#Reader X Blackberry

[undertale-writing-times]

I want to know about Nightmare and Blue's children! What would they do if a love interest of theirs came up to them one day with a bouquet of flowers?

And perhaps a basket of their favourite sweets, plus a brief message of: "I - uh - I just wanted you to know that I really like you and I'd love it if you'd go out on a date with me- but- but only if you want to, of course!"

My boys! :D(and girls)

I will say I have been thinking about adding new kids.

Midnight: Midnight most likely has to look down at you when you came over, tilting his head to the side then smiles putting his hand over his mouth, "Oh?" He was… shocked, honestly? Nobody has ever confessed their attraction to him before! With a little giggle, he takes the flowers and nuzzles his cheek against them, "I would love that, Y/n. I don't think I could ever turn you down" you two share the treats that you got him. He loves himself some chocolate covered strawberries!

Blackberry: Blackberry stares at you while you were talking, a small frown on his face. Don't ask him how he fell for you, he has no idea! There was no reason for him to have done so, but he did, and now you were confessing. He clicks his teeth together, looking off to the side. "You want to go on a date with me?" he asks, then breathes out slowly and takes the flowers, a relaxed smile on his face, "I… would greatly enjoy that, Y/n." He lowers his head, "Thank you" You helped him see that not everyone was out to get him.

Horror Story: Horror Story looks at you with a big eyesocket, the other covered in a deep blue goop. "Y-You…" he clears his throat, looking away, "Why would I want to do that?" he shuts his mouth tight, then takes the flowers and sweets, mumbling, "Of course I would, get over here" he's having a hard time admiting his feelings but he REALLY likes you! He loves that you don't fear him but you treat him well, and you're sweet to him. He's always scared of people treating him bad or something of that sort.

Periwinkle: "Of course I would love to!" She squeals, taking the flowers and treats in one of her arms, and hugs you with the other one, nuzzling her skull against your face. She's so happy! She's had a crush on you for a while, and she's been planning on asking you out but kinda forgetting so this was perfect! She's so happy.

Sleeper: Sleeper looks at you with sleepy eyes. Her eyesockets only halfway open, before getting a small relaxed smile, "I've known you've liked me for a while, Y/n. You haven't been hiding it that well" she takes the flowers, nuzzling her face into them. They were her favorite type! Lavender. "We can go out, it'll be fun" she's not that impressed but finds you cute, so hey, why not try?

Eclipse: Eclipse wanted to tell you no, and tell you to screw off. He had a crush on you, yes, but… you can't come out of nowhere and say that! Ahhhh! He, instead, breathes out slowly to calm himself down, blushing dark. The goop hid that, luckily. "You can't just come over to tell me that out of nowhere" He snaps, and takes the flowers, looking down at them. He turns his head away, moving one of his tentacles around your waist to pull you closer, mumbling, "Of course I'll go on a date with you, just give a damn warning next time"

Babybat: He gasps and before you could even finish what you're saying, he tackles you in a hug, his wings flapping happily, "Of course!" he nuzzles his face against yours, squeaking happily. His eyes were so bright and he looked excited. He might not have really knocked you over, depending on how much you could hold. He doesn't weigh anything pretty much.

[ghouljams]

Reverse Fae!AU feat. Seer!König and Fae!Liebling

Alright, these dumbasses won the poll so here's their start. The return of Liebling's nastier habit and also me jacking up her impulse drive because it's fun. Fae!König would be terribly jealous of his human counterpart, what do you mean fae!Liebling is utterly obsessed? She's insane, I love her. (She's not trapped with him, he's trapped with her)

There's a man inspecting your branches. He's tall, leaning far down to touch your leaves. His eyes are darkly ringed, and in his back pocket there's a scrap of cloth, a mask. He scares and intrigues you in equal measure. He presses his thumb against one of your thorns, letting it break skin before pulling back. The red drop of it falls onto the soil as he presses the digit to his lips. You blink up at him through your thorns, the shield of it feeling more like a prison when faced with him. Your heart beats a little faster, heat flooding your veins as his fingers brush against leaves and gently pluck at the edges of your stems.

He holds a branch out of the way, fingers carefully avoiding the thorns, and reaches his other arm into the heart of your home. You hesitate before reaching up and wrapping your fingers around his. Curious, you've never had someone put themselves in such harm's way before. Not for you. Like a gun going off as soon as you touch him, he grabs you. His grip is tight, immediate and bruising. He pulls you from your home, dragging you through your lovely thorns before you can try to struggle. You yank at his grip, even as he holds you in the summer air, twisting to try and scramble back into your safety. He looks at you, he looks at you. You curl in towards yourself, trying to hide, your thorns reach for you and the man holds you up higher out of their reach. Pain shoots down your arm as your shoulder holds the brunt of your weight. You shout in pain and your thorns react.

They reach for him instead, whips that lash against his legs and dig their spikes into his firm muscle. He hisses, wincing, and wraps his arm around you to hold you against his chest. You push against him, your hands small against his broad chest, his grip unrelenting. Bigger and stronger than you. You switch tactics.

Your thorns wrap around his legs, root him to the ground as you turn to dig your claws into his shoulders, your teeth into his neck. The firm flesh gives under your teeth, blood popping bright on your tongue as you bite him. He flinches, his arms tighten around you as you hold him there. You growl, sink your teeth deeper, threaten to rip clear through his throat if he doesn't let you free. His grip loosens and you take the split second to dislodge your teeth, and scramble from his arms as he smacks a hand against his bleeding neck.

You thorns gather back around you, a protective shield against another grab from your would be captor. You press back on the branches, unnerved by the calmness in the man's eyes even as he holds his life bleeding under his hand.

"Stop looking at me," you snap, wrapping your arms around yourself, "you're not supposed to look at me."

"You're beautiful," his breath rasps, and you feel heat rush through your veins again. You squeeze yourself a little tighter, trying to quell the sudden rapid beat of your heart. This man pulled you from safety, kept you from your thorns, a spare compliment shouldn't make you feel so weak.

"I'm-" you swallow, eyes darting around the garden. He reaches a hand towards you and his fingers brushing your ankle, you pull your legs towards your chest. "I'll bite you again," you warn him. His eyes spark excitedly.

"That would be rude, this is my property you're intruding on," he grabs your ankle, and pulls you out of yourself, "my property, my garden, my thorns-"

"Blackberries," you grit, correcting him without thinking as you dig your fingers into the dirt to hold yourself against his pull.

"Blackberries," he accepts with a smile before continuing, "and my faerie, who is going to apologize for biting me." You're dragged back towards him, the clover littering the garden scrapes your skin and your fingers gouge the dirt trying to keep yourself in place.

"One bite is hardly-"

"One bite?" He laughs, clicks his tongue. A shiver drips down your spine, settles hot between your legs. "One bite," he releases your leg and you try to kick him. He catches it with his bloody hand, the crimson smearing over your skin as it soaks the collar of his tee. He drags his shirt up with his clean hand, his torso littered with half healed scratches, punctures from thorns, bites. "Liebling," he coos as your eyes dart away from him, "you leave your thorns in my bed and think I can't find them again?" His hands grab your hips and tug you up, hold you against his chest as your legs scramble to avoid falling over his lap.

He's so solid, so warm. His blood calls to you, your teeth ache to sink into him again, your lips to feel his skin. Your mouth waters as you press close. Waters the same way it has since he moved in, since you saw him in the garden and felt your heart race watching him pull his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his brow. The shift in your weight drags your hips against his, let's you feel the firm heat of his rapidly growing hardness. You rock down against it as you lean to drag your tongue along his neck. He grabs you by the hair and pulls your head back, just as you get the first taste of blood. You press your fingers to your lips, press your tongue against them to feel the lingering tingle of seer blood.

Your hand is tugged away and replaced by his tongue sliding against yours, licking it into his mouth with a low groan. He sucks the taste of iron from your tongue, his big hands roaming your skin as his teeth scrape against the wet muscle. His tongue invades your mouth, pushes inside with an insistence that makes your eyes flutter closed, a purr starting low and rumbling in your chest.

"Du schmeckst so gut," he murmurs, grabbing your face to hold you in place, "Du schmeckst wie meine, meine Liebling."

"Yours?" You hope, fingers dancing over the warm wound on his neck.

"Mine," he growls. Everything in your chest lights up warm and golden, your thorns sharpen themselves excitedly. You're all too eager to dig your claws into this man, to make him yours in return, a reward for seeking out the sharp parts of you. You'll sharpen yourself against his rocks, and keep out anyone who'd dare try taking him from you.

"Give me your name," you whisper, feeling his lips dragging against yours, his smile.

"König," he lies, half lies. You can feel it piecing itself against your tethers, the hidden tendrils of his real name still locked up tight. You'll get it, your thorns aren't just to keep out trespassers.

They're for keeping your treasure in.

[chai-berries]

what if abby invited you to friendsgiving with nora, jordan, leah and manny and the salt lake crew (tho it’s kinda awks if/when owen and mel arrive) and it’s the first time you’re meeting the whole gang!! like you know manny and nora cause they are abby’s besties but meeting them all and having a Meal with them!!! oh you’d be so nervous and trying on a million things and abby has to calm you down with her hands running up and down your shoulders.

“relax chica, they already love you i promise”

you decide to bring a,,, Blueberry Pie and it’s a big hit and manny is at your feet asking for you to make him his own personal pie.

and you and nora and leah get excitedly loud at the table while talking about what movie you guys are gonna watch after desert.

and abby is just love!! sick!! watching you be with her people. cause you’re her Person!!!

later, when you guys go home and you’re whining about how full you are as you climb into her bed, she can’t help but say i told you so

“see? what were you so worried about? they love you almost as much as i do!”

“almost?”

“well no one could love you more than i do”

[notyour-valentine]

Strawberry Red ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Angst)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: After two years, Tommy reunites with Grace, but the same things that once intrigued him, do the opposite now

Note: You have chosen- I hope you enjoy. This is technically a follow up to Blackberry Stains but it can stand alone.

I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes

Warning: mention of PTSD, cheating

Request: no

Wordcount: 1992 words

He couldn’t help staring, but for all the wrong reasons. 

Back then, two years ago, he had been enthralled by her. 

She had been a novelty at first, and like all curiosities, had drawn attention. 

And his gaze had lingered. 

She had been bold. She had been brave and straight-forward, even foolishly so and that had intrigued him. 

How unlike (Y/N) she had been!

From the way she spoke, not just the foreign accent but the confidence that dripped from every word, every sentence laced with certainty. 

Even her walk was different, not hasty, with her head held high the way very few women in Small Heath did, having been taught all their lives to evade attention and the risks that would contain. 

Not that anyone with half an ounce of brains would ever dare to look at (Y/N) the wrong way, but there had been a time before Tommy had made his name and before hers was intertwined with his. 

And all these barefooted, hungry years left a mark on the body and soul. 

The way she did her hair was different. The men didn’t mind of course, but she was wearing it open the way no respectable working woman would have thought to do. It would only get in the way of the meals that needed cooking and the chores that needed doing. 

Meals for his siblings, for his nephews. Meals for him. 

Even the way she would dress was different, so many bright, pale colours that made her blue eyes shine. 

(Y/N) had one white blouse- the good blouse, work only for special occasions and never for longer than an hour or two because she never would have thought to wear it during the preparing or the cleaning up. 

Otherwise she’d stick to darker colours that wouldn’t show the stains and would be more forgiving to alterations and mending. 

All these differences had added a shine to Grace. 

And back then, he had drowned himself in them. 

And yet every single detail that had captured his eye and caught his attention merely two years ago, haunting his dreams ever since, now only seemed wrong to him - like flaws in the design that he had been blind to back then. 

It wasn’t her fault. 

Nor was it anyone else’s. 

But the longer Tommy watched her, listened to her, looked at her - really looked at her, the more something under his skin began to itch. 

As the evening went on, everything fell in place just as he had planned it.

She was intrigued by his idea and liked the taste of the expensive champagne they served at the Goring.

But when she smiled, he felt no sense of achievement or accomplishment - instead his eyes lingered on those lips, painted red, making it even more obvious that their smile was wide and honest, but not a bit lopsided. It didn’t make little wrinkles appear in the corners of her eyes that would promise to be permanent marks of joys passed in years to come. 

He felt the way her hand tightened on his arm in excitement as they approached the surprise for the evening - his arm, not his hand. 

She had always taken his hand, ever since he had grabbed hers for the very first time when he had been barely seven, and the shopkeeper was after them for picking up the apple that had fallen off of the cart. His screaming had startled her frozen, and so Tommy had to pull her away. 

She had reached for his hand ever since, in good times and in bad. 

Tommy felt his own muscles twitch on their own accord, turning his palm to the woman at his side, expecting her to lace her fingers with his, only her hand never left the bend of his arm. 

Why should they?

But in their absence, his hand closed into a fist to fill the void. 

Her eyes widened in awe when he introduced her to Charlie Chaplin, but they had the wrong shade and so he perceived the delight in them as if it was dulled by the presence of a veil which he couldn’t lift. 

Because there was nothing to lift, nothing he could pull away, no switch to press that would reveal her. 

She was gone, but he had left her first. 

Back at Ada’s home, a house he had bought as the prize of his ambition, he watched the flickering light of the fire and the reflections it threw on the marble mantlepiece, on the crystal chandelier. 

It turned his whisky to glowing amber and made her pale hair appear golden. 

Grace was stunning, with her soft, laid, light hair, with her pale eyes that looked at him in adoration and painted lips. 

Arguably, she was far prettier than (Y/N), with these looks of hers that could turn heads and would capture attention. They had done so tonight the same way they had done at the Garrison. 

But she wasn’t nearly as beautiful. 

In the smoothness of her skin he missed the tiny scar on her temple from where she had hit her head chasing after baby Anna, back when she had been just a little girl herself.  

Her eyes were clear and beautiful, like a cut jewel in the shop window that was worth more than half a street of houses back home, but they also seemed strangely cold, without a trace of the warmth he could always find in hers. 

Her lips were full and shapely, but she never bit the inside of them in a failing attempt to stop a smile from falling.

Grace had painted them with some expensive lipstick that while keeping the colour on her lips, had left little trace on the gold rim of the champagne flute. 

But all Tommy could think of was how the strawberries had turned her lips a shining red that one spring day. He had fed them to her and couldn’t resist the temptation to mash them against her lips until their juice was spread far beyond her mouth, not even sparing the tip of her nose. 

Their kisses had been sticky and tasted of more sweetness than could ever come just from the fruits alone. 

When he was on his second whisky, the third of the night, Tommy was no longer able to block out the question that was burning on the tip of his tongue. 

Why?

And that meant having to face the answer, which was as pathetic as it was obvious.  

Because she was different. 

That was all it was - the same way crowds were drawn to curiosities, and children cooed around new born kittens. 

That had pulled him in and he had stayed because they had been different too, but in a darker way. 

Four years of hardship and two brothers to bury had left their mark on her soul, just like the bruises on her knees from praying for them. The rationing had taken its toll on her health, just like with Ada and Polly. With little meat to go around, they gave it all to the children, causing their iron levels to plummet and their heads to spin with dizziness more than they ever had before.

He saw her lingering looks on the pictures and the way she always sighed after ending her prayers - her prayers for the fallen. 

Yes, she had been different and her change had frightened him, but it was nothing compared to how he had been altered. 

Despite it all, she was still the same girl he had left behind, the one he had let turn his head, but the boy she had fallen for in turn, the one she had been in love with, no longer existed.

And the man that had come back was nothing but a poor replacement, unworthy of the love and care she sought to place upon him.

Geeing how he could not hide these changes in him from her shattered him even more than any difference in her behaviour ever could. 

She had been as soft and tender as she had always been, offering him all that care and gentleness he had longed for every night in France, but there had been something else in her eyes too. 

There had been concern and that had been too much for him to face. 

And so Tommy had betrayed her. 

It wasn't the night he had spent with Grace, his betrayal had started long before that, he knew now, and he had repeated it again and again. 

No, his betrayal smelled of the dried lavender she had put under their pillows because she had heard in the bathhouse from some other women that it had worked with their husbands, and of the smoke when he had tossed it into the flames. 

Betrayal tasted of all those meals she cooked for him, the old favourites and when they failed new curiosities- something different every day, no matter how much time it took to prepare or how expensive the ingredients were, just to get him to eat. They all tasted of betrayal as they sat there untouched and uncherished. 

It was as bitter as the tea he had let grow cold time and time again, ignoring it the same way he ignored the homemade biscuits she always placed alongside it. 

Betrayal was the sound of the squeaking bed when he turned his back to her each and every night and felt as cold as the absence of her hand in his shoulder for all the times he had shrugged it off. 

That was betrayal and it haunted him every day and every night since.

All the efforts he had discarded, every item or person a witness to his crime, silently accusing him. 

He spared Grace the birth of this feeling that night, and sent her back to her husband who was rich and good and kind to her without so much as a kiss. 

In the end, despite the way their evening had begun, she had looked confused, but he had never felt more certain

She wouldn’t soothe the ache in his chest, for that there were too many difference his mind refused to look past and two much regret in him for his mind to allow him pleasure, even of the basest kind. 

Alone again, he stretched himself out on the hardboard floor in front of the fireplace, sighing deeply. 

Despite his efforts, Tommy never found out where she had gone. She had left without a trace, or at least without any he had cared enough to notice at the time and he hadn't asked questions before it was too late.

Now all the birthday presents and Christmas cards that came for everyone but him were sent with love and care but without a return address. Without even a postage stamp. And yet all the people he paid to watch the streets for her when another of these days approached, saw nothing, least of all her.

So he had no chance of knowing where she was, which city or which country even. 

He did not know which bed she was sleeping in, or who might be right there beside her, hearing the soft whispers if her breath.

The thought made white anger boil up inside him but it was quickly suffocated by the realisation that he had forfeited any claim to her. 

He had discarded her love and affection, her kisses and the softness of her embrace, her tenderness and her efforts.

They were hers to give and he had rejected them. Why should she not give them to someone else?

Grace had moved on too, so why shouldn't she?

Because I can't. 

No, Tommy did not know any of these things, but he knew that she would have two blankets in her bed, no matter how hot it might get. 

He knew that she would have that wooden cross hanging right over her head as she slept, and a picture of her parents on her bedside. 

He knew that he could find a handkerchief in the top drawer. 

He knew that she would have laid out her clothes for the next day to allow her a few minutes more in the morning and that she would have done that just after cleaning the kitchen the night before, no matter how late it got, or how little there was to do. 

He knew it all, that and more and he would know until his dying day. 

Even as the fire faded, Tommy stayed on the floor, slowly letting the memories strangle him, while he told himself the burning in his eyes was from the smoke alone. 

End.

~

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear your thoughts!

Tag lists:

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @watercolorskyy @books-livre @chlorrox @quarterpastmidnight @lilyevanswhore @polishcrazyone @zablife @just-a-harmless-patato

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy

[strawberryvmp]

Idiot Lipstick!

Chapter 2: The Snow White with no Name

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Pairing:Eddie Munson x Shy Bimbo Reader

☆Tags: Reader been dumb and sensitive, Soft Boi Eddie, Bossy/Asshole Best Friend, Drug dealing

((☆This story takes place before the whole events of the shows actually begin.Also this story is Plus-sized friendly and POC friendly!Have fun reading beautiful people!

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Your heart started beating quickly, beads of sweat were rolling off your forehead and hitting the wooden picnic table. 'I'm going to die here in the freaking middle of the woods!' The metal sound was getting closer to you and your anxiety was going through the freaking roof!'Help me anymore!Someone help!' You closed your eyes tightly and waited for the mystery demon creature to eat your soul. The metal sound stopped and the only sound was gentle humming to a song you never heard before.

"Hey? Are you sleeping in the middle of the woods?" Eddie said, chuckling at the end of his sentence.

You slowly opened your eyes and saw Eddie standing right infront of you waving his hand slowly. "Oh! Sorry I didn't mean to disturb your slumber snow white." He laughed softly and walked over to the picnic table, and took a seat and placed his black metal lunchbox on the table."Sooo snow white what brings you to my little shop today." He patted his black lunch box. Your eyes were glued on the table, your nerves were going through the roof. All you could do was just stare at the table avoiding eye contact with Eddie.

Eddie saw how nervous you were and kinda of felt bad for you. 'Probably their first time doing this shit….go easy Eddie. ' He sighed softly under his breath. He looked at you closely and noticed the sheet of paper you held against your chest tightly. "Hey. Did you write down what you wanted?" He said in a soft tone while pointed at the paper. You nodded and gave him the paper with shaking sweaty hands. He smiled and gently took the paper out of your sweaty palms. He noticed your nails were painted with little charms on them and he found it very cute on you. "I like your nails cute style on you." He chuckled and looked at the piece paper and opened his lunch box and started digging for the items.

'NO! FREAKING WHY! IS THE EDDIE MUNSON THE FREAK OF HAWKINS! REALLY LIKES MY NAILS!NO FREAKING WHY!' You smiled softly at his compliment about your nails. "Thank you." You said in your usually soft tone. Eddie couldn't really understand what you said because of the soft tone coming from you."What was that I didn't hear you?" He pulled two bags of weed and blunt papers and placed them on the table, resting his chin on his hand and looking at you again. You finally looked up at Eddie and repeated yourself. "I said thank you." You chuckled softly. "You're welcome and that would be forty-five dollars snow white." "Ummm…I only have forty dollars…I'm sorry. I can ask my friend if she has the rest of the money really quickly-" Eddie puts his hands in a stop motion."Calm down snow white." He left hand on top of your right hand that was holding the money. Your eyes wandered down to Eddie's hand that was resting on top of yours.His rings were cool on your soft skin and his hands were rough but smooth at the time it felt like heaven on your skin.

"Your skin is really soft but rough. It reminds me of a dog." You blurted out loud. Eddie moved his hand away quickly; his cheeks had a dust of light pastel pink on them. "Listen…" He cleared his throat. "You can have a discount! Since it's your first time doing business with me." He rubbed the back of his neck and gave you an awkward smile. You nodded and gave him the money and shoved the items into your (Favorite color ☆) backpack. Eddie dropped the money into his lunch box and closed the top and got up from his seat. "Nice doing business with you. See you around snow white." He dramatically bowed to you. "Oh my gosh! Just like a prince in the fairytale books!" You giggled. He stopped bowing and gave you a big smile.

"Well I'm flattered snow white…I was wondering what your name was. I never considered asking you." He crossed his arms. "Oh yeah! My name is-" You heard a familiar voice yelling for your attention. "POTATO WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU! HURRY UP ALREADY! I DON'T HAVE ALL DAMN DAY!" It was your friend and sent you here in the first place. "Ummm…I have to go, I'm sorry!" You waved him goodbye and turned around and sped out the woods towards your friend's voice.

"Wait snow white! I never caught your name!" He yelled after you but it was too late but you did leave something on the ground. One of your keychains was a cute hello kitty charm that fell off your zipper.Eddie knelt on both of his knees and picked up the keychain and stared at it for a little. "I will find you my snow white." He said softly. He kissed the hello kitty charm gently and stuffed it into his vest chest pocket.

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[brittle-doughie]

Imagine if Y/N cookie was an actor in the movies, they would be the biggest box office draw.

Oh yeah, you would be at the top of the charts for the month, tickets have to be stocked every hour and seats would need to be crammed in to fit all the guests that booked one!

Reviews mention that while the movie was already great, it was you, the lead actor in the film that really stole the show and made it way better.

Autograph signings would have lines extending outside the building with cookies too stubborn to move from their spots and disputes would rise if someone was cutting!

Pirated copies of your movies are quickly scrubbed off the internet, you deserved every coin made from them!

You best believe that merchandise is also bought left and right with cookies like Cheesecake showing off her entire room of merch for all to see online.

Blackberry admits to owning a plushie of you that she likes to hold onto when she’s on break. She does allow Onion to play with it if she asks, but is adamant on wanting the plushie returned later.

Cocoa cherishes the autograph copy of your movie that she keeps in her room! She and Mint Choco have to get an early start for seat bookings as they want the front row!

Tea Knight finds comfort in your more lighthearted movies, it inspires him to keep fighting the good fight!

Eclair documents your whole movie career from start to currently! He’s an avid collector of your early merchandise that he keeps in a area of the museum, safely secured and locked.

Twizzly would want to rob cookies of your merchandise and movie copies to take back with her to her gang! They can binge watch them all in one sitting.

Shining Glitter is a big advocate for your movies, her voice being the loudest online when she praises your efforts and performance! Look, she even bought a tiny flag with your face on it for her car!

[sugarcloudsky]

How would truffle cookie, almond, black Barry and yam react to catching reader who is part huntsman spider ripping apart cookie the third's evil dad?

decided to answer this as small blurbs instead of a full fic, hope thats okay!

no cws, i didn’t go into detail with the gore!

———

truffle cookie would be surprised at first. although not long after, she would become very excited, which startled you just a bit. then again, truffle was a very odd and eccentric cookie, who already has many pet spiders roaming about her haunted mansion. perhaps you could become friends with her little spiders as well!

almond cookie would immediately stand back, preparing for the worst in case you try to attack him. i think what happens next entirely depends on how you react: if you stand down and clearly show you don’t want to hurt him, he will approach you more gently and question you. if you become aggressive at the sight of him, he’ll hesitantly use his handcuffs on you and use as much force as he needs.

blackberry cookie would stare with an unreadable expression. it feels odd, but you’ve known blackberry to be very expressionless, even in the most dire of situations, like now, that is. she calmly walks over to you despite the obvious danger, and pulls you away into the dark mansion once more, leaving the mess behind. she’ll have to clean later, she supposes.

purple yam cookie would immediately try to pick a fight with you, not recognizing who you are at first. until he finally does, he stumbles backwards in shock, taking a moment to process what he had just seen. he’s very confused, but also very unfazed by the mess seen in front of him. instead, he just casually demands an explanation. maybe in the future he’ll try to fight you.

i hope i got characterization right lol

[skeksisloving]

I don't know what you guys have been up to while I was away, but the Undertale fandom decided they needed like multiple versions of every AU.

I get confused cause everyone is doing their own thing and I dont know what is canon to each AU.

I'm just gonna put down the Aus and their versions I like, and maybe I'll find x reader fics for it.

Swapfell but with purple Blackberry I'd say one that's like blueberry and fell mixed, and red/orange/fuchsia Mutt

I've grown attached to these versions, and I have to dig around to get them. If anyone has x reader writer suggestions so I can read for these versions I'd appreciate that.

[georgiapeach30513]

Blackberry Winter Masterlist COMING SOON

Cole Turner was once warm just like the summer.  He was your sun, but then he grows distant.  Just like the chill of blackberry winter.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[pianocat939]

Ghost Blackberry cookie haunting reader maybe?

We love this girlboss. She just minds her business without caring about anybody's opinion. I kept the initial idea but it changes quite a bit.

Tw: Haunting, Glass breaking (minor), possessing(?), implied MC death

Purple Flame

Maybe it was the sound of the harpsichord playing a terrifyingly fast Bach song, or perhaps it was the clashing of the silverware and plates in the dining room. But one thing for sure is, your heart is about to stop beating.

It was a regular day in your house: you do your usual things and bear with what life has to offer. Yet when the clock struck midnight the furniture started to move and shake on its own. They rattle and clash onto the walls, much like the terror pounding in your veins.

Just who have you offended today?

You cower in the corner of your bedroom, trying not to get hit by the flying light bulbs. Then you notice a piece of pen and paper coming out from your desk, the pen writing a message onto the piece of paper. 'Lay your mind bare.' it writes, hovering towards you. The sentences puzzled you, the words arranged horribly.

Does it mean to not think about anything? To leave your mind blank?

The objects stopped moving, falling to the floor. The house became hushed once more, not even a single click. You stare at the nearby wall, memorizing the hard surface. Slowly you close your eyes, letting exhaustion come over you.

"You aren't so idiotic after all..."

You jolt awake, surprised by the voice. You're no longer in your room, replaced by a black void of nothingness. You can't feel anything, despite the black goo staining your clothing. Far away, you can spot a candle lit by a purple flame, the light source flickering. Interested, you walk over to the candle, wrapping your hand around the metal holder.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

Yes it is. Its warmth is comforting, like your bed when you wake up. Its vibrant violet color is unlike you've ever seen; outworldly, one could describe it.

"Diminish the flame. Let me free."

You drop the candle, letting it sink into the black squish below. As soon as it touches the onyx material it erupts into a large fire, almost big as your body.

The fire slowly fades away, replaced by a female figure. She's beautiful, her plum-colored hair elegantly framing her soft but proportional face. She wears an inky dress, matching the shade of the sticky goo the two of you stand on.

"Come, I will lead you to the light."

She holds out her hand, motioning for you to grasp it. Once you do, she guides you to a bright light nearby. It's blinding, but you step into it, letting the radiance envelop you.

——————————————————

A picture frame falls off a table, the glass soaring everywhere. The photo is one of a cookie: Y/n Cookie.

——————————————————

This is one of my shitty works but I’m running on 5-6 hours of sleep every week day so my brain isn’t working

- Celina

[kamaluhkhan]

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer. 

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.” 

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous. 

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?” 

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in. 

“what? n-no!” 

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you. 

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

 so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp. 

it just didn't seem fair. 

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods. 

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest. 

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest. 

every  demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they  didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself. 

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?” 

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching. 

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.” 

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.” 

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze. 

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too. 

“she deserved more.” 

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there. 

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do. 

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise. 

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.” 

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm. 

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.  

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day. 

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.” 

luke bristled at your nickname for him. 

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go. 

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.  

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in. 

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly. 

 the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again. 

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down. 

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse. 

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled. 

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” 

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.  

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning. 

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone? 

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one. 

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward." 

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you. 

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp. 

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.  

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready. 

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him. 

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through. 

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him. 

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood. 

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased. 

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess. 

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson. 

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?” 

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken. 

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.” 

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer. 

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.  

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too. 

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time. 

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more. 

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips. 

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die. 

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy. 

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away. 

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze. 

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse. 

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse. 

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.” 

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality. 

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie. 

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat. 

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him. 

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for. 

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did. 

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it. 

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair. 

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates. 

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes. 

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.” 

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes. 

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that. 

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you. 

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?” 

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush. 

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….” 

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right. 

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for. 

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached. 

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?” 

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?” 

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.” 

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said. 

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow. 

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air. 

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch. 

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp. 

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him. 

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment. 

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door. 

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire. 

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.  

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god. 

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy. 

everything was falling into place. 

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.  

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you. 

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles. 

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist. 

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him. 

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey. 

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy. 

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?” 

 “they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true. 

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him. 

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it. 

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down. 

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet. 

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog. 

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more. 

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously. 

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated. 

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind. 

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well. 

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.” 

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe! 

would you hate him, if you knew? 

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage. 

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?” 

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns. 

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.” 

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment. 

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips. 

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe. 

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his. 

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath. 

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time. 

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted. 

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor. 

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock. 

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.” 

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being. 

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.” 

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.  

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone.  we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor. 

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape. 

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice. 

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head. 

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life. 

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 7

Word Count ~ 3.9k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ minor mention of blood and gore, sexual content

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You are walking the yard surrounding your home in early August.

Francis Mosses’ doppelgänger is beside you, his fingers laced with yours as the pair of you leisurely stroll. You love mornings like this. Lazy weekends when you shut the rest of the world out. There is just this, this safe haven you’ve created, away from the city where the invaders seek to gain entry and conquer, where the humans continue to try to see past the lies standing right before them, the deceivers and pretenders like the one whose hand you’re clutching now so tenderly. Except he isn’t like the others; nothing like any of them. He is yours, and you are his. There is nothing else like this phenomenon, what you have with him.

The blackberry bushes lining the picket fence are heavy with fruit, the plump, deep black specimens dull skinned, ripe and ready to be plucked.

“So many of them,” the copycat murmurs, halting beside you as your pace slows and pauses, contemplating the sight of those heavily laden shrubs.

You nod. “My grandparents used to make jam from them. I can remember spreading it on pancakes on Sunday mornings.”

“Do you still recall how to make the jam?”

“Yes. It’s not difficult. Just a bit time consuming. A lot of prep work.”

“We have the whole day. Want to try?”

“Really? You want to?”

“It sounds pleasant.” He tugs you gently towards him. “Everything with you is.” His lips meet yours, warm as the summer sun heating you through the button front dress you’re wearing.

“We need something to gather them in.”

“Will this do?” He reaches for the fabric of your dress about halfway down the skirt portion, lifting the loose material until it forms a kind of scooped makeshift basket.

“That’s what my grandmother did with her apron. Yes, this will do.” You reach for the handfuls he’s gathered, keeping the improvised bowl in place. “Only pick the ones that are black. No purple or red, they’re not ripe. Nothing shiny. Only the dull ones. They should come off fairly easily. If you have to pull too much, they’re not ready.”

The imposter milkman follows your directions and the dip in the fabric you’re clutching is soon full. It is a little awkward walking up the porch steps, balancing the unfamiliar weight at your front. There are stains on his fingers, on your dress as you dump the gathered berries into the colander he grabs from the cupboard for you, followed by a mixing bowl, anything he can find to relieve you of your burden. Overzealous in the picking, perhaps, but you don’t mind. The excessive berries would just have gone to waste otherwise, more than even your wildlife neighbors could indulge in.

“You should get used to having extra weight around your middle,” he murmurs against your ear. Still persisting in the notion of having a baby with you. The previous month had ended with your menses. You’ve no idea if it’s even possible to create a new life with the doppelgänger. You’re still conflicted about it. Afraid for its life, for yours and Francis’. But you can imagine the face. As a toddler. Convinced somehow it would be a boy. Identical in every way to his father. A father as devoted to him as he is to you. The child clinging to your side, standing in those same fields near the house in summer, looking at the world around him with those dark eyes that are unshadowed, not yet tired like his parent’s. Soft brown hair. Human, because you won’t let yourself imagine anything else; refuse to concede that it would be part doppel as well. “I can’t wait,” he says, his arms enfolding you from behind, your hands settling on his, the quartet all resting over your abdomen.

You smile, leaning your weight against his chest for a few moments before reaching for the faucet. It was time to rinse the harvest, removing the stray leaf or stem here and there. You fill a pan with water to boil to sterilize the lids of the mason jars. There are a set of them under the sink. The glass portion needs to be similarly treated. It will be hot in the kitchen with the stovetop working so hard. You lean and lift the window behind the sink a little higher, hoping for any sign of a breeze.

“Go pick out a record to play.” A new tradition. You let your lover choose the music, discovering what he likes best. Perhaps some of Francis’ favorites. Some for the invader alone. You cherish both selections equally.

The man and the doppel themselves; that is something your conscience has struggled with for many weeks now. You think you will always love Francis. But you love the new creature inhabiting his form, too. More and more with each passing day.

The music begins and you smile to yourself. Al Bowlly. Something from two decades ago, but a timeless classic. One of the records your mother had left behind when she’d moved to the city, inherited from your grandparents. You were long overdue for a visit to your mother and father. You’d received a letter not that long ago. Still safe. It was a worry that gnawed at you. One of the reasons you’d joined the DDD in the first place. Wanting to protect your family, the people you love.

The very thought of you and I forget to do

The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do

You spread a tea towel on the counter. The jars will air dry there after you’ve finished preparing them.

I'm living in a kind of daydream and I'm happy as a king

And foolish though it may seem, why to me that's everything

“How am I meant to not want to dance with you when this is playing?” Your partner’s lips graze the nape of your neck softly, his hands on your waist.

The mere idea of you, the longing here for you

You'll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you

You smile again. A gesture that comes so easily when the imposter is around you. “After. You wanted to make jam, remember?”

“I want to make a lot of things,” he murmurs beside your cheek, his nose nudging aside a stray piece of hair that’s come free from where you’d pinned it up, mouth now on the patch of skin he’s cleared.

“Francis!” You giggle, playfully squirming in his arms. You aren’t really trying to get away. “I need your help. Use those muscles of yours and pulverize the berries. The potato masher is in the second drawer there.”

I see your face in every flower, your eyes in stars above

It's just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my love

He rolls up his sleeves, beginning to crush the fruit while you gather the measuring cups and sugar.

“I know it’s equal parts berries and sugar. Three minutes to boil? And then another three after the sugar’s been added. Oh, I need the whisk, too. And one of the larger spoons to stir. Yes, that one, thank you.” Francis’ copy hands you the culinary tools you’re searching for, retrieved from the same drawer the masher had been in.

Speaking of which, he’s done a great job with the blackberries, making short work of them. For a brief second your mind teases an imagining of something far less pleasant being ground down like that, pulped human flesh, the gore that is left behind when a doppel feasts on a human. Your grip on the spoon tightens until it’s white knuckled and you force yourself to relax. You’re with him, the one that you love, that adores you. Your home. With the beautiful crooned words of longing issuing from the turntable in the background. Those horrors do not exist here. “Those look perfect. I think that’s maybe around six cups’ worth. But we’ll measure.”

Your estimate of the mixture volume proves fairly accurate. You begin stirring the berries in the stainless steel cook pot, watching the seeded dark red mixture begin to bubble, keeping an eye on the clock on the wall. The doppel is at the sink, already washing the used bowls and tools.

It’s time to add the sugar. You stir it in, once again timing your task, finally deeming the developing jam ready to be removed from the heat of the burner, switching the knob for the pilot light off as you move the pot to an unused burner.

You can feel the perspiration beading on your forehead as you whisk the heated fledgling fruit spread. Nearly there. Your strokes with the thin wired tool were releasing the natural pectin in the berries now. After that it was just a matter of filling and sealing the jars.

“What’s next? What can I do to help?” The doppelgänger asks, resting a hand on your lower back, where the heat lingers, making the dress cling damply to your skin.

“I think this is actually just about ready to start pouring.”

He turns over the mason jars that had been resting upside down over the tea towel to air dry, lining them up on the counter. You transfer small batches of the jam to a batter bowl, making it easier to fill each jar without spilling. A lot of dishes being used for this. Funny how you didn’t remember that part from childhood. Just the fun of making it with your grandmother.

The replicant screws the last of the lids on. The jam looks so inviting. You can’t wait to spread it on some toast with some butter after it’s had a day or two to set. Maybe just one day. You were really craving it now.

“It’s hot,” the imposter says, dragging a hand across his forehead. “I’m ready to head back into the tub after that.”

You like the idea of that yourself. “You should.”

“Coming with me?”

“I was hoping for an invitation.”

He kisses you and you taste the salt of his perspiration. “You look a little flushed. We definitely need to go cool down. And then heat up again.”

“Francis, you’re impossible. Go get the water running. I’ll finish cleaning up here.”

“It’ll be faster with both of us working together.”

You won’t argue with that, allowing him to assist you. Munching on some leftover blackberries as you work side by side. The last of the dishes done. Everything put away. Shutting off the record player on your way to the stairs. His hands work on the buttons of your dress after you’ve turned on the faucet to fill the tub. You loosen his belt. Shove the hem of his undershirt upward after he’s removed the outer layer. He reaches between his shoulders and pulls it free. You kiss the dip between his pectoral muscles lightly covered with dark hair. Suddenly finding yourself hungry for him.

“Should we wait on the bath for after?” he suggests.

“Yes. Definitely.” You switch the faucet off hurriedly, turning your attention back to him. He’s already entering the bedroom. The temperature in this room is hotter than it had been in the kitchen. No fresh breeze coming in through either of the windows. Just that stifling humidity. It needed to rain.

Undergarments removed. He kisses your bare shoulder, humming the song that had been playing the previous evening, when he’d met you at your front door, the start of your weekend together.

Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

You sit down on the edge of the bed. A hand rests on your thigh as he kneels down. Fingers stained from some of the berry juice, garnet and magenta smudges along cuticles and nail beds. Your hand sinks into the hair you’d trimmed recently, finding it’s already growing long again. You bend to kiss his mouth and he tastes like the fruit, like summer itself, warm and fresh and sweet.

He leans to kiss the breasts that will one day bear the nutrition to feed your child, if it was ever meant to be, sucking gently, each nipple responding to that sensation, rising and hardening, the melody of that love song still emerging all the while.

Blue Moon, you knew just what I was there for

You heard me saying a prayer for

Someone I really could care for

Then he is between your thighs, every kiss still languid, drowsy, a leisurely summer afternoon gifted in each touch of his lips on your skin. Caressing your legs, the limbs that part to receive him. Gentle kisses on those nether lips, still humming, sending little vibrations into your body.

And then there suddenly appeared before me

The only one my arms will ever hold

I heard somebody whisper, "Please adore me"

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold

His tongue strokes your clit and you lean back slightly, hands sinking into the mattress, arms braced to either side. His hands curl around your thighs and he sups at your sex, the pace still unhurried, easing you along into pleasure. Delving into your entrance, rolling the taste of you on his tongue before sweeping through the petals back to your bud, massaging it from side to side, up and down, pausing every now and again to plant a kiss on your mound or thigh, suckling the bundle of nerve endings and then dipping back into your canal in short, gentle little thrusts, the tune nearing its end, reaching the final verses, but yours have just started, that thrumming he sends through you, deep inside, an echoing response in your core.

Blue Moon, now I'm no longer alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

You let your weight rest on one hand so you can touch his hair again, meet the gaze of those dark eyes watching you, those depthless pools of desire you get lost in, drowning, a tide that washes you away into your release against his mouth.

You're sweating profusely now, damp inside and out as you scoot yourself back to the center of the bed, making room for your companion to join you.

There is always the little surprised sounding moan when he first enters you, as if he’s forgotten that feeling, rediscovering it each time his cock pierces your pussy. His hips roll against you in slow, lazy thrusts. He combs your damp hair back from your face, hair that has completely fallen loose, natural. He kisses your forehead and cheeks and lips, your jaw and throat and ear lobes.

“I love you,” he breathes against your neck. His voice sounds raw, full of emotion.

“I love you, Francis.” You grind up against his damp body.

His face hovers above yours. “Marry me.” You gasp as he grabs one of your thighs and rocks forward, pushing deep inside of you. “Marry me, be my wife. Stay with me always.”

Your heart pounds. To be joined with him like that. The mark on your arm only a faint pink line now. The traces of the bite completely disappeared. He wanted to put a ring on your finger. Everyone would know, then. There would be no concealing it.

“Be the mother of my children. Be mine forever.”

“Francis…”

“Please.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“I am happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you,” you add softly.

A heavy sigh as his body moves against yours, his face tucked into the crook of your neck. “My love, my only, mine.” His pelvis knocks against yours faster now. Your knees tightly embrace his ribs. Every part of skin your lips touch taste of salt. His hair is darker, saturated with sweat, the tendrils clinging damply to his forehead. A drop slides from his nose and pools between your lips. The arms bracing his weight near your face are trembling. So close to the edge of bliss.

“Love,” he gasps.

“Yes,” you answer, and he spills into you, filling your womb with his seed.

***

You sit inside the bathtub between the doppel’s legs, resting back against his chest.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, and you obey, hearing something being lifted from that basin of water. The wash cloth, you realize, feeling the cool liquid dripping onto you hair, sliding down over your heated face. Repeating until your hair is thoroughly drenched in the bath water, his fingers slicking back those wet tresses, smoothing over your eyes, your cheeks, curling beneath your chin and lifting your face so that he can kiss you. Your eyes open and you see him smiling. “Better?”

“Much.”

“Good.” A rumble of thunder in the distance. Finally, the rain was coming. “Will we lose the power again, do you think?”

“Maybe. Wouldn’t be so terrible, though, would it? Just being here in the dark together.”

“Not at all. I have fond memories of doing that very thing.” He kisses you again and your stroke the damp cloth over his forearms. “I am going to get you a ring, you know. Propose properly.”

“I know.” You lift his left hand and kiss it. “We should tell my parents. Visit.”

“You want me to meet them?”

“Why not? They’ll be your in laws. The grandparents of your children.”

“Hmmm,” he hums. “We will need someone to watch the little ones. When it’s time to make more…”

“How many are you planning on?”

“I don’t know. There’s no specific number. I just want it. Badly.”

“I know you do. I do, too.”

“You’re still scared.”

“Yes.”

“I won’t let anyone harm you. You, or the children. However many there are.”

“I know you’ll be a good father. A good husband.”

His arms tighten around you. “You are my perfect everything.”

***

You do not lose the power that evening.

There is light for your repast at the kitchen table. Still too soon to indulge in the fruits of your earlier labors—pun intended—and neither of you want to heat up the house again using the stove, so you have a simple meal of bread, cheese, grapes, and iced tea, listening to the storm outside, this one much calmer than the last, starting to write a letter back to your parents, beginning with the exciting news of your engagement.

“Do you think your parents will like me?”

You pop a few grapes into your mouth. “Yes. My mom is very similar in personality to me. My dad maybe a little gruffer, but he’ll soften with time. Especially when he sees how well you treat me. He’d probably like it if you asked his permission first. Just as a courtesy. A formality.”

Francis’ copy slices another piece of cheddar free from the block, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. “What are you going to tell them about us, exactly?”

“Just that we met while I was working. You’re a resident in the building. The truth, you know.”

“But that’s not the whole story.”

You set your pen down. “I can’t tell them what you are. You know that.”

“Of course not. I’m just…wondering what to say. Or what not to say. How to behave.”

You lift the writing utensil again but don’t use it, merely holding it between your fingers. “Just be you.”

He looks over the top of his glass as you resume writing, neat cursive script filling the page. “Don’t forget to mention how handsome I am.”

“Hush, you.” You smirk, tossing one of the crumpled rough drafts at him and he easily catches it, returning your smile.

“And that I’m a good dancer.”

“You are a great dancer,” you concede, pausing again to tear off another piece of bread.

“We didn’t get to dance earlier.”

“We sort of did.”

His eyebrows lift. “I’ve corrupted you. That’s the sort of innuendo I’d deliver.”

“Speaking of which. No talking about wanting kids when we visit with my parents, at least not yet. They’re against premarital sex. Society doesn’t favor unwed women and it certainly doesn’t favor women who are unwed and pregnant. It’s because of the war. The need to repopulate, our purpose to create more soldiers.”

“We’re engaged, though.”

“Yes. But still not married.”

“I don’t want our children fighting in a war,” he says solemnly.

“Neither do I.” You pause, hesitating midway through writing again. “We are at war already. They’ll be born into it, just by the very nature of who they are. What they are.” You sigh, setting down the pen. The letter could wait for now. You don’t like the dark look on the features of the replicant sitting across from you.

“Come on. I owe you a dance.” You rise, reaching for the doppel’s hands and he allows himself to be tugged to his feet. “Go choose a record for us, my love.”

You clear the table while he rummages through the sleeved recordings. You leave the letter where it is. You’ll finish it in the morning, drop it off on your way to work Monday. At least there was one more day of this relaxed comfort, before you had to go back to the reality of the DDD.

You join your fiancé in the living room, positioning yourself with your dance partner, smiling as you recognize the song that starts to play.

Heaven, I'm in heaven

And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak

And I seem to find the happiness I seek

When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek

“Fred Astaire, singing to Ginger Rogers. Another classic. This song was from the musical Top Hat. A big hit on the music charts.”

The doppel is silent, his hand warm against your waist, the other clasping your hand as you step and sway in a small circle.

Heaven, I'm in heaven

And the cares that hung around me through the week

Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak

When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek

“My mom loves that movie. You’ll curry some favor if you mention it. We’ll have to watch it together. The movie house downtown plays classics on Sunday nights. I’m babbling, aren’t I?” Two more verses of the song have already passed by.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind. We should go. I’ll take you.”

“A real date.”

“Yes, a real date.”

You grin, nuzzling his jaw. “I look forward to it.”

Dance with me. I want my arms about you

The charms about you

Will carry me through to

“I like making you happy.” He draws back to look at your features. “I want your parents to like me. I know it’s important to you. It’s important to me, too.”

“They’ll love you,” you say softly. “How could they possibly not?”

“Because…”

“No.” You release his shoulder, resting a finger against his lips. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and that’s all that matters. I love you. You, inside of this man.” Your hand cups his cheek. “I’ve been calling you Francis all along. I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s…not something you could ever pronounce. The differences in language…”

“I’ll do my best to learn.”

“Sweetheart. Call me Francis. That’s who I am now. Your Francis. Yours.” He kisses you, and you become lost in the feel of it, in the sound of the needle of the record player tapping restlessly now that the song has finished, in the lullaby of the soft patter of the rain outside.

[notyour-valentine]

Blackberry Stains ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Some things lingered, like blackberry stains. 

Note: Just a little one shot to bridge the gap to the next TBITW. Here is my [Masterlist].

I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes

Warning: None. 

Request: no

Wordcount: 925 words

"Right, that'll be all.", Tommy said, slipping the pen back into his pocket. 

There was no snarky remark, no sharp tongued comment, not even a huff. And that alarmed him. 

When he looked up, he saw that his sister had pursed her lips, as if sealing them against a possible slip of her tongue, but her eyes spoke volumes. After years of practice, her disapproval mirrored Polly’s to perfection. 

As his gaze met hers she looked away with the slightest roll of her head- the same way she had always done when he had caught her out on something. 

"Ada?", He asked, his voice dangerously low. 

His sister scoffed before meeting his eyes again, clearly weighing her options. Then, finally, she chose to speak, and as soon as the words reached his ears, he wished she hadn’t. 

"Do you ever think of (Y/N)?", She asked. 

Invincible ropes wrapped themselves around his heart and tightened, the kind that was so thin that they could cut through flesh and seer through bone with ease. 

And all because of a single name, one he hadn't spoken, one he hadn't heard in years. 

When did he not think of (Y/N)? 

If his nightmares or regret kept him from sleep, he would spend hours staring at the empty space in the bed beside him- before the war, she always wanted to sleep on the side closest to the wall. And whenever he would wake up before her, he'd watch her sleep, listening to the faint sounds of her breath and memorising the way her chest rose and fell like waves, washing up on some pale sandy shore. 

Sometimes, a small part of him still clung to the idea that this, all this, was a nightmare, and that he'd find her there if he only he managed to wake up and open his eyes. But instead all he could stare at was the faded pink wallpaper, the one she'd sometimes run her fingers over. 

There was no mark, no line, and yet Tommy could trace their path as if she had etched her touch into stone the way she had carved it into his memory. 

Every time he saw Polly or Ada with a cup of tea in hand, he thought of the way she hated sugar in her tea, and the way her lips pursed when she was forced to drink a sweetened brew, never brave enough to tell them that she preferred it without. 

He thought of her when he noticed how Esme, Lizzie or the other girls at the office did their hair or chose their clothes- unlike the way she had done it, or would ever do. 

Everytime he passed a bakery, his eyes would linger on those things she preferred, even those he himself didn't. He liked the sweeter things, and the rich, dark chocolates, but (Y/N) always chose those with a bit of sourness, with redcurrants, or even lemon, but that had been a rare treat indeed, Most of all she had loved blackberries. 

Tommy hadn't eaten a single one, not since she left, because their sour-sweet taste seemed nothing but bitter to him in the absence of the sweetness of her lips. He thought of her when he ate food she liked and food she hated, by instinct always ordering the meal that would have been her second choice in a restaurant even if no one was there to ask him for a taste. 

He thought of her when he walked through the streets of the city, catching himself falling in step with a person that no longer walked beside him. 

Thomas Shelby had never truly noticed these things before he had grown to miss them. 

All this time, all these years, they had floated by like mist, but in her absence they shone as bright as a lightning strike in the stormy grey world of his own creation, each and every single one a taunting reminder of what he had lost. 

No, not lost. 

You lost something by accident, suddenly and sharply. And he had not lost her. 

He hadn't even let her slip away, standing by and letting her leave. 

Instead, every time he turned away, shut her down, disregarded her attempts of affection, he had added another brick to the wall between the two of them until it was too tall for him to see her. 

And when he finally gathered his courage and will to break through, she was no longer waiting for him on the other side. 

Sometimes, some nights, when his heart felt particularly heavy he would wonder if he truly hadn't noticed all these little things before, or perhaps if he had always known but deemed it not important enough to spare much thought. 

And he could not tell which made him feel more ashamed.   

It was never easy to think of her, but easiest to think of her at night. Then, he could get into bed and close his eyes and in the darkness he could almost hear her move about the room, folding their clothes, brushing out her hair and braiding it to keep it out of the way while sitting at the foot of the bed and looking out at the sky through the single small window, high above Small Heath. 

She had done so countless times, before slipping under the covers with him, bringing all her warmth and all her love with it. 

Only the shift of the matrasse and the creak of the bedframe never came, no matter how much he yearned for it. 

But he didn't tell Ada that. 

Instead he only blinked and turned away. “Why would I think about-”, his breath hitched, “her?”

~

Thank you for reading! I’d be very grateful for feedback of any kind! If you are interested in more, here is my [Masterlist]

Taglist: 

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox

[strawberryvmp]

Reader's room in 'Idiot Lipstick!'~☆ So cute!~

[brittle-doughie]

When the Jingle Bells Rock (Christmas Special)

A combination of my own idea and a ask by an anon! Merry Christmas, folks!

You had collected all that you needed from the shop as you placed the christmas lights in your cart as you made your way to the front, the sounds of jolly music playing in the speakers within the store. You sigh in content as you sway your head side as you nod to the music, moving your cart to the front of the store to pay for them before heading out to your vehicle.

You had packed everything up and was getting ready to drive off when…

“La di dum…La di da…~”

The sound of someone singing behind you! You turn your head to see the cookie singing right as you closed your trunk to see it was Carol Cookie!

“The time of year spent with family🎵 Time spent where everyone is happy!🎵”

You smiled and clapped to Carol’s singing and playing, bringing a smile to her face as she giggled.

“The occasion that brings everyone together🎵 Wonderful memories that last forever..!🎵”

You did agree with her lyrics with a chuckle, it is a nice time in the year to spend it with those you care about and the family that you have. Though your voice kind of trailed off from that last part.

Something that Carol took notice of.

“Is something wrong? You do have cookies you wish to spend the time of year with, right? I can come over to spend it with you!”

You gave her an awkward chuckle before reassuring her that you’ll have a splendid holiday this year, no need to worry about it! You’ve got it! You fist pumped into the air to really show your enthusiasm!

“Well…..I’ll believe you, Y/N. Have a great holiday! La di da~ La di dum~”

Carol walked away as she continued to strum her instrument as she sung along. You waved her bye as you got into your car and drove home. Once you got on the road, you let out the sigh that you’ve been holding throughout the exchange earlier. You will admit that you weren’t…entirely honest with Carol, but you didn’t want to bother her with your problems. Especially during this of year where every cookie has someone to go spend the holiday with, and you didn’t want to ruin that.

You didn’t want to ruin that for anyone.

———————————————————————

You stopped at a light at a plaza center where you saw a sort of marching parade going on, various cookies with instruments and holiday themed outfits were making a spectacle of themselves as the cookies around them gathered and clapped for them. You will admit that it was a pretty nice event going on that really brought the festive cheer to the cookies of the city, and what surprised you is the fact you can recognize two little cookies in the march, dressed up like winter guards. It was the Chess Choco Cookies!

They caught sight of you as they both waved at you, Pawn White much more energetically then Pawn Black. You waved back in return, but you did have to pay attention to the light in case it turned green! You can tell they wanted to run on over to speak up a storm with you, but their current parade kinda has them occupied at the moment.

“Y/N Cookie! Hello, Y/N Cookie.”

Pawn White tried to head on over to you real quick but was stopped by Pawn Black. Pawn Black too wanted to come over as well, but they still had a parade to do, which makes Pawn White pout but relented.

The two doing their best to hide their disappointment for such unfortunate timing.

“Oh but I want to go to Y/N Cookie! We have a parade, we can’t go to Y/N Cookie.”

Pawn White ultimately relented but waves again at you, promising to see you again later, the two wanted another match at chess with you after all, to which Pawn Black nodded to.

“We’ll see you later, Y/N! We will see you later, Y/N. Happy holidays.”

You chuckled to yourself as you called out to take them up up on that chess offer as the light turned green and you drove away from the plaza center snd continued on your way home.

———————————————————————

You had stopped at a station to refill your car, once you were done, you were about to hop right back into your vehicle…when you felt like there was a presence close by. You could feel the stare they gave you as you quickly turned to that direction, but saw no one..when you felt two hands cover your eyes.

“Hello, my dearest jewel~”

Yep, this pretty much clued you in that this cookie was none other then Rougefort Cookie.

“I couldn’t let the holidays go by without giving my precious jewel a present that suits them~”

Rougefort then handed you a small gift box that you collected, still taken aback a bit from their sudden appearance, but thanked for the present. Pondering…you asked if Rougefort had someone they spend the holidays with.

“Oh..? Are you implying what I think you are~?”

Rougefort got closer to you as you backed away appropriately.

“You do not have a cookie to spend the holidays with? If so…I wouldn’t mind spending it with you, my jewel~ I wouldn’t mind at all~

You shook your hands in front of you as you assured them that it was okay, they should spend the holidays with cookies he cares about more!

“But…I care about you the most, my jewel~ Among the countless I’ve seen, you shine the most~ Please…I insist~”

They got incredibly closer as you continued to try to assure them that you were okay! Your back hit your vehicle as Rougefort got in your face.

“There is no escaping my grasp, my dearest jewel-“

“HEY!”

Before he was stopped by a passerby. You swore you saw his eye twitch a little in hidden irritation as he moved back.

“What a shame. Oh well, I’ll get you later, my jewel~ Happy holidays~”

Rougefort leaped onto the station roof and was out of sight fast. You took a deep breath as you let your face cool, Rougefort nearly had you cornered there!

But…a part of you wondered how it would be if you accepted their company…but they probably had better things to do on this day. Yeah…

———————————————————————

You made a quick pitstop to the toy shop to pick up a few toys. Christmas was a time of giving and the countless toys the shop offered had plenty of potential joy to be had to the young cookie it will go to! Opening the door alerted the owner who was stocking the toys on shelves, Butterbear Cookie!

“Ah, Y/N Cookie! It’s a joy to see you here, my friend. Have you come to buy toys?”

You answered yes to his question. After a little back and forth, he went around and grabbed a couple of toys and placed them into boxes for you.

“That’s quite the list there, Y/N Cookie! Eggnog would really appreciate the work you’re doing for the young cookies around.”

You assured Butterbear that it was nothing, it was Christmas soon! So the time of giving just comes to you pretty hard.

The conversation alerted another cookie that was in the shop to the front, who immediately brightened up upon seeing you!

“Y/N Cookie!”

Lollipop Cookie hurried past the counter and hugged your waist as you chuckled.

“What brings you here? Have you come to get toys?”

“That’s right! Y/N Cookie approached me with a gift list for a number of cookies on it!

“Oh! I know a couple of cookies on there! I can show you which gifts they’ll really like!”

Lollipop asked, with how giddy she was, you couldn’t say no.

“Heh heh! Come on, I know just the right ones!”

As you two picked out the gifts, you took a good look at some of them...and reflected on how the cookies getting them likely have fellow cookies to spend the holiday with, rejoicing and having good times with one another…makes you wonder if you’ll ever have a true holiday experience someday…

It looks like your longing look attracted Lollipop’s attention, she looked at you worried.

“Y/N Cookie, are you ok? You’ve been staring at that teddy bear for a while..”

You shook your head after coming back to reality and reassure Lollipop that you were just stuck in your thoughts for a moment, it was all good!

“It’s ok, Y/N Cookie! You can tell me what you’re thinking!”

You politely turned her down again.

She doesn’t budge.

Now Butterbear’s attention was peaked too as he head over to you two.

“Is everything alright?”

“Something is troubling Y/N Cookie and they’re not answering me…”

Lollipop looked sadly as Butterbear looked at you with worry too. He placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N Cookie, if something is the matter, you can tell me. Even as a secret, it will be safe with me.”

You wanted to tell them the issue..but you couldn’t…you didn’t want to burden them..

You simply sunk your head down a bit and shook your head. Lollipop only felt more bad as Butterbear had a solemn look to him.

“I see. Well, I hope whatever is troubling you doesn’t for long.”

The rest of the time was spent in silence as you and Lollipop picked out the rest of the gifts as you payed for them and began to leave.

Lollipop wanted to reach out to you, to try and get you to tell her what’s wrong, if there was anything she can do, but didn’t want to overstep any boundaries as she watched you get in your vehicle and leave.

“Don’t worry, young cookie. It couldn’t be now, but when the time is right for them, they’ll speak what’s on their mind…”

———————————————————————

You finally made it home as you brought your stuff in. You started to decorate the tree, hang up your lights, activated your fireplace, and prepared the food that you were planning to eat…alone.

You took a gander at the letter on your counter, your parents were away on a holiday of their own, but they do give their best wishes and gifts to you. You mentally wished them to have fun on their trip as you continued organizing the sole cookie festivity.

Christmas was a time that should be spent with those you care for the most and you didn’t want to get in the way of that. It did feel..lonesome, but if it meant other cookies got to spend time with their loved ones, then so be it.

You vegged out on the sofa as you watched television, eating your mashed potatoes. You did have to deliver the gifts soon, so you kept the timer on your clock. But in the meantime..

Merry Christmas to lonely ol’ you.

…

…

…

…

But then the silence was interrupted when a knock came at your door. You perked up immediately and wandered over to your door as you opened it.

Blackberry and Onion Cookie?

“I see that you have your decorations ready. I’ll get to work on preparing for the guests.”

She took Onion by the hand and came inside, you were still processing the fact that she just allowed herself in. You didn’t have any problems with that, but..

You tried reassuring her that it was all okay, didn’t she have cookies to spend the holiday with?

“I have Onion to spend it with, but I started to think about you….and who you’d spend this time of year with. It would pain me to see you alone during this day, so I’ve decided I wanted to spend it with you..”

“You shouldn’t be alone, Y/N…sob…sob”

But-

The door rung again, stopping your train of thought.

“Ah, that must be more guests.”

Blackberry opened the door and revealed more cookies waiting at the door.

“Aha! So it was a lonely holiday you were suffering from!”

“We’re here, Y/N! Let’s play! We should play, Y/N.”

“Did you really think I’d allow you to spend the holiday alone, my jewel~”

“Y/N..we would’ve understood! I would like to spend the holiday with you!”

“The young cookie is right, my friend. The holidays are to be spent with cookies you care for, and that includes you.”

There was already a bunch of cookies making their way in, it made your head spin. The incoming crushing hug surprised you.

“Haha! It’s good to see you again, Y/N Cookie! A good eye for festive lights I can see!”

“Woah..your home is packed, Y/N! There’s so many cookies here!”

Brave?! When did you get here-

“We made it! Y/N Cookie, care for a cup of cocoa!”

“Allow me to play for you, Y/N.”

You were in awe of just how many cookies chose to instead come to your house to celebrate then their own.

Yes, you had even let in Kumiho Cookie, who saw this as a win in her book. Maybe one day…

“Oh I’m so happy to spend the holiday with you, darling~”

There was some cookies you hadn’t met before that also came by, you were more wary about them at first. Rambutan had brought in a pal of hers, Mangosteen Cookie.

There was something about that cookie that felt odd…but you couldn’t place your finger on it. The way Mangosteen looked you with interest and fixation did raise the nonexistent hairs on your neck.

Affogato had invited some of his followers to the party too. That little scuffle at the Dark Cacao Kingdom didn’t leave time for introductions, so these disciples were eager to meet the cookie Affogato had talked so much about. You were everything he had ever talked about. Your home was pretty cozy too, cuddle them on your sofa please-

———————————————————————

You did your best to keep the home under control, you served your food to the cookies who took the time to give their compliments to it.

Any mistletoe attempts were halted. Croissant was against it..

Pomegranate didn’t kindly to any of those goody two-shoes cookies trying to get chummy with you. She was holding back the urge to lay a curse on them.

Black Pearl was holding back on her end to drown all the competition in one go. But for you, she’ll allow them to live another day..

You decorated Caramel Arrow’s hair with a lovely flower, making her red in the face. The other Cacao members did get a bit envious of her.

…

As you relaxed on the sofa, cookies on your sides chatting with you as you gazed upon the room full of cookies, having a great time.

You looked down into your cup of cocoa, seeing your reflection in it…

Your eyes…were you crying? Perhaps you were…

You felt stupid, of course with cookies like these folks, you weren’t ever going to spend the holidays alone, never ever…

Maybe…you prefer it that way…

Until you were crowded by the young cookies when it was time to hand out gifts lol.

Fin.

[werecreature-addicted]

I have been waiting for this! This has been stuck in my head since you mentioned how there's too many werewolf x bunny fics.

Imagine there's a village of prey hybrids. All the villagers that live there are some kind of prey animal.

The village is very peaceful, but is the target of a tribe of predator hybrids that dwell in the deepest part of the forest.

Every year, these predator hybrids would attack the prey village and would kidnap any villager unlucky enough to be caught.

These attacks typically happen around mid to late spring, from dusk to well into the night.

The prey villagers always hide around this time, but at least one to three people end up being taken.

Last year was one of the reader's friends. A sweet little sheep that was said to be taken by a large male black wolf. Poor girl was likely eaten by that horrible beast! (In a way she was eaten~)

This year, it is reader's turn.

Reader is a deer hybrid that got caught while out gathering food in the forest. Only to be jumped by a strong and handsome male mountain lion hybrid and taken back to his tribe.

There reader finds her friend as well as other people from her village, all well and alive and with large clearly pregnant bellies as well as a few children.

Turns out the predator tribe has been taking people from your village as their mates. Even treating their prey mates with the utmost care.

Something the reader will understand fully once she's been bred with her first litter of cubs.

your parents had always warned you to be careful when you left the safety of the village, especially during spring when nearby predators would go into heat and kill little deer girls like you to feed to keep up their strength. You were so careful, the fastest in the herd, the best at running away, no predator could ever catch you....other people weren't so lucky. Every year a few people would go missing, trail too close to the border, stay out foraging after sunset, and disappear.

Most of the time, you don't know the prey who gets taken, but sometimes you do, like when your best friend got dragged off by a horrifying wolf. You grieved the loss of your friend and redoubled your commitment to safety... but you got cocky. you were the fastest in your age group, no one could catch you, especially not some heavy, slow predator.

It's a warm spring evening, the breeze gentle and sweet, smelling like honeysuckle and green grass. the sunsets casting the valley in golden light, your basket is full of fat wild blackberries. how could anything go wrong on a day like this? A twig snaps to your right, and you turn and freeze, looking carefully at the tree line. you don't see anything... but your heart is still racing, by the time you spot the hungry green eyes peering up at you it's already too late. you take off running, but for once, you aren't fast enough.

The mountain lion pounces and lifts you off of your feet, throwing you easily over his broad shoulders, you freeze, your heart beating faster and faster, you need to think, he hasn't killed and eaten you yet- maybe you could escape, you just need to keep your head.

It's a much shorter journey to the preditor village than you would have thought, you'd never traveled far from home so you had no idea that they were so close this whole time. What's even more surprising is the amount of prey animals, wandering around town and looking happy. A rabbit boy with big floppy ears hanging off the arm of a buff-looking wolf, a deer hybrid like yourself flirting with two different lions, and a sheep- a sheep that you recognize. Your eyes go wide as it clicks into place. the people being taken weren't being killed at all.

The mountain lion puts you down and looks at you closely, evaluating you. "I wasn't too rough was I? You're not hurt?" he asks. you shake your head slowly

"n-no. I'm not hurt just- scared," you admit shyly. He nuzzles you comfortingly,

"awe, don't worry my mate, I'll keep you safe... I won't let anything happen to you, no one else will touch you while you're with me," he purrs and you shift, embarrassed to tell him that it was him you were afraid of. although you had to admit if this big scary mountain lion is guarding you, and claiming you as their mate, you do feel a little safer.