#patrick wilson imagine

[fanficslover]

I agree too, it's about time he was on the cover of this magazine🛐🛐🛐 @peoplemag

(Photos are not mine)

[srawilson]

Patrick Wilson/Orm Marius/Ocean Master=🛐🛐🛐🛐🫦🫦🫦🫦✨🔥🔥🔥🔥✨

I just watched Aquaman 2... Why did it take me so long? Patrick is so hot 😍😍😍

Preciso de mais fanfics dele🛐🛐

@sthefany16 @doormatty3 @gracelaurie @sweetfictionalworld @lenaluvbot @missjadesfics​

E tantos outros escritores incríveis, que iluminam o Tumblr com suas fanfics e histórias incríveis.

[doormatty3]

Blizzards and Beef Stew - Chapter 6 (Patrick Wilson x FOC)

Masterlist Ao3

Blizzards and Beef Stew Masterlink

Summary

[Patrick Wilson x Original Female Character] [Patrick Wilson x Original Character] Éléanor had always adored winter: its snow, its crisp air. But what she treasured most was retreating to her cosy cabin in the Swedish mountains. There, she could bake, sketch, and enjoy the solitude, far from the noise of the world. At least, that’s how it used to be—until a new neighbour arrived. Patrick Wilson was tall, charming, and with a smile that seemed to melt the coldest days. As they struck up a friendship, Éléanor found herself drawn to him, even though he remained oddly secretive about his last name and evasive about his work. But when a fierce snowstorm trapped them both, it became clear that Patrick might just be the warmth she needed in more ways than one. OR: Patrick uses his body to warm up Éléanor in the snowy mountains.

Wordcount: 5581

Éléanor woke up slowly, the soft light of morning filtering through the windows, casting a gentle glow across the room. She blinked, momentarily disoriented, before remembering where she was—Patrick’s couch, wrapped up in his blankets, the memory of last night still fresh in her mind. A mix of emotions stirred within her: contentment from the quiet intimacy they’d shared, a hint of embarrassment from how things had played out, and something deeper that left her feeling warm and a little vulnerable.

The storm still raged outside, the wind howling softly, but it wasn’t as brutal as the night before. Snow had piled up high around the cabin, turning the world outside into a quiet, white wilderness. Éléanor’s gaze drifted to the couch beside her, where Patrick still slept, his broad chest rising and falling with each breath.

For a moment, she let herself look at him—really look. 

His shirtless body was sprawled comfortably under the blanket, and her eyes traced the lines of his muscles, now highlighted by the morning light creeping through the window. His chest was broader than she’d really noticed before, the pale skin dusted with a light covering of chest hair, something she hadn’t noticed in the dark last night. It curled softly, catching the flicker of firelight, giving him a rugged, masculine edge that made her pulse quicken.

His face was relaxed and peaceful, a stark contrast to the tension he’d carried last night. His lips were slightly parted, and his dark lashes cast faint shadows against his skin. Watching him like this, she felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the blankets or the fire.

His stubble had grown more noticeable, the coarse hairs along his jawline now thicker, and a shadow of a moustache was forming, giving him an almost roguish appearance. Flecks of grey dotted his sideburns, and as the light hit his face, it gave him a certain maturity that contrasted with his boyish grin. 

She found it hard to tear her eyes away—so she didn’t.

Her eyes trailed down his body, taking in his flat, defined stomach and the curve of his hips. His boxers clung to him, riding low on his waist, leaving little to the imagination. The blanket had slipped just enough to reveal the curve of his muscular thighs, and Éléanor’s face flushed as she caught herself staring.

God, he was so attractive.

With a deep breath, she slipped out from under the covers, careful not to disturb him. 

The wooden floor was cold under her feet as she padded towards the small kitchen, grabbing his sweater that lay discarded on the floor and pulling it over her head. 

She wanted to keep busy, to distract herself from the tangle of emotions still swirling inside her. Pulling Patrick’s pullover tighter around her, she began to rummage through what little they had left, trying to piece together some kind of breakfast. Eggs, a few slices of bread, some cheese—it wasn’t much, but it would do.

As she stood by the counter, cracking the eggs into a bowl and slicing up the bread, her thoughts drifted back to the events of the night before. The way Patrick had panicked, the way they’d calmed each other down afterwards, cuddling in the firelight. She couldn’t help but feel grateful for the way they’d handled it. It could have been awkward—embarrassing even—but instead, it had made her feel closer to him in a way she hadn’t expected.

As she mixed the eggs in a bowl, trying to figure out how to cook it without a stove, she heard a soft shuffle behind her. Before she could turn around, Patrick’s arms slid around her waist, pulling her gently back against his chest.

She melted into him, feeling the solid warmth of his body pressing against her back. His chest hair brushed against the back of her neck as he leaned down, his chin resting on her head and his breath against her.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep, vibrating against her skin. The sound sent a shiver down her spine.

Éléanor smiled, leaning back into him, enjoying the easy warmth between them. “Morning,” she replied softly, turning her head slightly to glance at him. His eyes were still heavy-lidded, his hair tousled from sleep, but there was a soft smile playing at his lips.

He tightened his arms around her just slightly, pulling her closer. “What are you doing?” he asked and stifled a yawn.

“Trying to make breakfast with what little we have,” she said with a soft laugh. “But the stove doesn’t work, and I have no idea how to cook this without it.”

Patrick chuckled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her shoulder, his touch warm and reassuring. “We’ll figure something out.” His gaze dropped to the bowl in her hands and then flicked back up with a crooked smile. “Or, we could just stick to bread and cheese. A low-maintenance breakfast.”

Éléanor laughed, the sound light and easy, and she felt the tension from the previous night fully dissolve. She caught herself blushing slightly, a bit embarrassed she hadn’t thought of that simple solution first. The eggs were wasted now, a casualty of their morning scramble, but she found she didn’t really mind.

“Honestly, that’s probably the best idea I’ve heard all morning,” she admitted, glancing over at the loaf of crusty bread and the wedge of cheese sitting on the counter. The simplicity of it, the way the fire crackled in the background, made her feel at ease. She let out a small sigh, comforted by the idea that life didn’t have to be perfect to be good.

Patrick’s smile widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling with warmth. “See? It’s the small things,” he said, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The gesture was so natural, so effortlessly caring, that it sent a tiny flutter through her chest.

She set the bowl down on the counter, the broken eggs an afterthought now, and reached for a knife to slice into the cheese. “Next time, I’m sticking to the basics,” she joked, her voice touched with a playful self-mockery and lingering embarrassment.

Patrick’s deep, warm laugh filled the small kitchen, wrapping around her like a favourite blanket. “No need to overthink it,” he said, his eyes finding hers, their familiar sparkle comforting. “It’s not really about the eggs or anything. It’s about mornings like this.”

A soft pause settled between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the occasional pop of a burning log. His gaze drifted down, a playful smirk forming as he tilted his head. “You’re wearing my sweater,” he remarked, his voice low and teasing. The brush of his lips against the side of her neck caused her skin to erupt in goosebumps.

Éléanor felt the warmth rise in her cheeks, and she couldn’t help but grin as she turned just enough to catch his eyes. “You didn’t exactly leave me much choice,” she shot back, the humour in her voice softening the air between them. “You were hogging all the blankets.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin as he nuzzled closer. “Fair enough,” he admitted, his breath warm and unwavering. The nearness was intoxicating, a blend of comfort and tension that made her pulse quicken.

For a moment, they simply stood there, wrapped in the golden glow of the morning sun filtering through the window. His hands rested gently on her waist, and fingers splayed as if to anchor them both at that moment. She could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against her back. It was an odd mix of domesticity and heat, standing there in his oversized pullover while he held her, both of them pretending that the night before hadn’t changed everything.

Reluctantly, Patrick let his arms fall, stepping away with a small sigh as he moved towards the table where he stretched, his body unfolding in a way that drew her eyes once more. His boxers clung to him, highlighting the sculpted muscles of his thighs and the curve of his back in a way that had her biting her lip. She couldn’t help but notice the way they fit snugly over his ass—tight, firm, and perfectly shaped.

His back muscles rippled as he reached for the ceiling, the light catching on the ridges of his shoulders and the faint sheen of sweat that lingered from the warmth of the room.

Éléanor’s pulse quickened as she watched him, a smile tugging at her lips before she turned to grab the simple breakfast supplies. Patrick brought the bread and cheese from the counter and placed them on the small, weathered table. She followed, carrying two mismatched mugs of instant coffee—more than enough given the circumstances of the power outage.

Patrick leaned over to stoke the fire, the crackle growing stronger as new flames licked at the logs. The warm glow cast long, shifting shadows that danced across the cabin walls, contrasting with the cold, pearly light outside. Snowflakes continued to drift steadily down, adding to the thick blanket that muted all sound beyond the walls.

They settled into the nook beside the fire, knees touching beneath the table, sharing the kind of comfortable silence that spoke more than words could. The flickering light played on their faces, illuminating the curve of Patrick’s smile as he passed her a piece of bread. Their fingers brushed, and a warm spark passed between them.

“So... the storm’s still going,” Patrick finally said, glancing out the window, his eyes following the swirling snow that danced in chaotic patterns against the glass—a sea of white that refused to calm. “Looks like it’s not letting up anytime soon,” he said, his voice low and thoughtful.

“Could be worse,” Éléanor said with a teasing grin, her tone light, though her heart beat just a little faster. “We have food, warmth... and decent company.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow, a smirk curving his lips in response. “Decent? That’s all I get?”

“Well,” she said, the blush rising to her cheeks as she held his gaze, her pulse fluttering under his scrutiny. “I didn’t want to inflate your ego too much.”

He laughed softly, the sound low and rich, the kind that made her stomach flip. Leaning back in his chair, he looked relaxed, but there was an unmistakable spark in his eyes, a playful warmth that drew her in. “More than decent,” he corrected, his voice dipping into a tone that was both teasing and sincere.

Éléanor took another sip of coffee, cradling the warm mug in her hands as she glanced out the window at the snow piling higher in an attempt to stop the fluttering in her chest. “You know … This is probably the most basic breakfast I’ve made in years,” Éléanor said, smiling over the rim of her mug as she took a sip of coffee.

Patrick’s eyes didn’t leave her. “Hey, it’s perfect,” he said, the simplicity of the moment not lost on him. “We’ve got everything we need right here.”

The fire’s warmth settled around them, casting a golden glow that made the cabin feel cocooned from the storm. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable; it was heavy with unsaid things, a shared realisation that the world outside had ceased to matter for now.

“I guess we’re lucky we even have this,” Éléanor said softly, her voice trailing as she looked back at him, their faces close enough to feel the heat radiating between them. “It could’ve been much worse.”

Patrick nodded, but his eyes lingered on her, darkening with an emotion that made the room feel warmer still. “Yeah,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m glad it’s you I’m stuck here with. You’re... pretty decent company .” The playful curve of his lips softened, revealing a sincerity that wrapped around her like a blanket.

He leaned forward, the movement deliberate, and brushed his fingers across her hand. The touch sent a spark through her, lingering even as he set her empty mug aside with care. When he turned back to her, his expression had shifted, eyes intense, as if he were trying to memorise every detail.

Patrick’s hand lifted, moving slowly until it cupped her cheek, his thumb grazing the curve of her jaw with a tenderness that left her breathless. Éléanor leaned into his touch, her heartbeat thundering in her chest as their eyes met, the distance between them shrinking with every second.

Neither of them spoke.

Patrick moved first, leaning in and closing the small space between them. When their lips met, it was as if a spark had lit a fuse. 

Éléanor’s hand slid up to the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer with an unspoken plea. He responded in kind, his arm wrapping around her waist with a sure but tender touch.

In a seamless motion, they rose together, the movement natural and instinctive, their lips never breaking contact. Patrick guided her backwards, steps slow and steady but charged with intent as they made their way towards the couch. 

Éléanor’s heart pounded in her chest, her body alive with sensation. Every brush of Patrick’s lips, every touch of his hand on her skin, sent sparks of warmth coursing through her, making her pulse race. 

Patrick gently eased her down onto the couch, his body hovering over hers as their kisses grew more urgent, more demanding, more desperate. 

The space between them seemed to evaporate as his hands moved over her back, tracing her curves with a mix of tenderness and raw need. His touch was everywhere —gentle but commanding, igniting a fire that blazed hotter with each passing second.

Éléanor’s fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer, craving more. She felt like she was burning from the inside, her skin tingling with a fierce energy, like that fuse they had lit had finally exploded. 

There was nothing else—just him.

They broke the kiss for just a moment, both of them breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together as they tried to catch their breath. Patrick’s hands were still on her waist, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin, the simple touch sending waves of heat through her, stoking the fire that was already burning inside her.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was low, husky, each word a quiet rumble that made her heart race. His breath was warm against her lips, his question lingering between them.

Éléanor smiled, her heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and certainty. She reached up, her hand cupping his cheek, her thumb grazing the stubble along his jaw as she looked into his eyes. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice soft but steady, filled with the surety she felt at that moment. “I’m sure.”

With that, Patrick’s lips were on hers again, the kiss deeper this time, more confident. His hand slid under her sweater, his fingers brushing against her bare skin. Éléanor gasped into his mouth, arching her back as she pressed herself closer to him, her body responding to his every touch.

Patrick slowly began to lift the fabric, his hands warm and steady. Éléanor shifted beneath him, helping him peel it away, her skin instantly exposed to the cool air of the cabin, leaving her in only her panties. 

But before she could feel the cold, Patrick was there, his hands on her bare waist, his mouth covering hers in another slow, deep kiss. Before he lowered himself, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. His lips moved with a deliberate slowness, trailing down the sensitive skin of her neck and over her chest, each kiss drawing a soft gasp from Éléanor.

She let her hands wander across his broad shoulders, feeling the strength in him as he held her close, his body warm against hers. His lips brushed over the swell of her breasts, his breath teasing against her skin before he dipped his head lower, leaving a trail of heated kisses as he moved down her body.

The firelight flickered, casting golden shadows across the room, making the moment feel all the more intimate, as if they were the only two people in the world.

Patrick’s hands traced the curve of her waist, pulling her closer as he kissed just above the waistband of her panties, his breath warm against her skin. Éléanor’s breath hitched as his lips lingered there, his touch sending waves of pleasure through her. 

He kissed his way back up, capturing her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss that left her breathless, his hands roaming over her sides. Then, with a smooth, almost teasing motion, he tugged at her underwear again before sliding them down and tossing them aside.

 She felt the cold air on her overheated, exposed skin, and her nerves thrummed in arousal.

Éléanor’s hands slid down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under her palms, her fingers grazing the elastic of his boxers. She felt his hard cock through the thin layer of fabric and was desperate to feel him, to continue what they had started yesterday. 

So she pushed his boxers down, leaving them both completely exposed, their bodies pressed together, skin against skin. 

Patrick looked down at Éléanor in the soft morning light, his features softened by the glow filtering through the windows. The shadows from the slowly burning fire danced across his sharp jawline, but it was the intensity in his eyes, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered at that moment, that made Éléanor feel like she was melting beneath him.

His chest, broad and strong, rose and fell with steady breaths, but the tension in his muscles betrayed the restraint he was barely holding onto. 

Éléanor’s eyes dropped to his body, taking in the sight of him, her breath catching in her throat. He was perfect—every inch of him strong and toned, his cock hard and thick, standing proudly against his abdomen. She reached out, her hand wrapping around him, her fingers brushing over his length. Patrick let out a low groan, his hips pushing forward slightly into her hand as he closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the sensation.

But he didn’t let her linger there long. 

His fingers traced lightly over her skin, starting at her collarbone and slowly moving downward, exploring her curves as if committing every inch of her to memory. Éléanor shivered at the warmth of his touch, her body responding to the slow burn of his attention before her mind could even catch up. 

His hands, big and slightly rough, slid over her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples with just enough pressure to make her gasp.

Patrick’s mouth followed, placing soft kisses along her collarbone, then lower, his lips brushing over her chest, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Éléanor arched into him, her breath coming faster as his lips closed around her nipple, his hand still gently kneading the other breast. 

The sensation was overwhelming—his warmth against the cool air of the cabin, the firelight flickering beside them, and the intimacy of his touch sending jolts of pleasure through her.

Éléanor’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her body instinctively moving with his as he kissed and touched her with growing intensity. His hands roamed lower, brushing over her stomach and down to her hips, and then, with a firm but gentle grip, he guided her legs apart. The warmth of his fingers, firm but gentle, made her hips lift involuntarily, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Without a word, he slid his hand between her legs, his fingers finding her cunt wet. 

He paused for just a second, letting the sensation sink in for both of them. “Éléanor,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his fingers brushing over her sex with a soft touch, barely parting the netherlips but enough to feel her wetness. 

Patrick’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, and a low groan rumbled from his chest as he watched Éléanor gasping and her body trembling under his touch.

He slipped two of his thick, strong fingers into her cunt, pressing them in deep and curling them just enough to find that sensitive spot within her, the one that made her back arch and her breath catch in her throat. 

Éléanor moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders, her body reacting to every movement he made. The way his fingers curled inside her and the steady pressure he applied sent wave after wave of desire through her.

Patrick watched her closely, his gaze locked on her face as he continued to finger her with that perfect rhythm, his thumb now brushing over her clit in slow, firm circles. The pleasure was instantaneous, sharp, her hips instinctively lifting to meet his hand. Éléanor moaned into his mouth, her body trembling as he played her like an instrument he knew too well.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Patrick groaned, his voice barely a whisper, full of awe and lust. His thumb pressed against her clit again, his fingers moving in rhythm with the growing tension between them. Éléanor’s body responded instantly, tightening around him, her hands gripping his shoulders tighter, nails digging into his skin as she urged him on.

 “Patrick…” she gasped, barely able to form words, her hips grinding against his hand as her body moved in sync with his. His fingers pumped inside her, slow but steady, the high building with each thrust. She felt his cock, hard and hot, pressing against her thigh as his thumb continued its relentless work on her clit, sending her closer and closer to the edge.

He could feel it too—the way her body tensed and quivered beneath him, the growing wetness that coated his fingers as he stroked her deeply, curling his fingers inside her just to hear that sweet gasp leave her lips. The sensation of her slick heat gripping him made his cock ache with need, and the way her body responded to his touch only heightened his arousal.

Éléanor’s hips bucked against his hand, her moans growing louder as she felt herself teetering on the brink. Patrick’s fingers moved faster, his thumb pressing firmly against her clit, sending her spiralling into a frenzy of pleasure. Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she clung to him, her body trembling under the overwhelming sensation.

Éléanor’s hand shot up, tangling in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss that was anything but gentle. Her lips moved urgently against his, her breath hot and uneven as she kissed him deeply, swallowing his groans of pleasure. She was so close, her body strung tight, every nerve on fire as he continued his slow, torturous rhythm.

And then he stopped.

He withdrew his fingers slightly, his thumb easing its pressure, leaving her right at the precipice but holding her there, not letting her fall. Éléanor let out a frustrated gasp, her body aching for release as she looked up at him in confusion. 

He cupped her face with his now damp fingers, his thumb brushing over her cheek as he kissed her again, softer this time, more controlled. “Not yet,” he whispered against her lips, his voice thick with desire but laced with restraint. He was holding back, savouring every moment, wanting to prolong the pleasure for as long as possible.

Éléanor’s body throbbed with need, every nerve alight with the desire for more, but as Patrick kissed her again, slower, deeper, she melted into him, letting herself get lost in the heat of the moment.

He started to move his fingers inside her again, slow and teasing.

She needed more, her hips rolling against his hand as she sought relief from the unbearable tension building inside her. But Patrick was in control now, his lips ghosting over her neck, the soft, teasing brush of his mouth making her moan with frustration and desire.

“Patrick, please…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, breathless with need.

He lifted his head, his dark, hungry eyes meeting hers. 

A smile played at the corner of his lips, and he kissed her again, this time slower, deeper, letting her feel the heat of him. His free hand traced up her side, his fingers brushing over her bare breast, teasing the sensitive skin. Éléanor gasped into his mouth as his hand cupped her breast, his thumb rolling over her nipple again, making it peak under his touch.

Her body responded to every move he made, a slow, torturous build of pleasure that had her squirming beneath him. Patrick broke the kiss, his lips moving to her jawline, trailing hot kisses down her neck and over her collarbone. He paused at her breast, his tongue flicking over her nipple before he took it into his mouth, sucking gently.

Éléanor cried out, her back arching, her body pressing closer to him as the sensation of his mouth on her breast and his fingers inside her drove her crazy. The combination of his touch, his lips, and the deliberate, slow pace was overwhelming, every nerve in her body alive and burning for him.

Patrick’s fingers curled inside her again, pressing against that spot deep within her, his thumb rubbing slow circles over her clit. Éléanor’s breath hitched, her entire body tensing as the pleasure surged through her in waves. She could feel the edge approaching again, that delicious tightness in her core building, but Patrick kept her on the brink again .

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him back up to her lips, and she kissed him with a fierce intensity, her frustration and desire pouring into the kiss. Patrick groaned into her mouth, his own need evident as he pressed his hips against her, his hard cock rubbing against her thigh, spreading precum on her skin.

“Patrick… I need you,” Éléanor murmured, her voice a breathless plea against his lips, her desperation raw and unguarded.

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his hand still working her slowly. His eyes darkened at her words, the intensity in them almost too much to bear. He kissed her again, rougher this time, before pulling his hand away, leaving her empty and aching for more.

Patrick’s fingers paused for a moment as he looked into Éléanor’s eyes, his breath hot and heavy against her skin. He pulled back slightly, the desire still strong between them, but his gaze softened, filled with a mix of hunger and care.

“I should grab a condom,” he murmured, his voice low but steady, breaking the tension just enough to pull them both back to reality, and the memory of last night flickered in his eyes.

Éléanor nodded, her chest still rising and falling quickly as she tried to catch her breath. “Yes… please,” she whispered, her body already aching for him to return, the intensity of the moment too much to wait.

Patrick reached for his wallet on the side table, his mouth curving in a small, knowing smile as he pulled out the condom, seemingly having placed it there sometime after last night, perhaps in a mix of preparation and nerves.

Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing his wrist as she spoke softly, “Let me…”

Patrick shook his head gently, his thumb grazing her knuckles as he held her gaze, his expression soft yet resolute. His eyes stayed on hers as he shook his head, his voice low and soothing. “No, it’s fine—I’ll do it. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it together if you touch my dick now.”

She watched as his fingers deftly tore open the small packet, the tearing sound loud in the quiet room. His fingers brushed her thigh as he rolled the condom over his hard cock. Her heart pounded in her chest, the sight of him making her thighs clench together in anticipation.

Patrick leaned forward again, his body pressing into hers, the warmth of his skin seeping into her. His lips found hers, slow and deliberate. His hand, rough yet gentle, slid down her side, tracing the curve of her waist before his fingers brushed over the sensitive skin between her legs.

Éléanor gasped into his mouth, her hips instinctively arching towards his touch as his fingers explored her wet sex once more. He teased her, his thumb circling her clit with agonising slowness while his fingers slipped inside her, stretching her just enough to remind her of how much she needed him. 

“You’re so perfect like this,” he whispered against her lips, his voice rough and low, sending shivers down her spine. Every inch of her body responded to him, the heat between them growing unbearable, her need for him nearly overwhelming.

Patrick could feel it, too, the way her body clenched around his fingers, her slick heat making his head spin. He groaned softly, the sound reverberating between them, as he moved his hand to guide his cock to her entrance. 

She moaned into his mouth, her body trembling with need. Patrick’s cock brushed against her again, the condom in place, and this time there was no hesitation—not like last night. His hand gripped her thigh, pulling her leg up to wrap around his waist as he slowly pushed inside her.

Éléanor’s sharp intake of breath echoed in the room as her body responded to the delicious stretch, her nails digging into his back as she pulled him closer. Patrick’s heart raced, his body trembling as he fought to maintain control, the feeling of her slick heat surrounding him inch by inch.

The sensation of him filling her, stretching her slowly, was everything she had been craving and everything she didn’t know she was craving. 

“God… you feel incredible,” he breathed, his forehead resting against hers as he pushed deeper, his cock sinking into her with slow, measured thrusts. He could feel every pulse of her body, every tremor as her walls gripped him tighter.

Her body responded instantly, arching up to meet him, desperate for more. But Patrick moved with deliberate care, easing into her slowly. Filling her inch by inch until he was fully inside her. He groaned against her neck, his breath ragged as he held himself still for a moment, letting her adjust to the feeling of him.

Éléanor’s hips rolled instinctively, urging him deeper, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “Patrick, move,” she whispered, her voice laced with need as her legs wrapped around his waist. She was losing herself in the feeling of him, the fullness, the weight, the stretch.

He started slow, his thrusts gentle but deep, each one sending ripples of pleasure through them both. Patrick could feel the way her body responded to him, the soft moans escaping her lips driving him wild. 

As his pace quickened, he kissed her again, hard and desperate. His hands roamed over her body, one cupping her breast, kneading gently, while the other slipped between them, his fingers finding her clit again.

Éléanor gasped loudly, her body trembling beneath him as he worked her with expert precision, his cock moving in sync with his fingers. Every thrust, every touch, brought her closer to the edge, and Patrick could feel her body tightening around him, her breath coming faster, her moans louder.

He couldn’t hold back anymore, the pressure inside him building as he lost himself in the moment. 

His hips moved with a deep, driving rhythm, each thrust intensifying as his fingers circled her clit with relentless precision. Éléanor’s breath hitched, her gasps quickening as her body arched beneath him, her soft cries filling the room.

“Patrick… I—I’m so close,” she whispered, her voice laced with desperate need, her body tightening around him as she felt the pressure mounting, ready to break.

Patrick groaned in response, his own control fraying as his movements became more urgent, his fingers working her with precision. He kissed her again, his lips crashing against hers as the tension in her body snapped with a particularly rough flick of his finger on her clit. 

Éléanor’s orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her body arching off the couch as her walls clenched around him. She gasped his name, her voice trembling with the intensity of her release, her fingers gripping his shoulders as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Patrick followed her, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With a final deep thrust, he groaned her name, his body shuddering as he came, the condom filling with his cum. His body collapsed against hers, both of them breathless and spent.

For a few moments, neither of them moved. The only sound in the room was their soft, shared breaths and the crackling of the fire nearby. Patrick slowly pulled out, carefully removing the condom and tossing it aside before settling back down beside her.

They lay in a comfortable silence, their bodies entwined as the room slowly settled around them. The soft, golden morning light spilt in through the windows, warming the space as they stayed close, wrapped in each other’s presence. Patrick’s fingers traced gentle, soothing patterns on her arm, and Éléanor let herself sink into the comfort of his steady heartbeat beneath her hand.

She felt like she could stay here forever, wrapped in this quiet, unhurried happiness.

[tawneybel]

Note: “Imagine how greedy Ross Humboldt gets over your body when he can tell you’re pregnant with multiples.” Contains sex pollen, too.

It was late by less than two weeks. How Mr. Humboldt knew he was a father again was beyond you. Eight days. A week and a day since he’d successfully inseminated you. Which Ross claimed would result in “a whole brood of ______-Humboldts!” 

A father again and again and… 

The lush grassland wanted to share its fecundity with its guests. Or subjects. Whatever it deemed you two. You weren’t a member of the Church of the Black Rock. Ross was. Initially, you didn’t like calling him by his first name. Who would, in your circumstances? Pretending he was still married to Natalie didn’t help. (You’d tried.) “Till death do we part” and all that. A normal union whose vows might not apply to Ross’s new marriage. 

“I haven’t even taken a test.” 

“But you are,” Ross insisted with a smile. Ignoring the ridiculousness of your statement. There were no pharmacies out here. 

Dodging his caresses wasn’t an option now. 

Not that you wanted to. There wasn’t much else to do. A bag of books to fight ennui. Some convenience store fare. Your leash was shorter than ever after the escape. Which had been too easy. Ross slept like the dead after screwing. Maybe the Tall Grass thought it tamed you. Or it liked to tease. A yawning path tempted you out of the maze. The church remained fixed even as you jumped up one, two, three, four times. Heart thumping, you made a break for it. Thankful that with everything/-one lost, your keys remained pocketed. 

Find a station. No, not a police station. A gas station. Nobody rational will believe me. Becky, Cal, Tobin, Travis. All gone. Whether from the mortal plane or just the Grass, who knows? And what plane is the Tall Grass the entry for, anyway? Fairyland, limbo, some fresh hellscape? Okay, found a station. 

After that, you were on autopilot. Waking up in the passenger seat to Ross racing back down the way you came. “Racing” was a bit strong. Just going a bit above the speed limit. Nothing a typical suburban dad wouldn’t do on the way to a beguiling destination. 

“Picked up some groceries while you were out.”

It wasn’t stated like a question. You had one or a dozen, but swallowed your queries. The Tall Grass wasn’t so isolated. Not like Ross and me and babies makes one, two, three… It shouldn’t have been able to reach out that far. Pollen, maybe. Your new family was rooted here. The idea of rhizomes reaching out miles upon miles, seeking your footfalls… Because you had been barefoot. Shoes long lost to the Grass during Ross’s wooing. You hoped the convenience store clerk didn’t notice. She either hadn’t or was too polite to say anything. Too bad there hadn’t been a drive-through.    

“Good,” Ross continued, “you’re going to need all the nutrients you can get. Need to keep your strength up. For all the fucking.” 

A giggle bolted from your mouth. The sky was darkening but you spotted a Plymouth Fury. So you were entering the Tall Grass where you’d exited. For the last time, probably. 

“And the birthing, of course. I’ll help with that.” 

“Like you did with Becky?”

It just slipped out. Ross smoothly parked your vehicle. For a wild second, you imagined plowing through the vegetation. Mowing it down. Ripping open packs of snacks, scattering, and stomping on them. Their saltiness ensuring nothing green grew there ever again as you smooshed them into the ground. 

“Now, ______,” Ross chastised, rolling down your window. Like you needed fresh air. “I’m not a certified midwife, but we’re going to have help. I want our babies to be safe and healthy just as much as you do.”

His tone made you feel childish. Throwing a temper tantrum wasn’t going to help. Your face flushed further as he poked at your panties. 

“Look, all those hormones aren’t just making you wet. They’re also giving you nesting instincts.”

“They are?” you asked, snapping your eyes away from the Grass. The blades of which sought you out like sunlight. If it wasn’t dusk, you might have noticed the large clumps of pollen wafting through the air. If it wasn’t dusk, and Ross hadn’t been massaging you through your underwear. 

You shut your eyes and inhaled. 

“Let me do the errands in the future, okay?” 

“Ross, someone might see usssss.” Your plea quickly turned into a hiss of pleasure. He’d pulled aside the soaked cotton to reveal your warm cunt. His thumb teased your slit, making you try to push yourself onto it. Mr. Humboldt’s current favorite hole of yours leaked onto his hands. 

“We got a gusher!”

Your thighs tried to rub together, but your spouse quickly withdrew his thumb before prying apart both soft limbs. 

“Uh uh. Take your skirt off.”

You nodded, obediently unbuttoning. However, the skirt was actually part of a dress with a differently patterned top and bottom. As soon as Ross caught sight of your soon-to-be swollen breasts, the last thread of his restraint unraveled. 

“Fuck, I’m so greedy for your body.”

His face burrowed into your tits, supported by a front-fastening bra. Once unlocked, they sprang free, ready to get sucked by Ross for nine months straight. And afterwards. His hands stayed on your legs. Squeezing them tighter and tighter, till you cried out. Wanting to suckle each nipple, but unsure which to start on, he nuzzled the cleft of your breasts. 

“Twins mean double the milk. And quads-!”

He groaned, unable to resist your now yielding thighs. Or your puffy nips or the fact you had an unfilled gap hot and dripping. You hadn’t been penetrated for almost half a day, which was a problem. Unless asleep, Ross knew you needed at least a couple fingers inside your warm hole. Preferably a cock, though. He needed to be stretching you out for childbirth. Make it feel almost weird not to have something inside you. 

(The fact that’s not how vaginae worked wouldn’t occur until post-nut clarity. Ross was just that psyched for you to deliver quadruplets.) 

If your nethers got too sore, he’d love to sandwich himself between plump tits. Plumpening tits.

“Ross, take me inside the grass.”

Your husband complied, leading you by the waist. The tips of your nips hardened, reaching out for the Grass’s blades. Ross matched your smile as the greenery encased you both. Looking forward to ______’s birth canal getting plugged, overflowing with cum, bearing brood after brood after brood. You were spot on about the Tall Grass’s desire to share its fecundity. About making Mr. Humboldt’s length swell only at the thought of worshiping your arable body.

Letting you go had been a fun experiment. Ross would be in charge of grocery shopping from now on, though. It didn’t need you to touch the Rock. Not yet. Not with its pollen keeping you compliant and, more importantly, aroused.

The newlyweds were enjoying their stroll to the center of the contiguous United States. You absentmindedly fingered your coochie, prepping it for more breeding, while one of Ross’s hands slid up to work a nipple. 

Yeah, you were going to enjoy maternity. 

[crazyxxpiranna]

Conjuring Fanfic Ideas?

Hello! Im new to tumblr and i would love to share my fan fic writing abilities on here please give me some great fan fic ideas for ed x Lorraine it can be sfw or nsfw please help me out !!

[inejqhafa]

three tickets to challengers

[the-marshals-wife]

Strangers Like Me (Orm Marius x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: I love Orm so, so much, and I've wanted to write for him since my major obsession with the first movie back in 2019. The sequel was everything I could have wanted for his character, and now that he's had the perfect open ending to his cinematic story, I finally let the inspiration run wild. This is the longest fic I've ever posted, and I'm proud to say he was the muse that inspired it.

Description: Orm Marius/Ocean Master x Fem!Reader (human), friends to lovers | Warnings: suggestive themes, steaminess at the end, cataclysmic levels of fluff throughout | Setting: after The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 5.8k

Gif credit: user acecroft

Imagine Orm opening up to you about who he truly is, and wanting to be part of your world

If someone had asked you a few months ago where you liked to be most, you wouldn't have said the boardwalk. Now, it'd become your favorite place in the world. Not for the noisy crowds, overpriced deep-fried foods, or vendors overflowing with cheap beachwear and souvenirs for the tourists. Those things you could have done without. That is, until you met Orm. Ever since that fateful day, everything around you had transformed into something new and exciting. Today was no different.

"I can't believe you've never had a corn dog before," you say.

Orm walks alongside you, well into his second serving. "And I can't believe something this abysmal in appearance can taste so good," he replies before taking another bite.

"Seriously, what have you been eating all this time?" you ask, wiping the mustard from the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

He swallows before answering, "Fish, mostly."

He was completely serious, as usual.

"You really love seafood, don't you?"

"Where I'm from, it's just called food," he counters.

Once again, you found yourself wanting to ask where exactly that place was. The last time you inquired yielded little insight. He gave a vague reply to the tune of "somewhere far away" and quickly changed the subject. For a while, you'd assumed he was originally European or something like that. Yet the more time went on, the more difficult it became to believe in that explanation. There must be a reason he did not want to talk about it, and you knew when he was ready, he would probably tell you. Still, you couldn't help but wonder where he had come from, and why he had not showed up sooner.

"So, what did you think of your first corn dog?" you ask instead.

"It was excellent. And I imagine it will not be my last," he says, tossing the stick into a trashcan as you walk by, "I still don't understand the name though, if it's not made of dog."

"Me either, honestly," you laugh as you toss your trash as well, "I'll have to look it up sometime."

"Speaking of, I listened to the singer you told me about."

"You did? What did you think?!" you exclaim, almost bumping into a passerby in your excitement.

"She is quite good, vocally. But I do think Ms. Parton would have more success exposing her rival publicly," he suggests.

"I know you're not talking about Jolene right now," you burst out laughing, covering your mouth.

"Indeed. This Jolene is a siren. She lures men with her wiles, and then goes unpunished because of her beauty," he explains wholeheartedly, holding his arms behind his back.

"Well that's the point of the song. Dolly is calling her out," you remind, "Plus what about her man? Shouldn't he get some of the blame? Falling for Jolene when he's already in a relationship? I mean come on, he's talking about her in his sleep. That's pretty low."

"Indeed, he misses the treasure that is right in front of him because he too has no honor," he expounds, his expression turning thoughtful, "You're right. Ultimately, they're deserving of each other."

"See! I told you," you chuckle victoriously.

Orm shakes his head, "I could not be tempted by such a woman."

"Oh, I don't know. You heard Dolly. Her beauty is 'beyond compare'."

"That is merely a facade," he dismisses, waving his hand, "Besides, I have seen far more beautiful than her."

You're about to inquire about his remark, but then you realize he's looking over at you. You can only hold his attentive gaze a moment before averting your eyes toward your feet, heart fluttering.

The previous moment still hanging heavy in the air, you walk together quietly for a minute before Orm stops in front of a beachwear vendor.

"Now that is amusing," he declares.

You backup a couple of steps to stand alongside him, "What is?"

He points to a pink tee shirt, the image of a mermaid riding on the back of a smiling dolphin printed on the front. "Dolphins are actually quite aggressive. They do not enjoy having riders on their backs. Sharks are much better mounts."

You stare at him, brow furrowed. "And how do you know that exactly?"

"I, uh, saw it on a television program," he stutters, "about taming sea life."

That was a lie if you'd ever heard one, and a strange one no less.

"Uh-huh," you reply unconvinced, walking away.

In silence, you resume your short walk to the end of the dock, Orm trailing close behind you. Once you reach the end, you lean over and rest your arms on the weathered wood railing, and he stands beside you. A few moments pass as you watch the waves crash upon the shore below and breathe in the salt air. It's not long before you feel his gaze on you once again.

He finally speaks, hesitation thick in his voice, "Something...on your mind?"

You smirk to yourself before looking over at him, "I'm just trying to figure you out."

"What do you mean?" he asks, concern visible in his bright eyes.

"I've never met anyone like you before. So much of what you say is a mystery," you remark.

"That is a fair point," he concedes, "I don't wish to vex you. There's just...so much that I don't know how to say."

You stand up straighter, smiling at him softly.

"I didn't mean it as a bad thing. Everyone has parts of themselves that they hide. Parts they don't want anyone else to see. There's nothing wrong with that," you reply, turning towards the ocean, "You don't like talking about your past, and I respect that. I just don't want you to think you have to hide. It's awful feeling like you don't belong, just for being yourself. I wouldn't want that for you."

"That is kind of you to say. Truly." He mirrors your posture on the railing, moving closer to you as a result. "You don't make me want to hide, Y/N. Quite the opposite, actually. I've learned so many things from you these past few weeks, and I have greatly enjoyed your company."

You look back to him, your heart skipping, "So have I."

His gaze softens. "I've also never met anyone like you before. You find joy and purpose in even the smallest of things. It inspires me how gracefully you view the world. And I've known no one whom I've wanted to share it with more."

Everything else around you melted away as you find yourself becoming just as lost in his eyes as you've been in his words.

Before either of you can move an inch closer, the chime of your cellphone cuts through the thick air between you.

Cursing inwardly, you shoot upright, embarrassed, and retrieve it from your pocket. It's an all-caps text from your sister with many exclamation marks, quickly followed by another. The sister you just now realized you forgot needed picked up.

"Oh no. I have to go," you say, frenzied, "My sister's waiting for me. I have to drive her home from her class, I completely forgot!"

"I understand," he nods, touching your arm assuringly, "Do you want me to accompany you back to the lot?"

"I really appreciate it, but I literally have to run. I'm so sorry, Orm," you say, turning to leave.

You make it only a few steps before you hear him call out.

"Y/N!"

Despite the urgency of your escape, you can't help but turn on your heel expectantly.

"Would you meet me tomorrow? Down on the beach, beneath the pier around sunset?"

A grin spreads across your face. "I'll be there!"

♆

It took everything in you not to grin like an idiot the entire drive to pick up your less-than-amused sister. You weren't ready for the brutal interrogation that would surely come if she saw the look you knew was on your face. After apologizing to her profusely and letting her chew you out, as was her sisterly right, her suspicions were already raised.

"You've never looked this happy for me to yell at you," she said, glaring at you.

"I'm just really enjoying my book! I started the sequel I told you about," you defended, flashing a smile even you knew was pretty fake.

"Enough to forget all about me," she rolled her eyes and punched your arm, "You're not telling me something, I know it."

"I'm dying to know if she's really the lost heir to the throne, I heard the reveal is like halfway through," you add, ignoring her last words.

"Mhm," she grumbled, "Fine don't tell me. I'll figure it out, just wait. You can't hide from me."

"The only thing I need to hide from you is my chocolate bars," you argue in a desperate attempt to throw her off the subject.

"I'll find those too," she snickered confidently.

You laughed it off and went back to biting down hard on your lip. It was the only thing you could do not to spill everything to her as she continued to give you the side-eye. Your body was at the steering wheel, but your mind, and your heart, were back on that boardwalk. The final glare she gave you in her driveway was unmissable, but for now, you'd evaded being found out as you made a getaway back to your own apartment.

That night you'd hardly slept, the moment at the end of the dock replaying in your mind over and over well into the morning. Work only made it worse, the monotony making the perfect backdrop to picture what the coming evening would bring. When your shift ended, you couldn't get out of there fast enough to go home and change.

Now, with sunset fast approaching, you were circling the parking lot trying to find a space, and close to bribing someone to move, when a spot finally opened up.

"Someone loves me," you exhale, hurriedly locking your car as you throw your bag over your shoulder.

The words linger in your thoughts. You can't help but blush at the notion, given your current destination, and who was waiting there.

In some ways it seemed like a lifetime since you met Orm, and in others it felt like only yesterday. The memory of that fateful day comes to the front of your thoughts as you start the long trek to the path that cuts through the dunes.

Unlike your fib from last night, you'd actually been desperate to finish the book your coworker had been pestering you about all summer. With only four chapters left, you'd escaped to the boardwalk one sunny Tuesday afternoon, hoping to find a bench, a fresh lemonade, and far less crowds than the weekend so that you could finally finish in peace.

Just as you'd sucked up the last drop of your drink and reached the last handful of pages, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. On a bench across the way from you, you saw a man trying to untangle the most knotted pair of earbuds you'd ever seen in your life. You watched him from behind the top of your book, and suppressed a giggle as he became more animated in frustration. He ran a hand through his blond hair and seemed near to giving up on the whole endeavor. Unable to watch him struggle any longer, you tucked your book beneath your arm, tossed your empty cup in the trash, and started to walk over.

"He did this on purpose," he muttered as you approached.

"I can take a crack at them, if you'd like."

In his fierce concentration, he hadn't noticed you approach. He jumped a bit at your greeting, and squinted up at you, confused.

"Hi. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Would you like some help with those?" you smiled hesitantly, "I just, I couldn't help but notice you were having a hard time with them."

"Well, you are welcome to try," he invited with a sigh, extending them to you, "Although I have seen seaweed less entangled than this."

You took them and sat down beside him, analyzing the knots.

"Earbuds are pretty notorious for getting tangled," you began, pausing to focus a moment, "These, however, look like a sailor used them to practice tying his knots."

"Courtesy of my brother," he said with no small amount of exasperation, "He delights in making things difficult for me."

"As brothers are wont to do."

"Indeed," he conceded.

Untying your own numerous pairs of earbuds over the years had more than prepared you for this moment. You'd made quick work of separating the right and left buds, down to the last few kinks in each.

"You're quite skilled at this," he observed.

"I should probably put it on my resume, huh?" you chuckled as you conquered the final knot.

"I think you might consider it," he laughed as well.

At last, all the tangles were gone.

"There you go," you declared, handing them back, "Good as new."

"Impressive," he remarked, marveling at your handiwork before looking back at you, "Thank you for your assistance."

"You're welcome," you smiled and pointed to the iPod in his lap, "What do you like to listen to, if you don't mind me asking?"

He hesitated, picking it up, "I'm...not actually sure how this device works. Are you familiar with the technology?"

"An iPod?" you laugh, "Yeah, I had one in high school. It's been a while and it wasn't this exact model, but they're all pretty much the same. MP3 players, that is. I had so many songs on mine, I couldn't add any more. Never went anywhere without it. I had to tape it together in senior year because I used it so much."

"Perhaps you could show me how to properly operate it?" he posed, turning towards you more, "My brother sent it to me. He said it contains music inside that I must hear, but I'm at a loss on knowing how to make it play."

You gazed at him bewildered a moment, caught off guard. Never had you met anyone who didn't know how to work an iPod before. But then again, you reminded yourself, not everyone had a chance to own one.

"Sure," you grinned, "I can show you. There's not too much to it, really, once you know the basics."

"Thank you," he replied sincerely, "It's not often that I've met a lady with such kindness, and lightness of fingers."

Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks at his gracious works, and suddenly it was difficult to hold the gaze of his rich blue eyes.

"It's no problem at all," you replied, offering your hand, "I'm Y/N, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Orm Marius, and the pleasure is mine."

Before you could blink, he'd taken your hand, and instead of shaking it, he kissed your knuckles. If he had lingered, perhaps it would have alarmed you. But he did it so quickly, it was like it was second-nature to him. Practiced or not, your head spun nonetheless, and launching into an urgent, flustered spiel about how to power on the iPod was all you could do to keep yourself held together.

You spent the next half an hour showing him everything from the buttons to the way to change the background image on the menus. Before long, you were talking about all of your favorite songs and artists, simultaneously making lists for each that he would have to listen to. Orm listened eagerly to your recommendations, and soon the conversation turned to any and every subject, from foods to places to dreams. You still remember the feeling of the rest of the world fading away as you talked to him, afternoon turning to evening. And the thrill you felt when he asked if he could see you again.

In the almost four months since, every meeting followed much in the same manner as that first day, with introducing Orm to the many things he'd never experienced before, and hours of conversation on the pier or walking along the beach. You'd stolen away to this area as many times as possible to see him, well over a dozen now. Of course your sister was more suspicious than ever after yesterday, but you still weren't ready to reveal where you'd been spending so many evenings, and who you'd spent them with. There was something exhilarating about you and Orm meeting secretly, and you wanted that feeling to last as long as possible.

He had such wonder about the world, like someone who'd not been in it very long. It was one of his oddest qualities, but his curiosity was endearing to you. Despite knowing so little about his past, you'd come to trust him like few others in your life. Whoever he'd been before, and wherever he was from, it seemed he had no intention on going back. If you were honest with yourself, you didn't want him to. There were so many places you wanted to take him further inland, yet he was still hesitant to go far from from the ocean. You'd never gone beyond a couple of blocks from the boardwalk together, but tonight, with the energy of yesterday's encounter fresh in your mind, you'd planned to breech the topic with him.

Now, the sun is sinking lower in the pale orange sky and your pulse quickens with the threat of being late. With all your reminiscing and daydreaming, you'd lost track of the time. You nearly run across the wooden walkway over the dunes and down the broad stairs. As soon as your feet hit the sand, you remove your sandals. Grasping them in one hand and the strap of your bookbag in the other, you take off into the best sprint you can manage. The pier is still a good distance up the beach, and you want to curse out whoever built the access so far away. You run at an angle towards the water, the wetter ground giving you better traction than the loose sand.

Just within the shadow of the great structure, you finally see Orm up ahead, his back turned. Out of breath, you slow your pace and try to catch some of it back before you reach him. Once he's within ear shot you call out to him.

"I'm sorry I left in such a hurry yesterday," you pant.

He spins on his heel. Relief is written all over his face.

"You came. I was afraid you might not," he sighs, walking up to meet you.

"Of course," you exhale, dropping your shoes and brushing away the hair clinging to your forehead, "Why wouldn't I?"

His expression indicates he had not thought of an answer to that question.

"I don't know," he hesitates, "I didn't mean anything by that. I mean, I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't. I did ask you at the last minute."

You can't help but chuckle as he stumbles regretfully all over his words.

"I brought you something," you declare to change the subject, much to his gratitude.

"A gift? For me?"

You can tell by his tone that he is actually baffled. Reaching into your satchel, you retrieve the item. In your outstretched palm, you hold a small snow globe, a miniature skyline of New York City contained inside.

His confused expression leads you to elaborate. "It's called a snow globe," you say, turning it upside down so that the little flakes inside swirl around, "You told me once that you never get to see snow where you're from. Now you can see it whenever you want."

He tentatively takes it, entranced by the miniature flurry.

"That's where I'm from. Well, I grew up there. We moved here when I was sixteen," you add, chuckling, "It's a little bit nicer in person."

Orm looks up at you, visibly touched by the gesture, "It's wonderful. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you smile, "I, hope that I can show you the real thing some day."

"I would like that," he replies with the smallest hint of sadness, pausing to behold it again, "I will treasure this always."

You'd never met anyone who talked like he did. Everything word he spoke was with full conviction. Others might sound pompous or conceited speaking the way he does, but when he said something, you believed he truly meant it.

"I'm glad you like it," you say, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I do, very much," he says, frowning a bit, "I'm only sorry that I have nothing to give you in return."

"That's alright," you dismiss.

"Will you keep it safe for me while we are by the water? I regret that I have no pockets large enough to carry it."

"Absolutely," you say, putting it securely back inside your bag, "I know that feeling all too well."

When you finish with the zipper and lift your head up, you see Orm offering his arm to you. Surprised, and twice as excited, you take it.

As you cross beneath the pier and set off down the beach together, you suppress the urge to glance up at him. You agonize over what to say next, hoping he would speak first. When he did, it only made your heart beat faster.

"Actually, when I said I had nothing to give you, that was not entirely true," he said, clearing his throat before going on, "As much as I enjoy your educating me in foods and traditions I've never tried, I was hoping this evening we might enjoy a treat of a different kind."

Just up ahead, something on the shore comes into view. Your mind races in anticipation, and moments later, you come upon a blue blanket spread out neatly across the sand. A single white rose lies in the middle.

"Oh Orm," you breathe.

"It's not much, but I thought you would like to watch the sunset with at least some level of comfort," he says, a veil of nervousness in his voice.

"It's perfect," you exclaim.

He releases your arm and picks up the rose, presenting it to you.

"For you."

You feel nearly breathless once more as you take the flower and inhale its sweet fragrance.

"It's beautiful," you sigh, "Thank you."

He smiles timidly at your approval. "Shall we?"

"This is amazing," you say, removing your bag and carefully sitting down on the soft blanket.

He follows suit, and you gently place the rose in your lap as he comes to rest close beside you. The glow of the setting sun warms your skin, but it's nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

You'd never seen him act like this before. He was normally so calm and collected, but now he was almost pure nerves. You work up the courage to glance over at him. He's staring hard ahead, clenching his jaw and rolling a seashell between his fingers. It's slowly becoming clear that you're not the only one who wanted to say something this evening. Normally, you found the rolling of the waves to be one of most soothing sounds in the world. But at this moment, they were far too loud.

You decide you have to break the excruciating silence.

"I've only watched a true beach sunset alone before."

Your voice brings him out from his trance. "I've also been by myself. I'm glad I have someone to share the splendor with."

"Me too."

He smiles weakly, and fixes his stare back on the horizon.

To your disappointment, the silence returns. Before long, everything is bathed in golden light. The sky transforms into rich oranges and reds before your eyes. The beach is surprisingly deserted apart from the seagulls and sand pipers, making it seem all the more that this moment was tailor-made just for the two of you.

Just when you're about to speak again, Orm at last turns towards you.

"I wish I could show you my world, Y/N. It is a realm of beauty, and strength, and light. You belong in such a place."

You feel your cheeks flush as he continues.

"Where I'm from, you can't see the stars at night. But there is a place with magnificent, glowing lights. A cave, filled with luminescence of every color you can imagine. You would absolutely love it."

"That sounds magical." You hang on his every word as you try to picture it.

"My mother used to take me there when I was a boy. I remember my whole hand disappearing inside hers." He smiled at the memory, but it faded as he spoke once more, "We used to go there seeking solace from my father."

Frowning, he throws the seashell towards the water. The sun begins to dissolve into the ocean, but neither of you take notice.

"Did you not get along?" you ask, hoping it was not too personal to do so.

His gaze falls downward again. "That's one way of putting it. Growing up in his shadow was- challenging. He was severe about many things, and against all of the rest. He expected me to become just like him. Demanded it, more like. Yet he was never up to the task of teaching me how. I wanted nothing more than to please him, but as I look back on it now, I'm not sure that I ever did. I was never worthy enough to be his son."

His words make your chest ache. You reach to gently touch his hand on the blanket.

"You are not an unworthy son," you assert, your feelings coming to the surface, "He was an unworthy father. I don't need to have met him to know that. Because I know you, and you are a good man. The most thoughtful, polite, decent man I've ever met."

He stares at you, emotion all over his face. A wistful look shines in his eyes.

"If only I had known you then," he reflects, "Perhaps I would not have gotten so lost in the tides of his storm."

"I wish I had known you too," you agree, more shyly than you'd expected, "But wouldn't have needed me. You already survived it, all on your own. You're stronger than he ever was."

His expression steels.

"Y/N, there is something I must tell you," he says, his tone turning grave, "It will not be easy for you to hear it, but I can't go on without you knowing what I am. I cannot hide it any longer. You deserve to know the truth."

Your heart starts to race quicker than your thoughts at his startling declaration. "What do you mean?"

Without warning, he casts off his jacket and stands up.

"Orm, what are you talking about?"

"Perhaps, it would be better if I showed you," he says, reaching out his hand to you, "I want you to understand. No more secrets."

For just a moment, you look up into his pleading eyes. Then, as if it had even been a choice, you carefully set the rose aside and take his hand. He helps you to your feet and leads you down past the water's edge. The cool water on your feet sends a shiver up your spine. The foam is lapping at your ankles when he stops just in front of you.

"You see that marker?" he points ahead.

The breeze whips your hair into your sight as you fight to push it away. You have to squint to see the outline of the buoy, the red light on top twinkling faintly in the twilight.

"Yes," you hesitate.

"Keep your eye on it," he directs calmly.

With that one instruction, he retreats further into the water, stopping until it is well above his waist. You cross your arms against the chill of sea spray and wait worriedly. He looks up and down the beach, as if to make sure no one is watching. You are still alone. Before you can call out to him, he dives headlong into the waves.

What follows you can only describe as a thunder beneath the water. It looks as if a missile has been launched from where Orm stood, careening toward the marker. Mere seconds later, a blast like a whale spout shoots above the horizon, and the buoy rocks violently as it is landed upon by the figure that flew up out of the sea.

A gasp escapes from your agape mouth as you witness the silhouette wave at you, and proceed to dive back into the blue.

Three pounding heartbeats later, Orm immerges from the surf and walks toward you, slicking back his dripping hair. His tee shirt clings to his muscular form, and his soaked jeans don't seem to encumber him at all. You're frozen in the sand, staring at him with only one word on your parted lips.

"How..."

"There's no simple way to say it, but you must know. I am from the Kingdom of Atlantis," he confesses, struggling to hold your stare, "I am Prince Orm Marius, son of Queen Atlanna. Although I was once ruler, I made many mistakes during my time on the throne for which I was banished. My penance is served by my exile here on the surface. I deserve my fate, and I gladly uphold it, but it is not something I wanted to keep from you any longer. I'm sorry that I was not honest with you sooner, but I didn't think that I could trust any surface-dweller with my secret. I was...proven wrong."

"You're a real Atlantean?" you manage to get out.

"I am," he nods, apprehension still in his voice, "I was raised to hate the surface and its inhabitants, but much has changed. You, Y/N, have had no small part in that."

Despite your reeling head, it's slowly becoming clear what Orm is saying by this grand unveiling of his true identity. As you struggle to process it, however, your silence compels him to go on.

"If all of this is too much, I understand. It is my burden to bear, and you did not ask to be part of it."

"I-It's not that," you stammer as the shock starts to wear off. You step closer to him. "Not at all. It's just a lot to take in. I need a minute, that's all. I promise."

Hope lights up his eyes.

"Absolutely," he agrees eagerly, "I apologize, I know this reveal was sudden. Please ask any questions that you have. I will withhold nothing from you."

As you finally begin look at him instead of through him, only one question lodged in your throat.

"Why?" you ask through threatening tears, "Why did you tell me all this?"

You knew why, because it was the same reason you wanted to tell him all of your own secrets. The same reason you came back to this beach over and over. The same reason your heart skipped every time you saw his handsome face, and heard him speak your name. You just wanted to hear him say it. For any of this to work, you needed to hear it.

His anxious gaze softens as he weighs his answer.

"I meant every word of what I told you yesterday. When I'm with you, I see a future that I never thought I would deserve. You make me feel like I can be more than I've ever been. And for the first time in my life, I have felt true happiness," he says, finding the words along with his conviction, "I never thought I would belong anywhere but Atlantis, but now, I want to know more about this world and its many gifts. And most of all, I want you to be by my side to show it to me."

"I want that too," you respond, tears threatening.

He gently takes your hand in his. "Even after all that I've done, part of me hoped that I might find some kind of redemption here on the surface. I wasn't sure how, and then I met you," he says tearfully, searching your eyes, "Y/N, you gave me that hope. Your goodness, your charity, your beauty. This realm has much to offer, more than I ever dreamed, but you are what I love most about the surface. From that very first day we spoke, I knew that you were what I was meant to find here."

Your vision blurs as he reaches to gently stroke your cheek.

"All of that to say...I've fallen in love with you, Y/N."

A sob escapes your throat as you look into his eyes and see it.

"I fell for you too. From the first day," you nod, finding your own confidence, "Being Atlantean doesn't change that. I don't care about who you've been or what you've done. I want to be with you. I love you too, Orm."

His composure crumbles along with yours as you embrace. The distance between you vanishes as your lips meet in a desperate kiss. You rest your hands on his chest and melt into his touch. He sighs and deepens the kiss, pulling you close against him. You feel the coolness of this still-dripping clothes soak through to your skin as you become lost in the taste of salt and longing. When you're forced to come up for air, you're both beaming.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he smiles, caressing your face.

"Me too," you giggle, lacing your arms around his neck, "What did you think of your first surface-dweller kiss?"

"Not too bad. I think I'll have to try it again before I decide if I really like it," he smirks.

"Well, if you get me out of this frigid water, I'll see what I can do about that," you tease back.

"Now that I can do," he announces.

You shriek in surprise as he swiftly lifts you from the water and into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all. He chuckles in amusement and carries you bridal style back toward the shore.

"Orm!" you protest, in an obviously half-hearted fashion.

"I have to admit, concealing my Atlantean strength has been considerably more difficult than I anticipated," he reveals, wincing a bit, "I intended to bring a bottle of wine tonight as well, but- the glass here is far weaker than what I'm accustomed to."

You laugh. "Well, it's the thought that counts."

"I'm glad you think so. Because I thought since I'm responsible for us missing the best part of the sunset, that perhaps we could lie under the stars instead?" he suggests, setting you down gently on your feet upon the blanket.

"I would love to," you say, looking up at him, "But aren't you freezing in those clothes?"

"I'm used to it," he shrugs, "I don't think I feel the cold the same as you."

"In that case," you say, pulling him closer into a tender kiss, "What do you think about that?"

He grins.

"It was perfect, and I'm certain it will not be my last."

You no longer feel the chill as you cling to him, and he rests his forehead to yours. It didn't matter where the tides of life would take you next. As long as Orm was there to hold you in the waves, you would always be in your favorite place.

[missingdadneto]

Surfing Session gone wrong

Dad! Orm Marius x Fem Reader x Daughter

[ A/N: I am dying because of the limited Orm fanfics there are, so I decided I wanted to write onee, This is all for fun so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes.]

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-wordcount: 1196

After Orm was erased from Atlantis, he no longer lived in the waters, he is now one with the land. The home of the Surface Dwellers, and soon enough it became a land weather he fell in love with Arthurs's best friend, Y/N, a Meta-Human who could adapt to any living circumstances, making her able to breathe in the Waters. She was a part of the Justice League but she rather lives her day-to-day life in her cottage beside the sea, close to Arthur’s house. Orm would spend time with Y/N as much as he could, they would talk for hours, about how Y/N’s interest in the sea rises, as well as how Orm’s interest towards the surface land also rises. 

Soon enough Orm and Y/N were together, and a year later they got married and had their daughter Pearl. She inherits her Dad’s blonde hair, with her vision colors resemble her mother's green hue. Junior on the other hand was Mera and Arthur’s son, he had curly red hair and tan skin. 

Pearl and Junior were as close as ever, their cousin relationship felt as if they were siblings because of the 2 year difference. As soon as they reached their teenage years they would meet up every Saturday morning to go surfing in their Ocean backyard. 

Orm was cooking breakfast as Y/N was reading on the sofa, Pearl came down the stairs and ran to grab her surfing board. She makes a quick stop to hug her Mother as well as to her Father. Orm hugged her back as he kissed his daughter’s head. 

“Be safe, and don’t forget to always watch out for whoever's in the Waters,” Orm warned his daughter every time, every week, and every second she was going in the Ocean. Despite her being half Atlantean. “There are people always hunting for us and if they do-”

“I Know Dad! Besides I’ll always be with Junior so I won’t be alone” Pearl laughed as she went away from the hug. She smiled at her Mother as she opened the back door. “See you guys!”

“Bye Pearl” Both Orm and Y/N smiled as their daughter went to the Waters. 

Pearl ran to Junior as he was already setting up in their usual meet-up spot, they lived quite near to each other as the beach they lived in connects, resulting in them meeting right in the middle.  “Hey, Pearl! I bought this new surfboard and it’s rad I would say” Junior showed off his board to Pearl as she looked somewhat amused. 

“That’s cool Alright, now come on! Let’s go!” She motioned her board towards the bog waves hitting the fine Morning, the sun rises higher and higher as their skins are getting tanner each weekend. 

They surfed as usual, with Junior always making it a competition on who gets the higher waves. Strangely enough, Pearl stopped as she sat on her board to see the corals beneath them. “Junior come look! The corals are more colorful than before…” Pearl spoke as Junior sat on his surfing board as well while looking below. “Hm, that’s weird, yesterday none of them had any colors” Junior confessed as Pearl looked back to him with her eyes rising out of her betrayal state. 

“YOU WENT SURFING YESTERDAY? AND I DIDN’T KNOW!?” She exclaimed with Junior laughing and defending himself, “See in my defense you were not home, YOU WERE OUT!”. Pearl stopped what she was about to say as she looked at the waters once more “Wait look Junior, the water is turning purple”. The color scattered slowly as Arthur and Orm were just about to greet their kids. “HEY PEARL!” Arthur shouted to the two teenagers as Orm followed, “Hi Junior, you guys okay?”

“Hi, Uncle Arthur!” Pearl shouted with Junior following “Hey Uncle Orm!”. “The corals are more colorful but the water is getting purple and it just looks-” Pearl stopped her sentence as he dad shouted to Junior and her. 

“GET OUT NOW!” Orm commanded as he looked at Arthur with a stunned face, Junior and Pearl were confused but they paddled as fast as they could before the purple waters reached their touches. Orm and Arthur swam as fast as they could to grab the surfboards of their child as they pulled them to the shore. 

As soon as they reached the shore Arthur and Orm reached for their child full of worry, Orm hugged Pearl quickly as he looked at her hands and feet that touched the waters. The two Fathers checked for any signs of infection in Junior and Pearl’s skin as Junior cut off the awkward state that they were in. “Uh guys, is everything alright?”

Arthur hugged Junior as tightly as he could and Orm’s arm half hugged Pearl, a relief stance of a Father for their child. “Chemicals have been reaching close to our waters, but we didn’t know that it would be this fast, and thank the Gods it didn’t reach any of you, Atlanteans touching such waters could leave a more damaging stance than humans. Orm sighed as he looked at his daughter as well as Junior beside her. 

“What, who would drop these chemicals?” Junior looked at his Father, Arthur breathed as he shook his head. “We’re going to find out…but let's just go home first and we’ll meet together at lunch okay?” The family agreed as they went back home. 

Orm helped Pearl with her surfboard as he looked at her when they reached home, “Those chemicals….” Orm stopped as Pearl waited for her father's confession “Those chemicals were the same consistency that killed Atlantean children years ago, I just can’t lose you two, I can’t lose you” Y/N opened the door as she heard Orm’s sentence, she looked at Pearl as she also checked any signs of infection in a quick pace. 

“Mom, please! Dad already checked me” Y/N is afraid to lose her only daughter as she looks at Orm. “Oh God, I know you’re fine but I’m just double checking…it’s so close to us we need to be alert sweetie.” 

Pearl shook her head as she washed her foot that was full of sand, “I’ll get ready for lunch, It’s just still a shock” Orm nodded as he smiled slightly, after Pearl went up to her room, Orm and Y/N looked at each other in the backyard, looking at the sea. 

“Have Arthur called for help from Atlantean soldiers to clean the chemical corals?” She looked towards the sea as small waves were being created, somewhat like a small tornado in the waters being summoned by Atlanteans. “I seem like it hun, I was just-” Orm stopped as Y/N’s hand reached Orm’s cheek, “It was this closer to Pearl and Junior, if they have touched the waters they-”

“Shh I know, but Thank God they’re safe now” She smiled as she looked at the waves once more. Orm then leaned to kiss Y/N’s cheek as he went inside to get ready for lunch at Arthur’s house as well. This is going to be a heavy topic for lunch.

[frost-queen]

Secrets of the well (Reader x Ed Warren)

Requested by: @slowlyghostlydream, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine

Summary: You and Ed have been married for a while now & take on a case about a young boy. (ps. I didn't do a full on case as that would require me to like write sooo many pages haha)

The suitcase clicked shut as you took a deep breath. A pair of hands moving up your arm to your shoulders. It made you inhale deeply, leaning your head back. A presence neared as the touch of lips in your neck, tickled you. You slowly turned around, facing your husband Ed. – “What is the matter love?” – he asked wrapping his arms around you. As a reaction you shrugged a shoulder. – “I’m not sure.” – you responded.

Ed grabbed you by the chin, titling it up so that you were forced to look at him. – “Tell me.” – he insisted upon, knowing very well what kind of life he was leading with you. You took another deep breath, something uncertain reflecting in your eyes. – “It is just… a feeling…” – you said cautiously. – “A feeling?” – Ed repeated with half a smile. Rolling with your eyes, you moved away from him. – “No, no wait honey!” – he called out, grabbing for your hand to pull you back. He had it, moving you back in front of him.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” – he said tugging some hair behind your ear. He brought your hand up, looking teasingly at you whilst leaving a kiss there. – “Please… tell me.” – he stared yearningly at you, hoping he hadn’t been too much of an ass just now. You sighed hard, chest falling with the intensity of your breath. – “It is just a feeling I can’t shake off.” – you told him nervously.

Ed smiled sympathetically at you. – “Maybe I should go alone?” – he said not wanting to put you in any danger. – “God no!” – you cursed with a glare. – “We are in this together Ed. It is you and me or nothing at all.” – you reminded him with a firm poke in his chest. Ed laughed loud. – “You and me darling.” – he smiled before kissing your cheek. He reached around you for the suitcase, taking it with him from the bed. You took a deep breath, staring at the window for a moment.

Letting your hand rub over your neck, you stared yourself lost at the glass. Caught up with your own thoughts as they whispered loudly in the back of your mind. – “Y/n!” – hearing your name made you snap out of it. Turning your head, you saw Ed stand in the doorway. – “Are you coming love?” – he questioned. You nodded, taking your coat from the table, and heading down with him. Ed was carrying the heavy suitcase up to the car.

Opening the trunk to stash it there. You stepped onto the driveway up to the car. Ed greeted a neighbor before closing the trunk. You moved your hand to your neck, feeling the cross necklace underneath it. You took it between your fingers, rubbing it softly. You then walked over to Ed who held the car door open for you. He started the car, driving off.

You were looking outside of the window. Following the passing of the car as Ed drove past the town’s sign. Suddenly the music on the radio stopped, only static coming through. – “Stupid radio.” – Ed called out, turning on the knob to switch between stations. You stood with wide eyes, staring at the radio as out of each station kept coming static. Ed didn’t seem to be bothered with it. – “Ah!” – he said finally finding a station that played music again.

As quickly as it came, it was gone. You looked at your husband who was tapping his fingers on the wheel on the rhythm of the song. For some reason it didn’t bother him. To you it felt like a bad omen. As much of a bad omen as the feeling snuggling deep inside of you. You must have fallen asleep cause the next thing you remember is Ed nudging you awake. – “We are here darling.” – he whispered as you slowly sat yourself better. Looking outside you saw the light outside had darkened.

Changing into a vibrant orange as the sun was setting. Ed and you got out of the car, eyes focused on the house seemingly in the middle of nowhere. No neighboring houses nearby. The door opened as a lady got in sight. Ed and you walked up to greet her. – “You must be Ms. Field.” – Ed spoke, shaking her hand. – “And you Ed and Y/n Warren?” – she responded, shaking your hand. – “We are.” – you answered. Ms. Field led you inside.

You admired her interior. Not too fancy, not too simple. Just ordinary. She guided you towards the living room where you saw Mr. Field and their two children. – “Honey, these are Ed and Y/n Warren.” – She said as her husband got up. – “Nice to meet you.” – Ed said, shaking hands with him. You smiled, suddenly drawn downwards. The youngest of the children, a boy clutched onto his father’s leg. You tilted your head a bit to the side with a warm smile. – “Hello.” – you said. The child tilted his head equally to the side, staring right back at you.

His eyes widened briefly with mischief. He brought a finger to his lips, quietly shushing you. It made you swallow nervously. The young boy curling up a smile. You diverted your gaze to the father and the daughter. You noticed how afar she stood from her father and the little boy. Her hands folded neatly in front of her. Gaze locked onto your husband. Ms. Field offered for you to sit. Ed and you sat down. Ed jumped back up, taking out a toy from underneath him. – “Sorry.” – Mr. Field said taking the toy train from him. – “No problem at all.” – Ed responded, checking behind him to be certain there weren’t any more toys up to surprise him.

Mr. Field ordered the children to go play upstairs to leave the grown-ups to do the talking. You kept a watchful eye on the youngest boy. Something seemed off about him. He looked over his shoulder to you with the coldest glare you had anyone ever seen you give. His chin tilted down with a cold stare.

It made you shudder. If it wasn’t for Ed taking your hand, you might have trembled to the bone. You and him shared a glance. You alright? He mouthed. You nodded reassuringly, holding his hand tighter. As usual Ed began with a set of questions. He needed information to know what kind of problem he was looking upon. Poltergeist? Lost spirits? Demons? He needed to know for sure to know what kind of approach he should take on.

Your gaze went upwards to the ceiling, knowing the children were playing upstairs. Ed and you jumped out of the sofa when the girl came running downstairs with screams. Mr. and Ms. Field getting up as well. The girl stormed into the room, holding her wrist. – “Mariana what happened?” – the father asked. – “Michael bit me!” – she cried out, showing her finger to her father. Ed and you approached. Ed’s eyes widened at the clear bitemarks around her finger. – “Michael!” – Ms. Field called out angry.

You looked up to the staircase, seeing Michael sit by the railing in clear darkness. No light falling onto that spot. He smiled, yet not with a smile of his own. His shoulders shuddering with laughter. If you focused it was almost as if you could hear an older voice laugh. It was there and then that your suspicions around the boy became clear. He was the cause. Ed helped aid Mariana’s finger with care.

Ed and you went to your hotel nearby. Ed sat by the small table, looking through some notes. – “Ed honey…” – you said worryingly. – “It’s the kid.” – he answered to your surprise. It made you widen your eyes that he was spot on without even hearing your words. He turned round in his chair to you. He took a deep breath. – “I could tell by your reactions something was off. It wasn’t till the bite, that I pinned two and two together.” – he said, getting up to join you on the bed. – “Ed darling, I think we aren’t talking about some silly hauntings anymore.” – you spoke with concern.

He nodded, brushing his thumb against your cheek. –“I know…I believe we are at demonic possessions.” – he sighed out, wishing it hadn’t been true. You took his hand, rubbing your fingers smoothly over his skin. Ed and you crawled into bed, giving each other a goodnight kiss. You turned to the side as Ed wrapped his arms around you. Snuggling very close to you. – “Good night darling.” – he mumbled falling half asleep.

“Good night…” – you whispered, staring right in front of you. The darkness in the hotel room gave you an eerie feeling. As if you were to expect something. Aware of your own heart beating loudly in your ear. Taking your cross necklace in your hand, you finally closed your eyes.

Somewhere in the night, you were tossing and turning your head on your pillow. Laying on your back. Ed’s arms nowhere around you. A sense of frightens crawling up to you. Starting from the toes up till your shoulders. Like long fingers it stretched over your body with the slightest of tingle. Your hand plopped to the side. Brows furrowing together in your sleep as you felt something wet. It was sticky as it wettened the back of your hand. It made you widen your eyes. Sitting up straight, you brought your hand up to your eyes.

Yet it was too dark to distinguish what it was. Bringing your hand even closer to you, you took a sniff. Eyes widening at the familiar smell of blood. In a panic, you tossed over, fidgeting to turn on the nightlamp. In a second lighted the hotel room up. The wetness on your hand suddenly clear. The red stain staring luringly back at you. It was dark and seemed fresh. Furrowing your brows once more, you felt a wetness by your side. Staining your nightgown. You looked to the side; a scream caught in your throat. It trapped itself deep down your throat. Blooded hand moved trembling to your mouth upon the horrors.

Eyes were widened so far it hurt your eye muscles. You wanted to scream, cry, vomit at the sight. Ed. Your dear Ed, laying lifeless beside you. His throat slit, laying in a pool of his own blood. Body shuddered as a scream found it’s way out. A cry in pure agony. You grabbed Ed’s shoulders, pulling at him. – “Ed!” – you cried out in a panic. – “No…no please… don’t leave me! I need you Ed!” – you screamed, tears streaming down your face.

His eyes flashed open. Pure as white making you jump back. Eyes snapped open, making you look to the side. A sigh of relief hitting you as you saw your husband breathing peacefully with his face towards you. It was but a dream…no not a dream, a nightmare. You shot up, needing a moment to process the dream that felt so vivid. You screamed again, seeing the little boy stand in your hotel room, surrounded by darkness. His white teeth reflecting through the darkness.

Eyes widening, you shot awake with a loud gasp. Having risen from your sleeping position. Ed shot awake as well. – “Y/n! what’s wrong?” – he immediately stood in defense mode, looking around. You were panting. Sweat dripping down your back and neck. You looked at Ed, bursting in tears. He wrapped his arms around you, cherishing you. – “It is alright… whatever you saw it is gone…” – he told you, tightening his grip around you.

You kept crying, pinching Ed in his cheek. – “Au.” – he called out humorously. – “What was that for?” – he asked. – “To be certain you are real.” – you responded. – “I am real.” – he said seeing how scared you were. You laid your head against his chest, snuggling up to him. How was this possible? You thought for sure you had already woken up… twice. Could it be? A dream within a dream?

The next morning you were wary to go back inside the house and be confronted with the child. There was no doubt it somehow tried to scare you. You staid close to your husband while he swept the house with his device. You followed him around like a stray pup rewarded with treats. Ed and you were in Michael’s bedroom. Ed knelt down by the bed as he let his device sweep over the matrass. – “Are you searching for ghosts?” – you turned your head seeing Mariana stand in the doorway. Ed turned to look worriedly up to you. – “I know what you are.” – she said staying in the doorway.

“Can…can you rid my brother of this evil?” – she asked fumbling with her hands. Ed and you looked at each other as he slowly rose. – “That… that isn’t my brother anymore. He’s different. I can feel it. He’s scary…” – Mariana confessed. – “He should’ve never…” – her lip started to tremble. – “I told him to leave it… but he wouldn’t listen…” – she cried out desperately. – “What? What did you tell him Mariana?” – Ed asked curiously. – “The token.” – she whimpered out.

You rushed over to her, calming her. You looked worriedly over at Ed. Ed nodded agreeing with you. – “Tell me about this token Mariana.” – you asked brushing her hair back. Mariana shuddered with tears. – “It was… round… hay woven around it as it stuck out at several points… like a star.”- she explained. – “It…it had some hairs woven between the hay… hair with red tips…” – she continued.

Ed looked frantically at you. – “Where did you find this?” – he asked. Mariana moved a trembling finger at the window. Making Ed and you look. – “The well.” – she said shaking. – “Show us.” – Ed demanded gently. You helped Mariana up to her feet. The three of you went downstairs to the front door. Mariana guided you around the house, far onto the property. By an old willow tree stood indeed a stone well. The leaves of the willow rustling carelessly in the absence of wind. Mariana came to a sudden halt, not wanting to come any closer.

Ed approached the well as you staid by Mariana’s side. – “Y/n, come!” – he called out. You let go of Mariana, giving her an encouraging nod before joining your husband. – “It’s boarded up.” – he told you. The pit of the well was indeed boarded up with wooden planks. –“Father did it!” – Mariana called out. – “After Michael had fallen in.” – Ed hummed loud. – “How could anyone have fallen in?” – you whispered to him. – “Unless something lured him in?” – Ed added thoughtfully. – “We have to open this up.” – he said as you put a stop to him.

“Are you certain? Perhaps things are best left untouched. We do not want to open Pandora’s box.” – you responded with concern. Ed placed a warm hand on yours that laid on his arm. – “Darling, we must… to understand Pandora’s box, we must open it.” – he said. You exhaled deep, taking a step back. – “Where is the shed?” – he asked Mariana. She pointed at the side as Ed made his way over to it. You staid with Mariana, moving your arm around her. – “What are you doing?”

You gasped spinning around. Eyes widening at Michael near you. He tilted his head to the side, looking past you to the well. He narrowed his eyes at you. – “Michael…” – you said eyeing the shed. He turned his head, seeing Ed come out of the shed holding a sledgehammer. His eyes widened. – “No!” – a loud voice came through, not sounding like his. You gasped when Michael ran up to you with claw like hands. He grabbed you firmly pushing you up against the well.

Your back arched when you hovered over the wooden planks. Michael grabbing you firmly. His face contracted with pure anger. He started shouting and cursing in a language you did not understand. His eyes darkened as for a moment you saw his face physically take on another shape. Something monstrous. It made you scream loud as it tried to keep pushing you onto the wooden planks, so you’d break through and fall. Mariana was screaming and crying.

It kept raging on, black goriness dripping down his mouth. You kept shaking your head to not have it fall onto your lips. – “Y/n!” – Ed screamed out, running over to you. He knocked Michael in the back with the handle of the sledgehammer. His grip faltered on you. Ed grabbed your arm, pulling you off the well. – “Are you alright love?” – he asked holding your hand firmly. You nodded shaken. Ed furrowed his brows, wiping some blackness of your cheek.

You wrapped your arms around him. Ed looked concerned down at Michael unconscious. The claim was firm on him. It wouldn’t be an easy job to release Michael from the demon taking possession of him. Ed kissed your cheek; glad you are unharmed. For that was his biggest worry. If you had fallen through the wooden planks, you could’ve broken your neck and lie dead at the bottom.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[doormatty3]

Blizzards and Beef Stew - Chapter 7 (Patrick Wilson x FOC)

Masterlist Ao3

Blizzards and Beef Stew Masterlink

Summary

[Patrick Wilson x Original Female Character] [Patrick Wilson x Original Character] Éléanor had always adored winter: its snow, its crisp air. But what she treasured most was retreating to her cosy cabin in the Swedish mountains. There, she could bake, sketch, and enjoy the solitude, far from the noise of the world. At least, that’s how it used to be—until a new neighbour arrived. Patrick Wilson was tall, charming, and with a smile that seemed to melt the coldest days. As they struck up a friendship, Éléanor found herself drawn to him, even though he remained oddly secretive about his last name and evasive about his work. But when a fierce snowstorm trapped them both, it became clear that Patrick might just be the warmth she needed in more ways than one. OR: Patrick uses his body to warm up Éléanor in the snowy mountains.

Wordcount: 3523

A few hours full of lazy kisses and warm cuddles later, Patrick went out to collect more firewood as Éléanor’s phone buzzed on the table. Glancing at the screen, she saw Virginie’s name pop up and smiled. She knew what was coming. With a deep breath, she stepped outside into the crisp morning air to take the call.

“Did you fuck him?” Virginie's voice burst through the line before she could even say hello.

Heat rushed to Éléanor’s cheeks, and she immediately glanced around to ensure Patrick was still out of sight, gathering firewood near the forest’s edge.

“Virginie!” she hissed, lowering her voice. “Can you keep it down?”

“That’s a yes!” Virginie practically squealed with delight, her excitement palpable even through the phone. “Oh, ma chérie, I knew it was only a matter of time. Is he any good? Wait, no—how good is he?”

Éléanor sighed, leaning against the porch railing, her breath forming clouds in the cold air. “I am not having this conversation with you.”

“Not having this conversation with me?” Virginie gasped dramatically as if scandalised, “Oh no, no, you are definitely having this conversation with me!” 

There was a rustling sound through the phone, and suddenly the call switched to video, Virginie’s face appearing on the screen, her wide grin taking up most of the frame, “Turn the camera around. Let me see the aftermath.”

Éléanor sighed, rolling her eyes as she turned on the front camera, attempting to conceal the blush on her cheeks.

Virginie’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as she leaned closer to the screen, inspecting Éléanor’s face with hawk-like attention. “Oh wow, he did a number on you…”  Her voice was laced with amusement, and she didn’t bother to hide the laughter threatening to spill over.

“What?” Éléanor muttered, uncomfortable under her friend’s scrutiny. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Tilting her head, Virginie’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the faint marks on Éléanor’s neck and collarbone.  “ Oh my God, are those love bites? Enrique! Come see this,” Virginie called out, practically buzzing with excitement. “She’s covered in them.”

Éléanor’s eyes widened as she caught sight of the man lounging next to Virginie, leaning over just enough to glance at the screen with an easy, half-amused look while taking a sip of his coffee. “Are you seriously calling me with your... boytoy right there?” 

Virginie burst into laughter, dismissing Éléanor’s concern with a carefree wave. “Oh, please. Enrique doesn’t mind, do you, darling?”

He shrugged, smirking slightly. “Seen worse.” His tone was light, with just the faintest edge of teasing.

Éléanor groaned, her fingers dragging down her face as she shook her head. “Why do I let you do this to me?”

Virginie cackled, clearly relishing every second of Éléanor’s discomfort. “Because you love me, and you secretly enjoy it.”

Éléanor looked up from her hand, catching her reflection on the screen—marks and all. A sigh escaped her, mingled with laughter she couldn’t quite hold back. “Remind me why we’re friends again?”

“Because I keep your life interesting,” Virginie replied, winking. “And apparently, so does Patrick .”

Éléanor’s cheeks deepened in colour at the teasing. Virginie leaned in, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You owe me some details! How big was his dick?” 

“Virginie!” Éléanor’s voice dropped to a frantic whisper as she cast a quick look to the forest edge where Patrick was still chopping wood, muscles taut under his shirt. “He’s right there! I am not answering that.”

Virginie’s laughter rang out again, echoing through the call. “Oh, come on! Give me something. Was it good?”

Rolling her eyes, Éléanor couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across her face. “Yes, it was good. Happy now?”

Virginie clapped her hands, delight dancing in her eyes. “Very. But seriously, you haven’t even sent me a proper picture of him. What are you hiding? Is he that perfect?”

Éléanor glanced back towards the forest, knowing Patrick was out of sight, but still half expecting him to just appear behind her. “I’m not showing you because I’ll not be parading him in front of you like some trophy.”

“Oh, so he’s trophy-worthy ?” Virginie’s smirk widened, leaning closer to the screen with a gleam of triumph. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush already!”

Éléanor groaned, resorting to rubbing her forehead in exasperation again. “It’s not like that. We’re just... figuring things out.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Virginie said with a sly grin. “So, what’s that you’re wearing? Don’t tell me you’re in one of his flannels.”

Éléanor looked down, feeling a twinge of embarrassment as she took in the flannel she was wrapped in. It was, in fact, Patrick’s—oversized and with the sleeves rolled up unevenly. “Shut up,” she said, the words half-laugh, half-groan.

Virginie’s laughter echoed through the phone, clearly enjoying every bit of Éléanor’s discomfort. “Come on, live a little! We’re on video now—you might as well show me the guy!”

“No way,” Éléanor said, shaking her head firmly. She didn’t want to invade Patrick’s privacy like that and she didn’t want to give her friend even more ammunition for teasing her. “I’m not sending you a photo or putting him on camera for you to inspect!”

“Fine, fine,” Virginie replied, raising her hands in mock surrender but still smirking. “But I want all the details later. You owe me, you dirty little thing.”

Éléanor, already feeling the heat creeping back into her cheeks, quickly cut her off. “Look, I’ve got to go. Patrick’s going to come back any minute, and the last thing I need is for him to overhear you grilling me about his... assets.”

Virginie pouted dramatically. “Okay...you’re off the hook. For now. But I expect a full report later. You cannot leave me hanging like this!”

“I’ll think about it,” Éléanor muttered, shaking her head, a mix of amusement and frustration washing over her. After a few more playful exchanges, she finally managed to say her goodbyes, much to Virginie’s disappointment. 

With a groan, Éléanor pocketed her phone just as she saw Patrick returning with his arms loaded with firewood. She paused, watching him from the porch as he trudged through the snow. The early morning light cast a glow over him, illuminating the streaks of grey in his hair and the stubble darkening his jawline. 

In the few days they’d been out here, the ruggedness that had always been a part of him seemed to have intensified, and the sight of him—so solid, so unpretentious—sent a wave of warmth through her.

It wasn’t just the way he looked that made her stomach flip; it was everything. 

The way his jeans hung low on his hips, his sweater clinging to his broad shoulders, and those strong hands of his gripping the rough wood with ease. Each movement was fluid and confident, as if he belonged out here in the wilderness. She found herself staring longer than she should have, completely absorbed in him.

As Patrick got closer, he caught her gaze, a slight smile tugging at his lips—the kind that made her heart stutter in her chest. He set the firewood down with a thud and wiped his hands on his jeans, a casual gesture that somehow drew her attention. “Everything okay?” he asked, his tone warm and low.

Éléanor cleared her throat, trying to snap herself out of her daze. “Yeah,” she managed to say, nodding as she forced a smile. “Just Virginie being... well, Virginie.” 

Her mind briefly flashed to the call she’d just had, and her cheeks flushed again at the memory of Virginie’s relentless teasing.

Patrick chuckled, stepping closer, the glint in his eyes shifting when he noticed the flannel shirt she wore—his shirt. A slight darkness passed over his gaze as he took it in. “That looks good on you,” he said, voice dropping an octave. “You should keep wearing my things.”

Éléanor’s heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the soft fabric beneath her fingers. She tried to play it off, though the heat in her cheeks betrayed her. “It’s warm,” she murmured, a shy smile tugging at her lips. Then, feeling bold, she added, “And it smells like you.”

His grin widened, amusement mingling with something deeper in his eyes. He closed the distance, the heat of his presence cutting through the chill air. “Not a bad thing, I hope?” he teased, voice velvety.

She shook her head, eyes lifting to meet his. “No,” she whispered. “Not a bad thing at all.”

Turning towards the cabin to escape the intensity of the moment, her heart raced from the sheer magnetism Patrick exuded.

But as she moved to grab the door handle, Patrick stepped up behind her, his arms sliding around her waist. His broad chest pressed gently against her back, and his warmth enveloped her, filling the cool air with a closeness that made her pulse flutter all over again and caused her to shiver.

Patrick lowered his head, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he spoke. “So…are you cold?” he murmured, his voice like a low rumble that vibrated through her body.

“A little,” she admitted, her voice unsteady as she felt his breath fan across her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. She could feel every inch of him—the hardness of his chest, the way his arms tightened protectively around her waist, the warmth that seemed to seep from his body into hers. 

It was overwhelming in the best possible way, and she found herself leaning back into him, seeking more of that heat, that closeness.

Patrick chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into her back. His hands rested gently on her stomach, his thumbs brushing the fabric of the flannel in slow, lazy circles. For a moment, neither of them moved, just standing there on the porch, wrapped in each other’s warmth as the cold winter air swirled around them.

Éléanor caught their reflection in the cabin’s window—his rugged, stubbled face resting near hers, his blue eyes softened, his lips curved into a small, contented smile that hovered close to her ear. It felt almost surreal, seeing themselves like this, as though they’d slipped into a moment where nothing else existed.

She wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, but time seemed to stretch out, the world narrowing down to just the two of them. Patrick’s hold on her was firm but tender as if he was anchoring her to the moment. The snow fell gently around them, the air crisp but quiet, and for a brief second, Éléanor felt like nothing else existed outside of this—outside of him.

Eventually, Patrick broke the silence, his voice soft and teasing. “Let’s get inside and warm up,” he said, but his arms remained around her, making no move to let go just yet.

Éléanor smiled, feeling her cheeks flush again, though this time it wasn’t from the cold. “Yeah,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “We should.”

Patrick lingered for another heartbeat, his lips brushing lightly against her temple before he finally loosened his grip and took a small step back. His hands slid down her waist as he moved, and Éléanor felt an odd sense of loss as the warmth of his body left hers.

Together, they stepped into the warmth of the cabin. The familiar scent of wood and smoke greeted her, the fire crackling softly in the furnace. She didn’t need to glance back to know that Patrick was right behind her, his presence steady and comforting.

_____

Later that day, Éléanor led Patrick through the dense, snow-laden woods, their hands intertwined as they navigated the winding trails that she knew by heart. The world around them had fallen into a serene, snow-covered silence, the storm having paused to leave the forest blanketed in a pristine, untouched layer of white. 

Each tree branch sagged gently under the weight of the snow, creating a delicate, wintry canopy above them. The air was crisp, cold but clean, and the only sound that broke the stillness was the soft crunch of their boots pressing into the snow. It was a world completely at peace, the kind of solitude Éléanor had always cherished.

“This spot here,” Éléanor said, her voice hushed but excited as she pointed ahead, “this is where I come to sketch sometimes.” Her smile widened as she led him toward a clearing nestled at the edge of the forest, where a large, weathered boulder sat like a silent sentinel overlooking the space. “There’s something about the way the light hits this spot in the afternoon,” she continued, turning to glance up at him. “It’s perfect.”

Patrick followed her gaze, letting his eyes roam over the open expanse. The pale winter sunlight filtered through the skeletal branches of the trees, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the snow, which sparkled like crushed diamonds. 

It was the kind of scene that made time feel like it had stopped entirely—just him, her, and the quiet beauty of the woods. His hand tightened slightly around hers, a gentle, wordless affirmation of the moment, and Éléanor’s heart fluttered at the simple intimacy of the gesture. He was seeing it— really seeing it —the way she had always wanted to share this place with someone.

“It’s stunning,” Patrick murmured, his voice quieter than usual, as though he didn’t want to disturb the stillness that hung in the air. “You weren’t kidding when you said you find inspiration here.”

Éléanor smiled softly, her heart warming at his words. She felt understood in a way she hadn’t expected, and it made her love for the place swell even more. Slipping her hand from his, she reached into the worn leather bag slung over her shoulder, pulling out a well-loved sketchbook. 

“I’ve been coming here for years,” she said, flipping through the pages and revealing a collection of pencil sketches and watercolours—quick studies of the forest, the clearing, the changing seasons. “This place… it feels like mine. Like it’s a part of me.”

Patrick’s eyes scanned the sketches, lingering on each one with an appreciation that made Éléanor’s chest tighten. His gaze settled on a watercolour of the clearing on a bright winter’s day, vibrant with white grass and animal tracks in the snow, the sky a brilliant blue overhead. “You’re really talented, Éléanor,” he said, his voice full of quiet sincerity. “These are beautiful.”

Éléanor felt a shy smile tug at her lips, her cheeks warming despite the cold air. She quickly closed the sketchbook, tucking it back into her bag with a bashful shrug. “Thanks. It’s just something I do to relax,” she said, her voice quieter now, not quite able to meet his eyes.

But Patrick’s gaze never left her, and when she finally glanced up, his expression was soft, his blue eyes warm and full of something deeper—something unspoken but unmistakable.

He leaned casually against the boulder, crossing his arms as he looked back out over the clearing, taking it all in once more. “I get why you love it here,” he said after a moment, his voice thoughtful. “There’s something about the quiet... it’s grounding. It feels real. So different from the noise of the city.”

As they continued their walk, Éléanor led Patrick along the paths, pointing out little hidden gems along the way. 

Her voice would brighten with excitement whenever she introduced him to one of her secret spots—the quiet glade where the trees parted just enough to reveal breathtaking views of the distant mountains or the frozen-over stream, its surface glistening under the pale light of the winter sun.

“There’s something magical about this place when everything’s frozen,” she mused, her breath hanging in the air like a soft cloud. She gestured toward a patch of trees where icicles clung to the branches like delicate glass ornaments. “It’s so quiet, like the whole world is asleep.”

Patrick watched her as she spoke, admiring the way her face lit up as she talked about the land, her connection to it so deep and personal. It was as if she was sharing a part of herself with him, unveiling pieces of her soul in the landscape. He loved how her passion for this place seemed to radiate from her, making even the coldest winter day feel warm.

“Up ahead,” Éléanor said, a touch of excitement creeping into her voice, “there’s this old cabin that’s been abandoned for years. I always think about fixing it up someday. It’s small, but it’s got this charm to it, you know?”

Patrick couldn’t help but smile as she spoke, her enthusiasm contagious. He could tell how much the cabin and this entire place meant to her—how deeply connected she was to the quiet solitude of the woods, the hidden corners that she had claimed as her own.

After a few more minutes of walking, they finally reached the cabin. 

It was tucked away between two towering pines, as though nature itself had been trying to shield it from the rest of the world. The roof sagged slightly under the weight of the snow, and the windows were cracked, their frames weathered and beaten from years of neglect. 

The wood siding had faded to a dull grey, worn by time and the elements. But despite the decay, there was something undeniably charming about the place—a quiet beauty in its isolation, a sense of hidden potential waiting to be uncovered.

Éléanor stepped forward, her boots crunching through the snow as she approached the cabin’s doorway. She peered inside, her expression softening as her gaze swept over the interior. It was empty and cold, but her eyes gleamed with imagination as though she could already see what it could become.

“Imagine it,” she said softly, her voice taking on a dreamy, almost wistful tone. “A cosy little place, maybe a studio for painting. A place to escape even further. A nice open kitchen with a big wooden table, the crackling of the fire in the living room…” She smiled as she spoke, the idea of transforming the cabin into something new and beautiful clearly bringing her joy.

Patrick moved to stand beside her, his breath forming small clouds in the cold air as he tried to see the vision she had painted with her words. He glanced around, letting his imagination stretch to match hers—the worn wood walls replaced, the windows repaired, a fire flickering warmly inside. It was easy to picture it, easy to see why this place captured her heart.

“You’ve got the vision,” Patrick said, his voice warm with admiration as he shared in her dream for a moment. “I can see it.” He chuckled softly, glancing over at her, the sincerity in his voice clear. She had a way of making him see the potential in things, of finding beauty in places most people wouldn’t even notice.

Éléanor looked up at him, her smile soft but full of warmth. 

The look in her eyes was more than just appreciation—it was an invitation, a quiet hope that maybe he could be a part of this dream with her. “I’d love to do that one day,” she said, her voice quiet but filled with longing. “Maybe have someone help me with it.”

Patrick’s eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite put into words, something she saw in the depths of his gaze. But instead of vocalising it out loud, he simply nodded, his voice low, almost hesitant as he replied. “Maybe.”

He stepped closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, his warmth immediately enveloping her. Together, they gazed out over the expanse around the house. His presence felt steady and grounding, and she leaned into him, feeling the calm rise and fall of his breath as he murmured, “It’s perfect. Just like you said.”

Éléanor felt a sense of peace settle over her, a contentment she hadn’t expected. With Patrick here, sharing this place with her, it all felt... right.

Eventually, they made their way back through the woods, the silence between them comfortable and full of unspoken understanding. Their fingers intertwined as they walked, a simple but intimate connection that felt as natural as breathing. Éléanor couldn’t help but smile to herself as she glanced at him from time to time, still half in disbelief that he was here, that this moment—this person—was real.

There was something about showing him these places—her places—that felt like opening a door to a deeper part of herself. And the way Patrick had embraced it, had embraced her, made her heart beat a bit faster.

When they reached the front porch of his cabin, Patrick paused, turning to face her. The snow had started falling again, delicate flakes drifting down from the grey sky, but they hardly noticed. His gaze was soft, his smile sincere, and Éléanor felt the warmth of it settle in her chest.

“Thank you for showing me all that,” Patrick said, his voice quiet but full of meaning.

Éléanor smiled back, her heart swelling with affection as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for letting me,” she replied softly.

[ormymarius]

in another universe, they’re my OrmErin

[weezeranitsweezy]

imagine ...

you have beef w/ pat (he stole your Honda Civic to kill Rivers and then sold it on eBay for £5) (still bloody) and you pull up to his place to beat the shit out of him (not in a Honda Civic) and when he comes out to face you, he shoves his shiny head into your face, temporarily blinding you before running away and leaving you on the pavement w/ a major head injury ❤️

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

Leave Me

Part 3 of Leaving Me Behind

Requested: can you please make a part three of Leaving her because of his father I am literally crying for them for Orm and Reader

Genre: angst (heartbreak), clashing conversation between father and son

(For Orm’s father I had to google his name. It said that his name was Orvax. Not sure if it’s correct but 🤷🏼‍♀️)

Enjoy!

Orm began to dive into the water; he felt a tug in his heart, a strong pull, making his brain calculate how to get back to the shore. He continued swimming. He felt the way of unhappiness as he swam against the moving currents and wave strokes. 

His heartbreak was nothing he could describe or even perceive with words. A feeling he knew was going to last.

Y/n was standing there, crying, pleading to the sky, the sea, and the land for him to return. Her hands shoveled and held the sand as if she was holding a lifeline and was trying to pull him back into her arms where she felt safe and protected. 

But now gone, descending deeper into the water, he felt his eyes gaze upon his kingdom, Atlantis. He meant to rule and guard, although it wasn't something he wanted to be anymore, his heart holding back, and yet his lineage, his bloodline, called him back, and now he doesn't want to go. 

The father's wrath was felt at the castle's entrance, and the defining silence was the only positive presence between the father and son.

'What are you doing?!' His father roared from the throne, 

'I was in love; I love someone. Someone loves me.' the young prince admitted with a broken, delicate tone trying to get a better sense of everything.

'You don't love! A ruler, a future king, doesn't have sentiments. He has his mastership and education to stand behind and not something nonsensical and breakable like love...' he spoke with disgust polluting each word. 

'Are you going to go on an identical path like your mother?!' His father banged his fisted hand on the throne handles, the brute force shaking the throne, the wrathful aftershock slithering around and towards Orm, bringing him to his knees, his face pulled down. The sheer bubbling anger Orm felt, he suppressed it, knowing how wrathful his father was, still feeling the snaps and punches on his body from years prior.

Orvax swam down to his son's level, witnessing his son, a future ruler usually full of dignity, brilliance, and regal venom dripping from his mouth and now spending a couple of months with a surface dweller transforming him. Orvax presumed Orm was just having enjoyment; he did not expect his son to come disfigured as a... disgrace.

Orvax touched his son's shoulder, feeling the quick pull back from Orm, Orm's eyes shooting up in pure fear and shock. Orm never saw his father so close. His father wasn't that type of person, the type of person he was...

'Since you are back, I do hope you won't be going back up. Unless you intend to rain upon waves of hurt to...surface dwellers.'

With the intentional pause on the last two words, Orm saw a mischief gleam in his father's eyes, a gleam he also had, a gleam of revenge.

After all, he was this type of person, vengeful and spiteful.

Orm felt his weight shift back from his feet and entirely on the floor. His future he didn't know he deserved with Y/n, was now gone completely. Replaced by ruling the kingdom, only having a feeling of fear of his father. His thoughts ran with the memories he made with Y/n locking them in the safest place, so nothing could tarnish them, not even his father and his cruel ways. Orm looks up at his blood and asks, knowing very well the answer. 

'So I don't even deserve to be happy, father?'

His father began to walk away as he answered, 'No.'

Y/n looked at the waves still crashing and moving, the scenery shades with a dark blue sky, the full moon, and starts being the only bright thing in Y/n view. Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, were fixed onto the waves, her ears picking up the soft footsteps near her.

'Y/n.' a soft tone spoke, the tone she had heard numerous times. 

'Arthur, what should I do? I thought that he was happy.'

Arthur takes a small letter handing it to her, offering a missing piece of the puzzle.

'Unfortunately, it is power beyond our measures.'

Opening the letter Y/n, she gazed upon the rich handwriting.

'Dearest,

I love you. I do not wish to think this is our last communication, but it is. I hope to Gods that it is not. You gave me something no one ever did: to live happily. To enjoy. And my heart breaks over the thought of you crying, wasting your tears on someone like me. Therefore, I will continue to live as a future ruler, and you should continue your life without me. I will always cherish our moments in my cold heart.

-Orm.'                  

Y/n glimpses at Arthur and speaks, 'What should I do, Art?'

'Take one day at a time. Let's get you into the house.'

Standing up after hours of sitting, Y/n ambled back home, turning around, trying to see one last time if Orm was there, waiting for her. 

There wasn't much on the sea, only rocks and waves and a heartbroken king looking from the far distance, his love walking away.

[itsdelicates-blog]

Sleep Aid~ Vera Farmiga x Reader

summary~ you can't sleep, but vera is your sleep aid.

——————————————————————————

Grumbling in annoyance, I sit up in my bed and stretch my legs. Atleast a solid 1 hour and a half I've been trying to sleep with no luck at all. Huffing, I get out of bed and grab my fluffy blanket and throw it over my shoulders.

Grumpily, is walking downstairs, I poke my head around the corner of the living room, where Vera was quietly watching tv also scrolling on her phone. I make my way over to her and stand in front waiting for her to notice me. She looks up, confused as she thought I was sleeping.

"You okay hun?" she asks softly

I say nothing and simply open my blanket, making grabby hands. She shifts her position allowing me into her lap. I curl up on her lap and hold onto her tight feeling instantly better in her presence.

"What's wrong my love?" She inquires, rubbing my back gently with one hand, turning down the tv with the other.

"I can't sleep" I grumble into her chest "I've been trying for hours"

she begins gently rocking back and forth, "I'm sorry hun, come on sleep now"

Before long i find myself drifting off to the sound of her beating heart against my ear.

———————————————————————————

Vera debated on getting up, needing to put you to bed, but wanting to do so without waking you.

She finally decided that she too was a little tired and to get you to bed.

After shutting off the tv, she gently secured her hands under your thighs. Carefully standing up from the couch making her way to the bedroom doing her best not to wake her sleeping girlfriend. When she gets to the bedroom, she tries to lay you down without stirring you but fails. You barely opened your eyes "Don't leave" you barely whispered out.

Vera suppressed her chuckles, reassuring you "I'm not going anywhere, I just need to change and I'll be right back to snuggle up okay hun" you let out a big yawn and snuggle in further to your blanket. Soon, as promised she crawls into bed laying herself down behind you and wrapping her arms around your front to hold you close.

As you feel her slide in behind you, you stir a little and turn around to face her. You let out a few mumbled sounds and snuggle your face into her chest taking in her scent, settling yourself to sleep.

She kissed the top of your head and said a quiet 'I love you'

Together the two of you both drift off with a small smile on each of your faces.

———————————————————————————

first one!! I decided to make this book because this beautiful woman deserves more recognition xx (and because I'm in love with her but whatever) 🥰

If anyone has anyone requests feel free to dm them to me or comment here!

~lou 🧚

[srawilson]

I agree!!! Patrick Wilson is People's #SexiestManAlive 2025 @peoplemag #PatrickWilsonSexiestManAlive2025 #TheConjuring #aquaman #VeraFarmiga #PATRICKWILSON

I agree too, it's about time he was on the cover of this magazine🛐🛐🛐 @peoplemag

(Photos are not mine)

[gemstone-roses]

I will be closing CHRISTMAS requests on Friday.

If you want anything written for your fav that is Christmas themed then time is running out!! So far I have

Hannibal: 1

Patrick Jane: 1

Bucky barnes: 1

Reminder of the original post that I would write TWO fics per character that’s Christmas themed and this does not affect ordinary requests and you can still request non Christmas themed fics as well.

Characters:

Eddie Munson

Sam Wilson

Bucky barnes

Thor

Loki

Bruce banner

Hannibal

Patrick Jane

Geralt of rivia

Olivia benson

Aaron Hotchner

Rafael barba

Otto Octavius