#bone apple tea or something

[willsimpforazula]

Fight night part 3

Hello, itsa me again with another inconsistent posting schedule (mostly because i forget sometimes that tumblr exists or is a thing, but I digress.

Anyways, we here for the steambaby action (no, not that kind of action get your head out of the gutter please)

Picking up where we left off........ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Office

While the kids begrudgingly went to their rooms and packed, Sokka and Azula headed upstairs to their office to discuss their next moves out of earshot of their children. Leaning against the furniture, both of them contemplated in silence what their next moves would be. Glancing up at his wife, Sokka broke the silence by asking "Did…did we make the right call, sending them off to Aang and Kat?"

"Don't tell me you're taking the kids' side?"

"No, but it's easier to keep an eye on them here versus sending them away. I mean, what if Risa or Miska gets the bright idea to sneak back somehow? Spirits know they won't hesitate to pull off something like that."

"I-I guess." Azula conceded, her shoulders similarly slumped like Sokka's, the gravity of the whole situation feeling like a ton of rocks were saddled upon them, the unspoken question of where did it all go wrong hanging in the air as the sun steadily dipped below the horizon.

"So then what do you propose?" she asked.

"I think I can get Toph to dispatch some plainclothes cops to help out in setting up security and getting the kids to have a bug out bag on standby is not a bad idea. Beyond that, I suppose training the kids to…well, do what needs to be done."

"You and I know what it's like to have taken life in combat, I sincerely hope our kids don't have to know what it feels like. Because between you and me Sokka, I truly believe we've failed as parents if our kids have to resort to such measures to fix their mistakes."

"Then we'll make sure that they don't have to." Sokka replied, his normally calm blue eyes hardening into the colour of a roiling sea.

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Toph's house

"And you're one hundred percent about this?" Toph asked.

"Why would I lie about something that could potentially get Risa and her brother killed?" Suyin responded.

"Maybe you should have thought about that before dragging them into this mess."

"In my defense, she was the one who said yes without hesitation."

"Doesn't absolve you of your charges, of which there is more growing by the day from my officers, to say nothing about what your sister has you written up for."

"....."

"There's only so much I can do as chief of police. You get me intel, and I'll see to it that your records are sealed away and marked classified for the next 80 years. However….."

"What's the catch mom?"

"I'll have to send you away to live with your grandparents after this whole case is over and done with."

"H-how long would that be?"

"Until I say it's okay for you to come back."

"Which is?"

"That remains to be seen. Actions have consequences."she replied, walking over to the cabinet where a bottle of hard Earth Kingdom rice wine sat on the top shelf. She was definitely going to need the liquid courage to make some hard phone calls after this. Sensing her daughter was walking away, she called out "Suyin?"

"What?"

"I-I"

"Save the apologies. I know I'm not the perfect daughter like Linny is."

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Sokka and Azula's apartment

Having decided on a plan, each of them agreed that Sokka would deal with Risa while Azula would deal with Miska and talk them through what the next steps were going to be. As they stood outside their rooms, they gave each other a brief glance, before simultaneously knocking on their doors.

"Risa?" "Miska?"

"Can I-"

"-come in?"

Anxious seconds passed, before they each replied "yes."

Once in, both of them found the other seated on the floor, the order to pack their belongings for the stay with their relatives unheeded.

"Risa-"

"Miska-"

"I thought we told you to-"

"No. This was our mess to begin with and we'll stay here and clean it up. You taught us to take responsibility for our actions-"

"-so why are you telling us to shrug it off and throw it to you to clean up?"

Clearly, the twins had decided amongst themselves that they would not seek refuge, but face the threat head on. Sensing that they would get nowhere by arguing, both Azula and Sokka decided to bring them out to the living room and have the conversation both did not want to bring up.

"Risa, Miska," Sokka began once all of them were in the living room "before I begin, I just want you both to know that we really do love you, which is why your mother and I decided that sending you off to live with your aunt Katara and uncle Aang is because we don't want to see you hurt, not because we think that you are less capable than us."

Turning the floor over to his wife, Azula took a deep breath and continued "While the fact that you survived a no rules bending cage match repeatedly is a testament to how well I trained you, using it to take a life is a totally different scenario. Your father and I,we….we were children of our time, forged in war and as a result, we have…. blood on our hands. That stays with you and it's a very, very heavy burden to carry for the rest of your life." 

Placing a hand on each of her kids, she choked slightly "Me and your father don't ever, ever, ever want that for either of you. At all. Your father and I aren't going to stop you if you want to stay and fight, just…I don't want to see either of you regret your choices.", her golden eyes slightly glistening with tears.

Stepping forward to join his wife, Sokka put his arm around her waist and ruffled the hair of his twins without saying a word, having nothing that he could add to make his wife's point heard and that it was up to his kids now to make the choice for themselves. 

Seeing their mother come this close to tears, their resolve to stay and fight alongside their parents wavered and for a moment, they came close to acquising to their parents' wishes to be spirited away, safe from harm. Taking a deep breath, Miska gave his sister's hand a squeeze before replying "I-I understand, but I will not walk away from this fight. Mom, dad, you taught me a long time ago that actions have consequences and that we should be responsible for the actions that we take. If I run now, I….I think..I would disappoint you both even more that me and sis already have."

Now, blue and gold eyes turned on Risa, who slightly withered under her parents' gaze but swallowed a gulp and added "I believe Miska said what we both are thinking." 

"I guess there's nothing we can do to change your minds. I will make the call to Toph and get the necessary arrangements done. In the meantime, could you and your sister make something for us? It's been a long day."

As the kids rushed off to the kitchen, Sokka pulled her into himself, letting her release her tears on his shirt.

"Sokka," she mumbled into his chest, "I hope we made the right choice. For their sake."

"Spirits princess, for their sake I hope so too." he whispered back, stroking her hair

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

Later that evening

"Bout time you called Snoozles, was thinking you weren't gonna call at all." Toph replied when he called.

"Did Suyin tell you-"

"About a bunch of ashmakers plotting a life on your precious little prince and princess? I fucking called it that afternoon. I'll dispatch the plainclothes unit to beef up security first thing tomorrow."

"What about Suyin?"

"She'll be heading back to gather more intel."

"Okay hold up, aren't you worried about her safety?"

"That's for me to worry about. In the meantime, what are you and that purple platypus bear of yours going to do?"

"Just so you know Toph, I'm right here." Azula interjected.

"Good, at least I don't have to make a separate call to your office tomorrow. Anyways, we've spent enough jibber jabber here; what are you guys going to do?"

"We're staying put, if they come for us we'll handle it. That is, if they get past your boys."

"Works for me. You gonna send your kids to Twinkletoes' place till the heat dies down?"

"No, they're staying as well."

"Your kids got balls, I'll give 'em that. Question is though, what if they get hurt or-"

"That will not happen if we have something to say about it."

"Please, you and I have been through enough situations to know that isn't the case."

"I'd rather them stay here than risk them pulling off something irresponsible if we send them over to Aang's."

"Point noted. What are you going to do with Suyin?"

"Probably send her off to live with her gramps once this whole kerfuffle is over and the meatheads put behind bars."

"That's some grade A parenting."

"I don't tell you how to raise your kids. I'd appreciate it if you and sparky would do the same."

"Noted."

"Anything else?"

"Keep us informed if there's updates."

"Grade A parenting indeed." Azula muttered.

"One day that shit is going to come bite her back in the ass, I just know it."

"Look Sokka, she's got her reasons for doing so. At the end of the day, how she raises her kids is her business."

"Yeah, and look where that led? Our kids are now mixed up some underground fight scene because of her."

"Let's just focus on what we can do and control, okay?"

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

Two nights later,

Locker room

Warehouse 8

Taking a breather after two gruelling back to back matches, Somchai was getting tended to by his gang when the door burst open and a hand tossed a brown bag into the room before the door slammed. Divvying out of the cash, they pocketed the cash while Somchai counted out his cut before putting some away, as he planned to make another trip to the information broker to gather more intel on his target.

Seeing him count out and divide his winnings into neat stacks, one of them asked "What's that money for?"

"You'll see." was his reply.

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

Dining table

"Dad?" Miska asked.

"Yes?"

"Do we really have to go to school?"

"Neither me nor your mother put our education on pause even though there was a war going on in full swing, so there is no excuse. Especially given your mother and I tried to kill each other. On multiple occasions."

"Are you sure both of you didn't sneak off and make out like jackalopes instead?" Risa smirked.

"I would rather you pay more attention to what your textbooks have written down versus unsubstantiated rumours and hearsay." Azula replied, though the slight blush in her cheeks only served to confirm her daughter's allegations.

"But mom, you and dad are practically Oma and Shu but actually with a happy ending! Though I do wonder, which one between you was the initiator" she asked, placing her chin on her hands and glancing between her father and mother.

"It's too early in the morning for something like this, sis." Miska pleaded weakly, his face turning a shade of green.

"Pfft, do you know how many times I came back home only to hear you and Kaie sucking each other's face? Did you ever think about what kind of physical, emotional and spiritual trauma you and Kaie put me through? Me, your poor sister having to endure sappy face sucking noises from her innocent younger brother?" she shot back, the memory of her walking in on her brother's makeout session one autumn afternoon making her stomach churn slightly, though outwardly she maintained a posture of poise.

"We-I-You weren't supposed to be back! And-and-and it was only that one time!" he blustered.

"Sure it was." she retorted, enjoying the spectacle of watching her brother implode in slow motion while digging his own grave in front of their parents.

"Miska, why were we not informed about this….relationship of yours?" Azula asked.

"Be-because we uh…uh..weren't ready yet?"

"And when do you both think you will be ready?" Sokka asked.

"Well….we're were um, hoping to well…get around to it sometime during the full moon festival?" he replied hesitantly.

"See to it that you do." Azula ordered. " As for you young lady, don't think we've forgotten about you."

"Me?" Risa answered innocently.

"Yes you Risa, don't give us that look of innocence here. If your brother here managed to keep his dalliance under our noses for this long, I shudder to think what you have been doing behind our backs as well." Azula sternly replied, her mind already thinking of a suitable moment to have a one on one talk with her daughter. 

Before Miska could reply with incriminating evidence of his sister's follies, Sokka looked up at the clock and noted "Wow look at the time, hurry up or you'll both be late for school." 

"But dad!" both of them uttered.

Fixing them both with his displeased glare, Sokka put his foot down and replied "Both of you told me that you'd take responsibility for your actions. This is part of it. Now go and get ready, no more ifs, ands or buts. If I and your mother were able to finish our education in the midst of the war, when we were actively trying to kill each other no less, there is no excuse for either of you to miss school. Do I make myself clear?"

Seeing that their father was in no mood to negotiate and with their mother firmly in their father's camp, the twins reluctantly scarfed down their food and rushed to get ready for school. After they left the apartment, Sokka turned to Azula "Come to think of it, how did we find the time?"

"I don't know Sokka. I really don't know."

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

Back room

Po Chi Lam Apothecary

"You should really learn to let it slide." the old man spoke as he leaned back against his chair and took a few puffs from his pipe.

"I didn't ask for your opinion, old man." Somchai retorted.

"Tsk, firebenders and their tempers." he shook his head, pouring himself a glass of herbal tea before reaching for a file in his cabinet. Placing it on the table, he swiped the beads on his abacus, sipping intermittently while Somchai devoured the contents. When he had what he needed, he closed the file and placed it on the table.

"How did you-"

"I do not ask from whence you earn your living nor how you spend it. I suggest you do the same regarding my sources." Putting down the abacus, he picked up a brush, dipped it in the inkwell and filled out a chit, which he handed over. 

"That's a lot more than what we agreed upon."

"Accurate and reliable information always has a steep price tag. Whatever it is that you seek to do, I hope, for your sake, is worth the cost."

Stuffing the chit in his pocket, he stood up and made to leave the room. When he was at the threshold, he turned around and replied "What something is worth is up to the individual to determine, not some outsider."

"Suit yourself."

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

Classroom 5-Szeto

Republic City Academy of Science and Arts

"Look, I think she's going to be more worried about why you weren't at school yesterday than…whatever it is you had planned until your winnings got confiscated. Also, why weren't you here yesterday?" Hyun-woo asked.

"Yeah, why weren't you here yesterday?" Berkut added on

"No comment." Miska replied, his mind running at a thousand miles a minute. 

"Can't say or won't say?"

"Can't talk about it."

"Sounds like you got yourself in some serious trouble."

"Well I would be if you guys wouldn't stop speculating, so stop speculating and help me figure out how to break it to her!"

"Break what, exactly?" A familiar feminine voice interjected. 

"Shit."

Immediately, Berkut and Hyun-woo exited stage left, leaving him alone with Kaie. 

"That's not exactly the greeting I was expecting to get, but I'll let it slide for now. Anyways, what is it that you were planning to tell me? Nothing too groundbreaking, I hope."

Deciding that it was probably a better idea to come clean instead of beat around the bush and earn himself a verbal ass beating, Miska explained that while he still intended to do something nice for their two year anniversary, the initial plan of a fancy night out would have to significantly be scaled back due a sudden lack of funds to support said night out due to his his mother confiscating his funds and the current threat of disgruntled street fighters gunning to place his head on a pike and do unspeakable things to his twin sister.

"....so uh, yeah, that's why I wasn't here yesterday." he finished, swallowing a nervous gulp as she processed the information, her brows furrowed in thought.

"Kaie?"

"I need a moment to process. We'll talk during recess, okay?"

"You're not-"

"Not unless you give me a reason to. Which you haven't, if that's what you're thinking."

-------

-------

Classroom 5-Yangchen

While Miska was getting grilled by his friends, over in Risa's classroom she was getting a similar grilling from her friends, who by now were starting to ask a lot more uncomfortable questions such as her recent injuries and the fact that she was slowly starting to look like a panda, of which their concerns were noted.

"Risa?"

"Yes Maki?"

"Somehow I get the feeling that there's a lot more that you're not telling us, girl."

"A girl's gotta have secrets y'know."

"Look, when you've been showing up for the past month and a half off and on with these bruises we can't help but be concerned for you. Is your brother-"

"C'mon Anju, do you really think Miska can take me on one on one?"

"Miska? Nah. But still, is everything okay with you?"

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

"Seriously?" Ji-Min asked, her face a mix of scepticism and incredulousness.

"Okay maybe not the last part, but seriously I can't talk about it. Not unless each of you promise to keep it to yourselves and only to yourselves. Especially you, Ty Lin." 

"Hey!" she protested.

"In any case, are you joining us later after school?"

"About that…I uh, got grounded." Risa replied, the last part said in a small voice.

"You what?!" Ty Lin yelped, slamming her hands on the table and sticking her face into Risa's personal space, making her scoot back and almost tip over her chair, drawing the attention of everyone in the class.

"Personal space Ty!" she whispered loudly.

"Heh, sorry." 

"You must have seriously fucked up for your parents to ground you." Jin Woo commented.

"You don't say."

"So…you won't be joining us later?" Ty Lin asked.

"What do you think?"

"How long will you be-"

"I don't know. Could be a week, could be a month, could be forever really." she shrugged. 

"That's rough girl."

#part 3 of...whatever this turned out into #might post the full shebang on ao3 & FFN at somepoint #OCs #steambabies #sokka x azula #i mean they kinda background here but without them then there would be no twins #OC x OC (Miska x Kaie) #bone apple tea or something #sokkla #just something to get back in the habit of typing out long ass fics and shit #glib feedbacks meny tanks #AU #avatar

[appalachianapologies]

[random drabble to get you through the day]

“I was able to hack her stuff pretty easily.”

“That didn’t take long.” 

Riley sends Mac a look. “I’m sorry, have we met? Riley Davis, hacker extraordinaire.”

Rolling his eyes, Mac replies, “You know what I mean. What’d you find?”

“The usual. For a double or triple or quadruple—or whatever type of agent she is—Nikki doesn’t encrypt her files as much as she should. I’ve already sent the juicy stuff to Patty.”

“Nice.” Giving a nod, Mac pulls a spare wheeled chair toward Riley’s desk and sits down. “What’re you doing now, then?”

“Oh, just having some fun.”

“Should I ask?”

“Probably not, but I’ll tell you anyway.”

With a poorly contained smile, Mac says, “Go for it.”

“After getting the goods out of her laptop, I hacked into her phone. Weakest wifi password in the history of ever, by the way.”

“Noted.”

“And she’s been listening to Spotify for the past three or so hours, so if I were to guess, she’s probably doing some other task while listening to music in the background.”

Mac gives another nod, still not exactly sure where this is going.

“So, like I said, I decided to have a little fun, and I wrote up some quick code this morning before you and Jack got here.”

“Code for what?”

“Basically,” Riley starts, “I made it so randomly in the middle of her songs, Spotify will pause itself.”

“Is that… it?”

“Yep.”

“Riley, what the fuck?”

Turning her head away from the monitor, she looks at Mac. “What, I can’t have some fun? When I wasn’t doing hacktivist stuff, this is basically all I’d do.”

A stuttered laugh escapes Mac before he can stop it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this side of you.”

“She’s been dormant for a while,” Riley confirms, “but I think it’s time I bring that part of me back.”

#i have no idea where this came from btw. it just kinda. happened. #i should absolutely 100% be working on homework but have this instead. and NOW i'll go work on homework #in which vi actually writes #macgyver #macgyver 2016 #angus macgyver #riley davis #drabbles #spy siblings #if anyone tags this with a ship i'm gonna fucking come for you and i don't mean that in a joking manner #anyway. bone apple tea #i just needed to write something before homework mode because i've been lowkey highkey anxious this morning for literally zero reason #and i think it's getting better. still frustrating though. literally no reason for this #me @ my brain: you are in a libRARY NOT A WARZONE CALM TF DOWN #anyway. spy siblings content my beloved <3 #i have many MANY riley thoughts about her not feeling like herself after prison because you know. prison. #and her slowly gaining confidence and being more like the person before prison (not that she can ever be that same person again because tha #t's not how people work and the inherent changing of a person throughout their lifetime is beautiful but you know what i mean #right? #also unrelated but why the FUCK is there a creepy pirate #i hate it

[ob4yme]

it was only them. wasn't that what he kept saying? gallifrey burned, reduced to atoms and ash under the doctor's practiced hands. it was unfathomable, and it made perfect sense. the master wished more than anything that he could have been there to see it but he would be dead if he'd tried, so they played it out here; a personal simulacrum with the earth for its stage. [ it wasn't the most idyllic of reunions, but then, theirs never were. it was the moments like these that always seemed to bring out facets of their relationship that had lain dormant for centuries. the battles, the threats, the impending doom, it all had a way of making the doctor explosive, and that thrilled. ]

" you’re a fucking nightmare, " said @timedten. " kiss me. "

if he strained, it almost sounded fond. lounging atop glossy boardroom table, he idly passed a two-pound coin back and forth between his hands, watching the doctor in a version of the same stand-off they'd had a hundred times or more. he could shoot, now, if he wanted to, but that would be unbearably boring. this dance of theirs, it almost never involved such outright desire. they worked in moves and countermoves - a curated sense of flirtation and antagonism. [ it boiled over on occasion, one way or the other, and often to their detriment; what they didn't do was give voice to it, not like this, not so sincerely. ] the master's eyes widened for a moment of stunned silence, and he leaned forward into the doctor's space - coin held between two fingers, a wretched smile flickering at his lips.

" why, doctor, " he leered, " that's very forward of you. aren't you going to buy me dinner first? "

his free hand shot out to take hold of the doctor's tie, tugging him even slightly closer. " oh, i'm flattered - really, i am, but we have other things to be getting on with, don't we? the end of the world waits for no man ... much as i'm sure you would like to distract me. " he dropped his gaze, coquettish; just the briefest glance given to the doctor's lips, as if to say that this was indeed a method that might work, if given the proper attention. hope was good; hope was fun. all the better to snuff it out later. [ not that he expected this delightful line of thinking to go anywhere else. oh, no: it would be all moralising and appeals to his humanity from the doctor now, and what a dreadful shame that was. ]

#* ic answered. #* verse: hail to the king. #* closed. #timedten #i feel like i remember u saying something ab timelords having adhd in essence and i COULD NOT AGREE MORE #anyway idk why this got so long but yknow what bone apple tea #first day of work survival present or whatev

[m00nchildthings]

ALUCARD X PREGNANT!READER

This story was based off of this one right here: https://www.tumblr.com/m00nchildthings/703854020457021440/mating-press-and-breeding-kink-with-alucard

if anything this can be read as a sequel where he managed to get you knocked up cw for pregnant reader, oral sex one sparing use of the reader being called mama, and alucard being a hovering creep towards you for carrying his child also slight pregnancy kink if you squint not even read over once bone apple teeth🧑‍🍳😙🤌

p.s. @yazzzmints @ch3rryistheg you asked and i delivered

“You’re hovering Adrian”.

“I do not hover,”

You sighed, closing the large ornate tome you had been reading and setting it on the small wooden table beside your chair. He was hovering and whether he was oblivious to it or simply choosing to be obtuse, he was doing it a hell of a lot more recently. You knew why though, you thought as you brought your hand over your swollen stomach. Seven months into your pregnancy and through every step Alucard had treated you and your unborn child like fine china perpetually teetering over a precocious edge.

“You are aware we won’t turn to ash the moment we leave your vision,” you said cheekily staring up at your dhampir lover. His eyes narrowed before he swept past you, moving to sit in the armchair beside your own. He sat there, for a moment beautiful like marble with his eyes closed, before turning to face you.

“I am very well aware of that,” he said, placing his chin in his hand as he peered at you. You hummed, turning away from him, instead choosing to focus on the crackling fireplace in front of you, pretending the warm embers floating around the wood were far more interesting than the golden haired man sitting next to you.

“Then I hope that you are also aware,” you began pausing to take a sip of the tea still hot on your side table “that fathers who hover around the pregnant wives are bound to produce children that do not enjoy their company,”

“That isn’t true,” you could see his brows furrow from your peripheral view, hiding your chuckle behind another sip of tea, you continued.

“It very well might be an old wives tale, but I have heard of children coming out fussy towards their fathers fresh out of the womb-,” you were cut off with a loud swoosh as Alucard gracefully stepped towards you settling down at his knees, hands placed on your stomach.

“You won’t dislike me right?” he directed at your stomach, brow even more wrinkled with worry “Surely they understand I am just so, eager, to meet them right darling?,”

He stared up at you now, golden eyes tense with worry, your lip wobbled as you held back your smile. Here before you on his knees was Alucard Tepes; one of the slayers of Dracula, the feared prince of the night that cut down his enemies like knives through butter- reduced to a simpering thing at the fear your child might come straight from you hating him. You relented not having the heart to tease him any longer you cradled his jaw in your hand.

“I was just teasing my love, surely our child will love you just as much as I,” immediately he relaxed, melting into the palm of your hand. His golden eyes cut up at you a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“You are cruel to do such a thing to your doting lover,” his alabaster hand gripped your wrist as he turned to lay a kiss in the fleshy part of your palm. “I treat you so sweetly and you insist on giving me heart palpitations.

“Consider it payback for what your hellspawn is doing to my body, I can barely make it from here to the door without my swollen ankles and aching spine objecting,” you said, bringing your hand away from him to stretch the intense cracking of your back emphasizing your point.

Alucard stood, staring down at you, he adored your changing body evidence of the growth of his child in you. You’d always been beautiful in his eyes, but something about knowing the swell of your stomach was from your baby growing inside of you, surely you were a goddess gifting him with the gifts of gifts. Bending down he looped his arms around your waist ignoring your grumbles of objection when he picked you up hoisting you into his arms until your knees hung over his elbows.

“Then allow me to be your legs,” you huffed rolling your eyes as Alucard toted you out of your rather comfortable reading room, you knew where he was taking you of course. The looming large ornate doors of your bedroom came into view as Alucard steadily carried you to them.

“Our bedroom,” you said flatly “I wonder what reason you could have for bringing me here Adrian,”

“I have no idea what you are implying deer,” he said, turning to press his back to the door, opening it with your combined weights. Barely holding back his impish grin (a look a great number of others refused to believe existed when you said he did so on the regular) he rushed you to your bed gently placing you on the downy mattress.

“Your feet must be killing you,” he said, gracefully moving to sit beside you and patting his lap. Begrudgingly you laid back against the comforter swinging your aching feet to his lap. He gently massaged your foot pressing his fingers into the soles of your feet soothing the pain that afflicted you. His talented hands seemed to pull all the aches from them knowing how to just work your body from months of repeated practice. A particularly forceful push into your left heel and you couldn’t hold back the moan that bubbled from your throat. Alucard smiled at you gently placing your feet on the bed beside him.

“See? So sweetly,” he said, placing his now free hand on your stomach.

“My body still aches,” you grumbled, still feeling the tension in your back

“I can help with that,”

“Your version of help is what got me into this predicament,” chuckling Alucard slowly spread your legs apart hiking your dress to just under your belly. There laid out before him nestled in a thatch of curls your cunt shined for him, already glistening with arousal. His slender fingers traced up the warm slit of your puffy lips noticing the audible hitch in your breaths

“If you don’t like my version of help then where are your undergarments,” he questioned, knuckles grazing up and down your quivering pussy

“They no longer -mmph- fit,” you moa, turning around to bury your head into the pillow.

“How lucky for me,” he murmured, just barely above a whisper as he sank down till his face was level with your heat “that my favorite snack is but a silk slip away from tongue,”

With one scathing breath his mouth was on you, pink lips pressing toward your own. His tongue wickedly lapped at you running wet circles around your throbbing clit before slipping its way into your clenching cunt. He couldn’t help the vibrating moans, near purrs that reverberated into you, as your juices flooded his taste buds. He couldn't help the way he ate at you ravaging your quim with every fiery stroke through your quivering lips. Your hands tugged at his golden locks pulling him closer and closer to your weeping cunt. How foolish, he thought as he drank up all you had to offer, why pull him close when you both know the last thought on his mind was pulling away?

Your orgasm crested, creeping up on you with each lascivious lick that toyed with your throbbing clit. It was with one particularly harsh suck that had you falling apart, melting apart like butter on warm toast your cunt creamed over your lover's tongue. Undeterred Alucard continued to viciously feast on your juices, moaning as they glossed his face. Clawed hands though gentle, held your hips in place as they began to buck so he could wrap his lips around your clit sucking on the shiny pearl undisturbed.

“A-Adrian please, s’too much I need-,” interrupting you Alucard sighed loudly, releasing your clit with an audible pop.

“You never let me have my fill,” he complained peering up at you over your swollen belly “but I know what you need,”

Rising Alucard reached for his trousers tugging the strings till his cock, heavy with a bead of precum pooling at the tip, fell free. Smiling and flashing those fangs of his wide he pulled your legs to wrap around his waist. Grabbing at his cock he lined the drooling pink head with your equally wet cunt, rubbing it between your lips and nudging at your clit. Gently he pushed inside of you, hissing as your heat slowly enveloped him till the hilt. The two of you rested there for a moment panting as your limbs tangled about each other. You whined under him, arms reaching towards him, hands making grabby motions for him. Alucard reached underneath you pulling you towards him. You both sat there, connected at your most intimate of places, your sweaty forehead resting on his cool one.

“Adrian,”

“Yes my love?”

“Fuck me.”

“Yes my love”

With a low chuffing noise, Alucard thrust up into you once, twice, three times, every one seeming to be deeper than the last. Your mouth hung agape as your lover continuously fucked up into you carving the shape of him deep into your cunt. Moans barely escaped you as every thrust seemed to steal your breath, your eyes stared into the golden ones of your lover unable to look away. Before you could process Alucard's hand gripped your ass holding you towards him as he stood on the bed, steadying his feet in the cushion and using his grip to lift you fast up and down his cock.

“Do you feel me sweet, deep, in here,” he rasped as he bounced you on his cock balls slapping on your ass. His hot breath fanned your face as he used your own weight to fuck you, one particular hard thrust had your eyes rolling back into your skull, and with a rush words escaped you.

“Fuck Adein yes! Fuck me please, I- oh god don’t stop!” you screamed nails clawing into the rolling muscles of his back.

“That’s it mama,” he hissed somehow managing to grip you closer, shifting to the balls of his feet he began to roll his hips up into you to match every bounce of your ass against his thighs “Take it, cum for me, let me feel your silk grip me,”

You don’t know whether it was his words that got you there so quickly or the orgasm he gave you prior, but with a barely audible cry you came walls gripping him tightly as you gushed around him. Alucard grit his teeth at the grip your cunt had him in, thrusting a few times before spilling inside you with a strangled cry. Alucard fell to his knees holding you close as you both bounced on the mattress. He pulled you off him holding back chuckles when you grumbled from the over sensitivity. Gently he laid you down before getting off the bed and leaving towards your bedroom bath chamber. He returned with a warm bowl of water and two warm cotton cloths.

Sitting beside you Alucard dipped the washcloth into the water wringing it before bringing it to your heaving body. Carefully he cleaned you off, wiping the spunk he left at your center. You groaned, pushing at his hands, still feeling far too sensitive. With a chuckle he dropped the now sullied rag once you were clean of him, reaching to prepare the second one he had brought and pressed the soothing cotton to your sweaty brow. Your eyes closed as you let your dhampir lover continue with his aftercare.

“Am I forgiven yet, for breeding you with my -what did you call our child- hellspawn?” he asked golden eyes trained onto your face. With a sigh you looked up at him already having forgotten the remark you had made earlier. A sly smirk tugged at your tired face.

“For the time being leonito,”

#ughhh i am so rusty writing smut #but alucards return had me feeling sentimental #alucard tepes x reader #alucard x reader #alucard smut #alucard tepes #adrian tepes x reader #adrian x reader #adrian tepes #castlevania smut

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

Can you write hcs for Luke and a daughter of Hypnos (😴)

PLEASE

🥰

(If possible?)

⋆⭒˚.⋆ luke castellan x daughter of hypno! reader hcs

content: luke castellan x daughter of hypno! reader hcs warning: so soft you'll puke tho tbh minor mentions of luke's angst author's note: why do i love this more than life itself???? i dunno, you tell me. i kinda wish it was longer but yo girl outta ideas. also, i think im so fucking funny for that last line like hello guys where is my oscar for funniest teen girl to exist????

lukey pookie and his sleepy girl frrrrr

you guys were, like, aware of each other but not like friends, ya know???

until his quest - well, failed quest

he kept having nightmares, horrors of the shame on his father's face, visions of his mother hearing the news had he actually died, terrible dreams of demented dragons and enough golden apples to drown in

chris noticed and suggest luke go see you, hypno's best daughter

chris knew you following a head injury that had him scared he was going to fall into a coma, but the apollo cabin had called you over to sooth his nerves.

you were also often called in when new, younger campers were struggling to sleep, which made the a common but distant face in the hermes cabin

and chris just knew you could do wonders for luke's recent sleep problems

after a little bit of resistance, luke finally went to you

he'd had the worst nightmare yet, leaving him with huge bags under his eyes and a tension in his shoulders that he couldn't seem to loose

he figured it quite literally couldn't get any worse, so he knocked on the door of cabin fifteen, already feeling slightly more at peace from just standing outside it

then a pretty girl opened the door, a cute yawn hidden behind her hand

"h-hey! luke, right? what can i do for ya?" you muttered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before beaming a soft smile at the boy

luke choked on nothing, attempting to get words out but his tongue kept getting in the way and all that came out was chortled noises

you giggled softly, unable to keep them in despite the boys growing blush

"i-i- chris, he said- er, something about you being able to help me sleep with you- sorry! no, sleep, just, you know, in general," luke finally managed to spit out, his brain working overtime and the words coming out all wrong

you giggled at the boy once more before leaning forwards and grasping his wrist, tugging him into your cabin

you gestured towards one of the free, fluffy beds, disappearing off to somewhere, though you kept talking to the boy

"chris is really worried about you, ya know. i almost had to visit you, which we don't do very often. here, you want some tea?? lavender or chamomile? i prefer the chamomile but i think you'd like the lavender," you rambled, sitting beside him in the bed criss cross and presenting him with a mug and holding up two separate tea bags

"chamomile's fine," luke replied, taking the teabag from you, not wanting to mention that it reminded him of his mom but it reminded him of his mom

"chamomile's great!" you joked, bumping your shoulder with his

a few minutes passed of just luke drinking the tea and yawning before you mentioned that he should lie down, removing the mug from his hands

he was resistant, admittedly, not wanting to risk seeing more horrible things in his head

but you took his hand into yours, gently running your fingers along the veins and bones that you could just feel through his skin

"you think i'm just here for shits and giggles?? nah, i'm here to fistfight the boogie man. and lemme tell ya, these fists are lethal," you joke, winking at the boy, who laughed, settling into the soft pillows and blanket

but most importantly, he was settling into your presence, the hold you had on his hand, the soothing that your voice did to his brain and heart

and luke fell asleep, peacefully drifting off to the sounds of your hums and the feeling of your soft fingers ghosting over his skin

for the first time in a long while, luke castellan slept like a baby, warm and coddled and trusting that nothing bad could happen to him

not with the defender of REM cycle there

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan

[homerforsure]

Saw the episode. Ascended to a higher plane. Wrote a small Coda that is as messy as my brain is right now. Bone Apple Tea.

"Heyyyyyy Buck!" Eddie answers the phone with a drawn out salutation that proves Tommy was not lying about him being sent away from the hospital with the good drugs. Or, not lying about the prescription, but about Eddie actually taking them. It wasn't so long ago that Eddie would take enough medicine to avoid being in agony, but never quite enough to actually feel relief. He wouldn't do that for Tommy, however close they are. It's something that Eddie's doing for himself. Buck's stomach was a swarm of butterflies three seconds ago, but that and the floaty happy way Eddie still says his name, has him smiling again in his kitchen.

"Hey Eddie. I, um, I'm sorry to call so late. I just wanted to see how- how you were doing."

"Eh, I'll miss a shift or two. But Doc says I'll be ready to go for playoffs," Eddie answers.

Guilt twists through him, harsh and acidic and Buck says, "Well I'm glad to hear that. They say the team doesn't have a chance without you and your, um, sky dunk." Eddie laughs, giggles really, in reply and Buck says, "I'm sorry, Eddie. I don't know why I did that. I mean- I- I know why. I was jealous of you and- and Tommy-" Buck's heart flips as he says his name and he's afraid the kiss is going to come flying out of his mouth and down the phone line- "But I never wanted you to get hurt like that."

"You wanted me to get hurt different?" Eddie asks, still laughing, but Buck feels stricken.

"No! I- maybe. I don't know what I wanted. I lost my mind for a little bit."

"You were jealous," Eddie repeats.

"Yeah, I was."

A long sigh and Eddie says, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I was the asshole. I could have- I knocked you out of your shoe."

"Do you have my shoe?" Eddie asks, more focused than he has been the rest of the conversation. Buck can hear him sitting up on the couch.

"Uh, no. No, I gave it to Chim. He's gonna give it to you when he sees you. And probably make about 50 Cinderella jokes."

"Right. He texted me. I remember."

"I'm sure he'll bring it by sooner if you need it. Or he could give it to Tommy." The flush is there again, hot down the back of his neck. Buck doesn't know how he's supposed to do this. Where is he supposed to keep all of this heat and possibility while he waits for Saturday.

"You don't like him."

"Who? Chim? He's growing on me."

"Tommy," Eddie answers in a tone that says duh. "You can't even say his name normal."

Of course Eddie can hear that. Of course he assumes that's the problem after the way Buck has acted since the moment they met the man. He thanks god that he decided to call instead of driving across town and checking on Eddie in person. His cheeks and his ears are burning like fire.

"He can tell, you know. We both can. He said he's going to come talk to you. Gave him your address. Wants to apologize." Eddie must have settled back down on the couch. He sounds sleepier, his sentences getting shorter and more breathy.

"He did. He um. He came by. We talked it out. I told him you guys didn't have anything to apologize for. I was the one who made it weird."

"So weird," Eddie agrees and Buck laughs. "You guys should be friends. He's awesome and you're awesome and we can all hang out together and it would be..."

"Awesome," Buck finishes. He thinks it might be.

"I forgot you don't know that."

"Know what?" Buck asks, when Eddie's mumble doesn't come with any additional clarification. "Eddie?"

"Hmm?"

"Never mind. Hey, you should get up and go to your bed. Sleeping on that couch is not going to help your ankle heal any faster."

"Tommy said that."

"Tommy's right. Come on."

Eddie groans as he sits up, cursing at Buck in what he thinks is under his breath, and asks, "You talked to Tommy?"

"Yeah, he just left."

"And we're okay? You like him now?"

Buck's blood roars through his ears and he wants to throw up and start laughing all at the same time. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Good."

He breathes through the sudden headrush as Eddie grumbles and hops his way off the couch and down the hall. Buck knows where he's finding his handholds by the echo off the walls and he winces when Eddie takes a misstep and swears again. He thinks for a second that he should be there, that he should help Eddie to bed, but Eddie would never let him. Buck wonders if Tommy would let him. He's wondering about so much now and he never did before.

"Hey, Eds?" The question is out before Buck realizes he's asking it, small and vulnerable, and he wants to claw it back and swallow it down before Eddie notices, but he doesn't have a chance.

"Yeah?"

Tommy kissed me. I want him to do it again.

"No, nothing. Just. I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"You were," Eddie answers. "And I forgive you."

Something settles in Buck then. A piece that had still been sitting off kilter and jamming painfully under his ribs. He takes a deep breath, and joy washes fully over him, calming and centering. He doesn't ask the question again though. He thinks he wants to keep this tiny, glowing treasure to himself. At least for a little while.

"Bring me my shoe back and we'll call it even."

Buck laughs, letting the sound ring out through his apartment and he can hear Eddie smiling on the other end of the phone.

#idk what this is #my brain exited my body several hours ago #it's not the fic i said i was writing in my head that's for sure #7.04 #buck bothered and bewildered #episode coda #911 fic #evan buck buckley #911 spoilers #allison writes

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i can’t close my eyes alone ; satoru gojo

synopsis; arguing with satoru is always exhausting. bitter and spiteful, you leave him in the bedroom and go find another place to sleep; your couch would be the obvious choice, but where’s the fun in that?

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (he calls you ’stubborn girl’ n ’pretty girl’ but other than that it’s gn!!), toru and reader have a fight, reader sleeps in the bathtub (don’t ask it came to me in a vision), hurt/comfort, he's doing his best :<, fluff!!

a/n; smth abt …. arguing w satoru gojo ……. idk why the concept has possessed me in the way that it has i just think hurt/comfort w toru is <33

okay, so maybe this wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had.

in your defense, you weren’t exactly thinking straight; fueled by spite, eager to get far away, and admittedly a little curious as to how it would feel, the decision was made almost purely on impulse. and stupidity, probably.

it’s not comfortable at all.

maybe it could be. maybe if you had just a couple more pillows, a fluffier blanket with a cozier texture. maybe if you had something soft to put beneath you, another blanket or a comforter or — whatever. maybe if you had a warm cup of tea to drink. maybe if you had something warm to hug to sleep. 

or someone.

(aw, what’s wrong? can’t sleep without me after all, huh?)

— nope. you are not going back there. 

just the thought of how smug he’d get makes you bite the inside of your cheek, increasing your already growing frustrations. in desperate search of a more comfortable position, you nuzzle further into the pillow, but nothing works.

your limbs feel stiff, and your bones can’t seem to relax, a discomforting numbness seeping into your spine. and it’s cold. the feeling of porcelain against your skin keeps you tossing and turning, akin to an icy winter breeze, caressing the apple of your cheek. 

still, there’s simply no other option. under absolutely no circumstances can you turn back now. not when you’ve come this far, when you can almost begin to sense an inkling of sleep’s familiar call, the drowsy flutter of your eyelashes.

it takes time, and perseverance — but eventually, the road to sleep does seem to brighten on the horizon. crawling closer and closer, lulling you into its embrace, while all you can do is lie there. completely at its mercy, exhaustion ghosting your subconscious, eyelids ripe with fatigue. 

slowly but surely, your consciousness begins to fade. tenderly, soothingly, like a curtain over your eyes being slowly unveiled. you can almost taste it, on the tip of your tongue; sleep is only a moment away.

soon, you’ll fall into that cozy abyss. and then you’ll open your eyes, and the morning sun will greet you. it’ll be a new day, a better day.

so you keep your eyes closed, and sink a little further into the plush of your pillow, and —

the light flickers on.

in the state you’re in, tiptoeing on the edge between dreams and reality, so tantalizingly close to falling asleep, the brightness is positively grating. even through your shut eyes, it invades your senses — a glow so irritating it’s startling. the bathroom lights mock you with their shine, illuminating your figure, curled up in the tiny bathtub. 

the whine you let out is involuntary, coaxed out from deep within your throat, as the uncomfortable sensation rouses you from your would-be slumber.

satoru raises an unimpressed eyebrow, where he stands by the door.

chest bare, wearing only a flimsy pair of sleeping shorts, he looks at you with tired eyes. exasperation painted onto his dishevelled features. then he clicks his tongue, voice raspy and rich with fatigue.

”you’re ridiculous.”

the judgemental tilt of his voice only makes the annoyance in your veins bubble up once more, just when it was finally about to dwindle. eyes squeezed shut to escape the burn of the artificial light, you let out a sharp wince, burrowing your face deeper into the pillow. 

”turn it off!”

ignoring your angry plea, satoru makes his way over to you. with long, slow strides, vaguely uncoordinated steps. just a little clumsy. he plops down on the edge of the bathtub, and gazes down at you.

you’re lying on your side, arms wrapped around a fluffy cushion, knees against your chest. under the illumination of the bathroom lights, he can see you clearly; messy hair that he yearns to ruffle, a crease between your brows that he yearns to smooth away.

you look awfully uncomfortable, to no one’s surprise. he isn’t sure what else you were expecting. 

despite the sting of the bright lights, you force your eyes open — only to give satoru a halfhearted glare, an attempt at appearing intimidating. though you somehow doubt it’ll work.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, satoru tilts his head. soft locks of white hair follow the movement, falling over his eyes, a little more tousled than usual. like he’s been tossing and turning, sprawled out on the bedroom mattress.

and, just like you suspected, the dirty look you send his way doesn’t seem to scare him off. not even in the slightest. if anything, you think you catch a flicker of lazy amusement dancing through his eyes. and it irks you, it does — an itch beneath your skin, a taste of irritation on your tongue.

because satoru is looking at you like you’re somehow in the wrong, here, like you’re the one acting out. as if he isn’t the reason you’re here in the first place.

at this point, you barely even remember what the fight was about. too sleep-deprived to recall it properly, too stressed to make a genuine attempt. all you remember is getting ready for bed, and the familiar sensation of frustration prickling your skin. you remember his pretty little grin, his teasing remarks and refusal to take you seriously.

remember the way he laughed, when you told him what was bothering you; the crinkle of his eyes, the warmth of his hands reaching over to squish your cheeks. a little patronizing.

(there was no malicious intent behind it, that much you know. he probably just wanted to lighten the mood. but it irked you, all the same. hurt you, maybe. just a little bit.)

then you remember storming out. grabbing a blanket and pillow and telling him to sleep on his own, if that’s how he was going to be. the words felt cold as they left your mouth, little breathy icicles. and then you left.

which is why you’re here, right now. curled up in your goddamn bathtub, for some reason that still escapes you, trying desperately to get even a wink of sleep without your boyfriend there to help.

and that’s also why satoru is here, back a tad slouched as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, looking at you like you’re some misbehaving cat. blinking slowly, drowsily, dragged down by the fatigue clinging to his eyelashes. 

(he can’t sleep, either.)

”you’re really gonna sleep in there?” he sighs, after a moment’s pause. any honest concern in his voice is almost entirely overshadowed by the sense of admonition that follows it.

a scoff falls from your lips, sharp like a razorblade. ”yes,” you deadpan, shifting to lie on your stomach, hiding away from his insistent view. ”i was sleeping just fine before you barged in here.”

satoru shoots you a look, thoroughly unimpressed, entirely unconvinced of your blatant lie. ”you’re being dumb,” he huffs. ”at least sleep on the couch.”

”i don’t wanna hear that from you,” comes a hiss, low and disgruntled. a growing irritation. ”and i’m comfortable where i am.”

another dissatisfied huff. why are you being so irrational? he just doesn’t get it. scrambling for excuses, satoru tries his hand at another tactic. 

”you’ll hurt your back.”

another little scoff. oh, so now he suddenly cares? you can’t believe him. 

”so what?”

a moment passes. satoru bites his lip, teeth sinking softly into the flesh; a little pang of ache, but it’s nothing compared to the twist of discomfort in his chest. you’re making this more difficult than it has to be, he thinks. always so stubborn. 

what is he supposed to say? how is he supposed to convince you to come back to bed, when you’re already so set on denying him?

god, he’s tired. he just wants to sleep, close his jaded eyes. just wants to not have to think, for a couple hours, curled up with the only person who makes him feel safe. just wants to dream in soft shapes.

but if you aren’t there, then…

a deep sigh. weary, annoyed. ”c’mon,” he coaxes, blinking sluggishly. ”you know you won’t be able to fall asleep without me. can’t we just make up already?”

your nails dig into the fabric of your blanket. every word he says only seems to deepen the sense of irritation plaguing your sleep-deprived mind.

it makes you want to shut him out, bury your head in the soft sheets and forget about everything else. he keeps acting like you’re just overreacting, like you wanted to have an argument. like he wasn’t the one who made you upset and then laughed at you about it. 

”i don’t need you to fall asleep,” you grumble, muffled by the pillow in your grasp, arms tightening around it. nuzzling deeper into the soft velvet comfort.

satoru’s fingers twitch, as if urging him to pull you close. he almost glares at the cushion in your arms, that you’re hugging so fondly, putting all your body weight on — snuggling into it in search of comfort and warmth.

(that should be his chest.)

the gears in his head turn, slowly and mechanically, as he brings a hand up to card through his hair.

satoru hates seeing you so upset, so far away from him. having to watch you close yourself off, not allowing him to be near, soothe you and take care of you. kiss all your worries away. that’s all he wants to do, everything he needs to keep himself whole, to keep himself from being devoured by an exhaustion he’s lived with for as long as he can remember.

a strong frustration gnaws at his conscience. a certain desperation.

a big, heavy sigh leaves his lips. it bounces off the walls of the bathroom, the white tiles and shiny mirror, as he drags it out. almost childishly. then he’s angling his body to face you properly, big hands resting on his knees, a determined gaze set on your figure.

”look, i’m sorry,” he starts, rigid and earnest. blinking once, twice, chasing away the drowsy weight of his eyelids. ”i shouldn’t have laughed.”

your ears perk up.

shifting to your side as if hoping to hear him better, you peek up at him through half-lidded eyes. almost in disbelief, a kind of hope sprouting in the corners of your dilated pupils.

is he genuinely going to apologize, you wonder? admit that he was in the wrong? does he actually feel bad?

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, until satoru’s voice spills into the air again.

”there. i apologized,” he exhales, a little gruff. annoyed. ”now will you please just come to bed?”

…

wow. 

okay, nevermind. you hope the ceiling fan falls on him.

beneath your skin, a mellow kind of anger bubbles up, blood slowly coming to a boiling point. he’s not sorry at all. of course he isn’t. you were stupid to think he’d actually give you a sincere apology, stupid to think he’d do the one thing that would actually make you want to fall back into his comforting embrace. stupid, stupid. 

clenching your teeth, nails digging into the velvet fabric of the pillow, your eyelids flutter shut once more. only this time, you don’t plan on opening them again — at least not until morning comes. not until you see the sunkissed tiles of the bathroom, until the ache inside your chest has passed.

”satoru,” you enunciate, frigid and final. ”just let me sleep. we can talk tomorrow.” a beat. the tiniest grumble resounds from your lips, tinged with exhaustion. ”i’m too tired for this.”

under his breath, satoru winces. that palpable fatigue in your words sends a tremor running through his chest, discomforting, a shiver of his heart. you won’t look at him anymore, and the hint of finality in your tone makes him feel slightly dejected.

god, he’s awful at this. sincerity has never been his strong suit. he’s gotten better, lately, but it’s still so very foreign.

he didn’t mean to make you angry, didn’t mean to upset you. didn’t mean for the lilt of his voice to make his apology sound insincere. but that’s still what happened.

and satoru isn’t quite sure what to do. 

he’s tired. eyes heavy with lost sleep, glimpses of would-be nightmares he knows he’d have were he to fall asleep right now. an anxious lump has long since formed in the back of his throat, and he misses you. misses your presence, your warmth. misses the feeling of having you close, the knowledge that you haven’t left yet.

(without you, he can’t —)

a sigh. soft, and resigned, flowing from his lips.

the inner turmoil in satoru’s mind begins to fade, slowly but surely, smoothed away by the sight of you. bundled up in a blanket too small to cover you properly, lying in that cold and cramped bathtub, discomfort evident in your features. sadness dripping from the bitter words you grace him with.

so out of reach, too far for him to follow, a boundary he wants to cross more than anything. but something about that meek expression makes him falter, makes his heart twist and turn inside his ribcage.

(he knows that you’re tired, too.)

so satoru swallows his pride.

the words are spoken in a whisper, hushed, through a voice so low you wouldn’t hear it if the silence of the bathroom wasn’t so suffocating. a soft lilt of his voice, bare and raw. meek, in a way that makes him want to crawl under a rock and die. but it’s there, and he lets you hear it; that soft little truth.

”… i can’t sleep without you.”

satoru doesn’t look at you. his confession rings in your ears, laced together with a softness you’ve come to associate with warm spring mornings and rooms so dark you can’t see his face. moments in which satoru feels safe. safe enough to be sincere.

— inevitably, your heart begins to soften.

(he’s trying. it’s difficult for him, but he’s really trying. sincerity and honesty are things that have been used against him all his life, so it’s no wonder he’d be scared.)

it’s very hard to stay mad at him, when he sounds like that. when his words come out sounding a little too much like a plea, a silent call for help. 

with hesitance, you allow your eyes to flutter open, shifting a little to get a better look at him. he’s there, staring into space — the man you’ve grown to love so dearly. his tousled white hair, those slightly forlorn eyes. the vague darkness beneath them, slightly puffy skin. that tired, tired expression. 

satoru taps the edge of the tub with the pads of his fingers, absentmindedly. index finger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over.

then, at last, he meets your gaze. and you think he swallows down a gulp, before smiling — it’s a pretty smile, somewhat tiny. a little sheepish, but awfully sincere. awfully satoru.

he tilts his head, gazing into your eyes with a tenderness that melts your heart to the marrow.

”… please?”

a second passes. then two. 

soft and melodic, your heartbeat resounds in your ears, akin to a lullaby. like the call of a siren, coaxing you into giving in. and you’re weak, you realize, so very weak. just a smile and a tilt of his head, and you’re rendered utterly helpless. 

(he’s just too pretty.)

without fully realizing it yourself, you’ve begun to move, dragging yourself up with sluggish motions. blanket still draped over your shoulders, and pillow snug against your chest, you blink. drowsily, slowly. a little meekly. 

and satoru brightens.

it’s visible, in the way he physically perks up, back straightening, smile finally reaching his aquamarine eyes. a blend between hope and affection sprouts in them, slathered over with something honeyed.

a soft grin blooms on his lips, and he opens his arms wide — silently beckoning you to fall into his embrace. a raspy coo tiptoes on his tongue. 

”c’mere.”

before you can make a move to do so, satoru leans over. scooping you up with ease, as if you weigh absolutely nothing, tucking you into his warm embrace. smothering you in his cushiony chest.

almost instinctively, your arms go to wrap around his neck, cheek smushed against the warm skin of his shoulder. if you strain your ears, you think you can hear the soft patter of his heartbeat. he smells of the tiramisu you ate before going to bed, and just a hint of expensive cologne. he smells of comfort.

satoru is soft, and warm, and everything you need right now. lulling you back into that cozy, sleepy state. your very own personal dose of melanin.

with a big palm on the small of your back, satoru keeps you pressed up against his chest, as if you could change your mind and try to escape at any moment. he stands up, still holding you, and hikes your legs around his waist. breathing out a satisfied hum, before turning on his heel.

satoru smiles, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. ”let’s get you back to bed, baby.”

after turning the bathroom lights off, he begins to walk to your shared bedroom, still carrying you with one arm. always so strong and reliable. you know for a fact that he’s not going to drop you, so you opt to close your tired eyes; stretching out your limbs, lazily, releasing a quiet yawn that makes his lips curl up.

despite your lingering frustration, you find yourself nuzzling into the crook of his neck — and satoru coos, so painfully soft that you barely even hear it. the restlessness inside his own chest washed away, by the familairity of your body against his.

and before you know it, he’s dropped you down on the mattress. gently, but still enough to make you feel a little jostled, so close to falling asleep in his arms. he drags the blanket up to cover you, tucking you in; this one is bigger, with a fluffier texture, enough to cover you both with ease.

smiling softly at the sight of you all cozy, content in the knowledge that you’re finally comfortable, satoru crawls beneath the blanket and takes his rightful place beside you. eyes crinkled at the corners, rich with affection.

two strong arms reach around your waist, to pull you flush against him, until your head meets his chest and you can hear the soft thrumming of his heartstrings. then he sighs, in pure bliss, thoroughly content. melting into your embrace, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head, nuzzling into the warmth that seeps from your body to his.

he runs his big hands down your back, affectionately, rubbing circles into your skin. coaxing you into melting a little, too.

”see, isn’t this much better?” he smiles, a little cheeky. such a tease.

”… the bathtub was fine.”

a chuckle rumbles through his chest, rich with fondness. his hand goes to card through your hair, nimble fingers smoothing down your scalp and running through the soft strands. every touch gentle, full of care. every word soaked in a syrupy sweetness.

”stubborn girl.”

despite your best wishes, you’re too tired to bite back the blissful sigh that leaves your lips. a part of you still wants to protest, to push him away —

but then you start leaning into his touch. helpless to his warm hands, his soothing voice. satoru is just a little too good at making you melt. so good that you finally begin to let your guard down, nuzzling into his bare skin, sinking a little further into the mattress. 

and satoru stifles a coo. 

”honestly,” he sighs, equal parts exasperated and amused. ”sleeping in the bathtub… you’re so silly.”

before you have a chance to respond, he’s pulling back — ever so slightly, just to get a better look at your face. arms looped around his neck, you blink up at him with droopy eyes, and he can’t resist the dopey grin that sneaks its way onto his lips. doesn’t even begin to try, when you look so unbearably sweet.

unable to stop himself, he broaches the distance between you, leaning close to kiss the top of your nose. and you squeeze your eyes shut at the gesture, face scrunching up, but it only makes him chuckle. smiling, honey-sweet, he admires your sleepy pout. soaks up every soft little grumble that slips from your lips.

his hand comes to cradle your cheek, thumb smoothing down your cheekbone. just gazing at you, taking you in, every single contour of your face. there is only adoration in his eyes. something silently delighted, that seeps into his words, his raspy voice.

”my pretty, pretty girl.”

a heat rushes to your cheeks. looking up at him, into those lovesick eyes, you can’t help but grow flustered.

he looks so content.

all you manage is a weak furrow of your brows, pressing a palm against his bare skin. softly, as if pushing him away, forehead meeting his chest with a soft bonk. hiding away, so he won’t see how much his words affect you.

”lemme sleep, toru…” you mumble, stifling a yawn.

unfortunately, your boyfriend is not one to give in so easily. before long, his fingertips are trailing across the skin of your jaw, coaxing you into lifting your chin. and you’re too sleepy to resist — practically melting, as he begins to smear openmouthed kisses all over your face. all you can do is close your eyes, attempting to ignore the sound of his exaggerated mwahs, frowning in a silent disapproval that you know you don’t actually mean.

satoru notices it, though. he always does.

”you still mad at me, baby?” he asks, in a way that sounds a little like he’s cooing at you. there’s a teasing tilt to his voice, but it’s also a genuine question. your frown deepens.

averting your gaze with a soft huff, even as he cradles your jaw with his slender fingers, a pout plays at your lips. under his kind eyes, you feel just a bit meek — recalling your argument from before. absentmindedly, you fidget with the waistband of his shorts, hoping to ease your nerves.

despite your valiant efforts to direct your vocal cords in a different direction, the voice that spills from your lips comes out sounding just a tad hurt.

”… you never take me seriously.”

satoru’s eyes soften.

his smile falters, by a hair, a brief stilling of movement. subtle, but hard not to pick up on. there’s a certain sense of shame in his irises, a genuine guilt stirring his heartstrings; several discomforting sensations, gnawing at the bones of his ribcage.

(you look so small.)

two hands reach out to cup your cheeks, big and warm. swallowing up your whole face. and before you can react, satoru leans in to press a sweet, chaste kiss against your lips. he tastes like tiramisu. 

”’m sorry. we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?” he hums, and you can tell that he means it. ”i promise that i’ll take you seriously. for real, this time.”

as you look into those eyes of his, blue and soft around the edges, the last of your frustration is finally washed away. with a meek downward glance, and a faint nod, satoru relaxes — releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. relieved at your silent forgiveness.

tomorrow, he’ll definitely make it up to you. he’ll hear you out, without opening his big mouth, or trying to skirt around any emotions that make him feel even slightly uncomfortable. smoothing a big palm down your back, he hopes you feel it as a silent apology. 

for now, he’ll just hold you. he’ll hold you, and kiss all your worries away, and keep you comfy and warm. that’s his duty. the only one he’d willingly choose, the only weight on his shoulders that never feels even a little bit suffocating. the only one he wouldn’t cast away, if given the chance.

nuzzling back into the safety of his collarbone, your heartbeat settles into a drowsy rhythm, slow and serene. satoru squeezes you in a tight hug, reassuring. comforting.

he can be a handful, and a little insensitive, but you love him a lot. you can’t imagine not loving him. 

”… goodnight, toru,” you whisper. ready to give into sleep’s call, at last.

satoru smiles. you can hear it in his voice, sweet and silky, a soft curl of his lips. ”goodnight, honey,” he presses a kiss against your shoulder. warm, his breath on your skin. ”i love you.”

a yawn escapes your throat. ”love you too…” you mumble, sleepily. that one soft truth, before your consciousness fades.

and satoru’s smile only grows. hopelessly, inevitably, in the same way his hands can’t help but to bring you closer. until your heart is flush against his own, and he swears he can feel your heartbeats synchronize.

finally, with those three little words, satoru should be able to go to sleep. drifting off, he can only hope you’ll still be in his arms by the time he awakens.

(then again; you always are, aren’t you?)

#im not arguing w satoru gojo lol . whatever u say princess ! <3 #this is an old piece that i polished a lil (lot) phshdh so the writing might not b anything special but !! i kinda like this toru . #just sleep-deprived n grumpy <33 #gojo has this duality where he can be silly n goofy but then also serious when he needs to be… n kinda gruff…. #but then he also has this. Sincere Tenderness to him. that i think would bleed through w someone he loves #hhhhh i love this man w all my heart T_T #usually i make all my fics gn but. smth abt satoru gojo …. callling u his pretty girl………… yeah. sorry. for being this way #me personally i would fold immediately but i respect reader for trying #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 5 all chapters

-You take him home, and you can't help but stare in awe as you go through the gate. The Wick residence is quite the cabin-style manse, a behemoth in dark painted wood and stone and massive mirrored windows.

“Do you...want to come in?” he offers as you park in the circle drive. “Dog would love to see you.” 

You look at him, not sure if that is code for he would like you to spend more time with him. It’s so hard to read this man. It doesn't seem like he's hitting on you though. Just…being nice? You know he must be lonely, and you truly have nothing better to do. 

“Ok. I can stay for a little while.”

The mudroom leads into the kitchen, which is dark cabinets and black marble countertops. Dog trots up to you immediately upon entrance, snoofing your outreached hands and leaning heavily on your legs. “Hi sweetie,” you say, scratching his side.

“How about a snack?” John offers, opening the refrigerator. “I’m always hungry after a hike.”

“Okay.” 

“Want some coffee? Tea?”

“I can make it, if you show me where your stuff is.”

“No, it’s your day off. Let me take care of you. You always take care of me.”

You're a little dumbfounded, standing in this man’s kitchen who by his own admission, you barely know. Never once have you been invited by any of the wealthy visitors from the coffee shop into their homes. Why would you be?

You aware again of how he towers over you. It makes your very bones weak, when he looks down at you with those shining dark eyes. He does not look away from you, holding your gaze. You don't know why, but you feel a little like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web. 

“Have a seat,” he directs, nodding towards a leather-upholstered stool at the island.

 “Ok...”

You are not used to being taken care of. You’ve been on your own for so long.

You feel a little out of place, and cautiously slide up onto the stool, looking around. It’s an open plan, you can see into the recessed living room with its cavernous ceiling. The house is painted in dark shades, masculine, but very stylish. It's classy but comfortable, with large windows to let in the light and the natural beauty from outside.

Then you watch with more than a little fascination as John sets up a kettle and a French press, then starts putting together a little charcuterie spread on a wooden board. His hands are poetry in motion, and like when he’d helped you with your burn, you cannot look away. He slices artisan sausage and cheese, expensive locally crafted treats from the grocer you can never afford on your ramen budget. They look delicious.  

You feel like quite the honored guest. The kitchen fills with the heavenly scent of coffee as he pours the hot water into the carafe, and you relax slightly.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me, Mr. Wick,” you say as the selection on the charcuterie board expands to sliced apple and herby crackers, still a bit mortified.

 “Call me John,” he insists, looking at you through his hair. Your heart does an extra hard tha-thump in your chest. “And it’s my pleasure, really.”

With sundries in tow you go to the living room, where there are soft leather couches and a rustic walnut wood coffee table. He turns on the gas fireplace, lending the room a warm glow. You notice there are bookshelves flanking the fireplace that rise almost to the ceiling, completely full. This place is incredibly cozy, and as you settle into the cushion you regret already that you’ll have to leave.

Dog clambers up on the couch with you, practically climbing into your lap. You laugh, hugging the affectionate canine as he licks your face, but John gives him a funny look. 

“Is he not allowed on the couch?” you ask, feeling sheepish. 

“Not usually, but I'll let it slide.” He says it with a slight smile, looking at the animal bemusedly. “It's not often we have company.” 

Dog offers a canine smile, undoubtedly well aware that he is getting away with something this special day.

You take a sip of your coffee, and sigh. This is the good stuff. “God. You make better coffee than I do. Why do you even bother to come into the shop when you could just stay here all day?” You could just sit and read in this room for hours, you reckon. Look out the window. Watch the fire, and forget the outside world even exists.

“The shop has its perks,” he says quietly, looking at you out the corner of his eye. As usual, you're not sure if he's talking in double speak. In the end you decide it’s all in your head, and you relax a little more.

After snacking on tasty tidbits and sipping a bit more brew, you look around more. A wrought iron staircase leads up to a landing. You can tell the house sprawls a long way further back than just what you can see. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “Do you really live here all alone?”

You’ve never noticed a wedding ring, but then, he’s missingthe appropriate finger.

“Yes.” He looks off into the fire. “I was married once, but she passed away.”

Shit. You and your big fucking mouth.

“Oh. I'm so sorry.”

“Thanks. It seems like it was a lifetime ago now.” He frowns, clearly still deeply pained about it, and you feel so terrible for bringing it up. But sometimes once the scab is open, it's best to remember something good.

“What was her name?”

“Helen.”

“How pretty.”

“Yes. She was...a lovely woman.”

“What was she like?”

He smiles then. It's slight, and completely to himself. But you feel some validation in your train of inquiry. “She was smart, and funny, and she lit up any room she walked into.”

His total opposite, it sounded like. There’s a reason opposites attract, to make a whole. 

He sighs, a forlorn sound that squeezes your heart. “And, I loved her with all my heart.” 

“What a lucky woman,” you say before you can stop yourself. 

You absolutely feel the weight of the sidelong look he pays you this time.

“We had some luck, before she was diagnosed. But when you love someone like that...eternity wouldn't be long enough.”

You're not sure why there are tears in your eyes for someone you never met. 

“I wouldn't know,” you admit. 

No one has ever loved you so much. 

“You're young yet. You will, someday.” You can still feel him looking at you, out the corner of your eye. His gaze has such weight to it, a heady, heavy thing that is like a hand on your skin. 

“I’m not sure I want to,” you admit frankly. “It sounds…terrifying.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But when it hits you...you don't really get a choice.” 

Before you can think of an answer to that, somewhere in the house a phone rings. With a little frown John gets up to answer it. “Make yourself at home,” he tells you. It sounds a bit like an order.  

You take an impossibly soft blanket and drape it over you and dog, snuggling up in the cozy warmth. You don’t really mean to fall asleep, but you close your eyes, and you ae done for.

You dream that someone is gently touching your face, tracing the curve of your cheek ever so lightly.

You only wake up when there's a small noise, and you find John cleaning up what's left of the charcuterie board. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, glaring down at the cheese knife that dared roll off onto the table. 

That he would apologize to you, when you're the one who fell asleep in his house, is pretty absurd.

You sit up a little. The weight of dog has made one of your legs go numb. 

“I'm sorry,” you counter. You are mortified as you wonder if you were snoring. Waking up early for your shift at the coffee house tires you out so badly. It can be hard to have a real life, when you wake up at four in the morning. “I didn't mean to doze. It's so warm and comfortable here.”

He frowns again, but you don’t realize it’s because he’s wondering if you are warm and comfortable in your own tiny apartment. He holds up a hand when he sees you struggling to get free of the blanket. 

“It's alright. Stay as long as you like.” 

He takes what little is left of the sundries back into the kitchen. 

You manage to get up, and stretch, reawakening your limbs. You join him in the kitchen. The sun is hanging low in the sky. It will be dark soon. You have sooo overstayed your welcome, or so you think.

“You might as well stay for dinner now,” John says. As usual, you can't really tell if he's joking. 

He’s not, in fact, but he is being careful about how he handles this delicate thing between you. Seeing you snoozing contentedly on his couch with his dog moved him to his toes, and the notion of keeping you there with him is becoming harder and harder to resist.

It would be so easy, he thinks, just to keep you.

Fat snowflakes have started to fall outside. 

“I think I've imposed on you enough for one day. Thank you, this was nice.” 

He looks out at the snow, which is falling even more heavily now. 

“Sure you want to go out in this?” 

“Right now? Yes. In two hours, probably not.” 

He nods at that, seeming to think on something. “Will you...text me that you've gotten home safe?”

You are finding out that this outwardly stone-faced man has a protective steak that is totally endearing. You never would have guessed from his prickly exterior. 

“Sure. What's your number?”

He tells you, and you punch it into your phone. “Alright. See you later, Mr. Wick.” 

He doesn't correct you, and is it just you, or do his pupils dilate when you call him that? 

Hard to tell, with eyes so dark as his.

There is a pregnant moment between you, in which you wonder if you should offer him a hug, or if that would totally ruin the balance of your companionship. You briefly wonder what he would do if you stood on tiptoe, steadied yourself with a hand on that muscular chest, and kissed him on the cheek, before you decide you need to go.

Later you text him a funny string of emojis involving a house, snowflakes, the wide-eyed smiley, and a penguin, imagining how they would make him scrunch up his brow. 

Does this mean you're home safe? 

Yes, Mr. Wick.

Glad to hear it. Good night, y/n.

#john wick #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine #i just feel like dark academia cabin in the woods would be johns jam 😂

[moonbeamwritings]

It’s rare for Jotaro to take a day off. The man works himself to the bone, be it for the Speedwagon Foundation or for the university he does research for, he’s always on the move, always doing something. So you’re surprised when, once you will yourself out of bed hours after Jotaro should have already been at work, you walk into the living room to find him on the couch, still in his pajamas.

“Honey?”

“Morning.”

You round the couch to stand next to him, and your mouth morphs into a frown. The tip of his nose is red, his are lips dry, and the space beneath his eyes is purple with a lack of sleep. He even has his glasses perched on his nose, a rare sight when he’s at home. Pushing the dark waves from his forehead, you find it’s hot to the touch and the skin there is damp with sweat. “Baby,” you coo, “why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“’s not a big deal.” With his stuffed nose, it sounds like he’s balancing marbles in his mouth, cute, rounded sounds softening his usually harsh tone. 

“Not a big deal? Jotaro, you never miss work.”

He sniffles. “’m fine.”

You ignore him, moving into the kitchen to get the kettle going and to pull a mug from the cabinet. Jotaro follows close behind, lingering in the doorway like a shadow, watching your every move. When you turn, you finally get a good look at him. Jotaro never got sick, and he never stayed in comfy clothes for too long, always getting up early to get ready and only changing into pajamas right before bed; so seeing him now just makes you want to swaddle him. His sweatpants are slung low and lazy on his hips like he’d pulled them on in a rush. A well-worn gray hoodie disguises his giant form, muscles hidden beneath the oversized fabric. And as you drag your eyes down, you notice the sleeves have crept down and over his hands. Cute.

You click your tongue when your gaze meets his, and with diligent hands you pull his hood up and tug a bit on the drawstrings, watching as it just barely squishes his face. You pinch the warm apple of his cheek for good measure. “Go rest. I’ll make you some tea, okay?”

Jotaro takes a long, lingering look at you before he finally sighs, eyes rolling. “But, I don’t need-”

I don’t need your help. I don’t need all this fuss. You don’t even allow him to finish the thought before you’re gripping his shoulders and spinning him around, pushing him out of the kitchen. “Go.”

If he really wanted to, Jotaro could easily fight back, could throw his weight or his height around to stand firm and watch you prep his tea. Instead, he shuffles over to the couch and sprawls out, legs spreading to take up the entire length of it. You prop him up with some pillows for good measure before leaving him with the TV on.

The kettle whistles before you know it, and with a little glob of honey, you’re dropping the warm mug in his open palm. He blinks up at you languidly, fighting off sleep right before your eyes. “Thank you.”

“Need anything else?”

Jotaro hesitates for a moment, taking a sip of tea. His cheeks turn pink, but you don’t think it’s from the illness. “Will you sit with me?”

You take in the scene — Jotaro’s giant legs taking up the whole couch, mug in hand. And, as if sensing your hesitation, he widens his legs a bit and pats the space between them. It’s astounding, really, how someone like him can even fit on the couch in the first place. Shrugging, and risking getting sick to satisfy the one time Jotaro asks you for something, you crawl between his legs and cuddle up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and squishing your cheek against his chest. The hand not holding the mug comes to rest on the back of your head, keeping you close.

“I’m making your mom’s soup for lunch, and don’t you even think about stopping me.” You nuzzle a little closer, offering his midsection a gentle squeeze.

“Mhm,” you watch his mug come into view as he places it on the table, Jotaro’s other hand moving to rest on your back. “’kay.”

The sounds of shitty daytime TV are punctuated by quiet sniffles and mumbled conversations as you and Jotaro rest on the couch, wasting the morning away together. It doesn’t take long for your weight on his chest to lull Jotaro to sleep, body going slack and heartbeat evening out beneath you. And although Jotaro isn’t feeling well, you can’t help the warmth that spreads through your chest at the idea of being able to take care of him for once. He deserves it, you think as soft snores rumble through his chest. He deserves to be babied.

#jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro imagine #jotaro kujo imagine #jjba x reader #jjba imagine #my jotaro with glasses agenda continues #the way i want to baby this man

[oksurethisismyname]

In continuance of my “zoro learns French” drabble:

Sanji has been busy ever since breakfast. Normally he has time to prep a lot more for lunch but today? It’s like everyone is asking him for something. Chopper had gum stuck in his fur (turns out it was a spit ball from luffy) , Franky asked for help tailoring a pair of pants (finally!), Nami kept asking him questions about different dessert possibilities from tangerines, Robin was wondering about the origin of every variety of tea he has on board, and he just hadn’t had time to get back into the galley.

Finally, it’s an hour till lunch and he tactfully exits the conversation with Robin. As he walks up to the galley door he hears someone messing around in HIS galley. He kicks in the door, ready to find Luffy with his head stuck in the fridge but is stopped dead in his tracks. There, in his kitchen, is Zoro.

Zoro in his apron.

Zoro in his apron that says “kiss the cook”

Zoro in his apron that says “kiss the cook,” flour on his face, scrubbing some dishes that weren’t dirty when Sanji left this kitchen this morning, and a sheepish look on his face that doesn’t look quite natural on him. Almost cute? No. Yes? A little.

“Mosshead, you have 5 seconds to explain what you’re doing to my kitchen before I kick you into the ocean. The only reason you’re still standing there is because it looks like you’re cleaning up whatever mess you made.”

Zoro sets a newly clean skillet on the drying rack, suddenly getting a look of determination, “I made you a croak miser.”

“What the fuck is a croak miser?”

Zoro huffs like he’s both exasperated by his own actions and Sanjis lack of understanding. Rather than clarifying what a “croak miser” is, Zoro walks to the oven and pulls out a little plate. He’s blocking Sanjis view but whatever he just pulled out must have been in the oven just to stay warm because the oven isn’t even on.

Without showing what’s in his hand, Zoro gruffly asks “sit?”

This is getting weird. Sanji, shocked into obedience, sits at the table waiting to see where this is going.

In Zoros hands is a plate with a passable Croque Monsieur. Is that actually béchamel sauce? Wait did Zoro MAKE béchamel from scratch? There’s not too much or too little ham, the cheese looks gooey, wow, this could be good.

As Zoro sets the plate in front of him, a bit of pink creeping into his cheeks. “You were talking about the best comfort foods with Robin last week and I just thought… well you do a lot and… whatever eat the shitty sandwhich, asshole. Bone apple teeth or whatever.”

With that, Zoro turns on his heals and walks out.

What the fuck was that all about?

#one piece #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #zosan #I guess this is less about my French skills and more about my wanting to use the expression bone apple teeth #bone apple teeth #little fic #zoro learning french

[chaos-bites]

💀 Subtle Hel Worship 🪦

Honor your ancestors or passed loved ones

Visit cemeteries; leave flowers at graves (with permission!!!)

Try veiling

Have a candle that reminds you of her (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Keep a picture of her in your wallet

Have imagery of birch trees, cemeteries, skulls, snakes, wolves, or dogs (dogs are huge) around

Have a stuffed animal dog, wolf, or snake

Practice mindfulness; try meditation

Explore abandoned places (urb-ex; be safe!!!)

Take time to yourself every day to decompress

Drink relaxing teas or beverages; black tea or coffee is especially good or dark hot chocolate

Eat a comforting meal

Engage in activities you find calming; drawing, painting, crocheting, reading, etc.

Feel your feelings; cry if you need to, scream if you need to, etc.; find a healthy outlet for these emotions (drawing, boxing, dancing, etc.

Support homeless or animal shelters, healthcare or humanitarian organizations

Volunteer at homeless or animal shelters

Feed neighborhood dogs, cats, birds, etc.

If you have dogs, play with and take care of them; play with/take care of any pets c:

Cook a meal for someone you love

Donate supplies to animal or homeless shelters

Cook a warm meal for someone in need

Collect animal bones (please thank the animal's spirit after doing so)

Recycle, make/use compost (great with gardens)

Spend time with loved ones; spend time with any elderly or older folks that you love

Take care of your basic needs; eat three meals a day, get some movement into your day, take a shower when needed, etc.

Revisit things from your childhood; keep any stuffed animals from childhood or buy ones you've always wanted

Practice patience, especially with yourself

Take a walk at night, especially on the new moon (only if it's safe in your area!!!)

Have a nighttime/bedtime routine

Learn more about death; get more comfortable with the concept itself; focus on figuring out what your beliefs on the afterlife are (if any)

Collect old items or antiques; try to restore them or give them a fresh coat of paint/polish; keep them or give them to someone who will love them

Have compassion towards those who are often looked down on by the wider society, such as addicts or the homeless; donate to causes that aid them /their recovery

Eat an apple; go apple-picking; visit an apple orchard

Wear clothes that make you feel comfortable; when at home, get comfy!

Learn to get comfortable with change, especially necessary change; try spontaneous things, go outside your comfort zone, find effective ways to manage stress during changes

Take note of the seasons changing; maybe capture the moment of an Official Season Change™ in a painting or picture

Take time to reflect on yourself objectively; if you find yourself being unkind, take a step back

Observe the life cycles of animals; learn more about the natural world around you

Practice compassion and forgiveness towards yourself and others

Set healthy boundaries; learn what your personal boundaries are

Let go of what no longer serves you; release what you no longer need in your life

Go out in weather that reminds you of her if it's safe to do so (may sound weird, but I associate fog with her)

Be kind to children; play with them if offered

Start a new hobby - something that is calm and enjoyable; crocheting, carving, painting, etc.

Live your life unapologetically

-

I'll likely add more to this later as I feel it's incomplete. For the time being, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Hel. I hope this is helpful! Take care, everyone. 🩵

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

#norse paganism #norse pagan #norse deities #paganblr #norse heathen #pagan tips #deity worship #hel deity #hel worship #hel

[hellish-sunsets]

Curses and Blessings - Chapter 4

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9

Summary:

Charlie lapsed into silence, but he didn’t notice. All he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears. He tried to think, but the thoughts didn’t come, the words wouldn’t form on his tongue. It was an eternity and an instant. 

When he did finally think, the only thought was that it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. 

(Basically, Lucifer has a break down for a whole chapter. Bone apple tea)

Word count: 1493

Read on AO3

Taglist ~

@cherry-4200 @adaizel @kyo-kyo1 @elleofdragons @snoozewritezz

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It had been a very long day. 

The sound of boots clacking against the polished wood floors filled the hallway, each click echoing in Lucifer’s head. He counted each step as he went, matching every five steps with a deep breath.

It had been a very long day, but if he could just keep it together until he got to his room then it would be okay. Just keep it together a little longer, he could see the door. 

Deep breath in, one, two, three, four, five steps, deep breath out.

Deep breath in, one, two, three, four, five steps, deep breath out.

His hand closed around the doorknob, the cold of the metal seeping through his glove, the gloves that seemed to itch more the longer they stayed on. The door opened and closed with a click and he pressed his back against the wood, letting out a long, shaky breath. Then another. Then his was tearing those damn gloves off, rubbing at his wrist and arm, staring down at his mark.

It had been a good day, everything considered. Yeah, he was anxious about Charlie’s meeting with the angels, but… he had his Charlie back. That was enough to overcome anything. He couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face or the joy that swelled in his chest. It was all worth it to have his daughter back. Yeah, they still had a lot of work ahead of them. He would have to fight his depression hard and constantly if he wanted this to work, but he would, he had to. He could not go back to that dark place, not again. 

His hand tightened around his wrist as his thoughts shifted, his smile faltering.

Then there was that woman.

It was nothing, he told himself as he tore his hat off of his head. You're just overthinking everything again. He couldn’t let the hope sink it, it would only hurt, and he knew the likelihood was just too small. He didn't even see the full mark, just a glimpse under her sleeve. The colors must have just been similar is all. Yeah, it wasn’t actually a match, couldn’t. His mark was nothing more than a Ipunishment, a constant false hope that tore him apart and a catalyst to tear down every relationship he worked so hard for.

But he got Charlie back. 

At least in that one way he won against his curse, even if just this once.

His head snapped up as he was broken out of his thoughts by the ringing of his phone, that circus music that almost cheered him up. He was quick to grab it from his pocket and answer, smiling wide and walking across the room to the bed.

“Hey, Char! How you doing, sweetie? You got all the information for the meeting I texted you?” He said in his usual cheerful voice, shaking off the sleeves of his coat and dropping it on the chair before flopping down on the side of his large bed, he frowned at the large amount of empty space, but forced a smile back on his face as he listened to Charlie. 

“Yep, I got all the details! Thank you so much, Dad!”

“Anytime, Charlie. I’ll do anything to help you out, you just let me know.”

“Yeah, but, um… I had something important to tell you. I didn't get the chance to tell you earlier cause, you know, we were all pretty busy and distracted and stuff. I wanted to talk to you in person, but I also want to tell you as soon as possible.”

Lucifer frowned, catching a hint of anxiety and worry in her voice. He sat up, crossing his legs underneath him and resting his elbows on his legs.

“Yeah? What's that?” He did what he could to keep his voice light and unworried.

“Ah, well… are you sitting down?”

He nodded before remembering she couldn't see him and grimacing. “Yep, sure am! What's on your mind, sweetheart?”

“Okay, okay, you remember when I introduced you to everyone at the hotel, right?”

“Yep!”

He struggled to keep his voice even and his breathing steady. His heart raced in his chest. He didn’t dare hope, but it crept into his heart, squeezing painfully.

“You remember Y/N, right?”

He swallowed thickly.

“Of course, she was lovely. Uh… may I ask why?”

He knew why - No! He didn't. It was something else, it had to be something else. It felt like his mark was itching, but rubbing did nothing to soothe it. He held the phone between his ear and shoulder to dig his claws in, and that helped a bit, but he told himself to go no farther.

“Weeelllllll, we wash the dishes together every night, which means I see her mark all the time, cause it's on her wrist, you know.” 

He forcefully removed his hand from his wrist, watching the thin line of blood run over the sunset colors. He took a deep breath, forcing his hand to grasp the phone instead. 

“... Dad, I don’t know the best way to say this, and I know you have complicated feelings about your mark, and so does she, but… I feel it’s important to let you know. It’s.. the same as yours. Exactly.”

Charlie lapsed into silence, but he didn’t notice. All he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears. He tried to think, but the thoughts didn’t come, the words wouldn’t form on his tongue. It was an eternity and an instant. 

When he did finally think, the only thought was that it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. 

He took another deep breath, and his hearing came rushing back with Charlie’s worried voice.

“... you okay? Dad?”

“Y-yeah, sorry, I, uh… what did you say? I must have misheard.” He tried to chuckle and push down the anxiety. It wasn’t true, it couldn’t be. His mark was a curse, he had already accepted that. She was either joking or didn’t see it right or…

“I said Y/N has your mark! I… I know you don’t really like yours, but I just thought you’d want to know.”

He swallowed hard. 

“Ah, well, thank you, Charlie, I appreciate it.” He said, voice shaking a bit more than he would like. “Good luck with your meeting, okay? Let me know how it goes.”

“I… okay Dad. I love you.”

Despite his mind currently going through whatever meltdown it was going through, he couldn’t help but smile, his chest tightening with love.

“I love you too, Charlie.” He said with the softest voice filled with all the love and warmth he could muster and he imagined he could hear Charlie smiling back as she said bye and hung up on him. 

With a sigh he fell back onto the bed, hands going to run through his hair, staring at the canopy above him.

Of course Charlie wasn’t joking. They had been distant for a while, but he still knew her well enough. She always took this whole thing about marks very seriously. She had been practically jumping up and down as she introduced her match to him, the girl… Maggie? Haggie? Something like that. And he could tell at the time that there was something more she had wanted to say. 

His mind was wandering again. What is really that hard for him to just accept this was possible? That all this time, after seven years of aching loneliness and longer of debilitating depression, there was finally the slightest glimpse of hope? 

Even if, despite everything in his mind and everything he had ever experienced told him, by some far fetched miracle Charlie was right… what was he supposed to do? What would he even say? 

What about Lilith? He knew she had left, that she wasn’t coming back… but he still loved her. It hurt, like his heart was being crushed every night she wasn’t there, but he couldn’t help it. He loved her and he missed her. He would give anything just to see her again, to gaze into those beautiful eyes that were once filled with so much love, to hear her sweet voice as she spoke about anything she felt like, to feel the warmth of her body against his. If Charlie was right and this woman, this sinner, was the one who held the match to his mark… then had Lilith been right? Had they never been meant for each other after all? That all those thousands of years they had loved each other meant nothing?

No. He refused to ever accept such a thing. 

He groaned in frustration, hands tugging at his hair before sliding down to cover his face. 

So what was he supposed to do? What did this all mean? What was the point of any of this?

Not for the first time, he found himself cursing that stupid being who started all this mess.

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #reader insert #curses and blessings #hazbin hotel reader insert #hazbin lucifer x reader #soulmate au #hazbin hotel soulmate au #lucifer x reader soulmate au

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Hey! I hope you’re having a fantastic day, and is drinking plenty of water! If it’s not to much to ask, I was wondering if I could request a hurt/comfort for Macaque X fem!reader ? I personally think Macaque would be incredibly insecure about his appearance when in a relationship. He has lost an eye, he is scarred, he has six ears, AND he’s also a “ugly” monkey humanoid (which he strongly thinks human!reader would find unattractive compared to a normal human). He already goes as far to hide his true appearance from everyone. I need the reader to convince him that he’s pretty and doesn’t need to hide it! Thank you so much if you choose to take this one on!

Much love! -anon

The beautiful faults you hide from me ///Sick!Insecure!Six-Eared Macaque x reader

“Mac?” You waited a few seconds before calling out again and heading toward the upper half of his apartment (or more like a furnished and repaired abandoned warehouse). The past couple of days you hadn’t heard from your boyfriend which concerned you given that it was winter and Macaque didn’t do so well in the cold. Ever since you’d known him, he always ran cold temperature-wise, which didn’t bode well because he stayed inside as much as possible during winter so he wouldn’t get sick.

From where his bedroom was you heard a small sneeze and figured that's where he was residing, upon entering his room you could see that it was more messy than usual. The most shocking thing was that you could see all the features your lover usually hid with magic but that only meant something wasn’t right. It wasn’t that he never showed you what he actually looked like, that’s not what it was, he was actually just insecure about his scars despite you telling you countless times that you love him no matter what.

That didn’t matter though right now, you were more concerned about him and how sick he looked. “Macaque? Are you okay?” When you got no answer you rushed over and felt his forehead….It was so hot. You rushed to the kitchen and grabbed some cold water and a damp washcloth, quickly turning on the thermostat and getting back to your feverish lover. Macaque stirred as you entered the room and groaned, joints popping and voice creaking when he tried to voice his worries.

But you shushed him after you put the damp cloth on his forehead and attempted to coax him to drink. His red pointed mask that painted his face was dull and the usual vibrant color of his ears was pale, despite all that he still looked beautiful as always and even more so as the scars that covered his body showed how strong he’d been. The parts of his fur that were white, which when you asked him was due to being under Lady Bone Demons’ control or his original white fur before he died, faded into his normal black color and you couldn’t help but stare at the rare sight before you.

“I know-” Macaqued coughed and grasped his throat, wincing at the dryness and greedily taking the water you offered. Drips of water dripped past his mouth and got caught on the tangled facial fur as his adam's apple bobbed up and down, panting heavily to catch his breath and handing the cup back to you. “I know I look ugly but you don’t have to stare.” His voice hissed harshly at you and the glare he shot at you would have been more effective if you didn’t know him better. “Moonlight, you and I both know no one looks their best when they’re sick. But what’s causing me to stare is the possibility that you no longer have enough magic to even maintain your glamours much less your healing factor and I’m worried for you.”

The glance the shadow demon tossed to the side told you all you needed to know before you went through a chest beneath the bed and found the medications you needed. Taking the herbs and mixing them with modern chemicals, grinding them into a powder, and mixing them into potent tea (it didn’t taste the best but it got the job done). “Macaque? I hope you know that I truly love you no matter what you look like and those scars are proof of how strong you are. Not to mention you’re beyond beautiful ears and every small reaction they give, especially when something blushes against them.” To give an example you trailed your hand down the lowest pair of ears and softly chuckled when they twitched and fluttered at the attention.

You saw how your lover went to hide his flustered expression and intertwined his moving hand with yours, bringing them up to your cheek and kissing the back of it. “Moonlight? Can you look at me? I know you’re sick but this is very important before I give you your medicine cause you’ll get very sleepy.” He looked at you and your heart nearly fell at the tears pooling on his lids, the lip being held between his teeth and occasional trembles due to being cold. “Never ever will I judge you for how you look. You’re so gorgeous I fall in love again every time I look at you and the best part is you’re mine. All mine and no one else's.” You pressed a kiss to his nose and rubbed his cheek, wiping away the tears he finally allowed to fall.

The steaming tea was discarded on a nearby table as you moved on the bed and positioned yourself so Macaque laid on your lap facing your stomach and wrapping his arms around you. “I love you, Name.” He whispered and moved carefully so you could help him drink the tea, cooing at him to slow down and take his time. You stifled a laugh when he finished and stuck his tongue out in disgust. “I need to work on the taste portion of my medicinal practices when I get better.” Smiling at his attitude which already seemed to be better and tracing the scar going over his right eye, planning to tell him later that the scars and most of the features he hides are actually what fluster you more than his teases.

#lmk macaque #lmk x reader #lmk macaque x reader #six eared macaque x reader #six eared macaque

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: Giving first aid to the M6 when it's MC's fault that they're slightly hurt

~ you already know I had to do the reverse scenario! Link to part 1 below. Bone apple teeth - brainrot ~

- to set the scene -

You had recently been struck with some inspiration regarding a new spell idea and were frantically scribbling it down in your trusty notebook. You weren't sure how you would implement it, but if you could somehow combine latent spell magic with a time piece you might be able to set specific delays for it to take place ...

As you sharpen your pencil between pages of half formed plans, you hear the sound of the door opening and closing as your beloved walks in. As soon as they ask you about what you're up to, you're animatedly spewing your thought process. Just as they come up behind you for a hello kiss, you fling your hands wide in exasperation and the pencil in your hand smacks them across the face. Now you're turning around to see them wide-eyed, a tiny bead of blood welling up on their cheekbone.

Julian

Barely a moment's hesitation. This is his chance. This is his time to shine. There is so much dramatic potential for this.

See the drama, feel the drama, BE THE DRAMA

"Alas! Home I have come to greet my beloved, and I am met with the sharpest of lead!"

"Julian, darling, it's just a scratch."

"Tis the smallest of wounds doth smart the most. I am stung with the might of a thousand papercuts!"

He's throwing his whole body into the part at this point, staggering around the living room with one hand clasped over his cheek and the other tearing open his shirt to clutch at his chest

He definitely bangs his knee on a side table as he collapses onto the sofa while you approach him with your handkerchief

"Hold still, I need to wipe it off."

Clutching at you dramatically, not so subtly trying to pull you down on top of him while you dab at his cheek

"Tell me good doctor, is this to be my end? The light ... it calls to me ... is that you, mother? Say it isn't so! For I am held by my beloved angel as they tend to my wounds with all tenderness."

"You should be fine now, it's not even bleeding anymore."

Refuses to let you leave the couch

"I dare not ask you to stay by my side with this disfigurement, but let me at least know the sweetness of your kiss one last time -"

"You really don't need to be this dramatic-"

"I AM THE DRAMA"

You won't even be able to see the scratch in the morning, but his knee will be stiff for the rest of the week

Asra

Sputtering slightly, they didn't expect to get smacked in the face while bringing you tea

Doesn't realize he's injured, you were just getting to a really good point about release mechanisms and there's this tie dye inspired glitter bomb he's been working on for a while now ...

Wait, you look upset. What's wrong, how can they help, here's your tea, what's bothering you?

He's bleeding? He'll chuckle slightly as a single wave of his fingers heals it entirely, he's touched at your concern but it's nothing to get that upset about

Now you're pouting slightly, and it's adorable, and oh they can tease you about this can't they

He knows how to bide his time though, you've all but forgotten about it until later that evening when you're working on your shop inventory and he puts his hands up and freezes when he walks by

"Asra? What's wrong?"

"Oh nO, noT tHe PenCiL!"

When you wake up the next morning and go to start breakfast every knife and fork in the drawer has been enchanted to jump out of your fingers as soon as you pick them up

"Asra? What is this?!"

A smug, half-asleep voice floats across to you from the bed:

"You can't be trusted with pointy objects, MC, I want to keep my eyeballs."

"How am I supposed to make toast?!"

"I don't know MC, probably without giving the stove salamander cause to believe that it is is about to get skewered as well."

Nadia

Looking at you with both eyebrows raised, one hand slowly moving to touch her cheek

You're immediately scrambling to heal it with magic, promising it won't leave a scar, you're so sorry, it was an accident

She'll allow you to heal her and let you spew your apologies, one eyebrow raised as she regards you with a quiet smirk

"Tell me, MC, exactly how much damage could you do with a pencil?"

You're not sure if she's teasing you or genuinely curious, but hey, since she's asking may as well tell her

It's not hard to come up with ideas, half of effective magic use is creativity

The longer you talk, the more she shifts from amusement to awe. She knew that you would make a formidable foe, but with the right prompt your skillset and creativity are downright terrifying

Truly, a worthy court magician and life partner

She will develop a new habit from this, of pointing at mundane objects and asking you how you would weaponize it

Every time you answer she falls in love with you a little more

One time during a meeting with a power hungry courtier she got tired of his manipulative attempts and pointed at the quill pen in his hand

"Tell me, court magician, how could you most effectively use that to damage someone?"

She took great delight in watching the courtier's face slowly drain of color as you answered in gleeful detail

Muriel

Didn't really feel it, he gets whacked in the face way harder by tree branches all the time

But now you're reaching up at him, so gently, brushing your fingertips across his cheek with traces of magic and the most vulnerable look in your eyes

Are you? Are you about to kiss him? Okay, here goes -

You are now very confused. You just slashed him across the face with your pencil, and then he kissed you out of nowhere while you were trying to heal the scratch???

You're not complaining but you don't exactly follow the thought process here either

Now the two of you are looking at each other in awkward silence, blushing heavily while Inanna whines from secondhand embarrassment

Cue one of the most painful conversations you've ever had with him, the two of you stumbling over half-sentences as you explain yourselves, slowly wishing you could sink into the floor

At one point he asks why you didn't move away if you weren't trying to initiate a kiss, he didn't want to do anything you weren't asking for

When you tell him that you like him asking for affection his face goes up in flames

He still isn't comfortable touching you out of nowhere though, so now he has a little ritual of putting a pencil in your hand before he leans in for a kiss, so you know what to expect and have time to move away if you don't want it

Portia

"... Did you just stab me?"

Mostly just laughing in disbelief, she didn't see it coming and the look on your face is priceless

Won't let you near the scratch at first

"No, it's my battle scar! I look so cool with it, stop trying to wipe it away!"

Once you mention healing magic her interest is piqued, so she'll allow it

Now she wants you to teach her. It's been obvious that she has an affinity for magic, and being able to smooth over a scratch or blister or burn from baking would be a real lifesaver

The tricky thing is that learning healing magic requires some kind of injury to heal

You spend the evening practicing on some of the fruits in her gardens that have gotten a bit banged up, and then the next afternoon you stop by the kitchen with her to offer your healing services to the chefs

When she runs out of practice volunteers there, the two of you take to wandering the halls of the palace, asking whoever passes you if they've been recently injured and are willing to be practiced on

Nadia finds you in the gardens, asking one of the poor botanists if they know of anyone who's recently run into the poison ivy

"Portia, MC. Good afternoon. Would either of you be willing to enlighten me as to why several maids have reported concerns of illegal medical experimentation?"

She's amused by your explanation but you're not allowed to do magic practice on strangers any more

Lucio

This time it's your turn to say "oopsie", with the smuggest grin on your face

"MC! How could you!"

Cupping his cheek with his hand and giving you the biggest kicked puppy expression he can handle

Is he actually hurt? No. Can he even feel it? No.

Is this a potential way to get extra attention and affection from you? Yes, and he fully intends to take advantage of that

Will let you heal it because he likes the way your hand feels on his face but will keep using the fact that it happened to milk the situation

"How about a kiss, MC? You're busy? Too bad, and my cheek was really feeling sore too ..."

Pretty soon you can't deny him anything without him sending you the biggest puppy eyes and raising a hand (or gauntlet) to his cheek

"Lucio, that's the wrong side. I scratched you on the other cheek."

He'll rapidly switch over, sputtering the whole time with a blush and pout

"It's still sore! So can I get that kiss now?"

Eventually you get a little fed up and threaten to undo your healing magic. That slows him down a bit

Is it actually possible to "undo" healing magic? Probably not. Are you going to take the lack of attempts at guilt tripping anyway? Absolutely

He does pick up a habit of threatening people with pencils though

#the arcana brainrot #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana shitpost #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #portia devorak #lucio morgasson #muriel of the kokhuri

[darklydeliciousdesires]

La Dolce Vita - John Shelby/Cosima Changretta (OFC).

Part two is here, besties! :) I hope you all enjoy it, as I am loving writing these two together. You'll notice too that I gave John a few less kids than we see in canon, just to make it a little easier on myself as the writer, lol!

Words - 4,218

Warnings - Each part will be adult only content, from swearing to eventual smut and violence. Minors DNI.

Part II - Purgatorio

Countryside living was something John had become accustomed to during his marriage to Esme, his beautiful country pile and vast grounds a much more desirable location than the smoggy suburbs of Small Heath. After her death, he had sold it, returning to the latter until he was married again.  

As predicted, Cosima detested living in a back-to-back. Her continued complaining as well as his desire for what he had come to enjoy was what led him to purchase another countryside property, choosing the small village of Wythall in Bromsgrove, buying a beautiful, spacious cottage for her to spruce up. It was far enough from Birmingham to leave his troubles within the swirling smog and looming viaducts, but near enough that he could be back on Watery Lane for his business endeavours in just over forty minutes by car.  

Married life was not ideal, being a person wed to someone he didn’t like, whose tempestuous nature often put him directly in her firing line. However, he could not discount her qualities. A spoiled princess with expensive tastes (the cottage renovation had cost him a fortune) she might have been, but god, she worked her fingers to the bone. 

“Oliver, Mary, Katie, Freddie, Seamus, come along! We’ll be late, get your skates on!” she called, hurrying back to the kitchen were five sandwiches lay on the chopping board, freshly baked bread with liberal fillings of egg and ham, Cosima cutting them into their required shapes. Squares for Oliver and Seamus, triangles for Katie and oblongs for Mary and Freddie. She knew well the likes and dislikes of her stepchildren.  

Wrapping each in baking parchment, she placed them into individual brown paper bags, an apple and a couple of custard creams put in too, five lunches folded neatly and handed to each child as they filed into the kitchen, smartly dressed in their immaculately pressed uniforms. “Give your father a kiss and let’s get moving, come on. We’ll miss the bell! Blinking hell, Seamus, look at your mouth. Toothpaste all over, come here!” 

His son’s mouth was wiped with her handkerchief, the boy squirming, Cosima bopping his little nose with her finger once done before she herded them through the kitchen. “Quickly, quickly, come on!” 

John couldn’t believe she was the same woman who had originally thrown a puce faced fit upon finding out she was to be stepmother to five children, with how well she’d taken to mothering his brood. For Cosima, she’d eventually seen the little ones as a blessing, something to take her mind off the fact that she detested being married to their father.  

Picking up her wicker basket, she followed them out the door without looking at John once, leaving him to sigh and return to the sitting room, drinking tea while reading the morning paper. With the addition of the wicker basket, this meant she would be stopping at the local village shop on her way back from the school, meaning he had roughly an hour before she would be through the door and ready to scrub the house from top to bottom.  

That was something else he couldn’t fault her for; she kept a beautiful home. John just preferred to be nowhere near her while she was going about it. She’d always find something to pick at him about, and he was tiring of it. He did try, to have something more resembling of an actual marriage rather than a setup of convenience with his beautiful young bride, but she shot him down at every step. Her contempt did nothing but continually fester, it seemed. She still couldn’t forgive him for the demise of her father and brother.  

Keeping an eye on the grandfather clock, he waited until fifty minutes had passed before whistling for Dot and Bo, his two faithful springer spaniel bitches. “Yeah, that’s right. We’re off to get a couple of grouse, maybe a pigeon or pheasant an’ all.”  

The dogs began to circle and yap excitedly as he pulled his shotgun from the cabinet, packing ammunition and draping the gun over his arm, heading into the kitchen and wrapping himself some cheese scones in a clean tea towel, placing those in his bag, too. If there was another thing his wife excelled at, it was all things culinary. He’d come directly in her vexed crosshairs upon eating his first meal prepared by her three months before, stating that he did not “eat wop food” as he’d coined her lasagne, without actually even trying it.  

As soon as he’d put a forkful into his mouth, he’d been a very, very rapid convert. It had been perhaps the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, Cosima standing with her arms folded, smirking at his swift change of heart over her food. He now looked forward to every meal she prepared for him with gusto, although couldn’t bear to sit in her company while eating it. He’d try and make conversation, and she’d sulk and pout. It was irksome to say the least.  

His leaving the house was timed impeccably, seeing Cosima walking back down the lane as he was heading out of the garden and into the few acres of lush, green fields that came with the cottage. She even got the money out of that, too, allowing local people to graze their horses upon it when resting their own pastures. While John and the dogs headed for the woods, Cosima let herself into the cottage, putting her apron on and beginning her housework.  

Once her beautiful home was sparkling – not that she allowed it to be any other way – she took the rugs out to beat the dust from them and then returned to the kitchen, making preparations for the children’s dinner. A local lady from the village was coming by to that evening to keep an eye on them while she and John headed back into Birmingham, the family gathering for Polly’s birthday meal at a restaurant upon Broad Street.  

Although she held her husband in a more or less permanent state of contempt, she did actually like Polly. She found her to be strong, intelligent, and once you got to know her, very loving towards her family. It had taken a while for her to thaw, but now the women did get along well. Certainly, Cosima had much more time for her than she did John or Tommy.  

Stirring the pasta sauce in a large pot upon the cast iron range, an original Victorian fixture of the cottage, Cosima sighed. She should be happy. She had literally everything she’d ever wanted, a beautiful home, huge garden, a couple of lovely dogs, a brood of children – and although not her own, they adored her as much as she did them – as well as a handsome, successful husband; whom she couldn’t stand.  

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. John was a nice man, he had a wicked sense of humour, he was a staunch provider, and he was so handsome she caught herself swooning over him all the time. She could see him trying hard to at least have some semblance of a meaningful connection with her, but she couldn’t help herself in shooting him down each and every time. Why?  

Guilt. 

He and his family were why two fifths of her immediate one no longer breathed, and she was to simply forget that and be content, happy in her new life with John? Her father would turn in his grave to know she had now acquired the surname of Shelby. He would be utterly livid. 

“But he isn’t here.” Her statement fell from her lips along with the little splashes of tears from her pretty eyes, eyes so blue that her beloved father had often joked that she couldn’t be his. “She’s the milkman’s, isn’t she?” he’d say in jest to her mother. Of course, she was his, though. A tear landed in the sauce she stirred, Cosima pulling her handkerchief from her dress sleeve and drying her eyes.  

The sound of barking became audible, the kitchen door opening, Dot and Bo being told to sit. “You got that towel, Cosima? I don’t want their muddy feet ruining your clean floor.” That was another thing about John, he was always appreciative of how immaculately she kept their home. Some men merely waved it away as a woman’s work and had no respect for such, but not him.  

“Hold on.” Moving to the cupboard under the sink, she pulled out one of the more raggedy tea towels she kept for the purpose of paw cleaning, handing it to him. 

He took it, a small frown creasing his handsome features. “You been crying?”  

Immediately, she straightened, sniffing as she held herself with her usual dignity. “Garlic, in the pasta sauce. It made my eyes water.” 

“Ah, right.” Moving back outside, he made sure each paw was clean and dry before letting the dogs in, removing his muddy boots and leaving them at the back door. Making his way in, he sniffed the air, half wishing that they were staying at home to eat whatever it was his wife had crafted, it smelled so good. “Let’s have a little try of that, give us a spoon.” 

“No, it isn’t ready yet,” she bustled, returning to the pot.  

He bit his tongue. “I got two pheasants, a grouse and a couple of pigeons. They’re in the outhouse hanging up. Just let me know when you wanna use ‘em and I’ll go pluck ‘em. I know you don’t like doing that.” 

“Okay. Oh, John? That floorboard by the front door has come up again. Can you go and fix it down? I left nails and a hammer on the phone table.” 

“Yeah, in a bit. Wanna have a tea and warm up a bit first.” 

She sighed, chewing her cheek. “No, now please. Before the kids come home. I don’t want them tripping on it while they’re playing.” 

“They ain’t coming home until gone three. Just give us half an hour, eh?” 

“Bloody get it done now, John! Before you forget!”  

Ahh, it had almost been quite civil for a moment. “Oi, watch your fucking tone, woman. I told you I’d get it done and I will. Fucking bad tempered mare.”  

“Stop calling me a mare!” 

“Well stop behaving like one in season then, and I might, eh?” he shook his head, chewing on his toothpick aggressively. “Always fucking blowing up at me for no fucking reason. Sort yourself out, for fucks sake!” 

“Fine!” she raged, flinging her arms in the air with her usual dramatic flair, “I’ll go and do it!” 

“You do that.” He moved to the kettle, filling it with water, intent on having his tea before he went and helped her with the task. He wouldn’t have forgotten either, but she couldn’t just let him be for five minutes while he had a drink and thawed out from the February chill, oh no. She had to pick at him.  

A few minutes passed, John letting the tea steep in the pot as he snacked on a slice of bread slathered in butter and Cosima’s homemade blackberry jam, the sounds of her swearing in Italian drifting through the house until suddenly, a yelp.  

“What the bloody hell’s she done,” he muttered, placing the bread down and moving to the hallway, finding her kneeling down, holding her thumb in a tight grasp. “You alright?” 

“No, I’m blinking not!” she cried through her tears, “I’ve hit my fucking thumb with the cursed, wretched hammer!” 

“Here, let me see.” Pulling her hand from her grasp, he examined it, the knuckle bright red. “At least you ain’t split the skin. Come on, let’s get it under the cold tap.” 

“No, I’m fine,” she snipped, pulling her hand away and attempting to grasp the hammer again. 

“Leave this, I’ll get it done. Come on.” 

“Fuck off, I’m alright!”  

Again, he bit his tongue. “It’s gonna swell unless you get it under the cold water.” 

“I said I’m fine!” 

Rolling his eyes, he pulled her up, her screaming protests falling on deaf ears as he lifted her with ease into his arms, carrying her through to the kitchen. She struggled, swore at him, batted at him with her hands, John tiring of it. “Oh, stop all this malarkey and just let me help ya!”  

He forced her hand beneath the tap, turning it on, holding it there while she winced and continued to cry. All he was trying to do was help her, and she couldn’t even let him do that. Finally, she relaxed a little, sniffing and wiping her tears, her thumb throbbing angrily. “Have I broken it?”  

“Give it a wiggle.” She did. “Did it feel like someone pushing a hot pin into it?” 

“No. It smarts, but it isn’t as bad as that.”  

“Then nah, ain’t broken, bab.” She went to move her hand, John gently directing it back under the stream of cold water. “Few more minutes, or it’ll blow up like a bloody golf ball.” 

“Then I’d look a right state, all teary with my golf ball thumb.”  

He chuckled, putting an arm around her on instinct. What was even more surprising? She leaned into his hug, allowing herself to be comforted by her husband. It was a first, a little thread of connection woven between the warring spouses, John turning the tap off after a few moments and reaching for the soft, white hand towel. “Come sit down and have a cuppa. I’ll go and finish the floorboard.”  

“No, it’s okay,” she protested, shaking her head. “I should think about getting ready, I have to do my hair and it takes forever.” 

“Sure? I’ll drop a nip of brandy in it for ya?” 

She pulled from him, whatever it was that had opened up closing again rapidly. “No, I’m fine.”  

For the sake of a quiet life, he left it, recognising that there had been a little progress there between them, if only very small. He went and finished fixing the floorboard, done within minutes and returning to drink his tea, his little brood coming crashing through the door half an hour later, the house once again full of noise.  

A few hours later and they were ready to leave, the children happily eating their spaghetti al Forno while Mrs. Baxter sat knitting, keeping a watchful eye upon them. Cosima was quiet all the way to town, John giving up in the end and letting the car be filled with nothing but the sound of their strained silence, glad to see his brothers and other family and friends once they arrived at the restaurant.  

His wife continued to be sullen throughout the meal, only really talking to Polly and Lizzie and even then, the women had to work hard to keep the conversation going with her. In the end, the former took it upon herself to pull the newest Shelby aside a little later that night, steering her over to the long, oak bar after she had returned from the ladies. 

“You’ve a face as long as Livery Street, madam,” Polly observed, passing her a gin cocktail. “What’s the matter? You can’t still hate our John, not after how good he’s been to you regardless of that contempt.” Her words were delivered with care, but they did not lack their usual bite. Polly would be protective of her nephews until she drew her last breath, no matter how much she genuinely did like Cosima.  

The young woman took a sip of her drink, placing the dainty glass down, accepting one of Polly’s clove cigarettes with thanks. They were a rare treat from her usual preferred brand of Park Drive, Cosima loving the warm, spicy scent of the burning clove, yet unable to smoke more than a couple at a time on account of how much they made her cough when she did. “I want to be happy with him, Pol. I honestly do, but I can’t get past it all.” 

She didn’t need to elaborate. “It’s been and gone, love. You feel guilty though, I see that.” This woman, god. She was so remarkably perceptive. “You have to move on with your life. If your brother and mother could, then there’s fuck all stopping you, is there?” 

“But my papa...”  

“Cosima, your father is gone, and you are still here,” Polly cut her up with, reaching to lightly grip her forearm. “We women, we suffer the collateral damage in the wars fought by our men, and your father was not blameless in his part. He was a gangster too, just as my boys are, just as your brother is. You know this world we live in, and living is what you have to do, sweetheart. If you keep on holding that burning contempt for John, I’ll tell you now, you’ll be the one who ends up scalded.”  

Her eyes were fixed upon her, unblinking, drawing on her cigarette before lifting her glass to her mouth. “Let it go. Set yourself free, for god’s sake. You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about, you hear me?” 

She nodded. “I do. Easier said than done, though, it seems.” 

“Horse shit.” She slapped a gloved hand off the bar, shaking her head as she tutted. “Life is as hard as you make it for yourself, my girl. Stop punishing yourself because you think that’s what your father would do, should he still be alive.”  

Again, Cosima was startled by Polly’s intuitive assessment of the situation, straightening and knocking back the rest of her drink. “Thanks for the chat, Pol. I know you’re right, but...” 

“But you’re a typical hardheaded, fire blooded Italian. Listening to others don’t come easy to you, I know. Just know that if you made it easy on yourself, that man over there? He’d soon treasure you like you were the rarest jewel on earth.”  

Cosima got up, heading past the table and outside, finishing the cigarette and reaching into her little sequined bag to pull out her own gold case, lighting up one of her own. She felt agitated by Polly’s words, pacing up and down as the discomfort of being told what to do rolled through her ceaselessly. She knew why it annoyed her the most, though. Polly was right.  

Still, it was in Cosima’s nature to fight it at any given opportunity.  

“How’s ya thumb feeling now?” 

Turning, she looked into the radiant, cloudy blue eyes of her husband. All she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts for a little while, but no. “Stings a little, but it’s okay.” 

He nodded, taking a pull on his cigar. “And you? Thought we were actually starting to talk to each other kinda civilly earlier, then you went quiet on me.” 

Her stare was through narrowed eyes, the magma in her blood rising in heat. “Always my fault, isn’t it?” 

“That’s not what I said, Cosima.” 

“No, but you meant it, didn’t you?” 

For fucks sake. How much harder was this tempestuous madam going to make his life? “You need to stop putting words in me mouth, love. Getting right tired of it, I am.” 

Her beautiful lips were held in pout a little longer, drawing angrily upon her cigarette, not able to escape the intensity of her husband's stare as finally, she pushed her pride down. “I’m sorry.”  

“Well, look at that. Twice since we were married, you’ve said you were sorry. Some fellas make it to their diamond wedding anniversaries without hearing it once from the missus. Ain’t I lucky, eh?” His attempt of a joke fell flat, her face unmoving. God, she was whittling him down to his last nerve, and rapidly. “Ain't you ever heard of smiling, Cosima?" He charged her with, eyeing her defiantly. 

She pulled the white fox fur warming her pale curves tighter around herself, taking one last drag upon her cigarette before flicking it away. “If you give me something to smile about, I might.” 

Oh, he had his work cut out for him, John scratching his jaw. “I’ll stick my fucking face between your legs for about half an hour, then you’ll be grinning like a loon, you miserable cow.” he muttered, but not nearly quietly enough 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” 

“Nothing, bab,” he grinned, gritting his teeth behind that forced smile. “Nothing at-fucking-all.” Give her something to smile about? She had a nerve. He’d bought her a beautiful cottage, gave her fifty pounds a week to buy whatever she wanted for herself completely aside from the housekeeping money, and was working his arse off in an effort to be a good husband. He felt like telling Tommy where he could stick his Changretta truce. Nothing, it seemed, would make her warm to him.  

He headed back inside, leaving her standing there alone, lighting herself another cigarette as she pouted, but mainly at herself. She knew it had to stop, she had to cease being – as he had quite rightly coined her – a miserable cow. The guilt of it, though. Oh, the guilt.  

“Oi, love,” an approaching man called to her, flanked by two others, “how much for a bit of how’s your father, eh?” 

“I beg your fucking pardon?” she spat, her mouth dropping open.  

Looking her up and down, he smirked. “You’re a bird standing on a street corner with a low-cut dress on. Ain’t hard to see you’re touting for business, so how much?”  

“Wait there,” she gritted, lifting her chin defiantly. “Let me go and fetch my pimp.”  

Marching back into the restaurant, John thought she was coming to have a go at him all over again, taking in her thunderous expression. “John! There’s a man out there who just accused me of being a fucking prostitute!”  

Arriving with him at the bar, she drew stares from all around, the less coarse clientele tutting and muttering, Tommy touching a hand to her elbow. “Keep your voice down, love.” 

“I will bloody not!” 

John cut in, nodding to his brother. “Take us out to him.” Her heart all but stopped dead at seeing the look in his eyes, the immediate, highly angered state her words had caused to rise within him like a leviathan. He might’ve been annoyed with her, but still, one mention of her being spoken to disrespectfully and he fired into action. Taking her hand, he walked her from the restaurant, Tommy at her other side.  

“This your pimp, is it? Oh, two fellas, eh?” 

“Ar, lad. She must be good!” one of the other jokers with the man who had disrespected her offered, the three laughing.  

“Gonna be laughing on the other side of your face in a minute, mush. Now, which fucking one of you called my wife a whore?”  

“Me,” the central man spoke, stepping forward, “Cos’ she looks like a whore, don’t she?”  

John eyed him with cool defiance, lifting his chin while stepping closer, their noses almost touching. “Wanna know what you look like, mate?” 

“What?” 

“A man with a really fucking nice smile. A Small Heath smile, as I like to call ‘em.” Removing his cap, he swiftly headbutted the man before him, shattering his nose across his face before grabbing him, gripping his throat in a formidably tight grasp. Using the razorblades upon the peak of the trademark flat cap, he slashed open his face at the corners of his mouth, the skin tearing. “You’ll never fucking speak of my bloody wife like that again, you fucking hear me?” 

While he took care of him, Tommy laid punches upon the second and third, one of them breaking free and beginning to beat John across the back with his fists, Cosima setting her bag down in one of the flowerpots that flanked the restaurant entrance, removing a shoe.  

Charging with a wobbly gait, she hitched up her dress and jumped onto the man’s back, beating him in the face and head with the heel of her shoe, until he was bloody, the heel hitting his eyeball as she snarled. “Don’t you dare touch my fucking husband! Don’t you dare!” 

The men got out of there quickly once Cosima had neatly dismounted her target, John calling after them. “Next time, you lose your fucking tongue, ya cunt!” Breathless, he turned to his wife, raising an eyebrow. “Well, at least I managed to put a smile on someone’s face tonight, eh? Nice work with the shoe an’ all, by the way. Didn’t know you cared.” 

He turned to head back inside with Tommy, straightening themselves after the ruck, Cosima reaching for his shoulder, turning him. He was about to speak again, his words of further sarcastic retort blocked by her lips landing upon his, her arms tightening around his neck. 

Her kisses were blooms of roses growing through wildfire, soft yet burning, John clasping her dainty body to his as he felt his insides cinder upon her heat. He’d fantasised for months about how it would feel to kiss those plump, pink lips, desire running rampant through him. Pulling away, her cheeks flushed, pupils inking, John leaning in for more she happily gave.  

When they parted again, she smiled. Finally. All it took was a smidgen of violence.  

#john shelby fanfiction #john shelby x ofc #john shelby smut #john shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders smut #peaky fucking blinders

[grimalkinmessor]

Writing Patterns Tag Game

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

Tagged by: no one! I just wanted to! :D

1. Heart Stopper: The supermarket is never as empty as you would like.

2. Never Eat Anything That Could Compromise My Health (And Baby That Means You): When the portal ignites with Danny still inside, he feels like his every nerve turns to ash.

3. Skimming The Surface: "You are being incredibly difficult about this," Dipper deadpans, slamming his briefcase down on the table

4. The Tree, The Apple, The Seed: Algebra, Light mourns, is far below his mental grade level.

5. Ivy On A Chain Link Fence: "Darling, where are my—"

6. I Hold Hands With Cosmic Entities: Light—or as he is now known, Tsukikage—knows that he's different.

7. screamin' like a kettle on a stove (you cranked the heat up cold): Light stood in front of the shelves with a frown, a hood over his head and a sick mask over his face.

8. Get Your Gun, Fuck It Up: "You're sneaking out again?"

9. Supping On The Blood of God: Mikami has been staring at him.

10. Notre Dame: The building is small, but obviously new.

+Bonus 10 (draft edition bc I can't help myself)

RAPTURE: The world as Near tends to see it is blue.

Scorched: When everything is said and done, L Lawliet is one of the most powerful men in the world.

Nobody: The sky is gray.

Make Something of Me: Light swirls his spoon idly in his tea cup, watching the stalks inside bob and twirl listlessly.

Like A Loaded Gun (Ready to Backfire): The morning is bright and sunny.

I Love You So (I'll Eat You Whole): Beyond's life changes, as it always does, in a singular moment of eye contact.

Near Miss: Arataka lies in a hospital bed, and everything hurts.

What You Want: Arataka opens his eyes slowly, muggy.

This World is Cruel: The sky is gray with the smoke of a thousand fires.

Dig Up Bones In Your Sympathy: The last thing he remembered was light.

Conclusion: I tend towards shorter, simple sentences when beginning a story. Something to set the stage, either by telling the readers something about my main character's mind, or the world around them. First brushstroke, so to speak :3 Some are far more dramatic than others aha

Tagging: Anyone! Everyone! Free pass to say I tagged you! Because I am! Right now! :DDD

#tag game #writing patterns #also FUCK that Dont Start Stories With Dialogue shit i will do as i PLEASE #honestly its really only when i cant be bothered ro give further exposition #usually on oneshots #death note #danny phantom #bnha #boku no hero academia #mob psycho 100