#posted this yesterday but i missed a few things that needed fixing

[wantedplantlife]

ot3 version of the otp template i made last year. this time you get both versions (with a bg and transparent) in one place. there’s some slight differences aside from formatting, but it should mostly be the same

feel free to: -tag me if you do it. i like to see c: -translate it

[marsbotz]

BIG things happening right now

[euthymiya]

flu season (aka wrio’s nightmare) — ft. wriothesley

wriothesley finds flu season utterly dreadful when he’s banned from visiting you in the infirmary. you say it’s for his own good, but he thinks he’s never been worse ; or—a short drabble based on this post

before you read: fem reader ; fortress nurse reader ; grumpy and drama queen wriothesley ; established relationship ; suggestiveness ; reader sits on his lap ; banter and fluff

Wriothesley is sulking.

You know it before you hear it from the other inmates—mostly because you know him well enough by now, but mainly because Sigewinne’s concerned comments about the guy have made it abundantly clear that he’s not his normal self. You feel a little bad, considering it’s your doing and all, but it’s for his own good along with the functions of the fortress.

Unfortunately, it’s not so good for the other inmates, it seems. You seem to hear a new rumor every day.

His grace has confiscated credit coupons from me for being late to my shift!

Yesterday, I heard his grace joined a pankration tournament. He was in such a sour mood, twelve participants dropped out before it even began out of fear!

Have you seen his grace lately? He seems rather…tense.

Finally, for the sake of everyone’s sanity as much as your own, you decide to pay him a visit. The only person who can fix this issue is the cause of it in the first place—you.

“Wriothesley,” you say tiredly, walking into his office as he taps a pen against his desk irritably while he reads over documents. “This madness needs to end—don’t be such a baby.”

“Why, hello to you too, dear lady of mine,” he grumbles, “it’s lovely to see you as well, I too have really missed you. Would you care for a cup of tea?”

You stifle a snort at his grumpiness, coming forward to cup his cheeks and lean down to plant a path of soft, lingering kisses across his forehead.

“There. You have my attention. Cheered up now?”

“No,” he grunts. He’s lying, of course. He’s significantly loosened his rigid posture and melted under your touch quite a bit, but his arms have crossed in an effort to stay firm.

This time, you really do giggle—he sends you an offended glare in response.

“This is for your own good, Wrio.”

“I think I’m considerably capable enough to handle a light cold if I happen to catch one,” he raises a brow, “I’ve been banned from visiting my own girlfriend.”

“It’s flu season, you know,” you hum, stroking back a few strands of messy hair from his forehead, “I could never, in good conscience, let the duke allow himself to get sick! That would set the fortress back quite a bit in paperwork.”

“Perhaps my girlfriend just doesn’t want to see me,” he huffs, “perhaps she’s grown tired of me. How unfortunate for my poor heart.”

“Oh, Wrio, you dramatic thing!” You swat at his shoulders, and the slightest ghost of a smile tugs at the corners his lips before they pull into a frown again forcefully.

You smile knowingly at the beginning cracks in his resolve.

“Don’t you miss me? Even just a little?” He slumps against your body, burying his face into your shirt and wrapping his arms around your waist as you run your fingers through his hair. He shivers when your nails scratch gently at the nape of his neck.

“I do,” you hum, “of course I miss your routine little visits in the middle of my working hours. But that doesn’t change my decision—it’s flu season and the infirmary is filled with flu patients. You’ll stay out as much as you can help it, understood?”

“Fine,” he deflates.

“And quit taking out your grumpiness on the poor inmates. You’re giving them an unnecessarily hard time.”

“I’m not,” he protests, “I’m simply keeping them in line. It’s my job to—”

“Wriothesley,” you warn.

He clicks his teeth and sighs in frustration. “It’s ridiculous that they can visit the infirmary whenever they please and I can’t!”

You chuckle and bring his face to tilt towards you, leaning closer and kissing along his cheeks, pressing a peck to the tip of his nose before you hover over his lips. His breath hitches for a moment, leaning in slightly on instinct only to curl his lips in a slight pout (though he’d never admit it) when you keep him in place with a firm grip on his face.

“But if you don’t get sick,” you murmur lowly, kissing the corner of his mouth, “then you won’t be too tired for after-hour activities once I leave the infirmary for the night. Don’t you think?”

He swallows thickly at the implications, weighing your words in his head for a moment before deciding there’s some merit to them. You almost want to roll your eyes at the simplicity of his mind sometimes.

His hands grab your hips and pull you to take a seat on his lap, burying his head into your neck as he mumbles, “I suppose that’s a valid point.”

“If you’re nicer,” you trace a finger along his bicep, earning a shiver from him, “and don’t give the poor prisoners a hard time, I could think of a way or two to help you let your frustrations out.”

“Oh?” He grins into your neck, pressing a hot kiss or two against the skin, “what an enticing offer, dear nurse. You really care for my wellbeing, it seems.”

“I do,” you roll your eyes fondly, shaking your head. Finally, you climb off his lap—much to his dismay, of course, making his shoulders droop as you abruptly cut off his (very) limited moment of attention for the day, “so do me a favor and don’t make my job any harder than it has to be.”

“Can I at least swing by during your lunch hour—”

“No.”

He groans in defeat behind you as you giggle and turn, swiftly leaving his office.

My teensy weensy drama queen baby :(

[look-at-the-soul]

Every little thing you do- Part 7

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series master list

A/N:Sorry for not posting this part earlier! I’ve been sick all week but I’m finally functioning like a human again 🤭 you’ll see some references to what really happened in season 3, I just adapted it to this story. Anyways hope you enjoy it! 🥰 let me know in the comments xx

Word count: 3,964

Tommy felt his anger raising, but he needed to calm down and think.

Think straight, have a clear mind.

Father Hughes was the most irritating person on earth. He didn’t want him to be involved in his charity project, that man was far from being someone respectable and he only make him waste his time. Deep down, Tommy knew he must have a dark past, something that he did wrong… he just needed to find what was his weakness.

It was still early, but still he needed a drink. Taking a glass and a decanter, he poured himself some.

“Thomas.” Polly called from the door.

“I need you to take care of everything today, gotta go.”

“Where?”

“I’ve a meeting, will probably be back later tonight.” He took a long swing of his drink. “Arranged a meeting with Vicente Changretta, Arthur and John will be there.”

They needed to fix the relationship with the Italians, after burning down the restaurant. He already had enough trouble in his hands.

“Fine.” She looked at him intensely. “You know… I was talking to Lizzie yesterday.”

Tommy hummed unbothered.

“Has Y/N told you if Lizzie keeps pissing her off?”

“No. Why?” He moved to his desk to take a few things.

Polly shuddered, perhaps she understood Lizzie wrong, she seemed to feel embarrassed and refused to say anything else to her.

“She’s jealous.” Polly ran her fingers through her hair. “She thought Y/N’s baby was yours.”

Tommy’s head snapped towards his aunt. His eyes had closed in disbelief. “What the fuck?”

“Look, I’m not judging her, and you shouldn’t either.” Polly gave him a knowing glance, se had talked to the secretary and she seemed to be having a change of heart.

“She told me she’s willing to do anything to get you to trust her once more.”

Pondering on Polly’s words, Tommy thought for a couple of seconds. “Anything eh? Alright… she’s going to help us clean the mess she made.”

He’d try to push Lizzie’s buttons just to make sure how far she could go. The sudden change could’ve a reason behind.

Now it was Polly’s turn to squint her eyes. “What are you thinking of?”

“She’s going to break up this absurd romance with Angel Changretta. Very peacefully.”

“Isn’t that too much to ask?” She asked cautiously.

“Explain to Lizzie how life works, no matter what Angel says, he’ll always remind her of her past. If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll always have her desk available here as a secretary, but if she keeps this going, I’m going to be her worst nightmare.” He warned right before storming out his office.

First he’d stop by to pay Ada a visit, then off to the meeting with the Russian royalty.

***

Y/N thanked the two men carrying the last piece of furniture into the office, they previously brought in the small desk and chairs, the bookshelf and a file cabinet.

In the corner of the room, she kept a box full of folders, sheets and other office supplies she would distribute among the classrooms. Most of her days have been busy organizing the storage and after a while it seemed to be presentable.

“Miss Y/N Y/LN?” The gardener called, getting her attention. “Your presence is required outside.”

“Oh! Sure.”

The Shelby Institute might open its doors any moment now, she thought as she strolled through the long hall, her shoes clacked against the floor, the daily walks around the institute made her keep in a good shape, because her belly was becoming more prominent day by day, of course she got out of breath anyways.

“We just need you to check if it’s the right color.” Paul asked pointing at the wall.

Tommy made sure to hire Small Heath people, purchasing all the material from local and small businesses, he felt this urge to help as much as possible because he couldn’t stop thinking given different circumstances, it would be him instead of them struggling with money, not having enough in their pockets to feed their family.

“This looks amazing, thank you for all the hard work you’re doing.” Y/N praised.

It wasn’t her place to supervise, but Tommy officially let her decide everything that was needed; from the color, decoration, even the personnel. He just kept signing cheques.

“Am I still on time to enroll my children? Could you ask Mr. Shelby, Miss Y/LN?”

“Yes of course you can! Bring me the papers tomorrow morning and the authorization.”

It was Tommy’s wish, to help as much people as possible.

The man gave her an embarrassed glance. “I don’t want them to be like me, I want them to have an education.” He added with melancholy.

“There’s nothing wrong to work in construction Billy,” Y/N encouraged. “But it’s admirable that you want them to be better.”

“That wouldn’t be possible without Mr. Shelby’s generosity.”

Y/N smiled at him but before she could step inside the building again, she noticed a car parking behind. Squinting her eyes because of the sun, she could barely tell who was that.

“Is this the Institution that runs that gang leader?” The man asked, judging by his attire he was a priest, but there was some off about him that said otherwise.

An uneasy feeling made Y/N take a step back, she covered her bump with the folders in her hands in a protective motion.

“Who’s asking?”

Tommy would be the last person on earth to have something to do with a priest.

The man looked her up and down, giving her a nasty and dirty stare.

“Tell him I’ll supervise this place, once it’s open.”

When he left, his vehicle made a cloud of dust. He didn’t ask politely, no, he pretended to be in charge of the charity.

Y/N walked inside the Institute again, making a mental note to add a room for the children to read, and they might need a fountain in the patio. She chuckled to herself, realizing she started to sound like Tommy.

No long after honking loudly, Tommy announced his presence, Y/N saw him behind the window as he was strolling towards her.

“Pick up your stuff, we’re going.” He announced.

“Where?”

“Somewhere, don’t ask.”

Y/N frowned. “I’ve to ask, it’s going to be midday, there’s things that need to be done.”

Tommy stepped into her office, looking for her coat and handbag.

“Yeah I pay you a ridiculous amount of money it’s about time you hire an assistant.” He said with a wink.

“An assistant of an assistant. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard.” She added, Tommy noticed she crossed her arms, not pleased by his interruption, she was always doing what she had to do and don’t you dare to move something from her things-to-do-list.

“It’s something good, trust me.”

“Can I ask where are we going?” Y/N asked enjoying the wind in her face.

“No.”

“What’s with all this secrecy?”

“If I tell you, you’re going to tell me no.”

“Well, you better include food because the baby is getting hungry.” Y/N smiled at her bump, while her hands caressed in a circle motion. Day by day she was getting fond of her baby.

“Oh I was counting you’d say that, lately you’re demanding more and more food.” He added in a light mood.

“Polly says I need to eat for two.” Y/N defended.

Tommy chuckled and in a blink, he was gone. He literally stormed into the library.

The little information she managed to get was that now she was reading out loud for Tommy a book about Russians that ran away from the revolution and opted to live exiled and from the Crown’s charity. Tommy assured her that way was practical.

Parking later after in front of a couple of shops, but she still knew so little about what was behind Tommy’s requests.

“I’ve a meeting around, it should be quick,” he explained helping Y/N out of the car, “but I thought it might be good if you start searching for some baby furniture, eh?”

“Tommy…” She covered her mouth with her hand.

“And don’t even start saying you don’t have money, I promised your grandma to look after the two of you, and that includes the things the baby will need.” Tommy used her shocked state to practically drag her inside the store, wining the argument way before it could start. “Hello, we would like to check out a moses, a rocking chair, a drawer…”

Y/N stared at him silently, Tommy thought of everything and even though his generosity wasn’t a surprise, it still came out of the blue, catching her off guard.

“Would you like us to open an account?” Asked the perplexed sales woman.

“Yes,” Tommy answered eyeing a catalog. “Everything she wants, a lamp, the carpet, the sheets… just put it into my account.” He handled a card with his company name and address. “Pick you up in about an hour?”

Y/N nodded, still trying to process everything.

“Leave something for the rest of the costumers ey!” Tommy shouted from the door before disappearing.

The woman started swooning immediately. “I hope the baby will get his eyes.” The woman admitted with a blush.

Y/N opened her mouth to correct her and tell her that Tommy wasn’t the father, but she closed it instead, remembering the advise her grandmother shared with her; don’t explain your situation to people you don’t know, let them believe their assumptions even if it’s incorrect. It will save you of uncomfortable explanations.

So Y/N gave the sales woman an awkward smile and followed her to the back of the store, this moment would arrive sooner or later and she was already here.

“We can make any piece you want in a variety of colors, there’s a trunk in the corner that goes well with this dresser…”

“Let me bring the fabric catalog for the carpets.” Added another woman, they obviously wanted to make a juicy sale.

Y/N felt like she was walking on a cloud, the smile on her face couldn’t get bigger. And now, she was the one swooning over the furniture, her imagination taking her to unknown places with images of her rocking her baby to sleep, or taking a look through the canopy at a small bundle of joy.

An excited gasp escaped her lips when she landed her eyes on a crib mobile. Her heart did this flip inside her chest and she could hardly hide her emotions.

“Should we add it?” The expert eye of the sales woman noticed her excitement. “Your baby will be fascinated and spend hours staring at it.”

The mobile had a handmade star and a sheep, a fluffy cloud and a small sun. It was adorable, she couldn’t wait for her baby to be born to use everything.

Y/N was allowed to sit on the rocking chairs to see which one felt more comfortable and the women showed her a few combinations to create a whole set of dresser, a small wardrobe, a bedside table and also the different colors they had to offer. The more she looked, the more confused she felt because everything was beautiful! She had never had the chance to purchase furniture, since her house was filled with her grandma’s possessions.

A fond memory of her grandmother knitting a blanket for one of her sisters filled her mind, her parents didn’t have enough money to buy fancy furniture, so they used a basket as a crib, she was just a girl but she remembered it clearly.

Both women shared endless recommendations for her baby arrival, and Y/N felt extremely grateful and was willing to take every little thing that could be helpful.

As she flicked another page of the catalog, she wondered how long would it take Tommy to pick her up, then her thoughts wandered towards her sister Lee-Anne, the last time she saw her, it was the day her father hit her. They couldn’t meet because their parents where so strict now, after what happened, they were trying to move under the radar according to her grandmother. There were so many things she wanted to tell Lee-Anne, firstly assure her that she was alright, she didn’t need to worry, then when the time is right, she would explain everything to her, so the younger girl wouldn’t make the same mistake as her.

Not that she thought her baby was a mistake, no. Those are two separate things. But the circumstances it’s what was wrong, she was aware that not all women had a Tommy Shelby around the corner to selflessly take care of everything.

If only she knew then, she’d do it differently.

“Y/N?” A gentle voice called for her, something squeezed her arm slightly.

Her eyes fluttered open and Y/N looked around confused.

“You fell asleep.” Tommy pointed out.

“It happens all the time.” The sales woman gave her a small glance. “We didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Goodness.” Y/N felt embarrassed and mortified, she felt tired.

“So, I think you found the perfect rocking chair then.” Tommy raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“We’ll have everything delivered in a couple of weeks.” Her smile couldn’t get bigger.

Thanking them, Tommy and Y/N stepped outside the boutique, she wanted to stretch her legs so bad.

“How did your meeting go?”

“Boring.”

He always had just a few words to say. But his eyes, said everything that was crossing his mind.

“Did you get to drink vodka and do the Russian dance?” Y/N teased.

Tommy scoffed at her sense of humor.

“He’s a liar, a buffer. He’s just a filthy lucky bastard with the right connections.”

He sighed loudly, but at least Tommy was sharing something with her. In that case it would be so easy for him to make that man show his true colors.

As he started the engine, Y/N started telling him of all the adorable things they showed her at the store, noticing the way her eyes were glowing. And he obviously preferred that kind of news instead of the one Polly was about to share.

“I’ll wait here by the fireplace.” Y/N announced, not wanting to get in the middle of the argument.

Sitting in one of the couches, she leaned her head back, rolling her feet meanwhile a few steps away, the Shelby family were discussing over whatever John had made.

“If you apologize once, you do it again and again…” Y/N heard Tommy say as she was drifting away to sleep. But she was far too gone and tired.

Feeling drained after all the things he got busy with, Tommy couldn’t wait to be home.

“You can stay over so you don’t have to drive back.” He proposed to his brother Finn, who would be driving.

But as Tommy stepped into the entry, he stopped abruptly when his eyes landed on Y/N. She was peacefully sleeping on the couch, the flames of the fireplace casting shadows over her features while one of her hands rested under her belly.

He didn’t have the heart to wake her up.

“Bring the car around.” He whispered Finn, trying to concede Y/N a few more minutes before starting the road back home.

Taking off his coat, he slid it over her frame to cover her from the cold. Tommy tried to call her in a low voice, but she only adjusted her shoulder as answer. Y/N should probably take things easier, but she was adamant to finish the charity project, she was pouring every fiber of her soul into it and wanted to make sure every single detail was perfect.

“Y/N… let’s go.” Tommy tried again softly.

Fluttering her eyes, she slowly opened them squinting in confusion by feeling Tommy touching her shoulder.

“C’mon let me help you.”

“Hmm.” She hummed barely cooperating.

She was beyond sleepy by the time they reached the car, settled taking the back seat by herself, she heard the Shelby brothers talking something about an Italian pub and a fight that would eventually happen. Tommy mentioned something about their fragile ego and sending flowers to a hospital, but Y/N couldn’t be sure because maybe it was part of her dream.

She moved across the room, smashing the fresh berries for the pie she was baking, the lovely smell feeling the small kitchen, it was a sunny day and she could hear the birds chirping, when suddenly a baby cry came to her attention. Y/N rushed then to get pick up her baby who was demanding her presence.

“It’s just fine, are you hungry?” She cooed to settle the lovely bundle wrapped in a blanket.

“How’s my ray of sunshine?” Asked her grandmother from behind, reaching over to caress the baby’s face.

“Woke up hungry.”

“You feed the baby while I finish the pie.”

When the car took a turn Y/N’s bumped something, she woke up disoriented.

“Finally I was tired of you snoring.” Tommy teased taking at look over his shoulder.

“Oh my God I don’t snore!”

“Loud and clear.” Tommy assured her. “Like a truck driver.”

Y/N gave Tommy a surprised and embarrassed look, awkwardly she tried to fix her hair since it was out of place.

Finn rushed upstairs while Mary greeted them by the door.

“Something important came up?” Tommy asked the maid.

“Just a few letters.” She gave him a nod.

“Oh, and maybe a couple of responses to the charity invitation.” Y/N wondered out loud.

“All correspondence arrived under Mr. Shelby’s name.” The maid explained, making a bit obvious that she wasn’t very fond of Y/N.

Y/N looked between Tommy and Mary, waiting.

“Go on, go check the mail.” He told her softly.

“Mr. Shelby.” Mary tried to get his attention. “The mailman thinks Miss Y/LN is Mrs. Shelby, he asked me if Mrs. Shelby had anymore invites to send off.” The maid voiced with concern.

Tommy noticed the offended tone in her voice.

“Let him think whatever he wants, Mary.” Tommy shuddered, not thinking it was important. “As long as he takes the mail.”

“But…” she tried again, then closed her mouth when Tommy gave her the look.

“That’s all, thank you Mary.” Tommy dismissed her just as Y/N entered the reading room skipping happily.

“Guess!”

Sitting, Tommy groaned. “Guess what?”

“He said yes!” Y/N explained excitedly.

“Who?” He chuckled at her happiness.

“He leader of the Birmingham City Council is going to attend the dinner.” Y/N showed him the letter back. “Everyone has said yes.”

Tommy dragged his eyes from the piece of paper, towards Y/N.

“Ah.” Suddenly she got the energy of a kid, it was the nap during the car ride did wonders to her.

“I keep changing the menu, do you think we should offer something else?” Y/N kept explaining how she needed to send a Thank you note back to the people who had confirmed their attendance.

The charity was clearly an excellent job for her. Keeping her busy with something good whilst helping people in need and he was glad to have someone he could trust to take care of that.

“You need to remember to take this slowly, write off those notes tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.” He suggested.

“But Tommy, these things can’t wait, it takes days for the letters to be delivered and-”

“Very well then, why don’t you use the typewriter I gave you.” He cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink.

“Tom!” She chuckled. “You don’t write letters of a social occasion on a typewriter.” Y/N explained him with a smile.

“Oh, forgive me.” He raised his eyebrows.

She then went on to show him another paper. “I’ve the drawings of what they plan to do with the grounds of the institute. There’ll be an area for the children to play. Look.” He hummed in response. “And the Birmingham Charity Commission have agreed to set aside their three rotten floorboards upstairs and grant us the license within a month.”

She finally took a deep breath after managing to explain him all in record time. There was a soft smile playing on his lips and she found tenderness in his eyes.

“You’re not listening to me.” Y/N sentenced.

Tommy leaned forwards. “Yes I am. I am.”

“You think I’m becoming obsessed?” Y/N stopped abruptly.

A chuckle escaped Tommy’s lips. “No, as a matter of fact, I love the passion you’ve put into this project.”

“This wouldn’t be possible without you.” Y/N expressed honestly.

Tommy gave Y/N a long look, studying her features, until he finally spoke.

“I’ve something for you.” Y/N frowned confused. “I know you’ll say it’s a bit too much, but still.”

“What did you get?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“Close your eyes.” Tommy encouraged.

“Tom.”

He fixed his eyes on her, not taking a no for as answer. So she gave in, turned around and closed her eyes.

Leaning back, Tommy got something out of his pocket, holding the chain between both hands, he presented Y/N the present.

Y/N felt lost for words when she saw the necklace. “What’s this?”

“A sapphire.” He explained calmly.

The cold stone sent a shiver down her spine when it made contact with her skin. It felt heavy and strange to have a stone that bug hanging from her neck.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“A simple thank you could work.” He winked. “And before you even start, you can either wear it or keep it in the box it’s your choice.”

Y/N was still trying to process the overpriced present, never in a million years she imagined to own something like that piece of expensive jewelry.

“This is insane, but thank you.” She chuckled nervously. “Where am I even supposed to wear something like this? The charity event?”

“You can wear it to church if you want, it’s yours Y/N.”

“Goodness.” She looked down at her chest and touched the cold gemstone. “You really look for any excuse to show off your wealth, damned bastard.”

Tommy laughed loudly. “You got me.”

“I wanted to ask you to be my baby’s godfather… but you’re going to spoil the poor child.”

“Oh I think I earned that right, so you better keep considering me.”

She slapped his arm playfully, earning another laugh from him. Tommy pulled her by the arm but the sharp move caught her off guard and made her loose her balance, landing on his chest. His arms came around her waist instantly in a protective motion, and their laughs subsided as soon as they realized how close they were to each other’s faces.

Something they both didn’t know how to name ignited in that moment, suddenly her warm hands felt like burning through the layers of his clothes, his deep blue sparkled in a way she had never seen before.

Struggling to form a coherent thought, Y/N used his chest to support her arms and move back. Tommy cleared his throat just as he was trying to clear his mind.

“Sorry… I stumbled.” She tried to smooth her clothes.

“Yeah.” He noticed the blush on her cheeks.

“Better go to get s-some rest.” The words rushed out of her lips. “Have a good night.”

“Good night, Y/N.” He replied more to himself, watching her leave the room.

Taking the remains of his drink in a swing, Tommy thought how close they were of crossing a line that would change everything.

Tag list: list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney

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[oatmealdaydreams]

Y'all wanted the lore, so here ya go!

@localcanadiancreature62 tagged as requested

These are both variations of the Timestuck AU, so keep that in mind. Made these two AUs yesterday in the same hour of each other because I have brainrot and there's this really good timestuck fic I've been reading that got my brain rolling (Stan Overboard by itS_JuSt_a_thought on ao3).

Teen Dreams AU

Teen Ford ends up in 2013 with old Stan. Old Ford ends up with teen Stan in the early 1970s. The teen twins are from about a year after the science fair incident; so, teen Stan is a year into being homeless & teen Ford is a year into being in Backupsmore. No one knows how the fuck the Fords swapped places in time, but they need to get them back to their own timelines. This is all about two weeks before their birthday. Old Stan gets to see how teen Ford genuinely missed him back then. Old Ford gets a little glimpse of how teen Stan's situation was for him (this is during Stan's salesman days, think around the time he got banned from New Jersey and is heading to Pennsylvania). Teen Stan learns how much Ford cares about him and is protective of him, and he learns how to let someone else take care of him for a change. Teen Ford learns how much Stan truly cares about him and never meant to actually hurt him, which helps makes his grudge look pretty stupid in the long-run. Might have some 13 yrs old Dipper & Mabel help out in 2013. Would be interesting for teen Ford is get to know his future twin niblings & also talk about them to teen Stan when he gets back to his own timeline. PLENTY of moving parts via angst and hurt/comfort and the idea of Stan & Ford's inner-teen getting healed a bit.

Teenage Challenges AU [may change the name later, idk]

This one is the longer thought-out au, so buckle in! 13 yrs old Mabel and Dipper end up back in time with teen Stan Twins. Early 1970s an entire year after the science fair incident & Stan getting kicked out. Dipper ends up with Stan, and Mabel ends up with Ford & college Fiddleford. Fiddleford is about a year older than Ford because I say so. Their dymanics with their future niblings are more like older siblings and younger siblings than uncles and nibling because of being closer in age. Reminder that everyone is still in their teen years. The young Stan twins are between 18-19, and Fiddleford is about 19-20. So, in this context, there's like a 5-6 year age difference between the Stan twins & Mabel and Dipper. ANYWAY: Stan thinks Dipper is some homeless kid and he can't just leave him on the street in the cold, especially not when he kinda reminds him of his brother. Dipper mentions just wanting to get back to his twin sister, and well that's hits Stan's heart because that sounds a bit like himself in regard to loyalty to family. On the other side of things, Mabel has this very broken Time Tape she needs to fix to get back home. She mentions needing to find her twin brother, and with the fact that she reminds Ford of his time's Stan, well he's conflicted with feelings but he does his best to help her anyway. Fiddleford and Mabel get along quite well, especially when Mabel suggests a few ideas for his death bots that he "may never use but keeps the blueprints for because he may snap one day" & Fiddleford thinks her ideas are genius. Ford starts to see a little of himself in Mabel with her optimistic outlook when it comes to discovery and circumstances. She's also pretty good at certain math stuff and Ford admires her intellect. There's so much more with this, but this is so long already.

There, it's a post now. Have fun! And if anyone wants to write something or draw something for these, feel free to do so! All I ask is that you tag me 'cause I wanna see it :D

[gejo333]

A Misunderstanding IV

Father Miguel O’Hara x Mother Spider woman

->Pt. I Pt. V

Summary: Spending the day with Miguel yesterday brought the two of you back to how it use to be six years ago.

I love this photo of casual dad Miguel! I couldn’t find the artist.🥲If you know who is the artist please lmk!!!

Also, for some reason tumblr won’t let me reply to you guys in the comments. And my comments have been removed for some reason. Does anyone know how to fix that?😭😭😭 I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to respond!🥺💕

Btw is anyone able to still see my comments on my other posts?

There will be an 18+ scene at the beginning and another one towards the middle end. Skip passed it if you feel uncomfortable.

I apologize for any grammatical mistakes I missed.

Hope you enjoy!💕

Wc: 5.1k

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Miguel gazed down at your sleeping form, snuggling against his shoulder on the couch. He brushed a few strands of your hair behind your ear, kissing your forehead softly. Careful not to wake you up, he gently lifted you into his arms as he carried you to the bedroom.

He gently set you down on the bed, moving the sheets over your body before returning to the living room and picking up his sleeping son. As he tucks his son into his race car bed, he gently brushes some of his hair back. Strangers would say his son was the spitting image of him. But as he gazes at Mateo’s sleeping form, he sees more of you in his face. As he noticed, the past few days he’s been here, the way Mateo scrunches up his nose when he doesn’t like something, just like his mother. Or when he hears you mumble in your sleep. A small smile twitches when he hears Mateo do the same thing.

Quietly shutting Mateo’s door, he made his way to your bedroom. He removed his shirt and sweatpants and draped them over the chair as he pulled the covers back and got into bed. Miguel gazed towards you as he felt you shift towards him in your sleep. He wrapped an arm around your waist, bringing you close to his chest. As he kissed your cheek, he got a whiff of your shampoo. You smelled like a breath of fresh spring air. Of course, with a small hint of cherry blossom. The day’s events, plus your soothing scent, forced his eyes to close as he drifted to sleep.

The bright light of the sun awoke the tired spider from his peaceful slumber. He had forgotten where he was for a brief second until he looked at your sleeping form. You had turned to face him as you breathed softly against his chest. His heart swelled at the sight. It wasn’t a dream. You were really sleeping beside him.

He mentally groaned when he knew he needed to check his watch and ensure nothing important came up at HQ. Gently leaving the bed, he quickly grabbed his watch from the kitchen before returning.

After all this time staring at screens, he needed to wear glasses to help lessen the strain on his eyes.

It was only a few minutes of looking at work before he heard a moan escape from your lips. Seconds later, another one came out, followed by his name. A smirk appeared as he gazed at you, squirmy slightly under the covers. He shifted slightly as he felt himself getting hard. Glancing again, he noticed you wake up as he forced his direction back toward his work.

“Buenos días cariño.”

“Good morning.” He could tell you were uncomfortable as you shifted your thighs together, making the sheets around you move. He leaned down and caressed your cheek.

“Did you have a nice dream?”

Your eyes widen, cheeks turning a shade of pink. “I-I um.”

“It’s alright, Hermosa. Do you need me to help with anything?” Miguel gently caressed your thigh as he slowly moved it toward your inner thigh and up towards-

“N-no, I’m good. I’m going to take a sh-shower.” You move the covers off and walk towards your bedroom bathroom. Closing the door, you turned on the shower and took off your PJs and underwear. You bite your lips contemplating whether or not you should follow the agonizing heat building up between your legs. A groan escapes your lips as you open the door halfway. You step into the tub and let the waterfall on your face.

A hand wrapped around your stomach, bringing you against the strong-built body standing under the water with you. Miguel brushed some of your hair from your shoulder as he placed soft kisses from your jawline down to your shoulder. You felt his other hand begin to graze down between your thighs. His fingers brushed your clit as his other hand massaged your breast. Your head fell back against him as you felt him insert two fingers into your soaking folds.

“I’ve missed touching you.” He whispered in your ear as he began a steady thrust. His large rough fingers feeling your inner walls.

“I’ve missed you too.” You moaned out as he tweaked your hard nipples with his free hand.

“What did you dream about, mi amor?” He quickened his pace with his fingers as you felt his hard cock against you.

“Your fingers were inside me.” You managed to get out as you felt his fingers curl inside you.

“What else did I do to you?”

Words were hard to put together at the constant curling of his thick fingers inside you as you began to feel that joyous tightening in your stomach. You gently move your hips to thrust onto his fingers, desperate to be filled more.

“Needy, aren’t you. Did I fuck you with only my fingers in your dream?”

“N-no.”

“Then what else? Tell me, cariño. Or-“A groan of frustration left you as he removed his fingers from you.

“Miguel!” Miguel turned you around as he gently slapped your ass, indicating you to jump into his arms. He grabbed you by the thighs and lifted you against the wall as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Your lips smashed against each other as you ran your hands through his hair. Miguel’s tongue explored your mouth as the tip of cock grazed the entrance of your wet folds.

“I won’t continue unless you say.” A grin was placed on his lips which made your eyes roll in frustration.

“You were going to fuck me. But I woke up before anything else happened.” You placed your lips on his. You missed this. So much. How much you missed his touch, lips, and his scent of woody musk with a hint of lavender.

“Well, let’s continue where we left off.” Miguel positioned himself with your entrance as he began to enter you. A moan escapes you as you stretch to accommodate his large size.

“Fuck your tight.” Miguel fully thrust himself inside you as you groaned in pleasure and pain. You never would have thought it would hurt again. But it had been a long time since you had sex, and damn did you miss having it. The tightness made Miguel impatient as he began slamming himself into you.

Feeling his ridges roughly slide against your walls quickly, you melt into his arms. Your nails dig into his back to compensate for the constant pounding into your pussy. Miguel smashes his lips on yours, hungry to taste you. His fangs accidentally nick your lower lip. You wipe the drop of blood from your lips with your tongue as Miguel’s lustful gaze watches. He moves his lips to your neck, leaving marks across your skin.

“Cum for me, amor.” The knot in your stomach releases as your eyes roll behind your head, as you clench tighter around him, which makes Miguel growl in your ear. He continued his abuse of your swollen pussy as you began to feel overstimulated. A loud moan escapes your throat as you feel him spill inside you. He continued to thrust into you, coming down from his high before he pulled out.

After both catching your breaths, Miguel sets you down. Your legs collapse, almost making you fall, but Miguel catches you in his arms as he steady you by holding your waist.

“Guess I went a bit too rough.” He chuckled while you smiled up at him. You brushed some of his hair that covered his face before you cupped his cheek. Miguel leaned into your touch as he gazed down at you lovingly.

“I love you, y/n. I missed you all these years. Now that I have you back. I can’t lose you again.” His heartfelt words made butterflies build in your stomach. Your heartbeat was loud against your chest, telling you exactly how you felt.

“I love you too, Miguel. I never stopped loving you.”

Miguel pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss before parting. Your noses gently graze against each other before you kiss one last time.

“I guess we should actually shower before Mateo wakes up.” A smile graces his lip, the dimples on his cheeks showing. You mimic his smile before you both decide to finally wash your hair and bodies.

After having another quick session where Miguel bent you over and took you from behind, you get out of the shower. You wrap a towel around your body before passing one to Miguel, which he thanks you for.

You went to the sink, grabbed a brand-new toothbrush from the cabinet, and handed it to Miguel.

“A toothbrush? Can I get a drawer too?” He chuckled as you rolled your eyes, followed by a smile.

“You want closet space too?” You smile before you begin brushing your teeth. Miguel placed his hands on both sides of your waist as he brushed his lips against your ear. “I would love that.” He said before he began to brush his teeth.

The two of you finally leave the bathroom and get dressed. Knowing he would be spending time here for at least a week, he brought clothes so he wouldn’t have to go back and forth between universes.

Miguel was about to head to the kitchen to cook breakfast, but you rushed past him, earning a chuckle from him. You block him from entering the kitchen. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked down at you, brows raised with a smile.

“lo que sucede mi amor?”

“I’m cooking this morning.” You turn around and grab things from the fridge. Miguel grabs the egg in your hand.

“No, no, no. I’ll cook.” He gently bumps you with his hip to move you away from the stove. You turn to him and pout as you quickly grab the spatula before he can grab it.

“Please let me cook. Just this once.” You purse your lips and bat your eyelashes for dramatic effect. Not being able to say no to you, he passes you the egg.

“Alright. But just this once. I’ll go wake up Mateo.” You give Miguel a quick kiss as a thank you before he goes to wake up your son as you begin to make omelets.

Miguel walked back into the kitchen carrying Mateo in his arms before setting him down on the stool. You place a plate of scrambled eggs in front of your son.

“Thanks, mama.” Mateo picked up his fork as he began to devour his eggs.

“Don’t eat too fast, papito. You might get the hiccups.” Miguel said as he pours coffee for the two of you. You watched as Mateo smiled at his father before eating his eggs again, slowly this time.

You hand Miguel a plate before returning to the pan to plate your own.

“It’s delicious, Hermosa. Thank you.”

“Of course!” You smile before diving into your own omelet.

After everyone finished breakfast, you got Mateo changed into his soccer clothes. You grab the warmed-up empanadas as the three of you approach the soccer fields.

When you arrived at the fields, Mateo ran towards the other kids kicking around small soccer balls. You and Miguel walk towards the group of parents mingling with each other. You place the large container of empanadas on the wooden picnic table.

“Hi, Y/n. Thanks again for making snacks last minute.” Said Emily, who walked up to you with her posse of moms desperate to be in the ‘miss popular’ group again.

“No problem.”

“Oh, these look delicious. What is it?” Said one of the moms.

“They’re empanadas. Y/n made them.” Miguel said, knowing one of them would ask such an obnoxious question.

“Some have meat, the other half only have cheese. And I bought oranges for kids who can’t eat the empanadas.” You added.

“Oh, this is Rachel. She’s a single mom just like you, Y/n. And she’s back in the dating pool.” Emily ignored your last words. You didn’t care as you noticed her last sentence was directed toward Miguel. The audacity of this woman.

“Hi.” Said Rachel as she gently waved at him in front of you. As you were about to say something, you felt Miguel wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you against his side.

“Actually, Y/n isn’t a single mother anymore. We’re together. But I wish the best for you, Rachel.” Miguel gently grabbed your chin and kissed you on the lips. Your lips part, forgetting the three upset and shocked women before you.

“Oh, well then, congratulations.” Said Emily with her usual fake smile. Another parent walked up, which gave the three an excuse to leave.

“It’s nice to see the witch and her mindless zombies finally be put in her place.” A woman walks up to you as she gestures her hand out to shake yours. “I’m Georgia. Simon’s mom.” The woman added.

“Y/n. This is Miguel. We’re Mateo’s parents. She needed to know she was not a queen bee. We’re parents to kindergartners, for goodness sake.” You both laugh.

“Nice to meet you both. The woman coaching the kids. That’s my wife, Lauren.” Georgia waved to the woman on the field surrounded by energetic five-year-olds who waved back before returning to coaching.

“She’s great at coaching the kids. It’s nice to see they’re learning to play instead of just running around.” You say as you watch Mateo learn to pass the ball to another kid.

“Lauren loves to coach. Have more kids fall in love with soccer like she did. She used to play on the women’s Nueva York team. Oh, she’s calling me over. It was nice meeting you both.” Georgia waved goodbye before jogging over to her wife.

“She seems sweet. It’s nice to meet other moms who aren’t trying to be wannabe plastics.” You smile as you glance at the three wannabe plastic moms huddled together gossiping.

“I can’t stand women like that group. They’re so fake. And the most self-centered. I’ve had a few first dates like that way back. Let’s just say it was only one date. The woman talked my ears off.” Miguel put his fingers on the bridge of his nose as if he had an oncoming headache from the horrible memory, which made you chuckle.

“I hope I don’t do that.” You tease, which makes Miguel wrap his arms around your waist as he kisses your lips lightly before he lightly pinches your cheek as he smiles down at you.

“You could talk for hours, and I would listen to every word from your lips.”

“You’re such a romantic Miggy.” You raise to your toes and place a quick kiss on his lips.

You grabbed the container from the table when it was empty, and the kids devoured them after their practice was over. Despite running around for an hour, Mateo was just as energetic as before, so you and Miguel decided to go to the park near your apartment to let him burn off the rest of his energy before he went to spend the night at your sister’s for a sleepover with his cousins.

You watch Mateo run towards the playground when you arrive at the park. You and Miguel sit on a bench, watching your son jump and swing on the play equipment. You rest your head against Miguel’s shoulder, closing your eyes to let them rest. You smiled at hearing Mateo’s laughter as he played with the other kids.

You didn’t realize how long your eyes were closed as Miguel pushed some of your hair behind your ear and kissed the top of your head.

“Are you tired, cariño? Too much excitement this morning?” Miguel chuckled as he saw your cheeks turn red.

“No, I’m alright. Just enjoying the moment.”

“Do you still want to have a date night?”

“Of course I do!” You leave the comfort of his shoulder as you turn to look at him. A pout on your face at the mention of canceling.

“I’m only checking. I don’t want you to feel forced into going on a date with me.” You lightly hit Miguel’s shoulder at his comment.

“Miguel, I want to go on this date. I want to be with you. I love you. I’ve only been hesitant the past few days because I wasn’t 100% sure if you still loved me. But I know now that you never stopped loving me, just like I never stopped loving you. It’s been six years since we last saw each other. We need to get familiar with each other again.”

“How about we don’t do anything fancy tonight. Maybe something more comfortable. Less awkward first date vibes.” His suggestion made you smile as you kissed his cheek.

“I would like that a lot, actually.”

“How about a swing through the city and then a trip to our favorite empanada shop,” Miguel suggested.

“Sounds perfect.”

“Momma, papa, when is Tia Nora coming to pick me up?” Mateo walked back to you and Miguel. Miguel picked him up and sat him on his lap as Mateo rested in his father’s arms.

“In about an hour.” You say as you brush some of Mateo’s hair out of his face, who begins to pout.

“Aww, that’s so long from now.” He crossed his arms. He was so adorable when he tried to act mad.

“Well, by the time we return home and pack your things it will be time for her to pick you up. Plus, your Tia Nora is always 15 minutes early.” You stand up from the bench, which Mateo follows as you hold his hand towards you. Miguel gets up as the three of you walk back home.

As you told Mateo, by the time you arrived home, which took 10 minutes, and packed his things. Which took longer as he wanted to show his cousins a few new toys he got. Thankfully you were able to bargain with him, only bringing one toy. He decided to take the toy you bought him a week ago. It was an action figure of his favorite hero. Spiderwoman. Your heart grew tenfold that you were your son’s favorite hero. Maybe one day, he could meet his idol when he was older.

You heard the door knock, but before you could reach it, Miguel opened the door. With all the excitement about Miguel coming back in to your life, you had forgotten to mention his return to your family.

“Hey, Nora.” You purse your lips into an awkward smile as you watch your older sister step inside, unpleased.

“I didn’t expect to see your ex open the door when I knocked. I would have thought my dear sister would have told me.”

“A lot has happened the past few days-“

“Days?! How long has he been here?”

“Three.”

“Three?! I thought we were closer than that.” A frown appeared on your sister’s face. She always was the more dramatic sister.

“We are Nora. I just wanted to work things out before I threw our entire family at him with questions. He’s only met our family a few times. And that was six years ago.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Nora.” Miguel scratched a non-existent itch on the back of his neck.

“You broke my sister’s heart.”

“Nora.” You warned her.

“But it’s true, Y/n. Yes, I know you broke up with him. But the months leading up to it were torture for you. I don’t want you getting hurt again.” Nora tried to console you by putting her hand on your arm. But you took her hand and gently squeezed it.

“Nora, Miguel, and I talked already. We both made mistakes. We want to fix things. Not just our relationship but also allow Mateo to grow up in a loving home with both parents.”

“Ok, but I-“

“Nora, I love your sister with every fiber of my being. It still breaks my heart that I hurt her and wasn’t there for her to raise Mateo for the past six years. I promise that I’ll never hurt her again.” Miguel caught your sister off, knowing it affected you as he brought you to his side. A sigh came from your sister’s mouth before a small smile appeared.

“Alright. I’ll let it go. But I swear, O’Hara. If she comes to me in tears, you’ll feel my wrath.” Nora narrows her eyes towards Miguel, which makes you roll yours. To heal the awkward situation, Mateo exited his room with his packed bag and ran to his aunt.

“Tia Nora!”

“Hey there, my little firecracker! I’m so excited to spend the day with you. Chloe and Marc can’t wait to see you.”

After saying goodbye to your son and sister, you sigh in relief. You loved your older sister to bits. But she could be a handful sometimes.

“I’m sorry about my sister.”

“There’s no need for an apology. I understand where she’s coming from. She’s only trying to protect you.” Miguel took your hands and gave them a light squeeze before kissing the top of your hand. “I should be the one apologizing to.” You place a finger on his lips to stop talking, which earned a slightly surprised look from Miguel.

“There’s no need for an apology. How about we go on this date you planned for us?” You placed your hands on both sides of his face as you got on your toes and kissed him to reassure him of your words.

Miguel smiled before the two of you got your suits on. You both head to your bedroom window as Miguel opens it for the two of you as you step out into the fire escape.

“I’ll race you across Manhattan.” You shoot your web to the building across the street when the words leave your mouth. As you continue your movements through the neighborhood, a smile appears underneath your mask as you hear Miguel fast approaching you.

At first it took Miguel by surprise when you quickly swung away from him. But he knew you were one to mess around. He has never been someone who likes to partake in silly antics. But ever since you came into his life, he didn’t mind partaking in them. As long as it was with you.

You look behind to see Miguel, but we’re surprised to not find him anywhere. Your attention turned in front of you again when you heard a heartfelt laugh.

“Can’t keep up mi querida?” Miguel teases as he begins to swing far ahead of you. A laugh emits from you as you try to catch up to him. You were almost at the finish line and knew you wouldn’t let Miguel win.

Going as fast as you could, you swing past him. You landed on top of the building marked as the finish line. A smile began to creep on your face as you didn’t see him yet. But as soon as you reached the top, your smile disappeared as you saw a familiar red and blue suit standing there, smirking at you with his mask off.

“Took you long enough.” Miguel chuckled as he watched you march up to him.

“How did you get here before me?”

“I was just faster, cariño. Can the victor get a kiss from the lovely woman before him?” Miguel wrapped his arm around you to bring you against him as he removed your mask. His lips pressed against yours as you melted against him. The kiss began to get heated as Miguel patted the back of your things to jump as you wiped your legs around his waist. He backed you up against a wall. A groan left your lips as you felt his clothed erection against you.

“It’s been so hard to keep my hands off you today. I’ve been wanting to fuck you all day.” Miguel removed your suit as he kissed your neck to your breasts.

“We had sex this morning Miguel.”

“Only twice, though. I haven’t touched you in six years. Being able to touch you again, I can’t control myself, mi amor.” He lifted you so that your legs rested on his shoulders as he removed your panties.

“Open wider.” He nips your thighs with his fangs which makes you moan as he licks up your pussy before sucking on your clit, which sends you into a daze. Your hands go into his hair as Miguel’s tongue enters you and begins eating you out.

“Miguel.” You moaned out his name, which made him go crazy as he grabbed you by the thighs, his claws slightly digging into you as he brought you closer to his mouth to try and tongue fuck you deeper.

The continuous thrusting of his tongue into you and the flick of your clit made the knot form in your lower abdomen.

“Cum on my face so I can taste you.” Miguel turned his attention to your clit, which made you reach your climax as you released your juices on his face. Miguel was pussy drunk as he drank every last drop of you. “I could eat you for hours, mi amor,” Miguel added as he removed your legs from his shoulders and wrapped them around his waist again.

Miguel’s suit dissolved, revealing his god-like figure. The heat in your core revived when the tip poked against your entrance. You felt his lips leave marks against your neck before capturing your lips again.

Your nails clawed at this back as he thrusts his member into your wet folds. Miguel didn’t take time to ease himself inside you as he thrust in and out of you at a rough and fast pace.

“Miggy, what if someone comes up here?” You moaned out. Words were hard to escape from your lips as Miguel pounded into you like a wild animal.

“It’s a little late to ask that, don’t you think?” Miguel huffed out as he continued to ram into you. He spreads your legs wider to thrust deeper into you. You guess he was right; it was way too late to ask. If people saw, they saw. And what a heated site they would see.

“I never want to leave your intoxicating pussy. I fit perfectly into you as if this pussy was made for me. Ughh, if you clench anymore like that around me, I’ll lose it.”

“I-I can’t help it.” A knot built up inside you for the second time. And with the rapid pace, Miguel would hit your climax as you became a moaning mess. Clenching around him from your climax made Miguel growl from your inner walls tightening around his member. He thrust one more time before cumming deep inside you. His pace became sloppy as he wanted to keep his seed from spilling out of you before he pulled out.

“I love you, mi vida.” Miguel took your chin and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“I love you too, Miggy.”

“Now, let’s get some delicious empanadas.” You smiled at his happy-go attitude to get his favorite empanadas. He kissed your smiling face before helping you with your suit.

“Would it be possible to get a suit like yours again? I know this is not the last time you’ll take it off me.” You winked, and Miguel smirked in response.

“Of course.”

After making a quick stop in Miguel’s universe to his favorite empanada store, the two of you went back to your apartment in your universe. Miguel made sure to buy a few extra for Mateo when he came back home tomorrow so he could try the best empanadas.

You sat between Miguel’s legs and rested against his chest on the couch. Miguel flicked through old videos and photos of the two of you six years ago. You smiled at the fond memories, from random conversations at work to cooking dates to vacations. Though you only dated for half a year, you were friends with Miguel for a few years, which can be seen in many photos and videos. You always loved to capture moments.

“Omg, is that the video of us at the beach when we got wasted?” Miguel showed you the video of the two of you sitting on the beach with you, relaxing against him.

“Yes, it is. Though it might have been the horrible hangover, those breakfast burritos we had the next morning were delicious.” Miguel leaned his head back, reminiscing the memory. You giggled from his love for food as you kissed his chin before resting your head against his shoulder, putting your face against his neck. You closed your eyes, basking in the moment with him.

“It’s past midnight. Let’s go to bed. You’ve had a very active day.” Miguel kissed your cheek before picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the bedroom.

“Most of that activity today was with you.”

“Well, I can’t wait to do it again with you, mi amor. It’s hard enough not to ravage you again right now. But you need your rest.” Miguel placed you on the bed as he got in with you, pulling the covers over the both of you.

You turned to face him as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him.

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be the last time.” You giggle and place one last kiss on his lips before snuggling against him.

“It definitely won’t be the last time. We have eternity to be with each other.” Miguel kissed your forehead before turning off the lights as both of you enter the dream world.

Miguel’s eyes opened as he gazed at the white ceiling in your now-shared bedroom. He turned over to wrap you in his arms but frowned when he noticed the empty space beside him. You never woke up before him, as he was an early riser. He checked the time on his phone. He woke up at his normal time. His eyebrows furrowed, confused by your whereabouts. He then noticed a note on your pillow.

I got a notification saying a situation was happening at the mall that I needed to attend to. Some guy causing trouble. I should be back soon.

Love, Y/n

Fear and worry grew in the pit of his stomach. It’s been a long time since you’ve been in spider action. He was worried for you. Miguel got out of bed when he heard a noise in the living room. He sighed when he noticed he had left the tv on last night. He was about to turn it off when something perked his ears.

We’re getting reports of numerous injuries and casualties at the mall shooting. Spiderwoman is currently trying to find the gunman at the scene. We will keep you updated- sorry? Oh my! I apologize for the brief interruption. It has come to my attention that Spiderwoman has been shot.

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Tag List

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@miggyyyyohara

[frozenjokes]

A Mermaid Learns English, Races Clams, And Breaks Up What Was Definitely A Vicious Human Fight

I’ve decided to post these ‘one shots’ on tumblr as well since y’all seemed to enjoy the last one

With the passing of a couple days, Mumbo was beginning to pick up on a few more human words. There was ‘Hey!’ to get Grian’s attention and ‘Look!’ to get Grian’s attention and ‘Clam!’ to get Grian’s attention, all of these words usually used in quick succession. However, Mumbo was most proud of figuring out the human pronoun. He. That’s what it was. Scar was a he and Grian was a he and they had both considered Mumbo a he, which was cute! It was like Mumbo was an honorary human with hes and hims just like them, how sweet! (And they were okay with that! Excited even! He was excited, yeah, look at that! He! Me!) How many other animals did they consider to also be human? Did humans even use separate pronouns for their own species and others? Maybe every animal was just a really big or really tiny human to them.

Regardless. After learning about human pronouns, Mumbo learned that Scar and Grian talked about him constantly. Constantly! They talked like Mumbo wasn’t there, even when he very much was, and he knew, because whenever they bothered to include Mumbo in their conversations about him, they would be looking directly at him. At first it was flattering, and then it was a little bit annoying, and currently it’s been quite frustrating! What are you squawking about? Tell me! Mumbo made sure to let them know how he felt. He got pushy, getting in their space (never closer than a few feet), but they didn’t seem to register that as aggression at all, in fact, Scar never looked anything less than delighted. Utterly confusing! Though, Scar in particular was quite physically affectionate with his human friend.. was that how humans always acted, or was something wrong with that one’s head. Grian didn’t seem to reciprocate very much, sometimes pushing the other off of him or simply doing nothing (looking generally displeased, though that’s how he always looked), but who knows! Humans were weird and apparently not very protective of their own space.

“Look! Look at that, Grian, he’s getting so comfortable with us! He gets closer every day, isn’t that great?” Scar waved his arms around carelessly, and Mumbo had to shimmy back to avoid being touched.

“I don’t know about that. Can’t tell. He doesn’t emote very much, does he?”

‘Will you two quit talking about me.’ That got their attention, whistling clicks always did, but when they didn’t hear a word they recognized (their names), they just stared before going back to chatting with each other. Fine. Be that way, then. Mumbo was hungry anyway.

So he left, trying to throw in a bit of petty flair, but Mumbo didn’t have to look back to know the gesture went over their heads. Given the splint still holding his sore tail in place, Mumbo doubted a mermaid would have understood either. Ugh. Hunting was going to take ages like this.

And it did.

Mumbo spent an hour in deeper water getting batted around by currents and the like, but chasing fish as he usually did had been out of the question since getting stuck in Grian’s net. So he had to wait. Wait for fish to come to him.

Mumbo was not very good at waiting.

It wasn’t that he was an impatient person. He could be plenty patient when he needed to be, but Mumbo was also a fidgety mer, and typically fish aren’t too keen on swimming very close to the visibly hungry big thing with sharp teeth.

He did not get many fish today. He did not get many fish yesterday. He did not get many fish all week. Maybe there was a reason he was starting to get so irritable.

Regardless, Mumbo wasn’t too worried about starving or even losing all that much weight; if he was really having problems he would just have to take a detour back home to the deep and get fixed up. He could go today if he wanted. But he didn’t, not really. The humans would miss him! They would wonder where he had gone. (Not that Mumbo would be thinking of them as well, worried about what they were getting up to. But humans were so fragile, and these two in particular seemed to have impaired survival instincts. What if Mumbo left, came back, and they were gone? What if he never saw them again?) Needless to say, Mumbo was only going hungry for normal, sane reasons. Maybe he could steal some of the humans’ food, though, they hardly ate anything at all. Wouldn’t be worth the grief.

When Mumbo returned, hungry and irritated about still being hungry, Scar was looking for clams. That seemed to be his favorite activity, sifting through the sand, digging up clams, piling them up, then at the end of day, scattering them back in the sand. Today, Scar was lining up his clams on the shore, letting them sit in the sun for whatever reason. Mumbo wondered if he ever planned on eating them, or if the clams were just toys to humans. Maybe Scar didn’t understand how to get inside them? Mumbo snorted, bubbles floating to the surface. Humans probably thought the clams would just open up for them if they waited long enough.

But not even his sour mood could withstand Scar’s bright smile as the human spotted Mumbo returning; its entire body lit up, every single encounter met with the same excitement as the first time it saw him. Sure, Mumbo was more easily flattered than most mermaids he knew, but anyone would break under the weight of that joy. Was Scar that excited to see everyone, or was it just him? He hoped Scar knew he felt similarly. He wished he could tell him.

Scar’s attention quickly shifted back to the sand though, bending over to sift through with a hand then plucking a clam out of the water. “Oooh this is a big one!”

Across the water, sitting on a rocky outcrop, Grian rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure you’ve shown me that same clam every day since you first got here.”

“It’s big though!”

“It is pretty big.”

“Do you think she’ll win?”

“The- did you finally remember to bring nail polish? And I don’t know, I’ll have to take a look at all of them before I decide.” Grian went back to fishing (and Mumbo was keeping a closer eye than he’d like to admit on the line), but Scar seemed satisfied, taking his bounty to the shore to line it up with the ten or so other clams.

“Well you’d better get ready, because our athletes are all lined up! They’re revving to go, Grian! You should look before they speed away! They’re chomping at the bit I tell you, they’re gonna run right away if you don’t come and look right now.”

Grian made a small noise of assent, not moving. “I'm in no rush.” He re-cast his line.

Scar huffed, trotting to his bag (which Mumbo couldn’t help but notice was placed very far from the shore, what was up with that anyway? Did they not trust him? They could trust him. Come on, no harm in putting them a little closer to the water..) and producing a small vial. Mumbo dragged himself a little closer to inspect it as Scar sat back with his clams. It smelled weird.

“What,” Mumbo said in human, another very useful word he’d learned, and Scar smiled, unscrewing the top.

“We paint our..” he paused, thinking, before gesturing to his dull claws, “Nails.” With the brush attached to the cap, he drew some of the brightly colored liquid inside across one of his ‘nails’, coloring it. Huh. So humans painted their skin just like mermaids did sometimes, very interesting. Unfortunately, Mumbo didn’t have the materials to show him. Scar examined his hand thoughtfully when he finished, throwing Mumbo a soft smile. “This won’t last. I’ll save it for the clams.”

With great care, Scar began to examine his clams one by one, picking them up and spinning them in his hands, saying something about names to Grian, then painting little symbols on the shells once they were dry enough. But why? Mumbo got the sense Scar was preparing them for something- to eat, maybe? Mumbo have never actually seen either human prepare any food; they seemed to bring pre-hunted meals with them every day. Was this.. part of the process..? Why in the world would they name their food?

Well. It was possible Scar wasn’t trying to eat and Mumbo was just thinking about food due to his own hunger. But then what was the point!

Apparently, the painting activity piqued Grian’s interest despite his previous dismissal, a common trend for that human it seemed. Despite holding a somewhat stubborn facade of disinterest, he was quick to contribute a name, and eventually, stopped fishing altogether to check out what Scar was working on.

“This one will be Jellie, the cutest, prettiest, fastest clam,” Scar said, practically shoving one of the clams in Grian’s face. Mumbo couldn’t quite make out the symbol painted on it, (none of the human symbols meant anything to him) but Grian seemed to understand, reaching insistently for the paint in Scar’s other hand. Scar held it out of reach, leaning away, but not without a smile on his face. “What? You don’t like Jellie?”

“Let me make one.”

“I thought you didn’t care about clam racing,” Scar grinned as he shoved back, Grian stumbling a bit in the sand before scrambling back to Scar, throwing himself across the other’s arms in a way that made Mumbo’s fins stand on end. What were they doing? Why were they fighting? Was it about food?

“You can’t put Jellie in the race without Maui and Pearl. At least one of them! I want to draw them.”

“There’s only so many slots for the race, Grian. I’m afraid your cats didn’t make the cut, very sorry, very very sorry.”

“You haven’t even painted all of them yet!” Grian said, in a tone that could have been a growl, though Mumbo had never heard a human make that noise before. Grian pushed at Scar’s face, and Scar laughed(?) hurriedly trying to cap the paint before he dropped it. Grian climbed onto Scar’s back, but as soon as the paint was secure, Scar fell backwards, howling as he crushed Grian in the sand behind him. Grian squeaked, the breath knocked from him, but it wasn’t long before he was squabbling under Scar’s weight, clawing and pushing and being very loud in tones that made Mumbo’s skin crawl. He had to stop them somehow- they were going to hurt each other!

Mumbo tried whistling, ‘Stop, stop, stop,’ but they were too preoccupied in their wrestling, Scar yelping as Grian poked at his eyes. He meant to call their names, but his voice wouldn’t form the human words, even names, the sounds refusing to materialize on his tongue. The humans were close to the water, close enough to splash maybe, but Mumbo’s use of his tail was so limited with his splint and the water was so shallow. Who knew if he’d even be able to kick up enough water to distract them, or if they would even stop? If he was going to hurt himself, better to make sure it counted for something.

Mumbo closed his eyes, bracing himself before heaving out of the water and grabbing Scar’s arms with his hands and a shoulder in his jaws, yanking backward. Two things were immediately clear; one, Mumbo failed to remember how small and weak and light-weight humans were, and two, their skin was so fragile. All this to say, Mumbo was thoroughly stunned at how far back he pulled Scar, and even more alarmed to taste blood, the shock at both of these two things overpowering even the electric pain in his tail. Scar yelled and Grian shrieked, and suddenly everything was just too frightening and overwhelming and Mumbo needed to be away, away, instinct so strong, he pushed away with a strong flick of his tail despite the splints, agony shooting up his body. But in a way, that was okay. He was gone. All he needed was to be gone.

But being alone and safe from the noise gave way to thought, and in a way, that was worse.

He felt bad. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know if he had hurt Scar, or how badly- he hadn’t meant to! He didn’t want anyone to get hurt at all! Mumbo buried his face in his arms, hiding from the sunlit surface. Mermaid fights were nasty things, and it usually took multiple sets of teeth to dislodge one mer from another, not to injure of course, just to hurt enough to get them to see sense and release each other, which, honestly, was a hassle in it of itself; mermaids with long tails could get all sorts of tangled. Why was human skin so thin! Were they built to die!?

Distantly, Mumbo heard the humans talking. Grian was saying Scar’s name an awful lot, loud as he always was, and it sounded like they were arguing even more than before. Mumbo buried his face deeper into his arms. He hadn’t even made a difference.

Then, splashing. A lot of splashing, both humans by the sound of it, but the second source quickly stopped short at one, big splash and- oh.

Mumbo lifted his head, and there was Scar, swimming directly toward him. There was a definite bite mark in his shoulder, still bleeding, but it didn’t seem to be bothering him at all, the human still swimming strongly. Mumbo put his head back in the sand.

“Mumbo! Hey, Mumbo!” The words were barely recognizable under the water, but Mumbo didn’t care to hear them anyway. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to move. Everything hurt and he was hungry and all he did was make everything worse. Humoring the human with zero survival instincts wasn’t going to make him feel any better. The human lingered regardless, though mercifully kept its distance. It got air several times before finally realizing Mumbo didn’t want to talk and eventually, after what felt like ages, it left him alone. The lack of disturbance in the water was a sensory relief. Still, he heard the humans talking above the water.

“Still think he was trying to kill me, Grian? Seriously. He feels awful, the poor thing. We probably set him off or something, I don’t know. Like how some animals can’t tell the difference when we raise our voices playfully or because we’re mad.”

Grian took a long time to respond, but when he did, his voice was stony, “That was extremely stupid, Scar.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You don’t know what he was thinking. You don’t know! Sometimes it feels like I’m the only person here who gives a shit about your life. That’s not a person, Scar, that is an animal, an animal that has been documented as something that eats people. I don’t care if he ‘looks sad,’ personifying him like that directly after he attacks you is going to get you killed. Even if he is ‘sad,’ jumping right in after him is an objectively insane thing to do! You could have set him off a second time and there would have been nothing either of us could do. I- Honestly, Scar, I really shouldn’t be having to tell you this! You know this! You own a god damn zoo!”

“I don’t agree.”

“What do you mean you don’t agree? What about?”

“I think he’s a person. And I think we have the opportunity to do something really special here, so I’m not going to throw it away over a dumb misunderstanding.”

Another pause from Grian, longer this time. “Scar.” Scar didn’t say anything and Grian didn’t either for a while, long enough that Mumbo thought the conversation was over. It wasn’t though, apparently. “Can’t you wait? Wait until he comes back to us? We’d know he’s calm at least, safe.”

“No. He might be flighty and I really don’t want to scare him off from this. I just have to make sure he knows we’re good.” Another pause, but Mumbo got the impression it was more from a lack of things to say. It didn’t last long though, Grian breaking the silence after a bit of shuffling.

“Hey- what are you doing, Scar you can’t- those are my fish.”

“How much do you sell these ones for? I’ll pay a better rate.”

“No. No, absolutely not. No. This is the bad idea to trump all bad ideas, I am not going to let you throw away your life trying to feed- Scar, come on, I’m trying to work with you here and you’re being impossible!”

“I won’t take them if you say no.”

“I’m saying no! I’m saying no, Scar, I’m saying no so stop- stop looking at me like that.”

“This whole thing means a lot to me, Grian, I just want to preserve it.”

“Well you mean a lot to me and you don’t seem to care at all! How can you just stand here and be okay with throwing your life away- do the people that love you mean nothing to you? Do you even think about it? I think about it! It drives me crazy when you just-“ Grian made a strangled noise, “Don’t! Think!”

More silence, the heaviness permeating the water as much as the air.

“I won’t go in. I just need a fish. The smallest one you got.”

“You won’t go in?”

“I won’t go in. I promise. And I’ll pay for it, I mean it. I’ll pay for everything you caught today if this works out.”

If Grian said something, Mumbo didn’t hear it, only hearing the muffled shuffling of above-water activity that went on for ages. Eventually, he heard the telltale splash of Grian’s lure from the other side of the cove. The whir of the reel was nice; a soft white noise.

Not so nice was the massive splash right above his head, frightening Mumbo off the sand in a cloud of dust, frantically looking around for the source of the noise. He smelled the blood before he saw the fish, eyes widening at the sight of it. Certainly dead, but also fresh, the kill just about as clean as it gets; if Mumbo had found this in the wild, he would have assumed it had been sick and avoided it, but the little gash in its face was a clear enough indicator on how this was caught. The rock tied crudely to its tail with fishing line was a bit of a clearer sign of human intervention.

After calming his racing heart, Mumbo drifted over to inspect it, somewhat painfully aware of Scar’s eyes on him from the shore. Was this a gift? Mumbo touched the fish gingerly, then flinched back. It was cold. Why was it so cold? Did humans have some sort of cooling ability Mumbo didn’t know about? He was pretty sure he’d have heard about a thing like that. Hunger stopped that train of thought. The fish was a small thing, not much in the scheme of things, but right now Mumbo would take anything. After a short inspection (and removing the rock), Mumbo devoured the whole thing, pleased.

Maybe this was okay. Scar clearly wanted Mumbo to know he wasn’t angry, and while he still wasn’t sure about Grian, maybe there was something proactive he could do about it.

Mumbo didn’t even surface before swimming deeper, straining with his injured tail. His foray onto land might have broken his splint; it sat uncomfortably now at the sides of his already throbbing scales, but there was nothing Mumbo could do about it now. That would have to be a later fix.

As much as his tail hurt, Mumbo really wanted to catch something fast, and at this point, it was sort of feeling like he was already going to be in pain for awhile, so why not make this hunt quick. He didn’t go deep, hardly much deeper than Grian’s fishing lines, but deep enough to catch an alright sized fish if he could push through the pain enough to chase it properly. He was still patient; Mumbo wasn’t about to swim after every fish he saw, but in the end he did end up giving chase more than intended, and by the time he had something suitable, his entire body felt like it was on fire. But that was okay. Now he could deliver his own peace offering.

And it was a good thing he surfaced when he did; Mumbo had gotten a bit worried when he stopped hearing Grian’s lure, and it turned out that was because the two humans were getting ready to leave. Alright. Fine, good even.

As much as he longed to eat the fish he had caught, Mumbo still dropped it to whistle, ‘Scars,’ and both humans turned around, surprise coloring their faces. Not a particularly bad emotion, Mumbo hoped. He brought his fish to the shallows, wincing heavily as his tail touched the sand, the splint hanging off and bumping it in increasingly uncomfortable ways.

“Oh! Mumbo, you shouldn’t have, really!” Scar met Mumbo near the water, and while Grian hesitated, he joined his fellow human, though lingered a little further back. Mumbo dropped his fish, though Scar didn’t take it, only looking to Grian, “Can you use that?”

Grian grimaced, “No, probably not. I mean, I’m sure we could eat it, but it’s a bit mutilated. I definitely can’t sell it.”

Scar nodded, turning back to Mumbo, “You keep it. Unless you’re not hungry, but I feel like I barely ever see you eat. I guess you don’t really know what I’m saying, I’m probably just confusing you by talking this much, aren’t I.” Mumbo stared. Scar stared back. Why wasn’t he taking it?

Mumbo craned his neck forward, straining to grab the fish again to drop it closer. Moving across the sand felt like dragging himself across magma, and he couldn’t help the small hiss that escaped through his gritted teeth. When he managed to open his eyes, Scar’s head was cocked to the side, and he still hadn’t taken the fish.

“I think he’s hurt,” Scar said, soft and sympathetic, “Whatever’s attached to his tail looks kinda broken, doesn’t it?”

“I’m sure he is, he’s been swimming oddly all week, and a couple weeks before is when he got caught in my net and bit me. He was really tangled, I think his tail was at a bit of an odd angle. I think whatever’s attached is a splint to keep it somewhat still- did you not think so?”

“No??”

“What did you think was on his tail?”

“I don’t know! I thought it was like- mermaid fashion? How was I supposed to know!”

“I thought that was a joke!”

‘Will one of you just take the damn fish!’ Mumbo whistled, irritated by the bickering and quite honestly, a little concerned they were going to start fighting again. Thankfully, the humans stopped, both staring at Mumbo again with wide eyes.

“I think he wants you to take the fish, Scar.”

“I don’t want the fish! I want him to have it!”

“Well right now he probably feels like you don’t like his gift. Does the bloody mess in the water not appeal to you?”

“You know I’ve seen worse.”

“Then take it!”

Scar frowned, bending over to gingerly touch the fish, though he didn’t look like he was all too thrilled about it. Did humans.. not eat fish? They must, surely they must, humans fish all the time! But the way Scar was holding the fish away from his body, touching it with as little of his hand as possible, Mumbo was really starting to think they didn’t eat fish. Why were humans so weird? Though, Grian seemed to be laughing at his friend, so maybe Scar was the weird one. Mumbo wouldn’t be surprised.

“I want you to have this,” Scar said, slowly extending his arm back toward Mumbo, and Grian seemed to find it extra funny when Mumbo huffed, but ultimately accepted the returned gift. Whatever. He was still hungry and had absolutely zero intention of letting this go to waste.

And.. that was that.

Mumbo retreated to deeper water where his tail felt a little less like his scales were going to peel off his skin, and the humans left soon after, the clearing returning back to its tranquil quiet. Not a great day, definitely not, but maybe that was just part of learning. Interspecies relations were never going to be easy with all the different customs and body language. Mumbo had little idea how Scar and Grian were feeling most of the time, and honestly, no matter how stressful they could be, he was grateful they were so expressive. Gosh, reading him must be a nightmare; mermaids didn’t emote nearly as much. Mumbo had tried copying some human expressions on his own time, but he was pretty sure he physically couldn’t, just lacking the facial muscles. Strange. Strange..

But good too. This was still good. And as much as Mumbo really should be headed back home for more help with his tail, right now, there was still no place he’d rather be than here.

[scooburst]

So here’s everything you need to know about the current situation.

My whole phone is on lockdown. I’ve been told when it finally comes back, I’ll have to delete tumblr and discord. Hopefully I can use the website and get around it. My parents are looking at blocking it on my computer as well. I don’t think they can, but thier also monitoring it so I’ll have to be very careful. I have five minutes after 7:00 AM EST to be here before it’s over. Throughout the day, I will be on for one minute twice (two one minute sessions) just to check in. From there I might be able to answer one or two asks and quickly peak at my notifications. I’ll say in the mornings a few things; what happened yesterday, updates on the situation, and if I’m okay. That will be all I’ll be able to post. Sometimes if I have it at night, I’ll come on just to say goodnight or answer a few more asks. But again, it’s only a minute. I’m trying my best to stay calm for this but it’s not going great.

What exactly happened is a bit more complicated. I’ll recount it for you all just so it’s understandable. My parents at some point looked over my computer, which was logged into tumblr and discord, and decided I was talking to complete strangers and being dangerous. Yes I was talking to people online but I was being safe, and I don’t think they’d listen to that. But that isn’t exactly stopping me from talking to those “strangers”. I don’t think my parents really even see you people as humans that are good people. But. You know. I can’t fix that. So now my phone is locked down. I can only text them and one of my friends. I can use the bare essentials. All I know is at some point it’ll be unlocked, and I’ll have to delete these sites. I’ll try to plan for that best I can. But that’s essentially what’s going on.

As for the discord if anyone’s on that. The management of it is being handled by people I trust most there. Use it however you like, and to those two: Do whatever you want with it, but keep it free and open to anyone. All I want is for you all to continue making sure the people there are okay. I will pop in every day and say I’m alive, but really not much else. And yes I will read the messages, as much as I can.

Now that that’s over, onto the newly scheduled post.

Date of writing: 11/1/24

Am I okay: not really, but I’m alive and “healthy”

Things that happened: today, I have a hockey game, and we got evacuated early from school because of bomb threats. At home I kinda just walked around. I played a little bit of guitar, I’ve been listening to music and built legos. I’m doing some puzzles as well. I’m trying to take care of myself to hopefully get my parents to let me back here.

Log: today, I was taking the chance I had to look through my notifications. And I cried. At everything you all wrote to me. I’m going to miss you all so much. You all are such amazing people. I can’t say I didn’t think you’d all say that, but it still caught me off guard. Thanks. I’m glad you all are still going, as far as I know. Keep that going. Dying isn’t good for you! I also saw someone made a whole blog of days without me. That’s insane. I don’t know what to say to that. Hopefully, it doesn’t have to count to high. I’m gonna write your urls all down so I can visit you all when I can finally be back officially. I know this is all probably really confusing with me still responding to things, but it’s just a very complicated situation right now. It sucks tp not have things like this to vent and feel better, but I have started to keep a journal so I can place my thoughts somewhere and I’m going to eventually try to open up to one of my close irl friends to hopefully have someone to talk too. I’m probably never going to just move on from this, it’ll always be something I remember and maybe something that still hurts, but it’s still some of the best memories I’ve ever had even if I cry thinking about it. I’m doing my best here to distract myself, get back into reading, maybe slowly try to build my parents trust that I can handle my phone, even though I could already. But it’s fine. Ive found a lot of entertainment in the photos app recently. Maybe when I come back I’ll share it all with you. Sorry these posts are so long. I’m just trying to stay here as much as I can. But jsut know not to worry, becahse I’m still okay, and I’m alive. Apparently I’m going to be talked to about discord and tumblr. There is some hope I can stay, but we’ll see. Either way im a sneaky boi :)

The last thing I want to say is that whoever made that blog counting how long I’m gone, you are so appreciated. I appreciate all of you really. And all of you who’ve made a post tagging me about whatever experiences you’ve had with me or put it in my askbox, you’ve made me feel so much better about this just knowing I didn’t fuck it up with you. If you didn’t make anything like that, don’t feel obligated to. Just knowing you’re alive is the best thing for me right now. Stay safe, if not for yourself, for me, and if not for me, then for someone else. I’m doing the same for all of you.

ALSO! Ima probaly make a tag list for this so you can get this as soon as possible! I know this is almost becoming a newsletter but hey that works. So if you wanna be on it, just say so (preferably in a reply or reblog to this post, with nothing but that you want in, separate from any comments about the post itself. It helps!)

[thezombieprostitute]

Dandelion

A/N: Part 2 of this Ask; Reader is AFAB, Tall & Plus Size;

Word Count: ~2.7k (holy wah!)

Warnings: Ex-boyfriend angst, Insecure reader, Talk of body image issues. Please let me know if I missed any.

The next day, Hal joins you for lunch. You generally sit at your desk because there's no such thing as a work-free break. He grabs a chair and sits backwards on it, grinning at you as he sets his lunchbox on your desk.

“What are you doing, Hal?”

“What every straight man dreams of,” he says. “I'm having lunch with a pretty lady.”

“Please don't,” you whine. “I told you yesterday, I don't want your pity flirting.”

“And I told you, it ain't pity.”

“Then why are you eating at my desk?”

“Well, as I said, I was treating you differently because I wanted you to know I thought differently about you from all the other pretty faces. But my methods only made you think I wasn't interested. So now I'm doing something different.”

“And what if I don't want the attention?”

“If I'm genuinely making you uncomfortable I'll get up and go. But if you only want me to leave because you still think I'm feeling sorry for you, I'm sticking around and eating my lunch. Hopefully having a conversation with you as well.”

“How would you know the difference?”

His grin widens, “because you're a horrible liar, Dandelion.”

You roll your eyes, “fair. But if someone else shows up you're not interfering with my work.”

“Oh yes, I am,” he retorts. You give him your best glare but he doesn't back down. “You're at lunch. No one gets to ask you to do any work.”

“You do realize I'm not union?”

“We should fix that.”

The rest of your lunch passes with more back and forth. Every time someone starts approaching your desk Hal cheerfully states, “out for lunch! Come back later!” They leave before you can counter what Hal said.

After lunch, the two of you clean up and get back to work. Hal keeps it professional during work hours and you're grateful for that. You don't want to be mad at him, he's just trying to help you feel better. But the fact that he thinks fake flirting is “helpful” hurts you.

The next couple of weeks you find a small gift at your desk every morning. You receive some of your favorite candies, new pens in your favorite style, and even some cutesy post-it notes that you enjoy using. And every day you would thank Hal at lunch for the gift. As you got more comfortable around him he became more of a menace. It had started with him telling people you were at lunch and it escalated to a game of turning your monitor on and off. You wanted it on in case of important emails or notices but Hal insisted on turning it off because you’re supposed to not be working.

“You’re fighting a losing battle here, Dandelion,” he grins. “I have a major advantage in that I have no shame.”

“Yeah, I’ve picked up on that,” you groan. “So how about lunch away from my desk? Would that be okay?”

“You’ve got alerts on your phone, don’t you?”

You sigh, “yeah. But it’ll only chime for notices that are actually marked as ‘important’ okay?”

“Hmm,” he licks his lips. “I suppose that’s enough of a compromise for now. But we’re going outside to eat, okay?”

“Sure,” you nod. “It’s a nice day outside.”

“And I’ll get to take off my shirt!”

“Wait, what?!”

He runs outside, with your lunch in hand, before you can stop him. 

Only a few minutes into the lunch and Hal can tell something’s wrong. You’re actively not looking at him, at least since he took off his shirt. 

“Am I making you uncomfortable,” he asks. “What’s going on with you?”

"Look, Hal, it's not a big deal," you plead. "Can you just let it go?"

"No, I need to know what I'm doing wrong," Hal argues. "Otherwise I'll keep doing it and it'll become a bigger issue."

"You're not doing anything wrong," you assure. "The fault is with me, not you. I'm the one who needs to do the correcting."

"Well maybe I can help. I just need you to tell me what's going on."

You take a deep breath and steady your nerves before confessing, "the reason I look away every time I see you without your shirt on is because it just reminds me of how much I need to work on my own body."

Unable to bring yourself to look at him, knowing there would be hurt in his eyes, you continue "I'm too big and I need to either slim down or 'get toned' or whatever the terms are. But every time I try nothing works. I just end up getting bigger so I give up. And seeing your perfectly toned body just reminds me of my own failures."

Taking a deep breath to try to keep from crying, you try to assuage Hal, "none of this is on you. It's entirely on me. I'm the one who needs to change. You worked hard for that body and you have every right to be proud of it, every right to be comfortable walking around without a shirt. I need to either not be so damn sensitive or to get off my ass and work it off."

“I’m happy to help you with either one,” he promises. “But I’ll only help you with ‘working your ass off’ if it’s something you genuinely want for yourself and not something you feel you have to do for others to acknowledge your prettiness.” You chuckle but it fades quickly when you see the seriousness in his face. “I know it ain’t as easy for others as it is for me. I also know one of the reasons these things fail is because people mix up their goals for what they want with the goals they actually want for themselves. I love your figure as it is, but if you want to work on it for you, I’m happy to help.”

“You’re gonna start taking me to the gym?”

“If that’s what you want, but we’re starting you out small. Another reason these things fail is because people push too hard too fast.”

“I promise I’ll think about it.”

“Just remember, you’re pretty as you are because of who you are.”

“You really need to stop that,” you sigh. “I get that you want to be more than work friends and you’re a good guy, but I still can’t believe you’re actually interested.”

Hal leans back and grins, “I’ll have to up my game, then, Dandelion.”

“I’m not even sure what you could do to convince me, Hal. How are you going to succeed when there’s no known means, methods, or benchmarks?”

“We’ll figure it out together,” he beams. 

“Or you could just give up and admit you’re not interested in me like that.”

“Not gonna happen. I’m no liar, Dandelion.”

You find yourself succumbing to Hal’s charms. You feel comfortable, even safe around him and look forward to your lunches together. You’re able to let some of your guards down and, while you’re not matching his energy, you’re able to return the playfulness he sends your way.

“You need to be careful, Hal,” you laugh during one of your lunches. 

“Why’s that, Dandelion?”

“Because at this rate you’re gonna see me at my…well, ‘Manic Pixie’ isn’t the right term but I hope it conveys what I’m trying to say.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time! I’d love nothing more than to see you let loose.”

“You say that now,” you shake your head. “It can be a lot for people.”

“People that don’t deserve your attention,” Hal comforts. “So, does this mean you’re ready to let me take you out on a date?”

“You know what, Hal? Yes. I trust you and you’ve been nothing but kind and patient with me this entire time.”

“YES! This Friday, I’ll take you out after work. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Hal has been looking forward to a date with you for months now. When he first realized he had feelings for you unlike the other girls he met. And getting to know you even more only fueled his desire. He wants, needs, to make sure that you have a good time. He even breaks out his good button up shirt. He’ll put it on after work so as not to get it covered in sweat. He can’t remember the last time he was so nervous about a date.

When he met you for lunch he was awed by how you had dressed yourself up. A dress that showed off your legs and, given the cardigan you were wearing, showed plenty of cleavage. He asked for a peek but you giggled and told him he had to wait for the actual date to start. The giggly conversation warmed his heart and he wanted, so desperately, to kiss you. But he’d promised himself he’d let you lead on that front. You were the one who was healing and growing so he’d move at your pace.

He actually clocked out a little early because he wanted to clean up in the bathroom before getting you into his truck. It wasn’t anything fancy, but he knew that wouldn’t matter to you. It’s one of the things he really appreciated about you; you didn’t judge others based on looks or money. It’s why he was happy to help you learn to give yourself the same grace. 

You’re shutting down your computer as he walks up to you. You smile at him and, as soon as your computer is quiet, you stand up and unbutton your cardigan. Hal gives you an appreciative whistle as he sees you’re wearing a spaghetti strap, midi length dress that shows more skin than he’s ever seen you show before. You duck your head, feeling the heat on your face, but you’re smiling. You haven’t felt this hopeful about a date in a very long time.

Hal takes you to the local botanical garden. You delight at getting to see the beautiful flowers and trees in the twilight hours, the pink and purple sky enhancing the natural beauty. You’re practically running from garden plot to garden plot and Hal is loving every second of it. You’re not well read on flora but you appreciate their beauty and could spend hours looking at them. 

But the moment Hal’s been waiting for is coming soon. As the sun sets lower, he pulls you close and points to one of the grassy areas. It takes a few seconds but then you see the telltale glow of a firefly. Then another! And another! You’re jumping with joy and giddiness. 

You look at Hal to see if he’s enjoying this too but he’s only looking at you. Feeling a rush of courage, you pull him in for a kiss. He responds exactly how you hoped he would, leaning into it, with an eagerness you delight in. You giggle and it sparks a giggle from him as well. You break the kiss but you keep your face close to his. His steel blue eyes sparkling with happiness. 

The peace of the moment is broken by someone loudly complaining about everything. You freeze as you recognize the voice. Hal gives you a worried look and you whisper, “we need to get out of here. Please.” Not needing an explanation, Hal starts walking you back to his truck.

You hear the loud voice yell out your name, Hal does too. You try to ignore it and keep moving, though you know it won’t do any good. Lloyd is damned persistent and he catches up to you, smiling like he’s genuinely happy to see you. You know better. You’re just an old favorite toy of his. 

“What a pleasant surprise seeing you here, baby,” he grins wickedly. “And here I thought this place had nothing good to look at but, damn. How come you never wore anything like that when we were together?”

“Because every time I tried, you’d point out all of the flaws that those clothes would show off,” you say through gritted teeth. “And you didn’t want me embarrassing you in front of your friends.”

“Well I was definitely young and stupid because, holy hell you look tasty,” he licks his lips and you fight the urge to vomit. “Maybe I just wanted to keep that fat ass all to myself.”

“Lloyd, please leave me alone. We’ve been done for a long time and I have no interest in rekindling whatever the hell it was that we had.” You pull Hal’s hand, silently asking him to go with you and he does so. You’re in charge of the situation and he won’t step in unless he needs to. No matter how much he wants to punch the mustache off that smug asshole. 

“Hey, I’m being damn generous here, baby,” Lloyd yells. “I’m giving you compliments. Hell, I’m giving you my time! No way you’re gonna just walk away from me.” 

The second Lloyd touches your arm you and Hal turn. Hal punches him in the face while you stomp on his toes. Clearly not expecting the double attack Lloyd backs off, shouting obscenities. He looks at the both of you, his nose bloody and his blue eyes storming with rage.

“Fine! Be a bitch like that! We could’ve been something great,” Lloyd shouts before storming off. 

You and Hal turn back and head towards his truck. You’re shaking by the time you sit down, nearly in tears. Hal holds you, asking if there’s anything he can do, anything you need, anywhere you want to go. He’s got you, he’ll take care of you. Whatever you need, he’ll get it for you.

As much as you want to go home and cry, you’re not going to let Lloyd ruin the best date you’ve ever had. You take a few calming breaths and give Hal another kiss, even more intense than the last one. Again, he returns your enthusiasm. You feel his hands roaming and you moan, letting him know you’re enjoying what he’s doing. 

You whine when he breaks the kiss. “I’m not one to take advantage of a lady’s emotional state,” Hal explains. “If you still feel this way after some dinner, I will happily take you wherever and however you want. But I need to make sure you’re okay to do so.” Rubbing your hand against his cheek you whisper your thanks and tell him that dinner sounds like a very good idea.

The dinner is definitely restorative. Nothing fancy, just how you like it. Eating together in the bed of Hal’s truck, looking up at the stars. You feel a peace you’ve never felt before. You snuggle up to Hal and thank him for a wonderful night.

“Though, I do have to ask, why do you call me ‘Dandelion’?”

“Dandelions are some of the most resilient flowers,” he replies. “Everywhere there’s a chance they can grow, they do so. No matter how much people try to get rid of them, calling them weeds, they keep doing their thing. People think little of them but dandelions don’t give a damn what people think. They’re beautiful, strong and have a lot to give if you treat ‘em right.”

“You are too damn sweet, Hal.”

“Only for you.”

“Would you care to make the night last longer,” you ask cautiously.

“What are you thinking, Dandelion?”

“My place. I can make breakfast in the morning. Or afternoon, depending on when we wake up.”

He searches your face for any sign of hesitation or forcing yourself to do this and he finds none. Smiling, he says, “I’ll be the one to cook breakfast. Because by the time I’m done you won’t be able to walk.”

“Challenge accepted, Hal.”

Tagging @alicedopey and @icefrozendeadlyqueen because I promised I would

[starlight-starwrites]

a real bed

arthur morgan x female reader

summary: You’re tired. Arthur’s been gone. When he leaves you to spend another night alone, he works to make it up to you and show you exactly what you deserve. wc: 3.4k warnings: TB-doesn’t-exist au, some light/non-graphic smut note: HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY @margowritesthings​​! I loved the princess treatment prompt, I hope this is full of the fluff (and smut) you were looking for! thank you to @rdrevents​​​​​ for hosting the valentine gift exchange!

“Carrots are done,” you slide the last of the vegetables into the pot and wipe your hands on your apron.

Pearson grunts, and you accept it as the most you’ll get for a thank you. “Stew is going to be light on the meat again. Where is that man of yours?”

“He’s not…my man.” You don’t look at him when you say it, heat flaring in your face at the words. You know who he refers to, but you and Arthur still felt new. It was no secret, you admit, and after years of pining it was nice to have your affections returned. But as you fill a pail of water for the girls’ washing up, craning your neck to look over the short bridge to Shady Belle, you can see Arthur’s horse is still missing. “I don’t know where he is.”

He’d left yesterday evening after a short visit and even shorter dinner. Things were rough for the gang, but you felt it was always the roughest for Arthur. He surprised you leaving so soon after returning, and when you asked if he wouldn’t stay for the night he only smiled and said you could have the bed to yourself like you would enjoy it. You kept your mouth shut. Kissed him goodbye. Watched him ride away and disappear into the trees.

Pearson calls your attention back. “He hasn’t been hunting much.”

“Arthur’s been hunting as often as he can. He always brings back something,” you snap. You rub at your raw hands, the filled pail pushing the metal handle into your skin.

“Brings back more than most,” Pearson backtracks as soon as he hears your tone. You understand his frustration - hungry people don’t treat the camp cook too kindly - but you won’t let him blame Arthur.

You take a second pail and dip it in the water barrel to fill that one too. “If you need meat, send out Bill. He’s been sitting on his ass all day.” You stare at the man currently sitting at the table sharpening a knife.

“Bill can’t hunt for shit.”

“I can hear you,” Bill looks up with a scowl that might have made you afraid once.

“Then maybe he should practice.” The look you shoot him fixes him to his seat as you storm from both of the men, pail in each hand.

You’re tired of hearing excuses for people. Tired of feeling like only a few are doing the work for everyone. Tired of how the humid heat of Lemoyne dampens your dress with sweat. Tired of wearing boots that have long outworn their use. And tired of hearing Miss Grimshaw’s grating voice from all the way across camp.

The girls seem to catch on your sour mood and don’t say a word as you drop the buckets of water and silently take the wet clothes to the line. You pin up shirts and sheets along side Mary Beth thinking about another lonely night and how you would kill for a chance to sleep in a real bed, tucked in Arthur’s arms.

It’s a nice daydream that carries you through the chore so that by the time you return to the front of the house and see Arthur hitching his horse to the post, your first reaction is elated relief. He spots you first, pace picking up as he approaches. He doesn’t make it before he’s waylaid by Pearson.

“Mr. Morgan! Good to see you. Camp provisions have been looking a little light recently, think you can restock?”

You want to throw something at him.

Arthur barely grunts before he’s ruffling through his satchel. “It ain’t much right now, but…” he pulls out a few cuts of meat. You think maybe rabbit. “Here. See if you can’t do something with this.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan! I’ll try and get this in the stew for tonight.”

You stand at Arthur’s side, once again impressed that no matter what, he always has something. You lift a hand to touch his arm when he speaks again.

“See that you do. I’ve got somewhere to be, so you’ll have fewer mouths to feed.”

Pearson’s already off to prepare the rest of dinner, but Arthur’s words strike your heart.

“What? You’re leaving again?”

He watches your hand draw back, your face fall. He nods. “We’re going out into Saint Denis tonight.”

You swallow, look at the ground. Of course. Work never ends. “Who’s goin’ with you?” At least you hope it’s someone you trust. Someone like Hosea, or Charles, or—

“You,” he says, like it was obvious. “We’re going out to the city.”

It’s the second shock of the night. “What? Arthur, I don’t really think I’m up for a job right now. It’s been a long day, and you’ve only just got back—”

His laugh is low, and his hands hold you by your upper arms. “It’s not for a job.” His hands move up and down your arms, comforting and pulling you closer.

“Got an errand to run and then…dinner. I got us a room.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. The dream from earlier suddenly feels possible. You grasp his forearms as he holds you. “A room? With a real bed?” He nods, eyes still smiling down at you. He looks as tired as you feel, and you take hold of his lapels. “Yeah, princess. With a real bed.” His hands slide over your back in an embrace. It eases something in you, the stress of camp, of surviving, of watching him leave. You don’t think about how your feet hurt or how rough your hands are. You think of this, being in Arthur’s arms, that reassuring feeling that no matter how bad things are, he still takes care of you.

You don’t have to think about it, you were ready to go as soon as he said the word ‘room’. You’re glued to his side as he walks you back to his horse, and you let him lift you up to the saddle. A trip to town for a night off sounds like heaven, but there is one thing you’re curious about as Arthur mounts up behind you.

“What exactly is the errand?”

.

You don’t know what you were expecting. Perhaps shopping for supplies, an exchange where Arthur sold some goods. Things that you had seen before. The building looks like a green house, the front filled with gorgeous ferns and flowers. Your eyes are drawn to the ceiling fan above as Arthur ushers you in, the fading sunlight filtering in through the glass casting shadows on figures and hats and frames lining the walls. An ecstatic and slightly accented voice pulls you from your observations.

“Ah, Tacitus! I am so glad to see you. And you, my dear, you must be Mrs. Kilgore, it is an absolute delight to finally meet you!” he takes a breath to lift and kiss your hand. The man barely gives you a moment to open your mouth, already talking a mile a minute. Though Arthur had told you his name is Algernon Wasp and to expect your alias, the eccentric seems so excited he all but forgot to introduce himself.

There is a dress, and it’s a wonder you’re here, and the corset gave him such trouble to make, but he is absolutely thrilled with how it turned out, and how do you like it, but oh, you can’t really say that it’s beautiful if you haven’t tried it on, and he really needs a model to know for certain it’s finished, and yes, yes it has to be you…

In any case, being stuffed into a strange man’s corset by Arthur in the back of green house is not exactly the sort of errand you had expected.

Algernon admits that the dress was not made entirely by him, but he really is the true artist behind it. The corset itself is cream, embroidered with flowers and embellishments in a deep navy blue to match the heavy skirts. He talks from the other side of the curtain while you direct Arthur on how to properly lace the corset. Both of your voices are low, movements slow. His hands linger where they can, and too often you find yourself leaning back into him. You can feel the warmth of his palm despite the layers fabric, and when he finally ties the ends, you hold his hands where they rest on your hips.

You don’t know why you’re here, wearing this dress that is worth more money than you’ve ever owned at once, but if Arthur wanted you here for the silly friend of his who rambled about duchesses, baronesses, and contessas then you would be here, looking like you could fit right in with them.

“How goes it? Please tell me you haven’t torn anything, Tacitus.” Algernon’s voice breaks you from the moment, and Arthur’s hands slide away. You pull back the curtain, taking in the dress once again. “Oh a muse indeed! You are perfect, would you look at that. What do you think?”

“Well, I…it’s gorgeous.” You can hardly take your eyes off it. The bodice has the finest stitching you’ve ever seen, the skirt like silk beneath your fingers. “But what does this have to do with me?”

“Why, it’s yours!”

You shoot a quick glance behind you to catch Arthur’s eye, thinking that perhaps when he had said the man was cracked he wasn’t exaggerating. But Arthur never meets your eye, his own gaze fixed on the clinch of the corset around your waist.

“I’m…not sure I can afford this…”

“Nonsense! Your husband has already covered it. In fact this is my payment for the favors he’s done me. I have never worked without a model before, but when I saw you, I just couldn’t say no!”

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” you say in confusion.

This time Arthur does meet your eye, and you can see he’s bashful.

“Of course not, my dear! I mean the pictures.”

“Pictures?”

“No, no. You’re right. Pictures hardly do them justice. The drawings, illustrations of pure emotion. I’ve never thought of sketch work to be so…moving. But these! Your husband is quite the artist!”

“Oh, I know,” and you think of what sketches he has of you in that journal of his that he would show this man. In hopes that he would make something for you. Something so fine you fear you may never have an opportunity to wear it again. Algernon is back to rambling about art, but you only hold Arthur’s stare in the mirror.

“Oh, but I know how busy you both must be! Please, don’t let me keep you again. I am no longer sorry to see the garment go when I see just how exquisite you look. Enjoy your evening! As always, it was a pleasure!”

And you find yourselves back outside, slightly stunned on the doorstep.

“Well. I believe I promised you dinner.” Arthur offers you his arm, and you easily lace your own through his.

“I believe you promised me more than dinner. Though I have to say I did not expect the new dress,” you quip. You tug on him a bit as you walk your way to the saloon where Arthur reserved your room and speak sincerely. “Thank you, darling. You didn’t…have to go to such trouble for me.”

“I know trouble. Trust me, this ain’t it.” He drops the teasing for a moment to look at you, and answer just as sincerely. “You look beautiful.” You feel warm, and not from the Saint Denis weather. “Besides, you’re not the only one who’s going to play dress-up.”

You let out a sound of delight. “You still have the suit Josiah picked out?”

“Oh, sure,” Arthur sounds none too pleased, “I still have it.”

“Arthur Morgan,” you sigh, “you really know how to treat a lady.”

.

On your way in to return to your room, you barely had a moment to look around and appreciate the finer details. Now, you lean into Arthur’s side as he speaks to the bartender and take in the establishment. The Bastille Saloon is still a saloon, but the patrons are dressed as finely as you are now, the furniture made of quality. You don’t see broken glass on the floor or scuffs made from idle knives and rowdy brawls. The tables have tablecloths. The piano is a grand one. The couple next to you are speaking French.

“And whatever the lady wants.”

You blink in attention, and turn to face the gentleman behind the bar. He’s wearing a tie. “Oh…I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” you say to Arthur.

You like the way his lips curve into a smile; it’s a crooked thing, and you may have once thought it teasing, but now you notice he’s fond by the crinkle of his eyes, he’s pleased by the way he leans toward you. Your arms hold tighter to the crook of his elbow, shocked at how just a hot bath and fancy clothing can change both your demeanors entirely.

Tonight you really were a distinguished lady, on the arm of the man you love. You never doubted Arthur to be a gentleman, but you still giggle when he pulls out the chair for you. He takes the seat next you, not across, and you scooch closer.

“Are you sure there isn’t some job?” you lean in to ask with a smile. You wouldn’t mind it if there was, so taken up with the dress, with the restaurant, with Arthur.

“No, darlin’, there’s no job.” He takes your subtle accusation in stride, leaning in and setting a gentle hand on your knee. “Why? You want there to be one?”

“No. Just don’t get why you’re doing this, is all.” You don’t want to sound ungrateful. Or suspicious. Your hand covers his under the table, aware of the impropriety, but too happy to care.

His eyes soften and fingers curl around yours. “Because you deserve it. Because you…deserve better.” The words are unspoken, but you know what he’s saying. He believes you deserve better than living with outlaws, than a campsite that moves every few weeks, than an old rickety cot and Pearson’s stew. He believes you deserve better than him.

You shake your head slowly, not looking away from his eyes. “You know what I want.” It’s a whisper, a spoken promise that you feel the same. No, you don’t want to live in a camp of outlaws for the rest of your life. But you’re sticking with him until the both of you can get out. Find what you want. A real bed. A home. A life.

Arthur looks like he’s about to respond when two plates are set down before you, and you gasp. He ordered prime rib with healthy helping of some of the best looking potatoes you’ve ever seen. You don’t think a meal has ever smelled so good in your life.

“Christ alive.”

Arthur laughs at your shocked reaction.

“What? I don’t think I’ve seen a steak this big.”

“You help prepare food with Pearson all the time,” his voice is a drawl, amused and pleased you’re impressed, and he doesn’t hesitate to start cutting into his meal.

“Not like this.” You know you’re staring, but you don’t even know where to start. “Arthur…if you just wanted to get me in bed, you know you don’t have to do all this.” Your words are crass, but you try to keep it to a hush. His treatment of you this afternoon has got you thinking of one thing, and quite frankly, you are very much looking forward to getting him back upstairs.

The way he chokes on his first bite is worth it. “Now I ain’t uhh…You know, well, um.” He gives up to plead with you. “Princess.”

You laugh at his stammering, put your hand on his knee. “Don’t you start. Because you did promise me dinner, and I intend on absolutely polishing off everything, and I expect you to do the same. And then, and only then, am I going to drag you upstairs and make very good use of that bed. No matter how many princesses, sweethearts, or darlings you use.”

And maybe the two of you are sitting too close that you keep bumping elbows, and no matter how finely you dress you still don’t quite fit in with the upper class, but you’ve never shared a finer meal someone.

And you’ve never seen Arthur eat so fast.

.

When Arthur took you to the room upon arrival in Saint Denis, the first thing you did was flop to the bed. It was large and well made with thick blankets and would fit two people comfortably.

Now that you finished dinner and are retiring for the night, you don’t even make it there. Your back is pressed to the closed door, Arthur’s mouth covering yours before pressing hot kisses down your neck, across your chest, and over the tops of your breasts pushed up by the corset. You tug mercilessly at the suit jacket he wears, only feeling slightly bad before he lets it drop to the floor.

You can feel the grip of his large hands through the material of the dress - one holding tight to the thigh you hiked to his side, the other roaming over your body before finding its place to cradle your head. Directing your mouth to his then away so he can place more kisses under your jaw. With every certain touch, with every meaningful place of his lips, your heart swells. He whispers every name he’s given you between each kiss, and you find yourself sighing out his, unable to say the words to ask for what you really want.

He has treated you so well all day, and you knew, you knew you would end up here at the end of it, in his arms and in his heart. You were ready to do whatever he wanted. Instead he takes hold of you and gives you everything you want without you having to say a word.

His hands find their way under your skirt, fingertips trailing sparks over your new stockings and to where the corset ends. Every single thing today has been a gift from him, and this here too is another. You can’t keep up, but you’ll let him take, you’ll let him give, you’ll let him have it all.

His bare chest is hot under you palms, your own breasts pulled from the confines of the corset just as you make it to the bed. It’s where you wanted to be all day, and it lives up to every hopeful wish. Arthur handles you, moves you were he wants, and even still it feels like he serves you.

His kisses are like the warm glow of a fire—you chase the feeling, chase his lips, and he gives into every whine from you. You reward him with your moans. He travels the map of your body and disappears under your skirts. His hands and mouth never part from you, and you scramble to take hold of yourself, take hold of him, take hold of the sheets beneath you.

Neither of you say it often, but you both know. Tonight, I love you is said with every touch of his skin to yours. I love you with every kiss. I love you as he wraps you around him. I love you as your hands come to cradle his head.

You pant heavily, still partially confined in your clothing, and as soon as Arthur’s lips return to yours, the frantic grabbing for one another’s affection subsides. He’s steady and reassuring, both of you content to sink into each other until you can’t be any closer. Your kisses turn slow and sultry. His shoulders shudder in your embrace, his hips solid between your legs.

It’s you and him and this bed and the way he calls you mine. It’s rare these moments you get with him, and you soak it up, relish in the way he lets himself love you. In return, you let yourself dream of the future in which you and Arthur share a life, a home, and a real bed.

[s1eept0ken]

Angel ☣︎ IV x Fem!Reader (part 2)

warnings-nsfw, dirty talk, praise, car sex (?) and horrible quick plot to start off lmfao

a/n-I’m so sorry I didn’t post this yesterday I haven’t had much time lately! I’m so sorry. Also nearly near 100 followers already? Thank you guys so much I love you!🖤 also not proof read I wrote this at 2am im so sorry!😭

MDNI!

꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎

Today was finally the day! iv comes back it feels like it’s been so long and you can’t wait, he’s much more excited to see you though. His gorgeous girl whom he hasn’t seen in so long. You have been on his mind all day, while on the plane he got half hard just by thinking about fucking you, he needs you so bad he hasn’t felt you in over two months! Could swear if he waited any longer without you he’d lose his mind. He finally lands and the moment he spots you he gains the biggest smile! you’re so gorgeous to him his heart just melts when he sees you. “Missed you so much baby” he grumbles into your ear hugging you tightly. Shortly after you both head back to the car, even though it is your car and he just got back he INSISTS on driving or more like he wants to steal glances at you while you look out the window, looking gorgeous. He places his hand on your thigh, moving it upwards slowly to your inner thigh. You take a deep breath in when his fingers slide into your underwear, you look over at him, he’s so concentrated on the road! but even more to your drenched pussy. Something about iv is that he LOVES to finger you, he loves the way you softly whimper when he slides only one finger in! He doesn’t take much time to slide his fingers in, he’s just as quick to take them out as well. He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean, “hmm missed your taste so much angel” he says softly running his hand up and down your thigh, bringing it into your panties yet again. This time roughly rubbing circles on your already extremely sensitive clit, you whine out softly and you watched as he shifted in his seat, that definitely made him somehow harder than what he was before. He slides his two fingers down to your entrance, teasing you by rubbing softly around your desperate hole. He chuckles softly as you grip his wrist, desperate for more from him, “such a needy girl today for me huh?”. After a few more moments of his teasing he finally sinks his fingers into you. He doesn’t take long to speed up his pace, his fingers deep inside you while you’re gripping the car seat trying to keep calm but it’s just so hard when he has his thick fingers deep inside! “Feels good baby? Bet you missed this huh” he says calmly, while gripping the steering wheel extremely tight, keeping his fingers at a very nice pace. You clench your thighs together, leaning your head back the pleasure is so much you can tell you’re close. It doesn’t make things better when he slides his thumb up to your clit, rubbing circles roughly. You clench around his fingers and you hear him chuckle, “gonna cum sweetheart?” he says in a soft tone slowly speeding up his fingers, you nod swiftly in response. “Too bad baby, don’t want you ruining your car seats now huh? He are practically home anyway, can always finish inside” he says in a cocky tone pulling his fingers out and licking them clean, he knew what he was doing. You grumble out of annoyance you were so close! You fix your dress up and criss cross your legs, folding your arms together too. “Now now don’t go getting an attitude, I told you we can finish when we are back home or unless you wanna be a little whore”.

꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎

Hope you enjoyed!

Love you🖤

[billy-cockblock]

I wrote a little thing inspired by @saintalondre's swtd afterlife au, before they'd posted more info about it, so this doesn't really fit in their au at all, but I had fun.

Gibbo hated the water tanks. 

But Addair was busy in engineering today, and he was the easiest to push the task of fixing a leak onto. It shouldn’t be a difficult job, just tedious to find the source that was causing all the flooding. 

He thinks that’s why they assigned Douglas to come down with him and help. Got him somewhere in the belly of the rig and away from the sea below. Poor guy needed something to take his mind off yesterday’s… incident. Gibbo’s heart dropped every time he thought about what happened, and he wasn’t even the one to pull Caz out. Douglas had hardly said a word since Rennick had taken the situation over and shipped the body back to the mainland. They’d been told to “avoid spreading rumors around the crew” and he’d completely shut down. Still, despite their boss’s attempts to cover up the incident, word of their missing crewmates had spread. The mood over the whole rig had doured after that morning. Dobbie and Trots had to make yesterday’s lunch, and when Roy had returned, dinner and breakfast tasted flavorless. 

Bringing himself back to the present, Gibbo stepped into the flooded water tank room. It was up to his knees, but shouldn’t get any higher that he couldn’t wade through it. 

“Right, this shouldn’t be hard,” he said, turning to face Douglas wading in behind him. “All we have to do is follow the water pipes. If you find the leak, call me over so I can patch it, aye?” Douglas nodded absentmindedly, eyes still distant like his mind was somewhere else. “Hey,” Gibbo put his hand on the other man’s shoulder, snapping him out of his trance with a start. “Let’s just focus on patching the leak, okay lad? Water’s cold, and we’ll lose our toes if we take too long.”

“A-aye,” Douglas looked away again. “Water’s real cold.”

“How about you start looking that way, and I’ll go this way, eh?” Gibbo pointed towards opposite sides of the room. “We’ll get done here and get to warm up twice as fast. Just keep an ear out for flowing water and look for the source.”

Without a word, Douglas just nodded and turned to go the way he was told. Gibbo watched him for a moment before sighing, trudging his own way. 

He’d only been searching for a few minutes when things started to get strange. He heard a metallic bang from the walkway and jumped. Finding a gap through the tanks and pipes, he saw the door of the locker hanging open. The water at the bottom of the stairs was rippling like someone had just passed through it and walked out of sight.

“Douglas?” he shouted, checking on his coworker.

“Aye?” Douglas responded, coming from the opposite side of the room as the sound.

“You hear that?” While he wasn’t moving, Gibbo could hear the quiet sounds of something sloshing through the water past the pipes around him.

“No? Hear what?”

“Hello?” Gibbo called out. “Anyone else is in here?” He listened closely to track the sounds, but every quiet noise echoed in the enclosed space. He started walking slowly to try and pinpoint their location. “If you’re trying to joke, it’s not very funny.”

The sloshing, drips, and creaks blended together, seemingly coming from several directions at once. As he wandered, Gibbo also picked up on the sound of breathing. It was shaky and muffled, like someone was trying to be quiet but too nervous to slow their breaths.

“Hello?” he tried again. “Aren’t you cold? You sound like you’re shivering.”

He’d been passing by a row of tanks when he heard a splash right on the other side.

“I’m not looking, I promise,” a small voice whispered, small and terrified. They sounded familiar somehow, but Gibbo couldn’t place it.

They started walking away where Gibbo’s path ended, and he’d have to go the long way around if he were to get to the main tanks where they were headed. He crouched down to see if he could see them under the tanks, soaking himself up to his waist, but only caught a hint of a blue uniform through the shadows before it disappeared around a corner.

“Douglas, meet me by the main tanks,” he called across the room.

“Uh, okay.”

He hurried through the pipes until he reached the raised walkway by the tanks. The stranger wasn’t there, but there was a trail of water and he could hear the metal rattling of a ladder. He hurried around the corner and only caught a blur of boots as they climbed over the top.

“Oi! Get down from there!” he yelled, climbing up after them. The top of the main tanks was fenced off and the only way to go was into the tanks themselves. They may have been mostly drained to prevent more flooding, but they could still be extremely dangerous. 

He only saw the top of their hardhat as they descended through the hatch, causing him to scramble the last way up.

“Wait!” He rushed to the edge to stop them, but they were already too far down the ladder. They looked up at him, blinding him with their torch as their grip loosened in surprise. With no warning, the hatch moved on its own and slammed shut, nearly taking Gibbo’s hand with it and locking itself. 

“Shit!” he cursed, gripping the wheel to open it, but it refused to budge. No matter how much force he put behind it, it wouldn’t twist. 

“Gibbo?” Douglas asked from behind him, startling him so bad he screamed. 

“Don’t do that, Douglas! How’d you get up here so quietly?!”

“What are you-“

“No… No!” The voice cried out, echoing out of the second tank. They looked over and saw the second hatch open, allowing sound to escape. 

“Douglas…?” The voice sounded farther away than it should be. It had an odd quality to it, like the whistling of the gales in the outer rooms of the derrick, or the sound of waves from the middle of the deck. Like holding a phone away from your ear but having it still close enough to hear a caller’s voice. “Douglas!” They continued muttering to themself, too quiet to be understood through the echoing and strange effects. 

Gibbo turned to ask Douglas a question, but his words were lost when he saw his face. It was ashen with dread and he looked like he would vomit. 

Douglas pushed past him to get to the hatch, twisting the wheel open with ease. 

“Hey! What are you-!“ The hatch was already open and Douglas practically sliding down the ladder. He at least felt relieved seeing the water so low, but he still hated the idea of anyone going in there. 

Douglas disappeared from view, heading towards the connecting space between tanks. Gibbo almost reached for the ladder himself, but hesitated. 

“Douglas, get back here!” he whisper-shouted into the dark, keeping an eye on the other hatch and the stilling water below. There was no reply other than fading sloshing sounds.

After what felt like far too long, a familiar knit hat emerged from the opposite hatch, looking around wildly.

“Where’d he go?!” Douglas asked, voice frantic. “Did you see him?”

“Calm down, lad,” Gibbo tried to reassure. “No one’s come out of there other than you. You sure the guy isn’t still in there?”

“I-I don’t think so, but it’s so dark…” he was starting to break down; Gibbo figured it was the stress of yesterday catching up to him. “I heard him, I know it was him…”

“I have a torch,” Gibbo said, reaching into his pocket where it was located. Douglas didn’t seem to hear him, forcing Gibbo to make up his mind. “Alright, lad, stay there. I’ll check the tank and meet you up there. Don’t move, alright?” He waited for Douglas to nod before shakily grabbing the ladder.

He hated the water tanks. He was vehemently reminded of that fact as he landed in water up to his knees. It was as cold as the water filling the outside room, but the solid, enclosed walls made it so much darker and easier to flood if someone were to forget he was in there. 

He shined the torch around the first main tank, going as far as to look up the walls. No sign of the mystery man in here, but he couldn’t shake the childish fear of something lurking in the dark. 

That meant he had to do his least favorite part…

Coming up to the connection between the tanks, he had to turn sideways, squeezing into the narrow gap. He wasn’t the smallest man, so the fit was very tight. He hated having to do maintenance inside the tanks, he hated the dark, he hated the tight fit, he hated the water-

He just hated the water tanks.

He was eventually released, coming out on the other side with a relieved sigh. He pointed his torch at the dark corners and-

His light shut off, plunging him into darkness. 

His whole body tensed and his breathing picked up. He quickly flicked it on and off again, trying to get it to come back with no luck. He shook and smacked it, only succeeding to get it to flicker rapidly. 

He spun around, pointing the blinking light behind him, in the corners, and all around, searching for beasts lurking in the dark, making his anxiety worse. 

He pushed through the water towards the ladder, wanting to get out as quick as possible, when he froze solid, his heart dropping to his stomach.

At the base of the ladder, his light caught an orange uniform floating just under the surface. The light flickered and he noticed the body’s dark skin. It flashed and he caught his grey knit cap-

The torch died again, and in the low light filtering in from the hatch, the body was gone. 

“Gibbo?” Douglas called down from above. “Is he down there?”

“N-no!” Gibbo finally managed to stutter out, trying to shake the panic off. It had just been his mind playing tricks on him. It had to be. “He-he must’ve snuck past me somehow. I’m coming up!”

He doesn’t think he’s ever gotten up a ladder faster in his whole career working on rigs. Douglas seemed to have calmed down a bit, still occasionally wiping his eyes. 

“He didn’t come this way either,” Douglas said. “How’d he get past?”

“I don’t know,” Gibbo replied. “He must’ve slipped out while I wasn’t looking.” He looked over the tank room, looking for any sign of movement in the shadows. “Who was he, anyway?”

“What?” 

“You said you knew who he was and it got you in a right state, so who was it?”

“Ah,” Douglas hesitated. “I must’ve just imagined it, it couldn’t have been-“

A slam echoed through the room, making both men jump. It sounded like the hatch door up the stairs to Accommodation. 

“Well, sounds like he got through okay,” Gibbo joked, trying to shake off the tension. “But who’d you think-“

“Is that the leak?” Douglas interrupted him, pointing to something in the half of the tank room they hadn’t searched. Sure enough, Gibbo spotted the junction between pipes where a steady stream of water was leaking out. 

Gibbo sighed. “Aye, that’s it. Good job, lad.”

[mercurygray]

I don’t know if you’re still accepting prompts but if you are could I get a Ron and Billie Jealous au for your brand of brothers fic? Or one where Ron leaves his wife for Billie (I know it’s messy but babe I love drama and I need angst)

I'm so sorry this took so long, Maddie! I went in a slightly different direction with this, but it's a scene I've been meaning to write for a while - the two of them meeting post-war and post-everything.

Hawaii was supposed to be nice, this time of year.

That was what all the travel adverts said, anyway - not that Billie would get much of a chance to see it. Airline stewardesses didn't make enough to take a week away on the beach - an overnight in the airport hotel, perhaps a daiquiri in the bar, and then it was straight back out the next morning, listening to all those eager vacationers asking how she'd liked the sand and the surf.

But despite those setbacks Billie could honestly say that she liked her job. The pay was good, and the hours weren't terrible, and she could say that she'd been to some fabulous places over the last five years - up to and including not spending any time at home in Philadelphia with her mother, who would keep wondering aloud when she was going to get married. When are you going to meet someone, her mother kept asking. Surely there are single men on planes.

What, you mean all of those bored businessmen looking for a little heavy petting away from home? Those single men? Those were the only kind she met these days - unless you were talking about the pilots, who were just as bad at keeping commitments.

No, she wasn't going to meet anyone here, and that was just the way she liked it. At present she had no obligations and nothing to tie her down, and that was just the way she liked it, too. Billie fixed on her face in the forward galley and made her way down the aisle, offering to help 7B with her bag, and to find a souvenir plane for the little boy in 12C.

There was laughter, a few rows back - a group of officers in class As, crusher caps and all, each with an identical briefcase and a smile that only got wider as she walked by. Hawaii was probably only a stopover for them - one night at the airbase and then on to Japan. Five years ago they wouldn't have been laughing about this flight - but five years was a long time. Billie tried to move by, brushing by the one joker who was still loitering in the aisle.

"And how about you, gorgeous?" he asked with a grin. "Are you free when we get there?"

One born every minute. "Terribly sorry, gentlemen, but I have other plans."

"Aw, but are they more fun than us?" his friend asked, rising from his own seat to block her in a moment, taking one hand and wrapping his free arm around her waist, his hand resting casually on her ass. "Maybe some drinks and dancing?"

Billie felt her blood rising, felt the urge to clench her fist and punch him square in the gut starting to pick up speed. She'd be allowed, if she were somewhere else. But stewardesses had to be cleverer with their jabs. She was just mustering her very best smile when someone spoke behind her.

"Is there going to be a problem here, Captain?"

Immediately the hands dropped - and Billie's face did, too. I know that voice. "No, Major Speirs, sir. Of course not."

And then there was another man behind her, looming. "When you speak to a lady, you call her ma'am." She took a deep breath, and turned around, only to come face to face with the same familiar dark eyes she knew she'd find. "Miss Mitchell."

It was a good thing the other man had called attention to his rank, because she wouldn't have been able to see it. She was too busy looking at him. "Major Speirs." And it took every ounce of strength she had not to call him Ron, because here he was, and exactly as she remembered, and the way his voice wrapped itself around her core felt as though it were only yesterday that they'd been in bed together, chuckling over shared cigarettes.

And one of his men had been feeling her up, and he looked spitting mad about it. Or at least, as mad as Ron ever looked, which was to say he had a kind of fire behind his eyes that you wouldn't notice until it burned you.

A bell rang overhead for the captain to speak, and everyone resumed their seats - and now those eyes were following her through the whole plane.

Billie knew how she looked to men in her uniform- the pencil skirt, cut to display a tight derriere and a fine pair of legs, the tailored coat with its bracelet sleeves, the pert hat over perfect hair. But she was unsure, now, how she looked to him. Did he like tight skirts, or the look of her calves in seamed stockings and heels? Was the way she dressed her hair now still attractive? Or did he only love the woman in fatigues with her unwashed hair in a braid, the one he could ask, laughing, Has anyone told you today you're beautiful?

She didn't know. And she wasn't sure she could stand the answer if she asked.

The captain turned the loudspeaker on, mentioning the gateway, and taxiing, and takeoff, and everyone took their seats and put their seatbelts on, and the engine roared them down the jetway. Billie's stomach was already in her mouth.

Ron Speirs. On her airplane.

It wasn't quite a full flight to Hawaii - eager vacationers, anxious for the sun, businessmen talking rice and pineapple and a dozen other commodities, and the small contingent of officers, all of whom seemed to have learned their lesson the first time and refrained from saying more than two words to her as she went by. All of them - and Ron.

She brought the cart around for drinks, tidied away newspapers and magazines, and studiously avoided him until she was doing the second round of drink service and he flagged her down. The seat next to him was empty, taken up by a briefcase and his own crusher cap - the privileges of rank.

"Billie, please. Stay a moment."

"I have a job to do."

"I'll take coffee."

She poured it without thinking, straight black, nothing in it, just the same way he'd always drunk it during the war, and set the cup down in front of him. "Some cream and sugar, please," he said, and she stared for a moment before realizing what it was he was doing - creating a reason for her to stay.

"So they promoted you," she said, taking her time with the sugar. "I didn't know if you'd stay in."

"I didn't have a reason to get out," he said, and as she set the cup down and he steadied it on his table she noticed his hand was bare - no ring. "We…separated," he offered, quietly. "There was …someone who needed her more." The casual way he said it nearly broke her. "I see one of us did all right, though," he said, smiling as he gestured to the diamond solitaire on her own hand. "Who's the lucky fellow?"

She looked down at the ring like she'd forgotten it was there - because she had forgotten she had it on. Her hand clenched like that would somehow hide it. "Oh, he - he doesn't exist. Sometimes it helps with - deterrence."

"And what do you tell them about him, when they ask?"

I tell them that he's very handsome, and we met during the war, and that he's a captain in the army. "Oh, this and that. Pretty lies." She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"I am, too." He glanced up at her with a brief smile, as if he were somehow afraid to hold her eye. "Do they give you some time for fun, after these long hauls?"

"Not much," she admitted. "But I can smell the sea, from the airport hotel, and that's usually good enough."

"They have me at the airport, too," he said vaguely. "Army travel budgets."

Down the aisle, someone else gestured, and she replaced the coffee on her cart. "Don't let me keep you," he offered, and she continued on down the row.

15C needed a gin and tonic with less emphasis on the tonic and more emphasis on the gin, and as she poured, her eyes glanced backwards down the aisle, catching a glimpse of dark eyes leaning slightly to the left, watching her from behind his hand with a different kind of fire, his coffee untouched in front of him.

Hawaii was nice, this time of year - if you had time to see any of it, that is. But five years was a long time.

(She was just hanging up her uniform when there was a knock at the door, and a pair of dark, fiery eyes behind it - tie loose, very sober. He looked her in the eye with longing. "Has anyone told you today you're beautiful?")

[youhideastar]

Fit for Purpose Deleted Scenes II: Alternate Version, Second Half

Yesterday I posted the first batch of deleted scenes from Fit for Purpose: the first half of a backstory chapter that I ultimately deep-sixed as a distraction. For more explanation, please read that first-half post! Today I'm sharing the second half of that backstory chapter. Again, I'm going to try to keep my commentary on the scenes to a minimum so as not to make this post longer. Other deleted scenes posts are linked in the masterpost. I hope you enjoy!

We pick up during the Sunshot Campaign, with a scene that I've always found perplexing in canon - WWX promising to let LWJ help him with the demonic cultivation. It's not clear in canon whether he ever actually does that. Here, I decided he would.

On another rooftop in the moonlight, eyes dark and urgent, Lan Zhan says, “Wei Ying. You are trying to snatch grain from a roaring fire.”

Because without that grain, I’ll starve, thinks Wei Wuxian. For a moment, he imagines telling Lan Zhan about his core. It’s a wild thought, quickly smothered.

“Wei Ying. Let me help.”

Wei Wuxian knows what he should do: call him “Lan Wangji” again. Smile like a knife. Shove him away.

But the end of the war is coming, and Wei Wuxian knows he’s unlikely to survive it. A few months doesn’t seem like too long a time to pretend that he can be fixed—that what he’s missing is something Lan Zhan can give him.

He says yes. Lets Lan Zhan play pretty songs for him. Spiritually, they do nothing for him.

But the lie makes Lan Zhan feel better.

They’re at war. Lan Zhan could be hurt or killed at any time. Wei Wuxian doesn’t want the last thing he said to him to be cruel. That’s all.

*

In the end, they win. He wins.

The other sects make the omega Meng Yao—Jin Guangyao, now—the hero. What he did, they understand. One short, sharp thrust.

It makes A-Cheng and Lan Zhan angry on Wei Wuxian’s behalf; for his part, Wei Wuxian couldn’t care less. He did what he needed to do. He fulfilled his purpose. He didn’t do it for the glory.

They go back to Lotus Pier.

A-Cheng and Jiejie want everything to go back to the way it used to be. They treat him like Yunmeng Jiang’s head disciple.

So he tries to act like it.

But there’s a hole inside of him. And so, there are things he can’t do. Things he can’t give, because he gave them already, and there’s no getting them back.

He can’t teach sword cultivation—can’t even draw his sword. And no one wants to hear about his talismans; the ones he writes in blood. The ones that draw evil in, rather than repelling it. Any of a half-dozen others would be a better head disciple than he would.

There’s only one part of his job he can really do anymore. And even that is… harder than it used to be. They want to touch and be touched, but his skin still crawls with the touch of the dead. And he doesn’t want to put his mouth on them. He never wants human flesh in his mouth again.

He’d thought he’d be dead for this part.

He was supposed to be dead for this part.

Maybe he is.

A-Cheng lays into him for failing in his duty. For not giving enough. Wei Wuxian places his hand over his incision scar and keeps his silence. He knows it’s true. No matter how much he gives, it could never be enough.

That previous scene is probably the one that hurt the most to cut. I really liked it. But DAMN did it bring down the vibe of the fic. It's so bleak in tone that it really could not coexist with the cute banter in the Jingshi.

Next is my first crack at the Baifeng Mountain scene.

Come to Gusu with me, he says. Let me play for you, let me help you, he says. I am the one who knows you, he says. Better than you know yourself.

For a moment, he imagines it. Going to Gusu with Lan Zhan. Letting Lan Zhan take care of him, letting Lan Zhan imprison him—he can’t tell anymore what it is that Lan Zhan wants to do with him, but he’s not sure he cares. At least he’d be with Lan Zhan. At least Lan Zhan understands that he’s changed. At least Lan Zhan isn’t expecting him to pretend he’s still the laughing boy on the rooftop.

Ah, but it’s a selfish, selfish thought.

Yu-furen saw it in him all along.

For him to cling to Lan Zhan—brilliant, perfect, unparalleled Lan Zhan, who has never needed or wanted anything from Wei Wuxian, not even his body—is just another symptom of his weakness.

No. Wei Wuxian knows what he is. What he is meant for. He is meant to be of use. That is what he was made for. That is why he was saved from starvation on the streets – so he could be of use. To Jiang Cheng, and to Jiejie.

He ignores the voice murmuring in his head, But what use are you to them, really? Except as a mascot, and a whore.

But that didn't really address what I consider the main point of the Baifeng Mountain sequence in this AU, and an incredibly overlooked moment in canon, imo: Jin-furen's assertion that people are starting to believe that WWX and JYL are sexually involved. To me, this is THE turning point of this arc for WWX. The only way he'd ever leave Lotus Pier is if he thought it was better for JC and JYL if he did. I think by this point in canon, he's long ago decided JC would be better off with a different head disciple, but JYL is keeping him hanging on. He doesn't feel like he's failing her. Until this moment, when Jin-furen supplies him with a reason to believe that his presence is hurting JYL, too. At that point, he feels he has to leave. I think if he hadn't found Wen Qing in the street, he might have just wandered out of Lanling and noped out of the whole cultivation world at that point.

None of Yu-furen’s lectures or Jiang-shushu’s stories or A-Cheng’s threats taught him what to do when the very people he’s supposed to live for are better off without him.

He’s a useless head disciple to Yunmeng Jiang Sect. Everything he does makes A-Cheng angry. Whenever Jiejie sees him, she looks worried. Even Lan Zhan—according to Lan Xichen—is working himself to the bone in a futile quest to purify Wei Wuxian’s nonexistent core and bring him back to the sword path.

Then, on Baifeng Mountain, he learns that it’s so much worse than he thought.

“You shouldn’t be alone with him, A-Li,” Jin-furen says firmly.

Jiejie flinches. “A-Xian is my didi. There’s nothing improper—”

“With your mother gone, there is no one who will tell you what you need to hear,” Jin-furen interrupts. When she looks at Jiejie, her face is kind; the look she flicks at Wei Wuxian is like a knife. “But I will. A-Li, didi or no, people are talking. An unmarried omega who turned down an advantageous match to a powerful alpha to stay with her brother…”

“Yes,” Jiejie says, cheeks pale. “My brother, Jin-furen. Will you tell me to stay away from A-Cheng, too?”

Jin-furen waves her fan. “Of course not. That’s different. A-Li.” She barely bothers to drop her voice when she says, “You know what betas do. You know what they’re for.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what Jiejie says to that. He doesn’t stay to find out. And he doesn’t plan to come back.

If he drinks himself to death, it’ll reflect poorly on Yunmeng Jiang. But if he flashes enough gold in the right parts of Lanling City, he thinks he can probably get himself knifed pretty easily, and bleed out fast enough that no one will wonder why his core didn’t save him.

Then A-Cheng can find a better head disciple, and Jiejie’s reputation will be safe.

And Lan Zhan—

Well. Lan Zhan will be fine. He won’t have to try to save Wei Wuxian anymore. Once the first shock is past, it’ll probably be a relief.

*

But in Lanling City, Wei Wuxian doesn’t find a knife in the dark.

He finds a woman in a red cloak, starving and bruised, searching for her beloved brother.

And some part of him that he thought was dead roars back to life, like a new-fed flame.

He remembers standing side-by-side with Lan Zhan, remembers the vows they made. He can’t be a good brother or a good beta. He can’t be head disciple, or cultivate the sword path.

But he can stand with justice. He can defend the weak. He can live with a clear conscience.

For the first time since his body was shattered against the death-soaked earth of the Burial Mounds, Wei Wuxian feels alive.

*

Lan Zhan doesn’t see it that way. Lan Zhan, sheltered under his pretty umbrella, tries to call Wei Wuxian back to the path of orthodoxy.

But Wei Wuxian has just walked away from a valley of corpses. He has seen what the path of orthodoxy is paved with. His hands are shaking. Behind him are those few he managed to save – cold, dirty, half-drowned, frightened, sick. He cannot walk away from them. He cannot believe Lan Zhan would ask him to.

PISSED-OFF AND INCREDULOUS. “We promised we would devote our lives to fighting the wicked and defending the weak!” he shouts, while the thunder rolls. His eyes sting as rain drips down his face. “You tell me, Lan Zhan: who is strong, and who is weak? Who is right, and who is wrong?”

Lan Zhan has no answer.

It rises in Wei Wuxian, then: the same smooth-polished calm that came upon him in the Xuanwu Cave, when he thought the moment had come for him to die for A-Cheng. A quiet but powerful peace.

Yes. He could die here. Now. Not knifed in an alley by some thief, trying to slip unnoticed from a world where he was no longer needed, but in battle against the mighty Hanguang-jun, defending the innocent. That would be worthy. That would be right.

As he raises Chenqing between them, Wei Wuxian can feel himself smiling. His belly churns with joy and sorrow, fear and anticipation.

“If there has to be a fight,” he says, very steady, “then let me fight to the death with you. If I have to die, then let it be at the hands of Hanguang-jun. It would be no injustice.”

But in the end, Lan Zhan steps away.

So Wei Wuxian rides forward. To Yiling, where Jiang-shushu rescued him all those years ago. To Yiling, where he dragged his body back from broken death.

He’s been reborn in Yiling twice. Maybe he can do it one more time. He can only try.

Here is an alternate version of WWX's decision to go with Wen Qing. I'm ultimately not sure which one I like better.

It would be monstrous of him to follow her. To turn his back on his family. His purpose.

You live for them. Die for them, if you have to. Don’t you dare keep anything for yourself that could go to them.

A perversion; a rebellion against nature, from which there could be no return and no redemption.

He thinks about the prisoners shuffled out in chains before the targets. Thinks about the screaming of the women, at Nightless City, as the blood ran from under the doors. Of the old men shot down from behind by golden arrows as they fled on the road, sobbing.

*

Three.

Two.

*

He swore, once, to live with a clean conscience.

He should never have made that vow—his conscience, like the rest of him, belonged to Yunmeng Jiang. It was not his to dispose of.

But he did. He did make that promise.

And even though it makes him ungrateful, and unfilial—even though he knows there will be no coming back from this—he finds he can’t break it.

This one thing, in the end, is his.

Either way, we pick up with this bit covering WWX's second stay in the Burial Mounds. Honestly, this is mostly me getting high on my own worldbuilding.

In the Burial Mounds, every moment reminds him of his time in hell. Resentful energy courses through his veins. His stomach growls with hunger. He wakes every morning with the knowledge that he has turned his back on the whole reason for his existence; that he is an ungrateful, unfilial disgrace.

And still, it is easier to breathe here than it was in Lotus Pier.

The things the Wen refugees need from him are things he can actually give: protection, and they don’t care that he uses methods other than the sword; labor, and for the first time since Wen Qing cut him open, he is not the weakest of the group; and money.

Most prostitutes are claimed omegas; safe enough, since a person can only be claimed once, but clients complain about the smell of a foreign claim, vinegary-sharp and off-putting.

A beta, then, can command a high price – even a skinny, dirty one, who can only ply his trade in alleys and teahouses, rather than silk-sheeted brothel beds.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t mind it. After all, it’s not like it’s so different.

This is what he was made for. People have always told him that. It’s just that, now, they give him money when they say it.

Then there's the "LWJ visits Yiling" section, which made it into the finished fic. We pick up with:

After Lan Zhan leaves, Wei Wuxian doesn’t expect to see anyone from his old life ever again, unless it’s at swordpoint.

But he’s always been loved too well – loved more than he deserves.

“Jiejie,” he whispers, eyes full of tears, as she stands before him resplendent in red.

“I wanted you to see me in my wedding clothes,” she says gently. “Do you like them?”

“You look magnificent,” he tells her, throat tight.

It’s almost more than he can bear, to sit around a table with Jiejie and A-Cheng eating pork rib and lotus root soup, being asked—at A-Cheng’s urging, how?—to give a courtesy name to Jiejie’s firstborn. He thought this was gone for good, and now, it’s—

It isn’t like he never left. It doesn’t feel that way. Wen Ning is waiting outside; the rest of the Wens up on the mountain; his stomach is growling despite the soup, because it’s all he’s eaten all day; black curls of resentful energy fill the ugly hole where his core used to be.

But it feels like, maybe, he could find a new way of belonging. Like, maybe, he could have both: be true to his family and his sect and be true to the vow he made with Lan Zhan.

*

He’s so stupid. He never learns.

And every time he falls into the delusion, people die.

*

But when he gets Lan Zhan’s invitation to Jin Rulan’s 100-days celebration, it seems like a sign from the heavens. Confirmation. He can have both, and the proof is right here, in his nephew’s name written in Lan Zhan’s perfect calligraphy.

He works in a frenzy on his gift for the baby. Night and day, applying new protections, refining those that are already there. Every mo, yao, gui and guai he can think of will be repelled. Curses, too – every curse he ever learned about, and some he invented himself.

This is how he’ll make up for it – how he’ll pay the Jiangs back for what he owes them. Every disappointment, every time he wasn’t there for Jiang Cheng or Jiejie when they needed him, will be made right. He pours his time, his ingenuity, his expertise, and his literal blood into these beads.

They’re not fine jade or lustrous gold. Probably a kid raised as the heir to Lanling Jin won’t want to wear it. But Jiejie can make him, when he’s little. And when he’s older, he can carry it with him in a bag or in his sleeve – that will be enough. Wei Wuxian takes care to make the protections strong enough for that. He doesn’t want to overlook anything. It has to be perfect. This is his chance.

You do anything your jie needs, Yu-furen’s voice echoes, every time Wei Wuxian’s eyes start to close under the weight of his exhaustion. And her children, someday.

I will, Yu-furen, he promises silently, rubbing his eyes and returning to his work. I swear it. I will.

*

And then, there is the ambush.

The box falls from his sleeve.

Jin Zixun closes his hand and—

Wei Wuxian doesn’t completely remember what happens after that.

The dust that used to be lotus-seed beads, pouring from Jin Zixun’s fist like sand through an hourglass – he remembers that very well. It replays in his mind, again and again.

But afterward. That’s when he loses the thread. Loses control.

Loses—

*

Jin Zixuan.

Wen Qing and Wen Ning.

A-Yuan.

Wen-popo. Fourth Uncle. All of the Wens he fought so hard and gave so much to save.

Lan Zhan – his enemy now.

Jiejie, widowed and grieving. Jiejie, wounded. Then—

*

“Jiejie!”

*

There’s no point, after that.

Lan Zhan takes his hand, holds on, won’t let go when Wei Wuxian tells him to. He looks at Wei Wuxian like he sees something worth saving.

But then A-Cheng is there; Wei Wuxian smiles. Good. This is how it should be. His life is A-Cheng’s to take. It always has been.

Everything happens very quickly, then.

And then there’s nothing at all.

Okay, that's all very depressing... future deleted scenes posts won't be so bleak, I promise! Stay tuned for tomorrow's installment.

[sm1leflower]

Feel special

✰ pairing : Im Nayeon x Fem!reader

✰ summary : You confess your feelings to your bestfriend , the girl who always makes you feel special

✰ genre : fluff

✰ warnings : use of pet name ( love ) and nothing else i think ( please tell me if i forgot anything )

✰ word count : 0.9k and some changes

✰ a/n : i found this yesterday , when i was erasing some of my notes , so i changed some things and decided to post it :) btw if there are mistakes please ignore them , thank you.

You weren't sure why, but you felt different around her. You felt cherished. You felt special.

You were also aware of the slim to none probability that Nayeon would like you back

You weren't blind. Even though she didn't have many friends , you could see how distant observers look at her.

You first met her when you started college two years ago, and you recall it like it was yesterday.

You've always thought of her as a good friend, and you consider her to be your best friend. Maybe she doesn't think of you as her best friend, but that doesn't really matter to you.

You never considered confessing to her until now. Every time this thought entered your mind, you would shake it off and tell yourself that you have plenty of time to confess, but now that you think about it, you regret not doing so sooner.

You are waiting for Nayeon with a bouquet of flowers behind your back, ready to surprise her. You asked her yesterday if she could meet you behind the college after her classes were finished. You see her , after a few minutes of waiting. She was wearing her beautiful smile, which lit up her face. When a thought occurred to you, she was getting closer, and you could feel your emotions rising. What if Nayeon doesn't like you back? Will you maintain your friendship? or will things get weird and you two will no longer be friends? You'll find out whether she likes you or not soon, because Nayeon is getting closer and closer and in a few seconds she is right in front of you.

"Hello," she says, her smile still on her face.

"Hey"  you say back , but unlike her you're not smiling "How was your day? " you ask her

"It was good, but now that I've got to see you, it's a lot better" you feel butterflies in your stomach with just a few words. "How was your day?" she questions , her gaze fixed on your face.

You wanted to tell her the truth. You wanted to tell her how nervous you were all day, especially now, as you're about to confess to her. However, you did not. "It was fantastic! But I'm glad I saw you because I need to talk to you about something very important" You answer her question, and with each word you say, she becomes more curious. "Go ahead," she encourages with a small hand gesture.

You show her the bouquet of flowers you've been carrying behind your back all this time and decide to get right to the point.

"Nayeon , I know what I'm about to say may seem ridiculous to you, but I like you. I've liked you for a while now, and I understand if you don't, but I really want to tell you about my feelings. Even if I'm having a bad day, when I see your name appear on my phone's screen , I start smiling like an idiot. When you look at me and smile, as you did a few minutes ago, my heart begins to beat at an unbelievable rate, and when you tell me how much you missed me I find myself smiling like a fool again." You take a short break to catch your breath, and you notice Nayeon staring straight into your eyes without saying anything, her smile not present on her face anymore so you take the opportunity to put the cherry on top. " It's you. You make me feel special." And with that you take a deep breath and push the bouquet towards Nayeon ,  hoping she'll accept it.

To be honest, you were worried about making Nayeon uncomfortable, but you also knew that if you did, she would stop you halfway through your speech and tell you so. After a few awkward seconds of silence, Nayeon takes the bouquet into her arms and holds it up to her nose to smell it. She lowers it, smiles at it, and then looks you in the eyes.

"I'm glad you finally said it," she says blankly, but her smile remains.

"What do you mean?" you inquire. Did she knew you were in love with her?

"What I mean is" she says as she takes a step closer to you "that if you didn't confess soon, I was about to take the first step."

So she knew. She was aware of how much you liked her, but she never teased you about it. She pretended she had no idea.

"How did you find out?" You ask her, even though you're fairly certain your friend, Sana, told her.

"Sana told me a while ago." she responds to your question, and you manage to suppres your laugh. Of course she did.

"Did she approach you and tell you about it, or?" Even though you wanted to, you were embarrassed to continue the sentence.

"Or what? Finish you sentence love".

You checks go red at that nickname. And also , you genuinely believe she understood what you meant, but this is just how she is.

"Or did you ask her about it?" After what seemed like a decade, you finally manage to say

"To be honest, I did ask her." That was all she said, but her words made your heart race once again

"Would you mind if I kissed you in that case?" You'd never asked someone that before, and it made you feel kind of awkward.

"If you insist."

[hlficlibrary]

✤ Childhood Friends Fics ✤

A series of posts with the top five fics of each category by kudos plus five more hidden gems from that category! Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find our other recs here.

- Top 5 H/L Fics -

1️⃣ Your Name Is Tattooed On My Heart by mcpofife [E, 86k]

Louis is ready to find the love of his life, but first he has to stop falling for the punk rocker next door.

2️⃣ Faking It by TheCellarDoor / @donotdialnine [M, 46k]

A uni AU in which Louis has been Harry’s best friend since he offered him cubed fruit on the playground, and they spend more time cuddling in their dorm beds than they do apart, but it’s not like that. Or is it?

Aka Harry pretends to date his best friend to escape unwanted attention from a too insistent classmate and hopes it won’t blow up in his face. Featuring embarrassing dildo accidents, awkward boners, longing, first times, late night conversations, emotional discoveries and Niall as the exasperated friend with bad advice.

3️⃣ Play the Odds by @alivingfire [M, 25k]

Harry and Louis are best friends since childhood who, after a night of drinking, find themselves locked in a bet: first one to kiss the other a thousand times wins. Wins what? They don't know. Glory, Harry supposes. Bragging rights, though those don't do much in this economy. All Harry knows is that this is one bet he can finally win. What he doesn't expect, though, is what happens when he starts kissing his best friend on a daily basis.

Namely, he doesn't expect falling head over heels in love with his best friend.

Now all he has to do is make sure the bet never ends, so he never has to stop kissing Louis.

4️⃣ i love you most by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci [M, 12k]

friends with benefits has always been enough for louis. until, of course, it isn't.

5️⃣ Now In A Minute by thealmightyavocado / @avocadolouie [M, 150k]

13 feels like yesterday for many people, but for Louis it actually was.

More than anything in the world, Louis Tomlinson dreams of growing up. Simply skipping over all of the awkward, embarrassing years of teenage existence and getting on with life. Real life.

So when thirteen-year-old Louis wakes up in the body of his thirty-year-old self, he expected everything in his adult life to be picture perfect. And maybe it is. He has it all…or so it seems.

Except his favorite person and lifelong best mate, Harry Styles, is totally missing from the equation and Louis doesn’t understand why. He has a lot of catching up to do and as adult life turns out to be more than what he bargained for, Louis can’t help wondering why a life that seemed so perfect, feels so empty.

Or the 13 going on 30 au that should have been done years ago.

-HIDDEN GEMS-

💎 days gone by by velvetnoodle / @femslashy [E, 25k]

Five years after their last day at Camp Vernon, Louis and the lads decide to celebrate by returning to the place that had brought them together all those years ago. Exhausted from work and desperately in need of a break, Louis arrives ten days before the others with the intention of fixing up the place. He’s not expecting any company, but, as Louis should know by now, things in his life rarely ever go to plan.

💎 When I Run Out of Road by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird [M, 24k]

It's 1932 when Harry Styles sets off on an adventure to the African continent and the most popular new travel destination: Nairobi. He has reservations at the best club in town and plans to stay for a few weeks. What he doesn't expect is to meet and get to know a wonderful family along the way.

The Deakins are sponsors of the Royal Ballet, traveling with the company to see them perform in Nairobi for the first time. They take Harry under their wing, treat him like part of their family, and change his life in ways he never imagined.

💎 You Turned Up (Like a Friend of Mine) by @lululawrence [NR, 10k]

Louis padded downstairs, feeling incredibly thirsty. He filled up a glass of water and was about to take a drink when a loud knock sounded at the door accompanied by some yelling and ringing of the doorbell.

“What the hell?” Louis muttered, setting his glass on the counter and rushing towards the door.

As he got closer to the door, though, his mind stopped whirling because the voice was one that was etched forever in his mind, but one that he never thought he would ever hear again.

“Why’s the door locked? Did you seriously go without me? And who’s car is in the driveway? Lou, I knew you’d be late to get me. We’re going to miss-”

Louis whipped the door open, sure that he was just imagining things. There was no way…

Except there was. Standing on the front step was the curly haired, boy-faced Harry Louis had last seen ten years ago today.

Or the one where Harry disappears on graduation day only to show up on Louis' door looking exactly the same ten years later. Through a series of strange events, maybe they can finally figure out that they're destined to be together, no matter what.

💎 you and I love like it's a secret by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed [T, 4k]

Louis swallows, looking at Harry, who grins at him as though nothing’s wrong. He’s leaning against the door of a wardrobe, his long hair having lost some of its curls due to the amount of times he’s run his fingers through it. Louis is still where he was the moment the door got closed behind them, all but pressed up against the wood, trying to keep as much distance between him and Harry as possible.

His heart stutters in his chest as he looks up at his best friend. He’s known Harry since he was barely out of diapers, and Harry gets him in a way that few people ever have – or have tried to. He knows him, to the point where sometimes Louis worries that he’s able to read his mind.

Or: It's Seven minutes in Heaven, but Louis sort of feels like he's ended up in Hell instead when he's forced into a small bedroom with his childhood best friend slash long time crush.

💎 captivity by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry [G, 1k]

you get to a point in life when your secrets aren't as holy as they once were.