#tremors imagines

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Dating Earl and Valentine would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Earl and Valentine come as a pair so it’s no surprise that you’d wind up dating both of them; even if things don’t start out that way. 

- Chances are you’re not a blonde with big tits and legs that go all the way up, so, even though you’re most definitely a catch in your own right, it’s initially only Earl who actually notices and shows any interest in you. Valentine is too busy standing back and being disappointed, questioning his friend’s taste in women as he watches him lightheartedly flirt with you. 

- He makes a comment about his buddy’s attraction to you once the two of them are alone together and Earl spends the rest of the car ride home lecturing him about his high standards and refusal to date anyone who doesn’t fit his very specific list of requirements. 

- Earl gets to know you and probably takes you out on a few dates before Valentine starts to actually pay attention to you: mainly because he has no other choice but to acknowledge your existence when you’re suddenly being included in a majority of their affairs. 

- His attraction to you is a somewhat slow burn: seeing the way you act around Earl and considering the fact that he wouldn’t mind a relationship like yours, looking at you when you’re all dressed up/distracted by a task and surprising himself by thinking that you’re actually really pretty, interacting with you more and finding out that he actually really likes your personality, etc.  

- He keeps his distance most of the time and occasionally acts sort of stand offish, but it’s plain to see that he likes you; even if he doesn’t want to admit it. And Earl takes notice of this, sending the two of you knowing looks that tell you he’s aware of what's going on but that he isn’t particularly upset about it. 

- The two of them are vaguely aware of how much they care for one another and that it may or may not be closer than your average handyman partnership, but nothing comes to fruition until you come into the picture and make them consider things that they normally wouldn’t have to consider. 

- Earl is the one to initiate things, but he’s fairly subtle about it: inviting Val to come along on your dates, telling him to spend time with you, saying things that are meant to make him think about his feelings towards you, etc. 

- He probably has a conversation with you about your openness to the idea and subsequently brings it up to Val, letting him know that you like him and that he’s welcome to be a part of your relationship if he wants to and/or whenever he’s ready to. 

- It throws Val for a loop and though he initially insists that he isn’t interested; mainly because he doesn’t want to admit that Earl is right, he does start to grow closer to you after getting the verbal go ahead. He’ll start showing you a lot more kindness, start doing you little favors and acting more friendly towards you. He’s always acted a little shy with you but he starts getting a bit more bold: touching and spending more time with you, looking at you a lot more, etc. 

- He doesn’t do a lot of it in front of Earl, but that’s sort of to be expected; especially in the beginning when he’s still trying to figure out how he feels about the entire situation. He doesn’t need the old man making comments towards him or giving him his knowing glances whenever he’s being blatantly obvious about his growing feelings towards you. I think a part of him would also be a bit worried that Earl is making fun of him and merely joking around whenever he talks about sharing you or the feelings that you apparently have for him. 

- Earl may or may not teasingly tell the younger man to go and “help her out” whenever you head into the house alone. But regardless, Val does end up making some kind of move on you when the two of you are alone and that’s how you finally end up securing both of your boys....

- There’s not a ton of pda in your relationship but it’s kind of unnecessary when the entire town already knows that the three of you are dating. Both of your boyfriends aren’t ridiculously touchy individuals so they sort of keep to themselves, thinking it kind of unnecessary to be hanging all over you; especially when you’re in front of your neighbors who they may or may not be trying to keep your relationship a secret from. When they do give you affection, it’s the rough and tumble sorts of touches that are common with “manly men” like themselves. 

- For instance, they give you a lot of little pats on the back or squeezes to your shoulder; silently asking how you’re doing or gesturing that you should all start to head out of “there”. Their actions show a level of familiarity or closeness, but if anyone outside of the residents of your small town were to see it, they’d probably just assume that the three of you were caring acquaintances or close friends.

- Earl is generally a bit more touchy and affectionate than Val is. The younger man may talk a big game but he tends to get a bit shy whenever it’s time to actually “walk the walk”. He’s a hardheaded and cocky youngster who occasionally cares a bit too much about his tough guy reputation or feels he’s backed himself into a corner because of it; especially in comparison to the old man who’s willing to show you that he cares and be more sweet on you from the get go. 

- The two of you exchange a lot of quick pecks; especially when you’re greeting each other or saying goodbye. Earl tends to kiss you himself or meet you halfway, while any kiss that you share with Valentine tends to be initiated by you; knowing that the younger man won’t make the first move unless he’s been working himself up to it or gets it in his head that he “has to” for one reason or another. You’ll usually kiss his cheek and watch as he tries to hide his shy smile or play it off like it doesn’t affect him as much as it does. 

- Kisses with Earl tend to be lighthearted and a bit on the shorter side. They range from sudden and giddy sorts of kisses; shared when he’s particularly happy or excited, to romantic and sweet kisses; shared after the two of you have been flirting back and forth and finally end up leaning in. His beard also adds a level of roughness; particularly in comparison to your other more baby-faced boyfriend. 

- Kisses with Valentine tend to be longer and a lot more passionate. He usually waits to kiss you until he’s about ready to bust or is so wrought with emotion that he just can’t help himself anymore. You can practically feel him buzzing against you with how eager he is: ravishing and clinging to you in a fiery and lasting way, one that leaves you feeling a little breathless whenever the two of you finally separate. It isn’t often that he really kisses you, but when he does, he certainly makes it worth your while. 

- The three of you kind of just sleep in a mess of limbs. They’re not really huge on cuddling; they sleep like logs and kind of just cluelessly conk out the minute their heads hit the pillows, but you usually squeeze in together and sleep on and around each other, sharing the same small bed that honestly wasn't made to fit three full-grown adults. If you’re just hanging around and not planning on napping, then they’ll throw an arm around you and cuddle you into their sides, letting you relax against them while you watch television or whatever bonfire they’ve set up in the yard. 

- There’s a lot of affectionate name calling in your relationship but they’ll still call you terms of endearment whenever they feel like it. They call you “girl” a lot, but when they aren’t addressing you simply by your gender, Earl will call you sweetheart or sweet pea and Valentine will call you sweet cheeks. 

- Taking part in the cooking cycle. If they start to fight about whose turn it is to make breakfast, you’ll usually just start to do it yourself, or surprise them with the fact that you already made it before the two of them even woke up. Once the three of you start dating, they might reason that it’s kind of your job to do all of the cooking, but don’t take it to heart. They’re simple country folk who were raised on some strict gender roles, and one eyebrow raise and unamused look from you will send them straight into the kitchen themselves. 

- Diner dates. 

- Grabbing a soda and/or a snack at Chang’s general store. 

- Being gifted junk that they’ve found and think that you'll like; if you’re into that sort of thing. 

- Watching tv and drinking a beer with them after a long day, or; if you have other hobbies you’d like to indulge in, parallel playing with them while they crack open a cold one and do their own thing. Catch them watching you with mild interest as you crochet a blanket or paint a picture, just zoning out as they watch you count your stitches or search for a different color, trying to understand how the hell you’re doing that. 

- Occasionally joining them on some of their work outings or having your own little job that they visit you at. I feel like they’d probably insist that they can fully support you themselves; wanting to bring home the bacon like the stereotypical men that they are, but they’re also not gonna force you to become their stay at home wife if that's really not something you’re into. Just know that it’s an option and that they’re willing to follow through whenever you feel like taking them up on their offer. 

- Sitting between them in their truck or occasionally sitting on one of their laps. Sometimes you nap in the back of their truck or stargaze in the bed of it when the sun sets and you’re still out in the wilderness. They have a tendency to live out of their vehicle when they get too tired to drive all the way home, and since you’re probably out there with them, you’re forced to get used to it just as much as they are. 

- The three of you are incredibly comfortable with each other, like there’s no way that you couldn’t be after going through all the things you’ll undoubtedly end up going through during your relationship together. Rest assured that there’s going to be moments where you are forced to get over your natural discomfort at the thought of seeming gross in front of your partners: whether that’s bleeding through your pants on your period or needing to pee in front of them while in the middle of nowhere. They’re completely unphased and probably somewhat amused or empathetic, so it’s really just mind over matter. 

“Are you done yet?!”

“Would you look away! I can’t do it while you’re watching!!” 

- And Valentine is really just the epitome of boys will be boys. Don’t be surprised when he does stereotypically gross “boy” stuff: drinking straight from cartons, pissing off cliffs, adjusting himself in his jeans, etc. Earl is a bit more civilized and tries to get him to act right, but it certainly helps to lower your need to seem perfect in front of them and help the three of you grow closer in the long run. 

- Earl apologizing for cursing in front of you and giving Val looks whenever he does; as if you’re some kind of saint who has never cussed in her entire life and will faint at the sound of it. Generally, anyone who cusses in front of him will garner some kind of disappointed reaction; even you.

- Getting fatherly advice and reprimands from Earl. He nags the two of you quite often, but it’s done out of love so you usually just laugh it off and/or assure him that you’ll do whatever he’s asking you to. It’s usually pretty easy to get him to soften up whenever you manage to tick him off; especially if it’s you who’s managed to get in trouble, just kiss up to him and he’ll melt, even if he tries to act like he’s still a bit upset. 

- Both you and Earl look to Valentine whenever there’s a job that needs to be done, and though he usually gives you a look or complains, he’ll still follow through with it. 

- If you have any kind of special education; or even if you’re simply mildly intelligent, they’ll both ask you questions as if you’d undoubtedly know the answers to them. You could have majored in literature and they’d still ask you scientific questions, as though simply going to college would allow you to possess the answers of the universe. Valentine, I don’t know if mixing those two cleaning chemicals will blow up the house. I studied photography. 

- The both of them looking to you for final confirmation before actually going through with something. For all of their preconceived gender roles, they’re more submissive to you then they’d like to admit; both because they think you’re really smart and because you secretly have them by the balls. 

- Them asking you where their belongings are: pants, boots, keys, cigarettes, lighters, etc. You’re probably the only one who ever knows exactly where they’ve left things. Although, if you tend to be forgetful yourself, you all probably act like three peas in a pod: one person has the keys, another has the cigarettes, and the last one has the lighter, etc. 

- Valentine gives you his jacket to use as a blanket; and would do so even before the three of you started dating. He used to love to pretend like he didn’t like you, but he’d always be taking care of you in one way or another, even when it wasn’t even really necessary. 

- Messing with each other is commonplace in your relationship; at least for Valentine it is. You’ll either stand back and watch as he shoots you a wink and pranks Earl, or join in and get an earful about how the younger man is a bad influence on you. Although, he isn’t complaining when you’re helping him get back at the blonde later in the day.

- Calming them down and holding them back whenever need be. The both of them have pretty fiery tempers so you try to mediate whenever there’s an issue, whether between the two of them or some outside force. 

“I’m gonna kick his ass.”

 “I’m gonna help.” 

- Melvin flirting with and making indecent comments towards you. The two of them genuinely almost throw hands with the 13 year old at least once a week. 

- Valentine tends to be a bit more jealous than Earl is, but whenever the mood strikes; like when an outsider rolls into town and starts trying to flirt with you, they both join forces and make it obvious that you’re off limits. They’ll deny that they were jealous after the fact, and pretend like they didn’t do anything after intimidating the other person, but it’s pretty obvious that they’re lying whenever they laugh off your accusations. Valentine will usually blow their cover by letting some kind of “did you prefer having him hang all over you?” comment slip whenever you press them on the subject any further. 

- Valentine also tends to be a bit more outwardly protective: mainly because he’s young, dumb, and selfless. He reacts faster than he thinks sometimes; like when he punched the graboid with his bare hand, so Earl usually has to hold him back whenever he thinks starting trouble is unnecessary. Regardless, they both back you up whenever they feel someone’s giving you a hard time and patch you up whenever you get hurt, apologizing for not being there to help you out or for hurting you in the process of dealing with your wounds. Earl tends to be protective in a more caring and understated way: like refusing to let you walk home alone or serve a shift at the dinner when it’s dark outside, etc. 

- They have a habit of being too busy arguing to really listen to you, so sometimes you just have to sit back and let them hash it out whenever a fight between them arises. They might try to get you to back one of them up, but it’s best not to do so unless it’s completely necessary, since they’ll likely be a bit upset with you if you happen to choose the other persons side over their own.

- Valentine is a little more hardheaded and hot tempered than Earl is, so if you’re going to argue with one of them, it’s probably going to be with him. The only thing is that he struggles to make amends due to his stubbornness, so even when he knows he’s in the wrong, he’ll probably hesitate to approach you and apologize, unsure of how to bring up the subject and what to say. 

- Earl will always apologize whenever he’s in the wrong; albeit a bit shyly, but if you want to make up with Valentine, it’s best to approach him first when you stop being mad and let him feel as though you’ve calmed down enough to hear him out. It’s easier for him to say sorry when he feels like you aren’t gonna snap at him for saying the wrong thing: so at the end of the day, he’ll hang back and offer a little “sorry for ...you know, everything.” whenever you find yourselves alone. 

- They both struggle to outwardly tell you they love you, feeling like a bunch of pansies whenever they say it, but they do enjoy hearing it coming from you, and seeing the smile on your face whenever they say it back. They tend to mumble it a little; as though someone will pop out with a camera and laugh them out of town, but Earl grows more comfortable with it over time: leaving only Valentine to really struggle with his inability to appear too soft in front of anyone; including you and your other boyfriend. 

- The three of you honestly live in the perfect place to be a poly couple: no ones bothering you or prying into your relationship, no ones passing judgement or starting trouble. You just get to live out the rest of your days as ambiguous roommates who may or may not have been seen kissing each other every now and again. 

[starsjulia]

shattered dreams // leah williamson

a/n : i long angsty one i wrote a while ago, enjoy!!!

warnings : angst, pregnancy, essential tremor.

Essential tremor, also called benign tremor, familial tremor, and idiopathic tremor, is a medical condition characterized by involuntary rhythmic contractions and relaxations of certain muscle groups in one or more body parts of unknown cause.

---

The early summer sun streamed through the open window of their cozy London flat, casting warm rays across the room. Y/N sat at the piano, her fingers dancing over the keys as she played a melody she’d been working on for weeks. The notes filled the room, rich and vibrant, each one flowing seamlessly into the next. It was a song she had written for Leah, capturing the love and joy they had found together.

As she sang the chorus, Y/N’s voice soared, filling the space with a sound that was uniquely hers—strong, emotive, and full of life. She could hear Leah moving around in the kitchen, humming along to the tune, and the familiar rhythm of their daily life brought a smile to her face. This was her happy place, where everything felt right with the world.

But as she reached the final verse, something strange happened. Her voice wavered, the note faltering as if it had lost its strength. She frowned, adjusting her posture and taking a deep breath before trying again. But the same thing happened—her voice quivered, not with emotion, but with something she couldn’t quite place. Frustration bubbled up inside her, but she pushed it down, chalking it up to a rare off day.

Shaking her head, Y/N moved her focus back to the piano, her fingers gliding over the keys. But now, the familiar movements didn’t feel as smooth as they usually did. Her hands seemed to tremble slightly, causing her to hit the wrong notes. She stopped playing, staring down at her hands as if they belonged to someone else.

“What’s wrong with me?” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as if to clear away the strange sensation. She flexed her fingers, trying to rid them of the slight tremor that seemed to have taken up residence there. But after a few moments, it faded, and she convinced herself that it had just been her imagination.

Later that night, as they lay in bed, Leah noticed the frown on Y/N’s face and the way she kept flexing her hands as if they were bothering her. “Everything alright?” Leah asked, her voice full of concern.

Y/N hesitated, unsure if she should mention the odd experience from earlier. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said finally, forcing a smile. “Just a little tired, I guess.”

Leah gave her a look that said she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she reached over and took Y/N’s hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “If something’s bothering you, you know you can talk to me, right?”

Y/N nodded, feeling a rush of guilt for not being completely honest. “I know,” she murmured, squeezing Leah’s hand back. “It’s nothing, really.”

But as the days went on, the symptoms didn’t go away. The tremor in her hands became more frequent, and her voice seemed to waver more often when she sang. There were times when she couldn’t hit the high notes that had always come so naturally to her, and it felt like her voice was slipping through her fingers like sand. She started to avoid singing certain songs, fearful of hearing the cracks and wobbles that had begun to plague her.

Y/N tried to hide her growing anxiety from Leah, not wanting to worry her. But Leah noticed the way Y/N would stare at her hands in frustration, the way she hesitated before picking up her guitar or sitting down at the piano. Y/N’s passion for music, which had always been the most vibrant part of her, seemed to dim slightly, and Leah’s concern grew with each passing day.

One afternoon, Y/N was in the studio, recording a new song she had written. As she strummed her guitar, she felt the now-familiar tremor in her fingers. She tried to ignore it, focusing on the music, but when she went to sing the chorus, her voice cracked and wavered so badly that she had to stop.

“Damn it!” she cursed, yanking off her headphones and tossing them onto the console in frustration. She sat there, breathing heavily, her mind racing. This wasn’t just nerves or tiredness—something was wrong, and she couldn’t deny it any longer.

Leah had been listening from the control room, watching through the glass as Y/N’s frustration boiled over. She pushed open the door, walking over to where Y/N sat, her face pale and her hands trembling.

“Y/N,” Leah said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We need to talk.”

Y/N looked up at Leah, her eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. “Leah… I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can’t control it… my hands, my voice… it’s like they’re not mine anymore.”

Leah knelt beside her, taking Y/N’s hands in hers. “We’re going to figure this out,” she said firmly, her voice steady even as worry gnawed at her heart. “But first, we need to see a doctor.”

Y/N nodded, too overwhelmed to argue. Deep down, she had known for a while that something was wrong, but hearing Leah say it out loud made it real in a way she hadn’t wanted to face.

---

The visit to the doctor was tense, both Y/N and Leah filled with a mix of dread and hope. The doctor ran a series of tests, his calm demeanor doing little to ease their anxiety. Y/N sat on the exam table, Leah’s hand firmly in hers, as they waited for the results.

When the doctor finally returned, his expression was serious, and Y/N felt her heart drop. “Y/N, the tests show that you have what’s known as essential tremor,” he said, his voice gentle but direct. “It’s a progressive neurological disorder that primarily affects your hands and voice. Unfortunately, it’s likely to worsen over time.”

Y/N stared at the doctor, her mind reeling. “My hands… my voice… what does that mean for my music?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor sighed, clearly aware of how devastating this news would be for her. “It will become increasingly difficult to perform fine motor tasks, like playing instruments or writing. As for your voice, the tremor can affect your ability to speak and sing clearly. We can explore treatments that may help manage the symptoms, but there’s no cure.”

The room seemed to close in around Y/N as she struggled to process the information. Her music—her life’s passion, the thing that had always been her solace and her joy—was being stolen from her, piece by piece. She felt Leah’s grip on her hand tighten, but it couldn’t chase away the growing despair in her chest.

“And the pregnancy?” Y/N asked, her voice breaking as she placed a hand on her stomach. “Will it… will it affect the baby?”

The doctor shook his head. “The condition shouldn’t have a direct impact on your pregnancy or the baby’s health. But as the tremor progresses, it may affect your ability to perform certain tasks, like holding the baby or caring for them in the way you’re used to. It’s something you’ll need to consider as you prepare for motherhood.”

Y/N felt tears welling up in her eyes, the weight of the diagnosis crashing down on her all at once. “But I… I won’t be able to hold my baby? Or sing to them?” she whispered, her voice filled with anguish.

Leah’s own tears finally broke free as she wrapped her arms around Y/N, pulling her close. “We’ll find a way,” Leah said, her voice shaking but determined. “We’ll figure it out, I promise. You’re not alone in this.”

But Y/N couldn’t hold back the sobs that tore through her. The future she had envisioned—of playing lullabies for her child, singing them to sleep, holding them close—was slipping through her fingers, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

---

In the weeks that followed, Y/N and Leah tried to adjust to their new reality. Y/N began working with a therapist to manage the tremors and explored different medications to help control the symptoms. But it was an uphill battle. Every day brought new challenges, new reminders of what Y/N was losing.

The joy of their pregnancy announcement, which should have been one of the happiest times of their lives, was overshadowed by the relentless progression of Y/N’s condition. As her hands grew more unsteady and her voice more fragile, Y/N found herself retreating from the things she had once loved. She avoided the piano, left her guitar untouched in its case, and stopped singing around the house.

Leah watched Y/N’s light dim, her heart breaking for the woman she loved more than anything in the world. She did everything she could to support Y/N—attending every doctor’s appointment, helping her with daily tasks that had become increasingly difficult, and constantly reassuring her that they would find a way to make it through this.

But no matter how hard Leah tried to be strong, there were moments when the weight of it all became too much. Late at night, when Y/N was asleep, Leah would slip out of bed and sit alone in the living room, her head in her hands as she silently cried, overwhelmed by the fear and uncertainty of what lay ahead.

---

One evening, as Y/N sat on the couch, absently rubbing her belly, Leah joined her, sitting down and taking her hand. “How are you feeling?” Leah asked softly, her thumb brushing gently over Y/N’s knuckles.

Y/N sighed, leaning her head against Leah’s shoulder. “I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared that I won’t be able to be the mother I want to be… that I won’t be able to hold our baby, or sing to them, or… or be there for them the way they need me.”

Leah’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Y/N’s voice, and she wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. “You’re going to be an amazing mother,” Leah said, her voice filled with conviction. “You’re so full of love, Y/N, and that’s what our baby is going to need more than anything. We’ll figure out the rest together, I promise.”

“But what if I get worse?” Y/N whispered, her fear breaking through. “What if I can’t… what if I lose my ability to even hold them?”

Leah’s grip tightened, her own tears spilling over. “Then I’ll hold them for both of us,” she said fiercely. “We’ll adapt, we’ll find ways to make it work. You’re not alone in this, Y/N. We’ll do this together, just like we’ve done everything else.”

Y/N nodded against Leah’s shoulder, though the fear still lingered, a dark shadow that refused to be banished. But Leah’s words, her unwavering support, were a lifeline Y/N desperately needed. She wasn’t alone in this, and maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to help her find a way forward.

---

As the weeks passed, Y/N and Leah began to find a new rhythm, though it was far from easy. Every day brought new challenges, new reminders of what Y/N was losing, but they faced it together, holding on to each other through the darkest moments. Y/N started working with a therapist, learning how to manage the tremors as best she could, and finding new ways to express herself through music, even if it wasn’t the same as before.

One day, after a particularly difficult session with her therapist, Y/N came home to find Leah sitting at the piano, softly playing one of Y/N’s old compositions. It was a song Y/N had written early in their relationship, filled with the joy and hope of new love. Leah’s fingers moved clumsily over the keys, and Y/N could see the concentration on her face as she tried to play the familiar melody.

Y/N stood in the doorway, watching Leah’s awkward attempts to recreate the music she loved. And despite everything, she felt a small, fragile smile tugging at her lips. Leah looked up, catching sight of Y/N, and immediately stopped, blushing slightly.

“I was just… trying to learn,” Leah said, looking a bit sheepish. “I know I’m not as good as you, but I thought maybe… if you couldn’t play, I could learn and play for you and the baby.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion, and she crossed the room, sitting beside Leah on the piano bench. “You’re amazing,” Y/N whispered, her voice thick with gratitude. “Thank you for this. For everything.”

Leah smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N’s temple. “We’re a team, remember?” she said softly. “We’ll find our way through this, no matter what.”

And as they sat there, side by side, Leah’s clumsy notes filling the air, Y/N felt a glimmer of hope return. Their future might be uncertain, and there were still so many fears to face, but they had each other. And for now, that was enough.

---

As Y/N’s pregnancy progressed, the reality of her condition became more and more apparent. Her voice grew increasingly unreliable, and the tremors in her hands worsened. Simple tasks, like cooking or writing, became difficult, and Y/N often found herself needing Leah’s help. It was frustrating and heartbreaking, but Leah never once wavered in her support.

One evening, as they lay in bed, Y/N felt the baby kick for the first time. She gasped, grabbing Leah’s hand and placing it on her belly. “Leah, did you feel that?” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

Leah’s eyes widened as she felt the tiny movement beneath her palm. “I did,” she whispered back, her voice full of wonder. “That’s our little one.”

The baby kicked again, and Y/N laughed through her tears, the sound filled with a mixture of joy and sadness. “I just… I want to be able to hold them, Leah,” she said, her voice breaking. “I want to be able to take care of them, to sing to them… but I’m so scared I won’t be able to.”

Leah wrapped her arms around Y/N, holding her close. “You will hold them,” she said fiercely. “You will take care of them, and you will sing to them, even if it’s not the way you imagined. We’ll find a way, Y/N. We’ll do this together.”

Y/N buried her face in Leah’s shoulder, clinging to her as the reality of their situation threatened to overwhelm her. But Leah’s words, her unwavering support, were like a beacon in the darkness, guiding Y/N through the fear and uncertainty.

---

As the months passed, Y/N and Leah prepared for the arrival of their baby. They attended birthing classes together, decorated the nursery, and talked about their hopes and dreams for their child. But beneath the surface, the fear of the unknown lingered, a constant companion that they could never quite shake.

Y/N’s condition continued to progress, and there were days when the tremors were so bad that she couldn’t even hold a cup of tea without spilling it. Her voice, once so strong and beautiful, had become shaky and unreliable, and she struggled with the loss of something that had always been such a fundamental part of her identity.

But through it all, Leah remained steadfast. She learned how to care for Y/N in ways she had never imagined, adapting to their new reality with a determination that only made Y/N love her more. And in those quiet moments, when it was just the two of them, Leah would remind Y/N that they were in this together—that no matter what happened, they would find a way to make it work.

---

The day finally came when Y/N went into labor. It was a difficult and exhausting process, but Leah was by her side every step of the way, holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement. When their baby was finally born, the sound of their tiny cry filled the room, and Y/N felt a wave of emotion crash over her.

The nurse carefully placed the baby in Y/N’s arms, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Y/N stared down at the tiny, perfect face of their child, her heart overflowing with love and awe. She had been so afraid that she wouldn’t be able to do this, but in that moment, all she could think about was how much she loved this little person in her arms.

Leah sat beside her, tears streaming down her face as she looked at their baby. “You did it,” Leah whispered, her voice filled with pride and love. “You’re incredible.”

Y/N smiled through her tears, looking up at Leah. “We did it,” she corrected softly. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Leah reached out and gently stroked the baby’s cheek, her heart swelling with love for her family. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re going to be an amazing mother, Y/N. I know it.”

As Y/N held their baby close, she felt the weight of her fears start to lift. Yes, her condition would be a challenge—there was no denying that. But in that moment, she knew that she could do this. They could do this, together.

And as she looked into the eyes of their child, Y/N made a silent promise. No matter what the future held, no matter how hard things got, she would be there for them. She would love them with everything she had, and she would find a way to be the mother they needed.

Because at the end of the day, that was all that mattered. And with Leah by her side, Y/N knew they could face anything.

---

Time passed, and life with their new baby became a mix of joy and challenges. Y/N’s condition continued to progress, and there were days when it was incredibly difficult. But they found ways to adapt, to make it work. Leah learned how to support Y/N in ways that allowed her to be the mother she wanted to be, even if it wasn’t exactly how they had imagined.

And through it all, Y/N never stopped singing. Her voice wasn’t as strong as it used to be, and there were times when it would shake or falter, but she sang anyway. She sang lullabies to their baby, softly and gently, her love for them pouring out with every note.

Leah would often join in, her voice blending with Y/N’s in a harmony that was imperfect but beautiful in its own way. And in those moments, as they sang together for their child, Y/N knew that they had found a new kind of music—one that was born out of love and resilience, one that would carry them through whatever challenges lay ahead.

They faced their future with hope and determination, knowing that no matter what came their way, they had each other. And that, in the end, was enough to keep them moving forward.

Together.

[geekynerfherder]

'Tremors' by Drew Struzan.

Unpublished concept art from the movie 'Tremors'.

[smolbean-17]

SO ABOUT THE WINTER SOLDIER

Jennifer Corbett has been posting about how she loves Winter Soldier. It’s her favorite Marvel movie. Everyone is saying that her posting this week about loving the movie is her hinting at Tech being CX-2. Which it totally could be.

But what if it’s hinting at an overall Winter Soldier-esque program?

In the Winter Soldier, several other super soldiers were created besides Bucky.

In episode 10, there are two very distinct troopers Hemlock was working on. They look very different from the clone assassins. Their armor and stats are unique. They look specialized.

Could this be the start of the Death Trooper Program? Or something else?

Why would these troopers need to be so specialized if Hemlock is pulling from a bunch of perfectly identical clones?

There’s only one clone squad I know of that needs specialized training and completely individualized armor.

What if they cloned the entire Bad Batch?

No troopers would be better suited to take them down than themselves.

[ace-rapunzel]

I want to see Ash Williams and Burt Gummer interact with each other

[kazamajun]

got victim-blamed last night by being told "it's your own fault for being too delicious" when I kept getting tunneled in 'last train outta wormtown' 😔😔

[primrosebitch]

having tremors is super annoying, like i have to be really careful when carrying like a glass of water if it's anywhere near full because my stupid tremors will make me spill it, and taking a decent photo is super hard because my shaking hands keep making the photo blurry, and on days where my tremors are bad doing anything intricate with my hands is nearly impossible

[marinusart]

This mad day

Blood and gore warning

[meanbitchydyke]

Anyway this disability pride month I would like to shoutout disabled folks whose creativity has suffered because of their condition. I’m talking people with hand tremors and pain that stop them from drawing, knitting, and playing instruments. People whose thinking has become so disorganized that nothing they write makes sense to other people. People with chronic pain who can no longer dance. People so over medicated in a fruitless attempt to maintain stability that the wells of their imagination have run dry.

I see you and I love you. You are more than your creative output. You are not a shell of what you used to be. You are a whole, complete person, regardless of what your creativity has been, is now, or will be in the future.

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, rockstar geto, fıngering, dirty talk, p slapping, squırting, petnames, mdni.

rockstar geto who’s always been good at his hands. his fingers, he loves more than anything to use your pussy before a show to “lessen” his finger cramps from strumming his guitar strings.

“i think i like this melody better, baby,” he’d whisper against the soft shell of your ear — split white knuckles buried deep into your cunt. as you’re sat on top of his lap, your legs tremor as they’re continuously rubbing off against his leather pulled down jeans. “i know, i know,” he utters to you, delving in the fat tips of his digits in and out. within seconds, your coating the entirety of his fingers with his slick. as your head continuously thwacks back against his broad chest, you shudder once he smacks your sopping drooling cunt thrice. “mhm, atta girl. bare ‘round my fingers, that’s it.”

the deafening rock music in the background roar from the blaring speakers — his bandmates were rehearsing last minute whilst their lead guitarist was occupying his time doing this. “s- suguru,” you suck in a heaving breathe, feeling an electric twitch inside your cunt arise. geto had various rings that wrapped around his fingers, plunging in and out of your slippery arousal. every few seconds, you heard his low chuckle, strong designer cologne scent wafting against your flared slit nostrils. “gonna cum, sugu— suguru, fuuuck.”

“not yet,” he presses his lips against the inside of your neck, bringing another rude spank toward your sloppy folds. his palm dampens from each hit. “we didn’t even each the chorus yet,” and you gasp, feeling the jitter of your thighs once his fingertips prod against that spot over ‘n over. “c’mon, pretty. lets hear those sloppy vocals, huh?”

your entire body felt feverishly warm. as you were on his lap, back bristling against his leather zipped jacket, you dig your nails into his meaty thigh.

already, you were slumped, vigorously pawing at his grainy made jeans. geto’s fingers were long, slender, and abnormally thick. deliciously thick, he’s stretched your cunt out so good that it’s got you drooling for more inches. his fingers were perfect, and with every finger that stuffs into your gummy walls, you only imagined what his cock would feel like.

geto’s fingers were the perfect length for strumming a guitar, an even more perfect length to be burying each digit straight into your pussy.

“fuck,” he swears against your ear, teasingly flicking his tongue against your collarbone. as you squirmed on his lap, his two fingers curl into a bowling ball grip. you whimper, your moans sounded so sweet that he contemplated using them as adlibs for a new single. “that’s it, baby. soak my fingers, don’t be shy ‘ta be my messy girl.”

as your body ruts against his lap, the bedazzled lanyard that was thrown over your neck jostles against your shoulders. your pooling heat that steadily flutters into the bottom pits of your stomach only grew, intensifying within each second.

you were seeing splotches of bright white, everything felt like a fever dream. as your clenched jaw dangles open, you wrap weak fingers around his jerking wrist. “s- sugu, ‘m gonna,” and you get caught off by a cute mewl, glossed lips parting into a gasping circular shape. the squelches of your own pussy bounces off your ears.

plop after plop,

your mouth starts to water, envisioning yourself making a mess on the suguru geto’s fingers.

he found your frantic squirming adorable, the way your thighs shook and how your vocals were so naturally pitched. with a voice that sweet, you’d have such potential. “give it to me,” he grunts, feeling a poking pressure brew against his crotch. dark, blown irises gaze toward his lap and he’s getting hard. your ears rang, a shrilling sound going out one ear and the other. two fingers swirl around your cunt, profusely jackhammering against your g-spot until you let off cute pathetic sobs. “c’monn, let’s hear that slutty outro.”

with your brows contorting together, you only last for a few more seconds until you feel a sudden sensation gush straight out of you. a rippling wave sends you on a high — you could barely say anything but moan out the five syllables of his name in a lewd, needy way. over and over until its twisting on your tongue in constant repeat, your own personal orgasmic chant. you’re a puddled mess, left with your jaw dropped and eyes squeezed shut. brief tears stick against your lashes in pleasure as you feel your hips bucking against his lap.

“s- sugu— fuck,” you babble, feeling the intense curl of your toes. gnawing down on the skin that glues to your lip, you coat both of his fingers with a decent amount of your translucent slick. you’re in a euphoric daze — huffing out short breaths as he takes one good swab of his digits inside of your pussy, snickering behind you.

“did you just squirt on me, pretty?” and you were so dumb off his fingers you could barely register anything he said. his words were a sly whisper, he gradually pulls his digits out before slowly spreading them apart. as his black rings were all sheeny with arousal, he holds his hand up right in front of your face before waving it by your nose. “yeahh you fuckin’ did, guess you really are a messy girl, huh?”

you were completely too stunned to speak — you glance at his fingers with droopy eyes, feeling a cold breeze of air ghost against your cunt as your legs sprawled open even still. “s- suguru,” your full lungs could barely keep up with your irregular pants.

it was chaotic, your thighs continued to shake as your jaw tightens on its own. you could barely even murmur out any words and that’s when geto drags his fingers toward his own lips — popping them right into his mouth, savoring your sweet candied taste.

“mhm,” he lolls his tongue around the stringy honeyed slick that coats all down his twin digits. you’re still panting, hearing him sloppily suck his fingers clean before he uses a free hand to reach down between your legs - tugging on the lacey fabric of your panties. “good girl, ‘s so sweet. open ‘n taste it yourself, princess.”

with hooded half lidded eyes, you moan, parting your lips apart—pink twitching tongue curling around his incoming fingers. as you shamelessly lap your own mess on his digits clean, he gives the back of your head a kiss. “thaaaat’s it, clean my fingers for me.”

after you finish, geto couldn’t resist but have you lean over his keyboard stand. giving the left side of your ass cheek an autograph, he signs his stage name in bold cursive letters.

as you’re bent over, you puff out a single breath, the twisting of the strong scented marker tickling against your bare flesh. “heh, i hope you enjoy the show tonight,” and as the cap of the marker’s sticking out of his mouth, he gives your ass an abrupt smack.

geto hums at the little whiny squeal that rips out of your throat, witnessing the letters smear a bit from your ass and leaking onto his palm. with a sly smile, he pulls the center string of your underwear back toward its original position, spinning you around to place a vip pass inside of your bra.

the rockstar’s sexily slouched — manspread on a velvet red seat, the fur of the chair providing him luxurious comfort. with his head lazily cocked to the left, unkempt black strands flowing down his shoulders, a simple wolf cut, he simpers. “come ‘n see me after, baby, yeah?”

[medicinemane]

It should be illegal to have a slider that lacks buttons to move it one point at a time

Nothing worse than wanting to set a slider to say... 50, but you keep going 49, 52, 47, 51, 49, 52, 48, 51... let just let me press a button that takes it up or down by one

Dead serious on this too, if you're ever making a slider you better include arrows at the end to be able to make minor corrects or frankly... you're just a bad person. Like I get you don't mean to be, but that's the behavior of a bad person

Tell me you haven't been annoyed at least once in your life trying to set a slider to a specific number, and now tell me I'm not right that this is just basic functionality

[sanriovin]

hear me out on this one y'all.

imagine yourself coming back home from a hard day at work, right? all overwhelmed, exhausted, annoyed at the world, and so on. as soon as you walk into your shared room though, you see a sight you weren't expecting in the least.

your husband, kento nanami, jerking himself off.

poor man, on his one day off, which were EXTREMELY rare for him, you, as luck had it, had to go to work :( and he was all needy and desperate for you, resorting to masturbating, which he never did often, even more so after the two of you became a couple.

his big, strong, calloused hand from the type of jobs he was involved in, wrapped nicely around his aching, pulsing cock, fisting himself, as pathetic, desperate groans and moans of your name and how good he was feeling left his lips, as his hips bucked up further into his hand from the pleasure he was feeling.

his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, head lolling back into the soft, welcoming pillows, dressed in a gentle linen pillowcase, undoubtedly not even realising that you had came home. the sight before you stirred something inside of you, making the exhaustion and annoyance from the day disappear completely, instead, replacing it with a feeling of your own neediness, and a sense of pride, seeing how your husband could fall apart. it gave you ideas. MANY ideas.

"Kento?" you spoke from your spot at the door, your eyes trailing down your husband's half-nude form; his trousers and boxers gone, his tie loosened, three tops buttons undone from the top.

hearing your voice breaking through the sounds of his ragged breathing, loud grunts of pleasure, and the occasional moan or two, his hand came to a stop, his eyes opened wide, looking at you, with shock, embarrassment, and shame. he couldn't even bring himself to hide his body, in a state of processing what had happened.

placing your bag down on the dresser near the door, you took one step, then another, then another, as you approached your shared bed, your eyes locked onto kento, not looking away for even a mere second, in fear that you would miss even the slightest reaction from your normally composed husband.

he swallowed harshly, audibly, slowly moving his hand away from where it was nicely wrapped around previously, placing it down on the linen clad duvet, averting eye contact with you, his cheeks flushed a soft pink, from either the embarrassment, or the physicality and feelings that masturbation brought, or both?

"I'm sorry, darling, I wasn't expecting you to be home so soon." he spoke a quiet apology, seeming genuine with it, but how could you even be mad at him? or how could he even think you would be mad at him?

shaking your head, you moved yourself down onto the bed, situating yourself in between his thighs, watching how his adam's apple bobbed with nervousness and excitement, how a dribble of precum ran down his dick with every tremor that ran down his body.

"You're sorry for what, Kento?" you asked, the question being more of a chastise for him even thinking that he needed to apologise for this, rather than an actual question. in all honesty, seeing your husband like this, undone into a puddle of desperation and lust, was something you would kill to see on a daily, so you were definitely not complaining.

taking a single finger, you trailed it down his thigh, inching closer and closer to the one spot that was the key to getting rid of all his frustrations and stress, even if just for a day. he let out a quiet sigh, watching you with eager eyes, silently pleading with you to do something, anything, to relieve the pulsing ache.

"Do you want me to help you, Kento?" you, once again, gave him a question. your voice was sweet, soft, as if lulling him into a sort of haze. your voice worked like a siren's, bringing him in and in, with only mere words. having him wrapped around your pinky. true, most of the time, nanami preferred to be the dominating one, the one in control, however, he also knew how to let himself be taken care of by others, specifically, you.

"Please, honey, please, I need you so badly." his voice was strained, barely managing to hold himself back; hold himself out for long enough for you to do something.

taking that as your sign to continue, you put a coy little smile on your face, lowering yourself to lay comfortably between his legs on the soft bed, before placing one, single, chaste kiss to his angry, red tip.

he let out a groan in response, head falling back, peeking at you from under his eyelashes, hands trembling slightly at the feeling. your kiss felt good, so good, but it wasn't near enough for what he wanted, no, needed.

"Darling you, fuck, tease..." he groaned out, situating himself to rest on his elbows, so he could see you better, and see what you were up to.

you would have teased him for longer, but the look on his face, one of love, neediness, pure eagerness and desire, was enough to pull you out of your teasing and cruel state, and you decided to help your beloved partner, help him release all the stress within him.

opening your lips, you slowly lowered yourself onto his aching, hardened cock, lowering yourself further and further, as you attempted to take him fully, with, as you soon found out, ended futilely on the first go, with uncovered space still left at his base. however, that alone was enough to cause nanami to let out a low moan, pressing his eyes shut again, letting the darkness consume him as he focused entirely on the pleasure he felt in the moment.

the scene was messy. your drool dribbling down nanami's sensitive cock, the tip of it pressed and poked against the back of your throat, trying to push further and further, however, it was stopped through the tightening of your throat, and the sounds of gags and chokes on his large size.

he gently moved one of his hands to rest on your head, not pushing, not pressing down, just trying to ground himself to reality from the immense pleasure he felt. "Sweetheart, it feels so good... You're doing so well..."

nanami kento has a way with words. a way that made you feel eager and excited to pleasure him, to satisfy him, in hopes of getting more and more praise.

trying to breathe through your nose, you slowly relaxed your throat, bobbing your head up and down, attempting to inch further and further down his large dick, holding onto his thighs with trembling hands, as your tongue swirled around his leaking tip, which resulted in a loud, higher pitched moan than before from nanami.

the moan was all you needed to proceed with your actions, desperately trying to bring your beloved to the edge of release, as you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking on his cock so well he could practically see stars in his eyes.

taking one of your hands, you gingerly brought it to his balls, beginning to slowly mess and play with them, testing new waters to see if it would have the desired effect on nanami.

and it did not fail.

in mere seconds, nanami was falling apart on the bed, his legs trembling pathetically, his hips jerking up to your mouth, his back on the bed, his arms having lost all strength to support himself. curses, moans, and groans of your name kept spilling from his mouth, as not once did he open his eyes. hot spurts of his cum landed in your mouth, on your tongue, as you began to taste the salty yet slightly bitter taste of it on your tongue.

letting him ride out high long-awaited orgasm, you took all that he gave you, only pulling off once you saw his body laying practically limp on the bed, regaining himself from the experience.

but, of course, he was a gentleman at heart. he wouldn't let such a favour go unrewarded, oh no, he couldn't have that.

"How about you let me pleasure you now, love? What do you say?"

(author's note: finished writing this after finishing AOT S3 - the ending hurt so bad that i couldn't even cry)

[vampiefemme]

so, your best friend accidentally sent you a video of her masturbating. what now?

18+ below! smut smut smut!

ellie’s bedroom is heavy with the scent of sex, her fingers still pruned from her own wetness. she’s spent the last few minutes tense and panicked, too paralyzed with anxiety to get up and put some clothes on, and she’s considering what she’ll change her name to and where she’ll move to start a new life when you finally, finally text her back.

it’s okay. give me a second to reply, alright?

the weight on her chest eases a bit at your reassurance, but a new spark of uncertainty flares up at the second part of the message: give me a second to reply. jaw tight, she sends you a question mark, then follows up with you don’t have to respond. it’s probably better if you don’t?? again i’m so fucking sorry.

but as the minutes tick by, slow and lazed, she starts to panic again. her mind conjures every possible response you could send her next: an angry thesis statement on why ellie’s a disgusting pervert, a seething comment about how stupid she must be for sending a video like that so carelessly. would you ever look at her the same way? would things ever be the same?

all it takes is another notification from you to make every imagined worst-case scenario evaporate. ellie clicks the notification as soon as it pops up, chewing on the soft flesh of her inner lip.

it’s a video.

you sent her a video.

she hits the play button without a second thought, heartbeat thudding in her ears.

“i know you’re probably embarrassed,” you say, head tilting as you frown with sympathy. a blush paints ellie’s cheeks bright red. “but i need you to know how wet that made me.”

holding the camera up, you extend your arm outwards to reveal the rest of your body - your naked body, ellie realizes with a shock. she sits up in bed, back ramrod straight, her phone shaking as a nervous tremor strikes through her. but she can’t look away - not when you’re tracing a hand down the soft curves of your body, fingertips grazing over one peaked nipple, then moving lower, lower. ellie swears she’s forgotten how to breathe.

you release a pleased hum. “i liked watching you touch yourself,” you say, so matter-of-fact. “i hope you like watching me.”

and she does, god she does. she settles back down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving the screen as you work two fingers through your soaked folds. you moan and sigh and keen, rolling your hips down against your own hand, the wet sounds of your pussy so intoxicating, ellie can’t believe she’s gone her whole life without seeing you like this.

and it might be wrong, the way her own hand drifts between her legs to find herself still hot and wet, but she doesn’t have it in herself to care. she dips a finger inside of herself as she watches you ride your own hand, grinding down on your palm as your fingers work in and out of your cunt. she finds a rhythm that matches your own; soon enough, you’re both gasping at the pleasure building beneath your waistline. with every roll of your hips, ellie’s cunt tightens, flooding with slickness - as if she could get any wetter.

as you get closer to the edge, your grip on your phone falters and the camera starts to shake. ellie hisses and curses under her breath when your phone captures the blissed-out look on your face: eyes rolled back, brows pulled together, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“oh - oh my god,” you stutter, panting, “i’m gonna come, ellie.”

ellie. ellie ellie ellie.

“holy fuck.” ellie’s pussy clamps down around her fingers at the sound of her name on your lips; her thumb glides over her clit just right, and she didn’t think she’d come this fast but she does, her vision exploding into blinding white as her orgasm crashes into her. it’s the only time she looks away from the video on her screen - but she certainly hears your orgasm, all high-pitched moans and ragged breaths, your cunt gushing onto your fingers.

when ellie finds the strength to open her eyes again, the video is still playing. you’re catching your breath, chest shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. you look at the camera and smile. ellie thinks she might pass out.

“thanks for the video,” you say, lifting your free hand up to wave.

when you bring your fingers to your mouth and purse your lips around them, sucking them clean of your own come, ellie’s sure she’s going to pass out.

and then, she decides, she’s going to fuck you stupid.

[psychemochanight]

When the League meets Baby Robin(Dick), they are genuinely surprised, as it seems impossible that Batman is raising this little ray of sunshine who appeared from between his cape and then proceeded to greet them with the brightest smile they've all ever seen, completely adoring Superman, saying how great Wonder Woman is, and actually laughing at Barry's jokes.

Bruce takes care of his work, but occasionally stops to, in fact, help Robin who is trying to do his English homework. The other members also help out, of course.

So, Hal arrives at the Watchtower, and Robin, seeing the man his dad mentor has been so grumpy about because of the last meeting they had (Hal doesn't understand that Batman is the best at his job and is the one giving directions for a reason, duh!), decides he will exact revenge.

He carries on a normal conversation with the man just as he did with everyone else, subtly leading the topic until Hal falls into the trap:

Hal: What about your mom? I can't imagine anyone putting up with the old bat.

He speaks with all mockery, but then his smile freezes when he sees the tremor in the little boy's shoulders.

Dick: *shuddering and holding back a little sob* my mummy died in front of me a few months ago.... I...

Hal is pale now, because the child actually sobs, and runs off to hide in the cape of Batman, who was now standing, ready to stitch up his child.

He's not the only one, Superman and the others are already there too, looking at him angrily because he made the little bean cry.

Hal is in a panic.

And if he sees how the boy smiles at him when no one is looking, sticking his tongue out at him while moving his lips to send him the message "Don't bother my dad", no one would ever believe him, not while the little boy is now clinging to Batman tightly as he slowly blinks away tears that not even the best actors could ever pull off.

Only Hal knows the devil behind that angel face.

Batman knows it too, but he adores his precious little demon.

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny Fenton is so damn sick of rich fruit loops. It’s worse now, since he’s one of them.

It’s not Vlad that he’s with, thank the Ancients, but Danny isn’t sure that this is better.

Because he’s Timothy Drake, a baby, and he’s been reincarnated after the Ancient of Reincarnation accidentally drank too much wine.

He’s going to kick their ass so hard when he gets back.

Danny huffs. He rolls over, ignoring the silent manor. Sure, he’s read the comics. Sure, he laughed and imagined being adopted by Batman- come on, Danny had black hair and blue eyes even back then, he was totally adoption bait- when his parents gave him reason to lose trust in their love. But that’s it, that’s all he thought it was. A day dream, a wish for a universe that didn’t exist.

Danny hadn’t understood the reality of the whole Infinite Realms thing, a place he was now the King of. Batman? Real. Danny? Reincarnated. Hotel? Trivago.

Like, this wasn’t what he meant, dammit.

And now he’s stuck as Timothy Drake, and Ancients, he was starting to see parallels.

——

Danny tried photography. He really did. He wanted to at least stick to the source material. But that’s not who he is. Even with the shiny new brain that memorized, catalogued, and put together clues at the snap of his fingers, but Danny’s never been one to take photos. It’s a respectable art, for sure, but Danny preferred to live in the moment instead of capturing it to remember forever. It’s just-

He watched the Graysons fall. He watched Dick Grayson turn into Robin. And Danny can’t and won’t ever betray his Obsession like that, ever again. He can’t let Jason die for his “story” to begin. That’s not how Danny works.

He’s there to protect.

Danny hasn’t ever been just Tim. Danny was also Tim and the Ghost King without a haunt. But now? Gotham is his haunt. He, in lieu of an actual city spirit, is Gotham. He’s also a Drake. And Drakes were meant to hoard.

Batman and Robin? They are his.

He claimed them, as a Drake. But that claim is weak. So he claimed them as their city, and that is a claim that will never be able to be challenged.

Danny’ll be damned before he allows some lanky starved clown beat the life out of one of his Robins. So, for the first time in his nine years on this planet, Tim-Danny goes ghost and flies.

“Who- who. Are you?” Robin slurred from his place in Danny’s hold. He is broken, yes. But not dead. Danny infuses some of his vitality, his ecto, into Jason’s injuries to help them heal.

“Gotham.” Danny replied, layering his ghostly voice with those of the city.

“Goth’m?”

“Gotham. Sleep, little bird. Your city has got you.”

When Robin, Jason, settled with a sense of trust that tugs at Danny’s core, Danny carried him to Batman, whose eyes were wild and manic. He glared menacingly at the green and white ghost in front of him, who was holding his broken and beaten son-

Well, it’d be menacing if Danny hadn’t watched him eat bricks and mortar, crashing into a building while using his grappling gun.

“You-”

“I am Gotham.” Danny cut him off. Despite his wary nature and natural paranoia, Batman settled at his city’s gaze rested on him. Danny knew that Batman recognized his city. Batman’s head bowed, but his eyes stayed on Robin. “You were supposed to take care of Robin.”

“I- I know.” And that voice was all Bruce Wayne the Dad instead of Batman the Vigilante. Danny gently placed Robin in Batman’s arms, taking in the tremors as he held his son close.

“Go back, Bruce. And make sure Jason knows how much you love him.”

He laughed as Bruce whipped his head upwards. “I am your city. You are mine as much as I am yours. I’ve known of you before you were born.”

Technically? Not untrue. But Bruce will chalk it up to weird magic shit. It’s not like it’s a secret that Gotham’s kind of curse. Besides, this way, Danny will be able to help out more often. And Bruce won’t be able to connect Tim Drake to the “Spirit of Gotham.”

“Return, my knight. This is not your city. I can not protect you as well as I can in Gotham.”

“Thank you… Gotham.”

Danny sighed. He wondered when he’ll have to field questions from a John Constantine. He’s pretty sure Bruce will call in magical help, even if it was his own city he was investigating.

Batman’s lucky Danny liked him enough to allow it.

[entitled-fangirl]

Manhood.

Virgin!Cregan Stark x virgin!wife!reader

Summary: the two newlyweds lose their virginity together.

Warnings: sex, it's just all sex, foreplay, undressing, kissing, breast play, p in v, fingering kinda, all of the things you could've guessed were in here. :) and Cregan being a VIRGIN

A/n: phew. Based on an ask.

Part 2

Masterlist

............................................

"What are you saying exactly?" She asked him. 

"I… I have not laid with a woman before," Cregan admitted.

She froze. The Lord of Winterfell. The Wolf of the North. Cregan was a virgin?

He was always so confident. Now, she could see a light tremor in his hands. 

"Never?"

He shook his head, "It was not for a lack of girls throwing themselves at me. I just… never… wished to partake in such things until… the time was right."

She nodded. "And… is the time right?"

He grinned and cupped her face, "You're now my wife." He kisses her lightly, "What better time than now?"

She smiled and reached back, unlacing the outer layer of her wedding dress, letting the fabric fall to expose more of herself to him.

Was Cregan Stark blushing?

His eyes trailed anywhere but her frame, the tremor continuing.

"Touch me, Cregan."

He let out a heated groan, an obvious tent forming in his pants. 

But when he did not move, she took it upon herself to help him. She grabbed his hand, bringing it up to her body, moving his hand to trail up her stomach to rest at the base of her breasts. 

"Why are you so nervous?" She asked softly.

He let out a shaky breath, "My whole life, I've waited for this. I've imagined this moment a million times, imagining pleasuring my wife. But now that I'm here… I'm at a loss."

She grabbed his other hand and placed it on her hip. "Tell me."

He almost visibly gulped. "W…Wha-"

"Tell me all of the things you imagined doing to me."

Gods, if he wasn't hard yet, he definitely was then. "It's… it's hardly something a lady sho-"

"Cregan, tell me."

She reached up, untying his cloak and letting it fall to the ground behind him.

"Well… I imagined I'd start by undressing you…"

His fingers became brave and he reached back and began to untie the rest of her dress.

"Then?" She tilted her head up to look at him. 

"I'd kiss every inch I undressed."

Her breath hitched when another layer of her dress fell, leaving her in her shift.

Cregan grinned and leaned down, brushing his nose against her neck as he began to trail kisses down it.

She melted against him, enjoying the feel of his hands around her waist. "What after?" She breathed.

"Patience, my wife."

The way the control flitted back and forth between them made her head spin with lust. Both so eager to take the reins, but just as eager to let the other. 

He was quick to pull his tunic over his head and lead her backward to lay on the furs of his bed.

Looking at her and seeing no distress, he gathered her shift and pulled it off of her, leaving her bare.

His eyes wandered over her frame, a low breath leaving his lungs involuntarily. 

What a beautiful girl.

She leaned up on her elbows with bright eyes, watching him intently.

He smiled and began to crawl over her, capturing her lips with his.

A spark lit between the two, each letting the flames rise as their bodies brushed against one another.

He pulled away just enough to speak, "Has anyone touched you, my girl?" He whispered softly.

She let out a moan at the soft tone in his voice. "Only… only I have, Cregan."

He nodded, connecting their lips again. 

The makeout continued for quite some time, their tongues clashing as they both became nervous about moving past this point.

She reached to the side to take one of Cregan's hands. The tremor was still there.

She pulled it down her body, moving his fingers to brush over her clit lightly. She jerked at the feeling. 

He took the initiative, taking time to tease her as his fingers brushed over the nerves. 

Eventually, he settled on gently rubbing his thumb over the area.

She disconnected her lips from his as her mouth gaped open and a sinful moan left her throat. 

Cregan felt himself smile a bit, proud that his nervous movements had made such an impression on her.

He continued for a while, experimenting to see what made her hips jerk up or what make her scratch his back. Each noise from her throat was like music to his ears. 

A shaky hand pushed him away, making his brows furrow. "Love, is something wrong-"

She pushed on his shoulder, and he sat up in confusion.

But the confusion was quickly erased when she sat up with him and clambered into his lap. Her nose pushed his head up as her lips moved to his neck. "I want to finish together." One of her hands moved to his small clothes. "Take it off," she panted out.

Cregan let out a shaky gasp as she began to suck on a sensitive spot on his neck that he didn't even know was there. His hips jerked up, making her hiss lightly when his clothed erection brushed against her slit.

"Easy, Cregan."

His voice was a breathy pant. "S…sorry my love. I am… trying to-" 

A whine left his throat as she did it again, and he could feel her pause her actions when a smile came over her face. "Do not tease me…"

He lifted his hips lightly with one hand and the other pulled off his small clothes, quickly discarding it to the side.

She leaned back, admiring the naked form of her husband. He felt himself flush as her eyes moved up and down his frame without shame. 

They simply stared at one another, unsure of what to do next.

"What did you imagine next?" She asked.

He finally gained some confidence back, "I never finished the first thing."

With her still in his lap, Cregan pulled her close to him, his lips moving to her chest. 

She let out a hum.

With his hands supporting her, he leaned her back and his lips moved to her breast.

Her hands gripped his hair as he began to suck on her nipple, pushing him closer to her as her back arched up.

"Feels good?" He asked.

The vibration of his voice made a whine come from her. He took that as answer enough.

He continued, giving small kitten licks and teasing her. 

He lowered her to the furs completely now, resuming his position over her. "Think you're ready?"

She nodded, pulling his face to hers, kissing him deeply.

He moved his hips forward, his tip barely entering her. 

"You're sure?" He asked one last time.

She nodded again. 

With that, Cregan pushed through, carefully watching her reactions. The room filled with the two's moans.

He paused as he felt the resistance of her maidenhood.

"Cregan, just… just fuck me already."

He pushed, moving his lips on hers when a pained cry came through. 

Once seated completely, he pulled his head back again. "Breathe, sweet girl. I'll stay like this as long as you need me to."

She laid there, her eyes shut tightly as the pain started to subside just a bit. Her body adjusted and she panted, "move. Cregan, move, please."

He nodded, beginning to move his hips at a steady pace. 

His hands were shaking again. 

The two let out desperate whines and groans at the new feeling between them. 

"I..." He groaned. "I imagined you like this... taking me... so pretty.."

Already lust-driven, they didn't last long. 

When he decided to repeat his past actions against her clit, her hands pulled his hair, "Cregan… Cregan… ugh… there's… there's a feeling…"

He nodded, forcing his hips to continue. "Give into it."

"Witho… without you?"

He groaned, only nodding again when he didn't trust his voice.

She came soon after, her nails leaving a path down Cregan's back that she'd no doubt feel guilty for later.

With her walls clamping down on him, he hissed and was at his high not long after. The strong man shook with a whine as he did so. He had highs, yes. But none were like this. 

The two only panted as they looked at one another in sex-filled bliss. 

He pulled out from her, watching his seed begin to leak out. 

Confused, he took two fingers and gently pushed the substance back into her. She jerked her hips back, flinching at the sensitive feeling.

"Sorry. Don't want to waste any of it," a genuine grin spread across his face.

She chuckled, coming across unsteady.

He laid himself down next to her, bringing her to him as he did.

The two laid in silence as Cregan's hands brushed through her hair. 

"Guess we should get you cleaned up," Cregan finally said. 

Soft snores answered him back. 

He untangled himself from her, laying her down onto the bed. 

He returned with a wet cloth, gentle not to disturb her or dishonor her in sleep. 

When she was deemed clean enough for him, he threw the rag aside and joined her in bed, letting sleep welcome him as well.

…

When she was too sore to leave the bed the next few days, Cregan was attentive to her needs. The two bathed, ate, and chatted the days away. 

The North rejoiced when her moon blood was late after that.

...........................................

Part 2

Taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver