#a little something to tide you all over ❤️

[dutifullylazybread]

Deeply and Immovably So - Chapter 11 Teaser

Spoiler under cut ❤️

This is a bit rough, but it will be smoothed and cleaned up during revisions.

[cieloclercs]

what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 3? (read part 2 here)

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

warnings. swearing, online hate, we’re getting to the angst now 🫣 arguments, charles is an idiot, arthur and joris being sick of his shit (but what else is new)

pairings. charles leclerc x arsty!reader

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note. again, i have no idea how much modern art sells for at auctions so don’t come at me if this seems unrealistic 🙏☹️ i also feel the need to clarify that y/n has 2 instagram accounts, one personal and one for art stuff ☺️

liked by joris_trouche and 51,196 others

y/nsart auction update! 🎨

tide - sold for €12,460 erode - sold for €9,500 wave - sold for €20,890 glint - sold for €6,300

this is nothing short of a dream come true for me. the support i’ve seen both on social media and at the auction (once again, thank you to everyone who stopped by!) has been beyond anything i ever could have hoped for 🩵

if you’d told me when i was a little girl that one day people would pay for art i’ve created, i wouldn’t have believed you. i’m so so grateful to have been given this opportunity to do something that i love and to share it with the world 💗 i can’t wait to see what the future holds!

view all comments…

username congratulations y/n! 💕💕

*y/nsart liked this comment

leclerc_pascale C'est tout à fait mérité. N'arrêtez jamais de peindre, ma fille, vous avez un don! / completely deserved. never stop painting, my girl, you have a gift!

y/nsart merci beaucoup 🥹 je promets de ne pas le faire x / i promise i won’t

arthur_leclerc congratulations petite sœur! / little sister

y/nsart merci arth ☺️

y/nsart also, ‘petite’? i’m literally older than you?

arthur_leclerc but you’re smaller 🙃

charles_leclerc toujours fière de toi, ma chérie ❤️ / forever proud of you, sweetheart

y/nsart 😐

charles_leclerc you’re still mad at me? ☹️

y/nsart if you wanted one of my paintings you could have just asked rather than wasting over €20,000. i would have let you have it for free

charles_leclerc i didn’t waste anything, y/n

username uh oh mom and dad are fighting 😳

username ironic how her highest selling painting was literally bought by her best friend 😭

username i guarantee you it would NOT have sold for that much if charles hadn’t been bidding

username i don’t want to be the one to say it but lately it kind of feels like y/n’s been using her friendship with charles as a way to promote her art…

username as much as i love y/n icl i think you might be right 🥲

username 🤢🤢🤢

username stop using charles’ fame to try and make yourself relevant! you’ll never be good enough for him babes 🥰

username the switch up on these comments from ‘fans’ is actually so embarrassing

username i know! it’s like as soon as y/n starts becoming successful everyone suddenly decides it’s not because of her own hard work but because of charles 🙄

username lmao how has she managed to make tens of thousands for that shit she calls art? i’m sensing a clout chaser 😂

username this REEKS of jealousy

username these comments make me sick. y/n has proved time and time again how talented and hard working she is. just because charles doesn’t know you exist doesn’t mean you get to hate on another girl who he ACTUALLY cares about. grow up.

*charles_leclerc and y/nsart liked this comment

username i feel so bad for y/n. no offence to charles but if he’d let the auction play out normally without bidding (although he does have a right to do so if he wants!) then she wouldn’t be getting all this hate right now 😔

comments on this post have been limited.

liked by pierregasly and 1,567,836 others

charles_leclerc back to work 🇳🇱

view all comments…

username no y/n like? ☹️

username is y/n with you?

username guys check kym illman’s instagram! he said charles turned up to the paddock alone…

username i mean, y/n could be arriving later right?

username if y/n isn’t there it’ll be the first race she’s missed since singapore last year 😳

username y/n has a life besides charles! just because she’s not at one race doesn’t mean they’ve fallen out or anything ☺️

username but think about it…neither charles nor y/n have posted anything to do with each other since the auction a week ago normally they can barely go a day without posting each other 🥴

username can everyone just stop talking about y/n 🙄 all she ever did was distract him anyway

username forza charles! ❤️

username he’s not even smiling :((

username because he knows ferrari are shit, it’s probably nothing to do with y/n

username i didn’t even mention her? 😭

joris_trouche i think you’re missing someone mate

username JORIS??

username HE KNOWS SOMETHING!!

username JORIS PLEASE TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW

username i hate to be the bearer of bad news but y/n just posted. she’s not at the grand prix 🥲

yourusername

viewed by charles_leclerc and 9,637 others

replies:

arthur_leclerc oh shit arthur_leclerc what did he do joris_trouche just say the word and i’ll smack him for you 😁 ↳ yourusername please don’t do that 😭 yourfriend you don’t need him, mon amour ❤️ ↳ yourusername ☺️

you:

did i do something wrong?

we haven’t spoken in a week

charlie 🤍:

no, y/n

you:

you won’t answer my calls

charlie 🤍:

i’ve been thinking about what you said

i don’t want you to have to deal with hate because of me

you:

so you think ignoring me is the answer?

charlie 🤍:

i’m not ignoring you, y/n, i’m trying to protect you

you:

what the fuck?

charles, i don’t care what people say about you

charlie 🤍:

but i do

isn’t it for the best? if we aren’t seen together for a while, you won’t get any of the hate

you:

you really don’t get it do you

if you think i want you to cut me off to ‘protect me’ then maybe you don’t know me as well as i thought you did

charlie 🤍:

don’t say that

i just want everyone to see you the way i do

you:

and i already told you, i don’t care what they think of me

i only care what you think

charlie 🤍:

why?

you:

i’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet

charlie 🤍:

figured what out? [ seen at 4:11PM ]

y/n?

you:

i think it’s best if we don’t see each other for a while

bye charles

charlie 🤍:

what?! [ seen at 4:13PM ]

y/n come back [ delivered at 4:14PM ]

just tell me what you mean [ delivered at 4:20PM ]

please y/n [ delivered at 4:47PM ]

liked by yourfriend and 1,637,937 others

scuderiaferrari A DNF in Zandvoort for Charles. Now time to refocus ready for Monza 🔜

view all comments…

username what the actual fuck was going on with him today?

username i don’t know. i’ve never seen him so distracted 😕

username honestly a rookie mistake. if he’s going to be pulling shit like this then he doesn’t deserve his seat 🤷

username it’s just one mistake?? calm down 😭

username why do i feel like this has something to do with y/n…

username oh my god will you all shut up about y/n 🙄 they’re not even dating !!

username and? they’ve been best friends since they were 5 years old. if my childhood friendship broke down i’d be pretty fucking upset about it too

username we don’t actually know that they’ve fallen out tho…neither of them have said anything

username but isn’t it obvious? y/n not at the race, charles being distracted and sulky around the paddock? they’ve definitely argued about something

username charles i can’t keep defending you when you do this 💔💔💔

username how this guy has managed to keep his seat with all these mistakes i have no idea 😒

username hopefully y/n will be in monza to bring him some good luck🤞

➜ part 4

[welcometomyoasis]

Seventeen as life's comforting moments

Synopsis: what comforting moments the seventeen members remind me of no pairing | fluff, comfort | approx. 2.4k words | warnings: mental heath, insecurities A/n: because svt brought me so much comfort this past year, here's a little headcanon. i'm wishing everyone a good year ahead ❤️

🍒 Seungcheol - spending quality time with people you care about

Seungcheol is the type of person who really treasures those who care close to him. He shows his appreciation to them in different ways by giving them gifts, like Jeonghan’s Dyson airwrap, or telling them how much he cares for them. But I feel like one major way he shows his love and appreciation is just to spend quality time with them. They don’t have to be doing something fun. They don’t even need to be engaged in some deep, emotional conversation. The time spent together could simply be a quiet day at home spent in comfortable silence. It’s all about spending time in each other’s presence and taking that in. Time is precious. Especially amid the hustle and bustle of life, being able to carve out time shows just how much the other person means to you. It means that they are a priority in your life, and vice versa. Seungcheol encapsulates those moments of love.  

😇 Jeonghan - watching the sunset 

Perhaps this is me projecting because Jeonghan is one of my comfort people? One of my favourite quotes is “Even the darkest night will end, and the sun will rise again” from Les Miserables. I know the quote is more of a sunrise, but to me, sunsets signal the end of a hard day. You haven’t exactly gotten over the intense emotions yet, everything still feels very raw. All the emotions like anxiety or sadness washes over you. But as you see the sunset, you just know that at least for now, the day is over. There’s a certain peace of mind that comes with that thought, and I would view Jeonghan as that. He’s such a silent pillar of support for the members. They can go to him with any problems and he will gladly lend a listening ear. Sure, the problems might remain and the emotions are heightened, but Jeonghan’s presence, empathy and willingness to listen would provide so much comfort for his members. Not unlike the feelings that come with watching the sunset, Jeonghan is that moment of emotional reprieve.

🦌 Joshua - spending time by the ocean

Joshua represents the feelings you get when you’re by the ocean. Joshua is a fun loving guy, and playing by the ocean is certainly fun. You can play in the sand, build sandcastles, have a picnic, and you can run into the ocean only to laugh and run away when the tide comes rushing over your feet. At the heart of it all, Joshua embodies everything that is gentle. He’s like the soft breeze brushing against your face, the sounds of the tide slowly cascading onto the beach. He’s the happiness and peace that washes over you as you dip yourself into the ocean and let the waves slowly rock you back and forth. Best of all, he’s that feeling of serenity you get from just breathing in the salty ocean air as you look out onto the vast horizon. When you look out at the picturesque view, Joshua is that moment of serenity that comes to soothe your aching body and soul.

🐱 Junhui - snuggling under a blanket to take a nap

Junhui has a certain air of innocence around him, something I would associate with the innocence of childhood. The feeling of curiosity that made you want to grow up. It’s just that when you do, that innocence goes away. You become tired and drained from being busy all the time and having way too many responsibilities. At least when it gets too much, you can take a nap right? It’s a luxury. But there’s just something nostalgic about being able to tuck yourself under a blanket to take a nap. Feeling the weight of the blanket, letting the warmth completely envelop you as you slowly drift off. It’s not that you feel childish from taking a nap, nor is it childish in the first place for wanting to take a rest. It’s about that nostalgic feeling that makes you long for the time when you were younger and hadn’t dealt with what life had thrown at you. Napping makes you feel like an innocent kid again within your own little bubble away from the harshness of life. In that sense, Junhui represents the moments that heal your inner child. 

🐯 Hoshi - feeling passionate or excited about something

If there is one thing about Hoshi, you can never doubt the amount of passion he has. It doesn’t matter what that passion is directed at, he never seems to run out of it. Be it his passion for dancing, his members, tigers or even his passion for throwing Mingyu under the bus during the mafia game. I also wouldn’t say that it’s simply when you allow yourself to get caught up in the moment. Passion is more complex than that. Feeling passionate about something, someone. It’s a feeling that excites you and it’s that feeling drives you forward to pursue whatever and whoever it is that is at the center of it. It doesn’t just make you feel alive, it makes you feel that life is worth living. It allows you to turn that passion into determination, strength to push forward even if you encounter any hardship. Honestly I don’t know what else to write because to me, Hoshi represents the moments when you allow your emotions to take over completely, when you allow your emotions to guide you forward. 

🐈‍⬛ Wonwoo - solo dates

We all know that Wonwoo is extremely reserved, he is an introvert who does enjoy spending time alone. Sure he loves his members, but he definitely needs time alone to recharge. Wonwoo reminds me of solo dates. When you just take yourself out. You could be engaging in your hobbies like photography. But it’s not only about that. It’s about really treating yourself to things and experiences that you enjoy. You can’t put a price on the relaxation and peace that going on solo dates brings. Of course you don’t have to spend money on your solo date either. Your solo date could be at the new restaurant you wanted to try, or at the old restaurant you are a regular at. Maybe it could be at the beach or park. You could even indulge a little and try the expensive spa treatment, or you could get the $3 McDonalds McFlurry. Ultimately, you’re doing what you want to indulge yourself. I see Wonwoo really enjoying that, so I would think that Wonwoo represents the moments when you exercise self-love and self-care.

🍚 Woozi - time spent creating

Woozi has done and created so much for seventeen. The sheer amount of creative energy that this man has is indescribable. As such, I would see Woozi as the time you can spend creating. There are no boundaries or rules for being creative. You can literally do what you want. You want to paint a picture of a cute cat, do photography, paint your nails, write a seventeen act play. Go right ahead. Sadly, no matter how inspired you are, sometimes insecurities get to you. It holds you back from creating because you don’t think it will be good enough. My question is good enough for who? It’s your work and others’ opinions should not, and do not matter. You should be proud of what you can create. Woozi would certainly share that sentiment. Because of that, I strongly stand by the opinion that Woozi would be the moment you are able to let go of your insecurities or inhibitions to create something that would definitely mean a lot to you.

⚔️ Dokyeom - genuinely laughing

I don’t just mean letting out a haha laugh or writing an lol that we often do with a relatively straight face. I’m talking about laughter that comes from our bellies. The type that makes you tear from spending so much energy being hunched over and clutching yourself. The type that physically sheds all the tension from your body. Dokyeom reminds me of that. His laughter is contagious. His smile and energy is bright. He’s not afraid to laugh or be playful. He’s naturally funny and his cheeky antics bring so much joy and laughter to us and the rest of seventeen. Dokyeom represents that ability to lose yourself in a moment of laughing at something or someone that you find hilarious. He represents the feeling of being able to just feel something other than all the complex, possibly negative emotions in life. Dokyeom is the moment when you feel alive.

🐸 Minghao - taking a walk through a trail in a forested area 

Being able to walk through a trail in a forested area is a much needed change of scenery from the stifling, chaotic cities that we live in. Minghao gives off the feeling of emotional and mental stability, something I would associate with the tranquillity of nature. Walking down a path amongst all the trees, feeling the warmth of the sunshine hit my face. Yet feeling the coolness that comes with the shade of the trees. It’s sad that we often forget how beautiful nature is, that we forget how we should appreciate and experience nature. In the same way that Minghao would close his eyes when he meditates, closing our eyes when we are surrounded by nature will help you to feel at peace with yourself and your surroundings. Listening to the sounds of the animals like the cicadas or birds, taking in the scent of pine trees or flowers. It’s not about being one with nature, it’s more about being present. Minghao is certainly that moment of learning how to be present, and more importantly, how to feel present within your surroundings. 

🐶 Mingyu - waking up early in the morning 

Not everyone is a morning person I get it. Somehow Mingyu makes me think that he’s an early riser, someone who would like to get a head start to the day. I would think of him as this time in the morning just after the sun has risen that is calm and quiet. It’s the time before the city or wherever you are gets busy. The sun casts its rays into your house, giving it the most beautiful illuminated glow. It makes your otherwise normal house look ethereal. Especially if you have the day off, that time of the day is also perfect because you get to prepare yourself for the day without the pressure of having to be prepared for anything specific. You can afford to take your time and just go around your house. You can make your breakfast, do your skincare routine, choose an outfit for the day. Or, you could just sit with a cup of coffee, tea, or whatever drink you prefer and chill out on the couch. Having that time to yourself is precious and it gives you time to prepare yourself mentally for the day. Perhaps you even anticipate getting out there. Mingyu is definitely that moment, the moment where you feel ready to take on the day no matter what it throws at you. 

🍊 Seungkwan - listening to heavy rainfall 

The sound of rain falling is soothing. The rhythmic way that it drips and splashes onto your window or the ground. Hearing the pitter patter of the rain drops while you’re inside does something to you. Perhaps it’s the melancholic feeling that the grey sky makes you feel, or perhaps it is the heavy water droplets that fall harshly to the ground. Whatever it is, it has a soothing effect, making you feel instantly calmer. It heals you. Similarly, Seungkwan has the most beautiful, soothing voice. His voice is soft, melodic. He knows how and when to regulate the tone and strength of his voice. He has the talent and ability to put different emotions into the song when it’s needed. When you hear him sing, you can’t help but give up control over your emotions. Your mood automatically shifts according to the emotions he delivers through the songs. Like the sound of the rain, listening to him relaxes you. Seungkwan is the moment you allow your heart and mind to rest. 

🐻‍❄️ Vernon - engaging in your hobbies

There are people who are quirky in the best way possible. That’s Vernon. He’s so unabashedly Vernon? The fandom jokes he’s like an alien. He likes food combinations that most people would think are weird. He wears clothes which look like they don’t match but are actually pieces from designer collections. I link this with engaging in your hobbies because everyone has different hobbies. And sometimes our hobbies would be considered weird. But it’s what we enjoy doing. It’s not about finding validation from other people, it’s about being able to be in our own little bubbles to do what we want. It’s our safe place. We engage in our hobbies not only because we think it’s fun, but it’s also an escape from life. Our hobbies, as weird as they are to others, bring us contentment and fulfilment. Everyone is weird that way, right? I would like to think that Vernon therefore represents the moments of happiness that comes with indulging in activities you enjoy. 

🦦 Chan - accomplishing little things 

Honestly, I struggled thinking of what to write for Chan. Similar to Hoshi, Chan is passionate, and similar to Woozi, Chan is creative. He’s capable of so much and he always excels at what he does. That’s why I would see Chan as the times when you are able to accomplish something. In life, there are so many expectations. We’re expected to do so many things at the same time, and we’re expected to do it well. If you can’t juggle the tasks, you’re deemed to be inefficient, incompetent. That kind of mindset really wears you down. It makes you feel like you’re not good enough when most of the time, you’re just worn down and stretched too thin. Instead, we should celebrate all of our achievements no matter how big or small it is. It reminds us that we aren’t as broken or useless as we think we are because we can do it. We can achieve things, which is why Chan’s ability to excel makes me believe that Chan is that moment when you manage to accomplish something. He’s that moment that you realise that you are definitely capable of more than you think. 

taglist: @weird-bookworm @wonijinjin @babyleostuff @wishing-fieshes @kwanienies @mayashu @megseungmin @porridgesblog @haecien @mirxzii @scoupsofcherries @eightlightstar

[boredzillenial]

F.A.F.O.

You find out the hard way that you are not safe hiding behind a screen, not from these three.

Themes: Afab!reader, teasing/sexting shenanigans, oh no if it isn’t the consiquences of my own actions

A.N.: this is just somethin’ short and sweet in a new style for me. Hope y’all enjoy!

Hiya! It’s Steven. 🥰 Hope the bus ride from our flat to your work wasn’t too bad. How was your day?

Hi sweetheart, today was really challenging. I couldn’t focus for the life of me…

Aww why not 🥺

Was too distracted thinking about you…

Me? I’m sorry love ❤️ did I do something wrong?

It’s more like you did something a little too right last night 😘

Oh… Yeah? ☺️ Was nervous to try that but you were amazing.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day today, even now… 💦

You’re… right now? 😳

You’ve got me so wet. I don’t know if I can wait till this weekend to see you… I think I may have to take care of this myself when I get home 😉

What?! Wait I’m off today I can help! Can i come over? 🥺

No Steven, I don’t think I’ll be able to focus the rest of the week if I see you again tonight. Just need to knock this out.

Knock it out? Love I can make you feel so good please 😣

Do you remember where you put my vibrator? I haven’t seen it since the last time you three were over here.

Darling please let me come over. I promise we can be quick 😩

No no no, naughty boy. You’d beg me to stay, and I just can’t tell any of you no when you’re here.

Please I need to see you 😣 I need to… I need to feel you.

You gotta wait till tomorrow. Here this will tide you over. 😉

Image sent.

Oh love….

Please let me come over 😭

Is that not enough? I think this one should be better 😘

Image sent.

Love I can’t

Can’t what baby 😉

You think you’re funny?

I don’t know what you’re talking about Steven 😘

Try again

..

Marc?

..

Strike 2

Jake…

Bingo 😈

Jake - Steven and I were just joking around!

Image received

Does this look like a joke? 🍆

Jesus Christ… Are you gonna handle that for Steven?

No, you are.

Jake you’re all the way across town. I’ve got work in the morning.

You have 30 minutes to call out of work for tomorrow and be ready for us.

Us?

You’ve gotta deal with me.

Marc says he wants a word with you too. 😉

Then you can make it up to Steven.

Jake do NOT come over here!

..

Jake seriously I can’t have you over right now I’ve gotta work tomorrow!

And I’m serious. You’ve got a few minutes you better call your boss now amor.

Jake! I’m doing laundry and catching up on chores tonight you gotta stay home.

..

Jake I’m serious!

Call denied

Just talk to me Jake, don’t come over

..

Unlock the door for me sweetheart, I’m here

Oh you must think I’m crazy

Image received

IS THAT MY VIBRATOR?! 😠

Open the door and find out 😘

———————

MoonKnight Bingo Masterlist

Taglist: @moonknight-events @melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose @romana-after-dark

[l0n3ly-gh0st205]

Child!reader meeting/ joining the white beard pirates

A/n: Is this a little bit all over the place? Yes. Do I care? No❤️ I got so much love for my previous writing, so I added some more! Giving specific love to the white beard crew ❤️❤️

-ft. Portagas D. Ace, Marco the Phoenix, thatch death

-TW: spoilers for ace’s introduction to the white beard pirates and thatches death, hints of abandonment, yelling, and not much but a little bit of angst in Ace’s section.

-

[■□□□□□□□□□] 10%

☆꧁༒Ĺoading. . .༒꧂☆

[■■■■■■□□□□] 60%

☆꧁༒Ĺoading. . .༒꧂☆

[■■■■■■■■■■] 100%

☆꧁༒Complete༒꧂☆

꧁ head cannons ꧂

You were probably found when you were still an infant, so you have no memory of your life before the crew

They probably say something like you magically appeared in a barrel or one of thatch’s botched recipes spurred you into existence if you ever go around asking questions about it

They want to keep you happy so you don’t doubt your familial bonds

But of course, watching one of your brothers kill your other brother over a weird-looking fruit probably put a damper on that :)

Marco remembers the freezing wind of that faithful day, the ocean breeze picking up shards of ice as a seemingly normal ration run with his friend turned into meeting the youngest member of their crew.

A loud bang shook Marco out of the memory as his head swirled to the door. The familiar childish screams and laughs at least hinted that the noise wasn’t causing pain; he couldn’t help but smile.

It’s been five years since that winter storm, and although the phoenix hated the cold more than anything, he couldn’t help but be glad for that storm.

Thatch stumbled on a hidden branch covered in snow. Marco grabbed his arm before glaring at the other man

“We had to come during the middle of winter-yoi?” He snarked for the umpteenth time since the two got caught in the storm. Thatch huffed and rolled his eyes “bug off bird brains; they’ve got the best beef in the west blue!” He snapped. The two came upon a rushing river, and thatch groaned, nodding towards the rubble of a bridge that once stood

“Seems the ice and rapids took out the bridge, be a dear big bird and Carry me over?” Thatch slid a sly smile to Marco, who rolled his eyes “you always boast about your ability to swim yoi-“ the rattle of wood cut off Marco's comment, and the two commanders glanced over at the bridge, noting a small box that was caught on some rubble, the two watched as the box shook against the tide leering to the side causing the freezing water to slip into the box. The cold caused the young occupant in the box to let out a blood-curdling scream causing both of the men to tense.

“It's open,” Marco responded to the gentle taps on his door. It opened with a protesting squeak, and the young child peeped their head around the corner

“Big brother! Ace is being mean to me-” the child pouted, causing the old doctor to chuckle “(Y/N), what did you do now yoi?”

“Did nothin'! Promise!” they huffed, sending a glare toward the doctor “it's all Teaches fault! He told me lunch was ready and to go wake up ace!” Marco hummed, resting his chin on his hand, “and, let me guess, you decided to wake him up by tickling him, yoi ?” he couldn't help but smile at the way they puff out their cheeks while muttering a small ‘maybe.’

Marco got up from his seat and gently ruffled the youngster's hair “come on, let's go see if thatch can whip up some food to help soothe ace yoi,” he said with a smile, gently pushing the younger out the door

“Okay!” they called out and started running down the hall, leaving the old man behind to wallow in his sentimental ways with a smile.

After first getting brought onto the ship you know damn well these men didn't know how to care for a baby-

I can just imagine them trying to feed you by offering you a giant turkey leg 💀

Since Marco stayed on the ship most of the time, he was your number-one babysitter. It would have been pops, but he was so nervous that he’d hurt you cause you're so small :(

If Marco couldn't, then thatch would be the second-best person; he’d keep you in the kitchen so you didn't get into too much trouble

Thatch and Marco were there for most of your significant milestones, and we’re always quick to share it with the rest of the crew

Thatch stared down at the carnage that graced his kitchen. Plates were broken and strewn on the floor; his delicate fresh vegetables smushed and drooled on. He turned to the rather cute culprit. Who was asleep on the tile floor, red hands from smoothing the tomatoes, holding an eggplant as a pillow.

Thatch pinched the bridge of his nose, suppressing a scream. He looked back at the sleeping toddler and gently picked them up, stirring them from their slumber “so- what do you have to say for yourself?” He grumbled.

The baby in his arms just smiled and lazily babbled at him, mouth full of baby teeth and eyes sparkling with more stars than the night sky; really, how could he stay mad at this adorable creature? The cook smiled at the child’s nonsense, and the baby reached up for him, dirty hands smearing tomato juice all over his white collar, and he rolled his eyes

“Alright, alright, you little demon, let’s get you cleaned up before you make even more of a mess- of course, you start crawling when I’m not looking-“ the chief mumbled and headed for the bathroom. He ran the warm water and gently placed the toddler down in the water, making sure he cleaned off any remaining mess from their skin.

Ace was a different story.

Im not saying fuck canon time line… but-

The ex-captain of the spade pirates infamously wanted nothing to do with the white-beard crew.

Despite his multiple murder attempts- the youngest member of white beards crew always seemed to follow him around like a little duckling

Did it remind him of his little brothers? Yes. Was he going to admit that you were adorable and could do no wrong in his eyes? …maybe-

Look all I’m saying is-

Ace: *sees a small child* big brother mode A C T I V A T E D.

Ace sat against the railing of the Moby-Dick, twiddling his knife in his hands as he thought of his latest ploy against White-beard. He could feel eyes burning into his side, which he pointedly ignored.

The boy let out a sigh; that brat sure was relentless- he hesitantly raised his eye, meeting the gazes of the crew's youngest member. They let out a soft squeak before ducking behind the corner they used for cover. Ace narrowed his eyes as he huffed out his nose, sliding his knife back into his carrier

“Leave me alone, brat,” he muttered, but the startled gasp was enough that he knew his message got across, the child hesitantly stepped out from behind the corner, and a pang of guilt stabbed through ace’s chest- the kid couldn't have been older than 10. He watched as they seemed to look for their words

“Um… big brother… Marco wanted me to make sure you were, um… you were okay…” they hesitated, looking over aces face and waiting for a reply.

Ace couldn’t help but scrunch his nose in irritation “im not your big brother.” he stated, pointedly rising from his sitting position and starting to walk away. The young pirate gasped and quickly followed after him “b-but gramps said you joined the family-” the child worried their lip between their teeth, recalling macros words

“Be patient,” Marco hummed as (y/n) excitedly swung their legs in their chair, “but I wanna meet my new brother!” they almost whined, pulling a chuckle from the doctor. “In time, Ace is... Let's say having a hard time adjusting to the family.” Marco turned and ruffled his younger siblings' hair. “Think of him like a cat; he isn't comfortable yet; he might bare some claws, yoi.”

(y/n) pushed their bottom lip into a pout, “but he’s my brother- brothers don't hurt each other!” Marco gave them a weary smile “all im saying is just be slow.”

Ace’s scoff of disdain pulled them from their memory, and they stopped, almost slamming right into his leg “im not a part of your stupid family!” he yelled, taking the younger pirate aback

In all the trouble (y/n) had gotten into, they had never heard anyone yell at them with such anger. They bit their lip roughly, holding back the welling emotions as their eyes pricked with tears. They looked down and Ace was taken aback, regretting his tone, not his words.

When (Y/n) looked back up, big fat tears were rolling down their cheeks as they suppressed a sob “y- you just aren’t comfortable yet-“ they wept, using their first to wipe away the futile tears and snot “t-that’s why your claws are out.” They quickly turned away from ace and ran before he could even mutter an apology. Ace tsked and promptly turned away. Guilt was eating him up from the inside.

[eluxcastar]

May I request Arlecchino finding her lover collapsed on the floor in tears from a fever they are suffering from and then taking care of them?

Arlecchino and her poor sick s/o

── ୨୧：arlecchino x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: a terrible fever leaves you effectively bedridden for days

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, mentions reader vomiting but does not happen within it, the reader is a massive simp, oh and also they're married because I said so

୨୧﹑words :: 2.6k

I haven't abandoned you honeys I'm just working on a time-consuming Arlecchino request that's like 8k words long ❤️ so here's a little something to tide you over for a bit in light of the newest teaser from mihoyo

You have spent three days curled up in your bed with a temperature so bad Arlecchino almost considered taking you to Dottore to sort it out, but you were more than happy to wait it out instead.

Those three days had been spent swiftly losing any food you tried to eat and barely keeping down the water you forced yourself to drink so that you wouldn't get dehydrated with how much the heat made you sweat.

Now that days have passed, your throat hurts, and you curse your gag reflex. You don't even want to drink water, and the dizziness that prevents you from getting up has hardly subsided. You've slept through most of it, yet you can't bear to spend another minute glued to your bed, tossing and turning amidst your covers. They're thoroughly a mess, no thanks to hours of indecision as you become hot under them and cold without them for too long.

It's a frustrating thing to be confronted with your weakness.

There is truly nothing worse. This time last week, you would've been by your lovely Arlecchino's side, helping her with her work as she managed the less enjoyable affairs for the House of Hearth. It's always nice to have someone with you to curb your boredom when you have to do menial work.

But since you woke up in the middle of the night overwhelmed by dizziness so horrible you couldn't figure out which way was left, you have been stuck here where you cannot reach her for much of the day. She insisted she should remain with you, but you weren't eager to take up more of her precious time for no reason other than your conscience. You know she would be happy to. You just don't want to trouble her.

While she's gone, you should remember to do the things she made you promise to do: get lots of rest, drink water, don't push yourself.

By what is basically the force of fate, you have been good at resting and not pushing yourself. It's the water you're struggling with. You tried to force yourself to half something earlier, using whatever surface was available to support yourself, but you found yourself with an upset stomach and an awful lingering feeling in your throat.

Your second trip to the kitchen for a glass of water is equally unsuccessful.

She asked only three things of you, and even that is out of your depth? You must be pathetic. Soon, Arlecchino will return home, and she will see the glaring problem that you're dehydrated and be disappointed that you couldn't even listen to her requests.

The floor is the most comfortable spot to sit or kneel awkwardly on your hands and knees after quickly lowering yourself to the floor when you are hit with a dizzy spell to avoid hitting it at a high speed once you inevitably fall over.

Is sickness making you a wreck? Were you always this quick to give up? You never feel this uneasy. Your fever must be messing with your head and making you overemotional, but you feel so useless, whatever the reason. Suddenly you understand those people forced to retire from their work only to become restless and idle all day from an overwhelming absence in their life, if only for a few days.

It hurts, mentally mostly, but the physical pain of it all is hardly helping. Something about fevers is so draining to your body.

Water. You'd just like to drink some water. Is that too much to ask? Surely not.

Water…on the floor underneath you. It's only a drop, but you never even made it to the fridge. Where could it have come from? You place your finger on it, confirming it is most definitely not a product of your fever-driven imagination as it feels very real. Another drop lands on the back of your hand, then on the floor in quick succession, too quick for anything like a hole in the ceiling. Holes in the ceiling can't pass water through your head, either.

Tears? You're not crying-- you reach up to feel your cheek. Oh, you are. You are crying.

When did that happen? You never cry, not in good health anyway. It's completely unlike you. Though not in good health, maybe it's not so unthinkable. Maybe you are weak like this, even mentally. You didn't think a little sickness could bring you down very much; evidently, you were wrong.

You first settle back on your kneels, wiping your eyes clean of the tears that started and won't stop coming, especially now that you realise it. Like a wound that doesn't hurt until you look at it and realise how bad it looks, it hits you all at once that you really are quite miserable in this state. Water is too hard for you to get. Really? Is that how far you've fallen?

This powerless feeling is horrible, like a weakness eating at your bones every moment you spend sick. Conclusively, you really hate being sick.

You must not have noticed the sound of the door opening, possibly because you were distracted by your condition and its inhibition of your simple desire to drink a glass of water so that you could tell Arlecchino that you did it. Maybe that was supposed to prove to her you were getting better or something. You obviously weren't, but it feels nice to lie to yourself sometimes and try to convince yourself that you won't be bearing with this sickness for very long.

On the other hand, you certainly do notice the footsteps encroaching on you and your pathetic state. It doesn't matter who's there. You don't want anyone to see you this way. Not Arlecchino and not any fatuu she may have sent to check on you. Not that you're on the floor, and most definitely not that the reason you're down there is because you're crying. It would be too shameful to handle ever publicly showing your face again. You scramble to try and get back on your feet and wipe your tears, but it only proves your weakness to you as you get up so fast you make yourself dizzy again and stumble to find something to hold onto before you fall again.

The only reason you don't end up flat on your ass is because Arlecchino grabs you by your shoulders and holds you close, so close you feel her poor jacket soak up your tears. You want to pull away so you don't wet her clothes, but you can't. She is your only anchor right now. If you do that, she'll really know you're crying. Of course, she is already aware that you are, but if you at least stay with your face buried in the fur of her overcoat, you don't have to acknowledge that she knows.

Evidently, bed is the best place for you right now, and you are promptly returned there so that you can lay back and rest.

"I didn't even realise I was crying, swear!" Your attempts to save yourself are pointless, as she never cared whether you were crying or not in the first place. It's natural to cry, even if she doesn't want to see you upset.

"It's alright. Covers on or off?" There is a certain gentleness in her voice that makes you look away in embarrassment, though it is undeniably attractive that a hot woman would take care of you while you're sick. The 'in health' part is really sexy too, but the sickness part stirs butterflies in your stomach...

"Off," you respond.

It’s even hotter you get to be married to that woman.

She places a kiss on your forehead, as gentle as the rest of her actions, a degree of care present that she does not usually impart. She is not heartless and cold toward you, but this side of her is a rare one reserved for the moments when you feel especially precious. Sickness, injury...

It is a rarity that you treasure because it means a lot to you.

"I just got overwhelmed I guess." You can't think of a way to explain it to her that actually makes some degree of sense. Any explanation you think of sounds stupid to your brain and probably hers. "I'm fine, I promise."

"I know, I know. Glass of water, and something to eat small enough it won't upset your stomach." Her thumb brushing over your forehead is enough to settle those rampant emotions of yours, though still teary-eyed and moody.

"Just give me a second and I can do it." Again with your insistence to not be helped, you're just spouting off lies at this point, fooling yourself but not her.

She laughs at your stubbornness. "No you can't." She says that so matter-of-factly you can't even be bothered to fight as the words die in your throat at how amused she seems. It's one of your endearing traits, you like to think. The slight smile she walks off with would certainly support that delusion.

You're probably fooling yourself about that part too, but something about her collectedness while your brain is all scrambled up and chaotic calms you, and you fish around the bed for the coat she had discarded and laid out at your feet before she left. It's nice and heavy but not too warm when laid across you so haphazardly that it overheats you. The fur around the collar is uncomfortably wet in one spot.

However could that have happened? Sure hope someone didn't get their tears all over it.

What's best is that it smells like her, covered in her scent from top to bottom, and now you are too. It's like getting a warm hug from your wife in the absence of a hug or your wife

Ok maybe it's impossible to marry you and not know that you're really stubborn when you want to be.

"I'll stay with you like this for the entire week if that's what you want. I don't mind if I catch whatever you managed to get." Her words are so sweet that you get those butterflies again. Could you really handle a week with her like this? Probably not. You might just drop dead, but if nothing else, you'd be dying happy.

"I would definitely mind that." You laugh back, trying to match her responses and diffuse the idea you might want her gone.

"What? Don't want to take care of me?" She's just teasing, but her expression doesn't give that away at a glance.

"Didn't say that!"

You can't help feeling happy. You like this as your medicine a lot, and it has nothing to do with your face being this close to her chest and everything to do with her warmth and her words like everything is normal, and you're both just messing around. If that were the truth, it might be really nice too, but it makes being sick a hell of a lot more enjoyable.

It can't be more than a minute or two before she returns with a glass of water and some dry biscuits. The only two things that you can keep down seem like heaven in her hands despite how bland both of them are. It feels nice to finally be hydrated, and it feels great to have something in your stomach aside from an empty feeling.

Arlecchino takes the time as an opportunity to settle into bed beside you.

As you set the glass of water down on the floor beside your bed, you turn back over to squirm your way into her waiting arms, now receiving a warm hug from your wife in the presence of both a hug and your wife.

You are comfortable with a bit of pillow shifting, some wriggling into place and a slight repositioning of your head. You are not smothered by her and can breathe while remaining in her arms. Your head is not in a position where your neck hurts, and your legs are comfortably intertwined with hers. Dreams do come true, and on that note, you won't be moving from this position for the next few hours if you can help it.

"You can keep the coat if you want. I'll wash it once you're better." Her voice is low, trying not to be too loud when you are so close but audible.

You would shake your head but don't dare, only mumbling back to her. "You need it for work tomorrow."

"I'll take a day off." She says it so off-handedly it sounds suspiciously normal for a moment before the shock of it hits you.

Your eyes open, and you tilt your head up just enough to see her face, completely serious. "Are you sure? You'll have a lot to do--"

She makes a face like she is thinking, though it is an act to emphasise what she says next. "I'll use it to manage files from the House of Hearth if it would make you feel better about getting to steal all my attention at home."

"Accepted." Evidently, you are far too easy to bargain with.

She laughs to herself nonetheless, hand stroking your back. "I don't want to leave for work only to come home to you crying again."

You go dead silent and look away again. "...Sorry."

"I didn't mean it in that way." She tries to reassure you with those words, and it works a little but doesn't take away from your embarrassment. Are you going to remember that for the next five years wondering if she's judging you for it knowing damn well she's not and probably doesn't remember it? Hopefully not. "It worried me, that's all. I want to be here if you need me."

Ok maybe that's really hot too.

"Well, if you're sure, then I'm not going to tell you no." You wouldn't stop her anyway because, secretly, you would really like for her to stay with you. You wanted that from the start and just couldn't swallow your pride to admit it.

The small chuckle she lets out hearing that tells you that she is very aware of that fact. Maybe it's hard to marry you and not know that.

Ok maybe it's impossible to marry you and not know that you're really stubborn when you want to be.

"I'll stay with you like this for the entire week if that's what you want. I don't mind if I catch whatever you managed to get." Her words are so sweet that you get those butterflies again. Could you really handle a week with her like this? Probably not. You might just drop dead, but if nothing else, you'd be dying happy.

"I would definitely mind that." You laugh back, trying to match her responses and diffuse the idea you might want her gone.

"What? Don't want to take care of me?" She's just teasing, but her expression doesn't give that away at a glance.

"Didn't say that!"

You can't help feeling happy. You like this as your medicine a lot, and it has nothing to do with your face being this close to her chest and everything to do with her warmth and her words like everything is normal, and you're both just messing around. If that were the truth, it might be really nice too, but it makes being sick a hell of a lot more enjoyable.

[gretavanlace]

Crime and Punishment

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, dirty talk, denial, dom/sub, anger, pet names, illusions to impact play, impact play (mild), masturbation, etc

Just a little something to tide my lovelies over. Thank you so much to my anon who asked for a quieter dom jake (I can’t find your ask, but I love you)❤️

“Jake?” You venture carefully from your seat beside him as he stares ahead, navigating the twists and turns of hills and back roads, wipers keeping time through the rain. “You seem upset. Are you alright?”

You know he isn’t alright. You fucking know. Worked toward it all evening, bratting this way and that. Mouthing off. Causing trouble. Flirting with Danny. Let’s be honest, flirting with Sammy, as well…innocently. Flirting with Josh, not so innocently.

You drank a little too much, danced a little too close, spoke a little too softly in an ear or two - and all while he quietly watched. All while he silently drank in your display, swallowing it down for safe, darkened, keeping.

“M’fine, magpie.” He offers with a gentle shrug “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Okay, so maybe he isn’t as angry as you’d feared, hoped? He’s still allowing your nickname, bestowed because he says you sing so pretty when you cum for him, to trip off of his delectable tongue. Perhaps his upset doesn’t run quite as deeply as you believed.

“You’re not angry with me?”

“Why would I be angry with you?” His jaw tightens, betraying him. Liar.

“Dunno.” You shrug right back, if he’s going to play it this way, so will you. Beginning to dig around in your purse, at last, you locate your lighter and cigarettes, flickering one to life with a deep, drunken drag.

Immediately, he rips it from your lips and flips it out the crack in his window, with a clipped, “You haven’t earned it.”

He knows you enjoy the most occasional smoke when you’re floating through a buzz, and this proves what you already knew - his placid demeanor is bullshit.

You clip your bag closed with a sly smile and sidle up a little closer, “Oh, so Jakey is feeling angry? Are you mad at your girl?”

With a firm hand, he pushes you back in your seat, and shakes his head, “Stop talking. Now. Don’t make me say it twice.”

Something in his tone tells you to listen…his warning sounds like it's riding out on broken glass, and his palm, flattened out on your chest, heavy like a paperweight, tells you to find your place, and find it fast.

The galvanic hiss of his energy pops and sparks into the night as you cruise closer to home, but that isn’t what knots your stomach into bends and hitches - his silence is what does that.

Normally, he’d be taunting you. Promising fire and brimstone, forewarning forthcoming doom, sounding the alarms in your head…if only to make your heart and your clit pound.

He prizes it - this ability of his to so easily make you sweat and ache…loves it all the more when it’s an impending punishment he can lord over your pretty head. That’s what you’d been aiming at all night - his wrath…but this, this quiet? Unsettling.

“Jacob Thomas…” you’ve tried on your sweetest tone, allowing a pout to color his full name in the way that never fails to make his cock twitch. Like a game of hide and seek. Come out, come out wherever you are.

“Shut. Up.” His knuckles turn white on the steering wheel and you do, in fact, choose to listen and shut up.

Gravel crunching beneath the tires signals your homecoming, jarring you out of your foggy reverie. What will happen now? You’d be dishonest if you said you weren’t positively fucking alive with racing thoughts of carnal possibilities. You’d also be dishonest if you said you weren’t a tad apprehensive…something in his manner is off. Have you pushed too far this time? Are you really in for it? Do you like the idea of roaring along his furious rapids without a paddle? Paddle. Now there’s an idea.

A caul of tense silence crawls over the car as he breathes heavily and deeply beside you. Finally, his clipped instructions break the spell.

“You are to go inside and wait at the foot of the bed. Naked. On your knees. Hair braided and clipped.”

You shiver at his ragged directive, he sounds like sex, and you can smell the lust seeping from his pores— masked almost entirely by his fury, but there all the same.

Turning to him to beg for just one touch is so tempting you can almost taste the words on your palate, but wisely, you settle on obedience, and squeak open the door before hustling it into the house.

If you had eyes in the back of your head you might have caught the faint smile that curls his pillowy lips as he watches you fumble to fit the key in the lock with shaking hands. You’re nervous, he decides. Good.

He finds you, kneeling and bare - fucking gorgeous. Your hair is woven and swept up, just as instructed. It earns you points, but certainly not enough to matter, and you seem to sense that as you watch him calmly prowl about the bedroom.

His jacket comes off first, shaken from his shoulders in the stillness, only to be rested carefully over the back of his chair. He loves this chair, sits in its overstuffed embrace and plucks at his guitar for hours. But tonight, he has other tasks to complete.

He rids himself of his barely buttoned shirt and lets it fall to the floor, forgotten…and then swaggers over to the dresser, carefully removing his necklaces and nestling them into the velvet case that houses his trinkets.

Boots, having seen better days just the way he likes them, are next. Kicked off and cast aside next to the closet door.

And all the while it’s quiet, quiet, quiet. Normally, he’d be scolding you, issuing soft admonishments that still somehow thunder in your heart as though he’s shouted them. Normally he’s bossy, and mouthy, and sexy as hell about it. Tonight? Silence.

Still, you wait - knelt, submissive, unresisting and docile. Patiently and quietly subservient as your nipples harden into aching peaks, desperate for even a flick of his gaze.

Without blessing you the glance you’re so longing for, he disappears into the closet, only to return with his black leather guitar case. You know this case, you know what it houses, and it isn’t a musical instrument. Though, he does coax lovely sounds out of you with the arsenal hidden inside.

At last, his voice comes, hushed and conversational, as he carefully places the case on the bed and flips the latches. “I shouldn’t, because you’ve been a dreadful handful tonight, but I’m feeling generous, so I will. You may pick your poison this evening, magpie.”

With precision, he chooses his arrows and lines them up along the duvet. Paddle, flogger, crop, switch, length of leather he braided and knotted with his own hands, and cane. You fear the cane most of all…the way it slices through the air audibly; a woeful song just before the pain explodes and sizzles through your system. Still, your eyes linger there once he’s given you permission to turn and look. Maybe you want that tonight.

Though he doesn’t tip his hand, Jake knows exactly what you need. He can sense all of that shameful desire swimming through your veins. He understands that you live in your head a little too deeply now and then. His grasp on your psyche, uncanny. You need this sometimes, this complete submission…his hands offering sacrament with each blow. His words washing you clean in their dominance, their degradation, their praise. He needs it too, to give you these things that might make another shudder and turn away.

He craves the way you blink up at him, eyes blurred with tears, lips swollen and dripping in sobs and breaths of reverence. The way your body yields to his touch, trembling with pleasure tinged in delicious, trustful fear. He is weak for the way you allow him to worship you this way…an outsider might see the opposite, might believe it is you who worships from your place at his feet, they would be terribly mistaken. It is he who prays.

Perhaps it has been a little too long, so you chose to act up in order to force his hand. Perhaps that is his fault. Perhaps. But you will never know it.

“Your behavior was uncalled for tonight.” He sighs, fingers skating across his toys while you contemplate. “For it, I should cane you until you can’t breathe. But, I’m feeling kind. What do we say?”

His fingers have begun to stroke through your bangs. “We say thank you.” You hush with a shiver, “Thank you for your mercy, sir.”

He nods, and then squares his shoulders, impatience edging at him. “Choose, or I will. You don’t want that.”

When your touch lands on the cane, he hides his shock well and bends until his delicious mouth rests against your ear. “Magpie wants my cane? Aren’t you just the prettiest glutton for punishment that I’ve ever seen?”

“Make it hurt.” You’re shaking with depraved anticipation, and he wants to huff a laugh - his lovely little masochist - instead, he tucks the cane away, confusing you.

“Well, darling,” he dips down and places the softest feather of a kiss upon the nape of your neck. “If you want it, that’s not much of a punishment at all, now is it?”

He has decided that, in honor of your wanton little show with his brothers, he will wield his authority in a different manner tonight. You will suffer, but not in the way you might have hoped.

Straightening, he takes your chin loosely in his grasp and tilts your face upwards until he is looking down the bridge of his nose at you. “On the bed, magpie. Right on the edge, legs spread wide open for me. I’d like to look at your pretty cunt.”

Without waiting to watch you comply, he turns and makes his way back to the chair he loves so well, and takes a seat casually. By the time he has settled in, you’re perched on display for him.

“So gorgeous, little bird.” He hums softly, popping the button of his pants. The parting of his zipper causes your entire body to jolt in hunger. “Look at that pretty fucking pussy. You’re so wet I can almost smell you.”

His hand dips behind linen and tugs his cock free. So hard and beautiful. Swollen tip leaking pearlescent drops of arousal that you long to lick away.

“Jake,” you whine, body rocking against nothing so subtly, you don’t even realize it’s happening.

“I told you to shut up.” He snaps, wrapping his fist around himself with a slow, easy tug.

“Yes, sir.” You breathe. A little groveling never hurt anyone.

“You will take what you’re given tonight, and you will thank me for it.” He’s stroking himself with intent now, and you couldn’t look away if you tried. You just want him so fucking badly. “And I so love to spoil you, don’t I?”

“Yes, sir.” You repeat, hushed, and fighting to keep your hand from dipping between your legs.

“And now you’ve ruined that for me, which wasn’t very nice.” He clicks his tongue. “My mean, filthy, little magpie owes me an apology, does she not?”

“I’m sorry.” You sound pathetic, and that’s fine for the both of you. “I just wanted—“

“I know what you wanted.” He interrupts, words rasped as he jerks his cock off just a bit faster. “I didn’t ask for your fucking explanations. Let me see that lovely little clit, I miss her.”

Reaching down, you spread yourself open without thought or hesitation. What Jake wants, Jake gets. Funnily enough, however, he feels the same about you…usually.

“There she is…” you watch his fist tighten around his length…god, you want it so badly it’s nearly difficult to think. Your thoughts, scattered and blurred with want. “Look how pretty and pink. And swollen, too.” He tilts his head sorrowfully. “Such a shame. I could so easily take care of her…if you hadn’t acted like such a whore tonight. And for what?”

“You know why.” You huff, growing slightly insufferable with desire.

“Watch that fucking tone or I’ll spread you out, tie you down, and correct you until the sun comes up.” His warning drives out harshly from between clenched teeth.

He watches the insubordination silently leech from your bones. “That’s a good girl. Can you feel it, baby? My tongue on your clit? Warm and wet, licking and sucking you until your cum is dripping down my chin? Hmm? Can you feel that?”

And fuck if you can’t. You’re conjuring the feeling of his mouth working away at you sinfully, the sounds he makes, groans and hums of bliss that muffle into your soaked flesh. They crowd your mind until it is fat full with Jacob and only Jacob.

“I’d love to taste you, magpie.” He sighs, fucking his fist faster still. “I’d love to crawl over there and bury my face between your thighs. Love to slip my tongue way up inside until my nose is buried against you. Until I can’t fucking breathe.”

“Please.” Is the only word you can manage, and even that comes out weak and warbling.

“Tough love, little bird.” He taunts. Tough love. And it’s only because I care…I don’t want to see you go completely off the rails, I’ve gotta keep you in line, don’t I?”

Your body twitches and writhes and shakes all on its own…you’ve lost control of your muscles. Your veins are searing with fiery need, nerve endings buzzing and sparking like downed power lines. Mouth open and panting like a cornered animal in need of something it can’t quite identify. You want to claw at your body until you can climb out of yourself; until you can discard your own skin like an itchy sweater in a room that’s just a little too warm.

But even if all that were possible, none of it would help, you know as fact, only Jake can soothe you now. Only Jake.

Suddenly, he rises, kicking his pants off along the way as he moves closer to you, closing in on your trembling frame like a gleeful predator.

His body, bare and stunning, glows ghostly in the shadowy moonlight that streams through the curtains. You can smell him now, spiced and soaked in something earthly…like perfumed soil, rich and damp, sifting through your fingers.

“You stay where you are.” His voice purrs out, like silk curling against your cheek.

He reaches behind you and takes up the small switch. Black and spindly, it could almost pass for a wand, fittingly - for his is nothing short of magic.

“I’d like to look at your cunt right up close while I’m cumming.” he whispers, dropping to his knees. “Hello little beauty,” his breath falls against you, though his words aren’t spoken for your ears. “How’s my sweetness?”

His eyes cast up to yours, “Such a beautiful pussy, magpie. Especially right now. Wet and swollen, pink and velvet soft…what I wouldn’t give to fill her all the way up. Pity.”

His arm begins a rhythmic pump against your calf as he lavishes his devouring gaze between your legs, hushing words of praise meant only for your cunt. Murmurs of, pretty soaked pussy, tight little baby, needs spoiled so badly, curses, groans of pleasure and denial that fall hot between your legs.

When your hands give in and reach to bury in his hair, your thigh is met with a harsh crack of the switch, wordlessly putting you in your place. No touching, that sting barks, and you heed the warning.

His frantic gasps and groans grow louder until, as if he can’t help himself, the flat of his tongue laps slowly and heavily from your slick entrance to your clit…the growl that follows is feral and ravenous for more, but he is nothing if not self-disciplined.

“Needed the taste of you on my tongue,” he’s panting now, jerking his cock hard and fast, and then his mouth is resting upon you, lips and cheek pressed right up against your dripping center as you thrust lightly into him, feverish for even a breath of friction.

He cums hard, shoving in closer and digging into your thigh with his hand that still clutches the switch. Crying out as he grabs and pulls at you, nuzzling into your cunt as he spills all over the floor between his knees and your feet, a chorus of his own gasps and obscenities the soundtrack to his release.

Once he’s regained some semblance of composure, he’s on you. Darting up from his place before you to grab you by the throat, decadent cum still dripping from his knuckles and onto your collarbone. He smears it into your flesh like heavenly oil, anointing you.

“You will wear me tonight and remember who you belong to, and you will fucking thank me for it.” He rasps, crawling over you, guiding you along beneath him until your head meets the pillow.

“Yes.” You nod, wide-eyed and grateful. “Yes. Thank you, sir. I’ll wear you forever. Cover me in you every minute of every day. Please, I want it, always.”

Down his hand slips, weaving a winding, serpentine trail of his release to mark his path, then he finds his spot beside you…pulling you in against him until his softening cock is nestled into the curve of your spine.

He will take care of you in the morning, you know without question…but tonight, this is your punishment, and you are more than willing to take it.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @jakesgrapejuice @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @gretasmokerising

[caspercryptid]

Fellow disabled here.

What are your thoughts on Wylls horns or other parts of the transformation being painful, either acute from being new, or chronic as the days go on? Perhaps Gale or Karlach have some words of wisdom? Gale with the chronic pain of the orb, Karlach with a broken horn (is that painful too?) and an engine burning her up from the inside. Love to hear some fluff of folks quietly showing up for Wyll. ❤️

Hey sorry this took me a minute! I'm going to hit this one for Day 1 of @thekindredcollective's Wyll month, {Perception}

Sorry no karlach i don't know her too well yet, I'll have to write her another time.

-----

Wyll’s neck hurts.

It shouldn’t be the most important thing about all of this. It shouldn’t matter at all. There are so many more serious concerns with the way he looks, the way he feels, what’s been done to him. But they’re easy to rationalize and accept. The way he’s seen is, after all, out of his hands. There’s so little he can do about any of this. He’s yielding. He’s always, his entire life, done as he felt he had to. There was little choice in the matter. Offered the chance to do it all over, he wouldn’t do a single thing differently. There is no choice. He’s surrendered to the tide, knelt to it, sworn his fealty to his own soul and his own moral code.

But still. His neck hurts. 

He can’t sleep.

That’s the worst of it, he thinks, laying back on his pillow and looking up at the sky above them. During the day the ache is easy. He has others, and more immediate problems, and when he’s run through and Shadowheart heals him all the pain fades and he almost forgets that the way that ache collects at the top of his spine is the weight of his own head and not another injury from a lifetime of collecting them. 

He has other aches and pains. He’s young, he knows, objectively. The others are older than he is. When he was really young and reckless he used to jump off the banister of the stairs, impatient to get to the ground, never able to wait to get...wherever it was he was going. Always somewhere, in those days. Maybe now, too, always rushing to some new adventure. But sometimes when he was young he would be caught by the waist- his father, or a nanny, always someone bright-eyed and laughing and warning him one day his knees and ankles wouldn’t bear his weight the same way. I wish I was young like you. 

He understands now. Still young, but his body bears the weight of the distance he’s traveled. Aching knees, sore shoulders, tendons stretched and stretched and not feeling quite as flexible as they’d been when he was younger and vaulting over tables. But those aches wandered and stayed dull, were easy enough to ease with rest or getting off his feet, not kneeling quite so much. This ache sat. Squatted on his shoulders like he was carrying the physical stone weight of the devil on his shoulder. Which, well. He supposed he was. 

It was hard not to think about it when he had nothing else to think about. The night was almost totally silent, only him and his pain and the faint hooting of an owl and— footsteps.

He tries to twist his head, bumps a horn into the ground and winces as pain flares through his neck again, bright and hot enough that he has to close his eyes against it. He holds still, just trying to breathe and will it away, when there’s a hand against the bare skin of his neck, cool with something spread over the fingers, a little slick and a little resistant, spreading on his neck with the calm precision of jam under a knife. He opens his eyes again, holding still, confused, only to see....Gale.

He hadn’t expected Gale. The way the pain starts to ebb under a faint warming sensation, shadowheart seemed a more likely guess. But It’s gale, in his camp clothes and holding a jar, calm and rubbing a salve into his neck. Wyll tries to voice a question, but Gale looks embarrassed and answers before he can ask it.

“I apologize,” he says, quietly, “You’ve been rubbing at your neck and I could tell you weren’t asleep. That must hurt.”

“...It did,” Wyll admits, only a bit reluctant. As much as he hates to be a bother, embarrassing Gale wouldn’t be polite. And it’s helping- it’s not so much immediately soothing the pain as spreading an odd hot-and-cold sensation across his skin that seems to loosen up the muscles. 

“I... think you may need to change your posture,” Gale says, recovering a bit. “In the long term, perhaps. Karlach holds herself differently than you do, and I think on the whole tieflings balance...differently. To accommodate the weight. I believe it would be easier for you to adjust if you hadn’t been trained with a blade, a bit ironically, because you’re so careful about your posture that I rather suspect that you’ve overwritten your natural inclination to stand in a way that makes up for any weight. Of course there’s probably very few cases where this has happened to draw from, it would be an interesting area of research, there have to be other people who’ve perhaps sprouted wings. Perhaps Halsin holds himself differently when he transforms. Not that you’re an animal, of course, that may be an unflattering comparison—”

Wyll can’t help but laugh a little. “I’m not offended,” he assures him. “It’s alright. You’ve probably got the right idea about Karlach. And Halsin is trained as well, he might be conscious about adjusting his posture. Perhaps he’d know a thing or two.” He pauses, weighing the question for a second, and then says— “Am I that obvious?”

“Oh, no,” Gale says, “I only noticed because I—” His hand settles over his chest, and as he does it Wyll realizes that it’s not the first time he’s seen Gale make that gesture. He’d thought it a kind of quirk of self-aggrandizing: pressing your hand to your chest does add the sort of dramatic flair that Gale tended to favor in his speech. 

“—it hurts, doesn’t it?” Wyll asks. “The— thing. In your chest.”

“—terribly,” Gale admits, tone a little flat. He doesn’t quite ever sound properly downcast, always animated in some way or other. It’s odd to hear him drop some of the...gusto. From his speech. He clears his throat, as though catching himself, even without Wyll pointing it out, forcing himself to speak with a little more pep again.

“It’s not so bad. Everyone has been very kind about sharing their magic items with me.”

“Does it...stop hurting?” Wyll asks, “When you’re fed.”

“Well, no,” Gale admits, “but it’s not quite so.... Pressing. Easier to ignore.”

Wyll realizes, a little distantly, that it’s quite late. And Gale is awake too.

“—Hey,” he says. “I think I had a spare—” “No,” Gale says, waving him off, “I appreciate the thought, but it’s not... ah, the last time I went too long before feeding it. It’s sated now, but the feeling sort of...climbed up my throat. And now if I lie down my throat aches. It’ll pass, I expect, but I’m just...taking watch.”

“I see,” Wyll says, slowly. “I wonder if Shadowheart has any herbs that—” “It’s really no trouble—” “You helped me,” Wyll counters, pressing himself up, slow and careful, minding the weight. “It’s not too bad.”

“Neither was my neck.”

Gale sighs, sensing his defeat.

“—Alright. But I don’t want to wake her—” “We don’t have to,” Wyll says, “She’s one of Shar’s, she’ll probably be awake. Come on. Help me up?”

As Gale offers a hand, Wyll reflects. It was nice, not being alone. Perhaps he could remind Gale of that too. 

[chvoswxtch]

hi! i’m not sure if you write for requests?

if you do, would you mind writing frank castle x f!reader with fibromyalgia/chronic fatigue? i’m just exhausted at the moment and every single one of my chronic illnesses are kicking my butt rn. i’m finding great comfort in the punisher series on disney+ and in your writing (the softer side of frank especially!)

thank you!!! 💘

first of all I just wanted to say I am so sorry you are struggling with that. I can't imagine what you're going through right now. i'm sending you so much comfort and so many hugs and I hope you've been feeling a little better lately. it makes me incredibly happy to know that i've helped in some way.

I don't really have any personal experience with chronic illness but I did some research and I hope I got this right for you. thank you so much for your request. I hope this is what you wanted, and I hope it makes you feel better angel. all my love ❤️

this doesn't really have any warnings (unless you wanna count swearing) but if you're on dark mode, you may have trouble viewing this. i'm not sure if the glitch has been fixed, but I apologize for any inconvenience reading in advance! word count: 1.4k

i'd do anything for you.

Frank could tell something was wrong the second he stepped through the front door. If it weren’t for your car in the driveway, he wouldn’t have even been able to tell that you were home. Normally you were quick to greet him with a soft kiss and a beaming smile before he could even get his boots off. On the occasions you were too engrossed in whatever you were doing to hear him come in, he could still hear your faint humming or you shuffling around whatever room you were in. But right now, the entire house was silent and still, and panic began to rise like a looming tide.

Instinctively his hand flew to the handle of the gun that was tucked in the waistband of his jeans, making slow calculated steps around each room of the house as his eyes darted back and forth frantically searching for any sign of a threat or disturbance. The door to the bedroom was creaked open slightly, just enough for Frank to peek inside, and the sight before him sent a crack right through his heart. There you were, curled up tightly in a ball in the middle of the bed, clutching his pillow to your chest. Your brows were knit together in discomfort and your entire face was scrunched up in agony. Frank could see how the skin of your knuckles had gone white from gripping the pillow so hard. It hurt him to see you like this. Every time he did, he wished he could take it all from you and endure it himself. 

He pushed the door open slowly so it wouldn’t make any noise and kept his steps light as he made his way over towards the bed, carefully sitting down behind you. He delicately brushed his fingertips along your arm, cautiously leaning over you to get a better look at your face as he whispered.

“Bad today?”

You nodded your head so faintly, he wouldn’t have even seen it if he hadn’t been watching you closely. Less movement was best when the pain set in and spread through your bones with a vengeance. You had once described it to Frank as your entire body feeling like a searing, open wound. No matter how carefully you moved, it was like ripping it open all over again. The ache throbbed seemingly with every pump of blood through your veins. It made it hard for you to sleep. It was extremely difficult to get comfortable when you were in a constant state of pain, and the fatigue seemed to make the pain even worse. 

“How ‘bout a bath, honey? Hot water will help soothe those muscles, help ya relax a bit. Wanna give it a try?”

Frank did his best to ask yes or no questions when it was really bad like this. The less you had to think, or speak, the better. He kept his voice quiet and low, and tried not to talk too much. Frank had discovered it was helpful to get rid of anything that might overload your senses in your tender state. Too much light or lighting that was too bright bothered your eyes. Too many noises and loud volumes hurt your ears. Anything too bold in smell could implement a migraine. Every little thing was like a tiny pin prick to your nerves.

“Please.”

The way your voice broke nearly brought Frank to his knees. He wasn’t a religious man anymore, but he would’ve prayed to God until his knees bled if he thought it would help, or if he thought God would listen and allow him to trade places with you instead. He gave your shoulder the faintest of squeezes to let you know he heard you before he made his way into the bathroom. He turned the knob all the way over as far as it would go, knowing the sting of the scalding water would help alleviate some of the affliction you felt. He lit the candle on the counter and placed it at the front of the tub so he could keep the lights off. 

Steam hung thickly in the air once the tub was full. Droplets of sweat had already formed at Frank’s hairline, but he didn’t pay any mind to the heat. He peeled your clothes off as slowly and delicately as he could, gently scooping you up into his arms as he carried you into the bathroom. He lowered you down into the water carefully, a soft hiss leaving your lips as you adjusted to the temperature. Frank knelt down beside the tub, keeping a light hold of your hand as he eyed you.

“Feel okay?”

You nodded your head with a little more force this time, giving his large hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Feels really good.”

“Need anything?”

“Just you.”

“I’m right here, sweetheart. Ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“Will you get in with me? Please?”

Frank lightly brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. He could see the pleading look in your eyes through the dim amber glow the candle cast over the bathroom. Normally he wouldn’t hesitate to join you, but your condition had him faltering.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, honey. Just want you to try and relax.”

“You won’t hurt me, I promise. I’d relax a lot more with you. Please?”

Frank couldn’t handle the exertion in your voice. He also hated denying you anything. In record time, he was completely undressed and settling into the tub behind you. A soft sigh left your lips when your head fell back against his chest, and he brought his hands up to tenderly rub at your shoulders to try and massage any lingering aches away.

“Is it too hot for you?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart.”

“I want you to be comfortable too.”

“Baby, I spent years in a damn desert in full gear gettin’ shot at and nearly blown up. And I didn’t have a pretty girl to keep me company. Trust me, I’m comfortable.”

A quiet giggle escaped your lips, and that sent a surge of relief through Frank. Laughing was good. Laughing meant you were feeling better. Laughing meant he was actually doing something right. There were so many times Frank felt incredibly helpless when it came to your chronic illnesses, and he hated it. He loathed that feeling. Seeing the person you love in pain, completely exhausted, and not being able to do anything about it. Threats he could handle. He was trained to eliminate those. He’d give his life to protect you. But he couldn’t fight an invisible enemy. He couldn’t eliminate a threat he couldn’t see, or even touch. He couldn’t rescue you from your own body.

“Thank you.”

Frank dropped his head to rest his chin on your shoulder, still being careful with his movements as he pressed his cheek to yours and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Don’t gotta thank me, you know that.”

“I want to. You always help me. You always know how to make me feel better. I know I ask a lot of you, and it isn’t-”

“Hey, don’t do that. I’m here ‘cause I wanna be, you got that? Don’t start that shit about bein’ a handful. If anyone’s the damn handful here, it’s me. You take care of me, and I take care of you. That’s how this works, yeah?”

A defeated sigh left your lips as you sank further into the relief of the water and Frank’s chest.

“Yeah. But I still appreciate everything you do for me that you don’t have to.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

Frank lightly brushed his nose along your cheek, holding you to his chest until quiet snores sounded from you. He smiled to himself when he realized you had fallen asleep. He didn’t want to risk moving you in case this was the only sleep you were gonna get tonight. He stayed there in the tub with you until the water went cold and the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. He would’ve held you there as long as you needed him to if it meant he could offer you a sliver of peace. He’d do anything for you.

[otpcutie]

Daddy💞 (AU: All In)

Summary (Stucky, E, 0.2k): Steve and Bucky exchange some cheeky texts while they're apart.

Contains: fake text screenshots, texting fic, D/s, Daddy Steve, brat Bucky, President Steve, journalist Bucky, flirting, fluff, panties, sexting, established relationship (more on AO3)

⭐️Part 3 of The President's Boy⭐️

@buckybarnesevents Bucky’s Birthday Bash: AU Bucky + “Just because something works, doesn’t mean it can’t be improved.” (Panties) + Steve Rogers + Red / @buckybarnesevents Build-A-Bucky Bingo, fill: impact play / @stuckybingo fill: gifts + monthly prompt: luck

Text fic below [AO3]:

Daddy💞

Bucky: You should check your jacket pocket when you’re alone. I may have slipped a little something in there to tide you over ‘til I’m back…😇

Daddy💞: Fuck, honey. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a sweet boy.

Bucky: That’s easy, Daddy. You were yourself❤️ 

Daddy💞: How is it that you can get me all choked up and horny at the same time? God I can’t wait until you’re home and I get to thank you properly.  

Bucky: It’s a gift🥰 What did you have in mind, Sir?

Daddy💞: Nice try. 

Daddy💞: You better not touch yourself without permission while your away though, or it’ll involve me turning that gorgeous ass red😘

Bucky: Promise?

Daddy💞: Brat❤️ Daddy is gonna get your pretty panties SO messy.

Bucky: 😳🥺 Will you send pics?

Daddy💞: Of course. It’d be rude to not to let you see how much Daddy enjoys your present😏💝 

Bucky: Fuck, I have to board. I’ll see you in a few days Daddy, I love you❤️

Daddy💞: I love you too babyboy😘 Call me when you’re there safe. 

(Later that day…)

Daddy💞: As promised.

Daddy💞: [Photo of Bucky’s pink lace panties, absolutely coated and sticky in Steve’s cum]

Bucky: Steve!!

Bucky: Did you jerk off WITH them??

Daddy💞: I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself…

Daddy💞: [Video] 

Bucky: **Calling Daddy💞**

♥︎ Also on AO3 ♥︎ My Masterlist ♥︎

[prismaticpichu]

7 Wholesome Floofcanons to Heal From Inevitable Ever Crisis Trauma ❤️

~

• Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal, playing video games together in Genesis’s apartment. It’s one of the first times where Angeal commends Genesis’s competitiveness and gives a genuine laugh at how hard his friends are going at it. He keeps “switching sides” in order to keep the healthy rivalry going, as well as a way to boost both SOLDIERs’ self-esteem while he’s at it (and also just likes hearing “ANGEAL! HOW DARE YOU ROOT FOR MY NEMESIS?”). Ofc, the tides are turned when a two v. two minigame comes up, and Genesis & Seph join forces to crush their wishy-washy cheerleader. Angeal is playfully irritated by the defeat as Gen & Seph share a best-freindsy high five <333

• Zack, unable to sleep one night, too riled up from a training session he just returned from and desperately in the mood to go on a mission. Angeal tries everything in the books from lavender fragrance to a story, but nothing seems to calm the SOLDIER down. Suddenly, Sephiroth shows up, needing to borrow something from his friend, and notices the predicament. He tells Angeal he knows what to do before going up to Zack, crouching down beside him, and whispering something in his ear. Mere seconds later, Zack is plopped into his pillow and falling asleep. As Angeal and Sephiroth leave the room, Angeal incredulously asks what Seph did. Sephiroth simply gives a soft smiles and says he told Zack he could attend a mission in his dreams <3

• Sephiroth & Genesis, teaming up to make dinner one night when Angeal is bushed after a long day. They both realize amid their act of kindness that neither of them actually know how to cook, and so the two proceed to use one of Angeal’s cookbooks. What they end up making was actually something meant for dessert, and the three of them have a good laugh as they treat themselves to a sweet potato pie for dinner. <3

• Sephiroth, falling ill while his best friends are away on a mission. He tries to convince himself that he is fine, continuing to go about his duties, but the sickness has too much of a grasp on his throat to disguise when Angeal & Gen call to check-in. Hours later, and Sephiroth finds the two SOLDIERs at his apartment door, having managed to return home a week early from their 10 day-long mission in order to take care of their friend. Sephiroth falls asleep that night with an empty bowl of soup by his side and a cold washcloth pressed against his head <3

• Zack, slowly getting tutored by Angeal about the wonderful world of botany so he can impress Aerith. Angeal even finds little printable quizzes Zack can take to test his knowledge. Zack gets perfect scores every time <3

• Zack, slowly getting tutored by Sephiroth about the wonderful world of literature so he can have something to talk about with Genesis. The man hands him a copy of Genesis’s favorite novel, the likes of which he jokingly tells Zack to read. This eventually leads to Zack & Genesis starting a book club in SOLDIER together after Zack falls into an unironic reading spree. (Genesis is impressed by Zack’s vast knowledge and Zack is honored to have to finally have the respect of one his heroes <3)

• Zack, slowly getting tutored by Genesis about the wonderful world of pomology so he can finally understand Angeal’s stories. Genesis tells him all about the history of the Dumbapple—soon followed by Zack developing a newfound appreciation and fancy for Banora White juice. Angeal’s heart does a flip every time Zack asks for a glass <3

BONUS!~

• Zack, getting through to Sephiroth in the Nibelheim library because, instead of simply grasping Sephiroth’s hand as he turns to leave, Zack does a little something else: he squeezes it. One two three. It’s something they’ve been doing for over a year now, a sign of unconditional friendship and trust. A sign that breaks the fog of Jenova’s control as the three cryptic squeezes ring their true meaning in his mind.

I love you…

(Fic coming soon! :3c)

[edosianorchids901]

Thy Soft Response

While AO3 is down, I'll be sharing a short daily fic here in the interests of both keeping my mental health stable and providing stories to tide everyone over ❤️

T, 832 words

Sometimes, nightmares still fucked up Crowley’s sleep. Flashes of cruelty, of torture. Of humans doing terrible things to each other. Of humans, other demons, or angels doing horrible things to him.

This had been one of those nights. He’d barely managed any sleep, the terror invading every time he dropped off.

But when he startled awake again, drenched in sweat, it was to gentle murmuring. Words of love whispered into kisses against his brow, his temple, his cheek. Plump fingers skating across the bare skin of his arm, tracing little hearts.

Although the screams of the nightmares still clung to him, echoing in the past, Crowley smiled into the well-padded softness of Aziraphale’s chest. “Angel.”

“It’s me, my dear, right here. You’re perfectly safe.” The warm fingers slid down, brushing against the back of his hand in a familiar question. Crowley turned his hand over into the reassuring, calming hold. “Goodness, this has been a difficult night for you. More bad dreams?”

“Yeah, s’ not ideal. But you know me, love a good dose of adrenaline first thing in the morning.” Crowley managed to put a sardonic note in his voice. It kept out the quavering fear that still lurked nearby.

“I think there are better ways of cultivating adrenaline, dear boy.” Aziraphale tickled his side, very gently. Just enough to make him grin and wriggle in protest, not enough to make him panic. “We could indulge in some of those overdramatic car chases, if you like. Or something with spaceships.”

“Hn.” Normally, Crowley was always onboard with Bond, sci-fi, or any fun action film. But he still felt a little fragile right now. And after a decade of marriage to Aziraphale, it was getting easier to admit to his moments of vulnerability and let his angel take care of him.

Although he wasn’t sure what sounded better than a film. There were loads of options, tons of things that would probably make him feel calmer. The trouble was picking from those countless options.

But Aziraphale just held him as he thought about it, fingers twining with Crowley’s. Another sweet, tender kiss against his brow turned into a whispered, barely audible, “I love you.”

Smiling, Crowley snuggled closer. He tugged his hand free in favor of wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s softness and holding onto him. He was so warm, so real.

The strong arms gathered Crowley closer, and he shut his eyes with a long breath. Aziraphale was tracing hearts with one finger again, this time in the small of his back. It almost tickled, but not quite.

The best thing about thing, about these quiet moments, was that Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s love at full strength. He always felt it, a field of devotion and affection that blanketed the whole of the cottage and its grounds. But here, in the stillness with nothing to distract them, it was strong enough to chase away any troubles, any fears.

Even the nightmares seemed far away now, far in the past. Lingering fear evaporated in the face of Aziraphale’s steadfast love. There was nothing for Crowley to be scared of now, not when he was in his husband’s arms.

“Not sure what I wanna do,” he finally said as he tried to think through some options.

Could go out in the garden together, pick flowers for each other and laugh at the antics of their ducks and chickens. Or they could take the Bentley for a drive, maybe go to the beach and collect seashells. Or they could head out on the walking trails that adjoined the property, vanish into the gorgeous hills of the South Downs, and walk hand in hand all damn day.

Aziraphale hummed contentedly as Crowley snuggled closer. “Well, it is rather obvious to me what you’d like to do, if I may make a suggestion?”

“Mm,” Crowley agreed.

Aziraphale brushed light, careful kisses to his head, his neck. One hand slid up, curling protectively around the back of Crowley’s neck and holding him close. “I think you wish to stay right here for the time being. There’s no need for you to try sleeping again, with how badly that’s been going, but you are welcome to as many snuggles as you can bear.”

“Hhhngh. I can bear a lot of snuggles.” Cheeks warming with faint embarrassment, Crowley buried his face in the softness of Aziraphale’s neck. “I don’t really feel like talking. Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay, my dearest,” Aziraphale said with an earnestness that banished any lingering doubts or insecurities. “You must never feel as though you’re obligated to chatter away, or to do anything that you don’t want to do.”

Crowley didn’t feel obligated at all, and he demonstrated that by kissing Aziraphale’s shoulder in thanks rather than answering. He curled up in the reassuring embrace, closing his eyes. The screams of the nightmares still echoed, far off in the distance, but in time they would fade away and be replaced by peaceful quiet.

[arthropodwithapen]

Just wanted to say that I love all your stories, specially Spaghetti and Red Wine, that I already read twice.

Aaaad I have a prompt: Peter develops an alcohol (or other substance) problem after his aunt May dies. Tony, having taken him in, finds out and tries to help him.

Thank u ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you so much for your kind words and for the prompt! Sincerest apologies that it took sooo long to get to, I've been so uninspired this year! Hope it's okay! :))))

Here it is!

Word count - 1724 words

***

Drowning was backwards, Peter decided.

It was all backwards. 

Day in and day out, his lungs burned and he gasped for air. It was unbearable. But as soon as he was drowning, he drew air into his lungs. The burn was quenched with the burn at the back of his throat. 

It was only when he wasn’t drowning that he felt most like he was suffocating. 

Backwards. 

Peter liked drowning. 

Spider-Man drowned too but no one knew it. It came with perks - the mask, the reputation, the rapport with the locals that made lying to them all the more easy.

With his mask he was Spider-Man, not Spider-Sixteen-year-old-kid. ‘Man’ as in, over twenty-one.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out how this would benefit him and Peter used to consider himself a genius. He wasn’t so sure now that he’d been consumed by the tides. A genius wouldn’t let this happen. 

Sixteen was pretty young to start drinking. Sixteen was pretty young for a lot of things. 

Sixteen was pretty young to have lost two parents. Four parents was simply excessive but Peter always had been something of an over achiever. Now he was nothing. He felt nothing under the waves. 

He drowned on rooftops. He drowned on top of moving trains, staring up at the clouds swirling over head. He drowned at every chance he could get and when he wasn’t drowning he was thinking of it - thinking how badly he needed it because not drowning was worse. Always worse. 

He did it alone. He kept it hidden - safe. Sacred. His dirty little secret.

The only issue with that was he’d never been great at keeping secrets from those he held close to him. But the more he drowned, the further he drifted from them and the easier it was to push them away, squeezing empty bottles in the growing space between himself and everyone else like he was building a wall of glass to hide behind. 

Drowning his sorrows - and he had no shortage of those - was a solitary activity. He wanted it to stay that way. People always tried to make him talk and think and do all the things he never wanted to do again. 

He didn’t want to think about it. About her. About any of them. About any of his dead. 

Tony Stark was perhaps an unfortunate oversight that caused the whole operation to crumble. The man hadn’t factored into the equation for quite some time and Peter barely registered him as a character in his story anymore. He wasn’t an issue.

Tony had been thrown in the deep end and had had a moody, bereaved teenager dumped on his doorstep simply because Peter had thought of no one else to call on the fateful night when the waves descended over him, pushing him so deep he couldn’t escape the current if he tried. 

They both stopped pretending either of them had any idea how to navigate the waters together pretty soon after. They skirted around each other to avoid difficult conversations neither of them wanted to have. They hardly ever saw each other anymore, even though Peter was now living with him. 

Gone were the days of easy lab sessions after school spent joking and laughing. Peter didn’t laugh anymore and Tony didn’t know what to do with that. So he didn’t do anything.

Tony never questioned his whereabouts. He never got close enough to smell the liquor on his breath. He never pried long enough to realise what he was doing.

Peter never once blamed him for it. It only made it easier to drown in peace.

It was destined to fall apart at some point, though. 

Spider-Man had been detrimental to his survival and he continued to be, though he spent less and less time actually active in the suit fighting crime like he had been doing for almost two years prior.

But he still tried now and then. Only, web swinging wasn’t the smartest idea when he was drowning and couldn’t remember the last time he bothered with the frivolities of food. 

He didn’t remember trying to swing to the Tower. He didn’t remember not making it to his room. He didn’t remember Tony finding him or how he got him down to the MedBay. He’d never forget the look on his face when he woke up, though. 

*** 

Peter had spent no shortage of time in the MedBay. When he was more active in the suit, he’d been injured on the regular and May and Tony would panic and rush him to the MedBay for Cho to stitch him up. He wondered how she’d try stitch this one up. 

Tony was there beside him, his hand covering his mouth. He didn’t look angry, like Peter had expected, but he was disappointed. Wasn’t that supposed to be worse? Peter just didn’t care. He had been caught and he didn’t care. His eyes told him he knew everything there was to know about him. There was no use hiding now. 

“You care to explain why your blood alcohol levels were through the roof?” Tony asked when he noticed Peter’s eyes were open.

“Probably the tequila.” 

Tony swore under his breath. “I swear to god, Parker, you have some serious explaining to do.”

Peter shrugged. 

Tony stood. “You know, I really thought you were better than this.” 

Peter stared at him. It was backwards. He was breathing easily but it felt like inhaling fire. 

“I just.. what were you thinking?” Tony’s hard stare pierced holes in his chest.

Peter shrugged. “Wasn’t.”

“Clearly! Do you even understand how reckless you’ve been? How stupid..” Tony seethed for minutes, pacing around, waving his finger and ranting about how much Peter had screwed up.

It was like the ferry but worse. But he didn’t tear up like he had then. He didn’t beg for the man’s understanding like he had then. He didn’t tell him he was sorry or that he wanted to be like him like he had then. He didn’t want to be anything. So he didn’t say anything.

Eventually, Tony sighed and brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. 

“Everyone always said - May always said” - Peter winced - “how alike we are. How much like me you are. And that.. and that always used to make me so proud.” Tony laughed humourlessly. “I’d have never thought that this is what they meant.” 

Peter kept watching him, blinking up at him while Tony worked through his anger and disappointment. It was all he could do.

Tony sighed. “Okay.” He nodded, as if steeling himself to say something unpleasant. “Right. I guess.. I guess it’s time.”

He didn’t speak for a long moment, he just stared down at the floor, deep in thought. 

Peter shifted uncomfortably. “Time?” He asked, his voice hoarse. 

“Yes, Peter. This was only supposed to be a temporary thing anyway.. and well, we all know I’m not qualified..” Tony rambled. And continued to ramble, talking around what Peter already understood. 

Tony was getting rid of him. It was simple. The ship was sinking and Tony was abandoning it to the merciless waves. Peter could drown peacefully now on his own, not worrying about dragging Tony under too. It was better this way.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

Tony spread his arms. “Well? Were you even listening?” 

Peter shrugged. “S’okay.” 

“What?”

“It’s okay. Wherever I go. It’s okay.”

“Okay? Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

Peter stared at the wall behind Tony, speaking expressionlessly. “What would you like me to say instead?” 

“I don’t.. I don’t know!” Tony ran a hand through his hair. “This is all just..” Tony waved his arms, looking for the right word. He couldn’t. 

“Backwards,” Peter said. 

Tony looked at him. Peter met his gaze head on. The man was silent, pursing his lips. His eyes were glassy. Tony’s shoulders sagged, he sighed and then slowly sank back into the chair. 

“Yeah. That’s.. Yeah. Backwards.”

They didn’t speak for a long time. It could have been hours, days, years. Peter aged an eternity in that silence. 

“I just.. Why?” Tony sounded broken.

Peter kept his mouth closed, worried that if he opened it, he’d start screaming and wouldn’t be able to stop. 

“Why won’t you talk to me? You know me. You know who I used to be.”

There was pain in his eyes. Peter wondered if it was like looking into a mirror for him - seeing all of his bad choices manifest in the mentee that was supposed to be better than he was.

“Say something.”

Peter had nothing to say. He had a million things to say. He never wanted to speak again. He wanted to dive into the salty depths of despair, sink down and swallow until his lungs stopped burning. 

“Peter, if there’s anyone that understands what you’re going through, it’s me. And I’m the last person that’s going to judge. I just want you to tell me.”

His lungs were filling up with water. He didn’t remember how to breathe.

"Just say it.”

“I’m drowning.”

Tony sucked in a breath. Peter waited for him to do something, say something - help him. Tony smiled a sad smile, relieved at the admission. 

“Go on,” Tony encouraged gently. Peter’s throat burned. His eyes did too. 

“I’m drowning and the only time I don’t feel like I’m drowning is when I drown  myself. It’s backwards.”

Tony reached forward and took Peter’s hand, covering it with his own. He didn’t remember the last time he’d touched another person. He looked at their hands. 

Tony’s was warm, Peter’s was freezing. Gradually, the warmth seeped into his and the places were their skin was touching reached equilibrium. Balance. Understanding. 

“I get it, Peter,” Tony said, so incredibly earnest that the burning overwhelmed him and a single tear spilled down his cheek. “I see you. I understand. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get through this, okay?” He squeezed his hand. “Together.”

The urge to run and hide was there, to shy away into the dark depths of his mind and push everyone further back from himself. But Tony was a lifeboat. He had been drowning once too and maybe that meant he could be the one that helped him learn to swim. 

“Okay.” Relief. 

Backwards.

[doriana-gray-games]

Anniversary celebration and chapters 1 & 2 update  

Happy one-year game anniversary! ✨😱🥳

I know it’s not the 9th in most places in the world, but it is in some! And I’m impatient 😆✨ anyway—one year! Isn’t that amazing? Time flies when you’re having fun 😅 Thank you all for giving me such a warm welcome to all this 💖 without your support and kindness, this would have remained a small little writing exercise 😳 

As thanks for sticking by me and the game, I wanted to give all of you something. But as the new chapter 3 and 4 update isn’t done yet, I had to do the next best thing! I hope you like it—and that it tides you over till the big update coming later this summer! I’ve updated chapters 1 and 2 with a little over 6 thousand new words, which feature content such as:

Extended Lestrade sandwich scene

Ask Watson about Lestrade 

New price if you win the heads or tails game 😉

Steal Lestrade’s flask?

Multiple new choices and edits to make it easier to play a soft bickering Lestrade relationship 💖 (if you still want to be yelled at, make sure you make them mad before gloating rudely or obliviously) 

And more! 

I hope you like it and have a great weekend! ❤️ 

[joelscruff]

getting very sappy & very personal under the cut. ❤️

first off i really just want to say thank you so much to everyone who has read my fics and said such nice things. you really have no idea how much it means to me to see people genuinely enjoying my writing and wanting more.

the past few months have been really hard for me mentally. i dropped out of university a few months ago after feeling very aimless there for a long time, racking up debt, and just being severely depressed in general. i still feel all of those things now as i've been trying (and failing) to find stready work ever since; work that enables me to pay my rent and stay afloat financially, buy food, etc. it's been an ongoing struggle and it still is, but i'm really hoping that the tide will turn soon and i won't have to worry about where my next paycheck is coming from. i actually had another job interview today that i feel positive about, so fingers crossed 🤞🏻

but basically this is a long winded way of explaining why having this outlet means so much to me. i've written fic throughout my life since i was around 11 (nick jonas x reader fics in a notebook i hid on my shelf lmao) and every now and then i'll find media i like enough to want to write for again and come back to it. up until now i haven't written steady fic since probably 2014 or 2015. there have been a few times here and there where i've written a one-shot on a whim for something i'm currently enjoying, but nothing to the degree i've been writing now.

coming back to fic writing is something that has felt so familiar and yet so new. i never expected a response like the one i've gotten and i still can't believe that every day i wake up to new replies and reblogs and tags and messages all about my fic and my writing. it's so validating and so heartwarming and exactly what i've been needing for the past little while. having something to look forward to, something i genuinely enjoy without being a stressor or a worry, i can't tell you how much my life has been lacking this incredible feeling.

i just wanted to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart. i know my fics are silly and smutty but i try to give them some heart where i can, and seeing people find enjoyment in that is all i could ask for. so thank you.

so now when i say "you have no idea how much it means to me" maybe you do kinda know, in some way, if that makes sense.

ok sappy stuff over here's a sexy gif

[27dragons]

Since I'm trying to get back into the second draft of the Safe Harbor sequel, I'm going to take you at your word and ask about the Sandbridge series. Do you have a favourite moment from the series? And are there anything you can tell us about that happened but we didn't see onscreen? ❤️❤️❤️

First, let me say that I am utterly delighted that you're continuing the Safe Harber story; I loved it so much!

Favorite moment? Oh, holy heck, that's a difficult one. I'll just stream-of-consciousness a handful of them, shall I? :D

Tony and Bucky's dance and first kiss in Safe and (the) Sound, the one that gets interrupted by the fire. I'm a little weird about sex scenes; they're really intense for me the first time I write (or read) them but they lose most of their punch on subsequent re-reads. But that kiss never fails to make my heart beat a little faster.

In Lord of the Swings, Bucky standing in line for beer and dealing with a bunch of homophobic asshats. Tisfan wrote that scene pretty much in its entirety (I only edited it) and it is for me a perfect encapsulation of how queer people experience that sort of aggression.

In Howard's End, the moment where Tony thinks Howard is actually going to apologize, but then realizes that Howard still doesn't get it, and his line there: "You regret driving me away because of what I might have become. It still doesn't occur to you to regret hurting me because I was a child." This is the heartbreak at the core of Tony and Howard - that Howard can never really see Tony as anything but his heir, even when they're on good terms.

The bachelor parties in Zen and the Art of Family Maintenance. Because they're so delightful and absolutely perfect for them both.

The scene in From the Ukraine with Love where Steve gets a call from Bucky and has to go collect his sad drunk ass. That's the beating heart of their friendship, right there. Also, Natasha fretting over her sundress when Steve introduces her to Winifred is utterly adorable, because we don't get many chances to see Natasha as anything but supremely self-confident.

Tony dealing with Billie's tantrums in High Noon in Sandbridge, because so many kidfics have the new parents struggling comically or barely struggling at all, and Tony starts out as, frankly, a really TERRIBLE parent. He has NO idea what he's doing, and it shows very clearly in those scenes.

In That Someone Special, I have 2 moments: When Scott first shows up and Steve is chasing him to try to punch him and Tony steps between them until he finds out exactly who Scott is, and then steps back and says "oh, carry on" -- that was, to me, a perfect moment of almost gallows humor. And then the turnaround scene, when Tony, Steve, and Sam show up at Luis' apartment to help Scott after he's been beaten up. That scene is a special kind of funny and touching.

In My Three Dads, the scene where Billie is in the hospital with a broken leg. Loki being jealous over Tony's rapport with Billie and then proud that she picks him to stay with her for the x-rays; and Bucky stepping in to make Tony leave when he can't handle seeing Billie in pain. Family dynamics at their best. <3

And finally, in Stem the Tide, which is not technically a Sandbridge 'verse story at all, but a "What If" side novel, I really like the scene where Bucky stands up to Alex and tells him to fuck off.

Stuff that happens that you didn't see onscreen... I have a couple of chapters that we cut out of My Three Dads, including Tony meeting with Grant Ward that we rejected because it steered the plot wrong, and one with Tony and Bucky going to Ty's apartment to pick up his stuff, which we allude to and consider as having actually happened, but didn't include because it screwed up our pacing for the story. I actually sometimes forget that we never posted the scene at Ty's apartment, because I really liked it. I might someday clean it up and throw it into the Jetsam and Flotsam bits-and-pieces collection.

But if there's something specific you were wondering about in the background, feel free to shoot me a DM and ask; I'm always happy to talk about my Sandbridge boys. <3