#wheezing over my own art

[pwhale6]

only bought this dress so you could take it off

#aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #gomens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #genderfluid crowley #nanny crowley #🤭 #fanart #artists on tumblr #my art #crowley is so pretty i love her so much #tall af but so smol in azira's hands #what have i done to myself #wheezing over my own art

[safetypinxtales]

400 years | Azriel

summary: drinking with your best friend takes a turn when you happen upon some of Feyre's art supplies.

words: 3.2k

warnings: steamy 18+ mdni, nudity, sex is insinuated but not described, kissing, alcohol consumption (drink responsibly), reader and azriel are drunk, making out, big dick azriel, fluff, no use of y/n, neutrally described reader/no reader description

notes: happy valentines day, here's some azriel for youuu🤍 I got the inspiration for this whilst reading this fic by @solbaby7 bc who wouldn't want to draw az like one of your French girls?? Frankly there is nothing I would like to do more. Their fic is amazing and you guys should totally check it out if you haven't already! Anyways, I'm sorry for the "shut the door" type ending, but I cannot write smut to save my life so this will have to do. Hope you enjoy!🤍

masterlist

Thud.

The sound of Azriel accidentally smacking his head on the wall as he plopped down on the sofa across from you echoed within the walls of the cabin, and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of you. Azriel’s own shaking shoulders and scrunched up nose let you know that he couldn’t help it either. 

But that was to be expected wasn’t it? The past hour had been filled with nothing but bubbling laughter from the both of you, giggles from Az, and some very graceful snorts… also definitely from Azriel. 

The reason why he had brought you to Rhys’ cabin in the mountains was long forgotten after the two nearly empty bottles of alcohol on the table in front of you. The heartache of getting stood up on your date earlier that evening buried under a considerable amount of drinks. 

“As long as the glass is never empty in between refills, they don’t count.”

Azriel’s words from earlier came back to you, only fuelling your cramp inducing giggles. 

That had always been your motto in times like these. A consistency that had lasted centuries. 

“I can’t breathe,” you wheezed out in between fits of hysteria, your arms coming up to wrap around yourself. But your laughter didn’t die down, and neither did Azriel’s. Your uttered words only seemed to fire him on as he tipped over on his side, hand landing a slap on the armrest.

Seeing him like this, so free and relaxed, was rare. You could probably count each separate occasion on your hands. He only really let go like this when you needed it. When the urge to drink your walls down and flush the pain away seemed like the only remedy to whatever situation you were dealing with.

It was a very rare occurrence indeed. But one of your favourites. 

Azriel’s carefree giggles, that luminous light in his eyes; you swore it could make budding flowers bloom.

You sat up straight, and the situation stopped feeling so funny as you laid eyes on Azriel’s still laughing frame. The uncontrolled giggles, and the way his wings shook in time with his chest. It was enchanting, the sight of your best friend being so relaxed, so happy. 

The shadows that were usually crowding his frame were nowhere to be seen – with the exception of the lone swirl of darkness slowly snaking its way around your wrist, coming down to entwine with your fingers every now and again.

It took a couple more minutes until Azriel’s laughter had finally seized. You both sat on separate sofas, smiles stretched wide and eyes glazed over from the alcohol you had ingested, and as your breathing started to return to normal a thought struck.

“What?” Azirel asked as he leaned forward on his elbows, a curious glint in his eyes. 

“What?” You prodded back, more confused than curious, blinking a few times to try and rid the alcohol-induced veil that surrounded you. What was he on about? 

“Well,” he waved one floppy hand in your direction, “you just perked up, it was like you grew ten inches,” he exclaimed, before continuing in a slightly lowered, bemused voice, ”and that means you just had one of your ideas.”

The corners of your mouth quirked upwards as you slowly nodded your head. He was right – you had come up with an idea.

“Well, I was just thinking about how Feyre mentioned after the last time she was here,” you stood up from your seat, swaying slightly but quickly finding your balance, doing your very best to not bump into the table separating you. “Something about forgotten art supplies.”

Like a predator sighting a prey, Azriel’s interest piqued in a moment. His razor sharp focus was on your every step as you walked towards the supply closet at the other side of the room. 

The closet was unusually dusty, a strange thing for being Rhysand’s property. He was usually very meticulous when it came to things always being spotless and presentable. But you supposed that a small, rarely used supply closet in the family cabin wasn’t a priority of his. Keeping it clean was not a good enough use of his magic. 

Luckily for you, that just made your quest easier. You just had to look for whatever was covered in the least amount of dust bunnies.

“Aha!” You whipped around to face your friend, triumphantly displaying the sketch pad and charcoals in your hands. 

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up at your revelation, grin still present on his beautiful face.

“That’s your big idea? Drawing?”

“You should know I used to be quite the whiz with the charcoals when I was younger,” you rebutted and Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. 

“I have seen your penmanship, so I will believe this talent of yours when I see it,” he muttered and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer audacity in his words. Your penmanship was not that bad.

Taking a few steps back in his direction with a huff, you flipped through the sketch pad in search of an unused sheet of parchment. You were gonna show him, alright…

You couldn’t help but admire Feyre’s old sketches as you went through the pages. Some you recognised as early-version sketches of paintings you had seen around the river house, and some were–

“Oh!” Your fingers froze as your eyes landed on what seemed to be an anatomical study. A very detailed, very beautiful, anatomical study of – oh my Gods. You felt your cheeks heat up. 

“Is that Rhysand?!”

At the screech in your voice and the mention of his brother’s name, Azriel shot up off the sofa to get a peek at whatever had managed to pull such a reaction from you. 

The warmth of his body radiated into your side as he peered over your shoulder at the drawing of the very naked high lord. 

You noticed him stiffening out of the corner of your eyes and then, like a tether snapping, laughter started to boom inside the walls of the cabin. With a steadying hand on your shoulder he doubled over in giggles so contagious it didn’t take long before you joined in with his hysterics. 

“No way,” he wheezed, “oh Gods – I can’t wait to tell Cassian!” 

The mere thought of how Cassian would react to such a revelation, the look on his face, had you clutching your stomach. Poor Rhys would never hear the end of it.

And by the cauldron, if you don’t wake up with rippling abs tomorrow from the amount of laughter this night had brought….

“You can’t blame her though,” you mused once you managed to get your giggles under control, “I mean, nice job Feyre.” A low whistle left you as you peered down at your clearly blessed high lord.

The laughter quieted down beside you and you raised your gaze to look at Azriel, only to be met with an incredulous look. 

“What, I’m just calling it as I see it!” You exclaimed and raised your hands in defence, charcoals and disrobed Rhysand still in your grasp.

His eyes flicked down to the sketch pad, before slowly coming back up to meet yours, that look never leaving his face.

“Oh, please.” 

The words fell from his lips with such cool confidence your smile faltered momentarily, eyebrows knotting together.

“You can’t be serious?” He asked, and when you stayed quiet he continued, “that’s nothing.”

Nothing?

From where you were standing, respectfully, it looked like everything.

“What? Like you can do better?” 

Your challenge seemed to light a spark in his eyes and time slowed as he took a step backwards, fingers coming down to grip the hem of his t-shirt.

One swift movement and his shirt was off, muscles rippling under his bronzed skin as he tossed the dark fabric on the floor, his eyes not once straying from yours. 

He kept backing up, step after torturous step, until his legs hit the sofa. The corners of his mouth tugged up in a smirk as he plopped down, arms behind his head, far leg propped up, large wings casually draped over the armrest.

“Draw me then, whiz,” he challenged, using your word from earlier, “let me be your muse.” 

The heat crawling up your neck, scorching the tips of your ears, were not solely from the liquor as you padded over to the opposite sofa. 

No, it was from something very different. Something strikingly sobering, yet oh-so intoxicating. 

You sat down and carefully placed the pad in your lap, flipping through it until you reached a blank page. You moved some hair out of your eyes and tucked it behind your ear, picked up a charcoal and brought it to the parchment – when you felt yourself hesitate. You took your lip between your teeth as you contemplated your next move. The risk. The absurdity. The excitement. 

He was your friend. Your best friend, and yet…

You lifted your gaze to find Azriel’s eyes locked to yours with such focus, such challenge. Like he was sizing up an opponent on the battlefield. 

His eyes flicked down to your hand, if only for a split second, as you gently put down the charcoal. He cocked an eyebrow when his gaze once again found yours. 

“I just,” you took a deep breath, “I just don’t think it’s really fair on Rhys, you know?” The shadow around your wrist flickered, as if sensing what you were about to do. The lines you were about to cross.

You watched as Azriel’s eyebrows drew together, and you fought the twitching of your lips as you continued, “I mean, you are still half clothed.”

With a slight shrug of your shoulders, you watched as your words sank in. How his eyes seemed to darken, the corner of his mouth raised in the smallest of smirks. 

“Is that so?” He mused, and you tried your best to level his stare. To not back down. Not shy away. 

With an incline of your head, you nodded. And watched his hand inch closer to his pants. Down past that dark trail of hair, to the laces tied together at the waistband. Watched as he grabbed a hold of the string… and pulled. 

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t focus on anything other than his hand. How his fingers untied the font of his pants so slowly, so delicately it felt like torture. You were transfixed by his fingers. Loosening the laces, his thumb slipping beneath the waistband…

You snapped your gaze up to his face, to find him still looking at you – studying you. 

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sound of his pants hitting the floor. With your eyes still locked to his, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, you wondered what you had gotten yourself into. Here you were, in front of your fully naked best friend – about to draw him. 

Let me be your muse.

His words from earlier echoed in your mind as you tore your gaze from his face and dragged it lower, and lower, until…

Your head emptied. Your tongue felt about as dry as the beaches you had visited in Summer last year. Because the sight that beheld you was breath-taking. 

The length between his legs, standing aroused and proud, really did make Rhysand’s portrait look like nothing. 

A part of you had almost hoped that Azriel’s confidence had just been for show. That it was just his competitiveness shining through, a feat to best his brother. 

The reality?

Monstruos would have been a fitting word had the sight not compelled you so. Had it not caused you to burn for him. Crave him. 

Delicious seemed to be a better word to describe your friend. Beautiful. Mouth-watering. A thing of art.

Which is why you picked up your discarded charcoal and put it to the parchment. 

You studied the planes of his body, the hard lines, the soft skin. The muscles that could have been carved by the Mother herself. You avoided looking at his face though, instead focusing on the various scars that marred his skin, telling stories of battles and fights. Of brawls with his brothers. 

You felt him looking at you, however. He hadn’t stopped looking at you. Not since the sketch pad came into play.

It made it annoyingly hard to focus. 

The scratching sound of charcoal on paper stopped. 

“How long have we known each other?” Your voice wavered, mouth dry. You cleared your throat and raised your gaze to finally meet his. 

Azriel tipped his head to the side, contemplating, “about 400 years.”

400 years. And never before had you seen him naked. Not like this. Not splayed out like a feast, waiting to be devoured. Not with his gaze so burning you were afraid it was going to singe your clothes to ashes. 

“Right,” you mumbled, eyes flicking back down to your hands. They were smudged with soot, your thumb and index finger blackened, that lone shadow still curiously snaking around your wrist. 

That is a very long time.

Azriel seemed to notice how the little confidence you had faltered, for he straightened somewhat from his leisurely sprawl. 

“You okay?” There was only soft concern enveloping his words, a drastic change from the tension flooding the space between you just seconds before. 

It was a very long time, indeed. So why didn’t this feel wrong? 

You let out a deep breath, “yes, I think so.” 

Your answer apparently didn’t settle his worries though, because he raised from the sofa and rounded the table between you. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as he stopped in front of where you sat. 

Only when he lowered his hand – fingers coming to rest under your chin, tipping you face up – did you meet his eye. 

The heartbreaking concern written all over his face seized your heart. The soft furrow of his brow. The slight dip at the corners of his pouty lips. The brutal softness swimming in those hazel eyes. 

It took your breath away.

“Are you sure?” He questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t trust your voice, not with the vulnerable proximity between you. All you managed was a meager nod. A small up and down bob of your head. 

His fingers tugged on your chin, and as if in a trance, you followed the wordless command and rose to your feet. 

“I need you to use your words here, sweetheart,” his voice was soft, but the underlying command was undeniable, “please.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you swallowed and managed to breathe out “I’m okay.” 

That seemed enough to ease Azriel’s concern, a breath of relief fanning across your face. 

“Good,” he murmured, almost as if more to himself.

His eyes left yours, and flicked down. To your mouth, you realised, as his thumb moved from your chin up to graze your bottom lip.

That intensity was back in his gaze, that predatory focus – all directed at you. His thumb pulled at your lip before letting go, and the shudder that overtook your body could have made the earth shake.

There couldn’t be more than a foot of space between you. 

So dangerously close.

He was your friend. 

Right? 

“400 years,” you whispered, eyes flicking down to follow the bob of his throat as he swallowed. “400 years of friendship.” 

You felt light headed. 400 years, and all could be thrown away as easy as breathing. All you had to do was take half a step.

“Three,” Azriel’s voice grumbled above you as your eyes trailed down to inspect the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

“Hmm?” Your mumble was absent minded, your thoughts being too preoccupied by the male in front of you. What he would feel like. Taste like. The sounds he would make if you dipped your head and licked up the drops of sweat beading at the center of his chest.

“That’s how long I’ve loved you. Three hundred years.”

You froze. 

The thickness coating Azriel’s voice was not something you were familiar with. Nor were the words he uttered.

Your gaze snapped up to his, scanning his features for any sign that he was, for some reason, making the cruellest joke in all of Pythian’s history. But all you found was open, unguarded truth. 

Azriel loved you?

Azriel loved you. 

The rapid beating of your heart was a stark contrast to just how very safe you felt. How right it seemed to take that half step forward. To cradle his face in your hand, the other coming to rest on that glorious chest – right over his own heart. And as you felt that wild drumming beneath his ribs echo your own, nothing seemed as easy as rising up on the tips of your toes and slotting your mouth against his. 

The kiss was tentative, like the two of you were just dipping your toes in – testing the waters. You moved your lips against his, gently, savouring the feel of his pillowy lips. The feel of his body so close to yours. How the scent of him seemed to envelop you. You savoured how easily he took all of your senses hostage. 

He was everywhere.

The sound of Azriel’s wings rustling behind him, the rapid beating of his heart in his chest, the taste of liquor on his lips – it intoxicated you in a way you didn’t know was possible. 

You stayed like that, gently exploring each other's lips, savouring each other's closeness, until you had no other choice but to break away for air. 

You pulled away only a few inches, rapid breaths fanning your faces. The pounding of your heart didn’t seize, and neither did his. You could feel every rapid beat under the hand still planted on his warm chest. 

“Your heart is beating very fast,” you whispered, voice shaky from your breathlessness. 

He swallowed, “It is.”

“So is mine,” you revealed. 

“Yes, I can hear it.”

Oh. 

“Will you kiss me again?” Your voice was so low, you wouldn’t have known he heard you if not for the strangled sound he let out. 

Or for how he grabbed you by your waist and captured your lips with his. 

This time the kiss was less gentle. This time he pressed your body against his as he devoured you. It was all tongues, and teeth, and needy gasps.

His teeth pulled on your bottom lip and you thanked the Mother he was holding you so tightly, for your knees almost gave out. A throaty groan escaped you as his hand cupped the back of your neck, angling your head upwards and deepening the kiss further.

Your own hands found his hair – and pulled. The deep rumbling in his chest and the way he moaned your name into the kiss was your undoing.

This kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tentative.

It was claiming.

And so you let him claim you. 

Your clothes were quickly discarded as you laid down on the sofa, Azriel’s body on top of yours. And as you crashed together, entangled limbs and sworn promises, you let those 400 years of friendship, of tension, of longing dictate the start of this new chapter.

A chapter of what would hopefully be 400 years of something more.

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tags: @missus-shadowsinger

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine

[snaileer]

Time Unsolved

Dp Unsolved

“Today on Buzzfeed unsolved we cover the Timely Disappearance of Charles T. Williamsworth.”

Danny slurped loudly on his drink as the intro played. Was he maybe crazy for watching a Buzzfeed Unsolved True Crime alone, at night? Maybe.

But Danny had been attacked by ghosts. What was a human gonna do that Skulker couldn’t?

“What a name!” Shane cut it immediately, yellow words typing themself across the screen. Ryan laughed.

“‘Ello, yes, my name is Sir Charles T. Williamsworth, how art thou Ah yes, jolly good!” Shane mimicked with a horrifically bad posh British accent.

Ryan laughed harder, “We’ve been to London, they don’t sound like that!” He said between laughs.

“Uh, /he does! There’s no way a man with a name like that is not ‘mm yes I will take a spot of tea with my biscuit thank you.’ I’m calling it, he definitely talked like that!”

Danny smiled at the antics as Ryan wheezed, “Well it’s too bad we’ll never know for sure then isn’t it, what with his disappearance, y’know what we’re actually here to talk about.”

“That’s okay. /I’ll know. I know my buddy Charles.”

“Alright then.”

The screen was lit up with an image of a man on a black backdrop.

“The Williamsworths were a French-German family who moved to Biel, Switzerland in early 1914, just months before the largest war in European history kicked off.

They were one of the lucky few families to have left France before the war broke out…”

“Oh a family moving, that’s suspicious now?” Shane cut in.

“Well, it was right before World War 1, I mean the timing is kind of suspicious.” Ryan replied in blue.

-People move, Ryan.-

-Okay, okay, it’s just the facts of the case,.-

Danny rolled his eyes, ready for the story to continue.

The images came back.

“This move would evidently prove to be quite fortunate for the family for obvious reasons. However, it also led Charles to find his true passion: … Watchmaking.”

There was a pause as a map of Switzerland came on screen. “Biel, the town that Charles would live in for the majority of his recorded younger life, was known for watchmaking, being one of several in the heart of an area named ‘Watch Valley.’ “

-You ever own a Swiss watch?-

-Nope-

-Heard they’re good. Reeeal good.-

-Yep.-

-…-

“Charles would reportedly develop a passion for clocks, watches, and timepieces in general, only getting more entrenched in his obsession over time.”

The image of the man now shifted to be overlaid on a map.

“By the time the First World War was over, Charles had gained an ostentatious apprenticeship under one of the premiere watchmakers of the time, Max Stührling. This lasted until Stührling’s death in 1938, after which Charles vanished from any records for two years.”

-Well y’know, his mentor had just died. -Maybe he wanted to grieve. Y’know curl up in his room and not see anybody for a bit.-

Ryan laughed, -2 years, he was crying in his room for 2 years and nobody found him?-

-Well, it’s not like records were great back then, I mean what are you gonna write on the census… just.. like..-

-Loud weeping heard from inside. One resident. Unnamed.-

-Yeah!-

“The next time Charles T. Williamsworth appears on record, it is in the back of a photo from France in 1940. Showing Williamsworth standing in front of a watch shop wearing dark clothes, a distinct pocket watch, and looking into the camera.”

The black and white image appears on screen, zooming in on the background figure. Danny tilts his head at it, something about it niggling at him.

“The shop and its owner would go on to be infamous within the town for the duration of the Second World War. Charles was unwillingly drafted in the summer of 1941, serving on the front lines for no more than 3 months before sustaining a wound to his face, leaving him with damaged eyesight, facial scarring, and a medical discharge.

He returned to his shop soon after.”

Danny frowned at the mention of what the man had probably gone through.

“With later evidence statements regarding Charles stating that he was an ‘odd man. He never mentioned the war, leaving it behind once he was not forced to be a part of it. He seemed to be separate from it all, he only cared for his watches.’

This sense of separation would extend to his shop, as when the town was bombed in 1944 leading up to D-day, his shop was left miraculously unharmed. It was reportedly open the very next day.”

-I can appreciate the dedication- Shane says in yellow.

-Yeah, I mean, the morning after is a bit soon, but he did really love watches. If he didn’t have to, I guess he wasn’t gonna close his shop.-

-He’s advertising, ‘Sure you were almost killed in a fiery explosion, but look! I’ve got new watches!’-

Ryan laughs.

“Over the next 50 years, Charles T. Williamsworth would disappear from records repeatedly, sometimes for months, only present on seven censuses between 1952 and 1979. Despite this, the clock shop was never sold, remaining in wait for its master’s return.”

Multiple pictures of pocket watches came onscreen. “It became known in the surrounding area for especially good pocket watches and grandfather clocks. Each personally made using Swiss essemblage practices, often engraved.

While it was a place of prestige, some described the shop as having ‘an unbearably loud sound of ticking, as if a thousand clocks were set to the same second.’

Apparently, Charles ‘seemed to enjoy the sound, often standing in the front room when no one was present. He was able to pick out one clock if it was off time.’ Witnesses stated.”

It cut to showing Shane and Ryan at their table.

“God, I can’t imagine. That’d drive me crazy.” Shane said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know, a thousand clocks at the same time? Just..” Ryan looked back and forth frantically, as if there were sounds from every direction, “I’d go nuts pretty fast, I can’t even handle one sometimes.”

“I’d just go off and punch one of the clocks, just- RAAAH and -oh my god is that where that comes from?! I’m gonna punch your clock? Or like you clock somebody!?! Oh my god I never realized that!”

Danny’s jaw drops at the realization as Ryan laughs. Shane looks to be losing his mind as well.

“However, Charles’ most notable disappearance was his last.”

Dramatic music played as Danny zoned back in.

“Due to his frequency of vanishing for extended periods of time, it is unknown when exactly Charles disappeared. The last definite sighting of Charles T. Williamsworth was late at night on April 23rd, 1999, when neighborhood patrolman, Elliot Dubois, noticed him locking the door to his shop with its lights still on. Elliot, concerned for the safety of the elderly man, questioned him but eventually allowed Charles to leave, noting that he turned down a road that only led into the woods outside of town.

Two weeks later, 12 year old James Chappellè, a mailboy in the area, noted during his morning run on May 7 that mail had begun to pile up in front of the shop’s door.

Something that had never happened before.”

The word ‘before’ faded into red.

“It reached such a point that the mail system declared they would no longer deliver, as they couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t be stolen.

At this point, the police got involved and the case was assigned to Detective Jacob Laurent.

It turned out to be a more difficult case than first expected, as when they looked into Charles’ past, they were unable to turn up any such notable documents as a birth certificate nor any document containing a birthdate.

But when police entered the shop on May 10th, they found it largely empty, with only the shelves, register, and equipment left remaining between the front and back room.

It should be noted that there was still money in the register, and a light on in the back though the other bulbs for the front seemed to have been burnt out.

Upon entering the living space above the shop, it was found to be covered in dust, and all of Charles’ clothes and belongings still present.

Rather, there was evidence that Charles largely slept in his shop, with a cot beside his workbench.

A workbench that, upon police entry, only held one gold pocketwatch, personally engraved with the initials ‘C. W.’ As it was known for Charles to always carry the pocketwatch, he was officially declared missing and possibly presumed dead.

The watch’s presence also led detective Laurent to suspect foul play.

However, despite the declaration of foul play, the police did not extensively search the town woods, citing the size and density of the forest.”

The video cut to Shane staring at Ryan, face deadpan. Ryan was clearly trying to hold back laughs.

“So… let me get this straight… an old man who’s… how old at this point exactly?”

Ryan laughs, “Nobody knows, there’s no known birthday-“

“That’s weird too, but okay, let’s say he’s like what, at least 95? I mean… there’s a certain age that like if you disappear… ..eh.” Shane shrugged.

Ryan looked at him incredulously, “Eh??”

“Yeah,” Shane shrugged again, “Eh.”

“What???”

“I mean… y’know… old people wander into the woods sometimes, maybe he just went for a walk and got lost. At that age… death has gotta be around every corner, I mean come on!”

Ryan wheezed into his elbow.

Danny laughed quietly.

Once Ryan calmed down, he organized the file, clipping it down on the table, “So! With the story finished, let’s get into the theories,”

Shane rolled his eyes, “Oh god this is gonna be one of yours isn’t it? What ghosts are abducting people now?”

Danny smiled, briefly considering how much effort it would take to go haunt Shane all the way in LA.

“The first theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth was involved with the mafia at the time and was a long standing or high ranking member that had crossed the wrong people.

Some reasons for this theory is the lack of early documents, suggesting a fake identity or forgery.

This case is especially supported by the long absences, where his shop remained closed and yet still remained in his possession.

In fact, the deed for the shop was not listed under Charles’ name, instead Iisted as owned under a private organization.

This theory explains his disappearance and possible subsequent death as an act of revenge from an enemy made from illicit activities. Leaving no body behind, there would be no evidence to prosecute the acting party.

Within this, there are also some who believe that if Charles was engaged in the mafia and lived under a false identity, that his disappearance was him returning to his actual identity, possibly due to being caught.

Prison records indicate 6 Swiss-German inmates arrested at the approximate time of his disappearance, roughly matching the age and appearance of Charles. Notably, none of them had a distinct facial scar and no identification was ever confirmed.”

The screen switched.

Shane smiled at Ryan, “Oh Ho Ho, my boy Charles is getting into some funky stuff, huh? Workin’ for the Mob, breaking knees, chopping fingers?”

Ryan laughed, “Yeah maybe, it definitely lends credit to him being a part of something. Maybe he was out in the woods breaking knees y’know. Or burying something.”

“Someone,…”Shane said ominously, then burst out laughing, “What if he buried himself! Just-“Shane mimed digging, clapping his hands like he was wiping off dust, “Alright, thats a good illegal grave right there, just a good hole for a dead- woaaah!” He pretended to fall, “Boom, stuck in his own grave.”

“Really, this old man dug a 6 foot deep grave? On his own?”

“Hey you don’t know his strength, maybe he lifts.”

“Alright.” Ryan shook his head, still grinning.

Danny smiled, considering it, it did kind of make sense.

“The second theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth did indeed just walk into the woods and never come out. If this is the case, what happened in the woods is widely speculated on. Some saying that animals may have attacked him, or that he simply fell or was injured and could not get up due to his age.

This theory loses support due to the fact that no body was ever found. Though some say that if the woods were too big for the police to search, there may be a den or that his body was covered naturally.”

“Or in a grave.”

“You really think he was mafia?”

“I mean, who could tell?” Shane shrugged.

“The third theory, much like the first, is that Charles was a federal agent for one of the Allied Powers.

This theory is also supported by the significant periods of absence and lack of documents to indicate a forged identity, meant to fool the German government and allow him to work behind the lines. However, unlike the first, there is also evidence of a man with the same distinct scar on his eye, showing up in the background of photos at the British Intelligence Office, the Eiffel Tower during Germany’s occupancy, and behind closed Swiss borders.

None of which would be possible without the unique skills and permissions of a government agent.”

Silence reigned as Shane and Ryan stared each other down, Shane clearly ramping up for something.

“The name’s Williamsworth. Charles Williamsworth.” He said dramatically.

Ryan burst out laughing. “You support this one more then?”

“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind, he’s not in the mafia. His suspicious activities were in the name of secrecy, national secrets, confidential war trades. Espionage…”

“Well I guess, nobody’s gonna suspect the 95 year old man to be up to anything. I mean, if I saw an old man somewhere I’d just be like, huh I wonder who lost their grandpa, not ‘I bet he’s secretly working to take down Hitler.’ Y’know.”

“Charles gets caught: just ‘Whaa-at me~e? I’m just a gentle~e o~ ol~ld ma~an, I can’t harm nobody~y.” Shane mimed leaning over a cane.

“He gets caught and just pretends he has dementia, ‘Who am I? Who are you? Why am I here? Where’s my breakfast?”

Shane cackled as Ryan laughed.

Danny considered it more, this one seemed the most likely, though… he’d definitely be the oldest agent.

“Another theory is that the shop was robbed and Charles returned while or before it was happening, catching the criminals off guard and leading them to react rashly, injuring or killing Charles. They then would have hidden his body and cleaned out the shop to hide any other evidence.

This theory however is disproven by the lack of money taken from the register.

Despite this, it is the official claimed circumstance by the police at the time.”

“Fucking police, always with the boring one.” Shane said ruefully.

“Our last theory, and my personal favorite,-“

Shane groaned. Danny smiled, this was gonna be good.

“-is that Charles T Williamsworth was a time traveler. And that all of his disappearances were when he was traveling through time.

This theory supports his families early move to Switzerland under odd timing, his appearance in so many photos and even his obsession with clocks. As well as why he seemed unbothered by the tumultuous times.”

“I can… accept it.” Shane said, hesitant.

Ryan laughed, “I’ll take it.”

“Despite all of these theories, there is still significant information missing from the case.

And so, like clockwork this case shall remain:

Unsolved.”

Danny’s mouth dropped as the screen went dark.

No way.

No freaking way.

He lurched upwards, eyes wide.

Obsessed with clocks, scar on his eye, fricking weird and talks in riddles.

Oh mygod!

Danny threw himself out of bed, “I’ve connected the dots!” He rushed to untangle himself from his sheets, transforming immediately, “I’ve connected them!”

He dove for the ghost portal.

Holy frick!

Charles T. Williamsworth was Clockwork!

#dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc #danny phantom crossover #buzzfeed unsolved #shane madej #ryan bergara #clockwork #clockwork dp #Jazz Fenton #Tucker foley #cryptid ghosts #ghosts #cryptid danny fenton #except it’s clockwork

[the-fiction-witch]

Breathless

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty Af

Warning: Medical emergency / Asthma Attack

I woke, as I typically did with a sharp fast gasp. immediately I heard the wheeze in my chest like a pair of old moth-eaten bellows. I sighed and turned to my bedstand opening the little rosewood box and hearing the gentle tune of the music box inside plaid as soon as I opened it I grabbed one of the prerolled cigarettes shutting the box again and saw the candle on my bedside table still burning so I set the tip in the flame until it began to smoulder so I laid down on my back slowly but surely taking a deep inhale and blowing the resulting smoke across my ceiling. It fixed it as much as it ever did so I finished up and set the end in my little metal box with many others. 

"There's my sweet girl!" My father gleamed as he entered my bedroom with a wide smile 

"Good Morning Father," I smiled sitting up in my bed 

"It is a fantastic morning, A perfect morning for our party!" He cheered going to open my curtains to let in the sunshine 

I smiled as much as I could force, I knew this was important to him and I wanted only to be supportive. 

"I have a gift for you" He smiled tapping my nose playfully He clicked his fingers towards the door and the maid scurried in with a large box in hand, he took the box from her and set it on the bed opening the box up pulling out from the tissue and ribbon a sweet expensive new dress.

It was beautiful, A long off-the-shoulder dress of a sweet fabric a light pale pink with vertical strips of purple, and white lace at its hem, neckline and lace elbow-length sleeves with a black ribbon at its waist. It was utterly beautiful and would not have been cheap for my father to buy. but I began to panic as I looked at it seeing the ribbon and how small it was.  

I knew my father, he meant well but he always did this and always it made me fearful.

But I forced a smile "Thank you Father" I said giving his cheek a kiss 

"You're welcome, Now come along guests begin to arrive soon" He said rushing off to make preparations. 

I sighed climbing from my bed, I went and had a nice hot bath laying in the warm water for longer than I should just because it seemed to soothe my chest but I soon climbed out and went to my window in my towel looking out to the gardens.

My father was a very wealthy businessman in port with a lot of dealings coming and going in shipping, of course, our house was lustrous and grand second only to the governors only a few miles up the road, but the governor could not hold a candle to my father's gardens, well known in the area and beyond for the grandiose and beauty of the many exotic flowers and plants from all over the world, He took great pride in the garden and this combined with his utter love fort entertaining. Meant we had an awful lot of garden parties. 

Today was no exception my father was hosting a garden party and had invited everyone who could be imagined. He adored parties being an utter social butterfly, I however was more of an.... antisocial bookworm not much wanting to go but knowing word would spread if I didn't attend my father's own parties. It didn't much help my looming age knowing at the back of my mind certain men had been invited not due to my father really wanting them at the party but my father realizing they could be a good match for me so invited them in the hope one would catch my interest. But I know I am a very lucky girl, Many fathers would be insisting by now or would have wedded their daughter off for a business deal. But My father was a decent man and had always promised me I could choose my husband, that I could marry for love no matter who it would be. He felt he couldn't deny me what he and my mother had. 

I went to my mirror and began to dress, I pulled my white stockings up to my thighs adjusting them so the little lilac bows would sit forward, I pulled my long cotton underdress over my body tugging it down as far as it would go, by then my maid arrived and I gulped as she picked up my cream corset. I simply watched the mirror doing my best to not panic as she wrapped it around me and began to lace the back, I did my best to keep my breaths slow and steady but that wasn't exactly easy until finally she finished with the back, she pinned the ribbons in place and turned me to face her so she could pull the ribbons to the front to lace it again leaving me squeezed as much as possible 

"How much more?" I gasped already feeling breathless 

"Not much more Miss." she said "Pencil thin is the London style miss" She reassured

"I am not a pencil. I am a lady." I argued half of me was joking the other half was serious. 

Finally, she tied the last bow and removed the pin in the back as there was now no give in the ribbon at all, she took my crinoline the large wicker bird cage-looking thing that always made me smile a little tieing it simply around my waist and she helped me to slip on my dress, it was beautiful and I did feel very pretty even if again the lacing began as she all but sewed me into the dress ensuring it would be as close to me as possible. Not being helped by my father's purchase choices. 

"Alright miss?" she asked as she finished the last bow 

"Yes. Thank you" I lied, finally she helped me into my shoes and left to attend the party. "Women in London must have learnt not to need to breathe" I sighed I sat at my vanity and did what little make-up I bothered with before finally taking my hair from the tight braid I had done last night allowing it to now be in sweet curls. Once done I looked out to the window again seeing people had already gathered for the party so I grabbed my lace fan and my parasol and headed down to the gardens. 

"Ahhh My goodness an angel!" My father joked as he saw me "You look beautiful" He smiled 

"Thank you Father" I smiled 

"Go on then, Mingle I'll check in on you later," He told me ushering me deeper into the party, I did my rounds parasol in hand often batting my fan to try and get some air down my throat doing my best to greet and be pleasant with people. 

As I made the rounds I took note of those who were here already spotting a few men my father would have invited purely in the hopes of grabbing my attention but as I walked to a less populated area of the garden I took a seat for a moment on the stone bench I spotted a similar soul. 

He stood by one of the statues away from the main business of the party, dressed in his usual way but cleaned up a little better, he seemed awkward unsure why he was here, out of place in this bussle. I felt for him of course and for a moment even I wasn't sure why he was here. But then I recalled seeing Dr Sneed on my walk around the party and I know how my father thinks, my father would have invited Dr Sneed because he is his doctor and thus not inviting his own doctor to his party would be rude, and of course then in my fathers mind he must also invite Dr Dawkins for if he invited Sneed and Not Dawkins that too would have been rude. Honestly, I'm surprised he took up the invitation. For a moment we caught eyes and he offered me a small smile so I did my best to do so back. 

“You alright my sweet?’ my father asked as he approached sitting beside me

“Yes, just wanted a moment from all the excitement” I smiled

‘ahh well come along we are to begin the walk” he smiled to me taking my hand and soon enough the walk began, this was typical of every party my father would lead a walk around the gardens explaining almost every flower and plant giving a tour to the guests of course most ate it up but I slowly but surely slinked away until I was at the very back of the walk where I again found Dr Dawkins.

“Good day doctor”

“Good day miss y/l/n, does your father always do this?’

“Yes” I chuckled moving my parasol slightly higher as to protect him too

“AHH thank you” he smiled moving a little closer to be under the protection of the lace from the blistering sun

“Quite alright” I answered “what brings you to the party?”

“Your father invited me. Wasn't going to bother but something to do I suppose’ he chuckled

“I guess. I rather find it all tedious”

“well we agree on some things’ he chuckled “I have to admit though your dress is utterly stunning”

“Thank you doctor’ I blushed a little but had to fan myself quickly as I felt slightly breathless from the walking

“Ohh don't worry pleatenties of the party you can just call me jack” he smiled

“ohh that's very sweet, thank you jack’ I smiled “then y/n I insist”

“Why thank you, My god is he going to take us past every plant?” He whispered

“That he is” I smiled

“Any particular reason?’

‘its his pride. He adores his garden above all else?”

“Even you?’

“I don't know, I should hope not but I wouldn't be surprised’

“Why? Why would be focus so much on his garden and not his daughter?”

“He promised my other that her beloved garden would always bloom, she died only a few days later” I explained

“Ohh forgive me y/n I-”

“It's alright, he can be… overboard at times” I said doing my best to slow and catch my breath

“Are you alright?’ he asked

“Yes forgive me-”

“No no it's alright, are you sure? You seem lost for breath?’ he said carefully taking my arm

“I'm fine” I answered as I gasped trying hard not to wheeze or cry anything that might draw attention to myself he seemed panicked I tried again and gasp but it just wasn't working and I almost went over

“Whoa. I'm taking you inside’ he said quickly putting an arm around me and taking me quickly back to the house I dropped my parasol and fan as soon as I got in the door trying desperately to get my breath in “which way to your room?”

“This way” I gasped now beginning to cough and wheeze loudly taking his hand and leading him to my room as soon as I was inside I leant on my ottoman trying desperately to get some air into my lungs as he shut the door and came over

“Are you short of breath?”

“Yes” I gasped surely that was obvious

“try to breathe slow for me if you can” he asked and I did my best but that only made me wheeze louder

“Take off your dress.” He said

“I beg your pardon Dr Dawkins!’ I argued

“I need to examine you take off your dress” he said

“I cannot” I answered between gasps

“I'm a doctor I won't look y/n but I need to exmaine you” he said

“No I cannot. My maid she-”

“She's sewn you into the dress?” he asked and I nodded “alright” he said slipping off his jacket and grabbing a small knife from his pocket “I'll be as careful as I can” he said slowly using the blade to cut where my dress had been stitched by my maid until finally it released I quickly stepped away and pushed the dress off me as well as my crinoline immediately I felt a little better as I looked forward letting out slow breaths I caught sight of jack in my mirror he lied to me. He was looking. But I felt still so breathless that I tumbled onto my ottoman ‘whoa whoa! I got you. I got you.” He reassured only just catching me making me sit on the ottoman “I need to remove your corset”

“Doctor!”

“I have to remove it” he said coming to face me starting to unlace my corset ties quickly with his nimble fingers “out of curiosity. How'd your mother die?”

“Respiratory failure” I gasped and he looked up to me seeming panicked

“How old was she?”

“Twenty nine”

“Christ - for - god-” he grunted trying to deal with the knots and loops and ties in my corset until finally he unlaced the front and tried to pull it off but of course it didn't move he looked confused so I moved his hand to my back and he moved behind me seeing of course all the lacing on the back ‘oh you gotta be kidding me!’ he complained “they really didn't want you of this dress.’ he said fighting with the ties before “fuck it!’ he complained grabbing his knife again and cutting though the lacing managing to force the whole corset off me and that helped considerably “there we go.” He said a lift proud of himself “nice and slow let me listen” he said for a moment looking around the room clearly for something to use to listen but “I don't have my tools uhhh okay. Guess we have to do this the old fashioned way” he said sitting on the ottoman with me lifting my underdress up to expose my bare back I glanced in the mirror again and saw his cheeks slightly deeper with red his eyes glancing down from my neck all the way to the ottoman before he moved closer resting his head on my back to press his ear to my skin “nice and slow for me. Just breathe with me In. And out. In and back out” he said and I did my best to breath with him even if I ended up coughing and wheezing as he walked me through a few long breaths “how long have you been like this?” He asked as he pulled back moving so I could see his face letting go of my underdress

“Forever”

“I get the feeling you need to tell me something.” He said

“I'm asthmatic. Have been as long as I can remember.” I answered

“That certainly explains a lot” he said “when did a doctor tell you?”

“I was nine.”

“I take it your mother was too?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, how are you managing it? What do you have to take when you get like this?” He asked

“The box on my bedside table” I told him still struggling he got up and went to the box seeming confused

“What are these?”

“Asthma cigarettes. Prof prescribed them” I answered

“You smoke!’ he argued

“On doctors instructions yes.” I answered

“Are you mad!”

“There not tobacco there thorn apple leaves there meant to help” I said

He sighed begrudgingly bringing one over so I took it and lit it on a candle sitting for a few moments slowly inhaling it all

He brushed the smoke away from his face a moment before rather angrily speaking “he's mad.”

“It helps.”

“So would you sitting not moving for the ten minutes it took you to smoke that” he argued “but that dress wasn't helping in the slightest why on earth did they lace you in that corset so much?”

“It's the style apparently. Plus I needed to”

“Why?”

“...father buys all my dresses two sizes smaller then I am. I have to double lace the corset for a hope of even getting in them

“Why would he do that?”

“He means well. He thinks if he buys all my clothes too small it's… encouraging”

“Encouraging? I hate to ask but when did you last eat anything?”

“...four days ago.”

“Okay, that is also not going to be helping.” He said

“Yeah well you try fitting into a dress with a twenty one inch waist” I pouted

“I think he's trying to kill you.” He joked “you feel a bit better now?”

“Yes. Thank you jack”

“You're welcome. How often do you get attacks like that?”

“once a week or so.”

“Does your father know?”

“Somewhat. I don't always tell him the whole truth”

“Would you be against coming to the hospital?”

“What?”

“I am not confident about leaving you alone tonight. If you agree I'll talk to your father take you to the hospital I'll keep you under observation myself.”

“Why?”

“.... I fear this may be worse then just a simple attack y/n”

“I don't want to worry my father. he's fearful enough as it is”

“Then which would you rather? He be a little worried a stressed as you spend the night in hospital in my care or he comes in here and finds you dead in your bed tomorrow morning because I'm pretty sure which one will upset him more.”

“One night?”

“One night. Under observation.”

“Alright jack”

“Thank you y/n” he smiled giving my hand a kiss “just rest i'll go see your father” he said as he got up and headed out of my room.

Eventually he arrived with my father in tow and the two discussed as my maid packed me some items and my father called us a carriage, I changed into my loosest dress doing my best not to show my father my struggles

“Perhaps Dr sneed would be better he is my doctor he's taken such food care of me” he began

“Dr sneed is very busy he won't have time and what she needs is observations now I have the time to do so”

“Keep me posted won't you?”

“I promise.”

“You'll take care of her doctor?”

“Absolutely, I promise she'll be back right as rain”

“Alright, I'll see you soon sweetheart” he smiled kissing my head before he slowly and tenderly let my hand go giving it to jack, he smiled to me squeezing my hand and leading me slowly to the carriage luckily the party never even noticed but as i sat down my father pulled jack close to him. “Anything happens to her. It's your head.”

“Yes sir” he nodded before climbing into the carriage with me.

#tbs smut #thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #tbs imagine #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster #tbs #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster smut #jackdawkins #jack dawkins #jack #thearttfuldodger #the artful dodger #theartfuldogger

[miguelhugger2099]

Little Miguel, Big Miguel (Pt. 2)

Summary: Miggy meets a few people and he finally grabs the chance to speak with you again. Previous This chapter was so hard to write oml Art in the middle by LBY2K99 Miguel x GN!Reader, fluff, lowkey crack, not proofread at all, Word Count: 3, 106

Eventually Miggy and Jess walked through the entrance of the cafeteria, the threshold being much larger than he expected with various spiders on high beams or on a string of web. Others were normal and sitting at the many tables and booths the place had provided. 

Was that a T-Rex?

“You hungry?” She peered down at him after walking in front of a counter. Miggy shrugged despite his stomach growling.

“I could eat,” He huffed when Jess shoved a tray in his hand, a burger that had his variant’s mask plastered on the bun. His eyebrows raised in surprise. “Huh. A little more conceited than I thought.” He mumbled to himself. 

“Hi, guys!” Jess walked past and called out to a group of people sitting at a booth. They all turned and greeted her back before all of their eyes landed on Miggy. He squirmed slightly as Jess walked in front of him and Miggy followed hesitantly behind.

“Bloody hell. Did the boss shrink? That's jokes.” One smirks, chuckling to himself, his voice smooth and deep that melted nicely with his British accent. 

The other three are slack jawed, not believing what they’re eyes.

“Did he shrink?!” One with a blue headband gasps.

“No, Miguel didn’t shrink,” Jess rolled her eyes. “This is our new recruit, Miguel, obv–obviously. He's getting used to the place so,” Her hand stretches out to list their names. “Hobie, Pavitr, Miles and Gwen.” 

“Is no one finding this strange?” A teenager that looked a little older than him spoke out, his suit completely black except for the red stripes running down his arms. Miles, Miggy made sure to remember. “It's Miguel but…pocket sized.” The girl next to him softly smacks his chest with a warning look.

“He's a kid, Miles. We've met other variants of ourselves before so this shouldn't be different.” Her eyebrows furrowed and the metal piercing by her right glinted underneath the fluorescent lights. Gwen.

Miles pouted. “At least my variant was the same age.” He mumbled under his breath.

Gwen smiles. “Nice to meet you, Miguel.” 

“Ah–actually. You guys can call him Miggy or anything other than Miguel. Just to avoid confusion for the time being.” Jess intervenes awkwardly, helping Miggy into a seat by Miles and Gwen. All of them give their own greetings, welcoming Miggy in despite the strangeness of seeing a more timid and kid version of the man in charge.

“Qué tal?” Miles leans back in his chair.

Miggy brightens up. “Hablas español?” He asks Miles. Miles sits up, wide eyed and suddenly nervous.

“Y-yeah, I know un–un poquitito, y'know.” There was still a bit of an accent but Miggy didn't mind, simply chuckling and nodding, subconsciously showing off his sharp fangs when taking a bite of his burger.

“Woah, were those fangs?” Pavitr leans over the table to take a closer look. Miggy leans back. “Are they retractable too?”

“Uh, no. It’s–it’s just like that.” Miggy chuckled awkwardly after swallowing.

“How long you been Spider-Man for?” Miles asks and turns to him.

“Ah…almost a year, pretty sure.” He kept eating, taking another few bites.

“Are you on rapture?” Hobie tilts his head with a raise of his eyebrow, almost with a hint of concern in his eyes.

Bug-eyed and jaw slacked, Miggy snaps his head to Hobie, nearly choking on himself. “No!” He sputtered while Hobie nodded and leaned back as he relaxed. “Shock, what is wrong with you guys?” He wheezed out.

Pavitr laughs. “I like this new little boss.”

“He don’t got a stick up his arse, that’s for sure. Makes him ten times better than the geezer.” Hobie plays with his bottom lip ring.

“Be nice.” Jess warns with her arms crossed.

“I am nice. That was my nicest, actually.”

Jess’s phone pings in her pocket and she checks her alarm. “Shoot. I need to go. Miggy,” He turns his head to her. “We’ll have to finish orientation another time. I gotta head home. Guys, if you could just keep an eye on him till the end of the day?”

The group of young spiders nod up at her, all responding with their own variations of responses. Jess gives a lingering look to the group, eyeing them down to make sure she can trust them. Deeming them good kids, she sighs and waves, walking away to open a portal back to her dimension. Miggy shrinks in his seat, now being with semi-strangers and the only person he kinda knew in this place, left.

After she leaves, all of them begin to ask more questions like how old he was, if their Miguel’s universe was similar to his universe, etc, etc. Miggy tried his best to answer ease their curiosity with a gentle yet nervous smile. It had been a while since so many people have been kind to him.

Gwen mentions your name after thinking for a moment. “Do you think they know about him?” Miggy’s ear perks up at the mention of you. Where were you anyway? Did you leave? He wanted to see you again.

“Not if Miguel allows it. I can see him getting mad about this.” Pavitr rests his chin in his palm.

“Be a bit freaky if I were to see ‘em together anyway. Since they’re always around the big man.” Hobie crosses his arms on the table.

“I don’t think it’d be freaky. Everyone’s making a big deal about this.” Gwen frowns. Miggy droned out their talking, his eyes searching side to side to find and exit. Don’t get him wrong, these are nice people and he can see himself being friends with them, he just…really needed to see you.

Or maybe it was an excuse to escape their gossiping while in front of him.

Miggy slipped from his seat and escaped the flurry of whatever the hell they were saying while they chatted amongst themselves. He used his webs to swing himself to the ceiling with a small fwizz coming from his wrists. His claws poked out, clutching onto the metal as he crawled away, avoiding Spider-Monkey and out of the threshold. He failed to notice a pair of eyes watching his exit.

He hopped off the wall and landed on one of the many beams the building provided. Miggy took a few glances around him to make sure no one could bother him when he lifted his wrist to his face. He hesitantly raises a finger to the screen. Even though it looked like his universe tech, he still had no clue how it operated. Deciding not to break it accidentally, he brought it close to his lips. “Hey, miss…AI lady, ma’am?” He whispers to the watch.

Lyla suddenly popped up on top of the screen, her holographic body standing in front of many tiny floating monitors. Miggy yelped, covering his mouth with his other hand.

“What’s up little boss? Got a question? And no, you’re not allowed on any mission. You’re on babysitter protocol.” Lyla didn’t look up at him, choosing to look at each file and trashing the ones she deemed unimportant.

“Babysitter?” Miggy scrunched up his face in disdain.

She yawned. “Big boss doesn’t want you out and about to other universes yet. Sorry, kid. Now if you’ll excuse me–”

“Wait, wait! No! That’s–that’s not what I was gonna ask.” He panicked, gripping the watch with his hand. Lyla’s heart sunglasses slid down her nose as she turned her head over her shoulder to face him. “I was just gonna ask about…” He saw your form leave Miguel’s corridor before bumping into another spider person he didn’t recognize for a quick chat. He felt his little heart speed up and smiled. “...them.”

Miggy and Lyla both peered down to watch you smile and laugh with the other spider-man. Miggy noticed a redhead baby in his arms. Lyla glanced at him, back to you and then back to him. She stood up straight and crossed her arms after sliding her shades back on her nose bridge. “Oh, they’re way too old for you, kid.” Miggy frowned at the holographic lady. You had finished talking with whoever that was and waved him and the baby goodbye. Miggy’s heart raced as he prepared himself to jump off the beam.

“Whatever, pequeñita. Don’t need your help anymore. Catch a virus or something.” Miggy grinned mischievously down at her while Lyla gasped in shock.

“Hey–!”

Miggy switched her off and quickly used his webs to stick to the ceiling and swung down behind you, landing on his feet with a quiet thump. Hearing that sound, you turned around to check to see Miggy had stood up on his feet with a toothy smile. The sides of his hair had fallen out of place and he tucked it behind his ear as he walked up to you.

“Hey.” He placed his hands on his hips and puffed up his chest to appear more muscular. You huffed a small laugh, crossing your arms and tilting your head as you looked at him.

“Hi there. I didn’t think we’d meet again so soon.” You decided to amuse him. Miggy shrugged.

“Guess it was fate,” You snorted but Miggy continued anyway. “I was wondering if you had time for a chat? This is your universe I'm assuming? You could show me around the city. Maybe grab a snack together.” He grinned, looking at you with an innocent expression. But you knew better. Miguel would try the same thing in his own version once in a while.

“Uh-huh, yeah, right. Where’s Jess?” You placed your hands on your hips. Miggy stiffened but recollected himself.

“Busy.” He said, technically not lying.

“Sure,” You dragged out. “Well, I thought you came from a similar universe. I don’t think there’d be much new stuff to show you, kid.” You give him a playful pointed look with a tilt of your head. Miggy tsked, poking his cheek with his tongue in annoyance. He didn’t like you thinking he was just some kid. He was more than that, he’d prove it!

“Well, I beg to differ. I’m naturally curious, y’know. It’s one of my charms so I’d like to see if you’re right.”

“So you don’t believe me?” You raised your eyebrow.

Miggy hummed in thought, looking off to the side. “Not at all. Just a test.” He grinned.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright, I’m not doing that,” Miggy’s face dropped. “But I am just heading home really quick and then coming back here. So, if you want, you can join me.” You offered and his face brightened up.

“Yeah! Yeah–sure, sure. That I can totally do.”

“Great. It’s actually not far from here so we could just walk to—”

“Woah, woah, woah. Walk? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m Spider-Man.” Miggy gestured to himself with a smug smirk, but your face didn’t falter.

“I see that.”

Miggy pouted. “I can carry you.”

You waved him off. “That’s really not necessary. I know you’re strong but–” You yelped as you felt Miggy grab your waist and pull your close. The height difference was a little awkward but he didn’t seem to mind one bit. He wanted to prove to you he was capable and strong. His webs shot out and stuck to the walls, swinging the both of you around while he tried finding an exit with a determined look. You wrapped your arms around him, hoping to the universe that you wouldn’t fall, and he felt his heart race a little faster.

“Directions, please!” He exclaimed, a smile in his voice while you screwed your eyes shut. You eventually felt the wind in your hair and the far away sounds of hover cars zipping past. “That’s new!” He dodged the cars with stealth, clutching you tighter to him.

Your legs became shaky and as soon as your feet touched the ground of your patio, you fell to your hands and knees with a giant huff. Miggy landed beside you, letting you take a breather.

“Estas bien?” He asked gently, his voice much softer than the persona he tried to maintain. He knelt by your side, hugging his knees to his chest.

“Fine, fine. Just…don’t do that again.” You helped yourself up and walked inside after opening the glass door. Miggy followed behind you, slightly embarrassed. He glanced around the area, seeing a void of color all around. Simple grays, blacks, and whites as the palette for couches, walls and the like. It was super different compared to back home. His mom usually did the decorations. Miggy thought this room felt very cold.

“This is your home?” He asked, feeling like this was a stark difference from your personality.

“Yeah, well kind of. I live here with someone.” You reply, rummaging through some things in a different room. Miggy perked up, his lips turning downward and feeling jealous.

“Who?” He asked, looking around to see if he could find anything that showed two people lived here.

You didn’t respond. Maybe you didn’t hear him, maybe you did. Miggy was distracted anyway as he walked slowly around the living room. In the corner of his eye, he saw a box that was out of place on one of the selves by the giant holographic TV. He strolled towards it, its dark purple color being the only thing attracting him.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around touching things.” Your voice was heard behind him, making Miggy jump. He took a big step away from the box, becoming more curious but he respected you enough. “I thought you would’ve had enough manners to not go snooping in someone's home.” You tossed him a soda and he caught it, seeing that the name brand was slightly spelled different from his own dimension. He found it a little unsettling; still getting accustomed to everything.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, popping open the can with his talon. “What did you get?”

You shrugged. “Some things to help out the society.” You walked towards the couch and sat on the far right to rest yourself on the armrest. “Just give me a minute and we’ll head back.”

Miggy nodded along, shifting his weight from side to side. “What…are you to the society?” He asked quietly, almost afraid he’d offend you.

“What do you mean?” You looked over at him, patting the side next to you to offer him a seat. Miggy walked over and sat by you, a little farther than what you offered.

“Like…you’re clearly not a spider person, much less some powers, but yet you’re in the society. You know all those people yet you’re…a civilian?” You nodded.

“Yeah, I’m just a regular person. I can’t climb walls or shoot webs but…I think I have a right to be there.”

“You said you were special. What does that mean?” He peeked over at you, his soda faintly fizzing.

You avoided his question. “How about you tell me about yourself instead?”

Miggy tilted his head. “Me?” He asked. “But…I don’t think I’m much different from your ‘other me’.”

You waved him off. “I’m sure there’s some difference. C’mon, don’t be shy. I wanna know about the newbie.” You cross your legs and turn to face him.

Miggy looked apprehensive, not really sure if it’s the right time to spill his life story but you asked so he caved in.

“Well, I was bitten trying to save my, uh, bully.” He looked down at his drink and took a small sip. Your smile dropped.

“You were bullied?”

Miggy nodded. “Well, yeah. It, uh… didn’t end well,” He rubs the side of the can. “There was this huge explosion when checking out the spiders in Alchemax– my dad used to work there,” He doesn’t look up at you. “My dad’s boss and his kid were there. His son bullied me, sure, but when that explosion happened, somewhere in between I got bit and…I dunno,” He sighed, a clear heavy weight on his young shoulders. “Kron was there and I tried–I did– and I don’t even know why I did but he still…y’know.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine but even though he died, he bullied me. But it doesn’t mean he should’ve passed, y’know? Then I woke up and they said my dad died too so it was all confusing back then.” He leaned back on the couch with a heavy sigh.

“I’m…so sorry,” You apologized grimly, guilt eating you up for asking. Miggy looked over at you and gave you a reassuring smile, his fringe falling out of place.

“It’s fine. It happened a while ago. The feeling is still there, just a little less. You didn’t hurt me, promise.” He then chugged the rest of the soda down his throat, feeling the fizz bubble down to his stomach. He crushed the can right after, his talons digging into it and showed you the marks he made. “I got sick powers and I can help my family more now. When they’re in trouble I can just put on the suit and make sure they’re safe.” He beamed with pride and you mirrored the same expression.

“You love your family?” You asked gently, taking the can from his hand and getting up to place it in the recycling bin.

“Mhm!” Miggy nodded. “Since the explosion, we all became a little more tight knit. My mom especially. She became more protective over my little brother since he’s still super little.” He looks up at you as you come back.

“What’s his name?” You hide your smile since you feel you know the answer.

“Gabriel.” Miggy beams. “He’s practically my shadow, which mom doesn’t like. Says I’m too reckless and doesn’t want him to be like me.” He blew raspberries to signify his mild annoyance at the thought.

You laugh and grab a backpack full of things that Miggy assumes were the things you came to collect. “After you swung me around, I think I agree with her.” You joked.

Miggy shot up from his seat and pouted. “Not cool.” But he enjoyed the way you smiled. “Gonna head back out now?”

Nodding, you slip the backpack on and walk with him back to the balcony. “Yup. Whenever you’re ready.” You look at him expectantly. He went a little wide eyed.

“You want me to swing us back?” Lost on why when you screamed earlier.

“Well, I’m prepared this time.” You and Miggy smiled at one another and he looped his arm around your middle. Your hands around his neck and he stuck his web to a building, jumping off the balcony and swinging back to HQ.

A/N: Please forgive me for this mid chapter i'll try to make the next one better i promise

{Taglist 🏷

@sassypotatomoosee @ihavemanyhusbandfandoms @arrozconpepitoria @nanarain @autismsupermusicalassassin @amberpanda99 @huniedeux @oharasfilipinawife @m0stergirl @maimedloveaffairs @glassracecar @lazy-idate @peachipeachy @palesatan @sleepingghoule444 @lizaistewdelulu @cicithemess @amelialysm @keigoloveminty @tatatida @peachyrue-777 }

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞

Passion was something that both men did not lack, whether it be for their livelihood, or in their genuine love for what they held dear to their hearts. It should not have surprised you, however, that you would end up caught up in the middle of such a fiery storm you would forever know and call, the Pepper Predicament. 

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𖠺 Tattoo Artist!CW!Bucky Barnes x Florist!F!Reader x Tattoo Artist!Nomad!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𖠺 1.1k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𖠺 Fluff, crack, confessions

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 𖠺 This is for @smutconnoisseur — I hope you love how I turned your idea into some of the best and funniest fluff I have ever written!

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𖠺 Something That I Want by Grace Potter

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𖠺 @stuckybingo 𝗚𝟭 — Friends to Lovers —  Masterlist

𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been a normal morning – business flowed as usual, and your customers beamed and left your shop with hearts full and hopes optimistic. There were sales on bouquets, stuffies, and even some of the art that lined the walls. 

Well, it had been a normal day. Up until the door burst open, startling you from your daydreaming haze at the front counter during a lull of customers. 

“I am tellin’ you! No, no, we are going to ask her.” There were heavy footsteps and then, Bucky appeared around a shelf, looking just as blustery and frustrated as a hurricane over the sea. “Petal, sweetheart,” he exclaimed upon seeing you.

Steve was laughing, his eyes bright with mirth as he gripped his husband’s hand and lazily strolling behind him. “Calm down,” he soothed, still chuckling. “It doesn’t matter, honey-”

“Like hell will I calm down,” Bucky snapped, and you blinked at his tone. The previous night, the time you had spent with them in the diner had been pleasant and calm – Bucky was not fired up like he was now. It looked like he was ready to blow his head and release a gale. “Petal–our darlin’ Petal, we have something you need to put to rest. This punk is fuckin’ loosin’ it, I swear.”

You stared between the two men, gobsmacked at their contrasting attitudes. “What on earth is going on?”

“What’s going on?” Steve repeated, shaking his head. “Well, you see, we got into a… Predicament, doll. Buck here thinks that a certain thing doesn’t exist and it’s not real, and he won’t hear no different.”

“I don’t-” You tried, standing from your stool to round the counter.

“That’s because they are not fuckin’ real,” Bucky interrupted fiercely, gesturing wildly with his hands. “You said this shit to get-” He made an angry noise in his throat and looked at you. “Are they real?”

“Before you blow your top,” you said slowly, hands raised. Bucky just made another discontented noise and Steve snorted a laugh; he had the decency to cover it with a cough. These boys, you laughed internally. “Is what real, Bucky?”

Steve’s hand moved to squeeze Bucky’s shoulder, and he said, “There are these peppers, you see, and they’re called Peter peppers. He doesn’t think they’re real.”

You could not take it. Bursting into laughter, you clutched your stomach and wheezed, tears immediately sprung to your waterline, and you heaved for breath. It was hysterical laughter, the kind that left you feeling lightheaded and absolutely struck speechless. 

“Oh my god, we’ve killed her,” Bucky said alarmed, eyes wide. His expression only sent you into another fit of laughter. “We’ve actually killed her–dammit, Steve.”

“Help!” you wheezed, almost sobbing with the laughter that wouldn’t cease.

“Breathe, doll,” Steve encouraged through his own laughter. He helped you back onto your stool and he rubbed your back, his hand going up and down your spine. “You’re good, just don’t pass out on us.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” you gasped, finally able to speak. Bucky looked spooked and you snorted before you could stop it, but you kept your composure. “Okay, alright–why is this something you’re discussing?”

The sheepish expression and pink flush on Bucky’s cheeks surprised you, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. He looked down at his boots and murmured something that you didn’t catch. 

“You’re gonna need to be louder than that, honey,” Steve teased, and Bucky shot him a glare.

You watched Bucky take a deep breath, as though to steel himself, and then he quietly said, “I was lookin’ up flowers an’ shit, ‘cos I wanted to plant some for you, and they for some reason came up on the blog I found and I swear to god, they are not real. They’re ridiculous and then Steve wouldn’t shut up and kept insisting that they are actually real.” He looked at Steve with such a glint of accusation it was a marvel Steve didn’t melt into the floor. “Since when did you know about peppers, anyway?”

“Oh, Buck,” you said softly, hand over your heart. “You wanted to plant some flowers for me? Oh my gosh.”

Bucky nodded, shrugged, and looked at you. “You deserve somethin’ pretty, sweetheart.”

“Honey,” you cooed, getting off the stool to walk towards Bucky – Steve following close behind. Bucky’s hands were warm as you held them, and you kissed the back of them, a soft gesture that made the blush on his cheeks darken. “I’m a florist, you could have just asked me.”

“But I wanted it to be a surprise,” Bucky insisted, his voice still small. “Steve wanted to get some planters for our windows.”

You looked at Steve who didn’t look sheepish, rather, he looked proud. “‘Course I did. I want our shop to have something to remind us of our girl.”

“I haven’t even said yes, boys,” you reminded them, astounded at their devotion. “How can you feel comfortable doing such things-”

“Because we know what our hearts want.” The words that had left Bucky’s lips left you shell-shocked; unable to speak for the pang that went through your heart. They wanted you enough to even consider doing such a thing to their own haven. 

You had promised yourself you would take that plunge. Why not now?

“Well,” you sighed and grabbed Steve’s hand with one of your own, so you were holding both of them close. “Then I guess I better say that I feel like I want it, too.”

Bucky beamed, brighter than the sun, and Steve grinned, a genuine happiness radiating from his whole being. They pulled you close, hugging you tight for a few moments, when Steve pulled away first. 

“So, our clever Petal,” he began, and Bucky stiffened next to you. “Are they real–the Peter peppers?”

You winced, and you heard Bucky’s heavy exhale. “Don’t you dare-” He started, intent on cutting you off, but you put a finger over his lips to shush his protest. 

“They’re real, Buck–I’m so sorry.”

Steve cheered and Bucky grumbled, his disappointment evident in the furrow of his brows and pout of his lips. “Whose team are you on?” he wondered, staring at you with such an affronted expression that it was like you had just told him he could never draw again. 

“I am on my own team–one that knows all about floristry and peppers,” you teased, and you pulled your finger away. “Now, off you go, go brood to your husband over lunch.”

“So rude,” Bucky huffed, stomping off, Steve following close behind. 

Steve was the one to pause in the doorway, turning around to wave and call, “We’ll get you some lunch, doll!”

Before you could reply with an ascension, the door swung closed, and it was just you in your shop; heart racing and feeling like you were floating on cloud nine. “That’s that,” you whispered, and you placed a hand over your hammering heart. “That is that–I can’t wait.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x female reader #stucky x f!reader #stucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #stucky fluff #rookthorne's works

[tervaneula]

u said leoichi drabble prompt request. consider. one injured and the other protecting them and then the injured one has to calm them down bc 'they're okay, really, promise, rest now'

OKAY SO this fused with a ghost of an idea I've had for a while and it ended up being a bit more serious than the prompt called for and a lot longer than just a drabble. (It's ~1120 words.) CW: blood and injury

Also I made a silly header thing I don't know what to do with, so I'm putting it here since this fic doesn't come with art of its own :'3

“Yui, I’m okay–” 

The rabbit turns his head to look at him, furious. 

“I heard your shell crack, Leonardo, and I'm not an idiot! Now stay down and let me handle this!” 

He falls quiet for a moment before redirecting his glare towards their adversary and then adds a muted, “Please.” 

There's no compromising with Yuichi in this state, apparently, and Leonardo stays right where he got crushed between metal claws and the concrete, splayed on the ground next to those very same claws which had gotten swiftly cut from the wrist for their transgressions.

He does roll onto his side to get his body weight off his shell, and yeah, alright, one or more of the old cracks that never healed properly must have split open again. It's tough to breathe and his back feels… His kimono is sticking to his shell and his back feels wet now that he's paying attention, and that. That is not good. 

Just his luck to run into a massive mecha wreaking havoc on an otherwise lovely day, huh. He wasn't even supposed to be on patrol and thus is embarrassingly swordless. 

Good thing that his date and their resident samurai always carries his. 

The slider watches as Yuichi does quick work of the metal hunk's wiring behind its knees, his frighteningly sharp katana slicing through the cables like butter. The mech falls with a ground-shaking rumble, unable to rise again, arm flailing as it tries to catch the rabbit. It's no use, Yuichi is much smaller and faster – and as soon as he reaches the mech's head, it's already rolling. The construct immediately loses power and Yuichi wrenches the windowed hatch in its chest open. Turns out there's no pilot, just a program-operated dashboard, and he makes sure that none of the controls are functional after he's done with them. 

Leonardo thinks he could watch Yuichi trash villains all day long, he's practically mesmerised by the strength hidden in that soft frame despite his shell throbbing unpleasantly in tandem with his heartbeat. He sighs, lovestruck. 

As his final move, Yuichi thrusts his katana into the heart of the mecha and Leonardo sees a spray of ink-black oil splash all over Yuichi's face and the front of his kimono. It makes him laugh and he realises his mistake too late, his lungs struggling to draw breath again as he finally gets hit with the pain, his body trying to stop him from moving; from causing any more damage. Shit, shit, shit. 

He had hoped he wouldn’t need to bother any of his brothers today since he was supposed to spend the whole day with Yuichi but he knows to pick his battles, now. He opens the comm link embedded in his prosthetic, contacting someone who he knows will pick up. 

“Che~ello!” comes the cheerful answer in just a few seconds, and Leonardo can't help but smile. 

“Mikeyyy, hermano, I'm in a bit of a pickle,” he wheezes, feeling the shift in his little brother's energy as soon as he hears the strain in his voice. 

“Leo? Are you okay?” 

“Not really, no,” Leonardo grunts. “Got into a scuffle with some big haywire robot– don’t worry, that’s taken care of. I suspect Donnie will want to scrap it for parts. Um. My shell’s– my shell’s cracked though.” 

Leonardo can vividly imagine the colour draining from Michelangelo's face and it would be funny if he wasn't acutely aware of a broken shell coming with the very real possibility of his innards turning into outnards. 

“I'm calling Draxy. Stay put, I'll get Lee to pick you up.” 

“Right,” Leonardo sighs, the line going out just when Yuichi is finally done with the mech and rushing to his side, face haphazardly wiped from oil. His gaze is sharp as he kneels next to him, sweaty and out of breath, and Leonardo thinks he looks like a knight. Or maybe like a samurai of the old, in this case. 

“There’s my hero,” he coos before Yuichi can get a word out and the rabbit’s brow furrows. 

“Don’t start,” he snaps but his tone softens almost immediately, “I saw you calling someone. It’s bad, isn’t it? It… it looks really bad.” 

“Yeeeah, this kimono is definitely ruined,” Leonardo laments, “unless you know how to, gh, get blood out of corduroy? No? Or the obi?” 

Yuichi stares. 

“A– a shame, really, I did like this one a lot–” 

“Leonardo!” Yuichi interrupts him and grabs his bicep, looking two seconds away from crying. Leonardo frowns. He knows he’s getting a little delirious but he was sincerely trying his best to lift his mate’s mood. 

“Leon, please, you’re rambling. Is someone coming? Can I do anything?” 

“‘m not rambling,” Leonardo grumbles, hissing when he fills his lungs again. “Leo’s coming to get us, Draxy– Draxum will treat the shell. And no, better keep the obi in place until we get to the medbay.” 

Yuichi’s shoulders slump and he sighs, most likely relieved that he’s not going to have to figure out how to deal with a cracked shell. Leonardo does not like the lingering worry in Yuichi’s gaze one bit, though, and he offers him a grin. It’s a little shaky but whatever. 

“Heeey, bunbun. Listen. This is nothing I haven’t been through before. I’ll be fine.” 

Yuichi gives him an honest-to-God kicked-puppy look and Leonardo thinks it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen in his life. He almost tells him so but Yuichi cups his cheek and his forced grin melts away into surprised silence. 

“I hate seeing you hurt,” Yuichi murmurs, leaning down to press his forehead against Leonardo’s. The slider’s eyes flutter shut and he lifts his hand to hold onto Yuichi’s wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I mean it. I should’ve been more careful.” 

Yuichi huffs and leans away to gently bump their foreheads together. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” 

“Maybe, but ’m still sorry. Didn’t want to worry you.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Yuichi says, exasperated. “You should know that at this point, I’ll always worry.” 

Leonardo grins and this time it’s genuine. Breathing in his partner’s scent is like a balm to him, even if it’s tinged with the bitterness of motor oil, even if his body currently thinks that breathing is overrated. Even if he just got called an idiot by none other than said partner. 

“Raincheck on the date?” he mumbles, and finally he gets a chuckle out of the rabbit. Yuichi straightens his back and flicks him on the nose. 

“Like you even needed to ask. Idiot.” 

Before Leonardo can express his displeasure of being called an idiot for a second time there’s the familiar electric hum of a portal opening behind him, and someone whistles. 

“Sheesh, old man. That kimono is definitely ruined.” 

#NOT PROOFREAD I had to stop myself because every time I tried to check this over I kept writing MORE and that's just not sustainable #sdfghhsfghjafsfd #anyway these peepaws gay #rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt fanfiction #leoichi #peepaw leo #peepaw yuichi #other characters mentioned + a cameo from #rise leo #future leonardo #future leo #samurai rabbit #usagi chronicles #yuichi usagi #usagi yuichi #tervdraws #tervdrabbles

[forlorn-crows]

Crow, my dear, if it’s not too much to ask…may I make a ficlet request? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not feeling it, but I’m partway through a new drawing and could use some scene setting inspiration. Mountain, kissing Dew’s neck from behind, Dew so far gone Mountain has to hold him up. Maybe some teeth in there too~

oops its filthy too~ dew really is a sucker for neck kisses, isn't he?

hope this gives you lots of inspiration hehehe

EDIT: now with delicious art by @autumnblooms

Dew's head lolls back onto Mountain's shoulder for the umpteenth time, too gone to hold it up himself. He chokes off a moan when the earth ghoul sucks at the junction of his neck, belly fluttering and cock jumping at the touch of his tongue.

Mountain grinds up into his little body, rumbling into too hot skin. "Feel so good, fire lily," he rasps. "Taking me so well."

"Uhn," he moans eloquently, arching when Mountain scrapes his teeth over the tendon in his shoulder. Teasing the promise of a claim. 

"Belial, like that, just like that, darling." Mountain thrusts lazily, but devastatingly deep and precise. "Just lie back all pretty and take my cock," he breathes hotly into Dew's ear.

“Fu-uck ye-es,” Dew groans, voice jumping with each pass of Mountain’s cock over that spot deep inside. His own cock leaks over his stomach, precum catching in his happy trail and dripping down the shaft. 

Mountain kisses up his neck, leaving a messy trail of saliva until he reaches the sensitive spot behind Dew’s ear. He sucks and nibbles, thrusts getting steadily harder the longer he kisses there. The fire ghoul whines. The end of it turns into a wheeze when Mountain sucks a mark into the skin. 

“You sound so lovely,” Mountain purrs. His arm tightens across Dew’s chest, really pinning him down. His other arm moves down to his thigh, big hand gripping the muscle and pulling his legs further apart. “Will you cum for me if I touch you?”

Dew squirms a little. Digs his toes into the comforter and grips Mountain’s arm. “Yeah,” he whines. “‘M close, yes, please.”

Mountain huffs a laugh into his sweaty hair. He dips his hand further down, running a finger around Dew’s stretched hole and up the seam of his balls. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Drawn up so tight, so open for me,” he groans. He drags his hand up to his cock, squeezing the base gently. 

Dew keens, rolling his head back and forth. “Mountain,” he begs. “C-can’t, I—uhn f-fu—” The earth ghoul runs his thumb over the slit, snapping his hips up at the same time. Any coherent thought leaks out of Dew’s ears as quickly as the precum dripping from the head of his dick. 

“Just take it,” he breathes, really pounding into him now. “Lemme make you feel good.”

“Oh Lu-ci-fer,” Dew cries, arching sharply.  

“Shhh,” Mountain soothes. “That’s it.” He speeds his hand, slick sounds filling the air around them. “Give it to me, let me hear those lovely noises.”

Dew’s got plenty of them, spilling from his slack mouth with every stroke, every thrust. And still, Mountain kisses at his neck, sucking, nipping, and laving at all the spots that make Dew gasp and clench down on his cock. 

“Close,” Dew hisses. “Gonna fuckin’ cum—Mount, shit, ‘mgonnacum—” 

Mountain sinks his teeth into the fire ghoul’s shoulder, turning his warning into a warbling moan. His eyes roll back and he spills over Mountain’s hand in no less than two thrusts and one pull on his cock, tail ramrod straight against the bed as he shudders through it.

#its short bc im fighting the writing demons currently #but hope you enjoy! #ask #kate #ficlet #fanfic #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #ghost fanfic #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #mountaindew #mountain x dewdrop #dewdrop x mountain #sodo ghoul #fucking take ME mountain #anyway

[slashers-and-rats]

pretty boy.

vincent sinclair x fem!reader | nsfw |sub!vincent, lingerie, lots of praise!!

rat chat: vincent deserves to feel pretty and be railed. that’s this.

wherever your fingertips dragged along vincent’s skin, a blazing trail followed close behind. it didn’t burn or sting; it felt as though you were tracing lines of hot wax across his flesh. he felt, in some ways, like your canvas. the way you drew invisible patterns on him, and created faint etchings with your nails along his most sensitive spots, made him gasp and push further into your touch.

vincent felt pretty.

he felt a bit like a doll, all dressed up and laid out for display. you had picked out his outfit yourself. at first, he had been so nervous, and the only thing saving him from complete embarrassment was the fact his mask hid the red on his face. but, you spoke so sweetly, and praised him for his beauty, and your words turned his organs into ooze, and-

there was no point in thinking about it now. he had gotten himself into this predicament, and the further you worshipped his body, the less he believed this was a mistake. it wasn’t. you had reassured him of that the second the straps slipped over his shoulders.

“you look so pretty in your lingerie,” you purred from above him. the words wrapped around his throat, and squeezed out a soft sigh. he could feel your eyes roaming over him, taking in the sight. he donned a nice set, with a lacy bralette and matching panties. it was snug on his body, tight to the point his nipples raised bumps in the fabric barely covering his chest. his cock, tucked as far down into the panties as possible, still had it’s head poking out the waistband. it leaked drops onto his hip and back down his v-line, and twitched every time you grazed your fingers down his stomach. garters we’re attached, with bows adorning the middle of the strap that connected to the thigh-highs. they felt silky and soft, and hid the bit of hair that grew on his legs. he felt smooth, pure and shiny. for once he was dainty, like a flower.

your eyes trailed back up, gazing lovingly into his. he could feel his heart pounding hard in his chest, threatening to rip out and ruin the nice fabric. he had to remember to breathe.

“who’s my pretty boy?” you settled in between his legs. he felt his chest heating up, and turned away from you. your hands curled around the flesh of his thighs, and pulled them over your own legs, so he was partially in your lap. his crotch pressed into the plush of your stomach as you leaned forward, moving his face so he was looking up at you again. “hey, no running. answer me. who’s my pretty boy?”

a wave ran through vicent’s body, the blood now rushing from his head down to his cock. he could feel it twitch once again, rubbing lightly into his waist and smearing precum along his skin. he opened his mouth, trying to speak, but choked on his own words. he wasn’t good at talking, especially when in situations like this. you just watched as he squirmed under your amused eye, trying his hardest to say what he wanted.

if this was easier for him, he’d be chanting ‘me, me, I’m your pretty boy, i am’. it felt right. he, for once, was the muse. he was the model, and the art, and the statue posed elegantly in the museum. he was an exhibit, a display- but only for you. this was a private show. he wanted you to know that he knew his place.

he sputtered, gasping lightly when you pinched his chin between your pointer and thumb. you lifted it up, revealing his throat to you, and leaning in to press your mouth against the taut skin there. “c’mon, vincent, be my good little pet. speak.”

it felt as though someone had pressed down on his lungs, because a trembling whimper wheezed out. he swallowed thickly, finally managing to gather enough wit to say, “i-I’m… y-yours. I’m y-yours.” it was near silent, his voice hoarse from lack of use. but it was the best he could bring himself to do.

he could feel your lips curl into a satisfied smile. your hand went down his cheek and came to rest on his chest. his heart beat thumped heavy against your palm. your other hand, still clutching his thigh, dragged up his body to the bulge in his underwear.

“such a good boy, my good boy,” you praised, rubbing your thumb up the line of his shaft. he keened, back arching so he could press his torso further into your touch. he could feel the texture of the lace rubbing against his nipples, the growing sensitivity plaguing his body making him shudder at every small sensation. you responded by pinching the bud through his bralette, making him buck his hips.

“you’re so excitable today. is this too much for you?” you pulled away from your place in his neck. you examined his face. he was so happy his mask continued to protect him, because underneath his mouth was permanently open, hot breaths hitting the inside of the wax as his face shone with arousal. he knew his eyes didn’t hide how needy he was, but if there was any doubt, he shook his head to signal he was not, in fact, too overwhelmed.

he was at just the right amount, actually. his body was melting down into the bed, and his veins were filled with warm honey. he was in heaven. he wanted you to continue, to give him anything more.

like you were reading his mind, you tugged his panties down under his balls, and allowed his dick to flop up against his happy trail. the sudden freedom made him gasp in surprise. you positioned yourself so that you had full view and reach over him. one hand held his hip in place, while the other grasped at his cock, and began stroking.

vincent felt electricity surge up his body, and it showed as he suddenly thrust hard into your fist. he clutched at the blankets around him, finding little purchase, and instead just writhing against the bed. you were going too slow, but squeezing so tight around his shaft. you ran all the way down until your pinkie could dip and brush his balls, and then you’d move up to choke underneath his head, and swipe the precum off of his tip.

he moaned, coarse and rough, unpracticed. his head twisted to rest a cheek against the bed, eyes squeezing shut and mouth hanging open to allow freedom for his noises. they spilled out messy against the mattress. whimpers and whines, barely audible pleas that didn’t make sense; it all leaked out between panting breaths.

“you’re such a beauty, vinny. you’re so cute, moaning like that. you must feel real good, huh?” he nodded immediately at the question, adding a hard thrust up into your hand for emphasis. you giggled, the sound like acupuncture needles pinching into his nerves. it relaxed him, turned him to mush. “I’m glad. you deserve it. you deserve to feel good, and feel appreciated, and feel worshipped. all that nice stuff.”

you ceased your stroking. it was sudden enough that vincent choked out a loud whine, sitting up on his elbows. you tutted him, pushing him back down against the bed. “calm down,” you cooed, maneuvering yourself so that you sat over his legs. “i just wanna give you more. you want that, don’t you? you want more?” vincent nodded enthusiastically, his hands moving to hold your hips now. he squeezed, feeling your flesh move out between his fingers, and fill his palms. he wanted to smother himself in you.

while he was focused on finding a good handle on you, you raised your hips up above his own. your hand barely touched his cock as you guided his tip to your hole. it was when you slipped the head inside you, letting it barely pass by your lips, that vincent was once again ripped down to earth. without much thought, he pushed his hips all the way up into you, sheathing himself quick within your walls. it made you whimper in surprise, and he soaked up the sound, letting out his own moan of pleasure in response.

“you’ve been so good, vinny. fuck me. take what you want.” you leaned forward on your arms, stabilizing yourself before beginning to grind your hips back on the man below you. vincent’s own grip tightened on you, before he began to thrust up into your warmth.

he felt like a slut, but a pretty one for sure. the lace of his panties left imprints in the backs of your thighs, and as he fucked up into you, his garters jingled lightly against his legs. he couldn’t stop his hips from rutting into you, almost primal in the way he buried himself into you over and over.

you looked like a dream to him, taking him so well. you looked down at him with such adoration, it was like a heat lamp was focused on his face. he could feel the sweat beginning to stick to the surface of his skin, and the room filled with the sweet aroma of sex. he breathed it all in deep, memorizing his surroundings to use when he was alone and missing your embrace. he burned you into his vision, and every wet slap of his cock into your hole was committed to memory.

you let the weight of your body fall to one arm, bouncing back on his dick as your free hand found the middle string of his bra. you pulled it, tugging him up and to your chest. he quickly wrapped his arms around you, holding you close and pushing you back so you sat completely in his lap. for a moment, the thrusting stopped. you just sat, panting gently as he held your body close, the set of undergarments stamping intricate patterns into you both. you pressed your lips hard against his throat, opening them only to begin sucking and biting along the space there. he let his head fall back, beginning to whimper when your hips began to grind down into his cock.

he felt helpless. pleasure pulsed through every inch of his being, and the weight of you on top of him felt divine. it reassured him he was there, in the moment, and it wasn’t all some wet dream. your hands ran over his shoulders and tangled in his hair, and you pulled him flush against your body. where you began and he ended was a mystery. it felt right.

he leaned closer into you, guiding you down until you were laying against your back. he pushed your legs wide open, moving so that he could be as deep inside of you as possible. it was your turn to breathe a moan, eyes fluttering shut.

he watched you, mapping out every small detail of your body; every valley and hill, every bump and mark. he leaned over you, letting his hair fall around his neck and become curtains around his face. in this light, he looked like an angel, adorned in fine silks and innocent white fabric. but the sheen of sweat, and the red peeking down from his face spoke of only sin.

vincent braced himself, before beginning to fuck down into you. it was a quicker pace than previous, his patience running thin. he didn’t want to just tease himself anymore, he needed to be selfish. he wanted to be. he wanted to drown in your aura, to cover himself in you and everything you could give him.

your fingers looped into the garters, pulling his hips down into you with each thrust. even as he was towered over you, you found a way to hold him by the reigns. he felt so controlled. he was nothing but a doll, a silly little puppet to be played with and used. it was his rightful place.

he pumped into you, being guided by you even in this moment. he grunted with every thrust, his pace becoming sloppy and uneven as a knot tightened in his stomach. out of instinct, a hand flew down to your clit, and he began rubbing it with determination. you always came first, you were in charge, he was here to please you. oh, how he had changed- once so frightening, now nothing but a play thing.

you moaned, and the sound didn’t help his battle to hold back his orgasm. it filled his head with fog, and he let out desperate whimpers as he held himself back.

“you can cum, vinny, it’s okay. cum if you need to, okay?” your words, while reassuring, fell on deaf ears. he was focused, nothing would stray him from his goal. he readjusted himself, now angling perfectly so that he met your g-spot with every rut. he drank in the sounds you let out in response.

vincent continued his work, circling your clit with his thumb while bumping his head into that good spot inside you. the look in his eyes was feral, but filled with purpose.

he could barely breathe when you came on him. it happened so suddenly, with no warning to be had. you orgasmed, and your walls tightened and squeezed around his cock. he tried to keep his eyes open, tried to watch the beauty that was your climax, but he couldn’t. he came in an instant, doubling over your body and collapsing down into your chest. spurt after spurt of hot cum spilled into your cunt, filling it until semen spilled out around vincent’s cock. he shuddered, hiding his face in your collarbone, while his moans spilled shakily out of his mouth.

you stroked his hair, catching your own breath while he rode out his orgasm. it had been a wave for you both; starting high, crashing hard into him, and then pulling back out to the distance. he laid in the low tide, relaxing in the warmth.

“you did so well. you’re such good boy, and so cute too, even when you’re coming. who’s my pretty boy?” you hummed, patting his back gently. he breathed deep against your chest, laying fully against you now, letting his cock slip lazily from your hole. he wasn’t in a rush to clean up. he needed a moment to breathe anyways.

“i’m y-your pretty boy…”

#slasher x reader #slashers #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair

[armysantiny]

-[renjun; soft bf headcanon

P: Renjun x gender neutral reader | G: fluff, headcanon | Inc: soft bf!renjun, meeting on sns, handholding, teasing, friends to lovers, getting smothered by your friends, café dates | Wc: 451 | W: food cw | R: G

Nct’s resident artist boyfriend everyone!!

Anywho—

You and Renjun initially met at an art workshop

He was looking for help with a brush technique and there you were, having just learnt it from the art professor

Bless you for offering to help him because he’s certain he wouldn’t have asked himself

Somewhere during the workshop, social media handles are shared

You two are the creative friends to lovers fr

Sending aesthetic pictures to each other and saying what do we think?

Renjun’s the one who takes the initial leap to give you his number

And the rest was history <3

Renjun is 100% the teases you out of love boyfriend

It’s his love language <33

Very much a fan of buying little trinkets he finds that remind him of you

Presents them to you when he gets home by quite literally dumping the paper gift bag in your lap

Immensely satisfied by the reaction on your face

Takes you to craft stores and small privately-owned cafés on dates

Saves your favourite new cafés and restaurant on his phone so can grab desserts and take-out from there on his way home for you

This man makes such a good impression on your friends

I’m convinced they smother him in affection whenever he joins you on an outing

Low-key pleading for help with his eyes while he’s having his poor soul squeezed out of him

And you’re over there watching him suffer with an unassuming grin on your face

What did he really expect from you, huh?

You little traitor – his words, trust me

But it’s fine, he loves you anyway

Even if he’s wheezing to get his breath back

Isn’t the biggest fan of PDA but peppers you with kisses all over the second you two are alone

Expect forehead kisses and the occasional peck on the lips when you two are outside

Hand holding with Renjun >>>

Makes up for his lack of PDA by having your hand in his almost always

He stuffs your hand in his pocket when it’s cold and puts a hand warmer in the hand he is (unfortunately) not holding

Pretends not to absolutely combust when you put your head on his shoulder as you’re walking home from a date

He feels absolutely normal about this. Yes :D

Takes candid pictures of you and uses them in a collage that he surprises you with on your birthday

I swear down he has the softest of smiles as you process the gift in your hands

Has the sweetest of heart eyes fr

“This…you made this for me?”

“Of course I did, my love~”

You better keep this man

Renjun best boyfriend

I’m rooting for you two <3

© copyright work of armysantiny 2023-2024

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @ultkpopnetwork, @whipped-kpop-creators, @k-library, @knet-bakery, @kpclub, @nct-writers, @neoturtles

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!

Taglist: @teeztheflag, @jeonqquk, @mikailo666, @babyboobean, @taemin-jaemin, @iiindigocheesecake, @xavi-in-kpopland, @flowerjun, @marxenash | Taglist form

#Writer Elf Minnie #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #ultkpop #wkcnet #klibrary #knet bakery #kpc.creators #nct writers #neoturtles #nct #nct renjun #nct headcanons #renjun headcanons #nct dream headcanons #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #renjun fluff #nct x gender neutral reader #nct dream x gender neutral reader #renjun x gender neutral reader #nct x you #renjun x you

[bloomingdog]

Acolyte

word count: 2.7k a/n: hii i'm going through a depressive episode and this is my fic about soap with a depressed reader cos he's my babygirl. might expand on them idk i love soap i wanna keep writing for him

Johnny is a friend of Kyle’s, and Kyle is a friend of Farah, who is your friend. And Johnny, or Soap, is here because Kyle invited him since he had “nothing better to do”. And it’s alright, he’s fun and a little loud, he talks over people but always apologises. You were a little nervous to meet him, having been promised a get-together with people you were already well-acquaintances with, but the tears in your eyes, from laughing, that is, dismiss all previous nerves.

“And then he-” He’s cut off by his own wheeze, it’s been going for a couple of minutes; him and Kyle trying to retell a story about their captain, but they keep getting interrupted by their own laughter. You don’t think it’s that funny, if anything their reactions are the thing that make you all go into hysterics. It’s hard to feel sorry for all the other patrons. 

You feel drunker than you really are, save for Farah, you only had two to three beers each. It’s the kind of silly drunkenness induced by being with friends. The forgotten UNO cards on top of the table shake as Johnny’s fist hits the table trying to catch his breath.

And the pub’s playlist keeps playing every top #1 hit from the last 20 years. And at some point you’re all performing a rendition of smash hit “500 miles”. And you’re getting giggly with sleep. And Farah’s driving you home. And she’s asking you about Johnny, which makes you giggly all over. And she’s telling you he’s single. 

And then it’s morning. And there’s a message from an unknown phone number.

“Hey. This is Johnny. 

Just wanted to let you know I had a blast last night, loved meeting you :-)” 

It makes you smile trying to figure out what to write back. Why is it so hard to sound nonchalant while also a little interested in getting to know him? 

“So did I!

Haven’t laughed that hard in a while lol”

That’s cool, right? It’s half a good response at the very least, since you get a response back.

“Wanna meet sometime?”

Oh, that’s good. At best, you get a little attention and maybe a lay, at worst you get a new friend. You keep texting throughout the day, you two fit like a puzzle piece: talkative, extroverted and active. He sends you a picture of a squirrel he saw earlier on his morning run, you send him a picture of your cat back with the caption “my asshole son” to which he replies “don’t be mean to him”. Those little interactions keep getting exchanged. On Monday, you send him a fun fact about a shark that had a virgin birth. Tuesday, he’s telling you about his fear of dogs. Wednesday is the perfect occasion for a picture of your cat, Gus, sleeping in a funny position. Thursday, your phone pings with a string of texts ranting about Glasgow City. Friday you’re texting Johnny that you’re at the restaurant you’re meeting at, a hole-in-the-wall that mastered the art of oily food and crispy chips, he replies he’s running late.

“I’m so sorry for making you wait.” Is out of his mouth before any greeting. “Are ye hungry?” It’s more a conversation starter than an actual question.

“It’s okay! No worries.” You’re just happy to be hanging out, not bothered by his tardiness. 

The two of you sit and chat, you learn he has a tattoo of a revolver but won’t say where. He laughs at the face you make while imagining where it would be. “Don’t be dirty!” He chastises, it’s within the law that you steal one of his chips as payment for the teasing. You ask where does Soap come from.

“A’m good at cleaning.” It’s a short answer that explains enough, you’re not keen on pushing the topic any further. Luckily, he changes the topic rather quickly, it looks like he’s not a big fan of silences. “Tell me aboot Gus. How’d you get him?” 

“A colleague’s cat had kittens, she was trying to find them homes, Gus was the only one left, runt of the litter you know?” He nods, listening, interested in what you have to say. “Kept pushing and showing me pictures of the guy until I caved. When I took him home he wouldn’t stop screaming, I think he might be part siamese, they’re really vocal. So, he kept me up all night, I thought he was sick or something, I even took him to the emergency vet, turns out he’s just a dickhead.” He smiles at the insult. “A very cute one, though.” You add, it’s hard not to love him even if he wakes you up at 6 a.m. on the dot.

 “Can I meet him someday?” he might if you’re lucky enough.

You might as well thank every saint, divinity, and omnipotent being for your luck tonight. He accompanies you home, only because “he’s a gentleman”, according to him. The kind of gentleman that kisses you dizzy and gets invited into your flat.

You text Farah about the events of the evening before falling asleep, it’s not kiss and tell if she’s your best friend. And in the early morning you’re both woken up by an angry Gus, whose side of the bed has been stolen by a guy that almost doesn’t fit in it. You’re cuddled on his side, one leg over his.

“Gus-Gus….” It’s a groggy mumble of displeasure, you know he only wants to be beside you, but the hour doesn’t help your mood. Still, you move away from Johnny so he can jump onto your chest for cuddles.

“He does skirl alright.” That morning voice might actually be the death of you.

“Told you. He’s an asshole.” A breathy laugh makes his bare chest move as he turns to face you.

“He’s real cute though.”

“Are you not tired?” The early morning light peeks through your window, the sun isn’t even out yet and you can’t imagine anyone that is appreciative of being woken up so early.

“Naw, no’ really. ‘M used to it.” 

It feels weird, good weird, to have him in your bed like that. Barely a week since you met, and he feels so close, more like a friend than a one-night stand, more than a friends-with-benefits. He checks the time on his phone before speaking again.

“Ye want breakfast?” Your eyes are closed again, hugging Gus close to your chest, hand moving up and down his fur but not doing much to pet him. His call of your name is answered by a groan, it makes him chuckle. He scoots closer to you, you can feel his arm coming up for Gus to sniff and the cat readjusts himself so his head is closer to Johnny’s. “Hi”.

Oh but the warmth dissipating from his body is to much, that and the soft noise of Gus’ purr drives you to fall asleep again. You only half dream, a mixture of images that won’t make any sense once you’re awake again, which happens rather soon as the bed adjusts and you feel a hand run through your hair. 

“Can I make tea?” His voice sounds softer than earlier, you nod, opening your eyes just a smidge to look up at him.

“Biscuits in the cupboard…”That’s as much as you can muster now. “Wake me up when it's done?”

“Course.” 

He left with Gus following behind, but you can’t seem to fall asleep again. That was…rather intimate. Your stomach feels hot and your chest tighter. Shooting your eyes open you’re quick to grab your phone again, Farah replied an hour ago.

“Wooo! Good for you”

“You’re gonna have to tell me everything about it btw”

“Farah”

“How pathetic is it to have a crush on your one night stand?”

Oh you don’t like that, calling him a one night stand, feels too impersonal, rude almost.

You’re getting out of bed, into your restroom and to the kitchen. 

“Good morning” He leans against the kitchen counter where your meds are,he’s looking at his phone waiting for the kettle to boil, clad in his boxers from last night, hair a mess and body soft under the morning light. Even though it’s the same body it feels so different from last night, scars, bigger and small, litter his body, it’s muscular and soft at the same time, big pecs a tad too inviting and a tattoo on his forearm. Reaching for the pills would mean standing next to him, probably brushing against—no, touching him, and that makes you nervous. Oh. You’re embarrassingly down bad. 

He stayed the entire weekend, Friday through Sunday. Next week it was picnic and football. You’re convinced any major team would be jealous of your 1-person teams and 5 meter field. He’s good, but you’re full of fear as he chases you for the ball, it’s the predator-prey kinda adrenaline that makes you score. 

“Yes!” 

“Offside! Offside!”

“What do you mean offside? There’s no one I can pass the ball to!” In fact, there’s not even a goal. You grab the ball and go back to him, looking straight into his eyes in fake defiance. 

“Talking back to the referee? That’s a red card.” He looks so handsome like this, standing tall and unmovable, even if only joking, and you let him know via a quick kiss to his lips. He’s pulling you back to his lips not even half a second after, deep and slow, giggly. “Bribin’ me, huh?” You let out a soft, happy, sigh and kiss him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You tell Farah everything over a cup of tea and a piece of cake, of course. And she laughs at you, not in a mean way at all, only friendly and amused, still you hit her arm.

And the following week it’s film night. This one’s more spontaneous than the others, it’s been a tough week at work, you want a quiet evening and some company so you ask him if he wants to come hang out, he replies saying that he’ll be there in 30.

It’s the two of you, your favourite take out, Gus-Gus sitting on the back of the sofa and Fargo on the TV. He’s not paying as much attention to the film as he is to you.

“What?” You say, turning to look at him.

“Ye’r a beauty.” You smile shyly and kick him on the leg with your foot slightly. “A’m serious. I like you a lot.” A big smile grows on your face, and it’s enough confirmation for him to know you feel the same.

Or at least he thought so. There are no plans for this weekend, not for lack of trying, that is, Soap’s been trying to text you all week, it’s a big shift from your daily texting. He misses the little life updates you send him. Tuesday, he thought you might just be busy. Wednesday he stops trying to contact you, did he do something wrong? Went too fast? Are you ghosting him? What did he do that was worth the silent treatment? Thursday, he tries calling you, multiple times. Friday all rational thoughts have left his brain, did something happen to you? Are you okay? Christ, what if you’re dead? He texts Farah, swallowing his embarrassment.

“She’s okay, I think.”

“Going through a bit of a depression episode at the moment.”

“She’s going recluse, I know she wouldn’t mind a bit of help.”

“I have a spare key to her flat if you want to come get it.”

The string of texts floats around his mind, spare key in hand in front of your front door. He’s been inside before, but he was invited in, this feels invasive, but Farah trusted him, and she knew you best. He sent you a message before showing up, the last bit of chivalry he can offer before showing up in your home, it went through, and he hoped you read it even if you didn’t reply. 

He calls your name upon entering, no response. Gus comes running up to him to headbutt his legs and meow, a quick look lets him know his water bowl is clean and automatic feeder full, that’s a good sign. His voice trembles as he calls for you again. 

“You know where she is?” Great, now he’s speaking to the cat, and he meows in response, great, an actual conversation with a cat. Gus takes off and squeezes himself into a room with the door ajar, your bedroom. He knocks before entering, not expecting a response. The room is dark except for the light coming from your laptop, empty and half-full glasses taking up most of the space on your desk, chair full of unfolded clothes and a doughnut of blankets on the bed.

“Go away.” The doughnut speaks. His heart breaks at the sad, much softer than usual tone of your voice.

“Love.” The pet name slips from his lips, he notices but doesn’t attempt to correct himself. He walks closer until he’s sitting next to you. “Can I help you?” 

You shake your head no, or what’s visible of it. “Go away, I stink.” He chuckles.

“That’s fine, smell better than the lads in base.” It’s a pathetic attempt at humour, you still shake your head no.

“You don’t have to do anything.” You don’t sound sad or angry like he thought you might, it’s emotionless, almost like an automatic generated response.

“But I want to. Want tae tak’ care o ye” He wants to make everything better, wants to fix everything, wants you happy and energetic and smiling. It’s silly how much he cares for you after barely a month of knowing eachother, scary now that he’s admitting it out loud. He pulls down the blankets for a full view of your face, his hand goes to your hair, it’s tangled, he’s careful not to pull on it. “Am gunna run you a bath.” It’s not a question, you laugh slightly and he smiles, realising what he said. “Didny mean it like that, c’mon.” 

He helps you up from the bed and into the restroom. From your seat ion the toilet, you observe the way he turns on the tap and rummages through your cabinet, trying to find something to put in the water, you assume. “The orange bar in the back.” He halts, looks for a second and comes up with it, he leaves it on the sink while he turns off the water, you grab the bar and crumble a bit of it into the tub. He looks at you and gets up, you take it as your cue to undress and get in. Johnny comes back with a change of pyjamas and underwear and leaves again. You can hear him moving around and making noise, talking to the cat in occasion, while you clean yourself, when he comes back it’s to put your dirty laundry in the hamper. You don’t know why that’s the thing that makes you break and start crying. As soon as he notices, he’s on his knees next to you, softly caressing your cheeks and moving your damp hair away from your face.

“Whit’s wrong?” 

“I don’t want you to do this.” Is no reply to his question. “I don’t want you to have to do this.”

“M’eudail.” He starts. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not!” You look up at him” I’m so sad all the fucking time and I don’t want you to have to deal with that, it’s not fair to you, you know? I don’t want you to have to take care of me or put up with me.”

“But what if I want to? Wanna take care of you, wanna put up with you.” You shake your head no, looking back down.

“Johnny, I’m so much. I get so clingy and stupid.” 

“That’s fine by me.” There’s no deterring him. He lifts your head up by your chin to kiss your forehead, bright blue eyes staring at you. 

And you realise how ridiculous this is. You’re crying in the bathtub, your friend-situationship is on his knees next to you, again, crying in the bathtub. You let out a sigh and nod.

“Okay.” 

#cod mw2 fanfic #cod x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x you #soap x you

[zelphin124]

Cross x Y/N Short Story

In all honesty this was very spontaneous... And I just got home so I can get back to writing everything else!

(I do not claim the art as my own)

*cough* @tehrogueva @kuuuuro @pandimoostuff

Cross belongs to @jakei95

TW: Suggestive

Enjoy!

~o0o~

OuterTale. The place where the stars shined brighter than the lights in the city. The place where comets and galaxies shimmered with color. An empty space where people came to contemplate life and make big decisions.

OuterTale was an AU that could never be forgotten. OuterTale was where the darkest secrets unfolded.

You were told to meet one of your closest friends here, Cross. He seemed so nervous when asking you, which was unusual for his behavior. Sitting down on a cliff edge, you start to recall the conversation a week before.

You were at a Grillbys in some AU that you forgot. Cross was sitting across from you and you guys had a lovely conversation. There was lots of laughter and wheezing, to the point most of the people around you looked genuinely concerned for your guys' well being. You ended blaming it on whatever drink you had that night.

"Y/N," Cross calmed down before changing his tone. "Uhm... Would you be able to meet me at OuterTale this time next week?" He scratched his head nervously as he stared you down. His eyes were shaking, but he remained firm in his ask.

How strange, what caused the sudden change in his demeanour? You hope you didn't say anything wrong, though Cross didn't seem upset.

You asked him where specifically, as you didn't care for going into the villages of other AUs. It was hard enough to blend into other universes, let alone OuterTale.

"The cliffs near the floating islands," Cross answered, twirling the glass in his hand. "I uh... Wanted to try out that camera Paps got me. Would you wear something nice for them?"

You blushed, and quite noticably. The face Cross made when he mentioned you wearing something nice was so adorable, as if he stared in admiration. Come to think of it, he always did that. The last time you wore something nice, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

It was one of the reasons why you loved him. Oftentimes you were called a simp amongst your peers due to your crush toward him. You loved anything and everything Cross did for you. Whether or not that was bringing you flowers, getting you food after a hard day at work, or just hugging you until you stopped crying... Everything about him captivated you. His style, his personality, his smile, his laugh... Oh gosh his laugh. If only you could somehow keep it on repeat, you would. It was music to your ears and made all the butterflies in your stomach fluster.

Your friends often said you craved him. They weren't wrong. You longed to be in his presence, for his eyes to meet yours, to hear his voice speak to you, for him to touch you-

"Y/N?" Cross leaned over the table and snapped his fingers in front of both of your eyes. When you came back to reality, he smiled softly. "You able to come?"

You told him you wouldn't miss it for the world, after apologizing for zoning out.

"Tch," he snickered, giving that smile that made your heart pound. "Alright, I'll walk you home and see you then."

You sighed happily as you remember the walk home and how it was full of dancing and signing. Cross taught you a few more steps to a dance you were learning with him before he said goodbye. Dancing was the only excuse you could find to be close to him other than hugging. You wondered if it was obvious to Cross that you liked him.

However, you couldn't figure out if the feelings were reciprocated. Cross didn't seem to have the same responses to things that you did. Although you were told many times by others that he was into you, you couldn't wrap your head around it. There's no way he could like you that way... Why would someone as great as he love a human like you?

This very reason has kept a tight seal on your lips. There were many times where you wished you told him, but the fear of ruining your friendship got in the way. What if he didn't reciprocate those feelings? Would all be lost? Surely it would be awkward. Though, you wouldn't know, as you any memory of your past relationships had faded when arriving in the multiverse.

"You came," a sigh of relief came from behind you.

You stood up and turned to face your best friend. He was... To put it simply, stunning. He wore a long black suit with a white X across his chest. He adjusted his tie with one hand and held your favorite flowers in the other. Your blush didn't help hide how grateful you were for his thoughtful gift. He was always good at remembering your favorites, rather than giving you whatever he could find. His eyes glowed softly, and he smiled wildly at you. "Wow." He breathed.

You had worn your favorite color dress that changed shades all the way to the bottom of your ankles. You thought it would be better to leaves the sleeves on your arms rather than your shoulders. Perhaps it would be better for photo taking as Cross had planned.

You thanked him for the flowers with a squeak before asking him where he would like you to stand.

"Oh we can worry about that later," he set the camera down on the rock as it flashed red. "For now, I wanted to practice our dance."

Your face was tomato red. Dancing with your crush in nice clothing under the starry cover of OuterTale? This was a dream come true. You nodded and adjusted your dress so it would flow smoothly.

Cross wasted no time as he came toward you and swooped your arms into his. Immediately, his feet began to pace. You figured out the rhythm as you danced along, following his lead. The song slowly started to play in your head as you moved along the cliff edge with him.

Cross's eyes were sinking into you. The more he looked at you, the more purple his face became. His grip around your waist became more snug... As if he was holding the most precious jewel in the world. His thumb traced your hand with the grace of a feather, and his eyes were drooped so perfectly.

You found it difficult to focus on the steps as your heart pounded from excitement. He was so close, so peaceful... So absolutely perfect. You knew you would treasure this moment forever, and nothing would ever compare to this.

Cross's pacing slowed, pulling you closer to him. You gasp as his hand that was holding yours traveled to your cheek and jawline. His breath became shaky, and it was hard to see his eyes against his purple blush. "Y/N... I... I love you..." His voice was barely above a whisper while his eyes were locked on your face.

What? He... Did he just say that? You would've called him on his bluff if you didn't see the hearts in his eyessockets.

"Everything about you drives me crazy for you... I adore you..." His face got closer with every breath, and his words got slower and slower. "You're so beautiful, and kind, and I..."

You were dreaming. You had to be. This was too good to be true. Cross loved you back?! Not only that, but he adored you?! Nah, you would wake up any moment now.

But that kiss proved you otherwise. There wasn't another word that escaped his mouth before he caught you up in a loving kiss, your body pressing up against his. It was long, gentle, and made both of your faces turn into bright colors.

He broke away after a few seconds, his breath shaky and his smile wide. When he saw you were panting, blushing, and gripping his chest, he kissed you again... And again... And again... Until you lost count of how many times he came back to your lips, begging for more.

Your feet were lifted off the ground many times. His hands tightened around your head and waist to press you closer to him. Your body shook with pure bliss. Your heart had stopped from utter shock and surprise, though, you knew it was still alive because of how flustered it was.

It ended too soon, as he sat you back down on the ground and rested his forehead against yours. "Sorry, I..." He sighed. "I got carried away... I didnt mean to-"

You told him to shush, letting him know that you enjoyed every moment of it. After you explained to him that you had liked him all this time, he was relieved and satisfied.

"I... Stars, you're beautiful... Everything about you... is amazing, and... I always want to be with you... Protect you... Love you..."

Cross continued to whisper all that he felt and all that he had to say as you two swayed under the stars. It was pure bliss, and you couldn't believe it was real. Though, Cross reassured you it was real through many kisses. He explained he had held back such affection for so long, he wanted to get it all out. You were too much of a blushing mess to give any affection back, though, he didn't seem to mind. Cross seemed perfectly happy with growing the blush on your own face. Since he had known you for so long, it was easy for him to find out what physical things you liked very quickly.

To this day you can't wrap your head around how lucky you were. Cross since then had provided, protected, and loved you like you never had, or as much as you could remember. You must have been the main character in a story, as it was the only explanation you could find to explain such a wonderful, disney-princess moment.

However, you decided that chance or not, you were the luckiest person in the whole multiverse, because you were in your lovers arms, and he loved you more than anyone else could.

#cross sans #yn #sans x reader #reader x sans #sans x yn #cross x yn #short story #ooooh boy #i might be a simp now #OH WELL HAHAHA

[sariahsue]

Wherefore Art Thou My(stery) Lady

When a failed attempt to let Chat Noir down easy ends with Ladybug learning his name, she does what any lovesick teenager would do: teases him mercilessly. Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5

Chapter Six

Two hours later, Adrien swept his phone off his pillow, certain for sure that this time he’d really heard it buzzing with an incoming message from Ladybug. There was still no message, and he flopped back onto the bed, despairing, one arm falling over his face. 

It was evening, and long shadows were slowly stretching across his floor. Still, he couldn’t bring himself enough to care enough to get up and turn the light on. Maybe he should bribe Plagg to do it for him. Or he could just wallow in darkness some more. It was a metaphor for his life. Always being in the dark about Ladybug’s true name.

He’d taken Marinette’s advice and worded his questions perfectly. His Lady would have no way to know that he was fishing for hints. And yet, it had been 20 minutes, and she still hadn’t gotten back to him. Just left him on read.

As much as he tried to convince himself that she had gotten busy, or taken a sudden nap, or been called to help wash the dinner dishes, a part of him knew that he’d been discovered. Maybe she was mad at him, and this was the silent treatment. Want more information? Well, here’s none! How do you like that, Kitten?

Something knocked against his window. Adrien flopped his face to the side, only to bolt upright on the bed and fling himself toward the window when he saw who was there waiting for him, one hand hanging from her yoyo string, the other in a tight fist, holding something. Her expression was steely.

“Nice try,” she said as she dropped onto his floor, “but you were being too obvious.” Her light tone was at odds with the seriousness in her face. She retracted and hooked the yoyo around her waist, then put both hands behind her back. 

“It was worth a shot,” he said with an apologetic smile.

“Let’s see if you still think it was worth it when I’m done with you. Pick a hand.” 

“Uh.” He still wasn’t sure if he was in trouble or not. He pointed to the hand that had been holding the yoyo, the one he hoped was still empty.

She brought it forward, stretching out her fingers to show an empty palm, then took a step forward until they were nose to nose, and cupped his cheek with her hand. 

“O-other one?” he asked, tripping over his own breath. He didn’t watch her movements, only stared at her face, her intense look, as she brought her hand forward and rested it on his other cheek. She hadn’t been holding anything.

“This,” she said, “is revenge. Remember, you’re not allowed to kiss me.” And she guided his face down to her level. His skin tingled where her fingertips pressed against him, turning his face so she could kiss her way across his forehead and up to his hairline, then again back down, between his eyes, the bridge of his nose, the tip. 

Her lips traced their way across his face, around his mouth twice, down the center of his throat. 

Not wanting to hinder the movement of her mouth over him, he didn’t cup her face the way he wanted to. Instead, his hands found their way to her waist, and he rubbed his thumbs in small circles over her hip bones in time with his breathing, trying to keep himself from panting under her onslaught.

“How is this revenge?” he asked. His voice was a wheeze, and he cleared his throat, ready to try again, but Ladybug was kissing her way back up his jaw, below his ear. His circling thumbs slowed, and his breathing completely stopped, when she pressed his earlobe in between her lips, held it there for just a second, before turning away, tracing her nose across his cheekbone, doubling back to follow the same path with a line of kisses. 

“Don’t–” he gasped out. Swallowed. Remembered to breathe. Tried again. “Don’t you hate this? That I can’t kiss you back?” He definitely did.

Ladybug growled in annoyance, pulling the neck of his shirt down so she could place an open-mouthed kiss on his shoulder, but her grumbling ruined the effect, and the brush of air tickled. In spite of himself, Adrien laughed. 

He swallowed it when she stepped backward. Not far enough to escape his arms, but far enough that her mouth couldn’t reach him. “Maybe I’m not very good at this kissing thing yet,” she said. “I’m still new at it.”

“No,” he said, dropping his arms and stepping back. “You’re very good at kissing.” He needed the distance from her before his face literally caught fire or he melted through the floor. (Or he did something stupid, like break her rule and kiss her back.) “Would you like to know how good at kissing I am? Because I’ve never done it before but I bet I’m phenomenal.”

She smiled and tilted her head. “Yes, I would very much like to find out about that, so you better figure me out quickly.”

“Ugh, I just wanna kiss my girlfriend.” 

Ladybug, who’d been stepping closer, froze. Adrien felt his face going red. They’d only talked about it over text, what their relationship really was. Hearing it out in the open like that was different.

She crossed her arms. “Well, that’s your problem, not mine. Until then, you need to make it up to me.”

“How?” 

“Compliment me.”

---

“I thought for sure that was going to work.” Adrien said. Marinette had made her idea sound so foolproof. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn't think there was a way for him to figure it out without more. 

“My poor Kitten,” Ladybug said. Adrien was lying on his back on his couch, his Lady in his arms. One gloved hand had snuck under his shirt, and he was sliding one finger up and down her spine. It would take a long, long time for him to get used to this.

“Can I have another hint?” he said. “I feel like I'm missing something, but I don't know what it is.”

“One more hint,” she said. “But that's it.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“Your hint is that I've already given you a hint today.”

“You did?”

“A pretty heavy-handed one, actually. I was surprised you didn't… cat-ch it.” She cocked her head, resting her chin on his chest to look at him, one eyebrow quirked upward. 

She was so beautiful, and it was so unfair that he wasn't allowed to kiss her just because he couldn't guess her name.

“Wait, did I talk to you today?” 

“Purr-haps.”

That really narrowed it down. Who did he talk to today?

Ladybug snuggled closer to him, sliding her hand along his stomach. “Please figure it out soon, Adrien. I want you to kiss me.” 

He could have asked her to change the rule again. He almost did. He could have asked her to explain what he’d done to deserve her onslaught when she’d arrived. Retribution for asking about the assembly didn’t make sense. He’d been much more direct just now and she hadn’t minded, just surrendered one without a second thought. But what else could it have been? What had he done to upset her?

He almost asked.

But Ladybug turned, humming into his neck, her lips vibrating against his skin, before peppering him with feather-light kisses. 

And he kept his mouth shut.

--- 

That night, laid stretched on on his stomach under his sheets, he flipped through his contacts like Nino had suggested. The screen was blindingly bright, but he didn’t have the energy to change it. He just scrolled up and down, up and down. 

Whose number should he have had that he didn't? He already knew he had everyone in class. Plus everyone from work, not that it mattered. None of his coworkers went to school with him. 

He'd gone through the lists of the other homeroom classes in his grade. There wasn't anyone in there he felt comfortable giving his number to who didn’t already have it. Then through the other grades. He’d come up empty on each pass through the entire student body. Desperation started to flood him again. 

Maybe he should just text Marinette and beg for another idea. She’d seemed eager to help him out that morning. She’d probably laugh at him, but there were worse fates than Marinette’s laughter. 

Yeah, he should ask her. He couldn’t remember her phone number, or even the last time he'd texted her, so he started scrolling through his contacts with a purpose.

“Nathalie, Nino, Max,” he muttered, reading down the list. “My Lady, Mylene.”

He smiled at Ladybug’s entry. As much as he loved the pet name placeholder, it would be nice to have her real name there instead. He could imagine accidentally hitting Mylene's name and starting a conversation. That would be… interesting.

Distracted by the thought of trying to explain to Mylene why he’d sent her a bunch of heart-eyed cat emojis in the middle of the night, he didn’t immediately realize that Marinette's name wasn't there with the other M’s. 

He hadn't set it to “Princess,” had he? That would have been embarrassing (and not to mention potentially secret-revealing) if anyone had gotten ahold of his phone. But there was no contact for Princess. There wasn't even one for “Purr-incess.” His breathing became uneven as he searched his entire contact list. He didn’t have any other nicknames for her. He ran through the whole list again anyway. 

He didn't have her number.

Anywhere.

And he definitely should have had it.

Marinette was about the right height. She liked video games. Her hair was the same style, but that wasn't saying much. Lots of girls wore their hair in pigtails these days. His Lady was quite the trendsetter. 

Marinette was confident and creative. And he had talked to her today. Had she given him a hint when she’d spoken to him? He couldn't put his finger on anything odd that she had said.

Could it be that civilian Ladybug got flustered and tongue-tied whenever she talked to him? But that would mean that Marinette had had a crush on him since his second day at school. That... would explain a lot actually.

Could Marinette be Ladybug? 

Marinette was always ready to defend anyone that Chloe or another bully was pushing around, just like he'd expect from Ladybug. She definitely wasn't a morning person. There were just too many coincidences.

She was simultaneously silk and steel. Sweet vanilla and fiery pepper. She was cool under pressure and ready with a cheer for your successes or a shoulder to cry on. 

Adrien wasn’t even sure which girl he was referring to anymore. They were already blending into one person. 

Marinette’s eyes... he couldn't remember what they looked like. 

“Hey, Plagg?”

The kwami grunted with a start. “I was having the cheese dream again, Adrien. This better be good.”

“What color are Marinette's eyes?”

“The princess?” Plagg stretched out, back arched, just like a real cat. “How should I know? I have to stay hidden all day.”

Adrien's gaze narrowed.

“Is Ladybug or isn't Ladybug really Marinette?”

“Maybe.”

“You know the answer.”

“Yes.”

“And now you're being deliberately unhelpful.”

“Yes.”

Adrien turned his phone screen off with a click and sent the entire room into darkness. “I bet Ladybug's kwami is nicer than you are.”

“Hmm,” Plagg said sleepily. “Debatable. Why don't you just text Ladybug about it?” He curled back up into a little ball, almost invisible in the darkness, and started snoring immediately. 

Marinette. That would explain why she'd been so eager to help him that morning. Marinette. Had he really been in love with Marinette this whole time? Marinette, who was so willing to help out those around her, with her ready smile and fierce love for anyone lucky enough to be near her?

He really hoped so.

Chapter 6

---

Author's note: One chapter to go!

Tag: @eclipsesmoonshine14, @delectablycoolscientist, @mlbigbang

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ladrien #kissing

[the-fiction-witch]

Breathless P2

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sweet

Requested: That was great please can we have a part two, also absolutely love your writing Part 2? Warnings: Medical emergencies / Asthma attacks / medical instruments / medication

I lay in the little cheap metal hospital bed, the white enamel paint flicking and flaking off, the sweet sheets around my body, the scent of cleanliness in the air. I had been here for the amount a week now and so far I had been taken excellent care of, Jack was my doctor and he would check up on me almost on the hour or close to it, to check I was alright, he even gave me my own room so I wasn't on the ward with other people. 

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Jack asked as he opened my door and came inside, shutting the door behind him.

I blushed a little to see him again as I had only seen him about an hour ago, and given the time this would likely be the last time he visited, but I noticed his clothes adjusted and hair fixed since the last I saw him. His hands are a little dirty with blood.

"What did you do today?" I asked looking at his hands, 

"Humm? Ohh, bandaging." He answered pushing up his sleeves and showing his hands off, he went to the side and washed up his hands, "So? How are you feeling?"

"The same. Wheezy, tight chest, coughing nothing up." I explained, 

"Alright, You're not getting any better it's concerning me." He said coming to sit on my bed briefly fixing some hair from my face, "Come on. I'll be quick." I nodded and sat up turning to the window as he took his little listening tool and carefully slipped it up my nightie but I gasped 

"You alright?"

"It's cold," I complained 

"Ohh sorry" he chuckled taking it off and breathing on it a little and then putting it back, a little warmer 

"Good girl, In... and out. just breathe with me, In and out" He whispered  "And around the front" He said moving his tool to my front still under my nightie "In... and out." He muttered "Alright" he sighed moving away 

"What about the other tests?" I asked

"Still waiting." He said "Go on lay back down" he reassured 

I nodded and laid back in bed "Can't I have a cigarette?"

"No." he glared

"Half a one?"

"No."

"... can I breathe next to a leaf?"

"No. Those damn things were only making you worse" 

"A pipe then?"

"No. I'm not telling you again" He warns 

 "What is it you're scared of Jack?"

"...Nothing." He answered clearly lying to me "Get some rest, I'll check up on you tonight." He said tapping my hand and giving it a little kiss before he headed to the door 

"Jack?"

"Yeah?" he asks turning to face me 

"You'd tell me if you knew something was wrong... wouldn't you?"

"I'm a doctor. I have to give bad news... as much as it might hurt." He said, "Get some rest." 

"Yes doctor" I nodded, his words stung my heart leaving me breathless, I felt like he was lying to me, but I didn't want to push him perhaps I was wrong. 

I sat in bed with my book listening to myself wheeze when the door opened, 

"I come baring soup" Jack smiled setting the soup on my table "It's not great I admit but, there is enough spice in that soup to jump the heart of a toad, so hopefully it should clear your airways a little, if nothing else... you'll certainly feel the air a lot more" he chuckled sitting on the bed with me "How are we?"

"The same" I coughed into my tissue the moment I stopped he glared clicking his fingers and offering his hand so I handed the tissue over

"Thank you," he said stuffing it in his pocket to run tests on later "I also have something else for you"

"Ohh noo... Please no more bellows Jack" I pleaded 

"No, no more. I don't know why I listened to him about that" He sighed "Medicine," He said getting the bottle from his pocket 

"What will it do?"

"I don't know. I hope it's going to stop you from wheezing..."

"But?"

"But... it may cause you to have a heart attack."

"Ahhhhh" I whined 

"I'm only going to give you a tiny. Tiny about barely even half a teaspoon, if it dulls the wheeze I'll give you more if it doesn't I'll be here to stop the heart attack"

"I don't much like being your experiment Piglet" I pouted 

"I know you don't,"

"Do I have to?"

"Do you want to get better?"

"Yes" I sighed 

"Good, besides your too cute to be a piglet" He winked  "Come on, for me?" He cooed getting the little spoon for me 

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth

"Good girl" He cooed pouring the tiniest about from the bottle into the spoon and letting me take it "There, not give it a minute I will get the Spirometer."

"Do you have to?" I whined 

"Yes." he glared fetching the little contraction from my table it was basically a tube, a glass, and a weight, the weight sat in the glass filled with water and the rubber tube offered to me, I had to breathe as much as I could to cause bubbles to push up the weight which Jack would then read and write down "Big big breath for me," he says I took the tube and did as he asked even if I almost felt like passing out "Ummm... that is, actually a small improvement over yesterday" he smiled giving my nose a kiss "Right, in a few hours We'll check again" 

I sat at the window blowing the smoke out the window but I heard the familiar footsteps, so I quickly put it out threw it out the window and climbed back to bed grabbing my perfume spraying it around the room and me, as the door opened to Jack, "afternoon," He smiled 

"afternoon," I smiled back 

"What's that smell?" He asked as he came over getting the Spirometer from the table and sitting it beside the bed 

"Ohh uhhh wild English rose. My perfume" I smiled giving my bottle another spritz and trying to smile innocently 

"No, I like your perfume." he said coming over to my bed sitting on my bed and glaring at me as he came closer "Y/n."

"Yes, Jack?"

"Where are they?"

"Where's what?"

"You know what."

"I'm sure I don't."

"Yes you do."

"What are you talking about?"

"Where. Are. They."

"Where are what" I pouted

"The cigarettes."

"I don't have any." I snapped 

"Don't you?" he warns 

I couldn't help but glance at my hiding spot but he noticed and rushed to grab them before I did leaving us fighting over who could get their hand under my bed the quickest and I lost. 

"HA! You lied to me." He snapped grabbing the box of asthma cigarettes my father dropped off yesterday when he came to visit "What did I tell you about these." He warns getting up and dropping the box, stepping on them hard to destroy them, as he knew if he merely threw them away I'd get them out the bin, he picked up the wrecked box and threw it out the window before turning his attention to me, so I sheepishly pulled the covers to my nose trying to hide "the only reason you are not getting bent over that bed and getting the absolute worst bloody spanking of your life y/n. Is because I know you'll tell your father and he'll have me hanged."

"eep" I whined hiding under the covers like a ghost "Don't hurt me Jack" I giggled 

he sat on my bed again and tried to remove the covers but I held them too tight, so he sighed and moved the covers over his own head to join me in my tent of fear "I'm not doing it to be mean, I know your struggling, but they are making you so so much worse you know they are."

"I know." I nodded 

"Hey, come on," he cooed stroking my cheek "A little smile for the doctor?"

I forced a smile but ended up having to cough 

"We're gonna have to up your dose"

"No. Jack please it tastes like bones"

"I know but it'll make you better."

"No. I won't."

"Please. for me."

"No."

"You're taking it. either you open your mouth or I'm fetching the funnel." 

"Noooooo" I whined 

"You gonna take your medicine?"

"Fine" I huffed 

"Good girl" he cooed getting the bottle from his pocket and giving me a full spoonful as my dose had only been getting larger "Open up come on" he smiled and I sighed opening my mouth and taking it 

"Ehhhh!" I complained about the terrible taste 

He smiled looking at me a moment before he closed the gap between us and kissed me I had to admit, it was so very nice indeed. His lips were so smooth and gentle, and his slightly metallic woody smell filled my nose, barely any light reached my eyes, our bodies still under the cover like children in a fort, the only issue was such a kiss took my breath away... figuratively and literally. when he pulled back I wheezed and coughed "Is it worse?" he asked a little worried

"You really thought that would help?" I glared with a wheeze throwing the covers off "Yes make the asthmatic hold her breath and both one of her breathing holes with your own mouth"

"Good point." He nodded

"I know you've been waiting for those test results a while jack, I didn't think you'd resort to testing with your own tongue"

"I will do whatever is necessary" He smirked 

"I bet you would" I glared

He smiled kissing my nose before he got up "I'll see you later?"

"I'm not going anywhere." 

"you know what I mean." He glared "Be good. I'll see you later. Ohh and uhh don't tell your father about this-"

"I suppose I could..." I smiled innocently he gave me a look and I just pouted my lips he smirked and held my cheeks giving me another kiss 

"Good girl, I'll see you for dinner" He said stroking my cheek before he headed off back to work. 

I woke up clutching my chest trying desperately to breathe in but no matter how much I gasped nothing arrived in my lungs, I sat up in a rush clawing at my throat as I took in as much as I could but nothing quelled this feeling of needing air, like drowning but above water. 

"Whoa, Whoa, slow. Slow down" Jack told me as I woke him up, he grabbed my face sat on my bed and walked me through some breaths through my nose which did allow air in just not as much as I needed, and once I relaxed I was able to breathe as normal as ever. "You alright?" he asked and I nodded "That's the third time this week." He said fear in his words 

For a moment or two, we just sat following one another breaths, I felt bad seeing the tiredness in his eyes, I had woken him, ever since these night-time attacks Jack would come down to deliver my dinner and sit in the chair by my bed for the rest of the night, I know he mostly slept in the chair but it still left him exhausted, and that was before me waking up breathless in the night which would wake him too and then he would struggle to be able to sleep again merely sitting up all night to watch skin and ensure I was still breathing. 

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah... chipper." 

"Come on, lay down." he said "Get yourself back to sleep."

"what if it happens again-"

"Then I will be here, and I will make sure you okay," he said "Now come on get some sleep"

I laid down as he asked me to "You need to sleep too."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do." I told him tapping my bed 

"I shouldn't-"

"Come on. For me?"

"Alright" He chuckled a little at me using what he so often said back to him, he climbed in with me and laid down slowly and gently holding me, our noses touching  

"You think I'm dying, don't you?"

"...No." he lied

"How much longer on those tests you've been running?"

"I got the results back weeks ago."

"Which are?"

"... I can't"

"You're my doctor. You have to tell me bad news."

"You really can't think of a reason I wouldn't want to tell you" he whispered "After... all our time together, I- I care about you too much now to tell you the truth..."

"I'd tell you. If I knew... Because I care about you." 

"... Your lungs are inflamed and I don't know why. the bronchioles in your lungs aren't working, it's like there being strangled."

"My lungs are disintegrating?"

"More or less. They are heavily damaged and only getting worse, I'm worried you could have full-on Pneumonia but ... I can't tell for sure."

"What can be done?"

"....Nothing. I open you up you'll die of shock. or blood loss before I knew where I was and what I was doing, even so... I can't go into your lungs and fix it- I put a hole in your lying you're as good as dead." 

"So what? You're just going to stay here, and cuddle and kiss me till I die?" 

"Don't you think this hurts... I'm a surgeon. and the one person I can't save is you." He said, "Don't you think that tears my heart in two?"

"Is there anything?" I asked

he shook his head "If it was possible, I would tear out my lungs and give them to you."

"That would kill you, Jack-"

"I know that. I would... if it meant you survived." 

"I know you would" I nodded "Is there any chance?"

"....I don't know" He answered giving my lips a sweet kiss "Come on, get some sleep."

"Will you stay with me?" I asked nuzzling into his chest

"Always. I promise" He answered 

#thomasbrodiesangster #tbs smut #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #tbs imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster #tbs #thearttfuldodger #the artful dodger #theartfuldogger #jackdawkins #jack dawkins #jack

[mysticmellowlove]

what about a needy sub that we punish by not kissing during sex? they want kisses so bad but we tease him and don’t give it up so easily… <33 (maybe we give him one at the end, just to reassure him that nothings wrong :3)

a/n; ahh, augh, waugh.... pathetic men <3

warnings; sub male, dom reader, gn reader, brat sub, slightly sadistic reader, orgasm control, orgasm denial

Looking at his teary face was like looking at your favourite piece of art. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were unfocused. His hands were gripping the sheets with such intensity you were sure they would rip any second now.

"come on, touch me~" He whined out, his eyes screwed up in pleasure as you gently traced the outline of his cock through his boxers. He bucked up into your hands, pressing the heat of his dick into the pads of your fingers. With quick movements, you harshly slapped the area where his tip was. A warbled groan left his mouth as he reeled back into the bed, his body bouncing a little as the wet patch on his boxers grew in size.

"Poor baby." You laughed before going back to painstakingly tracing him. If only he had been good then he would be getting whatever he wanted. You had posed a bet to him, last a week without coming and then you'd give him anything he wanted.

Obviously, your baby couldn't help himself though. He tried to hide it, his soiled pants tucked away in the laundry basket were easy to spot though. Even more so as he kept looking away from you when you came into the room.

"i'm sorry..." His whispers were hard to hear over your heartbeat. Seeing him exposed like this in front of you, shirt off and pants around his ankles was arousing. The power you held over him was intoxicating, the feeling you got when he looked at you... as if you were his everything...

"Sorry for what baby boy, use your words." You left your ministrations as you went to pull your shirt off your body. You were burning up just looking at him and listening to all the delicious sounds he made. The moans, little whimpers and hitches in his breath were turning you on beyond belief.

"sorry for disobeying you. promise I didn't mean it, you make me lose control, promise i just wanted to cum for you." He cried out as he bucked his hips upwards at the loss of your hands on him. Now that you weren't touching him anymore he was able to rut into you, his arms shaking from the sudden pleasure. A tsk came from your mouth as you lowered yourself over his body, trapping him between your arms.

He couldn't face you as your head dipped down, your lips hovered over his own. He tried to lean up to connect them together but you pulled back, your eyes gazing into his. A flicker of teasing sparked in your eye as you slowly ground your body down on his.

His mouth dropped open at the contact and his eyelids fluttered shut as his pupils rolled to the back of his head. His breaths came out in huffs as you continued to tease him. In one moment his hips were pinned to the bed under your weight and in the next he was desperately trying to meet your thrusts.

"Do you think you deserve this after what you did?" You cooed into his ear, teeth nibbling at the cartilage. A high-pitched cry let him as his cheeks became soaked with tears.

"noooo." He managed to wheeze out as you bullied his body back into the bed. The heat in your gut continued to rise as you looked at the absolutely debauched state he was in.

"Then why should I let you cum this time?" Your head tilted to the side as you eased up on him, letting him get a breath in before you ground into him again. The friction from you and his boxers worked together to bring his cock to sensitivity.

"don't have... don't have to..." Your eyes widened as he managed to squeeze his words out before letting his head flop back on the pillow. A laugh bubbled in your chest as you chased your own high.

"Trying to get in my good books then. Who am I to deny you baby~" With one final rut you slammed your lips into his own and then pulled yourself off of him, your legs shaking at the loss of your own climax. His eyes snapped open as he tried to chase your warmth only to be met with nothing.

"Isn't it better when you're all pent up?" A snicker left you as you took one last look at his prone body before leaving the room entirely. Your fists clenched as you fought your urge to go back and destroy him. Deep down you knew that his begging cries would dissolve into screaming when you got back at him.

All you had to do was wait.

#sub male #dom reader #gn reader #ask #drabble #love for anon

[kotias]

An Arrangement in Black (part 9) - angst war contribution

@daneecastle @gleafer @vavoom-sorted-art @lauramoon1987 @gahellhimself-blog @goodomensafterdark @hakunahistata

Beginning - Part 8 - End

Almost there! One last post after this one, and this story will be done!

Word count: 492 words

Trigger warnings: religious trauma and behaviour, mutilation on the body

“What do you wish to speak of, my child?”

On a better day, Crowley would have laughed over that ridiculous phrasing, but that was not the day for it. He pressed his head against the wood separating them, his hands lodged between his legs, and he felt the heat and the pain of the consecrated materials eating at his skin, one burn at a time. His nails lodged into his fingers, scratching and scratching, tearing the skin off him.

“Father, I wish to confess a sin… I have brought devastation upon this world.”

Aziraphale said nothing for a moment, which Crowley very well understood as the weight of the revelation he could feel coming, and may have pieced together already. “Please, my child, why do you believe that?” His voice was so very soft, so extremely gentle, a kindness that didn’t have to, and quite frankly shouldn’t extend to a demon and burned him deeper than the celestial grounds he was currently sitting on.

“The plague going around the continent…” he heard himself tremble, barely able to accept his own words, the reality he had lived with for the past months. “I instigated it.”

Like the men falling from the disease, deafening silence imposed itself upon them. He wheezed and grimaced from the dread of continuing his explanations. “I was given this task by my hierarchy. I was given, um… rats. Or more precisely, flea-infected rats.”

He heard only a soft, shaking hum from the other side. “I, um… I am the cause for… all of this. The bodies, everywhere. The deserted towns.” He could feel his voice going up, and yet becoming more feeble, more of a whisper, as a ball grew in his throat, trapping the air inside his lungs. “People dying in their beds. Children barely breath-” His words were infused with soft sobs, as he pressed harder against the wood, accepting the divine punishment that was inflicted upon him continuously. “I am confessing to this sin… to have forced the stench of death upon the entire continent,” were the last words he could muster before he fully broke down.

It wasn’t dramatic like his last time; there was no yelling, no screaming, no ripping himself apart entirely. It was discrete, timid. There were a few sobs, muffled by his hand on his mouth. There were tears, wiped away by his sleeve. In this church, on this bench, never so torn away from Hell, Crowley could express the pain, the agony of following such commands.

Aziraphale stayed silent, though Crowley was almost certain he heard the loud beating of his heart through the board separating them and the shuffle of his clothes as he pressed against it, like a response to his anguish.

It took a while before he finally was able to calm down enough to speak again. “It… feels like I am bringing the world to its knees. It… it feels…”

“Like the end of the world?”

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #angst war #GOAD #good omens after dark #writing #fanfic #church