I Come On Tumblr To Talk To Myself Publicly

I come on tumblr to talk to myself publicly

"How do you write such realistic dialogue-" I TALK TO MYSELF. I TALK TO MYSELF AND I PRETEND I AM THE ONE SAYING THE LINE. LIKE SANITY IS SLOWLY SLIPPING FROM BETWEEN MY FINGERS WITH EVERY MEASLY WORD THEY TYPE OUT. THAT IS HOW.

Imagine

A sam that rarely shaves his face and when he does it grows back pretty fast

And a darlin that now associated the feeling of sams kisses with a brush of facial hair

Now say sam shaves ,early in the morning , before darlin get up

He goes to get darlin up, with a kiss

And darlin who when they feel a kiss from a person lacking facial hair. Assumes someone has broken in. Flipping sam onto the bed and pinning him

Sam shocked and red in the face at the position

And darlin embarrassed and confused.

" You- I thought, cause there was bo facial hair , you were, well not you"

Darlin confess with a puppy dog face

They both realize how much darlin likes sams facial hair that day

Inspired by this post/art from @ashthefrogmonarch

the rest of you, the best of you (honey, belongs to me)

Ao3 | 1.6k words | Angel's POV

Early into their relationship, Angel and Davey go clubbing. An unsuspecting incubus flirts with Angel after a run in. David tries to keep his cool.

When you met Davey, you would never have pegged him for a clubbing kind of guy. It didn’t match his burly, intimidating, minimalist vibes. Perhaps you could imagine him as a club bouncer, but when you did, you got too focused on the image of his biceps bulging through the thin sleeves of a too-tight black tee-shirt, those dark, sharp eyes scanning a crowd of bodies with practiced precision. 

Instead, you were offered with a much better outcome when you finally worked up the nerve to ask him after a few months of dating, he enthusiastically agreed, even offered to take you to an empowered club he frequented. You had expected him to shoot you down outright, or begrudgingly agree at the very best. He surprised you, like he so often did, and you found yourself just this side of tipsy, his arms around you, your bodies keeping time against each other to the beat of the deafening music. 

Davey knew exactly what he was doing. He pulled you to the dance floor as soon as you’d ordered your fruity little tequila number (which he had paid for). His left hand rested on your hip, his big fingers seeming to wrap all the way around you, the right protectively curled around your shoulders. His right hand was in the perfect position to cover your drink, which he held more than you did. He bent so his breath was hot on your neck, his nose pressed behind your ear. He seemed lost in the music and movement, but every time you bent back to seek out his lips, his eyes were scanning your surroundings, eyeing suspicious figures, keeping everyone away from you, no matter how tempting you both knew you were. 

Protective and tuned in, even when you were grinding your ass back on him. David Shaw was a man of restraint if nothing else. You couldn’t pretend that it didn’t bug you, just a bit. You were putting on such a nice show for him but he was too busy playing guard dog to enjoy it. Not to mention that he didn’t even order a drink for himself. It seemed that Davey had no intention of having fun for himself, just watching the club like a hawk while you did. 

You spun around, wrapped your arms around his neck as he took hold of your drink without missing a beat. You swayed with the music, pulled him down into a devastating kiss. You knew him well at this point, at least well enough to know that just a swipe of your tongue on his bottom lip would have his resolve crumbling, and all it would take was a nip of your teeth to pull him down into your orbit. Davey was an attentive person. Sometimes, you just had to grab that attention for yourself. 

He let out a deep, rumbling moan into your kiss, a sound you felt more than heard as his grip on your hip tightened. Your mind swam as you pictured bruises in the shape of his fingers pressed into your skin. You couldn’t hear him speak over the music, but you knew the shape of that word on his stupidly full lips. 

“Angel…” it was tinged with warning. Behave, he told you, don’t test me, don’t push me, or else. 

You knew what or else was. You happened to like or else. You grinned against his lips, pulled him down by the lapels of his leather jacket, and more shouted than whispered in his ear; 

“I’ve gotta pee!” You danced away from his grasp, weaving through the packed bodies in the dance floor, your eyes never leaving his. He was a head taller than every other person on the floor, so he kept eyes on you as you cut across the floor and past the bar, until you turned the corner to the bathrooms. 

Somebody got in your way before you could gain your bearings. You ran straight into a wide, warm chest. You stumbled back and came face to face with a man dressed in a sheer, unbuttoned shirt. His skin was sun kissed and stretched over rippling abs. He was big, but not like Davey was. Davey was built for actual strength. He was built to carry large loads over long periods, to maintain as long as he needed to, to pull cars a few yards by their fucking bumpers (a feat you’d seen him do when your Camry got stuck in a ditch a few months ago). This man had muscle, but it was all for show. Supple, shining skin over carefully targeted muscle groups. A six pack. Broadened shoulders. A ‘v’ cutting down below his sinfully tight pants. 

Not your type, but you could appreciate a pretty person even so. He smiled, his teeth white and just this side of too sharp. A long, pink tongue ran across his bottom lip. 

“Woah,” his voice left his trim chest in a pur, one hand landing on your shoulder to steady you, “easy, gorgeous. Don’t go falling for me just like that.” 

“Sorry,” you squeaked. You assumed Davey was still in the crowd on the dance floor, and your head spun to try and catch a look at him. This guy didn’t look like the type to try anything stupid, but you knew that looks could be deceiving. 

“Easy,” he repeated, withdrawing his hand. He flashed his palm to you, mock surrender. “I won’t touch.”  

“Thanks,” you laughed softly. You felt awkwardness fall over as you took a purposeful step back. “Sorry, I just-”

“No, not at all!”

“-college town, you know?” You laughed and the stranger reciprocated. He widened your space in turn and stuffed his hands in his pockets. You didn’t know pants that tight could have pockets. He was the picture of innocence, not close enough to grab you, his eyes respectfully holding yours. Not that kind of guy, it seemed. The tension leaked out of your body with your heartbeat. 

“I get it.” The stranger grinned. “Somebody as breathtaking as you, you’ve got to keep an eye out. It’s good to have a healthy suspicion of incredibly attractive people.” 

“Like yourself.” You shot back. 

“Angel,” Davey’s voice was in your ear all of a sudden. His heat was pressed into your back. You jumped, surprised, but then eased back into his solid presence. An arm thicker than your neck snaked around your shoulders, pulling you back into him. 

“Davey,” you gasped, reaching up to rest a hand on his cheek. He was bent over you, curling his massive body around yours protectively. Those dark, intense eyes were locked on the stranger, something dangerous in his face. “I ran into him. Chill.” 

“Sorry,” the stranger stepped back from you again, all hints of his playful flirting gone. “I wasn’t hitting on your mate. That’s just how I talk.” 

Mate. You mused over the word. That must have been a wolf thing, because Davey reacted to it physically. His hand tightened on your shoulder, his breath quickened on your neck. 

Davey considered the stranger for a moment longer, his eyes narrowed and suspicious, before leaning back. He nodded once, decisively, and started pulling you away. You waved absently to the stranger, but your attention was focused solely on Davey. He had this look of intensity to him that you’d never seen before. Your drink was gone, and Davey pulled you away from the bars and any chance for you to get another and towards the door. You stuttered out a protest, but his hand was wrapped tightly around yours. He pulled you along, not fast or hard enough to hurt, but enough for you to have to rush to keep up with his stupidly long legs. 

“Davey,” you gasped as cool night air slammed into you. The line to the club was wrapped around the building. If you left now, it would take forever to get back in. You shivered and locked your arms around your middle. 

“Sorry,” he grumbled. He had released your hand as soon as you were outside, and had both of his placed on his hips. He leant his head back, his eyes closed, and was letting measured, timed breaths out into the air. Puffs of breath like smoke obscured his face. “I thought I was gonna kill that guy.” 

A laugh bubbled out of you, but you realized when he didn’t laugh in turn that he was serious. 

“He was nice.” You said, defensively. “He only touched me to steady me. He stepped back right away.” 

“I know.” Davey sighed. He brought a hand up to scrub at his face. He cut his gaze to you and, after a moment, tugged off his big, leather jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. It swallowed you up, encased you in his warmth. “I’m being… unreasonable.” 

You stared up at him for a while, watching as he squeezed one big hand into a fist over and over, tension etched across his shoulders. 

“Is this a wolf thing?” You asked softly, a smile evident in your voice. He looked back down at you, his eyebrow quirked in question. “Like… animal possessiveness or something?” 

He stared down at you in silence for a long moment before his face split into that sharp-toothed grin. He laughed low and easy, rolling his shoulders to chase away his tension. 

“Come on, menace.” He held out his hand for you, waited for you to take it. “If another incubus touches you tonight, I’ll end up in jail.” “Incubus?” You balked. “What is an incubus?”

Until He Gets Tired Of Me Part 1

Edited version of this fic

“Until he gets tired of me.”

That was Darlin's answer anytime someone questioned their relationship with Sam. A piercing but deep pain would shoot through their chest every time they said it. But it was always said in a joking tone and a movement to distract the other person from their face. No one needed to see how that thought may have hurt them. They knew what they were getting into from the jump. 

Vampires don’t age. They don’t make a habit of keeping long connections with humans if any at all. Despite knowing this, Darlin' felt safe. Safer than they had felt in a long time. They found that safety in Sam and were grateful for it. Nothing is ever truly guaranteed, and to have had Sam in their life at all was a blessing and a mercy. He made a promise to stay by their side.The man was no liar and they loved him for that. Him staying was all they could ever hope for.

As much as they hated the thought of Sam ever leaving them, Darlin' could never blame him. They'd fucked up so many times in their life. People’s well being were tested and some had gotten hurt. His Progeny, their friend, and the countless others Quinn had gotten ahold of before his capturing by the Department. They were reckless. In being so, caused Sam to strain himself to care and worry for them.

There were day they wished Sam would just pack up and go. To rid himself of the headache being their presence. But whenever they woke, he was always right there, holding them close and tightly.

He'd never do that, though. It was obvious to anyone who actually bothered to see them together. The tenderness in his eyes. The gentleness of his touch. The vampire was beyond sprung for the wolf. He was happy. Like he was finally healing. Sam wouldn't be going anywhere. Sam learned that about himself very quickly after the first couple of meetings. 

Darlin' knew as well. A part of their brain screamed to believe otherwise. They hadn't done anything to deserve his grace. His patience. His love. Love that was promised to them until the end of their time.

"Do you think Count Yee-Haw will stay?"

The question had been asked once again. This time, by a young boy named Carlos. He had gotten attached to Darlin' as a toddler and was one of the few pack members that was genuinely happy to see them back.

Count Yee-Haw was the nickname the pack kids had given Sam. Only they could call him that, though. It was a name bestowed upon him after the collective decided to put his vamp strength to the test. The poor man was literally dog piled and left to hold and stumble around with a minimum of 8 kids hanging off his frame like ornaments. It was a title he was growing fond of.

"Probably. At least until he gets tired of me." Darlin gave the boy a half-hearted smile and pulled the hood of his jacket over his face. He didn’t need the soured expression on their face. 

Carlos struggled against Darlin’s had that was still on top of his head and growled playfully. Truth was, he knew Darlin’ better than he let on. He had picked up on their scent on the edge of wooded areas before David knew of their return to town. He would always be loyal to the pack, but if Darlin didn’t want to be seen, he wouldn’t rat them out. Not before they were ready.

"I heard some of the adults talking. They said that he wouldn't stay when you get older."  Carlos admitted, irritation all too clear on his voice. "It's stupid. He obviously loves you. And you're happy now. Isn't that enough?" His voice was just above a whisper

The words spoken came from a place of care. Carlos had missed his favorite rebel and defender of Asher's antics. Truth be told, he was worried Darlin' would become uneasy around the pack and got MIA again. They were more stable with the southern vamp at their side.

Darlin' was about ready to hug the kid in an attempt to soothe his nerves. He typically didn’t get openly upset. But a single thought ran through their head. Carlos was a sweet kid, but what he said was just nice? Too nice to come from a tween.

"Besides. I don't think you'll ever stop being weird. And he already talks like an old ma-." Darlin' cut him short with a smack to the back of his head.There it was. Darlin’ couldn't help but smile to themselves. It's not like he was lying. 

"If you think that, why even ask?" They pulled the hood from over his head and he turned to face them.

"Because I know you hear them too. And I don't want you guys to go anywhere."

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

Sam and Milo were coming back to the main hall. The casual conversation came to a halt when he heard his nickname. The following sentence fell from lips he was all too familiar with. Every vocal cue and tone. And today, it tugged heavy at his heart.

“Sam. Hey, you feelin’ alright? I didn’t think Vamps got sick, but uh…. You’re not lookin’ too hot.” Milo had caught the hurt across Sam’s face before he had the chance to sort himself. 

The vampire was brought back and forced himself to focus on the shifter next to him. He would have to talk with his Mate after they had gotten home. Sam forced a small smile and waved off Milo’s concern. Milo knew not to push too hard with Sam. He was recluse by nature and finally coming out of his shell to the pack. Pushing Sam could very well mean him closing up again. Not to mention that if he did, there was no reason to believe Darlin’ wouldn't either.

... is it Canon that porter rides a motorcycle

Cause if not it should be.