#if i do prompts again remind me of this...

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Drunk words, sober thoughts

A/N: Another entry for the amazing @elixirfromthestars ‘s Writing Challenge. Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading this!

Pairing: Logan x F! Reader

Warning: 18+ fluff. Drink responsibly kids.

Prompts used: 🥪 ✩｡⋆⸜ "Do I need to remind you that we're not actually married?"

Hugh Jackman/Logan Masterlist

Haze.

That was all your brain could comprehend. How you’d gotten yourself to this point was still obscure. But a rapidly diminishing rational part of your brain was sure your drink had been spiked.

It wasn't how the evening was supposed to go. Not at all. You were on a mission, albeit it was your first official one, it couldn't have gone any worse. The team carried out their respective tasks flawlessly while you - the rookie, were going to be in big trouble once they'd realized you had screwed up.

Deep down you were hoping Logan - your pretend husband for the evening would come and find you, rather rescue you. As you were cornered by a few men that were way too tall and burly to escape, you vaguely felt the comms from your ear been taken off, your limbs felt like jelly.

Were you being kidnapped? Where were your teammates? More importantly, where was Logan?

Any attempt to protest was silenced when they taped your mouth, taking you away from the banquet hall and towards a deserted alley. Before the men could shove you in their car, you felt their grip on you loosen, the familiar chink of metal claws being unleashed and a fight ensued.

It must've ended pretty quickly, or you were experiencing time gaps thanks to the drugs coursing through your bloodstream, but you felt a light but persistent tap against your cheek and a concerned looking Logan Howlett in your line of vision.

"Are you alright, bub? Y/N? Can you hear me?" he called, worry clear in his baritone.

"Mm?" You shook your head in a violent no, quickly realizing it was a bad move as your world shifted, making you dizzy.

You closed your eyes tight and tried to pull yourself together, failing to do so while Logan caught up with the rest of the team. They deciphered you'd had more than your fair share of alcohol given your state, and decided it was best to get you home. Logan had also picked up a smell that was definitely not your regular alcohol, probably the reason why you were so out of it, he'd realized. The team was concerned but probably not as much as the man before you.

A comforting mix of steady hands and a scent that was distinctly Logan enveloped you and lifted you off the ground and into a car.

"Ay! Look it's my husband!" You exclaimed loud enough to make Logan pull a face as he helped fasten your seatbelt.

“How are drunk are you?” He gave you a glance as the car pulled away from the venue, his brows furrowing when he saw you lean over to his side with a lazy grin on your face.

“Can I kiss you?”

“A lot, okay.”

With a firm grip on your shoulders, he made you lay back against the car, letting the back of his hand against your forehead that was slightly warm to touch. He was relieved to have found you before anything worse could happen, especially when your powers were compromised. Unbeknownst to you, Logan had developed some what of a soft spot for you. Not that he'd ever admit, but he found himself drawn to you more and more each passing day. For someone so seemingly fearless, he was terrified of confessing his feelings towards you.

It wasn't long until you found yourself in Logan's arms once again, this time with him carrying you up the school stairs towards your bedroom.

"I mean you could've carried us all the way across the threshold. Wait through the main door, did you—" You giggled mostly to yourself but with Logan and his sharp hearing, it was hard to ignore.

“Do I need to remind you that we're not actually married?" He mused with a faint hint of a smile on his rugged features. Unable to stop his chuckle at your adorable little pout, he gently set you down to your bed, hovering above you for a minute too long.

“We can’t leave the bed now. The pillows have accepted us.” You sighed dreamily, patting the place next to you for Logan to join.

Under any other circumstances, it would’ve been impossible to resist your offer, but you weren’t the right state of mind, and Logan was nothing if not a perfect gentleman.

“Get some rest, kid. You’re in for one hell of a hangover tomorrow.” Logan let his thumb caress the soft skin of your cheek, his eyes mapping your beautiful features.

He’d already made a mental note to get proper meds for you to help get the drugs out of your system. Just as he was about to close the door behind him and leave, he heard you mumble something else. He would’ve let it go, but the words that came out of your mouth nearly made his heart stop.

“What was that, bub?”

“Love you, Logan..” you mumbled against your pillow, clutching one tightly to your chest as sleep took over finally.

“Love you too. More than you’d ever know.” He smiled, finally saying it out loud, albeit not to you directly, felt good. He walked happy knowing you probably shared the sentiment.

Like they said, drunk words, sober thoughts.

[ayukas]

600 FOLLOWERS & VALENTINES EVENT !

LOVE LETTERS a matchmaking event where you pick the prompt, i match you with a nct member, and you receive a love letter drabble or text imagine addressed to you!

₊˚⊹♡ send in an ask with a prompt number from the list below & state whether you want a drabble or text imagine! i'll look through your blog and pick a member that i think suits your vibe/reminds me of you

e.g. prompt 10 + text imagine

for anonymous asks, please include an emoji of your choice (e.g. 💌anon) as well as your bias line (min. 3 members)

e.g. prompt 10 + drabble + 💌anon + doyoung, jaemin, kun

PROMPTS

01 love confessed — "i've liked you for a while now, won't you please look my way?"

02 love in another life — "if not this lifetime, then the next. i promise i'll find you, and i'll love you all over again."

03 love that waits — "no matter how long it takes, i'll always be here waiting for your return."

04 love like our favourite songs — "do you remember this one? i played it for you on our first date."

05 love from the future — "are we still in love and happy as we are now? i'm so curious to see what our lives are like 10 years from now."

06 love at first sight — "my heart was yours the moment our eyes locked."

07 love unsent — "i wrote this a thousand times. i wish i had the courage to tell you i like you a thousand times as well."

08 love written in the stars — "the stars brought us together and i couldn't thank them enough."

09 love left unfinished — "maybe we never got the ending we both deserved, but i'll always hold on to what we had, no matter how incomplete it was."

10 love that feels like home — "you're my comfort, my home. i'll always come back to you."

notes hii surprise!!! ajskdj i couldn't wait to post this omg we're aaalmost at 600 followers, and since valentines day is around the corner, i prepared this small gift for everyone! plz plz take part in this and show some Love... (begging on my knees) (ᵒ̴̶̷᷄﹏ᵒ̴̶̷᷅)

[pukefactory]

Hello! Haha it's my first time in this blog and I love it so far! I love your hcs! I'm sorry if this is too specific of a request but Would you do one of Sprout X GN reader.

How would he react to a reader that used to be fun loving and silly become more Short tempered, and depressed when Garden view shut down? They've been isolating themselves out of fear they'll blow up at him.

If not any general hcs for him is also fine!

Hey, thank you so much for your kind words, Anon! I’m truly grateful that you and others enjoy my blog. Don’t worry—your request isn’t too specific at all, and I appreciate you providing such a clear prompt. I hope this meets your expectations!

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊ DEAD MALL ₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

✶ Summary: A compilation of headcanons featuring Sprout helping a melancholic reader

✶ Character(s): Sprout Seedly (Dandy’s World)

✶ Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Angst, SFW

✶ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

✸ Sprout noticed the shift in your demeanor almost immediately. At first, he chalked it up to stress—after all, everyone was struggling with Gardenview’s shutdown in their own way. But as time passed, your usual playful energy remained absent, replaced by a lingering frustration that made you feel like a completely different person. It wasn’t just that you were quieter; you were angrier. It worried him more than he was willing to admit.

✸ He’s never been one for dancing around a problem, so when your mood didn’t improve, he confronted you about it directly. He didn’t mean to be pushy, but his concern overpowered any hesitation. “Something’s wrong,” he stated firmly, arms crossed as he stood in front of the opening to your room. “Talk to me.” Even when you tried to brush him off, he stood his ground, refusing to let you isolate yourself any longer.

✸ The first time you snapped at him, it caught him off guard. You hadn’t meant to, but the frustration had been building for so long that it slipped out before you could stop it. His expression faltered for just a second—just long enough for guilt to settle deep in your chest. But instead of arguing back, he exhaled sharply and took a step closer. “That’s not gonna scare me away,” he muttered, softer than usual.

✸ Sprout isn’t the best with words, but he is persistent. When you started isolating yourself, he made it his personal mission to check in every day—whether you liked it or not. If you wouldn’t come out of your room, he’d sit outside the door, chatting about whatever came to mind. “I tried a new pie recipe with Cosmo today. I think I messed up the crust, but he said it was still good. You would’ve liked it.” His voice was casual, but his meaning was clear: I miss you.

✸ He knew you were afraid of snapping at him again, but that wasn’t something he cared about. “I can handle you being mad,” he told you one night, his gaze unwavering. “What I can’t handle is you acting like I don’t exist.” It was the closest thing to vulnerability he’d been in a while, but if being honest was the only way to get through to you, then he’d rip his heart open as many times as it took.

✸ Despite his pushiness, Sprout never forced you to talk before you were ready. Instead, he found small ways to remind you that he wasn’t going anywhere. A freshly baked pastry left outside your room. A soft knock, followed by a quiet, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you want company.” No expectations, no pressure—just the promise that he was always within reach.

✸ When you finally started opening up again, it wasn’t a grand confession—it was a quiet, exhausted whisper as you sat beside him on one of the dining tables. “I just don’t want to say something I’ll regret.” He didn’t respond right away, just studied you for a long moment before finally murmuring, “Then I’ll just have to be patient, won’t I?” His usual bluntness was still there, but there was something softer beneath it, something only you got to see.

✸ As your mood slowly improved, he adjusted in kind. When you hesitated to reach out, he’d grab your hand first, squeezing it reassuringly. If you got frustrated and started spiraling, he’d guide you to the kitchen with a casual, “Help me bake something. You’re way better at kneading dough than I am.” Distractions, support, presence—he wasn’t always good with words, but he was good at being there.

✸ One of the few times you truly broke down, he didn’t hesitate. He let you cling to him, gripping the fabric of his scarf as sobs wracked your body. He didn’t try to shush you or tell you to calm down—he just held you, rubbing slow circles into your back. “You don’t have to act fine around me,” he murmured, voice steady despite the tightness in his chest. “You don’t have to pretend.”

✸ Over time, things got better. You weren’t the same toon you had been before Gardenview shut down, but you weren’t alone in that. Sprout had changed too—he had grown alongside you, adapting to your struggles without ever once making you feel like a burden. And through all of it, through every high and low, one thing had remained constant: he had never left your side.

[philistiniphagottini]

That Mydei fic was soooo good. Can i ask for Mydei and Love Bites NSFW for the valentines event?

Thank you Anon for the feedback. Glad you liked the fic ^-^ Hope you enjoy

Comments/reblogs highly appreciated.

Mydei + Love Bites

cw. smut, biting, thigh riding, female reader, chubby reader, minors DO NOT interact

Valentines Prompts

A spine-tingling shiver crept along your back as you squirmed in Mydei’s lap, the hot press of his lips on your scorching skin making every hair on the nape of your neck stand up in anticipation. You pressed the plush seam of your bruised lips into a tight, thin line, swallowing the desperate whine that tried to crawl out of your throat as warmth pooled into the pit of your gut. A rough grunt puffed against your skin as you continued to fidget, fingers tangling in Mydei’s robes as you tried to keep yourself perched in his lap. 

"Stop squirming" Mydei said, the low timbre of his voice tickling the shell of your ear. "And sit down."

His strong hands curled around your plump hips, the fabric of your dress bunching between his fingers as he grabbed at the plush pudge of your skin and forced you to seat yourself on his thigh. Your bruised lips parted around a salacious moan as the wet seam of your fat cunt was dragged along his strong thigh, a trail of slick beading along the fabric of his pants as your needy pussy drooled all over him. Your soused lashes fluttered wildly over your round, burning cheeks, the heat creeping all the way to the tips of your ears as your fingers knotted tighter in his clothes. You could feel the amused rumble of a chuckle stirring in his chest, the soft vibrations dancing beneath your fingers tips and turning them numb as your blood simmered hotly in your veins. 

"Good girl" Mydei praised as he pat your plump hip, grabbing at your soft waist again until your plump skin spilled between the splayed digits of his fingers. 

You tried to form a coherent response but all that came out was garbled noise, throat bobbing as you swallowed the budding saliva on your tongue and tasted desire lingering in the back of your throat. You could barely think past the thick haze fogging up your mind as you rocked your hips forward, dragging your pulsing cunt along Mydei’s leg and sent pleasant tingles rippling along the notches of your spine. You cried out once more, toes curling into the soles of your feet when you felt Mydei’s lips upon your neck once more. His breath curled against your skin, making you restlessly rub your feverish cunt against his thigh to try and spark a lick of friction along the aching nub of your clit. Your nails scratched useless against his skin, the red welts you left behind along the dips of his muscles fading within a brief moment as his cursed body healed the damage right before your dazed eyes. 

"You know you can’t mark me" Mydei reminded you. "But, I can mark you, Princess. Would you like that?"

You trembled in his lap as he dragged the slick muscle of his tongue along the fluttering pulse of your neck, your heart ready to jump out of your throat as you quickly nodded your head in response. 

"Please" you pleaded softly, thick thighs squeezing around his leg as you grind your clothed pussy harder against him, thin material of your panties clinging to your dripping folds as you panted like an animal in heat. "Please…"

Mydei squeezed your fat hips again, kneading your soft flesh between the palms of his hands as his teeth followed the trail his tongue left behind. He took your plump skin between the pinch of his teeth, sharp fangs sinking into your flesh with little resistance as he bit into your neck. A sharp hiss whistled through your spit-soaked lips; the sting of his bite soothed by the lapping of his tongue as pleasure knotted tight in the pit of your stomach. Your hips started to shake from the hot flash of pleasure that simmered in your veins, bliss bubbling and boiling in the pit of your gut as you ripped apart at the seams. You moaned loudly as the hot coil in your stomach shattered into a million pieces, pussy pulsing and clenching around nothing as your white-hot nerves shocked you like a live wire, pleasure sparking anew when Mydei bit into the side of your neck once more to leave behind another love bite. 

You couldn’t stop the waves of pleasure that ebbed and flowed, the seat of your panties soaked and dripping with pearls of your sweet nectar as tears of pleasure clung to the edges of your heavy lashes like a shimmering constellation. Mydei’s hand slipped between your sticky thighs as you were occupied by his mouth, head tipped back to expose more skin as he littered a blooming garden of marks into your skin. The marks would be difficult to cover up by morning, the indents his teeth left behind a clear reminder of who you belonged to. You were not a chew toy, but there was some part of you that enjoyed being stuffed between Mydei’s salivating mouth, his love bite proof of his strong affection and attachment to you. He would deny any accusations that he was scathingly jealous or possessive, but he could not deny how much biting you scratched a primal itch in his brain and satiate his hunger for you. 

You almost choked on a hiccup of pleasure as Mydei brushed aside the material of your underwear, his thick fingers playing with the creamy folds of your messy cunt and making you buck your hips into his searing touch. Sticky beads of translucent threads webbed between your bedewed folds, a wet patch staining the fabric of Mydei’s pants as you continued to mindlessly hump his leg between the meat of your thick thighs. His mouth detached from your skin with a loud pop, tongue tracing behind the indents his teeth left behind as you mewled. His leg tensed beneath you, making your movements falter and stars swirl in your vision from the delicious pressure applied to your swollen clit. The sight of your blissed out expression made Mydei smirk. 

"Good girl. Now that we’re done with our little warm up…"

[lady-belz]

Dirty Thoughts: A Dirty Shorts Fic

Kim Namjoon x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

Prompt: “How am I supposed to concentrate when I am having the most unholy scenarios about you and me in my head?”

Author Note: Poll results from last week said Jungkook would be the next one in the series. Boy were you wrong! LOL!

Story notes: You and Namjoon have been married for 6 years, and to keep your relationship spicy, you like to send him naughty pics via text message that end up distracting him from working and causing him no end of embarrassment to his bandmates.

When Yoongi entered 'Rkive', it was to see his long-time friend and bandmate staring off into space as he sat at his control board.

“Oh not again!” he chuckled to himself as he closed the door. “Nam!” he called out, trying not to startle the man.

Namjoon blinked twice before looking up at his friend. He cleared his throat, his cheeks tinting pink and Yoongi knew what, or rather who, had been on his friend's mind. “Oh! Hey! How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to see you thinking about your wife again. What did she send this time?” Yoongi wondered, sitting in one of the empty chairs next to him.

Yoongi (all of the boys really) absolutely adored the woman that had captured his leader and best friend's heart. It was an accidental meeting (Namjoon had been out riding his bike, got distracted by a duck in a pond and nearly ran the poor woman over. If she hadn't jumped out of the way, falling into the pond, she would have been hit with his bike. He was completely embarrassed as he helped her out of the pond, apologizing over and over again as she wrung out her soaked clothing. She waved him off, giggling and the moment their eyes met, it was love at first sight) that turned into something long-term and on a sunny day, 3 years later, in front of the same pond they'd met at, they got married. Married now for nearly 6 years, she still found ways to embarrass her husband, and one of her favorites was sending her husband selfies. Not tame ones either – ones that made him question everything about life and caused him no amounts of embarrassment if he was out in public with his friends and popped a boner after looking at the pics.

If anything, his question made Namjoon's cheeks even redder and he couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from his throat. “That good, huh?”

“You don't understand, man! That woman can make angels want to commit sins!” Namjoon burst out, making Yoongi laugh loudly.

“And you married her.” Yoongi reminded him.

“Well I couldn't let anyone else get their grubby hands on her! I saw her first!”

Yoongi wondered if he had channeled Jimin for a minute, he was laughing so hard he nearly fell out of the chair. Namjoon sounded like a pouty 5 year old.

“So why are you here, and not at home asserting dominance over your fiefdom?” Yoongi smirked. Namjoon gave him a dirty look.

“Did you just really say 'fiefdom'? Dude.” Namjoon shook his head. “Besides, we have work to do.”

“Work that can wait until later.” Yoongi assured him. “Go home. Be with your wife. You know you want to.”

“...I kind of do.” Namjoon looked down, cheeks and ears red.

“So why are you still here?”

“The music guides-”

“I can call Jungkook.”

“And the ad-libs need-”

“Jimin's free.”

“But the ra-”

“Hobi's down the hall in his studio.”

“But-”

“Jin and Tae are downstairs in the practice room. Go home, Joonie. We got this covered.” Yoongi chuckled, patting his friend on the leg.

“You s-”

“Kim Nam-joon! Go home!” Yoongi laughed, grabbing his friend by the arm and dragging him out of the studio, Namjoon grabbing his bag and jacket before they could be left behind.

“Fine!” Namjoon sighed as he slipped on his jacket, grabbing his bike from beside the door to the studio. “Don't call me unless it's an emergency!” he yelled as he headed for the elevators.

“We won't!” Yoongi yelled back with a chuckle.

The elevator doors closed as Hobi poked his head out of 'Hope World'. “The wife?”

“Yep.” Yoongi chuckled, moving to the door of 'Genius Lab'. Hobi just shook his head with a laugh, going back inside his own studio.

Namjoon entered his apartment to the smells of delicious food. “Y/n, I'm home!” he called out.

“You're home early! I'm in the kitchen!” you returned as he hung up his coat and bag. He followed the smells to the kitchen and found you at the stove, dishing out a soup into some bowls. You looked up and smiled at him. “Why are you home so early? I thought you were going to be a few hours?”

“Yoongi kicked me out.” he shrugged, moving to stand behind you.

“Why would he do that?” you frowned, looking at him over your shoulder.

“Because he caught me staring off into space again.” Namjoon replied, pressing against your back. You hid a smirk, now knowing the reason why he was home early.

“You were thinking about that photo I sent this morning.” you told him, making it a statement and not a question.

“What do you think?” he replied, leaning down to press a kiss to the exposed skin of your neck. You hummed in thought as you moved out of his embrace to take the empty pot to the sink. You could have sworn you heard him growl.

“I think you need to get your head out of the clouds.” you chuckled as you washed the pot, setting it in the strainer to dry. You felt his body heat at your back again, this time his hands resting on your hips as he pressed his nose into your hair.

“How am I supposed to concentrate when I am having the most unholy scenarios about you and me in my head?” he whisper-growled against your ear, making goosebumps break out along your arms. “Especially when you keep sending me those pictures!”

“Well... just keeping you interested.” you smirked, giving him a side eye. You found yourself spun around and pinned to the counter at your back, his lips inches from your own making your pulse rate spike.

“I'm always interested, love.” he stated, his tone dropping an octave and making desire slowly curl in your stomach.

“Yeah?” you whispered, voice shaky and he smirked hearing it.

“The things I want to do to you right now on this counter...”

You couldn't help it – you moaned, the sound seeming to come from the back of your throat. It was rare when Namjoon became so dominant and it turned you on completely.

“Namj-” you started to say but he cut you off, his lips sliding over yours in a sensual kiss that made your toes curl and your hair stand on end. You reached out to touch his chest but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind your back with his larger hand. You gasped in surprise and desire.

“No touching!” he growled.

“Yes, sir!” you agreed almost immediately.

Using his free hand, he slowly unbuttoned the shirt you had put on that morning, realizing it was one of his. He loved it when you wore his clothes and if he wasn't already hard before, he definitely was now. You wore nothing beneath it, reminding him of the photo you had sent him that morning; you wearing this exact shirt while laying in bed, the fabric barely covering you.

“You drive me crazy, do you know?” he whispered, leaning in to press a warm kiss to your sternum.

“A girl has to have goals in life, Joonie.” you replied, shivering against his touch.

“And yours is to make me insane with lust?” he glanced up at you, arching an eyebrow and hollowing his cheeks, a look that never failed to make you wet.

“Yes.” you answered honestly, staring him directly in the eye. He just gave you that look again. You waited to see what his next move would be and he surprised you by wrapping his hands around your waist and hoisting you up onto the counter. You gasped in surprise and desire. “Joon!”

He smirked at you, getting to his knees and pulling your legs over his shoulders. Before you could complain, his face was between your legs, his tongue dancing along your wet folds and you cried out in shock. “Fuck!” you shouted, your head falling back between your shoulders as he ate you like a man starved.

He groaned at your taste, something he could never get tired of and hearing your moans above him meant he knew he was doing it right. He pushed in deeper, the moan you released the filthiest moan he'd ever heard come from your lips and he smirked internally.

Your fingers slid into his hair, grabbing tightly and pulling hard, causing his tongue to move faster. He released a hand from your thigh, his thumb pressing against your clit and rubbing hard. You started to swear most colorfully, making him grin. He loved reducing you to a babbling wreck whenever he had the chance.

Your thighs started to shake, the coil of desire in your stomach tightening by the second. You were so close.

He felt the tremors in your legs and used the other hand to slip two fingers inside of you, replacing his tongue, moving the wet muscle to your clit and making circular motions. “Oh my god! J-Joonie!” you nearly screamed, falling backwards on top of the counter. The wet sounds his fingers made sliding in and out of you were loud, the acoustics of the kitchen making it echo.

The coil snapped and your back arched as your orgasm blasted through you. You soaked his face, the counter, the floor and the front of his shirt as your thighs snapped closed around his head. He ignored it, continuing to wring every bit of pleasure out of you he could get.

Exhausted and spent, your legs finally relaxed, dropping heavily to his shoulders as you struggled to catch your breath.

He removed your legs from his shoulders, leaving you laying on the counter as he gained his feet, quickly stripping out of his clothes. Once naked, he grabbed your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter before sliding his hard cock inside of you in one thrust. You gasped loudly in pleasure as his large hands gripped your hips and he started thrusting hard.

“Fuck, you feel amazing!” he groaned as you wrapped your legs around his back, keeping him close.

“J-Joon!” you babbled out, so wrecked by your husband you were punch drunk, eyes rolling behind tightly closed lids. He did not let up, didn't pause for a break, chasing his pleasure as well as giving you more of your own.

“So close.” he mumbled some time later. You pried your eyes open to watch him fall apart over you, his face absolutely beautiful as the pleasure overwhelmed him. You could feel his hot seed fill you, triggering your own orgasm, your walls fluttering around him as you moaned his name.

Breathless and sated, he collapsed, his head falling against your stomach.

You stayed like that for a time, waiting for your breathing to regulate and your bodies to cool.

“Guessing you really liked this morning's photo?” you giggled later. He raised his head, giving you a salacious grin.

“Don't tell Yoongi, but I jerked off to it after you sent it.” he chuckled, making you laugh and flutter your walls around him. He thrust back into you, making you both groan. You fell back on the counter, staring at the ceiling.

“I'm never going to be able to cook in here again without thinking about today.” you giggled, making him laugh outright.

“Your fault for being so delicious and putting thoughts in my head.” he replied, slipping his arms around your back to pull you upright and into his embrace. You leaned down to kiss him deeply as he pulled you off the counter, still linked together. He took you to your bedroom where you continued your activities well into the evening.

-End-

[midnight-mourning]

The Thought That Counts

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 10💘💘

This one was super interesting for me as someone who's ace to sit and think about, shout out to the aroaces, this one is for you, little hurt/comfort just because that's what i was feeling

Prompt: Sun and Moon discussing with an Aroace yn why they dislike romance? Or maybe just watching some really bad romcoms on a horrible day

Word Count: 1753

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

The sound of happy love songs has started to grate on you recently, you're not going to lie. You get maybe like, a couple days worth, but all week long feels a bit, excessive. Not to mention the barrage of lovey dovey advertisements, decorations, and so on you've seen everywhere you've went.

Sure, it all wasn't intentionally done to annoy or make you uncomfortable, but sometimes it certainly felt like it. 

As you walk into the Daycare for work, you do your best to ignore it as per usual. Today would hopefully be the last day—since it was Valentine's, after all—and then you could go back to living in peace. 

Again, it wasn't necessarily a hate for the holiday, rather it was just a general discomfort. Not typically feeling, if ever at all, attraction for other people just made you feel like you were getting pressured into a game everyone else was playing. Except for you that is. 

It just wasn't your holiday, and that was fine, you just simply wished others would see it that way too. Instead of having to constantly be on edge if you said the wrong thing about not wanting the persistent reminder that you don't fit inside the box everyone else puts you in. 

It was a bummer, and it hurt quite a bit. Losing friendships and the likes in certain cases. Just because of the fact you didn't experience the world the way they did. 

But, you'd deal with it. Just like you've always done. 

If you could, that is. 

Unfortunately, your favorite coworker(s) had made it a bit difficult to keep your head down and avoid like you typically did. 

Valentine's was their favorite holiday—though, you think they said that with every holiday—and thus they had to go all out for it. 

Every inch of the Daycare was covered head to toe with decorations, streamers and paper hearts covering every surface. Instead of the Daycare theme, age appropriate love songs played through the speakers up above softly, adding to the overly love-filled atmosphere. 

For them, you were sure it was great, exactly the vision they had in mind. For you, it was just, too much. 

But the decorations and the music weren't the problem. Unfortunately, it was Sun and Moon themselves causing the 'issues' you were dealing with. 

All week long they'd been leaving little things for you to find throughout the play area. Little handmade cards with endearing notes. Paper roses folded neatly by your belongings. 

It tore you up inside, mainly because you knew what this all was leading up to, and you were almost dreading having to tell them. It wasn't that you didn't care for them. You really, truly did. A lot. So much. 

But not like that. Not at this point, that is. Sure, maybe it was possible, but at the current moment, the idea of such just made you feel, off. 

So when Sun came up to you near the middle of your shift, something hiding behind his back, you already had a guess as to what it was. 

Before he said anything, he seemed to pause, almost deflating upon getting closer to you. 

You speak first, trying to keep your tone light. "Everything alright, Sunny?"

"Of course, Sunbeam!" Still, he keeps his hands behind his back. "But, is everything alright with you?"

You nod with a smile. "Of course. I'm just a little tired is all."

"Oh... are you sure? You've seemed a bit, upset all week long. Would you... like to talk about it?"

Your brows raise, both in surprise and in fear that you'd been found out. "I, no, that's okay! It's not um, something I really want to talk about right now."

"Right. Of course." He steps back, then another, then turns around but manages to keep whatever he was holding hidden from you. "Well, enjoy your break, friend!" 

He walks off then, before you can stop him, and your heart sinks a bit. 

The rest of the day proves to be, incredibly stressful. The party for the kids goes great, but it leaves you with a terrible disaster to clean up. It sours your mood more than you expected, especially after finding the mess of glitter glue hiding underneath one of the tables, you spend nearly thirty minutes scrubbing on your hands and knees to get it cleaned up. And when you emerge you remember all the rest of the clean up you still have to do, stressing you out even further.

With a sigh and a stretch to crack your back, you trudge over to where the trash is and deposit the used paper towels into it. You turn around to get back to work, but are shocked to find Sun standing there, looking a bit cheered up compared to your last 'official' conversation earlier. 

"Hello Sunshine!" 

You smile, tired. "Hi, Sun. Need something?"

"It's not what I need, but rather, what you need, friend." He pokes your chest once, rays spinning. "I have a little surprise for you. If you'll accept." 

Your brow furrows. This seems a bit different than earlier, so you're curious. "Oh?"

"Yup! Now come on!" He takes both your hands and starts pulling you out of the Daycare, heading in the direction of the theater, you in tow. 

You don't protest physically, too tired and stressed—as you quickly realize—but do speak up about it. "Woah! What about cleanup?"

"Clean up can wait! You obviously don't feel well, and we need to fix that immediately!" Sun pushes open the theater doors with his back, leading you inside. "And Moon and I have just the thing for it."

After your eyes adjust to the lighting, you're surprised to see there's a film pulled up on the large screen, with a couple of beanbags and blankets piled near the middle of the room. There's a smell of popcorn in the air that makes your mouth water. 

Sun finally stops once you're over by the beanbags, pushing you to sit down in one, covering you with a blanket once you comply. He sets a bag of popcorn and a couple boxes of candies in your lap. When he's done he pats your head and sits down in a bean bag not too far from you. But you do note it's not his usual spot beside you, but you let it go as he claps his hands. 

His rays spin. "Ready to get started? This is just for you, but we went ahead and took the liberty of picking the first film."

"I, yeah, I guess so. Thank you guys, I uh, needed a break." You take a bite of popcorn and turn to look at the screen. "More than I expected—Is this 'Valentine's Day'?!" You almost choke from your laughter. 

"Of course! It seemed fitting, and the reviews we read were very passionate!"

You shake your head, settling in. "Passionate is the key word there, I think."

The film passes by quicker than you'd expect, chatting with Sun every so often to explain why the story makes you laugh so much, explaining what exactly a romcom is, and just in general decompressing from the day. 

They let you pick the next one—with Moon getting to be out to watch this time instead—and you choose another classic bad movie, 'Bride Wars' to keep the theme up. 

Again with Moon though, he keeps his distance from you, settling in a respectable few feet away. Which, you did appreciate in the beginning, after being overwhelmed with the amount of in your face love-dovey stuff the past several weeks. But now, you're feeling, lonely. 

About a quarter of the way into this movie, you decide to speak up, turning to your lunar companion. 

"Hey. What's going on with you guys today?" You ask, reaching a hand over to rest on his. 

Moon flinches, not making eye contact with you. "We're just, we thought, it doesn't matter. We don't want you to be uncomfortable with us, Star."

"Uncomfortable? With you?" You shake your head. "Never. I mean, yeah I was a little worried when—" You stop, realizing it's not helping as he shrinks in on himself. "I, let me explain, I guess."

Moon nods, and you sigh. 

"Romance, just, isn't my thing. Not usually, if ever. I just, I don't really get those feelings for other people. And when it gets constantly shoved down your throat, you start to realize how uncomfortable with it you actually are. Really uncomfortable. I just wanna be me and not feel like I have to be something I'm not, that I can't be." You shake your head again. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I can still feel attraction and the likes, and I, I care about you two a lot. Especially you two. But it's just, not like that? I want to be close with you, be around you all the time, I like your jokes, your teasing, talking to you, but the idea of romance, in general, just, gives me a bit of an ick sometimes, does that all make sense?" You lay back, running a hand through your hair. "I mean, I—I think I'm in love with you both, but not in the way that I have romantic feelings for you? Sorry this is a word vomit of an explanation I'm sorry—"

You feel arms wrap around you, pulling you up into a hug. 

Moon's voice is soft, just a murmur. "We're sorry."

"Moon, it's not on you—"

You can feel him shake his head against you. "Not that. We mean we're sorry you have to deal with that. It's not fair."

"Oh, yeah. I guess so."

He pulls back, hand resting on your cheek as he looks down at you. "We care about you too, a lot. It, doesn't have to be anything more than that. It's enough just to be able to say it. Does that make sense?"

"Y-yeah. It does. More than you know." You feel your face heat up, either from embarrassment or excitement at understanding. You bury your head against his chest. "And as for like, the gifts and stuff, that's still okay. They're still sweet, and they mean a lot. I promise."

Moon snickers. "Sounds like you just enjoy getting things."

"Not true! I really do like it! It's the thought that counts." You protest, now fully embarrassed. 

Moon hugs you a little tighter, humming. "I suppose it is."

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you for the request @starspindle! It was interesting to tackle in that through writing I learned a bit about myself and my own indentity, plus i just enjoy writing hurt/comfort hehe ^^

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzybee3

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Forty-Five

(AO3 counterpart here.)

The Houses were quiet at night, but made up for the lack of one sense with the overabundance of another—every window blared yellow and white, accompanied by porch-lights that blasted Fireheart’s eyes when he and his friends walked past them. Every time, Greystripe grunted in irritation behind him, and he could practically feel Ravenwing’s flinches.

“Remind me where your sister’s house is?” Greystripe said after a stretch of walking in silence.

“Not too far,” Fireheart replied. “She’s on the corner of the street up ahead.”

“Her humans should be asleep by now,” Ravenwing mused. “She might be, too. Would Cloudpaw stick around there?”

Fireheart grimaced. “He’s been inside her home before. My guess is that he’s stayed with her to eat and rest. He could be there because he’s afraid to come home, but…”

“…But?” Ravenwing prompted after a pause.

Claws slipped out, clicking on the pavement. “But it’s possible that the humans took him to another house, or to the pound to look for his owner.”

“The ‘pound’,” Greystripe echoed. “I’ve heard of that. It’s a prison, right? Where a bunch of cats are trapped until humans come and get them?”

“Essentially.”

“Ugh.” An audible shiver of fur behind him. “I hope he’s still here, then.”

Fireheart said nothing. He felt eyes on the back of his head, curious and uneasy ones.

“So, if we do find him,” Ravenwing said at last, in a tone of testing waters, “what are we going to say? We should probably plan that before we actually get to him.”

“I know what I’ll say,” Fireheart said flatly. “Neither of you needs to talk.”

The stares turned unnerved. He could sense the two of them looking at each other in worry. 

“Are you sure you don’t want us to say anything?” Greystripe asked hesitantly.

“I’m sure,” was all Fireheart responded with.

The pause this time was a lot more tense; Fireheart was sure they were silently trying to figure out what to say to him. Whatever it was—a plea to go easy on Cloudpaw, a question about what he’d say, a suggestion of how to get Cloudpaw back—he had to admit that, for once, he didn’t particularly care about it. He had his words rehearsed in his head already. He just had to brace himself for the reaction to them.

The silence continued until they reached Rosy’s fence and stopped in front of it. The wood was slightly scraped and splintered on the top, paint chipped off in one or two places. Fireheart had never paid attention to these details before. Now, he scanned with his eyes, memorizing them, knowing that he would likely not get to study them again.

He took a breath, bunched up, and leaped for the top. He landed on the thin rail, perfectly balanced where he stood. Greystripe and Ravenwing followed him immediately, Greystripe nearly falling over the side and Ravenwing making a small, startled noise at how small his landing strip was.

Cloudpaw was not in the yard.

He was, however, at the glass door, staring mournfully outside. Behind him, Rosy was saying something that the glass muted. If Fireheart was judging her posture and gestures right, she was trying to calm him down. Coax him, perhaps.

Cloudpaw looked up a few moments after his uncle had arrived. He jumped to his feet and began moving his mouth eagerly, his vibrant blue eyes wild with distress. Whatever he was trying to say, the glass blocked it beyond a faint, desperate mumble.

“Well,” Greystripe said, “at least he’s here.”

“Mm.” Fireheart jumped down into the yard, his friends landing a moment later beside him.

“Don’t say anything too loudly,” Ravenwing murmured. “If the humans wake up, they might try to catch us too.”

Fireheart walked up to the door-flap beside the glass, pawing at it experimentally. It was blocked by something flat and stiff.

“They’ve closed the door,” he said. “That’s why he hasn’t come home. He can’t get out at all.”

“Well, maybe not ‘at all’…” Ravenwing looked up at the glass door, head tilted. “How do covers like this typically open?”

“Mine slid to the side,” Fireheart said, then looked at Ravenwing. “What are you thinking?”

Ravenwing hummed, eyes narrowed. “I’m thinking we should try pushing this open a bit.”

“I dunno, it’s probably really heavy,” Greystripe said. “Can’t we pry open that little one Fireheart was looking at?”

Ravenwing shook his head. “If we could, Cloudpaw and Rosy would have already done it.”

“Flap-guards tend to have a trick to them that needs humans to work them,” Fireheart agreed. He clicked his teeth as he regarded the glass door. “We may not be strong enough to open this, though, Ravenwing.”

“We might as well give it a try.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“We’ll find another way.”

Something in Fireheart, something like a hidden anxiety he hadn’t registered, smoothed out and eased. They’re not going to give up on him, no matter what he’s done.

“Let’s try it, then,” he said. He closed in on the glass and pressed a paw against it, testing its weight. It was heavy indeed, and his paw slipped a little as he pushed.

Ravenwing hummed again as Greystripe joined them. “Try pushing here, on this end of it. That little bump of metal can give us a grip.”

Greystripe took up position, rearing on his hind legs and leaning his weight against the metal that surrounded the glass on all sides. Fireheart crouched beneath him, and Ravenwing was closer to the middle, his paws on the small metal ridge on the bottom of the door. Looking excited, Cloudpaw mirrored Ravenwing. Rosy, after a moment of hesitation, joined up behind her son.

With a word from Ravenwing, Fireheart braced his feet on the grass and pushed as hard as he could, straining every muscle and unconsciously gritting his teeth. Above him, Greystripe half-growled with the effort, and Ravenwing groaned through a closed mouth. Greystripe had been right; it was like pushing the Great Sycamore over, and Fireheart started to doubt this would work.

Then he had to lean a little forward, and a faint squeak of a door splitting from its mooring sounded. He repositioned and pushed again, his friends copying. Ever-so-slowly, they moved a few steps forward, until Cloudpaw’s voice cried out much more clearly.

“Eparme!” he shouted.

Fireheart puffed air and dropped back down on all fours, scooting out underneath Greystripe just before he did the same. The effort of moving the behemoth door made his limbs a little shaky, but it didn’t matter when Cloudpaw’s muzzle was pushing out into the open.

“Cloudpaw,” he said, soft with relief. He met up with his nephew, touching noses with him as well as he could.

His fluffy head was pressed between the door and the wall, straining as hard as he could to squeeze out through the small gap. Rosy appeared behind him, her face somewhere between worried and excited.

“Let’s push from this side now,” Ravenwing said, gesturing with a paw to the gap. “I think that’ll be easier. Did you notice it slid open better once it left the wall?”

“In that case, let me.” Greystripe braced his paws on the open door and his back against the wall of the house. With a grunt, he shoved hard, even lifting a back foot to join the effort. Slowly, the door slid again, Greystripe only stopping when the gap was wide enough for Cloudpaw to push through. He stepped out of the way with a huff of exhaustion, letting Cloudpaw run to Fireheart and lean against his chest, purring as loud as his mother often did.

Fireheart rested his chin on Cloudpaw’s head. “Hey, little guy.”

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” Cloudpaw looked up at him. “I went inside just for a moment, and, and they closed the door, and I couldn’t get it open– I thought I’d be in there forever.” He beamed. “But you came for me! I was scared you wouldn’t!”

Despite his own relief and love surging through his veins, Fireheart’s chest and mind were a little cooled. He simply blinked slowly at his nephew and nodded to the fence. “We should get out of here before the humans wake up.”

Rosy wriggled through the door gap. Being considerably thinner than her son, it was a lot easier. “You’re taking him back? What am I supposed to do while he’s—”

“You should come with us,” Fireheart said to her. “This will be important.”

Cloudpaw blinked. “Not to camp, right?”

“Just to the edge of the Houses.” Fireheart crooked his tail. “Come on.”

With him at the lead, the group crossed over the fence and loped at a steady but quick pace, not speaking until they reached the final house before the pavement turned to earth and grass. There, Fireheart turned around, lifting a paw for everyone to stop. His eyes were on Cloudpaw.

“This is the last time,” he said.

Cloudpaw’s excitement turned to meek shame. His head lowered and his paws shuffled. “I know, I—”

“This is the last time,” Fireheart continued, “that you get to decide where you stand.”

A pause. Everyone looked at him apprehensively.

“You have two choices, and this will be your final answer.” Fireheart swept his tail towards the forest. “Either you come home with me, and never set foot in the Houses again—” he jerked a nod back the way they’d come. “—or you leave the Clans forever to live with a collar around your neck.”

Cloudpaw stared at him, mouth agape.

“Fireheart…” Ravenwing started carefully, but Fireheart shook his head.

“I’m not going to make any more excuses for you, and I’m not going to allow this behavior again. You’ve put yourself in danger too many times, you’ve disrespected and neglected your Clanmates to eat kittypet food, and you’ve scared everyone, especially your sister, by disappearing like this so much.” He stared deep into his nephew’s eyes, his own slightly narrowed. “You’re either Cloudpaw of ThunderClan or Cloudy the kittypet. Make your choice.”

His heart winced at the stricken look on Cloudpaw’s face. Half of him clamored to take back that whole speech, and the other half demanded that he be stern and force Cloudpaw down the straight and narrow. He responded to both by silently standing tall, looking down at his nephew with a steady but gentle gaze.

Rosy took a step forward, her voice a little shaky, but audibly trying to be strong. “Fireheart, you can’t do that to him. He needs me, and he needs you too.”

“He doesn’t need you,” Fireheart said curtly without thinking, and regretted it the instant he saw Rosy’s eyes widen and mouth drop open. He softened his voice, trying to backpedal. “He doesn’t need me, either. It’s not about what he needs.” He returned his attention to Cloudpaw. “It’s about what you want. Do you want to be a kittypet, or do you want to be a warrior?”

“W…” Cloudpaw fidgeted, now like a kit trying to squirm their way out of punishment. “What if I just come to say hi to mira?”

The immediacy of Fireheart’s response surprised himself. “Then I will let the Clan know to chase you away from the border every time you try to come back.”

The look on Cloudpaw’s face was soul-shattering. The gawks from his friends and Rosy were not much better.

“I’m sorry,” Fireheart said quietly. “But you need to choose where your loyalty lies and stick with it. You’re hurting everyone by going like you are now—your mothers, me, your siblings, your friends, all of us.”

This seemed to reach Cloudpaw. He glanced back at Rosy, whose face had turned pleading.

“Then…” Rosy’s voice lost its attempt at strength. “Then stay with me, Cloudy. Please.”

Cloudpaw looked between her and Fireheart, his ears low. He asked his uncle, “Can… can I think about it?”

“No,” Fireheart said.

Cloudpaw balked. “Wh– I have to choose right now?!”

“Yes.”

“But—”

Fireheart simply looked down at him, trying to express sympathy and firmness together. Cloudpaw shut his mouth and looked back at Rosy.

Rosy trembled. “Don’t– don’t you dare do this to me, Fireheart. I can’t lose him. I can’t.”

“Neither can I,” Fireheart replied softly.

“No, you—” Rosy’s back-fur bristled, but she somehow looked even smaller. “You’re not his mother. You didn’t lose all of your kits to different houses. You didn’t—”

“And you didn’t raise him.” Fireheart’s voice was sharper than he intended, but he couldn’t stop his sudden spike of anger now, despite the hurt look on his sister’s face. “You didn’t protect him during the fire. You didn’t train him to protect himself in the wild. You gave him over to his Clan-mother before he could ever remember you, and she fed him and loved him as fiercely as you could ever hope to. His sister loves him. His Clan loves him. I love him.”

Cloudpaw looked up at him, eyes wide again, his expression startled, yet touched.

Fireheart spoke to him now, his voice quiet again and his anger dissipated. “But that’s not going to matter if you stay with Rosy and become a kittypet. I’ll understand if you do, and I won’t be angry – Rosy loves you too; she’ll take care of you for the rest of her life and you’ll be safe from every danger. But that means you’ll never see ThunderClan or me again. Do you understand that?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ravenwing’s eyes were wide enough to see a white ring around them and Greystripe fur fluffed out in nervousness. Fireheart disregarded them for now. This wasn’t for them to be involved in. He just turned his attention back to his nephew and sister.

Cloudpaw finally spoke, his voice so quiet Fireheart almost didn’t hear him. “…Will you miss me?”

Fireheart nodded. “Every day.”

“Cloudy, please—” Rosy stumbled a few steps forward, shaking all the way to her tail-tip. “Please, stay with me. I can take care of you, I can feed you and love you, please, I need you to be in my life. I can’t lose you again.“

Cloudpaw inhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes shut. He held his breath for a moment before letting it out at a stuttering pace. Opening his eyes again, with an acute pain in them, he turned to Rosy. Fireheart’s heart clenched, a thorn embedding itself deep in it.

“I’m sorry,” Cloudpaw said sadly. “ThunderClan needs me, too.”

Rosy stared at him, her eyes going wet and agonized. The thorn in Fireheart’s chest dug a little deeper, but course-corrected its pain to her now. Regret washed over him at the look on his sister’s face, the way that every inch of her froze over.

“We’ll take care of him,” he said. “Just like we always have. I promise.”

Cloudpaw turned around and nervously asked his uncle, “Will– will you see her, at least?”

Stars, Fireheart hadn’t wanted to approach that question. “…I don’t think so, no. I need to set an example, for you and for the Clan. I have duties, now, Cloudpaw. I have to take care of our Clan before myself.”

A small whimper escaped Rosy’s mouth. “No… you… Rusty, please—”

“I’m sorry,” Fireheart said, his voice unsteady as something in him broke. “I’m more sorry than you could ever know.”

There was a stretch of silence as the family looked at each other, Rosy’s heart visibly cracked in half and guilt and sorrow flooding Fireheart’s body. Cloudpaw was the one to stir, walking up to Rosy and gently pressing his forehead against hers.

“Bye, mira,” he murmured. “I love you.”

Rosy didn’t speak. All that came out of her were weeping breaths and mumbled attempts at words. Fireheart felt himself pulled forward to mimic the gesture when Cloudpaw was done, but Rosy flinched away from him, backing up a step and leaning away. Furious, unbearable, grieving betrayal burned in her eyes.

Fireheart didn’t push her. He simply stood back, met her eyes and nodded slightly. Anything he could say would not make this better, so he didn’t try. He just beckoned his friends and nephew with his tail, turned around, and started for the forest. After a moment, grass parted behind him, and pawsteps of varying weight followed.

He could feel Rosy’s unforgiving glare on his back all the way into the forest.

[yanderes-galore]

may I request a yandere concept for James Sunderland in DBD?٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

Here's the mentally unstable and depressed blonde. But in DBD. I reread the previous stuff I did for him to try and help me write him how I did before.

I'M SO MAD THE SILENT HILL 2 REMAKE ISN'T FOR XBOX YET! 😭

Here's some prompts I did for him.

Here's some Tarot HCs I did for him.

Yandere! James Sunderland (DBD) Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Delusional behavior, Murder mentioned, Jealousy, Projections, Possessive behavior, Guilt, Depression, Mentions of suicidal thoughts, Attempted murder on Darling mentioned, Denial, Manipulation, James plays victim, Forced affection mentioned, Forced relationship.

Honestly, having him as a yandere in his original universe is already bad enough.

James comes from a pretty tough place in his life.

After the death of his wife, he went to Silent Hill for either answers or clarity...

Then all of a sudden he's here, in an entirely new hell where he has to face creatures and killers beyond comprehension.

I've said this in previous posts about him, but James is extremely delusional and mentally unstable.

This is a man who killed his wife while she was dying in the hospital.

He's a man plagued with depression and has thought of ending it quite a lot.

When it comes to his obsession, he most likely sees you like he did with Mary, his wife.

He's often tormented by how much you remind him of her (regardless of gender).

This makes James conflicted enough as is.

At first, James doesn't want to admit he's falling for you.

He doesn't believe he deserves to be loved or even feel love again.

He feels panicked when he feels his cheeks warm or his chest beat faster.

He tells himself you don't even mean to make him feel this way.

You're just helping him survive, you're a survivor.

The only reason you help him is to benefit yourself.

Yet he's over here getting all bothered because you're paying attention to him.

He's pathetic and he knows it.

Despite his denial, he still feels his feelings getting stronger.

He falls fast due to how unstable he is.

Deep down James wants to chase how you make him feel.

He wants you to drown him in your everything, to make him forget about Mary.

He craves your kisses, warmth, hold, all of it.

He wants that so bad, he doesn't care how wrong any of it is.

He wants you to help him cope, but none of it is healthy.

He doesn't deserve to feel possessive or jealous.

He doesn't deserve you.

Yet isn't it human nature to want something you can't have?

James is unpredictable, always too deep in his delusions and hallucinations.

Now's not the time for any of that... You need to survive.

Unfortunately... James can't ignore the envy he feels forever.

He's aware he's a horrible person, a monster probably just as bad as all the others here.

Yet he craves you like you're his sanctuary.

James gets irritable when he sees you with other survivors.

He sometimes even hates how Mary seems to haunt him in your features.

James can never seem to cope properly.

His poor obsession is often a victim of this.

James tends to cling to his obsession.

He's either always following you or trying to pull you into tight hugs.

He's a possessive man, always muttering and asking you to forgive him.

He knows he shouldn't be doing any of this, he should leave you alone.

Yet he continues his actions, often pleading for you to forgive him until someone pries him off.

James has frequent unstable thoughts.

He plots how to harm or get rid of other survivors, even if they'll just come back.

There's even some brief delusional thoughts he has about Mary, making him target you.

It's terrifying when he pins you to a tree, hands around your neck as he calls you 'Mary'.

You're scared to die, even if it doesn't matter in this place.

James has no morals, not anymore.

James is aware of his failing mental state.

In fact... He knows how to use it.

James knows he should be ashamed of playing victim... but...

It gets you to play attention to him.

If James opens up to you, something he usually hates doing, he can garner your pity.

If he tells you about his depression... his darker thoughts... you'll comfort him.

You won't pay attention to anyone else if he steals your attention, right?

He doesn't care if he's manipulating you.

Your eyes are on him... you're holding him... you're comforting him...

He hopes you'll let him kiss your lips too, he wants to taste you.

James is a pathetic man who can't figure out what he wants.

He wants you to tend and care for him, to make him forget about Mary.

At the same time he views your presence as torture, only able to see Mary in you.

James isn't sure how much he can take.

Maybe this really is hell.

Maybe you're meant to be his torment, a worse torment compared to all the monsters in this place.

James hates it at times... but you're all he ever wants.

He's addicted to you, no matter how violent it makes him.

The others know him as a liability.

But he needs you.

Every kiss and ounce of affection... He takes it.

Even if you didn't want to give it.

James is a pathetic and selfish man.

He used to deny that, but he knows it now.

James would do anything to keep you to himself.

Manipulation, murder, it doesn't matter in the end really...

James just needs you, dead or alive...

You're his only way to cope.

[e-dubbc11]

Old Memories…And New Ones

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dad! Dean Winchester x F! Hunter Reader

Warnings: Couple of swear words, fluffy bunnies and unicorns, little bit of angst, and PG-13 smexy time.

Word Count: 4.1K-ish(Wasn’t expecting it to be this long)

Summary: Dean shares some old photos with you, prompting you to look for the photos you have of you and your mother. And Dean has a surprise for you at the end.

A/N: Part of the Carrying On series. If you need a refresher or haven’t read it, I’ll leave it linked HERE. I didn’t expect this one to be this long, it took on a life of its own so I hope you like it.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Delicately holding the photograph, you studied it carefully for a brief moment.

A beautiful young woman with blond hair peeking around her adorable young son, both of them had closed lip smiles stretched across their faces, and their kind eyes had smiled for the camera as well.

Like your mother, Dean’s mother had passed away when he and Sam were very young but in very different ways. However, losing a parent is difficult no matter what. You were even younger than Dean was when your mother passed.

Vaguely, you remember her being sick and then in a blink of an eye, she was gone. You didn’t have any real memories of her. All you had were a few old photos from when you were a baby and as a young toddler.

If you didn’t have those, you wouldn’t have even known what she looked like although every chance he had, your father would always tell you how much you reminded him of her and in more ways than just her looks.

From the stories your father told you about her, she just seemed like such a wonderful person and more than anything you wished you could recall just one fond memory of her but at least you had your dad’s stories and the photos.

Charlie was already in bed so it was just you and Dean relaxing by the fireplace with a couple of beers.

“She was beautiful, Dean.” You voiced, softly with a slight smile. “And look at how cute you were!”

“WERE?! I’ve changed that much, huh sweetheart?” He joked. “I’d love to see some pictures of you, y/n. Do you have any?”

You chuckled a little, leaned over, kissed him on the cheek and replied, “I don’t have a lot of photos but I do have some. I’d love to show them to you. And what I meant was, now you’re just incredibly handsome.”

Dean set his beer down on the coffee table after taking a sip, closed the gap between your bodies and purred in your ear, “I dunno how but you always manage to turn me on with just a smile and a little compliment but you do.”

He removed the bottle from your hand and set it down next to the other one. His tongue swiped along his lower lip as he gazed at you with his beautiful green eyes. They were the color of fresh blades of grass after a summer rain, healthy and bright with the molten orange flame from the fire reflecting in his pupils.

You knew that look well. Dean gently swept a stray hair away from your face, stroked the soft skin of your cheek with his thumb before deftly pressing his lips against yours. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as he deepened his kiss, his full lips slanted over yours while his tongue silently pleaded to tangle with yours.

A hint of light citrus and wheat were still fresh on his lips from the beer as you moaned against his mouth and his hands traveled from your face, down your body before finally resting on your waist.

“Whoa, wait a minute there, stud. I know what you’re doing.” You said in an accusatory but playful tone.

Dean’s strong hands roamed over your hips and on the outside of your thigh as a sly smile stretched across his lips.

“What am I doin’, baby?” He asked with raised eyebrows before passionately kissing you again.

“You’re normally always the one to point out that we could get caught in the act by your son when we fool around out here. And now, you’re initiating it…which is VERY hard to resist.” You said, pointing your finger at him.

The two of you hadn’t been caught by Charlie yet but as he was very curious, it was only a matter of time before you got yourselves into a position you wouldn’t be able to talk your way out of.

Dean continued to stare at you while biting down on his lower lip, his agile fingers dipped below the waistband of your jeans and simultaneously brushed along the sensitive skin of your stomach and the pants. Goosebumps peppered across your skin as a sharp tingle traveled down your spine and you felt him undo the top button of your jeans.

“Oh I’m hard to resist, huh? I can show you somethin’ else that’s hard.” He said with a goofy grin.

Dean had the ability to turn any sexy moment like this one into a ridiculous one which always made you laugh and you loved him for that. Being with someone that could make you laugh was important because you had gone through most of your life without a lot to smile about.

A loud cackle escaped your lips and you quickly covered your mouth, hoping Charlie wouldn’t hear you.

“Let’s go to bed, handsome.” You said, raking your fingers through his soft brown hair.

After spending your life on the road with your father, hunting, and never having a place to call home, it was the best feeling in the world to finally have a home and spend your time with someone who had your heart.

You both stood up, Dean grabbed the beer bottles, and before he started for the kitchen, he replied, “I’ll be right there, sweetheart. Gonna shut off the lights and make sure the fire will be alright ‘til morning.”

As you walked in front of him, with his free hand, Dean playfully slapped you on the ass and said in a slightly deeper and gravelly tone this time, “And no sleeping!”

Glancing down at your gray Henley, you grasped it at the hem and in one fluid motion, pulled it up and over your head. Dean’s jaw dropped as he hungrily stared at you in just your red lace bra.

You tossed the shirt, he caught it with his free hand, and you quipped with a wink, “Then hurry up, baby.”

Before you closed his bedroom door behind you, there was a sound of the glass bottles clinking and crashing into the sink, followed by Dean trying to find the light switches before muttering, “Son of a bitch.”

**********

Dean woke you the next morning by softly kissing your bare shoulder and spooning up behind you to warm your body. The bristles of his beard tickled your neck as he left a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your pulse point.

“Mmmm…that feels nice, baby. I’ll make some coffee, ok?” You said.

“No, no, where ya goin’? I can do somethin’ else that feels even nicer.” He purred into your ear.

“Well, if you wanna enjoy your coffee in peace before Charlie and Bear get up, I suggest we get up now. Come on, stud.” You said with a smirk.

Letting Charlie sleep in on the weekends was standard. He did so much during the week, between school and a couple of activities, the poor kid was exhausted so he and Bear were still asleep while you and Dean enjoyed a cup of coffee at the kitchen table.

“Thank you, Dean.” You said in barely more than a whisper.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he took a sip of his coffee and replied, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Then, with a confused look on his face and after the coffee hit the pit of his stomach, he turned to you and asked, “F-for what, exactly?”

“For showing me all of those pictures last night. The ones of you and your parents when you were little…those are nice to have.” You said.

Dean brushed your knuckles with his fingers, smiled, and replied, “You still have to show me yours.”

“I’ll find them later today while you’re out with Charlie. Don’t forget, that birthday party starts at 2.” You stated.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. You could tell he forgot and was angry with himself for forgetting.

“Crap…” Muttered Dean. “I forgot about that.”

Like magic, you pulled a gift bag from underneath the table and said, “Lucky for you, I didn’t forget. Charlie said the kid is a little bit of a nerd and he likes baseball, so I got him a puzzle of Yankee Stadium.”

“You really are the best. I love you so much, thank you.” He said, as he leaned across the table to kiss you. “Sure you don’t wanna come too? It’ll keep the horny single moms away from me.”

“You have fun at the arcade with Charlie and I’ll see you guys when you get back. I have some chores to do at home and I know I have those photos, I just don’t exactly know WHERE they are.” You said with a chuckle, brushing his beard with your thumb.

Dean let out an exaggerated sigh, “Okaaaaaaay. Well, it will give me time to make sure my hunter fighting skills are up to par.”

You giggled and replied, “I love you too, handsome. Just drop Bear back home before you head out, ok?”

He nodded, kissed the top of your head and began to rub his hands together rapidly. “You got it, baby. Think it’s time for Charlie to rise and shine.”

You just shook your head, smiled, and watched him walk down the hall to wake Charlie up.

**********

The nervous tingle in your hands and fingers persisted as you searched high and low for the photographs of you and your mother. There was an uneasy and panicked feeling in your stomach as you frantically opened desk drawers and tore apart your bedroom looking for the only pictures you will ever have of her.

After Dean and Charlie dropped Bear off, it reminded you to look for them.

Life had been so busy since buying your home that you couldn’t remember the last time you had actually looked at those pictures and you were starting to wonder if they got lost in the move or if you put them in a “safe place” that was so safe, even you couldn’t find them.

You were starting to freak out, your jaw was so tight and rigid that your head was starting to hurt, and all other sounds had been blocked out by your drum-like heartbeat pounding loudly in your ears.

“Where could they be?!” You asked yourself in an anxious tone.

Because you were so preoccupied, you didn’t hear the knock on the door or when Dean called out to you in his deep gravelly voice.

“Sweetheart?! Y/N?! We’re back!” He said.

Charlie sounded excited to see Bear. “Hi Bear!”

You developed tunnel vision trying to find them and your cheeks flamed with anger but you didn’t want Charlie to see you upset so you composed yourself long enough to call out to them from the bedroom.

“Hey guys! How was the party?!” You asked.

Dean’s heavy footsteps could be heard coming from the living room. You could hear him step over the books and papers that were all over the floor.

“Hey baby, whaaaaat are ya doin’?” He asked, looking down at the mess you turned your bedroom into.

The tears that had formed were stinging the back of your eyes as you tried your hardest for them not to streak down your cheeks. You were in pain from kneeling on the hardwood floors practically all day, you felt mentally and physically exhausted, and you still couldn’t find the pictures of your mother.

Immediately, Dean called out to Charlie when he saw the look on your face.

“Charlie?!! I need to help y/n find something very important so take Bear back to our house and come back in like an hour with that box we picked up, ok?” Shouted Dean.

“Ok Dad! Come on, Bear.” Said Charlie.

As soon as you heard the door close behind them, Dean dropped to his knees, you burst into tears, and he tightly wrapped his arms around you to try and comfort you.

“Hey, hey, hey it’s ok. We’ll find them, baby. We’ll find them.” Dean said, calmly.

With your face buried in his chest, your tears fell into his shirt as you worriedly replied, “They’re all I have of her, Dean. I feel like I’ve looked everywhere!”

“Look at me, y/n.” He said as you looked up at him through your tear soaked lashes. “You haven’t looked everywhere. If you did, then you would have found them, ok? Let’s keep looking, come on.”

Dean helped you look inside of books, folders, drawers, cabinets, and basically anything that could be opened, he went over it with a fine-tooth comb and made sure he checked under and inside of everything.

As you continued to tear apart everything in your desk drawers, Dean walked over to your nightstand and looked inside. He pulled everything out, only to come up empty so he turned his attention to your bed.

As he lifted the mattress away from the box spring, he saw what looked like a journal and pulled it out. While thumbing through the pages, he came across a stack of photos tucked into pocket at the end.

The first picture he saw was of a baby girl dressed in pink from head to toe and her beautiful mother, with features similar to yours, fondly looking at her as she slept in her crib. He knew he had found them.

“Sweetheart…” Whispered Dean, holding the journal and waiting for you to look up at him.

Your eyes darted from his, down to his hands gently holding the journal and the photos were now sticking out from the top of the book for easy access.

It all came rushing back. You had kept your journal close during your long drive from Oklahoma to Colorado and after the movers unloaded your bed, you wanted to keep it in a safe place and close to you. But inside the nightstand wasn’t close enough so you placed it in between the mattress and the box spring for easy access for when you wanted to write in it.

When you first moved in, you wrote in your journal quite often, mostly about Dean and Charlie, but as you and Dean became closer, you didn’t write in it as much and very apparently forgot about it. But you remembered tucking the pictures in the back to “keep them safe.”

“Dean…you found them.” You said, taking the journal from him and removing the photos from the pages. “I don’t know what I would have—thank you for finding these.”

You snaked your arms around his neck, and without warning or hesitation, you aggressively pressed your lips to his which surprised him but only for a brief second before he returned your kiss and pulled your body in close so it was flush with his.

“You’re welcome, baby.” Said Dean with a warm smile.

He kissed you again.

Dean’s lips tasted like sugar and cherries and as you pulled away, you asked him through narrowed eyes, “Did you have cherry pie at that birthday party?”

Stumbling slightly over his words, he replied, “W-well, as a m-matter of fact, I did. The boys had cake and one of the mom’s m-made a cherry pie.”

After you touched your tongue to your top lip, you asked, “Lemme guess, she made it just for you.”

Dean blurted out, “NO!!” But his tone quickly changed and he retorted, “B-but s-she did offer me the first p-piece.”

“Of course she did.” You said with a wide smile.

Dean tried to flash you a quick cute smile which you found amusing.

“But baby, I—“ He started to say.

You interrupted him.

“Dean, it’s ok baby. I’m just messin’ with you.”

Looking down at the pile of pictures, you sat down on the bed and began thumbing through them to find your favorite one.

“This one’s my favorite.” You whispered, handing the picture to Dean.

It was of you and your mom with a birthday cake in front of you and the number “2” on top. Her long hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail and she had a purple turtleneck on. You couldn’t explain why it was your favorite, just that you really loved it.

“Look at you…so happy. And lucky me, I get to see that beautiful smile every day.” He said, brushing hair away from your face and giving you a kiss.

“Thank you, baby. Wait a minute…are you trying to distract me from the horny single mom that made you a pie?!” You asked.

“Depends…is it working?” Asked Dean.

“No.” You firmly replied.

He shrugged. “Worth a shot, I guess. Well, how ‘bout I only eat YOUR cherry pie?” He said with a sly smile and raised eyebrows.

“I’ve never made a cherry pie, Dean.” You said, desperately trying to keep a straight face.

“I think you missed my point, sweetheart. See, what I meant was—“ He started to say before you cut him off.

Laughing, you replied, “I know what you meant, baby. But before you can taste my cherry pie, I have to clean up the mess I made of my house plus Charlie is still awake.”

Dean playfully rolled his eyes.

“Okaaaaaaay. Later then.” He said, giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead.

**********

As you and Dean were cleaning and putting things back where they were supposed to be, you could feel him staring and stealing glances at you.

“I love you.” Said Dean, with a warm smile.

You smiled back and replied, “I love you too, Dean.”

“You should get a frame for a couple of those, especially your favorite.” He said, pointing at the photos on the bed.

“Maybe I will. That’s a good idea, baby.” You affirmed.

“Yeah, I’ll get one too for my picture and m-maybe we can put them n-next to one another…in the s-same house?” He asked nervously.

You froze. Heat rushed to your cheeks and your stomach dropped. Was Dean, in his own way, asking you to live with him?

“Dean? What are you saying?” You asked with a hitch in your voice.

“Move in with us, sweetheart.” He said, confidently. “Please?”

Your heart said yes a thousand times over, but your mouth was having trouble getting the words out. You were nervous. What if it didn’t work out? Someone else would be living in your house and you wouldn’t have it to go back to. Plus, you only just bought it a little over a year ago.

“But…what about my house? What if we don’t work out? What if—“ You started to say.

“Sam can rent the house. I’ve been buggin’ him ever since he left the last time to move out here so he can be closer to us. Charlie’s always so bummed out when he has to leave so it will be perfect if he lives next door.” Declared Dean.

Shocked, you finally blurted out, “Dean, are you really sure? Because I can forget you said any of this and we can go back to just—“

“You don’t think I’m serious?” He asked.

As you moved closer to him, you shook your head and replied, “No, it’s not that I don’t think you’re serious, baby. I just…I just wanna make sure that it’s what you really want because I love you and Charlie more than anything. And I will move in tomorrow as long as I know that both of you want me to.”

Suddenly, you heard the side door open and you heard Charlie’s voice coming from the kitchen and you could hear Bear’s nails clicking on the tile floor.

“Did you ask her yet, Dad?!!” Shouted Charlie.

Dean answered, “We’re in the bedroom, buddy.”

“You’re not naked, are you?” Charlie asked as you started to laugh.

“Coast is clear, Charlie. You can come back here.” You replied.

Charlie appeared in the doorway and Bear charged into the bedroom to say hello.

“Did she say yes, Dad? Or were you waiting for me to bring this over?” Asked Charlie, holding out a black velvet box.

You didn’t think you could be any more stunned than you already were.

“Please tell me there’s just a house key in there!” You exclaimed.

Charlie started to laugh.

“Don’t be silly, y/n. There’s a ring in there!” Charlie said with excitement.

You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“CHARLIE!” Dean barked.

Slightly disappointed, Dean took the box from Charlie’s hand then got down on one knee.

“You deserve to have a proper proposal, sweetheart.” He said, opening the box and revealing a solitaire oval shaped diamond.

“Say yes!!” Yelled Charlie.

“Be patient, son. Y/n, I honestly never expected to do this again. I thought I had my one shot and that was it but when you moved in next door, everything changed. I was smiling and laughing again, I found someone who loved my son as their own, and I found someone who could understand all the pain and all the shit that I’ve been through because she’s been through it too. And I’d love for the name on the mailbox to match everyone in the house. I love you so much and was wondering if you would marry me…marry us.” Asked Dean with a hitch in his voice.

You looked over at Charlie whose smile was so big you could see all of his teeth and Bear next to him with his ears at attention. It brought tears to your eyes. When you moved here, you were just hoping to live a semi-normal life and that’s exactly what you got and more.

“Charlie? Are you sure this is ok with you?” You asked, shyly.

Charlie continued to smile and he replied, “Please say yes, y/n. Then you’ll be my bonus mom.”

“Oh Charlie…” You choked out.

Dean smiled and said, “I didn’t even tell him to say that. What do ya say, sweetheart?”

You’ve never been more excited to say the word “yes” in your entire life.

“I say yes!” You answered with excitement.

Dean slid the ring onto your finger and it fit perfectly. Charlie ran over to you, wrapped his arms around you, and squeezed as tight as he could. Even Bear was excited.

“How did you know what size ring to get, baby?” You asked.

He stood up, tilted your chin up so you were looking into his hypnotizing green eyes, and planted a soft kiss onto your lips.

“EW, DAD!” Said Charlie, shielding his eyes.

“While you were sleeping one night, I got up and traced the inside of one of the rings I see you wear all the time on that finger.” He said with confidence and so proud of himself.

Impressed, you replied, “Not bad, stud. Not bad.”

“Dad! Can we go home and call Uncle Sam? He can move here now that y/n is gonna live with us, right?!” Asked Charlie.

Dean turned to you and asked, “How ‘bout it, sweetheart? You ready to go…home?”

Charlie said, “Yeah, maybe you and Dad can move more furniture around like you did last night.”

You felt your whole face turn red and warmth rushed across your cheeks as soon as Charlie finished that sentence. Covering your eyes in embarrassment, you began to laugh nervously.

Completely mortified, you asked Charlie, “What makes you think we were moving furniture around, buddy?”

Dean nervously scratched his beard waiting for Charlie’s answer.

“Well, I heard the bed hit the wall a bunch of times and you must have liked where Dad put it, because I heard you say ‘YES! Right there.’ I thought maybe you just started the move early and I went back to sleep.” He said, so innocently.

“Oh she liked where I put it alright.” Dean said with a devilish smirk.

You playfully slapped him on the shoulder, “DEAN!”

“What does Dad mean, y/n?” Charlie asked.

“Nothing buddy, your dad is just trying to be funny.” You replied.

Slightly offended, Dean said, “What do ya mean TRYING to be funny? I’m damn funny.”

Charlie looked down at the bed and noticed the picture of you and your mother. He smiled, looked up at you, and said, “Your mom was pretty, y/n. You look just like her. I’ll make room for this picture on the mantle, ok?”

Charlie Winchester had your heart just as much as Dean did. And although it was a little different being with someone who had a child already, they made it easy to love them both and you couldn’t wait to start the next chapter as a wife, as a “bonus mom” and as a…Winchester.

You hugged him tightly and replied with a warm smile, “Thank you, Charlie.”

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @stoneyggirl2 @vaguekayla

Others that might enjoy: @k-marzolf @jvanilly @fluffyprettykitty @deans-spinster-witch @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @savorxe

If you would like to be added to(or removed from) my tag list(s) for this smexy Winchester, just let me know!

[a-forbidden-detective]

Until their dying day

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial with the prompt FFF291 - stuff of legends and @fluffbruary Feb 7 using hand as the prompt. Thank you once again for these prompts. Also, with my head canon in mind I’d like to tackle Ron Kamonohashi’s ancestor, Sherlock Holmes.

—

Fandom(s): Kamonohashi Ron kindan no suiri / Sir ACD’s Sherlock Holmes

Characters: Ron Kamonohashi, Totomaru “Toto” Isshiki, Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson

Pairings: RonToto, Johnlock

Word count: 1099

“AHHH! Now I must clean up my dad’s messes. Imagine, Toto, having a father like him leaving dirt on his trail?”

“You have been going on about that all day long…” But Toto shut up his mouth at once when he saw Ron looked admiringly at the picture of his father. Next to it was a rare photo of his parents together, which he alternately paid attention to.

“May I?” Curious, Toto pointed at the picture Ron next to Ron’s head. The forbidden detective was smiling at his newly christened lover.

After the two had a lay-in caused by the gruelling events of the Plateau Auberge incident, Toto went back shortly to his flat in Asakusa to get some fresh clothes, reported to Amamiya and returned to Ron’s place immediately. It made him anxious leaving Ron alone even though he knew that the younger man could cope with it better than Lily-san, Mia and Sakai.

Toto traced the two figures entwined on the picture frame.

“Your life is so extraordinary, Ron. You have these two great people who have cared for you…” He let out a sigh, he and Ron were ready to die together.

“I love the way you think about me… I truly cherish it,” Ron sat behind Toto, encircled his arms around the police officer and went to tell the story of his parents and the ancestor he wanted to emulate, who was the stuff of legends in the family.

“Come to think of it. Milo mentioned that I reminded him of your ancestor’s trusty companion. Who could that be? Do you know him?”

Ron looked at Toto, slowly got up and walked toward the shelves where one of the boxes contained several photographs.

He handed him an old picture of a man in a British uniform. The man sported a slight moustache with blonde hair underneath the helm. His eyes could be blue with the looks of it. He seemed to be a very handsome man.

“It was him why half of the reason my ancestor could and would never leave London. The other was the cases. His name was John Watson, an army doctor for Her Majesty, the Queen Victoria,” Ron said with a naughty smile on his lips.

“Huh? What do you mean? Were your ancestor and this man more than acquaintances?” Toto was surprised.

“Yes.” Ron responded with pride, his eyes were glowing. “You could say they were my ‘real’ great-great-great grandparents!”

“How long has it been going on?” Sherlock lighted up his pipe, white hair threatened to overwhelm his once dark brown hair. Across him was his partner, Dr. John Watson glaring at him, there was also sadness etched on his face, tears threatened to fall. The consulting detective was holding a telegram.

“You are gravely mistaken, my dear doctor. There’s no more understanding between us. The child I left behind only longs to see his father,” the detective was looking at the luggage in the living room. John Watson was going to leave him. If he did not play his cards well, he would do so permanently.

“I only wish for your honesty, Holmes. To me,” the doctor bent his head. “Only to me. After all that we’ve been through. After all the lost three years I have wasted for you.” Frustrated, he believed this was the last straw. The three years in which the doctor thought that his partner had died broke him apart. He likened himself to those bereaved wives who lost their husbands in the wars. As a former soldier, he beat himself up for being pathetic.

On the table there was an ukiyo-e painting of a woman clad in cobalt blue kimono with white plum blossoms all over it. Her face was hidden on the spectator by her fan. It was sent to the flat a few weeks ago. Next to it was a picture of a healthy beautiful boy smiling seated on a wooden floor. Not even two years old. His hair stood up and his cheeks were round like a bun. One could see that he was loved and adored by his family. Below was a note in English, “Yori-kun says Dada for the first time, Chiyo,” with two shaped hearts drawn on it.

“Are they the reason you left for a few months this year?”

Holmes nodded. He took another puff from his pipe but he smoked it too fast that he experienced a tongue bite. There was a burning sensation on his tongue.

“I understand that you deem it as a betrayal, but she is the closest thing I had when I was far away from you,” the detective said. His eyes pleaded, praying that the doctor somehow would understand.

“You didn’t have to go anywhere, Sherlock! You could have asked for my help! But you told me there were assassins following me ready to kill me if you established your connection to me again after your fall at the Reichenbach,” John put his hand on his face suppressing his anger, the need to hit someone or something.

“Now there is nothing we can do. You have your son. And I…” trailed John, who did not know what to say.

Holmes put down his pipe, walked to him, and without saying a word placed his arms around his partner.

“I understand that you hate me. But I never forgot you, John, during the three years of my absence. I always thought of you, asked Mycroft about you, told him to fast-track the process and eliminate the problem as soon as possible so I could come back to you,” the detective assured his best friend one more time.

The doctor shook his head, slowly pushed Sherlock back and said, “No, you could have told me everything. But you have many secrets and I am not even privy to them! Am I an outsider to you?!”

The question rattled Holmes as he had never seen his partner so angry like this.

“No! No, John!” Sherlock put down his hands. He knew when he was beaten.

“I can’t do this. Please give me time. I have to sort this out first.”

With heavy footsteps, the doctor took his luggage and headed to the door.

Upon hearing the door slammed, Sherlock sat on the floor and closed his eyes.

“They got back together again, didn’t they?” Toto held Ron’s face. He was seated on the forbidden detective’s lap. How did it happen?

“Of course! Until the army doctor’s dying day!” Ron replied.

“Thank god!”

And the two laughed together as they held hands.

~fin~

[llondonfog]

This is such a weird, RANDOM, and long ask (more like a rant tbh), but I wanted to say something because I can't get it out of my head.

BIBLICALLY ACCURATE ANGEL SILVER.

Before you boo me, I COULDN'T HELP IT. I just, can't get it out of my brain.

Like, Lilia just wakes up one day, sees this mini horror in Silver's bedroom, and freaks out before realizing that IS Silver.

Everything he knew about Silver's parents is a lie.

Then, Silver transforms back, but part way, so he has these cute little wings with soft, white feathers, and Lilia just MELTS.

He's freaked out, amazed, confused, but he wants to comfort Silver, who is both confused and possibly in pain from the transformation. Growing wings seems painful.

Like, he had 6 wings (3 sets of 2) in the horror-fest form that is a Biblically Accurate Angel (I both encourage and warn you against searching that up lol), and now he has 2-4 wings (possibly with the feathers attached to his head as Seraphim Angels have. I think). Compared to his default human body, that's a big difference, right?

Anyway, I wanted to share this with someone. You don't have to do anything with this, or even respond, but THE IMAGE. I love Silver and he's already angelic, so might as well add a Horrifying version of that, AND pretty wings in the more "normal" version. I just can't write or draw my vision LMAO so I have to cope with sharing it instead.

BIBLICALLY ACCURATE ANGEL SILVER IM IN LOVE????

BABY SILVER WITH BABY ANGEL WINGS!!! oh they are so soft and fluffy, like dreams and clouds and silk all at once!! the imagery of him draping them over lilia while they nap or simply shielding him from the sun with one as he gets older....my heart!!!

And then considering the imagery of extremely pissed off biblically accurate silver protecting his loved ones against any who would seek to bring them harm!!! Absolutely terrifying to behold!! I don't know why I'm partial to the specific one of the large eye surrounded by countless wings but that's what I think of!! All those wings to sweep up and protect his loved ones, and more to deal out powerful blows of damage, with one dizzying aurora-hued eye that can seem like the most gentle gaze that allows you to simply bask in unconditional acceptance or the most horrific choking sense of inevitable judgement for what you've done against the word of good.

FANTASTIC CONCEPT I WISH I COULD DRAW IT

on the other hand, the thought of lilia being in such awe and wonder of his child, this pure and innocent being who has been granted to him, who loves him unconditionally and uses his powers to make lilia's life kinder and easier as silver tries to take away the aches and pains and nightmares... I could see it verging into a cult of two territory; lilia being very protective and possessive of his son, the thought of throwing himself into service to protect the boy?angel?savior? at any and all costs, to be his knight in shining armor to keep him safe and unsullied from the world. silver becoming like this odd forest deity creature who pours his magic so willingly into the woods and gives freely to those that need his kindness, and his father is only too happy to kneel to him, renewed in his purpose to serve his benevolent, angelic son...

[weirdglassthing]

LOA Shiptober Day 4: How They Met

October content month was ambitious..

This one took me. Shockingly long. Whoops! I’ll probably end up jumping around the prompt list and it might extend into November 😋

I’ll try to do day 31 on the actual date of Halloween though 🫡

[pastafossa]

"Poor thing." (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic) 🔥

So as promised, I'm taking part in the October Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! For Day One I had three prompts to choose from, and I wound up going for the kink prompt of somnophilia cause, well, I'd hinted at it in TRT as being something Matt liked, but never actually sat down and wrote anything out for it. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me, but for now, please enjoy Day One! This is not specifically written as any fem!Reader in particular, although any readers of TRT can choose to see this as TRT's reader!

As a reminder, if you'd like notifications when I post something, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck. But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Wordcount: 3.3k words

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: consensual somnophilia (they talked about this being fine, don't worry), oral f-receiving, grinding, PiV sex, some dirty talk. 18 and up only please!

Oh and we're black suiting this cause fuck yeah.

Your arousal hit him the second he opened the rooftop door. 

The scent of it stopped him dead in his tracks, threads of heat winding through him as he drew in a long, slow inhale, savoring it. Another inhale, and he let out a low rumble of pleasure, his mouth already watering, cock stirring. 

Well, that was one way to be welcomed home.

Not that he was complaining. His night had gone well enough—the fights visceral and satisfying, with multiple people he’d ensured would make it home safely. But your skin against his, fucking his way lazily inside you while you moaned loudly into his ear, dragging your nails down his back, would only make a good night better. However, as he eagerly stepped through the door and closed it behind him, it quickly became clear that your body’s call to him wasn’t exactly intentional. 

He directed his senses down the stairs and into the bedroom, hunting through sensory information, through the fire of the world until he found you in bed. You were laying on your side and tucked under the blankets, one of your arms thrown over his pillow to hold it up against your chest. And despite the tempting scent of you in the air, you weren’t moving. Not really, anyway. At most, every now and then your fingers would twitch or curl, your heartbeat uneven and a little restless. 

Asleep. 

You were dreaming, then.

Maybe even dreaming of him. 

He slowly dragged his tongue over his lips, considering his options.

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck.

But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Just like that, he settled on a course of action.

He crept silently down the stairs, stripping out of his gloves and black mask as he went, tossing them aside without care for where they fell. The bottom step was carefully avoided, thanks to its tendency to creak and alert you to his presence. He stopped only long enough to kneel and quietly unlace his boots, tugging them and his socks off so that he could slip barefoot into the bedroom, weaving through the shadows, navigating around any floorboards that might give him away. He did it all without a sound, his senses so focused now he could hear the faint whisper of the dust motes in the air stirred by his passage, hear the tiniest shift of your skin against the sheets as you breathed, hear the blood flowing hot beneath your skin where you’d grown flushed and aroused. 

The scent of your arousal was even stronger here in the bedroom, more than enough to thicken the heat inside him, an instinctive little purr halted in his throat before it could stir the air with sound. His body knew just as well as he did what that scent meant, what always followed, and his nostrils flared as he got closer to you, taking in how your pheromones had mixed with his in bed. It stirred some possessive, lazy satisfaction in him to take in the way you’d curled up with his pillow, chasing his scent, and you were even wearing—

Oh. 

You were wearing his shirt. 

It was like you were begging for this, for him, for what he had planned. 

He crept up onto the bed on his hands and knees, each shift of the mattress followed by a pause, a confirmation from your heartbeat and breathing that you were still asleep. He had to be careful if he didn’t want to wake you. It wasn’t that you’d be angry, of course—you’d both agreed that this sort of thing was alright, though he’d had a far easier time making use of that agreement than you had thanks to his senses. No, this was about ensuring you still had a chance to rest. 

Though, if he were honest, the challenge of this was a thrill all its own. It was a delicate balancing act to give you the sensations you needed, allow himself access to your body, all without waking you. It was as if he were hunting you, gradually gaining ground from the shadows until at last he could take hold of his prize. Fortunately, this prize was one that would leave you both satisfied. 

The moment he found himself over your hips, he shifted to catch the blankets and slowly, ever so slowly began to edge them down. 

Gentle. 

Inch by inch, he bared your body to the air. You didn’t so much as stir, well and truly asleep, and presumably still caught up in your dream. Even so, he held his breath, listening closely to the beating of your heart and your shallow breathing. But he’d been careful enough, and besides, you were used to him climbing into bed in the middle of the night, shifting the blankets around as he crawled under them to join you. 

The scent of you that rose up as the blanket slid down was so much richer now that it wasn’t stifled and trapped by thick fabric. It made him shiver, his cock already so hard he could feel a damp spot growing on the silk of his boxers. He needed more of that scent, and to taste it, too, but the angle was all wrong with you on your side. So he gently traced one fingertip up the side of your thigh, applying the barest hint of pressure. You were normally fairly responsive to him even in sleep. 

“Roll over for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips, light as a feather, against your hip. “You smell so good. I need a taste.”

He wasn’t sure if it was his touch or his voice that made it past whatever dream you were lost in, but either way, some part of you heard him. You breathed out a soft sigh, twitching a little until he helped you roll slowly onto your back beneath him. You made a soft sound that might have been his name, and he couldn’t resist letting out a reassuring little croon as he pressed your slack thighs outwards, gradually parting your legs. There wasn’t so much as a hint of resistance as your legs fell open, baring the wet heat of your pussy to him. 

God, your scent. 

He quickly backed up a few inches before dropping to his hands and his knees, lowering his head just over your hips to quietly inhale the scent of your cunt. The rich, musky tang of your arousal—all pheromones and slick warmth—left him half mad, his eyes rolling back. His hips instinctively snapped forward against nothing but air, his body curving as if he were already fucking his way into you. 

It only got worse, got better when he let his head fall further, hungry for just a taste. He slipped his tongue out until he could use the tip for the barest little lick at the line of your slit where your arousal had gathered, your body twitching as he did. Even that small taste hit him like a drug, and he swallowed down a ragged moan, his chest hitching as he kept the sound from reaching the air. He’d told himself he’d just have a taste, just one, but one quickly became two became three, hungry, quickening laps at your slit until he finally whined softly in want and dropped the rest of his body down, burying his face desperately against your cunt. 

Your hips twitched, rocking against him just slightly, and you let out the softest little whimper as he grunted and slurped quietly at your slit, wetness smearing across his chin and mouth. Only once he’d thoroughly tasted what you’d made for him did he slide up to your clit, tongue extended to lap at it with little kitten licks, ones designed to encourage your body to give him more of your slick wetness, your body jerking with every pass. He tried to remind himself to be gentle, to take things soft and slow so you didn’t wake, but that was so hard when you whimpered again, whimpered as he pursed his lips to suck lightly at your clit, drawing it into his mouth to work with his tongue. Your fingers curled and released against the sheets, and you tasted so good that he found himself fucking against the mattress, humping mindlessly at the folds in the blankets like an animal.  

“M… Matt.”

His eyes fluttered lazily open, his gaze drifting up around the sensory shape of you. You were all flowing air currents and sounds and scents, twisting tongues of flame fed by the growing heat of both your bodies. Your heartbeat was still too slow to signal you’d woken up, but your breathing had picked up, your eyes fluttering more rapidly behind your eyelids. 

If you hadn’t been dreaming of him before, you were now. And if you were still dreaming, he was safe. 

He rumbled a low noise of satisfaction, using his fingers to part your folds before dipping down to your entrance. Once there, he began to lick firmly at you, pressing deeper and deeper until at last your body opened to him and he slipped inside. You let out a sleep little mewl, one of your legs shifting restlessly in your sleep, your head rolling on your pillow as he moaned quietly, curling his tongue inside you to drag against the silken heat of your clenching walls, his nose grinding gently against your clit. 

Did you know, somewhere deep down, what he was doing? That he’d spread you open like this and worked his tongue inside you? Or did all your dream self know was that you suddenly felt so, so good?

The very idea that you might not know, that you’d left yourself so vulnerable to him, had him dangerously close to coming, his motions growing just a hint more frantic. Wetness smeared across his face as he kissed sloppily at your slit, kissed at it like he might your mouth, snaking his tongue out to slide inside you with every pass of his lips. 

He listened carefully to the quickening pace of your heart, your breathing, taking in the faint sheen of sweat forming on your skin. Every time your heartrate rose too high, he’d slow just a little, or shift his mouth over to your folds or the inside of your thighs. It was there he left you a mark or two, sucking gently at thin, delicate skin. Even if he managed to do this without waking you, you’d know tomorrow what he’d done when you saw the little love bites and bruises between your thighs. The very idea made him purr warmly against you, and he quickly worked his hand down beneath himself until he could undo his pants, pushing the fabric down until he could pull his hard cock free. He took a moment to grind slowly, deliciously against the sheets, presing his mouth to the skin of your thigh to muffle his hitched moan. And that reminded him of what he’d planned on from the start, before he’d become distracted by the taste of you.

He was close, and he needed you. Fortunately, based on the way your body had begun to tighten in increasing waves, you were close, too. 

He let his head roll to the side to rest against your thigh as he panted, still grinding himself against the sheets. “Do you want my cock, sweetheart?” he whispered, his lips curling up into a delicious little smirk when your body clenched at the sound of his voice. “I think you do. Even when you’re asleep, you need me inside you, don’t you?” 

There was no verbal response, but the growing heat of your skin was enough for him. He rocked himself up as gently as he could, stopping just long enough to strip the rest of his clothes off before climbing slowly up your body. As he went, he caught the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up your body with him. He couldn’t take it off you—even he wouldn’t be able to mange something like that—but he had no desire to. The idea of fucking you while you were sleep, while you were wearing his shirt, was a fantasy he’d used more than once while taking himself in hand. He did, however, tug your shirt up just enough to bare your breasts to him. 

Obscene, something inside him whispered in delight, a wave of throbbing heat flooding through him. Here you were asleep, shirt pushed up over your breasts, your naked cunt practically dripping onto the sheets. He balanced his weight on one arm as he hovered over you, indulging himself as he palmed gently at one of your breasts, dragging his thumb slowly against your nipple. That won him another soft moan in your sleep, your cunt clenching, body tightening around nothing. Your next moan was even louder when he dropped his head to drag his tongue hotly against your other nipple, drawing it into his mouth to catch it gently between his teeth, sucking lazily until you let out an even louder moan, one of your hands curling as if to claw at the sheets before relaxing. “Poor thing,” he crooned quietly, reluctantly leaving your breasts to climb the rest of the way up your body. “Listen to you, so needy.”

And it would only be right to help with that, wouldn’t it? 

Once his hips were level with yours, he settled in, rocking and grinding his cock gently against your slit, slicking himself up with your warmth and the saliva he’d left behind. The sudden sensation of your burning heat against the underside of his cock made his mouth fall slack, and he started to pant at the little shocks of pleasure that washed over him every time he caught the head of his cock against your clit. You weren’t much better even asleep, whining as your hips jerked, eyes rolling frantically beneath your lids. It took everything in him to keep his motions gentle and slow, no matter how much his body demanded he grind and rut, fuck his way desperately inside you even if it woke you. No. No, not when he was so close, his cock now slick and ready for you. He let out a shaky breath, burying his face against your warm throat, huffing in the scent of you as he shifted the angle and began to slide inside you, centimeter by warm, delicious centimeter. 

“Fuck,” he whispered shakily, one of his hands fisting desperately in the sheets beside your head. “Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good.”  

God, you were tight, so close to coming that you were already clenching tight around him. That tightness forced him to move gradually, his progress slowed to a sinfully dangerous crawl, one that allowed him to feel every last twitch and shift of your body around his cock. It seemed designed to make him lose his mind when he was already this worked up. In a blink, he’d caught the fabric of your shirt in his teeth, stifling his hoarse, shaky moan, your shallow, hitched breathing a tantalizing whisper of sensation in his ear. It felt like it took hours,  ages before he’d finally hilted himself inside you, buried in your slick heat. 

He forced himself to still there for a long moment, his chest heaving as he scanned over you with his senses again. 

Stuttered breathing, each breath hiding a faint moan. 

The fluttering clip of your heart, just slow enough to indicate you hadn’t woken. 

Your fingers clenching and releasing, spread thighs shifting in minute, restless movements against the sheets. 

It wouldn’t take much more for him to come, he knew that much—the taste of you still lingered on his tongue, filled his nose, and the drag of your skin against his with every breath only left him burning. But he wasn’t a selfish lover, even when you weren’t awake to beg and plead with him for release. No, he’d make sure you got what you needed, too: his sweetheart, so tender and soft and welcoming to the Devil even in sleep. 

He slowly, gradually settled his weight onto one arm, sliding his free hand down between your bodies. Even that much shifting around had him swallowing down a groan, and he couldn’t resist grinding just a little inside you. It made you twitch and whimper, hushed and breathless in his ear as he pressed his cock against that spot inside you. Once he was sure that hadn’t been enough to wake you, he quickly dragged two fingers through your folds, raking gently to gather up your wetness before he brought them back up to your clit. The rhythm he started was slow and easy, a gentle grind and loop over your clit that matched the rolling waves of his hips as he began to gently fuck you, barely retreating at all before sliding smoothly back to fill you once more. 

It took him no time at all to work your body up that final hill, your breathing growing shorter, your heart rate climbing as you began to tighten around him. It helped that he knew what you needed—each retreat was slow and gentle, and he never left you more than halfway before rolling lazily back forward, ensuring your warm cunt stayed achingly full as he brought you just up to the edge. This time it was your mouth that moved, not a word but a soft whisper of skin as you parted your lips, your head tipping back. And he knew that motion, even as slack and lazy as it was in your sleep. 

He purred quietly at the unconscious request that he fill you there, too, lifting his head to seek out your mouth. One soft lick against your lips and you parted them for him on pure instinct, allowing him to slide his tongue filthily into your slack mouth, dragging his tongue against yours, granting you what you’d asked for. You let out a soft sigh, your throat working beneath him as you sucked at the taste of him, of yourself, of you both. 

All it took from there was one more finger grinding against your clit, a gentle buck of his hips as he moaned into your mouth, and you crested, your body tightening and releasing around him in rippling waves. Your head rolled back in your sleep, a soft gasp shuddering up your throat as you twitched and shook, eyes rolling back beneath your lids. You let out what might have been a moan of his name, hot and sweet, a sound that seared its way across his mind like a brand. That was more than enough for him, and he let himself go. He groaned softly against your lips, snapping his hips gently against you as he spilled himself near-silently inside you, filling your cunt with a spreading heat that you wouldn’t notice until morning. He kissed you through it as gently as he could, rubbing lightly, quickly at your clit to drag your orgasm out along with his, pleasure rolling through him in gentle waves. Even once you both began to come down, he wasn’t quite done, rumbling a low, possessive growl as he ground himself inside you further, ensuring he’d coated every last inch of your warm cunt, his, you were his, even in sleep. He toyed with that overstimulation just long enough for his toes to curl, for his spent, softening cock to twitch inside you, spilling a few more drops, giving you everything he had as you drifted back down into a deep sleep. 

Satisfied with what he’d given you. 

He got one arm down and around your hip, gently, carefully rolling the both of you until you were both on your sides, his cock still buried deep inside you. He rumbled a low noise to reassure your sleeping mind, burying his nose in your hair as you sleepily curled into him, one arm draping itself over his waist. 

“Love you,” he murmured. “My good girl.” “Mm.”

[runefactorynonsense]

Cozytober - Day 13 - Apple Pie

How... How does that even work? Don't question it.

[kindlyrot]

I drew them from memory at 4AM. I could hear the birds chirping.

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing based on the film Slaughterhouse Rock. It depicts the character Alex Gardener floating in the air, wrapped up in his sheets. His head falls back and his arms hang limp. This drawing of his figure is repeated four times: one in blue slightly below the first, one in a light green further down and slightly more left, and finally one in a pinkish red a bit down and to the right of the previous one. There's a vague pink outline around the first one. The figures have a light blue outline around them, making them standout against the darker blue background. At the bottom of the piece, a beam of bright light begins. It gets slightly wider as it progress upwards towards the original figure, which is where it stops. Some faded sparkles surround it.]

Inktober - Day 1 (Dream)

Movie - Slaughterhouse Rock (Dimitri Logothesis, 1988)