#i made this draft ages ago its time to free it

[puckpocketed]

hello i was tagged by @18minutemajor for WIP Wednesday. it is not Wednesday but i am also not a cop so . here we gooo!!!!!!! tagging my esteemed colleagues (very politely and with no pressure!!!):

@neonfretra @oensible @sorrellegiance @moregraceful @stereax

@wheelsnipecelebrini

@korshrimpski (EDIT: it won’t?? let me tag you. unless these are on separate lines <3)

what's in-progress in your life <3 writing? art? recipe? skill acquisition?

if any crafty people see this - if ANYONE sees this - and would like to join in, feel free and consider yourself tagged <3 (and tag me back so i can see your stuff!!!) link to 18minutemajor's post if yall curious :3 my VERY long wip dump + ramblings under the cut!

its christmas soon and i like to paint gifts for my friends + and i'm finally revisiting my anime/lineart/inking era (here you are K!! my lineart past, present, and future!! <3) so here are some things i've been working on/coming back to/MAY NEVER FINISH: hockey related:

this is juraj slafkovsky and his dinky little middle part which he can absolutely learn to style into something a little less dinky but never does. i am so charmed by him. i imagine he just rocks it because his pretty privilege supersedes dinky middle parts . LMAO!!

here is Sasuke from my Naruto Hockey AU. I am a little stuck on jersey mockups lol. here he is. our haunted little 1OA who is absolutely normal and regular about his captain (LOUD incorrect buzzer):

personal oc art

wanna know some puckpocketed deep lore? i've never been one to make OCs. i was just not a very creative kid tbh. spent all my time drawing sailor moon instead. i still go back to her sometimes because she is one of my favourite shapes in the WORLD!!

in my 20s i took up playing d&d because of the. uh. plague. <3 and got pretty close to having OCs!! those count right? anyway. here is my tavern-wench-turned-wizard!!! i think i painted this 2 years ago? <- put dates on your works guys it saves lives. her name is Mel (short for Melins (pronounced like melons. on account of her knockers. can you tell i never grew out of my 12 yr old booby/cock joke era?) i revisited Mel recently and have started painting her in earnest again!! :3

I briefly dated someone who was very into streetwear and fashion, and I fell down a techwear/gorpcore/cyberpunk rabbit hole for a couple days out of curiosity. i remember literally zero salient info on any of it except the broad strokes of silhouetting and Vibes. what i emerged with, however, was a ?? sorta OC?? im not sure what to call them. they dont rly have a name or gender. I did this little sheet ages ago + the aborted attempt at a portrait later:

Here are my most recent explorations (i have been doing SOOOO much art. <3) which include:

unfinished character sheet + chibi art. I played with their jacket (much more structured/square/tailored thing) and added a lotta random buckles and belts. i took textiles class years ago and have a little experience in garment construction. and i know for a fact this thing does not make any sense. it hurts me to look at a little bit LMAO so i've paused it while i go draft patterns (badly. i was never good at drafting. i think i may have to break out my scrap fabric stash and hand sew a real life mock-up. HELP!)

here is me having fun with them and imagining them as some kind of cyber-fisherman. the best part of every game is the fishing mini-game to me. i love fishing mini-games so much. I made their hair really big because i wanted them to have big unwieldy hair and the vibes told me i should add more movement to the piece aside from the fishing line. I messed with their jacket AGAIN because i can't stop thinking about what kinda jacket they'd wear. gorp-core ? idk. it sure is something!

gifts for my friends :3

back in my weeb era for real YAYYYY!!! up til now i'd been making hockey art using a zero pressure sensitivity pen brush because i simply did NOT want to deal with that. it is and has always been a barrier to me making art that uses line art. <3 easing my way back into it though!

I used to paint gifts for my friends and then get them printed into lil posters and mount them on nice backing :3 i am now ready and back to painting.

Here is my girlbestie's OC. just a rough pose sketch. i think im pretty unsatisfied with the gesture of the head/hand. i wanted to include her gun in some way. i fear i may have to rework the pose entirely <3

For the genshin girlies.. here are some of my friends fave characters.

Yelan - this one i started many holidays ago and put on the backburner because the colouring was wigging me out. you can see where i started rendering stuff + got sidetracked and started on something else (the crystal choker IM LAUGHING @ past me...)

Ayaka - I reaaally like what i did here with the perspective + foreshortening. I don't know if the pose or expression is in-character or not, but i had fun :3 got stunlocked looking at references of genshin weapons so this is where i left off:

if you made it all the way down here hi... <3 ice hockey really cracked the ketchup bottle open for me when it comes to making art again. i love the communities i've found, and i'm inspired by every artist on here every day. thanks for being so cool + have a great day :)

[dykecassidy]

its deeply funny to make a name and shame post for people who attach their name to the thing you're shaming for a grand total of one single solitary note.

[luvhughes43]

all-american b!tch | hughes!sister

guts masterlist🦋 - luvhughes43 masterlist🌙

summary: hughes!sister dealing with the success of her brothers, online hate, and her feelings of having to be strong all the time.

note: little bit of luca fantilli x reader

word count: 1.9k

and i am built like a mother and a total machine

i feel for your every little issue, i know just what you mean

and i make light of the darkness

i've got sun in my motherfuckin’ pocket, best believe

yeah, you know me

y/n hughes is the kindest girl you’d ever have the pleasure of meeting. as the youngest and only daughter of one of the most iconic hockey families, yn grew up in a turbulent world where she had learned to thrive. she plays the family sport, had to navigate through the hardships of being associated with her brothers, and she would be the first to tell you that her experiences had made her a better person. 

“okay trevor listen,” yn hughes or, as referred to by trevor, tiny tot, leaned in closer to the aforementioned boy. “it's quite simple… ghosting the girl will only make her trust you less. i know the podcasts have said that getting close to a girl then ghosting her will make them fall for you but seriously, that's such a bad idea” 

trevor nodded along to each word, pulling out his phone so he could draft a text to “the girl” in question. “okay so like… what should i say then?”

“hmm” yn loomed over the side of trevor's phone as she watched his fingers drift over the keys. once he had finished, he tilted his screen over to her so she could either approve or deny his message. 

there was a brief pause, “i can't tell if you're joking or not,” yn responds, causing jack to giggle as he paused to read the message over both yn and trevors shoulder. 

“I always wondered why you were better at meeting chicks at bars…” jack chuckles, “they never had to read one of your messages”

“its not that bad!” trevor whines loudly as he attempts to grab his phone back from you. 

you hold the phone away from him, swiftly raising your free hand to stop him from moving any closer towards the phone. “don't worry i can fix this,” you speak smoothly to which jack bursts into another round of giggles. 

“bro you cannot tell a girl that you-”

trevor clamped his hand over jacks mouth, effectively stopping him from reciting the awful text to the room full of their friends. “shush, the master is working” 

you rewriting trevors text was just one of the many things you did for the people you considered family. you would sit with luke for hours, letting him rant to you about his move to NJD back when he was still at michigan with you. you would have weekly recaps with your best friends and teammates about their lives, always making sure to help any of them out if needed. 

forgive and i forget

i know my age, and i act like it

got what you can’t resist

i’m a perfect all-american

despite the positives, you got an overwhelming amount of hate for just… existing. you could be the most perfect person, and people who didn't know you would still come after you online. 

you would never admit to anyone that the hate and harassment bothered you but… it always stung. in the beginning, when you first “came into the public's eye” when you started playing on the umichs womens hockey team you couldn’t avoid the hatred. people from school had started using you for your connections to all the boys you knew, and before you had the time to go private on socials (you’re now public again), you would spend hours reading through hate and manually deleting all the messages. 

ynhughes86 posted 1 year ago

liked by luca.fantilli, lhughes_06, edwards.73, and others

ynhughes86 welcome to the den🐺️🗣

tagged: umichwhockey, teammates,, and more

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teammate1 GO BLUE🗣🗣

lhughes_06 #goblue

jackhughes andddd everybody screamed!!

jackhughes number lookin fresh

liked by ynhughes86

_quinnhughes 〽️

trevorzegras tiny tot making moves🫡

ynhughes86 youve gotta let that go..

user03 the power of being a hughes💀💀

removed

user82 did daddy and mommy pay ur way in?

removed

user21 not surprised that shes playing for umich… lets be real no other team would take her. shes a hockey nepo baby fr

removed

user44 ??? have u even looked at her stats and plays? shes definitely good lol

user09 shes nowhere near her brothers levels lets be real

removed

user77 looks like she cares more about partying than she does about hockey... surprising.. not!😒🙄

removed

i am light as a feather, i’m fresh as the air

coca-cola bottles that i only use to curl my hair

i got class and integrity

just like a goddamn Kennedy, i swear

with love to spare

after a few months of going through hate comment deep dives, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t let them bother you anymore. In celebration, you made your instagram public again and paid absolutely no attention to any of the hateful people in your comments and dms. 

yhughes86 just posted !

liked by jackhughes, umichwhockey, dylanduke25, and others

ynhughes86 just your average roadie🫡

tagged: teammate5, teammate2, and others

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ynhughes86 special shoutout to trevorzegras for losing our bet! without u i wouldn’t have been able to do what i do🙏 aka spend money at the mall

liked by trevorzegras

teammate5 we should never be let loose in the mall ever again

ynhughes86 we should never be allowed off the bus

lhughes_06 dub after dub

ynhughes86 oh u know it💯

luca.fantilli is this why you were teaching me about girl math? u were trying to justify your purchases?

ynhughes86 … no comment

user32 using trevors money… wow. so she's a gold digger too?

user91 u guys are so lame let a girl live

ynhughes86 just posted !

liked by teammate, jackhughes, _quinnhughes, and others

ynhughes86 all the love at the banquet tonight

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teammate1 love uuu my forever girl

ynhughes86 love u more!! u looked so good tonight

luca.fantilli girl in the last pic is kinda cute idk

ynhughes86 kind of? 

luca.fantilli girl in the last pic is very cute im 100% sure of it

ynhughes86 the cute girl in the last pic thinks youre 100% cute too

lhughes_06 the guy in none of the pics thinks you guys are disgusting

user44 no style no game

user81 grow up loser

i’m a perfect all-american bitch

with perfect all-american lips

and perfect all-american hips

i know my place and this is it

ynhughes86 just posted !

liked by luca.fantilli, colecaufield, _quinnhughes, and others

ynhughes86 perfect all-american or whatever olivia rodrigo said

tagged: luca.fantilli

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trevorzegras that's right no swearing for you tiny tot

ynhughes86 😐

user57 “or whatever olivia rodrigo said” yeah she hates women

user91 thats why she's so close to the guys but u didnt hear that from me!

user16 if u guys dont leave this girl alone…

teammate2 OHH BFF LOOKS SO HOT

teammate3 please marry me

luca.fantilli 🤤🤤

liked by ynhughes86

lhughes_06 nope. 

i don't get angry when i’m pissed

i'm the eternal optimist

i scream inside to deal with it

whenever something bothers you, you keep it in. you hold all of your troubles and worries so deep within you that eventually, they float away and come back to haunt you when you least expect it. you thought that if you ignored all of your problems, that they would somehow fix themselves without any intervention from anyone else. 

it wasn’t always helpful. 

all the time

i’m grateful all the time

i’m sexy and i’m kind

i’m pretty when i cry

“they only ask me about my brothers, lu” your sniffles were quieted by the fabric of lucas sweater as you pressed yourself against his chest. you had played possibly the best game of your career, and the post interview questions were all about your brothers and family. questions wondering about their training and practices and how that had impacted you, how their game influenced yours. it made you feel like you were irrelevant in your own career. 

“i am so grateful for my family and how they’ve helped me grow as a player,” you responded politely to the interviewers' inquiries. it's not like you weren’t grateful. you knew that your family had a huge impact on your skills and you were glad that they were there to help you. but nobody ever wondered what your individual experiences were. all your training had to be a direct reflection of your brothers. your playing style, even unrelated, had to do with your brothers. your wins were a direct result of their greatness. nothing you would ever do or succeed in would be solely yours. 

“i love them,” you sob, “i really do! i just want people to see me” 

lucas' arms tightened around you as he started brushing your hair away from your face. “i know, baby” he whispered into your ear, holding you close as he waited for your breathing to calm down. 

“i just wanna be me!” you slumped against lucas front, who carefully pulled you over to your bed so you could sit down on top of him. 

you could hear the loud pop music blaring from the speakers downstairs, and you listened in silence to the people trudging up and down the stairs as they no doubt looked for a bathroom. 

“have you talked to your brothers about this?” lucas' soft voice cuts into the silence. 

you pull away from him slightly so you could look at him in the eyes. “no…” you admitted quietly. “they wouldn’t understand,” you leaned your head against lucas shoulder as you cuddled into him. 

he hummed quietly to you, a hand running down your back to help further soothe you. “i think you might feel better if you open up to them,” luca hedged. both of you knew that your previous statement was a lie. 

“i don't want them to think of me like that…” 

“like what?” luca questioned, his hand never leaving your back as you continued to prop yourself against him. 

you sighed. “i just… they always come to me. i don't want that to stop or for them to think that im weak” your words were quiet as you finally admitted your true feelings to your boyfriend. 

“they could never think you're weak,” luca murmurs reassuringly. “luke talks all the time about how he thinks you're adjusting to life here better than he did,” you look up at luca inquisitively. “and quinn, he is so proud of you! he talks so highly of you all the time… and jack, i mean come on. they all love and support you so much. they won’t stop asking for advice or talking to you because you're having some troubles” luca explains. “also, there’s nothing wrong with being weak. you should let yourself be open with your brothers just like they are with you. you deserve that”

“have i ever told you that i love you?” you tearfully smile at the boy who was always so good at listening to you.

luca smiles back, “not enough” he jokes as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. 

you brush a few strands of hair out of his face. “i'll call them tomorrow,” you add, reciprocating luca's kiss on the cheek. 

luca smiles, happy that you're no longer worked up and that you’ll finally tell your brothers your struggles. 

you spend the rest of the night hidden away from the raging party downstairs, wrapped up in your boyfriend's arms as you think about everything you try to hide. you didn’t have to be just one thing. you were allowed to be kind and to have complex emotions. you could be upset and angry without being a mean girl. perfect never existed, and you were glad that you were finally open to letting others see the cracks in your walls. 

lucas’ hair was soft as you ran your hands through his locks. “i love you,” luca mumbles. 

“i love you” you whisper to your boyfriend, placing a kiss on his shoulder as he shifts to lay his head on the middle of your chest. 

you easily fall asleep comforted by the fact that you were allowed to be flawed, and that no matter what, you’ll always have your people by your side.

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - Growing Old Together

I've been trying to encourage myself to write more on impulse rather than get stuck in my head so much. Soooo, when this particular thread on twitter popped up about an older Joseph aging like fine wine and snuggling up to his sunshine in the morning, I got inspired.

This is an off the cuff first-draft drabble that might be a bit rough. There's some hints of spice to it, but mostly it's just marshmallow fluff about Joseph and Mary in an AU where they were able to grow old together and have their happy ending. (Unlike the main timeline.) I hope you enjoy this peek into what might have been.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

...

The house felt so big and empty after the kids moved out, all grown up now and living their own lives. It took Mary time to get used to the quiet after so many years filled with the sound of children shouting and laughing.

The past decades passed by so quickly with days that were long, but years that ultimately were so painfully short.

The passage of time made Mary all the more thankful that Joseph had been with her throughout it all. He was still here with her, just like he promised so many years ago.

Sometimes in the quiet, Mary remembered the incident from 40 years ago, the gunman that almost took the stars from her sky. It was a miracle that the bullet merely grazed its target. What remained was a scar on weathered skin that left a notch in a hairline that now had more gray hair than brown. She traced and kissed that scar countless times while thanking God that it, and a scary memory, were all that were left behind that day. She did it again now, just the lightest touch of her lips against his marred skin so as not to rouse her beloved husband from his slumber.

The thoughts weren’t exactly sad, but they held enough of a somber edge that Mary couldn’t get back to sleep despite the early hour. Usually she and Joseph slept in late ever since they retired and the kids left for college, but not this morning. These were the sort of thoughts that she knew by now could fester if she remained idle.

It was a shame to leave the warmth of their bed and the big, strong arms that held her so close, but Mary couldn’t bring herself to wake Joseph. He looked so tranquil, the wrinkles on his face just a little smoother. His breaths came slow and steady, a gentle background noise to the otherwise quiet morning.

With some regret, Mary slipped free of her husband’s arms with practiced ease. The hardest part was stretching out the stiffness in her muscles without making a noise. It seemed like every year she found a new ache that slowed her down and made it even harder to get started in the morning.

Yet, there was an undercurrent of triumph in observing evidence of the passage of time. Every wrinkle and silver hair and ache that showed her age was a reminder that she was still living far beyond that damned expiration date she had been given so many years ago.

Take that, Dr. Wheiz! Mary thought with a vindictive smile. She would outlive that stupid pediatrician yet!

Still, Mary tried to redirect her thoughts away from the shadow of death that had so nearly taken her or her beloved husband. They were alive, and she wanted to focus on living.

What better way to do that than by making a nice, tasty breakfast?

The kitchen was far enough away from their bedroom that Mary could risk playing some music at a low volume, a nice jaunty tune to help her wake up. It was a shame that the radio stations’ definition of “oldies” was pop songs from the start of the millennium, but the tablet her eldest gifted her for her birthday had plenty of her favorite music loaded up and ready to let her relive a little nostalgia.

Mary let herself get lost in her work, idly humming along to the chorus as she swayed her hips a little from side to side. Measuring, mixing, and watching the little disks turn a beautiful golden brown in the sizzling pan recentered her thoughts to focus on the delicious meal she would soon be enjoying with the best company she could ever ask for.

A pair of large hands stilled her swaying hips, and Mary jumped, just a little, before a wry chuckle escaped her. She allowed herself to be pulled back into the broad chest she knew so well. Joseph was softer than he was in his prime, especially around the middle, but that just made him the perfect pillow to snuggle into.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Joseph said around a yawn as he nuzzled into his wife’s shoulder. His voice was thick with sleep and deeper than usual, sending a shiver down her spine when he spoke so close to her ear.

“Good morning, Starlight,” Mary said as she turned her head to plant a kiss on her husband’s cheek. His stubble lightly scratched her skin where he brushed against her, a bit ticklish and a bit sharp, but not an unpleasant sensation.

“What’s for breakfast?” Joseph asked before he gave a kiss in return on her neck. He smiled against her skin as he felt her shiver a little, and he kissed her again to enjoy another.

“Pancakes,” Mary said. “And maybe some eggs and bacon while I’ve got the skillet out.”

Joseph nuzzled into his wife’s mostly silver hair, planting kisses among the soft strands. He wasn’t quite awake yet, still clinging to the sweet dreamy haze he woke up in. “Mmm… sounds good. Blueberry?”

“Maybe,” Mary said with a teasing note to her voice. “Or maybe we can change things up a little. How do chocolate chip pancakes sound?”

A quiet grunt escaped Joseph, and Mary could easily imagine his pouty look from the way he grumbled into her hair. “Not as good as blueberry.”

Mary giggled as she slid the pancake she had just finished onto a plate. “Now, now, you don’t need to sound so disappointed. Sometimes it’s good to switch things up a little.”

Joseph made a wordless sound of disapproval at the back of his throat as he slid his arms around her middle and rested his chin atop her head. It was a toothless protest, and Mary knew it.

“No one makes better blueberry pancakes than you do,” Joseph said, his voice a low rumble that Mary could feel run through her entire body due to their closeness. “Remember what I told you? I could eat your blueberry pancakes every day for the rest of my life.”

Mary shivered at the sound of his voice and the way his large hands idly rubbed circles along her stomach. The motion wasn’t intended to be seductive, just an idle appreciation for the softness of her body, but even after all these years Joseph had a way of sparking that special heat inside of her like no one else could.

“You’re in luck then,” Mary said with a slightly shaky breath, dropping the tease from her tone. “Because that’s what I’m making.” With that she made a show of drawing a ladle full of batter, scooping in as many big ripe blueberries as she could, and drizzling it into the pan with a satisfying sizzle.

Joseph blinked before a chuckle escaped him as his sleepy mind caught up with his wife’s little game. He tilted his head to rub his cheek along the top of her head, drawing her just that little bit closer into him. “You really know how to spoil me, Sunshine.” He sighed deeply, his warm breath stirring shiny errant strands of her hair. “Mary… I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Joseph,” Mary said as she reached up to stroke his cheek. She savored the contours of his jawline that had softened with age, the pleasant prickle of stubble that trailed all the way down his neck. Most of all, she enjoyed the pleased hum he made at her touch and the way he tried to nuzzle into both her hand and hair all at the same time. “More than anyone else in the world.”

Joseph sighed, content, as he savored the warmth that radiated from his sunshine nestled so cozy and close in his arms. The music changed from some upbeat tune to something slower, a bit jazzy. He swayed to the easy rhythm, turning their embrace into almost a slow dance.

Mary enjoyed the feeling for a moment, but let out a chuckle when she found it a challenge to flip the pancake neatly. “Starlight, love of my life, apple of my eye, my dearest wish come true… you know I love you, but it’s a bit difficult to cook like this.”

Joseph closed his eyes as he rested his cheek atop his wife’s head, his body still rocking with hers in time to the music. “Mm hmm?”

A small chuckle escaped Mary. “So as much as I love you holding me so close, maybe you should step back for a bit, hmm?”

Joseph let out a thoughtful hum as he took a moment to consider the proposition, before finally burying his face into her hair. “Nah. Let’s stay like this a bit longer.”

Mary couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh come on.”

“I’m staying where it’s nice and cozy,” Joseph said teasingly before burying his face into her neck. “So warm…”

Mary shivered at the feeling of his breath, his lips, and the scruff along his skin brushing along her neck. Though the smell of sweet pancakes filled the air, she couldn’t help but focus on her husband’s scent, a heady musk that still had a bit of smokiness to it even long after he quit smoking before the kids were born. She couldn’t help but turn a little bit more towards him to breathe him in, the scent of home. “Joseph…”

“Five more minutes,” Joseph said, his voice a low, throaty murmur that vibrated through her skin. “Just five more minutes…”

Mary shook her head a little as she let out a wry chuckle, both at her husband’s familiar clinginess and how quickly she always caved to his needy pleas. “Okay, five-”

“No, wait,” Joseph said quickly. “Ten more minutes. I want ten more minutes like this.”

“Oh come on,” Mary mock groaned as she rolled her eyes towards her husband. “You really are spoiled, aren’t you?”

“I can’t help it,” Joseph chuckled before he stole a kiss from his sunshine’s lips. “You’ve thoroughly spoiled me rotten, Sunshine, and this dog is too old to learn any new tricks now.”

“What have I done?” Mary asked with theatrical dismay as she turned her eyes towards the ceiling and made dramatic sweeping gestures in the air with her spatula. “I’ve turned my sweet puppy husband into a koala bear! Now we’re stuck like this forever.”

Joseph couldn’t help but laugh at his wife’s antics and smirked smugly as he rested his chin atop her head again. “That’s right, Sunspot. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me forever and ever and ever. Nothing’s ever going to pull us apart.”

“Not even… pancakes with chocolate chips?” Mary asked, adding an overly dramatic emphasis to her words.

Joseph let out a sufficiently horrified gasp. When Mary tried to squirm away, reaching for the refrigerator, he snatched her by the wrist and pulled her back towards him. “Oh no you don’t, Sunspot!”

The hold on her was firm, but Mary knew it was still breakable. She could wriggle free if she really wanted. No matter how tightly Joseph held her, he always allowed her to slip away whenever she needed to. No matter how many times he restrained her with his large hands, his bulky body, or even some silk ties, she never felt scared or trapped. He always had a way of making her feel safe, secure, and loved. She knew that if she really wanted him to let her go or step back to give her space, he would, even if he might pout a little doing so.

But she didn’t. In the end, Mary could never resist Joseph when he was clingy and needy like this. She could put up a token resistance, try to escape, but she could never resist the excitement of having him chase after her. The way he pawed at her body as she squirmed against him made her feel like they were in their twenties again, young, in love, and horny as hell for one another.

Mary continued to squirm against her husband, twisting her body around in his grasp as she made for the fridge, before gasping as Joseph kissed the sensitive inside of her wrist. He gazed deeply into her eyes as he took the time to mark a trail down her arm, his tongue occasionally flicking across her soft skin. He took advantage of the way his burning gaze pinned her in place to grind his hips into hers, and she could feel the hardness starting to grow against her.

“Fuck, Mary…,” Joseph groaned against her skin, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine that settled between her legs where he rubbed himself against her, turning into a delicious heat that had her arching into him. “Keep that up, and I’ll be having you for breakfast instead of blueberry pancakes.”

Mary felt a thrill run through her as she saw the hunger in her husband’s eyes. Even after all these years together and all the unflattering ways time had changed her body, the fact that Joseph could still look at her like that always left her breathless.

Time changed Joseph as well, but she enjoyed snuggling into the softness of his once hard edges. The lines at the corners of his eyes were markers of how many times she made him laugh, the ones around his mouth a testament to his countless bright and beautiful smiles.

They made a life together. It wasn’t perfect, and sometimes there were stormy days that cast a shadow over them, but they always managed to find a way to keep each other warm. The fire of love and passion still burned between them, as brilliant and beautiful as it always had been.

Unfortunately, the smell of smoke wound up interrupting the steamy moment. Mary yelped and quickly scrambled to get the burnt pancake onto a plate before it could char further.

“Oops,” Joseph yelped as he straightened up to allow Mary greater ease of movement. “I guess I should’ve stuck with five minutes after all.” He rubbed the back of his neck, giving her a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

Mary shot Joseph with a reproachful gaze. “How about we save dessert until after breakfast, okay?”

“Right,” Joseph chuckled awkwardly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take that one. Even burnt pancakes still taste good when they’re made with love.” He threw in a wink and a cheeky smile. “That’s why you taste so good after all.”

“Joseph!” Mary squealed as though scandalized. “You’re incorrigible!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Joseph laughed as he held up his hands in mock surrender. His expression softened as he gave her a tender smile and reached out to cup her cheek. “I just can’t help it when I’m with you, Mary.”

Mary leaned into his palm and whatever annoyance she felt melted away like butter on a hot skillet. It was impossible for her to hold onto any negative thoughts or feelings for long when she was with Joseph. With him around, the bad times weren’t as hard to handle, and the good times were even more wonderful. She hardly felt the years that seeped into her bones and made them ache. With him, time didn’t matter. They weren’t lonely children or struggling twenty-somethings lost in a vast world anymore, but she didn’t feel old and withered either. All these years allowed them to grow together like two trees twining together, growing strong enough to weather any storm.

“I feel the same way,” Mary murmured. “I love you, Joseph.”

“I love you too, Mary,” Joseph said before he pulled her back into his arms and pressed his lips to hers. When he drew back, he gave her a bright smile. “How about I help you finish cooking breakfast? Two sets of hands are better than one, you know.”

“Okay,” Mary said before flashing her husband a teasing grin. “But let’s try to keep those hands cooking instead of fondling, okay?”

Joseph reached over to take the spatula from Mary. His touch lingered on her fingers, sliding along them and her palm longer than necessary before he relieved her of the utensil. He flashed her a cheeky grin that she knew all too well and loved more and more as the years went on.

“No promises~”

[bijouxcarys]

Fine Wine (Robert Plant x fem!OC)

Masterlist

Description: Our fiery OC from Cherry Lips receives a call from the man she's seen the world with, after months of distancing himself. She may just be the medicine he needs in his time of uncertainty…

Word Count: 6.5k

Tags: @celestial-dragoness @firethatgrewsolow @callmethehunter @strsmn @m-faithfull @chromations @angrychicksposts @friccinfricks @inanebula

He was greeted with an icy draft as he pushed open his door. A stark contrast to where he’d been two hours prior. A fleeting bask in the heat of his past. But that’s all it was. Fleeting. In the past.

Robert knew it had to happen. Ahmet would have enjoyed seeing the lads back together, even if it was just for one last show. It was necessary to remind himself of that fact, otherwise the work gone into the past month would be for nothing. Though, his brain—that guy up there—tried to convince the rest of him that it was truly fruitless. And he knew what he’d have to deal with for the next year or so…

Robert, is there any chance of a Zeppelin tour again?

Mr Plant, how did it feel to be up there again?

Do you think Jason lived up to his father’s name?

Are you and Jimmy planning on working together again?

What’s your relationship like with John Paul Jones?

Why wasn’t Stairway To Heaven released as a single?

How do you think your voice has changed?

Robert, why don’t you want to talk about Led Zeppelin?

Bob, can you sign this for me? Bob?! Who the fuck do you think you are, mate? You’re only gunna sell it on eBay.

Scratching at his head, Robert reluctantly turned the light on, revealing his current home exactly how he left it. Hah, why wouldn’t it be? There’s nobody here to disturb it…

There was so much of the world he still needed to discover, to figure out. More music out there to be made. So much bigger than the walls of this London flat sat high up in a building full of more flats, with even more people, with even more stories–Oh, shit, are you Robert Plant? I need to call my best friend and tell her you live right near me!

Thankfully, that common situation was less common in the area he chose to live. It made him feel dirty, buying such a luxurious flat in such a well-established complex. Some called it a penthouse, but no, that was two floors up. Alas, he did have a pleasant view of… the city. Okay, maybe not that, but at least he could go for a walk to the nearest coffee shop… Okay, maybe he couldn’t have that human experience, either. 

To think that 34 years ago, he would be in the deep end, engaging in whatever post-show debauchery the band could muster up, and now he was here… A 59-year-old man unable to escape the 25-year-old boy that hadn’t experienced the true meaning of heartbreak yet. He was free, seeing everything in bold, whilst now he lived in a precarious state push and pull.

Desperately wishing for the world to see him as Robert Plant the musician, as opposed to Percy of Led Zeppelin.

Oh. There it is… There lies the conflict—his conflict. If he was hell-bent on enjoying music in all forms, being who he was at heart, why on Earth was he sitting on the edge of his bed, curtains drawn, dwelling on the fact that he wasn’t, in fact, Percy anymore?

Nobody told him the truth. Nobody told him when he was wrong, how he could improve himself. With the odd exception, there wasn’t a single person he came across in his ventures of life, who didn’t automatically compare him to, what he considered, that peacock prick of the 70s.

However, be that as it may, the audacity of Percy still ran rampant through Robert’s veins. If there was one thing age taught him, it was to grab life by the horns, come hell or come victory.

In his self-pity, still slightly buzzed from the bit of alcohol he’d already ingested that night, he took the leap in finding that familiar contact name in his phone, holding it to his ear as the dial tone held his breath with its frequencies.

Her phone rang just as she was about to take her first sip of wine, idly wandering in the kitchen of her sleekly designed flat. Half expecting it to be another call from the supervisor, she answered with an exasperated “Hello?,” bypassing the sensical act of glancing at the caller ID.

“Cherry…” he rasped, the name tasting bittersweet on his tongue.

Stiffening her posture, her previously tired eyes had blown open at the voice on the other end, as clear and crisp as it was in person. “Robert?”

“Cherry,” he repeated the silly nickname he’d given her a decade prior.

“Uh…” Delicately setting her wine glass back on the counter, she leaned against it, quizzically dropping her eyes to the floor. “This is unexpected…” She heard a gruff sigh, followed by some movement, coming from his end.

“I’m sorry…” he apologised, running a hand over his face as he stared out of his bedroom window. His phone felt heavy in his hand, bearing the weight of his audacity. Audacity he knew he should have kept at bay. “I guess age makes ya more of an arsehole…” he mumbled.

“Age? What are you talking about? Are you alright?”

“I’m as alright as an old man can be…”

“Your crypticism isn’t helping you seem less like an arsehole, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” Rolling her eyes, she moved to grab her wine again, making her way over to the sofa.

A lengthy pause followed. There’s a reason they describe silence as deafening. It irritated her to no end; she was able to take two whole sips of her wine during the time he left her in this ominous limbo.

“Why are you calling me?” she finally asked through a sigh, perching herself on the arm of her sofa, swirling the fragile liquid in her glass.

“Just… wanted to talk.” His words were unconvincing. Like a stroppy teenager insisting they want the beef stew bubbling on the stove, all whilst eyeing the takeaway menu on the fridge. She could read him, even through the phone. Plenty of practice by now.

“Well, so far it’s just been me talking…” She waited for an answer, even checking her phone to see that they were still connected. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up?”

“Nothing’s up…”

“Okay, and I’m currently in Russia,” she responded dryly.

“Are you?”

“Seriously, Robert?” she huffed, scrunching her eyebrows up at his atypical ignorance. “Look, if you’re not going to tell me why you really called me, I’ll just hang up, I’ve got zero patience for this right now.”

Yes, that’s it… Tell me I’m wrong. Give it to me straight. A satisfied smile tugged at his lips as he dropped his head in relief.

“Please tell me what’s wrong…” Her voice softened, almost mimicking a beg.

He chewed his lip, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. Was he really this pathetic that he needed a woman to come over and make this already stressful evening a little less gruelling? Well, yes, he was. To him, at least.

“Do you, uh… think you’d be able to come over?” His voice faltered.

Pausing mid-sip, she double checked that she was hearing things right. That her ears weren’t playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be that outlandish to suggest auditory hallucinations at this point; it was bizarre enough that he was calling her in the first place. “You want me to come over? As in… to you? Right now?”

“Please…”

The silence that followed was thick with anticipation, punctuated only by the distant hum of traffic outside Robert’s window. He held his breath, waiting anxiously for her reply, acutely aware that he was asking a lot.

Finally, she broke the silence with a soft exhale, her voice tinged in a subtle mixture of disbelief and curiosity. “I guess I could… Why do you want me to come?”

Robert’s mind raced, searching for the right words to explain the tumult of emotions swirling within him. “I… I just need somebody,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Someone who won’t sugar coat things… Someone who knows me.”

She felt her heart stumble at his vulnerability, how fragile his voice sounded on the other end of the phone. Despite the fact that their interactions had become sparse over the last year, she couldn’t ignore the connection that still lingered between them, forged in the crucible of the years they’d spent in each other’s company.

Without another word, she made a decision, fuelled by compassion: rarely felt, but cherished when present. “Alright,” she said softly, her resolve firm. “I’ll come over. But you have to promise me something…”

A spark of hope ignited within Robert’s chest as he listened intently, hanging on her every word.

“...You have to tell me what’s bothering you. And don’t try and downplay it, either. Deal?”

A wave of relief washed over Robert as he nodded, a sense of gratitude playing eagerly at his heart. “Deal,” he agreed.

That leads them to the present, sat across from one another in his living room. Neither of them knew how the night would end, but all Robert knew was that he appreciated her willingness to come over at all.

“I thought you might have been out,” she speculated, accepting a glass of wine as a gallant replacement of the one she had to pour down the sink at home. Robert immediately shook his head, resting into the sofa with a hand rubbing around his bristly beard, unknowingly complimenting his fine wine allure. “Didn’t fancy another rodeo, huh?” she wittingly asked.

“I should imagine Jonesy’s all cosied up with Mo by now. Don’t know if I can say the same about Jimmy, though,” he huffed through a rueful laugh.

Biting her lip, she smirked to herself at his implication that Jimmy hadn’t lost his wild streak. “Well, I think it would be rather bizarre if Jimmy was with John’s wife right now, don’t you?” Injecting a bit of light into the atmosphere with her jesting tone, her smile grew with Robert’s in response.

Robert’s gaze lingered on her, from the light dimples on her cheeks, to the lips he would kill for. Though, now, they remained painted with a more natural tone as opposed to the deep cherry tint he associated with her. So beautiful.

She had to admit, upon noticing his wandering eyes, a familiar flicker kindled in her stomach, taking her back to the moment he first surveyed her from afar, all those years ago. “So…” she breathed, angling forward with her elbow resting into the cushiony surface of the chair arm, adjacent to the matching sofa Robert had relaxed on. Nestling her chin into her hand, she studied him. “What’s going on?”

Smile falling slightly, Robert cleared his throat and took a sip from his wine. It was discernible how desperately he was clambering to find the words, thoughts racing a millions miles a minute.

“Robert, I can’t help you if you don’t tell m–”

“Do you think I’ve lost my looks?”

Now, she wasn’t expecting that one. 

Anyone who took one transient careen at him instantly concluded that Robert Plant knew of his appeal. So aware of his allure, it bordered on arrogance. He always played the game, no questions asked.

She let out an unintentional scoff, amused by his inquiry. Surely, he wasn’t serious. However, upon leering into his eyes a moment longer, she quickly realised he was being anything but frivolous.

Through a fated smirk, she asked him, “Is that really what you’re so upset about right now?”

He winced, huffing as he shifted on the sofa. “Not really. Well–yes, but no…”

“My God, men are so indecisive.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” he shot back with a boyish grin.

“Stop,” she pointed her finger at him. “Stop being so charming and funny, it doesn’t work on me.”

“Are you sure about that, darlin’?”

“You’re diverting.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who called after not bothering for months on end, am I?” And…there it is. 

He knew this was going to come up at some point, and he was inclined to agree with the vexation it bestowed upon her. As he kept his eyes firmly locked on hers, he saw as clear as day the betrayal that encompassed her. Perhaps a strong word for their situation, but the hurt in her eyes spoke of nothing less.

“Cherry… I’m sor—“

“That seems to be the only word you know lately, Robert,” she interrupted him coolly. “Y’know, I came over because you sounded upset, and believe it or not, I still care about you.” She rose from the seat, making steady back and forth paces across his flat. “God knows why I care about you, but I do.”

Robert parted his lips to speak, but she kept going.

“Do you know how happy I was when I got your text the other month?” she asked, turning to look at him. “Even if it was just to say happy birthday.” She shrugged. “Maybe some tiny little part of me wished that you’d have kept in touch, but then I came to my senses and realised that you’re Robert fucking Plant!” She chuckled airily, running her hand through her hair.

His gaze fell to the floor, pondering her words like a bout of bad news. With a swallow, he slowly responded. “And why is Robert Plant so different?” Her scoff brought his eyes back to hers.

Then, almost as if it pained her to utter the words, a stern gleam in those big brown eyes, she answered with the truth. The whole truth. Nothing but the truth.

“…Because nobody comes close… to being like you.”

Compliments. More compliments. He shook his head with an exasperated resolve.

“No, don’t shake your head, when you know it’s the truth.” Taking a deep breath, she stepped a little closer to him, staring him down like a predator cornering its prey. “So I’m gonna ask you again…” she uttered, “What’s wrong?”

“I told you—“

“You asked me if I thought you’d lost your looks, you told me nothi—“

“I’m old!” He finally snapped, voice uncharacteristically raising. Distressed. Vulnerable. He shot up from the sofa, peering down at her with hesitant eyes. “All those people who came to see me tonight,” he pointed in the direction of the window, “They wanted to see that bare-chested young lad strutting around the stage and wailing like a newborn fuckin’ lamb!”

Robert breathed out heavily. It was his turn to start pacing, everything that had built up all evening practically spilling out of him like nickels from a glass bottle.

“Ya know, I’ve tried for the past 25 years to not be that anymore, to get as far away as I possibly could from all the bollocks, but tonight was a real fuckin’ grim reminder that all anyone ever cares about is my name!”

She’d never seen him this irate. He had his moments, irritable and unsatisfied with certain situations and people around him, but never failed to remain calm and respectful at all costs. The man she watched bounce back and forth in the dim light of his very un-Robert-esq home was the personification of a life lived to the fullest, only to reach a point in which there seemed very little left.

“Robert, I—“

“I realise I’m a massive fuckin’ hypocrite, by the way—being upset about people always expecting the young, virile Robert Plant, but also wishing I could have been that tonight.” Spinning on his heel to make another lap of the room, he was halted when she stepped in front of him, hands coming up to hold onto his arms. “Does any of that make sense, Cherry? Or am I going bonkers?” he asked with a hushed tone.

Sighing, she looked over his attire. Silky shirt with some sensible black slacks, encasing a body that displayed his advancing age. The lines on his face spoke of an earthy wisdom and a lifetime of laughter. Hair, previously a vivacious blonde, now faultlessly whisked with an ashy tint. His stomach was no longer landscaped, and one could no longer catch the intensity of his muscular build.

No, he wasn’t what the world instantly pictured when faced with his name. But he was still, without a doubt, the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

“Robert…” she breathed, bringing a hand up to gently trace the pads of her fingers over his beard, along his jaw, before stopping to place her hand flat against the side of his face. “My sweet, darling Robert… You have no idea, do you?” Dropping her voice to a whisper, she took in the edges of his features, how the blue in his eyes still shone brighter than any star in the sky.

The warmth of her hand against his skin made him weak. His eyes hooded, and he found himself instinctively resting into her touch. “About what?” he replied, matching her tone. His hand wrapped around her wrist, keeping her near.

Endearing was the word that sprung to mind. He was so endearing at that moment. So naively heedless. She couldn’t help but smile, as if a whole new light was gleaming down on him. Layers she had never been able to peel away were now crumbling at the lightest touch.

“How perfect you are…”

“I’m far from perfect.”

“Maybe not by the official definition,” she agreed. “But my definition… it’s all you, Robert.” 

Any anger she may have felt for his distancing himself, any iota of annoyance at his unintentional ignorance, was insignificant when compared to the kind of love she felt for this man. “I don’t care how old you are. I mean, you’re not even that old,” she chuckled. “I don’t care that you’re not… Percy, or however you want to describe yourself back then.”

Robert’s eyes shut as he gently rested his forehead against hers, hands lowering to grip onto her waist like he’d never get to again.

“I never knew you as that person, and I don’t want to. Because the man that’s been in my life for the past 10 years has given me more to live for than any arrogant little peacock could,” she grinned at her own wording, knowing she was using his own opinion of himself as ammunition. He picked up on it, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat.

“And let’s not forget,” she smirked, snaking her arms over his shoulders. “A lot of girls have a preference for older men, Robert, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re the ideal. Plus, we don’t call you Daddy for no reason…” she giggled.

Even through his subdued demeanour, a tint of light pink coloured his cheeks; he hid it by dropping his head to her shoulder, tilting to take in her scent. “I don’t care about a lot of girls right now…” His words were muffled, but the way his lips gently tickled the side of her neck spoke for him.

“Robert?”

He lifted his head to look down at her. “Hm?”

“You’re beautiful,” she told him firmly. “Okay? I don’t ever want to hear you saying otherwise, because it’s bollocks. Pure bollocks. Alright?” 

Okay, well maybe one person tells me the truth…

With a smile, he bit his lip and nodded, willing to take any word that fell from her perfect lips as gospel.

“Good.”

“Can I kiss you now, or am I still in troub–”

She cut him off with a heady kiss, hand holding the back of his head and fingers gripping at his corkscrew locks. A sigh of relief fell from him as he mirrored the passion, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to cradle her, encompassing her in his hold. His own fingers made a venture, delicately threading through her thick hair.

Eventually, he found himself backing her in the direction of his bedroom, willing footsteps following his lead. She didn’t even have to give herself to him. All she needed to do to keep his mind at bay, stop the intrusive thoughts from swirling in the recesses of his rapid mind, was be there.

But his Cherry was always insatiable, no matter the situation she found herself in. Like his own, her libido intensified in her 30s, and he deemed himself lucky to be on the receiving end of such licentious longing.

“I’m not gonna lie to you,” she hummed as Robert trailed his kisses along her cheek, eventually stopping at her neck. “When I got home from work, I wasn’t expecting anything like this to be happening tonight.” His bristly facial hair was tough against her skin, but provided a stimulating tingle nonetheless.

Chuckling, he nipped at her neck and guided her further backwards until she had no choice but to let her weight fall onto the bed, his following suit. His face hovered closely over hers, taking in her features. Admiring. Silently worshipping. She was everything.

“What?” she whispered up at him, stroking her thumb over his cheek.

Shaking his head, a small smile appeared on his lips. “Nothing… Just happy you’re here. With me.”

She huffed out a small laugh, placing a barely-there kiss to the tip of his nose, before nudging him to lay down so she could settle on top of him, legs trapping him under her. Using her hand flat on the bed beside his head, she propped herself up as she lingered over him. His hands were urgent as they gripped onto her hips, needily pressing his fingers against her curves. God, he wanted her so bad… It was next to impossible to be in the same room as her and not experience the familiar twitch below. That bloody blazer… She made every article of clothing look perfect, and she looked perfect wearing them.

Clocking his distracted gaze with a smirk, she smoothly brushed stray curls from his face. “What do you want, Robert?” she whispered, watching the way his eyes dilated and flickered through a mirage of emotions. “Tell me…” she encouraged, her lower lip slipping between her teeth in anticipation of his answer—an answer she was certain she could predict.

He sighed heavily, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t want you to think it’s all I called you over for, darlin’...”

She responded with a sweet smile and an airy laugh, shaking her head. “Hmm, no…” she mumbled, glancing down at his lips. “You told me why you called me over…” Lowering her face to his, their lips narrowly skimmed over one another. 

“Now, I need you to tell me why you want me to stay…” Her voice had dropped to a sultry whisper, accompanied with a bold shift of her hips.

Jaw clenching, his grip on her tightened, goading her to keep up with her movements, to which she complied. “You really want to know, luv?” he gruffly asked.

“Dying to know…” she replied through a breathy sigh and a subtle smirk.

It seemed a mere millisecond had passed before one of his hands came up to hold onto the back of her head, pulling her down so he could speak directly into her ear.

“I want to feel you again,” he began, inching his other hand steadily from her hip in the direction of her backside. Guiding the paced movements she was still conducting. “Want to feel you forever,” he continued, words muffled against her.

By now, the strength keeping her propped up had waned and she found herself collapsing against him, once again completely wrapped up in his embrace, adhering to his ministrations, playing into his hands.

“I miss the way you wrap around me, baby,” he kept talking, barely realising each syllable sparked flutters between her legs. “And how sweet you taste…” Maybe he’d forgotten how much she enjoyed his voice in these intimate moments, but as she continued the rolling motion of her hips, the friction against her heightening arousal dragged a choked moan from her throat.

“Oh, ya like the sound of that, do you?” he provoked, his hand now holding onto her rear, but no longer guiding her; she was doing that all on her own. Taking her face in both of his hands, he brought her back up to face him. The familiar flush on her face, hooded eyes, the way her lips had parted and gentle gasps had fallen… “You like me talkin’ like that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she breathed with a wanton nod. “Please…”

“Please, what, darlin’?”

“I-I need you…”

“You need me to do what?” His fingers began a steady journey over her chest, down to her stomach, where he inched his hand under the thin material of her blouse. Skin to skin. Fuck…

She whined, gripping onto his shirt, a furrow in her brow. “You know what I want, Robert…”

“Hmm, not sure I do–”

“I will leave if you keep playing with me.” As much as she wanted her threat to sound genuine, stern, her body was completely ablaze, and there was no way it sounded any stronger than a desperate plea.

Robert smirked at her, sneakily managing to slip his hand further down, until it was snuggly hidden within her trousers, her arousal prominent against the soft lace of her underwear. She gasped as he applied pressure, grounding her hips involuntarily.

“Somethin’ tells me yer not going anywhere, luv.”

Smug prick… Always so fucking charming…

Her eyes fluttered shut as he released the pressure against her underwear, but instantly reapplied it.

“I can already feel how badly you need me, sweetheart,” he casually commented, loving the way he could break her down. Just with a mere touch. “You just have to tell me… then I can give you everything you need and more…”

“My God, just fuck me already…” she murmured, craving more than a simple touch over a layer of clothing. Robert responded with a throaty chuckle, beaming at her as he removed his hand from her trousers and swiftly pulled himself up into a seated position, her legs immediately wrapping around him to stop herself from falling back.

With a challenging glint in his eye, he leaned forward, arms encircled securely around her as she dangled from his lap off the side of the bed. Her hands were holding onto his shoulders, giving him a warning glare.

“Now, now, don’t give me that look…” he chided, lowering his gaze down to her attire. “You look gorgeous in this blazer, but I think it needs to come off now.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” She obediently shrugged the heavy fabric from her shoulders, trusting that Robert wouldn’t drop her in the process. It fell to the floor, landing in a crumple—she’d surely chastise herself when the time came to put it back on, but at that moment, she couldn’t have cared any less.

A sharp squeal exited her mouth as Robert suddenly stood up, swung around and dropped her on the bed. He gave her a cheeky smirk, before lifting her legs to perch on his shoulders. Turning his head, he delicately worked the buckle on her heel loose.

“I like these shoes,” he nonchalantly complimented as he pulled it off her foot, dropping it down the side of the bed, before he repeated the action on the other. He pressed a kiss to her ankle and lowered his hands to unbutton her trousers, tugging at them when she lifted her hips. 

There she was, laid over his bed, in nothing but a white, gossamer blouse and the contrasting underwear in a characteristic black lace.

“Y’know…” Sighing, he crawled over her, allowing her to slowly pop open the buttons of his shirt when he got close enough. “I’ve always wondered—with you in particular—how I managed to get so lucky.” He ran his hands up and down her bare thighs, savouring the smooth skin under his fingertips.

She didn’t necessarily answer him, only sent him a playful eye roll before pushing the intricate silk from his shoulders, where it was then tossed to the side to join her trousers on the floor.

Robert displayed no sign of hesitancy in his shirtless glory; he looked like a transcendental entity—a god of his own likeness. So deserving of everything good, yet the creator of the very same thing. 

Her wandering eyes flooded with lust. She cursed the inability to squeeze her thighs together at the sight, at the situation. But before she could mourn the friction, he was down there in its place, as though he saw right through her longing. The soft fabric of her blouse became too constricting as her heart hammered away at the image of Robert knelt down on the floor with his upper body slotted between her legs, so she unbuttoned the garment, the air around them hitting her skin in a stark revelation.

“I told you I missed how you tasted,” he mumbled against her thigh as he peppered small kisses along the flesh, inching closer to her aching core, but bypassing it to replicate the motions on the other leg. His beard added a bout of sensation, hips rolling upwards in her thinned patience.

When he pressed his mouth against her clothed centre, she exhaled deeply, the simple touch sending sparks all throughout her body. Robert hummed against her as he caught her scent, mouth aching to taste what laid beneath the flimsy material. Soon enough, his own stoicism scattered—he had to have her against his tongue, now.

With a hungry resolve, he pulled the lace down her legs and pushed her open, the sight stirring his fervour below. He glanced up at his Cherry, deftly tracing his thumb over her already teary folds. She had her head settled against the soft sheets, managing her breathing in preparation for the delicious sensations that were to come. My perfect girl… Robert leered proudly, looking back down at the view.

He gently spread her open, her bijou pearl enticing and ready for the taking. Pink, glistening… 

“So pretty…” he murmured to himself, taking an experimental lick just below the sensitive nub, eliciting a small flinch from the goddess laid in front of him. He licked his lips, relishing his appetiser. Next, he flattened his tongue against her entrance, collecting her arousal, and dragging upwards until he gave her the contact she so desperately needed.

By the time he attached his lips to her clit, she was already pining, throbbing. A small cry fell from her lips as he performed a suction motion, tongue swirling around her in lazy circles. She was trapped in his hold as he wrapped his arms around her legs, keeping her open and completely at his mercy.

Robert proved, with the sublime movements he bestowed upon her, that old men do, in fact, do it better.

With a grunt, he pulled his head back long enough to lewdly spit, mixing their fluids together in a union of lust. Her pants were a pleasant breeze to his ears, and her writhing form was his reward.

“That feel good, darlin’?” She nodded her head, one of her legs pulling him closer to her. “Look at me.” With a whimper, she lifted her head with the strength she could muster to meet his stormy eyes—eyes punctuated by grooves of sagacity. “Yer still my good girl,” he praised with a knowing smile, the wisps on his lower face shimmering with her juices. “Aren’t you?” She nodded again, practically unable to speak through her yearning. “Words, luv.”

“Yes… I’m still your good girl,” she shakily succeeded, swallowing thickly.

“Yeah, you are…” he whispered, pressing a brief kiss to her core. “Still Daddy’s good girl…”

She furrowed her eyebrows at the name she hadn’t heard in so long. The name she hadn’t even uttered to anyone else since the last time she found herself in this position with Robert. 

An untamable animal under a gentle predator with an even stronger desire to tame.

“I’m gonna make this pretty little cunt cum now, darlin’,” he hummed, “You just lay back and enjoy every second…” He eased her back down with a hand on her stomach, before lowering his head and resuming with his erotic assault.

An elongated moan expelled from her body as Robert seemed to return with a vengeance, tongue rapid against her pulsating, swollen clit, edging her—driving her—towards a much craved release.

Once he slipped a finger inside, stroking upwards in tandem with his tongue, she was done for. Her moans turned to cries, her whimpers turned to whines, and his name flew from her lips at a rocketing pace. 

Hips gyrating, back arching, she was in ecstasy.

Gripping tightly onto the bed sheet beside her head, her legs tightened over his shoulders, drawing him closer than ever.

Another finger.

More suction.

Closer.

And closer…

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum—don’t stop,” she gasped.

He didn’t.

What followed was nothing short of an otherworldly climax, tensing all over, gripping his fingers and pulsating into his mouth. Her hand shot to his hair, grabbing at the ash-blonde curls as he growled in validation, drinking in her release with the vigour of a water-starved cheetah.

She rode her orgasm out, body shaking and twitching as his comedown kisses hit sensitively against her. Eventually, he ceased his motions, snaking up her body, marking her on his journey. Each searing kiss to her flushed skin accompanied an indentation of his teeth. When he got to her chest, he dragged his lips between her breasts, up her neck, and finally punctuated with a heated kiss to her lips. 

Her remaining clothes were quickly shed, as was his, as they fell deeper into their salacious reunion. Inching up the bed in the scorch of their connection. Both eager, desperate, urgent. It didn’t even feel real when he eventually eased his cock between her legs, filling her up with a steady thrust of his hips.

Robert never seemed to pull back from her; only stayed as close as possible, absorbing her every reaction, even the most miniscule, the most subtle… He noticed everything.

The pace he set. The small tightening of her limbs wrapped around him. The rhythm of her breathing. And, of course, the ripples and twitches and flutters from her welcoming cunt. She took all of him so well—she always did. 

How he’d gone so long without her was a mystery. A foolish decision on his part, for he never felt more alive than when in her presence.

Hooking his arm underneath one leg, her body titled, cock kissing the hilt of her walls with every passion-filled jive. Her moans were melodic at least, with no limitations in their effect on Robert’s reverie. Fingernails raked over his back. Noses brushed against one another. Eyes fought to stay adhered. It was the copulation of a lifetime; even the first night they spent together sat miles from this.

“Cherry…” he groaned, evidently darkened chest hair grazing along her bare skin.

“No…” she managed to choke out, shaking her head. “D… Don’t call me that…”

Even more than her words, her eyes begged him to drop the silly nickname; it scarcely matched the moment, and gave their kinship too superficial a meaning.

With a smile of admiration, he pressed his lips to hers, free hand raking through her hair as his thrusts gained a jolting flair, building them up. Closer, and closer…

“Grace,” he finally whispered against her lips. “Grace, Grace, Grace…” he breathed, dropping his head to her neck.

Her name was exemplary on his lips. He practically chanted it the more he drove into her, knowing he was bringing them both closer by the second.

A lifetime could have passed, and neither one of them would have noticed. Completely, utterly, wrapped up in their mutual admiration for each other. Nothing else mattered. Their jobs, and all the emotions that came with them, were peripheral. Faded into the background. All that remained were the two of them.

Robert and Grace.

“R-Robert…” she panted, lips brushing against his shoulder. “God… fuck, I’m close…”

“Yeah?” he mumbled against her neck, his nipping quickly turning into biting, sucking, claiming.

“Mhm,” she nodded with a whimper, lifting her hips to meet his eager thrusts.

“That’s it, baby…” he approved, ensuring to match their rhythms. His breathing waned in its regularity, a heat rolled over his entire body. Just need to feel her…  “Cum for me, Grace, please… can’t hold it any longer—fuck, you feel so good.”

It took mere minutes after Robert moved to press his forehead against hers, staring her down, for her to finally succumb to his behemoth gifts. She held onto the side of his face, nails digging into his shoulder painfully as she clung to him.

Ears buzzing. Eyes blurring. Head thumping with the beat of her heart. The way she gripped around him, paired with the breathtaking expression of her face as she reached her zenith, was almost too much for him to handle.

“Fucking hell…” he groaned, taking in her responsive form as validation of his abilities. During her descent, he spilled into her, restrain seeming like a fargone possibility. He gyrated, growled, and ensured to empty himself completely inside of her.

Their bodies were tacky, hot, flustered, trembling, as they laid there, entangled in each other’s limbs. Her eyes fluttered open, focusing on the overhead lights in his room that were yet to be switched on since his return home. Having him in her arms, in his bed, was a long-awaited scenario she never thought would come to fruition.

But it had.

Eventually, he rolled over, bringing her into his protective hold. Somewhere, lingering in the back of his mind, he feared she wouldn’t be here come sunrise. That she’d realise she was making a mistake, take one look at him upon waking up, and disappear as quickly as possible. The grip he had on her was his way of keeping her there, with him, for as long as he could.

Though, it just wasn’t enough to ease his mind…

“Grace…” he called out slowly, his voice practically shot.

“Yeah?” She looked up at him, head resting on his chest.

“Can you stay?”

What a question to ask… She raised an eyebrow, looking into his eyes. The uncertainty baffled her. How he thought she might leave was an enigma to her.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” she assured him with a whisper.

He responded with a sigh of relief, and a kiss to her hair, before shifting the two of them further up the bed so they could comfortably bury themselves under his sheets.

There was no second guessing herself as she wrapped her arms around him, his back pressing against her chest. She held him close, smiling to herself when he found her hand, lacing their fingers together in such an affectionate position.

They laid there, lit by only the city lights that spilled through the edges of his curtains, for a few more minutes. Listening to the beating of each other’s hearts, and the steady rhythm of each other’s breathing.

“Will you stay for breakfast?”

Grace opened her eyes, giggling softly. “Yes, Robert. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

Oh, darling… that would be forever.

[whovianofmidgard]

Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗

1) Light Touched

It's dear to my heart 'cos I've been working on it for a long time (started writing the draft of the first chapters a year ago) and I'm finally close to the finish line! It's also fun writing how Elwing, Eärendil, Maglor and Maedhros change because of the Silmarils and how they use their new abilities.

2) Hoofbeats In His Heart's Rythm

Horse Girl Maglor! It was a fun character study to write and explore his relationship with horses from baby Mags to Lord of the Gap and settling into the Third Age.

3) The Wedding of Morgoth

I like Norse Mythology and I like Silm. Put it together and we get the retelling of Thor dressing up as a bride to get Mjöllnir back, but this time it's Maedhros wearing the wedding dress to scam the Silmarils from Morgoth, with Maglor taking Loki's speaking role and Sauron is there to cause problems. It's funny and I'm proud of coming up with this in the first place.

4) Stomp the Music, Dance the Wine

This was the first fic for Maedhros and Maglor week that I came up with. A happy little Kidnap fam fic where I took elements of my Hungarian heritage and incorporated into Amon Ereb's culture, from the fashion I dress Maglor and Maedhros in, to the dancing while stomping grapes and the musical instruments I name drop.

5) Losgar Unburnt

I origionally intended this to remain a one-shot, but all the positive feedback has made my imagination working and now I'm planning multiple follow up fics for it and even have a WIP in the works. Time-travel fix-its are popular when it comes to AUs, and the fic has the twist of the PoV character (Maglor) reacting to things happening that the time traveller (Maedhros) does.

[jinkookspencil]

my daisy | kth

you're late... but your lifelong crush helps you get ready

description/tags: taehyung one-shot / angst and suggestive / taehyung is her childhood family friend and neighbor / historical!AU! / this can be any historical era you wish it to be, it was inspired by the regency era, bridgerton, and taehyungs photofolio but it can be the early 1900s if you want it to be too it's really not that specific / ~1.9k words

rating: 18+ minors dni / 18+ even though it's suggestive because it starts out in an 18+ way but reader is alone (she is touching herself) /

author's note: this is my first time writing taehyung!! i had this written in my drafts for a while, intending to publish it when layover was out in celebration of him! <3 finally completely edited for like the third time and now i can finally get to work on my requests. i hope you guys like it :') i literally gave him one of my favorite scenarios of all time.

A chill summer breeze wafts through the windows, cooling your otherwise sweltering bedroom… though a bead of sweat forms at your hairline, for your bare body still radiated heat. 

The sudden air against your folds tickled, right while you’d been playing and feeling through and within them while lying atop the restricting cotton bedsheets, your other hand lost in the tangles of your own hair.

 “T-t-t….” you moan into the dimly lit room, imagining it’d been the hand of your brother’s best friend getting you close to the edge instead of your own. His name almost slips from your lips….

But the man himself storms into your room instead.

“Mr. Kim!” you screech, seeing him at your side at once. Quick to grab the pillow from beneath your hips and jerk the sheet below until it was free from its tidy dressing onto the mattress, you were unkemptly covered in seconds. “Get out!”

But Kim Taehyung still stood before you, head merely tilted downwards, waiting for you to properly wrap your bare body with the fabric. Tugging the thin sheet tightly at the back, you'd been oblivious to the fact that it outlined every curve and dip of your figure and truly, was all the more tantalizing to the man before you who'd been obviously failing his attempts not to steal glances at you through his periphery. It was unsurprising.

Taehyung had always been a menace. The boy never listened, never followed any rules except his own, and evidently never learned how to knock on another’s door. 

It was no secret to your family that you'd been smitten with Taehyung, the neighbor’s only grandson, since childhood, long before he grew to be your brother's most trusted friend. He'd been your friend first, after all, until the two of you had come of age and society deemed such a friendship inappropriate with youthful, hurried engagements, infatuations, and hormone-riddled courtships running amuck...

It proved to be a lifelong infatuation that followed you into womanhood, and though the days spent picking flowers, reading fairy tales, and ‘make-believe teatime’ were long behind you, his friendship with your brother still kept Taehyung in your life, and you were as thankful for it as the fond, playful memories of your youth.

The sheer power of your own feelings only made itself apparent when he’d went away to begin his apprenticeship in France with no promise of an engagement or any indication of reciprocated feelings. Despite an initial sorrow, the longing had turned into an ache in your chest that seemed impossible to ignore, only slightly remedied by his occasional letters and gifts. It was a short-lived hope that he could still be yours. His return as society’s most eligible, handsome, and accomplished bachelor only made it harder to confess - for everyone fell under Taehyung's spell.

With rumors of his charming reputation and dedicated work in France swirling through society and countless men and women organizing courting arrangements before he'd even arrived a month ago, you thought to make haste with your confession, but your half-written love letters were ultimately kept away in the drawers right behind where he'd stood now, with the postcards, letters, and gifts he'd sent you over that time. And you'd spent all those nights with him away just as you had tonight, imagining he'd been there, in your very room, bare as you'd been right beside you... And it had to have happened as such.  

“Oh, I apologize, Miss_____,” he says calmly, and the hint of a smirk appears on his face before he turns to face away from you, “But I’m here on orders of your dear mother. You’re, uhm, expected?”

Fuck. You lost track of time. 

“Should I tell her you’re not feeling well?” 

“No. No, I have to be there, sir. I’m expected to make at least one possible match tonight,” you panic, slithering into the undergarments you’d discarded by the bed earlier. Too hasty to feel shame, and, for the first time, thankful that women’s undergarments cover more than they ever should, you march to the wooden partition, only for your corset to be in Taehyung’s hands.

“Allow me to help,” he offers with a smile. “Your sisters are furious at your being late already, and well, I’m the only one who won’t give you an earful.”

You resign, stepping between Taehyung and the mirror and readying yourself into the corset. Looking at your reflection, you could see your figure and breasts through the sheer chemise with ease…. Practically as naked as you had been. And the man you’d who held your corset and your affection in his hands was staring at the same image with a blank expression on his face. 

“This is absolutely humiliating,” you groan, inhaling as he pulls the strings of your corset. Your breasts rise above, forming a perfect, heaving cleavage that remains there, perfectly shaped, as your torso is pulled back…. But only ever so slightly. This was new…. comfortable, and…. just as shapely and alluring. A miracle.

“….It fits well and isn’t as tight as when the girls do it… you have practice, I assume, tying women’s corsets?” you say, taking in your reflection and silently wondering if the man behind you stole another glimpse before he swiftly tied the knot at your back - or if you’d compared to the beauties he must’ve courted in Paris.

Tutting, he ignores the question. His fingers remain at your back, playing with the strings he’d just tied together before tracing your corset's hem. You don't push his hands away when he continues to trace the boning to where it lies below your breast, until his long, elegant fingers ghost your stomach and he pulls his hand away.

It’s only when he steps backward that you exhale comfortably, highly unusual in such a corset, and in the reflection, you see Taehyung grab the dress you were due to wear from its hook behind the partition that enclosed you. He hands it to you without a word from where he stood at your back and with his help, you quickly step into the silky dress, and he ties it up just the same. 

The color of the dress allowed your skin to shine as brightly as the rhinestones that adorned it, laid perfectly across your breasts and capsleeves…. Admiring them so, you remember the accompanying jewelry you’d prepared for the evening, a dainty set of earrings, which you put on in a millisecond, and its matching necklace.

“Allow me,” Taehyung says in a hush from behind you, tracing down your arm until he reaches the necklace in the palm of your hand. He brushes your hair to the side, the gentle graze of his fingertips sending chills down your spine as he works away at the lock. 

“There”, he says, close enough for you to feel the breath of the word at your nape.

Thankful his gaze was fixated there, chilling as it may be, you quickly attempt to hide your heavy breathing and the rise and fall of your chest by working away at your hair, braiding and pinning it in minutes until you looked like every other 'hopeful' bachelorette.

With a dazzling look and the event kicking off the society’s courting season… you were sure to catch the wild eyes of plenty of eligible bachelors, much to your chagrin. You were at an appropriate age to be wed, let alone courted…. but it was clear that you could never feel about a man what you felt for Taehyung. Every other dead-end meeting your mother had set up in the time he’d been away proved that fact and only frustrated her further, especially when you’d turned down both of Taehyung’s now-married cousins, the highly educated and well-off brothers Namjoon and Seokjin. ‘Artistic boys get you nowhere,’ she��d said, trying to secure your future despite having a soft spot for Taehyung herself. 

Now, in the mirror, you could see. Lust. Love. Trust. Humiliation. Your own sinful desire reflected back at you, along with Taehyung's striking side profile. Disregarding the mirror altogether, he had his head turned towards you, surely close enough to smell the rosy scent on your skin, on which you'd continuously felt his warm breathing.

“You look ravishing,” he finally mutters. “You looked beautiful even then.”

“Even then?” 

“Before France…” he whispers, toying with the silky fabric at your shoulders. “And tonight....before this…. Especially before this.”

You finally break your own gaze, turning to face him and allowing your nose to brush against his, noting his floral scent… daisies specifically… the kind you’d always play with…. With a hint of some French cologne… The person you always knew, and the man he came to be… 

“Any man would be lucky to dance with you.”

“It is not any man that I would wait for. It is not any man that I want…” you whisper, taking Taehyung’s hand and placing it on your waist. But his hand moves, quick to wrap around you and pull your body right against his.

“And what is it that you want so badly?”

Taehyung’s head tilts as his gaze fixates on a spot on your neck, biting at his lower lip and ready to do the same to your exposed skin. His lips meet your neck….

And a loud knock is heard on your door.

“_____, mother is waiting!” you hear through the door. “We’re all waiting. What’s taking you so long? Should I help with the corset?”

Oh… Right.

The two of you exhale against each other, Taehyung’s breath warmer than it had been…. even nicer. But he pulls away, ever so slightly.

“No! No, did that myself. A minute more,” you say, loud enough for your little sister to hear through the door.

“You did your own corset? Strange. Well, do you have any idea where Tae is? None of us can find him after mother sent him up here, and I want to show him how cutely I'd dressed up the teddy bear he got me!” your sister continues. “Mr. Kim Namjoon came looking for him too. Did he run off to the event ahead of us?”

“I don’t know,” you say, avoiding Taehyung’s gaze. “Now run off. I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

“I should go,” you say quietly, when you’d heard your sister’s footsteps fade. “I’ll see you there?”

Taehyung nods as he unwraps his arm from around your body, licking the lips you'd almost met.

You hear your name being called lowly from behind you just as you open your bedroom door. Turning only your head, you resist the urge to slam the door shut and kiss away the sudden anguish on Taehyung’s face.

“Save me a dance.”

“Two,” you reply, and he chuckles, walking towards you and taking your hand in his.

"I won't delay you further, my daisy. Tonight, I ask you for a dance, but soon... I hope you'll allow me to ask for this as well." Taehyung brings your hand up to his face, kissing your knuckles with his eyes closed, fluttering them open, and looking at you through his lashes with his lips still there. He doesn't wait for a reply. “Go.” 

[hhighkey]

Decode // Chapter Ten, Red Wine

Dracule Mihawk (opla) x OC (female)

Rating: mature

Story Contains: live action characters, related and non-related one piece plots, unspecified religion, OC is a nun on sabbatical, trauma, violence, age gap (40 v 23), insecurities and self doubts, possessive / protective behavior, kidnapping, true loves, eventual smut

Note, meh about this chapter but also tried to flesh out the explanation of what happened of her job over a year ago hope it makes sense

Masterlist

-

When Sabine came to, a cold dread washed over her, chills racing down her spine. With numbing drowsiness still prevalent, she tried to move but she was groggy, her attempt to sit up cut off as a harsh feeling around her wrists burned. Haze. Then a panic jolted inside her, cutting through the heavy fog. She tugged. Nothing. She yanked again with all the might she could muster while her heart hammered against her ribs. But with her hands above her head as she lay on a wooden table, attempts would be futile. 

Craning her head up, neck sore, she glanced around through blurry eyes, a plain room all that met her. Blank walls, dresser in the corner, and a lone window. It was open and a cold draft leaked in, Sabine shivered as she fitfully tried to free herself ignoring each gnawing pang. God everything hurt, she couldn’t pinpoint where it originated, feeling like death all over. Head pounded. Sides tender with sharp pain. And legs throbbing, slow to move as she tried to kick them. 

The rope rubbed excruciatingly against her skin. She gasped trying to make leeway. Trying to get at least one wrist hand. But tears pricked her eyes and high pitched, hoarse whimpers passed her lips as the twine burned as it left her raw, a warmth trickling down her wrists that stung. 

“I wouldn’t do that.”

She blinked furiously, trying to make out the figure amongst the blinding light that closed in on her. Trying to place the voice, its familiarity taunted her. It scratched the back of her head, light and feathery, a kind of pain that traveled down her spine as if paralyzing her from how hard she strained. 

“See, you’ve managed to hurt yourself already.” The voice tsk’d. 

Giorgio. His name splayed red in her vision, the letters etched out, Flashes of him in her mind, from the first time they met to when she saw him out on the street the other week.

A burst of hate bubbled and spewed out her chest, causing her to tug at her binds once again, “Fucking hell.”

“A nun shouldn’t say such things.”

Her eyes widened as cold realization sparked. Another rush of memories, this time of decaying, dead bodies amongst a fitfull of books and research. An onslaught of spinning thoughts that screamed at her to put the pieces of the puzzle together. 

“Wait.”

“Oh I can see it- the answer’s on the tip of your pretty little tongue.” Giorgio spoke with glee, a twisted grin on his lips.

“Are you- behind all this?” 

He moved closer causing her to spasm, yanking at her binds once again with pitiful desperation. The rope burn only increased, only made her wrists inflamed and red. Sensitive. Exposed. Even the air caused them to sting much to her chagrin who found herself in a precarious situation. Stuck. Vulnerable. All with a man she despised who was more than a clown who reveled in harassing others. She thought him truly harmless past that, not a murderer. Not the demon who haunted her dreams!

“I was shocked to see you with the great Dracule Mihawk, yes I know who he is. How’d you get him to come along on your pathetic adventure?” 

“That’s none of your business.” She whimpered. Tears flowed free and she cursed herself for it. 

“But it is. I’m supposed to be having my fun. Yet a Warlord of the Sea prances on in! Do you know who accompanies you?” His stern eyes stared at her with blazing fire. She wished she could shrink into nothingness, “Do you realize how strong he is? What he’s capable of?”

She shook her head as she began to sob between her teeth. She tried to fight it, “N-No.”

“There aren't many in our world that are more powerful than him.” 

Ghastly words. Sent numbing shocks of electricity down her spine, down her nerves from her head to her toes. Blood rushed to her head, feeling beginning to go null in her hands. 

“Then he’ll kill you.”

“Yes. But I’ll have the fun I’m missing out on by killing, with you!”

“Explain the demon. How?” She demanded as if she were in a place to, trying to wrap her head around how his scheme was possible.

“Artistic touch.” Giorgio’s eyes raked over her, a glint in them, “Let's get you up, figured tying you up would send a message. Don’t try to run, girl.” 

As if she could with the lack of feeling in all her extremities. How her vision pulsed from the throbbing behind her temple. Bile churned in her gut. Nausea rose in her throat as he helped her to sit up after undoing the binds. Sabine immediately cradled her wrists trying to shy away from him, trying not to hurl as his hands felt her up. Disgusting fingers prodded at her sides, at her arms, feeling the strands of her hairs.  

“If I’m being honest, I’m terrified. It took days of planning to get it right, to lead him away convincingly it had to be perfect. A man like him sees through weakness. I’m all tired from it. I need rest, my heart hasn’t stopped racing.” 

“Please- let me go.” She begged, already reduced to her fear and her instincts to appeal to him. To at least try and convince him to change his mind. She could only imagine the litany of ideas he had in his head towards her. 

“No no. You know I’m behind the killings.”

“You ate a devil fruit, right?” 

“Mhmm. I’m glad you’re not stupid to believe it was really a demon.” 

“How… it was a nun… it-”

“I can pray upon what people fear, bring it into physical reality. Use it as a puppet. You religious folk are just easy, easy to guess what you fear deep down. Watching you lot fight my puppet with prayers? Oh! I couldn’t help but play along, leading you to think that cheap music box was its source? Brilliant on my part.”

Giorgio pulled her to her feet and as she collapsed he caught her. Steadying her, he held her waist as they began to walk out the room. Legs felt like marshmallows. Like she’d spent months out on the sea finally to come back ashore. Head whirling, she must have hit it when she went unconscious in that bathroom. The memories of how she’d turned to come face to face with the “nun demon” upon turning around, made her cringe. And his touch as they walked down a dark brick hallway was like being thrown under violent waves, only to be held down. The man behind her nightmares. Behind her self doubt. The reason she went on sabbatical- now led her to an unknown location as her wrists continued to bleed. Had kidnapped her! Tied her up!

Sabine’s body goes lax as she became lightheaded, she stumbled and folded in half. Giorgio cackled as she puked, emptying her stomach contents and then bile. Spewed jokes as she coughed up nothing, gagging and face turning red. Eyes bloodshot. Snot running down. 

“You…” She straightened, stumbling as she lasered in on him, “Let us think we helped.”

“Yep.”

“And while you protested against the church during our investigation?”

“Right again. I would have done it again too if you came back with more priests, with that cardinal who works in the archive. Instead you brought a Warlord.”

Her life felt like a lie. Were all her beliefs turning to be false? She didn’t want to be a nun, conformed to survive. She struggled due to what she believed to be a demon. All the while her subconscious told her it wasn’t over. And a man was behind it. A simple, small man who tried to stain the church for fun. The reason behind her sabbatical felt like a lie, one big slap in the face. 

Dizzying, she went to step back, only to be wanked forward. He dragged her by her arm, uncaring for her cries as the raw skin of her wrists burned.

Where was she? Half rotted floorboards. Crumbling walls. Shards of glass below empty windows. Outdated furniture with layers of dust. As if she were transported to an earlier time period, or in the matriarch’s room with her horrid taste in decor. The air was thick with after rain, sweet and earthy and it invaded her senses as she remembered it was raining when he took her.

An open space, a collapsing fireplace that’d seen better years, a centerpiece of the room. An upholstered maroon couch in front of it. A hardwood table far too low to the ground held a litany of alcoholic bottles, from half drunk to empty, to full. It left a sour note in her mouth as he forced her to stumble towards the couch, then waved his arm in a grand gesture as if an open invitation to sit. 

Which she accepted, not as gracefully as she intended, her limbs still stiff as she moved. How her grown tangled up in her legs before she plopped to the couch, eyes refusing to leave Giorgio’s body, just in case. Looking for any sign of movement as her heart was beating steadily in her throat. Was this a trap? 

The silence between them was excruciating. Unknowns swirling violently, as Giorgio padded to the wine as if he were playing ‘the good host.’ Two glasses sit pliant. Purposefully, she knows. 

It took a minute, a gruelingly slow one, for him to uncork a new bottle. The deep red wine poured into the glasses filling them halfway. Taking them up into his hands, he swirled them just so before handing one off to her. Sabine would not drink it. The smell was pungent as it wafted up to her nose, causing her to gag. 

Shrinking into the furthest corner of the couch she was able, she watched him sit on the other end. How he drank the wine, far too fast as half went down with ease. He looked conflicted, she saw it in the midst of the fanatically far away look he held. Ideas bloomed while her body ached, forced to tell herself not to give out. Not to give in to how her wrists felt they’d fall off any second, or how her vision swayed every few seconds. 

A solemn look washed over Giorgio. Morose eyes, staring through the half empty glass as if he was somewhere else. Sabine squirmed as she watched from her chair, studied him then studied her surroundings. Even though he seemed distracted, lost in thought she didn’t want to try anything. There was something peculiar going on, her chest tightening and mouth feeling dryer than usual. Her eyes flitted to the bottle of wine then to the glass beside her. Temptation. She steeled herself; if the Sisterhood had taught her anything was how to refuse such, how to live with nothing even if she wanted everything. 

“Do you know what wine symbolizes?” Giorgio finally broke the pregnant silence in the room that felt it would burst from the building pressure. 

She shook her head as a befuddled guise crossed her face. He talked to hear his own voice or to get a rise out of her, Sabine had to remind herself. And what did such symbolization have to do with this? 

“Red wine is supposed to be the blood of the Father, correct? So it could mean love, wisdom, light? But some believe it to be death, like myself with its bitter taste. I think it fits the deep red color well, like it really is blood. White wine is probably for all that spiritual goodness bullshit, it's easier to get down.” 

How he looked at his glass, eyes glazed as if he were far away, it was haunting. His lips twitched. And for the first time, Sabine knows she’s gazing upon true evil. And she thought she’d been around it before. But this thing in front of her… Made her quake. 

“What… are you trying to say?” Her voice wavered, she tried to keep it steady. Careful. 

“You’re a Sister, no? I’m confessing my thoughts to you.”

“Normally that’d take place in a church.” Sabine didn’t intend for her tone to come across as harsh, but it did. 

“The location shouldn’t matter.” He huffed, “You won’t be able to out smart me, dear, I know what you’re trying to do.”

Dear. The affectionate term off his tongue did not fill her with butterflies like when Mihawk said it. Instead it made her feel dirty, as if coated with thick layers of ash as her stomach churned. 

“I’m not trying anything.” She murmured, focusing back on the wine glass in her hand. Watching the small sloshes of the liquid as she tries to keep her hand stable. It was starting to feel like dozens of pounds, she wanted to be rid of it.

His head fell to one side, “Are you not going to drink any?”

“I’m not.”

“Pity. Hand it over.” He motioned for her, holding his arm out taut as he leaned forward. As if they were two friends sharing a drink and having a chat.

They aren’t hanging out- he had no right to act so casual! Not while she’s teetering on the edge of a full breakdown, of going comatose from the stress picking her apart. 

She watched with disgust as he knocked it back with a long gulp, not bothering to hide her contempt. His teeth stained maroon as he grinned, swirling the remainder of her wine. There was not enough room between them. Sabine wished to disappear into the old couch, let it swallow her up to save her from the discomfort and anxiety that plagued her. 

“Why did you return? I never minded you last year, you were polite, clearly not an idiot like the rest of those church folk we deal with on a daily basis in this city.”

“I’m..” She cleared her throat, her heart feeling as if it skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure what to say or how to go about it. He was a tea kettle sitting over a fire, any moment he could begin his shrieking and boil over, “Here by chance. The crew I was with stopped for supplies, I couldn’t bring myself to go with them.”

“I see, I can fill in the rest. You’re just investigating on your own. But how did you meet the Warlord? I doubt he’s a patron of your church.”

“By chance as well.” 

“By chance.” He made a retching noise, tongue out before continuing, “Boring. I’ve been watching you, because by the Father intrigued me last time you were on this Isle. I couldn’t get you out of my head, wondered if you noticed everyone I started killing resembled you?”

She went rigid, the breath stolen from right out her lungs. 

“I suppose not.” He shrugged, “No matter, I’ll tell you anyway… I dreamed of you like I’m sure my demon I created to taunt the church haunted you. I really jazzed up the dead, unnerving nun shape for it. I promised myself if you ever came back, I’d take you. I hoped you would, you seemed like the type who wouldn’t let things go even with the doctored finish that night with your prayers. I’m glad I was right.”

As if the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees she began to shiver, a frigid breeze wrapped around her. It licked from her exposed ankles up to the skin of her neck. Goosebumps swarmed all over her skin. 

“Take me?” It was barely above a whisper.

“Well I don’t know if I want to kill you or keep you. Never figured that part out.”

“We only met a few times, never savory encounters.” She stammered, words tripping over one another unable to keep up with the speed her brain was processing at. Thinking about every time they’d been in the other’s presence, she could count them on one finger! And never had she taken away something pleasant from those interactions, just a gut feeling that there was something wrong with the man. Unsettling. A troublemaker at least. No wonder she couldn’t sleep at night, convinced danger was still amuck.

“Doesn’t matter. You left your impression on me, much like the strange minx who did a decade ago that I almost ruined myself for. Whole story, I won’t tell. But I’m a man who becomes obsessed, all my boundaries and senses blur as one. I blame the devil fruit, really. A puppet master only knows manipulation, that fucked with my head, who cares if I cannot swim? It’s exhausting to pilot a shell while having to pilot myself.”

Sabine wanted to ask why he was telling her all of that; why he would spill his rambling thoughts that felt like a monologue of sorts. Spilling every idea, all his plans out haphazardly. Whether to disarm her or not. She also wondered if he didn't realize it, that if being in her premise allowed him to lower walls. People trusted nuns- in the sense they’ll tell them their dirtiest secrets. He had to be confessing or using her as an outlet for his guilt, she told herself. 

“Then don’t.”

“Hmm?” 

She reiterated, “You said it’s tiring using your devil fruit ability, so don’t use it.”

His face cracked into glee, a hideous cackle falling from his lips. He laughed from the depths of his belly so hard he fell forward from where he sat, soon wiping at his eyes. 

As he howled in entertainment from her suggestion, frustration grew in her chest. 

This was ridiculous! 

Sabine rose with suddennes. Giorgio immediately stopped his mocking hysterics, how quick his face could morph into an emotion on the opposite end of the spectrum. A vexed look crossed him, a brow raising, watching her. He watched how she brushed off her dress with a huff, stared him dead in the eyes and turned to walk away. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” He stood. 

“I’m not tied up anymore, you’re being punitive, I’m leaving.”

“You’re not my guest! You’re a prisoner.”

“I didn’t realize prisoners got offered wine.” Waking up tied to a table had worn on her in a way she hadn’t realized until now. Her body ached, screamed for proper sleep in a proper bed. She had no patience to spare with this game of his, she wasn’t thinking straight either. If she were she would have known not to test a killer the way she was, ignorant and childish it could have appeared. But all Sabine wanted was to escape his perimeter and this wretched building that felt it was caving in. 

And she ached for Mihawk. But perhaps that ache, that knowledge of him caused her to be reckless. Caused her to try to stand up to leave. Because she knew he’d come for her, it’d be any minute now, especially since she wasn’t sure how long since Giorgio had taken her. Her trust in Mihawk ran so deep that she dared this stunt, when perhaps she would have played along better to observe and plot. Exhaustion was wearing her down like thousands of pounds sat upon her shoulders. 

A shadow moved in one of the doorways, a quick flash, yet Sabine just caught it. 

She seized. Planted in her spot as Giorgio stalked towards her, like she was his prey. A sudden awareness that they were not alone, that another pair of eyes watched her. Darkness she knew all too well. Darkness that followed her since last year, plagued her in the night. Tendrils of pitch black that would choke her, claws that would sink into her, death. 

She watched a figure form from the dust that surrounded them. A small tornado like vortex that imbued a slimy like gook she recognized from the victim’s bodies. It morphed, grotesque like until it mirrored that of a person. 

Her stomach dropped. A strangled cry choked out as she cried out into her hands, pupils large and shaking with distress. 

There it stood; with its black eyes and blood red lips. The monster of her nightmares in front of her, standing lax like the puppet it was. It did not have the same vicious movements as it was void, null and it continued to shatter what she once believed. 

“Remember the broken pews? The broken stained glass? Strong winds? All party tricks I can whip up, creating puppets starts quite the wind storm.” 

“I’m going to be sick.” She gagged, feeling dizzy as she swayed. 

Pain shot up her legs as she sank to the floor, knees scuffing against the hard floor. Pulsating in her head, surroundings were hazed and littered with black dots. 

Footsteps sounded, then appeared in front of her. Sabine didn’t have the will to look up as the floorboards creaked and he crouched down. No will to jerk away as he used his pointer finger to force her chin up. Gazes connected like a lightning rod and it sent jolts down her spine, she swallowed hard to not throw up. 

“I have plans. Be good and stay, huh? Your friend will watch over you for me, so wander all you want but you won’t get to leave leave.” 

Under the watchful stare of what she once thought to be a demon, Sabine stayed in that spot. She stared at her wrists, at the ugly marks that maimed her skin. That still throbbed from layers of the epidermis being removed from the ropes, beads of fresh blood and dried that had trickled down. 

She’d pull herself together, she just needed a minute, a minute with the evil in the room. A minute to wallow and think, then she’d look around. Right? Yeah, it sounded like a good idea. And as her body thumped to the ground, she’d finally get some well needed rest. 

-

posted: august 22 2024

taglist : @zzbloody-animezz @honeybeezgobzzzzz @mythical-goth @iraaiitz @moonmaiden1996

[ghastlyfilters]

your buddy misses you | al capone

pairing; none. just a little fic about al and his son.

a/n; this has been in my drafts for AGES despite my current interest being trainspotting. also i hope this is accurate to the actual 1930’s!! (i try my best to study well when it comes to history) the only thing that isn’t accurate is we know that the real sonny was only partially deaf, so i’m not exactly sure why boardwalk made him fully deaf. but seeing as this is a boardwalk fic, i’ll just roll with it.

plot; al is in deep thought whilst in his prison cell, listening to a familiar song that once made him smile so long ago. now it fills him with a great amount of sadness. meanwhile sonny is at home, missing his father.

gifs not mine!! (creds to fancykraken)

PLEASE DON’T READ IF MENTIONS OF IMPRISONMENT, DECLINING HEALTH, ANGST OR GRIEF AFFECT YOU!!

MASTERLIST

The harsh static of the rather fine radio Al kept in his cell filled the area, agitating him.

He was already in a foul mood. Well, not that he was ever jumping for joy in this place, anyhow. But tonight was one of those nights he truly felt alone.

Usually, having alone time in prison was all Al ever wanted nowadays. His mind had became so lost that he constantly thought everyone was out to get him, or they would be daring to challenge him.

The Syphilis had really taken its toll, and quite frankly he’d turned into a completely different man. Even before getting put in here, he had either been heavily coked up or average thoughts he should’ve remembered had been practically slipping his mind quicker than they should’ve.

Not to mention the withdrawals. Jesus. He’d gotten almost everything he wanted in here. Including the luxurious cell he found himself sat in. But that familiar white powder he craved so dearly was where the foot had been put down.

Al would never admit it, but he was ill. Fucking ill.

It hadn’t even been this bad in Atlanta. In fact, his time and wellbeing in Atlanta were relatively okay. But things had gone downhill since Alcatraz, and he knew it.

His health was awful. And when the psychiatrist he’d been forced to see in here told him that both his psychical and mental health were suffering, he almost gave her scars much too like the own ones that dragged down his face and upper neck.

They wanted to run too many damn tests for his liking to see if the Syphilis had improved after the injections despite his multiple denials, but in the end he was just seen as a stubborn bastard, so they hadn’t updated anything just yet.

Now they’d began to think he was a looney tune and briefly spoke about sending him to the psychiatric part of the prison. Some had said he was beginning to develop the mind of a twelve year old rather than a man in his thirties. And Al was furious.

Despite his health being the way it was, he didn’t care. He really did not care. He would’ve preferred to be back free once again and continued on to hide his health from those who didn’t need to know about it. Even his wife..

Even Sonny.

Sonny. The one name that still put a Cheshire Cat grin on his face.

He missed his son dearly. More than the coke. More than sitting in the Lexington Hotel getting folk to run around wild for him. He just missed Sonny more than anything really.

His boy had bloomed into a fine young gentleman. And Al was ready to slit the throat of anyone who dared to call him both deaf and dumb. Sure, Sonny might’ve been deaf. But the boy was far from dumb.

He was so different to his father. And instead of being hurt by that, Al was so proud of him. He wasn’t sneaking off despite his hearing loss and getting up to all sorts on the streets like Al did.

No. Sonny was the type who liked to sit in his own company, innocently reading a book and not bothering a soul.

Al certainly made sure his love for Sonny never went unnoticed. He’d wrote him so many times after being locked up, and every word that was put on that piece of paper was well and truly heartfelt. He loved his boy so very much. He couldn’t give two shits about how cruel others thought he was. When it came to Sonny, his heart only bled with fatherly love.

His attention was drawn back to the same crackling static that hissed from the radio once again. So much for it being the best version anyone could get for now.

Each whiny crackle that came out made Al want to scream and bang on the walls like the maniac they all thought he was. It didn’t take long before his temper overcame him once again, his fists now clenched. He had them shut so tight he swore he almost felt his blood flow momentarily change.

“DAMN YOU!” Al spat angrily, picking up a small wooden cup filled with pens and launching it at the radio with a loud crash.

It hit the floor, but it didn’t break. The static had finally quietened down. Then it stopped at last.

Al collapsed onto his bed with a sigh of relief, glad he’d let go of all the anger bubbling inside him. But he paused, and his eyes were drawn back to the radio once again.

Instead of static, the start of a song started to play. But not just any song. An all too familiar tune Al had cherished for a specific reason for the past few years now.

Life is a book that we study

Some of its leaves bring a sigh

There it was written, my Buddy

That we must part, you and I…

He lay on his back, closing his eyes. And for what felt like the first time in ages.. a big smile made its way onto his face.

Oh, Sonny..

Sonny Capone was comfortably sat back in his chair at a desk in the corner of his room. His nose was buried into another book again. One that he was enjoying a lot, actually.

Reading was probably one of the only things he still did like doing nowadays. When.. he left.. Sonny lost a lot of interest in taking part of hobbies he once adored doing before. This didn’t go unnoticed. If anything, it hadn’t helped with the stress Mae had already been faced with. Everyday she worried for her son and the toll all of this must have been taking on him.

Nights are long since you went away

I think about you all through the day…

The corners of his mouth twitched upward as he read through the paragraphs, thoroughly entertained by the story he was reading.

But soon enough, that small smile on his face became a sad frown. His eyes skimmed through paragraphs, and he then looked away, closing the book.

One of the characters had briefly mentioned the pain of missing someone. And it had actually annoyed Sonny whilst reading it. He hated being reminded of that feeling. It was constant.

He felt that way when he went to sleep, then woke up the next morning. And all throughout the day. Then the cycle repeated itself over and over. He didn’t need some stupid book to tell him what that was like. He knew. Oh.. he knew.

My buddy, my buddy

Nobody quite so true…

The night his father never came home gutted him. He had been briefly prepared by Al, but it didn’t stop the pain. And seeing his name in the papers the next morning was even worse. His mother’s cries from that day would forever haunt him. Yeah, she was expecting it too, but poor Mae had worked herself up to that very moment of finding out he’d been found guilty. Her anxiety was through the roof.

Didn’t stop the paparazzi scumbags from surrounding them in public too. Sonny was beyond furious that day. He’d sworn he felt his father’s rage overcome him for a moment.

Sonny closed the book and chucked it to the floor. Perhaps reading wasn’t helping as much as he thought. The boy exhaled slowly, and closed his eyes for a moment. He had a quick flashback within the depths of his mind. One that made him smile.

He remembered all the times his father had played the mandolin for him as a child. Despite not hearing it, he still found watching his father playing an instrument comforting.

Miss your voice, the touch of your hand

Just long to know that you understand…

There was one time that really stuck out to him. He’d been getting picked on at school, and back then he never understood why. His father had tried to teach him how to fight, but it just made his little mind spin with confusion. And in result, the boy just cried. So to make it up to him, Al pulled out that same mandolin again, awakening Sonny from his slumber.

The only way he knew his father was singing was touching his throat to feel the vibrations of his vocal cords. It was either that, or Sonny had to pay very close attention to Al’s lips. But actually being able to feel his father sing rather than hearing it, was surprisingly more comforting than anything.

My buddy, my buddy…

Your buddy misses you.

Sonny opened his eyes from the memory, wiping a stray tear that had fallen onto his cheek.

Oh, Dad..

[sleepyhollands]

important

hi my loves. as many of you know, i’ve been sleepyhollands on tumblr since 2020. since then, i’ve written fanfiction about tom holland and co., peter parker, and harry styles. most recently (and i say this loosely because this was a year ago) i posted a demon!harry blurb that received a lot of attention, and i announced it would become a mini-series. however, after much deliberation, i’ve decided against moving forward with writing on tumblr altogether.

i didn’t come to this decision lightly, because i feel like i have so much left to create, and the fanfiction community i run in has been so lovely and supportive of me over the years. i also feel guilt over letting go of a project i promised to complete. but at the end of the day, i know this is the right choice for me.

there’s a few reasons. for starters, i feel as though my life is really fast-paced at the moment (and for the foreseeable future), and i don’t quite have time to write in day to day life. for a couple years now, every time i’ve sat down to start writing, it’s felt like a chore. for the demon!harry mini-series, i wrote (i kid you not) at least 20 drafts of the first chapter, which is why i kept promising the release “soon,” but it never came. it felt so forced each time i read it back, and once i realized i had fallen out of love with writing, i knew i would never end up finishing the series. so i figured it would be best to not start it at all for the sake of saving everyone from a story they would never know the end of.

additionally, i’ve lost interest in the people i’ve written about. that’s not to say i don’t love them as people/characters and won’t continue to support them in their careers, i just don’t feel motivated to create or consume content about them anymore. again, it feels more like something i have to do rather than something i want to do, and that’s no fun for anyone.

finally, and i truly hate to say this… i’ve honestly come to dislike what reading and writing fanfiction has come to. now, i’d like to make it very clear that i am not attacking any creators either on tumblr, wattpad, or ao3. i love all my mutuals and the writers i consume content from. that being said, this new culture of “social media alternate universes,” “text message alternate universes,” and my least favorite: capitalizing on fanfiction through patreon or other related sites has just made me less and less inclined to engage in the fanfiction community.

our generation is so phone/social media-oriented that it’s made its way into the content i’d prefer to just read. and if that’s your cup of tea, that’s totally fine! consume whatever content you enjoy, seriously. but i don’t get fulfillment from reading make-believe text threads or instagram posts, and i’m noticing it more and more, to the point where blocking tags such as “#smau” just isn’t cutting it anymore.

and the patreon thing…. listen, i get that we live in a world where people are just trying to make money in any way they can. i’m not judging in the slightest. it’s hard out here, i understand. that being said, the beauty and allure of fanfiction to me is that it’s free— it’s pure and accessible to everyone. and i’ve found that i’m simply not willing to spend money on a non-essential product i used to be able to consume free of cost. i mean that in the least petty way possible, truly. i’m not calling it immoral, or a scam, or unfair for creators to earn money for their work. i just miss when everything around me wasn’t subscription based, and now that even fanfiction can cost money, i’ve developed a bit of an aversion to it.

(as a quick, unrelated side note, i’d like to mention that the fanfiction circles i’m in are all hyper-fixating on tropes i’m really not into, such as heavy bdsm-centered content, major age gaps, dad’s best friend, best friend’s dad, etc., and this is making it hard to continue engaging with them and their content. while i will always love and support the writers on this site, i want to avoid coming across this content entirely.)

all of this to say, i’m not sure if i’ll keep this account. i’m not planning on leaving tumblr, but i’m heavily debating deleting this account and creating a new one for a fresh start. that, or i’ll leave this up and move to a new account. i’m not sure yet. in any case, i’ll try to make sure there’s a place you can go to access my writing if you choose to come back for a re-read.

i want to thank everyone for being so kind to me over the years, and i’m sorry if i’ve disappointed anyone with this information. i’ll be tagging people from my taglist, and those who mentioned they wanted to be tagged in the demon!harry mini-series below. much love. 🤍

@callsign-scully @lnmp89 @keepdrivingkisses @tenaciousperfectionunknown @landosangel @tom-hlover @voguesir @iadoresleep @lmaotshollandd @starkscosmos @st-ev-ie @axelinchen @pleasinghellfire @kimmi-kat @mopeymousey @coolhotsexygemini10 @harrys-cherrry @vamprry @sunflowervol18 @lillefroe @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @bbontenswhhore

[ikissjesse]

could you do some aaron t/aaron z headcanons pls!

omg yes ofc !! ty for the request <333 since 3 ppl requested aaron² hc's (nothing specific) im gonna put all ur requests into this once post !!

tags: @i-need-a-slurpee @hrts4ariana ( note as of writing: this was a draft from 1719817282 years ago so if u forgot abt this n no longer wanted to be tagged im sorry🥲 )

as i mentioned in this post, they both adore musicals, especially hamilton

aaron² hc's !!

reblogs appreciated + reqs open <3

they like listening to the soundtracks together when they hangout

sometimes when there's a musical near where they are on tour they go together in their free time

u didn't hear it from me but they held hands during one of these musicals bc the room was dark n they thought noone would notice

as bros, ofc.. homies hold hands during musicals !!

they totally sing non-stop from hamilton together its cannon bc i say so

anyway enough abt hamilton for now

there was def mutual pining

they were both like "fuckidishcoaoxjaoa he just thinks of me as a friend"

"friend" NO HE WANTS U SO BAD -God probably idk

the way they attempted to "drop hints":

t tried to make z laugh a lot, even more than he usually did

pranks became less extreme than they normally were, he wanted to surprise him, not scare him to death like he used to

z would, although he denies this, try to do basketball tricks to impress t whenever he is at the basketball court w him

both of them went to jesse for advice, not knowing the other was doing the same

"hey jesse uhm- what should i do if, theoretically, ihavearlybigcrushonsomeonewhoiveknownforawhilebutithinktheyseemeasafriendandireallyreallyREALLYwannabemorebutidontwannaruinourfriendship????" -t

"...what?" -jesse

needless to say jesse was confused as hell

he sent him off w some advice after t slowed down enough for him to understand, then about 15 minutes later z came rambling about the same thing

"JESSE YOU'RE A HIT WITH THE LADIES, AND THE GAYS, AND..BASICALLY ANYONE. HOW DO I FLIRT WITH SOMEONE IVE KNOWN FOR AGES WHO IM PRETTY SURE SEES ME AS JUST A FRIEND?????" -z

thats what made it click for jesse, n he just laughed at the realization

giving him the same advice he gave t, he snickered at the idea of the aarons having a crush on eachother but being too stupid blind to see the feelings were mutual

"thanks jess!!" -z to jesse, running off

"yeah no problem man hehehshshehsh goodluck! HEHEHHEHE"

building up as much courage as he could, z eventually made the first move a few days later

he asked t if he'd like to join him for a musical that would take place at a nearby theater, n he gladly accepted

little did t know where this would lead <33 achoo anyways

as the lights dimmed during a 'romantic' scene, aaron z took t's hand in his own n (quietly) confessed his feelings towards his long-time bestfriend

saying t was happy would be an understatement

the energetic boy yanked him into a hug, leaving his stoic counterpart(ner) highly confused and extremely flustered

choking from t's tight embrace, his face became beet red

"Im, uhm- assuming you feel the same?"

well NO FUCKIN WAY SHERLOCK WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT -God again probably

"yeah dumbass, ofcourse i do!" t whisper-yelled, trying to keep his excitement down as they were still in a theater after all !!!

after that, z just smiled n wrapped his arms around t's waist, returning the hug

but wait !! theres more !!

what kind of ikissjesse ship post would this be without cute couple hc's ???

the quiet stoic boy x loud energetic boy dynamic UUGF MY HEART I THINK IM DYIBG from how much i love this duo😔😔

z buys t a baseball cap in EVERY city/country they go to. every fucking one

even if its not a band tour, if z is out somewhere n sees a cool cap he thinks t would like, yall better believe this boy would cut off an arm n sell a kidney just for t to get that hat

t has a whole side in his closet dedicated to these hats z buys him, he finds it absolutely adorable

z actually thinks he isnt good at gift giving, so he was afraid t wouldnt like it at first, but t's reaction is enough conformation that he adores it

now what kinda aaron² hamilton lover truther would i be if i didnt mention the musical again 💪💪

they have FREQUENT hamilton marathons together, sometimes the other members of 4*town will join in too !!

they still sortve act like they did before, like friends n what not

however theyre also 300% more flirty

by that i mean T is 300% more flirty

z might be a LITTLE bit but def not as much as my boy aaron t (the r in aaron stands for rizzler -aaron t)

z isn't a big fan of PDA himself, however when t does little displays of affection when theyre in public he loves it ( he doesn't say it out loud bc he's shy but he does smile at t or to himself, holding t's hand or draping an arm over his shoulders )

when theyre in private z will hug t from behind, hold his waist, kiss his forehead, etc .... yk... bro stuff......

t surprises him by going BOO!!! and jumping up to put his arms around his shoulders from behind, which at first scared z shitless n earned t a lecture about why he shouldn't scare him like that bc z WILL swing but z is okay with it now n actually smiles ALBEIT A VERY SMALL SMILE when he does it

dates include but r not limited to playing basketball late at night together, movies, watching musicals, roadtrips to literally anywhere long or short they just wanna be in eachothers presence OUGHG I LOVE THEM

i forgot to mention !!! t is definitely the one who asked to be boyfriends, but z accidentally said "I love you" first

t was doing something dumb again, and z shook his head as he laughed, accidentally mumbling the words "I love you" out loud

t stopped dead in his tracks n snapped his head in z's direction, n yall this boy was STRESSED he did NOT mean to let the world know this information

z covered his face with his hands n his face was PINK pink bro but t just laughed n walked over to him, cupping his face in his hands and staring at him with a very VERY smug but genuine n happy grin

z scoffed, but soon glanced back at the other boy and smiled shyly

theyre so cute im throwing up in class

there's more but i think this is long enough for now, sorry for the wait pls snack on this while u wait for the rest of my jesro + aaron² content i have planned WINK WINK

thank u for reading <3

[fromthedeskoftheraven]

A forgotten scene

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect) x female reader

Content: 100% pure domestic fluff

Note: I brought the energy from a marathon housecleaning session to my drafts today, found this little abandoned snippet from ages ago and hated to see it go to waste. Lost my taglist. Hope somebody finds this and enjoys it.

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

He’s stretched out in bed when you come back from the kitchen, golden skin burnished by the glow of the lamp perched on his night table.

He has a book propped on his bare chest, practiced fingers deftly turning the page and supporting its weathered spine at the same time. You smile at the concentrated furrow of his brow, the almost imperceptible movement of his lips that he's not even aware of.

Ezra’s eyes stray from the book to find you in the doorway, warming with the spark of unguarded delight that tells you plainly he’s still a little in awe that you’re here, that he’s not going to wake up from a happy dream and find himself in an aurelac pit on some Kevva-forsaken moon.

“My angel of mercy appears.”

“So dramatic,” you tease, crossing to the bed to offer him one of the steaming mugs you carry as he closes the book on the night table.

He only grins, carefully cradling the mug in his hand before sipping the hot tea inside.

Balancing your own cup, you slide between the sheets on the right side of the bed.

Your side.

It had been his only request, the first time you’d shared a narrow, rickety cot in a wretched prospector’s tent, to leave his lone left arm free to reach for you — To lie frustrated in my desire to hold you is a fate too cruel to bear contemplation, dear heart. Now it’s second nature, a steady, silent reminder of your care in the nightly ritual of seeking his embrace.

“How’s the book?” you ask, blowing on your tea.

“Welcoming, as an old friend should be.” His smile is a little sheepish, and you crane your neck to look at the well-worn copy of The Streamer Girl.

You press a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder. “You’re missing her.”

“I do sometimes feel her absence keenly,” he admits. “But her letters, however brief, assure me that my bright little bird is thriving in her studies.” He sets aside the half-empty cup and slouches into the covers, shifting to turn toward you. His warm, calloused hand settles on your thigh with an appreciative stroke. “And I am likewise thriving here in our little haven, with you.”

The apartment isn’t much more spacious than the pod you’d sold to buy it, but no place has ever felt more like home. The cheerful curtains you made from a remnant of fabric Ezra had seen you coveting screen out the city’s glaring lights to shelter you in your cozy cocoon. Ezra’s precious books, annotated in his spidery left-handed script, are stacked neatly on the tiny table in the main room. Clippings of plants from your travels put out delicate roots in recycled jam pots and medicine bottles, and the scent of fresh bread you’d baked that afternoon lingers in the air.

The rich can have their mansions. You only need this warm bed and the man in it.

You smile and comb a silky tuft of blond hair away from his temple with your fingers, watching the corners of his dark eyes crinkle with affection.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” you say, and mean it.

[princeanxious]

Hi! I was wondering about your Lost Guardian au from ages ago, do you think you’ll ever plan on updating it and if not, could someone else take up the fic?

So heres the thing. If someone wants to write a fic *inspired* by The Lost Guardian, i’m not gonna stop them, and i’d probably feel super honored so long as the inspiration was correctly credited!

As for ‘taking up the fic,’ the short answer is no.

I have active drafts and the rest of the story already planned out to its finish, notes, even a branch-off fic set post-story that will likely go up on my nsfw blog if i ever get around to editing it. The Lost Guardian hasn’t been abandoned, it’s simply on hiatus. (And yes, i recognize 3 almost 4 years so far is a really fucking long hiatus. The Chapter 9 draft doc was made in december of 2020, and last edited in July 2022)

I started writing that fic whilst still in highschool, a time where I was 17 and didnt have to worry yet about getting my license or maintaining a part time job, i had an over abundance of freetime even partially to my detriment, the fandom was booming and I had plenty of feedback, and this fic was (and still *is*) a story im proud of.

But i’m 22 now, working a full time job to pay rent and account for a number of minor ‘disabilities’(best word i have for them atm) that I cant ignore or push to the side nor treat poorly, from the lasting effects on my body of stunted growth to celiac/glutent intolerance to adhere to that directly determines how easily my body functions for the week, to dealing with glasses i cannot afford to break and taking care of teeth i cannot afford to fix, taking care of my mental health and using the free time i have to do what brings me the most joy at that time.

The sanders sides fandom has heavily quieted down with the season finale hiatus and I’d like to think I did pretty well for going six long years dedicated solely to that without cracking under the silence, because *I knew* when I caved to something else it’d be a long while before I had the drive to come back with any sort of resolution to my active works. Thats just how my hyper fixations work. I cannot focus on multiple at once, it’s too much to process simultaneously and takes away my enjoyment bc I tend to watch/consume things repeatedly to catch every little detail i missed. And it doesn’t help when one loses steam because their content barely breaks 100 notes(80% of which are likes, 15% are reblogs with the occasional comment, and 5% are self-reblogs) when back in the height of it all, a few thousand notes was pretty average interaction. This blog still has about 11.5k followers, almost all of which came from the height of the fandom period. So for now i’ve moved onto the FNAF DCA fandom, bc it is fresh and new to me.

I know you didn’t mean to poke the bear here, I get it, but like.. C’mon. Any other fic of mine likely wouldn’t have gotten the same reaction in full but, still. I’ve had to answer this question a handful of times over the years at the point, which might be why this response feels so charged, and i’m sorry.

I don’t mean to come off as snippy or rude, but it *is* kind of invasive to offer to finish one’s creative work when it’s taking too long and theres very little payback for it. I’ve got adhd, delayed satisfaction isn’t a thing I experience. Just guilt that it wasn’t finished in a way for me to post it in time before I broke and lost all motivation to share it.

In my head, TLG has been long finished and held the ending for years, theres just been no energy to put in the effort of finish writing it for others to read. I’m still trying to get my life together to change that, don’t get me wrong, but the American economy is literally in shambles so who knows how or even if i’ll manage that. Call me selfish for being content with only mentally having my creative story’s ending and a collection of rambles and notes to show for it, but at the end of the day, it’s still my story, and i dont feel comfortable with people trying to ‘take up the mantle’ to finish it, when they don’t know how it ends.

I’m glad you like it enough to want to, though, I really *really* am. I’m just sorry I haven’t been able to finish it for you all. And i just don’t know when that will be, I just know that I *want* to do so, however long it takes.

[bunkernine]

hi pls ignore this if i have mistaken you for someone else and am making a fool out of myself but are you the person who wrote isosceles?? because that fic altered my brain on an abnormal and chemical level way back when and i just remembered it the other day and binged it all again and i feel like i remember there being a few other fics in that universe (one from travis’s pov iirc) and i wanted to know where they are. of course if you are not the person who wrote isosceles i am a fool and feel free to ignore this ❤️

I did, yeah.

I wrote it when i was 14 so at a certain point i didn't want to be associated with it because it didn't reflect me as much anymore. It was my big baby at the time!!! But i divorced from that a few years ago. As for the other universe fics, if i remember correctly: connor, drew, a vers where jason admits to liking him back (some point isos implied that jason DID like leo back but was too confused to do anything).... But i deleted those first because they just weren't as fun, and my own friend group was falling apart so it felt too close.

But yes, you have found me LOLOL. Isos is orphaned, but unfortunately the other fics are deleted fr. Sorry :( but thanks for enjoying it!!! 💖

(ramblings under the cut)

The reason why i didnt delete isos too was because so many people were saying what you are now. If i could, id rewrite it (both with style and plot differences) and do a whole new remastered version. Im not sure why i decided to write his senior year when i was a freshman/sophomore LOL so I always figured I would've came back to it when I was older.... Clearly I did not.

I WAS miserable in high school, at least socially. So Leo was a little TOO personal and it made me mad when i basically did what he did towards the end. I spent some time just doing some random apolleo fics. Capolleo series, so my name should've been capolleon by then? LOLOLOL i had been majorly influenced by some now-deleted fic which is why apollo is even there 💀 but now im apollos age in the fic and im like 'hmm. Yeah maybe not...'

Then there was a fic that was coming out towards the end of isos that i felt was copying me 😭😭😭 ← 14/15 yr old feelings. Who cares! But i would update and then they would update and i was so paranoid 😭😭😭 honestly, the vibe in general for valgrace in 2018 is much different than right now, and it was much more open and varied in topics. This is not to discredit the current valgrace leaders or whatever the fuck, but the vibe is just ... Pretty different.

But yeah. Im sort of using this ask as an excuse to talk about it, but isos was SO big and what i was known for within the small vg circle (outside of the text fic at the same time 💀) so i was constantly reminded of it. And dont get me wrong, i ADORED that fic when i was writing it. I was upset whenever my life was too messy for me to drop the chapter of the month. Double updates felt so ... Um. Mature and awesome, like i was a professional 💀 i wrote leo as bisexual but he had a pretty strong inclination to men because i was figuring I'm out that I wasn't bisexual but a lesbian, but I couldn't really articulate that, especially as I was dating a guy through that fic. That was some cute little endpoint i was gonna have but its reality frightened me so it was dropped... The complexities of piperleojason were insane to think about when i was like, crying at lunch in my bf's car 😭 When it was posting, i left some really crazy A/N's showing how volatile i was at the time, that i eventually deleted. But i was so proud of it and it was a comfort to write. I think the drafts were a lot more raw but people loved it anyway.

Anyway. It's been a while since I've been able to talk about this fic. People have left the most loving comments in the world and it connected with a lot of readers. Its also my only fic that had fanart and playlists and such made for it! I was so proud of that! I dont think people understand how incredible that is and it truly is the dream for fic writers!!! I have other fics that inspired ppl, but isos was the one ppl constantly flocked to or appreciated :)

I used to cry writing some parts of it and now it just feels like an old diary entry. I haven't read it in a while and thought about remaking it (probs... As college kids though) but haven't bothered. Technical-wise, theres so many things that are dropped or forgotten or are just clumsy but thats really just a maturity thing.

Anyway THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!!!!!!!! Ppl dont ask me about my fics like they used to which was the whole reason why i made this account :(((( among other things, lack of interactions in fandom have decreased so much :((((

Love love love uuuuuuuuu

[existentialcrisis-9-5]

Okay so I was talking about the endo mini-game in HW2 in one of my previous posts and had a revelation in the tags. Stick with me here.

If you missed the post (which you probably did bc I made the post ages ago, drafted this and then forgot to post it), it was about how the mini-game implies that Fazbear Entertainment doesn’t seem to pre-program their bots with a personality, instead opting to teach them the rules and encourage a personality to develop from there (the only based thing Faz. Co. has ever done, even if it lead to horrible mental health in all of them).

In the tags I then joked about how that answers Freddy’s crisis about whether he is a unique individual if he is mass-produced. I figured if they let all of their AI be programmed that way instead of just copy-pasting OG Freddy’s personality to whatever other Freddys are out there, even if there’s heavy encouragement to get the endo acting like OG Freddy, it never will be him. That Freddy will always be slightly different. Thus making him an individual.

That other Freddy will likely end up at some other location who knows how far away anyway, so it doesn’t really matter if he’s slightly different. No one will notice that much, and if anyone questions it, it can always be attributed to the different location with different customers.

And that in and of itself is a pretty interesting piece of world building. It’s made even better, though, because this provides an explanation as to why Bonnie was never rebuilt. This brings me on to the actual theory.

Disclaimer: new to publicly theorising and I also could’ve missed something. Feel free to correct me or even open conversation about it.

They never found Bonnie’s body. It’s pretty obvious by its condition and location that it hasn’t been touched since it was left there (or if it has, it was minimal).

It’s heavily implied that the personality chips that all the animatronics possess (as far as I’m aware, since I haven’t seen this disputed) are in their heads, and not stored on the servers.

There’s the implication that Faz. Co. does not pre-program a personality for their bots and instead choosing to get them to develop one.

This all means in a normal situation where their stars falls off the catwalks, fully repairing them would take time, but they can usually recover the personality chip. Bonnie’s body being undiscovered meant that they would’ve had to rebuilt him from scratch, personality and all, which would’ve been a nightmare just based the time it would’ve taken to do so.

Plus, if Faz. Co. decided to just make a new one, they would definitely get questions from people about why Bonnie was acting differently, on top of the fact that this Bonnie would be a total stranger to the band. Plus all the questions on top of the messed up situation would likely lead to an instability in Bonnie.

As a side note, Monty was probably made because the company knew it would take time to repair and rebuilt the bots in the event there was an accident, so Monty could take over in the meantime, but he was probably never meant to actually be in the band long-term. It’s just that making a new Bonnie would’ve been too costly and would’ve been a poor business decision.

[lacependragon]

In order to distract myself from the continued Horrors, I have been working on PokeBNHA, as I mentioned before. Today, I'm working on the opening author's note, which explains some of the world changes and upfront important lore bits, so that you don't go into the story completely confused.

Here's the first draft, I think it's a lot of fun. Let me know what you think.

A quick note on some details in the story:

Worldbuilding: I've put a great deal of thought, time, and effort into the worldbuilding for this story. I wanted the world to feel just as strange and (sometimes) ridiculous as canon can be, but I also wanted to be as consistent as possible and have everything match the Pokémon universe. To that end: please, get curious about the setting, please enjoy it as much as the characters do. You're meant to. If you have questions, feel free to ask!

Backstories: Many characters have had their backstories tweaked, altered, or completely created from scratch (if little exists in canon). All changes were made for a reason. Often, these changes were made to suit the Pokémon universe and the roles the characters play. However, I've left personalities as untouched as possible, and what changes you do see should be self-explanatory. If not, feel free to ask.

Trainer Academy: Pro trainer academy is a three year program that starts in your final year of high school (ages 17-18). First year finishes out your high school degree and introduces many trainer concepts. The following two years focus on training to become a pro trainer.

Pro Trainer: A pro trainer is the equivalent of a Hero in this world. Pro trainers work in the League and challenge the League. Pro Trainers are expected to keep up a social media presence, to act as ambassadors of culture and as role models to fans, to protect the region from both criminals and from dangerous wild Pokémon, and to enable the massive consumerism surrounding the merchandise for the Pokémon League, League members, and popular pro trainers. Pro trainers receive UBI, like all trainers, as well as a weekly stipend based on their win/loss ratio in official battles.

And some quick term definitions. These are the three that don't get defined quickly in-story. Other terms are explained as they're brought up or soon after.

Mutant: a person born with an aura mutation, formed in-utero, which causes them to take on some physical traits of a specific Pokémon. There is no genetic relationship to Pokémon, only an aura-based one, and no Pokémon powers are gained. Extra limbs and sensory organs are usable, and sometimes stranger mutations can occur. Mutants first appeared in the Masuda region less than a century ago and have become more common over time.

Psychic: a person with psychic power typically has two abilities. The first is universal among all psychics — the ability to sense emotions, intentions, and/or thoughts, depending on the strength of the psychic power. The second is one of a long list of abilities — some known, some not — which is dependent on the psychic. This can include telekinesis, future sight, mind control, and much more, but a given psychic will only ever have one, and its strength is also highly dependent on the strength of a person's psychic power.

Aura Fusion: the "gimmick" of this region. Like Ash and his Greninja, any trainer in the Masuda region with a strong enough connection to their Pokémon may temporarily fuse their auras in battle. This allows both trainer and Pokémon to feel each other's emotions, understand each other's thoughts, and see through each other's eyes. Often saved as the last big spectacle of a battle, aura fusion makes both Pokémon and trainer much stronger and allows for otherwise impossible strategies.