#there's something about him being built like a mountain but also being so gentle and protective of the ppl he loves

[dangerousdan-dan]

Whenever I see a panel with Hellboy hugging someone or with his arm around someone, I feel genuine envy because I'm convinced that his hugs feel like being surrounded by the most comfortable weighted blanket and like you're in the safest place in the world

I mean, look at this. A hug like this would fix me, actually.

Idk, he just seems like a very comforting presence, and that shows in the way he constantly seeks to reassure his friends with small gestures like a hand on the shoulder or a touch on the arm (he does this a lot with Kate and it's adorable).

All this to say I love him.

[nerdieforpedro]

Becoming Little Dove

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: Taking a ferry to the island of Mykonos leads to a discovery of the tourist variety and some of the carnal variety.

Warnings: wonderlust, following sexy strangers, implied sexual activity, thruple?, notes, expectations

Word Count: just under 800

Notes: So a spin off of the Secret Springs? Or maybe something that brought back to the Springs? This little fic is thanks to this ask from @secretelephanttattoo and maybe somewhere @frenchiereading may or may not have gone. 👀 Also I’ve been thinking about Oberyn and Ellaria a lot, so here we are.

Main Masterlist/ Oberyn Martell Masterlist / Secret Springs Masterlist/ AO3 Link

The strong breeze as you overlook the clear blue waters has you squinting to try and see any fish that might be swimming. With the ferry traveling toward Mykonos, you’re excited to visit the island and see more of the waters, architecture, put your feet in the sand, try some local food and figure out what else you can do.

Stepping off the ferry, you follow the crowd as all of you form lines to exit the ferry and descend upon the island. You’re a bit slower to do so, taking in the sights and sounds. The fresh salt air has you inhale deeply and close your eyes, just for a moment. When you open your eyes, a tall gentleman wearing a white tunic with matching white linen pants and navy blue boat shoes. The ends of his sleeves and hem of his pants have an alternating dark and powder blue to them that would look silly on anyone else. He wears it with such confidence and offers you a hand, the grin he bears is mischievous like he has many a secret he’s waiting for you to earn the tale behind. The man’s chocolate brown eyes invite with their warmth.

Greetings are exchanged and you put your hand in his. Only after following him along and between unnamed streets. Greeting various people he knows, eating foods that you aren’t sure that either of you paid for and snapping postures among the majestic alabaster white of the buildings does it dawn on you to ask the man’s name. He didn’t ask for yours either, beckoning you along through gentle caresses and pulls on your hand or arm.

The entire day was spent exploring that you hadn’t figured out which direction your accommodations were. The stranger chuckles and ruffles his shirt chestnut hair before cupping your face and bringing you to one of the many buildings built in the mountains on the island. A woman in similar white garb as him greets you both at the door. She gave a stern look for a moment but softened when she laid her eyes on you, bringing you into a tight hug. Oberyn, as she called him, received a quick peck on the lips from her. Your heart sinks for a moment as you might have thought there was a spark between the two of you. The raven-haired woman makes not of your despondent face and giggles, patting your cheek and putting her soft lips to yours.

“Now, now, no need to be disappointed on your first day here. Your journey is just beginning on the cerulean waters. My prince brought you here because he sees something within you we want to draw out. Come inside won’t you?” Ellaria Sand is the name you learn to call her later.

The sheets that the three of you lay on each night are a deep sapphire that contrasts with your collective tangled limbs for the week long bodily odyssey.

It was a curious adventure away from the Secret Springs and when you return to your resort with a magnet that spells out “Greece” it reminds you of the colors you first saw Oberyn and Ellaria in. There’s an open invitation to return as they enjoyed your company greatly.

Maybe you’ll be back on that ferry sooner than you thought to drown in their depths once more.

When you arrive back to your room, there’s a white and blue card with yellow writing, a small sun in the upper left corner and two snakes on either side of the signature on your bed:

We hope you made it back to your room safely, little dove. Ellaria and I reveled in your company and look forward to doing so again.

If you’re open to the three of us making a splendid mess of your private chambers, call the number at the bottom of the card.

The Red Viper and his Solar Guide

After taking a shower and changing into something a bit more comfortable, you dial the number and sit on the bed to inform them of your choice. Venturing out, getting something to eat and bringing back bottled water to the room in preparation and hydration is key.

In the evening, the knock at your door excites you and you’re greeted with Oberyn wearing his signature gold and Ellaria doing the same. He holds several bottles of oils and a spirit or two for later libations. Ellaria carries silk ribbons which she’ll use to bind both you and Oberyn with.

Your room will be thoroughly used and all of its surfaces claimed as the three of you explore each other once more.

Such can be the nature of the springs and the islands if you let them. Wild. Wonderful and quite wet.

Wanderers of the island 🏝️: @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @avastrasposts

@jessthebaker @bitchwitch1981 @morallyinept @inept-the-magnificent @tinytinymenace

@connectioneverywhere @lotusbxtch @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @lady-bess @magpiepills

@604to647 @for-a-longlongtime @goodwithcheese @sin-djarin @djarinmuse

@undercoverpena-fics @rosecentaur1916 @westside-rot @spacecowboyhotch @kilamonster

@fhatbhabiee @bluestar22x @bishtrouille @soft-girl-musings @yorksgirl

@guelyury

[divine-misfortune]

for the character questions, I'd like to know your opinions on Mountain <3

How I feel about this character

A gentle giant when he wants to be, one that often forgets how big he is in the moment. Mountain is sweet to the ones he loves. Considerate and attentive, a real acts of service type of ghoul. He is protective and fiercely loyal to both his pack and his Papa. As warm and kind as he appears, Mountain has something viscous under the surface. It is a piece of himself that hardly makes an appearance but there is a beast within every demon, no matter how docile they might seem. That protectiveness is a double edged sword, often unintentionally territorial. Especially of his Papa. Aside from his pack, he keeps to himself for just that reason. Something about the siblings, the clergy, it bothers him. It makes him bristle like he's being put under a microscope. There's a level of behavior the ghouls are expected to abide by and he never feels he can meet that expectation. Like he can't fit the mold. Right behind his drum set, the gardens and the greenhouse are where Mountain feels most at home, the safest. So that's the place he spends most of his free time, treating the rows of potted plants as his children to care for.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I am a firm believer in polyghouls we know this BUT....Rain, Zephyr, and Cumulus are the top of the list for Mountain. He loves deep and he loves big and he gives his heart uniquely and with purpose. Also? Service ghoul. Satan's biggest service top. And most importantly to me, Zephyr's pet.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Honestly? I love Mountain with the different Papas. I don't see a whole hell of a lot of it, but he and Primo have such a special bond over the orchard, the gardens. They built it together, hand in hand. Secondo he's less close to as there was never much for them to really bond over but I do imagine they're quite friendly. Mountain likes to listen to him, maybe sharing a drink every so often. Terzo was a very business first sort of relationship. Mostly for work. But Copia? Copia is beyond fond of his ghouls. He loves his big beastie, despite all the danger he knows lurks beneath.

My unpopular opinion about this character

Mountain is either written as too soft or too cold a lot of the time...Not given a whole lot of depth. Unfair >:(

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

He needs two things. Head scratches and to be closer to the front of the stage so I can see him more.

[ghostieagere]

do you have any thoughts about pet regressing ghouls?

i do i do i do !!! most of my thoughts revolve around kitty ghouls (because @sphylor's kitty dew lives rent free in my mind every single day) but hopefully i'll be able to conjure up a few thoughts about some other ghouls as well !! 💚

rain is at the forefront of my mind at the moment because another lovely anon sent a request asking me to write something about otter rainy !! so little otter rainy with their emotional support rocks and shinies piles has been on my mind a lot recently :) they love going to down to the lake when they're otter, but the ghouls won't let them because yes, they're otter, but they're not very coordinated with their limbs. so instead, there's a little plastic kiddy pool near mountain's greenhouses and fish ponds for rain to swim about and explore in when they're otter !!

and i can't talk about petre ghouls without mentioning kitty dew, of course !! he's such a sleepy little kitten, always wearing himself out after a big day of doing not much. he's very content to spend the day curled up on someone's lap, purring and stretching awake every now and then, but he also loves rushing around and playing hunting games with anyone who'll indulge him in it. that being said, he can and will sit in front of cat tv for hours and be completely entranced by it. in my head, when he's kitty, dew loves spending time curled up in a corner of mountain's greenhouse, especially in winter. when the heat lamps for the plants are on, the dirt underneath the big monstera plant gets so toasty, so dew loves spending the day hidden away behind the leaves in the warmth, purring while he listens to mountain pot plants and hum tunes to himself. (like i said before, @sphylor is a wealth of headcanons on all things kitty dew, so please please please go check out his incredible headcanons and fics about everyone's favourite little kitty !!)

aeon is a bit of a wild card in my mind. sometimes he's kitty, sometimes he's puppy and there's not really any way of predicting which way he's going to swing. regardless of whether he's kitty or puppy though, he'll be full of energy and bouncing around whatever space he's been confined to looking for playmates to roll around or hunt with. it's worth noting though, that after a day of aeon bounding around all over the place, the ghouls are likely to have a very, very sleepy creature on their hands who'll need to be tucked into a little nest with gentle touches and wished a very good nights sleep

and although this mightn't be strictly petre, i've also had a few brief thoughts about completely ghoulish omega :0 like i said, it might not be entirely considered to be pet regression since he's a ghoul anyway, but i think that when everything gets stressful, instead of going little or kitty or puppy, he'll let his ghoulish side out a little more (it's a little bit like a dog but not a puppy, if that makes sense !!). he'll communicate through growls and snarls, running about all over the place on all fours, letting off streams of built-up quintessence magick as he goes. he doesn't wear himself out to the point of pliant sleepiness like dew or aeon do, but he'll come back from his rampage a little calmer, and ifrit and alpha are always more than happy to set up a little doggy bed in one of their rooms for him to curl up in while they all wait for him to come out of it. he usually doesn't like to be touched when he's like this, but he'll never say no to ear scratches or head pats from if and alph <3

[valhallaas]

Fuck Around, Find Out

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!reader

Warning: Smut (18+, minors dni) fingering, and p in v

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: I think the title is pretty self explanatory 

A/N: Hi, hello friends!! Back at it again with the ghost smut. I hope you all like it. It was so much fun to write! As always, feedback is appreciated, and enjoy!

A year has passed. Time moved like it usually did—quiet, slow; built in routine. A cow died but it got replaced by another goat. The seasons changed, but winter holds a special place. It’s summer this time around. You’re always prepared when he comes.

The mountains are amazing this time of year. A breeze shifts the branches, the smell of pine tangling in your hair. Birds chirp from the tree top, the soundtrack to your trek through the woods. Your body sways with each step of the horse under you. The reins hang gently from your fingers. You’ve been on this trail some many times before, the gentle creature needed no guidance from you.

It’s nice out. Sunlight pouring in between the leaves, dancing with the grass as it touches the forest floor. You're in your regular uniform, jeans, t-shirt, and boots. It’s the most relaxed you’ve been in weeks. You had received not just a call from Soap, but also Captain Price.

You were being called back in. You haven’t seen action in almost three years. A hand runs over your chest, an ache so deep you’ll never forget.

Can you really go back to that life? The peace and solitude you’ve gained while being out here on your own has done something to you. You still have all your sharp edges. Maybe it’s the bloodlust that’s settled. You’ve been busy creating life, maybe you forgot how to take it.

You’re not expecting a welcoming committee. Soap’s sitting at the counter, cup of coffee in hand. Ghost is in the living room going over every weapon that you own. You frown, seeing the shotgun from the barn. The Scotsman is a tad jumpy, like he’s not sure what to do. Your feet swing freely, arms braced on the stool you’re sitting on. You realize, suddenly, what’s happening. They’re waiting for you to break down. To freak out. For your hands to shake, your eyes to glaze. Anything to show them that you can’t do this.

But you can, and you will.

“What about the farm,” you say suddenly, not missing the way Soap jumps.

“Someone will be in from town to take care of the animals.”

“A stranger will be staying in my house?”

“Strangers are in your house all the time, lass.” Soap says exasperated.

“Not when I’m not here.”

Why is this a big deal? Is this what they were waiting for? Is this you freaking out? Possibly. You’re leaving, going back to what you know best. Staying in line and following orders. This farm was the one thing that was yours; that you were in control of. The idea of it going to shit rattles you.

“It’ll be in good hands.”

You look over your shoulder. Ghost sits with your rifle in pieces. He’s meticulously cleaning each part, not paying you any mind. You don’t know what it is about him, he just calms you. Maybe it’s the mask, the anonymity. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s been under your roof and in your bed countless times. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. You could do this, and you would.

You can’t pinpoint what it is. The higher ups barking out orders. The tight spaces of the barracks. The uniform scratches at your skin. You don’t know the person staring back at you in the mirror. It’s not the fresh faced private willing to do anything and everything to make their name known—and you were known. You block it all out. Keep to yourself until you're with your team. They eye you up and down when Captain Price introduces you. You try your best to smile at Soap when he nudges you. Deep breath in, deep breath out. It’s wheels up in thirty and you're trying to put your gear on. If only you could get your damn hands to stop shaking. You barely got your holster on, the gun strapped in. Hair tumbles down around your face. You’re not steady. The most simple of tasks, to braid your goddamn hair, and you’re failing.

“You good, Val?”

His gaze is like a black hole trying to swallow you up. The plastic piece is loose in his grasp, your eyes free to eat him up. You’re not sure what it is he sees, but he takes the elastic from you before running his fingers through your hair and giving you a French braid.

You do your best to ignore the goosebumps that breakout on your skin where his fingers lazily brush against your neck.

***

Of course you get sent to the fucking desert. A drastic difference from where you were before. You feel like you’ve got whiplash accompanied by a sunburn. You’d give anything to wipe the sweat that was building in between your boobs. You lean your head against your arm listening to the chatter of your team over the radio. It’s the only thing keeping you from dying of boredom. Alone on a mountain top, you’d think you’d feel at home, especially with your rifle within reach. Sighing, you perk up when Soap says your name.

“Val, I got one for ya.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Alright. Let’s hear it.”

“Why did the scarecrow win an award?”

“Tell me.”

“He was outstanding in his field.”

Ghost groans over the radio and you snort. Blinking, you wipe the sand from your eyes, a soft smile on your lips.

“Let me have a go.” The radio goes quiet. “Why did the mushroom go to the party?”

“Why?”

“Because he was a fungi.”

“Didn’t think you had that in you, Val.”

Your need to respond is short lived. The sound of heavy footfalls greets your ears. Rushing to shut off the radio so you’re not found. You hear hushed voices, as if they don’t want to be spotted either. You have no idea if you’ve been compromised.

“Val?” You silently curse Ghost for doing his damn job. You’re an important part of this mission. You can’t suddenly go silent. “Valkyrie?”

“Ghost, please, there’s—”

A click behind your head and the press of a muzzle. It’s been a long time since you were in a position like this. An order to get on your feet, hands above your head. You want to roll your eyes. The scar on your chest burns. Slowly, you turn; the sounds of Ghost, Price, and Soap barking through the radio. There’s three of them. You can see it in the way they look at you. They think you’re weak, but you’ve been underestimated before.

Swiftly you lift your foot, kicking the one with the gun in the chest, making him drop it. You pull the knife tucked into the holster at your thigh. Thankful now more than ever that Ghost had tucked it in there earlier in the day. You stab the man in the throat, pulling it across his jugular, blood spraying out, drenching you. The second man pulls you off, landing a punch to your face making you see stars. Anger licks up your neck and stains your cheeks. All you see is red. Ripping the knife out of the other guy, you slice this one's face, across his eye, making it gush blood. He’s either blind, completely missing the eye, or probably going to die. Who really knows. You’re tackled to the ground, the knife tossed away, but you’re able to reach the discarded gun. In a swift move you tuck it under the last assailant's chin and fire.

Time passes, the sun no longer high in the sky. It’s almost golden hour. You're on your back, trying to calm your heart when heavy footsteps break your focus. There is no way you can do that again. But then, he's standing there hovering over you. Dark eyes moving over you, calculating every nook and cranny. You’re completely covered in blood, got a bruised cheek from a mean right swing. You’ll live.

“Why are elephants wrinkly?” Silence. “Because you can’t iron them.”

Ghost only sighs.

***

There’s always a celebration after a mission goes well. No casualties, no injuries. So what if your face is kind of purple. You’re breathing just fine. The team is at a hotel a few towns away, closer to a bigger city. It’s nothing fancy, but it has a bar and that’s enough. You sit between Soap and Price, cards in hand. Your eye twitches when smoke gets blown in your face. The captain’s trying to throw you off, but you're a pro at poker. They’re all trying to get under your skin. You’ve already won twice, Soap grumbling each time.

“How’d you get your name?” Gaz asks, tipping back his cup and drinking the rest of his whiskey. He won’t stop staring, his gaze lingers like your some kind of puzzle that needs to be pieced together.

You cast a glance over at Soap who gives a small shrug. Alright then, not helpful. Putting your hand of cards down face first, you peel the gloves from your hands. Nordic runes decorate your hands, up your arms. There’s one behind your right ear.

“My grandmother was a Norse pagan witch. When I joined the military, she said ‘of course you’re a Valkyrie.’ Maidens that ran through the battlefield picking those of the slain who should join Odin in Valhalla.”

Your eyes again flick to Soap. “Some of us at the table have already heard this story, and asked these questions. Like the annoying Scotsman he is.”

“I’ll do it again, lass. You’re a lil’ badass with a name like that.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“So,” Gaz says, wanting your attention. “You ran a safe house?”

“Something like that.”

“You were alone a lot?”

“Sometimes.”

Looking down at your cards, your lips twitch. Setting the hand face up, you can’t help but laugh when the whole table groans. You wiped them out.

“And that’ll be all for me. Thank you, and goodnight.”

Your hair is frizzy, slightly wavy from being in a braid. Your skull sings with relief now that it’s out of its bind. Desperate for a shower, you move to turn the water on when a knock comes. It’s not who you thought it would be. Gaz stands in the hall, an almost empty bottle of whiskey in hand. You blink at him. You don’t know what gave him the idea that this was okay. He’s brave, you’d give him that, though.

“What are you doing?”

Making sure you’re okay. You left pretty quickly.”

“M’fine. Tired.”

A shadow appears over Gaz’s shoulder. True to his name, he appears out of nowhere. Ghost. You bite your lip, eyes leaving Gaz to stare over his shoulder. His gaze burns into yours. Gruffly, he mutters something about Price needing Gaz, who looks at you in longing before moping away like a kicked puppy.

You sigh, resigned. Definitely ready for a long hot shower. You turn your back and head to the bathroom. “Is there something you need, lieutenant?”

He doesn’t say anything. The sound of the door closing your only answer. Turning the shower on, you roll your neck. Body relaxing when you feel the brush of him against your back. The bathroom isn’t all that big. Ghost stands behind you, invading your space and swallowing it whole. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Your hands grip the ledge of the sink, dirt and blood caked underneath your fingernails. Blood is still matted into your hairline.

“You did good today, angel.”

You smile at the nickname. “Thanks. I think what happened was, uh, they fucked around and found out.”

He huffs. “A force to be reckoned with.”

You grin at him through the mirror. If you weren’t as close as you were, you’d have missed the way his breath hitched. You swallow, your throat thick. It’s then you remember the shower is on. You’re exhausted. But when he grabs at your hips, you know you’re done for.

The air is thick, foggy. It clings to your skin, makes his callouses catch on your skin, gluing themselves to you. The pitter patter of the shower is the only sound accompanied by your heavy breathing. Your eyes shut when his hand pulls your hair to rest over one shoulder. A smack to your ass has them snapping open. You meet his eyes in the mirror. A warning. Ghost helps you undress. An amused hum when he finds a knife hidden in your bra.

Only you were without clothes. It makes you feel a little vulnerable. But then Ghost pushes himself even closer. He’s got his hoodie on, jeans, and his boots. You can feel him breathing, his chest warming your back. It’s when he pushes his hips against you—you can feel him. All of him. It makes your mouth water.

A hand trails down your side while the other moves to your chest. Your head falls back when a nipple is taken between his expert fingers. His hands on you is the best feeling in the world. The heat coming from him is intoxicating. A hum rumbles from him when his fingers finally find your core, slipping between your folds. You’re completely soaked. You’ve been this way since he appeared over Gaz’s shoulder. Your breath locks in your throat when he slips a digit in.

“Fuck,” he mutters, accent thick, voice like honey. “Sweet, sweet angel. So ready for me.”

You whine, you can’t help it. You push your hips back into him, arching your back. It’s truly amazing how desperate and needy he can make you. One of these days you’ll have to time it. He pulls his finger out only to push it back in with another. He does this, warming up your body, until you’re moaning, your own hand wrapped around his wrist. You can’t stop your hips from grounding down on his hand. Desire has taken over. Ghost has left your nipple, hand now wrapped around your throat, holding you hostage to watch yourself in the mirror. He grunts when you clench around his fingers. You’re close, so close.

“Simon,” you breathe, fingers digging into his arm.

“Come on, angel. Let it out. Let me feel you gush all over my fucking hand, and maybe I’ll think about lettin’ my cock sink into you. How about that, hmm?”

If you have him whisper dirty things in your ear all  hours of the day, you’d die happy. It’s only moments later when the band snaps, hot liquid flooding throughout your body. Your head falls back against his chest, a long moan filling the small space.

“That’s it, good girl.”

You can feel him moving behind you. The distinct clinking of his belt being undone. Your whole body shivers in anticipation. Searing heat hits you, a hand stroking himself while the other is spreading you open. Heat pulses between your legs. You love the idea of him breaking you open. It’s fucked up, and dangerous, but it warms your belly all the same. Lifting your head, you gasp when his eyes meet yours. It’s always a treat when he’s got the hard plastic off. The black around his eyes is almost completely gone, making the whites of his eyes not as bright. His face is damp with sweat, his pupils blown out. You watch as he lifts his mask, just barely over his nose. His lips pink and full, he bends down and kisses right between your shoulder blades. Traveling up your spine, over your shoulder, he digs his teeth in where it meets your neck. You don’t miss his smirk when you moan.

He slides a hand across your ass, slapping you just hard enough to leave a red handprint behind as he thrust deep, bottoming out. It’s a silent scream, no sound leaving you. He’s big, too big, and he’s stuffing you up to the brim. It hurts, a pain that you will never get enough of. Your knuckles turn white with each rough, lazy thrust. Ghost slides a hand along your spine, up the back of your neck and into your hair, your breath catches as he pulls your head up and you’re meeting his gaze in the mirror. He loves to watch you come undone around him, and he’ll never let you forget it either. Your cheeks are flushed, pupils blown with lust, and lips parted as each of your clipped breaths turn into whimpers.

“Fuck,” he grits, hand tightening in your hair, “feel good.”

You stare back at him, feet spreading wider to let as much of him in as you can. His teeth dig into your skin again, this time leaving bruises behind. It makes you whine. Little secrets that litter your skin. He thrusts harder, rougher until your hand is pressed against the mirror just to keep you balanced. He’s fully claiming you. Cock punching into the deepest part of you.

“Simon, I–” you're cut off by a whimper when he reaches that spongy spot deep inside you. Over and over again, you feel it coming, your orgasm is going to come crashing down and you’re ready to bask in it.

“You going to come on my cock, angel?”

“Yes! Yes, I–holy fuck.”

You come on his cock like clockwork, and when you collapse against the counter, your body trembles, heaving desperately for air. Ghost groans, pulling you up until you’re flush against him. His lips meet yours in a messy kiss, bucking his hips harder until he’s chasing his high right over the ledge with you.

“Good girl,” he praises, wiping the sweat off the back of your neck. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Your surroundings come back to you. You sigh, turning your head to stare at the shower. It was muggy in the bathroom for a different reason, the smell of sex lingering in the air. You didn’t want a cold shower, but anything would work to get the grime off.

“You can take one in mine.”

You glance at Ghost, Simon, as he buckles his belt. His mask is pulled back down, his eyes are on you.

“Look at you, being nice.”

He pauses at that. “I’m whatever you need me to be, angel. I thought something might have happened.”

“I had it taken care of.”

“I know. Didn’t doubt you for a minute. Doesn’t mean my blood didn’t fucking boil knowing those fucks had their hands on you.”

You know it’s because you’ve got him alone. He’d never show weakness–it’s bad form. Pulling your clothes back on, you grab clean ones despite knowing you’re more than likely not leaving his room anytime soon. You shake your head as you follow him out. This all started in a safe house tucked away in the mountains where nothing could touch you. But here you are. His well kept secret dragged out to war.

“I protect my team,” he says, “I protect what’s mine.”

All you can do is smile.

[tiianwens]

The Little Prince: Describe your muse’s childhood. What did their home look like? What were their parents like? How have they changed as a person in the intervening years?

CLASSIC LITERATURE ASKS.

this is such a huge thing with him, and i've been meaning to ramble about it for quite a while.

CWN has never known any parental figures other than his master, Huaizui of Wubei temple (to clarify, he's never had parents to begin with, but he was unaware of that at the time). so he grew up among the monks, high up on the mountain away from the world. it was a rather ascetic life, but his master would take him out to town sometimes and on occasional trips down the mountain. he's never known any other life prior to when his master 'found him', so there was nothing for him to compare it to — and he was more than content with what he had. he was a gentle, smiley child, curious about the world like all children, diligent when it came to following instructions, very dutiful and very filial. and of course, not knowing much about the world outside that little bubble, he relied on Huaizui's teachings and trusted the man completely when he said that the lives of common people were just as peaceful and happy.

what he didn't know was that the whole purpose of his creation was to eventually become a vessel for someone else's soul, to sate his master's guilty consciousness. he was regarded as just that, an empty shell without a soul, essentially a farm animal raised to be slaughtered. all he was supposed to do was practice swordsmanship and cultivation until the right time comes, and so he did. he wasn't supposed to know anything about the pains and struggles of the world, so that he wouldn't get any ideas.

but he did. finding a starving, freezing child on the road was his first painful clash with reality. realizing his master had been lying to him all along, watching him get visibly annoyed by CWN's decision to save the poor bastard, but he still hand-fed the boy, gave him his own warm cloak to save him from the cold. and after that, how could he live just as peacefully, hiding away on the mountain while being aware that people suffer out there?

so he decided to leave. he decided to venture into the world and do everything he could to help those in need. and what did his master do in the face of this act of defiance? he couldn't persuade him to stay, so he demanded that CWN return what he owes him — his cultivation powers, his golden core, which would mean cutting his heart out alongside it. and so, his master threw him the knife, and he still didn't relent. he took it to his chest, he was willing to repay that debt with his life if that was what was demanded of him, but he wasn't going to turn back. he was only 14 at the time.

that horrible act of rejection was what turned that gentle, sweet child into the person he is now. Huaizui managed to save him just in time, and let him leave, and CWN severed all ties with him. the second he made a decision of his own, the only person he's ever been attached to, the person he trusted completely, showed just how little he meant to him. this was the first brick of the wall he's built around himself in later years, and people generally disliking him only added to that. and, paired with the vague idea that caring openly might be a bad thing, it turned into his usual 'I'll burn myself away trying to save everyone, so what if I'm all alone, so what if everyone hates me, I'm not worthy of being loved anyway' personality.

and i'd like to point out that CWN doesn't have a courtesy name. the name Wanning was given to him by his master, but it's the only one he has (and him being such a powerful cultivator, the master of three holy weapons that every sect sought after despite his terrible temper, people probably just assumed it was his courtesy name and he felt too awkward to ask someone to give him one). i'd also like to point out that he doesn't view his act of defiance as something that should be known to anyone else. to him, it's a terrible example to set for his own disciples.

but back to the point, despite severing all ties with Huaizui, he still went to him when he was desperate and there was no one else to turn to. he entrusted the fate of two worlds to this man, yet he ignored the letter his former master sent him (after bringing him back to life, no less). it's such a complicated relationship and there's so much pain there, on both sides, and the worst part is that they didn't get a chance to talk and resolve it. by the time CWN found out the whole truth, his master had already died.

( but i keep thinking about that scar he has, from trying to cut his heart out, and how no one's ever asked about it. but in the first lifetime he'd often be kissed on that very spot, by the man who once spent a lot of time searching for the person who saved his life when he was a child. and neither of them had any idea. )

[grayintogreen]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Hello, hello, it's that time again! I'm about halfway done with Chapter Twenty-Four of YCDHN, so here's a scene for you!

The Olly, Oxen, & Free was a pub that had not been built so much as it had been carved out of the rock walls of the section of city known as the Liber Disk, and owned by a set of dwarf triplets. Molly made a dry comment that if your parents name you things that can be shortened to ‘Olly, Oxen, and Free’ you really didn’t have much of a choice other than to forgo all other options and name a pub after yourself, but the mead was good and therefore he forgave them for being predictable.

They were too deep underground now, and even with the knowledge that there was nothing covering the sky above them, it was no longer visible and that alone was enough to make Molly even edgier. Their confrontation with Reani had occurred just outside the city proper after Caleb dropped them on the mountain and Molly had expected something a little closer to those mountain towns right at the edge of the Empire- even fondly remembered a certain one with so little of a name to it that some mistakenly labeled it as part of Nogvurot even if it was at least sixty miles away from it. But no, Cali had led them downwards into a city built like an auger that was beautiful to behold and anxiety-inducing to keep moving downwards in. He would have been happy to have taken up in one of the taverns on the disk above this one, but Cali said this one was closer to where Reani was taking Fjord and Caduceus and she wanted to stay close.

She had both of her hands on a massive tankard of mead she wasn’t drinking, her lank hair falling to cover the dragon side of her face almost entirely, but when she pushed it aside a bit to speak to locals who came up on her while everyone else was collecting themselves and drinking, no one flinched away at her. Her dragon tail, curled beneath her chair, even thunked a little at the gentle conversation.

“People really seem to like you here, Cali,” Jester noted as she sipped a cup of goat’s milk, her nose wrinkling as she tried to decide how she felt about the taste.

“Oh… Yeah. They do.” Cali’s cheeks pinkened. “They’re some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. I wanna do right by them, so that’s why I help Reani with-“ She cut herself off. “Never mind. There’s a lot of stuff I can’t talk about, but I also don’t want you to be angry with her. Reani’s done a lot for me, but so have you and she knows that.”

“She must care a great deal for you to put aside her morals for us,” Caleb drawled. “Not to put more stones in my pockets, but we are, indeed, still assholes.”

Cali was no longer so much pink as she was the color of an unripened strawberry. “You got my letter?”

“Ja, it came at a… very good time for us.”

“Right after we almost got arrested for trying to do the right thing,” Beau shrugged and tried to draw attention to the blue roses in her high ponytail. “Happens to us a lot.”

She, predictably, reacted. “You’re even wearing the roses I got you!”

Jester showed off her own gifts and encouraged those who could at the table to do the same. “We’re all wearing your stuff, Cali. We thought about you all the time. I really wanted to write to you, but it’s been a lot, like, all the time.”

Cali buried her face in her tankard. “I understand. And I never felt anything bad about you for not writing. You’re all actually serious adventurers and heroes and I’m… well, I’m still working on what I am.”

“Ironic, considering you met us at our least serious and least heroic,” Molly chuckled into his drink. Cali gave him a deeply tragic look.

The next few minutes were a blur of Jester trying to shove as many details of the last year of incidents without giving away details that shouldn’t be shared in either public or with someone Lucien and Cree didn’t know- who were currently watching from their space at the table, judging every reaction and microexpression, though there was more of the former than the latter (even now Cali couldn’t keep her business to herself).

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Cree, Mr. Lucien,” she said, at the conclusion of the explanation. “You all have been through a lot, it seems. I’m sorry that the Empire is chasing you because of something that wasn’t your fault.”

“Shit,” Beau suddenly swore. “Should we have been disguising ourselves if those wanted posters made it this far north?” She eyed everyone in the tavern suspiciously, but no one so much as raised an eyebrow in their direction.

“Most people in the Wildlands don’t care for Empire business and after awhile bounty hunters stopped asking questions about you lot.” Cali sighed with relief. “It made it easy for Reani to let it go too, until you came into town like this. No offense, Mr. Lucien.”

Lucien made a noncommittal noise into his drink. Cree was the one to actually speak. “I have heard a great deal of what you are doing now and what we have been doing, but not so much about how you all even met.”

Jester leaned closer to her. “Do you remember when we went to investigate that safehouse in Berleben for my dad?”

“Aye.”

“Well, Cali was also looking for a-“

Cali made a sharp growling sound and then immediately covered her mouth. “Oh! I didn’t mean to do that. I’m so sorry, Jester, but… I, um… That is, Reani doesn’t know about my history with Serissa and her cult. I will tell her, eventually! But right now she just thinks I’m… I’m sort of a vigilante myself, just like her. And it’s been really nice.”

Molly lowered his tankard to the ground. “You know if you can’t tell your friend that you used to be in a cult, she’s not really your friend.”

“Exactly!” Nott exclaimed. “Lucien and Cree here were in cults and we don’t like them any less for it.”

“Thank you, Nott,” Cree deadpanned.

Lucien narrowed his eyes. “Oh is that so?”

Only Molly picked up on the sudden churning emotional dissatisfaction moving like storm-tossed waters in his head. His face remained a mask of blank consideration, while Cali dug her hole a little deeper.

“I just don’t want her to think less of me. She might look at all the things I did and not be as kind about it as you all were. I want her to like me so much… and I will tell her. I just… I need her to know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m a good person, despite everything I did for the Caustic Heart. Do you understand?”

The answer was a murmured assent that was less than convincing, but before Jester could rise to the occasion and help encourage Cali to be honest, Lucien slammed his tankard down with enough force that the contents spilled over onto the rough-carved woodgrain of the table. “So. Let me see if I’ve been followin’ this tale correctly. You wandered into the swamp with this girl- who openly admitted to formerly bein’ in one of the worst cults in all of Exandria, and trusted her word that she stood against them with minimal suspicion thrown her way?”

“I would not call it minimal,” Caleb deadpanned.

Jester deflated and sank down into her chair, her intentions forgotten. “There was a whole thing with a bowl and everything.”

“They definitely didn’t trust me, Mr. Lucien! But I also didn’t tell them all of this up front either. I deserved their wariness.”

Cali’s anxiety and the admittance of the Nein’s distrust was barely anything more than salt on the wound. They hadn’t bullied her or else she wouldn’t be speaking so kindly to them now. They hadn’t treated her or Cree with nearly the suspicion that they had given Lucien. That was all because of Molly, himself- he’d painted them a picture and they filled in the lines with their own biases. Lucien had walked into a game he couldn’t win before he’d even tried to play it.

“Seems to have worked out for you, though, eh?” Lucien leaned in a bit and Cali leaned back. She had the look of someone trying not to be uncomfortable because being uncomfortable might make the situation worse. “Wasn’t quite so easy for me.”

Cali, lighting on something, leaned forwards again. “What cult were you involved in?”

“Oh we don’t have to discuss that.” He waved her off. “We’ve done our bonding, haven’t we? Took a few months, but perhaps I’m not nearly as adorable as she is.”

Beau pursed her lips. “Man, I really wanna fight you on this, but I don’t think I can without looking like a dick.”

Lucien rested his chin on his knuckles and bared his teeth in a grin. “Oh, but I want you to try anyway.”

“All right, all right,” Molly cut in before the moment could go off like a lit match close to Nott’s cloak. “Point taken. Let’s move on.”

[flower-seller]

Oooohoohoo that cats analogy is very cute, like when two cats walk next to each other and bonk heads/curl tails (and ur not sure if its adoration or frustration lol)

That was really cool! And I'll throw some more at ya, all optional and no rush of puzzling anything out 💕

What does love mean to them? (ie gentle, fiery, enduring, painful?)

Love languages?

Favorite places, ways to be touched? (ie scratched, scalp massage, biting)

Monogamy or polyamory?

What is their moral code, and what circumstances could lead them to break it?

😘💕

Hi this one is…so, so late and I apologize for that BUT it is here it is for what it is worth! OTL 

Thanks for your patience, Praz!

What does love mean to them?

🌸 Euphorbia: 

Solidity and warmth, someone to lean on. Safety....even if she (past an, ahem, certain mountain-esque point) doesn't always get that feeling from him, she still loves him. It's all of it to her; gentle, fiery, enduring, painful, sweet and bitter and just...everything.

Basically, even if he's hurt and betrayed her, this fucked up little man is still her everything and while she isn't going to take his bullshit laying down she still cares deeply enough about him to try and wrangle him and understand what is wrong. Like, god, I bet at times out of nowhere during that 10 year gap they're apart she wonders if he ate that day.

✨️ Volo:

 For Volo... Love would be for someone to accept him as he is, not what he appears to be, but to acknowledge his flaws and mistakes, his scars, and still find something worth value. He's a very guarded person and for someone to be able to break away the facade he's built upon for his entire life; that is love. 

It's simple and a bit self indulgent on his part, but that's what we enjoy about him

Love Languages?

🌸 Euphorbia: 

Hmm… hers is probably gifts to a lesser extent than Volo. Even if she can't remember her past where her situation was similar, she is living where her means are not Great so to give something without it being an exchange is a big deal. No one gave you shit for free in water country so to her it's another little show of undiluted affection. i.e. candies and homemade preserves she gives him and the gold nugget she reverse mugs him with. Also, words of affirmation are a close second.

✨️ Volo: 

Volo's love language is gifts naturally. Further adds to the folklore/yokai vibes he's got now too in addition to his occupation, it's just too good not to be his exact love language. Another one though is definitely teasing, friendly jabs here and there for the people close enough to him to know he only jokes. Sometimes.

Favorite places/ways to be touched?

🌸 Euphorbia: Touch is a bit weird for Euph, since you've definitely got to be on the tier of friend or higher for her to willingly allow it. Though if she is in the village and someone taps her shoulder to get her attention or something she isn't going to lash out, since she is trying to play nice to avoid being tossed to the wilds with amnesia in an unfamiliar land.

As far as more intimate touch. We kind of touched on (heh) preferred places and ways to be touched with a kink meme. (Not posted but maybe… someday? It's not visually explicit, just a checklist.) But I imagine anyone else but Volo making her aware of how small she is would be met with grrrhisss, but definitely is not opposed to feeling his entire hand wrap around a wrist or shoulder or whatnot. Very much a case of "I am showing you my neck because I feel secure, please don't break it"

✨️ Volo: 

Volo is touch starved. And while there are spots that he is self conscious about, namely scars, this dude will absolutely melt at the slightest touch truthfully. He’s really big on… Hand holding. In both normal and sexual settings, He wants to twine his fingers together to show that he’s still there and that he loves her, always. Also pretty into his chest being played with and ass grabs oop— 

He’s got a nice ass and he knows it. 

He also loooves his hair being touched, his hair being a bit of a symbol to his progress in life. Once super long and flowy (longer than even current Volo’s), it was once cut down to about ear length against his own will. So it being as long as it is once more, this man feels a lot of emotion about it. 

One big thing to note; He does not like the touch of strangers in any regard. Especially after certain points in his life, he really does not care for random people even brushing shoulders with him accidentally. It makes him nervous, and nervousness leads into his anger which… Don’t touch this man without permission, he may recoil, and if you’re lucky he’ll only grumble about it. Especially his hands if he doesn’t know you. With how self conscious he is about his claws… 

There is another like. Super sensitive spot on his dude, but I shan’t reveal that yet… 😏

Monogamy or polyamory?

🌸 Euphorbia:

Hmm… she is probably mostly monogamous, it would take a very special someone since she's pretty stuck on this guy. She's already prone to a little jealousy, so I think anything beyond like an unattached threesome or whatever would take some work and probably give her indescribable amounts of heartburn first 

✨️ Volo:

YEAH YEAH they handshake pretty much

I could see like a political alliance threesome or maybe a secret spying one but not anything legitimately more than business. Even then I know he wouldn’t ever go through with full blown sex with anyone other than Euph for a plethora of reasons (most of which I will not say just yet but), but yeah teasing and toying to get information out of someone before tossing them aside is not off the table. 

Moral code and breaking it?

🌸 Euphorbia:

Her morals, outwardly, are pretty good. And actually not horrendously bad either. She's definitely willing to do some sketchy shit and feel minimally bad about it depending on what it is. "Be nice to me/my friend or I'll punch your lights out" and "good thing the nearest village is so far away because you fucked up and I'm going to break your wrist now and don't want someone to come running" type shit

As for what would make her break a moral code... your standard desperation, that can make anyone act unwise. That desperation can definitely range in flavor though, instinctual or meditated on.

Euph is pretty stubborn as a previous kiri nin from ye old days where the village was basically self-cannibalizing itself politically and maybe even literally. So having resolve and the will to keep moving forward even if you have to become monstrous to do so is far from an unknown concept. But...she also has come to value softer and sweeter things. So it's a bit complicated.

I guess the answer is just fuck around and find out ALSKDH

✨️ Volo:

Volo is… We all know Volo. He's a bit of an enigma in that of himself. His moral code, mind you his moral code, is quite different from the black and white common views of the world. Most nothing to him is inherently good or evil, everything is chaos, nothing and everything matters all at once. As such, his code of conduct varies vastly from situation to situation, there's obviously the favorable things to do, the more socially acceptable things, but seeing himself as an outlier to the status quo, he's more flexible to make choices that more typical people would… Probably not do?? The key point in understanding his mindset is that he doesn't value life the way most do. 

That being said, breaking his own code would be not only incredibly difficult, but also quite the event. The most likely causes for him to act out of his typical would be one of two things; Wrath, or Envy. Seeing as he is a cocky and confident bastard, it isn't too terribly often that he loses his temper truly. But when he does, boy does he. Easily comparable to a raging fire, once he's mad mad, it's hard to get him to calm down and will act out of instinct. 

Jealousy, on the other hand, makes the man act unwise. Often does jealousy lead to his more… Questionable choices, leaning on the dumb side. Often these choices go against his instinct.

[ofdetonation]

@deibreak inquired : Today was Bakugo's birthday. A dear friend's birthday. The two of them had gone through a lot together. More than they'd admit, scars both of the mind and body being gentle reminders of the long road that had covered together. Of chasing after their classmates, after one another, after their own mysterious beating of their hearts. Their bond, one of the most complicated to define, yet built on the strongest foundation — that of mutual respect, understanding and acceptance, and admiration from Shoto's side. It was a day of celebration for him, one the blond wouldn't avoid even if he wished. It was for him to celebrate, but also for everyone to have known him, and whose lives he had changed with his presence. “ Happy Birthday, ” he said, holding out a gift bag for him. He wasn't the best at choosing presents, and didn't know as much as he wished about the other's interests, but he had tried his best. Inside the bag was a black scarf, with thin orange lines, resembling the style of Bakugo's hero costume, and a poster of a painting with the mountain Fuji. The scarf, was to keep him warm, and the painting, for having heard he enjoyed mountain climbing. Inside also were two tulips tied together with a bow — one red and the other purple. ( Happy Birthday to your Katsuki, and I'm sorry but I'm terrible at thinking of presents and that reflects on my muse ) ╱ late birthday celebrations !

there are a few people he expected to be avoidant in gifting katsuki for his birthday. not that it was entirely accurate, of course ; shoto was one of the people he assumed would only give a quick birthday wish, continuing the day shortly after like nothing else happened. but, in a way, katsuki underestimated the strength of their bond ⸺ even if he keeps denying it in front of others.

katsuki holds his thoughts and feelings close to his chest. there is an honesty in telling people that he and shoto aren't friends, but that didn't rule out the potential of something closer than friends ╱ it was hiding the way his heart would skip when shoto would inch into his space, the way the other calmly addresses him and evenly challenges his brash and unyielding reactions. it was hiding the subtle glances to try and catch a glimpse of heterochromia. it's true enough that under his bravado and firm beliefs, there was something that didn't quite meet the label of friends ... but not quite something akin to rivalry either. mutual respect and understanding were at the core, but what else ? why was it so hard to define ?

shoto approaches with a birthday wish and a gift bag, of which the blond seizes and glances inside to determine each item's use, practicality. sometimes avoiding complexity in gift-giving was a gift in itself ⸺ and shoto nails that, giving a scarf fitting of his hero costume and a painting of mount fuji. katsuki has been long overdue to changing up his style from the beige scarf he's had since middle school ... and as for the painting ? he didn't have a lot of things hanging in his room. he's usually not a fan, but he has climbed mount fuji before, and this painting displayed a talent for the arts. he'll find a spot for it.

❝ hm. ❞ katsuki lifts out the scarf to get a better look at it. he hums, about to return the scarf to the bag. ❝ guess these ain't so ... ❞

carmine gaze catches a glimpse of two flowers ╱ tulips, neatly packed together with a fitting bow, carefully placed in the bag so they might not get damaged. the young bakugou didn't know the ins and outs of flower language, but they were so specific with the presence of only two, versus a bouquet, that maybe shoto was aiming to convey something he didn't want to say in words. they weren't the greatest at conversation, so was this to substitute ?

with one red and one purple, katsuki could gather a vague idea of what shoto was trying to say ; the purple is usually for royalty or nobility, but maybe in this context, it was meant to mean something like a rebirth ? but it could be a tulip's generalised meaning of ⸺ ah, then the red ...

katsuki hides his face in the collar of his jacket the more he stares at them.

❝ ... you're a fuckin' bastard, icy hot. ❞

maybe he has an answer to the nature of their bond, after all.

[chaotomatic]

Hi! Yesterday i made this post about a theory i had about LOZ tears of the kingdom in which i somehow drag the seven heroines into this

Go read that rq cause this is p2

Anything for u, random citizen. Have my insanity on a silver platter 🥰🥰🥰

So we have a lot of pieces, so lets try to put them together. This is about to be a game theory video in text form, so if something sounds like a stretch ✨thats because it is✨

Anyways.

What do we know about the seven heroines?

Well, not a lot. We know that, according to the Gerudo historian Rotana, the seven heroines were 7 divine protectors of the Gerudo, and are a popular and well known legend.

She says that each heroine has a different power: skill, spirit, endurance, knowledge, flight, motion, and gentleness.

Idk about you but to me these sound like ✨dungeon prompts✨

We also know that there is Gerudo script on the sides of the statues, which reads “The Seven Sages”

So clearly the heroines and sages are connected, quite possibly the same thing.

But what about the 8th heroine?

Well, we know even less about her. We only really hear about her from incel-boot-guy who sends us out to go find her statue in the first place, and he himself didn’t even think the statue was real, only an urban legend. In fact, compared to the other seven heroines, the 8th heroine is a lesser known myth.

The 8th heroine is strange. Shes merely more than an urban legend, the Gerudo script on her statue also says “the seven sages” despite her clearly being the 8th, not to mention that for some reason shes been built in an inaccessible canyon in the middle of nowhere. And because WHY NOT, her SWORD is on the other side of the mountain range.

In past Zelda games, the sages have been 6 main sage guys and their leader, princess zelda, the seventh sage. The statue could be the leader of the seven sages, instead this time being a leader of the sages as the 8th. But thats me grasping at straws, really.

Now to drag all this nonsense into Tears of the Kingdom

Ganondorf is like. Here now? We only really see him in the first trailer. Ganon is cursed to be reincarnated as a Gerudo man for eternity, and im sure has made the Gerudo people suffer under his rule before. (If not teeechnically canon to the games ppl who know the older games better than i can fact check me)

So by that logic, we could be seeing a lot more Gerudo centric history in the new game. YES, the game’s clearly aesthetically centered around the Zonai, but the Zonai are not the only 10,000+ year old race around. The sheika and the gerudo have both been around for just as long if not longer. Much, much longer. Its possible the seven heroines were in kahoots with or were even apart of the Zonai and helped save the Gerudo from Ganon. Or not.

Again, im grasping at straws and then putting them into my zelda themed insanity puzzle.

But i think the most consise thing in this whole mattpatt knock off text dump that i can think of is this

Eight heroines. Eight sages. Eight tears. Each tear represents a sage, similar to the medallions from OOT. You go through sick ass sky dungeons to get them. Those tears contain energy magic shit you can use to repair the master sword and kick ganons ASS. Its gonna be sick. Also somehow shove the zonai and hylia and the cave paintings and time travel and ouroboros in there.

TELL ME YOUR INSANE THEORIES I CANT BE ALONE IN THIS.

But again.

Thats just a theory.

A GAAAAAMME-

Thanks for reading :>

@lurelinlink @polygenderroulette

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hello! I'm in love with the way you write c! Ranboo like hsgsj- amazing! So I would like a request Yandare c! Ranboo and tubbo with a soft reader that is oblivious on how they act twords them but loves them unconditionaly (just fluff please maybe maybe put a Micheal seen in there as well because Micheal is the best character 😌)

I think this is the best compliment I have ever received... Thank you so much🤍🖤

I didn't know whether or not to do headcanons or a full-length fic, so I went with a shorter story if that's alright. ^^ if it's not feel free to send another request!

FYI THIS CAN BE SEEN AS PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC

Too Sweet (For This World) Yandere!C!Ranboo x F!Reader x Yandere!C!Tubbo

It was very common for you to see something out of the corner of your eye, but when you looked, you only saw a bunch of purple particles drifting slowly towards the earth due to gravity. You just assumed there were quite a few endermen still hanging around Snowchester, or some of the goats had come down from the mountains when you saw small little horns peeking out from behind bushes.

There were a couple times a day where you accidentally and very conveniently bumped into Ranboo out in the crater of L'Manberg or Tubbo when walking around Snowchester. It honestly was funny to you that you always seemed to bump into them when you were feeling sad or lonely. Plus, after talking to them and spending time with them, your problems almost magically seemed to disappear!

Such as, there was one time when you were helping clean up the red vines around buildings and Fundy was nagging at you for being so slow or bad at doing everything. After storming away and ranting to Ranboo about it on the verge of tears, Fundy practically scrambled up to you the next day shaking and almost crying, apologizing for every single thing he's ever said or done.

Huh... Maybe he felt that bad about it to the point where he was crying?

Although Fundy never said anything mean to you again, he also stopped hanging around you completely.

When you mentioned this to Tubbo, he explained that Fundy must not have been a real friend and that he and Ranboo would always be there for you before anyone else.

Once the mansion was built, the two platonic husbands eagerly invited you to stay with them, even saying they had Foolish make a room specifically for you! At first, you quite enjoyed your home around L'manberg, but then one day you returned home to a wall of your home completely destroyed by vines, deeming it unlivable. Although a tad convenient..

Tubbo and Ranboo had heard about it through your sobs when you called them, saying you had no clue what to do anymore. They had arrived at your side in almost minutes and quickly helped you pack and move everything to the mansion.

"I thought Snowchester was like... Half a day's walk away from here..." You sniffed, rubbing your red and puffy eyes. The two men of greatly varying heights tensed up momentarily.

"We were in the area." They both blurted out at the same time before glancing at each other.

Tubbo cleared his throat first, "I was in the nether, but luckily for you, I was close to the old L'manberg portal!" He smiled softly at you as you three walked away from your old home.

"M-Me too!" Ranboo coughed awkwardly, causing Tubbo to shoot him an odd look that you decided to brush off, "Now, uh, come on! Michael needs to meet his new mother!"

You blinked in surprise at the new title but didn't question it much, assuming it was simply just a title. Unbeknownst to you, your two best friends already thought you were part of their platonic relationship, despite you never agreeing nor denying, or them even asking.

It took a few days, but the zombie piglin warmed up to you and practically saw you as another one of his parents, which made Ranboo and Tubbo extremely happy. Instead of placing you into one of the regular rooms, they had Foolish turn the basement into two heavily secured rooms a few days before your house had been destroyed, strangely enough, and even designed one perfectly to your liking!

After washing the fruits you had, you walked towards the bookshelf and pulled on the fake book that caused the shelf to swing open. You walked down the quartz stairs after shutting the hidden door, then made your way up to one of the two doors with a pink sign with 'Michael' written in yellow cursive paint. Punching in the code, the iron door slid open and you stepped in before closing it behind you.

A loud cooing grunt was heard and the sound of quiet tapping echoed through the room before a pair of arms wrapped around your leg. "Hello, Michael." You giggled softly as Michael made grabbing hands up towards the bowl of fruit. Placing it down on the table, the child eagerly ran over and began munching on the food as you brushed over the books on the shelves to find one you haven't read to Michael before. "What about... The story of Persephone?"

A disappointed grunt was your only response.

"Guess I did read that one... Hm... Oh! What about the story of Icarus?" This time his response was a happy squeak and tippy taps of his hooves against the warm quartz floors. You sat down in the rocking chair and waited until the child scrambled over and jumped into your lap.

You opened the book and began reading to him for an hour until your eyes slowly slid shut to the quiet snores of the child of your two best friends, who at this point was beginning to see you as a mother.

Quiet 'meh' sounds and 'vrrr'ing noises and a dim flash woke you up from your spot in the rocking chair. Cracking open your eyes, your arms shifted around the nether hybrid as you saw Tubbo holding a camera making happy bleating noises, while Ranboo, who was the source of the buzzing noises, took the book you had been reading from your limp hand to put it back on the shelf.

"What time is it?" You murmured softly to keep the child asleep as you rubbed the back of your stiff and sore neck.

"It's about 5:30pm. Still rather early. Tubbo walked over and gave you a gentle yet affectionate headbutt while he scooped Michael up from your lap to bring him to bed. This caused an odd whining noise to come from the enderman hybrid before he quickly walked over and rested his forehead against yours, resting it there for a few moments before pulling back, his cheeks flushed the same colours as his eyes.

You giggled softly and gave him a gentle pat on the head as he helped you up. He held onto one of your hands as Tubbo eagerly went for the other, jokingly sticking his tongue out at Ranboo who gave a noise of mock offense, causing you three to giggle softly as you left Michael's room and went upstairs.

Tubbo and Ranboo weren't big fans of you leaving the basement on your own, and you were rarely allowed to leave the mansion even with the two boys at your sides. The former president told you it was because he heard rumours of Technoblade searching around for all the members of his cabinet back when he was in charge of L'Manberg, and he just wanted to protect you.

You saw no problems with his story as it was extremely believable. Your history with Technoblade hadn't been the cleanest and he would've definitely taken one of your canon lives back during the attack on L'Manberg, had a stray black and white firework not saved you that day. It had fired off and must've swerved a way that wasn't predicted, because it hit Technoblade hard enough in the chest to knock him away from you.

You don't remember much of that day, except for Ranboo immediately running over to you and dragging you away from the destruction and chaos. Thanks to him, you were almost completely scar free and standing proudly at three canons lives.

A gentle hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you saw two sets of eyes staring at you with concern. "Hey... Are you feeling okay?" Ranboo asked softly, tilting your head up to place his free hand against your forehead, "See. I told you she should be getting more sunlight, Tubbo!"

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" You laughed softly at their worry, rubbing your thumbs along the back of their hands, "Just... Remembering the war with Dream and Techno..."

"What about it?" Tubbo asked, bringing you into the living room to sit down with your friends on either side of you.

You pursed your lips together for a moment as you looked at the ground, "Just how... Scary Techno is. And how he was about to kill me without a care about who or what I was."

Angered growling and seething noises came from Ranboo and Tubbo as you felt their grasps tighten around your hands, almost to a painful degree. You looked up and saw their expressions stone-cold and steely although vastly different from each other.

Ranboo's green eye was purple, and the black tone of his skin was beginning to seep into the side with the lack of colour. The corners of his mouth were slowly splitting open wider and wider as his lips parted, allowing you to see the glowing purple colour inside his mouth.

Tubbo's was less obvious. His eyes were blank but also had a bright fire, one burning for revenge, reflected in them. His ears weren't flicking and neither was his tail, his entire body stiff except for a faint sound giving away the fact that his teeth were grinding together.

As much as you tried to endure it, the grip became too harsh and you couldn't help but give a small pained gasp. This caused all physical contact with you to suddenly vanish as the two boys immediately flung themselves away from you, horror and fear in their eyes.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!"

"Are you okay?! Do you need an ice pack?!"

"Or a bandage from my claws?!"

They were both kneeling on the ground in front of you with both of your hands in their grasps again. They repeatedly turned your hands in their own, testing the joints and checking for marks or bruising. "Boys, boys!" You laughed softly, placing your hands on their heads to ruffle their hair gently. You pulled your left hand adorned with two beautiful rings and held it up for them to see, flexing it and moving it around, "See? Perfectly fine. No pain whatsoever!"

While they seemed to have calmed down a lot, they still seemed to be extremely upset and guilty. "I'm still going to get an ice pack... We don't want our wife to be injured..." Tubbo murmured as he quickly got up and walked towards the kitchen.

"I will get started on dinner. And as an apology, I'm making your favourite. (F/f)." Ranboo tried to be a little more upbeat than Tubbo, but you could still see the small amounts of guilt as he turned and followed after the goat hybrid.

Sighing softly at their overreactions, you leaned back against the couch...

Before doing a double-take.

Adorned with rings?!

You quickly flung yourself forward again and looked at your left hand. On your ring finger were two diamond rings, one gold with a green gemstone, and the other silver with a black gemstone, both glistening a faint purple from enchantments...

...

When did these get put on you- wait... Did Tubbo say... wife?

[genshingarbage]

Hiii, Good Morning/Good afternoon/Good evening Mod Kaeya,Mod Diluc^^, It's my first time requesting, Can I request? Angst with any Genshin Impact characters?,Soo The genshin characters are much more spending time with Lumine? Then the reader asks why they aren't spending much time with them and the genshin characters snaps and said the readers are weak ( reader is already insecured because they can't fight) and they have work to do then the reader leaves to fight hilichurl camps and unfortunately there's 2 Mitachurls ,luckly the genshin characters were on time to save the reader? Then they apologized to them? (It's Gn reader^^) sorry if it's alot and sorry if my grammar is wrong you both can disregard this ask stay safe ^^

Good afternoon dear Traveler!! Well done for making your first request! And such a lengthy one too oh my~ Your grammar is fine don’t even worry about it. Sorry for the long wait, Mod Diluc and I have been busy on the Kuzuha banner haha but I hope you enjoy this tear jerking tale (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧- Mod Kaeya

Recommending this song for this oneshot!

Go checkout Anna_drw01 for more art like this!! Here’s her artstation!

The distant scientist, renowned for being hard to get close to was someone you used to consider one of you closest friends. The two of you spent day and night together, hellbent of cracking open every single challenge you possibly could together. Many considered you two to be able to solve any mystery put in front of you together.

The keyword was together.

There was a mystery you yourself couldn’t solve; Why was Albedo’s time with you slowly becoming a rarity?

You’d been wondering why he’d been spending so much less time in the lab he’d meticulously built over years of his life or on site where his precious research was being buried little by little by crystalline flakes, tending to his experiments and recording time sensitive data that would be valuable for months to come for the research team. Albedo had been gone so long both you and Sucrose had designed a plan in order to cover the work he’s left unattended whilst managing your own on top of the store. It was beginning to get concerning. If the leader of the investigation squad was absent constantly then what did that mean for the rest of you? Surely he was only gone for the sake of something important he’d found, something he placed above everything else he was researching. That’s what you lent yourself into believing.

That is, until you saw him with her.

You couldn’t blame him honestly, Lumine was gorgeous. Her golden hair and fiery eyes are what a lot of men probably look for in a partner, even more so was the mystery behind her origins and the raw power she held in her fingertips at any given moment.

You didn’t have to have a vision to be able to tell that.

Maybe that was another thing he sought in her.

A traveling partner that could wield the powers of the elements, a traveling partner that could hold their own against the world. Maybe that wasn’t all he was looking for but also a romantic partner.

He finally came back to the investigation camp briefly one night, it was during a particularly rough blizzard ravaging across Dragonspine and the areas surrounding it a little like a turbulent child tossing snowflakes across already painted, buried monochrome peaks. He trudged into the camp with her rambunctious adventuring party, shouted something over the whipping wind about how they should get warm inside one of the communal tents dotted around the sparse camp halfway up the summit you inhabited and then ducked into the burgundy tent you were working away in with nothing but the clinking of vials harmonizing with the bubbling of flames. It was nothing but candle light right then in the morbid lonely night, only the sounds of the howling gales outside of the ones in your lab. If you’d felt like you were being watched during the night before now, Albedo’s piercing analytical gaze did nothing but soothe the loneliness you’d held inside yourself all night.

“I need a strong multi use Geoculus locator, if we have any.” The blonde said

He must’ve seen your shoulders perk up because he waited patiently as you searched through the shelves upon shelves of prototypes you’ve developed. After somehow finding one, you patted over to him. He seemed pleased with your work, if a bit distant as usual. He was in a good mood so you guessed would be the best time if any to ask. “Sir… with all due respect why have you been away so long?”

Albedo’s pale face was blank as usual though he blinked as if surprised you spoke, “Lumine needed someone with a sufficient Geo vision, I happened to be the one she knew the best to get the job done.”

“So you’ll be returning?”

“I never said that.”

You tried not to take it harshly, this was just how he spoke after all. “…could I come along then?” It was a long shot yes but you still missed his company, if it meant having to deal with him getting buddy buddy with that Outrider then you would suffer. 

It was quiet for a moment between you two as you stared him down and he observed the locator thoroughly. After he was pleased enough with the golden glowing device it was packed away into his back pocket without so much as a second thought, the man was obviously stalling while he thought carefully over the question but the result wouldn’t be to your liking evidently. You were about to make  a point you hoped would be convincing before he spoke, his voice sharp and words cold like the very ice being tossed around the blackened sky.

“No, you’re not a skilled enough fighter so you’d only slow us down more than we can handle to be right now. You’d be useless to us.” He put a hand to his chin for a moment in thought, “If you’d had been able to development a synthetic elemental burst like Sucrose’s swirl mark II…I would have considered but you can’t even do that.”

Watching him leave with them the morning after was torturous, they rushed off into the snowy landscape with barely a goodbye and never a second glance from Albedo beyond that. It stung.

Maybe that’s why when hilichurl camps, specifically ones becoming a nuisance to caravans as well as supply lines along Dragonspine almost avidly to the near point where there would be commissions called in, were brought up in conversation you elected to take a weapon and simply clear them out yourself. You could barely fight one off but usually they were smaller towards the base of the mountain so you figured it would be alright. You would just patch yourself up if you got a bit injured. Surely the pain of the injures would busy your silly little heart long enough to forget about Albedo and his cruel words to you, surely you would barricade your feelings of pining behind walls of broken bones and struggling through the snow. Maybe that was the remedy, the answer you needed to your mystery. Your pleas would probably be hidden by the snowstorms anyways.

Mitachurls unfortunately inhabited bigger camps. Thankfully, Frost Lawlichurls tended to live alone. The former happened to find it’s way to you, charging with the might of a bull on ozmanthys wine. As you were bowled over you heard an abrupt shout, maybe saw a brief flash of familiar golden light as the battle grounds around you erupted further into chaos but it didn’t matter that pale arms were abruptly gripping you to a panicked sword user. Your vision was to blurry, the shouts of attacks and spells too muffled and faint, your body felt too limp to comprehend even the though of moving. You could barely breathe.

Someone was muttering, crouched around you and holding you close, muttering something over and over again. Something important. The feeling of their lips pressed against your forehead, his quiet gut heaving sobs as he rocked you back and forth. Albedo’s pleas for you to just hang on a moment longer—

Where were you again?

There was sunlight and it was warm, a pleasant warmth that almost lulled you back to the sleep you’d fallen into. The only thing that kept you awake was that this was indeed not your bed.

Where were you?

Sitting up hurt, your whole body ached and you were certain something must have been rearranged or was missing because the pain shot through you like an arrow. Your sharp exhale alerted the two others in the room, one who immediately sprinted to get a nurse in an emerald and navy flurry of skirts and capes.

You were dizzy, only steadied by a gentle hand on your limp shoulder. Ah, when did you turn to face him?

The blonde man infront of you asked if you remembered what happened, his voice was soft but didn’t hold any emotion. The smoky circles around his beautiful striking cerulean eyes did nothing but worry you slightly as they implied a long period of time without sleep. You’d imagine him to be the sciency type who didn’t really know what to think of other people so he stayed nose deep in books to pass the time, though there was a deep sadness in the way he held himself you couldn’t understand.

“I don’t…who are you?” You thought you saw him flinch but figured it was a trick of the light.

“No one important, nevermind me.” The man sat up with an unreadable expression even for how blank it had been for this whole brief conversation after you had awoken, getting up from his chair to begin walking to the door when he stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“…for what?” You didn’t understand.

“Nothing that would natter now, please. Rest.”

You didn’t remember.

[simplysimpingsimp]

I said this aloud to my twin brother @jadedoni after reading your dad Zenitsu pieces and he told me I had to request it, so I was wondering if you could do a short piece for dad Inosuke teaching his child how to stalk prey by sneaking up on his partner? I usually do gender neutral asks, which you can do for this, but I also kinda want to ask you to write reader as a short female because I think it would make it extra cute. Whichever you decide will be a-okay with me! Thanks for hearing me out and feel free to take your time!

Hi hi Iraxme!! Thank you so much for requesting <3 You both always have such cute ideas that I really love and have enjoyed writing !! You definitely can have this! I’ll go with your preference <3 but later on I may upload a version with gn pronouns :D As always, I’m super sorry for any mistakes, I will gladly go back and fix them! No problem at all :D and I’m sorry I took a bit to get to your request TT

🌲—————————————————————🌲

🌲—————————————————————🌲

🌲𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝟷𝟶𝟷

🌲𝙸𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚎 𝚡 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

🌲𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: 𝚜𝚑𝚎/𝚑𝚎𝚛

🌲𝙳𝚊𝚍!𝙸𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘!

🌲𝚃𝚆: 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎!

🌲—————————————————————🌲

Inosuke motioned for his son to come along with him, “Today we’re gonna finally test your skills on how to stalk and sneak up on prey,” his voice proud and loud as his child cheered excitedly, a glittering aura around him as he stood in his Lord of the Mountain pose.

“Remember the process?” He kneeled down to meet the e/c gaze of his son, a wild but loving glimmer in his own lime green eyes as he smiled brightly.

His son nodded happily as a gentle pink hue formed on his cheeks from the excitement, “Mm! I won’t let you down papa,” he spoke happily and confidently, as he hugged Inosuke.

A giddy feeling formed in his chest as he was embraced by his son, a little boy who was exactly a mini version of him just with e/c eyes instead of the vibrant green he had and f/c tips on his hair instead of blue like he had.

His child followed him outside as they crouched behind a bush that was near his beloved wife who was tending to the garden, her small frame kneeling and gently removing any weeds and picking the ripe and ready to be eaten vegetables.

The pair could hear her gentle singing making them blush as they heard her voice elegantly tell a story about love.

“Ahh mama is so pretty,” his son whispered happily as he watched her fill a basket with vegetables before she stood and entered the wild orchard of fruit trees.

“Mm! An absolute goddess of nature,” Inosuke’s own voice uncharacteristically soft as he watched her form retreat, a light blush on his cheeks as the familiar giddy sensation built in his chest.

“Move move move,” he urged his son as he stealthily ran behind a nearby tree with his son silently following behind him.

They watched her pick off a few apples from low branches. Inosuke couldn’t help but soundlessly snicker watching her trying to jump up to reach higher up branches.

“Whhhyyy,” they heard her dramatically cry out as she nearly got one in her hand, but missed by just a little bit.

Inosuke and his son made eye contact, the sign of moving forward. With an approving nod from the feral boar man and a thumbs up, his son began to move forward in soundless steps with Inosuke trailing behind. Using natural cover and his stature to hide from his unsuspecting mother as she went from tree to tree attempting to gather more fruits.

Silently he crept up behind her, each step inching closer and closer to his mother who unknowingly went along picking pears.

“Gotcha!” The little boy giggled excitedly as he hugged her yukata clad legs.

She yelped in surprise, the basket of fruits and vegetables falling from her hands as she felt something embrace her legs, her heart beating rapidly and body going cold as a response until she heard the familiar giggling.

Y/n looked down and was met with the loving gaze of her brightly smiling son, her smile softening as her heartbeat relaxed.

She giggled softly as she knelt down to meet the gaze of her son, “You sure got me,” her arms wrapping around her son, lifting him up as she stood, “Now, where’s your papa?” she questioned curiously.

A familiar war cry resonated in her ears as she heard the quick running steps of her husband rapidly approaching them.

“Papa!” Her son called out happily as Inosuke embraced the pair.

“Good job son!” Inosuke proudly yelled as he ruffled his messy hair.

His son giggled happily as he embraced his mother. His gentle e/c eyes lovingly looking at his parents who wore smiles and spoke to each other about being proud of him as he acknowledged the height difference — the way his father towered over her.

“Mama?” he spoke quietly, tugging the collar of her f/c yukata.

“Yes, sweetie?” Her voice was sweet as she looked into her son's eyes lovingly.

“I never realized how much smaller you are than papa…” he spoke, completely enchanted and mesmerized by the concept.

Inosuke cackled loudly as he watched her expression become deadpanned before it returned to her gentle and loving smile. He immediately shut up, feeling his face heat up and his heart flutter from the sight of his wife holding his son, that loving smile on her lips always made his heart go soft.

“Well, now that papa is here and is tall, he can go pick some more apples for us to eat later with some honey,” she giggled, “Would you like that,” she lovingly kissed her son’s forehead before he happily nodded.

Inosuke proudly smiled as he took a hold of his son, “Next lesson! Picking fruits like a true master!”

His son cheered happily as he was carried away by Inosuke with Y/n following beside them, Inosuke putting his free arm around her as they went about gathering more fruit.

ᴇɴᴅ

🌲—————————————————————🌲

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛɪɴɢ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ

ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ <3 ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ғᴇᴇʟ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs/ᴀsᴋs/ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs/ɪᴅᴇᴀs/ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ!! sᴇᴇ

ʏᴀʟʟ sᴏᴏɴ <3

ᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs: 16

[arielxlazarus]

I almost forgot about that fanfic appreciation week, but I wanted to at least do something for it! So here's a rec list for some of my favorite fics in the one piece fandom!

This list is not at all exhaustive btw (there's still loads of other fics in the fandom that I love), so please don't feel bad if you weren't included! Also if anyone wants more recommendations from me, you can check out my bookmarks on my ao3!

Who Knows (what could happen) by Chromi

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: For as long as he could remember, he had wanted to set out to sea as an adventurer. His father, unfortunately, dictated that he was to follow the family tradition and become a doctor instead.

Following a lifetime of hurt and sorrow at the hands of his family, he eventually breaks free and takes to the sea alone - determined to keep it that way. Fate has other ideas in store for him; fate crosses his path with Portgas D. Ace's, a brand new pirate.

And what does he hate more than pirates?

Nothing.

Or: from Sixis to the Moby Dick - the lives of the Spade pirates.

First Time by Chromi

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: "Because it is Ace, and it will only ever be Ace, that he wants to see like this, and he wants to be responsible for unravelling him down to his core and loving him to his very center."

In which Ace and Deuce go all the way for the first time.

@chromiwrites

Seabound by AnkhPosts

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace is a selkie, making one of his periodic stops on land to catch a breather and get some ridiculously tasty human food, maybe see some sights if there are any. His pelt is safely hidden, he'll stay a day or two at most and be on his way.

Deuce is a mer, alone on the sea and traveling as he pleases for the first time in his life, and while he might not be terribly interested in actually interacting with humans it's hard not to see them as fascinating.

Ace meets Deuce. Deuce meets Ace. Neither knows the other isn't human.

@ankhposts

Death is only the beginning by Chizyk

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: “Ankhreshet?” he whipped his head round at the sound of a raspy voice so fast he almost got whiplash. He could feel his body going completely cold as he saw the mummy’s empty eye sockets staring right at him.

@chizyk

I'm Still Here (part of a series) by theprodigypenguin

Rating: M

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace (also Izou/Sabo later in the series)

Summary: "When I do die, don't bother burying me in that empty grave. Put my body in a boat and set me out to sea. Let me sleep eternal on the ocean that my father loved so much; because before everything else in this world, I am a child of the sea, and when I die, I want to return to it. Put me in a boat and set it aflame so I can go down in the same fire I lived."

Forget-Me-Not Fall by theprodigypenguin

Rating: M

Pairing: Izou/Sabo

Summary: “Most of the nobles I’ve met tonight look meticulously put together. They look like they were built to portray a certain image paralleled a hundred times over. People who were copied and pasted. Flawless clothes, flawless faces, flawless makeup, flawless hair.”

“Not me though,” Sabo stated, and Izou hummed.

“It’s comforting.”

“Huh?”

Izou met Sabo’s eye. “Everyone else in this place hides their worst attributes with a mask they modified to fit their faces. They don’t seem to comprehend that those perfect masks only make their worst characteristics more pronounced and defined.” His expression was terribly gentle as his eyes wandered across Sabo’s face. “It’s comforting to be approached by someone not trying to be something else.”

Sabo tilted his head. “How do you know I’m not manipulating you like some common Goa aristocrat?”

Izou smiled. “There are a few reasons.”

@theprodigypenguin

A Light To Guide You Home by TheSkyIsMyHome

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: In a world that despises mutants, Ace lives purely to protect his little brother.

Until the flames inside him find their perfect match and opposite, and he doesn't know what to feel anymore.

The Phoenix's Mate by TheSkyIsMyHome

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Marco is a handsome man. Ace really can't be blamed for being attracted to him. Nobody minds, either.

But Marco isn't always a man. Ace still loves him regardless, and his sexual urges are catching up to that fact.

Marco indulges him, but he might just find himself enjoying it more than he thought he would.

@evvazi

ASL in Red (series) by Kereea

Rating: G-T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, Monkey D. Luffy/Trafalgar D. Water Law (both asexual), Koala/Sabo, Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Benn Beckman, Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante/Aokiji | Kuzan, Roronoa Zoro/Sanji, and several other minor ones

Summary: In an alternate universe, forces conspired to put Ace, Sabo, and Luffy in the care of the Red Hair pirates as children.

The Grand Line would never know what hit it.

Mates (part of a series) by Deubatty

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Deuce just wanted to go searching for plants! A nice walk in the woods. Except, he ends up becoming the mate to a very persistent naga

His First Mate The Mermaid (part of a series) by Deubatty

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Instead of finding another person on Sixis, Ace finds a mermaid

@masked-writer

Being Human by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E (no smut)

Pairing: None (heavy focus on the platonic relationships between Marco, Whitebeard, and the rest of the crew as they form)

Summary: The line that differentiates human from object appears to be clear, but sometimes it blurs to the point where it is impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

The Unknown Devil by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace hadn’t expected his last week of imprisonment before his execution to be any different from all the years preceding it. Then again, he hadn’t expected to have Marco the Phoenix as a cellmate for that week, or that Marco’s presence would shake his bleak world so much.

Ripple Effect by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: After the incident with Shanks, Garp didn't take Luffy to Dadan's, unaware of how much that would change the life of his other grandson.

@maisstories

To Build a Home by endlessblankpages

Rating: G

Pairing: None (heavy focus on the platonic relationships between the ASL bros and the Whitebeard Pirates)

Summary: The ASL pirates are used to being accused of crimes they didn't commit. But when they're accused of destroying a small village in the New World, it sends them hurtling toward a deadly confrontation with the strongest man in the world, Whitebeard. The results are not what they were expecting.

Persistence & The Impossible (part of a series) by dragonsfall

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: In order to keep himself from losing his job, Ace takes on an impossible story. Get an interview with the ever-elusive Phoenix. Guess he might as well kiss his job goodbye.

Self Discovery (part of a series) by dragonsfall

Rating: E

Pairing: Izou/Sabo (sort of, it's technically masturbation)

Summary: Sabo has been waiting for a day like this for a while but it doesn’t go quite how he planned it.

@clockworkpanic

A Breach of Intention by Depths

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: It was unspoken, but some pirate crews and mermaids had an unspoken solidarity. Pirates throw their enemies overboard, and the merfolk will take care of them.

mer!ace au

@leviathiane

Running on All Sixes by lunarshores

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, minor Izou/Thatch

Summary: The Whitebeard gang might be one of the most influential in the city, but to Marco they're just his family. Though he sometimes wishes they'd just leave him alone, especially when Izo's playing matchmaker, and Ace is his usual oblivious self. When a brother betrays them, they'll have to fight to show why no one ever messes with their family.

nothing is impossible with you by lunarshores

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Five times Ace and Marco accidentally mixed their flames on accident and one time that was entirely on purpose.

@lunarshores

I Want You to Look at Me by shockandlock

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: One night, Marco is missing from dinner, so Ace decides to bring dinner to him. He's surprised to see Marco wearing glasses and now he can't stop thinking about the way he looks. Now with additional chapter(s) including more miscellaneous MarcoAce PWP!

To My Dear Fire (part of a series) by shockandlock

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Living in the city is a new thing for Ace. After being raised near a cozy coastal mountain town through his childhood, it's definitely a change of pace, but it doesn't help when he loses his new job after an unfortunate encounter with actor Marco Newgate. He just wants to live-- and meet his long time pen pal, Phoenix.

Marco knows that being an actor is hard, so he takes the little things when he can: writing his pen pal (and honestly one of his best friends) Fire Fist, flirting with the cute new waiter at his favorite café-- not that he has a chance after a disaster on social media. But maybe fate really does give him a second chance when Ace shows up at Four Emperor Studios...

@shockandlock

Uncharted Territory by silverwolf_fox

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: This was by far one of Ace's most ridiculous ideas.

When Deuce keeps getting flustered everytime he tries to dominate Ace, they created an opportunity where he didn't have to be afraid of messing up.

Now he's free to do and try whatever he wants...

...so long as Ace doesn't wake up.

Watching the Sunrise (part of a series) by silverwolf_fox

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Many years have passed since Rouge gave up her life for her son’s...except she didn’t die, but she thinks Ace did. Living her life on Baterilla, she’s mourned each and every day until the morning she receives his bounty poster. She sets off immediately to find him, but finds their meeting isn’t as easy as she’d imagined.

@the-devil-fruit-tree

never shall i forget, how you climbed out of a dream by siojo

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: “Kaido,” Ace smirks, flames burning around his feet as he shifts in preparation for Kaido’s next attack, already trying to decide what he’s going to do in response. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You’ve seemed to have been enjoying yourself here.”

“I thought you would be smarter than this, Portgas. You’ve never tried to fight another Yonko before, your bounty won’t matter much when you lose.”

Ace barks a laugh, his teeth bared in a facsimile of a grin, “You must have missed out on the brawl I had with Big Mom after she sent two of her daughters and a son for me to consider marrying. This is a bit more personal than that.”

@wordsdrippinginink

Reborn in Fire by aerle

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Fireman Marco has earned the nickname 'the Phoenix' by saving numerous people from a certain death. After an accident however, he has to relearn to walk and gets a new job as arson inspector at a different fire station. There he gets confronted with a boy from his past, now all grown up and gorgeous.

Three's a Crowd, Four's a Double Date by aerle

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace (main), Izou/Thatch (secondary)

Summary: "We're not dating," Marco said definitively. "That we're sharing a bed tonight is a total coincidence."

@aerle

Universal Dive by EmpressKira

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace had been making his way through the city to go to one of his favorite cafes. Well, that was until this hole ripped in the sky and some pirate fell out with the flaming bird guy following. Getting targeted, he is dragged into a different world with pirates and everything defying the reality he is used to. Will he make it home? Will he go back when the time comes?

@empresskira

Blue moon (series) by de_Winter

Rating: T-M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Urban fantasy AU, werewolf Marco and witch Ace

Red Velvet by de_Winter

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace already knew their routine by heart, just from observing them for a couple of mornings when he had early delivery, and from Izou’s daily long winded—and probably sexually frustrated—rants. Big Blond would come out of the bakery wearing a shirt too tight for him and too thin for the weather as soon as he was done setting up the tables inside the storefront, holding a take out cup and a small box in his big hands. They looked really, pleasantly big from where Ace was standing, and he honestly wished he wasn't standing that far away.

@dee-de-winter

We'll Look Back and Laugh at Ourselves by JuHuaTai

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, minor Gol D. Roger/Portgas D. Rouge

Summary: Between his new boyfriend and his workaholic boss, Marco felt like he was surrounded by family issues of the father and son dispute variety. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Or maybe he should've listened to the office gossip more. Maybe then he'd figure it out sooner.

Gratitude of the Phoenix (part of a series) by JuHuaTai

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: [Based on 'The Crane Wife' Folklore]

One day, he saved a bird from freezing to death in a trap. Then, a stranger saved him from suffering the same fate, and a request to stay for one night turned into having someone to fill the void left in the small cottage and in his heart ever since his brothers left.

These two incident doesn’t seem to be related to one another, but they both changed Ace’s life in ways he could never have imagined.

Watashitachi wa Roger kaizoku desu (we still stand proud) by stereden

Rating: T

Pairing: None (heavy focus on Buggy, Shanks, and Crocus)

Summary: The Roger Pirates disappeared after their Captain's death, and were happy enough to let the Marines forget about them.

Until the Marines decide to execute their Captain's son, that is.

@stereden

This Bites! by Xomniac

Rating: M

Pairing: None (heavy focus on a main character oc and the strawhat pirates)

Summary: Sea Kings, sea-sickness, sunburns, a 95% genocidal Navy and more than a million and one other assorted ways to die. It's official: Being inserted into an anime sucks ass... Buuut I guess it could be worse. I mean, look on the bright side: At least I'm sailing with the future king of the pirates.

A Fortune that Never Grows Old by imperialmint

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: It's one thing to get butterflies in your stomach when you seen an attractive person but it's another thing entirely for Marco to want to stomp out a courtship ritual and lay foundations for a nest when he meets the navy's new (hot) secret weapon.

@imperialmint

Most of the authors on this list have many other excellent one piece fics I'd definitely suggest checking out! Enjoy your reading and try to show them all some love if you can!

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Yandere Gregor Clegane/The Mountain Headcanons (general)

Gregor Clegane is a monster of a man both in height and actions, even before Qyburn gets a hold of him. He has no care for anyone or anything, particularly the weak and poor, and his terrifying temper knows no bounds. He’ll lash out at anyone and or anything in his wake, it doesn’t matter who’s around to witness it.

It doesn’t help that he suffers with migraines, causing him to be even more temperamental and violent. Especially when he wants nothing more than some quiet. He is never not without these migraines of his, the severity of them being the only thing that changes. Resulting in Gregor consuming massive amounts of milk of the poppy, so much so he’s built an immunity to its side affects. Well, a majority of them at the very least. Not to mention it takes away from him feeling any pain. Not that much wouldn’t effect him anyway.

Gregor is not gentle, nor caring of his obsession. If anything he’s only tolerable of them but that’s enough to keep you safe from his wrath. For now. I can see his obsession stemming from his darling’s voice. Maybe it’s light and airy. Or smooth and soothing. Either way it’s the first thing that catches his attention. It’s the only sound that doesn’t hurt to hear or make him want to bash your skull in a blind rage. That one thing is enough to have Gregor Clegane keeping an eye on you.

As long as you don’t do anything to garner Gregor’s anger, which is asking a lot, you won’t be harmed. Given that he has a liking for your voice, you maybe let off the hook in terms of small and insignificant mishaps. It’s only the fact that you’re beneficial to him that Gregor can be more conscious of his actions and behavior towards you. But that doesn’t mean you’re excluded from punishment. No, he can and he will still punish you.

The only way you could be safe from punishments is if you were not in Gregor’s possession. And that can be possible. Gregor’s only real interest in you is that your voice means something to him. He doesn’t know what or why but he likes it. He has no intentions of taking you or even interacting with you at all. Not in the beginning. But eventually it gets to a point where your voice is the only voice he hears clearly. He can pick it out of a crowd like nothing. Soon enough he’s finding himself at the same places you are or frequent. It’s hard not to notice him. Thankfully you can see him coming and take your leave if need be but you better be quick about it.

Honestly, you probably aren’t aware of Gregor’s interest and who could blame you? It’s not like he shows it or makes it known in any way. He isn’t quite sure what he feels or what he’s doing. If you did catch onto him being around you more or something of the sort, you should run as fast as possible. Especially if you want to protect the people you care about. Get the hell out of Westeros. Get the hell away from him. I mean, the most Gregor would do for you is killing anyone who is/gets too close or is in the way. But that’s not really anything new. The only difference is that said people had interactions or connections with you. And he found their existence to be a nuisance.

It would take Gregor not hearing your voice for awhile before it effects him. He’s grown so use to the sound and hearing it every so often that it seems foreign not to have it. It’s almost as if he starts to go through withdrawls. Once he starts feeling like this he gets more aggressive and even more violent. He has no tolerance for anything, let alone anyone. It doesn’t help that he doesn’t understand what he’s feeling, all he knows is that he needs to find you.

If you’ve fled the city already and are far enough away from him, Gregor will try to find someone who can replace you. But it’s not the same. They’re not the same. If that’s the case then he has no need for them anymore. And we all know what he does to worthless things, right?

It would probably be by complete coincidence that he happened upon you again. Your voice was a dead give away, him following the sound the second he heard it. It doesn’t matter what he’s in the middle of doing, he’ll toss it aside to go in search of you. And once he does find you, having you in his sights, he knows he’s not leaving without you. Not like anyone could stop him anyway. And who’s to know what you’re fate will be like now that he finally has you.

I could also see Gregor purposely going out of his way to take his brother, Sandor’s obsession. Or rather anyone Sandor is close to/cares for. He does it more so just so Sandor won’t have them anymore. In this scenario, Gregor is much more inclined to break and ruin “his” darling, just to take them completely away from Sandor. In every way possible. Or at the very least he’ll make them into damaged goods.

[orionwhispers]

Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals. 

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”