#grey blue nose pitbull

[sweet-villain]

Hunger~2~D.M

Part 1

Summary : You moved into a new apartment in LA, just finishing college with a degree in design. As you exist the building to explore, your eyes find the familiar eyes of Dacre Montgomery as he steps out of his car. The doorman, George informs you that he lived in the same building as you. You see Dacre all over the building, everyone loves him but he hasn’t met you. During one of the parties, you bump into Dacre who isn’t too pleased at you. Why? He doesn’t really have a reason or does he? Will you make friends with the blue eye hunk?

@ramirezb-blog1 @bhbby2 @originalsoulcollector @stany0url0calwh0res111

" Bitch answer your phone, you wouldn't believe who I saw walk into the building I live in" you left Sammy a voicemail before putting your phone on the coffee table. You had gone into the apartment to start unpacking things, it wasn't going to do it itself. You spend hours organizing the kitchen when your stomach growled.

You hadn't noticed the time till you tapped your phone looking at it was almost 8 pm. Sammy had texted you that she was working late and would call you tomorrow.

You hummed thinking on what you were going to have for dinner as you put on your shoes along with your coat. You grabbed your keys and wallet thinking pizza sounded the best at the moment.

When you locked the door to your apartment, a nose nudged against your side causing you to almost drop your things as you gasped. A grey pitbull sat on the floor with it's tongue out looking at you with those brown eyes.

" Oh, you're precious" you reached over to pet it seeing the collar around was blue with a name on it. " Where is your owner? you asked, looking at the collar seeing the name Spot written on it. He barked when he heard foot steps approach.

Your eyes widen seeing the familiar pair of blue eyes you saw earlier, he stood whistling for the dog named Spot to come over to him. Spot walked over to Dacre who paid no mind to you as you stood there gawking at him like he just came out of a magazine.

" Pick your jaw up off the floor, your drooling" he says, not even looking at you. But Dacre can see you from the corner of his eye as he pets Spot.

His Australian accent catches you off guard hearing it for the first time clearer in person than hearing it from an interview he had done.

" Come on boy, lets go for a walk" Dacre puts a leash on Spot as they both walk past you down the hallway. You watch his back as makes his way to the elevators with Spot by his side. You wondered if that dog was his or not.

Shrugging, you followed him to the elevator fishing out your phone from your pocket to busy yourself with it rather than watch him in the corner of his eye. Dacre had noticed you off to the side a bit as the two of you waited for the elevators. He pays no mind to you or says anything.

The elevator dings and he walks in first with Spot who happily wags his tail with his tongue out as he stares up at Dacre, who smiles down at him for a brief moment.

" Is he yours?" you asked. His smile drops as he hears the sound of your voice. " No" he answers cutting the conversation short. He wasn't interested in talking to you as he stared ahead at the numbers.

You frowned. What the heck was his problem?

You had heard what a nice guy he was but that seems to be different now.

Once the elevator doors opened again, Dacre and Spot rush out of there walking down to the front of the doors where George greets them, pets Spot while you walk past them. Dacre looks up in time as you pass watching how your hair bounced a bit with each step, he saw your hands in your pockets as you walk by.

" Pretty isn't she?" George brings Dacre out of his thoughts making him chuckle.

" Not my type" Dacre says, " Come on Spot, let's go outside. Mr. Jacobs wouldn't want you to be out too long" Spot barks at him hearing his owner's last name.

The night breeze kisses your cheeks causing you to shiver bringing your jacket closer to yourself. You can hear the sound of cars driving by, some chatter from the people that have walked by and the sound of the door opening behind you with a bark.

You don't need to know who's behind you to know it's Dacre. You bring up your phone up, the light from it lights up your face as you bring out what is around you. You had no idea what you were even searching for but you kept yourself occupied as he walked past you with Spot by his side.

The sweet scent hit your nose urging you to snap up and look at him, but he stood there on the side walk and digging into his pocket for something when you hummed. He sees you in the corner of his eye trying not to see what you were doing.

It's not that he didn't like you, you were fresh meat into the building and he didn't trust most people that were new. He can't put his finger on why the thought of you made his heart flutter. He didn't know you. Nor he wanted to.

The sound of your shoes hit the pavement alerted him that you had left where you stood and he didn't have to worry about his heart fluttering. His nose scrunched up as his eyes fall on your back watching your hair sway side to side as he walked Spot.

" Slow down" he muttered to Spot as if he would hear him, only Spot had picked up the pace and dragged Dacre along the way you were walking by. He stumbled as he walked, trying to tug back on Spot.

A nose nudges your side catching you off guard for a moment until you see that it is Spot.

" Hi cutie" you leaned down a bit to pet him not expecting him to be there but Spot made up his own mind as he ran circles around you making Dacre sigh.

" Get back here" Dacre muttered but as Dacre pulled him, he circled around Dacre and tangling himself as he pulled you and Dacre close. Dacre bumped into you being chest to chest with you as he groaned. He didn't want to be in this predicament.

Your cheeks flushed red as you looked up at him. His blue eyes stare down at you with a deep frown on his face. His cheeks were flushed from the cold at least that's what you thought as a small cloud came out of his mouth.

Dacre didn't apologize as he looked down thinking how to get out of this being tangled in Spot's leash with your legs too. He kneel down as you saw the back of his head as he pulled the leash at the best way he thought it would work, going in between your legs and bumping his head into your stomach thinking he was just trying pry the two of you from another.

You stood frozen in your spot as you watched him work around. He sniffed as he stepped away and wrapped the remaining leash onto his hand.

" Sorry about that" you apologize thinking you got into his way even thought Spot was the one who had done so. Dacre said nothing as he looked ahead of him and called Spot.

" Rude" Dacre hears you mumble to yourself and stops in his tracks eyeing the small coat you were wearing.

" You need to get a better coat next time, you'll get frost bite before you know it, little girl" he says. Little girl? You weren't little. You glanced down at the jacket you were wearing and pull it closer with a small pout on your face.

" Hey! I'm not that little!" you yelled after him as he continued to walk with Spot by his side. He hasn't said anything else making you want to chase after him and say a few words but your stomach gave you another thought. You needed to eat before the night ended.

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As you were hanging up your coat, you heard Dacre walk by with Spot by his side talking to him.

"You weren't really nice before. You like getting me into trouble, don't you?" you heard Spot bark as he responded back to Dacre's question. " Stop looking at me like that, I don't like her like that" you heard Spot whine as you let out a chuckle. It was like Spot telling Dacre that wasn't fair of him to say.

" No, don't even think about it. That's not happening. Come on let's get you home" you heard the small patter of feet walk away from near your door.

You shook your head as you took off your shoes and set them by the coats. Your phone began to ring and you looked around, putting your hair behind your ears as your eyebrow knitted together hearing it closer and closer. It flashed inside the pocket of your jacket as you fished it out.

Sammy was calling you for the first time since you moved.

" Hello?" you answered the phone. Sammy let out a sigh of relief as she heard you answer the phone.

" where have you been Y/N? I have been trying to reach you all day" Indeed she has since you have 15 missed calls from her and 4 texts from her.

" Oh sorry, Sam. I've been unpacking and trying to get the place together. You know how I am when I'm distracted " she hummed in agreement. " What did you have to tell me? Anything juicy?" she asked.

You giggled as you walked further into your apartment.

" You wouldn't believe who lives in the same apartment as me" you bite on your bottom lip as you waited for her to answer. On the other line, Sammy knits her eyebrows as she is trying to think on who possibly you were talking about. She cannot put her finger on it because she has so many options in her head.

" is it Ryan?" you moved your phone away from your ear looking at it in disbelief. Ryan was one of your neighbors where you used to live, he had this crush on you and would try to ask you once a week but you refused. He was a little too much for your liking.

" What? No!" you shouted into the phone.

" Jeez. Don't get your panties in the mix" you shook your head and rolled your eyes and even though Sammy couldn't see you. She knew that's what you were doing.

" Don't roll those eyes at me, now tell me before I hang up the phone on you"

" You wouldn't dare!" you giggled, " Well Dacre Montgomery is who were talking about" Sammy gasped on the other line.

" Is he hotter than in pictures? What does he smell like? Is he nice?" She asked all in one breathe. You pinched the bridge of your nose and softly laughed.

" yes he's hot, but hotter. I don't know what he smells like and I don't think so" you tell her.

" Why not?"

" I don't think he likes me, he doesn't even know my name but he said some things to me already and it wasn't in a friendly tone"

" Kick his ass, bitch!" you giggled, your shoulder shaking as you got off from where you were sitting and walk into your bedroom as you fall onto your bed with your back on the mattress.

" I think I can take him"

" Look bug, I have to go. Andrew asked me on a date and I have to get ready" you sat up with wide eyes and gasped. Andrew was her long time crush she had since high school, he was also a good friend of yours. You squealed in happiness.

" Sammy! That's so amazing, finally!" she laughed as she shushed you on the phone. " He's here, shut it"

" What's he doing there already?"

" I invited him for a drink, it was just water after he drop me off from work and we got to talking and you know he asked me out" she says.

" Did you play tonsil hockey with him?" Sammy remained silent on the phone letting you know that's exactly what has happened.

" Sammy Marie Nelson!" she groaned hearing you use her full name.

" He's so pretty!" she wined but it was muffled. She must be laying down or something. " I know he is, now I'm going let you go and you better tell me how this date will go or wherever he's taking you"

" Yes ma'am and you better let me know if anything juicy happens with Dacre. You're a lucky bitch, you know. You should shag that boy and take him to heaven"

" Go get ready Nelson!" you shook your head as she laughed hanging up the phone. This was your best friend.

You shot out of bed as you made your way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

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The elevator doors opened and you stepped inside not even bothering to look who was leaning against the walls. Dacre did noticed as you stepped inside watching as you rubbed your temples seeing the frustrating look on your face.

You didn't really have a good morning as your mother called you this morning informing you that you shouldn't stay in LA if you weren't going to be anything. She went on and on about that you made an excuse to hang up the phone losing your appetite for breakfast. Coffee was something you needed though.

You yawned as you stepped out of the apartment not bothering to brush your hair even. Putting it up with a long sleeve shirt and some leggings on with sneakers on your feet.

You continued to rub your face with keys in your hands and phone too as you waited for the elevator as it went down. The sweet scent hits your nose alerting you he's in the same elevator as you. Suddenly you stood up straighter and looked like deer in head lights, turning your head seeing he was looking at you already.

" Jesus, are you always this quiet?" you asked. He doesn't say anything as he watches you take your hair down from the bun you currently had it in and brush your fingers through the knots. You needed to look decent. He must of think you were the ugliest thing he laid eyes on.

" Cat got your tongue?" you continue to ask but he doesn't answer you still causing you to feel more filtrated that this morning. " Fine, don't talk. Not like I'm standing there to impress you or anything" you mumbled underneath your breath. Dacre smirks hearing you as he puts his arms across his chest over looking at you.

He can't help but look at how cute you look right now. You were trying to look decent for him in sweats and a long sleeve.

The elevator doors opened as you let out a breathe of relief as you stepped out and making your way to the front desk. George sees you and sends you a smile.

" Good Morning Miss Y/N" he says. Your hands fall on top of the counter as his eyes drop to behind you seeing Dacre walk. " Good Morning, Mr. Montgomery"

Dacre stops in front of the desk as he scrunches up his nose.

" I thought I told you to call me Dacre, George" he says.

" My apologizes, here is your mail" he slide over the mail to Dacre who takes in his hands and flips through it. You can't help but look at him as he does. His hair is slicked on the sides as his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he blinks. He is wearing a beige sweater with black jeans. He looks really good.

Dacre can feel your eyes on him from the corner of his eye and turns his head to slightly catching you looking. Your cheeks flash red as he catches you and you look away, embarrassed. George looks between the two of you with his own smile.

" Dacre here is quite single, Miss Y/N" Dacre's head shots up hearing George tell you this information. He chuckles, " I'm quite sure she isn't interested in that information." He says as he clicks the mail on the table together as he sends a small smile to George.

" What if I was?" you asked.

Dacre frowns as he looks at you, " Keep that to yourself."

" Miss Y/N, it's quite cold outside. Are you planning to go out in that?" George motions to your chosen outfit and you glance down. You face palm yourself that you forgot to take your jacket with you. The guilt on your face told both Dacre and George that you indeed were going out like that.

" Do you want to get sick?" Dacre asks. " Are you really that stupid?" He scoffs as he shrugs his own jacket off and offers it to you. You glance down at it with wide eyes. He was actually nice, who wouldn't of thought?

" Take it" he shoves the jacket into your hands. You feel the softness of it underneath your finger tips as you take it. You don't even get to thank him as he walks past you to the elevators.

You shot George a look as you put it on. It's a little big on you but the sweet scent engulfed you as put your arms through the sleeves. It fitted you nice and was warming you up already. Dacre stood by the doors of the elevator facing them but he can't help but look over seeing you in his jacket seeing the smile on your face.

He rolls his eyes feeling his heart flutter again. You were cute, he thought.

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George told you about the party at the end of the week that the apartment was having and everyone usually came. Dacre too from what you heard. You were beyond excited to come, picking out a dress in your closet that shown off some of your back and fit that your curves showed.

You had face timed Sammy to show her the dress and her mouth dropped seeing it.

" Look at you, you're going to have everyone at your feet" she whistled as you tried on the dress for her.

" It's not too much" she shook her head. " if you are trying to impress Dacre, girl! He's going to drool over the minute you walk through the door"

" Thank you Sam, I miss you so much" she frowns as she sighs. " I miss you too, bug"

Sammy and you talked a bit longer as she told you about her date with Andrew. Everything went well and they kissed at the end of the date. They were going to go on a second date in two days and Sammy looked happier than ever. She gushed how she never felt like this before.

" I'm so happy for you" you tell her.

" We need to find you a man" she say as she takes you into the kitchen with her. She sets you down as she is starting to get dinner ready, she had a room mate Hallie who was your friend too, but Hallie had a hectic schedule with working late hours.

" Oh stop" you waved her off.

" Anything with Dacre?" your cheek redden as you stood up and took his jacket that laid on your chair and showed it to her. " Is that his?"She asked bringing the phone closer to her face as her eyes widen.

" It is" she squeals as she waves the phone around. " What does it smell like?" you brought it up to your nose and smiled, dancing with it.

" Like a man" she put her hands on her hips as she looks at you.

" You're lucky bitch. When are you going to bang him?"

" Sammy!" she threw her hands up, " you need to get laid Y/N. It's been ages. You're not getting any younger"

" Gee thanks Sam"

You talked with Sam for another hour before you told her you needed to get ready for this party. Not everything yet was unpacked but you were getting there and making your apartment look like a home.

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You stepped into the hall where the part was being held and like Sammy had said, all eyes were on you. Dacre stood in the corner of the room with a drink in his hands but as he rose to take a drink, his eyes fell on you and they grew wide like saucers. You were beautiful.

He watched as you said hello to a few people and pet down to scratch Spot behind his ears. He laughed a little watching Spot get on you and licking the side of your face.

You were the attention of the room. You were new.

You passed through a couple of more people, introducing yourself and sending them smiles before your gaze fell on him. He was wearing white looking shirt to his elbows, but it was the open chest with the necklace he had that caught your eyes. You saw some chest hair there and the shirt was paired off with light jeans he got on.

There was a small curl on top of his head that was visible and wasn't brushed back and your fingers edged you to it do it yourself but you held back since you weren't close to him.

" Dacre" you greet him and he nods as he hears you. You felt a little uneasy under his gaze wearing the dress you were wearing.

" My, My, what a gorgeous sight I see" a voice from behind you catches your attention. You turn your head to look at an unfamiliar face.

" Names Mike" he says as he offers his hands. " Who might you be? An Angel from heaven?" your cheeks paint the color red as you giggled. Dacre scrunched up his nose in annoyance fully aware of Mike's intentions.

" My name is Y/N, I just moved into the building" you took his hand to shake it as you shyly look away from Mike. " Ah, Dacre" Mike says.

" Michael" Dacre says through gritted teeth. The two weren't friends and didn't particularly liked each other.

" You look absolutely beautiful tonight. Don't you agree, Montgomery?" Dacre glance down at you and he wanted to agree with Mike but simply stood off the wall and brushed past you. You watched him leave with your eyebrows knitted together. What was his problem?

" Don't mind him, he's a little over his head" Mike says. But you weren't about to let this go as Dacre simply brushed past you jus e like that. You thought the two of you were finally getting on the right foot.

" Excuse me" you tell Mike as you push through people to look for Dacre who appears to leaving the party already. " Dacre!" you shouted making your way after him. He walks through the door and into the hall way as you follow him. You had a drink in your hands as you walk out.

" Hey! I'm talking you" you shouted at him taking off your heels as you hurried to catch up. He pauses his steps and turns around seeing you catch up to him. " What?" He spatted through his teeth.

" What was that back there?" you motion to the doors that you two walk through. He rolls his eyes, " Nothing of your concern, little girl."

You stomped on your foot as you pushed at his chest, " Listen here. I don't know what your problem is with me or whatever your playing with me. But I'm a person with feelings and don't deserve how you treat me"

He chuckles with his hands in his pockets.

" My problem is you, little girl. You move into the apartment thinking you'll have everything handed to you. Everyone's going to fall to their feet, everyone is going to like you but you don't even know anything. Yet you prance around with that smile of yours, the only good thing about you is your pretty face"

" Excuse me? You're being rude" he chuckles, rolling his eyes.

" You're not everyone's cup of tea, little girl" he turns around ready to walk away from this conversation and you when he felt the grip of your hand on his arm. He turns around just in time for you to dump your drink in his face. He gapes in surprises as his face drenches in the drink you were having, dripping down onto his shirt that is staining it right now.

He throws his eyes open in anger as he steps forward.

" You don't wanna go there, little girl" he growls underneath his breath. " Or what? You're nothing but a pretty face, Montgomery" his fist are by his side as he stares down at you in anger.

Without uttering another word, he storms off leaving you glaring after him. What a jerk.

#dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery x y/n #imagine dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery x you #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery x female reader #dacre x you #dacre x reader #jewls writes

[bluenosepitbulldog]

There are total 6 different colors of a blue nose Pitbull. Find out about those colors. Also find which of them are common and which are rare.

#blue nose pitbull #colors #blue nose pitbull dog #blue nose pitbull colors #grey blue nose pitbull #white blue nose pitbull #tri color blue nose pitbull #pitbull #blue nose

[imurmom1]

My child ❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

#little baby #medusa #pitbull #blue nose #grey coat #green eyes #my heart #❣️✨ #houston texas

[dc41896]

New Roommate

Pairing: Paul DiskantxBlack Reader

⚠️: Fluff, slight mentions of seggsy time

“We’re gonna have so much fun bubbas. We’re gonna go to the park, on hikes-oh! And the beach! I already know you’re gonna love it,” you beam rubbing noses with the two-month, blue nose pitbull who was trying to lick your face. “First though, I gotta get your dad on board.”

It’s not that your boyfriend didn’t want or like dogs. He always said how he’d love to have one someday when he was settled somewhere.

However that “somewhere” to Paul was a house with plenty yard space, an adequate amount of privacy, and maybe located in the suburbs. Not your recently renovated, two bedroom apartment you both just happened to move into about a month ago.

You made an agreement that you wouldn’t get any pets (well besides a fish, and a small one at that) to not risk messing anything up and having some sort of consequence, which would more than likely be in monetary form. Entranced by the short haired, too adorable for words pup though, you honestly could care less about the consequences.

Plus you just knew your little buddy wouldn’t cause any trouble. You could see that in his round, soft grey eyes.

“So, you’re gonna stay with your auntie Raye until I can work my charm on him okay?” The pup only tilts his head before letting out a small bark and making you pout as you hug him close. “I know but it’s only temporary. A night at most.”

Paul typically didn’t get home until later in the evening now that he was on a new case, so you had plenty of time to clean up any traces of dog left behind after Raye would leave and start cooking his favorite meal. As an added bonus, you also thought about your short, lilac, ruched number with spaghetti straps that always made his eyes light up when you wore it. He claimed it perfectly complimented your skin and made you look even more angelic as his hands always seemed to find your sides, the small of your back, or lower if you were right beside him (which of course you typically were).

However, hearing the familiar thud of boots journeying down the hall and rattling of keys, something told you that plan might not work now.

You quickly stand up, taking the probably confused puppy with you to the bathroom where you sit him in the empty tub, along with his new bone shaped chew toy, kneeling with a finger over your lips.

“Stay here and be really quiet okay?,” you whisper just as you hear the front door unlock. Quietly rushing to close the room door behind you, you muster your best ‘I wasn’t doing anything’ smile while you approached the tired looking man.

“Hey beautiful,” he greets, sweetly pecking your lips.

“Hey, you’re home early today.”

“Yea, we had a break in the case and went undercover to get the suspect which led to a chase, then a fight, and me having bruises forming as we speak.”

Dropping his bag by the dinner table, a sigh followed by a short wince leaves his mouth as he sinks into the leather couch cushions letting his head fall back and eyes close.

“Alright plan B it is,” you think to yourself moving behind him to gently massage his shoulders, occasionally letting your hands journey forward along his pecs giving them attention as well. Hearing a soft moan at his approaching relaxed state urges you to continue, knowing you’d soon have him exactly where you wanted.

“Aww I’m sorry babe. Where does it hurt?”

“My sides mostly, but my back a bit too.”

He helps you remove his fitted black shirt, a favorite of yours, letting out a short hiss from having to extend his sore muscles. Guiding him to lie down and placing one of the small throw pillows under his head, you straddle his lap letting your fingers drag along the red and light blue marks littering his sides.

“It doesn’t hurt when you breathe does it?”

“No.”

“What about this?,” you ask pressing down to feel him flinch under you.

“Ow! Babe-,”

“Sorry! Sorry just checking.” Watching him settle back into his comfortable position with arm draped over his forehead, you slowly bend forward, lips inches from his bruise looking up at your boyfriend through your lashes. “And this?”

You feel his low chuckle vibrate his muscular upper body as your gentle, open mouthed kisses scatter from each injury to eventually find the spot just below his ear.

“I feel better already,” he smiles tilting your chin so your soft lips could meld with his. Kiss growing deeper with each passing second.

“Hooked like a fish,” you thought, lips never ceasing while being brought closer to his body as he sat up with hands squeezing your hips.

“Baby wait,” he states slightly leaning his head back and making you pout. “Let me go shower first. I’m sweaty and probably stink-,”

“What’s the point when you’re just gonna get sweaty again?,” you smirk taking his now red, fuller bottom lip between your teeth.

“All the more reason for you to join me then.” You can’t fully enjoy the combination of his tongue and lips on your neck from your brain hurriedly trying to figure out how to stop this man from finding your little surprise in the bathroom.

“Your, um..sides though! You know it’s gonna hurt trying to shower so just stay here with me.”

“Is there a reason you don’t want me going in our bathroom?,” he asks detaching from your neck with one final bite to eye you suspiciously.

“No, of course not. I just missed you.” Batting your lashes, you nonchalantly let your nail trace a line from where his pendant sat down the middle of his abdomen and just above his buckle before he shifted, swiftly lying you on your back with one hand hooked under your knee bringing it around his waist.

Men. Always so easy.

Giggling as thumbs graze the lower band of your bra and lips return to their assault on your neck and collarbone, a high pitched bark along with scuffling makes you freeze as Paul lifts his head confused.

“You heard that right?”

“Y-Yeah. It’s probably from one of the neighbors. Speaking of dogs though-”

When the barks and scuffling become more frequent, you start to wonder if Raye would mind you staying the night since you’d surely need a place to stay with Paul being mad at you.

“Nah that sounds really close,” he replies unhooking your leg to go investigate for himself. The only thing you can do is sit and nervously wait for the inevitable hearing him open the bedroom door and eventually enter the bathroom. “Honey...!”

“Hmm?!,” you ask biting the corner of your lip, turning your head at the sound of Paul padding across the wooden floor holding the noisy pup.

“Mind telling me why this little guy was in our tub?”

“....Maybe he was a gift from the front office?,” you innocently shrug making him bring his free hand to his hip, sternly looking at you.

“Y/N...,”

“Alright. My coworker and I were bored one day and started looking through the pets the shelter had for adoption online and this little guy came across the screen and stole my heart.”

“Babe we talked about this. We can’t mess this place up.”

“I know and we won’t. Before you came home, we just hung out in here and he was so calm and sweet. Even in the tub he sat there like a good boy,” you smile standing up to scratch behind his ears making his tail wag against Paul’s side.

“That’s because he couldn’t get out since the tub is taller than him,” he retorts as you roll your eyes taking your new baby from his grasp.

“Cmon Paul look at this face and tell me you can say no.”

Holding the puppy at his eye level, there’s a few moments of silence as the two simply look at each other before the grey haired dog licks his cheek making him groan.

“You know I can’t say no. To either of you,” he softly smiles petting the short fur on his head. Seeing your pout as you bring your new friend next to your face, he lowly chuckles caressing your cheek as his lips find yours. “Alright he can stay.”

“Thank you!,” you excitedly squeal bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I already have the perfect name picked out.”

“What’s that?”

“Disco. After his dad,” you both laugh.

“Well, welcome to the family Disco,” he smiles taking him from your hands to place him on the floor where he began to sniff around getting acclimated to his new home. You’re caught off guard when you’re tossed over his broad shoulder, blood rushing to your head as you gently kick your legs laughing.

“Paul!”

“Disco, look after everything. Me and mom have some unfinished business,” he smirks closing the bedroom door behind him with his foot.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeydulcewrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for (can be found in masterlist), or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

#paulxwoc #paulxblackreader #paul x reader #paul diskant #chrisxblackreader #chrisxwoc #chrisxreader #chris evans #street kings

[horrorslashergirl]

My Slasher OCs Face Claim Part 1

Authors Note: I decided to make a full post with my OCs face claims and their theme songs.

Part 2 to this post!

Let’s see what they look and sound like!

Richard Firewood

This is the only picture I could find for Richard’s face. I view him especially with sharp eyes in the color of an emerald green and hair of obsidian black pulled into a neat high long ponytail. I picture his face with a sharp edge, but also that doll like perfection.

Theme song: Siobhan McCarthy, Louise Plowright, Jenny Galloway, Neal Wright- Money, Money, Money (1999 / Musical "Mamma Mia")

Jackson Jasper

This is a model that I don’t remember his name, but this is defenitly what I picture Jackson’s face to be like; rough and rugged with a beard and long hair in a dark blonde color, either lose or pulled into a messy bun depending on his mood, but mostly in a bun. His eyes are blue.

Theme Song: Carrie Underwood - Cowboy Casanova

The Hacker/Erron/Cyber Killer

For the mysterious Hacker I decided to choose the actor, Desmond Harrington, mostly because I loved how he played in the horror movie Ghost Ship. His hair is a little spikey like, brown and he has grey eyes.

Theme Song: Burn - Ashley Clark

Bambi Miller

This is the picture that I found that resembles Bambi; long light brown wavy hair, cute little face with a dangerous edge if you look closer and light brown eyes that sometimes darken in the shadow.

Theme song: Kid Rock- So hott

Dave Anthony

For this insane poltergeist I found this one and I think it suits him; white wavy hair, grey almost white eyes that turn fully black. He has sharp features from his nose to his jawline.

Theme Song: Voltaire - When You're Evil 

Samuel Grayson

Found this one while looking for Daves. I picture this is what Samuel looked like human, so add in spikier hair and golden eyes with black sclera.

Theme song: Florence & the Machine - Seven Devils 

Gerome Montana and Axel Friedrich

I pictured Gerome as a black guy with dreadlocks pulled into a high ponytail plus with a beard. Axel on the other hand, white guy with blonde hair in a spikey style and blue eyes.

Theme song: Pitbull, Lil Jon - Damn I Love Miami 

#Richard Firewood #Jackson Jasper #The Hacker #Bambi Miller #Gerome Montana #Axel Friedrich #Dave Anthony #Samuel Grayson #Slasher OCs #Demon OCs #Original characters

[stenbrozier]

Clingy (Adult!Stanley Uris x Reader)

Plot: The Urises have always been known as the “snuggly couple” among their friends, especially as they got older. Stanley and (Y/N) are going to meet the Losers for lunch, and Stanley wants nothing more then to hold his wife and show her off the whole time.

Warnings: mentions of trying to have a kid, canon!Reddie

A/N: I was dropping anons about how lovely Stanley Uris was and how cuddly he was and now I’m here....writing a story about this dumb bitch with curly hair

——————————————————————————

Stanley moans slightly in his sleep, turning over in your arms to lay his head against your chest, his arms securing tight around your waist. He left a soft kiss right underneath the left side of your collarbone and smiled against it. You brought your hands up to run through his hair, the soft curls tickling your neck as you messed with them.

Your legs were tangled together between the grey sheets, one of your legs slotted in between his with the other slung over his hip. The sunlight from your bedroom window peeled through the blinds, making lines of light and dark drape over the big, dark red comforter that you and your husband were snuggled underneath. His hands tapped the small of your back, his nails rubbing lightly up and down before squeezing your ass and causing you to jump. He looked up at you, kissing along your jaw as he worked his way up to put his forehead against yours, and you giggled as he pressed little kisses to your nose.

“Baby, we should get ready,” you whispered softly, peeking at the alarm clock next to your bed. “We need to meet them for our weekly lunch date in a couple of hours.” Stanley groaned, squeezing you tight for a few seconds before pulling away and stretching out his arms and his legs. You sat up first, scooting to the edge of the bed to get ready to get up and get dressed. Your foot felt something soft underneath you, and you looked down to see you and Stan’s pitbull, Blue, sitting curled up in on herself. Stanley got off of the other side of the bed, coming around to pick up Blue and snuggle her, the 60 pound dog wagging its tail as she enjoyed the attention she was being given so early in the morning.

“Move, bub,” you chuckled, as he held Blue closer to his chest and leant down and gave you a kiss. “Can you go make some coffee?” You put on your best puppy dog eyes and he complied, heading out your bedroom door with the dog still wrapped in his arm. You grabbed clothes out of your drawers, pulling out a pair of shorts and one of Stanley’s shirts. You threw them on, brushing your hair down and going into the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. After you did that, you went down the stairs and heard Stan laughing.

“Fuck off, Rich,” he said midlaugh, a huge smile on his face as he saw you standing in the doorway. “I-I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you at 1.” He hung up the phone and sat it on the counter, grabbing the mugs off of it and dragging you down to the kitchen table. He sat down first, grabbing your waist loosely and dragging you into his lap. You smiled as he nuzzled his face into your neck, leaving little kisses as you took a sip of your coffee.

“Clingy, clingy,” you teased as he laughed, his hands fisting the shirt you wore.

“This is mine,” he mentioned matter-of-factly. You nodded, taking another sip of your coffee and setting the mug down before standing up and walking to give Blue her breakfast.

“Who’s house are we having lunch at this week,” you asked your husband, getting down on your knees to pull out the bag of dog food from underneath the counter. You poured some in her bowl, kissing her forehead when she ran over to eat it. When you put it back, you stood up only to have arms get wrapped around your waist.

“I believe we’re going to Ben and Bev’s,” he whispered, taking in a deep breath as he rubbed your stomach with his thumbs. “I guess I have to go start to get ready.” Stanley kiss your neck, pulling back and walking away, up the steps and into the bedroom. You sat at the table and finished up your coffee, heating the shower turning on. You showered at night and he showered in the morning, so there was never any conflict in the mornings when you both had work.

You washed your coffee mug out in the sink, going back up into your bedroom to grab your phone and the book you were reading. When you walked in, Stan was clad in a pair of jeans, drying his hair with the towel. He turned around and smiled at you when you made a big show of checking him out. You went to your bedside table and grabbed your things, standing on your tippy toes and kissing him on the cheek. You waited for him to finish getting ready, leaning against the doorframe and going through your texts. Stanley’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him as he walked with you down the steps. You both sat on the couch, and you leaned against him, taking your book and reading to him until it was time to go visit the Losers

———————

Ben swung the door open, engulfing you in a hug as Stanley laughed lightly, placing a hand on the small of your back to squeeze by you. You and Ben had been best friends while growing up, and it was no secret that you gravitated to him. Everyone thought you and him were going to end up together, and the group was pleasantly surprised when you and Stan announced that you guys were dating in your senior year. Ben kissed your forehead and pulled away, leading you inside and shutting the door.

“How’s the whole ‘trying to get pregnant thing’ going?” Ben asked in a hushed voice. You shrugged your shoulders, following him into his dining room.

“Nothing yet, but we’re hoping that I miss my period,” you replied back, giving him a soft smile as he kissed your forehead again.

“Holy shit!! Two Urises,” Richie yelled, breaking away from Stan to come and wrap you up in a tight hug.

He’d been away for the past few months on tour, so he hadn’t been able to come to try weekly luncheons. You pulled away from him, patting his chest and going to say ‘hi’ to all of your either childhood friends and their spouses. Bev wrapped you up in her arms, whispering in your ear the same question Ben had asked you. You shook your head as you pulled away, going back to where your husband was now sitting at the table. Stan immediately grabbed your hand, peppering it with kisses and you smirked.

“God, I was gone for two minutes,” you teased, causing his cheeks to dust a raspberry pink. “Can’t keep your hands off of me, can you?” You noticed that you had caught the attention of Bill, who smiled at the two of you smiling at each other and looking deep into the other’s eyes.

“C-can you guys not be cute for one minute?” he asked with a fake disgusted look on his face. “You’re even wearing his c-college tee.”

Now it was your turn to blush red, eyes casting down to yours and Stan’s intertwined hands. The rest of the Losers laughed at your embarrassment before Eddie finally spoke up.

“They’re more clingy than they were in high school,” he mentions, twisting his nose up in disgust. You throw him the middle finger.

“At least I’ve been in a loving relationship for twenty years and wasn’t afraid to admit feelings.” Richie laughs at this, looking over at Eddie and nudging his side before kissing his cheek.

You leaned over and kissed your husband’s cheek, the attention shifting from you both to how Mike’s month long stint in Florida had been. Stanley removed his hand from yours, wrapping that arm around your shoulder and taking his other hand to softly stroke the hand which he had let go of. You looked over at him, snuggling into his chest. Maybe you guys were too clingy, but you’d rather have him touch you constantly than not at all.

#stanley uris smut #stanley uris x reader #stanley uris #stanley uris headcanons #bill denbrough x reader #richie tozier x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #beverly marsh x reader #ben hanscom x reader #mike hanlon x reader #it chapter one imagines #it chapter two imagines #masterlist

[mischiefandspirits]

Titanic Beginnings

Part of the Six for the Age of One AU

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

Dick was excited when Bruce helped form the Justice League, babbling on about Bruce’s new friends and begging to meet them. Damian also wanted to meet the JL, but to appraise them to see if they were worthy of his father’s time and ensure they were capable of watching Batman’s back.

Not wanting the boys to get involved in the more punishing missions the JL faced, Bruce continually denied their requests.

That was ruined during a meeting a month later when Superman sheepishly admitted that his sons had also been badgering him and his wife to meet the other JL members and asked if he could bring the boys to the next meeting.

Green Arrow, Hawkgirl, Green Lantern, and Martian Manhunter appeared as resistant as Bruce. However, Wonder Woman adored children and agreed before any of them could speak up. She even offered to bring her young sister to keep them company. Aquaman agreed as well, mentioning that his apprentice could use the land experience. Flash and Black Canary were fine with it, which left the League at an even split.

At a nudge from Canary, Arrow broke the tie by reluctantly agreeing to bring his protégé.

Any ideas Batman had at keeping his boys out of it were dashed when Lantern turned to him and asked if he would also be bringing his kids. Superman sent him a look that clearly stated he would invite the boys if Batman didn’t so the Gotham vigilante nodded after giving Lantern a fierce glare.

Batman, Robin, and Serin were the first ones to the temporary headquarters the Justice League were using while Batman, Arrow, and Lantern finished the work on the space station they were retrofitting.

Before they arrived, Bruce had reminded Dick that, allies or not, only Superman knew the Bats’ identities and it was to remain that way for the time being. He had also negotiated with Damian. The boy wouldn’t challenge anyone to a fight and would abide by sparring rules with anyone who challenged him, no matter what abilities they may have. In return, the boy could assess whoever he wanted. He also allowed the boys to bring their dogs, hoping that would help keep Damian from going too far.

Titus (or Birdhound as Dick insisted despite Damian’s arguments that Great Danes weren’t hounds) had swapped out his red collar for a yellow one that matched Serin’s belt and had a tag with Serin’s logo on it. He also wore a grey ballistic vest with dark coral straps and handle. Haley (or Bitewing, a play on a character from Dick’s favorite story in Bruce’s extraterrestrial files) had a green collar with Robin’s logo hanging from it in place of her usual blue. Her vest was red with canary straps and handle.

Robin and Bitewing immediately went off to explore while Serin and Birdhound stayed at Batman’s side as he got things ready for the meeting. The boy kept an eye on the meeting room’s door, so he was the first one to notice the Supers’ arrival.

Superman was talking to his foster son when they walked in, his younger son flying over them with wide eyes. Superboy (aka nine-year-old Jonathan Kent) nearly looked like the spitting image of his father with his blue-black curls and neon blue eyes that didn’t quite look human, though his nose and lips were shaped a bit more like his mother. Meanwhile Hyper (aka fourteen-year-old Christopher Kent) only shared his foster father’s physique, his skin not having that same natural sun-kissed look while his hair was a dirty blond and his eyes were a bright amber that was just a little too close to yellow to be humanly possible. Superboy was wearing jeans, red high tops, and a Superman costume shirt that had a small red cape attached. Hyper was even more underdressed in just jeans, black tenner shoes, a yellow and blue flannel, and a black shirt. A black band wrapped around his wrist, appearing to all the world like a watch though, having helped create it, Batman knew it was a device to help Earth’s newest kryptonian keep control of the powers he’d developed on arrival.

Robin reappeared suddenly, dropping down onto Superman’s shoulders. “Heya, Kal!”

“Hello, Robin,” the man chuckled.

The twelve-year-old did a backbend so he could hold a hand out to the older boy. “Hi! You’re Hyper right? Kal’s told us about you.”

“Oh, yeah. Or K’Riss. Uh, K’Riss-El, but just K’Riss is fine,” Hyper said, accepting the hand.

“And I’m Jon!” Superboy said, dropping down in front of Batman and Serin. He smiled up at the man before holding his hand out to the other boy. “Dad’s told us about you too. Nice to meet you. I like your dog. Can I pet him?”

The eleven-year-old looked at the hand, then glanced over Superboy’s outfit. “No. What kind of attire is that for fighting crime?”

The half-kryptonian looked down at his clothes and shrugged. “I thought it looked cool.”

“It offers no protection.”

“They’re kryptonians,” Robin pointed out as he stood up on Superman’s shoulders so he could pet Bitewing, who was leaning out of a vent on the ceiling. “Their skin is better armor than the stuff we wear.”

“What if they were to lose their abilities? A shard of kryptonite would easily pass through that flimsy shirt.”

Superboy frowned and glanced back at his dad, which gave Batman time to give his son a reprimanding look and hold out his hand.

Serin scowled and palmed him a small lead case.

The Supers didn’t notice the actions, distracted by unsuccessfully trying to get Bitewing out of the vent.

“Neither of us really dressed for fighting crime,” Hyper said over Robin’s soft cackling, pulling away from the vent. “Jon’s too young for that stuff and I’m still getting my powers under control. Our superhero names are more honorary than anything.”

Clicking his tongue, Serin crossed his arms. “Heroes or not, we are in the base of a team of superheroes. You should be prepared to be attacked at any minute by any of the members’ various enemies.”

Superman aimed an incredulous look at Bruce, who shrugged.

His son wasn’t wrong.

“Hello there!” Wonder Woman called as she walked in with a teenage girl in red and black Amazonian armor.

The girl looked exactly like a fifteen-year-old version of her sister with her curly brown-black hair, warm olive skin, and dark green eyes. She gave a smile that looked a bit more forced than her sister’s, which quickly dropped away when she noticed Superman still near the vent with Robin clinging to his back. “Why is there a dog up there?”

“She likes it in there,” Batman grunted when Wonder Woman looked like she was going to try to help as well.

“She’s Robin’s,” Serin added, which did explain it if you knew Robin.

“Dogs shouldn’t be inside vents,” Wonder Woman said pointedly.

“And children shouldn’t nap in chandeliers,” Batman muttered, earning snorts from Serin and Superman. Accepting that the issue wasn’t going to be dropped, he gave Robin a look.

The boy pouted, then gave a sharp whistle. Instantly the pitbull sprung from the vent, hopping off superman’s chest, then Hyper’s shoulders, before landing on the ground as gracefully as her boy despite her missing limb. Robin dropped to the ground next to her and scratched her neck before grabbing the handle on her vest and going over to greet the Amazons.

Wonder Woman introduced her sister as Troia, who had recently left Themyscira so she could learn more about Man’s World at her sister’s side.

After respectfully greeting the sisters, Serin turned to Superboy. “See, the Amazons wear armor.”

“Well, they aren’t quite as durable as us,” Superboy shot back.

“They also don’t have a well-known weakness to a rock, yet they still understand the necessity to be prepared for battle.”

“So that one is definitely Spooky’s,” Lantern joked as he walked in with Hawkgirl.

Robin did a cartwheel into a backflip, landing in front of the two with Bitewing racing to stay by his side. He gave the heroes a wide grin, leaning cutely against the alert dog. “Hi, I’m Robin! It’s so nice to meet B’s friends! I like your wings, Ms. Hawkgirl! They’re very pretty!”

“Thank you,” she said, bemused.

Lantern gave Batman a smirk as he shook Robin’s hand. “You sure this one’s yours and not Supe’s or Wonder Woman’s?”

Robin’s grin turned sharp, then he pulled away.

A green flash lit the room and Lantern was left in just a black tanktop, Flash sweatpants, and mismatched fuzzy socks. The man yelped and looked down to find his ring missing from his hand. His gaze shot up, but Robin and Bitewing had disappeared with the light. “What the heck!?”

The boy’s laughter echoed around the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere.

“Okay, maybe he is yours.”

“Why is Lantern in his sleeping clothes?” Martian Manhunter asked as he and Aquaman came in with a young Atlantean.

“Robin stole his ring right off his hand,” Hawkgirl answered with poorly hidden laughter in her voice.

The test pilot scowled and held out his hand. His ring shot out from inside Batman’s cape. As it slid onto Lantern’s finger, returning his suit in a flicker of green, Robin and Bitewing poked their heads out of the fabric. He pointed at the smug boy. “You won’t do that again.”

“Unless I want to.”

“Kid -”

“Hey, my first idea was to come up and throat-punch you so be glad I just stole your ring,” he snickered, slipping back into the shadows. “Can’t talk bad about my family if you can’t breathe.”

“It seems the Bat’s family are as entertaining as he is,” Aquaman joked. He set his hand on the young Atlantean’s shoulder. “Speaking of family, this is my mother’s ward and my apprentice, Aqualad. Lad, this is the Justice League and their young companions.”

The boy appeared to be around fifteen with alabaster skin that was edging towards grey. His eyes were plum-colored and his hair was long and pitch black. With teeth slightly sharper than a human’s, he smiled and gave a small bow. “A pleasure. You may call me Garth.”

Baring the Bats, the group all greeted Aqualad cheerfully. Batman grunted and nodded with Serin copying his actions while Robin’s hand poked out of the cape to wave.

Before anyone could introduce themselves to the newcomers, Arrow and Canary entered with a grumpy thirteen-year-old.

Speedy had fair skin and pale red hair, alongside eyes hidden behind a domino mask like the ones Robin and Serin wore. Batman knew from his day-life that Speedy’s backstory wasn’t too far off from Robin’s. He’d gotten Oliver Queen’s attention during an archery contest so when the boy’s adopted father died, Oliver took him in.

“Are we the last ones here?” Canary asked.

“We’re still waiting on Flash,” Wonder Woman answered.

“As per usual,” Hawkgirl joked.

“Well, in the meantime,” Arrow set a hand on Speedy’s shoulder, “this is Speedy.”

“‘Sup,” he said, giving a sarcastic salute.

Introductions went around. Robin took the distraction as his chance to slip out and greet Aqualad and Speedy properly. As the time for the meeting grew closer, the group got the kids settled in a room near the meeting room. Just as they were about to leave for the meeting, a steak of red shot into the room.

“Sorry I’m late,” Flash said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re actually on time,” Superman said. “Though you’ll have to wait to meet the kids until after the meeting.”

“About that…”

A second streak came into the room, which turned out to be a red-headed teenager. The boy was tan and freckled. When he pulled up his goggles to smile at the group, his eyes proved to be a grassy green. “Hi, there! I’m Kid Flash!”

The group turned to Flash, who was pinching the bridge of his nose. “My nephew became a speedster last week. I’m training him how to use his powers.”

“Then I’m going to be his sidekick!”

Batman held back a snort at the imploring expression Flash gave him and Superman. The kryptonian patted the speedster on the back and led him out of the room with the others following.

Behave, Batman said with a grunt, giving his boys the kind of glare that would have the JL flinching back and the criminals of Gotham fleeing.

Robin batted his eyes innocently and Serin gave a half-hearted nod.

When the meeting was through, the adults returned to find the room worse for wear.

Robin and Kid Flash were sitting cross-legged on a battered table (one of the few remaining pieces of furniture) with Bitewing draped over their laps. They were both fidgeting with the dog’s ears and tail as they happily talked about a fight the Bats had recently had with Penguin.

Serin and Troia were standing off to the side near some cracked flooring, talking about the Amazonian knife she was showing him. Superboy was sitting on the floor next to them, though he appeared more focused on the pets he was giving Birdhound.

The last three boys were standing next to a hole in the wall. The older two were inspecting the hole with guilty frowns while a snickering Speedy patted Hyper on the back, looking more relaxed despite the bruise on his cheek.

“What happened in here?” Arrow asked, all the adults except Superman and Batman looking shocked at the destruction.

“Sparring competition,” Superman answered, proving he’d kept an ear on the kids throughout the meeting.

“We locked a bunch of superpowered and vigilante children in a room together. I’m just pleased the room’s still standing,” Batman added.

Robin and Kid Flash laughed while Speedy bit down his own laughter at a look from Arrow.

Lantern slapped the archer on the back. “Lighten up. As much as I hate to admit it, Spooky’s got a point. We should have known the kids would screw around and set them up somewhere a little less fragile. So, who won?”

“Troia, technically, since Robin was disqualified after the tournament was over,” Kid Flash said.

Batman turned to Robin, who gave a wide grin. “I don’t want to know.”

“I would have won had I had my full arsenal,” Serin said petulantly.

“He was eliminated because Superboy managed to bear hug him right at the start of their go and he couldn’t squirm free before the time ended,” Robin explained.

“You utilized kryptonite in your spar with a kryptonian so I do not see why I couldn’t!”

Superman gave Batman a look and the vigilante sighed, holding out his hand.

Robin skipped forward and dropped a lead case into his palm. “For the record, I brought blue kryptonite.”

“Was that why you were disqualified?”

“No.”

I will be having a conversation with both of you when we get home, he said with a grunt and put the case in his belt.

“And how did you fare?” Aquaman asked his apprentice, coming over to set his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I won my match against Kid Flash, but Robin proved too formidable an opponent.”

“I lost first round to Troia,” Speedy said before Arrow could ask as he and Canary came up to the teen.

“His close combat abilities could use some work, but his skills with a bow are comparable to some of our best archers,” Troia argued. “Had our arena been larger, the fight would have been much closer.”

“Yeah, Arrow’s not too good at close range either,” Canary said, earning a huff from her boyfriend. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll show you a few tricks.”

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

If you're wondering why I put Donna in armor instead of one of the suits she wears in the comics, I ask you this: Why the flip would she want to wear some spandex suit when she could wear sick Amazonian armor? This applies to Cassie too.

And yes, Dick's treatment of Hal is a reference to a certain movie and a certain TikToker. Thanks for asking.

#batman #dick grayson #robin #damian wayne #teen titans #Robins are the Same Age AU #fanfiction #64ao1

[roseduroi]

Drop Every Fear (and Take Every Chance)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: No one taught you how to love yourself, to feel safe in your own skin. So you put the world on hold and asked why you weren’t enough.

A/N: I wrote this in my native language first. The storyline, things that I’ve put in here hit so close to home and meant so much. It took months to finish it, three days to translate. But I meant every word.

Anyway! This is my very first story where the Reader isn’t a sister or a daughter! AND writing in second person. Wooooow, this is as much exciting as it is scary.

Enjoy!

English isn’t my native language, I’m so sorry for the mistakes.

You were watching the sea touching the sky. As the dark blue waves swept the shores, the brownish-red clouds slowly swallowed the sun, which still strained to be, gently kissing their cheeks. Not yours; cheeks remained cold, untouched by the sun. A soft breeze tousled their hair, caressing their skin. The seawater washed their feet and toes curled into the sun-warmed sand. Not yours; the hair remained untouched, tidy atop, cheeks not kissed by the sun and no sand in your toes.

You watched the sea through the glass, the sun didn’t kiss your cheeks, the wind didn’t brush your hair, and the sand didn’t touch your feet.

Your hair was up in a ponytail with a blue, blue ribbon, the white button-down shirt tucked in knee-length shorts hugged your curves; your bare feet lowered on a hard marble floor. It’s cold, but tonight’s warm, your eyes are tearful, though the wind doesn’t blow here. Your clothes covered your body – no naked patch that could be exposed – everything was covered like made to be hidden.

You’re cold and afraid.

The book in your hands has long been forgotten. The old pages left shabby and letters faded from time. It was lying down on the table in the living room, next to a cool cup of tea. It was opened with a bookmark inside it and waiting.

You’ve never been as open as that book lying on the kitchen table aside in fear of being vulnerable and misunderstood. You opened up as much as you thought was necessary for the little of time they held in their hands. You knew well, words hurt when no one was listening. They came and went, but at the end of the day, you never learnt to feel safe in your skin, every time it ended with nothing but insecurities in the mind, fears in the heart, and tears in the eyes.

There was nothing that didn’t hurt.

You couldn’t surrender your heart and stand in front of all, bare the depths of your soul and let the walls fall, hope that they stayed but suffer if didn’t.

But how hard it was to be silent with so much weighting you down when the whole world still seemed to be waiting till you finally stumbled. How much you wanted a shoulder to cry on, to whisper how scary and painful it was to hold it all in. How much you wanted to be held and never let go… But couldn’t have it all – to want was never enough.

You asked yourself…

If only you knew, if only you told, (if only you could…) would they hold you as you uttered your heart and your soul? Would they believe if you told them you’re scared? If you sobbed in front of their eyes, voiced your demons and flaws, would they still pull you to them?

If you were just you, bare-faced and naked to the depths of your soul, would they stay and whisper I love you?

Would you?

You blinked when you felt your eyes water.

But here you were now, on the other side of the window, holding a cold cup of tea in your hands, long forgotten the open book on the table, you watched them from afar. Your gaze focused on Tom, watching him dive out of the water, the droplets trace down his bare back as he ran his hand through his brown curls. But only he could not see you, Tom was too caught up in the moment to notice.

His brothers were on the beach too. Harry, Sam, Paddy; everyone seemed to be having a good time. His parents, Dom and Nikki, who had been out to look around the city in the meantime and they were probably enjoying the opera at that very moment. And then there were you, who kept asking herself why Tom had invited her to his family holiday.

You dropped your gaze as you felt your heart clench.

“It’s all right, Tessa.” You said when you heard the girl whine softly while staring intently at you. You said calmly, your voice quiet, but you didn’t know who you were calming, whether Tessa or yourself. Maybe both;

Tom fell into your life, in a literal sense, as if from the skies themselves. He accidentally dropped that clay flower pot out of his balcony that night when you were going home from the cafe after your shift. And inadvertently, clay flower pot with a flower in it fell right on your head… or rather on your shoulder, dislocating it.

You smiled at the memory.

You will never forget his reaction and his fright when Tom realized that the clay flower pot that slipped out of his hands had actually hit someone. He stormed out of the flat all pale and wide-eyed; he didn’t stop asking you if you were all right.

He took you to the hospital after.

Sometimes you wonder if it was destiny, like in the tales you loved so much.

And then it all became history, though it wasn’t easy for Tom to make his way to your heart and win you over (you held the grudge for that dislocated shoulder.) But a cup of coffee after a cup of tea probably did. His British accent and his charm surely didn’t add up. Nope.

But it’s never a fairy tale. Those have happy endings in it.

You stood up from the table, looked out the window again, you closed the book. There was a sigh and you went to the bedroom you shared with Tom.

The room wasn’t big, the house itself wasn’t a giant, but there was no lack of cosiness. There was a bed in the middle of the room with white bedding, which smelled nice and fresh. A window to the garden was on one side of the bed and a bedside table with a bedside lamp on top. The wardrobe was pushed against the wall, and the other door led to a separate bathroom.

Your eyes brightened a little when you saw that Tessa had followed you into the room. She jumped on the bed and curled up in a ball on Tom’s side of the bed.

“Oh, Tessa,” You whispered softly, and the corners of your lips slightly rose. You lay down as well, bringing your knees up to your chest. You looked at the pitbull, whose eyes were already closed; you shut yours and let the sweet sleep take over you.

After a little while, when you woke up, the room was already a bit darker than before you fell asleep. You were curled up in a ball, lying on your side with your legs curled up underneath, your one arm under the pillow, while the other one gripped the soft blanket which was wrapped around your body, keeping you warm.

You were lying comfortably on the bed; your chest was moving evenly with each breath you took. You felt at ease.

You enjoyed the silence surrounding the room and closed your eyes briefly again, only this time you didn’t fall asleep. Those few moments after closing the eyes but before drifting to sleep… Those were your favourite ones. You could think, pretend, dream. You could live another life. During those few moments (usually seven of them all) you comforted yourself.

But it was short-lived. The silence was interrupted and you opened your eyes when you felt someone’s presence near you. Just at that moment, you didn’t dare to look up as your breath hitched in your throat. You didn’t know what you were afraid of, or maybe you weren’t afraid at all. Just not ready. Never ready to face that person eye to eye. Nevertheless, you flinched, but as if not quite, and with all your courage, you lifted your eyes and looked at Tom. Your eyes were timid, you felt that way.

He was lying on his back and held the book he was reading in his hands. His glasses were hanging on his nose (which, you just found out recently, he didn’t really need. Fashion statement, he had said.) His hair was almost dry, curly and the strands fell on his eyes. Tom was shirtless, that really caught your eye, and wore his grey sweatpants that you’ve always thought fit him really well.

Your cheeks flushed and you hid them in the pillow. You glanced at Tom, wanting to steal a quick look of him, but the moment you raised your eyes, Tom turned his head to you, as if anticipating you were watching him and he peered right back at you.

There were no more coldness or bitterness in his brown eyes – he stared at you with tenderness full of love and admiration. The look you were used to seeing in his eyes when he looked at you. It was a gentle shade of brown that met your eyes.

Tom took off his glasses, put the book on the table, then the glasses on top, and sat down, turning to look at you again.

“Like what you see?” Tom grinned and your cheeks flushed even more. You covered your face with your palm, but couldn’t stop the small smile decorating your face. “How was your nap?” He asked after a moment of silence, putting his hand on your thigh, gently massaging it.

“It was okay.” The answer was simple and short, clear. You glanced at his hand on your leg and slowly, almost timidly interlocked your fingers with his. As if you did it any faster or more recklessly, he would slip through your grasp. “The blanket… I,”

“You were cold,” Tom explained, stroking your hand gently with his thumb. “Earlier today…” He trailed off, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Why didn’t you come?” He asked after a moment of silence, but you didn’t answer and quietness once again swallowed the two of you. It was a rare thing between you; usually, it was hard to shut the both of you up, as Harrison, Tom’s best mate, put it. Tom didn’t understand… the keeping to oneself, the argument you had before, the silence, your silence. Why were you silent?

It ate him from inside.

“Is it…” Tom blushed and ducked his head down before looking back at you. “Is it that time of m-month? Is that why you don’t want to go swimming?” He stuttered; a little bit confused as well. He kind of knew your cycle and it wasn’t supposed to start this early. But then again, it does sometimes start earlier, or later than it’s supposed to, you can never really know though. It does like to take one by surprise from time to time and pull an unexpected red prank.

Your eyes widened and you curled up into yourself even more, “W-what? Tom, no,” No matter how close you two were, you still tried to hide those days as much as you could. You didn’t think he needed to know when your period started. And, well… you were a little bit too shy to tell him. Although you didn’t really have to say it out loud, he was very observant.

“Then what is it?” He tried again. “Was it because my brothers were there too? Were you shy of them?”

Sometimes (more often than sometimes) you got shy, and Tom had noticed that many times, especially when you were meeting new people, but you knew Harry and Sam, and you got along with Paddy – they weren’t strangers. You’ve warmed up to them. So what’s changed?

“It’s nothing, Tom.” You turned away, releasing his hand. “Just leave it. You wouldn’t understand…” You added softly.

“Then help me understand.” Tom knitted his eyebrows. “Because I don’t get it; Really, I don’t, because you’ve never been to the sea before. You didn’t have that opportunity. You’ve never been to somewhere other than London. But the moment you have a chance to enjoy yourself, have fun, the opportunity to – you immediately say no. You reject it, Y/N. So yeah, I don’t understand.” He pulled away from you the same way you had and shook his head.

You couldn’t afford such entertainment. Simply because you couldn’t afford it; you lived in a one-room flat with a small kitchen and a cramped toilet (oh, how glad you were for not being a claustrophobic). You were driving a second-hand car; you didn’t own a closet cluttered with mountains of shoes or clothes, or other stuff. But you didn’t complain. You were glad for what you had (others didn’t even have that) and you were happy, thankful you had a roof over your head.

At least in some part, this was the case.

But now you had the opportunity. You could go to the sea, be pampered, have fun and get the experience out of it and they didn’t ask you for a penny, so why not use it? Why couldn’t you just enjoy what he had to offer for you?

Tom didn’t understand, only knew that pride wasn’t the answer he was looking for. Pride was not it.

But when you didn’t say anything again, Tom had had enough.

He grabbed your arm and dragged you out of bed. The blanket he had covered you with slid down your body, and you gasped, astonished at his sudden act and the coldness that enveloped your body so suddenly. He gripped your wrist firmly but not enough to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. He didn’t pull you hard to make you stumble or lag behind as he walked.

Tom still treated you with care, even if he was mad. He was careful and made sure he didn’t hurt you. And maybe now you wouldn’t ignore that feeling spreading to your chest, warming your heart, and find a second to actually enjoy it if you hadn’t realized moments before why he was taking you outside.

You stopped and didn’t step any further. And not just because he was dragging you to the sea;

You were barefoot, the sand in your toes… you felt it, gentle but fragile under your feet. You pulled your wrist out of his grasp and looked down, wiggling your toes in the sun-warmed ground.

Tom looked back at you, not knowing what had happened. His lips formed a round shape as if he were saying a silent ‘o’ when he saw you staring at your feet as your toes disappeared, then appeared and disappeared again in front of his eyes. You looked adorable. Surprised, but fascinated. The amazement and admiration were written all over your face.

He took your hand and woke you out of your comfort zone, “Y/N?” Tom called you by your name, rubbing your arm. “What’s going on for real now?”

“Love… I can see you suffering. So why won’t you let me in?”

His eyes softened and you heard his plea.

With a sincere sigh, you realized that there was no other way than to tell him the truth, no other option than to say what was going on. To be with him a hundred percent honest, and then maybe things will work out, he will stop asking you questions, and you will no longer have to lie, and hope everything will go back to its place as it was. That’s how it should have been long ago.

Or maybe it will all fall apart. You will stand bare-faced and watch the world shatter.

Your heart hammered in your chest. But there was no other way out. You were tired of lying, of hiding your feelings, your fears. It was exhausting. And what you understood today… it wasn’t hurting just you, it impacted others too.

“I’m scared.” You told him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Of what?” Tom frowned, stepping closer to you. His voice soft. “Baby, are you scared because you can’t swim? Is that why you didn’t want to come with us?” He asked and for a second here he thought he finally understood.

Fear always remains in the subconscious after a trauma. You couldn’t swim – you never learned to after you had almost lost your life there. But if so… if you were scared, afraid of water, Tom would never let go, he would never leave your side. Didn’t you know that?

But your answer was silent – you shook your head and Tom has been left in the dark once again.

You looked at the sea, and only then did you realize how short the distance between you and it was. It was right there, so close that you could almost touch it, but so far away from your touch at the same time.

There were few people left on the beach, some of whom were still in the water, but they were getting ready to get out. Others were a little bit further away from you. Their blankets lay on the sand along with their sunglasses and sun cream, but they were also getting ready to leave.

You could hear a couple laughing right beside you. The girl wore a striped one-piece swimsuit, her hair black as the night itself, short and wet, falling down on her shoulders. She wasn’t tall at all, chubby and her face oval but she was really, really pretty.

She was folding a purple blanket with her back turned to a tall blonde-haired male. He hugged her from behind, embracing her tightly and pulling her closer, making her giggle. She turned around, still in his arms, and laced their lips together. And as the blonde stepped back, he stared down at her with his eyes full of love, like she was his whole world.

You flinched as you felt a warm hand wrap around your wrist. It was Tom. Of course, it was him, who else could’ve been? You turned your head to look up at him while he locked your hands together, smiling at you softly.

“I just want you to know, it’s okay to be afraid.”

“It’s not water I’m scared of.” You answered, but never met his eyes.

But what were you really afraid of? Because the water was not it; But the blood pulsed in your veins as never before, your hands would tremble if Tom didn’t hold them. You would run if you weren’t standing still. So what were you afraid of?

“I don’t wanna undress.” You blurted out without thinking and cringed at how bad it may have sounded. “I mean –“ you stopped. “It’s exactly what I mean.” You said, no matter how strange it might have been.

Tom frowned. “W-what?” He said meekly. “Do… do you not trust me?”

His voice became quiet, full of self-doubt, and that made you look up at him, for who but Tom was always confident. He was always so sure, so certain… and when you heard him doubting himself, when his voice trembled, his eyes widened, the look on his face…

“Y/N, please tell me you know I’d never force you into doing anything you don’t want to. I’d never touch you without your consent… Please, tell me you know that.”

Tom let go of your hand, stepping away from you as if his touch had burnt you. But he never left your eyes. He watched you intently, his eyebrows knitted, his lips slightly open. Eyes confused.

“Tom,”

Words hurt when nobody’s listening.

“I trust you more than anyone in this world.”

You smiled softly at him, coming quietly closer to Tom.

“And love you more than life itself.”

You brought a finger up to his lips, silently silencing him.

“But I will never deserve you or your love.”

You slid your finger down his lips, caught in a moment of weakness; you almost locked yours with his. You felt your eyes start to sting, your chest heave, but you didn’t let yourself break down. You couldn’t burst into tears and so you kept your eyes trained on the sand.

Tom didn’t say anything.

“I-I don’t have long legs, slim waist or smooth skin. My thighs touch each other, stretch marks mark my skin.” Your voice cracked, unshed tears threatened to spill.

The rustling of the waves died down, the wind subsided, voices faded away. “Petal…” There was tenderness as he spoke; softness in his voice as the words left his lips, but it was the used nickname that made your heart to skip a beat, tears to fall.

The nickname he called you when the moment was vulnerable and small; when the time felt fragile. Seemed, simple and short, but it was a lot more special. It held love and softness, so much of it. But it was just colourful petals, all the same, parts of flowers – soft and fragile, nothing more but nothing less, surely why it was so special.

To love is to be vulnerable.

To stand bare-faced and bare soul-ed and see if they stayed and whispered I love you.

More tears fell, you gasped – Tom pecked your lips and you stiffened. Then he pulled back, unbuttoned his grey sweatpants, and you just watched him wide-eyed as he tossed them onto the sand and dropped his phone, his watch on top.

He stood right in front of you, wearing nothing but swim trunks and watched your cheeks flush. “What-what are you doing?” You stuttered meekly, feeling a little bit confused and flustered.

The corners of his lips rose a bit and he looked down at you. “We’re going swimming.” He answered and closed that small gap between you two.

Tom put his hands on your hips, wanting to pull the tugged in button-down shirt out of those navy shorts you were wearing, but you flinched away from his touch, protectively keeping your arms at your sides. A flash of hurt crossed Tom’s facial features, but he smiled a tiny smile and he gripped your hands in his. He finally understood and this time he won’t let you slip away from his fingers that easily.

“Tom…”

“You told me you trust me.” You nodded, watching as his thumb caressed your knuckles – looking at his hands were better than staring into his eyes. He soothed you and gave the feeling of security you needed. “Trust me now too.”

“Let me see.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, the words softly dripped from his lips and you felt yourself slowly give in.

Tom let go of your hands, but he held your gaze. You didn’t flinch at his touch and he carefully pulled the shirt out of your shorts. You stood stiff, not daring to move; only your cheeks glistened with dry tears. He unbuttoned one button, then a second, starting from the bottom. His touch was light, gentle as a feather, caressing your skin. He gently slipped the shirt off your shoulders and down to the sand, now dropping it next to his.

His eyes never left yours. Not even once;

Your breath hitched in your throat as soon as the blouse hit the ground and you pulled your arms up in an attempt to cover yourself.

“Don’t hide, never from me.” Tom took your chin in his one hand, lifting it up so your eyes would finally meet while the other gently gripped your wrists. “I know you’re afraid. But it’s just me and nobody else.”

You melted into his touch holding your cheek. He brushed away a tear, another one and then kissed your nose. Your heart hammered in your chest, but you lowered your arms and your walls came crashing down as well. Tom tugged on your shorts and it fell onto the sand and you stood there bare-faced in front of his eyes, wearing nothing but a bra and underwear.

You tensed, couldn’t help it. Your whole body trembled, and your lower lip quivered too, the waves were no longer so fierce, so sharp, the blue skies were bluer. But all of you were shaking.

You never wanted this. You never wanted Tom to know, to see you like that, with spots, red dots on your skin. You hid from him, from all. You didn’t wear that shirt; you rejected that dress, your heart was aching. Because what if they saw, what if they noticed? What if they laughed?

You were ashamed, you were embarrassed, you felt exposed.

You hated it.

You.

Those traitorous tears.

How did Tom stand already behind you?

The pads of his fingers traced the patterns on your bare back, his lips ghosted over your skin. Tom kissed your shoulder, “Beautiful…” Tom whispered and you choked out a sob as he kissed you again. He twirled you around, so he could gaze upon you.

“Y/N,” His voice was quieter than the rustle of the sea. That night he called you by the name.

He brushed the falling droplets away, taking your cheeks into his hands. Tom smiled. “It doesn’t make you less beautiful. It doesn’t make you lesser than others.” He stroked your cheeks. “It doesn’t make you not good enough. You don’t have to hide, you don’t have to pretend. It’ll never change the way I see you.”

“I know it’s hard and I may not understand what you’re going through, but there’s nothing, nothing in this world that could send me away from you.”

“The dots on your skin, they don’t make me love you any less. It doesn’t define your worth – nothing will ever do. You’re beautiful just the way you are, enough just like you’ve always been.”

He pecked your lips, pulling you into his embrace. You put your cheek on his bare chest, hugging his waist as he stroked your back. You closed your eyes, enjoyed the warmth as his chest rose and fell every time he breathed.

So you stood there in his arms, you watched him stay and whisper I love you under his breath.

That night, even though the sun was already down, it kissed your cheeks, the seawater rustled so loud, and the waves washed the shores. The blue skies above your heads were never so blue, and the terns flew as never so low. A breeze tousled your hair, caressed your skin, sand stuck in your toes.

You looked at the open sea, the sun kissed your cheeks, the wind brushed your hair, and the sand touched your feet. And you thought you deserved to be loved.

“I love you, Y/N, love you three thousand.”

You laughed and stepped a little away from Tom so you could give his shoulder a gentle nudge. He gaped at you, but couldn’t suppress the laugh that followed right after. “Don’t quote the movie; I’m sensitive.” You buried your head in his chest, wrapped your arms around him.

”Whatever you say, love.” Tom grinned, putting his chin on top of your head and inhaled your sweet scent.

The truth was, those dots on your skin, those red spots, those scars or those blemishes, they don’t make you inferior to others who don’t have any. It doesn’t define your worth, doesn’t tell who you are, what you deserve and what you do not. It doesn’t make you any less worthy.

You cannot give up things in life, because you feel like you don’t deserve it. You cannot put your life on hold, because you’re waiting for your skin to get better, waiting to get thinner (chubbier) before you put on that cute dress, that shirt.

But the thing is… you don’t have to.

Go on, put on that cute dress, wear that shirt, go swimming! Eat that cupcake, enjoy the things that give you joy. Can you see how much life has to offer? Don’t put it on hold.

Life is happening, don’t wait up. You’re beautiful, don’t hide. You’re enough, don’t doubt your worth.

Embrace yourself and the world will too.

t h e e n d

-

-

-

Y/N smiled. She pressed the heart button and closed the app, locked her phone then. She threw it on the bed she was currently lying on and draped a blanket around herself. She took the hot cup of tea in her hand and looked out the window.

It was raining.

She had a bad day; her cheeks still glistered with tears. Funny, how the weather outside and her mood seemed to match.

So she had made herself something hot to drink, taken a soft blanket and sat on the bed, opened her phone and done something that always made her day.

Y/N had read.

She’d opened the app, found the story… a fanfiction that matched what she had been feeling inside, and she read.

Some people would say it was self-centering, weird, selfish even. You read (write) about yourself? The way their nose would scrunch up as they asked. Y/N ignored them. They didn’t understand.

Those stories comforted her, made her feel safe and understood, not alone. It felt home, fulfilling. There weren’t enough words to describe what it made her feel. Sometimes it ripped her heart out, then made her laugh, fall in love over again the next time.

But she never stopped reading.

It was the reality she wished she could live in.

But it’s never a fairy tale.

Y/N tore her gaze away from the window, she looked around, but no one was there. She was alone; there was no one to talk to, no shoulder to cry on. She didn’t have a Tom or her fairy tale.

Those had a happily ever after.

She didn’t.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland reader insert #tom holland x you #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #boyfriend!tom holland #tom holland au

[wildmomodoesart]

OCtober Day 1

OCtober Day 1- Beginnings

Warnings: None. Eventual romance. Slow burn

A/N: I haven’t written fanfiction in years. But I roleplay almost daily so hopefully that helps. This is to flush out my newest OC, Samantha. Also, it’s not edited because I dont have a real word pad.

It was still so early the sun hadn't peeked out of the sky yet. Yet here she was, taking in the cold New York morning air in deep even breaths. The sound of her tennis shoes hitting the pavement, along with the sound of little taps of her running companion, echoed on the near empty streets. She could feel her braid beat against her back softly with every step as she continued her early morning run with her rescued doberman, Duke. 

Samantha, Sam for short, always woke up early enough to take Duke out on her morning runs with her before work, that is if he wasn't being lazy.  Sam is a personal trainer for actors who need to prepare for huge block buster movie roles. Ever since she was little, she would hang out at her grandfather's gym and she was hooked ever since. Many times, the patrons would help teach her how to lift properly, how to protect herself if the situation ever called for it and she turned that into her profession. 

That being said, Sam was not  petite in the slightest. She had a very athletic build, small chest, and toned muscles all over. Being part Hispanic, she had tan skin and thick long dark hair that she normally tied up in a braid or two. She did have dark blue eyes, thanks to her father's genes, and one little beauty mark that kissed her left cheek.

It was early January, so to say it was cold would have been an understatement. However, she wore her thick leggings, breathable sports jacket and some fingerless gloves. The very tip of her nose was starting to get red, but she was on the home stretch. As soon as she turned this block she would only have to go about a third of a mile before she would be at her building. 

However when she looked up, having glanced down to check on how Duke was holding up, she saw something she hadn't expected. A little ways down the way, was a man, dressed in what looked like grey joggers and a black hoodie with the hood up and a beanie. Honestly, the man looked like the normal new yorker hobo with his floofy beard and crouched down stance. At this point, Duke switched the side he was running along, unprompted, to put some distance between the man and his mother. It was a silent thing Sam always appreciated about the doberman.

Before she could cross the street to give them both some space away from the hobo, Sam noticed it. There was a small grey looking dog near him. The dogs face was box-y, almost round, and she instantly recognized the breed. It was a little pitbull. And by the looks of it, it was still very unsure about the man who was holding out a mcdonalds cheeseburger. The scene caused her to slow her pace down, her own dog mirroring the motion, though his ears perked up even higher at the sight of the potential new friend. The other pair looked over at them, this gave the small pitbull the opportunity to take the burger from the man's hand and cower back a bit more.

The look on the man's face was... tender almost. They were close enough that she could hear his gruff voice whisper a 'shit' and 'its okay mama, its okay' before he turned to look back up at her and her dog. Snapping her fingers, Duke sat on command and Sam ordered him to stay put as she approached slowly.

"Is she yours?" She asked softly, keeping her distance so not to scare the dog away.

"Mm? No. Found her." He said simply as he looked her over a bit before he backed up a bit and stood, going to the bench close by to get another yellow wrapped burger. "Trying to bribe her. I've seen her around here for a few days now. Thinkin' she was a bait dog..."

Whatever feelings of normal dread Sam had felt at this stranger, who was surprisingly awake at this unusual hour, disappeared almost instantly. Though she did have her reserves. God forbid he was someone who was going to use her to fight or breed.

"Didn't want to call animal control. They'd probably just put her down, you know?" He said as he sighed as he reached into the bag and turned his attention back to the pit who was finishing up the burger and wagging her tail slightly. Definitely seemed like a good guy. Sam shifted, her breath and heart rate finally beginning it's decline. Looking him over she noticed he didn't have anything on him, only the bag of burgers.

"You need a hand?" She asked gently.

"Nah. 'm okay. Just got the one burger left..." He said not wanting to come off as wanting to get rid of her, but definitely wanting to have his focus on the pit bull in front of them.

"I mean, once you get her. Here. You can hold onto this." Sam held out the red leash she always held. More often than not, she would keep Duke off the leash, it being so early usually that he never wandered off or got distracted by other people. "I have a few spares at home."

Nodding towards her building that was close, Frank looked from it to her hand and then up to her blue eyes. Swallowing thickly, he took the leash and murmured a thank you. The grey pitbull began to sniff the ground around her before she began to inch closer and closer to them both. Her cold nose was close to Sam. 

This of course made Duke whine a bit. He wanted to be friends with the stray too! The pitbull's head perked up a bit but she didn't go near the doberman, instead she went back to sniffing the ground  and looked upwards towards the bearded man. Burger spotted, she licked her chops and looked at him with the most beautiful brown eyes.

"Hey there, mama." The man cooed in a soft voice and began to unwrap the burger. Breaking it into pieces, he dropped some and began to loop the leash into a makeshift collar and leash combo. 

His hand made a connection and it was almost as if the dog realized how good he was. She was wiggling her bottom so much she had to sit down and leaned on his leg as she did so, eating up the bits of burger on the floor. Sam's face held a bright grin as the man seemed to get as excited as the dog about the progress.

Soon the leash was looped around her neck and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Looking up at her,  his brows knitted a bit before spoke.

"Thank you...again... I uh... I can give this back to you when..."

"Tomorrow. Same time." Sam said looking at him seriously. "I’ll want to know how she's doing."

"Alright."

"I'm Sam." She held out her hand to him.

"Pete." Cautiously as he took her hand and shook it. She had a nice firm grip. "Pete Castiglione."

"Nice to meet you Pete. I'll see you tomorrow then." Sam let go of his hand, and began to walk backwards to her very anxious dog. "Take care of her. Or else I'll have the whole city looking for you." She winked at him, but there was a bit of something in her voice that told him that she was serious.

Oh boy.

#im a day behind #but ill have another snippet out today #Punisher #Frank Castle #frank castle imagine #frank castle x oc #frank castle drabble #pete castiglione

[wtfzodiacsigns]

Zodiac Signs Aesthetic

aries: cigarettes, electricity, bruised knuckles, graffiti, bonfires, thunderstorms, leather jackets, red neon signs, hurricanes, ripped jeans, fingerless gloves, pop punk, street lamps

taurus: dark chocolate, green hair, chokers, thick thighs, sarcasm, smell of money, burlesque, dream catchers, greek sculptures, pitbulls with flowers, shopping carts, doge, grey hoodies, netflix and chill, coca cola, skype calls

gemini: paradoxes, converse, blue hair, band t-shirts, electric guitars, cigarette packs filled with flowers, polaroid pictures, domino, denim jackets, patches, dictionaries, vodka, lana del rey, vinyl records, flannels, wikipedia, 3 am conversations

cancer: teeth gap, moon phases, pools, hickeys, round noses, constellations, retro sweaters, bangs, ocean waves, stickers on laptops, black coffee, blanket forts, golden retriever puppies, playlists, couple outfits, soulmates

leo: warm hands, kadapul flower, lip kits, dubai, sun kissed skin, kylie jenner, glitter, adidas, crowns, sunrise, laughter, upbeat songs, beach, gold jewels, palm trees, bubble tea, positive notes, hot chocolate, loud music

virgo: messy hair, melancholy, school notes, you tried star, mountain paths, question marks, books, barn owls, raindrops on windows, jack daniels, stamp collections, steampunk, saluki, skateboards, honey, latin words, albinism, bukowski, stracciatella

libra: new beginnings, heart shaped glasses, perfumes, french accent, flower gardens, bubblegum, sunflowers, big hats, pop art, heart and peace symbols, superhero t-shirts, citrus lemonade, ginger hair, blurry selfies, rain boots

scorpio: clowns and fools, snake bites, tarot, red lipstick, wolves, guns, cat eyes, knee socks, marilyn manson, vampire teeth, roses, hidden daggers, heels, stained glass, black mouth masks, hamlet, blood stains, lace underwear, tarantula, joker card, pale skin, candles, lap dances, gerard way, smirk

sagittarius: motorcycles, color palettes, world maps, roller coasters, road trips, van gogh, flying balloons, globes, mist, hello kitty band-aids, paper clips, bees, night city, the hippie van, tattoos, philosophy, leather boots, dandelion, closed eyes, street performers

capricorn: bruises, polycephaly, red wine, expensive suits, leather sofas, black clothes, money suitcases, bony hands, iphone, factory clouds, succulents, dobermans, moths, bleeding knees, levi’s undercut, comic books, dog teeth

aquarius: kaiju, metro, dark circles under eyes, glitches, neon car underglow, maelstroms, ufo, bermuda triangle, third eye, amusement parks, ghostbusters, absinthe, anonymous mask, circles in corn fields, illuminati, marianas trench

pisces: lsd papers, dreamy eyes, cotton candy skies, sasha grey, ballads, forget me nots, smudged make up, alice in wonderland, mermaids, bath bombs, stardust, flower power, wisps, heavy guitar riffs, paper airplanes   

Source:  sad-losers  

#aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #zodiac sign #fun facts #horoscope #zodiac #astrology #facts #fact #weird #weird sign #zodiac signs #aries facts #taurus facts #gemini facts #cancer facts #leo facts #virgo facts #libra facts #scorpio facts

[pika-ace]

Foster Dog Hamilton AU-Character Descriptions

((I combined all your submissions into one to save space cause I’m kinda OCD like that, okay X3))

Burr Breed: Black Lab Appearance: Um…a black lab,lol. Dark brown eyes. Breed Info: To be honest, this is just what I’ve always imagined Burr to look like as a dog. While Labs are usually very hyper, many can have a calm disposition as well. They are very friendly and charming to lots of people, as well as intelligent. Background: Burr was born to a breeding pair of Black Labs that were owned by an official breeder. He was adopted by a man at a little younger than two months. He was very hyper and playful, which amused his master at first, but as he grew bigger the man grew tired of the constant barking, and began yelling at Burr when he began to get loud, even kicking him at some points. Burr soon grew afraid to bark or make much of any noise. If he even moved around the house too much his master would get angry. He trembled at any raised voice, even at voices raised in excitement. His life soon became both monotonous and stressful at the same time. A personal motto he ended up developing was “Bark less,Wag more”. At a little under a year old, his owner finally grew tired of having him around and tied him up outside the animal shelter one night. When the employees found him they took him in right away. The attempts to adopt him out were unsuccessful, as due to his anxiety he would never play with anyone who came to look at him or interact with them much at all. Plus,he would show great fear at raised voices and barking, as if he would be punished for other dogs barking. The shelter employees decided to ask the Washingtons if they could take him. Perhaps they could help him to be a normal dog again. 

Laurens Breed: Beagle/Retriever mix Appearance: Slightly taller Beagle body, golden brown color with a white chest,fluffy floppy ears, light brown eyes. Scar on his tail. Breed Info: Beagles are friendly social dogs. They usually get along well with others. They do tend to howl and bark when left alone though due to separation anxiety. They also love to track scents,though they must be watched carefully because this can cause them to wander and get lost. Beagles owners have to work hard to train these dogs to listen, as they sometimes their pets will ignore their directions, especially when tracking a scent. Beagles are also one of the most popular breeds in South Carolina. Background: Laurens was born to a beagle father and retriever mother in a small family home. His other siblings were sold but he was kept by the original family. They had a hard time teaching him not to howl and wander off. Eventually he ended up wandering so far that he became lost. After days of trying to find his way back, he finally made it,but his father,who never really liked having the puppies around and still didn’t care for Laurens himself,chased him away before the family saw him,giving him a good bite on the tail. He was picked up by a shelter a few days later. The Washingtons were still new to this foster care thing, so they decided to try and foster him, so he was sent to Virginia to be their second foster.

Lafayette Breed: Picardy Spaniel Appearance: Just as a Picardy Spaniel looks, brown eyes Breed Info: The Picardy Spaniel originated in France as a gun dog. Today it’s nature is active,affectionate, and alert. They are great family dogs and are content to stay by their family’s side. Due to their alertness,they are excellent watchdogs and will sound the alarm if something is amiss. They are easy to train from a young age. They do best with a positive and consistent leadership. They are great with children. Background: Lafayette was born in France and purchased by an older couple living in France. After a few months, their schedule would not allow them to give as much time to him as he needed. Rather than just send him to anybody, the couple asked their friends the Washingtons to take care of him back in America. Lafayette was flown to them some time later, and has been with them since. It was soon after that the Washingtons decided to foster some more animals.

Hercules Breed: Pitbull/Rottweiler mix Appearance: Rottweiler style body, a bit leaner however. Brown brindle coloring. Brown eyes. Breed Info: Both Pitbulls and Rottweilers have a bad reputation due to many being used in dog fights. Both breeds are affectionate and protective towards people. They make good guard dogs and are both active and intelligent. Rottweilers are very alert and aware of their surroundings. They are levelheaded and calm. Pitbulls can be fearless,yet stubborn. Both breeds were used to drive livestock in the past. Background: Hercules was born into a dog fighting organization, but at a few months old he was rescued in a police raid. Despite being rescued as a pup, nobody wanted to take him, especially as he looked more and more intimidating as he grew older. At a couple years old, the staff was thinking he would never be taken by anyone,until the Washingtons took him in. He was the third dog that they fostered and kept,after Lafayette and Laurens. Unfortunately for Hercules, he is often feared by people who can’t see past his breed and history, but he is one of the sweetest dogs.

Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy Breed: Golden Retriever Appearance: Angelica: Darker gold wavy coat Eliza:Straight gold coat Peggy: Light cream coat Breed Info: Golden Retrievers are even-tempered, intelligent and affectionate. They were bred to retrieve game for their masters. They enjoy being in water and are very easy to train. They can be trained for many different things. They enjoy being around other dogs as well Background: These three sisters were born in the same litter and are inseparable. They were adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Schuyler at a few months old and have been there ever since. Angelica enjoys going duck hunting with Mr. Schuyler, Eliza gets spooked by the gunshots however, and Peggy is a little too hyper to stay quiet, so they stay home with Mrs. Schuyler. They live nearby the Washingtons’ home, and their owners have been friends with them for years,so they often go over to their home,as it is large enough for many dogs. Eliza is so calm and gentle and Peggy is so friendly that Mrs. Schuyler volunteers them as therapy dogs for children in schools and hospitals. 

(Just a little note that I forgot to add in my submissions. I made Jefferson and Madison cats because I thought it would fit them better in this AU. I may send in an alternate description where they are dogs, but for me, I headcanon them as cats. Plus, it sounds less overwhelming when you say someone is caring for five dogs and two cats rather than seven dogs.)

Jefferson Breed: Ragamuffin Cat Appearance: Brown tabby,long-haired, light blue eyes. Magenta collar Breed Info: Ragamuffins are large and long. Their fur is long, soft, and silky. It needs to be brushed daily to keep all the tangles out of the coat. They usually have a docile nature and love to be held or lay on laps. They crave attention and can become clingy. Background: Jefferson belonged to a wealthy elderly lady. He was very spoiled from the moment she bought him. The best quality,most expensive wet cat food,groomed every day and night, and the softest bed. It all ended when she passed away when he was older. After a little while, some people dropped him off at the animal shelter. He mourned his poor owner as he sat in the kennel he had been placed in. He turned up his nose at the food they offered him, he barely knew how to groom himself, and what was this bed!?. He became grumpy and unwilling to let anyone interact with him. The shelter decided to ask the Washingtons if they would be willing to foster him, as they have been pretty successful with animals. They agree, and the next day he was sent off to them.

Madison Breed: American Shorthair Cat Appearance: Small, stocky grey cat, amber eyes Breed Info: American Shorthair’s have broad chests and a muscular neck. They are placid and easy going. While they’re fine with attention, they don’t need it constantly. They can entertain themselves easily. Their coat is thick and dense, so they need some brushing, especially in the colder months when it gets thicker. Background: Madison was born in a kitten mill. He was sickly soon after birth and developed a cough. It’s a wonder he survived. Police shut down the kitten mill when he was six months old and brought as many cats as possible to be evaluated and treated. Madison was there for a few months to regain his strength. It was discovered that his cough could be controlled with medication. It wasn’t contagious but he would always have it for the rest of his life. Not many people want sickly cats,so the shelter asked the Washingtons if they could continuously foster him if the shelter provided the medication. They agreed and took him soon after that.  

#hamilton au #dog au #submission #long post

[edgeofmyniall]

four

It had been two weeks since Rachel slipped Niall her number, and he couldn’t bring himself to call or text her. What if he somehow messed this up? What if it didn’t work out? She’s Mags’ teacher and it would just be plain awkward for all parties involved.

But what if it worked out? What if, after all this time- time of loneliness and sorrow, he could feel like he was whole again? That is something he’s willing to risk everything for.

Niall lay in bed thumbing over the coffee sleeve in his hand. Still contemplating if he should text or call Rachel, he picked up his phone to eye the time. 10:26 p.m. Is it too late to call? Fuck, Niall had been out of the dating game for more than two decades. Everything with Iz had been easy, so simple. Why is that now it seemed like he was moving a boulder up a mountain trying to heave his burdens to feel happy?

Screw it. No matter how badly he scratched and clawed, Niall was bound and determined that Rachel was the one who could make his family whole again.

So with that, he dialed Rachel’s number and heard the dial tone ring twice before the other end picked up. Rachel has just gotten out of the shower when her phone rang. It was a number she didn’t recognize. It’s probably a telemarketer, Rachel thought, but it was a local number. Could it be Niall? Rachel had began to wonder if giving him her number had been a good decision. The moment where her head rested on Niall’s broad shoulder replayed in her mind. In that moment she felt comfort, something she hadn’t felt in years. And she didn’t want it to end, but she felt people begin to stare at the two. She didn’t know the rules about this kind of thing. It was all new to her. Being involved with one of her students’ parents was a foreign language to her, but she was willing to learn so she picked up the phone with hopes that it would be the ocean-eyed man who made her heart soar.

“Hello?” Rachel wrapped the grey towel around her wet naked body as she held the phone between her shoulder and ear. Blonde tendrils of soaking wet hair drip water down Rachel’s red back from the heat of the hot water.

“Is it too late to call you? I-I don’t want you to think this is a booty call or anything. I just… God. I know you’re probably asleep, right? I should probably call you tomorrow…” Niall’s voice hummed through the phone almost like he was nervous to talk to her.

“Wait, no. I just got out of the shower. I’m up.” Rachel smiled. It was him. “It’s not too late. I thought- I thought you weren’t going to call.” Rachel began pacing around the bathroom, her heart was spinning and it felt like she needed to puke her stomach was in such tight knots. She sat down on the lid of the toilet seat as her legs began to shake. Meeting Niall for the first time, she sat behind her desk and hid her nervous tick, but now it was out in plain sight.

“I...uh, I. Honestly, I was nervous about calling you. I just, I don’t know…” Niall trailed off. His voice was shaky and Rachel pictured Niall running his hands through his graying hair. And he was. He was nervous to talk to the woman who has made him feel whole again, like there wasn’t an aching emptiness in him that had been there since Isabella died. Would she want him to move on? What would she think of all this?

“Well I’m glad you called,” Rachel’s voice shook the questions out of his head. “I, um. I can’t get you out of my head.” Rachel laughed. Why did she just say that? Put the filter on Rachel. Jesus Christ.

“Same, exactly.” Niall smiled as he laid his hand on his torso. It was shaking so laying it on his stomach helped calm him. “I was actually,” Niall screwed his eyes shut, trying not to even be there physically or mentally as he asked the question which caused a lump in his throat. “I was wondering if you would like to go to dinner with me sometime? Just...two adults eating dinner enjoying each other’s company.”

“I would love that,” Rachel blurted, “I mean. It doesn’t bother you that I’m Maggie’s teacher and ten years younger?” Her leg was shaking terribly. Rachel placed her hand on her knee to stop it from trembling but it didn’t help. She needed to know the answers to those questions before going to dinner with Niall.

“I mean, no not really. I, uh, I don’t mind it. The kids might, but their teenagers. Anything that isn’t about them is bothersome.” Rachel bit her bottom lip to contain the excitement she wore. Why did Niall make her feel like a schoolgirl, giddy at every word?

Their conversation went on well into the night as they talked about noncompliance things. How they grew up. Who their first kiss was. Why Rachel has a tiny scar on her right thumb from where the neighbor’s dog bit her. Their first love. It wasn’t until both of them were laying in their beds nearly falling asleep at three o’clock in the morning that they bid each other goodnight. They had a date Saturday night.

***

It was six o’clock on Saturday night when Niall left his house. He had told the twins he would be back later that night before he rushed out the door. Normally, the twins never questioned where Niall went because he usually was helping people out in town, but he never left in his good black button down. That was reserved for church when they went. So Niall bolted out the front door as he said yelled bye to the kids.

He was early, Niall knew that, but it was his anxiety that got the best of him. He hadn’t on a date since Iz and him were married. His stomach was in knots and he had to keep wiping his hands on his jeans to subdue the nervous sweating. Niall parked at a local florist just down the road from his house. What he was looking for was something simple, nothing too romantic because after all even though it was a date per say, this wasn’t a romantic date. Niall just wanted some companionship after fifteen years. At least that’s what he told himself.

However, the florist only had roses which screamed romance and carnations which shouted funeral.

“Do you have something or know some place that might have wildflowers or anything like that?” Niall asked the older woman to looked to be in her sixties. She eyed the younger man before walking into the back. He thumbed the counter as he looked around the store more nervously. It’s getting closer to seven as time went by and part of Niall wanted to show up early- maybe to help Rachel realize he didn’t care about the age difference between them. Besides, what a decade...right?

The same woman walked through the plastic curtain that covered the doorway. She was holding a brown paper wrapped bouquet of wildflowers. She eyed Niall as she rang up the bouquet.

“Is this for the new teacher?” She asked as she pressed the drawer button. “Good for you. Getting out there.”

“Word travels fast, huh?” Niall winked at the older lady and thanked her for the bouquet. When he turned his car over, a memory of Iz washed over him.

He sat there in his car as he dreaded telling Iz goodnight. It was their first official date- without parents or any kind of supervision. It was just them. Isabella didn’t want to get out of the car, but Niall hadn’t said a word to her the entirety of the car ride home. Had she done something wrong? Niall, staring out into the darkened street, grabbed ahold of Iz’s hand, squeezing it gently.

“I had a great time tonight.” Those six words made Iz’s heart soar. As Niall turned to look at his date’s face, Isabella grabbed the back of Niall’s neck pulling him into her kiss. Her lips, sticky with lip gloss, pushed against his. They both held their breath, not wanting to ruin their first. It was sweet and innocent, but Niall felt like he lost his chance. HE was supposed to make the first move, not Iz. But as he cupped Iz’s cheek, he fell into her spell. He wanted to keep kissing her, to keep tasting her lip gloss, to keep her in his arms. The sudden knock on the window stopped them. It was Isabella’s dad who was bent over trying to get Iz to come inside.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Niall squeezed Isabella’s hand one last time.

“Let me know when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

Niall wiped away a fallen tear. After all these years, remembering Iz is still hard for him. She was there with him still in every step. He backed out of the parking lot and headed over to Rachel’s.

Her house was a one story yellow house with a green overlay. The front porch was rotting and Niall made a mental note to take care of it, even if nothing came between them. He ran his fingers through his hair, touching it up in the rear view mirror before grabbing the flowers and making his way to Rachel’s front door. When Niall’s foot stepped on the white porch, it squeaked causing barking to come from the inside of the house. Rachel had a dog?

Niall heard Rachel trying to hush the animal before opening the door. She stood in the front door wearing a red dress that hugged her hips. Her red sleeves flowed from the body of the dress, and Niall’s eyes trailed down to the small pooch that was Rachel’s stomach. He had never liked anything more.

“Wow…” Niall breathed, fully taking in the sight of his date. She had pinned her hair back on one side and curled the ends of her hair. Her black booties clicked as she moved out of the way of the door. “You look great.”

“Not too bad yourself, Niall. I have half expecting you to show up with a tool belt.” Rachel closed the door exposing a grey pitbull cowering behind its owner.

“That’s on Tuesdays.” Niall laughed. It felt good to let out some indication of what he was feeling. “Who’s this?”

“Her name is Daisy. She came with me from Florida. She’s harmless. The stigma against pitties are…”

“She’s beautiful.” Niall crouched down and held out his hand to let the dog smell of him. Daisy looked up at Rachel before walking over to the stranger. Once Daisy smelled his hand, Niall began to slowly pet the dog before standing up. “These are for you,” Niall said before handing the bouquet to Rachel. The white, blue, yellow, and purple flowers were held up to Rachel’s nose as she took in the freshness of the just cut flowers.

“Thank you. Let me put them in a vase before we go.” Rachel walked into her kitchen hunting for a vase. Niall looked around Rachel’s living room admiring all the photos of friends, family, and Daisy. He had wondered over the bookshelf when Rachel walked back in with the bouquet of flowers in an empty milk carton. “Forgot I don’t have a vase. Not every day I get flowers. Shall we go?”

The car ride was quiet except for the few moments of small talk. What could they say to each other without making it awkward? Niall turned up the radio that was playing throwback hits when the Jonas Brothers’ single “Sucker” came on.

“I was in college when they got back together. That was a great moment.” Rachel laughed as she quietly sang the words. Niall smiled as he listened to the soft voice melodically ring through the car.

When they arrived to the restaurant, the host sat them down immediately. It was a small hole in the wall, but the food was delicious. Niall ordered the chicken parmesan while Rachel ordered shrimp alfredo. They talked about their lives and the what if’s in life.

“What was the most embarrassing moment in your life?” Niall asked before taking a bite of spaghetti.

“When I lost my virginity.” Rachel said with much seriousness in her voice. Niall nearly choked on his food at her answer.

“Ho-how?” Niall was too afraid of the answer.

“I was at a party in high school and the guy I was interested in was super drunk. I started drinking and we were making out. It was...hot, not gonna lie, but we took it upstairs and everyone heard us. They had turned down the music and they heard everything. I was mortified. What about you?”

“Probably when Iz and I were in the supermarket one day and I thought I had to fart, but turns out I shit myself in the meat section.” Rachel laughed as Niall described the incident in more detail. She felt happy for the first time in a long time.

Going home, their conversation lingered. Niall had parked in Rachel’s driveway as they laughed at Rachel splitting her pants in the eighth grade.

“I had fun tonight,” Niall said smiling. He reached over and thumbed the outside of Rachel’s bare thigh. Her skin was smooth there too. She wrapped her arm around Niall’s, pulling herself closer to him as she whispered, “Me too.” They both looked into each others’ eyes before Niall leaned down and kissed Rachel on the forehead. A simple and kind kiss. Something that said “I want to, but only if you do.” Rachel reciprocated with kissing Niall’s cheek, her lipstick staining his skin. Niall’s breath caught and he felt his mouth becoming dry. He could hear the ringing of his heart in his ears. He wanted more. Did she?

Rachel pulled back slightly, both of their lips only inches apart from each other. Their heavy breathing and heaving chests were the only sounds in the Tahoe. It felt like a pressure was building into a balloon and all they wanted to do is for someone to pop it.

Niall couldn’t take it anymore. He crashed his lips against Rachel’s tasting her minty breath from her gum. His lips rolled over hers as he cupped her face with both of his hands. There was no need to hide the spark between them. It was just the two of them in Niall’s SUV- no watching eyes, no judgement, no embarrassed teenagers. Rachel grabbed the nape of Niall’s neck pulling him closer. His tongue parted her lips, begging for entrance. Rachel’s teeth clicked Niall’s as his tongue rolled over hers. Rachel moved her head to kiss Niall’s neck, sucking on his tanned skin. Niall began to kiss gently on Rachel’s shoulder blade. He felt his body shake and his head became light. He had formed a slight sweat line along his hairline. He quickly pulled away from Rachel’s embrace. He had to adjust himself- it had been awhile since he became aroused from a woman.

“S-s-sorry. I just…” Niall stumbled over his words. How could he explain this?

“It’s alright,” Rachel ran her fingers through the back of Niall’s hair. “I should get inside. Daisy’s probably going crazy. Text me to let me know you get home safe.” Rachel stole one last kiss before heading inside. Niall’s heart rang as he watched Rachel greet Daisy. If he had been looking for a sign, he just got it. And when he got home, he did just that.

“What’s that on your neck? And mouth?” Mack asked as Niall walked into the front door.

“What? Nothing. None of your business. Go to bed at a decent hour. And feed Mr. Bubbles.” Niall walked up stairs thinking that this had been the best night of his life in a long time.

#niall #niall horan #niall fic #niall horan fic #niall fanfic #niall horan fanfic #niall imagine #niall horan imagine #niall au #niall horan au #1dff

[reckoningss]

Park

Summary: A chance encounter at the dog park opens some old wounds as well as doors to new beginnings

Pairing: Frank Castle (Punisher) x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Wordcount: 4.2k

A/N: I’ve been so inactive lately and it feels really good to write again. Feedback is always welcome.

Nootka explodes across the dog park at what feels an awful lot like lightspeed after the purple tennis ball you’ve just thrown, kicking up a spray of dirt and pine needles in her wake. You watch her go, lean muscles rippling beneath the sheeny remnants of her expertly cropped summer coat, as she distends, her entire length airborne before she draws in and her feet contact the ground and rocket off again. There’s joy in it. Peace in watching your two-year-old flat coat retriever jet around the ballpark disturbing the autumn leaf litter, tongue flapping from the side of her mouth- pink breaking up the cold starkness of her black face.

She finds the ball near the base of a tree, barely pausing with a dip of her head as she retrieves the toy and pivots to make her way back to you. The trot back is leisurely. Casual - the way she picks up her paws as she jogs, the ball wedged neatly within her teeth.

You clap your hands, bending at the knee a bit. “Good girl, Nootka!” A pair of amber eyes light up at the sound of your voice and she picks up her pace. You’re never stingy with your affirmation and she - in turn - is always exceedingly responsive.

When she’s halfway back to you though, you catch a streak of grey in your peripheral vision. It intercepts Nootka, slamming into her and knocking her off course. A tense growl rips the air - guttural and angry. You answer it with a yelp and take off at a sprint, your booted feet clumsy through pine straw and fallen leaves.

“Nootka!” you skid to a stop a few feet from the pair of dogs as they circle one another - your heart in your throat with the realization that you’re not entirely sure what to do. You’re not too keen on jumping between two angry animals, even one as familiar as Nootka, especially not one as big as the interloping pitbull.

Pitbull.

You pause to survey the scene, your pulse slowing ever so slightly. The tennis ball lies a few feet away, completely forgotten. Nootka’s tail is wagging a mile a minute and she growls again, but you recognize the sound as playful as she lifts a paw to shadowbox at her new friend. Seeing you, she stops and sits back on her haunches politely. Noticing his playmate’s now reserved behavior, the pitbull turns around to peer up at you. Instead of looking chastened though, his tail begins to wag so violently that his entire rear end moves, wide mouth lolling open in a goofy grin. That’s what really gets you; you kneel on the ground, a smile cracking your cold-chapped lips. The dog sniffs your offered palm before pressing his wide head into it, demanding affection.

You sigh. “Where’s your dad, Max?”

A shadow falls over you blotting out the faint warmth of the autumn sun. You already know who it is and don’t bother to look up yet, instead scratching Max behind the ear just the way he likes it. You can feel the impatience radiating from behind you though, so eventually, you turn around and squint up at him - Frank Castle.

He’s already looking at you, studying you, but you don’t shrink beneath his gaze. Not like you used to. He says nothing, dark eyes sliding over to your dog and the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

“Hey, Nootka girl.”

She loses all sense of good behavior at that, up from her seated position and rising on her hind legs in a second flat. Frank catches her front paws in his hands like they’re dancing and you scowl. It’s a bad habit that Frank encouraged and one that you’ve been hard-pressed to eliminate during his absence. He notices your disapproving expression and releases Nootka’s paws, allowing her to drop back onto all fours.

He says your name expectantly like he’s been saving it. Holding onto it for a moment like this. “It’s been a while.”

You shrug, stuffing your hands back into your pockets. “I needed a while.” Your gaze stays trained on the dogs as they play, familiarizing themselves with one another. His gaze bores into your profile. “Max looks good. Healthy.”

It draws Frank’s attention away from you and back toward his dog - eyes following the strong slope and pull of the pit’s muscles as he moves. You’re right. He looks better than he did when you last saw him, they both do.

“He’s alright,” Frank says in that noncommittal way, “he’s been a little lonely.

Frank wants you to look at him - really look at him - but you don’t. Bending, you retrieve the tennis ball and brush away dying blades of fescue with absent-minded fingertips. You tuck it into your pocket and squeeze - the rubber give of it reassuring.

“You should get him a friend.”

Frank huffs a breath through his nose - the ghost of a laugh. Shakes his head. “He had one. Once upon a time.”

A wispy finger of fall wind sneaks up the back of your peacoat and tickles your spine. You remember. When you were together, Frank would sometimes show up at your door in the middle of the night. He’d show up in all states of dishevelment with Max on a leash, the brawny dog’s grey fur sporting browning patterns of blood. Frank’s blood.

“Just a few nights,” he’d say, “I just want him to be safe.”

And you would take him in, wash away the blood with warm water in your small bathtub and put out two bowls of food in the morning. Neither of you would sleep while Frank was gone. You’d lie in bed and worry and sometimes in the shuttered moonlight, you’d catch the glint of Max’s amber eyes flickering toward the door from his spot on the dog bed beside a sleeping Nootka. Wondering where Frank was.

“You and me both, bud,” you’d whisper to the dark.

“That’s not the kind of friend he needs.” Your voice is hard and cold - sharper than you’d expected or intended. You don’t take it back. Why apologize for the truth? “I couldn’t afford for you to die in some alley and leave me with two dogs.”

Frank says nothing, just ducks his head a bit the same way Max does when he’s been scolded and you feel slightly vindicated. Only slightly. Dating Frank hadn’t been easy. Leaving him had been even harder, and seeing him like this - for the first time since you’d broken things off, might just be hardest of all.

It’d been a Thursday, or maybe Friday. Early in the morning and deep, deep into the night when you showed up at Frank’s door for a change, Max’s leash clutched tightly in a shaking hand. You hadn’t expected him to be home, hadn’t expected the door to swing open, revealing Frank in a black wife beater, angry lacerations littering the skin of his arms and face between clouds of blue-yellow bruises. He relaxed when he saw you, his posture settling into comfortable vulnerability. That’s what probably hurt the most - he let his guard down for you. You’d shoved the leash into his unprepared hands, the words tumbling out of your mouth.

“I can’t do this. Can’t keep watching you run off to go kill people and get killed and pretend that everything’s fine.”

And then you’d left. Told him not to stop by anymore, not to call. He didn’t fight you. He’d seen it coming - known how close to the edge you were getting with his late night rendezvous and constant vendettas. Frank had let you go.

That part hurt too.

Frank settles into the silence - used to it. He expects you to break it, to make small talk uncomfortably. Little does he know how much you’ve changed in the intervening six months, how close you’ve gotten to the silence, how much you’ve come to enjoy it - taking solace in it. And you won’t bend now, not to make him comfortable. So you stand - side by side - early autumn wind whistling between you where words should be. You watch the bronze sun slide down the sky and nestle lazily behind the trees, Nootka and Max haloed in orange as they tussle.

Eventually, you check your watch - 6:29 PM - and pull the braided cord of leash from your deep pocket and let it unfurl.

“Nootka!” she pauses her antics for a moment, large head cocked at the sound of your voice. “Time to go!”

She returns to you obediently, sitting still as you latch the leash to her collar. Beside you, Frank calls to Max and does the same. Done, you wait patiently for Frank to finish with Max and straighten, the worn black leash clutched loosely in his hand; when he does, you offer a stiff smile and an even stiffer hand for him to shake.

“It was good to see you. You look good. Both of you.”

Frank regards your extended hand as though he’s never seen anything like it, distrust and disappointment apparent in his usually guarded expression. You don’t blame him. It’s a pitiless show of distance - a power move - your way of showing him how far from beneath his sway you are.

Frank shakes his head a little, throwing one shoulder up in a shrug - you think - meant to indicate direction. “We’re going the same way if I remember right. At least for a little.”

He’s right, and there’s no point lying to him.

Max pulls against the leash - an uncharacteristic show of impatience from an otherwise well-behaved dog. Nootka yawns.

“Let me buy you a coffee.”

What could it hurt?

“One cup,” Lines have to be drawn somewhere. “To go.”  

Frank bares both palms in acquiescence. “Fine by me.”

The walk, thus far, is pleasant.  Quiet, though not for lack of trying. You’re reluctant to open up to Frank again and he knows it. You wonder if he can feel the chill rolling off you, ice hindering your every move, running through your veins in his presence. There was a time when you did nothing but burn for Frank,  but he’ll be damned if he finds any warmth in you now.  

Nootka follows her nose to the underside of a trashcan and she pauses to sniff before jogging back up beside you.

“I see you killed half of the Lower East Side last month.” The authorities aren’t sure who was responsible for the massacre but you know Frank and he doesn’t deny it.

A familiar hardness sets itself in Frank’s jaw, though Max doesn’t notice. He turns his head up toward his owner, that signature pitbull grin wide on his face. Beneath the thick corduroy of his jacket, you see Frank’s hands flex into uneasy fists.

“Only the drug lords.”

You snort a shallow laugh before you can contain it, frustrated with Frank’s skewed morals.

“They were recruiting kids to run that shit for them.” From the corner of your eye, you watch his eyes dart as he talks, the gears in his head ever turning. “Coercing more like. That’s just sick.”

You turn away so he doesn’t see the way you purse your lips, saying nothing, though he’ll feel it in your silence all the same.

Frank cracks a sardonic smile. “Uh huh,” he raises a hand, pointing one thick, scarred finger at your temple - its tip floating in your peripheral vision. “You’ve got nothing to say because you agree with me. You know I’m right.”

You bat his hand away from your face and glower. “On what the problem is, yes, but not with your solution!”   

“See that’s the problem with all you kumbaya types and the politicians and the cops. Yo-you say you want real solutions. Real solutions. But you’re not ready to do what needs to be done to get real results.”

“You don’t get to decid-”

“But I do!” Frank stops in his tracks and Max’s head snaps up at the rise in his voice. “I do! Because I’m the one who does it. I don’t need a committee. I don’t need bureaucracy or a vote - I take the trash out.” He claps his hands together theatrically.  “I make the decision.”

You keep walking, anger singing too hot in your veins to stand still. Frank falls into step beside you. “That’s why you can’t make that decision. You can’t kill everyone!”

It’s Frank’s turn to snort and you bristle.

“So what happens, Frank? You ‘take out’ everyone that you think should go and who’s left?”

“You!” Frank reaches out and stops you in your tracks, large hands cupping your shoulders and turning you toward him, sending a jolt through your body. His face is so close to yours all of the sudden. It’s the first time you’ve really looked at him and your breath catches in your throat. “You’re left. You and the soft people like you who see sunshine and silver linings everywhere.”

His hands are burning through the layers of your clothes, through the wool and the cotton until you feel the familiar ghost of skin on skin. His eyes soften and his voice does too. “And me - the one that protects you.”

You shudder despite the coat, in spite of his warm gaze and his hands. Shudder due to the proximity and remember. Your favorite moments with Frank had been the ones where you felt safe - early mornings spent in bed wrapped in his arms, hours spent in the gym with him teaching you to jab and block. Late nights when he would return to you from God knows where doing God knows what, deep kisses and even deeper silence as he held you and in holding you promised to do so forever.

Frank lets go of your shoulders and angles himself down the sidewalk again, a tense set to his shoulders like he used to get when he would feel all too much. You watch him disengage, deftly quashing the welling emotions and replacing them with cool, steady grit and you miss his eyes on you. You miss his touch.

The wind ruffles his black hair, sliding airy fingers through it the way you wish you could. He’d worn his head shaved when he was with you, the style accenting the harsh angles of his face, highlighting the bruises and the cuts that often adorned his sharp cheeks. The scars are still there now but they’ve faded, his weathered visage softening into a veteran’s face. The mask of an old man. You’d never imagined that Frank would live to see old age, but you’re beginning to let yourself hope.

“Come on.” His voice is husky, throat heavy with his feelings and your searching gaze. “We’re not too far.”

The four of you shuffle up to a coffee shop called “Dreggz,”  an overturned coffee cup hanging on the end of the hand-painted sign with a single drop of coffee dangling from the rim. You kneel to tie Nootka’s leash to the bike rack outside and then accept Max’s leash from Frank and do the same. The two immediately lie down beneath the rack, happy to rest in one another’s company.

You scratch Nootka under the chin. “Be good.” Max gazes at you expectantly and you rub the crown of his wide head until his tail thumps the ground contentedly. “You too.”

Your knees crack when you stand and turn toward the shop. Frank’s already holding the door open for you. A thin mechanical chime sounds as you step into the cafe followed by Frank and he lets the door swing shut behind you. There are already a few people in line, a handful of busy millennial creative types in thick horn-rimmed glasses and even thicker blanket scarves. It’s warm - warm enough to make you realize how cold it is outside - so you rock from foot to foot several times and blow mouthfuls of air into your hands and Frank does too, the two of you like horses congregating lazily in the paddock at dawn.

You aren’t sure how to act here, inside four walls and beneath a roof with other people around and Frank beside you for the first time in months. So you ignore him mostly. The air is heavy and contained, the essence of coffee beans and chocolate passing in and out of your lungs again and recirculating about the space. You lean out of line a bit - letting Frank step in front of you - fingers grazing over the iridescent packaging of some holiday bundle, gaudy and cheaply opulent in a middle-class sort of way - the cellophane crinkles between your reaching fingertips.

That’s when it happens; a man - some self-important, self-made entrepreneur type - steps in front of you. It’s rude, but you would be just as content to let it be if he hasn’t jostled you while he cuts in line, one imperious elbow catching you in the rib as he shoulders past you. You grunt at the unexpected contact and shuffle away to maintain your footing and Frank turns around. He lays eyes on the man and just holds him there, deadlocked in a dark, sinister gaze.

The self-made man finally realizes he’s being watched and shoots Frank a look with raised brows.

Frank, unmoved, just keeps staring. “Do you know how a line works?”

“What?” Self-made man looks confused until he follows the line of Frank’s inclined head back to you. He hikes his thumb back like he’s indicating a cow at auction. “She wasn’t in line.”

“She was.” You can tell Frank is on the edge of something - anger, violence - you’re not sure, but you wonder what it feels like to live your whole life ready to blow. “I know because she was in line with me.”

Self-made man shrugs and hikes his thumb back again. “That’s not what I saw, but feel free to go back there and stand with her, guy.”

By now you want to interject, step between the two and stop the flow of testosterone and over-inflated egos. Remind them both that you’re still there, but Frank beats you to the punch again. He steps toward Self-made man carefully, the thick soles of his boots sounding solidly off the tiled floor.

“You wanna reconsider?”

Frank grinds the words out quietly like they’re coming from between two huge, crushing millstones. He’s standing close to him now, close enough that Self-made man can feel his breath. Close enough that - if Frank were an animal - he could smell Self-made man’s fear and maybe he is, maybe he can. Close like a man who knows he can win any fight he picks - any day. Frank looks over the man’s head at you, brown eyes meeting brown eyes. He knows just what you’re thinking.

“Please reconsider.”

There’s no ‘please’ about it, you can hear it in Frank’s voice and Self-made man can too and he nods.  “S-sure.”

He steps out of line and lets you step forward, nodding at you as you go. Frank holds out a hand like a cordon, blocking him from getting to you - not that he’d try - and then lets it hover mere millimeters from the small of your back, like touching you but not, until you’re safely in front of him. Then he stands close behind you like a warning, his nearness almost like an arm around your waist, possessive in an intangible, warm kind of way.

By the time you reach the front of the line, Self-made man isn’t even behind you anymore; the barista smiles up at you serenely from beneath chic bangs. You order a tea - pomegranate - to soothe your aching sweet tooth and Frank orders coffee - black - to match his grim outlook, you think. You almost laugh at that. The cute barista says the total and Frank goes fumbling in his pocket behind you, all chipped nails and calloused fingers. But you’re quicker on the draw, jamming your ready credit card into the waiting card reader. You ignore Frank burning holes into the back of your head, knowing he’d half prefer to rip your card out and pay himself, but certain he won’t make a scene. He grumbles something useless instead.

While the receipt prints, you chance a glance over Frank’s shoulder through the wide plate window. Outside the dogs lie beneath the bike rack, patient and lazy. Max’s fat head is propped up on Nootka’s back.

“Dogs ok?” Frank doesn’t even bother to look, murmuring the words near your temple instead.

You hum a yes and turn away just in time to accept the ridiculously long receipt and a warm cup of tea sitting neatly in a cardboard sleeve.

When you pocket the receipt and go outside and untangle the dogs and their leashes from the bike rack, you prepare to cut ties, to loosen yourself from whatever semblance of comfort you’ve fallen back into with Frank. That is until he offers to walk you home.  

“Just halfway,” he says, “I won’t escort you all the way to your door.” He grins that grin that you used to love, once upon a time. The kind he grinned on your first date and then only a handful of times after. It’s pure, almost shy, free of any semblance of the man he became long before he found you.

You take a sip of your tea, reveling in the tangy sweetness for a moment too long, to give the impression that you’re thinking when in all actuality, you both know the answer. You don’t know why you nod but you do - maybe because your tea-warmed abdomen is thrumming with that all too familiar feeling. For most people, one look from Frank opens up a black hole in their stomach, guts churning with fumbling anxiety, but when he looks at you, oh, it gives you butterflies.

You nurse your tea as you walk, burning your tongue with small sips every so often and letting the cup function as a hand-warmer more than anything. Frank all but chugs his coffee then crushes the paper cup in his hand before tossing it carelessly into a nearby trash can. The dogs walk out ahead of you, Max’s shorter legs churning double time to keep up with Nootka’s long, graceful stride. Their tails wag happily in the air.

When you reach the intersection, the parting of roads that marks halfway to your tiny apartment, you take a step into the street, prepared to separate yourself. From this, from Frank. You move to plunge into the empty air before you and let a ceaseless river of cars and bike couriers flow between you and months of memories and what-ifs and late nights praying and hoping and wondering. You turn back with one foot still in the street so you’re just as likely to be swept away from either side.  

“Goodbye, Frank.” You mean to say it simply, like stating a fact, but do you hear...regret in your voice? You aren’t sure.

“Thanks for the coffee.”  Frank says the words like he wants to talk about so much more than coffee.  

He leans in then and you let him. He leans half into the street and cups your shoulder and kisses your cheek and lets his lips linger there as if he’s searing the kiss into your skin so you can take it with you. You turn at the last fleeting moment just as he’s about to pull away, crane your neck and catch the corner of his lips with yours - like a whisper. Like playing tag with mouths instead of hands. Frank just stands there, his lips caught by yours like he doesn’t know what to do. Maybe he doesn’t. It doesn’t last for long, because the next thing you know he’s kissing you back, full on, squarely kissing you. His mouth is bittersweet against yours and he drags one big hand along your waist and then winds his arm around and pulls you in. You have both feet on the sidewalk now, both feet firmly on land again and then not so firm when you lean up onto your toes and wrap both arms around his neck. A nearly empty cup of tea, resting comfortably on his broad shoulder.

You could get lost in this. You do get lost in it, if only for a moment, and when you surface, Frank presses his forehead to yours and smiles that smile again. You move to step back, to disengage yourself from this heady, giddy haze of coffee and kisses far better than they ought to be, but you can’t move.

You both look down to see that Nootka and Max have encircled you both with their leashes at least three times each in opposite directions, cocooning the two of you together like a pair of lovesick mummies.

Nootka - having expended the length of her leash lowers herself onto her haunches and pants casually. You throw your head back and laugh but the action nearly throws you off balance and you teeter for a moment before Frank shoves a hand into the pocket of your peacoat and steadies you.

You chuckle gratefully, and lean up again, pressing more of a smile to his cheek than a kiss.

“Your place or mine?”

Frank and Fall, what more could you ask for?

#Frank Castle #The Punisher #Frank Castle x Reader #The Punisher x reader #Frank Castle fluff #Frank Castle fic #Frank Castle imagine #The Punisher fic #Punisher fic #Punisher imagine #Punisher fluff #Defenders #Marvel fic #MCU #Frank Castle x you #Punisher x you #Avengers fic #Defenders fic #My writing

[sirkkasnow]

01 Let Trouble Come To You

Ao3 link

06/30/13 Sunday

Stan registered three things as he stepped out into the heavy summer sunshine:

First, there was an old square-sided station wagon smashed nose first into the side of the Shack.

Second, Ford had just wrenched open the driver’s door.

Third, the occupant of the wagon, a well-dressed woman, looked up – disoriented but conscious – eyes flicking to his twin, then to him.

Son of a bitch, thought Stan, pushing himself into a jog across the lawn. He hadn’t made it halfway before the woman in the wagon clapped both hands over her startled mouth and burst into tears. Ford winced, backing off with the penlight he’d been waving in her face. Stan put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and drew him back another step, leaning in.

“Hey. Hey, ma’am, you okay in there?”

He got a shaky nod that did nothing to interrupt a series of faint jagged sobs, the kind of tears you got when you were trying very hard not to cry. The driver curled in on herself, knees tucked up, a ball of misery he had no idea how to unravel.

Mabel popped out of the nearest door and skidded to a halt in open-mouthed surprise. Stan pointed her way. “Mabel! Pumpkin, go get a box of tissues and a cold washcloth, all right? Ford, what the hell?”

“I have no idea! I heard it just when you did. I was in the lab – “

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“ – testing the new safety features I just installed on the magnet gun.” Ford looked over his shoulder in dawning horror. “Which must have pulled this victim of circumstance right into the house.” Mabel was already back, dashing to the driver’s side with tissues and washcloth in hand. Her bright voice rang out in greeting and got a muffled response.

“Sweet Moses, Ford, you’ve done it this time.” Stan pulled himself upright with a sigh, doing the mental math and eyeing the damage to the Shack’s shingling. The wagon had definitely gotten the worst of it, he decided with a twinge of relief. He noted a few details – Colorado plates, occupied bike rack, the clutter of an extended road trip jammed into the rear compartment. “Ma’am?”

The woman in the wagon had uncurled a bit, finally, pressing the washcloth to her face. She lowered it to reveal fine, sharp features, grey eyes pink at the edges. “Clary,” she said, thick-voiced, then cleared her throat. “Clary Merrick.”

Mabel was patting Clary’s knee. “She says she’s okay! Clary, these are my grunkles, you’ve met Ford and that’s Stan. Welcome to the Mystery Shack! I’m really sorry about all of this!” Her eyes tracked over to Ford, who was looking guiltier by the second.

“It’s all good, Mabel. Just an accident, right? We’ll get a tow truck out here for this poor unfortunate – “

“I’ll take care of it,” said Ford.

Stan bit back a laugh. “You, fix this mess?”

“I’ve figured out a few alien vehicles in my time – “

“You kiddin’ me?”

Stan turned away from the car, tugging Ford along with him. “You do see what kinda shape this thing is in, right? This was somewhere between vintage and decrepit before it got friendly with the Shack. I can probably get it runnin’ again, but unless you have an engine-repair gun hiding in that lab of yours, that’s gonna take time.”

“Stanley. This is my fault.” The corners of Ford’s eyes crinkled with distress and Stan swore internally.

“Look. Fine. We can let her stay here for the night and I’ll take a look in the mornin’, but you’re gonna modify that magnet gun to iron out body panels or we won’t get too far.” Behind them, a heavy click marked the release of the seat belt.

“A tow truck would be fine. I’d really hate to impose.” Clary stepped unsteadily out of the station wagon, pushing out behind her with a careless hand to close the door with a firm thunk.

The four of them watched as the S from the Shack sign wobbled, skittered with increasing speed down the roof and thudded with a deep crunch square into the center of the crumpled hood. A last hiss of steam welled, faded and died.

Clary laid a hand over her brow, drew a long, steadying breath and turned away. “I’d be happy to take you up on a spare room for the night. Thank you so much.”

Their guest – Stan had to keep reminding himself, guest and not expensive, potentially litigious annoyance – pulled a small overnight bag out of the back seat and trailed after the family to the house, pausing to swap phone contacts with Mabel on the way. Waddles trotted by to check out Clary’s ankles, prompting exclamations and explanations on the way inside. He couldn’t blame the lady. Few people expected to be accosted by a pet pig.

Clary spent five minutes in the washroom and emerged looking…polished. Eyes clear, tear blotching gone, hair tucked smoothly away into its twist. The jaunty little silk neckerchief wrapped snugly twice and knotted at her neck had been set straight. Her glance drifted across Stan’s without really sticking and she offered a careful smile, tagging along with Mabel for what sounded like a house tour.

Stan recruited Dipper as an assistant. Clearing the spare room went fairly quickly, boxes of old merchandise stacked off to one side. He fished out a marker and tagged a few for later discount – some of this stuff had to be six years out of date by now, not quite old enough for a retro sale.

“ – and here is your room! Which is now almost completely clear of terrifying cursed artifacts and where you are guaranteed to have a great night’s sleep!” Mabel burst through the door and tossed a heap of pillows on the almost-inflated air mattress, ignoring Dipper’s hey! of protest as he labored away at the foot pump.

Clary stuck her head in, then leaned through the doorframe just enough to drop off a pile of blankets, linens and a large stuffed blue whale. “The whale’s on loan,” she said, when Stan shot her a flat look of disbelief.

“We’ll make the bed,” Mabel sang. “You two go get acquainted!” She nudged Dipper aside and took over foot-pump duties with enthusiasm.

“Uh – yeah, I guess we’ll see you guys in a couple minutes?” Dipper scooped up the sheets. “We’ve got this.”

Stan found himself ejected into the hallway. Clary blinked up at him, expression softened by maybe a quarter smile. “Mabel is a force of nature.”

“You said it. C’mon, sounds like you already got a pretty good look at the joint.” Stan tipped a thumb over at the connecting door. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever been to the Mystery Shack before?”

“I’ve never been to Oregon before, but I know the name, at least. Saw a bumper sticker – “

“Ha!” Clary rocked back on her heels in surprise. “Hear that, Ford?” Stan yelled in the general direction of the kitchen. “Those bumper stickers were a good investment! And Sixer says they’re too ‘plain’ and ‘graphically simplistic’ and ‘don’t even have an address on them Stanley how is anyone supposed to find the place’ to attract customers.”

“Well, they are graphically simplistic!” Ford leaned over to call back through the kitchen doorway. “I don’t know how she found the place, let alone thought ‘What is the Mystery Shack’ was compelling.”

“No, no, I liked it. Very minimalist. What’s the point of advertising the Mystery Shack if there isn’t a little mystery to solve on the way? Besides,” her voice dropped into a barely-audible rumble, “I’d say it was the magnet gun that was really compelling.”

She’d said that in perfect deadpan, and Stan’s grin went wide. “I like you, Clary. How about I give you a tour sometime tomorrow, regular price.”

That got him a doubtful sidelong frown, and Stan laughed. “We’ll eat in like half an hour. Feel free to unpack or get interrogated by Mabel or whatever. Congratulations, you’re the most interestin’ thing to have happened here all summer.”

Twenty minutes later Ford had managed to pad out dinner with some odds and ends from the freezer. They swiped a kitchen chair to wedge in at the dining table. Clary now sported a Mabel scarf pinned across her chest, anchoring a dishtowel-wrapped bundle of what had to be frozen peas at her left shoulder. Stan reckoned she was anticipating a bruise from the seat belt. Smart. Mabel, bless her, led in with loud enthusiasm about the pleasures of summer in Gravity Falls, and a round of questions followed as he loaded up his plate.

“I’m a lawyer,” Clary said into a still moment. “I specialize in federal tax work.”

He hadn’t been tuned in to the conversation, but that particular combination of phrases was enough to both douse Stan’s nerves in ice water and trigger a regrettable reflex. He set an elbow on the table, leaned in, and said: “What’s the difference between a lady lawyer and a pitbull?”

Clary’s focus snapped to him. Stan raised an eyebrow.

The professional mask didn’t slip, but there was a spark of hot defiance at the back of her eyes. “Lipstick. Why did New Jersey get all the toxic waste and California get all the lawyers?”

Stan almost laughed – apparently there was something human in there after all. “Jersey got to pick first. What’s the difference between a dead skunk in the road and a dead lawyer in the road?”

“Skid marks in front of the skunk. What’s the difference between a lawyer and a boxing referee?” Clary relaxed with an arm draped along the back of her chair, looking at him with her chin cocked the slightest bit in challenge. Mabel had both hands over her mouth, stifling a giggle; Ford and Dipper both looked like they wanted to dive for cover.

“A boxin’ referee doesn’t get paid more for a longer fight.” He’d pinned down the accent now – she sounded like Ford, faint traces of a mid-Atlantic cadence all but buffed off by too much damn education. Not Southern enough for Virginia, so – “You’re a long way from home, Maryland.”

“Could say the same for you, Jersey,” she fired back, lips quirked, aware that she’d had the easier lift. “Long Branch?”

Shit, she had him within thirty miles. Stan rolled with it, slung her a finger-gun and a wink. “Close. Baltimore?”

Clary rolled her eyes in return. “There’s not much else in Maryland, but close enough, hon.”

That took some of the starch out, and the discussion relaxed a little. Clary chatted museums with Mabel and Dipper, displaying all the trademark enthusiasm of a hopeless nerd, which was probably going to make dinner even more exhausting than usual for the next few days.

Stan lobbed an occasional joke at Clary for the rest of the meal. She swatted them back with the easy contempt of a bored tennis pro. He was going to have to do some research, because she definitely knew more lousy lawyer cracks than he did.

They left the dishes for later. Ford perched atop the skull side table, Mabel made herself at home on one arm of Stan’s recliner, and Dipper helped pile up a mountain of pillows for himself and Clary. “Are you all caught up on Ducktective?” he asked as Stan got the TV going and started skimming through channels.

“Never seen it, I’m afraid.”

“You’ve never seen it?! Oh my gosh, there is so much going on this week! Listen up, I’ll explain the basics!” Dipper plopped onto a pillow next to Clary and managed to keep it more or less to a whisper, going squeaky as he got to the really good bits.

The whole room went tense and silent for that week’s reveal, then exploded in groans as Mabel waved a dismissive hand at the screen. “Oh, come on! DipDop called that twist like a month ago.”

Dipper puffed out his bony chest. “Well, Mabel, once you’ve seen real weird, mere fiction gets a lot easier to predict.”

“Uh huh. Those real dishes aren’t gonna do themselves.” Stan headed Dipper off at the pass with a brief glare of warning and hauled himself upright. “Clary, you mind helpin’ me round all that up?”

Ford gently shooed the kids up to bed as Stan and Clary cleared the table and headed for the kitchen. She tossed the bag of peas back into the freezer and headed over to join Stan at the sink, taking up a dishtowel, accepting clean glasses and swiping them dry as he passed them over. “That was an adventure.”

“There’s a ton to catch up on, there. Last season was pretty good. You gotta laptop or somethin’?”

“Mmhm. Not sure how much time I’ll have to spare for binge watching, though. What’s your read on the car?”

“Need to have a look under the hood for that. At least a couple days, and honestly, maybe a little more.” Stan watched her lips compress from the corner of one eye. “That thing’s a classic, if you wanna put it charitably.”

“You’re being charitable. I did have – “ Clary smiled briefly up at Ford as he joined them to start on put-away duty. “I did have some work done on it before I left just to make sure it wouldn’t break down. The plan was for a pretty long trip. Not that it matters much at this point.”

“What’s a girl from Maryland doing out in Oregon with a Colorado license plate?”

“I inherited the car. I’m driving to Seattle to scatter my mother’s ashes in the Pacific.”

And damn, what a way to kill a line of inquiry. She handed a dry plate off to Ford, who put it in the appropriate cupboard, looking a little lost. For a good thirty seconds it was nothing but running water and the clink of china.

“So – does the timin’ matter? We could get you on a bus, hook you up with a rental?” Stan was running the mental math again, and yeah, like it or not this one was going to be on him and his brother. Well, dammit.

“She’s dead, Stan, no one’s in a hurry. Least of all me.” A tiny, bitter twist pulled at one corner of her mouth, but she looked up to Ford and her tone was sincere. “Listen. This was an accident, I get it. A very weird accident. I was already planning to make a sort of travel holiday of this, and I’ve got no issue staying in Gravity Falls for a little while – I’ve got the bike and plenty to read. Can you recommend a hotel? A B&B maybe?”

Yes! thought Stan, then No! as Ford opened his mouth and started playing gracious host, of all things. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Clary. I know it’s crowded, but we already have a room set aside for you, and at the very least I can promise you won’t be bored. You’d be right at the center of activity here! I can suggest some hikes, we have lots of games, there’s the lake and the Shack itself of course. You should be able to reach almost anything with that bicycle.”

Stan did his level best to make please, no, come on already faces at Ford over Clary’s head, which was difficult because she was so damned tall. The twins only had about three inches on her. Ford was either missing the signals or being deliberately oblivious. Stan mentally wagered on the latter.

“I’m tempted,” Clary said carefully.

“Please, just sleep on it. I know it’s been a difficult day, and again, I’m so sorry to have put you in this predicament.” Ford lightly plucked the last glass from her fingers and reached up to set it into its place. “We’ll check on both the car and your shoulder.”

For a moment Clary’s lashes dipped down and her fingers twisted into the dishtowel. “All right. You’re very generous, Ford, Stan, thank you. We can go over it in the morning. I’m afraid you’re right, it’s been one hell of a day and I should get some rest. Good night, gentlemen.”

“Good night, Clary.”

“G’night.” Stan dropped a couple of ice cubes into a glass and lifted it in dismissive salute as she headed out towards the repurposed storage room, then gave Ford his very best ‘What the hell, Sixer’ look. What he got back was wide-eyed mock innocence and a shrug.

“Seriously?” Stan said, letting his brow smack lightly into the freezer door.

“I owe her,” Ford said with as much dignity as he could muster. “And it seems to me that she could use the company.”

Stan tapped his head against the freezer twice more before straightening with a groan.

“You were getting bored anyway.” Ford spared Stan a knowing glance.

“I have not been that bored.”

“You were bored enough to take another shot at Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons last week.”

“Yeah, that ended in flames. Let’s hope this doesn’t.”

“She’s interesting, that’s for certain! Perhaps we can make a few minor upgrades to the engine before we send her out again….”

“Ford. Do not.”

It was too late, of course, it had been too late well before Ford had voiced the idea, and he was already jotting notes in his spare pad as Stan watched him wander down the hallway. He’d be up until two in the morning, as usual.

Stan topped off his glass with water and shuffled off towards his own room. Bored. Pfft.

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Clary is talking to the others at the table, and you think you catch something about her doing federal tax law stuff. Yikes.

Crack a lousy lady driver joke.

Crack a lousy cryptid joke.

Crack a lousy lawyer joke.

#gravity falls #gfdatingsim #DDtMMW #swooning over stans #stanley pines #oclicious #fanfic

[hereticpriest]

Weather the Storm Part 2

Warnings: NSFW, swearing

@lvngdvns

Natalia was used to short showers like him, but they had learned to indulge together when they had the time. John liked to rub her back to get some of the tension out of her shoulders, and he found himself incredibly fond of washing her hair for her. She would wash his as well and had taken to styling it for him sometimes so that he wouldn’t just slick it back. Shower sex was out of the question purely because John was getting old and Nat had some old injuries that could get worse were she to re-injure herself. He remembered fondly when she had explained that to him. This twenty-seven-year-old woman trying to explain that her time as a gymnast had done permanent damage. To him – an assassin. Learning about her previous career had explained her unique muscle tone and the way she moved so gracefully – unless, of course, one took into account how clumsy the woman was.

(“She wasn’t always like that, honestly. I’ve seen videos of her competitions; she’s an amazing gymnast. I think it might’ve been the injuries, or a loss of confidence.” Courtney explained over a coffee one afternoon. He had only asked if she had known Natalia before her injuries, but Courtney saw her opportunity and took it. She had met Natalia after the injuries, when Nat had moved to town to get away from her old life. Courtney had grown up there and had been happy to see people coming to town instead of constantly leaving it.)

It was rare to see Natalia without bruises and John was sure he wasn’t helping the situation. As Natalia undressed in his master bathroom, he noticed hand shaped bruises on her thighs and butt, finger shaped bruises on her breasts, and light bruising around her hips. That wasn’t even to mention the amount of lovebites littering her skin. A moment of unease hit him, and he gently touched the bruising on her hips, drawing a sigh from his girlfriend.

“Hey hon- John? What’s with that look?” Natalia asked, frowning at the look on his face. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and paused, admiring the palette of colours he’d left on her. She smiled, turning in a little circle to admire the full picture.

“Is this what has you all broody?” Natalia asked, sweeping her hands down her body.

“I’m not broody.” John protested, but she gave him a sharp look. He sighed, giving a little shrug in response to her question.

“I used to be more delicate with you.”

“Yeah, and I told you that you weren’t going to break me, didn’t I?” Nat retorted.

“Yes, but-”

“And then I told you that I liked it when you manhandled me, right?”

“Yes, but-“

“And then I told you that if I wanted you to be gentler, I would tell you because I know that you would never hurt me, even though you certainly could if you tried, right?” Natalia cut him off, unwilling to deal with his self-depreciation.

“You promise?” John asked for about the hundredth time, and Natalia stole a kiss before answering.

“I promise, John. I like it when you’re gentle with me, and sometimes I want that. Sometimes, feeling like I’m as delicate as you make me out to be feels nice. But I’m not. You know I’m not.” Natalia stole another kiss, “And I like it when you show me how much stronger you are. I like when you show me that you could hold me down and do what you like and there’s nothing I could do about it. Because I know that if I said a single word against it, you’d stop. I have power over someone who could hurt me so easily. It’s nice.”

John sighed into the kiss, broke it messily to kiss his way along her jaw to bite her ear. Natalia giggled, giving his hair a sharp pull before he could leave yet another lovebite on her, pulling his head back.

“Plus, you like it when I’m rough with you, don’t you?” Natalia asked, pressing a couple of kisses down his throat, “I don’t want to hurt you either. I only do this because I like having power over you, and you like it too.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop ‘brooding’ then.” John hummed, straightening up when she released him. She winked and smiled, stepping around him into the shower, closing the glass door behind her. What once had been the least important fancy feature in his house was now one of his most appreciated. He was glad for the space in his shower now that he had someone to join him in it. He smiled fondly, adjusting himself through his boxers and waiting for his body to relax a bit more before joining his woman.

After their shower, John put on a simple grey-blue t-shirt and boxers. He didn’t have anywhere to be, so why put on more than that? Natalia followed his lead, dressing in a pair of white panties and one of his shirts she’d stolen the last time she was over.

“You know, I was looking for that shirt?” John gave the edge a little tug, and Natalia snorted.

“Oh, really? You were looking for this specific white t-shirt out of all of the white t-shirts you own?” Natalia asked, making him smirk. He nodded, picking her up despite her protests so that he could toss her onto the bed. He crawled up to her, turning on the tv once he was settled beside her. He handed her the remote, turning over so that he was facing her and burying his nose in her hair. The power shut down only a moment after she found a movie she wanted to watch on Netflix. A skittering in the hall had John sitting up a bit, but not in time to catch the frightened blue pitbull that leapt onto the bed and slammed into his chest.

“Woah, woah, Dog. It’s just a storm.” John gave him a couple pets, ruffling his ears and letting him wiggle and squeeze his way under the covers.

“Aww, poor puppy.” Natalia lifted the sheets to help him, petting him once he got himself settled. John scooted closer again so he could snuggle up with Natalia.

“We don’t have to worry about anything with the power being off, do we?” Nat asked, pressing John onto his back and snuggling up to his chest. John’s arms wrapped tight around her, and he sighed happily into her hair when she slipped her leg between his.

“No, we don’t need to worry about anything.” John murmured, breathing in the smell of her shampoo, “Unless something breaks, we can just lay in bed and do absolutely nothing until the storm passes.”

Natalia laughed, pressing kisses into his cheeks. He caught her in a proper kiss after a couple of kisses, but she laughed into the kiss which made him start to laugh as well.

“What are we laughing at?” John asked, bumping her nose with his.

“We’re such old people, John. Take a nap, fuck, shower, take another nap. Power goes out? Oh, guess we better go to bed early at… oh, look at that, seven o’clock at night.” Natalia giggled, running her fingertips over his chest in little circles before tracing down to the little trail of hair leading from his belly button into his boxers.

“Mmm, I’m an old man, kitten.” John murmured, shifting a little when she began to run her fingers through the hair just above the waistband of his boxers.

“I’m not complaining, darling. I’m just laughing because we’re… what, twenty years apart in age? And yet we’re both old fogies.” The blue of Nat’s eyes was darkening as she gave the hair on his stomach a gentle tug. John smirked. He loved that he could usually read her purely from her eyes.

“Storms make everyone into old, lazy people. Unless you want to go run around in the rain and howl at the moon like a weirdo.” John hummed absently, tickling her nose with a lock of her ginger hair.

“Don’t tempt me, John. That actually sounds kind of fun.” Natalia laughed, nipping at his fingers and earning herself a heated look and a boop on the nose in reprimand.

“Jonathan Wick, did you just boop me?” she asked, feigning outrage.

“Oh, breaking out the full name. That’s just unfair.” John murmured absently, shifting up onto his elbows, “So what if I did, Natalia Jamieson?”

“Well, if you did, you’ll have to pay.” Nat replied, carefully maneuvering over the dog to straddle her boyfriend’s hips. His hands slid up her thighs to grasp at her hips, and his eyes were dark as midnight. He used his grip to attempt to grind her down on top of him, but Natalia raised her hips off of him so that they were barely making contact.

“Ah, ah, ah. No, John. That’s not what I’m aiming for.” She purred, giving his nipple a pinch that had him hissing and arching into her. She held him in suspense for a moment, and lightning flashed, lighting up the room. Mentally cheering at the ominous drama provided by the storm, she leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“Your punishment is… laundry!”

John groaned like a dying animal, dropping his hands to his sides and screwing up his face in disgust. Natalia laughed evilly, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. Lightning flashed again, and both of their cellphones began to sound the emergency alert, letting them know that the storm was only getting worse and that emergency crews were working on restoring power to outlying areas.

“John, love, we should probably get the fireplace built up a bit more and bring some more blankets up here if we’re going to sleep. It’s going to get cold.” Nat murmured once the alarm stopped blaring, rubbing her ear with one hand while holding herself up with the other, switching and repeating the process once her ear stopped ringing.

“Do I have to? I can just keep you warm myself.” John murmured, pulling her closer and kissing down her body towards those white – and now nearly sheer from the wetness between her legs – panties that he loved.

“Mmm, I suppose I can get on board with that.” Natalia laughed, trailing off into a breathy moan when he kissed her cunt through the wet fabric.

#john wick #john wick/oc #john wick/reader #fluff and smut

[tisfan]

So @27dragons and I are at it again...

I polled for some Halloween prompts last week (and got lots, thanks, you guys are great!) and I opened the doc so she and I could chitchat, and we started throwing ideas around and...

so, over the weekend, we’ve written 25,000 words or so on a WinterIron werewolf piece.

So, here’s a little excerpt to pique your interest... 

Tony wasn’t sure what he expected, something like a mutt crossbreed rottweiler and pitbull from what Mitch was describing, or maybe a German Shepherd mix with a Pomeranian, based on the baby-noises Darla was making as she brought out the dog.

What he saw wasn’t a dog at all; it was a fucking timberwolf. Mostly black, with a rough mane of thick grey around his neck, and one front paw that was silver-grey up to the shoulder. He had blue eyes that were wide as he stared around the room, paws splayed and toenail clicking as he struggled with the linoleum floor. Every cat in the room turned and bolted for the dubious safety of the cat-hideys in the tree.

The beast was at least four and a half feet at the shoulder, and up on hind legs, was going to be taller than most people. It looked like it had spent the night in a mudpuddle and the staff had only done a half-hearted job of cleaning him up.

“He’s a rescue,” Darla told him. “We got him from a routine euthanasia center. They give the owners thirty-six hours to show up, or they put the animals down. Less, if they’re not chipped.” She patted Bucky’s thick fur at the back of his neck. “But he’s a good boy, isn’t him? Him just needs some love.”

Bucky didn’t seem to particularly agree with this sentiment, not doing any of the playful things Tony had seen dogs doing, and was, in fact, glaring and curling his lip at Mitch, who was backed up as far as possible, the paperwork in hand. Mitch looked like he was sort of wishing he could take refuge in the cat-tree, too.

“This is awesome,” Tony crowed. “Whoever this ‘T’ person is who’s been threatening me, they’re going to take one look and run screaming. This is great, this is perfect.” He held out his hand for Darla to give him the leash. “We’re going to be the best of pals, I can tell. Huge donation check coming your way, absolutely.”

“Okay,” Darla said. “Here’s what we’ve been feeding him, and his snacks, and a blanket, he likes his fluffy blankets, him does. Oh, and you should probably know, about this breed--”

Tony could have sworn the dog/wolf/monster actually rolled his eyes at the baby voice, but stuck a huge nose into the bag that Darla was trying to hand him. He yanked out an honest-to-God fluffy baby blanket with a red star on it and started chewing on it.

“Oh, no, I don’t have time to go over all the details,” Tony said, checking his watch. “Just throw a brochure in the bag and I’ll go over it as soon as I have five minutes to spare. Food and snacks, that should get us through the next couple of hours, right? Right.” He swept the bag out of Darla’s hand, giving her one of his practiced charming grins.

It was heavier than it looked, and in the instant while he got it situated and turned toward the door, it occurred to him that it was entirely possible that Bucky would fail to follow him, and he had no idea what to do if that was the case, because it looked like Bucky easily outweighed Tony, so dragging the creature was definitely out of the question.

Well, fake it till you make it was practically Tony’s motto, and it had worked out fairly well for him so far (death threats aside, anyhow), so he swept one last quick look around the shelter, tossed off a jaunty wave in Mitch’s direction, and headed toward the door.

Bucky waited until the leash was at full stretch, letting Tony attempt to yank once. It almost felt deliberate, like the dog was letting him realize just how much bigger than your average mutt Bucky was, before he trotted obediently over to heel as Tony left the pet shelter. Once outside, the dog shook himself all over, spraying a blizzard of dog hair everywhere. He then grabbed the leash with his teeth, not far from Tony’s hand, giving Tony an upclose look at fangs the size of his damn fingers, and lightly tugged, pulling Tony around in the other direction.

He took two steps and looked back at Tony with a what are you waiting for look.

“I don’t think you fully understand how this leash thing is supposed to work,” Tony said. But Bucky was still tugging, and those teeth were still enormous, but those blue eyes seemed calm and certain. “All right, fine, but don’t get it into your head that this is going to be a regular occurrence.” He took a step in the direction Bucky was pulling him.

The dog dragged him over to a small Saab, the kind of car a well-to-do hipster might own, in a dark blue. He sniffed at the car a few times, barked once -- and it wasn’t a little polite bark, but a huge, chesty WOOF that Tony could swear echoed around the street -- and lifted a leg. He drenched the tiny car in pee. There was enough pee in that dog to make a fireplug jealous.

Bucky scratched a few times at the pavement after he was done, wagging his tail fiercely as the door to the shelter opened and Mitch stared in shock. “... my car.” 

#Halloween fic #werewolf at the petshelter #werewolf!Bucky #Winteriron #Tony Stark #Bucky Barnes #snippet #Forever Home