…it adds up.”

His eyes searched your face. “And you don't care?”

“Of course not. I care about you, not your affliction.” Your hands still lingered on his hips, like your skin was magnetized together, you couldn't seem to pull them apart.

Remus straightened, his hand coming up to cup your face again. “I haven't been able to stop thinking about you,” he breathed. “You’ve gotten under my skin, dove.”

“It's risky, y’know, to flirt with your tattoo artist,” you murmured, grazing your fingers over the mostly healed goldenrod tattoo. “You've got a permanent reminder of me.”

He smirked, his hand sliding into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Well, the thing about werewolves…” he was so close, warm breath fanning across your lips. “We're a possessive sort, territorial. So having your mark on my skin…” he sighed, eyes dark with desire. “I'm finding it hard to hold myself back.”

“Then don't,” you replied, heart in your throat.

Remus surged forward, lips colliding in a heady, toe-curling kiss. You immediately gave into him, his tongue caressing the seam of your mouth, dipping past your lips to taste you, claim you.

Your arms found their way around his neck, fingers digging into his feathery hair and tugging at the roots, drawing a low groan from his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in warning before soothing it with his tongue.

“Be gentle with me,” he grated, kissing along your cheek, down towards your throat. He craned your head back, grazing his teeth along your pulse, and you shivered. “I’m trying to savor this, not devour you.”

“Do you always keep yourself on such a tight leash?” You asked, breathless as he lapped at your skin, your thighs trembling with desire.

“Patience, dove,” he chastised affectionately, lifting his head. “Just be good for me, yeah? You’ll get what you want.”

Your brain emptied. Seeing this dominant side of Remus had you folding like origami. You nodded, letting him drag you in for another languid, bone-melting kiss.

Remus slid off the table without breaking the kiss, leaning down to scoop you up by the thighs in a fluid motion.

“Rem!” You gasped in surprise when he turned and dropped you onto the table he just vacated.

He leaned over you, one hand reaching down to recline the seat so you were laying back, legs on either side of his hips. His lips found your neck again, kissing and licking his way down while his hands pushed up the hem of your shirt, fingertips cool against your fevered skin.

“Tell me if you want me stop,” he said, shifting to kiss around your navel.

“Don't stop. Please don't stop,” you pleaded, and he smiled against your hip before sucking the skin between his teeth, biting at your flesh just hard enough you make you keen.

“I won't, love. I'm not going anywhere.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of your jeans, easing them down over your hips until they fell to the ground in a pile.

Your knees tried to pull together on instinct, the vulnerability making you flush, but his hands gripped your inner thighs, spreading you apart for him. You could tell he was in his element, something having loosened from his usually reserved demeanor. It felt like you were seeing him completely for the first time. No holds barred.

“Don't hide from me, pretty girl,” he cooed, lowering to his knees. “You're gorgeous.” He trailed kisses up your thigh, charting a tingling path until his nose grazed sodden panties, making your pussy flutter and clench. “Fuck, you smell divine,” he muttered before dragging his tongue over the thin fabric.

“Oh, god—Remus,” you moaned when he sucked on the fabric over your clit, pleasure blooming from your center. Your eyes rolled back, fingers tangling in his hair as he flicked your swelling bud with his tongue.

“So responsive,” he praised, pulling your panties aside with his middle finger. “You this sweet for all of your clients?”

You shook your head. ”I've never—fuck, baby.” Your words splintered into a cry as he eased his middle finger inside of you, your dripping entrance accepting him eagerly. He nudged your clit with his nose, making you cry out again.

“Just me?” His voice almost sounded like a purr, deeply pleased by your admission.

You nodded, urging him closer by the roots of his hair, and he practically growled.

He nipped at your thigh, overpowering your meager attempt easily. “Patience, remember?”

You whined. “Remus, please. Just wanna feel you.”

He withdrew his finger, then added a second, pumping you slowly. “I know, baby. I'm right here, I've got you.” His mouth found your clit again, his tongue circling around and around, and you arched off the table, moans spilling from your lips like a song.

Steadily, the fire built, with Remus' devoted attention pouring over you like gasoline. He moaned against you, eyes screwed shut when your pussy clenched around his fingers, teetering on the edge.

The table shifted, rocking back a bit, and you looked past Remus' hair tangled in your fingers to his body. He was rocking his hips against the edge of the table, so turned on by the act of eating you out that he needed some relief.

“Rem, baby,” you whined, the sight dragging you that much closer to release. He glanced up at you, his eyes glazed and pussydrunk, and he whimpered against you.

His deliberate motions got sloppier, greedier, as he rutted against the table. Losing control of himself, like his entire being was desperate to be inside of you.

With a final curl of his fingers, you toppled over the edge, coming with a cry loud enough to rattle the windows as relief crashed over you, cool water dousing the flames beneath your skin.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers to lap directly from you, savoring every drop of his efforts. “That's it, love. Relax f’me.” He brought you back to earth with his tongue, long, languid licks and kisses around your trembling center, across your inner thigh slung over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Remus,” you panted, slumping back against the table. “That was—”

He made his way up your body, catching your words in a messy, top-lip kiss. “Got your mark all over me now, dove,” he purred, pecking your cheek with a cheeky grin.

“What about…” you trailed off, fingers toying with his belt, unsure of what you were asking for him to fuck you, or mark you. Or both. All you knew was that you wanted him, badly, even more so with that post-orgasm clarity.

“Patience,” he replied, chuckling at the annoyed look you shot him. “Ready to finish up this tattoo?”

“But you didn't get to—”

“I’m, ah, a bit embarrassed to say that I did.” He straightened with a sheepish smile, revealing the dark spot leaking through his jeans.

Holy shit. You'd made him cum in his pants.

You surged up, throwing your arms around his neck and tugging him down in to a ravenous kiss. “Merlin, you're so fucking hot,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He grinned, breaking the kiss to nuzzle into your neck, hiding the flush you could see staining his ears. “Says the girl that made me cum without touching me,” he muttered, almost indignant.

“I’m not sorry,” you chuckled, sighing when he pressed his plush, kiss-swollen lips to your racing pulse.

“It's alright, I'll get even,” he teased, his teeth nipping at your skin.

“Is that a promise?”

“Most normal people would interpret it as a threat.” He picked his head up, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, I'm not normal people,” you replied.

“And thank Godric for that.” He kissed you again, all smiles and airy pecks.

Normal was never your style anyway.

[machveil]

How would our sweet shy Konig act when dealing with a reader who is openly down bad for him, and isn't shy about expressing it? I'm talking openly staring/making eyes at him even when they're caught, sighing when they see him bent over or squatting (I know he got a fatty, I just know it), saying "wish that were me" when sparring and seeing him put someone in a headlock, hears someone mutter "fuck the colonel" and goes "I'm fucking trying", etc. I just wanna (probably poorly) rizz this man up, I'm trying to climb this tree of a man like a coconut crab, ya feel me? -🐸

we are the same person I fear I wrote this in one go, pray for me

CW: inexperienced!König, give my boy a smooch, he deserves it!!

König doesn’t know what to do at first - his poor brain is dizzy and running in circles trying to figure out what’s happening! he’s never been popular amongst people, especially romantically. throughout his childhood and teen years no one had a crush on the social recluse, let alone approached him to be friends

so when you start publicly talking about how much you like him? König isn’t sure if it’s a mean joke or if you’re serious. he’s been on the receiving end of pranks in high school, peers asking him out as a dare or bet only to not show up. but you? he’s not really sure if it’s a joke with how persistent you are

König is beet red under his hood, eyes wide when he hears you make comments about him - he’s caught on to your smitten gaze, how you whisper to other soldiers about his physique, how you tell him face-to-face he’s cute despite never seeing… him, unmasked and vulnerable. it baffles him, genuinely. he’s not sure if this some weird game you started, maybe it’s just playful teasing?

König wasn’t sure until he heard someone curse him out in passing - a new recruit that had gotten on his nerves. König was about to have a word with them, but then he heard you. “God, who shoved a stick up that prick’s ass? Fuck the Colonel, he—“ “I’m trying to.”, a little quip that had König frozen. “I mean, sorry, but have you seen him? God, I mean really, have you seen his thighs?”

König isn’t sure if he’s breathing or not when you notice him, an innocent smile and a cute wave thrown in his direction, “Oh— König! Hey, I was just talking about you!”, god help him, all he can do is swallow and nod, giving you his own awkward wave

König who works up the nerve to talk to you about what’s been happening - is this a sick joke? is this a prank? he’s floored when you tell him you’re being genuine, that you do really, really like him. he’s heard you thirsting over him for weeks and you’ve meant it?

it takes a couple more conversations before he’s hand in hand with you, palm a little sweaty as he leads you to his room. for as big and intimidating as he is, he really is inexperienced. when he told you that he’d only had tipsy, bad sex after bar nights he didn’t expect you to say you’d treat him right - he didn’t expect you to want him to begin with though

maybe that’s why he’s a little quiet at the beginning, big hand shaky as they awkwardly sqeezes your hand. he’s not confident in what he’s doing, not sure what would feel good. all he knows is that he wants his sniper hood off. so he flicks the light off in his room, submerged in the dark where you won’t see his face - you won’t see the scars and freckles that dot his skin

but when you sit him down on the bed, kiss his face and cup his cheek, he melts when you pay attention to his roughed up skin. biting back little moans when you straddle his thigh and nip at his neck. he can’t help it when his hips buck involuntarily, squirming when you grind against his jean clad thigh. it’s all a blur of sweet words cooed at him, your clothes tugged off and slow, sweet prep. he’s drooling a little, jaw slack and broken moans leaving his mouth when you sink down onto him. it isn’t like those bad hookups after drinking, it makes him feel loved

his hands glued to your hips, he cracks a dopey, fucked out smile when you murmur about doing this again - a whine resonating in the back of his throat when you kiss him, “Ah— Liebling, please— please—“, hips clumsily bucking up to meet yours

[thinkinonsense]

Logan thought of the day from a fan!::

Old man Logan being all domestic with someone around his age. I don’t think a lot of people think about the concept but I genuinely enjoy the thought of Logan having a wife he’s desperately in love with. Been married to for years on end 😭😭 him calling her sweet nicknames, combing her hair or buying her things he knows she loves.

(NSFW thoughts just for the hell of it: him still being an amazing lover in bed. Like sure the man isn’t as fast or agile as he used to be, but he can still absolutely ruin your shit. Pouring all of his love into you in the absolutely most animalistic manner possible before collapsing cause his back hurt like a mf)

You don’t have to write anything you’re uncomfortable with but those were just my thoughts! Love your blog, take care 🙂‍↕️💚

aw! this is such a cute concept! i'm currently working on a series rn but i wanna write a full blurb about this in the future<3

old man!logan with a mature!reader

over the years, you and logan have definitely been through some shit. full on yelling matches, jealousy, near death experiences, all of it. no matter what, he always comes back to you with those water colored eyes that you adored so much.

idk why but i think logan would enjoy the simplicity of doing things like laundry, cooking, and dishes together. he always says he wants to help you but somehow his hands sneak up your sweater and his lips always end up on your neck.

late at night, logan will pull you on top of his chest and play with your hair until you fall asleep. during the day, he will put your hair up for you or style it in a simple brain if you need his help.

old man logan loooovvveeesss passionate kisses. you're always running late to work in the morning because logan can't simply give you a quick peck on the lips.

when you two finally have the 'kids' conversation, something snaps in logan. he's constantly hard just even thinking about getting you pregnant.

logan definitely wants a little girl for many reasons but especially because he's worried that if he had a son, he would only inherit the worst of logan's traits.

the two of you never had an actual wedding and nothings official but logan gave you a ring that you never part with. neither of you need a piece of paper to prove your love to each other.

old man logan can still put it DOWN in the bedroom. it's not as rough or fast as it used to be but he still leaves you whimpering and seeing stars.

he thrives off of taking this slow. logan loves making your legs shake and building up your high.

he wears his wedding band on the same chain as his dog tags because he's afraid of it busting due to his claws.

you love putting on an old record late at night while he smokes and you lay in his lap, reading a book. just enjoying each others company.

you are the only person that gets to see logan in his most vulnerable state. he lets you wrap up his scars, clean his claws, kiss the tender and bloody flesh.

logan always promises that he's done fighting but you know the truth.

he's a sweet talker when your irritated at him.

one time you joke about getting old, something about wrinkles or not looking as pretty as when the two of you first met. logan doesn't let it slide. he spends all night long assuring you that you are still as beautiful as the day he first saw you.

[brucewaynehater101]

I really need more stuff on some Joker Junior angst, along with Jason finding out about Joker Junior. Even better if you wanna pull in the whole Red Hood (Joker/Jason) Attacking Robin (Jason/Tim), both times when Robin was 15 years old and was supposed to be with someone/somewhere safe.

Hmm... I agree that more content about that would be fabulous. I especially love JJ fanart (there's some really cool ones on TikTok).

Fuck it. Here we go:

TW: torture, Joker Junior, violence, blood, flashback, dissociation, derealization, hallucinating(?)

Tim hands fly to his throat in a desperate attempt to rub away the urge to giggle. He's biting his lips hard enough to bleed in order to prevent them from twisting into a panicked grin.

He's pinned to the floor by a man using one of Joker's alias.

Just like old times, eh?

A snicker slips out at that, which only seems to enrage the man in red.

"Something funny, Placeholder?" The voice modulator in the helmet does nothing to hide the clear disdain and wrath curling through Red Hood. His grip tightens over his holsters, but he doesn't pull them out quite yet. The crimson helmet just glares down at Robin.

Red, red, red. He'd look so much better in Green.

Fuck. Note to self, Tim. JJ likes Red Hood.

Robin locks his face down at this revelation to keep a calm facade. He could try to dislodge the knives holding him hostage, but not with the perpetrator towering over him like this. "Nope. My bad, Hood. Got a little distracted. Where were we?"

The crime lord takes a few steps forward until he's next to the trapped bird. Somehow, he makes even the action squatting appear menacing. "This is the part where I torture you. Where I cut off a little bird's wings so you'll never fly again. Maybe then, B will learn."

Robin watches as Hood draws another knife. The crime lord twirls the blade between his fingers and tilts his head. There's a considering glint evident in his body language.

In a sick mockery of comfort, Red Hood trails the knife down Robin's cheek. It's too close to Joker's signs of "affection" after a round of shock treatment.

Junior shudders.

The leather jacket starts to morph into a lavender lounge coat and Tim blinks rapidly to clear his vision.

A sigh of relief escapes his lips when he's able to see Red Hood again.

The crime lord pauses. He tilts his head once more. Tim can feel the gaze studying him, but he's not sure why. He can't tell if the man is genuinely curious or if he's inspecting Robin like a bug trapped in plexiglass.

When the knife leaves his skin, Tim feels his shoulders lose an inch of tension.

"Don't get too comfortable. I've got a few questions before I snap your legs."

Tim can feel a jolt of pain flash through his legs at the claim. He grimaces at the notion of months off field.

Hood leans back onto his heels, fortunately giving the younger teen some space. It doesn't seem intentional, but it's better.

"You've been Robin for two years now?"

When Tim initially refuses to acknowledge the question, Hood raises the knife. Robin sighs and gives a nod.

The man hums and brings the hilt of the knife to his chin. The weird thinking pose blares an alarm in Tim's brain, but he can't quite piece together where he's seen it before.

"About eight months ago, the clown disappeared."

Phantom feelings of electricity run through Tim's body. His muscles twitch under the memory.

Red Hood leans closer. "Where is he?"

Tim can hear -

"You know better than that, Junior. Where's the smile for your old man?"

A desperate giggle bubbles up Tim's throat.

"Come on, son. You wouldn't want to make your mother sad, would you?"

Joker leans over Tim Junior with a wicked grin. He grips a blade and gestures to Junior's lips. "Do you want your dear old Dad to teach you to smile? Again?"

Junior shakes his head frantically as trembling lips split open in a facsimile of a smile. The motion pulls at his stitches scars.

Scars?

That's not-

Junior's smile starts to fall.

Red Hood Joker crosses his arms. "What the fuck are you smiling at?"

Junior still has a smile on his face (it can't drop), but his eyebrows furrow. "Dad?"

Joker flinches back.

Amethyst cloth flickers to bronze leather and then back again. Forest green hair morphs into a cherry red helmet. Junior watches it peer behind its shoulder before Joker's face turns back to him.

"Batman isn't here."

A cackle erupts from Junior's lips and dissolves into a fit of giggles. Joker peers at Tim Junior in confused horror. The kid turns his head more towards the man. A smile stretches and pulls the corner of his lips, highlighting the faint scars.

Junior Tim hears the man take a startled breath in.

"Batsy isn't Dad. Dad-"

Tim frowns as his gaze drifts away from the man. "I killed Dad. He's dead."

He pouts exaggeratedly before Junior dissolves into a fit of giggles. "Bam!" Both of his hands point an imaginary gun Red Hood's Joker's way. "Bam! Bam!" The hands recoil back as if actually shooting the man.

Tears start to stream down Junior's Tim's face. He fights to bring his lips away from a grin.

"Fuck." He's still grining. "Fuck!"

Red Hood, the cause of all of this, is just staring at Tim. He's observing the teen try to bring himself back to sanity inch by stupid fucking inch.

Tim's eyes dart around the room. He takes a deep breath in and, on the exhale, list something he sees. "Chair. Blender. Staff. Kni-"

Several more deep breaths in and out as he ignores all the knives in the room. "Light. Jacket. Cape. Couch. Lemon. Counter."

His hands paw at his utility breath as he keeps breathing. He grasps one of the sour candies and works on opening the wrapper. He pops it into his mouth and continues the breath exercise.

Red Hood is silent as he watches Robin pull himself back into reality.

It takes several more minutes before Robin's breaths return to normal. He lays there looking at the ceiling absolutely drained and done with this whole situation.

Finally, Tim turns his gaze to the crime lord.

"Can you just kill me already or get the fuck out?"

Red Hood responds by pulling off his helmet.

Tim blinks. Sighs. Then starts up his grounding techniques again.

[solxamber]

On my hands and knees sobbing throwing up combusting into dust signs my soul away to you THAT WAS SO SO SOOOOO CUTEEEEEE GUAYAYYAYYUUUUUAUAGAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! Poor Rollo thinks hes just being nice meanwhile poor yuu is so used to people digging underneath the bar that he's literally prince charming incarnate. Rollo clearly needs to adjust their standards and do what the villains could not by kissing yuu softly while they take a nap. And also threaten crowley to give them money for food. ANYWAYS!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FEEDING ME AND THE 5 OTHER ROLLO FANS THAT SURVIVED THE FAMINE (/j) I OWE YOU MY LIFE!!!!! This message is getting so long, but you deserve to know how awesome your writing is and that I look forward to whatever you post for real. I slide over a crisp 5 maddol and ask for when you feel like it (and if you even want to ofc!!) A part 3 where maybe they're deeper in the relationship and are doing heinous things like m*king out and grimm thinks they should be executed for making him walk into this horror. (He didn't knock. Bc he's grimm. He claimed to be scarred for life until Rollo busted out the premium tuna suddenly we should get married asap) . ANYWAYS SORRY FOR THE LONG RAMBLE. IM BARKING AND CRYING AND EXPLODING AND PROPOSING TO YOU. Signed with love, rollo anon 💗💝💖

Rollo Flamme x reader

i just saw this and this almost made me cry 🫶 also sorry for the very long wait

Part 1 ; Part 2

Rollo was nothing if not diligent. Whether it was reorganizing the shelves at the library, fixing the perpetually squeaky door in Ramshackle, or chastising Grim for yet another snack-induced fire hazard, he was always helping in his quietly intense way. It wasn’t just duty—he genuinely seemed to enjoy making your life easier, which both baffled and warmed you to your core.

You, of course, did what you could to return the favor. Helping him clean up after unruly magic festival events, proofreading his endless notes about anti-magic policies, and gently reminding him to relax when he got that telltale furrow in his brow.

And you were in love.

Like, grossly in love. The kind of love where you found his huffy rants about magical irresponsibility charming and he tolerated Grim's chaos just to spend more time with you. It was a weird, wonderful balance you’d somehow managed to strike.

Which led to this particular evening: you and Rollo, tangled on the old, creaky couch in your room at Ramshackle.

It had started innocently enough. You’d been reviewing a new book he'd brought for you—something philosophical, of course, but he’d chosen it specifically because he thought you’d enjoy it. You were teasing him about his insistence on leaving a handwritten note inside the front cover (“Who even does this, Rollo? It’s adorable, but—seriously?”), and he had flushed in that way that made you want to pinch his cheeks.

Then one thing led to another.

Now, his lips were on yours, one hand cradling your face with the kind of reverence that made your heart twist. His other arm was around your waist, anchoring you against him. Rollo might not have been an experienced romantic, but he made up for it in sheer, focused intensity. When he kissed you, it felt like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

“You’re—mmph—very distracting,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

You grinned, tugging him closer. “Says the guy who started this.”

His only response was to kiss you again, deeper this time, until your brain was reduced to a pleasant, fizzy blur. The world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just you, him, and the creak of the couch as you shifted closer—

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY?! MY EYES! THEY’RE RUINED!”

Grim’s shrill scream shattered the moment like glass.

You froze, pulling back to see Grim standing in the doorway, paws dramatically covering his eyes. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? ON MY COUCH?”

“Grim, it’s my couch,” you said, face burning.

“You’re the henchhuman; it’s ours by default!” Grim wailed. “And now it’s a place of SIN!”

Rollo, to his credit, had already straightened up, his expression transitioning from flustered to composed in record time. “Grim,” he said, voice calm yet firm, “surely you’ve barged in enough times to anticipate that privacy should be respected.”

“Oh, I respected it,” Grim sniffed. “But my henchhuman clearly has no shame. And you!” He pointed an accusatory paw at Rollo. “I thought you were better than this! But no, you’re—”

Rollo, completely unbothered by the tirade, reached into his bag and produced a can of… premium tuna?

Grim’s rant ground to a halt. His ears perked up as he sniffed the air. “Wait. Is that—?”

“Indeed,” Rollo said smoothly, holding it up like a peace offering. “A gift I intended to give later, but it seems circumstances call for a different approach.”

Grim’s eyes lit up with unrestrained glee. “You know what? I’ve never doubted you for a second, Rollo!” He scurried forward, practically salivating as he swiped the can. “You’re clearly the best thing that’s ever happened to my henchhuman. You two should get married. Tomorrow. I’ll get a priest. I’m sure Crowley owes me a favor.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Grim popped the can open with zero regard for decorum. “Grim, you are the worst.”

“Correction: I’m the best,” Grim said, already devouring the tuna with gusto. Between bites, he added, “This guy’s a keeper. Don’t mess it up, henchhuman.”

Rollo’s lips twitched, a hint of amusement breaking through his otherwise composed demeanor. He leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Shall we take his advice?”

You gave him a playful shove, laughing despite yourself. “Not helping, Rollo.”

But deep down, as Grim devoured his bribe and Rollo sat beside you with that quietly pleased look, you couldn’t deny that the idea didn’t sound all that bad.

The exhaustion of the day had finally caught up to you, and you’d collapsed onto your bed with a sigh of relief. “Wake me up for class, okay?” you mumbled to Rollo, who was sitting at your desk, meticulously organizing the scattered notes you’d left behind.

“I’ll make sure you’re on time,” he replied, his voice carrying that steady assurance you found oddly comforting.

You barely managed a hum of acknowledgment before sleep claimed you, leaving the world behind in a haze of warm, peaceful quiet.

When you stirred again, it wasn’t the sound of your alarm or the creak of the floorboards that woke you. It was something far gentler.

A warm, featherlight pressure on your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and the first thing you saw was Rollo leaning over you, his expression soft in a way that made your heart do an Olympic-level somersault. He was close enough that you could see the slight flush on his cheeks, though his composure never wavered.

“Good morning,” he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur. “It’s time to get ready for class.”

You blinked at him, your still-sleepy brain struggling to process what had just happened. “Did you… just kiss me awake?”

His blush deepened, but he stood his ground, meeting your gaze with quiet confidence. “You looked so peaceful. I thought it would be a more pleasant way to wake you than simply shaking your shoulder.”

Your heart melted on the spot. If there was a scale for romantic gestures, this one had just broken it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, though your voice betrayed how utterly smitten you were.

“Perhaps,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But you didn’t seem to mind.”

You didn’t bother arguing because he was absolutely right. Instead, you reached out, tugging him down for a proper kiss this time.

When you finally pulled away, you smirked at his flustered expression. “If you keep this up, I’m going to start napping more often.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to be even more diligent about ensuring you don’t oversleep.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest as you sat up and stretched. “Thanks for waking me, Rollo. Really.”

“Of course,” he said, his tone earnest as ever. “It’s the least I can do.”

The man was going to ruin you with how thoughtful he was. And as you got ready for class with a lingering smile on your face, you couldn’t help but think that waking up like this every day wouldn’t be so bad.

It started with something simple. You were both sitting in the courtyard of the chapel, enjoying a quiet moment together. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything, and Rollo was, as usual, the picture of composure. He was reading a book—some historical text you’d never have the patience for—but his attention drifted when he noticed you staring at the horizon, lost in thought.

“Are you cold?” he asked, setting his book aside and leaning slightly closer.

You blinked out of your reverie, shaking your head with a soft smile. “No, I’m fine.”

He studied you for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his neck and gently draped it over your shoulders anyway. “Just in case,” he murmured.

It wasn’t anything extraordinary—just a scarf—but the gesture made your heart swell. The scarf smelled faintly of lavender, and the warmth of it felt like an extension of Rollo himself.

“Thanks, Rollo,” you said, voice soft.

He nodded, but when he saw the way your smile lingered, something shifted in his expression. His usual composed demeanor softened into something… almost reverent.

“You deserve this,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically tender.

“Huh?” You tilted your head at him, confused.

“You deserve to be cared for,” he clarified, meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You give so much of yourself to others. It’s only natural that someone should do the same for you.”

You stared at him, heart racing. “Rollo, I… That’s really sweet.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, though not at you. “It’s concerning that such basic decency stands out to you,” he muttered, almost to himself. “What kind of environment is this school fostering?”

The thought of Rollo, grimacing at the thought of NRC’s questionable population, made you burst into laughter. “I mean, you’ve met Grim, right? The standards here are subterranean.”

Rollo’s expression softened again when he saw how amused you were. “Even so,” he said, taking your hands in his with surprising gentleness, “you should never feel as though you’re asking for too much when you expect kindness or respect. It’s what you’re owed.”

Your heart did a little somersault, and you couldn’t help but giggle, ridiculously touched. “Stop, you’re going to make me cry,” you teased, though the slight quiver in your voice betrayed how close you were to actually tearing up.

He smiled faintly, leaning closer until his forehead nearly touched yours. “If you cry, I’ll simply have to dry your tears,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “Though I’d rather see you smiling.”

You let out another helpless laugh, pulling your hands free so you could lightly swat at his arm. “Stop being so romantic! I can’t handle this!”

Rollo chuckled softly, pleased with your reaction. “If it makes you happy, then I’ll consider it a worthwhile effort.”

And he meant it. He was genuinely, utterly content to see you so touched, so happy. Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet but fierce determination grew. The villains and miscreants of NRC may not have treated you with the respect you deserved, but he would make it his mission to ensure you never doubted your worth again.

Masterlist

[kaminocasey]

Hey! I'm gonna take advantage of your charity and incredible talent and ask me some Silco stuff, and I will make it very personal.

Im just a sucker for angsty fluff, so I was thinking something in the lines of reader works either in some restaurant where Silco goes or actually works in the last drop. And she's just having a rough couple of days and Silco finds out about it and just wants to help (maybe he gets frustrated because of it all, and goes all Silco, you know what I mean? Damn I'm gonna shut up now). But we all know Silco is not the most affectionate man, or at least shows it in weird (?) ways. I feel like it would be better (?) if they didn't have a relationship yet. But I'll leave it to your brilliance to do as you please, I have complete trust in your skills.

But remember, you don't have to do this if you don't feel like it of course.

Anyway, to much information already. So good luck, love your work, that brain of yours and you in general ❤️💙💛🤍

PS- do not allow me to make more requests, I will make them long, weird and I'll keep remembering more stuff to add and the next thing you know it's a full blown fic 🤣

Take All Your Sins

A/N: Thank you so much for your request, love!!! I was excited to do this one!!! This is going to be a two parter or MORE for SURE. <3 ilysm thank you again for your trust in me!!!

Summary: You work in the Last Drop and very close to Vander. What happens if Silco comes along and ruins that?

Pairing: Silco x Reader

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: Angst, sweet Silco, protective Vander, alcohol

Taglist Form | Arcane Masterlist

“If you have something else to do, I can finish those.” You come into the doorway of the kitchen, nodding toward the dishes that he’s doing. 

“I got ‘em. Almost done.” The older man smiles at you.

A few years ago, Vander gave you a place to stay when he found you out on the streets and ever since then, you were basically inseparable. His kids were like your own. 

“Rough night, huh?” Vander asks as you lean in the doorway, keeping an eye on the place in case more patrons came in. 

The Last Drop is usually busy this time of night, especially on this day of the week. But it’s like a ghost town right now and you can’t seem to figure out why.

“Rough week.” You sigh, crossing your arms. 

“Do you need a couple days off?” Vander asks, genuinely.

He always made sure you were taken care of, which you appreciate, but sometimes it feels like he does too much for others, and never lets anyone do anything for him. You’re bound to change that though. His birthday is coming up and you’ve been saving up for something special that will be from you and the kids. 

“Nah, I’m-” You start but hear the door open.

“You got it?” Vander asks and you nod with a grin and turn around to greet the customer, letting the kitchen door swing shut.

“What can I get ya?” You smile at the older man, who makes you do a subtle double take.

“Whiskey. Neat, please.” He smiles. 

He’s got dark hair, a partially scarred face, one blue eye and the other dark black with an orange iris that makes him look incredibly menacing. He’s wearing an open, fancy peacoat with a buttoned vest and tie. Who the hell is this guy?

His eyes rake over you as you approach the bar where he sits. 

“Haven’t seen you before.” You smile, politely. 

“I don’t get out much.” He takes his coat off and sits it down on the stool next to him. “I… work a lot.” 

His voice is silky and you can’t help but want to hear him say more. 

“What do you do?” You ask as you pour his drink. 

“I own my own business.” He tells you and takes the drink when you slide it to him. 

The way he says it, makes you think he doesn’t want to answer anymore questions about himself. 

“What’s your name?” He asks softly. 

You tell him and he takes a sip, keeping his blue eye on you. You smile softly, unsure of what to say.

“Pretty name.” He tells you, after he finishes off his drink. 

You go to pour him another but he puts his hand over his drink and shakes his head.

“Thanks.” You put the bottle back down and then take the empty glass from him, sitting it in the sink. “What’s yours?” 

“Silco. Do you like working here?” He asks, not missing a beat. 

You nod. “Yeah, I do.” 

“And you like Vander?” 

You nod. “Who doesn’t?” 

He chuckles, glancing around subtly. “Who doesn’t, indeed?”

“What are you doing after work?” He asks. 

Oh… of course. He thinks you’re going to put out- 

“I’m not trying to fuck you.” He tells you, as if he can read your mind while he stands up and puts his coat back on.

“You’re not?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to, but that’s not why I asked.” He smirks.

You both stare at each other for a moment. His eyes fall to your lips before coming back up to your eyes.

“So… the real reason is?” You cross your arms.

“I think you’re beautiful and I’ve not been on a proper date in years.” Silco shrugs, placing a hand on the back of the barstool. 

You go warm in the face before looking down at his slender fingers and immediately can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like inside-

“I’ll be by at 11.” He tells you, snapping your thoughts back to the present as he places a few cogs onto the bar. 

“Um. Alright.” You nod, giving a kind smile. 

He stares at you for another short moment before giving you a smile back and then leaving. Just as the door closes, Vander walks out and sees you staring at the door, breaking you out of the trance that Silco seemed to have put you in.

“Everything okay?” He asks, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You look up at him, smiling a little dreamily. It’s not something you’re used to. Normally, when customers ask you out, you brush them off and pay them no mind. But Silco… he managed to get you to pay attention. 

“All good. Um… I have a date after work.” You go warm in the face at the word ‘date’. 

It’s not like you don’t date… you do… just not consistently. The last date you went on was a year ago. It didn’t go well so you decided to just focus on work.

“With the customer that just came in? Who is he?” Vander’s eyebrows raise in surprise, knowing that you haven’t gone out with someone in a long time.

“Just… some guy.” You shrug, starting to wipe down the bar. 

Vander chuckles. “Alright. Keep your secrets. I was young once, too.”

You laugh with him, your thoughts immediately going back to Silco’s unmatching eyes and the way they softened at the sight of you. 

“You can go get ready if you want. I can finish here.” Vander smirks. 

You roll your eyes. “Thanks. I owe you.” 

“Nah. Get outta here.” He nods toward the door that leads to the upstairs. 

You pat him on the shoulder as you walk past him, heading upstairs to go shower. You look at the clock and see that it reads 9:30. That should give you plenty of time to get ready. You don’t take particularly long showers. 

As you turn on the water, you climb into the shower, letting the water flow over your body as you stand there for a moment before starting to wash your body and hair. You still can’t stop thinking about the older man. He had to be about Vander’s age, right? You wonder if they know each other. Perhaps after you get to know Silco a little more, you’ll introduce them. 

After your shower, you dry your hair the best you can and then settle on a dress that you’d saved up forever to buy just because. What better excuse to wear it than on a date with an extremely attractive, slightly intimidating, man? 

At ten til 11, you make your way back down to the bar. Vander and Benzo both let out a whistle at the sight of you.

“Don’t you clean up nice?” Vander grins. 

You shrug, going warm in the face from the attention. “I guess.” 

You sit up on the bar stool next to Benzo. You glance over at the door and then back at Vander. 

“Do you want something to loosen your nerves?” Vander teases. 

“I’m alright, thanks.” You roll your eyes, amused.

“Who’s this hot date with?” Benzo nudges you with his elbow. 

You go warm in the face all over again, thinking about Silco. “Just some older guy… he’ll be here any minute.” 

They accept that answer and continue their conversation from before about business stuff that you don’t really mind yourself with. You pretty much just show up and do your job and do exactly what Vander tells you to do and then go back upstairs and sleep. And then repeat. 

The door opens moments later, and the three of you look up to find Silco walking in. You can’t help but give him a sweet smile. He smirks at you and pauses by the door.

“Are you ready-” He starts.

“Silco.” Vander growls. 

“Hello, Vander.” Silco’s eyes fall past you to the man behind you. “Lovely establishment you have here.”

You turn to Vander, confused. “You know each other?”

“Oh yes, we do.” Silco walks toward you, wrapping an arm around your lower back, looking you up and down. “You look beautiful, darling.” 

“She’s not going anywhere with you.” Vander comes around the bar and starts toward Silco but Benzo gets up quickly from the stool and stops him. 

You look between Silco and Vander, still confused.

“I think that’s for her to decide.” Silco smirks up at Vander who stands almost a foot above him.

You turn to Vander, with furrowed brows. This man is the one who gave you life again, the man who is like a father to you. The man you owe your life to. If he says you shouldn’t go… then shouldn’t you listen to him?

[astr-venus]

｡⁠☆Without Me｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠ 

☆Cw: no use of y/n, mention of possessiveness, no pronouns for reader

"Would you get remarried if I died first?"

The question came out of nowhere, at least for Shouta. Honestly, one moment you're sharing a domestic mutual silence, and the next you're practically giving him a heart attack. He knows on your end the question had probably been rolling around in that head of yours for a while, and you would think with how often you blurt random things like this he would get used to it.

The hand he was using to grade his students papers awkwardly jerks down the paper, leaving a thin line of pen down the whole worksheet. He doesn't have it in him to give much attention to the mistake, his brain flying a mile a minute to process what you asked him. He doesn't even look up at you for a few moments. His eyes are glazed over, seemingly in deep thought, but knowing him it's something more surface level and obvious.

"That wouldn't happen." Shouta says definitively.

"But if it did-"

"It wouldn't."

There's a tick in Shouta's damaged eye, a compulsion he hasn't been able to shake off since getting the scar under it. The twitching alerts you to the genuine frustration your question causes him, and with him being a prohero you can kind of understand why, but you want an answer. Whether there's a right or wrong one is yet to be seen, but you can't drop the conversation without letting your curiosity be satiated.

A heavy silence lingers. Shouta fills it with a world wary sigh before turning back to his papers. He clearly assumes the subject will be dropped, he should know you better by now.

"I'd want you to remarry, or at least find love again." You murmur. "I wouldn't want you to be lonely without me."

Shouta doesn't reply, but his hand is still. There's no grading or absent minded scribbling. Even with his eyes on his papers his focus is still on you.

"What about me, would you want me to remarry?"

He grimaces. You laugh at his disgusted face.

"I have mixed feelings."

Shouta doesn't elaborate and you nod, understanding him. You understand he wants the best for you, and you also understand that he hates the thought of you with someone else. Shouta will deny that he's a possessive man till the day he dies, he somehow genuinely believes his amount of control freak is normal and healthy.

You gave up on this argument a long time ago to save your sanity. It's probably for the best.

"I don't want you to be alone but..." He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, his nose ever so slightly scrunched under the hand running over his face. You've become well acquainted with Shouta's Deep Thoughts Look™ over the years, it's not hard to stay quiet and let him sort through his brain. "You can marry Hizashi, or Nemuri."

You snort.

"You may not under any circumstances marry Vlad. If you love me at least a little bit you won't even think about falling in love with him."

You cover your laugh with a cough, doing your best to take your husband seriously.

"Wow Shou, that's two whole options, that's quite generous of you."

He glares, eyes flashing red for just a second before he closes them again. He doesn't even bother to dignify you with a response.

"I'll make sure to let Hizashi know that he's my God husband, and Nemuri that she's my God wife."

Shouta groans, now placing both hands on his face.

"Uhg. Please don't."

Thinking about erasermic/you poly relationship. It's somewhere on the horizon as well as some stuff with prohero!Deku, mystic messenger stuff, and some OCs... Hmm I also have an idea for Dabi. Maybe lemme know which one you want to see first so I know what to prioritize

Oh, Navigation post coming soon as well, just working out a few kinks

｡⁠☆Requests open

[sugar-omi]

Thought about accidentally sending a nude to Cove (or anyone of your choice) 👀

Like MC was trying to send him a picture of something else but accidentally tapped on a nude they took the night before and WHOOPS! Now Cove is going back and forth with himself between typing up a reply and deleting what he wrote and just screaming into his pillow because he just saw his best friend/crush naked and it’s still on his phone screen and he has to see them tomorrow because they always do but he doesn’t know if it’ll be better to see each other tomorrow or wait a bit until things are “less awkward” and he is BURSTING at the seams

Bonus if he feels guilty because he saves the photo anyways for………….. research purposes 👀

MY EYES ARE WIDE OPEN. I DIDNT EXPECT IT TO GO THAT WAY....

that's such a good thought, though... especially if while he's fumbling, you're freaking out, but also way too curious to know what he'll say so you don't delete it...

and in a moment of bravery, text him before he can say anything to your apology or about the image.. "although.. you can keep it if you like"

his eyes FALL out his head. what do you mean he can keep the image?!?;!^!

he probably doesn't even respond. and if he does, it's just a "it's okay" because he's too shaken to say anything else. doesn't know what to say. "you look pretty", "you're so sexy", "thanks for the nude"????

which.. is probably worse than any of those options if you're already nervous n floundering over te accident.

if you want a bit more satisfaction, are genuinely worried you made him uncomfortable, or just reassurance for what you already know... go ahead and ask if he's uncomfortable, or mad at you, or whatever.

it takes a minute but eventually you get a "...no, im not upset.. or uncomfortable..."

please move on after that because if you linger on the topic anymore, he'll be on life support 🙏

and he does hold onto that image... can't bring himself to download it, that's too much for his poor heart. and even though it'd only be proper to delete the message.. he doesn’t. he tries, his finger hovering over the button.

even though you said he could... keep it. he shouldn't, right? no matter how long he sits in turmoil, his respect for you and his teenage hormones raging against each other...

eventually one wins, because he's been so restless all day. his stomach twisting with something foreign. his eyes wandered to your body when he saw you at the beach that day, and he remembered the picture, trying to ignore how his sex throbbed and the subsequent tightening of his shorts...

really, he has more control than this usually. his voice of reason, more like selfconsciousness, too strong.

but his fingers flicker across his phone, and they find the way back to that image, that damn image that's been haunting him. his brain begging him to remember every curve and dip, freckle, and scar on your body.

he knows what your body looks like, you grew up together. he knows where most of your beauty marks are, your freckles, your scars, knows if your skin is seamless, and he's sleepily traced any acne scars on your biceps.

he knows the shape of you, the leanness and the cords of muscle in your arms and thighs. recognizes you just by looking at your back.

so it's not hard for him to imagine your nude body after that, especially since he couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen fast enough when you sent it.

and even now, he's finding any of those hidden treasures right now as his eyes rake over your body, his hand wrapping around his cock as he shamefully imagines you with him. touching him. touching you.

imagines his lips on your hip bones, kissing your body like it's a prayer.

your voice is always so clear in his ears, he can't help but imagine the way you'd call his name... thinks back to all the times you've laughed happily or groaned tiredly, or moaned in pain...

his mind twists the knowledge of you, your lovely voice, and your heavenly touch. imagines you calling his name, gasping at his touch...

finally spills his cum all over his hand, his head collapsing on his pillow, covers his face, sparks of pleasure still running through him...

realizes post nut clarity is fucking real, and he doesn't know how he's gonna be able to look at you tomorrow...

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi! I love your writing sm <3

can you do a post about dealer!remus and reader (I’m autistic so autistic!reader would be awesome but nw if not!!) who smoke together, and when reader smokes they just have a horrible memory. like when I smoke I’ll be looking at someone holding a convo and forget what we’re talking about lmao, reader doing that looking at how pretty remus is <33

Remus is telling you about something. Something he thinks is cool and you’re vaguely interested in it but then you start looking at his lips and all thoughts exit your brain.

“…right dove?” You blink up at him, ready to agree but then you get lost in his eyes, that hazel thats green and brown with little flecks of blue.

How can one person be so pretty? You wonder to yourself, eyes roving his face and taking his scars into account as well.

“Dove are you listening to me?” There’s a bit of amusement in his voice and you have to blink rapidly to clear the haze from your eyes.

“You’re pretty,” you say to him and he chuckles holding a hand out to you that you take. He pulls you into his lap, hands holding onto your waist.

“Is that what happened? You got lost in my beauty?” You recognize the teasing but you truly were so you nod.

“You’re really pretty.” You sigh, your manicured fingernails dancing delicately along his scars, the ones that slice through his lips, the one that runs through his eyebrow and then the one across his nose. “How did you get so pretty?”

Remus laughs fully this time, his chest shaking as he does. “Dove,” you tilt your head, eyes blinking at him slowly like you’re starstruck by him all over.

Remus remembers suddenly how much like this you were when you’d first started going out- the lovelorn-ness only happens when you smoke now, you keep sober you just on the precipice of fully lovelorn and lovesick, for Remus’ sake, he gets a little red faced when you unleash it.

Like he is now. “What? It’s a genuine question.” He only shakes his head and tucks your cheek to his chest.

“I think you’ve had too much to smoke.” He says fondly, and you argue you’re not till you get distracted by his sweater and how soft it is.

[rirants]

♡ TWST boyfriends favorite part of you ♡

I have no idea what I am doing honestly. These headcannons have been sitting in my brain and I needed to get them out.

Enjoy (or don't)

Heartslabyul 🥀

Trey Clover- marks\scars

I don't know, He just seems like he would love that small beauty mark above your lip or the scar on your arm. He seems like a romantic typa dude and would kiss any scar or mark he can.

Cater Diamond- Mouth

You say pretty words, and you look so cute in pictures with a small smile. If your a yapper like me he probably loves hearing you talk (Also kissing you in between sentences)

Deuce Spade- Patience

Even when he's dropping cauldrons on people left and right, you still have the patience to help him. He probably fell head over heels for you during a study session tbh.

Ace Trappola- jokes

He loves laughing with you. He's a joke person and just loves being silly with you.

Riddle Rosehearts- Heart

He genuinely does not understand why you like him. He can't comprehend someone loving him unconditionally. His entire life up until meeting you has been a compilation of giving all he has into doing what people ask of him. The fact you love him, not to gain something is insane to him

Riddle: “Have you gone mad?” You: “I asked you out…” Riddle: “So you have?”

Savanaclaw 🦁

Ruggie Bucci- Personality

Whether your bubbly and energetic or not he loves it. If your on the more energetic side he loves when you drag him around to do random tasks. Now if you don't have as much energy (or none) he's content with just chilling.

Jack Howl- Loyalty

He's like a dog right? Wolf, dog, whatever. He appreciates that you just want to be with him in the first place.

Leona Kingscholar- Thighs

He's always napping, what would make it better? Laying on your thighs of course. Whether you are a thick thigh girly\guy or not he's laying on your thighs. Do you have a choice? Not really, he just sits you down and lays down to nap. (Push him off)

Octavinelle 🌊

Azul Ashengrotto- Voice

He's based off Ursula, what do ya’ll want from me. Fr tho, He likes your voice, Like a lot, he can listen to it forever. He probably rants to you after a shift at the lounge and then lets you rant.

Floyd Leech- Face

He just thinks your face is cute, especially when your surprised. He definitely does things to make you have certain expressions. That's probably why he squeezes people he likes tbh. Hes a reaction kinda dude.

Jade Leech- Your interest in him

this dude loves that your actually (trying at least) to be interested in what he says. He probably mentioned his mushroom thing and the second you asked about it he gave a slightly amused look. Honestly tho u probably don't care that much and he knows, but he appreciates your effort

Pomefiore 🪞

Epel Felmier- Taking him seriously

He's a very feminine looking dude. You not pointing it out or even seeming to notice is what makes him gain interest in you.

Rook Hunt- Everything

He's French or something, They're romantic right? (Watch me get canceled) He makes it a point to compliment every part of you any chance he gets.

Vil Schoenheit- You don't use him

You just like him. You don't want anything out of him besides affection. Other than being a model, star, and housewarden he also gets another title, your boyfriend. To everyone’s surprise, a potato ended up capturing the housewarden’s heart.

Scarabia🐍

Kalim Al-Asim- Eyes

As cringe as it is, he really loves looking at your eyes. The way they have almosy have a sparkle to them when you talk about something of interest. (He's such a sweet dude)

Jamil Viper- Hands

Let's be honest, he probably loves you touching his hair or braiding it. He will deny it until his last days though. He seems like a back massage guy. Hes very tired and overwhelmed constantly, help him out a bit and rub his back.

Ignihyde 🔥

Idia Shroud- You don't bully him. (I do though)

Most people thinks he's a total loser (he is). You don't make fun of him or anything, you just sit there and watch in silence as he rants about some game. He's surprised that you don't think he's weird or some filthy otaku.

(No Ortho bc he's a child)

Diasomnia 🐉

Sebek Zigvolt- Loyalty

He likes that you are loyal to him. He respects commitment and discipline. (Never again am I doing Sebek unless I get specific requests)

Lilia Vanrouge- Bites

He's a biter, I know it. If you bite him back he'll probably laugh honestly. It's cute that this human is trying to bite a literal war general or sum.

Malleus Draconia- Everything

The only person who seems to not be scared of him is this shrimp in a run-down dorm. He's actually obsessed with every little thing about you, from the way you laugh to the length of your arms. He just loves being around you in general.

Silver- Put him at ease

He sleeps at random times and as long as you catch him before his head hits the road it'll all be fine. He likes the feeling he gets around you. He would try his best to stay awake while being around you. Tbh he just really likes you being okay with his sleeping habit

Finally done, I apologize for dumping my trash on this app.

If for some reason you would like me to dump more filth, follow me and comment what u want me to do.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

[yaekiss]

okay. the will wood song as vampire childe. a reverse of that oh so beloved fic based off a lil ask of mine.

the way he loves your pure, unadulterated humanity as you breathe down his neck when you’re on top of him. you’d have him squeeze his scarred thighs together if they weren’t pinned open from your pounding into his pretty and greedy hole.

he begs for your attention either way. his bratty words as he tries to set you off, wanting to drain you of your blood to have you even a part of his body. he begs and begs, taking in every careful breath of yours between his own moans of pure bliss and his sucking of your blood. the way he looks on with dazed eyes as your own roll back when you tell him to detach… but no　♡︎　he’s not doing that.

vampire childe who is just your silly little parasite! despite his expensive tastes, he likes it when you drag him to some seedy club’s bathroom and take him in the stall where anyone can hear him. his tab’s forgotten as he makes up for pissing you off from letting others ogle at him, such lecherous monsters he’s much better than, at least, that’s what he says as he’s holding onto the dirty mirror, seeing the possessiveness in your gaze as you surely leave bruises on his hips and ass.

IHDSWJHD I can't believe I wrote so much for Bloodied Fangs... something about exploring the different dynamics of vamps I guess idk what came over me. I think your asks just do something to the writing part of my brain. Hmm. Rambling under the cut again, I think I'm losing it

On a side note, if anyone reading this would like a full fic based on a prompt/request you might have, do check out my ongoing event!!

ANYWAYS! sorry I have worldbuilding(?) brainworms I have to get out first b4 everything else as usual sigh. I think a vamp!Childe is bloodthirsty in ever sense of the word. If we're going by the more popular vampire tropes, he might enjoy the boost to his abilities (i.e. heightened senses, supernatural strength) although I am curious to see how it would affect the use of his delusion and his Foul Legacy state.

Would additional vampiric features manifest themselves in the Foul Legacy state? Sharpened fangs, torn and roughed up bat-like wings?? Would mixing the powers from the delusion and vampirism produce any backlash? If the delusion draws from the user's life force, what would happen to a vampire who's immortal? One can only speculate.

Perhaps it's the genuine concern combined with natural curiosity in your expression when you pose these questions to him that continues to draw him closer and closer to you. How sweet of you to worry over him, he swears he can almost feel his now non-functioning heart skip a beat when your warm hand cups his face. He drinks in your warmth, constantly clinging to your side like some leech.

Which is why he loves it when he managed to rile you up, the contrast you show him is addicting. He knows what he's doing when he licks at the salt rim of his glass, shooting you a coy look as he consciously ignores the way the other patrons of the club are eyeing him. He knows he's won when you're dragging him off to the bathroom, a possessive glint in your eyes. Meanwhile, Childe is beaming when some customers whistle at the spectacle.

You sure that those outside can definitely hear his moans over the trashy upbeat music the club is blasting on the speakers but the man before you doesn't seem to care at all. His fangs sinking into your skin, the familiar taste of your blood settling on his tongue. The flavour is intoxicating, heady, rich. Infinitely better than whatever that drink he ordered just now was, how could it even compare?

He feels you yanking at his hair, trying to drag him off you and saying something along the lines of, "C'mon detach already, haven't you had enough?" The answer could not be more clear to him, how could such a small taste of you ever be enough?

If he drains you of everything, doesn't that mean your entirety will be a part of him for all eternity?

Bonus!! can't really figure out how to link it to everything I wrote above but I think he'd really like it if he could drink your blood while you're fucking him. Something about lapping away at your neck/wherever he chose to bite, acutely aware of your heartrate speeding up when he clenches down on you, your blood laced with the sharp sweet taste of bliss and arousal. He could simply drown in it all.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

If you'd like to request a full fic of your own, do consider checking out my event post!

[tange-my-rine]

bun in the oven || Tangerine × afab!reader

Summary: The two lines were haunting you. Of course, it was after a month's trip -when you hadn't seen him in so long. So, you spent an insane amount of time thinking just how he'd react and if your world would come crashing down as soon as he'd heard the words. You were totally fine. Totally.

TW: unplanned pregnancy, worrying, blood, injuries, cursing (it's Tangerine) and all things bullet train.

[[A/N: I use gender neutral pronouns, but you are pregnant so... I hope that opens it up to more people. Enjoy :)]]

He'd been gone for at least a month. You actually weren't sure, it was kind of blurry; you'd been working so much and then you'd... Well, you'd missed your period and made an appointment and they tested your blood.

Every day since then had been monotonous, ringing in your ears and your brain running 100 miles a minute. You stayed home most of the time, eating some weird food combination (you honestly thought it was a myth), and being nervous out of your goddamn mind.

It's not like you'd ever talked about this. You talked about the future, yeah, and he was always saying 'I'm goin' to marry you one day, love' with those eyes.

He said it once with his head in your lap and your hand twisted into his hair, blue eyes all soft and sappy -like he couldn't believe you were even there. He'd said it again when you gently cleaned off a cut along his cheekbone, between his legs as he sat on a stool -he didn't even take his eyes off you for a second. All soft words and even softer smiles.

You did believe him, you did.

But you hadn't yet, and they were just words -no matter how genuine and earnest they seemed.

Everything in your body tingled, and you weren't sure you were even thinking straight for weeks. That's probably why when he'd showed up, you'd been the most tired you'd ever been but still somehow bouncing off your toes. You felt like a bundle of nerves just waiting to explode.

Initially, you weren't sure you even wanted to tell him then. He would be tired and bloody and hurt- You weren't positive it'd be the best time, but at the same time, you really couldn't hold it any longer than a night.

Or you didn't think you could. You really should've known better.

"Tan," you hummed, gathering his face up in your hands -turning him at different angles to see the slices and scratches littered along his skin. They were tiny, you noted, less like a knife -a big long scar, and more like... well, thorns.

"Glass," he muttered back, slow and tired, "-broke a fuckin' window, didn't have time to move."

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

He paused for a moment, eyes lazily drifting across your skin -always with that look.

"Don't lie to me, Tan."

"Never, darling," he smiled, a soft one that you knew was specially reserved for you, "-I think I bruised my ribs, 'at's about it."

"Honest?" You questioned, eyes heavy on his.

"Honest, love," he reiterated -eyes still following you like you were that of a dream and he hadn't woken up yet.

"Good," you echoed, trailing to grab his hand and bring him to the stool -it was your makeshift doctor's office at this point. A drawer in the kitchen filled with first aid, all ready for these nights; you'd started it after the first few visits. You think after the first time he came home bleeding you'd started stashing it all away.

"Lemon okay?" You questioned, digging around the drawer -wipes and bandages.

"Worse than me," he spoke quietly, eyes not leaving your face as you dabbed at his face, "-doctored 'im up the car. He's alright now. Conscious enough to talk about his fuckin' trains."

You smiled, he was always so worked up about his brother -wasn't he?

"He say you were a Gordon again?" You teased, trailing over a cut above his eyebrow -fingertips soft and gentle.

"No," he huffed, "-not a fuckin' Gordon."

"I know, honey," you laughed, ever-so-slightly, "-you don't have to convince me."

His lips curled into a smile, cheeks crinkling -part of you wanted to trace his crow's feet, brush your fingers into his hair. Later, you told yourself.

If you had a later, something in your mind chimed.

You stiffened, breath hollowing in your chest, hand held still against his skin; you stood a bit frozen. Rigid edges, and breaths short and quick. Something in you wondered if he could tell, if he could sense-

Tangerine paused, turning his face to match your eyes -fingers (you absentmindedly noticed blood underneath his fingernails) tilting your face with the softest of brushes, "Everythin' alright, darling?"

"What?"

He tilted his head, ignoring your movement to keep bandaging him -other hand gently wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your place. Blue eyes swimming across your own like he was trying to read you, like he could tell.

"You're all stiff," he pressed his lips together, thumb rubbing circles into your wrist.

"I'm just tired, Tan," you smiled tightly, not quite reaching your eyes before stepping forward to bandage him more.

He merely held you in place, holding your eyes with no hesitation, "That's a bullshit answer, you know 'at."

"Look," you sighed, "-can we talk about it tomorrow? When we've both slept?"

"Not if you're upset," he frowned, preturbed by your behavior -you should've known he could tell.

"Tan," you paused, careful -your voice gently shaking, something you'd only hear if you were really listening, "-I really don't..."

"Love," he tilted his head -eager to match your eyes, keep your attention, "-tell me."

You don't know what happened, if it was his voice, or his eyes, or his hands. You couldn't tell. Something bubbling up in your throat, and burning the backs of your eyes, you really didn't want to do this now-

Something crossed over his face, as he scooted down from the stool -with ease sliding his hands down your arms, keeping you there. Tangerine knew you too well.

It slipped past your lips before you could even think about it.

"I'm pregnant."

His mouth opened before he could think about it -something instinctual, "Right, and I'm the Virgin fuckin' Mary."

"Tangerine."

He paused, eyes sifting across your face -something passed through his again, something new, something you had never seen before. You swallowed, hands curled into themselves so hard that you might have bled -you couldn't tell, you were numb.

"You..." he echoed, throat dry and eyes wide open, "You're serious?"

You flattened your lips, eyes burning and tears gathering -your hands shaking and your brain thrumming in your head. You couldn't speak.

"Darling, I didn't-" he paused, swallowing hard, "-I shouldn't have said fuckin' anythin, I didn't mean- I... fuck, seriously?"

"Tan-"

He breathed out, still holding your arms in place, "Are you... Are you happy, love?"

"Are you?" You pushed through, "-I've... I've spent a month wondering if you were going to just... leave me."

"Oh, love," he sighed, bringing up his hands to cup your face -soothing in a whisper, "-love, listen. I could never, I would never leave you. You'd have to fuckin' drag me out yourself, actually-"

You laughed.

"-I'm... I wouldn't leave you," he spoke gently, eyes dipping to your stomach -there was nothing there yet, "-'specially not now."

"You're not upset?" You echoed, something shaking in your voice -he frowned at the noise, loosely pushing forward to kiss you.

His mustache tickled your lip. It was something short and sweet, warm, and sent something fluttering in your chest.

"'Course not," he hummed, hands lowering to flatten on your stomach, a smile flashing across his face, "-Actually am rather happy."

"Yeah?" Your voice cracked out, tears finally leaving your eyes -his thumbs were quick to wipe them, "-You are?"

"Very," he laughed, something of tears in his own eyes -you only smiled brighter.

"Even," you started, suddenly, "-Even with your line of work? That... You can't have a family with-"

"I'll stop," he blurted out, rash and without thought but still genuine, "-'Ave to finish a few things, tie up some loose strings but I'll... I'll stop. We can live off my money for awhile."

"Tangerine," you let out a breath, "-I can't ask you to-"

"You're not," he interrupted, bubbling up like he couldn't stop talking.

"What about... What about these nine months? Are you-" you paused, before rewording, "-Are you going to be here?"

"God, am I going to be here," he let out a weepy sort of laugh, "-I'm not leavin' your fuckin' side darling."

"What about-"

"What nothing, love," he interrupted again, now holding your face again, and he was crying you realized, "-I'm goin' to take care you. Everyday. No one can fuckin' stop me-"

"What about the danger?" You spoke, rational and clear -it was your baby, after all.

"Lemon'll move in," he said -firm and direct, "-and God forbid anyone try and get their hands on you, love. I'll rip 'em to fuckin' shreds-"

"Okay, okay," you laughed, slipping your hands over his shoulders -trying to calm him, "-I think we get it, Tan."

"We," he muttered, a little mystified -grin so wide it almost hurt to look at as he sunk to crouch in front of you, pressing his forehead to your stomach.

"Yeah, we," you reiterated, smiling big and wide.

He heaved a deep breath into your stomach, holding himself there for a minute. A bit like he needed it. You didn't mind.

And as he whispered against your stomach tiny little promises that you knew he would keep, you wondered why you ever thought he would leave you. He may be a dick sometimes, but he's not... he would never.

"I'm gettin' you a fuckin' ring."

Yeah, you thought to yourself, I'll be just fine.

[gra93fruit-blog]

Fluffurary Attempt 1- Settling in

Instead of doing something useful today I wrote this, I think I'm going to try for one a week for February.

Let me know what you think! If you have any prompts for Fulffurary let me know. Its a longer one.

Clingy Marine Update: Settling in

Hey! It's been a bit, and I figured you all would appreciate an update. I also have a weird question for people who have had marines.

Update

I think that Domtrect has stolen one of my cats. It's just as adorable as it is vexing. Pierogi is an orange cat with rocks for brains, but he makes up for it in love. He loves to be held, picked up, and snuggled. Domtrect likes to pick things up and snuggle them, so it's a perfect relationship. It also keeps Domtrect from picking me up when he's anxious, so I don't mind it, but I'm slightly jealous that Pierogi adores him so much after three weeks. Domtrect is delighted, I think. He's a very stoic person and hard to read, but he carries Pierogi with him everywhere he can.

My other cat, Nugget, remains solidly by my side. She doesn't like people very much and takes a while to warm up to them. Domtrect is on a campaign of catnip, treats, toys, and physically moving me to his nest so Nugget will come into the nest after me. This has been fairly successful; Domtrect has gotten to touch her once. He almost smiled when Nugget let him give her a head pat. His campaign has resulted in my cats gaining about ⅓ of a pound each, which for Nugget at least, is a lot.

I should probably update you all on the nest: it's expansive, beautifully constructed, and has given me no end of frustration recently. It takes up my entire living room. On @yurihasurunbara's suggestion and a membership to HomePro, he has decided to use it to his advantage completely. The whole thing is covered in soft pillows and rugs. He has built up a multi-tiered setup with ceiling hangings and soft yellow light. He somehow found enough fabric to make it almost a uniform grey, with blue and red highlights.

Domtrect has settled in enough that he has stopped wearing armour around the house. Instead, he puts it all on a rack that the base sent up. Now that he is not always in armour I can report that  Domtrect has light blonde hair and blue eyes, he has a scar that runs over his brow, down his nose, and onto his cheek and lips, causing him to look like he's constantly smirking. He also has three silver studs in his forehead that he's quite proud of. He mainly lounges around the house in a tight body glove now; it has strange little ports all over it. When he's not following me around, checking my windows or doors, and playing with Pierogi, he has taken to lounging in his nest, carving soapstone, listening to history podcasts, and creating an insane amount of origami swans.

We've also found a job for him to do at the school, so he's not just lurking at the back of the shop class. He works as our outdoor hall monitor, which has significantly cut the number of students trying to smoke weed behind the school. Domtrect seems to enjoy it, though he's genuinely befuddled that the students need encouragement to go to class. This job also lets him circle the school like a shark and grumble about bad construction, which he was doing anyway. The students seem to have gotten used to him remarkably quickly; they're trying to make him into a TikTok sensation, but it's not going well. He's planning to spend all of his first paycheck on blankets and tapestries; apparently, he found a Blood Angel online that he gave a commission to.

Domtrect generally spends half his day in the house, and then half of it at work, looking for stragglers outside, glaring at dogs, or staring creepily through my classroom window. After the buses leave, he hangs around the shop until it's time to walk home. There, he seems content pottering away on small projects and learning, through much trial and error, how to make bread.

Issues

Now, on to the issues. I want to stress that I'm enjoying having Domtrect around, but I was wondering if anyone had any insights into these problems. I want to know if this is a Domtrect problem or just a regular marine problem.

The Funk: For people who know, or live with Astartes: do they have a funk? Because Domtrect does; it's a hellish combo of old unaired hockey pads and chemicals, and it clings to him all the time. I think it's the body glove that he basically lives in, but I'm not quite sure. I know he knows how to do laundry; he's very dedicated to doing mine, so I assume he would wash it if it were the source of the stink. Does anyone have any advice for this? I work with mainly 12-17 year olds, so my stink threshold is pretty high, but Domtrects is particularly pungent. I think I'm slowly growing nose-blind to it as well, and I don't feel like I can just ask him to bathe more. My shower and most of my house are not quite up to Imperial Fist standard, though Domtrect is slowly bringing it up to snuff, but I don't think he can currently squeeze himself into my shower or the guest shower. I'm kinda at a loss; he's a very neat person and seems to enjoy being super clean, so the stink kinda throws me for a loop. I tried to bring it up once, and he looked hurt that I didn't like the way he smelled. I changed the conversation topic pretty quick.

The Nest: The second issue is The Nest. It's honestly quite nice looking and incredibly comfortable. I've even made my peace with the fact that he's taken over most of my living room for it. I kinda think of the living room as essentially his bedroom and treat it like that, except he very clearly wants me in the nest. I don't mind hanging out in it; it's a nice space, and I enjoy hanging out with him. The issue here is that he wants me to sleep in it. Secondary to this is that most of my blankets, pillows, and once before I put my foot down, my mattress, ended up in the nest. I've set some boundaries and am no longer in danger of having my mattress moved while I'm at work, but that's honestly secondary now. The main issue is that he's taken to moving me into the nest while I'm sleeping, which is strange by itself. I'm not a heavy sleeper; I normally wake up to my cats pushing the door open, let alone being picked up and moved to a different part of the house. Yet, somehow after going to bed in my own bed upstairs, I always wake up after a deep and dreamless sleep in the nest. It started around the same time that Domtrect started hanging out without his armour on, so I think I'm only seeing this now because he's getting more comfortable.

Our bedtime routine looks like this: when I head to bed, I have perhaps 15-20 minutes to myself, and then inevitably Domtrect, Pierogi in hand, will appear in my doorway. He'll loom in the doorway until he's invited in. If I don't invite him in, he just lingers by the door and whines faintly. I don't think he knows he does it; he'll stay there until I go to sleep if I don't let him in.

If I invite him in, he'll carry Pierogi inside and settle in my room. He likes to sit by my dresser or sit cross-legged on the floor beside my bed. I'll read aloud for a bit. He seems to enjoy history the most, and we'll sometimes chat if he has questions about what we're reading. Then it lights out, and I go to sleep.

In both cases, I wake up in the nest, which is creepy to the extreme. I've confronted Domtrect on this, and he's stubbornly insistent, that He moves me because I should just sleep in the nest. His arguments are as follows:

Pierogi likes it better when we're all together. (Which, yeah he does, but I don't find this particularly persuasive; Pierogi also likes to eat garbage.)

It's safer. (I'm not exactly sure what he could be protecting me from, and Domtrect won't say.)

It's warmer. (It is, but I always end up throwing off half of the blankets he piles on me anyway.)

He doesn't need to sleep, and I keep him company. (I told him maybe he should reach out to the base if he's that lonely.)

He likes it better if he knows where I am. (He knows I sleep in my bedroom, it’s not like I’d climb out the window.)

If I'm sleeping in the nest, Nugget lets him get close to her. (Which is true)

Obviously, some arguments are better than others, but Domtrect won't budge on this. Do any other Astartes do this? I've heard that Salamanders sometimes hoard people like this, and Imperial Fists are known to fortify people into their houses and refuse to let them leave, but this doesn't quite fit either of those behaviours.

Has anyone else experienced something like this?

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Monday lovely fandom. Lots to love about this one. Their opening scene is *chefs kiss* Some good Metro Tim. Really good Tim SL in general. Love this episode it’s fantastic for a lot of reasons. Let us begin shall we?

5x19 A Hole in the World.

We start off with some domestic Chenford and I’m here for it. Gimme. Lucy is studying in what looks to be one of Tim’s shirts. *squee* Pen in her bun looking all kinds of adorable. Tim stumbles out of her bedroom looking dead on his feet. Lucy having coffee ready for her sleepy boyfriend is everything. Her soft voice and excited features when she sees him is so precious. Gah she loves this man.

Ecstatic she gets to see him before work. Spend a little time together. She asks when he got in? Tim replying depends on what day it is? Ha Poor tired Tim. Lucy shooting back 'That bad huh?' Tim saying he’s eighty percent sure it’s Thursday LOL Lucy crushing his dreams telling him it’s Tuesday….His face is too funny. Poor man needs a day off in bed and snuggle time with his wife.

Lucy asks him what he was working on last night? I just love the whole feel in this scene. Him waking up all sleepy. Lucy is there happy to greet him. Little banter. Asking about what he’s working on. Married vibes in this moment. Lucy saying she stayed up incase she would catch him. Hoping the guy would turn himself in. Risking losing sleep to see her man. My Heart.

Tim says he did show up though. Showing her his battle scar. I saw a great parallel about this moment. That in past she had to ask if he was ok. Now he just shares it with her. She doesn't have to wonder. *happy sigh* Then we get the most glorious thing of all she calls him ‘Babe.’ Which I absolutely love. I think it’s so fitting for her to call him this. Unpopular opinion alert. I hate ‘baby.’ I legit cringe when I see it in a fic. Will straight bounce if it’s used to death as well. Just doesn’t seem like them IMO.

Babe seems much more fitting. Until I hear that word come out of either of their mouths. (Not counting Dim/Juicy) I can’t accept it as canon in my brain. Anyways that rant is over ha I love the concern and the way she softly touches his wound. Wanting to fix it for him. Can we talk about the tight fitting tank top and scruff? My god this man is trying to kill me. Sleepy scruffy Tim in his jams is welcome anytime. Give me more tank top Tim as well while we're at it. Loving that he has a hoodie there when he wakes up.

Which lends credence to my drawer theory. Man is keeping clothes there. I’m melting from all of these things at once. This is a fantastic opening scene for them. I love the way he shows her his wound first thing. Wanting her to make it better. The softest of humans around his girl. The way she gently touches it has me reeling. You know part of him showed her so she’d love on him a bit. Lucy jumped all over that and a sweet pet name to boot. I’m in heaven.

Lucy mentioning it was confident of this guy to try and take on 5 metro officers. I'm losing my mind over how once Tim is seated he’s not close enough for her. So Lucy pulls him even closer. Personal space wasn’t a word they knew before they were together. It’s non existent now that they are. Lucy lights up like a Christmas tree once he’s in front of her. Look at her above. Best thing to happen to her morning is him being there.

That line from 2x05 'They look so happy. I want that.' Now she has it and it looks good on her. Tim’s content ‘Mmm' and head tilt has me melting after she pulls him closer. His sweet gone for her smile and rubbing her arm. I'm a puddle. He is just as happy to be near her. Literally so content to share a quiet morning with his girl *internal screaming* They’re so adorable they might kill me. I’ll be writing the remaining reviews from the great beyond. So damn soft I’m on a cloud.

Once Tim is able to tear himself from her loving gaze he sees she’s studying. Genuinely confused asking what this is all is? I love her playful hit. Thinking he's pulling her leg. Tim is so baffled by this. She reminds him she’s studying for the detectives exam. Then questioning if she told him. I mean she might’ve but the man is sleep deprived and doesn’t know what day it is so...LOL

Tim replying he doesn’t think so? Lucy explaining why she’s going for it. Tim asking if she got the tap? Lucy is beaming when she tells him Harper and Lopez are backing her. (Of course they are. They know what a BAMF she is) Lucy looks so excited to share this news with him. Look at how proud he is of her. Exuding from that sexy smile of his. These are the moments where he’s that big softy for her.

Look at this love struck man. So proud of her he can’t stand it. Lucy starting with a little bit of self doubt. Saying with skepticism all she has to do is score in the top 12. Tim cuts her off before she can doubt herself any further. Saying she will. He knows how good of a test taker she is. Also how incredibly intelligent she is. He is her biggest fan and makes my heart so happy. Something that hasn’t changed from friends to more. Tim’s unwavering faith she will be amazing. No doubt in his mind about her crushing this.

From day one all he’s wanted is for her to succeed. To have an amazing career. Such the supportive husband not letting her doubt herself at all. I love her ‘Mmm’ as she leans in for their kiss. Heart eyes galore for him. Knowing that’s what he’s doing fo her. Her smile before she goes in for their kiss. *dreamy sigh* Always needing more than one kiss so they sneak in a second one. Forever love that. Such a great shot of a really cute morning kiss.

I adore the look on his face when he pulls back. That whole she fell first he fell harder resonating here in that look. The sweet rubbing of her arm getting me in feels as well. Can't keep his hands off her. Tim saying they better get used to not seeing each other then. Lucy adding in sadly yes. Between his hours and detective hours it'll be harder. Can see the sadness wash over her. Just as devastated by this idea as she was at the end of 5x12. Hating the idea of being apart from him so much. I do love Tim’s confidence it’ll be ok though.

Reminds me of Lucy’s in 5x12 and her talk with Tamara. Saying how they’d figure it out and they did. Little rocky but they did. This is a new obstacle for them to overcome is all. I love his wink at her when he tells her they’ll figure it out. It is fun to see their dynamic shift a little bit. Lucy being worried they’ll see less of each other. The worry is etched on her face. Tim being the positive one blows me away. Knowing they got this. Now that doesn’t mean they don’t need to have a deeper convo about this.

They for sure do. But I adore the depth of change in this man. With Lucy by his side there isn’t much he isn’t willing to do to figure it out. What happens when you are truly and unconditionally loved. Lucy has brought out this entirely new side of him and I love it so very much. Also it’s good for them to have these issues to work through. It’ll be productive for them even if it hurts a little along the way. Why productive angst is the best. Hurts so good and all that.

Nothing I love more than watching Tim in Metro mode. Hot damn. Fair warning he makes me very feral in this section. I have no regrets. Grey has looped in Tim and his team to watch Joel. Surveil him since he is a huge person of interest. Something about the the way he commands his team. Does things to me. Watching how he has plans in place.

Communicates everything so seamlessly. Just the complete control he has over this OP got me all hot and bothered not gonna lie. This case is serious but I can’t ignore how much I love watching him in the field. Especially with Metro. Phew lord. So much certainty in his commands and decisions. Crossed my legs couple times watching him in action not gonna lie LOL

We haven’t really gotten to see him on a mission yet. Be apart of patrol's mission's yes. But run his own OP that is exclusively Metro that we get to see? Haven't gotten that. I loved being able to watch him in his new element. Making calls on the fly as the situation develops. Then we get to see how he reacts under massive pressure running a team. He is watching Joel and it's obvious he is trying to split his team up. Tim can see his play from a mile away. Tim decides last minute to split them up in case. His seasoned gut coming into play in this decision. He's such a damn boss in this portion. Fanning myself as I watch him run this OP.

If you can watch him in this portion and not be turned on by his boss leadership I'm shocked.... and you're probably lying to yourself. LMAO Man is making me very thirsty in this scene. Just watching him have absolute control over everything around him is incredibly attractive. I need some water. *phew* We watch the hard choices he has to make during this OP. Joel has taken a motorcycle and they’re chasing him.

It’s getting more dangerous the faster he goes to get away. One of his guys is in pursuit and says he can keep up with him. The issue is he's in a car and Joel is not. Tim lets him pursue Joel till it gets too risky. Joel is going 130 entering the free way on that motorcycle. Tim makes the call to pull the plug despite some protest from his guy. He does as Tim tells him to and backs off.

He can't ensure no collateral damage due to the pursuit. Can't have an innocent family possibly get hurt to do it. Having to let him go despite wanting to pursue him. We can see how having to make this call frustrates Tim. It was the right call but damn it sucks. Once again love watching him in the field. Imma need more Metro Tim OP's in s6 writers just an FYI.

We return to Lucy at the station. They were able to locate Joel at an abandoned house. The kid was saved and removed thankfully. Sadly Tim had to shoot Joel once they entered and located him. He died on the scene. Didn’t leave him any choice in the matter. The shakiness in Lucy’s voice kills me as she approaches Nyla. Needing her guidance in this moment. Very stressed Tim still isn't back from IA yet.

She’s so worried about Tim and her anxiety is coming off her in waves. Harper being the amazing human can see this. She is tells her it’s ok. Harper can see how unsettled Lucy is. So she tries to calm her with some logic. Telling her that these types of interviews with IA are very through. They take awhile. That Tim will be fine. Lucy still looks like she hasn’t taken a breath though. That she can't do that till he's in her sights.

Tim makes his way into the bullpen and Lucy looks on verge of tears for him. That pull to go towards him is innate. Harper stops her when she sees Lucy move towards him. Telling her to let him talk to Grey first. She loves him so much. The look in her eyes when she sees him and her eyes follow him across the room. Ugh. My heart. Worried girlfriend mode has been activated and she can’t turn it off. There is just so much love in her expression and intense worry. A deep need to automatically make this better for him.

We can see how much she is longing to be near him. Wants to wrap him up in her arms and erase his pain. You can feel the anxiety coursing through her as she watches him make his way to Grey’s office. No one worries and cares for Tim like Lucy does that’s for sure. Plus her empathy is absorbing it all as well. She’s hurting because he is and it’s killing her to be away from him. But she is good and heeds Nylas advice to let him go for now….

The scene in Grey’s office has me crying. Gah Eric damn you and your amazing acting. He is WRECKED. Absolutely wrecked. Barely keeping it together in front of Wade. You can see the tears brimming in his eyes. He’s so emotional right now and trying so very hard to keep it in check. I'm so glad that they had this scene. Touched on how traumatic this was for Tim. Wasn’t glossed over. This scene showing the impact it had on him. Not only did he take a life but it was another cop's. One who KNEW Tim would have to pull the trigger if he forced his hand. Joel took the cowards way out. Made Tim pay the price for his exit.

Grey can see how distraught he is. The tears in this man’s eyes are breaking me. If Lucy could see this he would be in her arms so quickly. But she isn’t. I'm so glad he saw Wade first he needed this. Was important for Grey to absolve him in this moment. To hear it from someone who was his mentor and superior at one time. Not that Lucy’s opinion or help isn’t valid or wouldn’t help him. It will. He just needed to hear it from Grey first. That what he did was the right thing.

It’s why Harper suggested he see him first. Before she does. Logically Tim knows all the things he’s telling him. But he’s an emotional time bomb right now. So Grey reminds him that he had no choice. That he was dangerous. Tim repeating ‘I know’ because he does. Doesn’t change how he’s feeling though. I love Wade asking if there’s anything he can do? Tim gives his longest answer telling him to let him get back to him. Such a good scene. Broke my heart but damn good.

We return to our lovely couple catching up in the hallway. What a glow up this is I have to say. Going from hiding to Lucy being on his arm in front of the whole bullpen. The PDA in front of the station got me all in my feels. My heart may implode from how happy this makes me. Love her linking arms with one hand and touching his arm with the other. His reply to her question is such growth for him.

Before when he was keyed up he would just be angry. Lash out at those around him or push his feelings down and pretend he was ok. The fact that he can say he’ll be okay is huge. Tells her this calmly too. What a change in him. I remember seeing good parallel for this. His answer to Nell in 1x12 deflecting 'Yeah' and his reply to Angela in 2x11 when he was upset raging out. That he was fine just needed to blow off steam. With Lucy he's honest and doesn't deflect or explode. How far we've come.

Makes a massive difference when you’re loved by the right person. Lucy tries to be super soft in her approach. It’s why she’s does the soft touch first. It disarms him and she can speak her anxiety. Let out all the advice she’s been dying to say since he got back. Wanting so badly to soothe his raging emotions. Tim cuts her off and says it’s not the first time for him. Being bristly at first because it is still a default mode for him. Grown a lot but still getting used to the love and support of this woman next to him.

Lucy doesn’t let it stop her from being extra soft with him. She looks like she just wants absorb all his pain. Her eyes screaming as much as she touches her hand to his heart. Telling him she just wants to be helpful. Desperate to absolve him of this. He immediately melts at her touch and reverts back to soft Tim. Especially with her motives being so damn pure and in favor of helping him heal. Two episodes in a row she soothes him with just a simple touch. God I love them.

Tim thanks her eternally grateful for this woman in front of him. That she loves him and cares enough to do so. Put him first even when he’s slightly bristly still. Just like before they were together she doesn’t care if he is. Her main objective is to take care of him. He rubs her arm in the same affectionate manner as he did in their morning scene. This sweet touch speaking volumes for him. He’s so used to doing this stuff alone. To not have someone to be there in the aftermath.

But having her there for him changes everything. That realization melting his bristly reply from earlier. Heart eyes for days the two of them. In front of the entire station and I can’t get over it. Lucy giving him massive ones in reply to his thank you. Wanting so much to just make it better for him. Feeling like she isn't doing enough to help him though this. It's the way her body sags in that third gif. Wishing there was more she could do for him.

Tim needing the distraction from his emotions asking if she needs help? We watch Lucy melt like a puddle in front of him in the second gif. Loving him asking her if she needs it. Because despite the distraction it provides he genuinely wants to help her. Then we get a glorious call back to 2x02. Him basically recognizing all she did for him then in this moment. Knowing he wouldn’t be a sergeant without her. Without the books she recorded for him. Helping him study etc. Getting verbal recognition all these years later from him.

I too am a puddle Lucy. Not only recognizing her for what she did but telling her he wouldn’t have gotten score he did without her. (He really wouldn't have...) It’s here we see the scene go from serious to flirty as hell. Lucy touching his chest once again with her finger. Saying that’s true he owes her. Lucy seems so excited by this idea. Ready to cash in this long owed debt of his. Tim is smiling when she pokes him. Not an agitated bone in that man's body over this.

Tim is sassy af in his reply. Telling her he doesn’t owe her. Even though he was just a marshmallow and admitted as such moments ago... The flirty way she grabs his jacket. Oh my lord. The look in her eye as she walks away. Eyeing his lips and pulling on his jacket. Sweet lord this man is powerless before her. He knows it. Doesn’t fight her very long just says ‘Okay’ and goes after his girl. Never seen a man be so happy to be whipped in my life.

He is so ok that she runs this relationship for most part. We all know he actually loves this. Assertive Lucy is one of his favorites. Look at Lucy giving the orders and Tim following her lead no question. How times have changed folks. Broke his brain once again and all he can do is be in awe and follow after her. Such a goner for her and he’s very happy with this setup.

Follows her like a lost puppy out the door. Only Lucy could bring him back from the brink like this. Go from being upset and in his head to chasing after her. I love the amount of flirty sex talk these to have without ever really saying so. It’s amazing. Lucy definitely is owed a debt my god. He’s the one who passed the test but not without her help. Just like in 4x18 a debt is owed sir LOL Damn I love these two so very much it’s insane. S5 was a glorious gift. Kept on giving. Also if you’re needing a post 5x19 fic. D wrote an excellent one I highly recommend.

~~~~

Side notes -non Chenford

Lucy is so excited when she runs up to Harper at the station. Ready to sign up for the detectives exams. Telling Nyla she’s ready for this test. Harper is beaming saying she has no doubt. Then Smitty comes up and ruins everything. Saying one of the defective have out it out for her. We knew the 5 player trade could bite her… and it looks like it has Primm found out and isn’t happy about it. Be interesting to see how this will develop on s6.

Aaron’s face when Lucy calls herself one of the cool kids LOL hey man she is... haha

This Ep is Sooo good reminds me why I love this show as a whole. So emotional with Celina’s SL. Makes me cry thinking about my niece and nephew. There would be scorched earth for whoever got between me and them. This was the ep really made me love Celina. I wasn’t sure at first but this changed that. Her forgiving her mom is huge. Makes me cry.

I love Lucy being a BAMF with that offender. Putting him right in his own place when he gets defensive about it being harassment. Never be over how she's come into her own as a cop.

Angela looking up air tagging her kids LOL love her I really do haha

Thank you to my amazing readers who like, comment (love these) and reblogs. You are the reason I do what I do. I shall see you all in 5x20 :)

[catsandbats13]

Stan x reader fanfic

Scaryoke Scars

Chapter 2

The four of you had reconvened in the now ravaged living room of the Shack, taking in the damage the night had caused.

You spotted Stan’s trademark fez lying on the floor, so you dusted it off and handed it back to him, receiving a quiet thanks and a grateful look in return as he adjusted the hat on his head.

You heard Dipper sigh and say to the room, “I’m sorry about this guys. I totally ruined everything.”

You could tell he was genuinely remorseful, not that you blamed him too much, he was just a kid after all. Though you had to wonder what possessed him to try and summon the dead in the first place.

Kids will be kids I guess?

“Dipper, are you kidding me?” Mabel expressed with enthusiasm.

“I got to sing karaoke with my favourite people in the world! No party could ever top that!”

You could tell Mabel’s words had touched her brother, as he smiled back at her in appreciation.

Stan made his way over to his niece and nephew and said, “Kids, listen. This town is crazy! So you need to be careful. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you got hurt on my watch.”

Your heart squeezed at the thought of the kids potentially coming to harm, it was plain to anyone with eyes that Stan loved his family immensely and would do anything for them, he’d proven as much earlier. It warmed your heart the way he cared for the twins, calling Mabel “pumpkin” and “sweetie” and always trying to take Dipper under his wing and toughen him up. Despite his grouchy exterior he really was a big ol’ softie, and you loved him for it.

“I’ll let you hold onto that spooky journal, as long as you promise me you’ll only use it for self defense and not go looking for trouble.”

“Okay,” Dipper replied warily. “As long as you promise me that you don’t have any more bombshell secrets about this town.”

“Promise.” Stan vowed.

“Promise.” Dipper repeated back.

You got the feeling that neither one of them had any intentions of sticking to their promises.

“Man, we have got a lot of zombie damage to clean up.” Stan reflected, observing the chaos of the mess around the four of you. The couch and the rest of the furniture was in disarray, there was green ooze covering the majority of the room and you were pretty sure you had spotted a random zombie arm among all the debris.

“Where’s my handyman anyway?” Stan asked, and he quickly got his answer when the zombified Soos himself wandered into the living room, arms outstretched and moaning the classic line, “Braiiins, braiiiins!” before he got stuck behind the overturned couch. It seemed zombie Soos could only move one way, and that was forward, which was good news for the rest of you.

In all the excitement and celebration of the zombies' defeat, you’d forgotten all about poor Soos!

Stan was the first to react, shouting, “Holy Moses!” and brandishing a nearby chair as a weapon, but before he could do anything with it, Dipper interjected, journal in hand.

“Wait! There’s a page in here about curing zombification. It’s gonna take a lot of formaldehyde.”

Mabel leaned over her twin's shoulder to read the recipe as well and cheerfully chimed in, “Ooh and cinnamon!”

You took the chair from Stan and used it to nudge zombie Soos out of the living room while he continued to moan about brains. The Pines family followed close behind.

“Come on Soos, let’s fix you up.” Dipper declared.

“Braiiins, braiiins!” Soos replied.

“Soos, cut it out!” Scolded Mabel.

“Heh heh, sorry dude!” The handyman snickered.

What a weird night this turned out to be. You thought to yourself as you helped the Pines twins de-zombify poor Soos, who was very grateful and insisted on a group hug that you were pretty sure cracked one of Stan’s ribs. Once the procedure was over, Stan made the executive decision to put the kids to bed and send Soos home, which just left you and him standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey uh, my ride kinda took off when the zombies attacked, do you think I could-“ you began to shyly ask.

“Yeah, yeah you can stay. I ain’t driving anyone anywhere until I’ve had a solid 14 hours of sleep.” Stan yawned. “Once I put those kids to bed I’ll come and set up a cot for ya.”

“Thanks Stan, I appreciate it.” You said honestly, sending him a grateful smile which he returned easily before turning and heading up the creaky wooden stairs to tuck his niece and nephew into bed.

You decide to lean up against the wall and take a second to process everything that had just happened while Stan was gone.

While you hadn’t gotten your fantasy dance with Stan, he had heroically saved you from certain death. You could’ve done without the almost dying part, but you had to admit you were swooning over the fact that he’d been the one to come to your rescue.

I guess being a damsel in distress isn’t so bad when Stan is the one saving you, you thought to yourself.

“Are the kids in bed?” You asked once Stan reappeared at the foot of the stairs.

“Last I checked, but knowing those two they’re still up causing trouble.” His words were gruff but his voice held obvious affection for the two.

“They probably learned it from you, you know.” You couldn’t help but tease.

Stan snorted, wiping a weary hand down his stubbled face.

“Those little hooligans had better stop summoning ghouls and goblins and what have you or they’re going to put me in an early grave.” He grumbled, dusting off the shoulders of his now torn and zombie gut stained suit.

“I’m just glad everyone is oka-“ you trailed off, your eyes locking onto Stan’s muscular forearm, which you could now see was stained with blood, bright red human blood.

Alarmed, you quickly reached for his hand to pull him closer to get a better look at the injury.

“You’re hurt! Why didn’t you say anything?” You gasped worriedly, pushing the sleeve of his jacket up to his elbows to expose the cut.

Stan half heartedly attempted to pull away but seemed to realize you weren’t about to let him go so easily and relented, allowing you to check the wound.

“Ah that’s nothin’ sweetheart, you should see the other guys.” He said cheekily, flashing his trademark grin at your concerned face.

“Stan, be serious! You’re hurt, we gotta patch you up asap before you get an infection from all the zombie goo everywhere.” You scolded him.

“Alright, alright, I’ve got a first aid kit in the kitchen we can use.” He conceded, still making no effort to move away from your tender grip on his arm.

You nodded in agreement and quickly started tugging your boss towards the kitchen, eager to erase the sickening sight of his blood oozing out of the gash. It was relatively shallow but that did nothing to assuage your worry as you were painfully aware that even the most superficial of cuts could become dangerous if infection set in.

Surprisingly Stan stuck close to you, ensuring your grip on him didn’t falter as you both made your way into the dim light of the kitchen. You couldn’t help but be pleased he was letting you manhandle him like this, you thought he’d maybe refuse and insist he didn’t need treatment but it seemed he was worn out from the fight earlier.

Once the two of you reached the dining table he turned to you and remarked amusedly, “D’ya think I could have my arm back for a sec?”

You blushed and promptly dropped his arm, freeing him to search through the kitchen drawer for the first aid kit. You hadn’t even realized you were still holding him, you had been so focused on patching him up.

After a couple seconds of digging past pieces of silverware and various craft supplies, Stan triumphantly held out the small white box to you with a lopsided grin on his rugged face.

You couldn’t help but beam back at him, he really had a way of making you feel special, like his smile was for you and you alone.

“Told ya I had one.” He said cockily, moving to sit down at the table in preparation for your first aid.

“You’d better, given the amount of trouble this family gets into on a regular basis.” You smirked back at him, glad he wasn’t so hurt that he couldn’t banter with you, you knew it was serious when even Stan wasn’t cracking jokes.

Stan went quiet as you worked, wincing slightly when you wiped his broken skin with an alcohol wipe, watching as you gently rid him of the streaks of blood, making sure not to press too hard, extremely conscious of the pain he was likely in. He wasn’t in any danger of bleeding out but it was definitely big enough that it would be causing him significant hurt. He watched intently as you unfurled the gauze and grabbed his hand to put in your lap to give you a better angle to wrap his forearm.

Little did you know that Stan was mesmerized by your ministrations, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had treated him so tenderly and with such love and care. He was desperately soaking it in, he hadn’t realized how much he craved your touch until your delicate hands were wrapped around him, making his heart beat faster and a slight blush rising on his cheeks.

If you’d been paying attention you would’ve seen how his eyes hungrily tracked your every move, his expression full of longing and desire.

You were too distracted by your own thoughts, you couldn’t stop thinking about how close you all came to dying tonight. If it hadn’t been for Stan, you’d likely have joined the army of zombies along with poor Mabel, Dipper and Soos.

He had truly saved you, and he’d done it with nothing but his own two fists, a pair of brass knuckles and a baseball bat. The image of him taking out the zombie that had gotten ahold of you and subsequently all the zombies afterwards was burned into your brain. You couldn’t think of a single instance where you’d seen anything hotter than the sight of him disheveled and beat up from fighting a legion of the undead to rescue his family.

“God, there’s something seriously wrong with me, I’m getting all hot and bothered just thinking about how he risked his life to save us.” You thought to yourself as you finished tying off the gauze, securing it tightly around his wound.

Before you could start putting the medical supplies away, Stan pulled the kit towards himself and said in his rough timbre, “Alright doll, now it’s your turn.”

“Me? But I’m not-“

Stan cut you off and shuffled his chair closer to you, bringing you knee to knee.

“I said it’s your turn, I’m not letting you leave until I’m sure you don’t have any hidden injuries. Your adrenaline is probably still high so you might not even feel it.”

You got the feeling Stan spoke from experience about that last part so you acquiesced and allowed him to mirror your previous actions and take a hold of your right hand.

You barely breathed as he delicately traced his way down your palm and slowly turned your arm over, all the while trailing his calloused fingers over your skin, searching for any cuts or scratches that he could patch up. He was touching you with a gentleness you didn’t know he possessed, almost reverently examining you. Soon his large hands made their way to your other arm, repeating the same careful process as before. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you’d never been this close with him before, though you’d dreamed about it many times.

Was it possible he was just as worried about you as you were about him? You hoped he was, you didn’t know for sure if he returned your affections but lately you’d become convinced that there was something there. You’d caught him looking at you while you worked, even when he was supposedly too busy to help you restock the snow globes or mark up the prices.

Then there was the nickname, doll. He’d started using it just over a month ago, and every time he said it your heart would skip a beat. As far as you knew, he didn’t call anyone else by that pet name, so you couldn’t help but feel like maybe he saw you differently than everyone else.

Your train of thought was interrupted by Stan’s voice asking, “Stand up for me, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?? I’m going to spontaneously combust,“ you thought to yourself.

“Stand up?” You queried, slightly confused by the request.

“Need to check the rest of ya for injuries.”

“Oh…right,” you responded as you stood, flushing slightly at the thought of his attentive hands on the rest of your body.

Stop it Y/N, get out of fantasy land, he’s just going to look you over, not manhandle you. You thought to yourself, embarrassed that you couldn’t seem to control your lustful thoughts about the man in front of you.

You were then taken aback when Stan reached out and began to caress your sides, raising your arms out of the way to gain better access. His gentle fingers tickled slightly but you didn’t move a muscle for fear that he’d stop.

From there his sturdy hands traced down the centreline of your stomach, causing you to inhale sharply at the contact. He immediately froze and looked up at you, asking for permission to continue. Not wanting this magical moment to end, you nodded, giving him free reign to touch you as he wished. He gave you a small, shy grin before once again focusing on examining you head to toe.

Next were your legs, you watched as he kneeled down on the kitchen floor to better inspect you for potential damage. Now you were really blushing, you never thought you’d see your boss kneeling like this in front of you aside from in your late night fantasies. Your mind was spinning with excitement and dirty thoughts as Stan began to feel up your legs. To your disappointment, he stopped just short of your most sensitive parts, though had he tried to cop a feel, you would’ve gladly let him.

Unbeknownst to you Stan was just barely holding back his desire, he didn’t want to scare you off or make you uncomfortable so he made sure to take things slow, but all he wanted was to take you right then and there. It took almost losing you for him to realize the true depth of his feelings. He’d always known he was sweet on you, how could he not be? You lit up the room with your laughter, you kept him on his toes with your witty remarks and you were drop dead gorgeous. There was a good reason why he’d started hanging around the gift shop more often and finding any excuse to spend more time with you. Narrowly avoiding death by zombie made Stan realize he couldn’t go another day without telling you how he felt. If he had become zombified that night, one of his biggest regrets would’ve been never having confessed his feelings for you.

Too soon he finished his inspection of your lower half and stood up using the table as leverage to make it easier on his knees. But he wasn’t done with you quite yet.

“Looks like you’re all good there, but there’s one last place I gotta check.” Stan crooned in a velvety tone.

“O-Oh really? W-Where?” You asked shakily, your face now beet red from all the attention.

“Here,” Stan whispered, softly brushing your hair behind your ears to expose your bare neck to him.

You couldn’t hold in a gasp when you felt his fingers caress the side of your face. He used both hands to cup your cheeks and gently turned your head from side to side, searching for any abrasions. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing as he held you, you just stared at him in awe. After a few seconds of careful examination, he finally seemed satisfied that you weren’t hurt and let out a tense breath, his hands never leaving your face. The two of you locked eyes, you felt frozen by his intense gaze and the warmth of his palms on your cheeks. When Stan’s eyes flickered to your lips, you decided to take your chance. You grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled his face to yours, kissing him fiercely and praying you hadn’t just made a huge mistake. To your absolute delight, he immediately reciprocated and kissed you back just as hungrily, cradling your face in his rugged hands. Kissing him was every bit as wonderful as you had imagined, he was passionate and enthusiastic and held you so tightly like he was afraid you’d disappear. Too soon you both had to pause for air and parted slightly, your lips still centimeters apart and your gazes locked on one another.

“You’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted this, doll,” he panted, lovingly rubbing a circle on your cheek with his thumb.

“I think I might have an idea,” you replied giddily, unable to keep the smile off your face.

“Oh yeah?” He said cheekily. “Exactly how long have you wanted to ride the Stan O’ War?”

“Oh my god Stan, you can’t just say that!” You laughed, playfully smacking his shoulder and blushing furiously.

“What? Am I wrong?” He retorted, though you noticed he was just as red in the face as you were.

Suddenly, you felt a bit shy at the idea of admitting the full extent of your feelings to him, what if this was just a heat of the moment fling type of deal? You didn’t know if you could take the humiliation of confessing your love only to be rejected. You’d be devastated to lose him, you had come to depend on his jovial presence and cheesy lines, you looked forward to seeing him joyfully con unsuspecting tourists out of their money every shift and seeing him joke around with the kids.

Stan must’ve noticed your hesitance cause he gently squeezed your face to get your attention.

“Hey, it’s okay Y/N, I get it if you changed your mind or you regret it, we don’t have to-“ he began dejectedly.

“No no, it’s not that at all!” You reassured him, grabbing his wrists to hold them in place, worried he would let go.

“It’s just…I really like you Stan, and I don’t want to mess this up and lose you, I almost lost you once already tonight.”

“It’d take more than a bunch of wimpy dead guys to take Stan Pines out of the game sweetheart, you had nothing to worry about.”

You quietly giggled at his reply, leaning into his touch.

“I like you too Y/N, a lot. Haven’t been able to get you out of my head since you started working here.” You heard Stan confess, speaking uncharacteristically softly.

Your eyes widened as you came to a realization.

“Wait, so you mean we could’ve been doing this the whole time?”

Now it was Stan’s turn to laugh, he chuckled as he pressed his forehead to yours, the intimacy of the moment not lost on you.

He looked into your eyes with a smoldering gaze and said, “I guess that means we shouldn’t waste any more time then, huh?”

You blushed, understanding what he was getting at, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in to capture your lips once more.

Link to chapter 3 below