#~ cookie writes ~

[crumbsssscookie]

You (don't) own me

Summary: Bound by an arranged marriage he never wanted, Charles resents you - until a situation forces him to realize that perhaps you're not marrying him solely because of politics.

Warnings: violence, blood, murder, Charles is kidnapped, reader comes for him, a bit suggestive at the end

Pairing: mafia heir!Charles Leclerc x mafia boss!reader

Word count: 1.3k

AN: i don't think i'm the only one who was inspired by the new Chivas promo and those pics screaming mafia. you're still getting mafia!charles but i thought i'd take it in a slightly different direction 🤭

the cover art features a female reader but the fic can be read by anyone since there's no description of reader's physical features

______________________________________________

Charles always knew that he would stand at the top of a crime dynasty one day. After all, his father Hervé was one of the most respected mafia bosses in Europe. He always dreamt of following in his father’s footsteps and leading their family to a prosperous future. But fate, or his father in particular, had other things in mind. 

He wasn’t meant to lead; he was meant to follow. He was meant to become your husband. Was meant to strengthen his family’s standing in the grand scheme of Europe’s biggest crime families. When he’d found out that he was practically a bargaining chip in politics, he rebelled against it. Threw tantrums whenever the topic of you and your family came up. Fought his parents tooth and nail about, what felt to him, being given away to the highest bidder. But to no avail. He had to marry you and your fathers would see to it.

When he met you for the first time, he’d given you the silent treatment, hadn’t even looked you in the eyes or greeted you. Your father had growled something about him being disrespectful, but you’d just waved it off. He thought to see hurt flashing in your eyes, but you had slipped back to a kind and warm smile before he could even think about it.

It wasn’t that he hated you. No, he wished it were that simple. He wished he could despise you, find something in you that was repulsive, unbearable. But you were none of those things. You were everything he should want. You were a couple of years older than him. Around Lorenzo’s age. The only heir to your father’s empire, already leading most of it at your young age. You were the epitome of regality and it made the front of his jeans just a little tighter. But the way you carried yourself with effortless confidence only fuelled his frustration. Because you weren’t his choice. It was never his choice.

You never let his cold demeanour deter you though. In the months and weeks leading up to the wedding you tried everything to get to know him. Even when Charles refused to acknowledge your existence, turned his back on you in public, or left the room the second you entered, you never stopped trying. You showed up to family dinners with gifts tailored to his interests, learning about his favourite wines, cars, and even the books he read in secret when no one was watching. But he remained unmoved, locked behind a wall of silent defiance.

Yet, as the wedding grew closer, something inside him started to shift. He tried to ignore it, tried to convince himself that he still resented you, but the way you still made a real effort to get through to him, how you wanted to see him although he’d only met you with rejection, also terrified him. 

He caught himself lingering on your praise whenever you caught him playing the piano, felt a strange pull in his chest every time you brought him another piece of hard-to-find sheet music. But to admit that he was moved by you, that he felt the need to worship the ground you were walking on? That would mean giving in. To you. To this arrangement. But you didn’t own him. Nobody did. He refused to submit to you, didn’t want to give your fathers the satisfaction of thinking he wanted this marriage, even if his body betrayed him every time he even so much as smelled a hint of your perfume.

It was also the reason he had gone out for a drive that one fateful evening. Needing to breathe air without you in it, needing space. The streets of Monte Carlo blurred past him, turning quickly into the winding roads of the French Riviera as he let the roar of the engine drown out his thoughts. He didn’t see them coming. He didn’t hear them coming. 

He only knew they were coming when it was too late. His car rammed off the road, bodies swarming the scene before he could do anything. He fought, of course he did. His fists colliding with flesh in the process but there were just too many. A sharp blow to the back of his head sent him spiralling. The world turning black before he could hit the ground.

He woke up to agony. Slumped down in a chair, pain radiating from every inch of his body, his hands tied behind his back and the stale air burning in his throat. His lip was split and his nose most certainly broken. He couldn’t make out much in the dimly lit room he was held in, but he could hear his captors talking amongst themselves. Cheering. Laughing. Their boasting voices confirming that he was taken to send a message. To his father. A slow, painful death for the son of Hervé Leclerc while they could still get to him.

They took their time with him, wanting him to suffer before they dumped his body somewhere he would be found quickly. A fist to the gut, a boot to his ribs. Time lost all its meaning, the sensationless bliss of unconsciousness pulling him under like the currents of the Mediterranean. He could feel the cold seeping into his bones and taste the metallic taste of blood coating his tongue whenever he came back to. He was mostly numb by the time they started mocking him for being worth more dead than as a ransom, the only thing keeping him at least halfway sane was the thought that he’d never be able to apologize to you.

The laughter of his captors filled the room, their amusement at his helplessness slicing through his pride like a blade.

Suddenly the laughter stopped.

The silence was deafening.

A sharp crack, bone breaking, a strangled cry of pain. Shouting. Gunshots. The heavy thud of a body hitting the ground. Another one. Then another. Silence.

When he opened his eyes all he could see was you, standing in the door. Dressed in black, a gun still warm in your hand, blood splattered across your cheek, eyes blazing with a fury he’d never seen before in you. He might’ve gone insane, but you were breathtaking in your rage. Dangerous. Lethal. With the precision of a predator you went on to untie him, only allowing yourself to relax once you made sure there were no more threats around. Your focus now entirely on him, you knelt in front of his slumped figure.

“Charles,” you breathed, gently touching his bruised face. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

He stared at you in disbelief.

You had come for him. Not his father, not his brothers. You. 

Even after all he had thrown at you to keep you away. After his constant rejection. You were here, saving him and apologizing to him for not getting to him sooner.

He wanted to open his mouth, to tell you how sorry he was for ever doubting you but before he could even mutter a word you pressed your lips onto his. Soft and careful. Cautious but exploring. His body protested, but he leaned into your kiss without thinking.

He finally let himself want you and it felt better than anything he had ever felt before.

He didn’t know how much time you spent there, him holding onto you for dear life but when you pulled away and finally led him out, stepping over the bodies you had left in your wake to get him, a heavy calm settled into his chest. You had torn through them like a storm, swift and merciless. The blood on your hands a testament of your feelings for him.

That night, after he was all patched up again, Charles let himself fall apart in your hands. You touched him with reverence, whispering against his skin that he was safe, that he was yours. He had never been worshiped before, never been adored so completely. Every kiss, every careful touch, was a promise. A vow that no one would ever hurt him again.

And for the first time, Charles didn’t just accept it. 

He believed it.

As the night stretched on, he surrendered to your love, to the warmth of your embrace, to the realization that he had never belonged to anyone. 

Until now.

[cryptidmickle]

shadow milk finding pv when he was healer cookie is so interesting to me, and full of drama

[milkamel]

AU idea: PV never regains memories, ancients don't reunite and the beasts are freed. Soul jam's powers are weak so SMilk aims to forcefully make PV remember and takes him to the spire (Little does SM know he'll get attached to this little compassionate Healer)

More details about this AU (currently called Slumbering Truth AU): Basically it starts off with Smilk being terrible and basically doing what he was doing in the 8th episode, trying to make PV remember and playing with his mind for his entertainment. He knows who PV used to be but PV knows nothing about him or his own past. He's confused as to why would this powerful cookie need him but decides to submit in exchange for the village being safe.

At first Healer is uncomfortable and nervous but gradually despite Smilk's intimidating look decides to play along his games and get to know him better. Smilk is surprised by the other's behavior (and unexpected wits and trickery) and what started with the urge to break PV down slowly became an urge to keep the other close since the other's intentions to know him were genuine and comforting and SMilk hated the thought of losing that (not that he'd admit that. he needs that Healer to see him suffer, right?).

Now he doesn't want Healer to remember, he doesn't snap at that cookie as much, he wants him to stay in this blissful lie because if PV knew the truth then he'd definitely leave Smilk and lock him again. If Healer knew the truth he'd turn against him instantly, Smilk was sure. For the first time in a long time, Smilk felt like he found someone to who he was connected and he wasn't going to let anything ruin that.

(It's a wip so I might change some stuff along the way)

[purrplpng]

puppy trio and their silly little ancients

[sylvieserene]

Beast Yeast Episode 10's ending in a nutshell:

So I thought of making this edit while writing chapter 11 for my PureLily fic: Love is like a Poison (It's completely unrelated to this 😭)

[h3lian]

𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝. 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 —𝐈 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 '𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐈'𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝.

— Figured I may as well touch this one up a bit & post it finally, alongside the other touched up piece. Both were done because I was inspired by my partner through our babbles & rps over the past few months. I adore these two because of them 💕

[d-burnerphone]

heh… you guys can see my animation before tiktok does… 😼😼

[sallufix]

ARO TO THE HEART

Not me projecting again WHOOPSIESS Just imagine an aroace cupid/eros based character man. Can you see where I'm coming from. They wouldn't gaf about a love life except for the people they pair up 😭 I love Pavlova sm hehejh

[asavt]

[ Your Truth. Your Lie ] (Comic Version.)

Hello hello! I come here to leave the little humble offering of the result of around three days of work (a little more if you take in count the fic version but aahhh....)

This has become an AU btw, not sure if I'll do the other parts since I still got to take care of my thesis and what not. But the other written parts are... in progress.

Anyways, here's the fic version too!

[cuppajj]

"Are you comfortable?" "Yeah… I guess."

On one night like any other, Pure Vanilla tucked Strawberry Crepe under the covers.

The king had always been odd to them. Always been off, in a way they couldn't explain. His compassion and desire to care for them was unlike anything they'd experienced before, it was strange. They couldn't even play it off with their usual cocky bravado, because he'd always smile and laugh like he could see through it. They'd purse their lips and shrink away, and momentarily pause like a cat as the king pet their head. He'd continue to treat them like they were just a kid: advising gentle caution when they worked with Espresso, smiled as they fed the crows with Black Raisin, invited them to the castle for dinner--and he'd even helped prepare them for bed on numerous occasions, growing more frequent as time passed. Crepe didn't need his help, but over time, their insistence faded away. The ancient's soft smile and softer touch were alright, they supposed, and his tender voice could lull them to sleep faster than counting formulas ever could. Dare they admit that, though.

Pure Vanilla had brought a book with him, a different one from the library every time. All books meant for children, but Crepe had quit protesting for encyclopedias long ago, when Vanilla implored they let their mind relax with something easy. Crepe looked over the cover as Vanilla flipped the book open: 'Counting Cream Sheep and Other Dreamy Tales.'

"You always find one about sheep," Crepe remarked, muffled by the blanket over their mouth. Pure Vanilla's laugh was like tinkling bells. "As you giggle when I pretend to bleat, bluebird! It warms my heart." Crepe once always tried to vehemently deny their moments of childishness, but not anymore; not with Pure Vanilla keeping their nerves at ease. At most now, they simply looked away with warmth in their cheeks. "Did you need to bring that up?" "Why wouldn't I? It makes my night every time." "…Whatever. Can you just get reading? Please?" Pure Vanilla chuckled, turning the book to the first page. Once Crepe knew the king was looking away, their expression softened. As Pure Vanilla began to read, the child turned their head to listen; and with every word gently read, they snuggled into their bed further and further.

The narration carried them into the late hours of the night. The moonlight spilled through the window behind them, basking him and the pages of the book in an angelic glow. Crepe's eyes were growing heavier by the minute, tempted to give into the sleep but trying to stay open to see Vanilla, too. They wanted to see him, try and read his face, his voice, something… anything. Crepe had always wanted to seek, understand, deduce something about Pure Vanilla that would put an answer to all of… this. The book reading, the consideration, the encouraging of behavior alien to them and his paternal instinct to care this much about it. Analyzing his flavor content couldn't even put an answer to it, and they wouldn't dare answer why they were staring at him if he caught them doing so. It had been hard for no reason--Raisin and Espresso's kindness were easy for them to explain away. But Pure Vanilla… The king was unaware of the thoughts circulating through their mind, occupied by reading to see them clutch the covers. He didn't see them open their mouth, then close it, then open it again, the words struggling to leave… He paused at the end of the page and pressed his fingers to its tip.

"Pure Vanilla?" The meek voice paused him before he turned the page. "Yes?" He craned his head to smile down at them. Crepe met his gaze, licking their dry lips. It was quiet for a minute. "…Why do you do this?" the child finally murmured. The ancient blinked. "Read to you?" "No--everything. Everything you're doing for me. It makes no sense." After trying for so long to come up with an answer themselves, the wary relief Crepe felt simply asking him caused them to let everything out. "All this… extraneous stuff you do, you bring me along, you do this, do that, you do things I don't need, I…" Their words trailed off when they noticed Pure Vanilla's smile had wavered. The king stared at them, book now in their lap--but before Crepe worried if they had said something wrong, his lips curved upward once more; he understood. "…Ah." He took a breath and lowered the book. "In truth… I believe I owe it to you."

The two kept their gazes as the words processed in Crepe's head. The answer had led to more questions, it seemed, the way the child's eyelids fluttered and brows furrowed, trying to make sense of it. Since when did Pure Vanilla owe them anything? When had they made a bargain? They had never done something like that, they- They lost track of their thoughts when they felt Vanilla's hand skim through their hair. His eyes were lidded with melancholy now, despite his persistent soft grin. "Do you wish for the full answer?" "Please." "...My curious little bird." With affection in his touch, he continued to pet them. A silent moment passed before he spoke; it was as if he had been processing Crepe's tangibility with each caress.

"…I do not forget how--chronologically speaking--old you truly are," Pure Vanilla explained, his voice a low, reflective whisper. His gaze trailed to what lied just beyond Crepe's bed: the workshop, dimly lit by moonlight, with its library of dormant wafflebots. He could vividly remember when they roamed the ancient streets, fulfilling their duties to the satisfaction of his citizens.

"When I learned what happened to you, I felt a twinge I couldn't fathom," he explained. "To be in cryo, hibernating as time claimed the kingdom around you, your last memories a war-torn sky… I couldn't imagine the fear and loneliness you felt when you awoke, with no one there to hear you. You never deserved that trauma, ever." Crepe was quiet. They were memories they had hidden away to focus on progress; they didn't know until now that the king of the Vanilla Kingdom had held onto them instead. "Despite everything, you're still a mere child. I don't know how much the Dark Flour war truly took from you, but I know that within my power, I can be there for you now. We can be there for you, all of us. We wish to see you happy, bluebird, because it's the least you deserve." His tender hand slid down to cup their cheek. In his glimmering eyes was a mix of sadness, desperation, compassion, hope, pain...

"…But... I find myself wishing," he confessed, "that I was there to protect you."

Silence hung over the two once more as they never looked away from each other. Crepe, inarticulate, could only process Pure Vanilla's warm hand lightly brushing their cheek. The words were slow to register. "Oh," was all they mustered. The king chuckled lightly, giving their cheek a pat. "I'm sorry, that was a lot… I'm simply happy you're here with us, little one." When he pulled his hand away from their face, Crepe stifled their request to rest it there again. The warmth of his touch slowly faded into the cool bedroom air. "…Thank… you, I guess," they whispered instead, shrinking into their covers. "I like it here. I always did, but… you're okay too." "That's all I could ever ask."

He raised the book once more, finally turning their bedtime story to the next page. After wiping his eye, he asked, "now, would you like to continue counting cream sheep?" Crepe hummed, "mm, I wanna hear your baa."

Pure Vanilla's narration continued thereafter, the gentle lullaby of his voice drifting back through the little one's ears. Crepe did their best to mull over his confession, soak everything in and contextualize it with everything he'd done for them; but with each turn of the page, their eyes grew heavier and heavier, their thoughts slurring into a drowsy haze… Pure Vanilla heard the slow breaths of his bluebird, bundled snug and fast asleep. He chuckled to himself, closing the book. Sliding off the bed as quietly as he could, he tucked the book under his arm and reached over to pet their head one more time.

"Thank you." Picking up his sleepy orchid staff, Pure Vanilla quietly left, leaving behind nothing but the scent of orchids and a warmth in Crepe's heart.

They didn't know it at the time, but they were happy they were here with him too.

[crumbsssscookie]

Fire Devil

In celebration of Oscar telling the world that he "love(s) the smell of fire and explosions" and inspired by this wonderful gif, i wrote up some pyromaniac!Oscar.

Enjoy! <3

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You've been living in your neighbourhood your whole life now. It's quaint, drama free except for a little cheating scandal here and there but overall, a nice little spot to live.

But then the fires started. At first it was a paper bin here and there, then the garbage container behind the supermarket. Small incidents that were quickly put out. Luckily the fire department always got there quick.

Though when the first garage fell victim to a fire, the neighbours became uneasy. After all, the fire could've quickly spread to the surrounding buildings. And after the first house had completely burned to the ground, the neighbourhood council decided to hire a fire watchman.

Your neighbour Oscar was quite new in town but that didn't stop him volunteering for the position. He also worked for the fire department, so it practically was a no-brainer to choose him. You thought he was charming, always so thoughtful and happy to help whenever you couldn't do something around the house alone.

Aside from that he was smoking hot. It was probably a requirement for becoming a fireman. The time he'd helped you digging up your flowerbeds to get them ready for spring, his ass had looked delicious in his work trousers. When he was cleaning your gutters, stretching to reach all the way, his shirt riding up in the process, revealing a sliver of his toned and sweaty abs, you've had to excuse yourself for a couple of minutes. And whenever you'd catch a glimpse of him in his uniform, you'd dream of him fucking you wearing it.

Recently he'd offered you to install fire alarms and carbon monoxide detectors in your house. You gladly accepted, seeing that another neighbouring house had recently almost burned down. Fortunately, Oscar had been there to prevent further damages. He was very thorough in his walk-through, putting up one of each device in every room and you felt safe with him showcasing his eye for detail.

Unfortunately, it didn't prevent your house to be targeted by the fire devil, but it ensured that you could get out of the house unharmed. Unlike your neighbours your house was uninhabitable after. Too damaged by the fire and the water Oscar and his colleagues had used to put it out again.

Lucky for you, Oscar had a spare bedroom that you could move into until your house was rebuild and where else was it safer than in the house of a fireman. You were so grateful, offering whatever he wanted in return for letting you stay, unknowing that he already had everything he’d ever wanted right in front of his nose.

[asknillamilkfam]

First of all, congratulations!! Love this family lol. Now for my question, did Shadow Milk ever tell the beasts about his children or does he plan to?

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[milkamel]

Finally- FINALLY I DREW SOMETHING FOR SLUMBERING TRUTH- I had an idea for this specific comic for a while but never actually drew it. I slightly changed it up since then so that's what we have here! As I said it's not in my plans to abandon this AU I'm just slow with it- I still need a proper script-

[sylvieserene]

Pure Vanilla Cookie's Soul Jam's Light of Truth got no chill 💀

This came in mind while I was writing a new chapter for my PureLily fic: Love is like a Poison 💀 (completely unrelated to this btw 😭)

[hanniescookie]

adore you - yjh

—⁠☆ you meet your boyfriend after three weeks.

pairing - jeonghan x f!reader

genre/warnings - idol au, fluff, romance, military jeonghan cus i'm obsessed, kissing, use of petnames, reunion after three weeks of separation lololol, self aware king jeonghan, lil bit of yearning ¿

wc - 898

A/N - i adore hannie in a uniform, i adore his entire existence if y'all don't know already. of course i had to write something about today!! i love him so much, he heals me everyday (⁠･ั⁠ω⁠･ั⁠)

A pair of warm, familiar hands shield your eyes from behind and all the restlessness that had accumulated in your body releases at once.

You don't gasp, don't flinch. Your mouth exhales a sigh of contentment, and your lips curl up in what your boyfriend calls a sulky smile. Your hands curl around the bouquet of flowers you've been holding as you lean back against the body behind you, practically letting go of your own weight.

“Hannie.” You mutter, and hear a giggle right next to your ear. It makes you smile harder, your heart dancing in excitement.

“You got me, angel.” He says, dropping his hands to hold you steady by your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. One of his hands rounds you to touch the flowers you've brought, and you can feel him smiling beside your face. “Flowers? For me? Or do you have any other trainees to meet here?”

You click your tongue, unable to help the giddiness in your stomach. Hearing his voice, feeling his warmth, having him near you—it’s all a little overwhelming after a grand total of three weeks. However, you keep your tears hidden in fear of being teased by him.

“I'm only here for my boyfriend.” You say, staring at his hand that's caressing the flower petals. You wish to hold it, but somehow, you're a little too occupied with how peaceful you feel in his hold. Watching his ceremony from afar put you at ease already, healing something inside you that you didn't even know had broken since he left. But it also made you restless, not being able to wait till you could see him, hold him, kiss him.

However, now that he's here, you feel like all common sense has fled out of your body, You can only lean against him, let him hold you, and feel him.

“Really, now?” Jeonghan speaks in a low voice, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “The boyfriend you won't even look at?”

You shut your eyes, letting your smile widen. Your hand is trembling a little as you reach out and keep it above his large one. Somehow, it looks even bigger than the last time you'd held it.

“I missed my boyfriend a lot.” You utter, bringing his hand up and kissing it. “God forbid a girl is scared to look at the said boyfriend.”

You hear Jeonghan laugh, his neck craning to try and look at your face. “Hey, why would you be scared?”

You shut your eyes, shifting the bouquet to one hand and lifting the other to move his face away. “Don't look at me. I don't wanna cry.”

Jeonghan coos at you, holding you tighter with both his arms and pressing a chaste kiss in the crook of your neck. “It's okay, angel. You can cry if you want to. But at least look at me?”

You pout, your eyes instantly welling up with tears as you shake your head, quickly turning in his hold. The moment your eyes meet his, you shut them tight, taking a deep breath and then opening them again to see his smiling face.

God, it's unfair how beautiful he is.

Surprisingly, despite the tears of overwhlem in your eyes, you mirror his gorgeous smile.

“I missed you too,” he says against your forehead, softly pressing a kiss against your skin. “So much. I might cry too.”

You've known Jeonghan enough to tell that he's missed you, but he's only saying this so you don't feel stupid about crying. That alone makes you shed a tear as you tiptoe and wrap your arms tightly around his neck. As part of his muscle memory, he hugs you back, stuffing his head in your shoulder. His hand cradles your head, softly threading your hair every second. “You're not even crying.”

“I thought you hated to see me cry,” you sniff, pressing yourself more against him to feel his warmth as much as you can. He chuckles, kissing your shoulder blade. “Not when you're crying because you nearly died from missing me.”

You pull back, frowning and hitting him with a fist. “Stop being like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like the world revolves around you.”

“Yours does.”

You open your mouth to argue, but any words of retaliation die down on your tongue. How are you supposed to deny that? All your three weeks worth of sadness have washed away just with one glimpse of him. Your world indeed revolves around him.

He giggles, taking the flower bouquet from you and handing you a photograph instead. You furrow your brows, staring down at your hand to see a picture of you that he had taken out from his pocket.

He places a gentle kiss on your lips, holding your chin between his thumb and index finger, before smiling softly. “My world revolves around you too, angel.”

The surge of emotions that course through your body is insane, and you instantly smile, holding his face between your palms and pecking him. “I adore you, hannie.”

He smiles, rubbing his nose against yours. “Mhm, I know. I adore you too, angel.”

And you know, no matter how many wounds cut through you, you'll always heal as long as Jeonghan is beside you. No matter how many weeks you spend apart from him, your comfort will find you in his form, always.

[poppyseed-cookie]

Pure Vanilla goes back in time and dates the Fount of Knowledge while trying not to reveal the fact that he is a time traveler who owns half his soul jam