#I love being tagged in stuff please tag me in more

[esouliie]

COME FIND ME, MY LIGHT.

(natasha romanoff x reader)

summary | What began as an attempt to bring Christmas back to Natasha turned into something deeper as both of you realised that love is what truly warms the heart this season. By Christmas Eve, Natasha wasn’t just in love with the holiday again: she was in love with you, and maybe- just maybe- you had been in love with her all along too.

tags | christmas fic! hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, dead family trope, alternative universe so no avengers, you’re both a bit sad! :/

notes | i want a christmas love like this so what better way to manifest than by writing a fic abt it hehe. this was also inspired by my fav person’s return to tumblr and her love for the holiday - @please-destroy, thank you for inspiring this by just being you! this is also a part of your gift, surprise!! everybody, go read her stuff now. it’s truly amazing!

word count | 5K

Merry Christmas!! ⊹♡

Since the moment you met, you knew Natasha carried a storm inside her. It was always tamed, hiding just beneath the surface of her eyes. But, from a year of friendship, you’ve noticed that storm that seemed to erupt around this time of the year. Being your only friend, she was always the one to accompany you on your trips out around the city. It’s there where you noticed the way she flinched at carols and avoided the cheerful chaos of Christmas markets you brought her too, by moving through it as fast as she can. The world’s merriment seemed to mock her darker memories. She confessed one night, in a rare moment of vulnerability and a very expensive bottle of wine, that Christmas had always been a painful time for her. Her voice, usually steady and unwavering, softened as she looked at you across the table. She told you about her sister, Yelena—the only person in her family who had ever truly cared about Christmas. Yelena had been the kind of person who could find joy even in the bleakest of places, someone who refused to let the world’s coldness harden her heart.

“She loved it,” Natasha said, her lips curling into a wistful smile as if she could still see Yelena bustling around their childhood home. “The lights, the snow, the decorations. She’d drag me into whatever shop she could find, looking for things to make the house even more festive. Ornaments, candles, the cheesiest, most stupid Santa hats—whatever she could get her hands on.” She paused, her gaze unfocused as though she were looking back through the years.

Yelena had been the one to make Christmas feel like magic. She knew all of the Christmas carols, singing along even if the notes were slightly off-key. This joy followed her into her adulthood, and even when she became sick. Every year, she insisted on stringing up lights around their shared apartment —“even if we don’t have a tree, Natasha, we’ll have lights. You know it’s all about the glow.” She was fearless, mischievous, and relentlessly stubborn in her belief that joy was worth chasing, even if it didn’t come easy. “She’d bake,” Natasha continued, her voice thick with emotion. “Not well obviously— she couldn’t stand for long at the point. Plus, her cookies had always been terrible—but she didn’t care. She’d make a mess everywhere and laugh at herself, daring me to do better. I never tried, though. I always just watched her and took her to bed whenever she was done.” Her fingers tightened around the stem of her wineglass, her knuckles whitening slightly. “She believed in traditions, even when there was no reason to. Especially when there was no reason to,” she added, “she said traditions gave people hope, something to hold on to in the dark. I didn’t get it then—I still don’t fully— but with time, I understood she was trying to help me be okay with the world when she was no longer around.”

Yelena had been more than just a younger sister to Natasha —she had been her tether, her mirror, her light. She was the last person left of her family, and the only one who ever made Natasha feel things she often tried to ignore: a steady warmth, a strong connection, the possibility of life being worth more. She was everything Natasha wish she could be.

And when Yelena died, Christmas died with her.

“There was no one to care about it anymore,” Natasha said, her voice breaking for the briefest of moments before she pushed the emotion back behind her walls, blinking her tears away. “No one to make it mean anything.” You reached across the table, placing your hand over hers. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t meet your eyes either. For a long moment, the two of you sat in silence, the air between you thick. “She would’ve liked you,” she murmured after a while, her voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it. “Yelena… she always liked people who made things feel… safe.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of her words settling deep in your heart. You realised, in that moment, just how much Natasha trusted you—how much she had given you by sharing this piece of herself. From that moment, you made a promise to yourself: a promise to return Yelena’s light back into her life.

⊹♡

One morning, you found yourself lost on a tree farm. Rows upon rows of evergreens stretched out like soldiers in formation, their frosted branches from the night before glistening in the morning sun. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, the crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound for a moment. Natasha walked beside you, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her coat, her eyes on swivel but not necessarily looking at the trees. She hadn’t said much since you picked her up that morning, you weren’t entirely sure if it was the early start or the occasion that silenced her.

“This one’s nice.” You said, gesturing to a stately Fraser fir with almost symmetrical branches. She stopped, gave the tree a quick once-over, and shrugged. “It’s fine.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, moving along until you could find the next one. You had planned on finding a tree that you both could put up at her place, but with each step, it seemed like this tree would be better suited living at yours. You tried again. “What about this one?” You pointed to a taller tree, its branches also slightly uneven but full of character. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I guess. If you like it.” Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t inviting either. You let out a small breath, watching it cloud in front of you before dissipating into the icy air.

“No, we can keep looking.”

Laughter and the occasional clatter of a fallen tree echoed through the air. You couldn’t see them mostly but could imagine families adorned in colourful hats and scarves scattered across the farm. Natasha, however, didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes back to skimming over the trees with a detached disinterest and her surroundings, her mouth set in a way that told you she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Do you want to go home? You asked gently.

She paused, her head tilting slightly as if weighing whether to respond. “You wanted a tree,” she said finally, her voice even. “So we’re getting a tree.”

“It’s not that important.” You said. “If you’re not into it, we can go.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m fine.” She said, her voice clipped. Then, softer: “Let’s just look over there.”

You didn’t press her further.

The two of you wandered deeper into the farm, the trees becoming denser, their branches heavy with snow. You found yourself wondering if Natasha even saw them, her eyes not even bothering with her environment anymore as she kept her head down towards the snow, her mind clearly somewhere far away. “How about this one?” You tried again, stopping in front of a modest blue spruce. Its branches were sturdy, the kind that could hold up heavy ornaments, and its shape was pleasingly perfect. She stopped beside you, her eyes lingering on the tree. She didn’t say anything right away, and for a moment, you thought she might dismiss it like the others. But then she tilted her head, considering.

“It’s okay.” She said, and while it wasn’t glowing praise, it was a step up from fine.

“You sure?” You asked, not wanting to push.

She nodded, her gaze lingering on the tree a second longer. “Yeah. It’s fine.” She finished, before turning abruptly back in the other direction. Later, the workers secured the tree to the roof of your car, their cheerful banter filling the space as you and Natasha stood off to the side. She didn’t say much, but when you glanced over at her, you thought you saw her mouth twitch—just the faintest hint of a smile. “Thanks for letting me tag along.” She said quietly.

You offered her a small smile. “I’m glad you came.”

⊹♡

Snow finally began to settle permanently in the middle of December. It clung to the rooftops and frosted the tree branches outside your apartment. Winter had truly arrived. You hadn’t seen Natasha since that morning; her work had whisked her off to the West Coast for an urgent business trip, leaving you to decorate the tree in your tiny apartment alone. Your living room was silent except for the soft hum of a holiday playlist you’d set to shuffle, but you were used to the lingering echo since moving in.

You missed her terribly.

Without Natasha here, you were unable to focus on anything but yourself: your terrible breakup last Christmas that had you packing your bags and running away to a different state, your argument with your family that had been the last time you’d spoken to them and the reason why you weren’t invited home this year, your sadness that crept up whenever you were forced to sit in silence with yourself. Deep down, you know she could see through you, could see how you suffered much like she did. It’s why you both clicked together instantly. But the difference with Natasha is that she never pried, never pushed you to talk about what you weren’t ready to say. And it wasn’t like you wanted to dwell on these things, but they lived inside you now, demanding attention in the silence.

Your ignorance was bliss, until it wasn’t.

And days when Natasha went away were the worst.

The doorbell rang at a late hour. Behind it stood Natasha, her coat dusted with fresh snow, her cheeks flushed pink from the nipping cold. She looked exhausted, her carry-on slung over one shoulder and her laptop bag in the other.

“You’re back?” You blurted out, wondering why she was here and not at her own place. It was Wednesday after all.

“I wanted to see you.” She admitted, shuffling awkwardly at her confession.

You pulled her through the door, allowing her a second to set her bags down with a tired sigh, her shoulders finally dropping as the door clicked shut behind her. “How was the trip?” You asked as you moved toward the kitchen, already reaching for the kettle and her mug.

“Exhausting.” She replied, shedding her snow-damp coat and draping it over the back of the chair. “And frustrating. Clients were indecisive, as usual, and the meetings went in circles half the time.”

You gave her a sympathetic look as you handed her a steaming mug of tea. “At least now you’re done for the holidays, right?”

She hummed in agreement, her fingers wrapping gratefully around the warmth of the cup. Despite the drink, you noticed her shiver and disappeared into your bedroom. You rummaged through your drawers, pulling out an oversized purple sweatshirt and some grey sweatpants.

When you handed them to her, she raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to—”

“You’re not sitting around in wet clothes, Natasha.” You cut her off, gesturing toward the bathroom. “Go change.”

By the time she emerged, looking infinitely more comfortable in your clothes, you had noticed the snow starting to pick up outside. Large flakes swirled under the glow of the streetlamps, a storm intensifying.

Perfect weather for what you had planned.

You grabbed a spare hat and scarf from the coat rack, along with a pair of gloves, and tossed them at her.

“What’s this?” Natasha asked, catching the items with a puzzled expression.

“We’re going out.”

“Out? In this weather?”

You were already pulling on your own coat and boots, ignoring her protests. “Yes, out. You’ve been cooped up in airports and meeting rooms for weeks. You need this.”

“I need sleep.” She muttered, but she already had her coat, reaching for the hat, her lips twitching as if she was trying not to smile.

“Come on. You urged, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the door.

The streetlights cast a warm golden glow on the fresh blanket of snow, and for a moment, she hesitated. Her reluctant smile cracked through the guarded exterior she so often wore when you were outside. It was like sunlight breaking through clouds. Looking down at her watch, she noticed the time read 1am. “Oh my God, it’s the middle of the night,” she moaned, shaking her head, “and it’s freezing!”

“You’re Russian.” You deadpanned. “Aren’t you genetically programmed to thrive in this?”

She shot you a withering look, but the corner of her mouth twitched, betraying her. “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

She turned back around towards your building but before she could move any further, the first snowball struck her shoulder with a soft thwump. She froze, blinking in disbelief. You stood a few feet away, grinning triumphantly, the remnants of the snowball crumbling in your hand. She swung back around, her eyes narrowed, lips parted in exaggerated shock. “Oh, so that’s how it is? These are your clothes you know!” Before you could reply, she bent down, scooped up snow, and hurled it at you. It hit squarely on your chest, the icy cold seeping through your coat.

“Hey!” You yelped, laughing.

“You started this!” She shot back, her voice light—playful in a way you rarely heard.

And then it was war. Snowballs flew in all directions, and the street filled with your laughter, echoing off the quiet houses. Natasha’s aim was deadly accurate, and you were sure she was holding back for your sake. It was quite pathetic. At one point, she feigned defeat only to pounce on you with a pile of snow that left you sputtering.

“You’re a cheat!” You gasped, brushing snow off your face.

“And you’re slow!” She quipped, already forming another snowball to smush in your face.

The cold stung your nose and turned your cheeks raw, but none of it mattered. What mattered was the way Natasha laughed—real and unrestrained, her head thrown back, the sound almost musical in the still night. It was the kind of laugh that felt like a gift, something rare and precious, and you never wanted it to end. Finally, both of you collapsed onto the snow, breathless and flushed. The stars peeked through the gaps in the clouds, and the world seemed impossibly quiet, save for the sound of your labored breathing. Natasha’s head rested on your shoulder, her knitted beanie (that actually belonged to you) slightly askew. “Okay,” she said between gasps, “I admit—that was fun.”

“You’re so welcome.” You teased, shifting to look at her.

“But that’s only because I beat your ass.”

She looked so beautiful in this moment. Her cheeks were rosy, the same shade as her damp hair where stray snowflakes had melted. She was at peace—something you wish you saw more of. You brushed a gloved hand against her cheek, then leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her icy forehead, unable to stop yourself.

“You were right. You’re freezing.” You murmured.

“Maybe.” She replied, her smile small. She shifted closer, laying her head on top of yours. “But I don’t mind.”

⊹♡

With both you and Natasha no longer at work, meant she could hang out with you more often. It was late one evening —you both had spent the day inside your apartment doing absolutely —when she insisted on a walk, claiming the air was getting "stuffy," though you suspected she just needed an excuse to stretch her legs.

Somehow, you had ended up in the suburbs in New Jersey.

“You know, this is kind of perfect.” She said, glancing over at you with a small smile. “No one’s out right now.” You laughed softly, the warmth of her gaze doing more to fight the chill than the layers you’d bundled yourself into. “Yes, well, the suburbs In Jersey are surprisingly magical when nobody’s around.” You joked, sarcasm evident, as you nodded toward the rows of houses strung with twinkling lights. It felt like something out of a postcard, the kind of scene you’d only read about.

The two of you turned a corner and were met with the soft harmony of voices carried on the wind. A group of carolers stood in front of a house, lanterns glowing in their hands as they sang “Silent Night.” Natasha paused, her steps slowing as she tilted her head to listen. Her expression softened, a rare kind of calm washing over her features.

“You don’t strike me as the caroling type.” You teased, bumping her shoulder lightly.

“I’m not.” She admitted, though her lips curved into a grin. “But... it’s nice, isn’t it? Peaceful.”

It was odd. This was the first time you’d seen Natasha act normal with the idea of Christmas.

“They make it look so easy.” She said after a while, her voice quiet.

“What do you mean?”

“They make it look easy believing in... I don’t know. The magic of it all.” She added, as her brow furrowed.

You turned to look at her, the soft glow of the carolers’ lanterns catching in her green eyes. “Maybe it’s not about believing.” You said after a moment. “Maybe it’s just about... letting yourself feel it. Even if it hurts, let yourself feel all of it.”

She stood quietly for a beat before adding, “Yelena loved this song.”

You stayed silent, letting the moment slip away as she became lost in the tune. Natasha's expression contorted with pain as the song finished and the group moved on, but made no move to leave. Without hesitation, you clasped her hand tightly, guiding her away and back in the direction of the city.

You both walked in silence the entire way home.

⊹♡

The next time you saw Natasha was the following weekend when she came over for a sleepover. You could tell the temperature had dropped even more just by the state you found her in at your door. You could only see her eyes. She was wearing your beanie again, with a scarf wound tightly around her neck and the exposed parts of her face. She carried a mismatched tote bag that practically bursted at the seams, the telltale sign of someone who couldn’t quite decide what to pack.

She’d never slept over before.

Well, purposely.

Later that night, in the cozy warmth of your kitchen, you began pulling out ingredients for gingerbread cookies, demanding the taller woman come stand beside you once her ‘bones were warm enough.’ Natasha remained perched on a stool, her favourite mug clasped in her hands, watching you with a raised eyebrow and a half-smirk.

"Our first sleepover. And you’re putting me to work? At this hour? I almost died coming over to see you.” She teased, glancing at the clock.

It’s nearly midnight.

"It’s time for midnight gingerbread.” You replied, beaming as you tied an apron around your waist. "It’s a tradition now."

Now?" She echoed, laughing. "This is literally the first time we’re doing this."

"Exactly, that’s how traditions start."

Natasha rolled her eyes but hopped off the stool to join you, muttering under her breath about wishing she had froze to death on the way over before tugging at your apron strings like a mischievous child, pushing you slightly away from your spot so she could fill it.

“Fine, let’s get this over with.”

The process was chaotic from the start. Natasha’s never baked before, and it showed. The first mishap happened when she cracked an egg with a little too much enthusiasm, sending yolk sliding across the counter. And from then, she managed to do nothing correct without your assistance. You were halfway through laughing when she retaliated by flicking a bit of flour at your cheek.

"Did you just—"

Before you could finish, she grinned devilish and dropped more flour over your head, “oh no, looks like you’ve got a little something there.”

Again, the process was chaotic.

Precision measuring gave way to messy improvisation as flour flew through the air in clouds of white. Natasha was unrelenting, chasing you around the island with a bag of powdered sugar like it’s a weapon. By the time you called a truce, the counters, the floor, and both of you were completely dusted with flour. "You look ridiculous.” You said, laughing so hard your sides ached. She wiped a streak of flour off her nose and smeared it onto your shirt. “Speak for yourself. You look like you’ve never seen the sun before.”

When you finally managed to clean up enough to resume baking, Natasha was benched to mixing the dough— far far away from the flour— but it took her all of ten seconds to abandon the spatula and dig in with her hands. “Are you sure this is hygienic?” She asked, grinning as she squished the dough between her fingers like it’s Play-Doh.

You’re pretty sure she doesn’t know what Play-Doh is.

"Absolutely not.” You replied, shaking your head. But neither of you cared. Somehow, The batter never even made it to the oven. After a mutual taste test—"for quality control," Natasha insisted upon —you realised you (she) had eaten most of it. "So, we’re out of ingredients." You admitted, licking a stray smear of molasses from your thumb. Natasha plopped down on the floor, leaning back against the cabinets with a satisfied sigh. “Good.” She said, licking a bit of dough off her finger. “The batter’s better anyway.” You sat beside her, the warmth of the oven lingering even though you never used it. The kitchen was a mess, the cookies a total failure, but none of it mattered.

You both fell asleep that night with the biggest smiles on your face.

⊹♡

Natasha ended up staying the next weekend too. Christmas fell on a Sunday, the big day seemed to sneak up on both of you, but for now, it was Christmas Eve, and the night stretched on, timeless and unhurried. After watching a few Christmas movies, the two of you found yourselves curled up in front of your fireplace — the fireplace being a YouTube video on loop coming from your television. The crackling flames painted your surroundings in shifting shadows, the room bathed in a burnt orange haze that made everything feel a little softer, a little more intimate. Natasha’s arms were wrapped securely around you, her presence grounding and warm. You hummed an old carol you heard once before under your breath, a lullaby that filled the quiet. Her hand traced lazy circles on your back, her fingers light but steady, as though she was trying to etch the moment into her memory. You watched her, unable to help yourself. The way the firelight kissed her skin, the soft rise and fall of her breathing, the peace in her expression— how rare it was to see her like this. Truly at ease. Vulnerable, but not guarded. You wanted to hold this moment forever, to preserve it for her in the way she deserved, and selfishly for yourself.

Falling for Natasha wasn’t difficult. From the beginning of the friendship, there was a constant undercurrent, a slow burn that never fully ignited, yet refused to fade. You fell in love with her so suddenly—in the quiet moments—that you couldn’t figure out when she became more to you than just a friend. Or if she was ever just that. And over the past year, you’d learned there was so much more to her than the cold, unyielding exterior she presented to the world. No one loved as much as she did. And now, as you sat basically on her lap, the space between both impossibly vast and unbearably close, you realised that falling for Natasha wasn’t just easy—it was inevitable.

“This is what Christmas is supposed to feel like.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper, like a thought she hadn’t meant to say aloud. As if she didn’t want to disturb the silence. Her gaze was distant, yet there was a softness in her tone that made your chest burn. You hesitated, the words catching in your throat before they could fully form. “You miss her.” You finally said. It wasn’t quite a question, but Natasha understood. Her eyes flickered to yours, that same vulnerability reflecting through. “I always miss her.” She admitted, her voice even quieter now, almost fragile. She didn’t need to say Yelena’s name; you knew. “It’s strange… even after all these years, I still expect her to be here sometimes. Like she’ll just walk in, scolding me for not keeping the lights on all day or dragging me out of the house to help on her latest conquest.”

Your heart cried out with something deep and tender, the kind of feeling no words could ever quite capture. “I’ve got something for you.” She looked at you, her brow furrowed slightly in curiosity as you stood and walked to the Christmas tree. From beneath its branches, you retrieved a small, carefully wrapped box and brought it back to her—one of many gifts you’ve bought for her. “This was supposed to be for tomorrow,” you said, sitting down beside her again, “but I think it’ll mean more tonight.” She took the gift, her fingers brushing against yours briefly before she began unwrapping it. Beneath the paper was a small music box, its pearl-coloured sides adorned with golden, intricate carvings. She opened the lid, revealing a tiny engraving inside: the words “My Light” in Russian reside underneath a picture of Yelena in her youth, dressed as an angel for a school nativity play, her beaming smile radiant and full of life.

Natasha’s breath caught, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced the edges of the engraving. “How did you—” she began, her voice breaking.

“You have to twist the key, Nat.” You said softly, closing the lid of the box.

She turned the key, the lid opening to reveal her younger sister all over again; as the music box began to play a gentle melody. But it wasn’t just music—it was a recording, faint but unmistakable hidden under the notes. The sound of Yelena’s voice filled the room, singing “Silent Night” with all the enthusiasm a child could muster for the slow song. Natasha’s hand flew to her mouth, and tears streamed freely down her face as the recording picked up another voice. It was quieter, steadier, but unmistakably hers. A younger version of her sang along with Yelena, their voices blending, only broken by their shared giggles as they sang together, sometimes stumbling over the lyrics. Her shoulders shook as she listened, and you reached for her, pulling her into your arms. She clung to you, her face buried against your neck, her tears damp against your skin, as sobs rocked her slender frame. You held her tightly, wishing you could somehow ease the weight of her grief and the bittersweet joy of this moment.

Her lips trembled as she tried to form words in the broke of your neck. “This…this is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. I don’t even know how you did this—” She pulled away from you to glance back at the music box, her fingers delicately tracing the engraved picture of Yelena. “She was my everything. The only good thing I had for so long – moya sestra (my sister), moy malen'kiy svet (my little light.)”

You nodded, squeezing her hand. “I know. And now you have her again, even if it’s just a little piece.” Natasha set the music box down carefully, as though it were made of glass. She leaned forward, confident in her actions, in her love for you—a soft kiss pressed to your lips.

She had never kissed you before.

She wanted to again.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

You leaned in, kissing her once again, the taste of salt comforting. “You deserve everything good in this world,” you said softly, stroking the remnants of her tears, “and you deserve love, Nat. I’ll promise I’ll remind you of that every day.”

You placed a delicate hand over her heart and spoke, “I see you. And in this light of yours, I see her.”

She kissed you again, softer and longer than the last, her lips brushing yours; fuelled behind every emotion, every feeling, every part of her heart that now belonged to you, “Thank you for giving her back to me.”

You smiled softly, brushing a stray red curl away from her face. "I promise to make every Christmas something worth remembering, for as long as I can. To remind you there’s always light to find, even in the darkest nights."

She leaned in, resting her forehead gently against yours. "You already have."

You smiled, brushing a stray red curl from her face. “I promise to make every Christmas something worth remembering for as long as I can. And to remind you of her light. With you. With Yelena.”

She leaned in, her forehead pressing gently against yours. “You already have.”

[djarins-cyare]

(Angsty) WIP Weekend

Thank you to the following lovelies for tagging me in various WIP posts over the past month (you are all wonderful 💚):

@ace-turned-confused @almostfoxglove @quinnnfabrgay-writes

@secretelephanttattoo @the-blind-assassin-12 @the-mandawhor1an

Once again, I’m humbly offering up a snippet because I’m still eyeball-deep in the writing stage of my (now several months late) Secret Relationship fic for the Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge. It now stands at just over 57k words, but I swear I only have two more chapters to write. Happily, I have a whole 3 weeks off work over the holidays, so I’m aiming to release it next month.

I won’t bore you with why I had to expand it again, but let’s just say angst fans will be well-fed.

In fact, since my previous WIP offerings from this fic (see here, here, and here) have mostly been smut-adjacent, I’ve decided to give you a taste of the angst for a change…

(Sorry it’s shorter than my usual snippets; it’s tough to find a decent chunk I can share without spoiling anything)

You fight for a week. Each day, he comes over, imploring you to calm down, eat something, see his point of view. He tries every tactic – soft words, hard orders, pleading eyes – but every attempt only feels like salt in a wound that will never close. Each day, you hurl back insults, curses, and even whatever objects are within reach. A glass shatters against the wall near his head. A boot catches him in the gut. You hope each impact carries a fraction of the pain he’s inflicted on you. You scream a lot. You scream until your throat is raw and you taste blood. Sometimes, your screams are molten with fury, blistering the air. Other times, they collapse into broken, keening wails, your voice trembling with the weight of all the misery you can’t contain. You cry a lot. You cry until there’s nothing left – until the tears burn instead of soothe. The memories torture you whenever your eyes close, echoes of your dreams being torn apart in a single evening. With every tear you try to blink away, your losses replay on the back of your eyelids with excruciating clarity. Your body can’t handle the strain. Your hands tremble constantly, whether from exhaustion or rage, you no longer know. Your chest feels tight; every breath is an effort. Sleep offers no relief; it’s a battlefield of nightmares that leave you thrashing and gasping awake. Yet you don’t stop fighting. You can’t stop. It’s the only shield against the endless void threatening to swallow you whole. Fighting is all you have left now.

The high level of angst will be balanced by an equally high level of smut, don’t worry 😏. But the good stuff needs to be earned.

As usual, if you’d like me to tag you when I release the chapters, please raise your hand or communicate your wish however you see fit. You can also join my tag list if you like.

Apparently, Tumblr is now limiting the number of links per post, which includes tags 😡. Since my WIP posts aren’t particularly frequent, I always try to tag as many people as possible, so I guess I’ll just put them in a reblog…

[kari-sims]

My 𝐓𝐨𝐩 24 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 from 2024🎉

Thanks @theplottdump for the tag, mwah! <3

-> tagging @kissalopa @sharona-sims @limeysims @mosneakers @eurosimmer @waaneco @pixelshary @pudsim @polarmoon @butteredfrogs @simsfvr @whyeverr @buildbuymode @zorteh @philodendrontrait @kazroze @marcishaun @nervousgnome @charsimsalot @enchantsims (sorry if you've been tagged/done this already! and no pressure if you dont want/can't do it, just have fun ˙ᵕ˙ ) and anyone whose my dummy brain forgot, please feel free to do so if you want too ♡

I don't have screenshots for every month unfortunately, (i took an almost two year break and came back to the game for real around april of this year) so this will be just 24 random screenshots i love (in no particular order). Not much happens in my game because i don't interfere that much, but i hope this isn't too boring heh

The usual Realm of Magic shenanigans: distracting Simeon from his job, fangirling over L. Faba, and old man being old.

Ellie's house renovation was my favorite thing to decorate over the months. I'm always adding things to it, and by things i mean frogs. All of the frogs.

Her garden is also my favorite place to be. Sometimes i just like to watch the bunnies running around, the grass moving, the birds chirping... and then i remember the game is running. It's really nice though.

Change doesn't happen very often in my game, but something cute sparked between these two after i decided to stop constantly ignoring and re-rolling her wants. I'm not gonna say much about it cause - and i know it's not that serious - i'm still processing it two months later lol, maybe one day...

Life and Death was so much fun, Ravenwood is now my favorite world to visit! I had no plans of getting the pack anytime soon, so i still can't believe i got to play with it when it released (thanks little fairy ♡)

Some of my favorite edits i've done this year. Apart from Ellie's shot (which was taken with no reshade on a day the game had some crazy good lighting), the others were done while i was trying to learn some stuff from one of my favorite editor's (strange-townie) speed edit videos. I hope i get more time this year to practice and learn more! (before & after album)

Favorite pictures of Ellie's best friends: old goofy lvl. 1 wizard relaxing in his new home & the unbothered rebel sage.

This year i also got to play with my favorite nerdy gamer boy. He was just a sim from a cas practice thing i did. I don't usually get attached to random sims i make, but for some reason he was just very special to me ( ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ ) ♡

I wanted to end this by saying i'm very grateful for everything i have experienced this year, and the warm welcome i've received. I'm really happy some people like my silly saturated pictures :D i promise next year i'll annoyingly fangirl and obsess over other people's lovely creations even more, so thanks for making this place such an inspiring one to be ♡ Happy holidays!◝( ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ )◜₊ ⊹₊ ⊹

[probablyreadinsmut]

Credits to Velnnnn on Pinterest for this image

I've just started playing Tlou for the first time and as much of a scaredy cat as I am, I'd really like to complete at least the first game. I am playing on VERY LIGHT (judge me all you want but I don't play games to stress myself out, I play them for fun and immersion, which yes, believe it or not can be achieved on the easiest setting).

That being said, it's giving me ideas. About this man specifically. Gas mask Joel Miller. The man that you are.

So with that in mind, please enjoy this purely gratuitous porn with very little plot.

Warnings/tags: Legal age gap (Anywhere from a year younger than him to 30 years), Joel's an asshole but we (collectively) love him anyway, Heavy on the mask kink. No Ellie in this bc you're the precious cargo here, awwh and no Tess bc I can't do my girl like that . Flirting, Vaginal fingering, Praise, Canon Typical Violence, clickers, Language (Swearing) No betas, apologies in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors but I'm here for a good time not a long time. 🤷

Silent, not quiet.

GasMask Joel Miller X Immune Afab! Reader - One Shot.

It had been three days since you'd left the Boston QZ with this complete stranger. He was actually making you miss the uncomfortable life you had back there.

Joel Miller was a fucking asshole, Marlene hadn't been kidding when she'd told you that.

'Prepare yourself, because he's not the easiest person to be around'

Understatement of the fucking century. If you ever see Marlene again, you're pretty sure you're going to strangle her on the spot for that one.

He was just so coarse. You couldn't do anything right in his eyes. You were quiet when he told you to be quiet. You stayed put when he told you to stay put. When you tried to tell him you knew how to fight, he wouldn't have any of it, telling you to 'Shut up and listen to him' before going on ahead to stealthily kill four runners and a clicker all on his own.

You couldn't wrap your head around it. He was absolutely infuriating. Treating you like a child. Treating you like you were a fucking China doll instead of a grown adult. At least that's how you felt.

After he'd taken out all the soldiers that were swarming the Capitol building looking for the two of you, you both sprinted into the subway, bullets whizzing by your head as more of FEDRA boots hit the ground.

"Spores. Fuck" he hissed as he hastily pulled on his gas mask and grabbed you roughly by the arm, tugging you into a dark, empty subway car, pinning you against the wall, pressing himself flat against you as you hide, hearing the approaching sound of footsteps making their way into the tunnel.

Your heart is pounding in your chest right now, not from fear but from something else entirely, feeling him pressed up against you like this, trying to control his breathing after exerting himself.

You're eyeing him in this mask, which surprises you, considering how much of a dick he's been since you first left with him. Maybe it's not about him, maybe it's about the fact that you haven't gotten laid since before the bite. If the wrong person saw it, you'd be toast. Your brains would have been splayed out across the sidewalk so fucking fast if FEDRA found out.

You realise you've been staring for a second too long when his head cocks in your direction, Hazel eyes narrowing as they assess you. "How are you breathing in this stuff?"He whispers, not wanting to alert the soldiers to your position.

You respond with a small shrug, cramped against the wall. "I wasn't lying when I told you I was immune. You're going to have to trust me some time or another."

A flicker of recognition fills his gaze but it's gone as fast as it had arrived when the soldiers announce their retreat. "They got away! Fuck it. Let the fucking clickers have 'em let's move out"

It's silent as you both listen carefully, not daring to move or breathe too loudly right now.

You're staring at him again, it's hard not to. Something about him in this fucking mask, it's an awakening. An unwanted one. Especially given the situation you're in.

"Okay I think they're--" His eyes narrow as he clocks you surveying him again for the second time in the last five minutes "What?"

Oh fuck. Learn to be more subtle.

"N-nothing!" your nervous smile and the way you answer just a little too quickly, doesn't convince him.

"Y'sure darlin'?" He drawls, you can't see it, but you know hes smirking under that fucking mask. "Yer lookin' a lil nervous right now... Wouldn't happen to be 'cause of me, would it?" Cocky bastard. So sure of himself.

You scoff and roll your eyes heavily, attempting to counter his accusation by putting on a facade of indifference. "Oh puh-leez. I'd rather kiss a clicker."

The hand that had been pinning your shoulder to the wall, slowly drifts down, calloused fingers grazing your collarbone. "That so? Well I didn't offer a kiss, darlin'" The way his voice is like honey, filling your ears with his deep, rich baritone has goose bumps breaking out all over your body and heat curling low in your stomach. He's stoking the embers, trying to ignite that flame inside you. He's succeeding.

Now isn't the time or place for any of this, but your mind is hazy with adrenaline and lust, mixing together in an intoxicating cocktail. Shifting slightly to arch your body against his, letting him feel the soft, warm curves of your body tight against him, you speak with a voice as smooth as silk "No? Then what were you offering me, Miller?"

It has the intended effect on him, feeling him getting hard against your hip

It's a challenge. It's permission. As much as you despise how he's been with you these past few days, you haven't been fucked in so long and he's here, throwing out all the signals that he's down to break that dry spell with you. Right here, right now.

"We do this, we do it my way. We clear?" The stern tone just makes matters worse, feeling the damp spot in your panties starting to become uncomfortably sticky. Authority has always been a turn on for you.

With a slow nod and a desperate little lip bite as his green light, his hand slides down, tracing over the curve of your breast, knuckles brushing over your peaking nipple.

The tiniest of sighs leaves you at his touch and you realise how truly touch starved you've been, there's only so much pleasure you could get from your own fingers.

From under the mask, his eyes stay fixed on your face, watching as your lips part, making those little noises for him. He's enchanted by it and he needs more, just like you do.

Your breath hitches as his hand begins to trail further down your body, undoing the button and zip on your jeans before he goes that step further, slipping past the denim confines. A low groan leaves him when he finds you soaked already. "Baby, you're a mess already...and I've hardly even touched you..."

You feel the prickle of embarrassment on your cheeks from that comment, the fact that he'd gotten you all worked up just from close proximity and a stupid mask was insane, unfathomable. But here you were. Despite that, you're chasing his touch with your hips, needing him to soothe the ache between your legs.

"S'okay darlin'. Ain't gonna make you wait. No time for that" With that, he slips his hand under the elastic, wasting no time in finding that sensitive bundle of nerves with his fingers. You realise just how long it's been since someone else touched you by your own reaction, biting your lip to hold back the moan, fingers curling into the collar of his faded plaid green shirt.

He starts by rubbing in small slow circles with his middle and index finger, watching and listening for the little cues from you before he quickens the pace. Your restrained moans and heavy pants, combined with the way your brows pinch, tell him everything he needs to know.

His hand dips lower, circling his digits around your entrance, collecting your essence and dragging it back up to your clit, rubbing in tighter, faster circles.

It's at this point that you slap a hand over your mouth, you're pretty sure FEDRA are gone but the last thing you need is for them to come running back, drawn by the sound of you being pleasured.

"S'okay baby. I've got you. You're doing so good for me, c'mon lemme make you feel good" Joel croons in your ear, only slightly muffled by the mask.

When he hears your breathing start to get shorter and sharper under your hand, he takes his oppertuinity, sinking two thick fingers into your velvety heat, without any resistance. "Atta girl... You gonna cum for me huh? You know how... Fucking. Filthy. This is? Letting me... Do this. To you. Right now?" He puncuates his words with deep thrusts of his fingers, his thumb finding your clit to conduct a dual assault on your senses.

You have to bite your hand to keep yourself from making too much noise, eyes rolling back in your head as you begin to crest, feeling yourself trembling. His free hand snakes around your waist helping you to stay upright, if you were lucid enough you'd consider this a sweet gesture, right now though all you can focus on is his fingers inside you and his heavy breaths in your ear.

If someone had told you 3 days ago that this man would be fingerfucking you while he wears a gasmask, you'd have told them they were bat shit crazy, but here you are.

You're just about to reach your peak when you both hear the echoes of something metallic falling and rolling across the floor. Both of you freeze in place, eyes wide as his fingers are still inside you. You're listening closely, waiting to hear a walkie talkie crackle or the formation footsteps that tell you the soldiers have returned.

But no, it's worse than that. Much worse.

The telltale clicking has you clenching for a whole other reason right now, attempting to push his hand away, but he doesn't move, eyes narrowing like he's zeroing in on the noise himself.

"S'fine. It's not close. As long as we don't make too much noise we'll be fine." by we he means you. "I need you to be silent, got it? Not quiet, silent"

Your pulse thrums in equal parts nervousness and arousal. The thrill of being caught would usually have you begging already, but this isn't a scenario where you'd want to be caught. Clickers aren't something to be taken lightly.

Rationality is screaming at you to tell him to stop, but you don't want him to stop.

"Keep going." You say in a breathy whisper, clamping both your hands over your mouth now.

Without missing a beat he starts again Not bothering to build back up to it, you're still on the edge of climax and he can feel it in the way you're clenching around his digits.

He'd give anything to murmur praise and filth in your ear right now, Joel's incredibly talkative during sex, loving to talk his partners through it with praise and authority. Right now tbough he holds off, dropping his head to your shoulder, curling his fingers to hook against that spongy spot inside you that usually has women gasping. Fuck he's so hard right now, wondering what you actually sound like when you're completely untethered, thinking about what it would be like to have you making those noises as you come apart on his cock.

It's taking everything in you right now not to make a single noise, you can hear the clicking echoing in the subway tunnels, to you it sounds like it's getting closer but if it were attracted to your sounds, you'd know by now. Dying with your pants down wasn't on your list of priorities.

You can't hold back any longer, wanting nothing more than to cry out his name as you cum. But you can't, instead you grab his shoulder, nails digging into the material there, leaving the other hand clamped firmly over your mouth.

You can hold back the moans but what you can't hide is how hard you cum on his fingers, your release drips down his knuckles as he fucks you through it, the quietest of groans leaving him in return.

When you're back down to earth and no longer trembling, he slowly removes his fingers with a wet pop. If he didn't have the mask to worry about, he'd absolutely suck them clean. Instead he settles for wiping them off on his shirt, he knows he'll be smelling you for days on him. He fucking loves that.

///

As you right yourself in the subway car, buttoning your jeans back up in a post orgasm stupor, he goes off to dispatch the clicker with ease, as per usual.

Once you hear the all clear from him, you hop down out of the car, rubble crunching under your boots.

"C'mon let's keep movin', should be able to get out through the east side if it's clear."

You think for a moment that he's gone back to being the stoic asshat from before, that is until what he does next.

He reaches out to gently grip your chin between his fingers and thumb, the very same that had just bought you the quietest orgasm of your life. "Don't think this means I'm done with you darlin'. We need to find somewhere to bunker down tonight. Somewhere secure. Because the second we do, I need to be inside you. I need to hear those pretty little moans of yours for real. Got it?"

Maybe travelling with Joel Miller won't be so bad after all.

Hours later, he proves you right about that.

///

Tags: @lovely-vamp-princess @joelmillerisapunk @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @cheekychaos28

[feyd-meowtha]

@middlingmay's Fic Rec Questions

I saw this list and thought it would be fun to give it a go!!

1) Fic that's made you laugh the most

He May Be The Reason by @c-goldthorn. It's a Clegan Notting Hill au and it makes me squeal with delight. So cute that I got distracted while reading it and missed my stop on the train.

2) A fic that made you cry

my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder by pillar of our community @swifty-fox. I'm sure most ppl have probably read this one but it's such an amazing post-show continuation that really doesn't pull it's punches when it comes to both PTSD and the realities of being gay in the 40s

3) Fave comfort, silly fic

It's a little rogue but I'm gonna say Awake, Alive by the wonderful @whirlpool-blogs. It's a pet sematary au so not exactly what you would call traditionally comforting but the ending makes me so happy and the whole thing is just a joy. The fact that this came to mind when I thought 'comfort fic' is probably pretty telling about me as a person....

4) The fic that made you try a genre or trope that you don't usually read

This is also a bit rogue but it was tricky since I'll read anything, so I'll go with Strings of the Strings of Life by the lovely @weimarweekly, not because of any of the content but because I don't, as a general rule, read Dune fic that was written after Dune 2 released. I've bored everyone to tears with my complaints about that version of Feyd but it is what it is so I tend not to like any fics written about that version of the character BUT the prospect of a feydpaul Berlin techno au was too delicious to resist and the whole fic is so fun. It makes me miss Germany sooo bad.

5) An author who has inspired your own fic writing

This one has got to go to the anonymous author of both Close And Yet Closer and The Replacement. Both of these fics are god tier and their character psychology and willingness to allow their versions of the characters and relationships to be ugly and messy are so inspiring to me. They were also the first person in the John/Hausman tag on ao3 which is currently just me and them. I think about the replacement all the time and it was a HUGE influence on 3am Eternal. If I can ever write half as well as them I will die happy.

6) What are your fave underdog authors? Those that you feel are underappreciated and deserve a bit more love

Hmmm, this is kinda hard cus the MOTA fandom is pretty small so I feel like a lot of stuff gets decent buzz. Imma shout out @whirlpool-blogs again and especially their fucked up clegans fics, I have read and reread all of their works and they're always so so good. I will also add @steeseman for Up In Our Bedroom. It's another great post-canon fic and while it has a lot of hits, I don't think I've seen anyone talking about it on here.

7) What's one thing you wish writers/readers did more of when it comes to fanfiction.

The obvious one is comment, it really does make my day when I get a nice comment, even just a couple words or an emoji mean a lot. The other thing I would say is writing curt/Kenny fic, there's not much out there and I want more please. Also more fics where characters relationships are like genuinely kind of fucked up and toxic. I love that shit.

8) What's one thing you wish writers/readers did less of when it comes to fanfiction.

Oh man, I really do not know. The only thing I can think of is that I hate the word 'yap' or 'yapping' so if I see it in a fic I shudder. Hmmmm, I guess I also wish that there was a little more consideration when writing Gale's dad as an alcoholic because it's often treated as the basis for him being a shitty person. Addicts aren't automatically bad people and I sometimes feel like it's portrayed that way. @blixabargelds wrote an excellent post on this

9) I'm adding an extra one and that is current WIPs I am reading

Sympathy For The Devil by @blixabargelds, it's a modern ghost hunting AU and the set up is AMAZING. I will also throw Superstar in here even though it's not releasing main story chapters yet, everything Frankie writes is so tailored to my personal tastes it's crazy and I am so excited to read @mildharm's John POV chapters too. Literally foaming at the mouth thinking about it rn. When it starts being released fully, I fear it may kill me.

Love Song From A Dog and The Heart Is A Muscle by @swifty-fox. I've only just started THIAM but I'm so hyped for their take on the tattoo shop/flower shop au.

Hit Me Where The Heart Is by @london-cowboy makes me legitimately insane. I jump for joy whenever there is a new update, these versions of the characters and their stories are, as Paris Hilton would say, beyond. I do not have the words to say how much I am loving this fic. The characters and setting feel so real and it's just so creative. AMAZING.

I need to get around to starting let us not desert one another; we are an injured body and also the time skip fic whose name escapes me by @irregularcollapse and also catching up with @weimarweekly's rodeo fic, Looking For Eight

Writing this was very fun and I encourage anyone reading to give it a go if they fancy it!!

[dangerpronebuddie]

Several Sentences Sunday!!

Tagged by @chronicowboy @hippolotamus who both shared MARVELOUS stuff y'all should absolutely show some love!! 🩷💚

My new wip continues to take all of my attention lol. I wouldn't bet on it being done before the new year though 😅. Have some pupper shenanigans!

Eddie turns and jumps at the sight before him. “Ever heard of knocking?” he squeaks, like what he says actually makes sense. The dog stands just inside the kitchen, tail swishing against the doggy door Eddie had yet to remove. His tail quickens its pace, thumping against the door as if to say see? I can knock, dumbass. Eddie rolls his eyes. “Fine, whatever. But you gotta behave, I have an appointment in a few minutes.” He points at the dog and raises his eyebrows. The dog sits down gracefully, panting as he looks up at Eddie. “Good boy,” Eddie praises, patting his head as he walks by. He sets his plate down on the table and turns to grab his water and the iPad. The dog looks from him to his food and back again. Eddie shakes his head. “Oh no, not happening,” he says as he sits down. “This is my dinner. And even if I wanted to give you some, I couldn't.” The dog whines and pads closer, resting his head on Eddie's lap. He presses down on Eddie's thigh insistently, looking from him to the food once more. His tail wags a mile a minute. “I know it smells good, sweetheart, but you can't eat this,” Eddie says. He takes a bite, has to praise himself for how good his Spanish rice is getting, and feels eyes upon him. He looks down at his lap. The dog actually looks like he's pouting. His ears are down, and his eyes are big and sad. Eddie almost takes pity on him. Almost. “Nice try, bud, but this is for your own good,” he says. The dog huffs and stomps away, curling up at the doggy door and looking at it as if to say I'll just leave if you're gonna be like that. “You're more dramatic than Buck,” Eddie chuckles. The dog's ears perk up. His tail wags. Like he's proud of that. He probably is. Eddie rolls his eyes with a smile and finishes his dinner, all the while feeling the dog staring daggers into the side of his head.

(tags under the cut! As always please let me know if you want to be added/ removed):

@lover-of-mine @tizniz @loveyouanyway @daffi-990 @kitteneddiediaz

@ronordmann @steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @exhuastedpigeon

@thekristen999 @monsterrae1 @diazheartsbuckley @wildlife4life @misshiss727 @rainbow-nerdss @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

@spotsandsocks @tidesreach @disasterbuck @lonelychicago @epicbuddieficrecs

@lunarspark-cos @idealuk @slowlyfoggydestiny @mourningeddiesfagstache @playinginthunderstorms @elvensorceress

@lin27 @jshadow01 @orangeboxfox92 @thegeekcompanion @emilybahu @lemotmo @awolfnamed-nyx @maraskywalkers

@kaseysgirl86-blog @darkrose6578 @totallynotagoraphobic @dandelioncasey @bibuckbuckgoose @whatsgoodinthehood22 @mari-lwyd-cryptid-blog

@lady-elaine @buckley-diaz-rules @buddiedaydreamer911 @monroemary @pirate-hunter @snowviolettwhite @hermoineindisguise

@nonspeakingkiku @eddiedisasterdiaz @drunkandsupportiveeddie @gnoeltop @keynb @cassi-brooks @-syrup-sue @punkrock00 @shannonhutchins @aroqueerfandoms @unlifeira @marissaleec @kissyboytroye

@lyricfulloflight @charlzie-ghost @hypersensitivitywitch @kindlingtotheflames @wallywise @zerokrox-blog @hawaiianlove808 @retromodgirl @allygateobeanz @savlikesbluengreen and anyone else who's interested!! 🥰🩷

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

men are not inherently evil!!!

I love MEN

I love MASCULINITY

I love BODY HAIR

I love MENS CLOTHING

I love SUITS

I love TIES

I love TESTOSTERONE

I love MEN AND NONBINARY PEOPLE

I love INTERSECTIONALITY THAT INCLUDES MEN OF MINORITY GROUPS AND OPPRESSED IDENTITIES

IF THERE IS A QUEER GROUP WITH NO MEN AND MASCS I DONT WANT IT

THIS INCLUDES CIS MEN

AND CISHET WHITE ABLE BODIED ETC MEN ARE NOT INHERENTLY AN ENEMY

Kill the cop in your brain that separates everything into "men" and "queer" my final message goodbye

This post was made by a NONBINARY TRANS MAN

[starrieangel]

🩷 Curly helps reader regress 🌻

Request by Anon: “How about Curly with a reader who wants to regress but struggles to due to responsibilities and stress, And Curly just, gently coaxing reader into relaxing and taking a break from all of that”

Features: CG! Curly x Little! Reader

Tags: Fluff, Female Reader, Age Regression, omg this is way longer than expected, my Curly bias is showing

Notes: I used Daddy, Papa/Papa Bear, Teddy/Teddy Bear as cg names for Curly (cause he's my f/o and that's what I would call him alskxndkslsnxhkz thanks for requesting this, it’s very self indulgent..!!!)

rbs appreciated !! ☆ ~

Curly begins to notice that you aren't regressing as often as you used to. You've been extra busy with work or school, just general life stuff, and it seems to be taking up a lot of your mental energy

Normally he could get at least a giggle out of you each night, getting you to either regress or just relax into a calmer state by tickling you or playing with your plushies or offering to read you a bedtime story- just anything that he knows you'll enjoy

But lately when you go to bed, you don't seem to smile as much. It's like your responsibilities are weighing you down, sucking all the joy from you :(

Teddy Curly cannot have his little princess be so gloomy..! It kills him to see you so clearly stressed, but he's not really sure what to do at first..

Until one day, you come home from work/school, and Curly insists you let him take care of you.

“I know you haven't been feeling well, Princess, so I was hoping maybe today could be a.. little day? I've seen how stressed you are and, I just really want to help you feel better.”

“I don't know, Curly, I haven't really been in the best mood lately...”

“That's what I'm talking about, just... let me help you, okay? And, if I'm being honest, I really miss my little girl, too.” He says the last part sheepishly, looking down at his shoes as he says it.

You think about it for a minute before reluctantly agreeing. He sighs a breath of relief before his lips crack into a shy smile. 

“See, there's my good girl..” He wraps you in a hug, running his fingers thru your hair. “Now tell Daddy what's wrong. Please, bunny?”

You're already starting to melt a bit, feeling his strong arms around you, and hearing his handsome voice saying your special title for him.

You tell him what's been happening at work/school that has you so upset, he's resting his chin on your head as he adds “uh-huh, I hear you” or “I know, baby, that sounds hard” you can feel tears prick your eyes a bit as you near the end of your story, your speech sounding more and more like your little voice. 

He cups your face in his hands, rubbing his calloused thumb against your cheek. “Thank you for telling me that, baby. It's all going to be okay now, though. Papa's got you.” He wipes away a stray tear from your cheek.

“C-can we start that little day now?” You say, the weight of grown up life was beginning to be too much.

He chuckles a bit, thinking of how cute you are looking up at him with big wet eyes. “Of course, baby.” And without warning he picks you up so that you're resting on his hip, arms around his neck. You start to feel even more little- He’s so strong that he can easily pick you up like you're a baby /)(\

“How does a nice warm bath sound, darling?” He says in his soft voice. He presses a kiss to your cheek, really rubbing it in so that his facial hair scratches against you. You giggle from his stubble tickling your cheek- he always knows how to make you smile ♡

You nod your head, and he goes to draw you a bath ~

I think I will do a part two for this since it's kinda long!! Part 2 will have Curly giving regressed reader a bubble bath and putting them to bed 😊 Thank you for reading! and leaving requests :) sorry if I don't get to all of them, I try to only write for fun and not force anything, but I love hearing other's ideas! 

Please leave a comment letting me know what you think! I love talking to other people abt fanfic aaaa ♡ Thanks again! 

🩷🌻🧸

Guys why is this so long. Why am I so cuckoo for coco puffs over a character from a horror game. This is deranged

[another-delta-lover]

Hello!! Delta here!! Coming back from a long break!! :D

^ A lil about my blog:

PLEASE DON'T CALL ME AN ARTISTS!! MAKES ME UNCOMFY!! :( Call me someone that draw or anything else, be creative and have fun about it XD

This blog might contain some unappropiate stuff (swears, slurs [the ones I can say], sex jokes, and so on) but nothing nsfw!!

This is mostly an art blog! I do drawing requests A LOT!! They're open most of the time, but it's always kind to ask first!!

ASKS ARE OPEN most of the time! Say whatever you want idc! If you make me uncomfy I'll tell you or just block you! I'm always open to chat! :)

I get tired often T_T So some days I might not be as active as others, so please don't insist too much about it :(

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

] DNI!! if you... [ :

.- are a Zionist or Pro-israel, TERF, Proshipper, Trump supporter, are against the LGBTQIA+ community, are a pedofile, or very disrespectful in general!! . If you're any of these, please educate yourself better. If you don't, then block me/DNI. -.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

☆My alt blogs!!-

My evil self >:] : @another-alpha-hater

My Medic-Bot (and other tf2 robots) RP blog: @the-real-tf2-medicbot

My TF2 heavy and medic ocs RP blog!: @niko-n-frank-mailbox

My daily heavy blog! : @daily-tf2-heavy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

☆ MY TAGS!!! -

Non art related:

Important stuff- #Deltas megaphone

Reblogs- #Deltas reblogy:3

Mutuals- #Deltas frens

My best she/her friend!!- #Deltas cloudy fren

My platonical beloved- #Pootis Deltis

Random yappin- #Deltas yappin

Random RAGE/ANGRY yappin- #Deltas AUGH

Vent/Sad yappin- #Deltas cry for help

Asks- #Deltas consulting room

Art related:

Drawings- #Deltas serious pencil grabbin

Drawing req- #Deltas mercy on the poor

Doodles- #Deltas random pencil grabbin

Ocs - #Deltas children

SFMs - #Delta thinks he's Valve XD

Extra tags:

Posts about ma family :3 - #Deltas family posts

Me being obssesed with Heavy— #The Flower N The Bear

Alt blogs and I arguing- #Deltas voices getting louder

🇨🇱CHILEAN STUFF WHEN IT'S SEPTEMBER🇨🇱- #Deltas UYUI🇨🇱

THIS BLOG'S CURRENT HYPERFIXATION IS: Team Fortress 2

[ FANDOM TAGS UNDER THE CUT ]---

Tf2- #Deltas men obssesion

UT/DT- #Deltas cringe era

House MD- #Deltas medical malpractice

Mouthwashing- #Deltas Dental Hygiene

Gravity Falls- #Deltas reason to love triangles

Dandy's World- #Deltas fav roblox game

JJBA- #Deltas BUFF GAY men obssesion

I'm Scared A Pixelated Nightmare- #Deltas worst hear me out

SCP- #Deltas scientist complex

DHMIS- #Deltas fav scary series

The Sims 4- #Deltas God Complex

Regretavator- #Deltas WORSE roblox obssesion

Minecraft- #Deltas inner child

TADC- #Deltas YT brain rot

TNMN- #Deltas really unhealthy obssesion

Good Omens(I don't support the writer)- #Deltas june depression

Frankenstein- #Deltas book reading

Some extra fandoms I'm in+ stuff I like that don't have a tag!!-

Untitled Tag Game

Cube Escape

Doors

Mandela Catalogue (I don't support the creator)

Bad Parenting

Life Eater

The Last Of Us game

Cuphead (show and game)

Nimona

Wild Robot

You can always ask me if I like more!! (I always forget XD)

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[raayllum]

I thought maybe there was something we needed to know. But it doesn't matter. I told you not to come on the boat! You were crying, I thought something was wrong. Nothing was wrong. Either way, the sun's set and it's crazy cold out there.

[fishofthewoods]

Oh my god I woke up this morning and my Stardew Valley meta post had almost 150 notes????? Hello?????????? Anyways I started writing this last night because @moon-is-pretty-tonight left nice tags on the original so thank you so much!!

We know from the starting scenes of the game that the farmer's grandfather loved Stardew Valley. So why did he leave? Pelican Town is a good place to grow old; George and Evelyn are just fine. It's a fine place to raise a kid, but maybe he just wanted to raise his child closer to real schools and other children.

Or maybe, just maybe, he understood.

Was there a day when he was in his thirties where he looked at his friends and realized they weren't like him? That he could run faster than them, work longer, explore deeper into the hidden places of the valley?

Was there a day when he went to the wizard to ask him for help, for knowledge if nothing else? Did he learn then that his family was different? Special? Chosen? And how did he react? He couldn't possibly raise a child in the valley if they would be as strange and fey as him. He had to leave. There was no other way.

But years later, on his deathbed, did he regret that choice?

Is that why he gave the farmer the letter?

Is that why they went back home?

When the farmer steps off the bus that first day, the valley is still on the cusp of winter, just barely tipping over into spring. The flowers are starting to bloom, but a chill still hangs in the air. As soon as the farmer's boots touch the soil there's a change. The air gets warmer. The trees get greener. Not by too much, not all at once, but it changes.

The junimos watch the farmer as they do their work. They're new to farming, but take to it with frightening speed; their first batch of crops is perfect. None of the townsfolk tell them that parsnips don't normally grow in less than a week, that cauliflowers don't grow to be ten feet tall, that fairies don't visit when the sun goes down and grow potatoes and beans and tulips overnight. The junimos talk amongst themselves in their strange, wild language, and agree: this is the one. They're back. The valley recognizes its own, even when they've left for a generation. The farmers have come home.

Things change fast in the valley. The community center, empty and decrepit for so many years, is rejuvenated. (Lewis says it was abandoned only a few weeks after the farmer's grandfather left. Strange coincidence, he says, that it both came and went with the farmer's family.) The mines and the quarry, similarly abandoned, are explored for the first time in ages. The town becomes cleaner, brighter, more vibrant, happier.

And it is happier. Not just the environment, but the people. It's the talk of the town for weeks when Haley does her first closet purge. Leah's art show in the town square is a huge success. Shane's smiling for the first time since he moved to the valley. All of them, when asked, say it's all thanks to the farmer.

People love to ask why Lewis didn't fix the community center on his own. Why Willy never repaired the boat to ginger island. Why Abigail or Marlon never went down to fix the elevator in the mines, or why Clint didn't fix the minecarts.

But isn't it so much more interesting to ask how those things were there in the first place? How they got so broken down? If the stories the townspeople tell are true, the valley was once a beautiful place, flourishing and full of life; why did that change? When did it change?

Was it when the farmer's grandfather, the locus of the valley, its chosen representative, left town?

And if so, what happens when the farmer comes back?

[stealingyourbones]

Gotta love when folks write Superman incredibly anti-clone even though he had good reason in the beginning to Not Like Superboy (HES A WINDOW INTO WHAT CLARK WOULD HAVE BEEN WITHOUT THE KENTS) and decide that forever on he’ll be spiteful towards clones even though he literally Does Not Care if you’re a clone unless you’re Superboy.

[biblically-accurate-dca]

these are all kind of Bad but this was the best of the bunch so i am posting it :p

i've been trying to draw vanessa more... she is so important to me... sun is here too i guess

[faislittlewhiteraven]

Tower of Dormont ISaT AU

Had a weird dream I figured would make a great ISaT AU if anyone wants to take a swing at it so umm, general idea:

Instead of the House being taken over by the King, instead the Favor Tree is warped into an evergrowing tower reaching up, up, up into the heavens.

Instead of the King's Curse slowly making its way across the land and Mirabelle being the 'Chosen One' to collect the orbs to stop it, it's time freezing Sadnesses raining down from the top of the Tower all over Vaugarde and surrounding countries, with heroes from all over (Euphie, Claude, various Defenders, people from other countries, etc) heading into the Tower to figure out what is happening only to never return...

And well. It looks like the end for Vaugarde, Mirabelle (having finally hit the 'I know what Euphrasie said but I've got to do something' point) has recruited Isa, Odile and Bonnie for a last ditch effort to try and stop the world from ending by Tower and...

Within the first few floors (which keep changing but kind of look like... The House of Dormont? No, that bit there looks like Odile's family home, and that room there is just like Nille's???) they find an unlocked bedroom and in that room an exhausted, terrified and near hopeless Siffrin who can barely remember anything from his life before being imprisoned here (even takes a bit to recall his name over the now despised 'Bright One') but after a bit of coaxing they admit they know a LOT about the floors ahead and might be willing to help the party reach the top of the Tower where they can put a stop to the madness going on outside but in return they must not let the King catch them (not again not again not again)...

Party are actually pretty cool with this (you know, aside from general 'is this person legit or actually an enemy?' concerns) but well, it's hard not to notice as their guide goes from barely able to fight beyond weak scissors craft and buffs to healing and every craft type under the sun. From claiming they don't know what's behind a certain door or above the next floor to explaining in detail that the prisoners in cages on the next floor are all Sadnesses, or that 'the King is coming, he hasn't realised I've left the room yet but I need something, anything, to mask my scent' (and later gets everyone to leave false trails down halls via jars of sugar and honey they picked up a few rooms previous). From claiming that the party are the only other people they've ever seen here to having near breakdowns over finding books or paintings with imagery and words that seem eerily familiar (think a book that reads like 'Claude wonders why Euphrasie and their amnesiac guide are so fussed about the walls here apparently being covered in stars? Why do stars matter anyway?'), etc.

Oh and they glow more and more with each floor which er, is probably going to make hiding from the King (who is VERY DEFINITELY after them judging from all the "Bright One, you know you are not supposed to leave you room. You do not want me angry again do you Bright One?" roaring) increasingly difficult.

...

And yeah. I don't actually know what is going on in this story beyond cool imagery due to the whole 'Literally woke up with this in my head because dream' but...

Been thinking it's kinda like an 'end game Persona series' situation where a chance friendly meeting/talk between Sif and the King right before the King's rampage would've started, led to the King to realizing he could use his Wish Craft to force the people of Vaugarde to 'wish with him' (see: escalating brainwashing madness), forcing a terrified Sif to go along with it (no brainwashing for the Bright One no, not when they were clearly sent by the Universe to be the King's guide ignore the Bright One's screams that this is wrong, that they want nothing to do with this; clearly oracles only relay the Universe's intent not share it themselves), and the current 'raining time freezing Sadnesses/Sif clearly being stuck in some weird looping variant' stuff being the result of Sif's 'Please protect Vaugarde and restore our home' wish said at the King's orders being heard by the Universe as "please Universe do whatever you can to stop all of Vaugarde- No, the world from falling under the King's control! + Someone, anyone save me! + 'immense amounts of self loathing and a desire to known and held accountable for inadvertently sparking a man made apocalypse' + Universe I wish I had people who actually cared about me/who would never only use me as a tool to save the world" and er well. The Universe had a way to 'protect everyone from the King' that would also kind of fit the King's wishes, a whole heap of power from all the brainwashed people the King was leading plus the 'meant to be repurposed' freezing all of Vaugarde in time ritual the King crafted to work from Dormont and... Yeah. Add to that people all over Vaugarde and possibly other countries 'adding' to the 'please save us' wish bank after Sif had already accidently centered it all around himself and basically both Sif's loops and the Sadness hell storm are being powered up by everyone everywhere in one huge ball of 'Hmm, I wonder if this all ends with the King getting killed or is there gonna be a big old morality question thingy post King killing at the end where Sif, upon remembering that "this is all my fault" tries to get the others to kill him which other heroes may have done (and thus triggering the loop, sending Sif back to the start possibly missing memories of them to hide away in shame/terror/etc) whereas Mira, Isa, Odile and Bonnie have gotten far too attached to this tragic, self sacrificing idiot and were willing to let the rest of the world be fully frozen for the rest of Sif's natural lifespan if it meant he could finally be free (not happy about it mind you, but like, just the 5 of them living in a quiet world until everyone else is safely freed after Sif's natural death is better than murdering someone who went through an eternity of horrors to protect a world they couldn't even remember and who's death might not even be the true answer anyway)'.

Oh and the King should basically be treated like a yandere version of the Reaper or something throughout the story (dream had way too many 'and then the King was suddenly there killing someone until Sif slashes their throat -no tears to use in this Tower alas- and from the party's perspective basically has a 'vision of the future' and/or freakout for seemingly no reason in the middle of Snack Time), while each of the many many floors of the Tower are basically due to being altered to match the minds of everyone (frozen or not) in the Tower, kinda like a Palace or P4 dungeon, due to well, Sif unconsciously wanting to learn more about them, wanting to remember/forget, possibly on some level wanting the King to how horrible this all actually is IDK (snack rooms, like the bedroom Sif was in are basically P5 saferooms but less 'area weak in cognition' and more 'Sif wishes for there to be places safe from the King and all the Sadness so there are some even if he knows he can't stay in them forever least they become prisons for him'). ...Might be nightmare floors as well? To represent Sif's terror of bad things happening to anyone he becomes attached to and wanting to be able to protect them so basically, they are accidentally making their own opposition (possibly based off of what they hear the others being afraid of/the desire to be useful to them) and I think Slay the Princess might make for great inspiration there if you need an idea of how crazy that might go~ XD

...So. Yeah. If anyone wants to use any of this for any fanfic ideas, please go ahead as I kind of would like to focus on my Selkie Au and fics for other fandoms more than this weird dream that basically took over my brain and said SHARE in caps so loud I've been stuck thinking about it ever since.

[sysig]

Dr. “Has to get a good grade in therapy” Doran (Patreon)