#sobbing my wee little heart out

[adoribullpavus]

"i didn't get a chance to say what i was gonna say. i think i'd better say it now. okay, yes, so. we've known each other a long time. we've been on this planet for a long time, i mean, you and me..."

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Hi, for the wip ask game, bff Soap Hurt Comfort? :') please and thank you!

for the wip ask game--lighter, sweeter bff!Soap. you're meeting him at the airport. he's coming home after being MIA. scared you to death.

this one is short, so here it is edited + posted in full. for the hurt/comfort girlies :)

600 words / 23

…

“Thought you couldna live without me, eh?”

You tackle Soap in a hug, tactical gear and all. "Shut up. Shut up. God, you're alive."

He laughs and returns the embrace. "Too stubborn to die. I thought I told you not to worry about me."

You grip the straps on the back of his vest and keep your face in his chest to hide the tears threatening to track down your cheeks. "You can't just say that and go MIA. They talked about putting your name on a memorial and everything."

"You know me. Always gotta do things my way."

"Your way is stupid."

He chuckles and rubs your back. "Yeah, I'm stupid. I've missed you, though. I haven't stopped thinkin' bout you."

"Really? Cause I..." The dam breaks. You can't stop the flood of hot, angry tears. "I missed you too." Then you start sobbing. God, it's embarrassing. But you refuse to let go of him.

He strokes your hair. "Hen, don't cry. Please. I'm here and I'm not goin' anywhere. I'm your man, aye?"

You shake your head, stubbornly refusing to move.

He rests his cheek on you. "I don't want you to be sad. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I love you."

Hearing him say that just makes your heart skip before the tears come out faster. You love him, too, more than a friend should. How could anyone not fall in love with him? He's Johnny. It's just that you were always too chickenshit to tell him. You thought you lost your chance.

"Come on, look at me."

"No," you mutter, refusing to unbury your face from his shirt. Scared to, maybe. "I don't want you to make it up to me. I want to stay here."

"That's no problem. We can stay here for however long. I just need to know you're not upset at me. I can't stand seein' you sad. Makes me sad."

You sniff. "You deserve it."

"Aye, I do. But what can I do to cheer you up'?"

"Nothing," you mumble into his chest. "I've been crying for two weeks because of you."

You try to collect yourself anyway, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. His squadmates stand a little ways away from the terminal, looking curious at this scene you're causing. This isn't exactly how you wanted to meet them. You're supposed to be Johnny's cool best friend, not a weepy mess.

Johnny recaptures your attention, wiping away a stray tear track with his thumb. "You've been cryin' about me?"

You shove him, but it's light and there's no anger in it. "Of course I have, asshole, you're my best friend. They said you were MIA. Why wouldn't I cry?"

He grins. "But I'm here now, though. Could use a wee bit of comforting myself. You mind?"

You sniff, nodding as you press your sleeves into your eyes one more time to dry them. He's right. He's the one who's been away from home for a month. Probably endured some draconian shit, missing for two weeks and all. But the way he's looking at you through those blue eyes of his... it's not fair how easy it is to fall under his spell again.

"Yeah. I guess. What do you want? More fawning and crying?"

He laughs softly and pulls you into another tight hug. He presses a kiss to your temple, and you have to act like it doesn't make your heart explode into tiny pieces. He rests his chin on the top of your head, content to keep you here, totally enveloped in his frame. "Mm, that'll do. Just to start."

...

wip ask game / more Soap / masterlist tag

[happyhauntt]

— april fic recs, brought to you by happyhauntt.

it's that time again! a wee fic rec post for a few of the fics i read in april that altered my brain chemistry!! i've put a lil comment next to each rec because honestly writers don't get praised enough for their work these days and i wanted to show my appreciation for these talented souls!!

criminal minds.

➡ spencer reid.

in every other life by @irndad. notes: adorableness incarnate honestly.

trouble almost all my life series by @januaryembrs. notes: might honestly have to put this on every masterlist til the end of time.

forgiven by @reiding-writing. notes: um HOW DARE YOU i sobbed my way through this

grishaverse.

➡ kaz brekker.

breakfast by @sophierequests. notes: look i'm a simple human i see badass characters and i fall in love

➡ jesper fahey.

i'm your gal by @atlabeth. notes: NOT ENOUGH JESPER FICS and this one is GLORIOUS

star wars.

➡ poe dameron.

the f-word by @the-little-ewok. notes: i reread this constantly pls it's so good

moon knight.

➡ marc spector.

i should've been there by @januaryembrs. notes: not em out here ruining my life and making me sob AGAIN you simply never miss

9-1-1.

➡ evan buckley.

take my hand by @redocity. notes: cute cute cute cute cute

emergency room by redocity. notes: the ANGST i feel well-fed

won't say i'm falling by @borntobewondering. notes: this was DELICIOUS

➡ buck / eddie.

a bleeding sun on a silver screen by @hoediaz / rarakiplin on ao3. notes: i was fully choking back sobs while reading this. i binged this fic in less than 24 hours and it has changed something fundamental inside me. i will never be the same person again. i'm billing you for my therapy.

good luck, babe by @hattalove. notes: i cackled my way through this, potentially the funniest shit ever.

hate to say i spent it all on masquerades by hattalove. notes: i sobbed and sobbed and sobbed while reading this. this fic is everything to me, it should be required reading for all my friends who want to understand me, it is beautiful and magical and i want it tattooed on my face.

don't wanna let you love somebody else but me by @shitouttabuck / fleetinghearts on ao3. notes: sheer adorableness i will well recover from this!!!!

tried and true blue by shitouttabuck / fleetinghearts on ao3. notes: SCREAMING I'M SCREAMING I MAY NEVER STOP SCREAMING

like a dog with a bird at your door by shitouttabuck / fleeting hearts on ao3. notes: iconic. truly iconic. quite possibly one of my fav fics ever written.

let the world have its way with you by shitouttabuck / fleeting hearts on ao3. notes: you don't understand how hard it was not to include every single one of shitouttabuck's fics on this list and there will almost certainly be more in future but i just want them tattooed on my forehead i feel insane

i have dreams where i kiss you and it's pink by shitouttabuck / fleeting hearts on ao3. notes: the cutest and i mean THE CUTEST shit ever

all my shattered oaths by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels on ao3. notes: i sobbed. i sobbed so hard i think i burst something honestly. everything from this author is immaculate but THIS is the holy fuckin grail and i will truly never be the same again.

let my ink stain your pages by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels on ao3. notes: castle au CASTLE AU i'm a sucker for a castle au and this is EVERYTHING

even in winter there is eranthis by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels on ao3. notes: i think about this fic daily.

your love is an oil slick by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels on ao3. notes: this is everything this is EVERYTHING to me i will reread this weekly for the rest of my life

even the darkest night by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels on ao3. notes: stardust au STARDUST AU aka my favourite movie and my favourite ship combined into a fuckin masterpiece

curl up in my heart and let me keep you by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels on ao3. notes: soft sweet my brain is mushy and i adore this

hoping it gets to you by @bucktommys / hammersmiths on ao3. notes: cute adorable stunning MAGNIFICENT

you're my whole house by @/bucktommys / hammersmiths on ao3. notes: THIS FIC OUT HERE MAKIN ME SQUEAL AND KICK MY LEGS

left unsaid by c_m2 on ao3. notes: this is mcfuckin adorable i'm crying buck deserves everything in the world

say yes to heaven by dylaesthetics on ao3. notes: okay full disclosure this made me cry so much i threw up. also it hit some pretty intense trauma for me. still so glad i read it because it was also kinda healing. and i want everyone else to suffer like i have because fuck i suffered.

if i need to rearrange my particles, i will for you by dylaesthetics on ao3. notes: author you will always be famous bc you're knocking my emotional stability OUTTA THE PARK

honestly, truly, completely by dylaesthetics on ao3. notes: simply fuckin adorable

feels like magic by 42hrb on ao3. notes: there's nothing i adore more than an urban fantasy au and this one is EXQUISITE

fallin' into your ocean eyes by princessfbi on ao3. notes: okay every part of this au is absolutely fuckin perfection i am so deeply in love with it

until now by tearsthissideofheaven on ao3. notes: a reincarnation au??? it's like you know how to ruin my life

if i never hear your voice again by @actualalligator. notes: disability rep!!!! brilliant writing!!!!

life sure can try to put love through it by @capseycartwright / wafflesofdoom on ao3. notes: ahahaha ruin my life why don't you

sometimes its hard to see what the future holds by @/capseycartwright / wafflesofdoom on ao3. notes: olympics buddie au??? didn't know i wanted it but now i can't live without it

all good things come to an end (but it's not the end) by @/capseycartwright / wafflesofdoom on ao3. notes: i will, in fact, devour every buddie!fwb au ever written but this one is especially great

you smiled and it was the most beautiful thing that I'd ever seen by @/capseycartwright / wafflesofdoom on ao3. notes: coffee shop!buddie have become everything to me wdym

it's funny 'cause i've always dreamed of me and you by @/capseycartwright / wafflesofdoom on ao3. notes: yes i did sob my heart out reading this and i'll do it again

'cause darling, you're the one by @/capseycartwright / wafflesofdoom on ao3. notes: icymi i think this author is the best author to ever exist and i want to devour everything they write forever

i don't think that we should have friendly sex, anymore by @/capseycartwright / wafflesofdoom on ao3. notes: !!!!!!! that's it that's the note. brain: faye you can't put this many fics by the same author on one masterlist. faye: bET-

still i call it magic (when i'm next to you) by @clusterbuck / lecornergirl on ao3. notes: urban fantasy is, in fact, my shit.

(this kiss is) something i can't resist by @/clusterbuck / lecornergirl on ao3. notes: NO BC THIS HAD ME CACKLING AND ALSO IT'S BRILLIANT

give me five more minutes, baby (i'm not finished loving you) by @/clusterbuck / lecornergirl on ao3. notes: fake dating or immaculate writing??? both

cuffing season by @/clusterbuck / lecornergirl on ao3. notes: i am still laughing at this and i may never stop

[daisies-daydreams]

Husband/Papa Ghost Headcanons

Pairing: Simon (Ghost) Riley x Wife!Reader Category: Fluff Warnings: Suggestive Content, Swearing, Descriptions of Labor/Contractions

Author's Note: This is a continuation of this request (WARNING: 18+). Enjoy!

Simon would be a proud papa, that's for sure.

He didn’t use his phone that much before, only to text or call people. But his storage space began to run out pretty quickly with all of the photos and videos he took of your daughter, Lily.

“What are you doing, Si?” you giggled. Lily banged on the toy piano while your husband was crouched down, phone camera rolling.

“Filming Lily’s performance,” he replied matter-of-factly. You chuckled and kissed the top of his head, ruffling his dark brown hair. Your two-year old daughter cheered when she finished her song, face lit up and arms stretched above her head in triumph.

“All done!” she beamed with a wide smile. Both of you clapped.

“Good job, Lil,” Simon chuckled.

Simon nearly passed out when you told him you were pregnant with your second baby (not that it came as a surprise to you both👀).

Just like your first pregnancy, he’d try to be there for you as much as he could. It was different now with Lily in the picture, but she made many of your days full of joy and laughter.

I can see him being a stern yet reasonable dad. He’d discipline his kids yet never intentionally hurt them.

Lily’s lower lip pouted as she avoided his gaze. Simon’s arms were at his sides as he eyed the blue stains on her face and the empty candy jar on the floor. He lowered himself to be at her eye-level.

“Lily, baby, did you eat the candy even though Mommy told you not to?” Simon asked, trying to keep his voice soft and steady. Lily burst into tears, rubbing her eyes with her little, sticky hands.

“I sowwy,” she sniffled. His heart ached, but he knew she had to learn to listen to her mom.

“I know, baby,” he sighed as he pulled her into a hug. She cried into his chest. “Candy tastes yummy, but it’ll hurt your tummy if you eat too much,” Simon explained. Lily sniffed, snot dripping from her button nose and onto his shirt. He pulled her back and looked her in the eyes. “No candy for the next three days, okay? Then you can have it again,” he explained while holding up three fingers. She puffed out another sob before nodding her head.

“Okay, Dada,” she sniffled.

Your second pregnancy was more difficult than the first. You had more health complications, which worried Simon half-to-death. He couldn’t bear to think of anything happening to you while he was thousands of miles away on a mission.

All of 141 were like family to you. They'd pop in every once in a while, especially Lily's godfather, Soap.

"Unk Nee!" Lily squealed. Soap grinned ear to ear at the attempt of his nickname ("Uncle Johnny"). She giggled as she ran into his open arms. He spun her around as you walked in from your bedroom. You gave a tired smile, leaning on the wall and rubbing your swollen belly. Simon was still working on his car in the garage, yelling out that he'd be there in a moment.

"How's my wee firecracker doin'?" Soap beamed. Lily ducked her head into his shoulder, her small dirty blonde curls bouncing. Both of you laughed. "Gettin' shy now, are ya?" Soap chuckled.

"You know how kids are," you waved. Soap smiled as he set the toddler down. She rushed back over to you, hiding behind your legs. You patted her head gently.

"How you doin', lass?" Soap asked as he stepped further inside. You sighed, Lily clinging to your maternity pants.

"This pregnancy's kicking my a-butt, it's kicking my butt," you quickly changed your wording. Soap snorted as Lily cackled behind you.

"Mama said 'butt'!" your daughter sang. You grumbled and collapsed your face into your hands.

"Sounds like she's got quite the potty mouth, huh Lily?" your husband chuckled beside you. You felt him snake his hand around your waist. He pecked your cheek, his skin coated in a sheen of sweat from his hard work.

"Why don't you give me a spanking later to teach me a lesson?" you whispered lowly into his ear. Red immediately flooded his cheeks as his hand gripped your hip. Before he could retort, another figure walked through the front door. Lily peeked from behind your legs and gasped as Price entered the room.

"Grandpa!" Lily cheered while pointing her finger at the captain.

You've never heard a room grow so quiet in a single second.

Both of you explained that Price was most definitely not her grandpa, yet she was insistent on the terminology. The captain teased Simon about it constantly.

"I think you taught her to say that," Price chuckled.

As the due date approached, Simon's heart was shattered. He was being sent away on a longer mission, and it required that he made no contact with you. Your husband assured you that he'd be back in time for the delivery, and spent as much time as he could with you and Lily before he left.

A few weeks later, Simon was sprinting through the hospital to get to your delivery room.

Simon’s heavy footsteps echoed down the hall as he whipped around the corner. A blonde nurse shot an incredulous look at the masked man as he sprinted to the counter.

“WHERE’S DELIVERY ROOM 109?!” Simon boomed. The poor woman's face went pale as she pointed a shaking finger down the hall. His head snapped as he shouted a ‘thank you’ behind him. Simon rushed past several nurses and doctors, the door getting closer. He could hear your wailing pierce through the hallway. Simon nearly crashed into the doctor when he stepped out into the hall.

“MR. RILEY!” the doctor gaped with wide eyes. Your husband’s chest rose and fell as he panted. Another harsh cry broke out through the room. “Quickly, she’s about to start pushing,” the doctor rushed him inside. Simon's eyes grew wide as they locked with yours.

"Si," you called softly. Your face was pale, sweat covering every inch of your tense and aching body. Simon rushed over, immediately clasping his hands over yours.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” his dry voice croaked. You gave a weak laugh before jolting forward, another strong contraction ripping through you.

“B-Bullshit,” you tiredly chuckled through gritted teeth. The doctor and nurses came closer to your bedside.

“Okay, Mrs. Riley. It's time to start pushing. Are you ready?” the doctor asked. You swallowed thickly, your entire body shaking as it was wracked with waves of pain. Simon squeezed your hand and lifted his skull balaclava to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“You’ve got this, love. I’m right here,” he assured. You nodded before sucking in a deep breath.

Not long after, your baby boy, Thomas, was born.

His throat grew tight when you suggested his late brother's name. You were afraid you'd overstepped, but he quickly kissed you on the lips and told you it was the perfect name for the newest addition to the Riley family.

Simon stared in awe at the small baby swaddled in his arms. You were fast asleep in your new bed, exhausted from the long, grueling day. Thomas' plump, rosy cheeks glowed softly as he yawned. Your husband beamed when two small, dark eyes just like his own gazed up at him.

“Hi there, little Tommy,” Simon breathed.

Both of you were unsure as to how Lily would take to her new baby brother. However, when her eyes lit up and she squealed when she saw him for the first time, Simon knew she’d be the best big sister.

Simon would make it a goal to read to Lily and Tommy every night. It melted your heart when you sat with him, Lily in her bed and Tommy in his crib listening to his low voice lull them to sleep.

While most date nights were spent inside your home nowadays, he was just happy to spend any time he had with you.

Simon would leave little gifts or notes around the house, letting you know what an amazing mother and wife you are.

If you feel insecure about your body after giving birth, he'll do everything in his power to remind you otherwise.

Your eyes widened as a sudden slap streaked across your ass. You whipped your head around. Simon's eyes were trained on the TV, though the hand draped over the arm of the couch said enough. You crossed your arms, thankful that Lily was playing in the adjacent room and Tommy was fast asleep in his crib.

"Got something to tell me, Si?" you said with a quirked brow. His lidded, chocolate-brown eyes flicked over to you, his hands reaching over to pull you on your lap.

"Simon!" you gasped. Laughs spilled from your lips as your husband bombarded your neck with kisses, his large hands reaching down and squeezing your bum.

"Can't help myself, sweetheart. Not when you're walking around with this cute arse of yours," he mused. You bit your lip and wiggled in his lap. He nibbled on your ear, his voice low and husky as he whispered into it.

"Tonight, after the kids are asleep, why don't I show you just how irresistible you are?" Simon groaned.

Tommy was a much more of a fussy baby than Lily. He’d keep both of you up constantly. You called your/Simon's relatives or friends over every so often so both of you could have a break.

“How are you feeling, love?” Simon asked. Both of you were lying in the hammock in a park, the summer breeze rocking you back and forth. Your best friend was at home watching your children. Heavy bags rested below your eyes as you stretched.

“Fucking exhausted,” you sighed. Simon chuckled, brushing your hair from your forehead and planting a kiss over it.

“I know, hun. Why don’t you take a nap, yeah?” he suggested. You nodded, letting sleep quickly overtake you. He breathed in through his nose, his mind wandering too much for him to fall asleep. Instead, he took in the sight of his beautiful wife wrapped in his arms as the rest of the world melted away.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

(Writing these melts my heart ngl. We love Papa Ghost in this house).

[f10werfae]

Sugar Plum Princess

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry Cavill x Short!Shy!Wife

summary: Y/n feels a little under the weather after a snow day so Henry gives his sweet shy wife a taste of his special “medicine” (Major Dom Henry)

Disclaimer: Story is completely fictional and may contain inappropriate content

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Lumberjack Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Henry Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Bunny, what were ya doin’ out there? Shoulda be in here gettin’ warm with me” Henry grumbled helping his precious little wife strip out of her white winter suit, her giggles filling his ears every time he’d lightly spank her ass and jiggle it in his warm hands. “M’sorry never seen snow so thick before! Look, Look!” She squealed excitedly showing him the cute selfies she had taken with her snowman she’d named ‘Hen Bear’ after him.

“Don’t ya jus look adorable sweet pea? Gonna send these to me alright?” He smirked seeing how irresistible she looked, the fact that she was all his and his alone made his cock twitch. Y/n on the other hand had butterflies zooming in her stomach, feeling one of her husbands hands fondling her ass while the other was busy typing on her new phone.

“Really pretty?” She twinkled twirling on her toes, her hands holding onto his blue t-shirt, standing on her toes to nuzzle into his neck; the scruff of his beard scratching her ever so gently. “The prettiest baby” He cooed cupping the back of her head, throwing her phone onto the armchair at the corner of their bedroom. “Now come on, get into bed before ya get a cold sweetpea” Clad in only a flimsy thong and a bra, Y/n found herself being smothered by cuddles and kisses once Henry had tucked them both into the mess of blankets; not that she was complaining she absolutely loved cuddles.

- - -

“Now what did I say about yesterday bunbun?” Henry asked setting down a cup of apple juice by the bed, Y/n’s tired eyes looking up at him lovingly as his fingers brushed over her face. “N-not to go out, but but, the snow s’pretty and I hadta” Y/n mumbled nuzzling herself into the comforters, causing Henry’s heart to crack itself open a tiny bit, his sugar babe was sick and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Earlier on in the wee hours of the morning Y/n had broken into a fever, one which Henry spotted when he turned her over to face him. At the start of their relationship Y/n had always asked that if she turned away from Henry while asleep, he was to turn her around and make sure he was cuddling her, or else as she said “I’ll be really angry and won’t talk to you ever again!” Which was a complete lie because when that did happen, Henry had acted cold as if he didn’t care, ultimately breaking sweet Y/n’s heart; leading him to snatch her up in his arms to show her how much he loved her in their beloved bedroom. “My sweet little wife, ya know you’re all mine right? No one else can have ya but me”

After helping her to take a sip of apple juice, Henry went to his side of the bed and was about to slip in. “Nuh-uh mister, y-you can get sick n’ I don’t wan’ you sick” Y/n squealed cornering herself to the edge of the bed, her legs kicking at Henry to keep him away from her. “No fucking kicking me honey” He grumbled grabbing onto each of her ankles, making her whimper and cower at his massive build. Using his sheer strength he dragged her to him, revealing her naked body, which felt hot to the touch; making Henry wince.

“B-but you’re gonna feel icky if ya come near me H-Hen”

“I don’t give a fuck sugar, you’re my little sugar plum n’ if I wanna cuddle on ya then I will. Do you not want me anymore?” Henry taunted, using his manipulative tone, seeing his bunbun’s mouth fall open and head shake rapidly from

side to side before she let out a loud sob. “O-ow” She whimpered holding onto her head due to the migraines, Henry scoffed before bending down and cradling her head to his chest, “S’okay baby, sometimes your brain is all foggy cause ya too precious, and ya need your husband to clear it”

His hands reached down and felt her hot wet juices start to leak out of her, her second set of lips warm and slick for him. “w-what are you doing b-bear? M’still feelin’ icky” She whined, her arms around his shoulders, her glossy eyes peering into his as his lips softly rubbed themselves against hers; to a point where she had taken initiative and let her tongue run over his lips to coax his out.

“Thought you still felt icky baby?” Henry pulled away, chuckling when he felt her legs lock around his waist to keep him closer, soft whines leaving her as she wiggled in his grasp. “S-stop teasing and bein’ a meanie Hen! W-want you to make the fogginess go away” She whimpered, her cheeks hot to touch along with the rest of her body.

“Course honey, I know jus’ how to make it go away, jus’ let daddy have some of his sweet treat, s’that okay bunbun?” He whispered nudging his nose against hers cutely, his heart clenching when she wrinkled her nose and nodded giddily. “Y-ya promise it’ll work?”

She asked worried, “Have I ever lied to ya sugar?”

“N-no”

Not that she knew anyway.

“S’okay baby, c’mere” Henry grunted, both of them were on their sides facing each other, his hand lifting her leg up whilst his cock slipped through her pussy lips, coating itself in all her goodness. “I-is it bad? Am-am I gonna havta see a doctor?” She asked nervously in between not so subtle moans, her hole was practically clenching around nothing.

“After a’ treat your pussy baby, you won’t need a doctor, promise” Henry smirked fitting his cock into her wet warm fuckhole, her hands around his torso, while his groped and massaged her ass like the rough lumberjack he was. “Let me taste those lips baby, stick that tongue out for me too bunny” His open mouth clamping on top of hers, his spit mixing in with her between their lips as she sucked on his tongue.

Pulling their lips apart, her lips were still wrapped around his tongue, sucking on it as if it was her favourite strawberry sucker, her eyes as wide as saucers as she looked up at him as if he was the most amazing thing in the world. “Do ya want some of my medicine baby, promise it’ll make all the ickiness go away” “Mhm wan’ it all da- Hen” She said wide eyed nodding her head,

“Open wide wifey, n’ swallow” He said bringing one hand to cup her jaw, her mouth forming a circle as he spat into his lewdly, feeling his lover’s hole clench at the nickname he called her. After all these months she still found herself getting giddy snd excited anytime he’d call her his wife, “m’ your wife n’ you’re my husband” She’d say at least once a day, almost as if she couldn’t believe it.

Swallowing his saliva readily, Y/n’s eyes had rolled to the back of her head as Henry’s thrusts were deeper and slower, the nestle of curls on his cock itching her clit to a point of rawness, his balls slapping her like it was his hand. “Good girl, gon’ make ya all better honey, promise” He moaned feeling her lips all over his neck, her tongue lazily drawing over it letting it shine with her spit.

“L-love you s-so much, f-feels fuzzy n’ warm” Y/n hiccuped, her own fingers reaching down to hold her lips wider open, letting Henry’s thumb press down directly onto her swollen nub, “Oh- fuck” She gasped while his thumb rubbed rougher circles on her precious sensitive button, “language sugar” He snarked spitting onto her bouncing breasts, licking them up as his thrusts didn’t let down once.

“Fuck baby your tits are so pretty, your nipples beggin’ to be sucked on” He mocked laughing slightly, his lips surrounding a hardened bud while she pressed her tits smothering his face, letting him motorboat her soft pillows; fuck was he in love with his gorgeous wife, n’ he couldn’t help but feel proud at how easy it was for him to get her.

“Imagine these fleshy tits full of milk, all swollen and ready” His mouth greedily moved between each breast, her voice whining and whimpering at each of his filthy words. “N-nothin but my little hole, always so needy and wantin’ attention, but it’s okay baby, i’ll give ya everything ya need” He groaned looking straight back at her, his shaft nearly giving in with each clench and push, her tongue laying out with her eyes rolling back; her lips mumbling incoherent words , “Wan’ it so bad” “m’just your hole b-bear” “W-would you t-take

my milk too, n-not just my hole?” She screamed finally creaming around his shaft, her legs kicking involuntarily while her orgasm rocked through her body. His lips raining kisses all over her face and her lips, her tongue dominating over his lazily as she seemed desperate to taste him.

“I’d take your milk just like this sugar” He moaned gently pulling out, finding the strength to straddle and hover over her torso, his thick paws pushing her tits together dirtily as his length laid in the valley between them. Y/n’s hair was splayed over the pillows majestically, her face dazed and smiley as her tongue gave kitty licks to the head of his shaft, sweat visibly dripping down her face. “W-what else?” She asked.

“I’d fuck your tits everyday bun, treat it like a second pussy, your milk squirting all over me n’ you; letting me taste your sweet treasure that ya made” His balls suddenly felt heavier, his breaths deepening each time he’d thrust and his shaft would go straight into his wife’s mouth. Her breasts surrounding him like a blanket, causing more of his “medicine” to spurt onto her gorgeous face.

“y-yummy” She whispered picking some up with her finger and licking it lewdly, Henry’s lips smashing onto hers affectionately, not caring that he was tasting himself as he licked her face clean and spat it onto her waiting tongue. “W-will I still need the doctor?”

“No honey, you’ll be alright, m’sure of it” He whispered kissing her forehead, feeling her temperature, thankfully their activities had caused her fever to break; all thanks to him. “Y-you love me right?” She asked out of the blue, her fingers twiddling with his beard shyly,

“What sorta question is that? course I do”

��W-well earlier ya didn’t say it back!” She whimpered kissing his chest softly, all over the bite marks she left. “M’sorry sugar plum, swear just forgot, your pussy is jus’ too good” He smirked causing her to giggle and hit his chest, his fingers rubbing over her stomach gently, taking the extra bit of skin in his hands and bending down to kiss and love on it. “I love you so so much” He whispered against her stomach, the part he knew she was most insecure about, but if anything he just saw it as more of her to love. His sugar plum princess.

———

Library blog @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

Taglist

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[chernabogs]

on  lonely  nights  i  stare  into  the  trees,  and  a  strange  face  leers  back. for crowley?

LAPSES

Inc: Dire Crowley, Reader/Prefect Warnings: Brief allusion to death, implications of hallucinations, wee bit of manipulation WC: 1.9k Summary: Prefect is not the only one to have slipped in dimensions—although, arguably, they're handling it a lot better then him.

When you slip, you don’t realize until you’re already passed through, and by then it’s often too late to hope for a return. 

He wonders vaguely, when the dust finally settles and the initial uproar dampens to a murmur, if your experience is akin to his. You seem far brighter eyed and enthused then he was when he woke. But then again, you actually arrived in a world—he had arrived by a fence. 

It had been long, vanishing into mist that never seemed to fade, and beyond that was a tree line with trunks that did little to hide the blackness beyond them. The sky had been ever grey and there was never a night or day—it simply, and eternally, was. 

During that time, he had been someone else. Fine silks had kissed his skin beneath his armour, and he had held onto hope in his heart of a woman and a child he had yet to meet just beyond the mists. Sometimes he could almost hear their voices beckoning him, just a few steps further. just a few more. 

But over time, silk had eroded, and armour had been torn off, and a sense of nothing but a bone-deep and endless need had begun to chew through his being. The voices he heard had faded to a low groaning in his head and each step along that fence line had erased the identity of who he had been to be replaced by what he is—starving. He forgot the men he arrived with—they had long since withered to bones beneath the soft soil he stumbled on. Yet even in their absence, even in their memory, he still hungered for more, his nails scraping along soft wood until they tore off to bleeding, fleshy lumps. There was a reason he wore claws on his hands.  

This is beside the point. 

When the mirror had said you had no place to return to, a strange sense of elation had settled in his heart. For so long since he had been reborn into this world—dragging himself out of the black ichor of an endless lake and sobbing at the dim stars above—he had been recollecting his psyche to find a purpose. Perhaps he was simply meant to wait for you. Home was not home, and he was no longer royal but perhaps with you he could finally locate the end of that fucking fence. He could do that at least.

Still beside the point, though. 

“Head mage?” Your voice snaps him out of his rumination as he looks towards the door of the office. You’re standing, half-shrouded in shadows, a frown dancing on your lips. The absence of your companions is painfully notable by the absence of chaos around you. Crowley forces his lips to twist into a charming smile as he twists in his chair to face you.

“Prefect! Whatever brings you to my door?” He hums as he beckons for you to enter, feeling a sense of amusement when you finally sidle your way in. You leave the door partially ajar as you sink in the plush chair across from him with a low sigh. He subtly pushes a jar of caramel candies towards you as he retains his cheery demeanour. 

“I wanted to give you somewhat of an update on my… situation.” Your voice is hesitant as you accept one of the candies, unwrapping it before popping it into your mouth. The face you pull is peculiar, like you’re experiencing something you’ve had before but only in the vaguest of notions, before you shake your head and continue. “Ortho thinks he’s found a way to get me home.” 

The news brings him to an abrupt pause that he tries to mask by staring down at papers scattered on his desk. He can feel the click of his jaw clenching as his smile becomes a touch more strained.

What. 

It takes a second, really, for the words you just spoke to process in his mind. He had long been under the impression that the only way to get back to your original world is by two options: a) you hope another rift occurs that will coincidentally drop you back into the right world at the right time with no consequence, or b) you die. He has drawn this conclusion simply because these are the two things that he personally experienced. The fence had never ended, the sun had never risen—until one moment he was walking, and the next he was drowning.

He didn’t need to elaborate on the death portion. He had heard his companions drop one by one as he had stubbornly continued to walk forward, driven either by his own budding madness or the painful desperation of promises yet to be fulfilled. In a sense, this was the moment where his dream of redefining the world to a perfect state had been born. 

And now here you were, telling him that there’s always been a third option to get home—he was just never offered it. 

“Crowley?” You lean forward in your seat a little as Crowley fights back something black and foul that threatens to erupt from his mouth in a volley of language he has never used in front of others before. “Are you okay? You’re spacing out a little.” 

“Am I?” Crowley’s attention snaps back up as he straightens in his seat, his golden claws pushing the papers around to make it seem like this was what he was preoccupied with. “Goodness, my apologies, Prefect! You must understand that I’m an impossibly busy man.” 

He pours an excess of saccharine sweetness into his words as he watches you settle back against your chair in relief. “This doesn’t mean you don’t have my attention, of course. What has young Shroud promised you?” 

“Ortho said that there might be a way for me to return through the mirrors. We started to work on it, until the whole incident with Malleus happened, and… well.” Your voice trails off as you grimace. Yes, the incident with Draconia had set everything back quite a fair amount. It had been a long time since Crowley had seen such a display of righteous fury. If he was a poet, he might have written ballads describing the terror that the young prince sewed so expertly into the hearts of those present in the Diasomnia dorm. But he wasn’t a poet, and it had been so long since he’d seen something so dangerously powerful that the ability to string words had left him. 

But again, he digresses. 

“Yes, Draconia’s incident most certainly set us all back a fair amount.” Crowley’s fingers dance to the drawer by his desk as he pulls it open, glancing sparingly at the array of missives he had yet to respond to from various municipalities. One thing he didn’t miss was the way a government is so quick to scramble for a safety net any time something unprecedented occurs. They all wanted reassurances that Malleus would not be a hazard at NRC. He has no doubt that his grandmother is likely being plagued with similar locusts. 

He slams the drawer shut with enough force that it makes you jump before he affixes another smile. “I’m assuming you’re back on your search, though?” 

“Yeah. I just wanted to come and see if you had a key for the older section of the library. Ortho thinks that this might all be primordial magic we’re working with, so he doubts that there will be any records online. We’ll have to do the old fashion style of searching.” You smile at that, a look that holds optimism in its seams, and it serves to stir Crowley’s ire further. Not that he shows this, of course. But your frequent interruptions to try and find your way out have been starting to cause more than a few shakes to his foundations. 

“Is that so?” Crowley languidly tugs the key ring free from his belt and flicks through the various golden tokens. He hums, and he haws, and then clicks his tongue with disappointment as he sets the key ring down. “My apologies, Prefect, but it appears that I don’t have the key on my person. I’ll certainly check for it around the office—but first I have a few things I need to get done.” 

Your smile falters for a moment and he can spot a flash of frustration in your eyes. This thrills him. He likes seeing that frustration, that anger, because these are precisely the same feelings he went through when he was in your position. The mask he wears to cover half of his face begins to make his skin feel irritated beneath its porcelain surface, and he wishes to rip it off and let you see the face of a man who went through three hundred odd years of isolation before making his return. 

Not that it would matter to you. You wouldn’t recognize him for who he is. The only people who can recognize him are far apart; one, alone in a palace, and the other slowly dying in a bedroom. 

“Okay, thank you.” Your abrupt comment draws his attention back in again as you stand up, pushing in the chair before offering him a brief nod. “Hope your work doesn’t bog you down too much.” 

“Oh, you’re far too kind.” Crowley hums back with a little wave as you depart from his office. As soon as the door shuts, he wrenches the mask off his face and slumps back in his chair with a hiss. Masks upon masks—that’s all he ever seems to wear, and it weighs on him as he twists his chair around to look out the window. The faces of the seven peer down at him in disappointment, and he can feel the burning glare of the Thorn Witch the most among them. He admires the Seven—idolizes them, even—but this doesn’t mean that he’ll let himself feel akin to a child scolded. 

He diligently ignores them as his attention is drawn to the tree line beyond the main building's borders. The pines are tall and thick trunked, all of which do little to hide the blackness beyond them. The sky above is dark with the coming dusk, and a brown fence seems to stretch endlessly along the edges of those woods. Crowley’s sharp nail accessories tap together as he ruminates on your comments while the edges of his vision begin to darken. A dark curl of hair falls on his forehead and his thin lips twitch into a grimace. 

Sometimes when he sits in this chair in the silence of his office, he can see them leering back from the treeline, hand-carved masks still on their faces and armour hugging their ragged bodies. It’s a stark reminder of what he’s trying to prevent, what he’s trying to rectify in himself and in his desire to fix this world. 

Crowley averts his gaze and twists back to stare at the papers strewn on his desk. The key ring glints as lamps on his wall flicker to life, catching off the metal, including that of the key he told you he didn’t have. He moves to reattach the ring to his belt buckle without further thought. 

Despite you being an unexpected addition, you were proving your use in many ways. He wasn’t quite ready to let you find a way home yet. After all, in his mind, the end of that ever-stretching fence had yet to be found, and he had some flaws in this world to rectify.

[lees-chaotic-brain]

Hello! I'd like to give Inumaki an ugly Christmas sweater (with high neck ofc) that was knitted by reader. It was her first time, but sweater still looks nice; and probably there is a bear pattern or written something cool and funny.

Good luck!

Ahhh this is so perfect for him, I love it! Also, credit for the text on the sweater goes to that one jjk x reader texts person who has Inumaki's name saved as toge bear. Lmk in the comments if you know who it is.

CW: Singular mention of puke (as a description of a color), crack, fluff

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For weeks you had toiled on your secret project, working well into the wee hours of the morning. Weeks of finger cramps, endless frustration, and eyes burning from a lack of sleep. But finally. Finally, it was done.

Holding out the monstrosity you had created, you couldn’t help but to cackle with glee at your horrific creation.

All your hard work and sleepless nights had finally come to fruition, and in your hands you now held the world’s ugliest Christmas sweater.

The base was a puke green shag, mottled with random patches of mud brown. Neon orange sequins had been sewn winding around the arms, the pattern imitating lights strung around a tree. And to top it all off there was a misshapen white bear with lopsided violet eyes on the front above the words ‘My Toge Bear.”

It was perfect. It was divine. It was your best work yet. Carefully wrapping it in navy tissue paper and placing it in a silver bag you throw open the door to your dorm and make your way to your boyfriends dorm.

“Togeeeeeeeeee!”

You call as you burst into his dorm.

“I have something for youuuu!”

“Really?!”

His eyes light up and he quickly pauses his game before swiveling in his chair to face you.

“Gimme.”

You had barely extended your arm and offered him the gift bag before he reached out and snatched it. Scurrying over to the corner of his room, he sat with his back to the wall and eyed you suspiciously as he opened it. And finally, the moment you had been waiting for arrived. Your boyfriend looked at your creation for a couple of seconds, silent.

You were practically wriggling with glee, dying in anticipation for his reaction to your gift. Slowly he looked at you, and an evil smile spread across his face. He stood, and retrieved a gift bag of his own from his closet and handed it to you.

Wait, where was his abject horror? His look of acute betrayal?? What was with that look on his face? You were beginning to feel a little uneasy.

He motioned for you to open it, before retrieving the hideous sweater and what-did he just put it on?

A sly little grin flashed across his face, quickly replaced by one of doe-eyed innocence.

I love it! He signed, gesturing for you to open your gift. Now open yours!

Filled with trepidation, you slowly pull whatever is lurking in the gift bag out into the light. Staggering back, you dramatically fling your hand against your forehead as you drop your gift. Your handsome, loving, loyal boyfriend had finally revealed his dark side. Laying crumpled in a pile on his hard wood floor was not a ugly Christmas sweater, but an ugly Christmas dress, made of itchy wool and covered with bells and flashing lights.

Do you like it?

His shoulders were shaking with the effort of suppressing his laughter, making his signing choppy. Giving him a half-hearted glare, you made eye contact and that was the end. 

The two of you burst into hysterical peals of laughter as you wheezed and leaned against each other. The second one of you was beginning to calm down, the other would hiccup and start giggling, starting a whole new round of cackles.

Once you had managed to get yourselves under control, the two of you each put on your respective gifts and had a photoshoot, dramatically posing with exaggerated facial expressions. As the two of you rolled on the ground, practically sobbing with laughter after Toge attempted to throw a sultry look of his shoulder for the camera, you fell in love with him all over again. This was what you wanted your future to look like; enjoying spending time with the man you love, while laughing over mundane things such as an ugly Christmas sweater.

[8-rae-rae-8]

He's sick, they told him. His doctors, his parents. And god did their cruel words ever worsen. His date was sealed the day his paperwork was filed.

"Simon Riley [Little: 0-3]"

Just like that his life was over, age 12 and unable to run away with every piece of paper work and documentation making him permanently his father's. Oh how it made his skin crawl.

Years were spent fighting himself back. He'd shrink to that headspace, and so would his body. But his parents didn't wipe his tears or clean him up. Poor Tommy took a lot of it. A caregiver by nature, but an addict because of their father. His mother was practically out of the picture with how little she could help.

His first thought was military. But the more research he did, the less it seemed possible. Any job deemed scary or laborious wasn't allowed for a little. It was even on his fucking ID when he was old enough to save one. By 18, he was making Tommy sign in appwroek claiming that Simon was neutral. And as Tommy was listed a legal carer (his father's doing), it went through. Tommy was too high, hungover or sick to realize what he was doing, which Simon took advantage of.

It took years for him to crash again. Years to curl up in his bed in the cold, cold room he stayed in. Lieutenant, they called him. His team. His Captain, Mactavish, what would he think? His other teammates... Gaz, Roach. God they'd be disgusted.

The size of a baby curled up under a ton of blankets just waiting to feel big again. All he could do was hide anyway. No one should ever be allowed to see him like this-Simon didn't even think they'd hesitate to throw him out. Come morning, it was no easier. He was still too tiny to even get himself out of bed. He'd fall on the floor, that's how tiny he was. He probably couldn't even walk...

How late was he for breakfast? The alarm went off earlier, causing him to screech in terror before he pulled his blankets back over himself. It was a dandelion game to play, getting to far into the military then crashing in bed and physically unable to get help and unable to get himself to feel big again.

It was all scary. Terrifying, even. In any other situation, his captain would be right at his side. Mactavish would've been there. But this? For this he was alone. Always alone.

He's sick. Something in his head made him sick. Different from everyone else and weak. Weak because he of his fear. Because of his regression... Some days he was lucky almost all of his file was blacked out, others not so much. He needed help.

And the longer he stayed in bed, unable to get out, just the size of a wee kiddo, maybe it would come. Mactavish always came to him if he wasn't at meal times on time.

Soon enough that familiar knock rang through his room. Fuck, Simon couldn't help the cry that came from him. His chest heaving with the intensity of it. In no more than a second, Mactavish was in the room and looking for him.

It only took a minute for Simon to be lifted into the captain's arms. Sobs falling from his lips as his tiny hands grabbed at his shirt.

"Are ye my Si, wee one?" Mactavish asked, swaying with him. Of course he was, but it was pretty much instinct to be a little playful and sweet like that.

Obviously Simon couldn't exactly respond. He tugged at his shirt weakly, his little legs kicking at the air as he cried.

"Oh, Si... Simon, love..." Soap murmured. His heart beating insanely fast with the little one clutching onto him. He didn't even know Simon regressed... He has his suspicions, but this? Regressing so small? Small enough to fit perfectly on his chest with just one hand holding him?

The wailing settled enough for Simon to hear Mactavish talking to him. His captain but that didn't matter anymore- He didn't see a captain looking at him, maybe a friend instead. He tugged at his shirt and whimpered.

"yeah, I know... Ye're too small, huh? Didn't ye get taught to ask for help when ye need it, wee one?" Mactavish asked softly, brushing over the very short hair on his head. Dark, not quite black though. Carefully, he sat back on Simon's bed with him in his arms, tears reduced to hiccups.

"I wish ye woulda told me, Simon... Somethin' stressed ye out and ye crashed... Not good for ye." Mactavish told him, rocking Simon in his arms. Slow and gentle. "Do ye even have anything for this?" He worried.

And Simon couldn't tell him, only point or whine. But no, no he didn't have anything because he never wanted this to happen. He thought he could control it enough- but no, he couldn't. He was weak.

"Simon, hey, M'eudail... It's okay. We'll get ye stuff." Soap didn't know how he'd get him off base without being seen, he didn't say that to Simon though. He needed the little one's trust.

"I know ye're scared.. I've got this, okay? I've got you." Mactavish promised him. Using a smaller blanket he found, he gently swaddled Simon up and got him cozy. The little one didn't whine or cry, he actually relaxed quite a bit.

Simon babbled up at Soap, wiggling before settling into the warm blanket.

"Oh yeah, baby? Tell me." Soap cooed softly at him as he picked Simon back up. All swaddled and cute. Albeit a little messy.

Simon giggled and babbled a little more at the encouragement. For the first time, he didn't feel scared when he was small. He wasn't going to be shouted at, hit, or anything else... He should know his captain was safe, this was just surprising...

"Yeah?? That's a lot, Darlin'." Mactavish was so sweet. Feuling his babbling while he made sure Simon was comfortable.

The two went back and forth with babbling for a long while, until they did have to figure out where to get Simon things like pacis and other baby needs. Though he should have, Soap didn't really hide Simon, just covering his face since he knew that he wouldn't want people seeing. So he held Simon just right and let him nuzzle into his neck. The few people that saw were definitely confused, but no on questioned it. Not with Mactavish glaring at anyone who tried.

Of course he didn't drive, he carefully walked with Simon in his arms to a near by town to grab the things they needed. The basics, pacis, dips, bottles, formula, and some baby bath stuff. And Simon squealed at the bubble bath stuff that Soap grabbed, making him chuckle and poke Si's side.

Getting back into base was the same thing, glaring at anyone who asked anything about the little one on his chest. He wasn't up for questions and he didn't want Si being pestered later when he was big. It was easier to avoid. The first thing he did when inside his own room, he got Simon padded up and a cleaned paci (washed in his sink just in case).

Simon didn't whine or kick his legs. He was well behaved, actually... He babbled a little, muffled by his paci but Soap still responded.

Oh how he loved it... It was so easy to relax like this. Being put gently back over Mactavish's chest while swaddled up all comfortable. How could he not relax?

Being talked to helped a lot too, Mactavish's voice working to ease him further. Si liked the gentle rumble of his chest and hearing his silly accent.

A nap was in order the second Simon's eyes began to close. Soap swayed with him side to side while humming an unfamiliar tune to him, but it all felt safe nonetheless. There was no pushing for a nap, no leaving him in a room and waiting for him to pass out. No, this was gentle coaxing until he fell asleep naturally.

Maybe this would all go away in the morning, but maybe it would be okay to happen again- Mactavish wasn't cruel. He showed no signs of mistrust or betrayal about Simon's many lies regarding his classification. He was just as warm as he usually was to him, if not more.

Simon was safe like this. Happy and warm. Never had he fallen asleep so easily before. Protected by his Captain's arms and comforted by his voice. There was no better person to be helped by.

[intern-seraph]

brief wip preview of my general lilia vanrouge/human general reader fic. in which u are snarky and a wee bit flirtatious and he thinks you're the most annoying creature to ever live. too bad he has to capture you alive!

cws: blood and injury, near-death experiences

You're dying.

That's one thing you know for certain. The other? You've lost. As you struggle to keep yourself awake, you watch your soldiers drop one by one around you. A ragged cough rips through your chest and splatters across the crushed flowers you lie atop.

A shout from nearby calls your attention, but you can barely muster up the energy to move more than your eyes. The shadow cast over you is familiar, however. Your second-in-command. She cries out your name, dropping to her knees and reaching for you. With tremendous effort, you lift your hand to stop her.

"No. Leave me," you say, weak but authoritative.

"No! General, we can't abandon you! You'll be —"

"I'm already going to die. Don't… don't waste your energy." You fumble with the medallions attached to your gambeson. Then, with trembling, bloody fingers, you press the one representing your rank into her palm. She sobs as you urge her to curl her hand around it. "Take this and go. Order anyone still alive to retreat."

Shaking her head, she tries to thrust the medallion back into your hands. "I won't leave you here!"

"Leave! That's —" another wet cough, splattering blood over your armor "— that's an order. Make sure that, hah, that some of these men make it home."

Finally, her face steels with resolve. She nods and rises again. Wordlessly, she salutes you.

And then you're alone again.

The air stinks of blood, both fae and human. You can taste your own filling your mouth. Since the day you joined His Majesty's army, you knew that you would die on the battlefield. What a pity, though, that it's in such a total, bitter defeat.

"What a pleasant surprise."

The voice makes your heart thud in your chest. With the little strength you have left, you try to push yourself up on your elbows. The sharp edge of a fae blade pins you in place. You follow its ornate green length up to meet the masked snarl of its wielder.

"Vanrouge," you murmur. You crack a smile that's rendered grotesque by your bloodied teeth and bruised face. "I should have known this was your work."

He presses the blade harder against your skin. "You look more pathetic than I ever thought you would."

"H-hah, you think of me that often?" The edges of your vision are starting to darken. "'M flattered."

The blade lifts away, and you collapse onto your back with a painful thud. Vanrouge crouches over you, his knee on your chest and his palm pressed to your throat. "Unfortunately for you, I need you alive."

The heat of healing magic strikes your skin. You cry out with the sudden searing sensation, feeling every single inch of your wounds knitting back together. By the time he’s done, tear tracks run down your cheeks. He hasn’t even healed you completely; it’s just enough to keep you alive. You convulse with a hacking cough, and Vanrouge steps away to avoid the spatter of bloody saliva. “Fuck, you didn’t have to make it… shit… make it hurt that much… and here I thought we were friends.”

You can hear the sneer in his voice when he snaps, “I would never be ‘friends’ with the likes of you, human.”

“You wound me.” You laugh. Immediately you regret it, and you dissolve into hacking coughs again. “Shi-i-it… your men did a number on me…”

Of course, Vanrouge ignores you. He manhandles you onto your stomach and wrenches your arms behind your back, binding them in thick, coarse rope. You don’t bother fighting back. You know when to pick your battles. When he pulls you up to your feet, you stumble for a moment, cursing under your breath as your leg threatens to give out completely, but manage to keep your footing. Even as he forces you into an unsteady march, you keep your bloodied grin plastered on your face. His soldiers shout and jeer at you, but give you both a wide berth — the Shadow General terrifies even his own men, it seems.

You don’t get a chance to take in your accommodations for the journey to the Land of Briar’s capital city. The blood loss finally overtakes your adrenaline, and everything goes black.

—

The first time you faced the Shadow General was several years ago, when you were a fresh-faced footsoldier in His Majesty’s army. You were marching to meet up with the rest of the King’s army to aid in a siege. On that fateful night, you made camp in a quiet copse of trees. None of the other soldiers in your squadron had been expecting Vanrouge to emerge from the woods like a wraith, his monstrous mask paralyzing some of your younger comrades on the spot with terror. The fae’s ambush was short and bloody, leaving only half of your squadron clinging to life. While the few magic-users scrambled to remember their healing spells, you stood strong against Vanrouge, himself. For a moment, he’d pinned you to a tree, and you stared directly into those soulless, unblinking eyes. Some kind of manic energy must have overcome you, because when you opened your mouth to pant for breath, instead you choked out a few raspy words:

“Isn’t this… a little intimate?”

You didn’t need to see his face to know that he was repulsed. He dropped you immediately. While you crouched on the leaf-litter and wheezed, he called for his soldiers to withdraw. Then, without looking back at you, he vanished into the night. You never told your surviving comrades what happened, or why he spared you your life. You still don’t know, yourself.

—

You wake up in a haze of pain and exhaustion. Around you, everything is dark and blurry. When you try to sit up, your ribs threaten to pop out of your chest, and you flop back with a frustrated huff. Damn him for only healing you partway. You’ve been stripped of your armor and dressed in a kind of hospital gown. The fabric is thin and irritates your skin if you move too much, but that might just be the medicine you can feel seeping into your healing wounds. All things considered, you’re far more intact than you would’ve expected. They haven’t even bothered to put you in chains, although that might be less of a courtesy and more knowledge that you don’t have the strength at the moment to actually move. Nearby, a heavy door creaks open. You try to crane your neck towards the sound, but only succeed in straining what can only be a torn… something.

“... jesty, I respect your judgment, but again I must ask why? I’m needed on the front lines, not here.”

“Lilia, you know this human better than any of my prison guards. And this may be a much-needed break from your regular duties.”

“A break?”

His tone of voice makes you wince. Surely his Queen would punish his cheek?

She laughs, her voice rich and deep. “Yes, a break. You are sorely in need of one, if your soldiers’ reports are to be believed. This should be suitably calm while keeping your mind occupied.”

“If by ‘calm’ you mean ‘insufferable,’ I suppose you’re correct, Your Majesty.”

[princessbiteme0o0]

You Never Come Back From a Loss Like Him… (IDEK x reader-ish-)

MAJOR. SPOILERS. FOR MW3.

(A/N): It’s been since the preorder release day since I’ve played the campaign fully of MW3 and I’m still heartbroken over what happened with Soap. Ugly cried for 45 minutes, took out the disc and nearly snapped it in half at what shit, so have this sad, gut wrenching, heartbreaking example of how I think Price would’ve told Soap’s significant other if he had one… it’s short, I’m sorry, but god I’m so sad about this shit.

Summary: DO NOT read this if you haven’t played MW3 or don’t know how it ends. That’s all I can really say… But I’m upset, you’re upset. Everyone. Is. Fucking. Upset.

WARNINGS: S P O I L E R S, Major character death, I can’t do this anymore guys, if TikTok gives me another edit of Soap’s death I’m gonna fucking cry again. I didn’t realize I was still so upset about a fictional character dying. It’s just- idk bro. Too. Fucking. Much.

—💔—💔—

She knew something was wrong. She knew something had happened. It had been five days since she heard from him. Her heart rested heavy in her stomach as she constantly paced the living room waiting for his call. All day. All night. But she hadn’t heard a single whisper of a ring from the phone. The only thing she could hear was her heart thumping in her ears.

The first day everything was fine…

“I love you, Sweetie. I’ll call ye when I get back to base.” His Scottish accent rang through the phone making her smile to herself.

“I love you too babe… Please be careful; ya know me and little bean need you home safe.” Her voice softly begged him through the line, holding her round belly in her palm, gently massaging it in reassuring circles for both her mental stability and their baby’s.

“I’ll never let you down, Darlin’.” He chuckled through the line before hanging up.

The second day was also normal, but she was still bustling around the house to find things to do to distract herself. She one it was a dangerous mission and her nerves were amped up being in her finally trimester of pregnancy.

The third day was when she knew something was wrong. She bit on her nails and nearly tugged her hair out as she remembered back to the day they first met.

“What’s yer name, Lass?” Johnny asked, sliding into the bar stool beside hers. Turning to look at him, a small smirk on her lips as her eyes flashed up to his Mohawk. He grinned like a Cheshire Cat when he saw her eyes moving up to his hair. “Ya like my hair, hmm?”

“Mmh no.” She grinned back at him as he feigned hurt and she giggled at his little act. The second he heard her sweet little giggle, he knew he was fucked.

“Well that’s a wee bit hurtful, don’tcha think?” He placed a hand over his heart and she outright laughed, making him chuckle along with her.

“Maybe you’re right. Let me make it up to you and buy you a drink.” She says with a wink.

“Iddn’t that s’posed to be my line?” He asks with a hearty laugh and he doesn’t miss the wink that she gives him.

“Maybe if you’re old fashioned.”

The fourth day is when the tears came. She knew something was wrong; Johnny never went this long without some type of communication. He always wanted to give her peace of mind. Her stomach churned as she paced back and forth in front of the couch, tears of nervousness pricking at the corners of her eyes. She never wanted him to go on this mission; he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone what his missions were, but he always told her. Having said that, she knew this man was dangerous.

It was cresting into the fifth night when the doorbell rang. She nearly launched herself at the door in hopes that Johnny was there to surprise her. Swinging the door open, her eyes were met with John Price.

“No… No, no, no.” She muttered out, her vision becoming blurry and her mind going blank.

“I’m so sorry…” Price whispers out, making her choke out a sob. Falling to her knees, Price carefully grabs her and falls to his knees with her to insure her safety and prevention of any injury. The guilt had been eating him alive. Johnny saved his life; sacrificed himself for Price and that alone made coming to her to tell her the news even harder. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing into his chest.

“But, but he promised.” She choked out in between her cries and whimpers.

“I know, Sweetheart… I know.”

[littlelioncub43]

Ralph gets sniffly after Victoria snaps at him harder than usual, so it's up to you to make him feel loved.

Awwww wee lamb.

Holiday Blues and Gold

He had gotten the suit custom made for the Christmas party. If there was something Ralph loved, it was the annual Penbury Christmas party. He loved it more than his birthday, which is saying a lot.

So when he and Victoria set the date 6 months ago, he immediately sent in his order to his tailor with very specific demands. He wanted to look perfect, especially since he saw your name on the guest list. All Ralph wanted was to catch your eye.

The white suit coat that was tailored perfectly to his shape was more than he had hoped. Elegant embroidery in gold and green and blue threads decorated the jacket in biblical motifs and symbols. Then paired the sleek black pants he knew you loved were his favorite shoes; freshly polished leather Oxfords that complimented his cherry red bowtie.

He felt like a prize.

Victoria, on the other hand, didn't think so.

"What on Earth were you thinking? You look like an idiot. Someone might mistake you for a nutcracker. My God, you're an embarrassment— would you please go change before anyone else has to see that hideous jacket?"

Her words replayed in his head as he stands alone in the hallway, wistfully watching the sharply dressed men and women on the dance floor. He steps further back into the cove of the corridor, hoping the shadows would help hide the glaringly white and gold of his suit. The moment Ralph spotted you weaving through the crowd, he wanted to die. Maybe if he ran he could make it to his room to change before you saw him.

"There you are, Ralph!" Too late.

"O-Oh," he stutters as you approach, grinning at him as always. You were dressed in a soft white gown, the flowy fabric draped around you made you look ethereal. He watches as your eyes scan over him. God, he must look like a clown compared to you. Ralph felt tears sting his eyes as Victoria's words replay themselves once more.

"Oh, darling, what's the matter?" You coo softly when you immediately catch sight of his gleaming eyes. Leading him deeper into the hallway with a gentle hand on his shoulder, you both duck into an alcove. Once he takes a seat, you scoot in next to him, holding his hands in yours. "Why are you crying, Ralphie? Won't you tell me?"

The softness of your voice and the tender grasp you have on his hands is what breaks him. He lets himself cry, his head hung low as you guide it to your shoulder, your arms wrapping around him. You coo soft things in his ear and let him get it out, rubbing slow circles on his back as he sobs. When his tears finally slow down, he pulls back, his face red with embarrassment.

"Oh, dearest," you sigh with a frown, seeing him cry was breaking your heart. You have no idea what's got him so upset but hearing his quiet sobs makes you dead set on figuring it out. Gently, you wipe the tears from his cheeks.

"Vic-Victoria, she..." he starts, sniffling and shifting his eyes away from yours. Ralph was equal parts embarrassed and comforted. He didn't plan on crying like this in front of you for a few years if ever, but the way you hold him so close soothes the little voice in his head and the ache in his chest.

"She, what, Ralphie? Did she say something to you?" You press politely while straightening the lapel on his suit with on hand.

"She... she made fun of my suit," he whispers, feeling silly for crying over it now. "It's stupid, really, not even that important."

"She made fun of your suit?" You question, astonished. The sad sniffle you got in response broke your heart even further. You knew Ralph was going all out for this party, he told you all about the design he wanted, the colors, the fabrics— all of it. He was so excited to show it off.

"She said it was hideous and that I look like a nutcracker," he repeats his twin's words in a hushed voice, still not meeting your gaze as he fiddles with the soft fabric of your skirt.

"Oh, Ralphie, that's horrible. I'm so sorry she said that. I know how much you were looking forward to wearing it tonight," you rub your hand over the embroidered sleeve.

"She's right, I shouldn't hav—"

"Nonsense. Victoria hasn't got a fashionable bone in her body. Do you remember that hat she wore to my mother's birthday party?" You joke slightly, trying to get him to smile. It works. He chuckles when he remembers the outrageous hat that his sister bought for the party as a bid to impress your mother. The thing was absolutely terrible; with 4 different feathers and the size of a large serving plate, it did nothing good for her.

'It's mature, Ralph, you wouldn't understand.' Mmhm. Sure.

"You look so handsome tonight, Ralph," you whisper with your own smile. He looks up at you then, looking for any hints of a lie but finding none.

"I-I do?" He asks dumbly, but he wants to hear you say it again. You hum and nod.

"Very handsome. In fact, I might have to ask you to dance with me all night to keep you to myself," you tease and straighten his bowtie.

"You can," he nods eagerly, "I'll be yours, all night." And for the rest of our lives.

You giggle at his cute smile and how he perked up, that classic Ralph excitement coming back quickly. Just as you're about to stand up, he gently holds you in your seat, a shaky hand caressing the flesh of your arm.

"Wait! I... I want to keep you to myself a little longer," he sheepishly smiles. He wasn't ready to let you go just yet, he wanted the closeness and quiet of just the two of you to last as long as possible. You feel your face heat at his words but nod with your own smile. The feeling of his warm hand gliding over the skin of your forearm in gentle touches sends your heart all a-flutter.

Slowly, you both find yourselves leaning closer and closer until his nose brushes against your face. His big doe eyes look at your gorgeous face with a type of warmth you only find in Ralph. The look on his face took your breath away, gone was the nervous, bumbling boy you knew and loved. In his place, sat a man who was looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" He asks in an uncharacteristically low voice. You shake your head softly. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," his arms snake around your waist, pulling you even closer. "Half the time, I... I can hardly believe you're real, and the other half, I'm so hopelessly, painfully in love with you."

Your hand rests on his clean shaved jaw as you take in his words. You can feel the slight tremor in his touch as he brings one hand to rest on the back of yours. Still your nervous Ralphie even as he articulately confesses his feelings for you. The grin you wear sends butterflies into Ralph's tummy.

"Oh, Ralph," you sigh.

"Darling," he sighs back to you.

The kiss you share is soft and loving. Painfully, so. Your lips move together like you were made for each other, it was perfect. Ralph couldn't contain the pleased whimper that falls from his mouth and into yours. Clinging to each other, you let the kiss deepen and flow naturally. Air becomes a necessity much to your dismay and you break the kiss. Both of you gasp for breath as your foreheads rest on each other, not wanting to go far.

"I love you too, Ralph," you whisper to him. Ralph swears that his brain shuts off for a moment. Any coherent thought of an appropriate response leaves him the moment he hears you. He gawks at you for a moment, trying to process it. After a moment, he finally speaks.

"Happy Christmas," he whispers, making you giggle. He wants to cringe at himself but he can't when you're smiking and laughing with your lipstick smudged from his kiss.

"Happy Christmas, Ralph."

I no longer have a taglist! If you wish to stay up-to-date on when I post, follow @littlelioncub-library 💖

[miitgaanar]

Whumptober prompt! Requested by @serpenthyne!

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | “It’s not your fault.”

Do not read this <3 I cannot stress that enough <3

***************

Winter’s bite had begun to fade by the time Mikaila was well enough to be out and about.  Patches of green poked through the slowly shrinking piles of snow, and once near absent songbirds could be heard even within the densely populated streets of Durlyne.  It was as if Ssael himself wished to welcome his favored daughter back to the land of the living with a splash of color.

But Addilyn couldn’t help the frown that pulled at her lips as she spied the girl’s pallid features, her tell-tale Soud green eyes dull and lacking that familiar mischievous gleam.

“Oi, lass,” Addilyn said, forcing a playful lilt into her voice.  “Don’t you be scheming over there.  I won’t have you spelling my sword soggy when I have to assist in training later.”

Mikaila looked up from where she sat on one of the stone benches lining the temple’s pathways, the barest smile painted upon her pale lips.  Even so, it didn’t quite reach her eyes.  Addilyn’s heart nearly split at the sight.

She hadn’t seen the little spellwright since the weeks following that harrowing night, and even then Mikaila had spent much of it in a fitful slumber, burning with fever and writhing in terrible pain.  Addilyn had felt so helpless, the vibrant little troublemaker at death’s door with naught but prayers to be said in the hope that the doctor could keep her from the khert’s grasping hands.

But the wee lass was strong, a fighter if she had ever seen one, and she’d beaten back the very same khert that had taken her father.

And yet the sight before her left Addilyn at a loss.  It wasn’t grief or fear that lined the girl's features.  She seemed… troubled.  Haunted.

Addilyn hadn’t known what to expect when Lemuel announced that he’d be bringing his newfound daughter to the temple, but this somehow felt worse than a hysterical child’s weeping.  

A sigh escaped her as Addilyn moved to sit beside Mikaila, the stone’s cold surface seeping into her trousers and making her shiver.

“You’ve been awful quiet since your doting uncle left you in my care,” Addilyn said with an air of levity.  “And here I’d been ready to be wowed by tales of your valiant victory over the Crescian invaders.”

Mikaila’s small, gloved hands clenched into tightly balled fists, her gaze averted to the ground.  “Can I ask you something, Addie?”

Addilyn blinked in surprise, her brow raised.  “Of course.”

A quiet moment passed, one in which Addilyn could hear the distant sounds of a hound’s baying.  “Do you think I did enough?” Mikaila finally asked.

“Enough—?”  Addilyn was struck speechless.  Among the short list of things she expected her to ask, that was not among them.  “What do you mean?”

“Everyone talks about that night like I did something special.  Like I fought them off and saved the day.”  Her voice was low, but sharp as a knife’s edge.  “But I could have done more.  I know I could have.  But Papa was hurt and there were so many of them and—”

Mikaila trailed off then, her little shoulders trembling.  Addilyn thought she had begun to cry, expected to see tears streaming down her pale cheeks as hiccupping sobs built up in her chest—but her eyes were dry, and there was a deep anger and frustration in her brilliant green gaze.

“It’s all my fault,” she said darkly, and it was with that that she sniffled softly, though Addilyn suspected she would blame it on the still brisk air.  “Had I not been there, Papa would still be here.”

“Miki—” Addilyn tried, but Mikaila cut her off.

“Had I been born a boy, Papa would have taught me how to fight.  He wouldn’t have told me to run.  He would have told me where to aim.”

She said it with such rancor, such bitterness.  Addilyn had thought the girl would be wailing for her lost Papa, but instead she harbored a profound guilt for his demise.

“Miki,” she tried again, reaching out to place a hand upon Mikaila’s uninjured shoulder.  There was little she could give her in the way of comfort, and even this felt like a paltry offering.  “Your Papa didn’t like me much.  Especially when your uncle would bring me around you.  But even I know that he loved you so very much.  Fiercely enough that he fought to the death to keep you safe.”

Mikaila sniffled again, her eyes still trained on her hands.  The gloves were new.  A darker blue than her old pair.

“And,” Addilyn continued, sensing a rebuttal building upon the little wright’s lips, “I would never dare say that he’d have done anything differently had it been a lad at his side that night, rather than his beloved daughter.  He’d have told that boy to run to find help, to find the guard, to get home.  Just as he did you.”

It was then that a stray tear finally spilled over Mikaila’s lashes, and her hands began to shake.  Addilyn did not hesitate to pull the girl toward her in a tight embrace.

“It wasn’t your fault, Miki,” Addilyn said gently, but with an edge that brokered no argument.  “You scared off a horde of Crescians all on your own.  And you fought your way back to us.  You are strong and bright and so very brave.”

Addilyn pulled back slightly, a small half-smile upon her lips as she brushed the stray tears from Mikaila’s cheeks.  Mikaila met her gaze with a watery smile of her own.

“Never doubt that you did more than most lads older than yourself would have managed,” Addilyn continued.  “You sitting here right now is proof that you did more than enough.”

Mikaila sniffled again, nodding stiffly as she buried her face in Addilyn’s tunic, her voice muffled as she simply said, “Thank you, Addie.”

[whump-in-the-closet]

First off, I absolutely love your writing! It truly is incredible. If you like the idea, would you be willing to write about a hero who is deathly terrified of fire and extreme heat? They have kept it a secret all their life, but the villain just found out about it and uses it against them. And the villain taunts them throughout the extreme mental and physical torture? Thanks!

more than willing! hope you like it and thanks so much!

cw: sadistic whumper, hero whumpee, burning, exploiting a phobia (maybe, idk?)

Click. A spurt of yellow flame shot up against the shadows as Villain lit their cigarette. They watched intently as Hero flinched back as far as they could in their restraints.

Villain exhaled a puff of smoke, leaning forward to breath it in Hero’s face.

And there it was again. The veiled panic, flashing across Hero’s eyes. As bright as any flame.

Villain toyed with the lighter. Clicking it on and off. On and off. They circled Hero, watching the city’s savior tense.

They stood behind Hero, still messing with the lighter. Leaning close, they held the lighter in Hero’s face.

Hero inhaled sharply, jerking back. Something like a curse, more of a strangled cry, forced it’s way out of his mouth.

“Hero, you aren’t scared of a tiny lighter now are you?”

“—No,” The lie was spat out too quickly to be believed. “No, no— God—”

Villain had shoved the lighter closer. “Methinks you doth protest too much.” They grabbed a handful of Hero’s hair, forcing Hero to look up.

Dilated eyes locked on the tiny flame.

Sharp, painful breathing.

Villain smiled. “To think the city’s mighty hero is scared of a wee bit of fire.” They held the flame dangerously close to Hero’s hair. A little closer.

“I’m not—”

“Oh, you’re terrified. Don’t deny it.”

Closer still. Dark hair burst alight, burning faster than straw.

Hero yanked against Villain’s hand— that was singed hair he could smell— burning, burning, burning red and gold.

Villain put the flames out by slapping Hero’s head.

Hero collapsed against the wooden table, pressing his face to the cool surface like it was his own personal coffin. Vaguely, he was aware of Villain running their hand through the singed patch of hair. “Don’t cry, my friend. You and I are you going to have loads of fun with this.”

***

Hero could handle anything. Had handled everything. Could take the punches, the pliers, the water boarding.

He could handle it all.

Except fire.

Never that. Never the curling scarlet that set alight every nerve in his body with throbbing red.

***

Open flame spiraled into the low ceiling of the cell.

Vivid blue and brighter red. The colors sank into the walls, the floor. They bled out into the ceiling. Heart-pulsing, throbbing red.

Bruising blue, the color left behind by a fist.

Hero stumbled, knees giving out on him. The world spun and fractured and burst into flame.

Villain hauled him to his feet. “You are so beyond pathetic. It’s just fire.”

Just fire.

“And sure you’re going to stick your arm in it, but, hey maybe after we can make s’mores.”

Hero’s stomach dropped. The words had been like a white-hot knife. “What?”

“Did you say you were left handed or right handed?”

Hero held both arms to his chest. “Please, please, please—”

“Begging? Huh that’s a new low.” Villain’s voice twisted into one of Control. Their abilities far outstripped Hero’s now, after weeks of captivity. “Put your right arm in the fire.”

Crimson-bleeding pain. Hero sobbed even as his arm was dragged forward.

—twisting, murderous pain started at his fingers and crawled upwards— a tattoo of never ending pain—

And Villain? Villain laughed.

Hero’s sobs turned to screams.

“Hey, Hero, Hero,” Villain snapped their fingers to get Hero’s attention. “Smile for the camera.” Click. “I think I’m gonna caption this as ‘Too Hot for You’.”

Again, that laugh.

[darkhighness]

Good Omentober Day 20 - Holy Water

Prompt by @disaster-dog

Crowley is struggling to let go of the goodness that resides in him. Very loosey goosey with the prompt.

Crowley was friends with hurt now. Grief and heartbreak were strangers but a few months ago and now they were his closest companions, wearing his corporation as a suit of armour. Crowley was buried somewhere deep beneath it all.

Even after being a demon for years, his heart still yearned to be in the sweet embrace of the Almighty once again. He searched every corner of the earth to find an opportunity for redemption but all he found was his own temptation. Crowley, in many ways, wanted to be Aziraphale. An angel so trusted he could work on earth, thwarting the demon’s plans.

He wanted to be an angel again, no matter the costs. He missed his stars, he missed the tender touch of another angel and most importantly, he missed his creator.

Do you know, I could break beneath the weight

He sat perched in a high tree on a mountain, looking out at all the flying birds around him, all so beautiful. All loved creations, gorgeous creatures that were shaped by the delicate hands of angels.

A small orange bishop landed next to Crowley, its flaming orange crest amplified by the rays of sunlight streaming in through the leaves. Crowley gently offered his finger as a perch for the quaint bird who happily accepted and enjoyed their ride up to Crowley’s eyeline.

“You look a bit like me, little guy.” Crowley chuckled softly, gently scritching the bird’s neck, “Someone worked really hard on you, didn’t they?”

A pang tore through Crowley’s chest as he looked at the bird, perfectly content to perch.

“Not me. I think someone messed up when they made me.”

Of the goodness, love, I still carry for you?

In the distance, he heard a pained cry coming from the village. As a demon, he should’ve revelled in the sound but it was just too upsetting to let continue. Crowley stood up, gently prompting the bird to fly off before he spread his own wings.

In a small house in the village at the mountain’s base, another cry bellowed, carried by the wind towards the demon. He landed just outside the village before quickly striding to the house. Inside was a young girl, alone, in the cruel grasps of labour. The room was freezing and she had no support whatsoever. Crowley didn’t even have time to assess his emotions before he sprung into action, lighting a small gas lantern and moving it closer to the girl.

“Who are you?” She sobbed, her eyes brimming with warm wet tears and her hand grasping onto her top with all her strength.

The demon hesitated for a moment, before lying through his teeth, “An angel, my dear. I’m going to help you.”

That seemed to ease the young girl until another wave of pain racked her body and she doubled over, another strained cry bursting from her throat.

Crowley gently rested his hands on her back, funnelling some of his power to ease some of her pain. He then moved his hands to massage her gently, hoping to make the experience slightly better.

“I can’t do this,” She cried, her hands pressing on her ballooning belly.

Crowley had seen a few births in his time, an unfortunate side effect of tempting people into lust, but this was something different. Usually, there wasn’t this much fear. Usually, it wasn't this cold.

He gently took one of the girl’s hands into his, “Squeeze my hand in the next wave. Don’t worry about hurting me.”

“Please, just take this all away. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

That I'd walk so far just to take

Crowley spent the whole night with the girl and in the wee hours of the morning, a new baby boy took his first breath. The young girl was still deeply unwell and Crowley stayed by her side, slowly teaching her how to nurse and how to soothe the baby.

“Please, angel, what’s your name?” The young girl asked softly, the baby's body cradled comfortably in her arms as she rested in a bed.

Crowley stopped for a moment, attempting to stay calm and not let his lie slip away from him, “Anthony.”

She let out a small gasp and a small smile resided on her face, “That will be his name. Anthony.”

Crowley couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face at that, “He’s gorgeous.”

The girl nodded softly and shifted to make sure the baby was comfortable.

At this point, Crowley wished he could bless the small form but he had already pushed the boundaries of what was allowed. Anything else would be a risk. He opted to lean down and gently kiss the top of the baby’s head.

“I must go now, my dear, but I promise, you will be okay.”

“Anthony…” She trailed off lightly, the pain still residing in her body but in many ways, overcome by love, “Thank you.” The demon gave a short nod before leaving the girl alone and returning to his perch, just in time to watch the sunrise over the horizon. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and rested his head against the trunk of the tree. As he did so, he heard the first drops of rain plopping onto the leaves.

“Almighty…” He started before readjusting, “My creator…”

He sucked a deep breath in before continuing, “Mother, please. All I ask is to be good enough for you. I cannot be as bad as they say. My heart is an angel’s heart, moulded by your own hands. How could you throw me away, like this?”

The injury of finally knowing you?

The demon heard whispers through the leaves, “Show me how angelic you are, Crowley. Show me how good you are.”

The water dropped down onto the branch with one single drop landing on Crowley’s wings. He was instantly shocked by the burning sensation that permeated throughout him. He simply couldn’t bare the pain and in his fumbling, fell off the branch onto the ground. He began to cry, the golden glow of the sun surrounding him.

Somewhere, in the midst of it all, a lost angel came and saw the demon’s drop. He raced over and inspected the wing with fresh burn marks along the shoulders. He quickly grabbed the fading demon’s hand and used a miracle to stabilise him at least.

Aziraphale let out a breath that was caught in his throat. He couldn’t heal all the damage, but he seemed to have stopped the demon from getting worse. He shielded Crowley’s crumped body with his wings, waiting for the rain to ease, all while praying the familiar fiend would manage to pry his eyes open once more.

“Crowley, what have you done?” Aziraphale asked softly, staring at the wounded pink flesh that crawled up Crowley’s wing onto his shoulder.

“I just wanted to be good.” He sniffled, his eyes still firmly shut.

[rayofmisfortune]

I JUST WATCHED IT AND. MY GOD. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS THAT. RUIN- I- I feel so stupid omg. And Solar. GOD SOLAR. Ripped away in a matter of seconds. No one saw it coming, then Ruin dropped a bomb shell on them, AND THEN. He's gone. Just like that. God. I can feel sun and moon's heart breaking through the screen and. Oh god Moon, that broken scream for Solar, I... I felt that. I can barely even process THIS, much less even BEGIN to imagine earth's and lunar's reactions. (1/7)

I'M STILL RECOVERING FROM THAT WHOLE THING I- AAAAH

THE WAY SOLAR JUST- he just- *SOBBING*

PLEASE NO I DON'T WANNA SEE THEIR REACTIONS PLEASE THEY WERE SO CLOSE TO SOLAR PLEASE NO- oh my gosh what about Jack?

I-

I understand where Ruin was coming from... they'd seen how far the Creator Council can go with their projects first hand... pretending to be something sinister for decades just so you can survive has a tol on a person... there's no arguing that.

"They don't like killing people." I'm... i'm not too sure about that honestly... this being... boosted by the fact that in the very same video they admitted to wanting to kill both Sun and Moon at first. THAT was a part of their original plan... plus, during the October takeover, they made SURE to encourage Bloodmoon's thirst for their name sake... I think there were mentiones of them even partaking in this killing??? Or offering to help or something like that..

BUT MY MAIN POINT!

"If I could save you I would." WELL CLEARLY YOU WOULDN'T- sir, in the SAME BREATH YOU SAY YOU WANTED TO KILL SOMEONE GENUINELY CONSIDERED KILLING THEM- and- and you can't go into another dimension to kill the root of your problem? I DOUBT ANYONE WOULD REALLY CARE IF THE CREATOR IN SOLAR'S DIMENSION SUDDENLY DISAPPEARED! Just- if... if Ruin had gone to Solar's dimension (yes, made difficult by only being allowed to access one dimension... BUT- BUT THEY SAID THEMYELF THAT THOSE ARCADES WERE NO UNUSUAL ARCADES! SURELY THEY COULD'VE MADE THEIR OWN PORTAL TO ACCESS OTHER DIMENSIONS???) they could've gotten rid of that Creator... which would put Solar's dimension on the list of those that WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN WIPED! I.. I don't trust a word Ruin says anymore. (I will hold onto au beans with all my heart)

ALSO! Ruin said their dimension was gone? Sir... please do enlighten me as to HOW you're here then huh? How are you still here if your dimension has been eaten by a wither storm hmm? Actually... it may have something to do with that new body... their body was made from parts that originated from the TSBS dimension... but... their backplate was still the same as when they wee ruined... ARGH I DUNNO! THIS LITTLE DETAIL IS DRIVING ME UP A WALL

OOOOHOHO i think the Creator will have surely noticed! He was... awfully interested in Ruin when he found out about them... I still think there's something going on between them... SOMETHING

The "not alive but not dead" think is just... so weird?? I mean if it's a Creator then... THEY'RE STILL BAD NEWS???

Ruin's plan has so many holes it's crazy...

JDNDNC I LOVE READING THROUGH YOUR THOUGHTS SO GOSH DARN MUCH! Expanding my own views by reading and rereading them hehehe

[maybeimamuppet]

matildamas day 11: making special breakfast

hi everyone!! welcome welcome to day eleven and your dose of a tiny bit of holiday angst!

tw for

repercussions of child abuse/trauma

enjoy!!

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Jenny is awoken in the wee hours of the morning by sounds in the hallway outside her room.

Frowning in confusion, she puts on her slippers and cracks the door, listening to what must be Matilda in the hall, creaking down it and down the stairs. Jenny opens her door the rest of the way and steps out. The clock against the far wall reads 3:45 a.m. What is she doing awake?

She follows her curiously down the stairs and finds her in the living room, with the lights to the Christmas tree turned on. Otherwise the room is pitch dark. Matilda sits on her knees facing it, almost unmoving.

“Matilda?” Jenny murmurs. Matilda jumps and whirls around to see her, surreptitiously wiping some tears from her eyes with the back of her sleeve and sniffling quietly. “What are you doing up?”

“I’m sorry,” Matilda whispers shakily.

Jenny frowns and goes to kneel beside her daughter. Matilda sobs quietly as Jenny wraps an arm around her shoulders. Jenny frowns in concern and pulls her close, rubbing her hand gently up and down Matilda’s arm. “It’s alright, firefly. Why are you so upset, now?”

Matilda is quiet for a long, long time, her tears twinkling in her eyes and as they fall down her cheeks, reflecting the white lights shining on the Christmas tree.

Her voice trembles when her lips part and she softly says, “E-every year, there would be so-so many gifts under the tree they spread out from beneath it for a meter on-on every side.”

Jenny turns to look at her, and just listens.

“And every year on-on Christmas Eve, I’d sneak out of bed and go downstairs and I’d check all of them. Every single one. To see if it-it had my name,” Matilda continues. “And none… none of them ever did. Every one was for Mum, or Michael, or for Dad. Every one. I never saw my name on any. I never had a stocking.”

Jenny is almost in tears listening to the child explain.

“I-I’m… thrilled, to live here. It’s so wonderful. But… I think about them every day. In science there’s always a reason for why things happen. And in stories you almost always find out why things happen, too. And I just-I just don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Oh, darling,” Jenny says as Matilda’s voice breaks at the end of the sentence and she breaks down sobbing, face towards the floor. She’s limp and molds willingly to her body when Jenny picks her up and cradles her in her lap.

“Why did they love Michael and not me? Why-why didn’t they want me? Ever, even though I tried so-so hard?! Why didn’t… why didn’t they love me?!”

She starts crying so hard she’s hyperventilating, and Jenny is a little worried she’ll be sick. She squeezes her child even tighter to her and rocks her, squeezes her, holds her, cries right along with her.

She knows Matilda isn’t able to take in information in her state, at least not now. Even still, she gently hushes her, murmurs, “I know, darling, I know, let it out. I’m here, I’ve got you. Shhh, I know.”

Matilda cries for at least an hour. Sometimes her sobs slow only to pick right up again, but for the most part, she just releases those heavy, deep, heart-wrenching, stomach-aching sobs that wrack her whole little body and send millions of teardrops soaking into Jenny’s pajama top. They both just sit there and cry together, in the brisk, dark, early hours of the morning.

Eventually, finally, Matilda quiets and sniffles a final sniffle against Jenny’s shoulder. Jenny immediately cups her small face between her hands and dries her tears with her thumb, before she presses a lingering kiss right between Matilda’s eyebrows.

“I love you,” is the first thing she says.

Matilda sniffles again, but her arms tighten the slightest bit around Jenny’s neck.

“I… I don’t know why they didn’t. I wish more than anything I could at least explain in a satisfying way why they behaved the way they did. I wish I could take this pain from you, my lamb. If I thought it would do any good I’d hunt them down in Spain and demand answers from them, but… sometimes we just have to let the past ache for a while. We may never get that closure, and I’m so sorry for that.”

Matilda sniffles again, looking intently at her.

“I wish you had never had to even meet them, sometimes. They caused you so much undue heartache,” Jenny continues. “So much strife and misery. I truly don’t understand how someone can look a little girl as beautiful and wonderful as you in those precious eyes and still choose to be so horrible. I’ll never understand.

“But I can absolutely promise you, with all my heart, that it is entirely on them. It was never, ever your fault, my firefly. You didn’t ask to be born at all, especially to them. They made some despicable choices that hurt a lot of people, but most especially you. And those are their choices. You didn’t deserve that in the slightest. And it was absolutely not caused by anything you did.

“And as much as I wish they hadn’t, you have come out of that family such an amazing child. Even if someday your body catches up to your mind, which I doubt, mind you, but even if it does, you’re so wonderful, Matilda. You’re bright and giggly and kind and sweet and caring and beautiful. And you’re you. And I absolutely love getting to have you and to love you. It’s by far and away the best thing ever to happen to me. I wouldn’t trade getting to raise you for all the money and gold and silver in the entire world.”

“I love you,” Matilda replies shakily. It may be many fewer words than Jenny said, but she knows they’re just as profound, carry just as much meaning behind them. Jenny smiles sadly and gently strokes her thumb across her cheek once more.

“I love you too.” She tries to keep the quiver from her voice as she says the words. Matilda wraps herself back around her and rests her cheek on her shoulder, her face outwards and towards the tree. “You won’t have to do that this year, I promise. All the presents will have your name. And you saw me knit your stocking myself. You’ll never have to go back to being treated that way.”

She feels Matilda smile faintly against her shoulder, and she smiles in return as she gently noses against Matilda’s hair.

“Feeling any better?” she murmurs. Matilda nods gently. “Good.”

Neither of them are entirely sure how long they stay like that. Jenny goes back to gently rocking her daughter and gazing at nothing. Matilda stares peacefully at the tree and lets herself be cuddled close.

They both jump a little when the large grandfather clock at the top of the stairs chimes six a.m. Matilda sighs a little as she relaxes again. Jenny does too, taking another deep inhale to try to get her breathing back into a normal rhythm.

“I’m hungry,” Matilda whispers after a while, like it’s some terribly shameful secret. Jenny can’t help but chuckle a little bit.

“Shall we go work on breakfast? I don’t see much sense in trying to go back to sleep now.”

Matilda nods, and Jenny can feel her yawn.

She pauses for a moment before she asks, “What’s your very favorite breakfast? If you could have anything in the world to eat right now, what would it be?”

Matilda mulls this over for a good while. Jenny wants to do her very best to turn this morning around for the both of them, so she’s content to do whatever Matilda says. Within reason, of course. Matilda did ask if they could add gold leaf to their pork chops one evening, just to see what it was like. Jenny respectfully turned down that idea in rather a hurry.

But, this time, Matilda simply replies, “Pancakes.”

“Just pancakes?” Jenny asks. They’re not exactly a common breakfast for them, but they’re not a hot or rare commodity, either. But Matilda nods. “Then let’s go make pancakes.”

Matilda lifts her head off her shoulder and smiles at her. Jenny smiles back and helps her up. Matilda helps her in return. Ordinarily she’d go rushing off to the kitchen and already be halfway done with the pancakes by the time Jenny made it, but today they go hand in hand. Matilda seems to need Jenny’s solid presence nearby. Jenny is more than content to oblige.

It’s an oddly silent breakfast-making morning, though neither of them see it as a negative thing. Matilda needs time to process and recover from the deep, heavy, soul-altering emotions of the morning; along with her lack of sleep. Jenny simply doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence today.

They decide to spoil themselves a bit by making their pancakes from scratch instead of a box mix. They work off each other even without speaking. Matilda measures and adds the flour, Jenny adds the baking powder and salt. Matilda does the sugar, Jenny adds the milk and the butter. Matilda cracks in an egg as the last step.

The recipe doesn’t call for mess, but they make one anyway. It always happens, no matter how hard they try to avoid it. But, seeing Matilda grin faintly as she picks up a drop of spilled batter on her finger and sneakily tastes it makes the cloud of flour on the counter and the bit of spilled egg entirely worth it.

“Pick a fruit or two and some protein, please,” Jenny says as she melts some butter on the pan to prepare to cook the pancakes. Matilda nods and heads to root through the refrigerator and the fruit bowl on the counter next to it. To nobody’s surprise, she returns with a package of bacon, a crate of strawberries, and two bananas. Jenny smiles as Matilda rests her bounty on the counter and starts preparing everything.

Jenny focuses on cooking the pancakes. Matilda does like helping with the mixture, but she says Jenny cooks them better and somehow makes them tastier. Jenny is constantly (with no foundation, mind) worried that Matilda will burn herself, and is always happy to step in.

Matilda chops the bananas into pennies, the green tops off the strawberries, and gets another pan going to fry up the bacon. Before long, they have a huge stack of pancakes nearly a foot high, a whole box’s worth of delicious strawberries washed and ready to eat, bananas beautifully sliced up for them, and delectable-smelling bacon just begging to be piled onto plates and gobbled up.

Jenny gets down their fancy china, usually reserved for parties and the like, from the cabinet, along with their personal teacups. Matilda smiles when she sees all the festive dishware out and ready to be used.

Matilda ducks out to use the restroom just before they sit down to eat. Jenny takes the opportunity to prepare her a special plate of their delicious breakfast.

She takes one of the more lopsided pancakes and uses it as the base for her masterpiece. She places another, much smaller and more round, one at the bottom, and then two of the banana slices to be eyeballs. They look a bit incomplete, so she takes two blueberries from a crate in the fridge and sticks them in the middle of the bananas. A strawberry for a nose, and bacon carefully slid haphazardly beneath the pancakes. Jenny chuckles proudly to herself when she sees the pancake Rudolph she’s left with. It’s ever so slightly creepy, but mostly very cute. Matilda will love it, and more importantly, will eat it.

Matilda returns from the bathroom drying her still-damp hands on her nightgown. She takes a seat at the kitchen table and yawns with her head resting in her little hand. Jenny slides the reindeer breakfast in front of her, and watches the smile spread across her entire face. Matilda looks up at her with sheer joy and a touch of gratitude in her eyes. She does a little happy dance and smiles back down at her breakfast before popping the strawberry nose into her mouth.

Jenny plates up her own pancakes and sits across from her, smiling as Matilda methodically eats away her reindeer.

Between the two of them, they just manage to finish almost all the food. They don’t quite manage to polish it all off, but neither of them mind. They’re both absolutely stuffed, and Matilda is smiling. That’s all that matters. The bacon can be made into sandwiches for lunch, the pancakes will keep well wrapped up for a few more days of tasty breakfast, and the fruit will make a nutritious thing for them to nibble on when they get peckish throughout the day.

They wash the dishes side by side. Jenny scrubs, Matilda dries and puts the clean ones in the rack. With both working, it takes no time at all.

Matilda gives a remarkable yawn as soon as the dish towel is hung to dry on the cabinet. Jenny can’t quite contain a chuckle.

“Do you want to go back to bed for a bit? That yawn was strong enough to wake the dead,” she hums. “You must be tired.”

Matilda nods. She had a very emotionally taxing morning, and a good cry, all on top of being up at four in the morning. Her eyes are heavy, and she keeps rubbing at them with a little fist. Jenny can almost see how much energy it takes her just to say, “Yes please.”

Jenny nods. “Go on then. I’ll get you up in a couple hours.”

Matilda pads slowly towards the staircase, yawning again and stretching as she goes. Her hand wraps around the stair post, and she pauses as she touches the worn, dark wood. “Will you tuck me in?”

Jenny chuckles again. “Tuck you in for a nap?” she says. Matilda nods shyly. “Of course. Come on, up you get.”

Matilda smiles faintly and walks up the stairs. Jenny follows closely and trails behind her into Matilda’s bedroom.

Matilda crawls into bed and gets into a comfortable position. Jenny carefully fluffs out her blankets and lays them over her, and hands her her stuffed worm to snuggle with while she rests. Matilda smiles as she gently cups her face and leans down to kiss her forehead. She inhales a bit and asks, “Will you stay?”

Jenny pauses briefly.

“Please?” Matilda asks quietly. Jenny nods. How can she say no?

“Of course. Budge up,” she says. Matilda scoots over to make room for Jenny beneath the covers and latches back to her side as soon as she’s comfortable. Matilda grabs and holds tightly to her arm, as if trying to tether her to the bed. Jenny smooths a hand through her hair and kisses her forehead again. “Go to sleep. You need some more rest.”

Matilda nods and rests her head on her shoulder. Jenny looks at the ceiling peacefully as she listens to Matilda’s breathing grow steadily more slow and even. Just before she drifts off completely, Matilda’s lips part and she whispers, “Thank you.”

Jenny smiles and cuddles her a little closer. “Always, my firefly.”

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i hope you enjoyed!! see you tomorrow for the final day !!