#new life necessity I guess

[dilfartist]

A foolish endeavor

Pairing; Yandere Miguel O’hara x reader

Synopsis; You manage to snag Miguel’s gizmo and escape to another universe. How long will it take before he, or the spider society, find you?

Word count; 2.8k

Reader description; Female/GN

TW; kidnapping, probably terrible spanish (i did use sources Spanish-speaking users suggested), non-con touching, yandere themes, dark writing.

Notes; {if i mistranslated any of the spanish please do contact me in my DMs. I wanted this fic to be better but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Did not proofread.}

Midnight coated New York in a dark blue hue. Most nights the city lights illuminate the darkness, providing the ability to see. However, the motel you find yourself ambling to is the more isolated part of the city.

Rain poured down heavily, producing cacophonous echoes of raindrops slamming against the concrete. Clad in a drenched hoodie and damp black yoga pants, you scurry to the other side of the street just in time to avoid being hit by the passing truck.

Cigarette smoke and frigid rain overwhelm your senses, mainly due to the cigarette buds scattered on the motel parking lot.

The motel is okay looking. By no means does it look nice, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Guess this is where I’ll sleep tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You take a brief glance at your surroundings. Night overcame the sky, giving the atmosphere a dark hue but the lights gave you a clear standpoint.

Numerous lights hummed irritatingly, not even a minute passed and you found yourself obtaining a headache. You navigate the main office, which is on the left side of the horseshoe-shaped building, and a blue neon sign points in the direction of the office. You started sauntering over, putting pep in your step when the cold rain declined heavier than it did the last five minutes.

Six months ago, you wouldn’t be having this problem. At least that’s what you believed. You could’ve been at your apartment, catching up on a show you’ve failed to complete thanks to your busy work schedule.

Unfortunately for you, doing a task as simple as watching your television, in your home, was truly impossible. Why? Because the earth you roam isn’t yours, to begin with. Your apartment isn’t yours. The job you work isn’t yours. You aren’t certain you even exist in this universe.

You can’t find the strength to complain. Honestly, you’re delighted to be away from the man who stole you away from society.

Miguel O’Hara.

Otherwise known as Spiderman 2099. You know, the superhero.

It must be confusing to hear that a superhero kidnaped a poor civilian. Superheros don’t normally commit unforgivable acts. Regardless, Miguel didn't care. Miguel is aware he is different from other heroes given his beliefs. Abducting you was just one of the many wrongs Miguel fulfilled.

You just wished you knew his motives at the beginning. If you did, you wouldn't have to search for sanctuary. You wouldn't have to lie low in a different universe.

Before Miguel, you lived a decent life that included a decent job. It was a Tuesday afternoon with sunny weather and clear skies. Your friends invited you to a picnic at the park and, for once having a clear schedule you agreed. You recall the sun beaming down on you, overheating your body to the point shade was a necessity. You moved from the picnic blanket to a nearby bent tree. One moment you're enjoying the shade, the next you're falling. Then something transpired. You jerked in the air, something white clinging to the front of your shirt. You felt your body floating in the air, legs thrashing in fear when your body conceded it was in mid-air.

You must have fainted because you have no recollection of what transpired next. What you do remember was watching through bleary eyes as four strangers hovered over you clearly disputing. Currently, you know them by Jessica Drew, Peter B. Parker, the iron spider, And Miguel O’Hara.

The accountability for your well-being somehow landed in the hands of Miguel. In the beginning, Miguel had such a short patience for you, not that he didn't possess an attitude with anyone else, he just happened to have a really short fuse with you.

His explosive temper with you was undeserving. You hardly gave him any reason to blow up. Your presence alone just pissed him off, at least it appeared so.

You avoided him as much as possible; Departing a room when he entered. Ensuring any errands were accomplished before he arrived home, so you didn't have to leave your room to aggravate him.

Then he began to seek you out; popping up wherever you were in his apartment. Alone watching television on the couch? Not anymore. Miguel joined you on the other side silently watching as well. Sitting silently in the dining room eating lunch? Miguel enters with a bowl of cereal, starting a conversation about the day’s news. Enjoy video games and decide to play by yourself? Miguel grabs a controller and questions the rules and certain controls.

For someone who was as snappy at you as a feral dog, he sure did like to invade your solitude.

By the second month of staying at Miguel’s, he found solace in your presence. He became relaxed. Nice even. And then by the fourth month, you became friends. You never visualized being anything other than friends, but unbeknownst to you, Miguel did.

When you first caught the news of Peter figuring out what universe you belonged to, you were ecstatic. After all, the mystery of your universe's number had been the sole reason for crashing with Miguel and not immediately returning home.

You turned to Miguel, asking when was the appropriate time to drop you off. To your astonishment, Miguel’s brows furrowed, and his lips morphed into a grimace, “you will not be returning.” he affirmed.

Miguel shocked not only you, but everyone witnessing the scene. A gauche silence conquered the atmosphere.

You and Miguel stared at each other for a beat, then you voiced your perplexity. “What do you mean “I will not be returning?” Miguel, I need to go home.” you took a step closer to Miguel.

Miguel gazed at you with an uninterested stare. “What I say goes, (Name). And I say you're staying here.” he spun around, returning to whatever he had been working on before. “We all have a busy schedule and dropping you off will only alter it.”

“It’s not worth it,” he said like he was ending the conversation.

“Okay, then Peter can take me home when he needs to drop off Mayday.” you insisted, looking over at Peter to see if he’d be alright with your plan.

No expression was needed for you to catch on to the attitude Miguel began to gain. “(Name), I won’t tell you twice. The answer is no. Now, Peter take her back to my apartment. We’ll speak about the matter later, at the moment there are more important issues happening.”

You found it laughable. To think the minute you stepped into the man's sight he wanted you gone, but now Miguel was fighting you to stay with him. Ironic, isn’t it?

That night you and Miguel, the very moment he came inside his apartment, quarreled for an hour in a half. Your argument being you did not belong to him and could do whatever you pleased. Miguel’s argument was the insignificance of the matter to him.

You detected Miguel’s temper was starting to get out of hand. The way his fists began to clench, the way his brows creased, and the frown deepened after every sentence he uttered. You’ve seen his strength. His fierceness. And you’d rather leave than have any of his tantrums directed at you. Doing what any rational person would do, you attempted to leave the room. You advised him to de-stress before speaking to you again.

Miguel was having none of it. Not even a second passed before you were yanked back by the forearm.

You’re face-to-face with Miguel. Miguel towered over you, looking down at you with his signature red piercing stare. He bends down, momentarily staring at you until he finally speaks. “I can't allow you to leave.” The way he talks is low and if the room weren't already quiet, you wouldn’t have heard him. “I love you,” he confessed, voice cracking, closing his eyes as if it pained him to say it. He opened his eyes again. “And I won't allow myself to lose any other person I care for.”

Pulling twenty dollars out of the torn-up wallet you found on the side of the road, you slide it forward on the mahogany brown table. The fatigued receptionist glances at the money, then gazes at you with an irked expression.

“This isn’t enough.” She states matter-of-factly. She slides the twenty back to you.

You purse your lips, staring down at the cash. Twenty dollars is all you had. What were you to do now? The next nearest motel could be miles away; it was a miracle you made it to this.

Your eyes flicker back to her. You take two fingers pushing it back to her, giving her your best puppy eyes. “Please! I don't have anywhere else to go tonight. If I can’t stay here I’ll have to sleep on the streets.”

You were lying. You would’ve taken off by dawn, needing to be on the move after getting rested.

Her hardened expression softens. She takes a deep breath, eyes studying the money. Shaking her head, she takes the cash. “One night only, alright?”

You propose to her a smile, nodding with gratitude. She allotted you a key. A small golden-greenish key, with the number five engraved on the head. Tonight you’d sleep on the grounded floor of the motel.

The inside was decently prepared, having a dingy tone that gave off a haunted vibe. You hum in displeasure. Two queen-sized mattresses are positioned on the right side of the wall. They appeared stiff, and the blankets laying upon them looked thinner than a sheet of paper.

Sighing, you softly booted the door shut. Flopping down on the nearest bed, you groan at the sensation of the rough mattress.

When tomorrow comes you’d have to find a fresh location. Miguel could continually find your locale, thanks to not only Lyla but the whole Spider society. Perhaps you postponed his search this time. His watch or gizmo- whatever the hell it was- rests on your wrist.

Shifting your head to the side, pulling your hand out of your pocket, you glance at the gizmo.

Tightly clutched in Miguel’s hold, you stare quietly at the ceiling. You debate acting on your next actions. There were times Miguel slept lightly, aroused by creaks in the floorboard. Other times when the sound of glass shattering did not bother him even a little.

Glancing down at the arm wrapped securely around your midriff, you endeavor to gradually lift his arm up. He unconsciously retaliates, arms consolidating, resulting in a small gasp slipping from your lips. You’re quick to rub his arm, to offer him comfort, and to calm him.

It works. Miguel grumbles, his grasp faulting. You carefully move his arm aside, then unhurriedly get up from the bed.

Before leaving the room you observe Miguel. Miguel sleeps soundly, an angry expression inscribed on his face. But he is asleep, so you take your chance while you are able.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, you immediately spot the gizmo on the marble counter. Compared to the technology you have at home, it was top-notched, a huge improvement. Of course, he lived in the year 2099. Obviously, there would be a difference in technology.

You grabbed the gizmo, examining the complexity. From monitoring the spider people using them, you know it’ll take you wherever universe you request. Great. However, you weren’t a spider person. If you teleported in the middle of the air, you couldn't grapple on the closest object with a web. Or claw your way down a building

Fuck it.

If dying meant escaping him, then so be it.

You didn’t really mean that. Every time you went to teleport to a different universe, you cringed retreating your hand.

“Jesus! Alright, I'm doing this!” you softly berated yourself. Bracing for the impact of the possible fall you might face, you shut your eyes tight and twisted the gizmo. “Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground!” you cried.

How long would it take them to find you? How far could you get?

God, being on the run was stressful.

Your eyes flutter closed, plush pillows luling your tired mind. ‘I should get some sleep’ you thought. Warmth spread throughout your numbing body, as you finally permitted yourself to sleep.

When you awake gasping for air, almost as if you’d been suffocating. Instantly you arise, a hand rushing to your chest confirming it still thumped with a beating heart. Your skin is sticky with cold sweat, making your clothes uncomfortably cling to your body. “What the fuck?” you barely uttered, mouth arid.

Suddenly you had a gut feeling to check the window. You stand, groggily walking toward the large window adjacent to the front door. Pinching the hem of the curtain, you haul it aside.

The night is still pristine, the stars glowing in the dark sky. Nothing seems out of place. And yet you continue to have that gut feeling. Look outside, there’s something outside. Your eyes move to the parking lot.

You see it.

Blue and red. Something blue and red is making its way toward the motel. Squinting, you can make out what it is. Miguel. It's Miguel!

“Oh, shit!” you expressed, dropping the curtain. Wasting no time you locked the bottom and top locks. You veered around, frantically searching for a place to hide. You are no fool. Locking the door was simply a distraction; Miguel would tear the door off its hinges in a second.

Hiding underneath the bed is a childish strategy. That and hiding underneath the covers. Still, you drop to your knees, squeezing underneath the bed, using the blankets to cover any spaces revealing you. Pressing the palm of your hand against both your mouth and nose, you listen closely to everything around you.

At first, all you hear is the air conditioning blowing cool air, and the people next door’s baby weeping. Then you hear it. The doorknob oscillation. Your eyes widen, fear causing your breath to hitch. When the door refuses to open, the person behind the door commences kicking in the door. One kick achieves them access to the room. The door slams against the wall, shaking the ground, sending a vibration under you.

“¿Qué carajo?” you know that voice anywhere. It’s Miguel speaking in his native language. A habit Miguel has when he’s angered or stressed. “¿Dónde está ella?” Miguel snaps, striding into the room with anger-powered steps.

You can see through the tiny slit in the blankets, Miguel turning to the table where you placed the gizmo. Miguel picks up the gizmo, putting it back on his wrist.

He shifts his concentration to finding you. He calls out your name, malice dripping from the way he shouts it. He disappears from sight, presumingly moving on to the bathroom. Many things are heard being tossed around. Miguel probably was looking for evidence of you staying here, apart from the gizmo.

You gather the courage to, oh, so carefully stretch your leg out, then proceed to quietly shuffle from under the bed. You waste no time, rushing out the door, feet bare without socks or shoes. The gravel burns the soles of your feet, scraping and imprinting on the skin.

You practically succeeded in leaving the lot until you caught a glimpse of what stalked behind you. On all fours, Miguel sprinted at you, claws scuffing the concrete, like a predator running after its prey.

“Holy shit! What the actual fuck!” you panic aloud, taking your eye off what was in front of you, your mind solely focusing on the man hunting you. Big mistake on your part. A concrete parking block is in your way, but you don’t see it. You jolt forward, tripping over the block, your other foot catching you before you hit the road.

Just when you thought you still had the chance of running away, you’re sorely mistaken. Miguel pounces on you, and the clash of your bodies colliding results in Miguel tumbling down the road, you secure in his arms.

The tumble ends; you’re struggling not to vomit, head resting on Miguel’s firm chest. The world spins. It’s easy to forget your position when the urge to throw up is fresh.

Miguel holds your head, pressing a myriad of kisses on every part of the skin visible, muttering with his eyes closed. “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.” He sounds so frantic, reciting those same words, his tongue stumbling over the utterances.

His eyelids raise, uncovering his red orbs. He presses his forehead against yours, staring deeply into your eyes. It’s a domestic stunt that makes your stomach churn. “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.” he huffs, then continues, “I’m happy you’re alright. I don’t know what I'd do if I lost you, mi alma.”

Taking your hand, he places a soft kiss on the back. “Had an anomaly harmed you, I would have ripped their fucking throat out!”

————————

Translations

- “¿Qué carajo?”/ what the fuck?

- “¿Dónde está ella?”/ where is she?

- “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.”/ I should be furious with you, but I'm not.

- “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.”/ thank god you’re okay.

- mi alma/ my soul

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara #yandere spiderman #yandere miguel o’hara #yandere spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman x reader #spiderman atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara x you #oscar issac characters #yandere oscar issac #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac hernandez estrada #yandere fanfiction #dark writing

[blingblong55]

The Great War -141, Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

with the new mw3, lets do angst, something along the lines of "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense i've been betrayed" coming from us because 141 betrayed us horribly, which ended up in us getting tortured and then we pretennd its fine when it isnt. forget and forgive we lie and when we meet with Makarov, we tell them, 'oops sorry, forgot i was also a enemy at some point, guess its time to betray like real enemies do' and as we set Makarov free, we show that we have been working as his spy ever since they betrayed us. also can this be with a female reader and we also marry makarov behind their backs so thats why we betray so hard? i love u!

A/N: anon knew what they were doing with that ask…anyway, here you go my love…betrayal as a meal <3

--- F!Reader, soldier!reader, enemy!reader, betrayal, mentions of torture and violence

A/N: also, not much of an angst since I don't want to kill Soap in this one...but I hope you like it

[Present day]

File #21712

Name: [Readers Last, First name]

Alias: Grim

Callsign: Bravo 0-5

Gender: F

DOB: [Redacted]

Rank: 2nd Lt.

Affiliations: 

-TF 141 (Former)

-Kasper Team (dissolved)

-Konni Group (Current)

Status: Alive. Threat.

Summary:

Deadly, fast and a killing machine. Soldier was trained as a recon sniper and has been trained by allied forces as an insertion specialist. SAS has recognised this soldier as a necessity for most of its joint operations. Decorated with high awards and recognition by all military forces. TF 141 acquired soldier after a mission in Al Mazrah. Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.

---------------------- 

The file was there, Laswell and all of the men in the team stared at it. What have they done, was all that played in their minds. To betray a soldier that has been wanted by all allied forces, by all teams and now losing you so quickly to a Russian group. To think your hands will be responsible for their demise. One torture room, where you begged as they did vile acts against you. Truth yelled by your gravelly throat, only to have Price ask for more of your blood. "How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls. 

[Eight years ago]

There had been suspicion someone within the base was working with KorTac, a double agent. All fake puzzles led to an unsuspecting, then officer cadet, you. Ghost and Soap made sure to tie you nicely to a chair. The same one that watched you bleed the truth as they cut looking for lies. You were always the hunter, never the prey. "Tell us, R/N, why the fuck were you talking to KorTac!" Price made sure to have the young Lieutenant punch you each time you stayed silent. Your blood on the walls of the torture-...interrogation room. "I told you Price, it isn't me!" Your eyes poured the truth they never saw. 

"Fucking answer us!" Soap, more than ever hurt, slapped you. You play tough, but this hurts, the people you trusted with your life are now wanting to end it. An oath you hold close to you, now far away, or so they believed. The patch you wore with pride, is now ripped from your uniform. No longer friendly but an enemy. You knew what this meant. Ghost took his knife out, began to approach your neck with the sharp blade and before he took your life, Gaz walked in. A small-figured soldier is being pushed into the room. "Tell them what you told me!" Garrick barked. "I-it's me! I'm the one who is talking to KorTac," voice filled with fear, rightfully so. Ghost let go of the fisted uniform in his hand, and watched as your body fell forward. Soap, look of regret, held you in his arms. 

On the way to the medic centre, Ghost was by your side as you kept whispering it wasn't you. The scar he made, is forever to be kept. Days of healing, hours of apologies. Nights when you didn't hear it, but the cold lieutenant apologised with a stream of tears on his face. A blade he cared for, neared your death. 

A/N: Makarov's information has been updated for the reboot, so I'm basing myself on that

[Seven years ago]

[Saint Petersburg, Russia]

You visited the country as a civilian and bumped into a man on your way to your hotel. "Sorry, mate," you kept walking and then days later, the same man appeared in the hotel's lobby. Bumped into you and then as an apology for spilling your wine, he offers dinner. 36-year-old Vladimir was still not illustrated, not to any of his future enemies or hunters at least. You learned many things with him that evening, from his young years in the military and how his night had gotten better since meeting you. "It's wonderful, to have such a beauty like you visit such a dull country." He had you blushing and knew how to mess with your young heart. 

"You're just saying that, Vlad," a smile on your lips. It was bizarre how he went from Vladimir to Vlad, a short name that meant too much to a man like him. "Well, it's true, my dear," his smile winning you over. He didn't know your real job and you didn't know his. That night, you made a friend, someone you hold dear. That night, he made a lover, a puppet to his future. 

[Six years ago]

[middle of nowhere]

"Where are you taking me?" a blindfold on you as your boyfriend, Vlad, took you to yet another date. "You'll see my dearest," he whispers against your soft skin. Warm breeze hit your skin. The ocean, as free as you and him yearned to be. "Suprise my love," his thick accent melting your heart. The blindfold off you, you smile and hug him. This day, all truth was told, no arguments, just two lovers understanding each other's lives. "No no, my love, I would never hurt you," a promise he knows to keep. "And you wouldn't betray me, right love?" His hands cupped your delicate face as you nod. "I would never," you whisper as you feel his lips fall on yours. 

From then on, no one knew who he was to you. But to his comrades, friends and family you were the girl who held his heart. The task force all thought you were just like them, stuck to the mission and not to civilian love. Dancing with the devil, making love to him and promising your all. An engagement ring that hangs with your dog tags. Secret love to never be told. 

[Five years ago]

"Who is this?" Soap and Gaz looked at the photograph. "Vladimir Makarov, a Russian nationalist, born during the USSR," Laswell responded. "He's the target," her lips said. A knot at your throat, this can't be, you have to warn him. "Y'alright love?" Ghost's hand on your back. You nod. "Yeah, I'm just thinking," you turn to him. He nods, "Right, well, what do you think we should do?" He encouraged you, the new lieutenant of the team, no longer a cadet officer. It was something he pushed you to, to be the best. Proud smile on him when you ran up to him with the news. "I say we start with intel," you look at the photograph once more. It was your Vlad, no doubt. "Right, sergeants with me, Ghost and Grim stay behind for Laswell's next intel ask," Price nodded and left. 

Days passed and Operation Golf was established. Ghost taught you how to perfect your ghillie suit. He just liked how you tried to make yours better than his, which always turned into, 'which Lt. wore it better'.

By midnight, as Ghost went to sleep, you left base to meet with Vladimir. Price and the two other men in a different country, looking for him. "What is it, my love?" His gloved hands held your face. "They are now gathering intel on you. They believe you are still in Russia," you spoke in Russian. He chuckles, "Shame that I'm here, isn't it," his lips meet yours. Your nose is cold and now warmed by his kiss. "Don't trust no one, not even Ivan," you warn him. "I only trust my beautiful love," he kisses you again. "Now, let me hold my precious darling before she plays pretend." And that night, was the first of many rendezvous's he took for you whilst you play ally to the task force. 

[Four years ago]

You were on an operation with some old teammates from a past squad when Price got a hold of you. "Grim, it's that Captain Price guy!" A teammate calls out. You answer the call. "Prisoner 627 is now in Russia," Price proudly spoke. 627, a number unique to the case the military had opened for Makarov alone. Your wedding ring is hung with the dog tags. "Copy, out." You say over the call. That night, your bedroom was not filled with the call of your dearest lover. It's strange, to play pretend with the family you made as a soldier and to play feign with the man you call home as a wife. All in the name of love and war. 

Months pass and you play calmly. No husband, just an enemy in some Russian prison. "Y'okay bonnie?" Soap sat beside you during mess hall. "Yeah, just a bit tired from that training," you lie. The sleepless nights you have thought about your husband. You look around the table, no one knowing you knew what would come next from Konni. In the end, it wouldn't be you who got betrayed again. Not tortured, especially not by the men in your husband's team that guarded your life with theirs. 

Mission after mission, you would go to a country near Russia. Have meetings with people on your husband's side, and hear how he would escape prison. Asked you to stay away from his people when the day arrived. Play good, he would remind you. You know the date, time, how and when it would happen. The plan is all memorised in your head. You knew the people that would break him free, you knew it all and yet no one in 141 was aware. 

[Three years ago]

On yet another mission, you got news of Vladimir. He isolated himself, prepared for when he would see you again. Sent letters to you occasionally. Details of love no one would see from a man like him. A love for all movie lovers to never witness. You roamed the home he set out to be his and yours, no one, not even his best soldier knew that home existed. It was days like these that you wished to have stayed in bed and kissed his body, all details to be taken in for when you waited to once more kiss him. 

The picture of the secret wedding was held between your fingers. A smile he dreams to see as he awaits the prison break. The man who was set to believe evil held your hand and promised an entire lifetime of love. "I'm sorry," you whisper as your gaze focuses on the 141 emblem. 

"Never be sorry, never, what they did to you is cruel, you never do that to a woman who was oathed in," fury escaped his lips. It was the night he finally told you all about him. He kissed the scars that the torture room left. In that moment, all else who dared question you, especially the rats of 141 would pay for what they did to his darling. Maybe he did corrupt you, but those scars, the lies they believed and the truths they never heard from you, were way before he met you. He believed in loyalty, good or evil, opposing or not. And the way you told him how you held the oath of being a soldier dear to you, he admired it. He believes that loyalty is essential, and if you are loyal to who you are, he applauds it. 

[Two years ago]

A mission gone wrong, a phone call from within the prison. All he sacrificed to just hear you say, "I'm fine, honey." With that oh-so-soft voice of yours. A sigh of relief came from his lips. This was a reminder he would always be around even from within a guarder tower of hell. His men would always guard you, even if they fought 141, you were never the target. KorTac had a target on their backs when Vladimir found out they were the ones responsible for the bullet on your shoulder. "What is it?" He asked the guard. "The girl has been injured, gunfight at some mission." He had people that worked for him within the guards, and when the news arrived to him, that's when for the first time in his life, he feared life and a gun. Vladimir Makarov is a villain in everyone's eyes. In your eyes that hold paradise, he is peace. He is Vlad, your husband. 

Whilst waiting for Soap to get cleared from the medics, you played with the ring on your necklace. "Oh, R/N, has some lover?" Gaz was the first to notice. Ghost's stare went to you, eyes wide as he heard the words he never needed to hear. Your blush told the words his heart never wanted to hear. 

[One year ago]

[Las Almas, Mexico]

"Are you threatening us?" Ghost asked and in that moment, he made you back away. Guarding you with his body. Betrayal, the first of many he would see with you. That became the night you escaped the shadows of Commander Graves. Soap was somewhere in the city, Ghost and you escaped every chance the shadows had at catching you. Imprisonment is something you got Colonel Vargas out of. Ironic. By the end, you killed him, the man who used his shadows, in some explosion. "You alright, love?" Ghost asked as you went to the aircraft quietly. "Yeah, Mexico just tired me," your head hung as you played with the dog tags. "Who's the lover?" He finally acknowledged the ring. "No one, it's just a silly joke," you lie, something he knew well. "Hmm, yeah...a silly joke," he turned away from you. 

[Present day, 21 November 2023 ] 

[London, England]

The last time you saw them all as a team, well, now that you were sure you'd be a newfound enemy. With Makarov now out of prison, prisoner 627, your love called for him. As Ghost looked through the CCTV cameras, one of the men in Konni gave you the signal. And as you approached, you caught a glimpse of him. Your heart flutters and then you look at Ghost. He nodded and you pretended to try and fight against Makarov. Czar-9-0 Actual. The callsign of your husband and the name of the man you betrayed them for. Guns blazing, bullets directed at them, not you. Gaz and Ghost, a team, Soap and Price, a team, 141, one unit. You, the wife of the enemy. Two bullets and then, the head hit the ground. Young soldier down. "What are you doing?!" Soap asked as you turned on them. A 20-year-old soldier died within seconds, you knew him from when he joined at 18. James, the man whose blood ran on your gun. 

Makarov fired, one of his men held your hand and brought you to your husband. The 141 patch off your uniform as now, you were given the Konni patch. "Welcome back, comrade," a man spoke with an evil grin. Ghost, the eyes that saw the betrayal again. 23 soldiers died, from both sides. 141 on the ground, trying to recover. 

--

"C'mon, Grim, you have to trust me on this, yeah?" the young lieutenant that made Ghost told you. "What if we fall?" you asked. "If you trust me, we won't and if I trust you, we will go home and get a pint or two," He smiles at you. From this day on, you and he became close, a bond no gun could break. 

--

Ghost swore you were taken hostage. And as Makarov was about to kill Captain Price, one of his men tapped him out. "No time, we will get him later!" Ghost's glare never left yours. He shook his head. This can't be, not his R/N. You looked at him, no remorse behind your eyes. It wasn't R/N, it was Grim that stared at him. The soldier he respected the most. You pointed your gun at one of the other soldiers with them. 

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

He jumped at you, to not kill you but to bring you back and let Makarov run with Grim. You pushed him, what turned into a fight for his teammate to be back, became a fight against the enemy. You pushed him to the ground. "Ghost!" Gaz yelled as he saw your gun pointed at him. It was never Makarov that would be his demise. It wasn't an enemy. It was you. It was the one he held dear to his civilian self. The woman he would drink poison for. The one he jumped a bullet for when they were young cadets. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His eyes never left yours and for a second, he saw past Grim and noticed the scared R/N that obeyed her husband. 

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

You put your gun down and turn away, running to Vladimir. His open arms, ready to embrace his darling. Now, all of 141's secrets are with Makarov. It clicked in that instant. How four years ago Makarov knew who Ghost was. How well he knew all their names. It wasn't some file he saw when his hacker got in, no, it was you, the best of all pawns. The train cleaned your tracks. Price and the others stood in fear, all this time, you were part of Konni. Ghost stood in silence. 

In every war he was in, you were there. His favourite of all soldiers. From his early days as just Simon to his latest days as Ghost, all witnessed by you. He was the one who asked for you anywhere he went. His life came in a flash, all the Christmas events, the dinners and drinks he had with his friend...no...enemy. The one person who knew Simon liked the palm of her hand, now holding the man Ghost called an enemy. 

"How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls. "But that was years ago," Soap comments. "It started years ago," Gaz mentions. "We weren't meant to win this one gentlemen," Kate informs.

"Fuck!" Ghost's blood boiled. He scared them, he knew that well. So when he slammed his fist on the table, he even made the best of soldiers flinch. "Lt," Soap tried to calm him down. "No, Johnny! You don't get it, you don't know her as I do," he approached the sergeant. "She didn't kill you, why?" Kate walks to the betrayed soldier. "What?" His voice is hoarse. "She had the chance to kill you, headshot even, yet she didn't, she ran to him and then when she did, all fire ceased." Kate is after all a mastermind. "She didn't betray Simon, she betrayed Ghost, she betrayed Soap, not Johnny, Gaz, not Kyle and Bravo six, not John." She states. 

"She betrayed soldiers, not family," Price came to realisation. Grim did that, Grim killed all that came between the goal. 'Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.' The goal wasn't to kill Task Force 141, it was to get revenge for the betrayal, for torturing you in a room, letting your blood drip. You married a man, something all fools do. But even though Makarov wanted you to pull the trigger on Ghost, you didn't. You ran away and the fire ceased. 

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

A/N: see what I did there?...mastermind me y'know

Tags:

@tf141glory @liyanahelena @quaritchscupquake @dilfgestivo @thefragmented @scarletdfox @arialikestea @unicorngirly1 @alhaizen @willowaftxn83-87 @koniglovesme @bbyfimmie @mothcelestial @kit-kats06 @palomesa @dheet @dontfearthereaperazura

#cod #mwii #cod 141 #ghost cod #mw2 141 #141 #task force 141 #cod x reader #cod mw2 #141 x reader #vladimir makarov #gaz cod #vladimir makarov x reader #cod mw3 #soap cod #cod ghost #cod price #cod soap #cod modern warfare #call of duty #simon ghost riley #mw2 #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #kyle gaz garrick #cod x you #cod x y/n #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mwii #call of duty fanart

[cleostoohot]

my long awaited void state success story ˘ ³˘

some of y’all may know that my #1 goal when i started this blog was to finally enter the void state. i knew i could manifest without it but for some reason i felt like it was a necessity to enter that state in order to change my life entirely. i later found many other distractions and methods that made me not desire the void state as much as i did. i was able to completely change my appearance, my relationships, personality, mental health, and much more without using that method which made me completely take it off the pedestal. but recently i entered it, here’s how it went…

how did i enter? i was meditating (per usual) and the void state entered my mind for the first time in a minute. something told me “just do it” even though i have no active desires. i tried to think of at least a couple things to manifest but i couldn’t come up with some but i was still gonna do it anyway. so i just laid in the position i usually sleep in and started affirming…

- the void state is easy to enter

- i love being in the void state

- i enter the void state effortlessly

(those are the only affirmations i remember affirming).

my intention was to wake up in the void state so i just affirmed and affirmed until i fell asleep. then boom… i woke up in the void state. i knew for a fact that i was in it when i absolutely could not feel my body. i was literallyyy nothing but my mind. that was one of the main things i never understood about the void state prior to entering it: how the hell do you not feel your body at all? but it was just like i was fully relaxed and floating. moving on, i wasn’t super excited like i thought i would be, i just felt regular.. like it wasn’t new to me. maybe that’s because i’ve known about it for so long but wasn’t obsessing over it idk. also! i heard that some people see stars when they’re in that state, ian see no damn stars everything was black as shit. and it wasn’t scary at all either so stop letting fear stop you.

okay moving on fr, since i had no desires at the moment i just decided to manifest having the best manifesting skills meaning that all i have to do is affirm once and then i have it instantly. the affirmation i used was “i have mastered manifesting”. after that i just set the intention to wake up at 8am (my sleep schedule has been really fucked up for the past few weeks so when i was setting that intention to wake up at 8am i low key assumed that my sleep schedule would be fixed so i guess you can say i manifested fixing my sleep too).

of course, at 8am i woke up and everything was normal of course. you know when you just had a long ass dream that you thought was real but wake up just to realize it’s fake and you try to comprehend everything?? yeah i was starring at the wall for like 5 minutes before i actually got up lollll. i knew the void state was real but finally entering it just felt like a huge achievement. the first thing i manifested was an ice cold lemonade to be on my dresser (the ones that they sell at chinese food restaurants! blessed) and after i affirmed i literally watched it appear on my dresser! instantly! it was sooo cool i’m happy i manifested that skill cus as someone who used to be soo impatient… i very much deserve this.

i’ve gotten into the void state over 2 weeks ago (august 31st) and since then i’ve manifested much other things. i can make another post soon but for today i just wanted to share the story. it was so easy for me to get in and it can be just as easy for you too <3.

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #neville goddard #self concept #void success #void state #success story

[igotanidea]

Forgetter: Jason Todd x reader

This was one hell of a day.

(this narrator got a feeling like she's been using this line in the story way too often, but hey! Y/N had a really busy and hectic life so what do you expect me to say?)

No, but seriously.

When she got into the shop in the morning before work to do some quick grocery and saw the flowers and buquetes standing pretty much everywhere, her first thought was what's the occation.

Took her three hours to realise the date on the calendar.

February 14th

St. Valentine's Day.

And it made her smile wondering what kind of gift her beloved boyfriend would offer her. Honestly she would be over the moon with just one flower or a simple card, but knowing Jason and his deeply hidden romantic soul he would go for something original.

So all that was left was waiting for the evening till the end of her shift and getting home to have some hearty celebration.

***

8 hours passed in a blur. Between a ton of people wanting something, new cases and stuff needed ASAP or even yesterday, stupid photocopier that refused to cooperate and a few small but quite painful paper cuts there wasn't much time to fantasise.

And all she needed for some love, peace and quiet, perhaps a glass of wine and chocolate, movie and cuddles with her favourite teddy bear while whispering sweet words of some long forgotten Romanticism poet.

Instead, she walked in on a blood stain on the floor. A red trail starting from the window and leading to the kitchen.

KITCHEN.

Out of all places that was the one he decided to crawl into, and it made her shiver. There might have been a few reasons behind his (lack-of) logic, but this room was the only one filled with sharp tools perfect for defence. Or attack. Depending on the side.

"JASON!!?!?" she yelled dropping her bag on the floor and completely forgetting about the necessity of keeping quiet while in a potentially dangerous situation. "JACE WHERE ARE YOU!?!?!" she frantically rushed to the kitchen searching for dead bodies or chopped limbs.

There was no such thing.

But-

the pile of dirty dishes in the sink

the mobs of clothes begging for laundry

unidentified stains on the floor, the origin of which she didn't even want to guess

and the smell of burning.

and her wonderfully wonderful boy wonder sitting in the middle of it all, shirtless (which may have been a mildly mitigating circumstance) with some new fresh cuts and bruises (which were definitely aggravating the situation) patching himself up.

"Hey princess." he said jauntily sending her the most charming smile as if this was all normal.

"Jace--" she opened her mouth to say something, anything but no words came out and she just froze in the middle of the kitchen with empty eyes fixed on his silhouette.

"Hey. Hey Y/N? What happened? Look at me." despite the stinging and half-applied stiches he got alarmed and was by her side immediately. "Baby. Come on, talk to me." his hand on her cheek brought her back to reality.

"What- What is all this?" she half-sobbed waving her hand around the mess.

"Oh, yeah, right, sorry about that. Didn;t really have much time for the house maintenace today. I got a trail of this villain that-"

"Villain....?" she stuttered. Any other day, any other night she wouldn't say a thing about his Red Hood duties, but 14th? Did it mean nothing to him.

"Yeah, I've been hunting him down for weeks now and-"

"Jason..."

"I got involved and lost sense of time I guess while--"

"Jason..."

"Look I promise I will clean it later, after --"

"TODD!" she yelled in frustration

"WHAT?" he spat back instinctivelly getting into fighting mode when her scream spurred him on. "shit. sorry. Sorry baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you... Hey! Hey Y/N, please, don't cry!" the tears falling down her cheeks were both confusing and heartbreaking "god. fuck. I'm sorry. I;m so sorry..." he muttered wrapping arms around her and pulling her to his chest feeling guilty like never before.

"What day is today...?" she sobbed, the words a bit muffled due to the squeeze.

"Wednesday."

"What day of the month?!"

"14th...." his eyes grew wide "Oh, holy fuck...."

The amount and variety of curses that rushed through his head are not to be repeated here.

The one that took the spotlight though was something along the line of him being a total fuckup for forgetting the so-called most romantic day of the year.

Holy fucking mother fuckery fuck. (yeah, I know what I said before about not quoting his thoughts, but screw it, he was wailing in self-hatred).

And even if it meant nothing to him, it meant so much to her. And she was his girlfrend, his lover, his soulmate so this was a huge, huge failure on his part.

"Y/N..." he whispered not sure how to proceed but knowing well enough he had to thread carefully. "Y/N, princess, please forgive me...." the grip on her body tightened significantly as Jason headed to the rage fit and was barely holding back from punching a wall in blind fury on himself for letting her down.

"I just wanted some quality time with you..."

"Quality time?" he repeated. That was a surprise. So she didn;t want flowers? Jewellery? Chocolate? A spa weekend? An expensive shopping on his expense. Cause he would give her all that if she said a single word. But she chooses...

"Yeah, quality time." she pulled back and looked up into those remorseful green eyes. "Just you and me. No vigilante. No Red Hood. I know it's a lot to ask, but please... please..., be Jason Todd for me tonight."

"Y/N." his tone was serious and she knew what was coming.

"Ok... Ok, I get it..." she muttered, avoiding his eyes, wriggling to escape his embrace.

"Don't you move away from me, you silly girl!" he grabbed her waist again and carried her to the couch bridal style. "Quality time. You want it you got it."

"Did you just paraphrase--"

"Ariana Grande. Yes. But trust me, she got nothing on you."

"Does it mean--?"

"I'm staying with you. But only on one condition."

"And what may that be?" she smiled softly, nuzzling against his chest.

"You get into your silly head that I love you every day of the freaking year, ok? I don;t need those five special days to go overboard while forgetting the other 360. My love is always with you."

"You only say it cause you're too much of a pussy to admit you fucked up." she teased, but smiled fully through the remnants of the tears

"Oh did I really?" he brushed lips over hers "did I really fuck up?"

"Big time..."

"guess that leaves me 364 days left to beg for your forgiveness."

"Idiot!" she punched his chest playfully

"Come on sweatheart we both know you love me." he grabbed her wrist and kissed the inside of it before planting soft pecks on each of her knuckles while looking deep into her eyes.

"Yeah... you keep telling yourself that..." she hummed.

She loved him.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff

[jesterwriting]

characters: vampire!shanks x gn!human!reader x vampire!mihawk

contents: flirting, reader is old enough to have wrinkles, seemingly unrequited love, communication issues, an entire decade of pining, shanks sleeps around a lot, also spreading my bisexual shanks agenda, reader is oblivious and i mean oblivious, jealous shanks, meddling mihawk, you could make the case that shanks is an a jerk and id agree, its not on purpose hes just an idiot

word count: 3.4k words

note: happy late halloween!! i meant to finish this yesterday, but i was so exhausted after my trip to the amusement park, i needed a day to recover. plus, this was a lot to write. im excited it's finally done though, ive been sitting on this for a while now :33 i hope all who read enjoy this. theres some things left unsaid by the end of this, i do wanna do a part two though hehe

playlist: lust for a vampyr - i monster

When the sun rose, it was time for the humans of Red-Haired Shanks’ crew to work.

It was a simple arrangement, one that was built on necessity rather than any need for control. As the majority of the ship were unable to step into the sun, Captain Shanks included, human familiars were needed to keep things running in tip-top shape during the day. The idea was: if you work for Shanks for a few years, or prove your worth, in time, you would be turned. Eternal life was quite the sell, especially if it meant centuries of adventure under the Red-Haired Pirate’s jolly roger. It drew countless humans to a life of piracy.

That wasn’t what enticed you, though.

You were happy as a human. The idea of drinking blood and never feeling the warmth of the sun did not appeal to you. What drew you in was the natural charisma of your captain. His voice, his presence, his charm, you fell victim to it all. After one night at a bar together, you knew you would follow him to the ends of the earth, all he needed to do was ask.

And ask, he did.

You knew enough about vampires to know it was easy to fall under their spell. Equipped with an uncanny knack for mind control and manipulation, all it took was a glimmer in their eyes before you were putty in their hand. You had seen it happen before. A single word to a marine back in the East Blue had them leaving in a daze. You recognized that this power could explain your willingness to leave everything behind.

The truth was you trusted Shanks. You never regretted your choice, not for a second. Besides, what use was a captain you second-guessed?

A part of you believed that you were made for him, crafted from the same clay that he was. A bigger part of you wondered how you could ever fall in love with such an idiot. Maybe it was the thrill of wanting someone you could never have, or maybe the attention he gave you left you pliant. Either way, you knew where you belonged. You’d been in his crew for a decade now, following him from the East Blue to the New World, and you had no intention of leaving it any time soon.

Not even as you dragged Shanks’ intoxicated ass in from the deck and to his room before the sun rose.

He was more muscle than man, way too heavy for you to carry so you settled on linking your arms under his armpits and dragging him as fast as you could. Shanks groaned, his stomach surely churning under the weight of the grog and blood he’d consumed throughout the night. You had always found the combination to sound unappetizing, you wondered how Shanks could stand it every night. Then again, he did have a more “refined” palate.

The first pale rays of the sun crested the horizon right as you shut the door to the captain’s quarters. Now all you had to do was dump him in his bed and you’d be free from him for the rest of the day. Your heart panged at the thought. Gently so as not to wake up, you brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.

Shanks’ lips twitched, eyes squeezing enough for you to yank your hand back as if he burned you.

“You’re awake.” You tried to keep the indignation from your voice to no avail.

He pursed his lips to keep from smiling. “If I say no, will you still help me to bed?”

With a scowl, you dropped him in a heap on the floor, ignoring how his laughter caused a hoard of butterflies to erupt in your chest. Embarrassment at being caught warred with the natural affection you held for your captain. It left you dizzy.

The room was pitch black. Even with your eyes adjusted, it was hard to see anything that wasn’t in front of your face. You listened to your captain shuffle to his feet, still unsteady from his earlier drink. Sighing, you offered him your arm. His grip on you was firm, but not rough as he hauled himself upward, still chuckling under his breath. It was easy to forget how he could break your bones with a squeeze of his fist. Shanks could rip you apart like tissue paper if he wanted.

His hand was freezing, even through your shirt. In the dim light, you could barely see the glint of Shanks’ fangs as they poked from between his lips. You couldn’t help but shiver. If Shanks noticed it, he didn’t say anything leaning against your side as you led him to the mattress.

“You’re lucky I like you, captain.”

Shanks ignored you with a hum and buried his nose against your neck. It felt like there was an ice placed directly against your sensitive skin. You swallowed thickly as he took in a deep inhale, his hand curled in your hair, pulling you closer.

“Let me turn you. It’s been too long.”

You rolled your eyes and patted his stubble ridden chin. Shanks leaned into your touch ever so slightly. This was your least favorite conversation, one only brought up when he was drunk these days.

Two years after you joined, Shanks had been incessant. You’d proven yourself time and time again, it was time for you to be given the “gift.” The first time you turned him down, his jaw dropped and you wondered if anyone had ever denied him before. Shanks must have assumed you were shy, offering to drink from your wrist instead of your neck. As time passed, his requests tapered off. Sometimes, though, he would trace your wrinkles, something akin to sadness in his eyes. You tried not to think too hard about those moments; the one’s where you could delude yourself into thinking you were more than a friend.

Tonight was the first night in a long time that Shanks hadn’t taken someone to bed with him. While you didn’t judge him for being promiscuous, it reminded you of where you stood. He could have you anytime he wanted, all he had to do was chase you. You supposed you simply weren’t worth the chase.

“If you want to feed off me, I’ll donate some blood later. For now, bed,” You said, covering up your grown captain with a blanket like he was a child.

“You’re getting old,” Shanks slurred.

You shrugged. “It happens to the best of us.”

After a final pat on his cheek, your captain passed out, drool spilling from his lips. It was easier to ignore his offers when he slept. The more you aged, the more your body ached.

An eternity of pining after a man who would never love you sounded like torture.

—

Once night fell, the ship came to life.

Lights lit up the night, and the smell of booze filled the air as music played. You didn’t know if it was the vampirism or the piracy, but Shanks’ nighttime crew was a rowdy bunch, always yelling, always drinking, always singing, always <i>something<i>. Sure, the human crew were boisterous in their own way, however, they were completely outshone once the moon rose and stars blanketed the velvet sky.

With a yawn, you stretched your aching arms over your head, and waited for the inevitable.

A familiar pair of footsteps approached “Are you headed for bed soon?”

You turned to see your captain staring down at you with a smile, mug filled to the brim with blood. When you patted the spot next to you, Shanks sat down, legs crossed. The red liquid sloshed in his cup, some dribbling down the side. It smelled fresh, likely from today’s drive.

“Is that mine?”

He smirked and took a sip, rolling it around in his mouth as if it was a fancy brew. “What can I say? You’re the most delicious human on the ship.” Shanks’ eyes glimmered before he prodded you on the side. You shrank back with a giggle. “I could just eat you up.”

“Then who would drag you inside when the sun’s coming up.”

Shanks’ eyes softened slightly, his eyes reflecting the moon's rays enough to make them glow. “That is true. Where would I be without you?”

“A pile of ash in the middle of the deck,” You laughed.

“Then where would you be without your beloved captain?”

Knocking your shoulder against Shanks’, you stood with your hands on your hips, “Don’t get too big for your britches. When did I ever say you were beloved?”

Before Shanks could respond, the call for land rang out. You squinted your eyes to see the bundle of lights approaching on the horizon. If you could see it from here, it was sure to be a good sized town, hopefully primed to be overrun by the undead for the night. Or two. Or several. It all depended on how much supplies were needed.

Despite the promise of excitement, your heart sank. You knew what a new island meant. Shanks would party it up in a pub, flirt with people who weren’t you, and inevitably, bring someone to bed. It was a tale as old as time. You would nurse your heartbreak at the bar while your captain drank his worries away, in blood or beer, it depended on if there were any consenting humans around.

Shanks tugged on your arm in an attempt to get you to sit back down, a playful glint in his eyes. “Come drink with me once we land. You always go off by yourself, you don’t have to be so lonely.”

Sit with Shanks so he can see your heart break in real time? You’d rather eat glass. With a laugh, you shook yourself free, though you sat back down next to him, taking care to leave some space between the two of you.

“Nah, I don’t think so. I like my alone time,” You replied.

He chuckled, “And I think you’re lying.”

“What do you know about me, captain?”

Shanks turned to meet your gaze, head tilted to the side and an eyebrow raised. “More than you think.”

It was the cold night air that made you shiver. Nothing more.

“Whatever, you say.” You averted your eyes, unable to stand his stupid grin for much longer. Sharp canines poked from between his lips and you wondered how it would feel to have the graze against your skin. Your face felt hot.

As the ship approached the island, you soaked up Shanks’ presence like a sponge. He was physically cold, but his jokes made you laugh and his smile made you warm. You would only have his attention for a short while before it was turned to some pretty young thing that you could never live up to, it was better to enjoy it while you could.

For now, though, you would take comfort in the fact that no matter who went home with him tonight, it’d be you Shanks spends the early hours with.

—

Three hours later, you wished you were back on the ship.

There you were, as you always seemed to be, hunched over your drink, and glaring daggers at the far wall. Behind you, Shanks had his good arm around a man with a woman leaning against his other shoulder. He was laughing, mouth stained red to match the bite mark on the woman’s collarbone. She looked a little pale, but no worse for wear. Shanks was always careful never to take too much.

Not that you would know. Your worst fear, on the off chance he ever fed off you directly, was that you would make an embarrassing noise. A whine, or god forbid a moan. That would be something you would never live down. Shanks would tease you to hell and back.

“Is this seat taken?” An unknown voice, smooth like butter, asked.

You didn’t bother to turn. “Knock yourself out.”

You heard the stool squeak as it was pulled out. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a dark shape settle next to you. A pale, almost dainty hand cradled a wine glass full of rich, red fluid. You shook slightly when a pair of golden eyes landed on you, realizing who had settled himself next to you.

While you knew of Mihawk, though you never met him personally. He was an old rival (friend?) of Shanks’ who visited the crew every so often. Mihawk never stuck around too long. You figured the captain got to be too much for him to handle, not that you could blame Mihawk for his frustration. As much as you loved the captain, Shanks was especially annoying sometimes.

A booming laugh from behind you made your eye twitch as Shanks pulled the man closer against his side.

Like right now.

“There’s no need to glare. I don’t believe your drink is going anywhere. ”

Your head shot up, blinking a few times at the swordsman. “You never know, odder things have happened.”

Like your captain, he was a vampire. If you didn’t know that before, you sure as hell knew that now. Mihawk was almost ethereal in his beauty, with piercing golden eyes and alabaster skin that seemed to glow in the dim light. His fangs were longer than your captain’s. Where Shanks could almost pass for a human, you knew from a glance what Mihawk was. There was no mistaking it. He was a vampire in peak form and you had his full attention.

You watched Mihawk cock his head to the side, sizing you up. “Odder than a walking mug?”

“We are sitting in a bar full of vampire pirates. My mug could start flying and I wouldn’t blink an eye.”

His lips twitched upwards into an almost imperceptible smile. “What is truly odd is why a beautiful creature such as yourself is sitting all alone. Don’t you know there are predators about?”

“I’m with Shanks.” You didn’t have to say anything more than that. Both of you knew no one would dare feed from a human that belonged to Red-Haired Shanks.

“Are you now? It’s a shame it took me so long to make your acquaintance.”

Narrowing your eyes, you studied Mihawk while he watched you in return. Though your gaze was intense, your smile was easy. You were enjoying the banter. “That’s funny, because I know you know who I am. I’ve been on Shanks’ crew for over a decade now, and I wouldn’t have escaped your notice for so long.”

Mihawk’s expression shifted to what could only be described as pleased. “You’d be right. Shanks talks about you <i>incessantly<i>. Now I see why.”

You couldn’t help but flush. It hadn’t processed that Mihawk took your hand in his until his lips pressed against the back of it. That only served to make your face burn hotter.

Before you could respond, Mihawk’s lips twitched into a smirk. “That expression on you is enchanting.”

“A-Are you flirting with me,” You stammered. It had been a long time since someone had shown interest in you. Sure, people were friendly, but genuine flirtation was hard to come by. To have someone as beautiful as Mihawk giving you attention made your head spin.

He gave you a slight smirk, muttering into his skin, “Now I see your captain isn’t the only one at fault here.”

There was a sharp prickling sensation on the back of your neck. Mihawk must have felt it too because his eyebrow twitched. Whatever you expected when you turned, it wasn’t Shanks glaring daggers at the man in front of you, his pupils barely visible slits. He looked dangerously mad.

Mihawk gently turned your hand over to reveal the inside of your wrist. Right on your pulse point, he took a deep inhale, savoring you as if you were a fine wine. “Ignore him. He’s a child who's had his favorite toy taken away.”

“Y/N is not my toy.” Before you could blink, your back was pressed against Shanks’ chest. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you against him as Mihawk’s fingers tightened around your wrist. Shanks pressed his nose in your hair, lips against your ear. “Is he bothering you? Say the word and he leaves.”

“No, no not at all. We were just talking.”

Shanks squeezed you against him. “He was looking at you like you were a meal.”

“Hilarious coming from the captain who forbade his crew from drinking their blood,” Mihawk said. “I always knew you didn’t like to share your food, Red-Hair, but this is ridiculous.”

“Wait, were you flirting or were you hungry,” You asked, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice. Both men noticed, Mihawk responding with amusement and Shanks by tightening his grip on your shoulders.

“Why couldn’t it have been both?”

A low growl rumbled in Shanks’ chest. “You are not eating my crewmate.”

Mihawk ignored him, piercing your eyes with his own. “Originally, I introduced myself with the intention to meddle, but you have captivated me, Y/N.” His thumb rubbed cool circles around your pulse. “What do you have to say about that? Surely, you can take responsibility.”

“Um.” Stuck between two gorgeous men, one audibly snarling at the other, you couldn’t begin to reign in your thoughts. “That’s very sweet.”

Shanks must have felt you trembling and assumed it was from fear. His hold on you loosened, hand rubbing soothingly against your upper arm.

“It’s not sweet, it’s creepy,” He argued. “You’re scaring them.”

“Actually, he’s been very kind.” You leaned your head back to look at his face in time to see Shanks’ eyebrows jump in surprise.

Mihawk cocked his head to the side. “Unlike you, Red-Hair. How many times have you left this adorable little human by the wayside to take others to your bed.”

“They don’t care about that, we have our thing.” Shanks looked at you, expectant. “Right?”

Your brow furrowed. “What ‘thing?’”

“Our thing,” Shanks insisted. “Our cat and mouse. I chase, you push me away, I keep chasing. It’s been going on for years.”

Flipping around to face him, you fought to keep your jaw off the floor. “Shanks, are you telling me that you think we have had a ‘cat and mouse’ romance brewing for the better part of a decade?”

“Are you telling me you don’t know?”

“You sleep around all the time, but you never make any advances towards me! How am I supposed to know you’re interested in me when you flirt with anything that has a pulse?” You hung your head and sighed. “I’ve spent all this time pining over an unrequited love that isn’t even unrequited.”

“I always thought you weren’t ready for that step, I was waiting for you to initiate.” Shanks looked more flustered than you’d ever seen him. It was strange to see your normally confident captain flounder. “I can be patient when I want.” He paused for a moment, swallowing hard. “I had no idea that was how you felt. I’m sorry.”

Mihawk interrupted by slipping around you to stand beside Shanks. “As amusing as this is, I have a proposition for Y/N.”

You ignored Shanks’ pout and turned your attention to Mihawk. “And that is?”

“Allow me to take you on a date.”

Shanks butt in before you could respond. “Let me take you on a date. I want to make it up to you and I have ten years to make up for.”

You had two options before you. Your long time love, who idiotically strung you along with his poor communication skills, or the handsome vampire you met at the bar who may or may not eat you. You were a lowly human in the face of a supernatural choice. At times, you were sure you would wake up back at the ship, the entire night having been a dream.

Truthfully, it wasn’t hard to make your decision, you already knew what you wanted.

With a smile, you said, “Why don’t you both take me out tomorrow night?”

The two men shared a glance, the spark of old rivalry flashing across their faces before they gave you their answer. Shanks with a one-armed hug, and Mihawk with a final kiss to the back of your hand.

“It’s a date.”

#one piece x reader #shanks x reader #mihawk x reader #shanks x you #mihawk x you #.jesterwrites #i actually wrote the majority of this while watching bar rescue but didnt want to put that in the playlist section

[acooksbooks]

First, I LOVE Crowley and Aziraphale. LOVE THEM. I mean, just take a glance at my pfp. And my sketchbook. And my fanfics.

Second, I LOVE David Tennant and Michael Sheen. LOVE THEM. Probably more than is reasonably necessary, given when I mention "my favorite actor," my family and friends know exactly who I'm talking about (It's David, btw).

I'm also sort of new to the fandom on Tumblr, and I've become baffled by some of the comments I've seen about David and Michael and their friendship. I think it's adorable and lovely that they seem to have such a special bond after filming Good Omens, a bond that continues and has included their partners (partly out of necessity while filming Staged, but I think that only helped cement their friendships even further).

But what truly baffles me is the picking apart of every image that features David and Michael, especially when Anna and Georgia are included and when they aren't. I've seen fans wondering where Anna and Georgia are if they're not in the image with their partners (and what that could mean for their relationships with Michael and David), speculations on whether or not the women have been photoshopped in when they are in the pictures, cruel comments about Anna (especially) and Georgia (sometimes) about their age or their acting choices or their relationships with their partners or with each other (especially when they're being silly on Instagram) or . . .

Anyway, as someone with a spouse who works in a very busy, very public (in our city) profession and who is well respected in that profession, I feel for Anna and Georgia. It's as though there is this obsession or even downright desperation to make everything about how Michael and David feel about each other, to push Anna and Georgia out of the picture, literally and figuratively, forgetting there are families involved. As if Michael and David really are Aziraphale and Crowley and really feel for each other like Aziraphale and Crowley feel for each other. And who knows? Maybe they do?

But we don't truly know what goes on behind closed doors, and the comments and speculations are cruel towards Anna and Georgia, who have real life relationships with Michael and David.

They're all human. Celebrities, yes, but even celebrities deserve to have some privacy outside their jobs. And that's what Aziraphale and Crowley are at the end of the day. A job for Michael and David. A very enjoyable one, based on their interviews with each other, but afterwards, they have homes and families and lives outside the work.

David and Michael's relationship is theirs. Not the fandom's. Theirs.

Anna and Georgia's relationship is theirs.

Michael and Anna's relationship is theirs.

David and Georgia's relationship is theirs.

The relationship the four of them and their families have with each other is theirs. And they all deserve to not have people speculating on public forums about what's happening between them like some tabloid magazine. If they want us to know, they can tell us. Let them make that call for themselves.

In the meantime, we can write fanfics, make fanart, fantasize about who they truly are and how they truly feel. Delight in the images they share and the work they do together. Whatever. But I think it would be great if we could just let them live their private lives, too, and have as much normalcy they can get under the circumstances.

And, finally, Anna and Georgia seem like such lovely humans and deserve as much love and kindness and respect as is bestowed on their partners every single day in this fandom. Because they're human too, and all humans deserve that.

That's all I have to say about that.

Edited to add: I guess I'm not quite done, because someone in the comments said they were like me until they read/heard some of the things David, Michael, Georgia, and Anna have said, presumably about each other.

I'm not so online that I know everything they've put out there, but I do follow those in the group who have social media, and have watched/heard all kinds of interviews and convention Q&As.

My takeaway: Whatever they say about each other, whether it's Michael or David, or Georgia or Anna, I take it with a grain of salt. They're all actors. What we're seeing or hearing from them may not actually be their real personalities and feelings behind closed doors or even in their own heads. I think they just like to be snarky or silly about each other, because it makes the fans smile and swoon. And maybe they just enjoy being playful with each other and about each other. I mean, it's fun.

What's not fun is the fans reading too much into every single thing they do or say with each other and try to turn it into something that it probably isn't, especially at Anna and Georgia's expense.

Okay, now I'm done.

#good omens #aziraphale and crowley #david tennant #michael sheen #david and michael #anna lundberg #georgia tennant #i may regret this #but it needed to be said #david tennant and michael sheen #david and michael shipping #david and michael shippers #just let them be #neil gaiman #crowley #aziraphale #my thoughts #thoughts that keep me up at night

[bloggingboutburgers]

Am gonna miss the kinda content you had before. I know you’re v happy and good for you! But this blog used to be a rare piece of internet haven that wasn’t about relationships and dating and marriage. Now it is. That’s obviously my problem. I get it - your blog, your life. Am just sad is all.

Sorry if my recent life news made things scary – but I assure you, I don't plan to make my stuff about dating and marriage from now on! (Relationships in itself is a tricky one, since technically "relationships" is every single type of rapport a human being can have with another imo, but I don't plan to start talking about romantic relationships either, I have no idea how those work.)

Yeah, I'm planning to get married – but not with a romantic partner, with my queerplatonic partner. Considering the nature of our relationship I myself sometimes have trouble even saying we're "dating" because it's something different (though we do call our video call "dates", I'll give ya that). But even if they're not "my whole life" in a romantic sense, I really like spending time with them, we're oceans apart so we don't get to do so very often, and during and after the pandemic, the US placed a ban on my country that made it near-impossible for me to visit them for almost 2 years, and being scared of never being able to spend time with them again broke my brain really bad, so I vowed to take measures so this never happens again. So yeah, i'm planning to get married, but it's more out of necessity, as this is seemingly the only way we could stay in the same area permanently and the only way we could counter a travel ban like that if it happens again for any reason (as only spouses or direct relatives were allowed to visit each other back then). I hate that it means doing the thing© amatonormativity and archaic socail rules seem to push people to do all the time, but international rules are a bitch like that, so we don't have many more other options.

That said – my content already included stuff I do with my partner before, and our relationship isn't changing because we're engaged – we're still never gonna have sex, and I'm still not romantically attracted to them nor have I ever been. But I do like them a lot as a queerplatonic partner, and I wanna vibe the way I show us vibing and get to do so on a daily basis, not every 6 to 9 months and breaking bank every time I do.

So... Yeah, despite the surface value of the whole thing, I don't think being engaged makes me a counter-example. If anything I guess we'll be rep for a queerplatonic relationship that involves marriage, and we'll see how that works (if our respective governments even LET us get married at all). My views on my sexual and romantic orientations haven't changed and I don't intend to change my content any time soon. I'll keep being annoying to everyone about how the world doesn't need sex and romance for a long time if people will have me, cus I have way too much of a chip on my shoulder not to.

#anon #asexual #aromantic #aroace #yep i figured getting engaged would be a doozie cus there would be conclusions #guess i'll have to think of a proper digestible way to elaborate on that so people don't think i've gone allo #no offense to allos but me? over my dead body i'd go allo

[teejaystumbles]

Against all odds (part 3)

Part 1 // Part 2

After his work is done and Dream finds the time to retreat to his chambers, he pulls out Hob Gadling’s notebook and reads Hob's last journal entry in its entirety.

June 8th, 1989

Dearest stranger, my friend! 

I can't believe I am allowed to call you that! Let me tell you that I nearly fainted when I found your message in my notebook this morning. I've read the words you've written a hundred times by now and still I almost can't believe them to be real. I can’t believe I’m touching the pen you must have held, that I missed your presence in my room

As devastated as I was after you didn't come yesterday, as happy am I that you chose to contact me after at all.

I'm quite embarrassed about my drunken ramblings that you must have read. There's no lie in them, but I would try and put the truth into less desperate words if I could. I must seem like a fool, fixating on you like this, after all we've only met six times so far. Still, what I wrote, that you are my one constant in life, is nothing but the truth. Our meetings are fixed points in time that I measure this immortal life of mine by now. I try not to, but meeting with you has often felt like the start and finish of an era of Hob Gadling, despite it being probably more in the middle of several. Every centennial meeting with you was the most important appointment that I would plan and prepare for (as best as I could) for months, sometimes years. So if writing to you like this is the only way I get to speak to you then I will gladly take it, and thank you for it. 

But make no mistake, dear stranger - I would love to see you again and I hope you will be ready and willing to meet me in person again someday. Because

As we are sharing truths and have both admitted that we're lonely, I would like you to know that I have never been content with our schedule. If you're willing I would love to meet you a lot more frequently. A lot of things I'd like to tell you about are long forgotten again when we meet. I guess this book is a good way to share stories with you more often now, if a regular Friday night at the pub isn't your thing. I kept notebooks like this all my life, to be able to peruse them in preparation for our meetings and choose the best stories to tell you, because I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to share them all. We got cut short so often, I wonder how you appeared to know me so well without me telling you overly much. But then, that is what you do, isn’t it?

Like with Lushing Lou, you know everyone. And now you mentioned that you do not forget anyone. Do you truly know everything about me then? Is me telling you stories of my life more of an amusement than a necessity for you? Could you actually know it all with a glance instead of listening to me ramble for hours?

Please forgive me, my friend, I do not mean to sound offended. You wrote that you enjoy our meetings - and apparently my ramblings - and I know you would not lie to me.

You do enjoy stories, then. Is that it? Are you a collector of stories? Of histories? Or is your interest actually in my interpretation of these stories and events, in how a mere human experiences the things that are so easily visible to you? I remember the spark in your eyes when I told you about printing. I was such a dewy-eyed fool then, it almost makes me laugh to remember. Did you already know what Gutenberg’s machine would mean for the advancement of humanity? Did you see me finally shaking off my rough and bloody persona as a step in the right direction? Or were you simply interested, like you said, in my experience, and how I would change over the years?I admit, waiting for you to finally tell me who you are is hard for me. But I’ve waited this long and I will wait longer, and I won’t be offended if it takes you another hundred years to tell me. We have time, after all.

Much has happened in the last hundred years. Mostly war. Humans have reached new heights of cruelty. We have become even more ingenuous at killing ourselves. We have created weapons to wipe out all of humanity. We are one wrong phone call away from destroying all we’ve accomplished with the press of a button. People are overthrowing their regimes left and right and while that is generally a good thing, I am still looking over my shoulder, metaphorically, stashing money and valuables in uncanny places like a pirate of old, in preparation for what might yet turn into a true apocalypse.

It is stressful, and I admit that the new drugs are very tempting. I have not been able to resist trying most of them over the last two decades, either to be able to relax or to be able to feel something other than dread, to see some colours in all this grey.

I participated in both wars and it left me unable to sleep properly for decades. Not that sleep was anything to look forward to. If I tell you that I’ve not had a dream since before the first World War started you will surely think that I’m being silly. That I just don’t remember them. But let me tell you, about a week ago I had the first dream since, I think it must have been 1916 or 17. It wasn’t anything magical or special, (just something very simple, about lying in the grass on a hill, looking at the sky and watching bright blue birds fly overhead) but when I woke up I cried because I felt such a profound relief! Relief that I could dream again! 

I did dream of something strange soon after, though.I dreamed of a skeletal little man, mad and raving, chasing someone that looked like a weird bird man - and here I want to make clear that I do not intend to insult you, dear friend!, but this man that looked like a bird and at the same time was neither, he reminded me of you. I can’t really put my finger on it. Just something in the way he moved, maybe, or the tilt of his head-

Anyway, it was a strange dream, and I felt reminded of you, which is why I am mentioning it, I guess. I’m sorry for rambling about silly dreams. But their return (for I am certain dreams returned, I did not simply start remembering them again) has made me hopeful again.

Maybe times are a-changin’, who knows. They always are, and hopefully for the better this time.

I could tell you a lot more of the last century, of course, but I don’t know if you care to hear war stories. I do not necessarily want to drag all those unpleasant memories up, as it took me years of therapy to get over a lot of them, if you can forgive me for summing things up like I did.

I will think of better and brighter things to tell you and write to you again soon. I would be very happy if I found a reply from you in the meantime, but please use this book at your own leisure and don’t feel pressured to answer me every time I start rambling at you.

I hope to

Yours, Hob

Yours. Dream swallows and reads the word again, traces it with his finger. Yours.

Hob considers himself Dream’s. He knows it’s just an expression used when writing letters, but somehow Dream also knows that Hob means it to be more than just an empty phrase.

His.

Dream does not know if he wants Hob to consider himself Dream’s. Dream would not trust himself with another, not before and certainly not after his ordeal. Where before his imprisonment he had felt too sharp, too lonely, too easily enraged, he now feels brittle, too thin and too vulnerable. He cannot hold another’s heart and keep it safe. He cannot be trusted with the affections of another. He has learned that, over the last billion years. Every relationship he has ever had has ultimately failed. Because of him.

He does not want Hob’s and his relationship to fail. He intends to fix this friendship that he knows he does not deserve but cannot stop himself from clinging to. Few are truly loyal to him, Dream has learned, even fewer because they want to. Hob is singular in that regard, in his enthusiasm and friendliness when it comes to Dream, despite, or rather because he does not know him. And there Dream’s thoughts circle back to his predicament again.

He wants Hob to know him and like him, but Dream is terrified that introducing himself to Hob will leave their barely-mended friendship ready to break completely.

With a heavy sigh he stops moving, realising that he has been walking in circles in his chamber while his thoughts do the same.

Maybe it will be better to simply start writing.

#telling myself that last bit all the time #just sit down and write and some words will come #dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #1989 au #teejay writes

[jymwahuwu]

Imagine Yandere Cyno and Tighnari’s darling decided to try again but this time it was impulsive. No further plans other than getting away from those two and Sumeru. Abandoning everything because they are so desperate to getting away.

Somehow some way it work. Luck finally gotten on their side and now their on a ship as stowaway that will take them to Mondstadt. When they got there, they still feel as if it’s not far away enough and decided to go to Inazuma instead.

Living in Inazuma as foreigners are hard but they’ll take anything just so they wouldn’t go back. Perhaps they manage to get a job as a maid in the Kamisato’s or they manage to find refuge in Watatsumi. It’s as if they’ve been gifted with immense amount of luck. Now their on the path of healing and getting comfortable in their new identities. It’s only a matter of time however until their luck runs out.

I just wanna know how Cyno and Tighnari will react to this? Maybe their darlings manage to hide away for a couple of years. Either by luck alone or by the help of their new friends in Inazuma.

I have a wild imagination, sorry that this became so wordy. 😬

Tighnari and Cyno's wife escape

Don't worry, I enjoyed reading this 🥰 Oh darlings worked hard! Luck is on their side…for now.

TW: yandere, escape, kidnapping, abuse of power

It took some time for Cyno and Tighnari to be sure that you were not in Sumeru territory, there is no place here that would dare harbor you. They tracked you down to a ship bound for Mondstadt. The crew and guests have given some clues as to where you might be, but not in Mondstadt. There is no such possibility. They already knew. Your thoughts can guess.

Maybe Liyue…? Snezhnaya? Fontaine? A few years had passed when they set their sights on Inazuma based on clues and sightings. Without you, irritability and frustration took hold of them, and as time went on - they were pretty sure the two of you were in Inazuma.

If you're settling down in Watatsumi, the kindness of the Divine Priestess will soothe your heart. You never tell her or anyone why you are here, but Kokomi and Gorou don't care. They also often send some daily necessities to your home to take care of strangers who are not familiar with this place.

If you work as maids at Kamisato's house, it's a really good job. You just need to follow Thoma's instructions to clean and pack a few things to help prepare for the festival. The accommodation is provided by the Kamisato family.

Live your new life in tranquility, you occasionally recall what happened in Sumeru, your husband's face, their sweetness and… some uneasiness chews your heart like ants.

Certain pictures of your figures, your smiles, your frowns, were sent back to Sumeru by certain people. They pinched the photo.

Based on the original intentions of the three gods, Inazuma, Mondstadt, and Liyue are not the kind of country that betrays the people, even if they are only residents from foreign countries. Still, what separates Inazuma from the other two is the corruption that exists within. Watatsumi Island can be infiltrated. If you are a maid in Kamisato's house, it will be more difficult to capture you than on Watatsumi Island. Still, it's just a few extra weeks of preparation.

Although Cyno is desperate to see you as soon as possible, he has kept his sanity and will not go there himself - to avoid any diplomatic trouble for Sumeru. One day, the two of you might go out to buy some veggies, sushi, and exchange small jokes, but someone covers your mouths from behind, and a sudden sting hits you, forcing you into a coma.

When you wake up, you find yourself in "that home". Forest Ranger's tree house, General Mahamatra's house in Sumeru city. Time freezes as if nothing has changed, passed. The difference may be that you have an extra chain around your neck, and they keep telling how to find you, finally.

#alani.answers #yandere cyno #yandere tighnari #cyno x you #yandere tighnari x reader #cyno x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin tighnari x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

[chuuyrr]

your latest work got me crying bro :') it hit right in the feels </3 i also want dazai to know that baby scarlet doesnt like him JUST BECAUSE he reminds her of gojo, but rather because he himself has fatherly vibes and that she likes him because he is simply just as he is :))

what if... baby scarlet reader IS actually his biological daughter, but in another universe?

dazai osamu with scarlet witch! baby! reader as his biological child

bungou stray dogs x reader

masterlist of the series

╰➤ CW(s): spoilers for bungo stray dogs, single father! dazai osamu and headcanons + scenario of fluff/comfort content

╰➤ PAIRING(s): platonic! bungo stray dogs x child! reader

╰➤ SYNOPSIS: in which dazai osamu has a biological child who happens to be the scarlet witch, and you get to read his adventure as a single father from holding you for the first time, getting scared when you pop up at random places, and most importantly, when he cannot nullify nullify your ability.

headcanons !

a new beginning . . .

dazai osamu being a single father is something that no one expected of him. even he couldn't believe it. he would never have guessed that the woman he met when he defected from the port mafia bore you.

unfortunately, your mother was targeted and left with no choice but to contact dazai again to tell him about you, desperate to give her baby a good life even if it meant giving up her own to the hands of her killer.

dazai was barely nineteen as he was laying low after defecting from the mafia, but as soon as he heard the news, he went looking for you. curious of having a child.

dazai was hesitant as he stared down the little bundle of sunshine before him.

there was no doubt that you were his child, and DNA testing confirmed it.

but him, a father? how is this possible? dazai wasn't ready. he was a bad person. dazai genuinely believes he doesn't deserve you, but when you extended your tiny hand towards him, making adorable baby sounds, all of his thoughts were silenced.

a single tear rolled down his cheek as he remembered odasaku's last words as he extended his finger towards you and you wrapped it in your tiny hands with the sound of your coos and happy noises.

save the weak and protect the orphans.

reaching for you and holding you for the first time triggered emotions in his chest, leaving him with a fuzzy and warm feeling.

it felt strange to dazai because it was a sensation he had never experienced before, but it was comforting and something he could grow accustomed to.

the struggle of a single father . . .

dazai considers it a challenge. not only was he laying low from the port mafia, but he also has a baby girl to look after.

dazai always finds ways to buy your necessities and eventually get you both a place to live because you guys moved around a lot when he first met you.

dazai keeps a close eye on you, making sure you're safe. given his suicidal tendencies, it was unusual for him to babyproof his residence, but that all changed when he met you. he can't get you harmed :(

now, it's not too bad caring for you, except that you frequently wake up crying in the middle of the night because dazai is drinking and having another one of his tendencies instead of sleeping with you.

dazai did, however, gradually grow out of that habit just for you. (*´︶`*).

papa dazai thinks it's really cute how you loved to sleep all snuggled up against his chest and that you couldn't sleep unless he was with you. you were such a cute and clingy baby. how could he ever resist you?

and you know how dazai can control his heartbeat? dazai manipulates his own heart into a calm and soothing beat that helps you sleep while you snuggle up against his chest as he holds you closely.

on the other hand, dazai almost gets a heart attack everytime he finds you in the most unexpected places.

he leaves you on the bed one minute, and the next thing he knows, you're in the kitchen, on top of the fridge, or suddenly inside the cabinet. there was even a time when dazai found you on top of a tree.🧍

dazai genuinely believes he will die from a heart attack one day, and he's also quick to assume it's because of your ability, and boy, was he right, just not in the way he expected.

dazai thought for sure your ability had to do something with teleportation, but he learned that was just one of your abilities when he came back after preparing your baby bottle to find you floating and giggling in mid-air surrounded by a red glow.

i'm sorry, but dazai's reaction was literally, "OH NO, YOU CAN’T BE LIKE CHUUYA 💀."

dazai scrambles to grab you from mid-air, using his no longer human ability to nullify whatever your ability was, but he was taken aback when you continued to glow with red psionics even while he held you.

dazai eventually grew accustomed to caring for a child and landed a job at the armed detective agency, where he could earn enough money for you while also fulfilling odasaku's wish for him.

dazai is surprisingly responsible in raising you to be a well-mannered toddler who is very much a daddy's girl, which surprises kunikida, who had become your very protective caring uncle when dazai first brought you to the agency.

however, there are definitely times when kunikida questions and scolds dazai for teaching you silly things like pranks and such, or, more importantly, dazai teaching you how to punch someone's eyes out ...

the fears of a single father . . .

dazai used to be completely fearless. he didn't even fear death. instead, dazai welcomed it instead with open arms but when he you came to his life, that was when he developed many fears.

starting with you getting hurt. dazai is a very protective papa. he can't stand it when he sees you in pain, especially when he sees tears in your eyes.

as soon as dazai learns that you have been harmed or taken hostage by bad people, he returns to his old mafia black blood ways. dazai's coming for them, and he won't hesitate to kill just to make sure you're safe in his arms again.

another fear that dazai has is you liking his old mafia partner, nakahara chuuya.

dazai thought it was funny at first when you met chuuya and called him your mama because you actually believed he was your mama. *cue chuuya blushing madly and screaming with rolls of r's while he carries you in his arms 💀*

however, dazai was quickly humbled when you began clinging to chuuya and refusing to return to him because you had grown real fond of the chibi he despises.

chuuya is smug about being your favorite and he uses that to tease dazai. even though it irritates dazai, he trusts chuuya enough to care for you because he knows chuuya has a soft spot for children and treats you kindly and sweetly.

chuuya spoils you, you know? maybe a little more than dazai expected, because chuuya frequently buys you lots of dollhouses, stuffies, and expensive luxury branded baby clothes, but he eventually uses that to his advantage by telling you to ask chuuya for specific things that he would buy for you.

"oi, mackerel! i know you're the one making [name] ask me to buy her wagyu steak. just so you know, i know damn well that your kid likes omurice, not steak!"

putting aside all the silly fears he have, what dazai truly fears the most is you being taken away from him, and that fear worsens when he discovers your prophecy as the scarlet witch, the very reason why you possessed such a special ability called chaos magic that he cannot nullify at all.

dazai will protect you at all costs. he cannot afford to lose his precious baby girl :(

so, if you start displaying your chaos magic, especially in public, dazai will strongly advise you not to use it unless absolutely necessary, given that he cannot nullify it.

sure, it's difficult for you not to use your wiggly-woos because you don't have complete control over them yet, but you can't blame your papa.

dazai is afraid that you will attract unwanted attention, particularly from bad people who would want to exploit your abilities, and he simply wishes to keep you, his baby, safe.

scenario !

dazai was nineteen years old when he returned home after buying you your baby necessities from a konbini near where you and him were currently staying.

he found you, his precious bundle of joy, sitting on the floor, playing with the toy blocks he got you in the small living room of the apartment as soon as he closed and locked the door and slipped off his shoes.

"a-ah! ah!" you exclaimed, ignoring your toys and tapping the floor with your tiny hands while starinf happily at dazai.

"why, hello there, my little darling!" dazai greeted you, placing the plastic bag of items he had purchased on the ground and smiling down at you, "did you miss me already? sorry had to leave you, [name]-chan! papa had to buy milk."

dazai extended his arms towards you to pick you up when you suddenly placed both of your hands on the floor. as you began to push yourself up to stand on two feet, stumbling even, his eyes widened in surprise, realizing what you were doing.

"[name]-chan?" dazai muttered, blinking and unable to say anything more as you stood up on your own, something he had never seen you do before.

"ah.. ahh!" you made cute baby noises as you slowly approached him, wobbling and nearly stumbling to your side, prompting dazai to prepare himself to catch you if you fell.

dazai's lips eventually formed a smile, a genuine and pure smile. his eyes lighting up at sight of you making your way towards him, "that's it, [name]-chan! you can do it, my little one!"

you were making your first steps.

"just a bit more, [name]-chan! come to papa!" dazai happily cheered you on, opening his arms out wide for you as he sat down on his knees.

with that, you approached him, squealing as you heard him call your name and saw him open his arms for you. you briskly walked straight into his embrace, and as soon as you did, dazai enveloped you in his arms.

"you did it, [name]-chan!" exclaimed dazai as he tightened his hug, holding you ever so close to his chest, kissing your forehead and nose, looking at you proudly, "that's my baby!"

you gave him a gummy smile, squealing and cooing as your tiny hands wrapped around him, and that's when dazai noticed a single tear rolling down his own cheek.

"dada!" was what you said to him.

dazai's lips trembled as he saw and felt his vision blur from the fresh and hot tears he couldn't stop as he stared down at you, watching you cling and happily smile at him.

"dada! dada!" you repeated again, cooing.

dazai quickly wiped his tears away and picked you up, tightly embracing you as he swayed you side to side ever so slightly in his grasp.

"that's right! i'm your dada, [name]-chan!" said dazai, but he cried even more tear. he was crying again, but was incredibly happy. his heart was racing with a warm and fuzzy sensation.

hearing you call him your dad was something was going to cherish forever. dazai kissed your face after that, widening his smile before pressing his forehead against yours as you giggled and cupped his face in your tiny hands.

dazai said lovingly as he nuzzled his nose against yours, "i love you, [name]-chan, and dada's proud of you, always.

your papa had a difficult childhood, and most importantly, he had an empty black void in his heart, but it was all clear to him now. death and a life of violence was not the answer he had been looking for in his entire life.

dazai now found a reason to live, and it was you.

[ author's notes ! you have no idea how much i enjoyed writing this. i made it extra fluffy and wholesome. thank you so much for requesting, hope you enjoyed reading this <3 ]

#bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bsd x reader #dazai x y/n #dazai x you #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #bsd oneshot #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs imagines #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs scenarios #bungo stray dogs fluff #bsd fluff #bsd dazai #bsd drabble #dazai fluff #dazai imagines #dazai headcanons #dazai hcs #dazai scenarios #platonic reader

[everythingelseisextra]

Cain (Tommy's POV)

WARNING: This chapter contains the darkest material in Only The Wild Ones so far. This is not a fun chapter. Message me for more details if you'd like to know the specifics behind the warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Part Seventeen: The Ends Of The Earth

Description: A decision is made. Tommy goes on the hunt and learns a new respect. Warnings: Effects and mentions of drug use, implied pedophilia, abuse of a child, implied child trafficking, language Word Count: 3500 Tag List: @theshelbyslimited  @ttaechi  @weaponizedvirtue  @majesticcmey  @optimisticsandwichgladiator  @zablife  @princesssterek  @mm0thie  @callsignvenus @ay0nha  @mgdixon  @fairytale07 @dreamy-caramel  @ce1iat  @algae-tm @dragonsondragons @trentknd @nothingofsimplicity @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul @notalxx @chaengist @cookiez56-blog

“Tommy… You—” I can hear it in her voice before she says it. 

I nod and put the box back in my pocket. “So, when you’re ready, you tell me, and—”

“Your turn to listen.” She wipes the tears from her face and draws herself up, resetting herself, taking a breath. “You’re right. You’re not a good man. You made promises to me and didn’t keep them, you toyed with me, you scared the shit out of me. You say you care for me but only act like it sometimes. And I know a lot of the time, it’s not really your fault. It’s hard to care for other people when you feel fucking unwanted, trust me, I know. And I know you just experienced a blow. Probably an understatement, honestly, to what just happened. But you can’t take that out on me. You can’t exert the power you have just so you can feel in control. So, no. I won’t marry you. You’ll have to handle having a woman in your house who’s not a whore, a wife, a nanny. You’ll have to handle a woman who isn’t just a body for you.” Her eyes carry something in them, half fear, half mercy. “But, there is a bright side. I know you’re not loyal. I know you’re not always kind. I know you manipulate and act like a child when you’re grieving. I’ve seen the worst and I’m still here. I guess that says something about me.”

“You haven’t.” The words are heavy, burdened by weight in my chest, on my heart. “You haven’t seen the worst.”

“No?”

I shake my head. “I’m bloody violent.”

She chuckles. “Oh, you think I care about that? Need I remind you that I killed two men myself, one at point blank?” 

I look up at her, seeking the distaste I saw in Grace when we talked of the illegal side of business. She stares back, puffy eyes and drawn skin, unafraid, unfaltering. I tilt my head. 

“You won’t marry me. You won’t fuck me. You won’t let me pay for necessities. Why, then, are you staying in this house?” 

Her gaze turns to an amused kind of incredulity. “For a smart man, you really can be thick sometimes, you know that?” 

I smile faintly. “No one but you is ever brave enough to tell me.” 

“But, still, you do know.” She sighs. “I’ve stayed with you because, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re the only person that makes me feel safe. Despite your particular neurosis, or maybe even regardless of them, you’re the first one I’ve met to know the shit I’ve been through and not back away because of it. Hell, you might’ve even gotten closer. And I owe you. I would’ve ran. My whole life, all I’ve done is run, and it was you who convinced me to stay. It was you who taught me I could fight. I probably knew all along, but you forced me to become the person I desperately needed when I was younger. You’re worth it to me to stay, even with the bullshit that comes with being Tommy Shelby.” 

She says my name and it sounds kinder than when I do. I pull my legs up onto the bed and lean back a little, drawing myself up. Tommy Shelby. My reputation precedes me, always has. Not with her. Never with her. And I know with some certainty that came from almost chasing her away, that I will always be able to do the difficult things. I can be scared and carry on, I can send my family to prison and take a breath and play with my son for an hour after. But the easy things; eating when I’m hungry, drinking something other than whiskey, coaxing myself to sleep at night, speaking the truth when a lie is on my tongue, and admitting that I am hurting. Doing that without her will bring me back to that rottenness in my head, all the muck and smoke left over, the sickness from my mum. 

“I don’t know what I can do that will be enough of an apology.” My hand on the sheets clenches a bit and scrunches them. 

“I have a few things to start with.” She draws closer to me, blinking bleary eyes at the sad state of affairs that I’ve become. I nod for her to continue speaking, to place her demands, and her voice turns to something more authoritative, stronger, despite the tear streaks down her face. “You’ll respect our relationship and not sleep with other women. You’ll talk about what’s going on in your head instead of literally shutting me out. And, most importantly, you’ll quit playing games. I don’t like doing that. All I want is to lay my cards on the table and give you what you need, and you can’t take advantage of that. The only apology I need is proof that you actually do want me here and do value me without belonging to you, physically or metaphorically.” 

It’s often that I forget about the sleepy-eyed kid I used to be. He’s in my head, somewhere, behind the gunsmoke and ignition. That boy was the definition of youth. Rebellion in his bones and impulsivity at his very fingertips, and he thinks that the world is cruel, so then, he won’t be. He’ll be kind and protective of the weak, the dying, the horses and the wild ones. That was the problem, then, that he softened himself so. He was hurt too easily. And I think that that boy loves her. Simple, yes, uncomplicated, childish love, but love nonetheless. When she asks for the apology of admiration and respect, he knows he can give it. 

I worry that I cannot. That boy was before the war. That boy is a made-up voice in my head, and I am real. I am the man who has regrets piling up around him and who fears that he will never make a better mistake. I am the man who has a woman who wants him but doesn’t want him and talks about metaphors and broken promises. I am the man who has died more times than he can count and still wakes up every morning to face a cold sun. 

“Okay.” I look elsewhere, unable to meet her eyes. 

“That isn’t much of a promise, Tom.” 

I take a breath and look up. “I promise.”

She nods. “That’s better.” 

I think I’ve gotten too used to being broken. Pain tastes sweet when the knife is sharp. I like when my head is in a fight with my heart, when that conflict can distract me from the rest. I like when I’ve grown so sharp that no one can grasp me. I like when the whiskey sings away the no-man’s-land between myself and others. So, when she asks me to be a better man, to treat her with the same regard as she does me, I falter. I worry that she’ll see the rips and tears in me and decide that the healing I’ve done has been in the wrong places.

A small smile turns my lips and my eyes are on hers. “I promise you don’t need to forgive me for us to continue. I’ve never been innocent, and now you know it.”

“I’ve known.” Her lips press together. “Don’t go thinking I’ve been oblivious.”

The faint smile I managed falls away. My heart aches to tell her, to confess my sins and repent, the way Polly would want. I cannot tell her, not until I know that it’s worked, until I can tell that the business I’ve conducted has run its course. Maybe I will never tell her, simply open her cage and let her fly without another word.

—

There are men here with names that are written on a list hidden in a locked drawer. Their heavy feet creak the wooden floor, predatory stances with gazes that provoke. This darkened bar knows I’m here. The bartender catches my eyes, waiting for me to move on one of the women who walk along with low cut dresses and pupils blown unnaturally large. They serve drinks here, yes, but they’re the appetizers to the meal of women. The men pair themselves off with one or two, disappear into a backroom, or up the stairs to the small quarters above. Music from a gramophone drowns out the thumping and moans. 

I’m not interested in the women. I’m not interested in the men. My attention lies on the bartender. A seedy, badly-dressed older man with yellowed eyes from years of using cocaine, with the name of Harold Bates. I asked around, found that he’s been working in this bar since before the war and has been an ally to the men who purchase these women’s services. 

I’ve become a regular and a joke. Widower Tommy Shelby, drinking alone in a front for whoring, refusing to partake in the hedonistic celebration of man’s power. They know me as the man who favored Lizzie through the years and who has little reserve when it comes to women. The line between them and I blurs. 

It’s hard to find the words to describe the fragility of the web I crouch on. My reputation helps steady it, but so much else seeks to dismantle the plan I’ve built. The question I’m about to ask will tremble the silky threads. I am relying on someone else’s ability to keep quiet, when I would rather send them into silence permanently. Simply put, any blood spilt today will reveal the spider hiding on the web to the fly that buzzes just out of reach. 

I meet Harold Bates’ eyes and quietly tell him; “Bring me the youngest.” 

I expect questions and receive none. Harold nods and walks behind the wall that separates the bar from the back room. When he returns, I find I can’t breathe. The girl in tow looks to be no older than ten. Emaciated body, crudely painted fingernails, dressed like an adult, showing off curves that don’t exist. I see the woman I’ve left in my house and promised to protect, who killed two men and faces me daily with no fear, and I remember how old she was when she was sent away to a powerless life. Eight. Fifteen when she finally got out. I think of Charlie, three years younger than she was, and nausea rises heavily in my stomach. 

I can’t speak, so I reach out and take her hand. Her eyes are wide, intoxicated. She wavers when she walks in heels too big for her. I lead her, half holding her up, to one of the side rooms I’ve deemed is empty. A rotting, bare mattress sits on a metal frame in the middle, walls with peeling paper, the strong smell of sweat and warm bodies. She walks over to the bed and I turn to close the door. My eyes meet the bartender’s through the closing crack. He must think me a sick fuck, for taking this terrified young girl alone into a room to use her as I wish. 

When I turn back around, she’s sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, the top of her dress undone to reveal a boyish chest.

I look away. “Put it back on.”

“What?” She looks to me with those same lifeless, glassy eyes. “Aren’t we—”

“Put it back on.” So I can look at you without sickness bubbling in my throat, because there are marks on her chest and stomach that look like her’s, and I don’t want to imagine what’s been done to children like them. 

She does so, fumbling with the lace in the back. I stand by the door and wait for her to finish to look. 

“No,” I say. “I’m not going to touch you. We’re not doing anything.”

“But then—” She looks down at herself. “But then what are we doing?” 

I can hear the fear in her voice. Men have done worse, I think, than touching this girl. None of those marks on her were owned. 

“We’re talking.” I slip away from the usual commandment I use in my voice, into the tone I use with Charlie. “I have some questions.”

“Oh, you want me to answer them like someone else, right?” She smiles a little, eyes hazy, as if she’s proud of herself for figuring it out. “You want us to play pretend before you—”

“Answer as yourself.” I look away again, swallowing hard. “Tell me the truth, and I’ll pay you.”

She shrugs. “I don’t get any money. He does. I have to give it all away to him, but if I’m good, maybe he lets me buy some new clothes.” 

“Who’s ‘he?’” I cross my arms and lean back against the door, as far away from her as I can be. 

“He says for me to call him my dad. So… I guess my dad?” 

“Do you know his name?” 

She shakes her head. A small barrier, one that we can easily get around. 

“What’s your name, then?” It comes out gruffer than I meant. 

“Hollis.” She smiles again, still small, still not meeting her dead eyes. “The regulars call me Holly because they like it better.” 

“Hollis,” I say. “Where do you go when you’re not here?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you that.” Her smile falls and she looks away, dark hair falling over her eyes, a shelter. 

“I won’t tell anyone.” It’s not a lie. “You’d be allowed to tell me.” 

I’ve learned through Charles that children like exclusivity. Anything limited-time or called special appeals to them. That includes people. I set myself apart from the other men who use her and she, in turn, gives me something that I need. 

She frowns, but speaks slowly. “It depends…”

“Depends?” I push a little, needing more. 

“Depends on whether it’s my dad or another man who takes me home. Sometimes they like me overnight.”

“When it’s your dad, where do you go?” 

“His flat. There are other dads there, too, with their girls. A lot of them are older than me, though, so…” Her eyes slide shut and she lays back on the filthy, stained bed. 

“When you’re at his flat, what other buildings do you see?” 

Her eyes open and her brow furrows. “Why do you want to know?”

I shrug, playing it off. “Trying to picture it in my head.”

She nods and stares up at the ceiling, her hands on her concave stomach. “There’s like… a movie theater, but no one ever goes in it. And there’s lots of other flats around with people we don’t know. Sometimes we use the movie theater for other girls when we run out of room. No one bothers us. It’s kind of nice. Like a sleepover.” 

“How long have you been with your dad, then?” 

“I don’t know, I guess a few months?”

Children must be made of clay. Moldable bits of creativity spawned by the people around them. An adult would never adjust so quickly to a life of abuse the way Hollis has. Thing about clay is, in large amounts, it’s impossible to break through. Used to slow us down in the tunnels. This girl, like everything else malleable, is haunted by the shape she used to take. I wonder, then, what hope she has. I decide to ask. 

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” I pull the box of cigarettes out and light one. 

Her eyes flick over to me. “Can I have one?” 

“No. You’re too young,” I say on reflex. Charlie asks, and that’s the answer I give him. It doesn’t feel right to say to her, who has lived enough pain to last lifetimes in mere months. 

Her brow furrows but she doesn’t argue. “I wanted to be with animals. Like an animal doctor or something.”

I take a drag, let the dry smoke fill my lungs, familiar, then exhale slowly. “You say ‘wanted.’” 

“Yeah, well.” She gestures at herself. “I got another job now, and Dad says it’s not gonna end til I’m older and can’t do it anymore.”

There’s some kind of bile rising in my throat that I can’t swallow down. I take another pull of the cigarette. “Tell you what. There’s a woman I know who had your job, and she has horses. Twelve of ‘em. She’s a fucking fighter, beautiful, and bloody smart. You hold your head up, and you’ll see those horses some day. I’ll bring you to them.”

She looks up at me, eyes wider than before. “Really? I can— I can give you— I can use my—”

“No, you don’t give me anything. You get yourself through this and I’ll take you to the horses. That’s the deal. We’re conducting business, Hollis, you understand?” I take a small step towards her and she shrinks back, hand going to the low v-line of her dress. I stop and look away. 

“I understand.” She stands and looks at me, smoothing her dress down her thin body. “Dad says I’ll be nothing if I’m not with him.”

“You’ll be something with or without him.” I hear her words in Hollis’, the fear of not being enough without sex. My heart twists. I validated that fear myself. “You’re worth something either way. You hear me? You’re more than these men make you think.”

She nods, gaze dropping to her feet. I reach into my pocket and pull out the amount I’d seen the others pay. 

She looks at it, then up at me. “That’s too much.”

I raise an eyebrow, holding it out. 

“I’ll get in trouble if Dad finds out this wasn’t what I normally do. Here.” She takes the money, takes half, and hands the rest back to me. “There. Now he won’t know.”

“Now he won’t know.” I manage a weary smile. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Cain.” It’s the first thing to come to mind. 

She smiles back. “Thank you, Cain.”

And then she’s gone, out of the room, past the bartender, and into the back room. I’m left in an empty room. When I look back, I notice for the first time that there are chains on the bed frame. I take a breath, pulling myself together, and walk out without another glance at the bartender. 

—

When I return to Arrow House, I find her working in the stables. There’s dirt smeared across her shirt and sweat dripping down her neck. She’s putting Iris back in his stall, likely her last horse of the day, considering the sun is slowly crawling down the sky. I stand at the mouth of the barn and watch her in silence. 

This woman is tougher than I will ever be. This I know. This I have seen. And I’m in awe of her. If it were me I wouldn’t be able to look at a man. I wouldn’t be able to live in the same house as one. I would be at a loss for trust and turned away from the idea of love, of respect, because the world had shown me none. I would wonder constantly why the universe didn’t love me back. 

I’m lost in the insignificance of myself as I watch her wipe sweat from her forehead. Maybe I’m only passing through her life, a blip in the wildness of running and running and running. Maybe I’m a moment waiting to pass for her, and maybe I’m her forever. I won’t know until she tells me. I wonder if in some past life, we crossed paths. I am not a religious man, but I have to believe I have been without her for far, far too long. 

For her, I will be brave. I will learn to let someone see the war torn parts of myself and still look her in the eye afterward. I will refuse to follow the instinct to send away, to abandon, to refuse. This is a promise I make to myself, that I will be better, I’ll be the man she thinks I am. 

She notices me and a smile flickers across her face like a candle flame. She does not run to me. She does not grin and wave. Just a small acknowledgement. I see you. I am glad you’re back.  That is enough. To be seen. Maybe, all my life, I have been looking just to be seen by someone. Forget being devoured. Forget love with teeth and savagery. This, right here, this is what I’ve been wanting. She sees me. She knows who I am, and still she smiles when I appear. She knows I kill, and so does she. She knows I lie, and so, sometimes, does she. She knows I was in pain, she knows I still am, and so is she. 

She knows I was a soldier. I fought, and so did she. 

Except there are no child soldiers. Only child victims. 

#only the wild ones #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaker blinders fandom #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders fanfic

[lifeiskentastic]

gn!Reader in one car with Holland March in the middle of a traffic jam

Gif by @adoresbenho

A/N: Tell me, would you read a fanfic about Ryan Gosling's five-minute role as a lecherous elf on snl New Year's episode? (this sounds so crazy, but Ryan is so cute with the pointy ears, bangs, and tall hat... I just need to write it.)

Summary: Agency partner Reader once again gets stuck in a traffic jam with Holland;

Song I recommend: Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen was just made ror Holland;

Word count: 724 words;

Nice reading!

It was just another morning as the third member (counting from the moment of join, although Holland always argued with Hilly to take over as "second" as if it were something really important) of the detective agency. It was just another morning traffic jam in Los Angeles, the only advantage of which was extra time to shave or drink a cup of coffee. After all, as it turned out, working as a detective requires punctuality, which in the case of Holland March was a big problem. So from the very beginning of the day, you were in a hurry, rushing to get things done, and only during irreparable traffic jams could you afford to exhale.

Holland could finally shave, and you could have a cup of strong coffee instead of breakfast.

For such occasions, Holland even kept a thermos of coffee and mountains of plastic cups in the car. No matter how many times you persuaded him to get rid of at least half of them, he categorically refused, calling it a "necessity of life." Well, given that he also used them to drink his liter-long supply of alcohol, it's not surprising.

The only thing that remained a mystery even to the three detectives was why a jar of whipped cream kept appearing in the glove compartment of his car. Although you had a bold guess that after you told Holland that you loved whipped cream coffee, he took it too much to heart.

"Do you think Healy is there yet?"

You asked, sipping from your cup.

"Oh, yeah, Mr.I'm-right-on-time-because-this-is-an-important-job has been there since sunrise."

You couldn't help but laugh out loud at that. The special relationship between your two partners couldn't help but make you laugh, literally, every day.

Holland beamed with pride when he managed to make you laugh.

"Oh, and also..."

But another laugh from you didn't let March finish his sentence. But what could you do? Still, the naive look on Holland's face with a piece of shaving foam on his cheek was more amusing than you could have imagined.

"Pfft... Ha-ha, wait..."

You reached for his cheek to brush away the remaining lather as Holland watched you in pure embarrassment. His eyes looked even more confused when you were a few millimeters away from his face.

However, you quickly returned to your seat, showing traces of white, puffy foam on your palm.

"Is that what made you giggle so much?"

This made you think back to that unsuspecting look on March's face, caught up in his own joke, and made you laugh uncontrollably again.

"I'm sorry... You just looked so cute."

"Did I?"

Holland leaned closer to your seat, scrutinizing every part of your face. You were about to ask what he was going to do, but...

"Aha! Found it!"

His head came as close to yours as possible, and he touched something near the tips of your lips with a triumphant exclamation.

"Is that cream? You're such a sloven."

Holland's finger did indeed show traces of cream from your coffee. And your partner seemed to be expecting some kind of funny reaction from you, looking expectantly into your soul, but you were honestly not in the mood for it... Still, your heart was still racing from being so close to Holland. For some reason, when there were so small distance between the two of you, you began to feel strange jolts inside your chest.

When you barely regained consciousness, the only thing you could do was to move your whole body as close to Holland as possible, making your partner's eyes widen in surprise once again. You didn't know what was driving you at that moment, but you knew you had to work, and you were within a pinkie nail's distance of March's face.

"You're one to talk..."

You ran your fingers through Holland's mustache, wiping away the subtle streaks of shaving foam that had started this whole thing.

Although you wanted something like this, you hadn't expected Holland to do it first. That he would push forward, quickly crossing the short distance between you, and confidently touch your lips. Of course, you immediately returned his kiss.

It seems that car horns were already blaring behind you and angry drivers were furious, but for now you were too busy with each other to pay attention to such trifles.

#holland march #holland march x reader #holland march fluff #holland march x you #the nice guys #the nice guys not the fall guy alright #ryan gosling fanfiction #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #fanfiction #fluff fic #nice guys #gn reader #x you #x reader #the nice guys fanfiction #ryan gosling imagine

[ishcliff]

i don't remember if i posted this, but around release, i was wondering if the numerical designations of the sinners corresponded with the major arcana. i feel like this is a yes, but there are a few that feel like a reach.

here are the brief summaries of my thoughts:

yi sang - the magician — yes! the magician is a creator that utilizes genius-level mastery over all natural life, with an unending fountain of passion for creation just for the sake of creation.

faust - the high priestess — yes! another genius, this time in the realm of the subconscious and mastery of intuition. creation in the high priestess's case cannot be easily comprehended by the conscious mind. in addition, the high priestess is a keeper of many secrets.

don quixote - the empress — maybe? i can see it! the empress is a protective, nurturing figure that is akin to "mother nature" itself who encourages empathy and connection with the world around you. at times, the empress can be overbearing even with good intent.

ryōshū - the emperor — yes! this card is also protective and nurturing, but in a much more authoritative and commanding way. the emperor is the paternal figure to the empress's maternal, and focuses on logic and practicality as an expression of care.

meursault - the hierophant — yes! this card represents tradition, faith, adherence to social hierarchy, and going to the elders of one's community for wisdom on all matters in life.

hong lu - the lovers — dunno! i know essentially nothing about his source material. but, the lovers represents decisions, divisions, duality, and the necessity to pick a path at a fork in the road. typically this is related to matters of harmony between actions and values. and, or course, it also represents pure love in all relationships, be they romantic, familial, etc.

heathcliff - the chariot — yes! when the chariot has a destination, it stops for nothing and will trample everything in its way to get there. this card represents inner strength, determination, strategy, and forward-thinking.

ishmael - strength — yes! the strength in this card is similar to the strength inherent to the chariot, but with more of a focus on mastery of the self and compassion towards others. it can also represent the relationship between man and beast – sometimes internal/metaphorical, but also sometimes literal. in addition, something to note is that in many other variations of the major arcana, this number is actually justice.

rodion - the hermit — yes! the hermit is about a self-imposed isolation for the purpose of personal development. sacrificing interpersonal connections forces one to focus on fostering their internal world. while this is rarely ever in a negative connotation, in rodion's case, her distance from others very well could be due to her generally unresolved self-loathing.

dante - wheel of fortune — YES! this is the card that made me realize the connection to begin with. the wheel of fortune is about predestination, fate, and cycles of all kinds. the wheel is emblazoned with YHVH, and given dante's connection to lobotomy corporation by way of the boughs, it doesn't feel like a coincidence when you factor in the structure of the company revolves around the teachings of kabbalah AND as a goal revolves around breaking cycles. in addition, dante's head itself is a wheel.

sinclair - justice — yes! justice represents, you guessed it, justice. usually in the form of accountability, retribution, and cause-and-effect. often it indicates that one must feel consequences for their actions in the form of harsh life lessons. and just like with ishmael, an interesting fact: in many other variations of the major arcana, this number is actually strength.

outis - the hanged man — dunno! like hong lu, i have not read her source. but, the hanged man is about finding yourself trapped in a position where you are forced to take on a new perspective and to relinquish control over your life. there's no choice in the matter. accepting this lack of control/certainty of your future is what brings enlightenment and peace.

gregor - death — yes! while death can be literal, more often than not it actually represents....... metamorphosis. haha... but yes, generally it represents rebirth or transformation by way of changing from one phase in life/of a situation to the next, sometimes in unrecognizable ways.

probably my favorite detail in this is the way that ishmael and sinclair invert each other's cards while also dealing with extremely similar situations – and walking away with very similar lessons to learn.

aside from the places where it may or may not be a stretch, this connection begets the question: who is the fool? dante would usually be an obvious choice, but they are not 0 – though, of course, 10 includes 0. but i dunno! maybe we'll get an idea sooner or later.

#limbus company speculation #limbus company meta #lcb all

[livingfast04]

Monster Au? (kind of)

**spoilers for Frankenstein??? I guess??** Part Two --- They read Frankenstein in the 9th grade, Freshman English, with their teacher who had read the book far too many times. She’d waxed poetically about injustice, and how Victor was a Victim. She spoke every sentence as if each and everyone of them had never read a book in their life.

Steve read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in 7th grade for a book report. His teacher had all but begged him to choose a different option- they read it Freshman year. See it with new eyes then Steve. 

His mind was made up. Already 50 pages in. 

There was no poor Victor. Steve hated him, hated the idea of his character, hated the very words spilled on the page. The creature did not ask to be created, it did not ask to live. Steve hated that he identified with the creature, someone seeking kindness in a world that hated the idea of him. 

Devil, demon, fiend, monster. 

Skin Eater, Skin Thief, Skin Stealer, Shapeless.

If Steve was capable of that kind of violence, he’d kill everything his parents loved too. If his parents were even capable of love. 

So Steve sat bored out of his mind, and angry. In Freshman English, over a book he’d already read, over a woman, a human woman. Who spun sentences about the Human in the story, and cursed out the creature. As if the creature asked for anything. 

Kick the dog, hurt the dog, starve the dog. The kind dog will bite. 

Sink teeth into skin, tear flesh, feel the way their jaws lock around the white of bone.

He kept his mouth shut. In ways that the other monsters in the class didn’t, they huffed, and argued. The wolf at the front of the class snapped out about the logistics, the message Mary Shelley was trying to tell- how Victor Frankenstein was not the victim, but the Villain. It was about all the humans who had children with Supernatural, who abandoned them, who cast them aside, who turned the villages against them. 

When the Witch at the back of the class snapped out about Shelley was a Witch herself. 

Steve kept his mouth shut, when the Vampire boy from the front of the class shouted about how the creature just wished to be loved. 

Not a single word for how much he hated Victor passed his lips. Because Steve was supposed to be just as human as the teacher, was supposed to agree with the teacher. A woman he couldn’t even be bothered to remember her name in the Spring Semester.

Steve was to keep his head down on all things monsters, keep his abnormalness to himself- and act like a human. 

Freak, Freak, Freak

The Harrington’s were the only Shape-shifters in Hawkins, and that was a well kept secret. Only the Harrington’s were to know this fact. The world had come around to Supernatural in the late 1800s, just maybe. 

Werewolves, Vampires, Witches, Gremlins, Fairies, Dragons, Ghosts, Animal Shifters, Sirens, Banshee, you know- 

The human shaped kind.

They did not take kindly to Shapeshifters. 

So they hid, they curbed their instincts and became human-like. Raised their young in private, they did not fight the oppression, they stayed quiet, and said little to how shape-shifters worked to themselves. 

They don’t marry outside of the branch of Shifters, they don’t even think about it. 

Steve’s parents married out of necessity. Keep the line of Harrington’s alive. They had Steve out of necessity too. They shouldn’t have, but it’s what it was. His father too scared to break the cycle made sure that Steve was aware he was an abomination.

A devil, demon, a creature. 

Be human, don’t be anything else. Steve grew up knowing what his body should need, but never getting it. His “natural” body is already supposed to be thin, small, built for movement, and change.

Steve grew up, not really honestly. He tried to grow up. It took years of monsters, and years of exhaustion, and a skin that was wrong to even begin to grow up. There was no real transition, there was too human, and then too monster-ish. 

Too much, too much- 

And then there were real monsters. Not the human shaped kind. 

Not the Humans. The regulars, the ones with the slurs, and shouting, the human shaped monsters who didn’t like wrong. The ones who were the same as him, who didn’t like themselves either- 

Kick the dog, hurt the dog, starve the dog. 

The dog bites. --- I, got the writing bug, for something other than my two WIP. So, weird way too much world building Monster Au that I had to get out of my head an on to paper before I lost it completely. Both my sanity, and the idea. (The Au is Steddie, there’s just a, well Lack of Steddie in this. For some reason- probably because I word vomited for 25 minutes- and this was all I could come up with, without writing 10k-)  This was born because I’m reading Frankenstein  praise be Mary Shelley. And I’ve got far too many thoughts to be allowed to consume media.  So Stevie gets to suffer now- It’s okay tho, His Vampire Bf will make it better later down the line- :)

#steddie #steve x eddie #Liv is losing their mind #Stranger Things Au #steddie ficlet #stranger things #monster au??? #steddie monster au?

[the-boy-meets-evil]

coffee dates & soulmates (myg)

pairing: min yoongi x f. reader genre: coffee shop!au, slice of life | fluff rating: general warnings: none, this is just fluff really word count: ~3.1k summary: you appreciate your routine, don't really like changes. and then you see him sitting in the corner of your favorite coffee shop. a/n: this is for the lovely @bluewhale52 written for the @bangtansecretsanta exchange ❤️ hi mei! i was your secret santa and it was so fun to get to know you. i wanted to have this posted a few days ago but it ended up a little longer than i expected. i hope you enjoy it! thank you: to the always amazing indigo for creating both the banner and my divider. love you lots! @classicscreations

It was early summer the first time you noticed him. 

You walked into your favorite coffee shop, a complete necessity to be able to function without being grumpy, and noticed him sitting in the corner. Despite the temperature outside, he had a sweater on as he stared intently at his computer, oversized headphones covering his ears. His long, slightly curly black hair fell around his face and he just left it there. There was a barely touched coffee sitting next to his computer, beads of water dripping down the sides. 

It’s not like you made a habit of cataloging everyone in the coffee shop, it was just that you had your routine. It was also a local place so there weren’t new faces all that often. And here this man was, so consumed by whatever he was working on that he didn’t seem to even realize there was a whole world happening around him. Didn’t notice the screaming child who’s mom came in three times a week. Didn’t notice the teenager who came in on FaceTime with someone like it was his own personal space and everyone wanted to hear his conversation. Didn’t hear the two women loudly cackling in one corner. Didn’t hear the person listening to music without headphones like everyone wanted to hear. 

It was kind of impressive, actually. You wondered if the entire world could be on fire and he would continue working on his computer. You were kind of envious, too, because you would give everything to have that kind of focus on anything. 

As soon as you had your coffee, you were out the door. But not without a last look at the new face. Idly, you wondered if you’d see him again.

You did. In fact, he seemed to be just as much a creature of habit as you were. You got used to seeing him there. Always there before you, always working intently on his computer, always ignoring his drink. 

Since he became a part of your routine, even though you never spoke, you did what you did with every other person you came across. You guessed what kind of work he might do, what he liked to do in his free time, what he listened to while he worked. There was a comfort in it. He was always so calm, so undeterred by the flow of people around him. 

Until one day, in the fall, he wasn’t there. His normal table sat empty. You realized that you actually enjoyed this mystery man that you knew nothing about. This man you’d never spoken to had become a part of your days.

“What’s wrong?” 

Your friend Taehyung was with you, another departure from your normal routine, but he’d been complaining about the coffee at his normal place for weeks. So you suggested he try this place. 

“Nothing,” you answered, shaking your head. 

“Where’s that guy you’ve been talking about?” Taehyung asked, looking around curiously. You swatted at him in response.

“Not here,” you said quietly.

Taehyung gave you a knowing look that you hated immediately. “Ah, is that why your face looks like that?” 

“What’s wrong with my face?” You wanted to be offended, but you also knew Taehyung and knew he likely didn’t mean anything by it.

“Just looks like someone kicked your dog, is all,” he shrugged.

“I don’t have a dog,” you responded and he rolled his eyes.

“He must be cute,” Taehyung said.

“He’s just…I’ve never seen anyone with that kind of focus, is all,” you said and approached the counter to order. 

The next time you went back into the coffee shop, headphone computer guy was back at his usual table. It was like nothing had changed. He still didn’t look up, still didn’t break focus, and still didn’t seem like he was drinking his coffee. You smiled, immediately thankful Taehyung wasn’t with you this time.

Taehyung had agreed, the coffee at your place was great, way better than his place. But it was out of his way and he was almost always running late. So you started picking up coffee for the both of you most days. Which was better for you, anyway, because Taehyung would periodically pay for both coffees as a thank you for bringing something drinkable.

The next departure from your routine came after you stopped ordering that extra coffee for Taehyung. He was seeing someone new that had convinced him the best thing to do was make it for himself at home, which had resulted in him spending too much money on something he didn’t really know how to use. Oh well, the things we do for love, right?

You were getting too used to the rest of the routine, too used to being able to look at the stranger that always worked on his laptop. Which is exactly how you noticed the change. You went back to your normal coffee order and he glanced up at you. When he saw you were looking at him, he glanced back down immediately. But you had seen it. Maybe he wasn’t quite so oblivious to his surroundings.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking and you needed to stop making stories in your own head. He didn’t look up at you the next time you were in or even any of the times the rest of the week. 

And then, about a week later, he actually surprised you. You were taking your card out to pay for the coffee you just ordered when the barista told you that it was covered. 

“What?” Your hand paused in your wallet.

“Yeah, you’re all set,” she said and smiled.

That didn’t exactly clarify anything. “Um, how?”

“Oh, that guy over there on the computer paid for it,” she said and your eyes followed her line of vision despite knowing exactly who she meant.

He wasn’t looking up at you, but you swore you saw the faintest twitch of a smile on his lips. Okay, so that was how this was going to go. You waited by the end of the counter, on the other side of the shop from where he sat. As soon as you had your coffee, you walked over to his table and wondered the whole time if he would even look up.

He did, almost immediately.

“Uh, thanks,” you said, unsure what else you were supposed to say.

“You’re welcome,” he said and smiled.

And it was one of the cutest smiles you’d ever seen, all soft and too big and gummy. Every time you’d seen him before, he looked intense and focused. It was why you never thought he realized what was going on around him. Now, he smiled soft, eyes crinkling as he looked up at you. He pulled his headphones off and closed his laptop.

“Do you want to sit down?”

You did, of course you did. It had been weeks and weeks of made up stories about this man that suddenly paid for your coffee and asked you to sit down. There were a million questions that you wanted to ask. It started with his name, though. Yoongi. Pretty. It almost felt weird after all this time to know his name. And to give him yours in return.

You can’t remember what you talked about that first day, only that you loved to listen to the sound of his voice. Gentle but also deep and gravelly. Animated but also somehow lazy. His voice, like everything else about him, was a study in contrasts that somehow worked perfectly together. 

It was another week of chatting every time you came into the shop (he was always already there at his normal table) before he asked you if you wanted to get dinner sometime. An immediate yes from you. 

And it was probably one of the cutest dates that you had ever been on. In the coffee shop, Yoongi seemed calm and at ease, like he was genuinely comfortable. When you met him for dinner, he seemed nervous. Like he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Which actually made you a lot less nervous. He was beautiful and you felt tongue tied around him more often than not. But now here he was, slightly stumbling over some of his words and not at all at ease. It made you like him a lot more.

You were in trouble.

It was nice because you realized how much you hadn’t learned about him yet even though you felt like you’d known him forever. Although he hadn’t given you a clear answer on his work at the coffee shop, he talked about it freely on that first real date. He wrote music. Everything from songs that he sold to artists to scores for movie soundtracks and everything in between. It seemed like he had worked with some pretty big artists, too. He didn’t think it was a big deal, but you thought it was amazing. You also found out, unsurprisingly given his line of work, that he played several instruments including the piano and the guitar. Piano had been his first love, he talked at length about the piano he had at a studio he worked at when he wasn’t at the coffee shop, and guitar had been something he just picked up while writing songs. Even though he didn’t think he was good, he agreed he’d play for you sometime when you asked. Maybe he wasn’t the only one smiling like an idiot

He also wanted to know everything about you and disagreed when you said it wasn’t nearly as exciting. So you told him about your family, about growing up, about dreams that you still had. Things you usually hesitated to share and would never share on a first date. He interjected to share stories of his own. Easy. It was just easy.

After dinner, he walked you to the door of your building and awkwardly shuffled his feet. Again, like he wasn’t completely sure of himself or what to do. You lingered a second longer and were glad you did when he placed the gentlest kiss on your lips and then told you to have a good night. 

Several more dates went by and you realized that you were actually developing incredibly real feelings for Yoongi faster than you had for anyone else before. It had never been easy like this with anyone else, it had never felt effortless. But everything with Yoongi was as natural as breathing. 

When he asked if you wanted to meet his closest friends, you said yes right away. And the way he smiled said you made the right decision. He offered to cook for you and them, promised he’d rope one of them into helping, and promised all you needed to do was bring a bottle of wine, if you wanted.

You showed up at his apartment right on time, like you always did, but it wasn’t Yoongi that answered the door. Instead, you were greeted by a tall, broad man with almost blond hair. His smile was easy, but in a very different way to Yoongi.

“Hi, you must be the woman we’ve heard so much about,” he said, still smiling and holding the door.

“Well don’t just stand there, Namjoon, invite her in,” called another familiar voice.

“Ah, right, sorry,” he stuttered and stepped aside. 

Your eyes fell on another man, shorter than the one he called Namjoon and slender, but with a smile that could break a thousand hearts. He was on his feet immediately and coming towards you.

“Hi, I’m Hoseok and this is Namjoon,” he said and you relaxed. It was good to put names to faces.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you said.

“You too! Yoongi hasn’t stopped talking about you in…” Hoseok started before there was a clattering from the kitchen.

“Yah, Hobi, I can hear you,” Yoongi scolded. 

“It’s not like she doesn’t know,” Namjoon added quietly and Yoongi rounded on the taller man.

“Not you too,” Yoongi whined before he turned back to you. “I hope they don’t scare you off.”

And there was a little bit of a truth to it, if his face was anything to go by. But you just smiled and crossed the room to kiss his cheek.

“Not a chance,” you said and held up a bag. “I couldn’t decide what to bring so I brought both.”

“Jin’s gonna be thrilled,” Yoongi said, looking at the bag. “Come on, I’ll introduce you and then leave you to those two.”

“Are they not allowed in the kitchen?” You wondered as you followed Yoongi.

“Hobi is, Joon isn’t,” Yoongi said and didn’t elaborate further. 

As Yoongi said, his friend Seokjin was in the kitchen. He was also strikingly attractive (seriously, what was it with this friend group?), but the most surprising thing was his apron. He also had his hair pushed back off his face as he watched the dishes.

“Ah, you’re here!” Seokjin saw you and greeted you as if you’d known each other for years.

“This is Jin,” Yoongi said, a little unnecessarily but you appreciated it all the same.

“Nice apron,” you commented and earned a loud laugh in response.

“Please don’t,” Yoongi muttered and you weren’t sure who he was talking to.

“I can’t get my dinner clothes dirty while I’m cooking,” Seokjin said.

“We’re staying in,” Yoongi whined and now you realized it hadn’t been you he was talking to.

“And I want to look nice,” he said.

“He brought it with him,” Yoongi told you and Seokjin didn’t look remotely bothered.

Yoongi gave you a peck on the cheek, which earned a joke from Seokjin, and sent you back out to sit with Hoseok and Namjoon. It was probably for the best, though, because if you stayed in the kitchen, you’d want to help and two people were already plenty. It wasn’t that big of a space. 

It was also really nice to get to know Yoongi’s friends, who were just as lovely as you would have guessed. Namjoon, as you discovered, was not allowed in the kitchen because he was a terrible cook. He also was incredibly clumsy. Hoseok was apparently a pretty decent cook, but not as good as Seokjin or Yoongi, which meant that he was keeping Namjoon company as well as keeping him out of trouble. 

You could see that they had all been friends for years, the way they interacted and shared stories. But the best part about meeting them and having dinner was that they all included you in absolutely everything. And aside from a few pokes at Yoongi, who apparently never fell fast like this, they completely accepted you. It might have been silly, but you held your breath until you realized that you passed their test.

After the night had been such a success, you figured your friends were up next. Unsurprisingly, that was just as easy. Taehyung wanted to play the fill-in older brother role for you, but he lasted all of five minutes before he was gushing over how much he loved you two together. He also wanted to tell Yoongi about how you had looked for him every time you came into the coffee shop, which he did after you finished the first bottle of wine. You couldn’t stop him from the embarrassing stories. Which ended up being fine because Yoongi admitted he thought you and Taehyung were dating when you ordered him coffees every time.

Nothing in life was ever this easy for you. No relationship, whether it was a friend or romantic, had ever slotted in this easily. Part of you, the pessimistic side, kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. You were sure that nothing like this lasted for you. But the hopeful part of you wanted to believe that you deserved it.

You weren’t really sure how you had gotten here, it was like one day you were observing this quiet man from afar in a coffee shop and the next, you were getting ready to spend Christmas together. Despite saying that he wasn’t much for the holiday, he had been right there with you in decorating, making sure the lights were up, that there were things up on the wall, that the whole place felt cozy.  And you both had stockings. You had agreed on a limit, yet you had caught him periodically slipping things into your stocking every time he was over. 

“Eggnog is disgusting,” you announced as you sunk onto the couch next to Yoongi.

“Then don’t drink it,” he responded.

“Ridiculous,” you said and he laughed softly at you. “It’s a tradition.”

“We can make new traditions,” Yoongi offered.

“They’re not traditions if they’re new,” you said with a pout.

“They are if we do them every year,” he said and you shot a look at him.

“Still planning to be around next year?” You almost didn’t dare to hope.

Yoongi looked into your eyes, more sure than you had ever seen him. “I’ll be around for as many holidays as you’ll have me.”

It was crazy, the way the butterflies fluttered in your stomach, the way your whole body was on fire. You’d never really believed in love at first sight, still didn’t know if you believed in soulmates, but you also knew that you’d never felt anything like what you felt for Yoongi. When you heard him essentially say that he was also in it for the long haul, your heart was ready to burst. 

“This is crazy, right?” Your voice was small and you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“What?” 

“We’ve only been dating for a couple months and we’re celebrating Christmas together, talking about traditions,” you said to your hands that twisted in your lap.

Yoongi’s long fingers reached out to tilt your chin back up. “It doesn’t feel crazy to me.”

“But we’ve only known each other for such a short time and…” you rambled.

Yoongi shrugged. “Who cares if it’s a short time? Who cares about anyone else’s timeline?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve always just been a little worried about everyone else’s opinions,” you said and sighed.

“My friends love you, yours love me. We’re happy and I know I’m not alone in saying I’ve never felt like this before,” Yoongi said and you smiled at him. “I don’t think anything else matters.”

“You’re right,” you agreed. 

“So come here,” he said and opened his arms for you to settle against him. “Now we just have one thing to decide.”

“What’s that?” You tilted your head to look up at him.

“Our first new tradition,” Yoongi said and you smiled again.

If all you did for the rest of your Christmas Eves was cuddle with Yoongi and complain about eggnog, you would be happy.

I hope you enjoyed it!

#bss2022 #bangtan secret santa #btscarnivalnet #kvanity #btswritersclub #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #bts fics #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts scenarios

[turrondeluxe]

Let’s just say the tots accidentally found a Time Machine or something and was able to travel to a time where Mikey and his brothers are alive,

what would be

1.) Ronin’s reaction to the missing tots and when he does eventually find them what would he say to his past self, brothers and father?

2.) the tots reaction to Past Papa and their uncles

3.) Past Turtle’s +Splinter’s reaction to tots

i ended up writing a lot 🧍‍♂️

1. Mikey Would lose his Mind. Those kids are literally so important to him, he will not rest until he manages a way to get them back.

I'm guessing they basically disappeared out of thin air. So his first thought would probably be maybe someone from the nearing towns got them for whatever reason. This leads to Mikey just going through each town near them like an absolute force of nature while looking for the kids. He doesn't leave anything amiss but he doesn't find them. Which ends on Mikey growing even more upset and leads to contacting April to brainstorm about the situation, getting to the conclusion that maybe their turtle luck of possibly something time travel related happened out of nowhere to the little ones (just like it has happened before in their lives).

The realization of time travel happening to his babies would lead to Mikey thinking about the one person that could help him in this type of mess or even be the perpetrator herself. Renet. However, Renet has been AWOL from his life for a Long time.

So,

Mikey would give her no choice but to intervene in his timeline again by simply causing a lot of destruction Everywhere.

April is not aboard with his plan but Mikey goes with it anyways.

This Does get Renet to appear in his life once again out of sheer necessity to help cease the danger to the timeline. Which actually ends up on Mikey getting exiled from the timeline itself BUT. after talking to Renet Mikey gets her to help him look for his kids and send him permanently to where they are just so they can be with him again because if they are together then everything will be alright. Renet tries to explain that even if they get to them, Mikey would need to abandon them since he's exiled now to which Mikey replies that she either gets him and his kids back to their own timeline Or she lets lets him and his kids stay together in the one timeline they randomly disappeared to.

Knowing Mikey would not cease, Renet decides on the latter because of their past friendship and because that way Mikey would basically stay exiled. Mikey's presence in that random timeline they were about to go would be final and done in complete secrecy so Renet's higher ups would be no the wiser .

This all ends in Mikey getting thrown to his own past without him knowing yet.

As Renet disappears (eerily similar to the way she completely disappeared from his life decades ago) she tells him that the changes that started ever since the babies arrived in the timeline they are now, already created a whole new timeline ramification that wasn't supposed to happen in the first place, so the harm to the timeline itself wouldn't possibly be any worse making it extremely unwise for her to ever set foot in it again while she tries her best to never let the higher ups know of all that transpired.

Mikey is alright with that.

And then she's gone, forever again.

WHILE ALL OF THIS WAS HAPPENING (like maybe a month in total) the kids actually tots actually were lucky enough to end up in the lair, were the past versions of Mikey's family had been taking care of them.

When Ronin visits the lair he finally realizes he's in the past.

After reuniting with his tots (the past family was extremely weary of ronin at first but the tots literally started wailing for his dad and would Not stop squirming on their holds just to get to ronin) and making sure they were all right. Mikey gives them the whole "I'm from the future" explaining everything to them (except, extremely toned down). So now the current family now has few permanent residents with them.

Mikey hugs all of his brothers after Splinter lets them stay (including himself, because it feels like that was a beloved version of him that disappeared the same day raph died). He tells his younger self that everything will be ok, he is here to stop things from happening now (young mikey has no idea what that all means but hey! new family members!). Ronin doesn't tell his brothers much else except how happy he is to be with them again. And when he gets to Splinter... there's truly nothing to be said except a thanks for letting him and his kids stay with them and how glad happy Ronin is to be able to help in whatever they need. He hopes his father will take him seriously now that he's literally way older.

Ronin will do his best to stop his father from treating their brothers and little him badly while also stopping events that lead to his own future (He does a great job at it!)

2 and 3 kinda?. The tots are ecstatic to be around more turtles like them! (and one rat they guess...) They definitely tend to drift more to young Mikey because he looks like dad and he smells like dad and his chirp sounds just like dad's when he makes the funny squeaky voice so the sense of familiarity and comfort that young Mikey gives them it's completely unparalleled since they miss their dad fairly often.

The tots love their uncles! Raph takes a liking to them fairly quickly and will kill everyone in the room and then himself if something happens to them. Leo is always around as moral support when one of them cries. Donnie makes sure they are ok health wise and gives them the softest of pats. And Mikey makes sure they are well fed and entertained and just spends more time with them out of everyone before ronin appears. The tots don't have much of an opinion about their grandpa, he carries them sometimes and plays with them (sometimes) but he's often busy with other things like spending a lot of time in the dojo, place where the tots are not allowed yet since they are quite young.

Whenever the brothers and Splinter need to get to a mission they tend to leave the tots with April and Casey (if he decides to not go with the turtles, which doesn't happen much). April adores them, she thinks they are the cutest little tots on earth. The tots love spending time around April because she kinda looks and sounds like their granny they used to see on dad's phone. Casey loves to hang around them and indoctrinate on how cool hockey is everytime he can ( the tots don't understand but they think the tall guy is funny).

#uuuuh this probably makes no sense at all but huh there you go #i kinda went insane answering this and basically created a whole au out of the au #godspeed reading all that #ask #peepaw and babies au EXTREME VERSION? IDK #im too tired to see if theres typos. im saluting you rn