#and tumblr is my living room and my back yard and my porch so i can say whatever i want here

[arosebyan0thername]

You mean t*ylor sw*ft didn't win artist of the year for "sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby"?

#personal #i dont care enough about her to be a hater i just think it's a stupid thing to say in a song #very depressing song overall actually #i heard it for the first time ever while i was at work a few days ago and it's kinda fucked up ngl #like in an 'i hope she has a really good therapist' sort of way #but what the fuck do you mean by sexy baby #my hot music take is that people shouldnt have to google '[your song] lyrics explained' #unless you specifically mean for it to appear to be incomprehensible and this definitely doesnt seem like that kind of song #i shouldnt have to google to figure out that it's *probably* a reference to a 00s sitcom #the meaning #if that is what it means #makes sense but it was probably a dumb line in the show and it's definitely a dumb line in a song #you dont need to agree with me i just wanted to say my opinion somewhere #and tumblr is my living room and my back yard and my porch so i can say whatever i want here

[leiawritesstories]

Happy 500 followers!!!

Rowaelin prompt: Rowan and Aelin are neighbors who are VERY competitive over everything. They both think the other hates them (of course) until something semi-bad (nothing angsty, you angst gremlin!!) happens to one of them and all of a sudden the other is being super nice and helping them out.

I cannot wait for all these amazing Leia fics 😍😍😍

Love, goddess-aelin, because tumblr is dumb and I still can’t send messages from a sideblog 😘

thank you so so much @goddess-aelin 💕💕💕 i'll try to keep Frederick away but the endless fluff just makes him meaner, yk 😈

Word count: 900

Warnings: mentions of injury

Enjoyyyyyyy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of all the people Aelin Galathynius wanted to witness her stumbling awkwardly up to her front porch and trying to figure out how the hell to balance on crutches and unlock her front door, Rowan Whitethorn was decidedly not one of them.

Her next-door neighbor might be attractive, and she might enjoy ogling watching him work on his front yard when it was hot and he was shirtless, and she might leave her bedroom curtains only half-drawn at night knowing his bedroom faces hers, but she sure as hell did not want him to watch her fail at getting into her own damn house. She just knew he would tease her mercilessly about it and point out that he'd never had such trouble opening his front door.

One more point for him in their never-ending friendly neighborhood competition.

Unfortunately for her, no amount of wishing could have drowned out the unmistakable sound of Rowan's footsteps crunching in the gravel of her front yard landscaping. "Aelin? Do you need a hand?" To her surprise, he sounded...genuine?

"Yeah, if you could not stomp your huge man boots through the gravel that took me about fifty hours to rake into place, that would be great!" She beamed at him.

"Um..." He scratched the back of his neck. "I meant with your door, but if you're being serious, I can just--I mean--"

She'd never seen Rowan so lost for words, so she gave in and laughed. "I was mostly teasing, Whitethorn." She wobbled on her crutches and caught herself, swearing under her breath. "I...yeah," she sighed. "Can you unlock my stupid door so I can get inside and put my stupid foot up?"

"Sure." He took her house key, unlocked the front door, and even held it open for her as she hobbled inside, heading straight for the living room so she could prop her foot up on the ottoman.

"Thanks." She exhaled a relieved sigh as the pressure eased off of her injured foot. "Wait. What are you doing?"

Rowan backed slowly away from the kitchen. "I was just going to see if there was anything in your fridge, but knowing you, it's probably empty."

"Rude!" she gasped, throwing a small pillow at him. He batted it away easily. "My fridge and pantry are perfectly well stocked, thank you."

He smirked. "I wouldn't call wine, cheese, and chocolate well stocked, Galathynius."

"Oh yeah? What about wine, cheese, chocolate, dry goods, cooking ingredients, canned food, fresh produce, and leftovers, because I actually cook?" she challenged. "I dare you to check."

Wearing a knowing smirk, Rowan disappeared into the kitchen, opened and closed a few doors, and emerged with that smirk wiped clean off his face. "You must be a damn good cook if your leftovers smell that good."

Aelin's jaw dropped. "Whitethorn, did I actually die and go to heaven or are you giving me a compliment?"

"Don't get used to it," he sighed. "Yeah, I am."

"How sweet," she crooned. "Wait. Next question. Why the hell are you in my house?"

"You, uh, I had to unlock the door for you and I guess I just followed you inside to make sure you didn't fall over?" The faint stain of pink on his cheeks was far too endearing for Aelin's own good. Oh, she knew what her dreams that night would be featuring, she did.

"Well, I haven't fallen over, so you can head home now." She cleared her throat. "Um...thanks for helping me with the door."

It was Rowan's turn to gasp dramatically. "Am I dreaming, or did Aelin Galathynius actually thank me?"

"Don't get used to it," she griped.

He snickered. "Don't worry, I won't. Before I leave, though, do you want something to eat?"

"Hell yes," she groaned. "Shit, I hadn't thought about that and now I'm stuck on this couch until the painkillers kick in."

"You've got leftovers, I can just heat something up." He shrugged. "What do you want?"

She thought for a moment. "I'm 90% sure there's lasagna in the fridge, can you get me some of that?"

"Sure." He headed into her kitchen and rustled around for several minutes before reappearing with a whole Tupperware of leftover lasagna and a small bowl of salad. "Here you are, milady," he announced.

She rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose at the salad. "I said lasagna, Whitethorn, not leaves."

He rolled his eyes right back. "And I thought you'd appreciate having a full meal, Galathynius." With a smug smirk, he added, "Eat it all up and I'll even get you ice cream."

Fork halfway to her mouth, Aelin paused. "That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, Ae." He beamed, the portrait of innocence. "Deal?"

"You suck," she grumbled. "Fine. But you're getting me the entire container of ice cream, got it?"

"Anything for you when you're a good patient," he joked.

The lighthearted sentence suddenly brought a whole new line of fantasies featuring a certain gorgeous neighbor in a doctor's coat to life in Aelin's far-too-active imagination. Cheeks flushing, she tucked into her food, determined not to let Rowan sense the sudden change in her heartbeat.

She knew he'd immediately know where her thoughts had turned. She'd dreamed of what would happen next.

And she knew neither of them could return to their friendly neighborhood rivalry if they gave in to the tension crackling between them.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #answered prompt #leia's 500 followers thing #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic

[plutoswritingplanet]

Stop, Hammer Time (The Grabber x Female!Reader)

a/n: told y’all i’d do it. reposting because tumblr finally gave me my posting rights back. 

Warnings: Kidnapping (shocking, i know), General Stalker Behavior from the man of the hour, Suggestive Themes, Reader is An ADULT ffs

Summary: Curse your good nature and your winning smile. Curse your anger issues, and the inability to keep your mouth closed. But most importantly, God bless speed bumps. 

There is a slight tremor in your movements, as you try to spread some peanut butter onto a half-burned toast. The knife you've picked up, catches on a stray bag of chips, laying abandoned on the counter. Some of the peanut butter smears onto the packaging. You stare at the messy patch for a second too long, the vein at the side of your head nearly popping then and there. That's enough for you. You place the knife down with enough force to chip away at the tiles.

You take a step back, wrists pressed into your eye sockets. It must've been a long day, and a tiresome one at that.

He likes to watch you, when you're angry.

Your cheeks flare up with a bright blush, eyebrows scrunch together, and your eyes have this magical shine in them. One, even a window and a bit of distance can't stifle. He ducks a bit more out of view, his head of graying hair hiding behind a bush. He's seen you enough times to know, that once you get lost in thought, you tend to look out the kitchen window.

Those are your little intricacies, he has learned by heart. He treasures them, every time he's lucky enough to bear witness. Like the times he's seen you shake your hands after coming home. Every single time you lock your door, you turn towards the house and shake your hands, as if trying to rid yourself of some residue from the outside world.

He knows all this, because there is a beautiful view from the living room window. He can see your entire corridor from there, even reaching the doors to your bathroom. You really should invest in some actual curtains, because those frilly things don't do much. If he doesn't feel like getting out of his van, he can just park it right outside your yard. The patch of land is barely big enough to fit your house, fence almost touching the wall. There, between two bushes, he can lean back into his seat, and watch.

He's not obsessed. He'd never admit it either way. In his mind, he's just looking out for you, for your safety. There are some messed up sickos in the area. He should know, he's one of them. But not for this particular reason. No.

It's getting dark outside, the whole town slowly getting ready to sleep. Not you, however. Never you. Always on the run, always working, putting everyone's needs first, never stopping to take care of yourself. He's tired of seeing it, your slouched silhouette, as you finally come home after days of working. If he had the chance, he'd make you see how much more there is to life, when you have someone to care for you, to protect you. Someone like him.

Now, you, beautiful, angelic you, are making sandwiches for some kid you're meant to babysit tonight. He can barely see the head full of curly hair coming to the kitchen and grabbing a bite out of your hard work. It makes something boil under his skin, that ungrateful brat.

- I was meant to stay until seven - you say to the kid - I have another family to get to in like, five minutes. I have to go.

- That's okay, my dad's probably closing things off at work, I'll tell him you stayed an extra hour.

The man feels his chest come close to exploding at the image of your smile. Teeth on full display, some dimples in your cheeks. So sweet, so pretty, so far away. His hands tighten into fists at his sides, but before he can focus on another wave of anger, you start to walk towards the door.

- See you later Finney, say hi to your sister from me - you wave at the kid, and close the front door behind you.

At the porch, first thing you do is shake your hands. He smiles, as he sees you do it, the view of you partially obscured by a rather large bush. As quietly as he can, for a man of his stature, he begins to tread back to his van, twigs snapping, under his heavy boots.

You get off the porch only when you hear a tell-tale sound of the lock being turned. You'd never leave any kid you're meant to be babysitting all alone in their house, but it's been an hour past your shift. There's another family, that needed a sitter for the night, while the parents went to a birthday party. Or a wedding. You're not entirely sure, never one to meddle into your client's affairs.

So, with a sigh, you begin walking down the road, your destination just a couple of blocks over. That's when you hear a snap coming from the alley, running parallel to Finney's house.

There's a figure crouched over the side of the road, moving from side to side, as if looking for something. A difficult task in the growing darkness. For a moment, you nearly turn away and walk ahead. It would be the safe thing to do, especially since there's a kidnapper on the loose. But then, the crouched man sighs deeply, and moans an "oh no" in such a pathetic voice, you can't imagine him being dangerous in any way. So, like the good citizen you are, you plaster a smile onto your face.

- Sir? Are you okay?

The man nearly trips, as he stands up abruptly, turning to face you. You can barely see his features, as the streetlamps haven't turned on yet. His jawline seems to be sharp, eyes covered by orange sunglasses, a sight, which should've been a screeching red flag at the current time of day. And he's tall. Frighteningly so. His frame is large, towering over you, despite his shy stance. Hands behind his back, head hung low.

- Have you lost something? - you ask again, taking another step closer, caution blowing away alongside the evening's wind.

Finally, the man looks up, his face painted a sickly shade of white. Like a clown, or a magician. Definitely not a normal member of the town, which is why you can't seem to shake the feeling, you've seen this man before.

- Oh! - the man's voice is high and airy, which sounds absolutely strange, coming from someone of his size. - Yes, I dropped my car keys somewhere, and I can't seem to find them. Silly old me.

You rationalize, that it must be his "performer" voice. Sort of like your own special tone, you use only when dealing with customers, during your day job at the café. Perhaps you've seen him there, among dozens of people going in and out. He probably tried the special Sunday pie, and decided to never come back. The image makes you suppress a laugh, but the man catches your huff with a raised eyebrow.

- Sorry, just got reminded of something funny - you mutter, before coming to stand next to the lawn, eyes searching for any key-adjacent shapes.

The man looks at you for a moment longer, as if contemplating something, but you're too embarrassed by your previous hiccup, to hold his gaze.

- Yeah? Want to share with an old geezer like me?

You smile to yourself, as you crouch down next to a patch of wild grass. The man really didn't look that old. Sure, there was at least a gap of twenty-something years between the two of you, but you wouldn't give him more than fifty years. Well, fifty-five at most.

- Ah, it's nothing. - you chuckle - It's just we have this special pie at work...

The rest of your sentence is cut off cruelly, as a sharp pain erupts in the back of your head. Your vision swims with specks of black, and soon, you feel yourself falling. As your face lands on the patch of grass you've previously inspected, you barely register someone's hands grabbing at your shoulders. The last thing you remember, are blue eyes, almost popping out of their sockets, as they look over your face. The feverish, almost child-like wonder in them being your last image before you completely slip into darkness.

Thank God for speed bumps.

You're awakened rudely, as your head jumps up, and hits the metal flooring of a van. It takes you a while to recognize the sound of a working engine. Even more, to realize you're laying down, inside the car. But the most important revelation comes in much later. Your hands aren't tied. Which means your attacker was sure you wouldn't wake up before he got you, wherever he wanted to take you.

The man. A long shiver runs up your spine at the mere memory of his intense gaze. With panicked eyes, you search around the dark van. Looking over your shoulder, you can see the top of his head, peaking over the driver's seat. His back is turned to you, focused on the road ahead. Perfect.

Slowly, you start to move. Uncurling your aching limbs from the uncomfortable position he has put you in. Then, you start to touch around you, hands flailing, as you try to find something, anything you can use to defend yourself. Finally, your fingers brush over a untensil of some sort. The handle is made of wood, and as you begin to map it out further with your hands, you realize what you're holding, is in fact, a hammer. And not any hammer. Judging by the sticky liquid coating the head of the tool, it's the same hammer, the Mystery Kidnapper used to stun you with.

Armed, you hide the weapon under your body, focusing very hard on not throwing up, as the incessant, throbbing pain in the back of your head finally catches up to you. You lay like this for a couple of minutes, listening to the sounds of the van's engine. Sometimes the man would hum under his nose. Some old tune you'd hear on the radio decades ago. His voice is nice, you note, among other delirious thoughts running through your terrified mind.

Finally, the man pulls over. The car is turned off with a rather pathetic sound, that betrays its old age. Then, with cautious eyes, you watch him get out, slamming the door to the driver's side. You hold your breath, squeezing your eyes shut, fingernails digging into the wooden handle of the hammer. You can hear his footsteps, heavy on the gravel road. If you focus hard enough, you imagine, you can hear his breathing, the beating of his heart.

Then, the door to the backside of the van open, metal screeching in protest. You count to three, until he puts his hands on you. Both of them grabbing at your shoulders. That's when you uncurl like a snake, the hammer connecting with the side of his torso, with a sickening, wet sound.

- Fuck! - the man curses loudly, loosing balance for just a moment, giving you time to slide yourself out of the vehicle.

The hit, however unexpected, is not nearly hard enough to sway him. You're not able to take two full steps, before you feel hands grabbing at the back of your shirt. Stitches tear, as the man forcefully yanks you backwards, sending you towards the pavement. You fall like a sack of potatoes, head hitting the cement. A groan erupts from your lips, as another wound forms at the back of your head, but this time, you fight those black spots with all your might.

Pushed by panic alone, you turn on your stomach, crawling away from the van. Again, you don't make it far, before he catches you. Suffocating weight bears down on you, as he all but crushes your body to the pavement with his own. Your head cranes back, trying to look at him, perhaps spit in his face, but one of his hands finds purchase in your hair, tugging at the roots hard enough, to make you bear your teeth at him with a hiss.

His knees pin your legs to the ground, his torso pressing close to your back, impossible heat coming off of him in waves. Other hand makes quick work of capturing your hands and pinning them by the wrists above your head. Your body jerks under him in a futile attempt at throwing him off. That's when his hips press closer to your backside, in a warning you understand all too well. A sickening feeling coils in your stomach, at the sensation of something very obviously hardening against the inside of your thigh.

You freeze, breathing heavily through your teeth. The fact, that you can't see his face angers you to no end. You want to etch it into your memory, so you can imagine it twisted in pain, as you tear his fucking throat out. Perhaps your mother was right, when she told you years ago, you had some anger issues. But you'll be damned if they don't come in handy in this situation.

- Stop fucking moving, or I'll give you a real reason to squirm - he growls in your ear, fixing his hold in your hair.

He waits for a moment. You feel his eyes drilling holes into your face. Your movements stop, muscles tense as you lay pinned to the pavement.

- Good - he praises, his tone of voice changing into something akin to a condoscending chuckle, letting go of your hair in favor of gently patting the crown of your head.

The gesture makes you want to rip his hand clean off.

- Now - his body moves on top of yours, pressure leaving you back slightly, as he changes position, from downright crushing you, to hovering. - You're going to be very quiet, and we'll walk right up to that door there.

You can't see the door he's talking about, all you can see is the veins running up his surprisingly muscular arm, the edges of a black dress shirt. Gritting your teeth, you throw your best venomous look in the direction, you suppose the rest of his body is hidden.

- Fuck yo..

He doesn't let you finish. The hold on your hair tightening momentarily, as he drags our head upwards, and slams it back down. Your chin hits the pavement, the impact reverberating through your entire skull. You groan in pain, as the pressure on your body returns, his head craining around you, so he can whisper into your ear.

- I'm trying to take care of you, sweetheart. The least you can do, is not be a ungrateful fucking whore. - the words are forced out through his teeth, between heavy, panting breaths.

You don't have the strength to fight him, when he shifts to turn you around. Finally, you can see him. Well, part of him. The top half of his face is obscured by some sort of porcelain mask, depicting the frowning eyebrows of a devil. White horns pertrude forwards, and once you get a clear look of this deranged man, that's when fear settles in. Pure, freezing dread spreads out throughout your body like snake's venom.

Tears spring at the corners of your eyes, because, despite the many times you've stated otherwise, you really don't want to die. The alternative also looks grim, if not worse, and the helplessness of the situation wrenches a sob out of your chest.

As if touched by some magic spell, the man halts all his movements. His eyes follow teardrops that fall in heavy streams down your cheeks. Something flickers across those unfeeling blue eyes of his, something akin to guilt, but you don't feel optimistic enough to believe it.

Slowly, his arms sneak around your torso, one hand still placed firmly around your wrists. Your head sways, as he manouvers you around, forcing you into a half-sitting half-kneeling position. Then, his other hand comes up to your face.

- Oh, my poor, sweet thing - he coos, voice so gentle, you almost trust him.

Ignoring the way you flinch away from his touch, his hand wipes at at your tears, rough fingertips dragging across your skin.

- You done got yourself hurt - there's an edge to his voice, and your breathing quickens in anticipation of another outburst.

Instead, his hand wrenches itself underneath your chin, where a new wound is already forming. You watch him with fearful eyes, as his tongue peaks out to wet his lips.

- Let me kiss it better - is all the warning you get, before he dives down, despite your desperate attempts at pulling away.

His tongue presses hard against the scrape at your chin, licking a long stripe across it. The sting makes you squeak, and he soothes his assault with a chaste kiss to the wound. Then, you gasp, as he tugs your body against his chest, the ridiculousness of the position you're in, making your head swim. You stay there for a moment, feeling the rising and falling of his torso. His heartbeat surprisingly calm, considering your little tussle from before.

His true intentions come to light soon enough, however. One of his muscular arms wraps aound your throat. You try to protest, to scream, to do anything, but with one swift move, he cuts away all the oxygen. Your legs kick and flail, but he doesn't let go. The finality of the situation finally rushing down on your mind, This is how you die, this is the end.

You hear him mutter something into the crown of your head, as your conciousness starts to fade away from you once again.

#the grabber x reader #the black phone x reader #the grabber #slashers x reader #although he's not really a traditional slasher is he #anyways im reposting this one because when i first uploaded it i was shadowbanned by tumblr #but surprisingly they listened to my whining and im back in the tags babey

[supernaturaldawning]

So I never post my writing on Tumblr but i figured I’d give it a chance. I wrote this a few months ago and posted it on Wattpad lol

Here goes , y’all ! I hope you like it

—————————————————————————

Unexplained Picture

I woke up to my phone chiming, the annoying sound it made when I got a notification genuinely got on my nerves. I should probably change it soon. Groaning, i rolled over to grabbed it. A text message from an unknown number sat there on my screen as i squinted at it, eyes adjusting to the new light. My brow wrinkled in confusion as I opened the text.

The message was a picture of me, asleep in my bed from last night. Immediately, it felt like my body had been doused in ice cold water. Living alone, there is absolutely no way someone could've taken this picture. As i stared at my phone screen, another message popped up.

You look scared, but you look so peaceful when you're sleeping, it read.

I looked around, checking to see if I closed my bedroom and closet doors last night before I went to sleep. Of course I did, it became a habit when i was a little kid. I slowly stood up off of my bed, and walked to my window that looks out into the front yard of my house. Scanning the trees and bushes, I couldn't see anything and i felt my heart rate speed up.

My phone once again chimed with a new message.

See me yet?

My heart jumped as i scanned the front yard once more. I couldn't see anyone, so i crept through my house, carefully going around corners and throwing doors open to check closed rooms. As i reached the back patio, my heart was thumping painfully in my chest. I swallowed thickly as my phone chimed again.

Are you looking for me? Found me yet?

Deciding if i should keep looking or just run, i looked outside into my back yard. At first glance, even in the light of the morning sun, i couldn't see anything. The tears starting to pool in my eyes wasn't making it any easier to look for anything though. I started to open the back door when my phone chimed for the fifth time that morning. I wouldn't do that if I were you.

I locked the back door and slowly backed away from it. I slid behind the island in my kitchen and crouched down as soon as i heard the light tapping on the glass of the back door. I quickly turned the sound off of my phone so that if whoever was texting did it again, my phone wouldn't make noise.

My phone lit up again, a text notification popping up. I'll find you, no matter where you go. Tears were flowing freely from my eyes now. I needed to find a way out and get to a neighbor or the police station or something. Living alone and far from neighbors or town was the absolute worst case scenario I could be in, and i was currently in it.

I choked back a sob as my phone lit up yet again. Come out, make it easier on yourself, don't be so scared.

I won't hurt you.

Much.

My blood ran cold and i  considered bolting for my front door. I could make a run for it, I had to. There's no other way out of this, if I stayed, i could die. Or fight whoever it is and try to make it out alive. It was a fight or flight situation and i needed to make a decision. As i ran my options through my racing mind, i heard the back door click open and i decided that i needed to run, as fast as i could and get out of my house. I tucked my phone into my back pocket and crawled along the bottom of the island.

"Come out. Don't hide, let me see you awake and alert. I bet you're terrified, aren't you?"

The voice sounded foreign, it wasn't anybody i knew. Is it a stalker? Someone trying to seriously hurt me, murder me? His tone, though he sang the words more than he spoke them sounded genuinely daunting, and that's when i knew he was just waiting and biding his time. I braced myself for the push off i needed so that i could get to my door and out of it before he caught up to me.

I scrambled off the floor and ran as fast as i could to my door, his steps right behind me as i threw open the door and made it onto the porch. I ran as far as i could, hearing him gain on me the longer i tried getting away from him. Sparing a glance behind me, he was within an arms reach of me, so i pushed off with every ounce of strength i had and kept running.

His laugh was mocking in my ears and i finally gained some distance from him. "Go ahead and run, little one. You won't make it. I'll get you by the time the sun goes down. I'll be waiting." His words made my body burn with fear and adrenaline and i wasn't stopping.

It felt like i'd been going for hours when i finally slowed down. The gravel road i was on crunched beneath my feet as i jogged along the road. I could hear tires on the gravel coming up behind me. A car pulled up beside me, passenger window rolled down. The man behind the wheel smiled brightly at me, a cigarette between his lips. "Need a ride?"

"Yes, please! There was someone at my house and he was chasing me!" The stranger cocked an eyebrow and hit his brakes. "Get in. I'll take you to the cops. Did you get a good look at the guy?" he questioned. "Yeah, please just get me to the cops. Please." I begged him, looking around me before i got into this man's car.

I pulled my phone out, about to dial 911, when another message popped up on my phone. Weren't you taught to not accept rides from strangers? Was he watching me? Could he see me from where he stopped?

The man behind the wheel chuckled softly and hit the locks on the car doors. "He can't see you, honey, but you really shouldn't accept rides from strangers." My heart sank at his words and i reached for the door, fumbling with the locks. I didn't see him reach for my hair, so the second my head slammed into the car window, everything went black.

#horror #short fiction #short story #original content

[fraddit]

This is the first post in a series of three four about Eddie’s house on 9-1-1.

part two, part three, part four | Buck’s loft

Okay! So! I’m a bit of an architecture and interior design enthusiast, which means I’m constantly paying too much attention to the living quarters of characters in shows I’m obsessed with. I decided to put that to use and make up a floor plan for Eddie’s house and got a bit carried away. Anyway, a-thousand-something screenshots and three weeks of effort later, we have what I would normally make just one long post but is instead a series of three posts, because of the tumblr image limit.

Also, sorry in advance if this is just way too much information. I figured, since I’ve got it in my brain, I might as well put it in the post.

Anyway, here’s the floor plan as a whole. I’m going to focus on each individual room in later sections of the post. This section kind of covers the house in general.

The first thing to note is that Eddie’s house in s2 is an actual real house and his house from s3 onward is a set, and there are some differences between the two. Because the Set House was actually built for the show, I’ve interpreted it as the “more canon” house and used the details from the Set House over the S2 House whenever possible.

That being said, the Set House is still very much based on the S2 House, so it’s still worth discussing. The S2 House is a stand alone, single-family, single-story residential home with yard all the way around, and is roughly 1,200 - 1,500 square feet. It’s architectural details include a closed floor plan, arched doorways, paneled doors, glass door knobs with brass plates and keyholes, wall-mounted light fixtures, ornate furnace vents, custom built-in storage, wood floors, and a stucco exterior that features a deep porch with arches and iron scrollwork. All of this leads me to believe that Eddie’s house is a Mission Revival style house and was likely built in the 1920s or 1930s when that style was popular in Los Angeles.

Also, if it matters, based on the current reality of the Los Angeles real estate market, it’s possible Eddie’s in the 64% of people who rent instead of own there. That being said, if he were to buy, houses equivalent to the one he lives in are currently on the market starting at roughly $700k and going all the way up to well over $1,000,000. Yikes. Now, Eddie is a veteran, so he has access to VA loans, which means he only needs 5% down for a mortgage, but that’s still $35k for a $700k house.

According to a very helpful anon:

VA loans have a 0% down with a 0% funding fee for disabled veterans rated 10% or more and with Eddie being shot 3 times and in a helicopter crash I’d say he’d definitely be at more than 10%. So he would possibly only have to pay closing costs if he couldn’t roll it into the loan. He could, if the loan was structured right, walk in without any out of pocket expense.

Edit: After watching Eddie Begins again, it seems likely they owned their house in Texas.  So, selling that would’ve given him enough for a down payment for the new house, regardless of VA status.  (Now, I’m curious about what that process was like with regards to Shannon, since she was likely on the mortgage and probably got half the resulting money from the sale.  What sort of communication were they in?)

The biggest difference between the S2 House and the Set House is that, instead of the continuous hallway from the living to the back of the house, the S2 House has two back to back closets between the walls of dining room and Chris’s room. One faces the hallway between Chris’s door and the dining room doorway.  One faces the living room by the front door. Additionally, there’s a strange wall in the kitchen in the original house that has been removed for the Set House, and the bathroom has been updated. You can see one of the closets behind Chris in the lower left of the above image and the other is peeking out from behind Shannon’s hair in the upper left image.

We’ve yet to see a full view of the exterior, but if you picture something like the following, you’ll probably be pretty close. Note the lush plantings around the house perimeter. There are plants visible out of pretty much every window in the Set House, so Eddie’s yard is likely similarly planted. Also note the lovely terracotta roof tiles. Basically what I'm saying is Eddie likely has a beautiful house.

Eddie’s specific porch looks something like this:

Do me a favor and pretend I added the pretty roof and everything. The S2 House has extra stairs closer to the front door as well, but it’s simplified for the set version. In actuality, there’s probably no stairs at all for the set, but any irl version of the house would likely have at least a few steps to the porch, which you can see on those example images above.

There's a potted plant in the corner by the stairs, and it seems like there might be other plants on the ledges of the other archways, but I couldn't get clear enough shots to bother placing any. In at least one shot there's a chair across from the living room window. If I had to guess, I'd assume it's more likely a sitting arrangement of two chairs and maybe a little table. But, I've only for sure seen one chair, so one chair it is.

It doesn’t really matter, but the house number on the S2 House is 319, and there was a period of about 40 minutes where I was attempting to look at every house in LA with that house number to try and find the actual house they used, but then I came to my senses, thank god. Sometimes I’m capable of showing restraint in my research...

The other thing of note about the S2 House are the kitchen and bathroom which both appear to have been updated/remodeled in the (probably late) 1950s. I’m basing this on the style and construction of the cabinets, the louvered windows, the yellow and green tile in the bathroom, and the lovely vintage blue appliances in the kitchen, which are all elements that were popular during that decade. Plus, it would’ve made sense that the homeowners at the time wanted to update those two rooms with newly available technologies.

You can see the weird wall in the kitchen I mentioned earlier. Obviously, I can’t be sure why it’s there, but my working theory is that that used to be the actual back wall of the house and the bit beyond the wall started life as a back porch until the 50s homeowners decided to wall it in and make the kitchen bigger, adding the corner desk and the closet where the laundry likely lives. But I digress…

Anyway, that's all for the first part.  

part two, part three, part four | Buck’s loft

#911 #911 fox #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #shut up fraddit #made by fraddit #911 by fraddit #911 parade of homes

[twinklelilstarkey]

if you could write more about dad!rafe that would be amazing!!

Loving - Dad!Rafe Cameron

Words: 1.7k+

Type: Fluff

Summary: Rafe, Y/N and their daughter go to Midsummers, where a family reunion awaits them.

Warnings: Dad!Rafe and Dad!Topper. All the characters are slightly older in this imagine. Mentions of symptoms of anxiety. 

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

Credits for the beautiful gif @drewsephstarke (if u want me to not repost it, let me know, i’ll delete it. I just couldn’t find any others on the normal tumblr gifs)

Y/D/N - Your daughter’s name

"Do you have everything?” You ask Rafe, again, making him sigh.

“Yes, for the millionth time. Yes” He chuckles, “Breathe, baby. Jesus.”

You’ve been stressing for the past week. It’s been 2 years since you’ve last been in a Cameron’s event as important as the Midsummers and all you can feel is the pressure and stress running in your veins.

Not only will you re-seeing all your high school ‘friends’, but also Rafe’s side of the family. And no, you’re not talking about Sarah and Wheezie. You’re talking about Ward and Rose, who haven’t seen their granddaughter since the week she was born.

It was Rafe’s decision to make them not as inclusive as your side of the family, and you didn’t judge him for it. It was his choice to make.

But still, the idea of seeing them again after so long is stressful enough to make you seem paranoid with every small thing.

You reopen your small purse to check if you have everything that you need for the night and you sigh as you see, literally, everything.

“We need to go now.” Rafe says from beside you.

“Okay, let’s go.”

As you walk down the front yard of your parents’ house, you grab your car keys as Rafe calls out for Y/D/N, who is still inside the house.

The small girl walks out of the living room once hearing her dad’s voice and once her big eyes land on him, she extends her arms his way, grabby hands into the air.

Rafe walks towards her and picks her up, adjusting her dress slightly since she has been sitting on the ground this whole time, and looks up to check on you.

You had already walked out of the house and to the car, which didn’t surprise him. So Rafe walks with Y/D/N on his hip and closes the front door after him. H

e puts his baby girl down on her seat in the back and you pass him the keys before taking your seat on the passenger side, letting he go around to sit and start the car.

(...)

"Oh my god! I’ve missed you so much!” Sarah screams in the lobby of the building, catching everyone’s attention, as she runs towards you.

She wraps her arms around you as soon as she’s close enough and starts swaying you from side to side in her tight hold. 

Rafe walks in the building, Y/D/N on his hip, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as he fluffs out her dress and walks over to you.

“Oh, she’s here too” Sarah gasps when pulling away from you, eyes wide when staring at your daughter in Rafe’s arms. “Oh, well hello you cute little bug” she says with her baby voice.

Rafe laughs down at his sister, finding her baby voice ridiculous, and you look around a little, noticing how many people are as late as you. 

Thank god you’re not the last ones to get here.

“Can I hold her?” Sarah asks her brother.

Rafe doesn’t answer, he just leans a bit down and passes the small girl to her aunt. Y/D/N looks at her dad, confused look as she’s passed to Sarah.

“Where’s dad?” He asks Sarah.

Sarah walks over to you and Rafe follows her, resting his hand on your lower back once he stands right beside you.

“He’s...” She starts, looking around in the main room, “Probably...” She walks a bit to get a better view, and then turns to the two of you, “Outside”

You smile a bit at her words and you all start walking out of the lobby to try and find the man that organized this whole night. You walk beside Rafe, trying to swallow your nerves away, while looking around.

Rafe laughs a bit next to you and you look up at him to find him staring at Y/D/N. You follow his gaze and your eyes lay a wide eyed toddler staring intensely at her aunt, almost as if in shock.

You chuckle and that seems to catch the attention of the small girl, who looks at the two of you. Your and Rafe’s smile influence her into smiling as well and even to let a little giggle.

“Dad!” Sarah says excitingly as you three walk out to the porch, “Look who’s here”

Ward Cameron, himself, stands not too far from you, talking to maybe some business partners or just some acquaintances from the island’s Figure Eight. He looks over his shoulder to find his daughter holding a baby.

“Look Y/D/N, it’s grandpa.” Sarah says excitingly while making the girl jump on her hip, making it seem like she is actually excited to see him.

And that’s when Ward understood who the girl is, his granddaughter.

He looks up to find both you and Rafe standing behind Sarah and a smile is plastered on his face. Some might say it’s rather fake, but who are you to comment on that?

The men that were standing beside him drift their eyes to look at you all and they can’t help but feel shocked when they see the oldest son of Ward in front of them. 

It’s been years since he had last been to events like these.

“My son, it’s great to see you again.” Ward says, after giving the small girl a smile.

The Cameron men give each other a quite awkward hug and Ward turns to you.

“It’s great to see you too, Y/N. You haven’t changed at all since I last saw you.”

Oh, yes. The day after his granddaughter was born. The last time you all were together in one room. 

The last time he had tried to have an argument with Rafe and Rafe had finally enough of him.

Something that it’s surely still too fresh on Rafe’s mind still. As well as Ward’s.

Ward turns to Sarah once more and extends his hands as a way to motion wanting to hold the baby. 

Sarah passes him Y/D/N, who doesn’t look all that pleased with all the unknown people holding and staring at her.

“Aren’t you adorable?” Rose asks from behind you.

You turn to stare at her and she’s glancing adoringly at your daughter.

The older couple give all their attention to the small ‘chubby-cheeked’ girl and you walk over to Rafe, leaning your side against his, making him wrap his arm over your shoulders. 

As he plants a kiss over your hair, you turn to Sarah and start a conversation.

While you talk your worries away with Sarah, now feeling more relaxed, Rafe can’t take his eyes off his dad, who seems, to him, to be moving further and further way with his baby. 

In reality, he knows that Ward is not that far, but he sure is far enough to make anxiety bubble up in Rafe’s chest.

Y/D/N looks away from Ward and looks over at her dad, her usual pout after much forced socialization forming on her lips. 

She extends her small arms to her dad and Rose looks over at Rafe.

“Looks like she wants to go back to dad.” She says with a sweet smile, not something anyone is used to seeing.

Ward passes the child over to Rafe’s arms and he’s quick to hold her close to him. 

The baby snuggles into his neck and coos a little as she does it, melting into her dad’s warmth and familiar hold.

The people around them steal some glances and awe at the sight of the small baby clinging to the scowling Rafe Cameron that everyone seems to recognize.

You laugh beside him at Sarah’s words and Rose and Ward are quick to join the conversation. Rose’s smile very prominent on her face, making you ease up next to her. While, Ward, on the other, stole glares at his son, same exact scowl on his face.

You hold Rafe’s vacant hand, giving it a small squeeze, and he looks down at you, coming back to reality.

“You okay?” You ask him in a whisper and he just nods.

The small girl on his chest moves a bit and peeks with her big eyes, over her dad’s shoulder, at the people behind the porch. 

Some of them dancing and some just talking with a drink on their hand.

“Top” She gasps and Rafe looks down at her.

The small girl slaps his chest lightly to try and grab her dad’s attention and he looks over his shoulder to see Topper with a drink on his hand and a kid resting over his hip.

Rafe brings his fingers over to his lips, letting go of your hand, and whistles at his best friend, grabbing his attention and some other people’s in front and beside him as well. 

The girl giggles at her dad and brings her small hands to her mouth, trying to imitate her dad, gaining a smile from you and a laugh from Sarah.

Topper smiles up at Rafe and starts making his way towards the porch. And as he stands beside Rafe, he changes Y/D/N to his other arm, all to greet his best friend with the right hand.

Rafe’s scowl lifts off his features as Topper starts making conversation and Ward looks away from the two young fathers, listening to what his daughter and wife are talking about.

As Topper looks over at you and starts a small conversation just to greet you, Y/D/N lays her small palm on Rafe’s cheek, getting his attention again. She smiles widely and acts all shy as his eyes land on her.

“Why are you all shy, now?” He asks the small girl playfully, “Uh?”

He pokes her side to make her erupt into her usual fit of giggles, trying to stop his hand with hers.

Rose and Ward look up at the sound of the adorable giggles and they eye Rafe Cameron smile sweetly at the small girl, threatening to start tickling her again.

The small girl shakes her head again violently at her dad’s other question and leans in, planting a small faint kiss over his cheek. He gasps dramatically and does the same to her cheek, making the girl start laughing again.

You look up at them and smile at how adorable they are.

Rafe peppers his daughter’s face with kisses and she laughs loudly, grabbing her dad’s face with her small hands to make him stop.

“Lowe you” She says as he leans his head away and he smiles at her, gaining a awe from all the women in front of him.

“I love you too” He answers, making the baby satisfied with his words and lean in close to his chest once more.

Ward stares at his son in slight shock, he did not expect Rafe to ever be as loving as this. 

He expected him to be like... him. His dad. 

And he’s more than wrong.

God, I missed writing for Dad!Rafe. We don’t deserve him, too cute for our own good.

            *HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY*

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey imagines #rafe cameron #drew starkey #outer banks #outer banks rafe #netflix outer banks #rafe outer banks

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

@withmyteeth tumblr ate your request, but Cricket, I laughed so hard when I read it, and my biggest question was how in the hell do I work a werewolf into this. This was a lot of fun, I hope you like it

There's No Way He Has A License

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Reader

Warnings/notes: violence; slight gore; excessive use of the f-word; this is my first time writing for Angel

Word count: 1181

A crash startles you awake. Angel is sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and you crawl to the end of the bed. Your bedroom window is splintered, and your dented mailbox sits on the floor in a sea of shattered glass. Chittering laughter echoes in the darkness outside. Angel tugs on his boots and gets to his feet, peeking around the curtain. 

“What the fuck is that?” he whispers. You join him, careful to avoid glittering shards and squint hard at the impossible sight outside your window. 

A horde of green creatures, roughly two feet tall, is engaging in all kinds of havoc up and down the street. You hear distant screams and sirens. There’s a rumble, and the plume of fire and smoke that erupts against the night sky tells you it’s not thunder. Angel brushes past you and grabs his tank top off the floor. You hear the snap of a clip and turn to see him checking the chamber of his gun. 

“You’re not going out there,” you say, and he looks at you like there’s nothing else to do. 

“They’re tearing shit apart!” he says, tucking the gun in the waistband of his jeans. 

“I don’t care! I do not care, we can replace it.” 

“Oh yeah, you gonna feel the same way when they get in here? Start tearing into all your nice furniture and knock over your plants? Or better yet, light this place up like a pack of matches?”

“And what are you gonna do with your little gun, Angel? There’s hundreds of them out there, no way!” Your argument is cut off by sounds of destruction coming from the side of the house. Your ears prick to the scraping of metal. 

“What the fuck are they doing?” you breathe, carefully looking around the side of the curtain. You feel like your grandmother, nosily watching the neighbors. An engine rumbles to life and Angel is at your side, practically ripping the curtain off the rod. 

“Oh I know they’re fucking not!” he shouts before tearing off down the hallway.

“Angel!” you call. Something else soars through the window, sending more shards flying, and you flinch away, hands coming up to protect your face. You’re not wearing any shoes, so you climb over the bed and tiptoe your way to the door. Out in the hallway is a torn-off side mirror. When you make it to the living room, the front door is open and you see Angel just standing there. The maniacal little monsters tear through the neighborhood. They’ve gotten into homes and cars. You see several toddling around in an old lady’s clothes. Two yards down a trio has commandeered a riding lawn mower. Standing on the railing of your porch is a goblin in a trenchcoat with dark sunglasses and a cigarette dangling from its mouth. It flashes you. But what has Angel’s attention, and what quickly grabs yours, is the group zigzagging and figure-eighting his motorcycle, tearing through lawns, bumping over curbs, narrowly avoiding parked cars. One creature with a mohawk that starts at the top of its head and runs down its back is at the handlebars, and the rest cling wherever they can, so that there’s more imp than motorcycle. The air is filled with squealing, snarling, and chaotic laughter. One of them falls off the motorcycle and gets caught under the rear wheel, the bike lurching forward with a crunch, green slime coating the tire. 

Angel has his gun in hand, but he’s not going to fire, not when there’s the possibility of missing and hitting his bike. A metal baseball bat sits inside the front door and he reaches for it. He swings his way off the front porch, knocking creatures off left and right. There’s too many, like you tried to tell him before, and one latches onto his right leg, like a toddler, except with scaly olive skin and razor sharp claws. He tries to shake it off when another leaps off the roof and onto his back. Worried he’s going to be swallowed by the lilliputians, you grab an empty planter from the porch and smash it over the head of the one on his shoulder. Angel swings the bat, knocking the other off his leg. He has three long gashes in the skin of his shoulder from where the monster tried to hold on.

“I told you we should have stayed inside,” you snap. 

“Fuck this,” Angel says. He points his gun in the air and fires. The shot brings the creatures to a grinding halt. The bike skids to a stop, leaving a black streak in the center of the street. Everything is quiet, but they’re all staring at you, and they’re angry. “Get your slimy ass off my fuckin’ bike!” he shouts. The furred goblin gripping the handlebars tilts its head to the side, seeming to understand. Your hand grips the back of Angel’s tank top as you eye the swarm surrounding you, ready to haul his dumb ass back inside the moment they look like they’re about to strike. The creature stands up on the seat of the motorcycle and snarls. Its snarl turns into a growl and the two of you watch unblinking as it grows. Its shoulders and legs crack and expand, and fur sprouts in gray patches across its body. The impossibly long claws grow longer, and the needle sharp teeth turn into fangs, curved and dripping with saliva. What you don’t notice is it’s not the only one. Smaller pockets among the mob are transforming too. The one on the bike howls when the effort is through, and the others respond. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” you whisper. A charge has been called and the throng pulses forward. You haul Angel back, although he’s not as resistant as you thought he would be. The roar of an engine catches everyone’s attention. The creatures stop mid-onslaught and you and Angel slow to look in the direction of the sound. A pick-up truck with a plow strapped to the front bulldozes through the horde, sending a creature screaming through the air, inches from Angel's face. Creeper hangs out the driver’s side window and Coco stands up in the bed. 

“Come on!” Creeper calls. The two of you don’t hesitate, barreling your way through the gaggle of disoriented monsters and climbing into the bed, where you’re also met with EZ and Gilly. The right side of Gilly’s face is spattered with the same green slime as Angel’s tire, and EZ’s shirt has been torn to ribbons, but if they’re distressed they’re not showing it. 

“Let’s get the fuck outta here!” Coco shouts, slamming the roof of the truck. Creeper rips through the grass and tumbles back out onto the street, passing the crazed four foot tall nightmare still standing on Angel’s motorcycle.

“Wait, my bike!” Angel says. Before he can move, you hook both arms around him. 

“No, absolutely not,” you say. The two of you settle back into the bed, Angel unhappily resigned. 

"Was that a fuckin' werewolf gremlin?" Coco asks.

#spooky season requests #angel reyes x reader #gremlins #gremlins 1984 #angel reyes #mayans mc #clayton cardenas #neron creeper vargas #coco cruz #ez reyes #gilly lopez #withmyteeth #mayans mc fic

[thinking-of-daryl]

/Daryl Dixon drabble/ IHelp me, pleaseI

This is my first drabble and basicly anything that I am posting here on tumblr.

English isn´t my first language... so hopefully it doesn´t suck completely.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Daryl Dixon x female!reader)

Daryl is on one of his many runs  when he arrives upon a seemingly empty house.

Little does he know the shovel that is left on the porch isn´t meant for killing, but for digging.

But he will soon learn that as he will have to help a new survivor that he finds inside this house.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sounds of your whimpers could be heard through the whole room and who knows... maybe even downstairs. ,,I am sorry." You whispered as you laid your hand on the door handle closing the door behind you. Pressing your back against the door you let your body fall to the ground. Now fully crying. You could hear movement on the other side of the door. ,,Arghh." Loud moaning was soon heard with someone scratching the door. The scratching turned into banging and you covered your ears. Pressing your head into your knees you tried to dry your tears but they just started coming again. ------------------------------------ He was standing outside of your house now. Daryl swiped his hair to the side. Sweat pouring down his temples made the front hair stick to his forehead and even his cheeks. Casting a quick look at the shovel that was left on the porch he jumped the three small steps and knocked loudly on the barricaded door. After a few seconds of waiting, he decided that the house should be empty. -------------------------------------- You on the other hand were now terrified. Knowing somebody just got inside your house. Grabbing the knife from next to you and finally drying your tears you stood up. ,,Fuck." You muttered under your breath as you slowly crept down the stairs. The door was closed but you were sure somebody opened it just a few moments ago. Checking the living room you couldn´t see anyone. Going to the kitchen next you were stunned with fear. A man about two heads taller than you were was crouching in your kitchen inspecting all the canned food that was hidden under your sink. Most people would probably try and kill a stranger if they found one in their home... But the thing is... You hadn´t met another human being other than your family since the dead started walking. You wanted to say something but what? Then you noticed his crossbow and gun in his belt. You quickly turned around and went back upstairs in hopes that he will just leave once he gets all the cans. Wrong. The creaking of the staircase was heard and you had nowhere to run. All the doors were barricaded and you were left alone standing in the hallway. ,,Please don´t hurt me! Just take the food and leave me alone!" You screamed before the guy could be even seen. Being shocked because of your voice Daryl stopped in his track. He slung his crossbow on his back and got his gun ready. ,,You alone?" He asked pointing the gun at you. You were standing with your back against the same door from the start. ,,Yes." You said while you held your hands up high. ,,ARGH!" Groaning from the room behind you. Daryl shot you a look before asking again. ,,She...She is dead." You explained to him. ,,Turned?" He said still pointing his gun at you only that now he was standing few metres from you. ,,Yes..." You whimpered looking at him. ,,Please just take the food and leave." Daryl just clicked his tongue. ,, You got a knife." He pointed out finally putting his gun down. It made you release a breath you didn´t even know you were holding. Not understanding what he meant you just looked at him. ,,You didn´t kill her." It was more of a statement than anything else. ,,I couldn´t." You said and he nodded. ,,I planned to kill her and bury her in the back yard but I couldn´t." You started rambling now. Either because of your nerves or the man now standing in front of you. ,,Just one?" His short questions made you even more nervous. ,,My..My..." You coughed a bit before continuing. ,,Just my younger sister." He didn´t say anything now, only grunted as if he was saying ´Oh I see´. ,,Could you..?" You started your question but he was already leaving. Standing in one spot you were looking at him going down the stairs. ,,Here." The man was again standing in front of you now holding a bigger knife to you. ,,You ain´t gonna kill anything with that." He said nodding his head towards your pocket knife. ,,R-Right." You nodded and watch him put his hand on the doorknob. Your eyes met for a brief moment before he opened the door. The walking corpse of your young sister was attacking him right away. For a small while, he held her while he was looking at you. ,,Do it." You said. With that, he plunged his knife into her head. He slid her body down to the ground more gently than you would have expected. You sat down and let your hand lay on top of her head. Stroking her hair slowly. ,,Thank you." ,,Yeah..." You didn´t know how long you were sitting there or why the man stayed. You didn´t even notice he was gone. Only when he slowly touched your shoulder. You didn´t protest, you just let him pick her dead body and bring it out. He put her body inside the fresh dug grave. ,,Hey.. let´s go yeh?" That was the first sentence either of you said. And once again you didn´t protest. Picking up three daisies and putting them on her grave you nodded and went by his side. ,,Name´s Daryl and you?" You looked up with a small smile. ,,(Y/N)." And again no words were needed but you fully understood that his grunt was something like ´Nice to meet you´.

#daryl dixon fanfictions #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #fanfics #twd drabbles #daryl x fem!reader #daryl x oc

[gryffindordaughterofathena]

Hello, hello! This week, we are going on a little:

Home Tour!

Notes: Answer the following with pictures (dialogue from your characters is optional!). Collages are highly encouraged if you want to answer a question with multiple pictures because tumblr mobile only allows 10 total pics. Otherwise, tumblr on a desktop lets you add multiple pictures (non-beta)!

For both:

What does the outside of the home look like? (Front/back yard, garden, pool, etc)

Living room and home office (if any)?

Kitchen and dining room?

Bedrooms? (Master, guest, others)

Other rooms?

Do you own your dream home? If not, what does that dream home look like?

What is your favorite room to spend time in with each other?

So, I am like a million years late to this, but here we are.

Read previous interviews here

HOME TOUR

This is set, 5 years after their wedding, their daughter Tiya is about to turn 4. So they aren't exactly newlyweds.

Diana : Eeee! I am so excited for this.

Ethan : You are excited for every single interview Rookie.

Diana : But this time it's a home tour, and it has been delayed for months for our busy schedule E, of course I am excited, you should be too.

What does the outside of your home look like?

Diana : Let's take you to our backyard before we enter our home then.

Ethan : We have a sitting area in our backyard where we can keep an eye on our daughter as she plays with Jenner and Nala.

Diana : And invite our friends over when the weather is favourable, it's a nice spot for spending time together with our friends.

Ethan : We are also sprucing up the garden whenever we have free time.

Diana : I am not much of a gardening expert, I can only tell when things look pretty. The roses were actually Harper's idea.

Living Room and Office

Diana : As you can see, I wanted a white aesthetic for our living room. It feels more cozy.

Ethan : And the office is supposed to be for both of us, but Diana prefers the library or the sitting area in the backyard for working.

Diana : I already sit in an office for 80 hours a week. I'd much rather use the other areas of my home for working when it's possible.

Kitchen and Dining Room.

Diana : It's mostly Ethan's kitchen as I rarely cook, I just admire my hot husband from the counter, while he cooks.

Ethan : The Dining is adjacent to the kitchen.

Bedrooms?

(A little girl comes running from one of the rooms.)

Diana : Bree, meet our daughter Tiya. Tiya say hi to the nice lady.

Tiya : Hi! Are you here to see our home?

Bree : Yes, will you show me your room?

(The little girl looks up at her father)

Ethan : Parrot do you want to take us to your room?

Tiya : Yes

(Tiya leads them to her room)

Tiya : This is my room.

Diana : She helped me to clean it up for you.

Bree : It's really pretty Tiya.

Tiya : Do you want to visit the story room now?

Diana : She means the library, she insisted on keeping her books there too, so it's story room to her.

Other Rooms?

Diana : Welcome to my favorite place in the entire house, the library or better known as the story room.

Ethan : Diana spends most of her free time here. I have often found her nestled in the couch with a blanket and her books on her days off.

Diana : This is my safe haven, ever since I was a kid, I wanted my own library with a step ladder and now that I have fulfilled that dream, I never want to leave this place.

Ethan : I must admit, the library is a really beautiful part of our home.

Diana : You should see it when it rains, the glass windows leave such a beautiful effect here.

Do you own your dream home?

Ethan : We do.

Diana : This is the exact home I had imagined my future in when I had first dared to think of a future about us. A place which reflects both of us.

Ethan : (tangling his fingers with Di's) years ago, I had told Diana that I want to want a life where I can have a quiet life with the person I can call family.

Diana : But you said that you'll always have a certain restlessness.

Ethan : I don't think I see that restlessness in myself anymore. All thanks to my wife.

Diana : (smiles and kisses his cheek)

What is your favorite room to spend time with each other?

Diana : You mean apart from our bedroom?

Ethan : Rookie...

Diana : What? You didn't think I'll make this joke? But jokes apart, It's the swing in the porch, it's so pretty and perfect for impromptu date nights

Ethan : With our busy schedules and as parents having extravagant date nights is not always possible, but that doesn't mean I'll not take my wife on dates. So most nights this has to do.

Diana : You know me Ethan, I enjoy these dates more than those "extravagant" ones, these are beautiful and peaceful, just what we need after wrangling interns at the hospital.

Ethan : (laughs) You are becoming like me.

Diana : Effect of spending too much time with you, I don't regret it though.

Ethan : (kisses her softly)

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Tags : @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @drariellevalentine @rookie-ramsey @aleynareads @miss-smrxtiee @terrm9 @aestheticartsx @fireycookie @maurine07 @starrystarrytrouble @schnitzelbutterfingers @tsrookie @anntoldstories @iemcpbchoices @stygianflood @sophxwithers @actuallybored @iloveethanramsey @natureblooms24 @chemist-ana @mercury84choices @casey-v @uneravine @mm2305 @mrsethanfreakingramsey @smilex1104 @missmiimiie @shanzay44 @sweetheartdetectivex @potionsprefect @headoverheelsforramsey @jerzwriter @mainstreetreader @coffeeheartaddict @adiehardfan @mia143 @kdjdhdvksojs @theblueestonedpendant @openheartfanfics

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#ask #messrprongs #newlyweds game with your host bree #newlyweds game #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #dr. ethan ramsey x diana ramirez #dr. diana ramirez #e and d

[coffeecakefanfics]

Rocky Mountain Skies

So I live in the 719 (CO) and I have been DYING to write about it so here’s this hot ass mess Also it’s my first multipart story on tumblr so bear with me (I’ll do a part two because omg) 

Christmas is a magical time of year where families get together and revisit the political opinions of the past month but turn around and gift each other things. For the (L/N) family it was no different. 

(Y/n) waltzed through the bullpen, coffee in one hand, phone in the other.  

“Yes mom I’ll be home for Christmas,” she set her things down and sat at her desk, “No mom I already requested the two weeks off, I’ll be fine,” her sigh caught a few peoples attentions.

“Mom seriously, I get into Denver Sunday at 11, papa already said he’d come pick me up. . .  yes mom I know how old he is but you don’t have time remember, besides it’ll be nice to see him. . . Mom I gotta go I have a meet- yes mom I’ll let you know when I get to the airport. . . Mom I have to go byeee” She clicked her phone and leaned back, letting out a long groan. 

“Mom troubles?” Derek smirked.

“You have NO idea, I love her but she needs to chill,” she smiled. 

“Well I think it’s sweet,” he toys.

“Of course you do, go to work,” she shook her head teasingly. 

“All right, all right,” he laughed and walked off. (Y/n) stayed seated at her desk for a majority of the day, skipping lunch to finish files.  People stopped by to make small talk while she worked, which she happily sat through.  As the day continued on people started packing up their things to head home.  It was quiet, the only people left were (Y/n), Spencer, JJ, and Hotch.  

(Y/n) Stretched, popping her back, before getting up and walking around the desks.  She set her hand on a chair and spun it so the messy haired man was facing her. She smiled at him brightly.

“Hey Spence”

“Hi, uh, is something wrong?”

“No I just wanted to talk to you is all,” she sat on his desk.

“About?” he looked at her curiously.  He watched the way her hair set on her shoulders and framed her face, the way her waist dipped and hips bulged slightly, the way her thighs squished when she sat. He forced his eyes beack up to her and felt his face go a little warm.

“You know in the past three years I’ve been here I don’t think I’ve seen you take a vacation, and it’s none of my business if you save it or whatever but I was curious, why?” her face twisted in thought.  He sat for a second and thought. 

“Well I mean I go “home” occasionally, but I guess I’ve just never had a desire to go anywhere,” he shrugged, “I mean all we do is travel for work so I guess it never really crossed my mind” he smiled at her. 

“Well, I uh, look I have an extra plane ticket back home. My ex was supposed to go with me but we broke things off a few months ago.  So I guess I’m trying to say if you want to, you could come with me.  I mean you totally dont have to and I mean-” 

“To Colorado?” he quirked his eyebrow.

“I mean, yes? but only if you want to, I mean you’re my best friend, and closest one so I figured I’d ask before getting a refund,” she twisted her foot into the ground.

“Do I get a cowboy hat?”

She looked up surprised and laughed, “Duh”

“Then I’ll go”

The two weaved through the airport traffic.  The building was loud and crowded and both were getting antsy.  (Y/n) clutched her bag tight as they maneuvered through the crowds of people.  Finally making it outside, the cold mountain air bit at their skin. A old man stood at the end of a row of cars holding a huge sign 

‘(Y/N) (L/N)’ written in huge letters decorated the sign. 

“Papa!” she cried and dropped her bags, getting swallowed into a hug that itself felt like home.  Spencer stood awkwardly by watching the two.  

“Where are my manners, My Name is Jim (L/N) but you can call me Papa.  You must be Spencer?” The man, Jim introduced himself.  He was only about 5′10″ and was clad in a red and white pearl snap with stained coveralls over top.  His face was covered mostly by a long Beard and Mustache and he had a pair of glasses perched on top of his head. 

“Oh, uh yes sir I’m Spencer,” He smiled at the man who held his hand out.  Spencer shook it gladly. 

“Well we need to get you kids home. Granny is making soup for dinner,” he bent down and picked up (Y/n)’s bag and rolled it to a old pick up truck, may be ten years old Spencer guessed. He stared at the backseat for a second, his stomach turned, maybe this wasn’t the best idea, maybe he shouldn’t have came, I mean I’m being so awkward an- 

“Spence what are you waiting for?, hop in,” (Y/n) called from the back seat.  He blinked a few times at her before jumping in and closing the door. She leaned over to him, “I didn’t want you to be alone back here,” she pulled back and smiled. 

“Thank you,” he breathed a sigh of relief.  As close as they were he had never met her family.  He had spent countless nights sitting on her couch easting Chinese food while they finished files or watched bad movies but he still felt nervous being around her like this. 

“So Spencer, where are you from?”

“I’m from Vegas,” he replied meekly.

“A gambler huh?” The old man grinned at him in the rear view, “you any good?” 

Spencer laughed and shook his head, “I guess we’ll have to see,” he teased back.  Jim laughed and smiled at his granddaughter. 

“i like this one”

“You like him just because you’re bad at Texas Hold em” she playfully rolled her eyes.

“Hey whatever gets the money,” he laughed again.  It was a laugh that filled you with joy.  Spencer finally understood where (Y/n) got hers from.  

“So Spencer, I know a feller like you can’t be single, so do you have a lady back in D.C.?”

“PAPA!” (Y/n) shrieked, “Don’t go running him off already, good god” she shook her head.

“What I’m curious, he’s a handsome man,” Jim grinned. Spencer was full on burning at this point. 

“No sir, I’m single,” He almost mumbled out.

“You know who else is single. (Y/n),” Jim wiggled his eyebrows. (Y/n) glowed the same red that the poor man next to her did.

“Papa oh good god.  Stick to breaking horses not my love life, and besides you’re gonna make him regret coming here before he even sees the ranch,” she rolled her eyes.  Spencer actually laughed.  The two of them were obviously close, it was . . . nice.  It was a nice break from what they deal with every day.  

The rest of the car ride went by semi fast, (Y/n) explained all of her plans for the two of them while they were here.  She was almost glowing with excitement. The wooden fence that stretched along the property line came into view as the truck began up the drive.  A gorgeous two story log cabin came into view behind a row of evergreens.  The wood was a beautiful light brown, and towered over the yard.   A old lady was standing on the porch dressed in a fleece nightgown and brown slippers.  She waved as the truck stopped.  The group jumped out and began grabbing bags. 

“There’s my baby girl,” the woman hugged (Y/n) tightly.  She had her same eyes.  The woman stood maybe 5′2′ and had a pink and white fleeced nightgown on.  Her grey hair fell in neat curls down her back.  Her face was wrinkled and warm, the kind that you know showed so much joy in her younger years. 

“And this must be Spencer, You’re even more handsome in person,” she cood at him. 

“grandma!” 

“It’s alright. Yes ma’am I’m Spencer,” he smiled at her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he grinned. 

“Oh where are my manners, lets get you babies inside and warm,” she ushered everyone in.  “(Y/n) baby your room is all set up, but um there’s been a change of plans,” The lady frowned. 

“What Dawn is trying to say is that your mom and your stepdad are staying in the last guest room, and your cousin Rita is in the other”

“WHAT!” (Y/n) yelled. “Mom said her the Stepdouch were staying home for Christmas! I was promised to get you two to myself. And Rita!” she was fuming. Spencer set his hand on her shoulder, trying to bring her back to earth.

“We know baby but she insisted that you wouldn’t go see her if she stayed,”

“Of course not, not after what she did!”

“And Rita is your cousin, at least try to play nice,” Jim begged. 

“No, Not after what they did!” (Y/n) was breathing ragged, anger radiating off of her body. 

“Hey, uh why don’t you help me to my room?” Spencer forced her to look at him.  She sighed and grabbed her bag.

“Okay” she grabbed his hand and began through the living room up the stairs.  Spencer admired the “family” room on the balcony overlooking the living room. (Y/n) led him around the bend and over to the room. She popped the door open and let him inside. She followed and closed the door after her. 

“So since my cousin Rita took the guest room we’ll have to share this one, I’m really sorry. I have an air mattress that I can sleep on and you can have the bed. This isn’t how I wanted this to go, I’m sorry,” she spoke almost in tears.

“Hey you didn’t know and I’m kicking you out of your bed, I’ll sleep on the air mattress, besides we can always still do everything you planned. We’ll be okay,” he smiled and held her face.  She let a tear fall. 

“I know but this was supposed to be a fun trip for you,”

“It will be, what’s more fun than two weeks without work,” he smiled and pushed her hair behind her ear. 

“It’s only like one, so would you show me the property?” he smiled.

“Sure, but we need to get you a new wardrobe,” she laughed. 

“Hey what’s wrong with my clothes?” he spun for her. 

“Well for starters you’re in loafers and there’s snow on the ground, and second I do owe you a cowboy hat,” she grinned. “Come on lets play dress up”

The two of them sat in the attic surrounded by boxes of old clothes.  She held up a nice quilt lined coat, identical to the light brown one she had on. 

“That should fit, he was about your size,” she smiled and handed him the coat. 

“Who?” he asked and examined the inside of the coat when it stared him right in the face. 

‘Merry christmas daddy, (Y/n)’ stitched on the tag.  his heart stopped.

“(Y/n) I can’t accept these, these meant the world to you I-”

“Spencer please, I’d rather you have daddy’s stuff than any of those other brats,” she sneered. “It’s the only other thing I got from him when he passed.  He would’ve liked you,” she smiled and pulled a bunch of pearl snaps out.  Spencer's heart leapt.  We slid the Carhart on, it sat nicely against his body.  She looked up from the boxes. 

“Whoa” she gasped. “Spencer you look, just wow” she grinned. 

“Wait I have one more thing,” she rushed off to the back of the attic.  She returned with a box wrapped in red wrapping paper she smiled and handed it to him.  He pulled the top of the box off.  Inside sat a nice dark brown felt hat with a brown leather strap around it.  It was adorned with a small gun charm on the leather strap. 

“(Y/n) this is, this is way too much,” he looked up at her.

“I bought it for you last year, I remember you saying you wanted to be a cowboy so I figured I’d buy it but I forgot it last time so there,” she beamed at him.

“Well, try it on,” she ushered  He set the hat on his head, a perfect fit.  

“Well?” he spun

“You look like a true cowboy Spence,” 

They walked the property talking for hours.  The air grew cold and bit at their cheeks. 

“Hey do you want to see my favorite spot?” she asked

“Of course,” he grinned.  They walked out into the woods behind the house before coming to a clearing.  The sun was beginning to set.  The mountains had a purple haze but the sky was bright blue.  Golden streaks danced across the clouds.  The clearing was full of dry grass and thistles that would become tumbleweeds when it got windy. 

“(Y/n) this is amazing,” he breathed the fresh mountain air.

“This is my favorite part of being home, the Rocky Mountain Skies.  They seem to dance with color.  I forget how pretty they are when I leave,” she smiled and watched the clouds float by. 

“Why did you leave?” Spencer asked.  He turned to look at the girl next to him.  She looked small in her coat and her hair was messy from the light wind. 

“After my dad died. My mom got with my Stepdouch a month later, the will had been “lost” the will that would have granted my this ranch.  The only reason I got it was Papa and grandma claimed they needed a place to live so I mean it’s theirs.  My mom got mad because she wanted to sell it.  and my cousin Rita wanted all of my dads horses, thousands of dollars worth of horses that she and my mom fought over and split the money on.  That wasn’t dads vision, they never cared about this place. Mom moved us into town, So when I turned 18 I left,” she shrugged. 

“I’m so sorry (Y/n)” he hugged her. 

“It’s okay. So why did you want to be a cowboy?” She teased.

“Well I mean every little boy wants to be a cowboy, I wanted to catch the outlaws, or maybe be them I’m not sure,” he laughed. 

“(Y/N), SPENCER, DINNER!” Dawn yelled to them.  

“Race you there” she smacked his chest and took off.

“No fair!” he called after her. 

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #Criminal Minds

[yujikuna]

when the night is over

summary: bucky comes home to you after a long mission

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fluff, angst, and like two lines of smutty action

a/n: i always said i would never post my stuff on tumblr, but here i am. also, i’m sorry in advance. inspired by when the night is over by lord huron.

The white house across the field is illuminated like a mirage in the desert. The scene is picturesque in the way that dawn has begun to take over the sky, and the large willow tree that sits by the pond east of the house flutters in the breeze.

Every light is on, and the sconce above the front door is lit as a silent invitation for him to enter. Small lanterns line the path leading from the driveway to the porch, beckoning him forward.

He strips himself of his gear before he ascends the porch steps. There was no place for it there. This was holy ground not meant to be tainted by the dirt and blood caked on his soles and his heart. Each piece he takes off feels like a layer of skin being pulled back until he is left with only a bruised and tattered soul longing for solace. His boots are left in the yard.

The second step creaks under his weight and the rusted hinges of the screen door screech when he opens it. He would have liked to remember to fix them later, but all of his worries and responsibilities are forgotten as soon as he steps over the threshold into the metaphorical Eden that he shares with you.

There’s no need to knock. This is their sanctuary. A safe haven far, far away from the terrors of the world.

“Bucky? Is that you?”

Of course it’s him. It’s always him. No one else knows that this place exists.

His bare feet pad across the cold hardwood, following your voice and the smell of breakfast to the kitchen. It makes him think of someone else, someone older with blue eyes and brown hair like his who sang as they cooked and made him their certified taste-tester. But the thought is fleeting, and he pushes it away.

You’re a vision standing there in front of the stove. A dream. But you have to be real. There’s no way a man as twisted as he could ever create something as ethereal as you.

Bucky takes a moment to watch you. You’re humming and swaying to the song coming from the radio sitting by the window as you flip blueberry pancakes and sizzling bacon and stir scrambled eggs. He can’t see your face from where he’s standing, but he doesn’t need to.

He’s happy. He’s so utterly, devastatingly, happy that he can’t contain everything he feels within his cracked heart and has to let it pour out of him. Has to let it go wherever it can find a home. It always ends up finding its home with you.

He found his home with you.

He doesn’t think twice as he crosses the kitchen to wrap his arms around your waist and bury his face in your hair, the strong scent of your shampoo tickling his nose. His titanium hand grasps your hip as his flesh one gathers your hair to push it over your right shoulder. You let out a soft sigh when you feel the tip of his nose trace a line from your shoulder up your neck, ending with a kiss behind your ear.

“If you want breakfast you’ll stop while you’re ahead, Sarge,” you tease. You don’t move away, though, just close your eyes and tilt your head back to rest on his broad shoulder.

“Don’t need food,” Bucky says, the words muffled by your neck. “Just need you.”

The song changes, slightly more up-beat than the one before, but he just presses his chest closer to your back. He feels seventeen again, swaying with you to the mellow jazz in the background. The hand that was holding your hair trails down your side, stops to give your hip a little squeeze, and then continues its journey to your leg.

His calloused palm is rough against the soft skin of your thigh. A hum falls from your lips when his fingertips dance across the peach fuzz there, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It travels upwards again, but stops at the delicate hem of silky fabric.

“This a new dress?” Bucky’s face is still burrowed in the juncture between your shoulder and neck, a grin on his face when he feels you try and fail to suppress a shiver at his lips moving across your skin when he asks the question.

“Mhm. Got it on sale a few weeks ago,” you say. The kitchen is quiet for a moment, only the sounds of soft music and sizzling bacon filling the silence before you speak again. “You’ve been gone so long, Bucky.”

“I know. ‘M sorry. ‘M here now, though.”

You turn in his arms to face him. Something warm that he hasn’t felt since he left bursts in his chest when he sees your face. He had been gone longer than usual this time. Mission after mission after mission-- they never seemed to end. But even after all that time, here you were, just as beautiful as always. It was like you never changed.

A smile takes over your face when you look at him. “Your hair’s longer,” you say, running your fingers through the tangled brown tresses before swiping your thumb across his cheek to remove a smudge of dirt. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and breakfast will be ready by the time you get back?”

He wants to protest, wants to stay there in front of the stove with you and sway until the food is burnt and the sun finishes rising and sets again in the night. Wants to hold you until the house gives in on top of you and you both turn to dust and become one with the earth below.

He would be okay with that, content with the thought of his aching bones finally being laid to rest entwined with yours, but you just kiss the tip of your pointer finger and press it to the dimple of his chin before shooing him away and turning back to the food.

Breakfast is spent with you on his lap, his metal arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from getting up, the two of you basking in the first light of daybreak as it filters through the sheer curtains hanging on the window. In between bites he kisses your shoulder blade, and when you finish you cuddle against him while he goes back for seconds.

You’re so warm against him, and he can’t help but tuck his hand underneath your dress to feel the heat of your skin on his. He swears he can almost see his own breath.

‘S cold, he told you there in the kitchen. The furnace is acting up, you had replied. Another thing to add to the nonexistent list he was keeping.

Dishes are left on the table. Pans are left on the stove. The sink is so full that it’s overflowing to the counter. They’ll clean later. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. It can wait, but they can’t.

In the living room, a basket of laundry is taken from the couch and deposited on the arm chair instead. A stale cup of water from the night before is moved from the coffee table and poured into the overgrown pothos by the window and Bucky watches you sit the glass on the floor. It can wait.

It’s so achingly domestic, he thinks, coming home to a well-loved house and being well-loved by the woman in it. There are no false pretenses, no need for the two of them to pretend to be someone they’re not. It’s almost like he never left-- like time in the little white house in the field was frozen, allowing the two of you to pick back up exactly where you left off.

Bucky dutifully follows you to the couch, and the last of the tension in his body melts away when he opens his arms for you to fall in to.

He plans on staying there forever.

Soft touches and soft kisses and even softer words. The radio plays softly in the background as you tell him what he missed, and he listens diligently while you run your fingers through his hair. Eventually you pick up a thin book and a pen. You tried to show him how to solve the puzzle in front of you, but each time you looked at him you noticed the spaced out look and dopey smile he always got when he was watching you, and gave up soon after.

“…Six, seven, eight, nine.” The last number is nearly cut off by a choked giggle when you feel him start to kiss down your neck. He can tell you’re trying to ignore him, but he continues mapping his way down your body, looking up at you as he kisses the inside of your knee. “Bucky.”

The expression on your face is adorably stern, but the almost imperceptible quirk of your lips and the benign tone of your voice tells him everything he needs to know.

It’s there on the couch that he is given his final homecoming with your arms wrapped around him tightly and his hands, one warm and rough and the other smooth metal, grasping your legs. You’re a vision above him. A dream. Beautiful. Ethereal. He feels your warm breath ghost over his face and your eyelashes brush his cheek before you cum around him, a whispered ‘I love you’ and one final kiss urging him to follow. He would follow you anywhere. His beautiful girl. His home.

The air between the two of you is electric as you fall into his chest. He swears he can feel it in his fingertips, his toes, his brain, his heart. Every nerve in his body feels alive.

Another giggle and a slow, languid kiss is shared between you. “Do you think that was it?”

Bucky reclines on the couch, bringing you with him. “I hope so,” he mumbles into your hair. He pulls the discarded blanket over you to slow the creeping chill seeping into his bones. “We gotta get a move on if we’re gonna have four.”

You pinch his side and push yourself onto your elbows. “Four?” you ask, a teasing glint in your eye. “I’m pretty sure I agreed to one.”

“Nope, I vividly remember you telling me we could have as many as I want, and I want four.” The sun has set, but he ignores the darkness outside, instead focusing on your blissful smile and the way the soft light of the lamp on the table dances over your skin.

“Absolutely not. There’s no way I could handle four kids.”

“Okay,” he says, a cheeky grin on his face, “we’ll compromise and have six instead.”

“Six?” you squawk, your tone full of mirth. “Why stop there? We might as well have enough babies to fill an entire freight car.”

The electricity that runs through his body in response to your final two words is enough to make his jaw lock and his muscles seize. He can’t speak, can’t think, can’t hear your worried pleas for him to look at you.

Bucky wants it to stop. It’s too painful, too much, too soon, and he can see you above him still through the fog of his mind-- his shining sun. He can see you, can feel your hands on his face but you’re soon eclipsed by the current running through his body.

Too painful, too much, too soon. The night wasn’t over yet. He was supposed to still have time. Too soon, too soon, too soon.

Did he tell you he loved you? He knows he does, he knows you know, but did he tell you? He can’t see the sun anymore. Was it even there to begin with? He can’t remember.

Bucky closes his eyes, unable to move. He feels lost inside his own mind. Where was he?

When he opens them he thinks he sees the sun. But it’s not soft daylight being filtered through lace curtains or your warmth melting him down to his core. It’s harsh and white and he’s so, so cold.

A man steps in front of his chair.

“Доброе утро, солдат.”

“Я жду приказаний.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier x reader

[jawritter]

30 Minutes In Heaven

Summary: Your life, like many hunters before you, was cut short. You had no idea at the time the Fates that were at play in the universe were really those of dick angles and egotistical assholes with massive god complexes. And you also had no idea that they were really the reason you lost your life, and you had no idea why… Until around 30 minutes after you made it to Heaven.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader (Y/N), Jack Kline

Warnings: SPN SERIES FINALE SPOILERS!!!! IF YOU LIVE UNDER A ROCK AND HAVE NOT SEEN IT YET DO NOT READ THIS FIC!!! Brief use of Christian biblical text at the beginning as a reference. Language I’m sure, because hello, it’s me. Slight angst, mentions of character death all over the place, past, present, and upcoming. Some fluff. I don’t want to give too much away.

Word Count: 2722

A Huge fucking thank you to @miss-nerd95​ for Betaing this fic!! You’re a lifesaver!!

A/N: Okay, this was a fic I started before the Series ending, then when it ended I dropped it like a hot object because I just couldn’t finish it, and struggled with the fact that I could easily tie in the canon Dean Winchester ending. Then one of my Patreons requested an ending that placed the reader, Dean’s soul mate, given to him once he made it to Heaven to give Dean the happy ending he deserved, well that’s when I decided to go back and finish it, give Dean and the reader a reunion over there. I was originally going to just post this to Patreon, but I feel like we ALL needed this, so I’m going to be posting it to tumblr and wattpad as well! I hope you all enjoy this one, as it was a bitch to write I’m not gonna lie.

**MASTERLIST**   **BECOME A PATREON**

2 Peter 3:8 Says But, beloved, be not ignorant of this one thing, that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. 

You had never known  the gravity of that one verse of scripture from your time on earth. It was the only thing that resounded to be true in all that you had experienced once you had made it to Heaven. There was no way of truly knowing exactly how long in earth time you had been here, but something deep down in your heart knew that it had been a very, very long time. You would venture to say it had been close to ten years, but again you couldn’t be sure. 

For you, it had only felt like 30 minutes. 

In that 30 minutes a whole lot of things had taken place. You hadn’t even gotten settled into your little cubicle here before the place began to shake. Then talks of falling angels and power flickering were happening. There were whispers of new gods and old gods, there were whispers of the devil and his death. There were whispers of all manner of things as you stood with your head to the wall of your childhood bedroom. 

One name you kept hearing was Dean. 

Dean Winchester. 

You had been a hunter in your former life, and you had heard of the Winchesters before. Part of you wanted desperately to know what was happening on earth, what could Dean Winchester have done to literally cause Heaven to quake? 

You had tried to find a means of escape, but you seemed trapped in this room, no matter how much you tried to find a way out. 

Then before you even had time to panic, another rumble shook Heaven, and people were saying something about a 'darkness' that had befallen of old. A darkness that had overtaken Dean. That were the longest five minutes of your life. The angels talked of the righteous man that had once shed blood in hell now bathed in it on earth to save the world. 

Over and over again you would catch snippets of stories, passing and confusing glimpses, while you remained trapped behind the all too familiar walls of your prison cell. 

You screamed and pounded, but it all went ignored until a sudden bright light consumed you, almost blinding you completely. 

The next thing you knew, you were standing in a little cabin type of house. One you had always dreamed of having-one you had always hoped for but were never foolish enough to believe you could have due to your lifestyle, right down to the stone fireplace in the corner of the little living room that oozed warmth, and the bookshelf that lined around that, upon closer inspection, had many of your favorite books. 

There were birds chirping outside the windows, and the sun was shining. There were beautiful mountains off in the distance, and for the first time a profound calmness fell on you. You didn’t have time to ponder your sudden release from your prison before a voice behind you made you turn on the spot, old hunter instincts kicking in like they had never left. 

“Hello,” it said, and you turned to find a young boy in a white jacket standing with his hand raised in an almost alien-like greeting and a warm smile on his face. 

“Um-hi,” you responded, slowly taking a step back, more than weary of everything, for it could be an angel or even a demon in this place. 

“Oh, don’t be afraid of me. I’m Jack, Jack Kline,” he said, settling himself against the arm of the old leather couch in the living area of the cabin. 

You had heard whispers of his name before too, but knew very little of him aside from the fact that he seemed to be in the same circles with the Winchesters. His name had been whispered a lot amongst the angels passing down what you could only assume was a hallway by the small room you were trapped in. 

“What do you want?” you questioned him defensively, looking around for anything you could use in case you had to defend yourself against, uh-whatever he was. 

Jack nonchalantly clasped his hands together in front of his lap. Looking around the little cabin fondly, almost like a proud decorator would look at his finished product before his eyes traveled back to your own. 

“This place is cozy, it’s perfect, it’s everything you and he deserves,” he said, grinning at you in an almost childlike manner. It was confusing, and you wanted to run, but for some reason you held your ground. 

“I asked what do you want?” you asked again, and this time Jack nodded before meeting your gaze knowingly. 

“You have no idea who you are, do you?” he asked, the same kind smile on his face. 

You said nothing, just waited there ,watching him for any sudden movements. Jack stood and made his way around the cabin, and looked outside the window next to you, admiring the scenery around with innocent wonder you had forgotten could even exist. 

“You were cheated out of life, Y/N Y/L/N. You were cheated out of a lot of good things you were meant for. You were killed before your time because my grandfather was angry with Dean and couldn’t control him, so he took you away from him before he could ever even have you. In doing so, he took away Dean’s only chance to have any happiness or peace while on Earth.”

Jack turned to face you while you froze up, him seemingly unfazed while you tried to make sense of this riddle he was giving you. Sensing your confusion, Jack gave you a moment before finally speaking again. 

“Do you remember how you died, Y/N?” he asked, and you tried to. It was all really hard to remember. You knew you had been on a hunt that was supposed to be a simple Salt and Burn, but since the Winchesters had opened up the gates of hell a few years back, it wasn’t always what it appeared, just like it wasn’t that time. It was a trap set up by demons, and while you couldn’t remember the pain you went through, or the details of your death, you know that they had been your end game. 

“Chuck sent those Demons to kill you so that Dean would never meet you in this life, and he intended to keep you locked away here forever so you two couldn't get together even in heaven. You were Dean’s soulmate, see. A rare and beautiful thing in the cruel world my grandfather built. You would have grounded Dean, given him a family of his own, a reason to fight against the darkness that he never should have been forced to take on in the first place. If you would have been his, the way you were intended to be, then Dean would never have become a Demon, he would have never had to let go of Lisa or even go to her in the first place, and he wouldn’t be on his way into a warehouse right now to die alone with his brother as witness on a crude piece of rebar.”

Your eyes widened as you struggled to keep up with what this teenager was telling you. You were Dean Winchester’s soulmate, and this Chuck had you killed so that you would never meet him. There was supposed to be no tears in Heaven, or at least that’s what you were always told, but you could feel them slipping down your cheeks as images of what could have been flashed before your mind, no doubt controlled by  whatever power Jack had. 

Images of a little boy in Dean’s arms, images of sensual touches, passionate filled moments, images of yourself and Dean old and sitting on a porch in a rocking chair with your grandchildren played in the yard with a dog that Dean called Miracle. It was all stolen from you. It would never be yours, you were robbed of this man and the life you could have shared together, it was earth shattering. 

“What happened to his Chuck?” you asked, sudden fear gripping you that he would find you free of your prison, and destroy you utterly. 

“Dean defeated him, he’s cursed to live life alone and die as a lowly human. I promise you, it’s more than what he deserves.”

Jack made his way to the front door of the cabin, opening it and stepping out on the porch, leading you to sit down on one of the old wooden rocking chairs, as he took a seat next to you. “He should be here any moment now,” Jack said, smiling at you before looking down the long dirt road almost longingly. 

“What happens when he gets here?” you asked him, following his line of sight, your heart already longing for a man you never knew you missed. 

“He gets to have the heaven he deserves, with you.” 

The ground underneath you seemed to rumble lowly, and Jack’s smile widened as he stood from his perch in the chair next to you before looking at you excitedly. 

“He’s here, Dean’s home,” he said, giving you a smile before stepping out into the open driveway, looking back over his shoulder before yelling at you, “Wait here!” and disappearing on the spot. Leaving you alone with birds singing happily, and your heart pounding in your chest. Images of what should have been still fresh in your mind, and for some reason no doubt at all that he’d be happy to see you here, a reassurance residing in your soul you never understood until now, but knew it was meant to be there all the same.

“Come home to me, Dean,” you whispered to the passing wind, settling down to wait on the man that had saved the world, and now was finally ready to lay down his weary, war beaten heart in the hands of the one person he always longed for, but was forced to do without, you.

Dean’s POV: 

“Right here!” Sam said from the passenger seat of the Impala as Dean turned the wheel into a driveway of what looked like the perfect little farmhouse in the middle of a beautiful clearing not far from where his parents little place was nestled. 

As soon as Dean put Baby in park Sam threw the passenger door open, the front door of the house opening to reveal Jess in a long white dress. Dean had a hard time suppressing the smile as he watched his little brother run into the arms of the woman he had always loved. He was finally home. Sammy was finally happy, and that made him more happy and at peace than he ever thought would be possible. Dean waived to his little brother before he and Jess disappeared inside his new home, leaving Dean alone yet again in the Impala. 

This place, it was almost perfect, but even still Dean felt like a vagabond. Putting Baby in drive he made his way down the road a little ways back to where he’d started, Bobby no longer sitting on the porch, but he was sure he could hear him and Ellen laughing just off in the distance as he killed the engine. 

Everyone had their place, but Dean. Dean didn’t have a home or a long lost love waiting for him, and he felt something he thought he wasn’t supposed to ever feel again in Heaven. He felt lonely. 

“Hey Dean,” Jack’s voice cut into the fog of his self pity, and Dean spun in the driver's seat to find Jack smiling at him in the back, a smile breaking over Dean’s weather beaten features, revealing the eye crinkles deep in his sun kissed skin that Jack had missed seeing, and didn’t get to see nearly enough while they were both on Earth.

“Jack! You’ve done a great job man! This place is everything anyone could dream of, you and Cas really outdid yourselves.” 

Dean’s gaze locked with the boy in life he’d hated almost to the point of death, and all he could find now was utter and complete peace staring back at him, and he wondered if he would get to the place where he could feel the same peace everyone else seemed to feel.

“Dean, glad you finally made it,” Jack said, leaning forward in the seat and looking around to the road and pointing for Dean to drive up the gravel path hidden in the trees. Dean did so without question, putting his beloved Baby in drive, and pushing onward until a little cabin tucked away in the hallow appeared just in sight. You were sitting on the porch, watching, as if you were waiting for him, and as he turned to Jack in confusion Jack just smiled as he once did when he tried to give Dean his first Christmas present, only more deep and with more pride. 

“I don’t remember her,” Dean murmured, turning back to look at you as you were  standing up slowly and making your way to lean against the rough cut railing of the porch, eyes tracing over Dean’s cars almost fondly. 

“That’s because you never got to meet her while you were alive. She was stolen from you Dean, long before you ever got the chance to find true happiness.” 

Dean’s face contorted with confusion, but Jack simply placed his fingers to Dean’s forehead lightly, showing him all the things that could have been, and should have been, but never were, just like he did to you. When Jack was done, one giant tear rolled down Dean's face as he uttered the only thing he could have thought would possibly have been able to take something so precious away from him, so willingly. “Chuck.” 

Jack nodded  and looked back at you where you were waiting for Dean to finally get out of the car. 

“This, Dean, this is the Heaven you deserve. This is home. This is peace. You did good Dean, and now it’s time for you to have everything without any terms or conditions.”

Dean’s eyes traced over your features and his heart swelled in his chest. He could feel it, the magnetic pull, the piece of him that was always missing beckoning to him to come home and lay his weary soul to rest. “Y/N,” he murmured before looking back at Jack. “How do I know her name?” he asked. Jack just smiled, looking into Dean’s eyes knowingly.

“Go home Dean, she’s been waiting for you for a long time.” With that Jack disappeared, leaving Dean alone in the car. 

Slowly, Dean pushed the door open, and his eyes met yours as a smile spread across your face. He was perfect. He was everything you had missed and didn’t know you needed. He completed you.

You were the deepest piece of his soul that he had always missed, you were the reason his heart was beating now, and had always been the reason he got up and fought every day to get to the rest that he had found now. You were home, his home. 

Dean placed a large hand to the side of your face as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him, and brushed your hair away from your face. His green eyes bore into your own with more emotion and love than you had ever felt in your life. There was no darkness there. There was no hurt, or self loathing, there was no weight of the world, there was no more fight and heartache. There was nothing but love and resounding peace that would last for the ages. 

“I’m sorry I took so long, sweetheart,” Dean said, his lips brushing yours as you melted into his hold, humming at the warmth of his breath against your skin. 

“S’Okay Dean,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as the two of you just held each other there in your little piece of Heaven. You finally had all you’d ever need. Dean had you, and your warrior was finally home.

Forever Tags: 

@deandreamernp​

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Jensen and Dean’s Babes

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn one shot #dean winchester one shot #jensen ackles #jawritter #30 minutes in heaven #x reader inserts

[3pirouette]

Fic: Roughing It

Title: Roughing It By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 1601 Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: This was no place for the love of his life.

Satisfies the “moonlight” square on my Steggy Bingo, also for a tumblr prompt “I wish you would write a fic where Peggy and Steve are both Cap in modern times (or 40s)” Set Post Civil War

A/N: Totally 100% inspired by Outlander quote from season 1

~*~ Inspired by the following Outlander quote:

Murtagh: I’ll saddle the horses; you take hold of Claire. We’ll be away from here this very night.   Jamie: And how would we live? Horrocks was my best chance, now I may be an outlaw for good. Murtagh: We’ll live off the land. Or has castle life made ye soft? Jamie: Would ye have me sleeping under a tree, come winter, with my wife?

~*~

This was no place for the love of his life.

It was dirty, and rat infested, but they were down to their last few dollars and until they managed to figure out how, exactly they were going to make money and stay off the US radar, it was all they had.

That, and each other.

He watched her from the flimsy folding chair across the room, eyes glued tight to how she carefully brushed out her hair, how she rolled and set it with strips of fabric from a face cloth she’d cut up. The artist in him wished he had a book to sketch in or a phone to take a picture. The moonlight flooded around her, bathing her in a silver glow as her fingers separated out the long, wet strands of hair and deftly rolled them up and tied them tight.

He could draw her for hours the way the moonlight settled on her, making her look like a goddess made of platinum, strong and soft, beautiful and tender… It was a familiar look, but he never tired of it. Even in just his oversized shirt, she was beautiful to look at.

They kept the lights off in the small studio apartment as soon as the sun went down, and it reminded him more than he wanted to say of those days back in London when they’d hear the sirens and turn off all the lights and just wait for the moment something exploded around them.

He felt like he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to explode figuratively or literally, and it kept his heart pounding in his chest.

They had a little, thanks to T’Challa and Shuri and a quick, undetectable wire. Peggy had been squirreling away money in a little hidden account she called her ‘rainy day fund’ and had always just smiled and winked and said “Once a spy, always a spy,” when he asked why she’d been putting the money away.

Steve was thankful for those few thousands they were able to get and split up between the group of them. It wasn’t like they’d actually thought about anything besides doing the right thing in the heat of it. They certainly hadn’t thought about bringing silly things with them like ID and bank cards or thought about how to survive while on the run. It was enough to get started, and enough to get by- especially if they were careful.

They’d split the money and gone their separate ways, planning to meet up in a few months. He’d been nervous, separating, but knew that out of all of them, he and Peggy would be the easiest to spot and the hardest to hide. They were giving Sam, Natasha, and Wanda a shot at relative anonymity. He and Peggy would get by… they always had.

He hadn’t minded sleeping rough during the war, but this wasn’t exactly the same. On the run, hiding in abandoned buildings and sneaking into empty hotel rooms was necessary but harsh. Holding her close at night while her teeth chattered made him want to scream. But she always smiled up at him in the morning, ready for wherever the day might take them.

The little apartment they’d finally landed in wasn’t much, barely more than enough room for the old mattress on its rusted springs and a half kitchenette with a stove that didn’t always work and a sink in the bathroom that dripped endlessly. It might have been less than ideal, but the landlord took cash and didn’t ask any questions.

“I can feel you watching me,” she murmured, rolling up her last curl and tying the ends of the piece of rag tightly. She smiled up at him. “You’re thinking so hard you’re going to give me a headache.”

He gave her a half smile and shifted back in his chair, not at all embarrassed that he’d been caught.

Peggy stood, moving in and out of the shafts of moonlight like a mythical creature until she straddled him, sitting back on his knees. Steve settled his hands at her hips, fingering the threadbare cotton of the undershirt, thinking that she looked like a dangerous Medusa with the rags in her hair to set her curls. He looked her over, his fingers moving with his gaze, thinking of the softness under them, thinking of the power under them, and how he’d been lucky enough to see both.

Peggy tired of the toying after a minute and took both his hands in hers, sighing. “You’re swimming in the melancholy again, my darling.” She kissed his knuckles and held his hands tight. She waited a breath as he looked at her, but finally could take the quiet no more. “Talk to me, Steve.”

He almost laughed at her earnestness. He shook his hand and wrapped his arms around her, wanting to fold into her as he held on tight, wanting to fall within her and forget all of this was happening. He buried his face in her neck, breathing the scent of her sun kissed skin in as she wrapped her arms around him, fingers running through his hair and massaging his scalp.

Her nails weren’t red anymore. They couldn’t afford the time, money, or the visibility, to go looking for something as frivolous as nail polish.

At least, that’s what she told him when he mentioned it one night.

He owed her something, at least, if he couldn’t give her cozy beds and proper curlers and bright nail polish. Words. He held her tighter for a moment before lifting his head. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

His words were soft and gentle, but the meaning was sharp and harsh. He knew neither of them had wanted this, had wanted any of it from the moments when he held her close, tucked under his shield tight as the Valkyrie dove from the sky, splashing down in the cold water beneath them.

She waited, face open and unjudging, for him to continue.

He shook his head and kissed her forehead, still trying to turn the jumble of feelings into sentences. “You deserve—”

Peggy pressed her finger to his lips, stilling them. “Now don’t you go on with all of that ‘what if’ and ‘should be’ nonsense again.” She shifted, taking his face in her hands and forcing his eyes to hers. “Neither of us could have imagined that this is where we’d end up. But we’ve both always stood up for what we’ve believed in, no matter how difficult, and that has brought us here.” Peggy leaned forward, kissing his forehead gently.

Steve closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her lips on his head, before taking her hands in his, lifting them from his cheeks, and kissing each in turn. “This place, Peg…”

She smiled softly. “Would it have been all that different after the war? A little apartment in Brooklyn on a soldier’s pay while we try to decide what’s next? Pipes that rattle and rickety furniture and you and me against the world?” She kissed his lips this time, soft and sure.

“A house,” he whispered as he chased her lips for another kiss. “With a yard and a porch and a—”

Peggy kissed him quiet before leaning back, serious. “We’ll never know.” She shook her head and ran her fingers through the scruff on his cheeks that was slowly turning into a full beard. “We will never know what might have been. But what I do know…” Tears gathered in her eyes as she looked at him, pushing his growing hair from his forehead. “What I do know is that I’d rather be anywhere, anywhere, with you and a clear conscience, than in some warm fuzzy bed and having sold my soul for something I don’t believe in.”

He squeezed her hands tight, looking away for a moment before finding her eyes again. “And if we never get out of this little shit hole?”

She chuckled at him. “Then it will be our little shit hole.” She stood, pulling him up with her and tugging him towards the bed, pushing him down on it before crawling in next to him. “I don’t know what will happen tomorrow,” Peggy whispered, sliding up against him as he arranged the rough blanket over them. “And I know that that eats at you.”

Steve tugged her tight against him, the moonlight falling on her skin again, making her look like a beauty out of a silent movie. “It would be nice to plan, just for once.”

Peggy settled against his chest, kissing the bare flesh there. “I plan on being with you,” Peggy breathed softly, “today, tomorrow, and however long the two of us have left in this world.” She hummed melodiously, eyes fluttering shut. “Dripping bathroom faucet and all.”

Steve shifted one of her knotted curls over from where it was digging into his shoulder as she relaxed into sleep. He watched her breathing slow, her lips part as she fell deeper away from consciousness, and felt a warmth rise up in him at the thought of holding her, just like this, for the rest of his days.

Tomorrow he’d try to fix that faucet. Then maybe he’d head down to the docks, see if there were any jobs that would trade a day’s wages for a little muscle and heavy lifting. Maybe, if they were going to be here a while, he’d try to make their little shit hole a little less shitty.

For now, Peggy and the moonlight would have to be enough.  

#Steggy Bingo Bash #Steggy Fic #3P's Fic

[maybedefinitely404]

The Boy who Sings Next Door, Pt 1

Genre: just-out-of-college AU

Pairings: Pre-romantic/romantic Prinxiety, pre-romantic Logicality

Content: general anxiety/allusions to past panic attacks, (it’s Virgil, c’mon), food mentions, a lil yappy puppy, Hamilton songs (it’s Roman, c’mon), just the boys being super gay. 

Word count: 2.6k

Comments: I’ve been in a bit of a funk (not the good kind of funk) recently, and this is the only thing I’ve been able to churn out during it. It will have a part two, don’t worry. Gotta get that good Prinxiety content.

Comments (the sequel): This took almost a week to write due to said funk, so I apologize for any inconsistency that appears. I have edited this as much as my brain let me, so it should be good.

Virgil hadn’t lived there for long. In fact, it was just nearing the one month anniversary of the day his two roommates and him had moved into the townhouse complex on the grungier side of town. They were still getting to know the house; the basement Virgil swore was haunted, the crudely attached cabinets that Patton very nearly pulled down every time the shorter man had to climb the counter to reach the top shelf, and especially the upstairs bathroom’s shower that would become scalding hot if someone flushed a toilet while it was running. Janus’ shriek was something Virgil wished he could have recorded on camera. 

Meeting his new neighbours was still a fear he had to get over. Patton had already introduced himself to all of them (on the first day living there, with cookies, nonetheless), and was eagerly awaiting the day when Virgil would give the ‘okay’ to invite some of them over for dinner. He was especially excited about the man who lived to their left, a professor at the university across town that Patton claimed he had clicked with.

“A professor? How old is he?”

“He looked like he was our age!”

“A professor who’s twenty two?”

“Well… maybe he’s really smart! Or has a great skincare routine!”

Despite Patton’s obvious infatuations with the guy, Virgil was hesitant to meet him. He’d already had a less than promising accidental run in with the old man living on their right, incited by Janus parking in the wrong spot and poor Virgil being the one to open the door to the screaming neighbor. It had taken him twenty minutes to calm down from that panic attack. But after too many rounds of Patton’s puppy eyes, Virgil gave in. 

“Only the one guy though, and I get to have a code word in case I need to leave.”

“Okay! What’s the code word?”

“I don’t know. You pick.”

“Tiddylicious?”

“SHUT THE HELL UP, JANUS!”

Surprisingly, Virgil didn’t have to use the code word (which was not tiddylicious). Logan was a pretty great guy, if slightly lacking in the ‘emoting’ department. Patton and him got on like fire in a library, and his roommates happy wiggles the whole night was probably what gave the anxious man the bravado to stick through it. Janus even had the decency to make some honest conversation, which was a first for him. Logan eventually mentioned the fact that he had a dog, and the conversation immediately derailed into Patton squealing over the pictures he showed him. They took this as the opportunity to sneak away from the two, giving them the space they obviously needed. Gross. 

There was a line stretching across Logan’s backyard; a red cable that connected to his deck and reached to the fence on the opposite side. From this cord hung a pink leash, and to this pink leash, Logan attached his dog several times a day. Virgil didn’t know what the signal was for them, but every couple of hours, the sliding door would screech open and the dog would run to the gate closing off the porch, waiting impatiently until Logan clipped on the leash and let it run onto the lawn. The first time the small dog saw Virgil on his phone in the shade of his roof, it immediately took this as a grave act of terrorism and began to yap so loud that Virgil screamed. Logan quickly came back out, explaining that while his pup may have the intimidation factor of a stuffed animal, she thought all the grass of her yard and of the adjoining houses was hers to protect, even if the terrier was just about the size of a decent Thanksgiving turkey. A few head scratches later, and the two decently bonded, enough that she wouldn’t throw a hissy fit every time he sat on his porch.

That’s where he was now, half asleep in a lawn chair with one earbud in, when the tell tale squeak of Logan’s sliding door startled him from his rest. He reached up lazily and popped out his music, smiling slightly at the prospect of another conversation with Logan. Despite their age difference (it wasn’t all that much, but just enough that he got confused stares from the elder when he mentioned the prospect of ‘stealing someone’s kneecaps’), they were starting to become good friends. His hand froze, however, as he heard a voice that was very much not Logan’s coming from the man’s deck.

“Dear Alexander, 

I am slow to anger,

But I, tow the line,

As I reckon with the offense of your,

Life on mine.”

And if Virgil said he didn’t immediately feel butterflies at the soft lilting of the deep voice, he would be lying. He shrunk back into his shirt, hoping the other wouldn’t glance over the short bush between them and see his blushing face. Even if he wasn’t infatuated with whoever was letting Logan’s dog out, it wasn’t like him to try and meet someone new.

The screen door shut with a loud whap and the dog pulled at the red cord as hard as she possibly could, trying to get free pets from Virgil. He obliged, but made sure to duck back to his side as soon as the door reopened. 

“Raise a glass to freedom,

Something they can never take away,

No matter what they tell you.”

He lurched back into his own house at the sound of that gorgeous voice, slamming the sliding door and consequently scaring the hell out of Patton.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What’s gotten you in such a hullabaloo?” Patton squinted from his table of crafting supplies, where it looked like he was putting together more pages for his scrapbook.

“I’m gay.”

“Ah,” The older man scrunched his eyebrows together, setting down his glue stick, “For Logan…?”

“No! Logan’s yours, don’t worry,” he ignored Patton’s indignant spluttering and blushing, satisfied that he wasn’t the only disaster gay in the room now, “Someone else is at his house.”

“Someone cute?” He was suddenly very interested in his book, trying to hide his red cheeks.

“I don’t know.”

“Then why are you in gay mode?”

“His voice.”

“His voice?”

“Quit laughing at me!” Virgil snarled non aggressively, refusing to meet Patton’s bright eyes.

“I’m not, I swear!” Patton giggled nonetheless, “It’s cute! I’ll have to hear it for myself sometime.” Virgil huffed, despite his growing smile, and went to his room, too overwhelmed to wait outside for the voice again, no matter how much his heart wanted to.

A couple days later, Patton showed up in his open doorway (it was his attempt to be less antisocial, and it made his housemates happy) grinning like a child who’d just gotten a puppy.

“I just talked to Logan-”

“Oh?” Virgil smirked, closing his laptop in favor of tea.

“Oh, shush. He just said during the summer, he has these fancy shmancy teaching seminars every weekend just out of town.”

“So?”

“Sooo…” Patton wiggled a little, sticking his tongue between his teeth, “When he’s not home, his brother watches Gremmy!”

“Gremmy?”

“How do you not know the puppy’s name? And also, you’re focusing on the wrong part of the sentence! His brother is going to be there every weekend, all summer!” 

Virgil tried to digest the butterflies that exploded in his gut, failing to hide his reappearing blush. “So? We don’t even know if he’s our age, or if he’s into guys.”

Patton dropped his gaze, sucking his lips into his mouth in a vain attempt to smother his smile. 

“Patton?”

“He’s our age and he’s into guys,” He squeaked. 

“You asked?!”

“It came up naturally!”

“How?!”

“Not important!” He was full on beaming now, hopping on his toes. “You should totally talk to him next weekend!”

“No. Nope. Not happening.”

The following Friday, Virgil found himself sitting on his deck under the roof, scrolling aimlessly through Tumblr, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he happened to see a new car pull into Logan’s spot thirty minutes after the man left. Nothing like that at all. He sipped absentmindedly on the lemonade Patton had brought him with a cheeky look on his face, trying not to think about the fact that the angel voiced man was right next door. And his heart absolutely did not begin to pound when the tell tale screeching of the screen door sounded.

This time, music accompanied the man’s singing as he hooked the dog, Gremmy, onto her leash.

“Angelica,

Eliza,

And Peggy,

The Schuyler sisters,

Angelica (Peggy) Eliza (Work!)”

Even if Virgil had only heard his voice once, it seemed fitting that he was trying to sing every part, altering slightly to nail the voice changes of every character. He curled up a little more in his chair as the man followed Gremmy out onto the lawn, music still pumping from his phone.

“Daddy said to be home by sundown,

Daddy doesn’t need to know,

Daddy said not to go downtown,

Like I said, you’re free to go.”

Virgil couldn’t breathe, but that was the heat’s fault. It definitely wasn’t caused by the gorgeous man now dancing in small circles on the grass, dog jumping at his feet as he laughed along to the music. The sudden warmth in his face was caused by the sun, not the toned muscle of the man’s arms, or the way his much too loose muscle tee showed off his tan, or how his light brown hair flopped over his eyes when he bent down to pick up a stick from the ground. All while singing; just carelessly enjoying himself. 

“Angelica, remind me what we’re looking for?

(She’s looking for me!)

Eliza, I’m looking for a mind at work (work),

I’m looking for a mind at work (work),

I’m looking for a mind at work (work),

Woah, woah, woah, woah, work!”

The harmonies were too much, his voice flawlessly adding a fourth harmony where there wasn’t in the song. Virgil jumped like a spooked cat, fleeing into the house and drawing the curtains shut hurriedly. He knew the other man had probably heard the door slam, but that wasn’t his main concern right now. 

“Gay panic?” 

Virgil spun around to see Janus, all too bemused, sipping Gatorade out of a wine glass. The man’s sense of class would not be affected by the time of day. “Gay panic,” He confirmed weakly, sliding down the wall, “He’s hot.”

“Let me see.”

“Janus, no, what are you doing?!” 

The taller man pulled the curtain aside, humming under his breath. “Oh yeah, he is hot.”

“Jan, stop!” He hissed, trying to tug Janus’ arm down from the curtain without being seen.

“Oh, he’s waving at me.”

“WHAT?!”

“Can I wave back?”

“NO!” 

Janus waved back, kicking Virgil lightly out of sight. “Let go of my sleeve, fucker.”

Virgil did, booking it upstairs as soon as Janus dropped the curtain. He flopped onto his bed with a groan that was almost loud enough to be a shriek, swearing to himself to not go outside for the rest of the weekend. And to kill Janus later. He did leave his window open though, but not because he wanted to keep hearing the snippets of song that floated up to his room every time the sliding glass next door opened. Not at all. 

Virgil hated that he ended up counting down the days until Friday, and that he couldn’t tear himself away from the window until he arrived. Responding to his housemates giggles and stares with a quick flip of the bird, he took his usual spot on the deck. Because the weather was nice, and he needs a tan. No other reason. Not that he would say out loud, anyways.

He didn’t have to wait long until the door scratched open and a calm, almost haunting melody reached his ears. He’s singing along to a track again, mixing in harmonies that send shivers up Virgil’s spine.

“I saved every letter you wrote me,

From the moment I read them I knew you were mine,

You said you were mine,

I thought you were- Shit, Gremmy, no, get back here!”

Virgil jolted upright as twenty pounds of fluff landed in his chest, paws digging into his sternum. The dog looked up at him with, dare he say, smug eyes? He ran a hand through the fur on her back, holding her collar with one hand in case she decided to bolt again.

“I am so sorry! She wormed out of the gate before I got the leash on her!”

He looked up from the dog and holy hell oh my god he’s way hotter up close. Never before in his life had he wished for Patton’s bubbliness or Janus’ general aloofness, but now he would rather have any personality trait besides anxious because oh god the hottest guy he’d ever met is staring at him and he has no idea what to say.

“Well, good thing she likes me, or you’d be down a dog.” What the hell was that?

Surprisingly, the other man laughed, folding his arms across his chest. “What, you don’t think I’d be able to catch her?”

“In all honesty, probably not.”

“How dare you!” He gasped, holding a hand to his chest dramatically, “I’ll have you know Gremmy loves me!”

“I’m sure that’s why she booked it as soon as she had the chance.” He extended the dog almost comically, her too short legs waving frantically in his grip. The man took her with a murmur of thanks, giving her a stern look that made Virgil snicker. A part of him was slightly shocked that someone related to Logan could be so… relaxed. The older man seemed held together purely by stress and logic, never without a collared shirt and tie, and he would definitely never be seen in the plain white v-neck this guy was wearing really well.

“So, you’re Logan’s brother?” Where the hell was this courage coming from?!

“Yup. You know him?” 

“About as well as I know any of my neighbors. So, barely. But he’s close with my roommate.”

The man’s expression turned to glee as he shifted the dog in his arms. She seemed unhappy being held when there were birds to be chased, but her struggle was lazy. “Patton, right? I’ve heard a lot about him.”

“Oh?”

He hummed happily, fiddling with Gremmy’s collar. “It’s about time Logan found someone who makes him happy. We never really understood each other when it comes to interacting with other people. He’s more secluded nerd, and I’m more…” He trailed off, waving his fingers under the dog cluelessly.

“More theatre nerd?” Virgil guessed, pleased with the way the man’s eyebrows flew up.

“How’d you guess that?”

“You’ve been singing a different Hamilton song every time you’ve taken the dog out.”

Instead of looking embarrassed or upset like Virgil would definitely be in his situation, he seemed to puff up more, almost delighted.

“Ah, I thought I had an audience! That was you?”

Virgil could feel his face turning beet red, much to his chagrin. This was it, this was the moment he died. Let the earth open up and swallow him whole, his little pride had been too wounded to continue. The man took his silence as answer enough, seemingly pleased with the reaction.

“I’m Roman,” The man grinned, holding out his hand. He took it hesitantly, the touch sending a shock up his spine that he was barely able to suppress.

“Virgil.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Virgil.”

He couldn’t help the authentic smile that tugged on his lips as they shook hands, Gremmy dangling from Roman’s other arm like a football.

“You too, Roman.”

#lywrites #sanderssides #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #hamilton #sanderssidesfanfiction

[all-time-logan]

I’m dreaming of  White Christmas

Hello! This is my Secret Santa gift for @ldsbibliophile !! I hope you had a wonderful holiday, and I hope you enjoy this! Happy reading! @sanderssidesgiftxchange 

Word count: 3003

Warnings: None that I can think of!

***

Virgil shifted a bit, slowly coming to consciousness as he registered that his shoulder was sore. There was an arm around his waist, and he opened his eyes to see the back of Logan’s sleep shirt covering most of his vision. He blinked a few times to get the gummy feeling in his eyes to go away, taking in the soft glow of the Christmas tree over Logan’s shoulder. He tried to shift again, but the arm around his waist tightened. He glanced down to see it was Roman’s arm, and absentmindedly patted it as he realized he was sleeping on the floor of the living room. That explained why his shoulder was sore, at least.

The night before, Virgil, Logan, Roman, and Patton had decided to have a small Christmas movie marathon for Christmas Eve, setting up what was essentially an extreme pillow fort in the living room. Janus and Remus had been invited, on the condition that Remus wore clothes, but both had dipped out after a few movies to celebrate the holidays in their own way. That left the four of them to sprawl out on the floor, drinking the last of the hot chocolate and putting a few movies up in a queue so that they didn’t have to get up.

He didn’t really remember falling asleep, really only realizing that at some point Roman had tucked himself up against Virgil’s side while Logan snored next to him. He had only hummed a little, reaching across Logan to pat at and grab Patton’s arm, and then the next thing he knew he was waking up. 

Virgil shifted again, slowly stretching to dislodge Roman’s arm without waking him. It took a few minutes, but eventually he had enough space to slide out from between Roman and Logan. He stood and stretched again, moving around the other three and the mess they all had left to head into the kitchen, grabbing his phone on the way. He glanced at the clock on the microwave, grimacing at the 8:00 that blinked back at him. This was the earliest he had woken up in ages, and Virgil had no doubt it was due to the uncomfortableness that was sleeping on the floor.

He started the coffee pot, pulling down mugs for the four of them. He also grabbed the tea, knowing that Patton and Roman would probably want to have tea before they ate instead of coffee. Virgil didn’t bother getting any food out, since Patton and Logan had said they had a Christmas surprise for the others. 

As he waited for the coffee to be ready, Virgil hopped up on the counter, kicking his legs as he scrolled through Twitter, switching to Tumblr when there was nothing interesting on the former. He jerked in surprise when the coffee started pouring, breaking the relative silence of the kitchen. Pouring himself a cup and mixing in some creamer, Virgil hummed quietly to himself.

It was peaceful, being the only one up. The world seemed asleep, quiet and tranquil compared to the craziness they usually got up to during the day. If Virgil wasn’t so much of a night owl, he would’ve tried waking up this early more often. Virgil snorted at that, knowing that this was a rare thing and he would return to getting out of bed at 11 like usual tomorrow.

He moved back out into the living room, moving around the still-sleeping sides to settle on the window seat. It was big enough to hold two people, three if they squeezed in, and covered in a few pillows and several blankets from Patton’s room. In the real world, this seat didn’t exist, but Virgil and Patton had asked Roman to conjure it years ago. Logan hadn’t understood the desire for one, but had quickly become the one to use it the most, especially when it rained. Remus and Janus had liked it as well, once they had joined the others upstairs, Janus claiming the whole ledge for himself on particularly sunny days. 

Virgil opened the blinds a bit, just enough for him to look out the window without casting light on the others, not wanting to wake them. He huffed out a laugh when he saw the world outside, covered in a thick blanket of snow. Either Remus had given the mindscape a rather tame gift, or Roman had managed to conjure a white Christmas in his sleep, as it hadn’t even been cold enough for snow when they had gone to bed the night before.

The sun had just started rising, casting a soft golden glow across the yard. The snow glinted in the light, and the trees were dipping under the weight of the snow. Virgil looked out across the snow, already imagining the pleading eyes Patton and Remus would cast on the rest of them to go out and play in the snow. He laughed quietly at the image of Janus bundled up in several layers of jackets and scarfs, glaring at the rest of them from the porch.

His laughter cut off abruptly though, when he heard quiet shuffling from behind him. He turned to see Logan doing the same shuffle-stretch combo he had done to get out from between Patton and Roman, blinking slowly as he looked around for his glasses.

“Your glasses are on the coffee table, L.” Virgil whispered, and Logan gave a slightly groggy nod and thumbs up as he sat up.

Logan managed to escape the cuddle pile, standing and stretching fully, before grabbing his glasses and sliding them on.

“Good morning, Virgil. You’re up early.” Logan said, walking over to give Virgil a kiss on the forehead. Virgil hummed, leaning into it.

“Yeah, it’s a miracle.” Virgil grinned up at Logan, pleased when Logan snorted. “Coffee’s on the pot, if you want some.”

Logan’s eyes lit up, and he muttered a quiet “Thank you” before giving Virgil another forehead kiss and heading into the kitchen.

The sounds of pans and food being set out slowly filtered into the living room after a few minutes, and with it the last two sides started to wake up. Patton groaned and he stretched, and Roman rolled over with a grunt, throwing one arm over his eyes and swinging the other around until his hand caught on Patton’s arm. He squeezed it, and Patton gently patted his hand. With a sigh, Roman let go, and Patton was free to move over to kiss Virgil’s cheek with a hum before going into the kitchen to help Logan. 

Virgil snorted as Roman continued to just lay on the floor. Despite his princely appearance and gentlemanly manner, Roman was the absolute worst at waking up in the morning, and tried to stay in bed as long as he could before Logan came knocking with talks of schedules and plans.

Roman didn’t actually get up until Patton came back out of the kitchen a few minutes later with Roman’s mug. Only then did he sit up, accepting the cup and a kiss on the top of his head from Patton. Patton giggled, patting Roman’s shoulder as he walked away, and Roman sighed as he took a long drink from his mug. 

When he resurfaced for air, he seemed much more awake, and Virgil smiled at him as Roman stood and stretched, sure that the look on his face was entirely too sappy for the early hour.

Roman grinned back at him, moving over to the window seat to give Virgil a kiss that tasted like chamomile before settling on the window seat across from him.

“Good morning, Creeping Beauty.” Roman said, cradling his mug close to his chest. Virgil snorted, waving his mug of coffee in greeting.

“Morning, Princey. I’m surprised you’re actually fully conscious already.”

“It’s a Christmas miracle that you’re awake and up before 9 am.” Roman shot back, and Virgil outright laughed. Roman grinned, nudging Virgil’s leg with his foot. Virgil nudged him back, which resulted in Roman deciding to stick his leg straight out and prop it up in Virgil’s lap.

Virgil decided to be generous in the name of the holiday season and not push it off.

Roman leaned back against the wall of the window seat, sighing and closing his eyes. They sat in silence for a bit, Virgil just watching the world outside while Roman dozed lightly, until a thought struck Virgil and he tapped at Roman’s knee gently. Roman hummed, opening one eye to peer at Virgil.

“Hey, was the snow outside your idea?”

“Snow?” Roman asked, pulling the window cord to bring the blinds up. He gasped in delight at the snow outside, beginning to gush about how it was perfect and lovely and he wanted to paint how the sun reflected off the snow and trees and he need a photo right now where was his phone--

“Roman.” Virgil cut him off, passing his own phone over so that Roman could get some photos. “I’m guessing this wasn’t you in your sleep then?”

“I wish it was,” Roman said, turning Virgil’s phone this way and that as he took photos, “but usually the projections I make when I sleep aren’t this thorough or long-lasting once I wake up, unless I took a nap in the imagination. It was already here when you woke up?”

“Yeah,” Roman handed his phone back, and Virgil saw that he had already sent them to himself, “I thought it was either you or Remus, but it seems too tame for Remus. I would expect a snowman massacre from him, at least.”

Roman laughed, shaking his head. “I mean, you’re not wrong. I wouldn’t put it past him to have done this as a present to the four of us though. Or he has a surprise out there that won’t appear until we step outside.”

Virgil groaned, dropping his head down to his chest. “Oh boy, I can’t wait.” He said, voice deadpan.

“Can’t wait for what?”

Patton had poked his head out of the kitchen island window, but before either could answer he caught sight of their yard. “Oh! The snow is so pretty! Do you think we can go out later after presents?” 

Virgil and Roman started laughing, and though Patton looked confused, he laughed too, just happy that they were happy.

“Anyway, I was supposed to say that breakfast was almost ready. Do you two think you can get Janus and Remus?”

Virgil got up from the window seat, stretching out as he nodded. “Yeah, I can call them up. I don’t know how hungry Remus will be though, if he managed to convince Janus to let him swallow their roast chicken whole last night like last year.”

Patton just sighed and disappeared from the kitchen island window as Roman sputtered, “What? What do you mean, swallow their roast chicken whole??”

“Have I not told you about that? Ok, so it started at Thanksgiving…”

And so the morning went on. They called up Janus and Remus, who was upset that Janus hadn’t let him mess with their dinner, but immediately perked up when he saw what Logan and Patton had prepared. 

It was a large spread of pancakes, cinnamon rolls, bacon, and other breakfast foods, with enough crofters to satisfy Roman and Logan, all spread out across the table and counter. Remus managed to hoard half the pancakes from the rest of them, claiming that he loved Patton’s pancakes the best so he should get more of them. Roman disputed his claim, which led to the two of them arguing good-naturedly through the rest of breakfast, not noticing when Janus and Virgil both stole their pancakes straight from their plates. 

They all managed to convince Logan that the dishes could wait until later, as Patton promised to wash them before lunch. They began to open presents, Logan going first. He loved the books and blanket from his partners, and grinned at the chess set that Janus had given him. Remus gave him a slip of paper which just read “1 free pass to experiment on one of my creations in the imagination” to which Logan outright smiled. 

Patton received handmade plushies and bath bombs from everyone, giggling at the fact that the plushy from Roman and the bath bomb from Remus both changed colors in his hands. The twins pouted at each other from across the room for having similar ideas, but they were appeased by Patton’s gushing that he loved both presents.

Janus had gotten a few philosophy books from Logan and Patton, a fancy engraved cane and cuff links from Roman, and a photo album of the Dark Sides’ younger years from Remus and Virgil both. He had teared up a bit flipping through it, but quickly brushed them away when Remus leaned against his side.

Most of Remus gifts were along the lines of free passes to do what he wanted, such as “Add whatever edible thing you want to dinner” or “choose the theme of the next movie marathon” though he cackled at the “Experiment and blow up something in my room” pass from Logan. He also received a Wreck this Journal from Roman, and Remus grinned as he flipped through it.

Roman had received different art supplies from his partners and Remus, though he gushed at the fancy calligraphy set that Logan had included. Janus had given him a full self-care set, bath bombs and lotions and facemasks, and Roman had just smiled at him and given him a small nod in thanks. 

Virgil was last, and part of him dreaded having all eyes on him, but most of him was excited to open his gifts. From his partners he had received a large heated blanket, some fuzzy socks and a gift card to get more music or audiobooks on his phone. Janus had given him some more sewing supplies with a pattern book, and he grinned. When he turned to Remus, Virgil’s brow furrowed at the embarrassed look on Remus’s face.

He leaned forward and tapped Remus’s leg gently. “What’s up, Re?”

“Well, my gift isn’t really permanent?” Remus started, tugging at his sweater sleeve. “I mean, it’s real, you can see it, but it won’t last for a long time.” At Virgil’s confused look, Remus groaned and looked away, flushing.

“Do you remember, when we were younger, when we watched White Christmas? And you had said that you wished it would snow in Florida during the winter, even for just a few hours?” Remus tugged on his sleeve again, and then gestured at the window.

“I, um, I made you a white Christmas.”

Virgil blinked, looked between Remus and the snow outside. He vaguely remembered the night Remus was referring to, but not everything. It was a few years after the Light Sides and Dark Sides had been separated, and all Virgil truly remembered was loving the looks of the snow on the trees and the buildings in the movie, and saying as much. He didn’t remember what Remus or Janus had replied with, but clearly Remus had remembered more than he had. 

The six of them had been slowly making amends, and this was the first holiday season that all of them were present for. They had all made an effort to make it good, and Remus had made him something that he had only wished for as a kid. Something that he hadn’t mentioned in years, but that still spoke for the friendship the two of them had had.

Remus had started fidgeting more as the silence had worn on, and that just wouldn’t do. Virgil shifted up onto his knees, shuffling closer to Remus to wrap him up in a hug.

“Thank you, Remus. I really love it.”

Remus hugged back, tucking his head into Virgil’s neck. They stayed like that for a moment, before Remus shoved him away with a sharp cough.

“Enough of the mushy stuff,” Remus said, looking away and rubbing his neck as if that would hide his blush. “Let’s go outside, I want to shove snow down Roman’s pants.”

 Roman squawked in protest as the others laughed, Patton jumping up to get everyone’s coats. They all changed, slipping on shoes and hats and heading out into the snow. Virgil laughed at Janus, his bundled up appearance matching the image that had been in Virgil’s head earlier that morning.

Stepping outside, Virgil sighed, looking at the snow. It was still unbroken and peaceful, but that didn’t last long as Remus charged past him, Roman thrown over his shoulder and yelling at him. Remus chucked Roman into the snow, a white cloud poofing out around him.

Virgil laughed, ducking as Roman threw a quickly made snowball at him. It hit Logan, which started an all-out snowball brawl between the twins, Logan, and surprisingly enough Janus. Virgil settled on the porch swing to watch them go at it, and Patton joined him after a minute. 

Patton’s back was covered in snow from the snow angel he had made as soon as he had stepped outside, but that didn’t seem to bother him as he settled next to Virgil and leaned against him.

“This is fun.” Patton said, grabbing and holding Virgil’s hand. Virgil entwined their fingers, leaning his head against Patton’s.

“Yeah, it is.”

In a few minutes, a stray snowball will hit Patton, and he’ll pull Virgil into the fight with him. In about twenty minutes, both Roman and Janus will start complaining about the cold and demanding cuddles from their respective partners, and the six will head inside. Roman will commandeer the couch, tugging Virgil and Logan into his lap as Patton leans against his side, while Remus and Janus will curl up in the armchair next to them, all of them ready to watch more Christmas movies until lunch. But until then, Virgil and Patton are content to watch their partners and friends play in the snow from the porch.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“Merry Christmas, Pat.”

***

Taglist:

@irrelevantbutfabulous

@thelesbianspoon

@nonbeenary-enbee

@bernedmylimsoff

@bisexualdisaster106

@thegrimmreaperisgay 

Message me if you want to be added or removed!

#LAMP #Romantic lamp #demus #sanders sides #sanders secret santa 2020 #gozy writes #the boys #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #I think this is the first time i've written lamp? which is wild considering it is one of my favorite ships lmao #it's not even that prevalent in this haha #i really hope you enjoyed it though!!

[missaudreyhorney]

Little Magnum

Anon requested the idea of adopting a puppy with Jim Hopper and who am I to say no to something so fluffy and adorable? Major help was provided by chiefharbour here on Tumblr, plus harboursouce and hideloveaway on Instagram.  

1.9k words of self-indulgent silliness and mentions of other ST characters. 

Your friend’s dog escaped from her yard about 5 months ago and had herself a wild night on the town, getting pregnant with a litter of mixed-breed puppies. Most of them had been given out to different families but there was one pup left, a little boy with white patches on his honey-colored fur. El had subtly mentioned to you that she’d never had a pet before and you wanted so badly to get her one, as it would make her time alone at the cabin a lot less boring and isolating. There was just one last obstacle and his name was Jim Hopper.

Since he speaks very little about his childhood, you had no idea if Hopper ever had a dog before, or even any type of pet at all. Based upon the little he has told you, it was easy to assume that if he ever had a dog, it was strictly for hunting and probably slept outside or in a shed. That’s not the way you grew up though. You’ve always had pets and they’ve always been like family to you. You knew it was going to be hard to sell him on the idea of getting a puppy, but that’s why you had your strategy well planned out. All you had to do was tell Hop that the two of you were going to visit a friend of yours and once he saw the dog himself, he wouldn’t need much convincing.

On a Friday after work, he picked you up and drove you over to Jill’s house. As Hopper entered her living room, his eyes immediately went to the dog. He walked over to it and crouched down onto one knee. “What’s up, little guy?” he said, letting it smell his hand before he pet it. The puppy lavished the back of his hand with endless licks, causing Hopper to chuckle. This was easily the happiest you’d seen him in weeks, if not months. Within the first thirty seconds of him interacting with the dog, you could already sense a connection being made. He talked to it in a tone of voice that you’d never heard before. “You got sharp little teeth, don’t ya, boy?” The puppy rolled onto it’s back and Hopper rubbed its belly. “Yes, you do! Yes, you do.” You clamped your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from giggling. This was the first time you’d ever seen him act this way.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” you asked. “Yeah, he’s adorable. How old is he?” “Nine weeks,” Jill answered. “You’re just a baby, huh?” Hopper cooed at the dog while you and Jill exchanged a knowing look. “The vet said that’s a perfect age for them to find a new home.” He didn’t react, he just kept playing with the puppy. “You hear that, Hop?” “Yeah...” he answered slowly.

All the humor and happiness drained from his face as he connected the dots. “No,” he replied simply. “What do you mean? ‘No’ what?” you feigned ignorance. “Absolutely not,” he continued with a stern expression. You glanced over at Jill on the couch as she drank her Tab and minded her own business.  

“Can you excuse us?’ Hopper asked in his most charming voice. “We’re just gonna go outside for a minute.” Jill nodded, “Sure thing, hon.” The two of you left and stood on her porch. Smiling up at him expectantly, you took one of his hands in yours. “We’re not getting a dog,” he told you flatly, “especially not a puppy.” Your shoulders drooped with disappointment. “Why not?” you whined. “Because I said so,” he stated calmly. “That’s not fair,” you whined again.

“I don’t care if it’s fair. I work long hours, and when I get home, I need to be able to relax. I don’t have time to be chasing after a little dog, making sure it’s not chewing everything up.”

“Come on, Hop,” you pleaded, “I promise I’ll take care of it. You’ll still be able to relax.” You held both of his hands in yours. “Dogs are a man’s best friend, remember? You can do some male bonding together. He’ll be like the son you never had.” Hopper rolled his eyes at you dramatically, knowing you were laying it on extra thick to persuade him.

“What about El? I’ve never seen her interact with a dog, what if she’s scared of them?” “She’s fine with it,” you said matter of factly. “What do you mean ‘she’s fine with it’? How do you know?” his voice went up with a tinge of anger. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her we’re getting a dog. She just dropped a few hints to me before about not having a pet, so when Trixie got pregnant, I asked El what she thought about dogs and she told me she got along great with Will’s before it ran away.” You regretted saying those words as soon as they escaped your mouth. He wasn’t supposed to know that this was a setup.

Hopper took a step forward, his body closer to yours, his beautiful blue eyes glared down at you. “You little brat,” he scolded playfully, “you planned this all behind my back, didn’t you?” You pressed your top and bottom lips together tightly to suppress a smile. “You probably already have a name picked too.” You burst into a fit of giggles. “Magnum,” you declared. “Magnum,” he repeated with a chuckle and scrubbed his large hand over his face.

Determined and unfazed, you continued your pitch. “I wish you could have seen yourself in there. The way your face lit up. Can you imagine the look on El’s face if we bring home this puppy? Can you imagine how happy and surprised she’ll be?”

He gave a heavy sigh as a slow smile spread across his rugged features. “Alright,” Hopper said decisively. ”Let’s go back inside and get Magnum P-U-P.” You ignored his terrible dad joke like you often do. “Really? Are you sure?” you inquired as he opened the screen door. “I think my mind’s already been made up for me,” he replied. “You’re right. It has,” you stood on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek before you entered the house again.

As soon as the door opened, the dog ran to him and he scooped it up into his arms. “Guess what, little guy? You’re coming home with us.” The puppy licked Hopper’s face, almost appreciatively as if it understood what was going on. You couldn’t have been any happier if you tried. As the vigorous licking continued, he scrunched up his face. “Okay, that’s enough,” Hopper laughed then handed you the dog.

“I’m so glad you’re taking the little terror off my hands,” Jill joked as she gave half a bag of puppy food to Hop. He shot you a regretful look that you pretended to ignore. “We’re glad too, aren’t we?” you suggested and he rolled his eyes at you. “Yes,” he answered, his look of annoyance fading into a genuine smile. The three of you left in the Blazer and drove straight to the feed store to get a collar, leash, and new bag of puppy food.

In the month that has passed since then, things have been somewhat chaotic, with Magnum living up to his reputation as a terror. Every other word out of Hopper’s mouth seems to be “Magnum!” as he is constantly reprimanding the dog for something or other. Usually for tinkling in the house, as all puppies his age do. You’ve basically having to train them both; the dog to go outside, and Hop to take him out on the leash instead of letting him just roam around the woods by himself.

The puppy barks his tiny head off whenever Mike comes over, growling and even biting the boy if he tries to pet him. It’s the only bad behavior that Hopper actively encourages from the dog. Other than the unexplained animosity towards her boyfriend, El and Magnum get along swimmingly, with him being at his most calm when he’s around her, frequently sitting on her lap as they watch tv together. It’s probably because of the bacon you’ve caught her slipping to him during breakfast.

One of Magnum’s worst habits is that he’s a sock thief. Not just any socks though, they have to be Hopper’s. He ignores any that belong to you or El, as if he’s a sock connoisseur and those just aren’t up to snuff. You’ve found them hidden all over the cabin, though they’re most often under the bed or in between the couch cushions. While he is content with stealing them off the floor, his favorite method of theft is to take them directly off of Hopper’s feet. He bites the end and shakes his little head back and forth until they’re wiggled and yanked all the way off. Sometimes Hop gets mad, especially when the puppy accidentally nips his toes, but a lot of the time he allows it to happen because it’s just so stinking cute to watch.

For as much as Hopper complains about the dog, you know it’s just a facade. You keep finding empty bags of treats on the counter. On multiple occasions, you have arrived home to see that he’s been given a new chew toy. You’ve come across Polaroids not only of Magnum by himself, usually in those seemingly rare moments of slumber, but also of Hopper holding the puppy on his shoulder. The last time you were at the station, you caught him showing some of them to Flo as if they were baby pictures. The thing that truly cemented his love for the dog was the sight you discovered tonight.

You having to work on the weekend and El spending all day at the Wheeler’s house left Hop and Magnum alone by themselves. When your shift is over, you almost dread going back to the cabin, having no idea what type of disaster you’re going to be coming home to. As you unlock the front door, it’s eerily quiet inside, so quiet that it causes you to become concerned. There doesn’t appear to be any disaster at all when you walk in, which would be a relief if it wasn’t so far out of the ordinary.

“Hop?” you call out as you put your things down by the door. “Hopper?” you repeat a moment later and a bit louder when there’s no answer. A feeling of worry growing in your belly, you creep over to the bedroom and slowly move the curtain. Stealthily peeking your head inside, your mouth instantly curls into a smile. Sprawled on the bed is all six feet and three inches of Chief Jim Hopper snuggling with tiny little Magnum as they’re both fast asleep.

The sight not only puts your mind at ease but warms your heart. Up until now, Hopper hasn’t allowed Magnum to sleep on the bed, instead having him sleep on an area rug with a baby blanket on the floor. You almost want to take a picture, if not for your own sake, for the sake of hearing what Powell and Callahan would say. You refrain, however, knowing that the flash would likely disturb their rest. Instead, you slip into your pajamas and curl up in bed with your two favorite guys, feeling so grateful for the little family you have created.

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