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padfootdaredmetoo · 1 year

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Please can I have a Tommy x daughter fluffy fic where as her mums died she asks him to come with her to try on ballgowns with her and he doesn’t like a few for different reasons but he gets emotional when she finds the perfect one

Hey Anon,

Hope this does it justice - this request got me in the feels. Thanks for waiting. <3

Warnings: Teen drama, mentions of funerals and death - peaky related stuff

There were a lot of things you kept to yourself when it came to your father. Most of which Esme and Polly would wrangle out of you and give you advice for.

You were close with each other the same way you suspected other fathers and daughters were. He was there to comfort you in his own way (mostly just holding you tightly) when you needed him, he gave you books to read and would try to remember to ask you questions about how you enjoyed them.

He was away a lot for business but he always called you before bed to ask how your day was. Some moments when he’d drank to much you saw the pain in his eyes when he looked at you, a spitting image of your mother but with his eyes.

You adored him, and rarely ever asked him for difficult things knowing he was always stressed.

“Awe, you miss us, don't you? Next time we go you’ll be old enough to tag along. An extra week won't kill you darling.” Esme’s voice rang out over the phone and your stomach sank. You were in a proper situation now. You said your goodbyes but didn't tell her why her taking an extra week's vacation with Pol was a problem for you.

You lit a cigarette and slid down the kitchen wall. They would be home the day of the big charity ball, not the type of event you could get a dress for the morning of. They must have forgotten that they’d promised to take you when they got back. You didn't blame them, this was the one time they got away from kids and the business.

You could ask… Lizzie? She hung around the family, worked for your dad, and seemed nice enough to you when you came by the office. She’d probably be able to help you.

You needed a backup plan, Linda still hadn’t forgiven you for an outburst you’d had at dinner a few weeks ago, but maybe John would help you?

You thought about getting ready with Esme he’d always tell her what looked good. Well, mostly how he enjoyed the way it looked on her, but still Esme always looked very happy with his commentary.

You got up and flicked your cigarette out the window before going to ask for a ride to the office.

You showed up and Lizzie greeted you with a large smile.

“Here to see your dad are you?”

“Well, I was actually - I -” The words got caught in your throat, she was far too pretty. Thinking of her seeing your awkward body in dresses made you shrink away. “Have you seen Uncle John?” You said quickly.

“Should be in his office.” She gave you a look and you thanked her. You knocked on the door and his voice called out.

“Hey kiddo,” he said looking up from a mess of papers. “Your da’s got me right tangled in this stupid paperwork. Give him a kick in the shin when you see him next will ya.”

“Sure.” You laughed. “Guess you're pretty busy then?”

“Be lucky if we survive another week with the hens gone.” He sighed, there was no way he’d be out of this mess any time soon, but maybe he could just tell you what to wear.

“What erm- What types of things does Esme wear that you like?” He looked confused by the question.

“Trying to impress a lad then? Odd person to come to for advice on that.” He scratched the back of his head but before you could fix what you said he’d already carried on.

“Look if he doesn't like you as you are then there's no point in going after him. Gal’s seem to think we care about all the fuss when really - we’re going to see eve-”

“What are you doing, love?” Your father's voice called from the doorway. Happier than ever to see him you sprang up from your seat and moved to give him a hug. Jarred by what you figured John was implying you decided to just pluck up the courage to ask him to go.

“Get that shit done John, needs to be out by tomorrow morning,” John swore at him and you followed your father out of the room his arm steering you into his office.

“What did you need from John?” He asked moving behind his desk.

“Well, I didn't want to bother you.”

“Trust me, love if it's worth asking, it’s not worthy of Johns's advice.”

“Ah, well, I need a dress for the ball.” You stated, and he gave you a curious look. “Um, well it's my first time really going, for the dinner and dancing and everything.” You coughed awkwardly. For a moment you hoped that he would just understand where this was going and tell you he’d help you, but you looked at his face and knew he was lost as ever.

“SO” you said a little too loudly. “I erm - need to get a proper dress, Polly and Esme said they would take me but they won't be back in time.”

You brought your gaze from the wallpaper once more to still see him still looking confused.

“You can have any dress you want, just give me the receipt.” He shrugged.

‘No- I erm. I just- need someone to go with me.” You confessed sounding irritated. “I don't know what looks good - I’m not good at that type of stuff. John always tells Esme what he thinks about her dresses when we get ready so I figured he would be a good person to ask.”

“I’ll take you.” He said uncomfortably. “We can go after-” He looked down at his schedule. “Can it wait till after dinner?”

“Oh, yeah - thanks”

“No problem,” He said with a nod looking only slightly put off.

“I’ll head back to the house -”

“I’ll grab you at 7”

You gave him a nod and then left the office saying bye to Lizzie.

Dinner was nice, you rarely ever went out to eat. You rambled on about a book you were reading and your dad followed along. Eventually, you started to tuck into your meal and he sighed.

“So there's a boy then?” He asked looking pained.

“No?” You said startled with a mouth full of mashed potatoes.

“No?” Tommy repeated looking at you with the look he gave when he felt you were lying. As a kid, you thought he had superpowers and could see in your mind.

“No” You shook your head grabbing your glass of water.

“John mentioned -”

“He didn't understand what I was asking. Don't need to be interested in a boy just because I don't want to show up in front of all those people wearing something embarrassing.” You said defensively, face flushing.

Tommy let out a hum and finished the last of his drink. Your last comment seemed to put him off even more.

You finished up dinner and then headed to a fancy-looking shop. The sign on the door said closed but you followed behind your dad as he pushed the door open.

The lady barely took notice of you as she shook your dad's hand, ensuring she would take care of anything he needs. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as she touched his arm.

He turned to you “alright free rein of the place, go pick some out that you like. I’ll start on this side.”

You almost wanted to laugh as if it was a joke but your father moved passed the woman and started on the far wall. She looked over your body and began pointing out some to try on.

You thought about her suggestions and said you would try them to be polite. If you turned up looking like a frosted cupcake Esme would never let you hear the end of it.

You moved to the long dresses and found a nice dark red one. It was a shimmery fabric but it was dark enough that it wouldn't bring too much attention. You had a feeling that it was the right one, but with the lower neckline you felt it might be a fight to take it home. You decided it was worth it and asked the woman to take it to the dressing room for you.

You found another few that you liked well enough, all of them were black and made of various materials.

You met back up with your dad in the lounge and saw him sipping another glass of amber liquid, a cigarette in his hand. He met your gaze and held his hands up in mock surrender.

“Wasnt much help out in the field but it’s only because I have faith in your abilities.”

You gave him a smile, happy to see him in better spirits. You put the first one on and hated it immediately. It was much too tight and it would be impossible to dance in.

“Not very practical.” You waddled out and you watched him point back to the dressing room sternly. “Alrighty then,” you murmured feeling embarrassed.

You tried the cupcake one on next and fought to work up the courage to walk out in it. You struggled to get it through the doorway and your father actually laughed.

A proper healthy loud laugh that was contagious.

“I feel like Esme would take the piss for ages if I wore this.” You looked yourself over in the mirror.

“Not just Esme. Didn’t think it would be possible to make you look anything less than gorgeous. In that line of thinking it might not be so bad after all. Don’t want this mystery boy enjoying himself too much.”

“Dad!” You snapped before fighting back into the dressing room. “There is no boy.”

“If you say so.”

You wore one of the black ones next. You walked out feeling comfortable, you thought the black would go with any jewelry and looked classy.

You looked at your dad and his face twisted slightly.

“No black.” His tone of voice took you off guard.

“Why not? You’ll be wearing black?” you asked trying not to get worked up.

“No black.” He said firmly and you knew better than to challenge him when he sounded like that.

You went back into the room.

“Ah - that leaves one left.”

“Give it a go,” he called back.

You pulled on the red one and loved it instantly. It was grown up, hugging you in all the right spots without showing too much skin. The color made your blue eyes seem electric.

You liked it so much you didn't want to show it. What if he hated it as much as the black dress? Or thought it was stupid like the pink one.

You took a deep breath and called out. “Don’t be mean.” Then stepped out.

You looked at the mirror avoiding your father. It looked even better in the lighting. Eventually, the silence was too much.

You watched him take the dress in and thought you saw tears in his eyes. You wanted to run back and hide. Why was he being so weird? Even if there was a boy, it’s not uncommon at this age. Heck, most of Esme’s sisters were married by 16.

“That’s the one eh?” He finally said looking at you.

“Yeah. Think I look grown up, but not to - erm- showy”

“Grown up, is one way to put it.” He finished his drink and smiled at you. “I think you look lovely. Your mother has a necklace that will match with the color” He said softly. “-if you want to wear it.” He added hurriedly. For a long time, he thought her things might have been cursed, until one day he came home from a very long trip and said it was him that was cursed. You shivered remembering that night. You always avoided touching her things, her room untouched but not forgotten.

“I would really like that.” You said feeling emotional, you realized that the panic was about wanting to look nice, but some of it was anger that your mother was not there to help you. “Did she wear this color then?”

“Always red.” He nodded.

“Ah - well, I can see why.” You looked back in the mirror.

“Look - I know this sort of thing would have been more fun with Pol or Esme- and you probably miss your mum a lot these days. Lots of changes and whatnot.” He waved his hand uncomfortably. “But - well, I enjoyed this. I don’t mind being around for this stuff. I wouldn't have liked you more as a boy or anything like that” He cleared his throat.

Tears started to spill over something you hadn't even realized you were worried about.

“I love you.” You said. Felt strange standing on a platform saying it down to him as a saleswoman was probably judging them from the shadows somewhere.

“Love you too.”

On the ride home you both made jokes about different things, Arthur and John weren't very good at taking over for Pol and Esme and you enjoyed your dad’s commentary about trying to keep the place running.

When things quieted down you finally felt that you needed to end this boy nonsense.

“Dad?” You asked wondering how he kept the car straight while fumbling with getting a cigarette out and lighting it.

“Yeah?”

“There really isn't a boy, if there was John is the last person I would ask. One time he picked me up from school, years ago, and a boy, Tim Weatherby, had waved to me. He ran his car into the back of his parent's car three times before driving off.”

You watched your father let out another laugh. “Always classy.”

“I’d tell you first obviously. Esme would get too excited, and Pol would worry.”

“And what would I do then Eh?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

“Probably meet him and scare his pants off.” You answered honestly.

“That’s a good thing then?”

“Obviously. If he comes back it's because he really likes me.”

__________________________________

EXTRA - Tommy's POV

Watching her walk out in a black dress made the fleeting moments of humor leave him. He sort of saw her in the gown but his mind flashed back to that scared little girl all dressed in black.

“No black.” He said slightly out of control of the feelings biting into him.

“Why not? You’ll be wearing black?” He could see that you wanted to argue but he couldn't stand to see you in that dress any longer.

“No black.” He said firmly and you looked a bit deflated before retreating back to the dressing room. His mind pulled him back to that day. You attached firmly to his side, dressed in all black. The way you tried so hard to behave, tucking your face into his neck to cry as they lit the vardo on fire. How you even tried to hit Polly when she tried to take you from him. How you would panic if he was out of your sight for more than a few minutes.

No black. He ran his fingers through his hair.

The next dress hurt nearly as bad. Tears he had not cried in years welled up in his eyes as he looked at you taking in your body in the mirror.

So much like your mother, the style of the dress, the color. You were going to be an adult in a blink of an eye. Only small traces of that little girl left in your features. Now there would be boys and time left with it being just the two of you would start to slip away.

He thought the dress was much too showy, you didn't understand that yet though. Considering you would be standing next to him the whole night he figured it would be alright. You could pair it with your mother's jewelry and he could get Pol to convince you to wear it with a shall or something.

Eventually, your eyes looked at him for approval and he felt guilty for snapping at you. There was a very evident look of self-consciousness on your features. He wished it came more naturally to him.

“That’s the one, eh?” He said and enjoyed the way your eyes lit up. He may not be the best dad, but he would try hard to spend the last time he had with you. Find things to do with you, before you became busy with the rest of the world.

#Tommy Shelby #Thomas shelby #Shelby daughter #Tommy shelby dad #Thomas Shelby dad #Tommy shleby reader daughter #peaky blinders #Pekay blinders imagine #Thomas Shelby & reader daughter #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfiction

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peachy-posy · 7 months

Text

Ride This Out - Vash x Reader (Chapter 1)

Summary: After putting yourself in a dangerous situation, you and Vash have one of your first major arguments.

A/N: Third Trigun fic, woohoo! This was my first time writing something with the 98 versions of characters specifically in mind, so I hope everything feels in character! I tried my best hehe Last chapter will have smut (my first time writing any hhhh), minors DNI!!! Cross-posted to my AO3 <3

Chapter Tags: Established relationship, canon-typical violence, minor violence/injuries, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3.1k

Traveling with only men is decidedly… not very fun, in your opinion. At least not the ones you're with. You lean your head in your hands, listening vaguely as Vash and Wolfwood argue between themselves in their good-natured, but annoying way. You tuned them out about half an hour ago when the conversation started heading in that argumentative direction.

You miss Milly and Meryl. When the boys start debating and arguing, the three of you have your own conversation, laughing and joking with each other. The insurance girls had been sent to a neighboring town several days ago, promising to meet back up with you three in a week or so. That day could not come sooner.

Your eyes, which have been glazed over for some time now, focus as Wolfwood huffs, leaning back in his chair. Vash does the same, but you don’t feel any real malice between them as usual. Seems like they are finally done.

You glance over at the blonde, feeling his turquoise eyes on you.

“Everything okay, Mayfly?” He questions with a smile, reaching across the table to take your hand.

You smile, even as Wolfwood groans something to the effect of ‘Oh, here we go.’

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just thinking about Meryl and Milly,” you answer, prompting a bright smile from Vash at the mention of the two girls.

“Aw, what, we aren’t fun enough for ya, sweetheart?” Wolfwood asks, his tone teasing.

You glance at him tiredly. “Unfortunately not. Sorry.”

He feigns hurt, over-exaggerating his reaction. “You wound me!” Vash chuckles to your side, and you share an amused smile with him. This ramps up the theatrics from the preacher, and he looks at Vash. “How can you lie down and take this? You’re included in that statement, you know.”

Vash shrugs, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. Your heart flutters at the action.

“Oh, please. Get a room,” Wolfwood remarks. You can’t help but snort, even as Vash puffs up.

As he begins to reply, gunshots echo from somewhere outside: perhaps near the town square. You jump, slightly surprised, and Vash’s hold on your hand tightens as he hears shouting from outside.

You know what comes next.

Wolfwood grabs his Punisher, stretching casually as he stands. Vash stands as well, walking over to you briskly, kneeling at your side. He takes you by your shoulders, locking eyes with you, and calls your name.

“You’ll be okay on your own for a bit, right? Don’t come out unless one of us comes for you.”

“I know the drill, Vash. Be careful,” you reassure, giving him a quick kiss for good luck. He smiles against your lips, able to get lost in the moment, but only for... well, a moment. More gunshots and screams ring out, and he stands up with renewed urgency, meeting Wolfwood at the entrance with long strides.

Vash glances at you one last time before exiting. You blink and the two are gone, leaving you behind in the old tavern. The few patrons that were there as well had gone to investigate the commotion, leaving you alone.

You sigh, unwanted frustration with your situation bubbling up in your chest. Unfortunately, it’s like this all the time. After all, you aren’t some incredible, talented gunslinger. You’re just a healer in love with one.

You slowly stand up, leaving the table you three had been occupying, scrutinizing the room for a good place to hide. After a few minutes, you find yourself a nice little spot behind the bar. It’s not necessarily perfect, but it’ll do.

You lower yourself to the floor, preparing yourself for the waiting game. You wonder how long it’ll take for them to come back today. Fifteen minutes? Thirty? An hour?

You hear more gunfire and shouting in the distance, and you try your best to ignore it for now, despite the uneasiness settling in your chest. There’s nothing you can do for anyone until the danger is over. You know that this general course of action is what is safest for you. You hide yourself away, waiting for the ‘all clear,’ then tend to any and all wounded people who happen to get caught up in whatever happens, a reassuring smile plastered on your face all the while. This is how you do your part in the small group you’ve found yourself in.

It also allows Vash to not be worried about your safety while actively dodging bullets.

You’d worked in a small clinic before meeting the Humanoid Typhoon what feels like ages ago. Your role as a doctor’s assistant made you happy at the time; it made you feel fulfilled and helpful. And it still does!

That said, you sometimes find yourself wishing that you could protect others the way Vash and Wolfwood can. Not that you want to throw yourself into the fray of battle, but you hate feeling so… useless at times like this when the fighting first breaks out. Weak. Like something that needs to be tucked away and protected.

Vash adores that you are a healer. He’ll sometimes sit with you on quiet nights, his fingers rubbing affectionate circles into your hands while he holds them, saying that your hands were made for saving people. You tell him that his hands were too, but he denies it every single time. He says his hands were made for violence. For destruction.

You couldn’t disagree more.

Not when you see all of the good he does, protecting those around him with the very hands he swears will bring destruction to everything they touch.

You are startled out of your thoughts by the sound of a bullet ricocheting particularly close by. You hold your breath, trying to gauge how far away the person who fired it is. You can hear voices in the distance that sound closer than wherever the main incident is. You bite your lip, considering if you are hidden well enough. Slowly, you begin to notice the sounds of… crying?

You know Vash doesn’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way, but what exactly would looking through a window do? Besides, the crying sounds too much like a child for your comfort.

You rise slowly from behind the bar, finding your resolve to investigate. Making your way over to a nearby window on light feet, you carefully peek outside. At first, there is nothing that you can see. Suddenly, though, a small child running down the street comes into view. He’s crying, dust coating his hands and knees. He’s bleeding from a few small cuts that you can see from your current view of him, but otherwise seems physically unharmed.

You gasp as the boy trips, tumbling hard into the dusty ground. He sucks in a sharp breath, bottom lip wobbling. In the blink of an eye, four men concealing their faces with bandanas are upon the boy, one of them grabbing him roughly.

The child shrieks, thrashing in the man’s hold. To your horror, another one of the men points a gun at him. He can’t be more than five years old. The sight of it makes you nauseated.

“You’re gonna regret running, you damn brat,” one of the men rasps angrily at the sobbing child.

“Bring him back to where the other townspeople are. Make sure you don’t lose any this time,” one of the other men orders.

“G-got it,” one of them replies nervously.

“If it happens again, it’s your head.”

It seems like this gang took some hostages when they got here, and this boy escaped. You can’t let them take him back. They don’t seem to have any issue shooting him, as you heard that gunshot earlier as they chased him. Your hands are trembling and clammy, but you know you have to do something.

But with what? You don’t have a weapon. You desperately look around the tavern, and your eyes land on a knife and empty bottles. Acting quickly, you grab one of each, a messy and dangerous plan forming as you go.

All you have working for you is the element of surprise. You can’t fight, but you know where to hit someone to make it count due to your medical training. You just hope you’re fast enough.

You look outside once more, and you notice that two of the men are gone. The other two that remain are talking to one another for the time being, distracted. One holds the child in a punishing grip, surely causing bruises to form on his small wrist. He's wailing in earnest, despite the captors' barking at him to quit.

It’s now or never. You open the door as quietly as you can manage, gripping the bottle. You’ll have to hit one of the men as hard as you can in the head with the bottle, then use the knife you’d pocketed to strike the other. Your plan is to slash the ligaments behind the knee, immobilizing the person. The bottle isn’t very ideal, but you’re worried your lack of skill with a knife will cause you to accidentally lose the weapon in a body if you try to use it for both men.

Unfortunately, you know your plan has little chance of success. Once you attack one, the other knows you’re there. Your best bet is to incapacitate the one holding the child first and to assess in the moment if you can deal with the other. There is a large chance you’ll just have to grab the kid and run as fast as you can, hoping you find Vash or Wolfwood if you make it to the town square. You look down at the threshold of the tavern, trying to will your legs to move forward. Your body is frozen, unable to walk outside.

Suddenly, one of the men turns on his heels, striding back down the street where they originally came from. That gets you moving.

You hide yourself behind the door hastily, praying you haven’t been spotted. Several terrifying moments pass where you wait for them to descend upon you. You can hear your heartbeat thrumming in your head, throbbing in anticipation of the worst.

The attack never comes. They haven’t seen you.

You can’t believe your stroke of luck. You may actually be able to pull off incapacitating a single person, even with your limited capabilities in combat.

You carefully set the bottle on the ground, reaching for the knife you grabbed. You peek around the door, eyes finding the man and boy immediately. The man is yanking the child, trying to get him to cooperate. His back is towards the tavern.

You grip the kitchen knife firmly, trying to control your shaking hands as you emerge from behind the door. You approach as swiftly and quietly as you can, soon finding yourself within striking distance of your target.

Just slash the back of his knee. He shouldn’t be able to chase you if you tear a ligament.

Steeling yourself, you aim for the back of the man’s knee, slashing with as much force as you can muster.

You know you succeeded when he howls in pain, immediately letting go of the child and grabbing his knee, falling to the sandy, dusty street. He is bleeding, gripping his knee tightly, and he turns to look at you with a shocked glare, his eyes filled with malice.

You drop the knife in shock, your bloody hands making you nauseous.

Time to go!

The child is pale, shaking like a leaf as you scoop him into your arms. The man shouts from the ground, and you see him start fumbling around, looking for something.

“Get back here! You bitch!”

You turn on your heels, sprinting as fast as your legs can go. You hear a deafening gunshot, flinching as a bullet hits the dirt nearby. You realize that he had been trying to get his gun, and unfortunately for you, he found it.

He shoots again, but you have already begun weaving as you run, hoping to throw his aim off. The child is clutching onto you fiercely, burying his head into your shoulder. More bullets hit the ground around you, and your heart is hammering wildly in your chest. As you turn the nearest street corner, you find yourself shocked and relieved your plan is working. You just might actually be able to save this child.

Your thoughts come to an abrupt, violent halt when you notice a dark blur in your periphery. A man slams his gun into your head with a snarl, and you are thrown towards the ground. On your way down, you attempt to shield the boy as best you can, wrapping your arms around him tightly and trying to absorb the shock of slamming into the ground. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you collide into the street with a groan of pain. Your head is swimming, but you unwrap your arms, trying to sit up as quickly as possible and get the boy to his feet. He seems relatively unharmed, but terribly shaken up.

“Run! Now!” You scream, and he thankfully listens.

He darts off, right as the man reaches you. You see him start to move after the boy, but you lunge for and grab one of his legs, causing him to stumble with curses spilling from his lips. He whips his head down to look at you, and you do your best to not recoil from his gaze.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” He scowls, kicking you off him. You gasp, hitting the ground once more with a painful thud. Your ears ring, and your vision is blurring.

“Just who do you think you are?” He kneels in front of you, gripping your shirt’s collar and yanking you up. You whimper in pain, your head throbbing as he jostles you.

“I hope it was worth it. You can take his place.”

“I’m not scared of you,” you lie, managing to catch his eyes. Truth be told, you're terrified. But you’d never tell this scumbag that.

He lets out a low, threatening laugh. Chills race down your spine. “Oh, you aren’t very smart, are you?” He laughs again, gripping your collar tightly. “You’re lucky I haven’t killed you yet. I’m still deciding. How about I rough you up a little till then?”

You feel the burn of tears in your eyes, and blink quickly to dispel them before they can form. You refuse to cry in front of him.

You desperately hope the boy is safe. You’re so close to the town square. Vash and Wolfwood should be right near here.

Through your blurring vision and pounding head, you see the man rear his hand back. You shut your eyes tight, bracing yourself.

Instead of feeling the collision of his hand, you hear a sharp intake of breath. You crack open your eyes hesitantly, vision blurring.

Your breath is pulled from your lungs, tears of relief flowing immediately. Because even with blurring vision, you are able to recognize the long, red coat blowing in the wind. Standing behind the man who tackled you is Vash. He’s holding the man by the wrist, and he looks furious .

“Vash,” you breathe out, voice trembling.

The man drops you from his grip, and you fall into the ground, immediately using your heels to scoot away from him. After blinking several times to focus, you take a good look at Vash. You’ve never seen him so angry before. The hand he’s using to grip the wrist of your assailant is trembling with restraint..

“I-I know you! You’re Vash the Stampede!” The man realizes with wide eyes, his face pale.

Vash says nothing, his eyes narrowing. The man continues his nervous rambling.

“L-look, I didn’t… we didn’t know you were here. If you want this town, it’s all yours. We’ll leave.”

You hold your breath, watching to see what Vash does next. Your heart aches for him, knowing that he is bothered by the rumors that precede him. That said, that infamous reputation is pretty convenient right now.

Vash uses his gun to knock out the man without a word. He immediately goes limp, crumpling to the ground as Vash releases his wrist. You release the breath you’d been holding, noting the pain in your head and body, but mostly feel great relief. Vash’s gaze remains trained on the unconscious form before him, his expression complicated. Several beats of silence pass, and you feel yourself becoming slightly anxious. Why hasn’t he said anything this entire time?

“Vash?” You call hesitantly, voice quiet.

Your voice snaps him out of his daze. His eyes flicker up to yours, relief washing over his features as he races forward, throwing himself on his knees in front of you.

“Oh Mayfly, god, look what they did to you,” the words spill from his mouth as he holds you in a bone crushing hug to his chest.

You let yourself be cradled in his arms, disappointed slightly when he pulls back after a moment. He looks pained.

“Your head,” he murmurs, hand gently reaching for your temple. You hiss when his fingers graze the throbbing, painful area. He retracts his hand, the blood on his gloved fingertips making you realize you’re bleeding.

“I am so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he whispers, holding you close again.

You furrow your brow and shake your head, trying to ignore the dizziness it causes.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It was my-”

The words die on your tongue as you hear a familiar voice chattering animatedly around the corner. Both you and Vash turn to face the noise, seeing Wolfwood strolling around the corner of the building nearby, holding a child in his arms. You feel the tension drain from your body fully at the sight of the familiar little boy unharmed.

You hastily stumble to your feet, trying to get over to him, doing your best to ignore the dizziness that overtakes you from the sudden movement. Vash scrambles after you, holding onto you as you sway.

“Easy, easy! I think you have a concussion,” Vash implores, but you press forward stubbornly.

The child sees you, squirming from Wolfwood’s grasp to reach you. With dried tears on his face, he looks up at you with big, worried eyes. You feel Vash’s hand at the small of your back, gently steadying you.

“Well, looks like we found her! Good job, bud!” Wolfwood praises, ruffling the kid’s hair.

A bright smile forms on his little face. He reaches out and snatches your hand.

“Come help me find my mommy!”

#trigun #vash #vash the stampede #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #trigun 98 #trigun stampede #peachy writes!

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dukeoftheblackstar · 1 month

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[4] 'Retirement' || Castis Vakarian

[ 1 ], [ 2 ], [ 3 ] by scent.2002 || Meta

With & without glasses because I can't decide which I like best.

Another Castis Vakarian study as the small number of art made for him is appalling considering we like daddies in this binch. I'm also considering adding Avitus Rix in the mix or start on that Saren vs Castis vibe @eyecandyeoz and I went over some weeks ago. Also tagging @yuku78 on here because.. daddy! Might tag the series under : NotQuiteTiredYetTizzy

Here we have:

Retired dad and his new, equally no-nonsense, mid-life existential-crises bought pet bird — a beautifully unimpressed, Gatling-shrieking shoebill to double down on that #TiredDad disappointed look that makes you want to do your best! Right on, Dad!

The 'Well, shit. I guess I'm really retired now" dad coping by actually allowing himself to get shit-faced in his own home because there is no chance in absolute hell that he's going to make a fool of himself in public. Have a slightly drunk-flustered #feelingcutemightdeletelaterforsure daddy on the couch.

Dad and new son pet bonding.

And because I have no self-control, that squiggly, curly-haired bubble person is my OC who I have written in wips as his assistant during his last years before retirement and ya boy shootin' his shot because you know, shipping blorbos with our oc is therapy.

Dad takes to online dating — only because he's a little bit drunk and will definitely deny this the morning after.

Barbeque dad and his special barbeque sauce giving you the "what do you mean you already ate?" — look of disapproval + three seconds before you take that back and sit tf down and eat.

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slutforsnow · 3 months

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His Sunflower

Chapter 4 :3

CW/TW: murder talk

As the next 3 months went by, they were semi-peaceful. Sunni was happy, floating between her friend groups/study sessions and painting in her free time. When Sunni wasn't around Festus, Arachne, and Clemensia or Sejanus and Coriolanus, she'd be painting in her room or the empty art classroom after school.

Coryo and Sej were constantly following Sunni when she announced she was going with the girls, which almost always included Festus. They'd pretend they were doing school work for photography, when in all actuality, they were taking pictures of the 4 together to make sure Festus or the girls weren't getting handsy. It was unlikely for Arachne or Clemensia, but the duo had a feeling they two girls had something going on. If they were caught, which only happened twice, they claimed it was part of a club or taking photos for the art classes to use as references.

On the morning of 4th week's Sunday, Sejanus and Coryo agreed that it was time to tell Sunni why she shouldn't be sound the other 3.

"Morning, Sej!" Sunni greeted, sliding down the railing that led into the foyer as Sejanus trudged his tired body to the kitchen.

"Mornin', Sunni," He greeted with a yawn and stretching. "Listen, we gotta talk."

"About what?" She asked, grabbing a bowl of fruit from the marble and gold lined countertop. She grabbed herself a plate and began to add some waffles to it.

"About your... friendship... with Festus Creed," He told her, grabbing a plateful of pancakes that the Avoxes had made. Sunni giggled as she poured syrup on her waffles.

"I think you mean relationship." Sejanus almost choked on his pancake from how hard he had coughed. Her what now?

"Your... what?!"

"I'm dating Festus!" She exclaimed, beaming up at Sejanus before grabbing a fork and beginning to dive into her breakfast.

Sejanus had never been more horrified in his life. His cousin is dating FESTUS??? He'd rather her date his best friend over Festus.

"Tell me you're joking."

"Nope! He asked me out a few days ago; he asked me not to tell you or Cori—oh by the way, I gave Snow a new nickname! Better than calling him Coriolanus, ya know?" She began to ramble, and Sejanus felt like he was going to explode. He was going to wring Festus' neck like a wet rag.

"She's WHAT?!" Coriolanus yelled before Sejanus cover his friend's mouth.

"Shut up!!" He hissed, looking around to make sure no one heard him

"Sorry, but she's dating Festus?! The dirtbag player?!" He asked, lowering his voice.

"Yes, unfortunately! I'm gonna wring his neck out-" Sejanus began before taking a deep breath to calm himself down. No one needed to hear his murderous thoughts yet.

"I'm getting the shovel," Coryo stated, standing before his icy stare landed on the couple. Sunni was giggling and laughing as Festus was pressing kisses all over her face. Jealousy shot through Coryo's body like caffeine. He was going to kill him.

"As much as I want you to, no. We can't go to jail," Sejanus replied, pulling Coriolanus down again to sit.

"Jail will be fine-"

"Bail fees. Remember what happened last time you went to jail?" Sejanus inquired.

"Shit. Well, what do we do then? Wait it out?" He asked, hoping Sej would have a plan.

"Double down on our... protective measures. But we can't do much without the possibility of Sunni catching on."

"Wait, isn't Clemmie hosting a party next week? To celebrate the end of mid-terms?" Coryo asked, getting an idea.

"Yeah, why? You got an idea to expose them for the phonies they are?"

"Yeah, it'll take a bit to put in motion, though. And before you ask, no, there's no murder. That's plan C."

"What's plan B?"

"Your idea."

"What idea?"

"Whatever idea you think of during midterms."

Tags: @etfrin @hearts4court @snows-wife @delusionalbunni @kiraflowersworld @victory-scream0462 @curled-hair-red-lips @morallygrayboys @phoward89 @xoxo-eyeballs @thereeallink @graciouslyc @acidaciruela @wanda-maximoff-enthusiast @firstworldproblemthings @nowitsmissing

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forestshadow-wolf · 9 months

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Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

"How?" Soap whispers the broken word after a nameless amount of time, bags and food and everything else had been long forgotten. "You didn't come back. They- they gave me your tags." The words no less broken than before.

Simon opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out, his lips seal again. Johnny can see in his eyes some inner turmoil, like simon doesn't quite know how to explain. A lock of sandy blond hair falls over his forehead, nearly reaching his eyes. Simon will probably want it cut soon, he doesn't like it getting too long, especially since he said it makes the mask uncomfortable. Simon's not wearing the mask, he realizes.

It's that thought that makes him realize he really could have never seen that hair again, his eyes water but the tears don't fall. Johnny sniffles, nosing into Simon's neck. He feels small, like he's a kid again and just woken from a nightmare. He runs his hands through that hair, over his neck, along his arm, down his torso, feeling just to feel. And simon smells like simon. Alive. And safe. And at home. Simon is alive and is wrapped as tightly around johnny as he is around simon.

"Kate's wife, Joan" johnny had no idea where this was going, but he stayed silent. "she's also CIA, 11 weeks, and 4 days ago her team found me while they were looking for someone else. They found me wandering the woods in some sort of daze. I must've hit my head in the explosion 'cus I don't remember much for the first couple days after." The more words out of Simon's mouth, the more worry worms into soap's gut. It was supposed to be a simple milk run, get the target and get out, simple. None of this... explosion shit. "They had to put me into a medically induced coma for 2 weeks. I have no records so they had no idea who I was. That's why they didn't cantact you or price. Laswell works hand to keep my record scrubbed, so Joan couldn't exactly tell them who I was. But she helped get me back here herself, stocked the fridge with easy meals, made sure I wouldn't accidentally kill myself, but she couldn't stay any longer, only had one day. I was still kinda fuzzy after that, couldn't barely figure out how to get myself food and water, much less work a phone.. I was sleeping most of the time anyway. I did try to call a few weeks back, but I think either the power went out and the router needs to be reset or the router broke or something, I don't know any of that stuff but I got no signal, and I haven't exactly been able to get around to looking at it, and the car's at base obviously so..." simon scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"I'm so reading the report you give to price. How'd you even manage to fit an explosion bad enough to give you amnesia on a simple in and out mission?"

Johnny opended his mouth to say something else, but simon beat him to it. "And before you ask, Joan and Kate don't share anything about their cases with eachother.. plus I think Joan's tean found me somewhere classified or something. She wasn't allowed to say anything. Also I'mnot the one who caused the explosion, so don'tblame me." He closed his mouth.

Johnny hugged him again, "you're alive." He whispered, "I missed you." And simon hugged him tighter.

"How long'd you get sent on leave?" Johnny mumbled something into his neck, sounding disgruntled. "C'mon, johnny, can't hear you like that." Simon smiled.

"Whose to say I got sent here." He huffed, Simon laughed

"Because if you'd have listened to me you'd have been here a month ago. C'mon how long?" Simon prodded.

"... 6 weeks."Simon whistled at that.

"What'd ya do to get that long?"

"... beat up one of the first day recruits." He grumbled, "but they were talkin' a loada gob 'bout you." He sank deeper into a pout.

"Defending my honor? And they say chivalry is dead, thank you." Simon kissed the top of his head.

Should I make a part 3?

#el rambles #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #soapghost

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wannab-urs · 8 months

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The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 20

Hi friends!!

Can't believe we're at the 20th week of me doing this rec list! I also hit 400 fics on the Spreadsheet, which is wild. We've got 14 fics this week. It was a bit of an angst fest, but there's plenty of smut and even a few threesomes!

As always you can find the Spreadsheet here and the other Digests here. You can tag me in literally any Pedro boy fic (except RPF) and I'll add it to my TBR! You can also send me fic recs if you want, and even ask me for fic recs. I'll dig through the sheet so you don't have to :)

Fic recs below the Pedge:

Blackmail - a Javi P/Joel series by @milla-frenchy

Javi is the new Fedra officer you have to deal with and he wants something instead of credits to let you and joel go on your supply run... he wants to fuck you! The way it starts with Joel getting cucked and then just.... descends into beautiful smutty depravity. This was so fucking good. I loved how Javi wasn't mean? Idk like the whole experience just sounded good as hell for reader after the initial discomfort of having to fuck someone to get what you want lol.

You need to relax, sweetheart - a Joel/Tess one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

You're Tess and Joel's babysitter and they come home from date night and decide to help you unwind from a stressful night of caring for children... ya know... with their bodies. -- TW dubcon/noncon -- also there's some breeding kink in here and Tess is also pregnant. This fic is so good and twisted and delicious and wonderful byeeeee

Shore Leave a Frankie/Santi one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings

Ok so you're a bartender and Frankie and Santi come into your bar sometimes on shore leave and they always flirt with you. And then this time they flirt with you and you like actively consider going home with them... and then you um find something out... spoilers sorry.... and decide to go home with both of them. And it is wonderful, sexy, and sweet. I'm gonna need a 30 part loose fit series on these 3 immediately <3

Rendezvous in Reno - a Dieter one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings

AHHH okay so erotica writer!reader has a book signing and the subject of her first published erotic short story walks in knowing full well the story was basically fanfic of HIM. Heavy flirting ensues... then he comes to your hotel. This fic??? It's so sweet and fluffy and like... indulgent? It's like eating dessert for breakfast. There's a lovely surprise in relation to Dieter himself, also. I just love his personality in this and I love the sexy intimate smut and I want to die I love Dieter so much.

An Open Invitation - a Joel one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Joel watches reader and her girlfriend? fuck buddy? whatever. fuck from his window cause girl has got her curtains WIDE open and she is doing it fully on purpose.... anyway some stuff happens and Joel ends up in her house with her and her friend and then he gets used like a sex toy and loves every second of it and I loved every second of this fic. It's perfect. No fucking notes. 10/10.

Aches!Joel - a Joel series by @toxicanonymity

At the time of this rec, there's four parts. This features virgin!reader and a Joel that shows more restraint than I really expected him to be able to. This fic is sweet and the teasing and the will-they-won't-they throughout is so good. It's like edging but you're reading. And then... ya know. Aches!Joel owns my whole heart. fuckin wanting to wait for a soft bed to fuck her PLEASE... whatta man (the bar is in hell, I know, leave me alone).

Linger On - a Joel series by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

So you and Joel broke up 10 years ago and you moved on! You moved away from Austin and you got married and you have a kid and everything is great right? It's not. You're soooo not over Joel Miller. And then!!! Some events happen that put you face to face again and not just like.. briefly or temporarily. I don't want to spoil too much of this fic here in the review... just read it. It's angsty and yummy and I love it. (smutty also, who do you think I am?)

Carnal - a Joel series by @pascalsbby

Another camgirl!reader fic because I literally cannot help myself lmao. This one has the delicious twist of also being dad's best friend!joel AND best friend's dad!Joel... how fucked up is that? The correct amount of fucked up. The dirty talk going on in this fic is literally insane. My body went into fight or flight I was so turned on. And then on top of the crazy freaky yummy sex and like perv!joel and dom!joel and just all that going on... the story itself is really fucking good!!!

A Feeling That Never Came - a Javi P series by @theywhowriteandknowthings

You show up to your birthday/engagement party (i will not elaborate on that) and it's all kind of terrible and then your ex, Javi Peña shows up. Which should be a bad thing. Who wants their ex at their engagement party? You do. I promise you do. Desperately. So like... read this lovely bucket of angst as a bedtime story, cry yourself to sleep, and anxiously await the next part just like me.

It's always been you - a Dieter one shot by @alwaysmicado

Dieter Bravo is not a good boyfriend and after a year you are faced with the brutal reality of that fact. This fic destroyed me emotionally for real. Like the way Dieter is so.... pathetic? The perfect depiction of that push and pull where you can't let yourself fall into him but like all you want is for him to hold you because you're upset? GOD DAMN. Perfect. And then the interlude time period and what happens there and the ending? All so fucking perfect. I would love more of these two. They're broken and sad and it hurt and I can't stop thinking about this fucking fic AH

Light Only Shows You Where the Shadow Are - a Max Phillips one shot by @oonajaeadira

You've got this friend that can't take a fucking hint and won't understand you don't want him like that, but thankfully a handsome and unsettling stranger is there to save the day... several times.... and it's a little weird that he's always there and that you can't quite remember what he looks like when he's gone... and he makes you feel a little off. This is such a wonderfully spooky fic and it really captures Max's vibes while, despite the stalker behavior, somehow being more tolerable than the canon Max. I desperately hope you get the inspo to write a full Max series. It would be delightful

I Know Places - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

So you're a bounty and Din catches you and he has to take you all the way from tatooine to coruscant. It's a long trip and due to some mitigating circumstances he can't carbon freeze you as you'll probably die and... dead people don't pay their debts so that just won't do. 3 weeks cooped up in the Crest with a tin can man you don't know and who is carting you off to certain death... surely that couldn't be a love story. Or could it? This fic is so fucking good. I love the story and the smut???????? To die for.

You Shook Me All Night Long - a Joel series by @macfrog

You are Joel Miller's assistant and he's the CEO and he is... handsy. But it's not making you uncomfortable, at all. This starts at the official work party, moves over to a bar, and then keeps going after that. I really loved this. Joel was the perfect amount of rich corporate asshole and possessive sexy man.

Plaited and Braided - an Ezra one shot by @bonezone44

Ez wins a bullwhip and learns to use it on a tree... then he learns to use it on you. This is so delightful. It's a little dark there for a bit, but it's much much sweeter than you'd expect a sadist!Ezra bullwhip fic to be. I would very much love to see more of these two.

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

Here's some art I saw this week

Joel and Ellie by @vickisigh

Din by @gaytedlasso

Frankie and his shifter form by @littledozerdraws (commissioned for SNAFU by @theywhowriteandknowthings)

Pedro by @bonezone44

Pedro as popular raccoon memes by @iamasaddie

Joel Miller Apologist badge by @sin-djarin

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

My Masterlist

My Kofi

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

Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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steviewashere · 2 months

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Steddie Fic Recommendations Part 4!

Previous Recommendations: Part One Part Two Part Three

Okay, there's a lot of new people who follow me since I last did this. But I'm here to bring you some more recommendations! Last week, I did explicit only fics in anticipation for Valentine's Day (not that sex equals like love or whatever). There's no theme for this one, but I hope these reads treat you well!

Also, any Tumblr blogs that may be tagged, feel free to reach out for me to remove the tag. I have no qualms doing so!

As always, the tags and themes vary on all of these fics. Heed all tags, ratings, and archive warnings with caution.

it’s tactless, it’s a test (it’s just therese) by a_pleasure_to_burn

“Steve hasn't been the same since that night nearly a month ago when Eddie reinvented him in an Indianapolis drag club. A new piece of his puzzle has been added - or perhaps, it was there the entire time, embedded in Peggy Lee songs and navy blue dresses.

Or - Steve Harrington has a gender crisis on Eddie's floor. Cuddles and sweaters ensue.”

Chapters: 1/1, WC: 5,179, Rating: General no Archive Warnings Apply

Part of a Series: Steddie Drag Queen AU Canon Divergence AU Genderfluid/Genderqueer Steve Harrington

—————

2. The Only Living Ghost in New York by beetlesandstars @beetlesandstarss

“‘Eddie?’ Steve sounds sleep-rough even to his own ears. ‘What’s up, man? It’s like, midnight.’

‘I know, I know, sorry, just—’ Eddie takes a breath. ‘David proposed to me.’

Steve feels the world tilt on its axis. ‘Oh.’

‘Aren’t you gonna ask me what I said?’

Softly, Steve asks, ‘What did you say?’

‘I said yes.’

(Or, Steve and Eddie navigate their twenties together and apart. Eventually, something has to give.)”

Chapters: 1/1, WC: 8,065, Rating: Mature no Archive Warnings apply Modern Setting AU

—————

3. don’t you (forget about me) by brokenfandoms @steddiehyperfixation

“A scared and confused Eddie wakes up in the hospital missing 11 months of his memory, with no idea what landed him in there or why Steve Harrington is at his bedside holding his hand.

A devastated and heartbroken Steve wrestles with the unprecedented grief that comes from the realization that the man he loves no longer knows him.”

Chapters: 8/8, WC: 22, 305, Rating: Teen and Up no Archive Warnings apply Canon Divergence AU

—————

4. steve’s secret munson mixtape by everythingwasragtime

“Steve could play it cool during his shifts and hell, he’d even manage to distract himself whenever him and Robin were frolicking around town, getting Slurpees and talking about her love life. When he was alone was where the trouble started. He would hang his keys up on the hook next to the front door and the silence would immediately bombard him with echoes of ‘don’t ya, big boy?’ the very words that made his brain short circuit.

(In which Steve Harrington unknowingly begins to make a mixtape for whenever he finds himself thinking about a certain metalhead)”

Chapters: 16/16, WC: 35,000, Rating: Teen and Up without using Archive Warnings

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson

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pawseds · 1 month

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I convinced our Delta Green game master to have a play-by-post (basically text roleplay) section in our game's server and uhhhhh maybe I've been having too much fun with it. Writing is faster than drawing comics, what can I say?

(Long ramble about writing stories below hehe oops)

While we're here! A bit about writing: I like writing! I've written for loger than I've drawn for (because school). I think I'm better at writing than drawing for that reason (I'm more confident at least). I've written short stories. I've written short stories about TTRPG things. I've also written a ~100k word novel by hand for 2 years. While writing it, I had 'writing class' (technically AS/A level Ennglish Language classes). It was the only class I had confidence in and high expectations for.

With those 2 combined, I burnt out pretty quick LOL. Specifically, I had a big perfectionism issue because of the high expectations I had from my teacher and especially myself -- it was the one thing I knew excelled at in school, so I better do it well! After I was done with the novel and A levels, I was supposed to edit the novel. It's been years and I haven't done it yet, and I wouldn't write non-assignment stories (except 2) until now. Writing became more nerverwracking than it was fun, so why would I?

To get back to the PBP thing: I've been in a campaign that was fully PBP. With my mindset being the way it is, hey! This is just one big writing exercise, so I ran along with that and had fun with it. I saw how some players would make their own PBP and essentially monologue/have a scene only with their PC. That was cool to see.

And now, my current Delta Green campaign (tagged 'Helvetia'). Hrothgar (guy in drawing) and his kids were ported over from a previous D&D campaign (the fully PBP one!), so the crew had a very well defined background already. Of course I get tons of drawing ideas for them, except I don't have the time to draw them all (compsci hard). But since the server has a PBP section, I had like 2 weeks to kill between session 0 and 1, and I was bursting with ideas... I made a lot of solo PBPs that were essentially short stories.

It didn't quite hit me until some time ago, but the PBPs actually made me enjoy writing again -- enjoy it a lot more, in fact! I think the format of Discord threads and messages removed most perfectionism tendencies I had. I just had to fire the story away, message by message. It didn't have to be amazing, and it was fun! (Also I really don't know how to shut up with them LOL)

I'll definitely be cleaning these PBPs up and posting them here as stories. Some of them are just silly, fun, slice-of-life character sketches. (These were the stories I wrote after my novel... and yes, they were about my other set of Delta Green characters LMAO) (and I've posted them here under pawsedswrite btw!) But some I see as legitamite short stories that I would edit more heavily and present as a short story. They were the kinds I could see myself writing on a document rather than on Discord.

Well, I lied. 'I would edit' is false. I have already edited one, because I spent like 5-6h writing this one PBP (oops) instead of writing the draft for my short story class/elective (oops 2). I joked to my two friends saying that I could just submit it as my assignment. Apparently, they both really liked it and said the dialogued slapped. So I did!

I procrastinated like hell on it though, because I was very nervous to go back into the PBP with an axe to edit it. Being in a writing class where nearly everyone else has been formally studying writing for some years kinda puts some pressure on ya!

Like the last assignment (which I'll post here after editing), I had a lot of worries. But the feedback and grade I got from my last assignment, the peer review I got from the current one, and also the support from those two friends (shoutout @katastrofish <3) made me feel more confident in myself. And also the fact that I had a lot of fun editing the PBP!

Uhhh this ramble was way longer than expected LMFAO if you've made it this far, damn, thanks for reading! If you also write or have similar experiences, feel free to share em. And have a good day!

(bonus POV editing)

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breezypunk · 2 months

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tagged by @miss--river thank you :3

NIGHT CITY N54 INTERVIEW

Name?

Vaughn, but DON'T call me that.. just call me V.

Nicknames?

For some reason I'm called kiddo a lot? Do I look like a kiddo to you?!

Gender?

Male.

Star sign?

Ya know, I really had no idea until I met my best friend, Panam. She's into all that stuff... Apparently I'm a Virgo, pretty cool.

Height?

6 foot....

Okay fine 5'11, jeez!

Orientation?

Bisexual.

Nationality?

American, not sure what else I am, never knew my bio fam to find out.

Favourite fruit?

Nashi. My boyfriend got me into them, they are like pears, visiting Japan last year I tried it for the first time and was hooked ever since. But here in NC? The fruit is awful, I don't recommend it hahah.

Favourite season?

Autumn, the leaves are a gorgeous color, the breeze starts to pick up and in the badlands that's a very good thing. I just love it a whole damn lot.

Favourite flower?

Sunflowers, and roses. But sunflowers are my all time favorite.

Favourite scent?

Rain. Whenever I say that I get weird looks because apparently rain doesn't have a scent but they are the crazy ones! Rain water smells so fresh and amazing.

Coffee or tea?

Coffee. Five cups a day, maybe six if I'm extra sleepy and can't go to bed.

Why are you looking at me like that....?

Average hours of sleep?

I hardly know what sleep is. 4 hours maybe? That's just a rough estimate. I wake up almost every hour and years ago it was worse because of the nightmares. They aren't nearly as bad anymore and now I have someone who sleeps next to me every night who comforts me, so sleep isn't nearly as terrible.

Dog or cat person?

Cats. I've never even seen a dog before, I thought they weren't around anymore?

Dream trip?

To go somewhere up into the mountains for a few weeks, campout and just forget the world.

Favourite fictional character?

I don't watch enough movies or tv to have a favorite, I'm boring sorry!

Number of blankets you sleep with?

HARDLY ONE SINCE SOMEONE STEALS THE COVERS.... DON'T let him tell you I do, cos I DON'T.

Random fact?

My favorite music genre's are Vaporwave and EDM. Betcha didn't expect that huh?

tagging @kharonion @shimmer-like-agirl @ghostoffuturespast @wanderingaldecaldo @chooh2 @togepies ♥︎

#tag games #cyberpunk 2077 #oc: vaughn leblanc #:3 #I love doing things in his POV #and yes you're a kiddo whether you like it or not -.-

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ayyyez · 1 year

Note

In honor of the books I picked up today that I ordered a week ago (finally got more kimi ni todoke!!), what series of manga can you see some of our haikyuu favs reading? Or if not manga what kinds of books can you see them reading, YA, thriller, mystery, etc. Feel free to pick whomever you want for hcs, I humbly ask for Tanaka thou <3

A/N: Look at you getting two answered in one day, it's like you own my ask box at this point bestie lmao but yes I have so many vibes for this one, okay <3

TAGS: manga/reading headcanons, fluff, general

CHARACTERS: Tendou Satori, Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Kenma Kozume, honourable mentions at the end

TENDOU SATORI

Okay so we know he used to collect shonen jump magazine when it was around in a physical form. I say he was a subscription owner who would get each issue.

He strikes me as the kind of guy who likes collecting things. Especially artsy types things like his movies. Especially in physical form so his shonen jumps are no different.

He's a constant but casual reader in terms of what he keeps up with in terms of series.

By that I mean he's not like 'OMG I NEED TO READ ALL OF ONE PIECE I'LL BE SO UPSET IF I MISS ONE CHAPTER.' Absolutley not. He's a casual One Piece fan. I know it seems like they don't exist because once you're in you're in BUT HE IS.

He enjoys reading it, don't get me wrong, it's just he's not tearing the issue open for the next chapter.

Tendou's an allrounder with his reading. Will try everything in the issue. Really liked The Disastrous Life of Saiki K the year it was published! He just vibed hard with it.

With Shonen Jump, he's collected it forever so he's read all the early 2000's classics like Naruto, Bleach and Death Note. He watches the anime too.

Outside of the shonen jump I feel like the only manga he would go out of his way to purchase and read would be something of the horror vein because he's a horror fan.

The first time he went into a manga store and saw the covers of the Junji Ito works he HAD to know what they were about. Started with one and ended up collecting them all.

Still prefers watching horror and thrillers over reading them. There's just something more satisfying about cinematic terrors BUT he does enjoy his small collection of manga too.

He just over all prefers reading manga to chill out. Which is why his go to is more the popular shonen series.

Tendou is pretty good with recs too! If you handed him a romance and told him it was the best series in the world and he had to read it he would. He doesn't care, you like it so why wouldn't he? It's just not something he would usually pick up for himself.

He's pretty good at recommending things too. If you're unsure he'll just hand you a shonen jump mag and tell you to go nuts. Just don't read the ads like Ushiwaka please, he can't handle another one. lmao.

Hanging out with Tendou as teens reading manga together would honestly be the best lowkey date every. Just vibing in each others company. Probably watching anime together after too.

TANAKA RYUUNOSUKE

I see Tanaka as more of a manga reader too over anything lengthy like novels. He just doesn't have the discipline to sit there and read for long periods of time.

This is why studying is so hard for him! He just gets bored! Would rather be doing something where he can move around.

Definitely doesn't mind picking up a manga every now and again though.

Now as for what he reads. Well. Here's the things. He's actually a real softy at heart and a sucker for romance.

How does he discover this? Totally by accident, he swears.

He went in to pick up a couple shonen series and the shonen jump issue (he doesn't have a subscription he just picks it up on occassion) and the cashier accidentally mixed up a shoujo series into the bag that was on the counter on the side.

Tanaka didn't realise until he got home and for some reason he just never bothered returning it. He had paid for it after all. He might as well read it.

The thing is once he did, he couldn't put it down! He had to read another and another. He was hooked. And what was this serious? Well guess what it was also Kimi ni Todoke!

That gets him hooked on Shoujo romances and has him going in buying more series. He buys one for every two shonen series he gets, hiding it under them at the casier mentally telling them 'They're totally for my sister.' as if they can read his mind.

Doesn't get too embarassed if you ask him about it though it's just an awkward flush of the cheeks and 'Yeah, I like them.' Because Tanaka is one to stay true to himself.

Okay but because he reads a lot of it he kind of gets real sappy ideas about romance and dating.

All those ideas about being a gentlemen? Carrying your bad, walking on the side of the sidewalk closest to the road, standing in front of you during confrontations? All further reinforced by reading those manga.

Has a cute little blushy face when he reads the confession scenes too. Hopes to be that cool when he confesses on day.

If you like manga he really likes sharing that with you. Going to bookstores together, he vibes on just watching you browse with a content look on your face.

Will buy you anything you want. Even if its a whole stack. Tanaka is slamming those bills down and paying. Anything to make you happy and see that smile on your face.

KENMA KOZUME

Kenma started reading and collecting manga when his parents forced him to have a hobby other than gaming. Something about resting his eyes from screens.

He did already sort of like reading manga anyway. Was into series like the legend of zelda because of the game. Also collects the standard shonen jump series like one piece, hunter x hunter and naruto too.

The thing about Kenma is he started out with the popular stuff and then he branched out and collected a bit of everything the more he read.

He has a bit of everything from each demographic. Has your Sailormoon, Fruits basket and NANA from your shoujo. Josei like Chihayafuru, shonen/seinin like JoJo's bizarre adventure, fullmetal alchemist, AOT, Gintama, Tokyo Ghoul.

As time goes on he'll collect ones like Given, I hear the sunspot and Blue Flag too.

Likes going to art stalls and places he can collect fan djs and art books too. Isn't really big on chit chat but will say a sweet 'I like your work.' Then pays and scurries off with a little happy face.

Like buying work of his favourite games and characters at the same time. Especially at conventions. Hates the crowds but finds this worth it.

Appreciates being able to do these things with you. Bonus if you like doing them too. If you simply go just to be with him he'll just swoon lol.

Back to the manga. He likes the anime adaptions too but doesn't always get a lot of time to watch them. Prefers games after all. If he does though he prefers to watch the anime after he's read the manga.

Loves watching the anime as a way to spend time with you though after you both have read the manga. Loves being able to compare and criticise it together. Just cuddling and vibing.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Reads books/manga: Semi Eita, Kuroo Tetsurou, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Yaku Morisuke

Reads manga: Hinata Shouyou, Atsumu Miya, Kunimi Akira, Hoshiumi Korai, Nishinoya Yuu, Kindaichi Yuutarou

Reads books: Sugawara Koushi, Yachi Hitoka, Oikawa Tooru, Kita Shinsuke

Reads food packaging and social media: Kageyama Tobio, Suna Rintarou, Kiyoko Shimizu

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endlessthxxghts · 2 months

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WIP Wednesday Friday!

thank you honey @honeyedmiller for tagging me in this 💚

Step 1: post snippets of the fics you're working on (can be a summary if there's no snippet) Step 2: put them in a poll and let people vote on which one you should work on Step 3: every vote is one minute you put on a timer to work on that fic (ex. 15 votes = 15 minutes of writing)

-> bend over (boyfriend!javier peña x afab!reader) this is that one fic i posted as a wip progress like a month ago & so many of you asked for me to let you know when it's posted !! I'M SO SORRY IT'S COMING, I PROMISE. because i've made you guys wait so long for this one, i'll give a rather...toe-curling snippet🤭

-> untitled (dbf!joel miller x disabled!afab!reader) [reader uses a motorized wheelchair, and has limited use in arms/hands & legs] your best friend (spoiler alert, the best friend has a name and it is madeline @javierpena-inatacvest HAHA) convinces you to have a night out at the bar with her. a bar that was known for its inclusivity and rather fruity customers. so how the hell did you end up running into your father's best friend, joel miller? smutty lil snippet below for ya ;p

-> dr. miller (orthopedic!joel miller x patient!afab!reader) you've been dealing with a hip pain for the last few weeks. the problem is: you hate doctor appointments, but this pain just won't go away. so you suck it up and book an appointment with a specialist, dr. miller, to get to the bottom of it.

np tags !! @javierpena-inatacvest (dev tagged u too OH WELL i'm tagging u again) , @tightjeansjavi , @beskarandblasters , @janaispunk , @katiexpunk , & whoever else :-) i'm always so late responding to these things, i'm sorry if you've been tagged already ilysm

#tag games #wip tag game #fic wip #wip snippet #joel miller one shot #joel miller smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña smut #smut #gosh i've been dying to finish these #school is an absolute pain in my ass rn #endless thoughts fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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wholesomepostarchive · 7 months

Note

the most wholesome thing is seeing that the wholesome post blog runner is probably one of the nicest people ever :3 i’m generally Terrified of sending asks especially to a blog that Does Things like this but seeing you talk in the tags instead of just reblogging and moving on makes you seem very friendly and approachable !!!! and i hope u know i appreciate that :] i hope you have a wonderful day and both sides of your pillow are always cool and that if you see a random cat on the sidewalk it won’t run away from U ♡

woah, META-WHOLESOME!! thank ya for the compliment, i try my best to carry out those kinds of traits i value!!!!! i’m SUPER super glad that ya did!!! THANK YOU THANK U!! always appreciating how much of an impact this lil blog has on top of appreciating u for sharing as much with me :-)

it’s always a TRIP getting to hear that something i do that i wasn’t even really mindfully doing makes all the difference?? i’m just really, REALLY grateful for all the different kinds of posts that get sent my way and seeing cool + uplifting + sentimental + OVERALL WHOLESOME posts that i express my thanks + ramble a bit in the tags haha !!

i ALSO hope you have as terrific of a day as you’re able to! and i hope you’ll enjoy seeing more posts pop up!

AND YOU’LL NEVER BELIEVE but i got new pillow cases like a week ago THAT DO JUST THAT! AND THERE’S A NEW CAT ON THE STREET WHO HANGS OUT WITH ME SOMETIMES (i’ve been planning to see if he has a microchip, but i know for a fact that the neighbors who feed all the stray cats on our street already have a cage + are well-versed in TNR, so i’ve been thinking about asking them first because the thought that someone could be out there looking for their pal is enough for me to “do it scared”) !! SO THANK U NOT ONLY FOR THE SWEET SENTIMENTS BUT ALSO FOR THE UNEXPECTED HILARITY OVER THE FACT THAT THEY’VE COME TRUE???

#and i get it!! running a gimmick blog (as i’ve heard it be described) is v v different from the other blogs i’ve got going!!#ik i’ve said it in the past but i genuinely think what makes for the lack of ambiance is the fact that i didn’t really? start this blog out #as a gimmick blog in mind?? it was kind of just for me to ‘archive’ Solidly Wholesome posts in one place #by the dates i saw/read through them + let them flow over me. because there’s already a timestamp ya know?#but the Vision was that i’d go through this blog + see that a year ago on a particular day was Important #which is still something i do when i have the the time BUT now i ALSO get sent wholesome posts!!! which WOAH #became a collective effort whether you’ve mentioned me in one post or climbing up to the triple digits now haha!!! i appreciate them all #TRULY :-)#and i’ll also admit that i don’t really remember if i kept the ask + submission channels open because i thought ‘hey maybe i’ll get one #or two someday from someone?’ or if i kinda forgot to close ‘em because i think i only block Anonymous automatically for all the blogs #i’ve got?? THAT will probs be a mystery for a long time to come if not forever BUT am glad it’s all worked out in ways i never saw coming!!#also APOLOGIES FOR NOT ONLY RAMBLING IN THE TAGS BUT THE ASK!!#Apple Pie is defs a priority for me rn and i’ve done some research + talked to my neighbors about TNR being the best bet in our area #last we spoke anyhow which was some time ago #also my parents apparently got into taking stray cats to a TNR program a few cities over so i’ll ask ‘em too probably???#BUT FIRST THING’S FIRST: checking for a microchip #10/13/2023 #asks #wholesomepostarchive

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farfromstrange · 11 months

Text

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter Nine: I Want You

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Michael takes care of you after a long day at work.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, but other than that fluff, fluff, FLUFF!

Word Count: 5.7k

A/n: This is so sweet y'all. I wrote some real domestic shit here and I am so excited to share this with you. I re-read it a million times and added even more fluff until I decided it was okay to post. Also, I said on AO3 that we have about 2-3 chapters with fluff before the Angst Train takes off again. The next one is a little angstier, but there is also a lot of fluff in there, and you're only going to start hating me after Chapter 12 :) If you want to be tagged or I forgot to tag you, let me know! (AND LOOK AT MY smiley little baby AHHH)

You find yourself at work when it finally happens.

Your phone pings and you look down to find two messages on your screen. One is from Michael, and when you open it, you have to stop yourself from laughing because why is he sending you a picture of your unicorn mug with a double espresso in it?

You store it away to answer later. The message that matters most to you is the one underneath. Maya’s name stands written over your lock screen and you have never opened your texts faster.

‘Dad gave me my phone back. Going on the field trip on Saturday. Got my friend to vouch for the money. They agreed. Thank you again, so much <3 Love you.’

You almost cry out of pure relief. You do cry, in fact, but just a little. A stray tear slides down your cheek from the corner of your eye.

Hearing Sarah’s footsteps, you quickly wipe your cheek and stuff your phone away, knowing that you’re not allowed to use it during work hours, let alone behind the counter.

“Girl, there’s this lad in the ‘no work’ section,” she says, clearly not noticing the tears in your eyes. “He’s like, so hot. I’d fuck him.”

You’re not even surprised anymore when it comes to your friend’s ability to have the most random conversations.

“Oh yeah?” you say, “Is that why you chose to personally bring him his coffee this time?”

“If ya looked at him, ya’d understand.”

You brush the wrinkles out of your apron and refocus on the dishes that still require to be washed after the first crowd of tourists came in and managed to ruin the three-hours worth of cleaning from the night before.

Truth be told, you couldn’t be any less interested in the customer she mentioned, and you don’t plan on checking him out. A few weeks ago, you might have. It used to be your favorite thing to do, battling about who gets to treat the good-looking customers that came into the café. But for you, that is over now. You don't need it anymore.

You found your good-looking customer a few days ago, and you would prefer to stay with him.

“What, not even an interested glance?” Sarah asks.

You shrug. “Why should I?”

“Because he’s hot–“ she breaks off into a gasp. “Oh, girl! You are down bad.”

You look away to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Shut up,” you retort, using the red towel next to the sink to dry the first few mugs from the rack.

She eyes you before stepping closer and pulling your shirt aside. You frown at her bold move, but after spending so much time together, you no longer have boundaries.

Sarah roams her eyes over your neck and the little bit of cleavage you’re showing. The hickeys are bright purple now, the edges slightly red where the blood is just starting to pool and she gasps again. She makes it sound as if she found out the most scandalous piece of information and you’re the main attraction in this case.

“You’re walkin’ ‘round with hickeys now?” she asks, her voice hushed yet loud at the same time.

It sounds like she’s squealing, almost, but you’re not sure if it’s positive.

“What are ya, fifteen?”

You pull away from her, pulling your shirt further up to cover at least the imprint of Michael’s lips on your breast. The one on your neck is for everyone to see; you didn’t bother covering it up, you’re embracing it, and you considered taking a picture to drive him crazy at home. If only he knew the glances you’ve received throughout the day, he would be at the door in a second, caging you against the wall and–

Sarah calls your name, her fingers snapping in front of your face. You blink out of your haze, your cheeks even redder now as the arousal floods through your body and meets with the yearning between your legs.

She was right; you are down bad.

“These look brutal,” she comments, but now she doesn’t seem as angry anymore.

Maybe Michael is growing on her.

Instead of berating you, she leans her hip against the counter and smirks. “Did ya have sex last night?”

You bite your lip. It feels weird to be talking about it because your love life has been non-existent for a very long time and you forgot what it’s like to tell your friend about good sex, but Michael is exceptional in bed and he never leaves you dissatisfied. It’s something you should brag about and yet it’s so intimate, something special between the two of you because every time you do it, it’s different. There’s not just unbridled desire between you, the emotions are just as raw and they make the experience so much more intense.

You sigh softly when you think about the feeling of his lips against yours, your neck, and the rest of your body. His hands burn their marks into your skin. The way he sounds, smells, and feels. You can’t tear your mind away from the man he is, and he is all yours.

Sarah’s smirk widens into a grin. “Oh, yer gettin’ dicked down every night now, huh?” she says. “And you’re enjoyin’ every last minute of it. I bet yer thinkin’ ‘bout it right now.”

“You know,” you say, trying to somehow save yourself, but it’s futile because she’s right; you are thinking about him right now. Snapping out of it, you continue, “You are very invested in my sex life for someone who claims she doesn’t like the guy I’m sleeping with.”

“Yes, I am a hypocrite, but I’ve noticed that you look a lot… happier, and if he’s good in bed, I mean, why shouldn’t I profit from these stories? I’m chronically single. Doesn’t mean I like Mister I’m-A-Mobster, but if his cock is good–“

“I don’t like the thought of you thinking about his cock.”

“Alright, alright, just let me have a little somethin’. I just want to know some details. Bread crumbs. Just a taste. Please? I don’t want his cock, but I want to know more about it, if ya know wha’ I mean.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as you lean in, wanting to keep this as private as possible. “Well,” you say, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes and reflecting in the mug you’re polishing right now, “My dining table suffered a little last night, and I’m not talking about spilling food.”

Sarah gasps again, burying her head in her hands. “Oh, my God!” she as much as shrieks, and you have to squeeze her shoulder to stop her from causing a scene.

“Yeah,” you chuckle, and it sounds almost proud.

What have you turned into?

She claps her hands excitedly. “Did it break?” she asks. And she almost looks disappointed when you tell her that no, it didn’t break. It only squeaked a little and left scratches on the floorboards after you were done fucking on it like wild animals. But that’s all that happened to your precious dining table.

“It should have broken ‘cause that’s the best kind of sex. If it doesn’t, yer not doin’ it hard enough.”

You snort. “Let’s just say he knows how to make me come,” you say.

She smirks. “Like hard, or–“

“Mhm.”

“Does he cuddle after sex? Be honest.”

“The cuddliest.”

“Aw, man!” She fans herself. “What else?”

“Well, the way he does it… oh, Sarah, if only you knew.” You sigh. “So good.”

Her eyes widen, hoping you will spill a little more than a few mysterious bits and pieces, but then your lips curl up and she knows she has been defeated.

“That’s all you need to know,” you say.

“Ugh,” she says, “You’re boring!”

She pouts when you turn away from her to treat the next customer who just came in.

Passing by her as you prepare the order, you halt to whisper something into her ear, “If you give that hottie your number, you might get good sex, too. Maybe even some morning cuddles like me. This café turns out to be a great match-maker.”

Seeing her face, it’s clear that Sarah considers taking your advice the second it leaves your mouth and reaches her ear.

You have an excellent day. After Maya’s text, there is seemingly nothing that can ruin your mood. The customers are all nice to you and you give them your best smile, which results in a lot of tips. You can already see a brighter future for your bank account, considering Ava allowed you to close up shop at the end of the day and do some overtime to add some more hours, and you have never been more grateful.

You promised her you wouldn’t get overworked so easily, but when you’re finally done cleaning the café, your feet and back hurt and you’re almost too exhausted to even make your way home. But you still do because your thoughts flick to Michael and you know you won’t be alone when you get home. That’s all that matters to you when you make your way to your car and drive home.

Slowing down at the gas station, everything seems normal again after the shooting except for the police taping locking the place down for business, but you don’t feel as much threat coming from it now that the worst is cleaned up.

Hearing that Michael’s family was involved in the shooting shocked you to your core, but death doesn’t scare you, it hasn’t for a long time, and neither does violence. What scares you is the fact that it is so damn messy, and you don’t fully understand the magnitude of the life he grew up in and his family continues to lead.

You don’t appreciate violence, so you don’t appreciate them making a living with the suffering of others – with bloodshed and drugs. It must eventually grow sad and lonely, right? It must be traumatizing. Michael is traumatized. He lost so much to his name and now he’s broken. You can’t imagine the others not feeling that way unless they’re psychopaths in which case you never want to meet them.

They’re dangerous and you should stay away, but Michael does not fit on that roster. And somehow, when you think about it, you’re more curious now than ever about what the Kinsellas have got to hide.

With every step up the stairs to your apartment, your feet grow more tired. You just want to get out of these clothes and these shoes, maybe take a hot bath to get rid of the ache in your muscles, and sleep. You have been so wound up and in your head thanks to Maya and your incompetent family, you didn’t notice how awful you have been feeling.

You open the door, almost crying from how exhausted you are. Only after closing the door and locking the deadbolt, do you notice that the apartment is rather warm. Your heater doesn’t always work perfectly, so it’s often too cold. Tonight though, you can feel the comfortable heat of candles and a working heater hug you as soon as you step inside.

Then you smell it. The softest whiff of pasta and garlic lies in the air. You sniff, trying to make out if it’s your neighbor’s cooking or coming from your kitchen. When you hear the clanging of utensils ahead of you, you realize that it’s not just anyone making dinner in the complex, it’s Michael. In your home. For you.

He somehow got the heater to work and still turned on a few candles to make it more comfortable for you before you got home. Now you want to cry even more because it is just so considerate, no one has ever done something of this magnitude for you before – and it’s somehow only the bare minimum.

You leave your coat and bag by the door, slowly walking down the hallway toward the kitchen. “Don’t get startled, I’m not a serial killer,” you say.

Michael’s head whips around when he senses your presence, his frown quickly turning into a smile. “Hey,” he says. “Yer home.”

Home. It’s a normal thing to say, but he’s referring to your apartment, the one he is staying in, and now he even cooked for you. It feels like he belongs here now, with you.

He’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a cozy, green sweater. You remember it from the first day you met. The color reminded you of the cloudy Dublin weather, but also the grass whenever it rains.

He smells good, you can tell it from where you’re standing, once again reminding you of ground coffee beans, rain, and Michael. It’s his unique scent that draws you in the most. It’s woody, almost, but also holds a certain whiff of leaves in autumn and the feeling of the soft summer air during a clear London night. You can’t explain it; there are too many sensations when it comes to him, and none of them can be put into words.

“You okay?” his gentle voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

Your eyes are a little wider than usual, cheeks already flushed from the warmth as you look around. “What’s all this?” you ask, your voice carrying a soft, quiet tone.

Michael frowns. “Dinner?” He smiles shyly. “I thought I’d, uh, make you somethin’ ‘cause ya said ya had to work late again today, so… Sorry, I–“

You raise your hand. “I’m not mad.”

“What?”

“I’m… you did this?” Your eyes soften even more. “For me?”

“Well, yeah, who else would I be doin’ this for? Wouldn’t cook dinner all fer myself, that’s kind of… tha’ would be a lot.”

“Michael, I…”

“Are you sure yer okay?”

With silent steps, you approach him. He follows you with his curious gaze, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to read you. You wrap your arms around his neck in answer, pulling him down into a kiss.

He smiles when he pulls away. “Hi,” he murmurs. “What was tha’ for?”

“Being you,” you say.

It warms your heart that he went out of his way to make you dinner. He made sure the apartment would be warm enough for you because you hate the cold and he notices how much you freeze at night, and how much you rely on his body to provide heat. But you were always too proud to get someone to look at your heater, so he took a look at it for you and found an easy fix. He did all of that without batting an eye, using his time alone for good, and you’re not sure how to react to that.

“Your heater had a few loose screws,” he answers your unspoken questions. “Fixed ‘em, now it’s warmer. And your tomatoes were ‘bout to go bad, so I decided I’d make some spaghetti ‘cause that’s the only thing I remember how ta make.”

You place your hands on his face, stroking the faint blush on his cheeks. “Thank you so much…”

“Ya don’t have to thank me, love.”

“Yes, I do. That’s not something I can expect, especially not after such a short amount of time together. I mean, I haven’t always been completely open with you and that would be turn-off for a lot of people, and it would prompt them not to cook dinner or- or fix my heater. I’d totally get it if you didn’t trust me and tell me now that this won’t work out, but I–“

Michael shuts you up with a sweet kiss pressed to your lips. You’re quick to stop rambling, the softness of his lips moving against yours eliciting a warmth that comes from deep within and not from outside, and it reminds you that you’re home. It’s not the apartment that makes it feel that way, it’s home.

Ever since you moved to Dublin, you had been searching for a place to call home, but your four walls have almost just been an apartment, and you struggled. Now that Michael is here with you, you feel less stranded and alone and more like you’ve finally found somewhere you belong – and that is his arms and his lips, offering you a sanctuary and a home.

Your eyes are still closed when he pulls away. “I want ya t’be comfortable ‘round me,” he says.

You can feel his hot breath fanning across your face, his fingers painting delicate patterns on the back of your neck where he is holding your forehead close to his.

“Michael, I–” you begin, but the words elude you.

“Shh,” he shushes you with his index finger against your lips. “It’s okay. Let’s just… have dinner, and then I’ll run ya a bath, and then we’ll watch a movie. I wanna be with ya. I don’t care if it takes a day, a month, or a year fer ya to open up ta me ‘cause I have so much left to tell ya, too; as long as I get to be with ya and get to know who you are, that’s all I care about.”

You nod in response, unable to find the right words. You have always been just a caretaker and telling people the truth has never become important before because no one cared before, but he does. With Michael, it seems that you have found someone who sees you for who you truly are, flaws and all. You have found a home. In his eyes, you're not just someone who exists solely to take care of others. You're worth more than that, and he's taking care of you for a change to prove that to you.

With a quivering smile, you brush your thumb against his cheek, cherishing the warmth beneath your touch. "I... I want that too," you finally manage to say.

He leans in and kisses the pad of your thumb. “I know you do,” he says.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but–”

“Shh, let me take care of ya. You’d say the same thing ta me right now. And don’t say no ‘cause we both know ya would.”

Your shoulders slack as you sigh. He’s right; you can be quite the hypocrite sometimes. He smiles when your protests die down and takes your hand to lead you to the table.

Watching him, you are amazed by how natural he looks moving around your kitchen. He’s in his element, and you mentally add another talent to his list – he seems to be an excellent cook, or he can at least stand his own in a kitchen, which is something not many can say about themselves.

With a shy smile, he places the pasta in front of you. Michael put in the extra effort to plate the food well enough to make it look as delicious as it smells. You decorate coffee cups for a living, you know the eye of the beholder plays a big role in how food and drinks are consumed, so you appreciate it even more that he used herbs to garnish the spaghetti.

“I’m not the best cook,” he begins.

You glare at him from across the table, grabbing your fork. “It smells good,” you tell him. “And I’m sure it tastes just as amazing.”

“If it doesn’t, we could still order pizza.”

“Michael, darling, please stop expecting the worst from yourself whenever you create something.”

“I can’t help it, I–”

You shush him, digging into the pasta and taking a huge bite as if to prove to him you would still eat it even if it tasted like trash. You love cooking and you often do so for others because it is therapeutic, in a way. You used to cook for your sister all the time, and you would help your mother when she couldn’t. You used to make dinner for the whole family to prevent confrontation or any unnecessary violence because the fear was greater than hunger, and so food became a means for survival in more ways than once.

You don’t like to dwell on the past, but there is a reason why you often cook for yourself rather than order takeout; you don’t know any better, and that’s also why in every relationship you have been in, you were the sole provider when it came to breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Having Michael cook for you is something you never thought you would experience, let alone enjoy, but the second the delicious taste of tomato sauce, garlic, and spaghetti meets your tongue, you are in heaven.

“It’s made with love,” Michale murmurs, “I hope that’s enough.”

You reach out and gently touch his hand. “This is…” you lick your lips. He is an amazing cook, he even exceeded your expectations. “It's delicious,” you say. “And I don't just say it because I like you. This is really good.”

His eyes light up. “Really?”

“Yes, really. This is probably the best fucking pasta I’ve ever had.”

“It’s an Italian recipe,” he says, slowly beginning to curl his own spaghetti around his fork. “Birdy brought it home with her after one of her trips and she taught me ‘cause Anna, when she was still little, I mean, loved pasta more than anythin’...” He chuckles. “So I thought I should learn how to make spaghetti, but I always thought… well, never mind.”

“You thought everyone was just pretending to like it for your sake?” you ask.

He shrugs. You must have hit a sore spot. Nodding, you return to eating your pasta, enjoying every last bite with a soft smile playing on your face. When you meet Michael’s eyes, he’s watching you intently, his hazel eyes carrying a look you haven’t seen before, and it makes you frown.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” he quickly looks away, flustered.

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothin’, I just… I can’t believe yer here.”

“Well, I am very real,” you say as you finish your last bite. “And you just cooked me probably the best dinner I have ever had in my life, so… not getting rid of me that easily, Mister Kinsella.”

His chuckle resembles a giggle and the sound swells your heart. You look over your shoulder, standing at the stove now and filling your plate with some more pasta. “What?” you ask.

“Hungry?” he teases.

You poke your tongue out at him. “Fuck off! I didn’t have the time to eat today.”

“I’m not judging.”

“You better not.”

“Lucky for ya, there's plenty more where tha’ came from.” He gestures to the pot on the stove. “Help yourself.”

You add another spoonful of sauce. “Oh, I intend to,” you say.

“And I encourage ya to do so.”

You sit back down across from him, your legs now crossed, and you dig into your second serving with enthusiasm. Michael watches you throughout.

“Was it stressful?” he asks eventually. “Work, I mean.”

Swallowing the bite in your mouth, you shrug. “It was pretty tame today, actually, compared to yesterday’s mess, but I was in pretty early and then I had to close up, so it’s been a long day.”

“You shouldn’t be overworkin’ yerself.”

“I’m okay.”

“Maybe you should ask fer fewer hours, hm? If I do happen to get the job, ya won’t be as understaffed and—”

“I asked for the overtime,” you cut him off.

Your words hang heavily in the air as he processes your words, then immediately frowns when they start making sense in his head. “Why?” he asks.

You finish your plate and set it aside, shrugging. “Needed the money,” you say.

His frown deepens. “How much?” His hands pat his pockets as if he’s searching for something, maybe even his wallet.

You raise an eyebrow. “Michael, you don't have to…” The last thing you want is to take money for him without him knowing why you're short this month.

He interrupts you, still. “Please, just tell me,” he says. “How much?”

You sigh. “Fine,” you relent. “It's not that much, just a couple hundred quid. But that's why I asked for more hours. It's just to make rent due this month. Please, don't–”

You’re not sure why the most human struggle embarrasses you so much, maybe because he doesn’t know the full story, and maybe because he thought you had somewhat control over your life and now he realizes that you don’t. It makes you feel utterly pathetic.

He looks at you so softly, you want to cry. He pulls out a roll of money and places it between you on the table. You don’t even want to know where he got it from, a feeling of unease spreading through your body.

“I don’t have rent to pay,” he says. “I got that from… well, doesn’t matter. Point is, I got that after I got out and was still searchin’ for a job, and then I started with Amanda and I… I don’t need it. I have some stashed away for emergencies, and if yer strugglin’ to make rent due, then you need it more than me.”

If someone from his family gave him the money, it surely is connected to drugs or any other kind of crime they use as their main source of income. He notices your hesitation and the bewildered look in your eyes, and he sighs, sliding the money back to his side.

“I get it,” Michael looks down at his hands, “Ya don’t want it because of– Sorry.”

You reach out and gently place your hand over his, stopping him from retracting the money. “No, wait,” you say. “I'm sorry. I appreciate your kindness more than you know, but…”

“I don’t want ya to question where it came from. I get it, trust me.”

Your lips curl into a sad smile. That’s what you’re doing; you are questioning where it came from and if it could get you into trouble if you were to pay this money into your bank account. You’re questioning if Michael had something to do with getting this money in the past, or what his family did to get that batch in the first place. It looks like a lot of money, and part of you wants to take it because it would help your situation, but your common sense speaks louder than words. Besides, you don't know how to accept help even if it’s served to you on a silver platter.

“This isn't because I don't trust you,” you feel the desperate urge to add, “This is just me… and the fact that I’m just as confused as you are, and this…. I can’t take your money, no matter if it’s from your family or not. I have to find a way to get back on my feet on my own. Somehow… I can make rent due. I have to.”

Michael gently takes your hand and places it over the money. “Yer gonna work yourself to death,” he whispers. “I just… I just want t’ help ya. If it makes you feel better, I will pay all of yer bills and your rent, you don’t even have to touch it, but I can’t watch ya do this to yerself longer than ya have to.”

You meet Michael's eyes. It's both overwhelming and comforting at the same time how concerned he is. His offer is tempting, and a part of you wants to let go of your pride and accept his help. But another part of you is fiercely determined to stand on your own feet. You don't want to be dependent on anyone ever again. But it's money, and it isn't as easy to come by as you originally thought when you first moved across the sea.

You bury your face in your hands. “I don’t want to be a burden to you,” you admit quietly.

“Yer not,” he says, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “Please? Can I help ya just a little?”

Taking in a deep breath, you nod.

“Is tha’ a yes?”

“Yeah,” you answer huskily. The unshed tears in your eyes are burning, your body exhausted and overly sensitive.

He smiles, getting up and walking over to your side of the table. “C’mere,” Michael urges, his arms already outstretched for you. “Let me hold ya. Yer exhausted.”

The comforting scent of his cologne envelops you as you place your head against his chest. He embraces you tightly, his strong arms holding you as close as he humanly can, you let out a soft whimper. His hands work their making over the sore skin of your back, and you find yourself falling further into his arms until all you can feel is him. You can smell him, hear his heartbeat and feel his breath tickle the crown of your head as he leans down to kiss your scalp. You lose yourself in the feeling and for a moment, you allow yourself to breathe, shaking off the weight of the day and the days far before that.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your nails clawing at his shirt. “For everything. Just… thank you.” He caught you when you were falling, and you are still not quite sure what you did to deserve this kind of devotion.

Just as you took care of him, he is taking care of you now; isn’t that what a relationship should look like? You heard about it, but you have never experienced it before he came along, but you know you don’t want to live without it anymore.

He keeps his promise of running you a bath. The hour you spend in the tub of warm water and bubbles soothes the ache from your muscles and offers your feet some sweet relief. Your favorite candles adorn the side of the tub and you sink further into the bath, wanting to be consumed by this cozy feeling forever.

The door opens eventually after a gentle knock, and Michael comes in to check if you’re still awake – it’s sweet that he wants to prevent you from drowning, which you appreciate because knowing you, you would fall asleep in the bathtub and fight for your survival later.

He settles down at the edge of the tub, gazing over you. You reach out to take his hand.

“Wanna come in?” you ask.

“If ya want me to,” he says.

“Always.”

“Okay.”

Michael sheds his clothes and you watch curiously as he undresses. You move a little to make space for him behind you, and he slides into the tub with you.

You lean back against his broad chest, his arms encapsulating you instantly. You sigh. His warmth matches the one of the bath water and you find yourself hulled into a serene state of mind that doesn’t happen very often to you.

He strokes your arms and your hair, getting some of the strands wet that you tried to tie out of your face, but with him so close to you, you don’t mind. You relish in the gentle intimacy of your moment together, and even he seems to relax visibly behind you, his muscles slacking as he pulls you fully into him.

His heartbeat thuds against your ear as you turn a little, listening to your favorite lullaby. His chest moves your head up and down with every rise and fall.

You’re content.

You spend some more time in silence together before the water runs cold and you are forced to get out. You get up first, wrapping yourself in a towel. Michael watches your every curve with a gentle smile on his lips, and maybe he’s a little flustered seeing you so effortlessly naked moving around him as if you have been together for years.

As you brush your hair and tie it back up into a bun, he gets out, too, and dries himself off. You don’t talk throughout, you simply share stolen glances and soft smiles, his arms wrapping around your waist and hugging you once again. You speak through the language of touch and you both know how to translate.

Later that night, he makes some of the Popcorn he found in your cabinet, and prepares some drinks while you settle in on the couch with a giant blanket that covers you whole.

When it comes to picking a movie, you find yourselves at a crossroads because you share very not-so-similar interests.

“Just put on what you want,” you say.

“No,” he retorts, “That defeats the purpose of a movie night.”

“But I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“As long as I have ya in my arms, I can never be unhappy.”

He makes you blush with his comment and you cave, putting on a movie from your watchlist. It’s a new one, something Netflix just put out. A rom-com. Michael is not a fan, but he settles in next to you anyway, pulling you into his chest.

The blanket lies over you both as the intro of the movie starts, and fatigue instantly settles over you. His hand cradles your head close to his heart, his other arms draped around you. He’s your rock, quite literally.

You cling to him, your body succumbing to the exhaustion of the day and the mental turmoil you have been in the days before. It all falls off your shoulders in his arms and you find yourself gradually sinking deeper into the pits of sleep before you can even taste the buttery popcorn he prepared.

His fingers move along your scalp, massaging the skin, and that’s the moment when you begin to clock out completely. Your eyes roll back. You lose yourself in his touch and his gentle whispers in your ear, the stupid comments he makes about the movie you can barely pay attention to, and your eyes flutter closed.

Looking down, Michael notices that you have drifted off to sleep. A small smile forms on his lips. As he’s turning off the tv and adjusting you so he can carry you to bed, the sudden movement startles you.

“I’m awake,” you slur, your eyes open, but your mind still asleep.

“Shh,” he cradles your head and places you back on his chest, “I’m just movin’ ya to bed,” he says. “Go back to sleep, love. There ya go. Good girl.”

You close your eyes again, your consciousness slipping once more.

Michael lifts you up and gently takes you to bed. Tucking you in with the same loving touch he's always had, he makes sure you're comfortable first before even thinking about himself. You nestle into the softness of the blankets, his warmth still lingering on your skin. As he pulls away, you instinctively reach out, afraid he might slip away if you don't keep him close to you.

He climbs into bed next to you, and as soon as he's next to you, your body curls into his. “Don’t go,” you murmur. “Stay.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer as your bodies mold together, fitting perfectly like two puzzle pieces. “Always,” he whispers. His lips find your forehead. “I'm right here.”

And he won’t be going anywhere, that much he promises.

Tagging for this Series: @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fic #kin amc #charlie cox #reader insert #chaos theory

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yourangel137 · 9 months

Text

Bloodstains on the curtain / chapter 2

Here is chapter two! I hope you all like it<3 tagging: @pix-stuff as promised.

Pairings: yandere/murderer!Childe x GN!reader

Warnings: stress/anxiety

Genre: mostly fluff

Type: Series

Word count: 1123 words

Summary: Is it truly him? Is he truly the killer? He can't be.. he's just too kind, right?

It’s hard to figure out how you’re supposed to feel after such an event, your stomach still twists and feels sick upon remembering the scene you saw just a week ago. After the police had safely brought you home, you haven’t been able to rest. Nightmares upon nightmares happen, no matter how many hours you decide to sleep. Your parent decided to call a therapist for you, someone who is able to help you let go of your trauma. Yet nobody knows what truly bothers you.

Why does the killer have the exact same keychain as Tartaglia?

Your best friend, Tartaglia, might be hiding more than you thought at first. Your best friend, the person you fell so hard for that it hurts knowing he might be a killer. It must be a coincidence right?

A knock can be heard on your door, your eyes immediately darting towards your bedroom door before it opens up and your mother enters your bedroom. “I made you some dinner, do you want to eat it here or with me downstairs?” She asks you, her worry still clearly present in her voice.

“Here, if you don’t mind. I just need a moment for myself..”

“Okay, I get it. Times are very tough right now but just know I’m here for you ok? I’ll bring you a plate.” And there she went again, going downstairs to get you a plate before going back up with it and putting it on your desk.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it..” Your mother’s smile is enough of an answer to your gratitude before she leaves you alone again.

A coincidence... It must’ve been a coincidence... A bright yellow star keychain, the same keychain you gave to Tartaglia as a little token of appreciation towards all he’d done for you. You still remember where you bought it, how it was the last one in stock and how happy Tartaglia got from such a small gift.

It has to be a coincidence.

You slowly begin eating the food your mother made for you, brain still pondering who the killer could possibly be. Your phone lights up and you see a message from your best friend, but for now you decide to ignore it.

‘If Tartaglia really is the killer? Would I be able to tell the police?’ You think to yourself. How could you possibly send your best friend of 10 years to jail? Someone you managed to develop such strong feelings for? Is it normal to doubt yourself?

Your phone lights up again, this time ringing fills your ears, breaking your trail of thoughts and worries. Quickly you swallow the last bit of food down before picking up the phone. “Heeeeey, my star, it’s Tartaglia~ Are you feeling a bit better today? Did I scare you again by calling randomly? You didn’t check my messages so.. I hope you don’t mind me simply calling you~” The corners of your mouth lift up, cheeks flushing slightly, all while your heart skips beats of happiness.

‘Nah, he can’t be the killer.’

“No I don’t mind you calling me, not at all actually! I was just eating dinner so I couldn’t reply immediately, sorry about that. I feel a bit better today, I’m just very tired.. How are you feeling today?”

His happy giggles melt your heart before he answers back: “I’m glad you don’t mind me calling, I’m just worried about you, ya know? I’m doing great now I hear your voice again~” His random flirting immediately gets to you and your cheeks flush once more. “Are you still getting nightmares? I hope they are gone.. but then again, I can’t imagine how horrible that scene must’ve looked..”

“It’s getting better, but I still get them frequently. I’m sure it’ll go away eventually, right?” you reply with a positive tone in your voice.

“I do hope so.. But hey! Now that girl won’t bother you anymore right? With the bullying? Isn’t that something positive at least?”

Your words get stuck in your throat, saliva building up while you remain silent. Tartaglia coughs up a forced chuckle and softly states it’s a stupid joke he shouldn’t have made.

“You’re right though.. She won’t bully me anymore.. I just don’t know how to feel about why she won’t bully me anymore. Do people genuinely deserve to die because they hurt another person?”

The other line stays quiet this time, yet the air turns thick and the silence makes you so uncomfortable. After a few minutes you hear his voice speak out again:

“Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. At least you’re safe, right Y/N? That’s all I care about, your safety.”

“...”

“Anyways~! Do you have plans tomorrow? School is still closed so we could hang out if you’d like? We could go out and shop for new clothes or just get some ice cream or lunch? What do you think?”

Before you know it, a tear drops down your cheek, worry filling your heart again. You clutch onto your sweatshirt while you hold back the urge to cry. “I almost died back then Tartaglia..”

“You won’t die, nobody will hurt you, my star. You got me, right? I’ll keep you safe even if it’ll cost me my life. Nobody will hurt you, nobody will. I’ll make sure of it, okay Y/N? Can you believe me and trust me with that?”

You hum softly while nodding, wiping away the tear that rolled down your cheek. “Please.. Keep me safe.. I’m scared the killer saw me and I’m next on the list..”

You hear a soft sad sigh from the other line before you hear his softer and more gentle voice speak out once again: “I promise, I’ll keep you safe. How about tomorrow I’ll come pick you up and I’ll hold your hand the whole time while we shop together, hm? I’m sure that’ll make you feel a lot safer right?” He ends the sentence with a cute chuckle.

“Alright.. I’d like some fresh air actually.. Text me the time you’ll be here then, okay? I’ll stop calling now.. I’m getting very tired.” Not even 10 seconds later you already see his message appear with the time, making you chuckle slightly from his enthusiasm.

“There you go! I hope you sleep well tonight. Dream of me instead! I’ll even protect you in your dreams~”

You sigh and face palm your forehead softly from his very obvious flirting. “Alright dumbass, I’ll dream of you instead.” You hear his gasp on the other line and can’t help but laugh. “Goodnight to you too.. Thank you by the way. Byee byee~”

I guess tomorrow will be your first time going outside after the incident, how is that going to go?

---

Hope u have a lovely day<3

Much love,

Angel

Last updated: 07-08-2023

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