#chaos soup prompts

[rururuku-scribbles]

Gift art, of a sort, for @reachartwork , who's been getting some absolutely horrible hate messages recently. I scrambled and ciphered anon's screed and then turned the resulting nonsense text into a prompt. This grim grinner and the bluegreen Circle of Protection Against Haters were the most interesting things to bubble up from the chaos soup.

Rage Against the Machines - AI imagery by Rukuruku via SDXL

These images are raw AI output without significant iteration or other human intervention, and therefore public domain.

[hypewinter]

After Danny exposed Vlad and his corrupt dealings, the older halfa got the last laugh by getting his blacklists from all engineering jobs. Desperate for a job Danny ends up applying for a personal assistant position and he actually gets it. It only takes him a week to see how detached Bruce Wayne is from his own company. AND he has his 16 year old son running it as CEO!? No way is he letting that slide.

[bluishfrog]

armadillo or possum plz :0

Who ate his soup?!

Send me your favorite animals and I draw them as dnf :D

[corkinavoid]

The Reunion happens in Vlad's castle. The annual Family Picture is taken right in front of the Packers Hall of Fame.

DPxDC prompts #8

Bonus: Addams family crossover!

The Fentons are a branch family of the Addams

The Waynes are another branch family of the Addams

Both sides meet each other for the first time during the great Addam's Family Reunion!

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny runs for Mayor P.2

kgned3Part 1

Some more snippets of the Gotham Mayor Danny AU!

...

Danny would absolutely try to hire some of the Rouges as his Mayoral Cabinet, I can just imagine Waylon Jones, the Killer Croc, in a Suit and Slacks sitting in a the Mayors Office while awkwardly holding his resume.

Danny: So, Mr. Jones, why do you think we should hire you? Waylon: Well sir, I have something of a reputation and I feel like I would be an amazing Bodyguard. Danny: OK, one question though. What is your opinion on Clowns? Waylon: I don’t like them. Danny: Hired!

...

Danny: Now, Mr Nygma, what do you think you would bring to my office? Edward: Well sir, I am fairly well known for my expert planning and timing skills. Also I can give you fun riddles whenever you want! Danny: Hmmm, that’s definitely a good point. One question, if needed, will you attack a clown on sight? Edward: Yes? Danny: Hired!

...

Danny: Now, I can see that you used to have a very reputable resume Mr. Dent. Harvey: Thank you sir. Danny: I can’t see any reason to refuse your application, but I do have one question. Do you like Clowns? Harvey: Uhm...yes? Danny: I am sorry dir, but I am going to have to reject your application for a job in the Mayors office. Mr Jones, please escort this man out 

...

Danny would absolutely do an amazing job in decreasing the crime rate, just by virtue of the fact that his very presence is destabilizing the Curses put on the City.

But at the same time, his policies are also very efficient, based on Gen Z Humor/Ideas

Danny: As my new Law states, every year the most rich person in the City will be forced to give up 70% of their assets to Charity. You can avoid this by donating as much as possible in the weeks leading up to the Sacrifice Day, whoever donates the most is exempt from the choosing even if they are the Richest, we will then move on to the second Richest, and so on Reporter: Sir, isn’t this just the “Winner Of Capitalisms” Prompt from Tumblr? Danny: Yes.

...

Batman: Why did you just pass a Law that states that all Vigilantes are given the right to kill? Danny: Because I accidentally hired every villain in Gotham, so now there is nobody to try and bribe me. And if nobody tries to bribe me, then nobody realizes that I will only accept bribes if the Joker is dead, like I said in my Campaign. I know that you guys have a no-kill rule, but I know at least one of you who would jump at the chance  Batman: *realizes that Dick has already killed the Joker once, Jason is actively attempting to every day, Tim is chaos incarnate and would do it to feel included, and Damian just really wants to let loose* Well played...

...

Danny: Vlad, I am serious. Leave me alone or I will put you in Soup Jail for 3 months! Vlad: FINE! I’ll just go possess another Billionaire to force them to give me their company again Batman, listening from outside the window: What the f-

...

Danny in every conversation with the Batfamily: I re-respect your decision to not tak-take a life...but I must insist you kill the Joker...for the good of the peephol-People! He is not a good inf-influence on this city and he must be des...troyed. Batman: *Wondering why he sounds like he is reading from a script* Um, I don’t think thats a good idea? Lady Gotham: *Standing behind Batman with some Cue Cards, trying to communicate with her Knights through Danny* *Thumbs Up* Danny: Also I wanted to say that you need to- oh um, ok- to get over the deaths of your parents and grieve in a healthy way instead of adopting every child you see. You are doing a great job kid, parentheses, do not read this par- Oh-Oops. Batman: Hm. I’m not even going to question that anymore.

...

Tag List:

@skulld3mort-1fan @kgne-k @deatlive @alcorbearson @we-ezer @auralykos @dakkapel @alinmenttreasure @lord-of-0blivion @countessdragon @naluforever3 @fylylowo @shadow-otaku20 @dannyphantomphan @heirxofxtime @ourrechte-blog @fantasticbluebirdfan @imnotgrimmjustagrumpyreader @mssagoberattare @elvesandlanterns @space-dreams-world @lizz-blizt @stargirl1331 @totallysmores-blog @screamingtofillthevoid @malice-of-the-sunrise @olivethetreebitch @addie-lover-of-stories @thatonegaybitch68 @asphyxia778 @top7879 @biance-hooks123 @runfromthemedic @dionysuss-big-naturals @the-legal-shipper @icepopstar5105us @

[jude-duarte-wannabe]

okay woah WOAHH THE LASTEST LEWIS ORDER!?????? SCRUMPTIOUS!!!!! 

can i please have lewis hamilton serving bagel, croissant and oaty slice with sides of herbal tea, cortado and rice milk with EXTRAAA SWEETENER PLEASE?? maybe one where lewis is sick and not well, he's being very needy and clingy with wife reader? oh gosh i just know you're gonna do wondersss

a big old teddy bear

order up!

hi lovely thanks for the request, i have been dying to write this and get back to writing in general, order is extra sweet as requested and i'm so sorry for the long as wait time my lovely <3 your requested prompts will be bolded

pairing; lewis hamilton x female wife reader

blurb; your husband truly is just a big old teddy bear when he's sick

warnings; lovesick husband lewis, also vomit if you hate it [let me know if i missed anything]

bagel; "where you going, this ain't over" croissant; "don't you dare" oaty slice; "you smell like me" herbal tea; soft but only for you cortado; belly kisses rice milk; baby fever

currently playing; nightingale by demi lovato "can you be my nightingale, sing to me, i know you're there, you could be my sanity, bring me peace, sing me to sleep, say you'll be my nightingale"

"this is the last thing i need right now" you groaned as you looked down at the small patch of bile of your top before gazing back your daughter; sage who was almost six months old.

your day was going downhill rather quickly it seemed, first your production company demanded the album be finished by the end of the month and you had a sick baby to deal with and it seemed like your day couldn't get any worse until was made worse beyond measure by your husband.

ignoring the fact you loved him dearly, your husband was an idiot...

truly, i mean who in their right mind did a drivers parade in the rain without a coat, he'd claimed it was all for the sake of fashion but he'd quickly regretted that claim when he woke up this morning with a burning fever, it'd taken you twenty minutes of convincing to unattach his sweaty form from your own.

you placed sage down in her highchair for a brief moment and began to wipe the bile from your shirt with a damp cloth when a knock sounded on your apartment door and the relief that washed over you took over the need you felt to burst into tears, you'd convinced your mother to watch sage for the day so that you could tend to an over clingy sick lewis, not that you'd not her he was sick and work on the album in between.

the knock sounded again, a sharp contrast to the chaos swirling around you. “please let it be my mum,” you muttered under your breath, grateful for the brief moment of hope.

you opened the door to find your mother standing there, arms loaded with a container of what looked like chicken and sweetcorn soup. “i thought i’d bring you some comfort food,” she said with a smile that instantly soothed some of your tension. “and i see lewis is still in his pajamas.”

you sighed, glancing back at your husband, who was sprawled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that he’d claimed was ‘just for decoration’ before he’d been been forced to admit he had in fact caught a miserable old cold. “he’s having a rough morning,” you admitted. “but you’re a lifesaver. i really need to get this album finished.”

your mom nodded, stepping inside and putting the soup down on the kitchen counter. “well then you go take care of that and i’ll take sage to her mummy and me class.”

you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, a reprieve from the relentless demands of the day. you leaned down to give sage a gentle kiss on the forehead before hugging your mother tight. "i can't thank you enough for this"

your mother smiled warmly, her presence a comforting anchor amidst the storm of your day. “you’re doing so much, honey. just focus on your music and let me handle sage for a bit. she’ll have a blast with me today.”

you took a deep breath, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly as you watched your mom gather sage’s diaper bag and blanket. “i’ll try to make it up to you later. maybe an early listen for you and dad once the album is done?”

“deal!” she said, her eyes twinkling as she scooped sage into her arms. “now, don’t worry i’ll make sure she gets some fresh air and maybe a little sunshine.”

as your mom headed out, you glanced around the kitchen before deciding to help yourself to some of your mother soup, you poured yourself a bowl and placed it in the microwave to warm while you darted to your room to change your top, the smell of sage's vomit from earlier not the most pleasant.

you grabbed the nearest thing; which happened to be lewis's hoodie and slipped it on before shuffling back to the kitchen right as the beep of the microwave sounded.

leaning against the kitchen counter, you took a few spoonfuls while mentally organizing your thoughts about the album. the chaos of the morning began to fade as you savored the warmth of the soup and the knowledge that you finally had a moment to yourself.

after finishing your bowl, you settled at the kitchen island perched on a stool, surrounded by sheets of lyrics and your laptop. you opened a blank document and stared at the screen, letting the silence wash over you. just as you were about to type, the shuffling of feet caught your attention as lewis appeared, still wrapped in his blanket.

“did you just eat soup without me?” he grumbled, his voice hoarse but playful.

you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of your husband. "you look like a raccoon that lost a fight with a rain cloud,” you teased lightly, but concern laced your words.

he padded over, his movements slow and deliberate, like a sloth navigating a jungle. you observed him, half-amused and half-concerned and before you knew it he'd wrapped himself around you from behind. "you smell like me" he mumbled.

"no kidding, i'm wearing your hoodie" you giggled and leaned against him, you'd already come to terms that you'd end up sick eventually considering you had a sick daughter and husband.

"i love it" lewis chuckled, tone exhausted against your skin, you relished the warmth of lewis’s embrace, the blanket still cocooning him like a protective layer against the world outside. it was a familiar comfort, and in that moment, the chaos of the morning felt like a distant memory.

“i figured it was only fair to wear something that smells like you,” you teased, looking up at him. “you know, to keep the raccoon vibe going strong.”

he chuckled softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “well, if we’re both going to be sick, at least we’ll do it in style.”

you pulled away slightly to face him, finding a small smile beneath his disheveled braided hair. “so, what’s up, what's got you up from the couch, you need a warm drink?”

“i’d love a hot tea, actually,” he replied, his voice still raspy.

"coming up, you look like you could use a solid nap bub.” you replied removing yourself from his grip "in bed where it's comfortable, i'll bring the tea to you"

“sounds perfect.” he shuffled towards your bedroom, where you could hear him dramatically collapsing onto the mattress with an exaggerated sigh. you couldn’t help but smile at the sound—he may have looked and sounded like a raccoon, but he was still your raccoon.

after brewing a cup of tea, you wandered to the bedroom where you pretended to trip and like you were going to spill it "don't you dare" he mumbled which just brought on a giggle from you.

“here you go, my darling husband, a cup of tea for your recovery.”

lewis took a grateful sip and closed his eyes momentarily, savoring the warmth. “you know, i’ve always believed in the healing powers of tea” he said, setting the mug down and looking at you with an earnest expression. “and i believe in you.”

you felt a rush of warmth at his words, a reminder of the bond that held you both together even amidst the chaos of parenthood and illness. “i’m trying to find a way to balance it all,” you admitted, running your fingers through your hair. “but some days feel like an uphill battle.”

“just take it one step at a time,” he encouraged, his voice gentle. “and remember, you’re not alone in this. we’re a team, right? just like we promised in our vows”

you nodded, the weight of his words grounding you. “yeah, a team, when your not a sick little bear. i just want to finish this album and maybe put something out there that captures everything we’re going through.”

"well maybe you could write a song about all of this,” he suggested, gesturing between the two of you. “the craziness, the love, the messiness of it all, it could be something really meaningful to both us and other parents"

his suggestion sparked a light within you, and you could almost feel the lyrics forming in your mind. “that’s actually a lovely idea,” you said, excitement bubbling up. “i want to capture everything—the sleepless nights, the laughter, the moments when everything feels like it’s falling apart, but somehow it all makes sense.”

lewis smiled, propping himself up on one elbow. “exactly, you could show the beauty in the chaos. i mean, look at us right now,” he gestured at his disheveled self and your slightly rumpled hoodie. “this is our life, and it’s messy, but it’s ours.”

you felt a swell of affection. “i love that about us. even when it’s tough, we manage to find the joy in the little things.”

“like this tea,” he said, taking another sip and savoring it with a blissful expression before sitting up and placing it on the bedside table “and this very comfy bed.”

you rolled your eyes playfully as he took a hold of you and pulled you closer, he was always so clingy when sick. “yes, yes. the tea and the bed are great, but don’t forget our amazing baby girl, she’s the best part of all this.”

lewis nodded, his gaze softening. “indeed, sage is our little miracle. she gives everything a new perspective.”

“she does” you tried to leave his hold, the creative spark igniting within you once more.

"where you going, this ain't over" lewis mumbled as he collapsed onto the bed and pulled you down with him, rolling around until you laid on your back and he was snuggled against your tummy, lifting the fabric of his hoodie to kiss at your skin,

"i want another one" he wished, he knew it was unrealistic to wish for another baby right now especially when sage was only half a year old but it's something that he desired so desperately.

you looked down at lewis, feeling a mix of warmth and surprise at his unexpected confession. “another one?” you echoed, brushing your fingers through his messy braids. “you know sage is still a tiny tornado of chaos, right?” you giggled.

he chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “i know, but just think about it. the laughter, the cuddles… it’s all so worth it. plus, roscoe will have another friend.”

you smiled, the image of sage with a little sibling and your dog roscoe as it danced around in your mind. it was a sweet thought, but also one that felt heavy with the realities of sleepless nights and diaper changes. “you’re dreaming, my love. we’ve got our hands full as it is.”

“i know, i know,” he said, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “but i can’t help it. i love being a dad, and i can’t imagine our family stopping here. it just feels… incomplete.”

his earnestness tugged at your heartstrings, and you felt a flutter of hope mingled with apprehension. “what if we wait a little while? just until we get the hang of this whole parenting thing?”

lewis sighed dramatically, flopping back down against your tummy. “You know i'm not patient when it comes to things i want love but i guess i can understand the need for a breather. i just love our little family so much.”

you stroked his hair, letting the moment linger. “me too. i love sage more than i ever thought possible and you. i mean, look at you being all sweet and cuddly while your sick.”

he grinned, his playful side shining through. “i’m not just sweet and cuddly. i’m also super attractive and charming.”

“true, true,” you laughed, shaking your head. “but don’t forget to add ‘sick raccoon’ to that list.”

“hey!” he protested, feigning offense. “i’ll have you know this raccoon is incredibly charismatic, i mean i pulled you.”

as you both chuckled, the laughter faded into a comfortable silence, the weight of your earlier discussion hanging in the air. you felt your heart soften, realizing how much you cherished these moments of connection, even amidst the chaos.

“i guess i just want to make sure we’re ready,” you said after a beat, your tone more serious now. “sage is so little, and we still have so much to learn.”

lewis nodded, his expression thoughtful. “i get it. i don’t want to rush into anything either. i just want you to know how much i love this—us, our family and i’m excited about what the future holds.”

the sincerity in his voice warmed you, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “we’ll figure it out together my love, like we always do.”

“exactly. together,” he replied, grinning up at you. “and besides, when you start writing songs about our family, i’ll have all the inspiration i need for my own solo album.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “right, because that’s what the world needs—a collection of raccoon-inspired ballads by the worlds best formula one driver.” you giggled.

“i could make it happen,” he said, pretending to be deep in thought. “track one: ‘cuddles and chaos.’ track two: ‘diapers and driving.”

you burst into laughter, the tension from earlier dissipating completely. “okay, okay, maybe i’ll consider a collaboration, just don’t expect to go solo anytime soon.”

“fair enough,” he said, lifting his head again and looking serious for a moment. “but when the time comes for baby number two, just know that i’ll be ready.”

you looked into his eyes, the sincerity of his desire making your heart swell. “and i’ll be ready too, whenever that time comes but right now, i just want to enjoy sage and you—this moment.”

lewis smiled, that familiar warmth returning to his gaze. “that’s the best thing you've said all day" he replied.

as you both settled into the cozy embrace, the world outside faded away and in that space, this moment, it was just you, him, and the love you shared—a beautiful mess of laughter, dreams, and all the moments yet to come.

"i love you, you big teddy bear" you mumbled as he began to doze off while still clinging to your body, you truly couldn't have wished for a better life than the one you had, it was the best thing that had ever happened to you and you were determined to never lose it.

[girl-next-door-writes]

Between the Stacks

Characters: George Weasley x reader

Summary: Snow falls softly at Hogwarts, but George Weasley’s mischief sparks warmth in the library—and maybe, something more.

Word Count: 1247 words

Prompts: Library. Mutual pining. A hug that lingers.

A/N: A lovely sweet anon requested this one, so I hope you see it. I have missed writing my favourite Weasley.

The library was quiet, the soft rustle of pages and the occasional scratch of a quill the only sounds breaking the stillness. Snow fell softly against the windows, casting shifting patterns of light on the stone walls. Christmas was just a week away, and most of the students had already left for the holidays, leaving the Hogwarts library eerily empty. You had told yourself you stayed back for the quiet. The peace. But the truth was, the silence felt heavier than you’d expected, wrapping around you like a too-tight scarf.

“You’re staring at that book like it insulted your gran,” a familiar voice broke your concentration, and your heart did a little flip. George Weasley slid into the chair across from you, his signature mischievous grin firmly in place.

“Maybe it did,” you quipped, snapping the book shut. “I’m not entirely convinced Potions theory isn’t some form of cruel punishment.”

George chuckled, leaning back in his chair, and you couldn’t help but admire the way the firelight turned his hair into copper and gold. He was always so at ease, like the world bent just slightly to accommodate him.

“What are you still doing here, anyway? I thought you’d have escaped this place by now.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you countered, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, an easy motion that somehow felt practiced. “Fred and I thought we’d stick around. Fewer teachers means more room for…creative experimentation.”

“Ah, I see. And by ‘creative experimentation,’ you mean causing as much chaos as possible?”

“Precisely.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and for a moment, his grin softened into something thoughtful. “But what about you? Why spend your holidays buried in books when you could be…I don’t know, having fun?”

You hesitated, twirling your quill between your fingers. The truth was, you’d stayed back partly because you enjoyed the quiet, but mostly because of him. George. His laugh, his jokes, the way he made everything seem brighter. Not that you’d ever admit it.

“Maybe I like the quiet,” you said finally, glancing away to hide the heat rising to your cheeks. “It’s…peaceful.”

“Fair enough,” he said, though there was a glint of something knowing in his eyes. “But don’t you ever get lonely?”

“Not when I have people like you interrupting me,” you teased, grateful for the shift in tone.

He laughed, the sound warm and rich, shattering the stillness of the library. For a moment, the cold stone walls seemed to fall away, and all that was left was him.

Over the next few days, George seemed to pop up wherever you went. In the Great Hall during meals, he’d slide into the seat beside you with a cheeky comment about your “intense focus” on your soup. In the common room, he’d swipe your parchment to doodle absurd caricatures of Snape, complete with a crooked nose and bat wings. And in the library, he’d appear from behind the stacks, always with a joke or a story that left you laughing despite yourself.

“You know,” he said one evening, as you both sat in the library again, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you?” you repeated, feigning innocence as you turned a page in your book. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping a finger to his chin, the picture of mock seriousness. “Maybe because you’re worried you’ll fall madly in love with me.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart raced. “Please. I think I’ll manage.”

“Suit yourself,” he said with a wink. But his grin faltered—just for a second, the smallest crack in his usual bravado. His eyes lingered on you, softening in a way that made your stomach twist, before he quickly glanced away.

It wasn’t until the evening before Christmas Eve that things came to a head. You were alone in the library, the faint strains of carols drifting from the enchanted suits of armor in the corridors. The fireplace crackled softly, casting long shadows across the rows of books, and snow tapped gently against the frosted windows. The quiet was almost soothing, and you’d been lost in thought when you heard footsteps behind you.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually studying so close to Christmas,” George’s voice rang out, tinged with mock horror.

You turned, startled, to find him standing there, a box wrapped in red and gold paper in his hands. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and there was a certain nervousness in the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“What’s that?” you asked, eyeing the package.

“A present,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “For you.”

“For me?” You blinked, surprised. “Why?”

“Why not?” he said with a shrug, though his grin was unusually subdued. He stepped closer and set the box carefully on the table. “Go on, open it.”

Your fingers brushed the crisp paper as you peeled it back, the firelight reflecting off the gold paper. Inside was a small, intricately carved wooden box. You lifted the lid to reveal a quill, its handle engraved with your initials and the crest of your house. The silver feathers shimmered faintly, catching the glow of the fire.

“George…” you began, your voice catching. You ran your fingers over the smooth handle, marveling at the detail. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“I thought you could use something special for all those notes you’re always scribbling,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your gaze. “Figured it might make studying a bit less miserable.”

“It’s perfect,” you said, looking up at him, your chest tightening. “Really. Thank you.”

He grinned, but this time there was a softness to it, a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

“You know,” he said after a moment, his tone quieter, “I wasn’t entirely honest earlier.”

“About what?” you asked, though your pulse quickened.

“Why I stayed for the holidays,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. His hand drifted to the edge of the table, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on the wood.

Your breath caught. “Why did you?”

He looked up then, his brown eyes meeting yours with an openness that made your stomach flip. “Because I… I didn’t want to spend so much time away from you.”

The words hung in the air between you, soft and tentative, like snowflakes that might melt if you moved too suddenly. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, before you could think twice, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. He froze for a heartbeat, then pulled you close, his hold firm and warm and lingering just a little too long to be purely friendly.

“You’re an idiot,” you murmured against his shoulder, though your tone was affectionate. “But thank you.”

His breath was warm against your hair. “For what?”

“For staying,” you said softly, tightening your hold for just a moment longer.

When you finally pulled back, his hands lingered on your arms, his touch warm despite the chill in the air.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, his gaze locked on yours.

“Merry Christmas, George,” you replied, a smile tugging at your lips.

And as the snow continued to fall outside, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something wonderful.

[starclancy]

if you have the time would you consider writing a Sanji x Sick!Reader sometime, classic fluff prompt

No pressure :3

Tysm for this ask!!

~ A Recipe for Recovery ~

PAIRING: Reader/Sanji

CONTENTS: 🩷 - fluff

WORDCOUNT: 800

Request status: Open (PLS)

The cozy ambiance of the Thousand Sunny’s kitchen was disrupted by Sanji’s rapid chopping, the rhythmic sound echoing in harmony with the bubbling of a nearby pot. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but not over some complex recipe. His thoughts were entirely preoccupied with you.

You had caught a cold after the crew’s latest adventure. That rainstorm had been unrelenting, and despite everyone warning you to take shelter, your determination to help the others had left you drenched to the bone. By the time they got you back aboard the Sunny, you were already sneezing, and the next morning, you woke up completely bedridden.

Though Chopper had assured everyone it was nothing serious—just a common cold—Sanji had taken your condition as a personal challenge.

“This won’t do,” he muttered under his breath as he rummaged through the kitchen pantry, pulling out ingredients with purpose. “My darling deserves only the best care.”

He spent the better part of the morning preparing a restorative soup with the precision of a master chef. Every ingredient was selected not just for flavor but for its immune-boosting properties. Garlic for fighting off germs, ginger to soothe your throat, and fresh vegetables packed with nutrients. He even baked a small batch of honey-glazed biscuits to go with it, convinced they would make you smile despite feeling under the weather.

By the time he entered your room, tray in hand, the scent of rich broth and fresh herbs filled the air, mingling with the soft sound of the sea outside. You were buried under a mountain of blankets, your nose red, your cheeks flushed with fever. Even in your groggy state, you managed a weak but genuine smile when you saw him.

“Sanji, you didn’t have to—”

“Shh,” he interrupted gently, setting the tray down on your bedside table with the care of someone handling a precious treasure. “A sick lady deserves only the best care. And that’s exactly what you’re getting.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could utter another word, Sanji was already fluffing the pillows behind your back, coaxing you into sitting up. His touch was warm and lingering, his hands firm yet gentle as they adjusted the blanket draped over your shoulders.

“This soup,” he began, picking up the bowl and holding it close to your face so the steam could waft over you, “is my special recipe for colds. Loaded with all the good stuff to help you feel better.” He smiled, his voice softening. “And I made tea, just the right temperature for your throat. Go on, try it.”

You took a tentative sip of the soup, the warmth spreading through you like a soft blanket on a chilly night. It tasted amazing—rich, flavorful, and soothing—but the real comfort came from the way Sanji watched you. His blue eyes were filled with concern and something else, something softer, like the beginnings of a sunrise.

“It’s perfect,” you croaked, your voice hoarse but sincere.

“Of course it is,” he replied, a boyish grin lighting up his face. “I made it for you.”

As you ate, he stayed by your side, his usual flirty remarks tempered by genuine care. He chatted softly, telling you about the chaos in the kitchen that morning when Luffy tried to sneak a bite of the soup, and how Chopper had scolded him for it. His voice was a comforting hum, filling the quiet room with a warmth that made you feel less miserable.

Every so often, his hand would hover near your face, like he wanted to brush your hair back or check your temperature but wasn’t sure if he should. Finally, he gave in, his knuckles brushing lightly against your forehead.

“Still warm,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “I’ll bring some cold compresses later.”

“You’re fussing too much,” you teased weakly, though the small smile on your lips betrayed your gratitude.

“I’ll fuss as much as I want,” he shot back, his tone playful but his eyes unwaveringly sincere. “It’s what I’m here for.”

When you had eaten as much as you could, Sanji carefully cleaned up, setting the tray aside and pulling the blanket higher around you. “Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be back to check on you soon.”

“Thank you, Sanji,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as sleep began to pull you under.

“Anything for you,” he replied, his voice soft as a caress.

He stayed for a moment longer, watching the way your breathing evened out and the lines of discomfort on your face softened in sleep. He hesitated, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a small notepad and pen. Quickly, he scribbled a note and placed it on the tray before gathering the dishes and quietly slipping out of the room.

When you woke later, groggy but feeling a little better, your eyes landed on the note. His elegant handwriting was unmistakable:

“Rest up, love. I’ll be here if you need me. – Sanji.”

You smiled, holding the note to your chest as warmth bloomed inside you—not from the soup or the tea, but from the thoughtfulness of the man who had made them for you.

[hugsandchaos]

Danny Phantom Related Masterlist

•Ghost blobs!

•Dash is a human sacrifice

•Ectomelons

•Great Cub

•FrostDad

•Not So Scary (Coming Soon!)

DP x Linked Universe

•Short headcanon list

•Memes, anyone?

•More memes

•He jumped?!

•Uhh not sure what to call this

•Okay, this is probably the last string of memes

•I lied, here’s a few more

•It’s just one meme

•Another idea

•Cooking

•Incorrect quote that I just tossed out there (we appreciate you trying to help, Hyrule)

•Late night thoughts

•Studying and Manatees

•No caffeine?! Criminal!

•Introducing Vlad

•Another Incorrect Quote

•”Danny, get out of the closet!”

•Lord Of The Dark Birds

•A couple more incorrect quotes

•Soup Time

•LBM!

•Picking locks

•Who’s Dash?

•Dash? What are you doing here?

•Singing equals spells??

•Comfort in the chaos

•Wing bois rant

•More Little Baby Man

•How are they not banned??

•Dungeons

•Meme anyone?

•Summoned!

•That time Danny picked up Time

•Danny is the youngest sibling

•Everlasting Trio!

Oneshots

•”He’s in the walls...”

•Astrophilia

•April 3rd Special! :D

Story Chapters: Eudaemon (Now on Ao3 too! :D)

•The Beginning

•Proper Introductions

•Dawn Of The Second Day

•Magical Meal

•Day 3

•Where Do Stars Come From?

•Quick update

•Creepy Conclusions

•Ghost Boy, Where Art Thou?

•Alexa, Play Mission Impossible

•Hungry For Answers (Coming soon!)

Ao3 Link!

•Sneak Peek! (Updated October 30th)

•Orbit!

Beautiful art by @nerdypear4 here, here, here, here, and here too!

•Quick vote

DP x Marvel Universe

•Loki’s cape

•”Hey, Ron.” “Hey, Billy.”

DC x DP Prompts

•Accidentally Blessed

•Phantom Forest

•A Ghost Boy and His Wolf

•Tired Haunt

•Early Hero Gets The Adoptee

•Family Reunion

•Loki’s cape

•More Wulf!

•Watchtower Ghost

DC x DP Headcanons

•Reasons to not trust the Justice League

•”Really? This guy?”

Seeing Double

Young Justice x Danny Phantom

Summary: A ghost who looks a lot like Phantom comes to him in search of protection, and their newest member instantly agrees. He calls her his little sister, and sooner or later, Phantom also might end up with a new brother.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Friendship is Haunting

Mlp x Danny Phantom AU

•What if?

Prologue

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

DP Unnamed AU

PenPals AU

Halfa Dash AU

•First post

•Quick talk about how Danny suffers in this AU

•How Dash became a Halfa

•Phantom’s soft spot

•LBM!

•Memes

DP x TF

•Ideas!

The Thing In The Dark

•??? (Work In Progress)

[waywardxrhea]

Tuna-Tober Day 16 - Din Djarin

pairing: Din Djarin x fem!mechanic!reader

prompt: against a window

word count: 2,252

content: smut! MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY! nipple play, choking (not in great detail, just a mention), fingering, unprotected PIV sex, language (in Mando'a that i found on here so who knows if its correct lmao). some cute FLUFF that had me kicking my feet it was so cute lol

dividers by: @saradika-graphics

tuna-tober masterlist / main masterlist

mando'a translations

mesh'la - beautiful Osi’kyr - oh shit

Moons ago… 

You were walking to a drop site where you were going to get some parts for a ship you were fixing when you passed by something that had you doing a double-take. After rubbing your strained and tired eyes, you blinked hard as you focused on the ship across from you. It couldn’t be! Looking at the time, you noted that if you did just a quick look around the craft, you would still be able to make the meeting with your parts dealer, so you headed toward the vintage ship. 

The ship in question was an ST-70 class Razor Crest M-111. This type of ship was used during the days of the Empire, and you hadn’t seen one since you were a child. Your father had worked on a few now and again over the years, but they got more scarce as time went on after the Empire fell. The broken ships that people commandeered in the chaos were how your dad taught you how to repair them into better condition than even new. 

It was how you ended up on this far-off planet in the Outer Rim. Your shop was mobile, on a souped up ship of your own that was able to accommodate you and your clients’ ever-changing ship repair needs. This time, you were on Florrum for someone who needed a tune-up on a freighter, and what should have been an easy fix turned out to be more complicated than they let on in their original consultation. Nevertheless, you were able to get into contact with the people who had the parts you needed to make the necessary repairs. 

Which is what had taken you to admiring the Razor Crest in front of you. Doing a quick walk around, you noticed that whoever the owner was had added some upgrades of their own. The original laser guns were replaced with more powerful ones for starters. It made you wary of being around the ship because heavy firepower could mean that the owner wasn’t someone you wanted to mess with. You knew how important peoples’ ships were to them. 

As you stood looking at one of the side panels that had some wires poking out from what looked like where a deflector shield had failed, you heard heavy footsteps approaching. The unmistakable sound of a blaster being pulled from a holster met your ears before you heard a modulated voice say, “Step away from the ship.”

Putting your hands in the air, you slowly turned around to face the voice as you said, “I didn’t touch anything. Just admiring. And looking at this panel that needs repair.” When you turned around, you were face-to-face with a Mandalorian in shiny silver beskar who was hauling what looked to be a passed out man. “I-I see that you’re quite busy though, and I have to meet with someone for some repair parts for a Questor. Forget I was here,” you said quickly, not wanting him to pull the trigger on the blaster aimed right at your forehead. 

The man didn’t say anything nor did he move a muscle, but he also didn’t react to you turning and quickly making your exit, so you thanked the Maker as you tried to blow off the anxiety that had filled your entire body because of the encounter. Sure, there had been blasters pointed at you in the past over one thing or another, but the commanding presence of the Mandalorian had shaken you. Maybe it was the inability to see the face of the person pointing the blaster at you or the glint of the light off of the armor. Maybe it was the rifle poking out from over his shoulder or the many rounds of ammunition and explosives he had ready to use at a moment’s notice. Maybe it was the uncertainty of what happened to that man he was dragging along with him. 

Whatever it was though drove you to the nearest cantina after making more progress on the Questor you were tasked with fixing. The atmosphere inside was electric. It was the most lively place you had stepped into since being on this planet, and you knew lively and fun was just what you needed to relax. 

After a couple of drinks, you were finally starting to shake your anxiety when you heard from beside you the same voice from before saying, “I hear you’re the person to go to for ship repairs.” You tensed up for a moment upon hearing the voice, but the drinks in your system dulled the usually sharp edge of the guard you shielded yourself with. Looking over to the Mandalorian, you nodded silently. “Well, like you saw earlier, my ship’s in need of repair. There’s more than just cosmetic damage that I won’t discuss here. You’d earn more than your fair wages if you could fix it.”

And that was how you ended up traveling with the Mandalorian. Din Djarin. You learned quickly that he wasn’t all weapons and armor and intimidation. When he wasn’t in bounty hunter mode, he was a sweet and accommodating man who was fiercely protective of those close to him. Din had made space on his ship for all of your work supplies, and when he was gathering up bounties, you repaired ships in whatever area you were stationed at that day. 

Repairing the Crest was an almost daily occurrence and the main reason Din found himself tracking you down to another planet to ask you to travel with him. You thought the request odd at first, but after seeing the ship after one battle, you knew you needed to help the man out. On top of repairing the Crest as needed, you also helped take care of the spirited child Din found himself in charge of. Grogu. He tended to mess with things he shouldn’t, but it wasn’t usually anything a quick modification couldn’t fix. 

Living and working with someone on a daily basis had its way of pulling people close together, and no matter how much you and Din tried to keep things professional, your escalating feelings were inevitable. At first things started off physically when he found you in a compromising position in your bunk, thinking you had been hurt judging by the quiet noises he heard coming from the area. From there, things got more intimate. You noticed him ghosting his gloved hands over your arms as you worked around the ship, how he would put his hand gently on your lower back to guide you when you were both in the market for supplies, but especially in the way he called you mesh’la. You didn’t know how to speak Mando’a and Din never told you what the word meant, but even the modulator in his helmet couldn’t mask the fondness in his voice as he said the word. 

One night, the three of you were traveling on your ship to get parts you needed to fix the Crest. The dealer was clear across the galaxy though, so you were all in for a long trip. After getting Grogu to sleep and closing the door that held the bunks, you took a quick turn in the refresher. 

You came out with a towel wrapped around your body, having forgotten to grab your night clothes before heading in, but didn’t get too far before you felt supple leather caressing your skin as the towel was gently taken off of your body. The chill in the air made the hair on your arms stand on edge, and your nipples began to pebble, not only because of the cold, but because Din’s fingers were instantly on them the second they were revealed to him. 

A deep sigh left your chest as he began toying with your chest and a lazy smile made its way onto your lips as he began his ministrations. Because of the Creed, Din couldn’t take off his helmet around you, so you had never felt the pleasures of his mouth either for a simple kiss or more, further down your body. He learned how to get you riled up with his hands alone though. A few gentle caresses over your thighs, a gentle tweak of your nipples, and then a surprisingly light and sensual hand around your throat had your center begging to be filled in only the way he could. 

As your hands began making their way to the belt of his flight pants, Din began leading you to the front of the ship where you had a bay window that revealed the beautiful majesty of space flying past the ship. You gasped and arched your back as it hit the cold glass, and that gasp turned into a moan as Din slipped two now ungloved fingers into your core with ease. The smirk in his voice was audible as he commented, “Someone’s excited.”

“I have you giving me pleasure, of course I am,” you breathed, a quiet moan slipping past your lips before you began pushing at the waistband of his flight pants. 

Before either of you knew it, Din had you hiked up and held against the window as his powerful hips thrusted into you, the angle something completely different and unfamiliar to you. It had your head rolling back and your jaw falling open in pleasure and your chest heaved as you let out sinful sighs and moans. As the blue and white lights of hyperspace flickered over your body, Din was suddenly filled with a feeling he had been fighting off since he met you and you began traveling together. Love. 

Without a second thought crossing his mind, Din whispered, “Keep your eyes closed.” 

“D-Din, what-?” you began to ask as he slowed down to a stop, keeping you pinned against the glass as you clung to his body. 

“Please. Just trust me,” he said. 

You nodded and kept your eyes closed as the sound of his helmet disengaging filled your ears. A quiet gasp left your lips before you asked, “Din, did you just…? The Creed-”

“Keep your eyes shut and you won’t have seen my face,” he said quietly, his true voice filling your ears. It was beautiful. Rich and sweet like a warm breeze washing over you. The words he said next hit you square in the chest and for a few moments you were lost for words. “Mesh’la. Beautiful. I love you,” he said in a breathless whisper before your lips were met with the gentlest of kisses. 

“I love you too,” you whispered against his surprisingly soft lips before deepening the kiss just a bit to test the waters. 

You were met with enthusiasm as Din kissed you back with fervor, finally starting to rock his hips into yours once more. When he did, you loosed a moan into his mouth as the added pleasure of kissing him completely heightened the pleasure he was giving you. “Osi’kyr! You feel so good,” he grunted out, his hand gripping tighter on your ass as he pounded into you. 

Any words you had to say in reply died on your tongue as Din switched from kissing your lips to your neck in a sloppy, open mouthed manner. The sensitive area getting attention was stimulating enough and had the coil in your core starting to tighten, but you began barrelling toward your high when Din latched onto your neck and sucked, surely with the intent of leaving a mark in his wake. He wanted to leave love bites all over you. They were something that would mark you as his. He wanted to be able to see the evidence of your intimacy throughout the week. For others to know that you were taken. 

He got so carried away in his mission to mark your neck, and only realized that you had hit your peak when the vibrations of a loud moan and a shout of his name were on his lips. The feeling of your core pulsing around him combined with the beautiful sounds, now unfiltered by his helmet got Din impossibly closer to his own high as you desperately coaxed his lips back up to yours so you could kiss him again. Your wanton moans on his lips drove him to his climax, and with a deep sigh, he filled you up, the pleasure sparking through his body unlike anything he had ever felt before. 

After a few moments of keeping you pressed up against the cool glass, Din lowered you down gently, your unsteady feet hitting the floor with a quiet thud. He began reaching for his helmet to don once again, but as if you could sense him doing so, you pulled him into another kiss before resting your forehead on his as you told him, “It can wait. I’ll keep my eyes closed. I just wanna kiss you. Please.”

And so he did. For hours, the two of you got lost in each other's lips. By the end of the night, you had been marked on practically every intimate area Din could reach, and you both learned how talented he was with his tongue. For that night, you kept your eyes closed, but soon after, you had found a suitable covering that Din approved of that you could wear when the two of you got intimate. You both had become addicted to the taste of one another, and you were way too far in love with Din Djarin to never kiss him again.

a/n: this turned out a lot fluffier than i intended, but you know what? it's kinda sorta very adorable! the words just kinda flowed out, but like...the hand on her lower back at the market?? i want it to be me! 🥰😭 i also didn't originally plan the love confession, but that just kinda came out too, whoopsie.

ps: yes, nearly half of this was plot, but to me, Din smut has to have some sort of plot leading up to it. i simply could not write it without a little background as to how we got here!

anyways! likes and comments are appreciated as always! xo, brooke <3

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.

DAY ONE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

pairing: stepbrother!frankie x santi's gf!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni

summary: you were seventeen when Frankie became your stepbrother, but no matter the title, he never felt like a brother to you, going off to college right after your father remarried. But no matter the circumstances, he was still off limits. Years pass and when he returns from the army your relationship with him is even more strained. You end up settling for the second best thing instead, his best friend. Everything seems to be going fine until Frankie stays over and Santi needs to leave for work.

word count: 5k

warnings: infidelity (reader cheats on santi), stepcest, possesive!frankie, y'all this fic isn't morally okay at all but it's not exactly "dark" it's just really messed up so read with caution, breeding kink, dirty talking, fingering, mild degradation kink, male masturbation, piv, oral sex, spitting, pillow humping, size kink, poor santi didn't deserve this, size kink, cuckolding kink???? (santi isn't there but frankie gets really turned on talking about it)

a/n: i don't know who's or what's gonna do it but I need someone to forgive me for this. also hopefully this turned out okay, it's very loosely edited and feel a bit all over the place but hopefully I'm just overthinking it. enjoy babes

Your father remarried when you were seventeen. 

You felt cheated at the time. And not because your father had found love again—no, that made you quite happy actually. You just wished he’d done it sooner, you could’ve benefited from having a big brother early on. Your relationship with your birth mother wasn’t easy, especially when you were young, and having someone there to vent to would’ve been like a dream. Your dad listened, but you know he felt someone guilty for it even though it wasn’t his fault. 

Frankie was only three years older than you. Sadly, he didn’t stick around for long, going off to college a year later. But his visits were frequent enough that you two developed a somewhat friendly relationship.

Emphasis on the somewhat. 

Being young and dumb, you developed a crush on him instead. It was an innocent thing. Just some hearts around his name and following him around like a duckling whenever he was around. Your dad and stepmom found it cute, endearing. Frankie seemed indifferent most of the time. He listened when you needed to vent, brought you soup when you were sick and your parents were working—and that was pretty much it. 

Then he went and joined the army. 

You remember the chaos that decision brought over the household. You were applying for colleges all on your own, your dad busy trying to console your stepmom, the latter being distraught over the potential of losing her son. You were just. . . sorta around, floating and looking over them, listening without really being there, just. . . there. 

A month later you were surprised to find a letter addressed to you. There was one for his mom and one for you, you just stared at it, confused when your dad handed it to you. 

You opened it in your room. You swore the damn paper smelled like him, the beat of your heart too loud to your own ears. 

You read it. There was only one sentence scribbled down, his handwriting even more crooked than usual. 

I’m sorry. 

You didn’t write back to him. You had no idea why he was apologizing and you were too afraid to ask at the time. During your first day of college you just assumed it was because he left you to deal with the mess his absence caused. 

Then he returned. 

The house was bustling when you came for your weekend visit. Your stepmom grinning from ear to ear when you arrived, hugging you tight with tears shining in her eyes. Frankie had brought a friend with him, a friend almost as handsome as him. 

Said friend had smiled at you, squeezing your hand tight, “Santiago,” he introduced himself. He stayed over for about a week and so did you, charmed by this sudden stranger that was your brother’s best friend. 

Frankie didn’t address the letter. Or what he’s written inside of it. He was the same as he’d ever been and for a second you doubted if you ever did receive a letter. But you knew you did. You still had it. 

At the end of the week, Santi officially asked you out, telling you that he’d already spoken to Frankie about it. You almost laughed at the absurdity of the whole ordeal. It wasn’t like Frankie ever was protective towards you, you were pretty sure Frankie couldn’t care less about who you dated. But nonetheless, you said yes, hoping that Santi would bring you the normalcy you so desperately craved. 

And he did. You were happy, enjoying every moment you spent with him. Santi didn’t push you aside, he didn’t make you feel like you had to fight for his attention. You didn’t have to play tricks or games, you weren’t second place to no one. Finally, you felt like the lead in your own goddamn life and you would always feel grateful to him for that. 

You couldn’t say the same thing with your relationship with Frankie thought. He completely iced you out, only talking to you normally when people were around, especially Santi. No one seemed to notice. You wanted to ask him about it but too much of a coward to do so. And honestly, you didn’t have it in you to care anymore. Neither you nor Frankie were young anymore; if he had a problem, he could just ask.

Three months into your relationship, you moved in with Santi. 

The setting sun's warm, orange glow pours through the open windows. A gentle breeze brushes against your skin, as you place a cup of hot black coffee on the table in front of him.

Santi sits on the couch, absorbed in the files from work. His fingers flip through the pages as he studies them intently. The soft rustling of paper mingles with the soft summer air. 

You sit next to him, your legs brushing together. Unlike him, you didn’t hate yourself so you were cooling your insides down with an iced coffee. You take a sip, your eyes eating at the way the sun kisses his skin, sharpening his jawline further. 

“Thanks,” he mutters, lifting his mug to your lips. His eyes find yours midst of drinking. “What are you looking at, querida?” he asks, lips twitching into a smile. 

“Oh nothing,” you hum. “Just looking at my very hot boyfriend.” 

“Very hot hmm,” Santi places the mug on the coffee table and gives you all his attention. “Seems like someone’s gonna miss me when I’m away.” 

Before you can quip back, he pulls you to his lap, your thighs framing his hips. You instinctively grind down and let out a shuddering breath, Santi drops his head back against the couch. “Fuck, you really are going to miss me, aren’t you? Sweet thing.” 

You cradle his jaw with both hands, leaning in, you press your lips together. Santi eagerly licks the seam of your lips, a silent order for you to let him in, you do, moaning at the feel of his tongue dancing alongside yours. He sucks the air from your lungs, tracing every inch of you with his tongue, a shiver runs up your spine, your body rubbing against his despite yourself. 

When he parts away you take in the sight of his swollen lips, his lustful gaze. Your heart skips a beat and your insides flush. 

“Oh, by the way, Frankie called,” he says out of the blue and out of breath. 

Well, that certainly kills the mood. 

“He needs a place to crash a couple of days, is that alright?” his eyebrows raise. “I’m actually surprised you don’t know. What kind of sibling relationship do you two have?” 

“You know we never actually lived together right?” you shrug. “But of course, he’s my brother and I love him. He can stay as long as he wants to.” 

He nods. “Good,” then nods again before giving you a quick peck on the lips. “It’s a bummer I won’t be here when he arrives.” 

“You could’ve rescheduled.” 

“This isn’t that kind of job sweetheart, you know it.” he nuzzles your cheek, feeling your discomfort. “But anyway, I’ll see him plenty when I get back.” 

You draw him into another kiss, and you take your time with it, feeling the fat strokes of his tongue delving into your mouth as you part your lips further. You wish he’d be here when Frankie comes. He still doesn’t talk much unless there are others around and after all these years you don’t know what you did to anger him enough so that he’d hold a grudge. 

Santi moans into your mouth and cups your breasts, toying with your hardened nipples with his thumbs. You wonder how okay he’d be with it if he knew about your past crush on Frankie. He’d probably laugh it off, it was a long time ago anyway. 

Your mind drifts to Frankie. To his messy curls the ballcap he refused to take off. Deep down you wonder what his reaction would be in learning about your past crush. A gush of heat rolls down your spine, slick gathering at the seams of your underwear. Santi's fingers glide downward, tracing the path between your legs. You shudder, a moan breaking through your lips. 

You’re not sure who you’re thinking about right now, two faces merging as one. 

You’re sitting on the couch, rigid, when you hear the knock that you hoped never came. 

All day you’ve been pacing around thinking about it, thinking about Frankie. He hadn’t called you not even once. All of his travel info was forwarded to you by Santi. It hurt to a degree. Him ignoring your presence so forcefully. You haven’t visited home in ages just because you knew he was staying there, helping your dad with the business. Sometimes you teased your father that Frankie was the son he’d always wanted, and despite your awkward laughter, you knew there was some truth to that statement. 

Another forceful knock. 

You finally push yourself off the couch and head to the door. Blood pumps vigorously through your veins, your heart beating too fast—too loud. You don’t have time to calm yourself as you yank the door open. 

His eyes immediately meet your own. Dark like chocolate chips but bitter like coffee. Sweat clings to his skin, hair curling at the ends, his shirt darkened in color sticking to his sternum, highlighting the contours of his chest and the swell of his stomach. You swallow. 

“Hey, Frankie,” you make a move to help with his luggage but he pulls it away before you can touch the handle. Filled with unease, you take a step back and leave enough room for him and his luggage to pass through. “How was the flight?” 

“Good.” 

Jesus, why does he always make everything so difficult? 

You close the door when he fully steps in, he does a brief once-over across the living room. His eyes linger on the picture of you and Santi on the coffee table, then quickly turn back to you, ignoring his own picture entirely. “Which room am I in, hermanita?” 

Your eyes widen at the endearment, your pulse picking up again. It had been years since he last called you that. “Uh. . . last room down the hall,” you murmur, mind absent. When he’s about to leave, you grip his arm, stopping him. His muscles tense underneath your touch, his eyes burning holes into the hand that’s holding him. “I cooked,” you say, choked. “You must be hungry, let’s eat first then I’ll show you around.” 

Frankie rolls his shoulders and moves his jaw from side to side. You’re about to take back your offer when he sighs, his shoulders dropping. “Fine. Okay.” 

You’re heating up the food when Frankie walks through the kitchen door. He’s wearing a clean shirt, cheeks damp from where he splashed water over himself. 

“Smells nice,” he mutters, standing next to you and peering from above your shoulder. “Is that mom’s recipe?” 

“It is,” a soft smile touches your lips. His eyes follow the curve of it, a slight surprise etching between his brows. “But I don’t make any promises about the taste. It’s my first time making it.” 

“You shouldn’t have.” 

There’s something in his tone that prompts you to stop your stirring and look at him. You’re surprised to find him already staring. His eyes clouded, lips tight as his gaze searching yours. “I shouldn’t have. . . what?” you ask very slowly, every word chosen very carefully. 

“Cooked,” he’s so unbelievably close. So close that you can hear the rasps in his voice, feel the heat of his breath across your cheeks. Your breath catches in your throat, heat pooling in your stomach. 

“O–Oh, well it’s nothing,” you force a chuckle. “Didn’t want to feed you something you didn’t like when you’re already probably uncomfortable.” 

He laughs, a sound you hadn’t heard in such a long time. Your body vibrates with the sound. “What am I? A dog?” However, the moment is fleeting like the sand dancing under the wind. His brows furrow. “What do you mean uncomfortable?” 

Ah, so much for picking your words carefully. 

You shrug and turn off the stove. Your eyes move up to the cupboard, you so desperately want to break away from the hold the close proximity has on you but it just feels good to be physically close to him again. He’s taller than Santi, that combined with broad shoulders and chest, Frankie’s presence can be quite demanding when he wants it to be. You guess that right now is one of those moments. He cups your chin, his fingers brushing against your neck. Your throat bobs heavily under his palm, sweat gathering at the small of your back. 

“Don’t play dumb,” you answer him sharply. “You barely talk to me when we’re alone. You didn’t even tell me you were staying over or your itinerary, I had to learn it all from Santi,” you break away from his grip, your anger starting to boil over. Frankie’s unphased by your sudden movement. “So what? All of that changes just because I cooked for you? Just because you only now noticed that I actually care about you? Do you have any idea how—” 

You clamp your lips shut. It was too much— too much threatening to bubble out. The inside of your mouth feels like sandpaper, your throat convulsing painfully as regret coats your tongue. You dare a glance at Frankie. He doesn’t seem taken aback by your outburst. In fact, he’s giving you a look as if he’s been waiting for this. 

“I know that you care,” he murmurs and you look away, the softness in your tone more than enough to convince you that he knows. And he had known, all this time. “I had to ice you out. I didn’t have much of a choice.” 

You need to hear him say it. You need him to tell you that he knows—you need him to blatantly tell you that every time you averted your gaze at the last second years before. . . he noticed. 

“Choice in what? Just tell me,” you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling like your entire body might shatter into a billion pieces at any second. 

He gives you a knowing look, eyes moving up and down your figure. “You know why.” 

“So as always it’s my fault.” 

“What?” he blinks rapidly and comes closer, hands finding your waist in an odd sense of familiarity. “No no, it’s not your fault. I. . . I was protecting you,” he licks his lips, eyes dropping to your mouth. “I was. . . protecting you from myself.”

You shake your head, fighting every urge to nuzzle his neck like a wounded animal. To smell his scent to soothe you. God, you’re unbelievable. And here you thought all your feelings had disappeared, apparently, they were just laying dormant under the flesh and bone. 

His nails bite into your skin despite your clothes. 

“Do you know how hard it was seeing you with him?” he spat the last word as if it was poison. A shiver crawls up your spine, needles digging into your skin. “You started to look at him the same way you used to look at me. I had to pull away.” 

“You were jealous?” you ask, confusion crossing your face. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

“Because it’s wrong, hermanita.” 

The Spanish hit his tongue more violently this time. A reminder of what this relationship was supposed to be. However, the word doesn’t stop him from coming closer and closer, until his lips are only a breath away. 

“We’ve never been brother and sister, Frankie,” you say voice surprisingly hoarse. “Everyone knows that.” 

He scoffs, “You’re dating my best friend.” 

For that, you don’t have an excuse. All you can do is swallow and nod, his chest now flush against his, the only thing separating you to is your own arms that were still squeezing you tight. 

Frankie observes you a second longer, eyes flitting across your face; taking in the sight of your parted lips and dilated pupils. “But,” he continues, voice dangerously low. "I'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

You enter the bedroom and as soon as you do guilt rapidly builds in your chest, Frankie is right behind you, closing the door while your gaze remains glued to the picture that’s on your nightstand. A picture of you and Santi; there’s frosting on his nose from your birthday cake, your face split in a huge smile. You also remember being mildly bummed that Frankie hadn’t called. 

He follows your gaze, frowning when he notices what it was that you were staring at. With large steps, he walks over to the frame and slams it down. 

“Do you want this?” he breathes out, voice nothing but gravel. He doesn’t turn to look at you, his face lowered to the nightstand. “Because if you don’t, you have to tell me.” 

He’s asking the wrong question. 

You walk up to him, sliding your arms to his front as you press your forehead between his shoulder blades. 

Of course, you want this. 

The question he should be asking is if it’s worth throwing everything away just for one night. Because this is what that was. You don’t think you can hide it, and you’re not even sure if you want to hide it. 

Being with Frankie tonight means that you’re saying goodbye to Santiago, whether you tell him or he figures it out. 

You clutch the front of his shirt. It’s damp with sweat. You press a kiss, enjoying the moisture gathering at your lips. “Do you?” 

He turns around and grabs your face, pulling you to him immediately. Your mouths crash together, tongue and teeth eager to explore more of the other. He’s already pulling you away before your brain can’t even comprehend the taste of him, “More than anything,” he growls, hands still cradling your face. “Get on your knees.” 

Your drop instantly, not even bothering to take off your shirt. Warmth blossoms all over your skin as he drops his pants along with his boxers, cock already hard and ready. He starts stroking himself and tilts your head back. “Open your mouth,” he orders. 

Slotting the head of his cock between your lips, fist moving up and down his length. You close your lips around him, dipping your tongue into the slit. He groans with a rock of his hips, the first drops of precome stain your tongue, a loud moan ripping from your throat. You desperately want to bury your hand between your legs, your clit throbbing angrily. 

Frankie moves his hand away from his cock and brackets your head with both hands, pushing you forward down his cock. Only halfway down and you begin gagging, struggling for breath. You knew he’d be big, you just weren’t aware of how big. 

A cruel laughter rings above you, “That’s it?” he asks. “That’s all you can take?” you look up, eyes teary as he thrust a little bit more. Your throat squeezes helplessly around the width of him, your nostrils flaring. Frankie clicks his tongue, “My poor baby sister,” he tuts. “You’re not used to taking something this big huh?” 

You attempt to convey an answer but end up choking around him instead, your lids flutter, wet lashes kissing the skin under your eyes. “I guess I’ll have you train you myself,” your nipples harden at the promise, slick gathering at the seams of your underwear. “But later,” he says and much to your disappointment, pulls out. 

You breathe heavily, chest heaving as oxygen floods your lungs. 

“Strip,” he says, pulling off his shirt and kicking his pants away. “And get on the bed.” 

“So bossy,” you mutter, and as soon as you do, Frankie tugs you roughly against him, his tongue slipping between your lips hastily. He doesn’t allow you to breathe, mouth moving before you get the chance. He licks deeper into your mouth, and sucks your tongue as he parts away. Your insides flush. Your head spinning and legs trembling. Lightheaded, you grip his shoulders. 

“I’m not bossy,” he grunts, wet lips touching your forehead. “I’m just eager.” 

That makes both of you. Quickly stripping, you climb the bed waiting for him to show you just how eager he was. 

Instead, he walks around the bed, examing the pillows, “Which one is his?” 

“Santi’s pillow?” you raise an eyebrow. “It’s the one on the left.” 

He takes it with a hum, “Spread your legs,” he says and when you do, he places the pillow between them. Your heart races, a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. You don’t lower yourself down on the pillow, too embarrassed to do so. Frankie sits on the footstool at the end of the bed and takes his cock into his fist. He stares at you expectantly. 

“Uh—What am I supposed to do?” 

His cat-like grin makes you realize he wanted you to ask that, he leans forward, touching himself slowly, “I want you to make a mess of his pillow,” he groans. You clench at the order, your cheeks heating at how slick you’ve gotten just from the thought of it. “I want you to drench it so when he lays his head, he knows you don’t belong to him.” 

Frankie’s gaze flash with hunger, it frightens you to a degree, how angry he truly is. 

The fact that you actually do it, frightens you more. 

You lower yourself onto the pillow, feeling its softness beneath you and a strange thrill whispering through your body as your arousal surges higher. With a moan, you begin to ride the pillow, sinking your hips deeper with every thrust. You feel it grazing your clit, a whimper dropping from your lips. Mouth agape, you lift your gaze to Frankie. 

He’s stroking himself with a smile, wet noises coming from his fist fill the room, he swipes a thumb over the head. Your mouth flooding with saliva, you press against the pillow harder, the muscles of your legs clenching. Frankie notices and spreads his legs further, giving you a show of cupping his balls before moving his hand up again. 

“You look like you’ve never seen cock before,” he purrs. “You can’t wait can you? For me to fill that hungry pussy up. Don’t worry, big brother is going to take care of you.” 

“Fuck—” you can feel your body becoming increasingly slick, your breathing heavy and labored as pleasure ripples across your skin. Your body tenses and trembles as you rock against the pillow relentlessly, the coil tightening as you circle your hips. 

Dampness gross underneath you, Frankie’s eyes fixed on where you and Santi’s pillow connect. You’re embarrassingly wet, strings of slick stretching between. Your movements start to slow as your orgasm nears, it’s too much and you have the need to just bend over and let Frankie fuck you hard without any of the games. 

The legs of the footstool drag against the hardwood floors, the sound making you jump. Climbing the bed, he sits on his knees, “Let me feel how wet you are,” he groans. He pushes his hand between your legs without waiting for an answer. He slips a finger in, your eyes rolling back at the pressure. “He can’t get you this wet can he?” he asks rhetorically. “Bet he’d loved to see you getting yourself off like this, coming for another man.” he curses, thrusting into his other hand. 

You hover above the pillow, your thighs starting to shake for exertion. 

“Don’t stop, baby. Come on, soak it—soak it and I’ll fuck you.” 

Your nipples tighten and your skin begins to tingle with arousal. Your head tilts backward and your mouth opens slightly as your body arches and grinds against the pillow. Something devastating builds inside, it builds and builds and builds—builds until you can’t take it anymore. Liquid heat sprays out of you, your walls convulsing as you drip down his hand and soak the pillow, just like he said. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” he murmurs, pulling out his finger and dragging the wet digit over your cheek. He kisses you deeply. “Good fucking girl,” he growls into your mouth, nipping your chin. 

You gasp for breath, your hips slowing but still shaking with pleasure even when you stop. Your mind is in a state of ecstasy. Frankie forces your jaw apart and purses his lips, spitting into your mouth. You jolt when it hits your tongue. “Swallow,” he murmurs. 

“Gonna fuck you now, sweet girl,” he coos. “Gonna claim you on the bed you sleep with him every night,” he chuckles into your mouth. “I’m going to fuck you so good that Pope’s gonna keep wondering why it always smells like sex in here.” 

God, you wish it didn’t but the words and the depravity he said them in makes your skin prickle, an involuntary moan slipping from your lips. 

Frankie turns you over, pulling the pillow under your hips as you remain on all fours. Your arms feel weak, legs still trembling from your orgasm. “F–Frankie,” you slur your words. 

“Don’t worry baby,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth over the small of your back. “I got you, and I’m never gonna let go.” 

He positions Santi’s pillow under your hips, the fabric dark in color from your slick. Your arms finally gave way and you drop face-first into the sheets, you can smell him now, Santi’s pine scent fills your lungs. 

Shit, what the hell is wrong with you? 

“Stop thinking about him,” Frankie hisses from behind you, parting your folds by dragging his length. He lets out a deep sigh before you can answer. “It doesn’t matter, you won’t be able to think of anything else soon anyway.” 

You shudder at the promise of his words. He leans in, the heft of his body covering yours as his lips touch your ear, “I’m gonna come inside this pretty cunt. Then you’re going to squeeze every bit of it out and taste it—Got it?” 

“Y-Yes,” your voice is trembling, your body burning from the inside out. 

Suddenly he grips your nape, squeezing until pain ebbs under the skin. You swallow, tears stinging the corner of your eyes; he doesn’t say a word, pushing his cock between your wet thighs. It’s filthy how he makes you feel, how badly you want to surrender to him. You drool all over him, your walls spasming until the head catches against your clit and a whimper leaves your lips. 

Frankie comes to a halt and his grip around your nape lightens, caressing the skin. 

You let out a little groan as he eases himself inside you. He moves further and further until he’s fully sheathed. A thrill surges through your body. Your eyes roll back at finally faving him inside, a wanton moan falling from your lips. 

Frankie flexes his cock and you groan at the stretch, “Who’s bigger?” he huffs, pushing deeper. Your body becomes limp underneath him. “Me or him.” 

“You,” you manage to garble a response. “You’re so much bigger than him, Frankie.” 

“Yeah?” he pants, chest heaving. “He can’t fuck you like this can he?” 

He presses your hips flush against the pillow, the dampness that touch you scorching your skin. You nod helplessly and claw against the sheets. “He can’t—” you choke out. “Frankie please.” 

He gives you what you want, grinding against you, cock filling you up with every forceful thrust. His ragged moans echo around the room, and you grasp onto the sheets tighter. Every thought is knocked out of your head every time he buries himself into you. Hips bruising where it hits your skin. You reach the peak quickly, that familiar tingle blossoming between your legs. 

“Fuck—” beads of sweat line Frankie’s body, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. “You feel so good, so fucking good.” 

He wraps an arm around you and pulls you out, holding one breast tight. His thumb goes in circles, lust lapping at your tired body as he presses deeper. “I want to feel you coming just on my cock,” he moans into your cheek.

Frankie angles himself in a way that he brushes against something devastating inside of you. It’s like a jolt of electricity, the force of it enough to empty the air in your lungs. He drags his cock over the same spot again and again, his thrust quick paced. You cry out his name when static fills your ears and dots dance over yoru vision. Your head falls back, chest heaving as your body quakes. 

Your cunt continues to squeeze and throb around him, and soon enough, you feel the hot spill of come filling you to the brim. You swear another orgasm washes over you, the flavor of it thick on your tongue as you meet his thrusts. Frankie huffs a tired laugh and grips your asscheeks, spreading them. 

“I can feel you dripping,” he murmurs, you hear the smile in his voice. “Makes me want to stay buried in your forever,” in contrast to his words, Frankie pulls out. “I hope you didn’t forget what I said,” he kisses your neck, long and slow. “Drag that full pussy all over his pillow.” 

You spread your legs wider, rolling your hips over the soft material, you hiss when it brushes over your clit. “S-Shit, Frankie—” 

“Bet he never fucked you like that before,” he remarks. Satisfied with the mess, he gestures you to move away. You practically collaps, head thudding against the headboard. Frankie’s gaze is fixed on the poor pillow, drenched in your slick and his come. 

No matter what Frankie says, you’re not letting Santi sleep on that pillow. You’re fucked up, but you’re not that fucked up. 

Staring at the pillow, reality finally settles in. A sharp inhale parts your lips and Frankie’s eyes snap toward the sound, his gaze searching yours. “There’s no going back from this,” he says. “When’s he coming back?” 

“The day after tomorrow.” 

“Good,” he crawl over to you, taking place between your still trembling legs. He slides his palm up your tigh and presses his mouth against your neck. “That’ll give us more time.” 

You’re too much of a coward to ask time for what. 

[neverend-rs]

techtober day 10 / tech with a drink :)

accidentally took many days off from techtober but i'm back and will be finishing the prompts! he's observing some chaos wrecker and omega are getting into and dreading what he'll need to fix in the aftermath

pose ref by @mellon-soup !

[ipostwhatiwant1202]

I love prompts and headcanons a lot, I love seeing both equally. If it's okay to ask, I'd love to see some "What do they do when your sick" (and if you already did, I'd love some links! Your content always makes me smile)

hello anon! i have not done one yet, thank you for the request! the next one after this will also be a request. i hope you're enjoying your day and remembering to drink water! 🫶

Leo:

If there's one thing about Leo, his bedside manner isn't the greatest but it's also not the worst either. It's not because he won't tend to your needs while you're sick, no problem doing that, but he'll do it in his own way.

He'll bring you medicine and make sure you're staying hydrated and eating. He'll keep an eye on you and make sure you're cool enough or warm enough. Now if you're puking, don't expect him to not get grossed out. He hates vomit but will fight through it and hold your hair/rub your back for you.

The one thing Leo will do for you is clean your entire apartment. He'll make sure the floor is shining, counters are spotless, and every spot in the place is so clean you could eat off it.

The reason why his bedside manner isn't the greatest is because he'll let you rest but after a day or two, he'll expect you to be powering through it. Not that he wants to undermine how sick you are, but he believes you need to suck it up in the *nicest* way possible.

Raph:

Like his older brother, Raph's bedside manner is somewhere in the middle. That being said, it takes a lot to gross him out, so he's more likely out of the two of them to be more soft when it comes to it.

He has no problem bringing you medicine and making you soup, and making sure you're getting enough rest. He'll keep a close eye on you but will also give you space because he doesn't want to get sick. He always finds himself rubbing your back or your tummy though, even if he's told you he's gonna keep his distance...it doesn't last long.

Raph will mostly leave you be unless you're really sick. He'll stay over at your place until you feel better and will keep things how you left them while he's there. He just likes to know you're okay.

The downfall of him taking care of you is that he'll overreact to how sick you are. If you're vomiting, he'll think you're dying and freak out, or he'll bother you until you get checked. He means well, but sometimes he oversteps his bounds.

Donnie:

Out of all the brothers, Donnie's bedside manner is immaculate. Since he's the most patient and levelheaded of all the brothers, just let him care for you instead of them. It's in your best interest.

He knows just the right concoctions for stomachaches and headaches, all the aches. He keeps you hydrated and fed with things that should help you settle and get some rest. He also knows just what to do to break a fever or to get rid of chills. He definitely puts all his knowledge to use when he's taking care of you.

Donnie checks on you frequently, but he keeps quiet. He'll just gently touch your forehead or just peek in to make sure you're still breathing. He lets you rest as much as you need to and doesn't verbally bug you.

Of course, a downfall would be that he gets a little too persistent with trying to give you things to feel better. He doesn't like seeing you sick but he sometimes doesn't know when to stop asking you to try things. He means well, but he can be a bit much.

Mikey:

Mikey's bedside manner falls somewhere inbetween Raph's and Donnie's. He doesn't get grossed out easily so he has no problem taking care of you, and he keeps his head on straight.

Medicine, drinks, you name it and he's running to get it. He'll hold you and cuddle you, rub your back if you get sick/hold your hair back. He'll also run you baths to help break your fever and if you let him, he'll even help you shower if you're that sick. He keeps his chaos to an extreme minimum but tries to keep your spirits up at the same time.

Mikey's way of taking care of someone is spending time with them. He'll bring you all your favorite movies and watch them with you until you fall asleep. Or he'll sit with you while you nap, he just wants you to know he's there for you.

Now, that all being said, he gets too clingy. He sometimes takes up too much of your personal space. Not that he means to but he just does. You need to verbalize you want to be left alone or he won't leave you alone.

[toapril-official]

ToApril 2024

ToApril is once again upon us! Can you believe this is the third year this is taking place?

At this point we will assume everybody gets the concept of ToApril, but if you don’t, don’t hesitate to reach out! 

Before we jump right into it, we want to emphasize the rules of toapril:

Please keep it TOA related. You can use characters from other series or your own, but the prompts were made with the characters of TOA in mind.

No NSFW. There are adults and minors alike participating and definitely browsing the internet within the fandom. Mature topics can be brought up, but anything graphic is not allowed.

Note: None of the prompts are ship based, but you are definitely allowed to include  ships!

If you write a fic on ao3, please put it in the toapril 2024 collection. If you’re not sure how to do that, here are some instructions:

Option1: Go to the collection. There should be a button at the top right saying ‘post to collection’. Click that button and the rest should be as it would normally be when you post a fic.

Option 2: Post a new fic as usual, but in the associations section, type in toapril in the post to collections / challenges space and it should pop up. Make sure you add it in the 2024 one. It will stay open for a couple of weeks after April just in case you need more time to finish something. 

If you want to post something on tumblr, please tag it with #toapril and #toapril2024. You can also tag this blog in your post, we would love to see all of your amazing works this year :D.

Have fun! If there’s any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.

Prompts below the cut.

Text version:

Day 1: Missed Target

Day 2: Growing Pains

Day 3: Divine Intervention

Day 4: Facing The Unknown

Day 5: For The Best

Day 6: Hair Holds Memories

Day 7: Fathers Who’d Kill

Day 8: Moonlight’s Reflection

Day 9: The Hour Past Midnight

Day 10: This Isn’t Goodbye

Day 11: First Meeting

Day 12: Revenge Served Cold

Day 13: Curse of Eternal Youth

Day 14: Every Rose Has Its Thorns

Day 15: Without Requisite or Deadline

Day 16: Nymphs and Negligence

Day 17: The Cyclical Nature of Things

Day 18: In The Next Lifetime

Day 19: Haunted

Day 20: Chaos Soup

Day 21: The Sun and The Earth

Day 22: Never Forget

Day 23: Cheesecake & Demons

Day 24: Unexpected Allies

Day 25: Race Against Time

Day 26: Wilting Flowers

Day 27: Missing Objects

Day 28: Silent Thunder

Day 29: Lost City

Day 30: Fading Memories

Thank you to @okathleen, @star-flcwers, @worlds-oldest-teenager, @reostuffzies, @tsarinatorment, @nyaningthroughlife, @money-and-dandellions, @ferodactyl, @xxzephyrbreezexx, and @solahflare for submitting these prompts.

[amypihcs]

Fic Masterpost

Doing some bit of admin work! Finally putting together a masterpost!

Code:

red: unfinished/still in progress

blue: retirement fic

One chapter fics ↓

The tenth time is the good one!

Cold Case

An Ideal Helpmate

The latest vegetable alkaloid

Care for a drink

What's in a shave?

Words of care

First party - Last party

The adventures of Dr Watson

Bonded Pair

Serenade

One whole layer of oysters

Inked in Love

Forever

A man's craft

And So This Is Christmas...

Multichapter fics ↓

5 Times Holmes Startled Watson Awake

To a good year

A thousand apologies

Back to School

(5h+w)(5s+j)

Fanfictions for fanarts <- just for tidyness

Holmes and ww1 ↓

The war service of Sherlock Holmes

Vacation by the sea

Rugby shenanigans ↓

Time for some practice

Touche

May prompts - in the order i wrote them with their number on their side ↓

6) Cold 20) Do-Over 10) Choice 18) Blanket 11) Secret 19) Weather 5) Awkward 22) Night 2) Box 17) Chaos 1) Open 23) Apology 12) Family 24) Imperfect 15) Nightmare 26) Manipulate 16) Experiment 27) Jealousy 7) Calm 28) Empty 8) Hobby 29) Hero 9) Intimidate 30) Journey 3) Familiar 31) Pride

For they never lived AU ↓

For they never lived

Re-furnishing the cottage

Kidnappings

The Damaged Detective

Christmas tree

Where did you find it

cozytober 2024 ↓

1. borrowing a sweatshirt or a coat 2.Wrapped in a soft fuzzy blanket 3. Chilly fall day 5. Hot tea or chocolate 6. Cuddles after a bad day 7. Smell of freshly baked goods 4. The slight smell of smoke in the air 11. Unexpected family gathering. (15 and 16) The Damaged Detective 14. Admiring fall colours 22. Too freaked out to sleep alone

Fluffcember 2024 ↓

Roasted Marshmallows Winter flu Snowman Christmas Sweater Gingerbread house Condensed breath Sparkling snow Sugar rush Slippery Skiing Fire and Ice Winter soup Naughty list Chocolate Snowed In Mistletoe Fairy tales Cabin in the snow Winter storm Confession Christmas tree The Perfect Gift Forgiveness Family gathering Warming up

[ze-land-fill]

Multifandom December Prompts 2024

Day 1. "Under the Weather"

Fandom: The Dragon Prince

Word Count: 692

Summary: Ez is sick, Callum brings soup, chaos ensues.

~ * ~

Callum knocked on the door, and then proceeded to let himself in. Ezran lay on his side, clutching at his pillow. Zym lay curled next to him, pushing his snout into Ezrans face. Bait grumbled beside them, on his pillow. 

Callum placed the bowl of stew on the small table, then turned to the bed and placed his hands on his hips. “Zym! What did we say about bothering his royal highness during nap-time!” 

Zym yipped concernedly in response, but retreated his snout from poking the king. 

Said king, on the other hand, grumbled in response, and reached an arm out,at a pillow. Only to lazily throw it behind him at his dearest older brother. Callum catches it easily, and exaggerates a look of betrayal. Sure, Ez has his back to him. But it doesn’t hurt to try and draw out a laugh. 

“I can’t believe you would do something like this! And to your own brother! Attack me- Me! You’ve rallied your feathered fiends and attacked me. Death by feather! Why would you do this?! Whyyy, Oh Whyyyy-” He drops to the floor dramatically, holding the pillow tightly to his chest. 

At that moment, the door opens again, and Rayla comes in, holding something behind her back. She stops after only a few steps though, and confusion twists itself into her features. 

“...Do I want to know?” 

Ezran sits up, his hair a complete mess, and faces Rayla, with as much of a smile as he can manage. “Callum called me “royal highness” again, so I unleashed my ‘feathery fiends’ and now he's dead on my bedroom floor. Can you help me clean up the evidence?”

Rayla blinks once, before she bursts out laughing. Callum laughs heartily from the floor. He picks himself up and sits on the bed, next to Zym’s curled up figure. Rayla walks around and sits on the other side of the bed. Petting Bait on the back as she sits down. 

Ezran leans back and sighs. “How much longer until I can get back to my duties?” A muffled laugh sounds from outside the doors. “See! Oh, c’mon Corvus, it’s a little funny. Doodie! No- wait- Come back! Corvus-” 

Rayla meets his eyes, “Does that answer your question?” Her mouth quirks up in a mischievous smile. Ezran lets out a tired sigh. 

The fireplace is crackling, it's dark out, and soft snowflakes fall outside of the warm room. 

Rayla’s smile softens, and she pulls her hand from behind her back. In it, she’s holding a plate, piled with jelly tarts. Ezrans eyes light up. He reaches for a jelly tart and bites into it hastily. He gets a dreamy look in his eyes as he sighs with contentment. “Thanks Rayla! This is exactly what I needed!” He finishes the pastry, and is about to reach for another one, when he suddenly sneezes. 

Zym jumps at the sound, and Stella ruffles in her sleep, from where she is situated in her own little makeshift bed. 

“Okay!” Callum exclaims. Standing up and clapping his hands. “Back to bed with you…” 

And an evil grin flashes across his face.

“...Your royal highness.” He bows deeply at the foot of the bed. 

This time, he’s not fast enough. And when he straightens himself up, he’s met with a pillow, hitting him square in the face. 

“I command you leave my quarters at once…Step-prince” Ezran retorts. 

Rayla lets out an audible gasp. “You’ve really done it now, Callum”

Callum starts making his way to the door, but he faces the king as he confidently walks backwards. “As you command, Your royal sassness.”

Another pillow comes flying at him. Which he catches easily. “Where do you keep getting these from?!” But he doesn’t get an answer, instead he’s met with another pillow. This one being thrown by none other than Rayla herself. 

Callum, unfortunately, does not catch that one, and instead trips and falls again. His fall is broken by the pillows. But the absurdity of the situation makes him laugh loudly. And Ezran joins in. And soon enough all three of them are laughing. 

Laughter, overflowing with love and affection.

~ * ~ Thank you for Reading!!!

~ Remzy