#lavender biscuits | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hwaitham · 6 months

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𝓯𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵 𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚 ‎

wriothesley x sub!f!reader . nsfw — mdni . rewrite + repost from old blog ﾉ established relationship ﾉ daddy kink ﾉ breeding ﾉ oral [ m -> f ] ﾉ dirty talkin' ooo finger suckin' ooooo (๑ ˃̵͈́ᵕ˂̵͈̀ ) ﾉ infantilization + mindbreak ﾉ praise ﾉ lotsa petnames [ babydoll + little girl + princess + sweetheart + baby ] ﾉ sappie wuvie dovie sex bcos ! ! well :3 it's me !

the fortress of meropide’s pankration ring is vacant now— three hours after the stronghold’s annual boxing spectacle, two hours after champagne showers, one hour after all the prisoners and gardes have made their way back to their sleeping quarters.

the fortress of meropide’s pankration ring is vacant now, nearly— it’s pitch black, nearly, save for the warm yellow flickers of the half-functioning light fixture hanging above the ring’s canvas, the image it casts on the rusty steel walls of two bodies pressed together.

a dancing shadow of your back curling into a perfect arch off the floor, the tilts and turns of wriothesley’s head as he fervently suckles on your clit with alcohol-stained lips, the heels of your frilly-socked feet digging further into his shoulder blades, toes wriggling within the lavender fabric.

“daddy—!”

“pussy tastes so good—”

“pleasepleaseplease— won’t last if you keep— h-huuughh…”

“so fuckin’ sweet— shit, babydoll.”

it’s not like your lover to dirty talk you like this— obscenely and unabashedly and so greedily— licking and sucking and slurping and huffing, blunt nails digging into the plush of your thighs, past the white stockings he’s fortuitously torn off your legs where he now leaves little mauve moons upon your skin.

your lover is usually all grunts and groans and whines that get tangled in his throat— but you adore it when he gets like this. you adore it when he gets all touchy and clingy and desperate for your love after he’s knocked back a couple drinks, you adore the carnivorous growl in his voice when he tells you, fuck, princess, need you so bad, you adore the shower of praise and kisses and bold touches where his heart lies in his fingertips and he smudges lines of pink and red all over your flesh.

“pretty little pussy’s all mine… look at you, sweet thing practically drooling for daddy, yeah?” wriothesley moans, speaking more to your cunt instead of you, and pulls away, slick strung in a thin ribbon that connects his lip to the pearl of your clit. he watches how your hole twitches and clamps around air as it searches for something that only he can give you— hungry and ready with how much of your sticky cream oozes from it and drips down the globe of your ass, soaks the silk of his scarlet boxing robe that you lay atop of.

and your daddy’s right— it is practically drooling, so pathetically leaking for him.

“fuckin’ gorgeous.”

a glob of saliva builds under his tongue at the sight, and he gathers it in the purse of his lips before spitting it out onto your pussy, watching the frothy bubbles cling to your skin, laughing lowly when you begin to whimper and writhe beneath him, knead biscuits on his chest in a weak attempt to push him away.

“daddy, ‘s embarrassing when you look, o-oh—!” your protests are shushed when he collects the stringy mixture of his spit and your slick from your pussy and moves back up to meet your lips, kiss you messily.

“ah, ah, ahhh… don’t get all shy on m’now, sweetheart.”

the peach champagne on his tongue hits you after the sugary saltiness of your release, and evidently, you realize he must be drunk by the slur of his words, the greedy paws that cup your pussy, and then grab at your hips, your waist, your breasts.

a sharp glint of bright white has one of your eyes squeezing shut when wriothesley shifts to look down at you, his smile nothing short of beguiling. his frame is wide— broad shoulders and a strapping chest and sinewy arms that you’re caged under, the gold of the medal hanging loosely off his veiny neck reflecting the light from above.

and, oh, wriothesley thinks you look so pretty when the heavy metal thuds against your cheek amidst his soft swaying— he thinks you’ll look even prettier with his victory wrapped around your neck, because what’s his is yours, yours is his; you belong to him and he belongs to you.

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

bringing the gold up to his lips, he places a sweet kiss on it, lowering the medal back down to you so you can place another one right on top of his, baritone voice losing it’s primal growl and replaced with something more silky, loving. “fuck, couldn’t have won this without you.”

your fingers scrabble at one of wriothesley’s hands, holding it tight to your chest— to your heart— because you think the sheer sincerity in his voice is enough to have you losing balance and falling into an abyssal love. but that’s okay, that’s where you belong, deep, drowning in it, because you love him, you love him, you love him.

“love you, i love you, daddy— so, so much; love you forever…”

and the fortress’ duke thinks you just might kill him, with that admission.

with that milky, fuzzy, adoring look in your eyes, and how you press his palm to your heart, serve him your entire soul on a diamond-embedded platter— it cuts into his chest and carves deep into his flesh. your words are flames, and they are but dew on his skin, soothing and healing.

something knots in his throat; and all of a sudden he feels overwhelmed— by the rush of alcohol in his blood, by how sweet you’re being for him, by the painful ache of his leaky cock as he slides the length up and down your folds, each of his movements decorated by a tiny whimper that’s pried from your throat.

“fuuuuck, haha— love your daddy that much, huh? well, i love you, princess. love you even after forever.” wriothesley hunches over so close to you, cupping your cheeks with such delicate care— as if you’re crafted from the finest porcelain— before he kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, shoving an eternity’s worth of promises and secrets down into your lungs.

he pulls back shortly thereafter to admire your kiss-swollen lips, wiping the pearls that dew at your lashes from just how achingly painful your weeping cunt feels— from how awfully you need to have your daddy inside you.

“inside— nghhh, wanna feel you inside, wanna—”

“i know, i know, but can you be a big girl ‘nd wait a little longer? can y’do that for daddy?” he shushes you with a sweet coo and prod of his thumb at the swell of your bottom lip, gathering the drool that sits there, before you obediently take the digit into your mouth. his cock jumps against your clit and wriothesley doesn’t realize that his mouth has been watering at the show you’ve been putting on for him until a drop of spit lands on your shoulder— your smaller fingers lightly wrapping around his wrist to hold his hand in place, sucking and swirling your tongue around his thumb, licking the tip repeatedly and hollowing your cheeks, giving his thumb the same attention and care you would his cock.

“a-awhhh, shit— you’re such a good girl, mhm?”

your hips grind up mindlessly against your lover’s cock at his praise and your mind fogs up in submission, taking the digit deeper, deeper, suckling and licking until you’re drivelling spit down your chin, giggling stupidly and coating his heart in fondant. “mhmmm, hehe—! wanna be your good girl, daddy…”

“yeah? archons, you’re so cute,” he chuckles with you, shaking his head at how you’ve already gone featherbrained from so much as a mere suckle of his finger, pinching your cheek softly within his thumb and forefinger. “gonna put it in now, ‘kay? gonna give you your cock ‘nd you’re gonna take it; like my good little girl.”

with his free hand, he holds the heavy weight of his cock in the palm, tapping it over your clit and thumbing at his slit to coax more pre out from it, using the glossy cream to lubricate you further as he slowly pushes his aching, flushed tip past the tight ring of muscle lining your entrance. there’s a lewd, wet pop that follows when he gets his bulbous head settled in between your sticky walls, and he can’t suppress the noise— something in between a groan and laugh— that escapes him.

“fuuuck me, y’hear that?” squelch, squelch, squelch. “haha, that’s my liquid luck.”

“uh huh, ‘s yours, daddy— ‘s all yours, i’m all youuurs,” your voice comes out as a sweet, broken keen, one that dizzies wriothesley and has blood flooding his cock.

“a-ah, you’re gonna be the death of me, i swear…” his breathing picks up as he shallowly thrusts himself deeper into your cunt— it hugs him like a vice— like it loves him, his cock, like it wants to milk it dry.

and without warning, he sinks fully inside of you until he’s buried deep in your sopping cunt— it’s a perfect fit. where his oozing tip is pressed up snugly against your cervix, every ridge and vein hitting all the right spots that line your walls.

you drawl out a pitchy whine of his designation at the sudden split of his cock, hiccuping on your breath as he leans his whole weight on you and pushes your thighs back to meet your chest until the backs of your knees land on his shoulders, hips gyrating to grind his pubic bone down on your puffy bud. it soothes the sharp tremors of pain ripping through your core, washing them over with waves of pleasure, and you can only arch your chest up into his almost instinctually, fingers finding his face to trace sloppy stars over high-set cheekbones.

“daddy, daddyyyy, i wanna k-kiss…”

your boyfriend smiles adoringly in response, not ignoring the heavy throbs and twitches of his cock within your drooling cunt at how fucking stunning you look underneath him: pouty and glassy-eyed as you weakly tug him closer by the lanyard of his medal, all ditsy and limbs pliable like the sweet little baby doll of his that you are, head near empty with nothing but daddy, daddy, daddy on your brain.

wriothesley finds himself unable to do anything but indulge your desperation, brushing his lips against yours softly— once, twice, until he feels your velvety breath settle in his lungs, and then he’s left craving more.

“ohhh, baby, so tight.” his hips begin to rock against yours, and with each drag of his fat cock along your gummy walls, a hot knot begins to boil in the pit of your stomach.

your lips break free from wriothesley’s when his thumb finds your clit, feeling him trace his name over the sensitive nub, gazing up at him through your dumbed out doe eyes, tongue caught in between your teeth in a dreamy little smile. because he looks so handsome like this, so, so gorgeous with raven and sleet slicked back by his fingers and the small strands that bounce and fall and curl around the pinch of his brows— it’s like he’s made of stardust and moonshine and tufts of clouds from the celestial skies.

“you won me this gold medal, what d’you wan’ in return? a ring? fuck— i’d give you the whole universe if you asked. put the fuckin’ oceans in the sky for you.”

an erotic mewl escapes you from how romantic he’s being and you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize the effect his champagne-kissed words have on you— your toes curl and hips grind up mindlessly into his, pussy throbbing on his cock when your clit brushes against the cream-frosted hairs at the base.

the hard clamp of your walls peels a low groan from him, head hanging low and medal gently slapping your cheek with each slow, deep stroke, “s-shit, you like that, huh? tell me what you want, sweetheart—"

“want your cum— want it inside— in here,” you cut him off with needy babbles as you bring his palms to your tummy, laying them gently over the love bites that scatter your flesh likes the stars scatter the night sky— an eternal reminder that you’re his. “please, pretty pleaseee— wanna make you a papa— mhnn!”

and then he’s plunging into you deeper than ever before, cutting your words short, breaking them off into pitchy little pants as he presses his crotch flush against your messy, web-coated folds and swirls the tip of his dick deliciously over that one spongy spot where you’ve been needing to feel him the most.

“awh, you wanna make me a daddy? but i already am one, aren’t i?” he teases, runs his knuckles under your jaw and tugs on the plump of your lip with his teeth.

flustered by his words, you whine, shake your head petulantly and try to hide your face from him with the back of your hand. squeeze your eyes shut bashfully. melt his heart into icing and frost cupcakes with it. “nuh uhhh, you know ’s not what i mean…”

it’s staggering— how adorable you’re being for him, with your sweet pleas and darling little whines, he can’t help but huff out a growl through gritted teeth before leaning down to gather your lips in a kiss; it’s filled with so much love and so much fervour when he swallows your pretty cries with his tongue in your mouth and, fuck, he’s certain that even the mere thought of stuffing you full of his seed is enough to bring him down to his knees.

“perfect— you’re my perfect little doll, yeah? gonna make you a mother, gonna make you my wife, gonna make you the happiest girl alive.”

and it’s all so much, too much, the thumb he has pressed flat against your tongue to pacify your sobs, the promises he washes your tears away with, the sound of gold thudding harshly against the canvas of the floor when he thrusts into you at a different angle— one that has the tip of his cock knocking at the sponge of your cervix in a way where your hips rock up into his own. “daddydaddydaddy, please, ‘m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cuuuum—!”

“my sweet girl’s already fucked silly? got nothin’ but cock on your little brain, uh huh?”

“uh huh, uh huhhhh— wan’ daddy’s cock, wan’ daddy’s cum, wanna— mmph!”

your mindless babbling pulls a harsh guttural noise deep from wriothesley’s stomach, his vision doubling at the shaky lilt to your voice, at the manicured nails that dig into his biceps and claw red wings there— an eternal reminder that he’s yours. “oh, baby, that’s it, there you go— c’mon, be a big girl and cum all over my cock.”

“n-no! nonono, wanna cum with youuu—” you cut him off with a sharp keen, wailing out when you feel him start to thrust harder, faster, pearls of your slick and his pre spluttering out to fall as dewdrops on your thighs. doing your best to wrap your arms around his neck amidst the jostles of your body, you pull wriothesley in closer, closer, until his lips meet yours and there’s no space for air between the two of you.

he can’t help but crumble to ashes as you weep into the kiss, as you cling to him— it’s heart-wrenchingly cute how badly you need him. your slurred whimpers of, daddy, daddy please cum— wan’ it in me f’ever, remind him of just how much he loves you, so much, it reminds him that he is the only one for you in this timeline and every other, he is the only one that can ever make you feel this way— and, fuck, it fills him with a rush that he’s certain he’ll never find in anything else. the knot of fire that treads up his spine coils tighter on itself at the sound of your pitchy breaths and pathetic whines.

it brings wriothesley to the heavens, and soon enough, he’s prattling on and tripping over his words just as you had been, drooling drivelling from his lips like a fucking dog.

“shiiit, all those pretty fuckin’ sounds you make, h-hah, gonna make me cum, baby— you want that? wanna make daddy cum? want his seed so deep inside ya? yeah, ohhh, i know you do, c’mon then, milk this fuckin’ cock, ’s all yours.”

and so, you moan and whimper and cry out for your daddy, goaded by his words and his cock moulding your cunt to the shape of him, toes curling and tapping helplessly over his shoulder, your orgasm flying through you from head to toe. “fuck, fuck fuck, daddy— ‘m cum’ng— cummiiiing, daddyyy—!”

it’s nothing short of endearing, how you clutch at the nape of his neck and whimper in the junction of his neck, little incoherent mumbles falling onto deaf ears. because when you cum, wriothesley cums too, seeing white, a strangled whine ripping from his throat when tiny squirts push past your hole where the creamy base of his cock sticks to your cunt and thick ribbons of his milk paint the walls of your womb.

your heart dances with wriothesley’s when they meet on the tip of his tongue, his nose brushing against yours with so much delicate care and a boyish chuckle pushing past him when your hips swirl in cute little motions to catch your clit on his pubic bone, grinding up and chasing his cock to keep it plugging you full. “wrio.”

it comes out as a sniffle, and he can’t help but blush at the small pout you send his way.

“yeah, princess?” he moves back to pull out of you, but your legs slip down from his shoulders in between his arms to wrap around his waist, ensuring his full length is kept inside your stuffed hole.

“if you move it’ll all leak out,” you whine, pitchy and puerile, “don’t want it to— wan’ it to stay in me forever and ever…”

his seed as a sliver of him in your tummy, a sliver of his love kept in your body until the end of time— his head falls forward into your neck where he can only bring himself to huff out an endearing laugh and repeat your words, “forever ‘nd ever, huh…?”

“mhm… forever ‘nd ever ‘nd even after that.”

you tug on the medal’s lanyard to prompt him to meet your gaze, absolutely cockdrunk and bambi-eyed with your bottom lip tugged coyly into your top teeth— wriothesley knows that look well, you cheeky little minx; and you giggle when you clamp down around him once more, coaxing another tiny rope of milk from his slit, evident by a sharp moan that escapes him mid-breath.

“you’re killin’ me, sweetheart.”

he's dizzy— either from all the alcohol or the intensity of his high or a mix of both, but he still manages to bar you to his chest with two steady hands against your back and raise you both so that you’re sitting upright on the floor, and you cry out at the shift in position, at how his cock is nestled so incredibly deep inside that you swear you can feel him piercing your womb.

and it’s a sound that so sweet, so tooth-rottingly sweet, because wriothesley can’t help but mutter out small proclamations of his love as he lays them all over your face, can’t help the excruciating ache in his limbs and muscles and the uncomfortable twist and turn of his organs because, archons, he loves you.

“gold looks good on you, wrio,” you whisper, cheeks burning with warmth and popping like corn from how wide your smile is, from the accidental tickle of his fleeting touches.

you’re floating— high on his love, floating higher, higher, until you’re swimming in the oceans he put in the sky for you, the waterfalls up in the clouds.

the loss of his touch brings you back down to earth— his fingers are sticky, sweet and salty with drying champagne and a mix of your releases, but he could care less when he removes the medal from his neck and hangs it around yours, carefully laying the gold flat on your sternum, right above your heart.

and maybe he jumps the gun a little when he rubs your ring finger and searches for something that’s not there— his soul fanning across your face in sweet breaths when he starts thinking about white picket fences and a little angel with his hair, your eyes, his nose, your smile— the most beautiful blessing of all.

“well, i think it looks better on you.”

do u evr hate a character so much you wnt to write the most unabashedly horny smut for them . bcos i do ♡ anw hehe :3 tusm for readin ! ! ‎٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و i hope u liked dis n' it made u just as flustered as i felt when writing ⭐️ pls consider commenting ﾉ reblogging if u enjoyed aaa ( =v= ) it wld make mi so happie yayayayyy ! !

#𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 ⑅˚˖ ݁ ˓ ෆ #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin thirsts #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #genshin imagines #tw daddy kink #tw infantilization #tw mindbreak

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ehxcelling · 2 years

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Recipe For Lavender And Rooibos Biscuits

#Recipe For Lavender And Rooibos Biscuits

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tianasimstreehouse · 1 year

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Occult Recipebook

Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble.

INTRO

Occult gameplay is up there with one of my favourite ways to play. Food is a part of our Sims lives, and should also be for occults so that they can cook up their preferred foods.

This Occult Recipebook is a collection of custom recipes (food and drink) for Occult Sims in the Sims 4.

I have started off this occult culinary journey with: ✨SPELLCASTERS✨

I have plans to later create foods for each occult life state, so I will keep adding to the recipe book.

“Spellcasters” as a life state can be played in so many different ways: they can range from gnarly evil witches who practice black magic and eat bird entrails, to happy little fairies who live in cottages surrounded by woods and flowers! I have tried to include a little bit of everything in the recipes I have created. These foods are a mix of fairy, fantasy, green garden witch, apothecary, or black-magic sorcerer etc.

They effect Spellcasters and/or human Sims in many weird and wonderful ways.

E.g. Nettle Tea which helps teenagers suffering with acne, Milk Thistle Biscuits which leave the consumer with prickly thistles in their tongue, and Eye of Newt Soup which most Sims will find disgusting but which Spellcasters will happily slurp up.

RECIPES

39 new recipes for your Spellcasters!

~ Realm of Magic is required for these recipes ~

**there's a fair amount of pack-integration, and be sure to read the pack recommendations on the Patreon post for each recipe** to make sure nothing is missing or glitching.

Meals Dandelion Salad - increases SCs gardening skill, fills PlantSims' hunger Nettle Soup Soft-Boiled Golden Eggs - makes Sims glow and glitter Pumpkin Pasties Pomegranate Halves Eye of Newt Soup - makes other Sims feel sick Valerian Root Pie - other Sims won't like this dish Elderberry Jam Toast Toadstool Soup - inspires SCs, normal Sims won't like this dish Salamander Stew - other Sims won't like this dish Spiced Honey Bread - SCs will gain all skills faster Raised Newt Pie - makes other Sims feel sick Dragon Livers - Werewolves will love these and normal Sims won't Raised Phoenix Pie - Sims will randomly breathe fire for a while and feel confident

Desserts Milk Thistle Biscuits - chance to get uncomfortable thistles in tongue Huckleberry Jam Cream Puffs - makes SCs playful Fairy Bread Soul Cakes Huckleberry Pie Juniper Berry Jam Biscuits Honeycomb Cakes - SCs will gain all skills faster Valerian Custard Tart Toadstool Cookies Cursed Cookies - wouldn't recommend eating these... serve them to enemies! Eating one may leave the SC eater cursed. Good Sims will sense the evil inside and get sad Canning *Requires Cottage Living Canning Skill Gooseberry Jam Elderberry Jam Rosehip Jelly Drinks *Bar/alcoholic drinks require Mixology skill, and a Bar. Acorn Coffee (*coffee machine) Pumpkin Juice Willow Bark Tea - A home remedy to cure most illnesses, food poisoning etc Sage Tea - soothes stress and anger, SCs are focused and improve logic skills faster Nettle Tea - helps teens suffering from acne Lavender Tea - makes Sims flirty Mugwort Tea - reduces fear or panic Butterbeer - gives SCs confidence Mandrake Ale Nettle Wine Dandelion Wine Elderberry Wine

INFO & DOWNLOAD (early access): https://www.patreon.com/posts/79514896?pr=true Milk & Cookies: Now! Sugar Cookies: May 24th Public: May 31st

Pro tip for Windows PC users: Please make sure to delete the MACOSX folders/files that can appear after you extract the mod's files, otherwise the game may throw an error and not load at all.

TRANSLATIONS Polish - ❤️ Daisy1728, find their translation over here French - ❤️ Heidi / LuniverSims, find their translation here

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shakey-loves · 1 month

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hey dogday catnap how did you two fall in love with eachother???

"Heh! That's definitely a story."

"When we first met, I didn't really like you."

"Wait, really?!"

"You never noticed the times I've hissed at you and hid away from you?"

"....I just thought you were shy."

*chuckles*

"ANYWAY, as leader of the Smiling Critters, it's my job to make sure everyone is smiling everyday! So when CatNap first moved here, I was so excited to have another member of the group! Although, he wasn't too interested in joining our activities."

"Coming here was definitely a change. Everyone was loud and liked to be out and about. I preferred napping or just lounging around on my own. It doesn't help that even though I had been here for a few months, I haven't spoken to any of you, let alone introduced myself. Before you even knew my name, you just called me "Kitty"."

"You're a cat, I thought calling you "Kitty" would coax you out of hiding. Back then, I thought you weren't being social because you were having trouble connecting with us, since it seemed like we didn't have anything in common. Bobby suggested that I give you a welcoming gift to welcome you and make you feel like we accepted you."

"He gave me a badly sewn together fish plush."

"Hey! I've gotten better at sewing since then!"

"You have. But back then, it was awful. I was making tea when you knocked on my door to give it to me. I knew it was you because I recognized your vanilla scent."

"I memorized your lavender scent pretty quickly too."

"At first, I wanted to ignore him, but it was going to rain soon. I wasn't mean enough to leave him out there, so I answered the door. When he said he had a gift for me, I assumed it would be a bone. But, I was surprised to see a little stuffed fish. Then I noticed how his paws were bandaged."

"Like you've said, my sewing skills weren't great. It at least held together."

"It did. And, it was really sweet of you. To go through that just to make me a gift. I invited him inside for a cup of tea."

"Best tea I've ever had. And as time went on, we got closer. We began to spend more time together, CatNap would rest on my lap from time to time, sometimes making biscuits on me, purr whenever we held paws."

"A little sad that you were the last one to know that you were in love with me. Everyone else knew but you."

"Don't remind me. I just kept thinking we were really close friends. Until Kickin tried convincing Hoppy you two were best friends, and I growled in front of everyone. That was embarrassing."

"But because of that fiasco, I decided that talking to you about whether we were friends or more was needed. And you told me you wouldn't mind because you've had a crush on me for a while at that point."

"I didn't expect to fall in love with you either. But, I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Me either, Kitty."

🧡💜

#dogday x catnap #catnap x dogday #dogday #catnap #bobby bearhug #hoppy hopsotch #KickinChicken #sleepyday #smiling critters #poppy playtime #smiling critters poppy playtime #poppy playtime 3 #asks

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short-honey-badger · 3 months

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Peppermint Tea 21 - Lavender 4

This is a long one! I wanted a way for Shanks and Mihawk to come together, and what better way to do that is a nice sick fic!

Shanks is a flirt and both are possessive bastards. They worry about their little treasure. Took some creative liberties with Haki btw! hope you enjoy!

No warnings today!

Masterlist

Hank watches his human lay still and silent in her bed. His nose twitches when a draft comes by and tickles his nose, and a sneeze follows when his little brother comes back and smacks him in the nose. Hank grumbles at the fluffball, but at least Sukuna doesn’t use his claws this time. The cat jumps to the chair that Hank lays under, golden eyes watching his human too.

Neither animal understands what had gotten into their human. She had yet to get up and start the day like usual, instead, she still sleeps. Hank whines when his nose picks up the scent of something that doesn’t belong on his human, and he shuffles out from under his chair to stand by the bed. Sukuna joins him, jumping from the chair to come to a stop by their person’s head. Hank jumps up, nosing forward and huffing when he picks up that same smell.

It’s hot and rancid, and the two of them nearly jump a foot into the air when you suddenly groan and roll over, eyes cracking open to the sight of two concerned brothers.

“Hello children,” You green softly and wince at the soreness of your throat. You snake an arm out from under the covers, shivering when the cooler air of the room floods the blanket cocoon you’ve made around yourself. You feel awful, and you wonder what had changed so suddenly for you to feel this way. You frown as you think. No not suddenly. You’ve not been feeling yourself for a couple of days now. More tired than usual, a constant chill that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you tried, and you dearly wished that Mihawk and his overheated body were here to help warm you up.

Sukuna darts forward to press his forehead into your open palm, purring up a storm as his human gently scratches between his ears just the way he likes. Hank shoves him when he heaves the rest of his huge body up, and Sukuna sends the mutt a sharp glare for the disrespect. Their antics bring a giggle out of you, however, so the cat isn’t too upset about it.

“Gimmie a second and I’ll get up. Not like you’re starving or anything, you gluttons,” You grumble good-naturedly and force yourself to sit up.

Hank surprises you by butting his big head in your chest and knocking you back down. It takes the wind out of you, and you send a half-hearted glare at the big lug, “Hey. What was that about?”

The shaggy dog whines, not wanting his human up in fear of spreading the hot, sick scent that he can still smell. You break easily when Sukuna teams up with him and steps on your chest, making a round of biscuits and then lying down. You shove one hand into his fluffy orange fur and then the other into Hank’s grey, tangled locks. You have half a thought of brushing him soon before your stuffy brain is making you go back to sleep.

Sukuna shares a look with his older brother when a soft wheeze spills out of your chest. This is not good. Their human was sick and the other humans who liked to show up were not here, and probably would not be back for a while. The dark-haired one that smelled like steel and old books had left only a week ago.

It’s hours later that you wake again, and luckily, Hank allows you to get up when you express the need to go to the bathroom. He knows what that word means, but still diligently followed after you when you got out of bed because he is a good boy. Sukuna flees to the kitchen, selfish enough to beg for food now that his human is out of bed for now.

You wash your face after doing your business and look at yourself in the mirror. You look like utter shit, face flushed and skin pale as a ghost from whatever sickness that has a hold of you. You sniff and blow your nose a couple of times, hurting your throat even more each time. A cup of tea sounds like a grand idea, so you shuffle to the kitchen and put on the kettle. You choose a nice chamomile and load the cup up with the honey that Dracule had gifted you not too long ago. A lemon slice is next, another gift, though the lemon tree had come from Shanks on his third visit to your island.

Speaking of the redhead, it’s been a while since you’ve seen the other man. You assume that his Emperor business is keeping him busy, but you still kinda miss the older man. He always knew how to make you laugh. Gullt curls in you at the thought, but you shove it away and remember the talk that you and Dracule had on his last visit.

Mihawk had assured you several times that he and Shanks had come to some sort of agreement. They would more or less stay out of one another business unless there was a shared concern about your well-being. Dracule had basically given you his permission to seek comfort and companionship in Shanks when the warlord could not be there.

You still didn’t really know what to think of the idea that Shanks and Mihawk had spoken about you while you weren’t there, and you know that neither of them had come completely clean about whatever deal they had going on.

What you did know was that something fundamental had changed between the two men, but honestly, you didn’t much care about all the details. If they were happy, then you were happy. You didn’t know what you would do with yourself if either man stopped coming to your island, and just the thought of being alone like that makes agony tighten around your heart. You’ve known Mihawk for over a year now, and the reclusive man had slowly opened up to you during that time. He was a friend, a lover, a protector, and you loved him.

Of course, you haven’t told him yet, you’re not so much an idiot to bring the L word into the equation, not when the very notion made fear strike through you like lightning. You wouldn’t ruin what you have going on with him, not unless he said those three words first. You just couldn’t risk being that lonely again.

And Shanks? That mischievous man had wiggled his way into your daily thoughts and heart, fast. His easygoing attitude is so different from Mihawk's, but no less enjoyable to be around.

A loud meow right in your ear has you jerking out of your thoughts. Sukuna stands on the counter, big golden eyes narrowed as he meows loud enough for it to echo in the house. You wave him away and apologize for not being fast enough to meet his majesty’s needs.

You feed Sukuna his usual dish and a little extra for being patient with you this morning and then go outside to do the same for Hank. He whines when you step outside, but his food easily distracts him so that you can go check on Neal and the three chickens. You really need to give them names, you feel bad that it’s been this long.

Neal bleats a greeting when he catches sight of his human, and you laugh when he digs into your loose dress for any snacks to be found. You gently steer his the other way, fixing up his feed and water before leaving them to it. You stoke your fireplace and settle in on the couch with a new cup of tea, blankets bundled high around you.

You still feel awful, and a deep ache has settled in the middle of your back, but the satisfaction of doing something keeps any bad thoughts away. Sukuna and Hank find their way back to your side whenever they finish, bullying you into lying down so that they can cuddle with you on the couch. It works, for you are back to sleep in no time, dead to the world.

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

Three days later, It’s Neal who hears the sound of loud laughter and the soft thuds of crates hitting the sand down at the beach. He waits until he can see a familiar silhouette trudging up the footpath to his home, hoofs stomping when he realizes that it’s the red-haired one, and not the one with the tasty-looking hat. Neal bleats a warning, loud enough that it gets the attention of Hank who comes bounding out the door.

Shanks grins when Hank runs to meet him, the shaggy dog jumping up to place his paws on his chest and whining in his face, “Hey, big guy. You seem excited to see me.”

He pets the dog for half a second before Hank jumps down and trots into the cottage. He turns and whines again at Shanks, big eyes demanding the other man to hurry up. Shanks frowns and picks up his pace, entering the cottage with a frown when he notices that you are not up and about like usual. It was midday, but the house was silent as a grave.

The emperor winds his way through the house, following Hank until he reaches your bedroom. He doesn’t hesitate to step inside, and his chest seizes when he sees the pitiful bundle of blankets and pillows that lie on the bed. He can hardly see you, only your hair making your whereabouts known in the mess on the bed. Hank whines at his feet, paws tip-tapping on the floor in his distress.

“How long has she been this way buddy?” Shanks asks out loud and doesn’t receive an answer, not that he was expecting to. He steps to the side of the bed, knee sliding on the mattress as he reaches over and pulls the blanket closest to your face down.

“Babygirl?” Shanks murmurs and slides his hand along your jaw, hissing when he finds your skin literally ice cold. His hand throbs when he pulls away and he wipes the frost off on his pants leg. Gods, no wonder you were bundled up like you were.

You groan when he pulls away, your body seeking any amount of warmth and your voice is nothing but a croak when you speak, “Who?”

Shanks slides his hand back to your cheek, uncaring of the cold when he hears how loopy you sound. He wonders if this is how your devil fruit is reacting to you having a fever. Freezing you to the bone instead of warming you. Mihawk would know how to answer that better than he could.

“It’s me, sweetheart. It’s Shanks. Think you can tell me what’s wrong?” Shanks shifted more onto the bed, crowding you close in hopes that he could warm you up a little, “You’re freezing, way more than usual, Baby.”

“Dunno. Thought it was a cold, “ You slowly slur as you focus on the handsome man above you. You grin up at him, chest losing one kind of ache now that one of them is here, “Shanks, how was your trip?”

Shanks scoffs at you, eyes rolling skyward as worry curdles tight in his stomach. How could you be asking him questions like that when you looked like a zombie come to life, “It was fine, silly. Don’t worry about that right now. Tell me what I can do to help you get better.”

Before you can speak, a shiver wracks your body so hard that it leaves your body shivering, teeth chattering and frost creeping up your neck. Shanks jerks his hand back before the dangerous frost can touch him, anxiety curling up when he spots the fear lingering in your eyes. You swallow and curl further in your blanket next, “I don’t know, Shanks. I- I don’t have any medicine. I didn’t think that someone like me could get sick!”

You don’t have any books on devil fruit users, had no idea how to deal with how your body works sometimes even though you’ve had this horrible power since before you came to this island. You’d always resented the devil fruit inside of you, having never been taught how to properly use your logia abilities.

Shanks licks his lips. He was out of his depth here. None of his crew had a devil fruit. They’d fought plenty of men and women on the grand line who used them, but Shanks never had the responsibility to know any more than he needed to know about them.

“That’s alright, Babygirl. We’ll figure it out together, okay?” Shanks assured you and went to rise off the bed only for your hand to shoot out and wrap around his wrist. He looks at you and sees the fever lingering in your eyes, so he changes tactics and shifts to lay down on his side, curling you against his chest, and tossing his arm over your waist to pull you in close. You snuggle close, grateful for the heat that slowly seeps past your blankets.

Shanks thinks quickly for a solution. He would need to move later, go check on his crew, and see if his crew’s doctor could help with any of this. If that didn’t work then the redhead would call the one person would would most likely know what to do, and Shanks couldn’t help the excitement that erupted at the thought of having his two treasures in the same room together. Despite the situation, it was a chance that Shanks couldn’t pass up.

He wanted to see how the two of you looked curled up together. Wanted to watch the sweet way Mihawk would kiss you and how you would open up to him in kind.

Turns out that Shanks wouldn’t have to go anywhere, for Benn came to check up on him when he didn’t return after so long. He knocked on the doorframe before peeking his head inside after Shanks told them it was fine.

Benn took one look at your pitiful state and then left to go grab Hongo. The doctor of the crew was able to suggest the proper things than most medical professionals could for what looked like the common cold gone bad, but even he became stumped when it came to the problem of her devil fruit.

“In a way, It’s preventing her fever from getting too bad, internally at least, but it's also inhibiting the growth of any fresh, healthy cells and bacteria that are trying to get rid of the virus. She needs medicine Captain, and I doubt that I’d be stocked up with what she needs.”

Shanks sighs heavily from where he sits on your bed, hand behind him to keep hold of your own. You had refused to let go of him, and Shanks didn’t have it in him to leave your side.

“Bring me my transponder, I need to make a call,” Shanks ordered and Benn left to go find the snail as Hongo packed up his medical bag.

“Keep her hydrated captain. She needs food too, nothing too solid or hard on her stomach,” Hongo advised and then he was gone too.

Now alone, Shanks rolls back over, looking down at your scrunched face even in sleep. He smiles and leans down, balanced on his knees so that he can place a quick kiss on your brow, “Don’t worry, Baby. We’ve got you. You’ll be better soon.”

Benn leaves again when he brings Shanks the snail, though he reminds his friend to call if he needs anything. Shanks had given him a grateful nod and then focused on the transponder, licking his lips as he dialed the number he’d never forgotten.

Ca-Lick

“There aren’t many people who know this number, who is this?” Dracule sounds furious, and Shanks can hear the sound of shouting and battle in the background, “This better be good.”

The Emperor takes the dive, “Mihawk, it’s Shanks.”

The silence on the other end, at least from Dracule, is deafening. It’s only been a month or so since Mihawk had tracked the other man down. He can feel the panic on the other side, and quickly continues, “It’s _, She’s sick, Mihawk, and we don’t have the kind of medicine that she needs.”

Shanks hears a sudden explosion and then the probable death of whoever it was that Dracule had been fighting. Arousal swirls inappropriately when he listens to Mihawk wields Yoru, and Shanks longs for a time before when he could watch Dracule fight whenever he wanted. The sounds of battle fade away after a moment, and when the warlord speaks next, Shanks can hear the worry lacing every word.

“What do you mean she’s sick? What is wrong with her?” Mihawk had left your island a week and a half ago, and you had seemed just fine then, so what had happened?

Shanks quickly explains the problem, and Dracule wracks his brain for a solution, though one seems unlikely until Shanks mentions that the devil fruit is the problem. He focuses on that, licking his lips as he debates with himself.

Haki users like Shanks and himself were logia users' worst nightmare since haki could bypass their powers. Could Shanks negate yours long enough that normal medicine and treatment could work? But that could take days to work, especially with just one of them, and Mihawk refused to let someone else from Redhair’s crew get that close to you. Garp would be pissed that he was leaving his assignment half-finished, but Mihawk could care less. His angel and Shanks needed him.

“Dracule? Is everything okay?” Shanks’ voice brings him back to the present and Drcule straightens up even if the redhead couldn’t see him. He didn’t like how his body had warmed up at the concern he could hear swimming in the other man’s tone.

“Fine, Shanks. I have an idea.” He informs the redhead then hears Shanks shuffle on the other side of the phone, and realizes that he had to be near you, “Let me speak with her.”

The emperor shifts so that you are comfortably lying across his chest and can be closer to the transponder snail. You open blurry eyes and sniff harshly, “Mihawk?”

“There’s my angel,” Dracule coos over the phone, tone soft and full of affection for the young woman, “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit, but Shanks helps,” Comes your blunt reply and Mihawk can’t help the snort of laughter that leaves him. He still feels that jealous sting at knowing the redhead is the one holding you, but it’s not nearly as bad as it used to be. Damn, Shanks and his ability to get into people’s good graces, his included.

“Then I am glad he is there for once,” Mihawk quips dryly and fixes his hat, “I’m going to have Shanks try something, Darling. He’s going to try and coat your body in haki. If that works, then your devil fruit shouldn’t be a problem. That way, your immune system can fight off any infection, and you’ll start feeling better.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” You slur, already half asleep by the time he has finished his explanation. Thankfully, you have a redhead who has taken his duty as a caregiver very seriously.

“This is why I called you, Dracule. You always know what to do,” Shanks praises quietly, voice laced with sincerity. The other man is quiet on the other end, but Shanks doesn’t mind, it just means that he’d surprised him.

“Just do what I said, you fool,” Mihawk grumbles quietly, “Have Hongo come back and give her some medicine, whatever you have in stock should work once her body is coated. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The smile on Shanks’ face is nothing but fond, and he nods even though Mihawk can’t see, “Sure. Be safe, We’ll be waiting for you.”

You call a weak goodbye to Dracule, lucid enough to hear that he is coming back, and then you are gone again, body weak and exhausted from fighting off the growing virus. Shanks curls around you, focusing on weaving his haki over your body until you are completely coated by his will.

Shanks doesn’t know how to describe the way it feels to have someone so intimately twined within his will. He can feel everything, every twitch of a muscle, every shallow breath you take. It’s almost overwhelming. However, it seems to be working.

The frost that has been ever-present has slowly begun to melt away, leaving the blankets damp and uncomfortable, but Shanks feels victorious. He calls for Hongo, and the doctor is back in the cottage in a flash and tells his captain that whatever he is doing, he needs to keep it up. Shanks easily nods, curling around you and focusing on keeping his haki a consistent stream to regulate your body. It’s harder than it looks, and Shanks is very glad that Mihawk is coming.

----------

You are still loopy and out of it when Dracule arrives two days later, pushing his ship as hard as he can and catching every tailwind he can navigate to speed up the process. Even though your body had regulated itself into something more human than logia, the process of recovery was slow going. The Red Haired crew greets the warlord when he makes landfall, but Mihawk is in too much of a hurry to return the greeting.

He darts up the path and into his home, stopping long enough to toss his boots, hat, and coat off, and then Mihawk is creaking open your bedroom door, ringed eyes landing on the bed. What he seems makes him choke up, but in a way he hadn’t expected.

It’s not anger that he feels upon seeing you curled up in bed with Shanks, blankets tangled around both of you as the redhead holds you to his chest. Your face is pressed into his chest, mouth open in a soft snore that has Mihawk’s lips curling at the sides. Shanks turns his face just enough to catch sight of the older man and send him a weary grin, and it definitely isn’t jealousy that Mihawk feels. No, it is satisfaction, at seeing the two people he cared for most in this world curled up together in the too-small bed.

Dracule shuffles to the other side of the bed and lays on his side, boxing you in between the two men. He can feel the way Shanks’ haki coats you and his own reaches out to glide along the redheads, curling protectively around you and Shanks both. He jumps when he feels a hand land on his waist and glances over you to see Shanks grinning, that familiar teasing look in his eye.

You wake between them before Mihawk can puff up about the sudden invasion of space, and his attention is quickly drawn to you. You yawn, and then roll, opening your eyes to see another body beside you that isn’t Shanks. A blush floods your face when you realize that Mihawk is there, his magma-like body pressed close to your own.

You latch onto him, arms coming up to wind around his neck as you bury your face in his neck. Mihawk tightens his grip on you, kissing your brow as you sniffle into his chest and ramble about how much you missed him. He glances up and catches Shanks watching, a fond, though possessive look in his dark eyes.

“Thank you for looking after her,” Mihawk whispers once you’ve quieted down. It pains him to admit it, but you would have been so much worse off if Shanks had never shown up.

“Don’t thank me for something I wanted to do, Baby,” Shanks says and pulls at Mihawk from where his hand still rests on his side. The older man looks exhausted, and Shanks knows that the warlord pushed himself since the phone call, “Sleep, Mihawk. I’ve got you.”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax

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coqxettee · 10 months

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Coquette Summer

Bucket List: ☀️🧺🌸

Some ideas for your summer 2023 bucket list. Coquette activities, trips, days out and things you can do with friends or alone. Write these ideas in your journal and make your own bucket list if you like! <3

Go on a picnic ~ You can do this with friends or on your own! Take an aesthetic picnic blanket and basket, pack fruit, sandwiches, salad, cookies, cupcakes (whatever you like!) and have a Coquette picnic. Dress cute for the occasion and make sure to take lots of pictures <3

Host a Tea Party ~ Invite friends over and decorate your dining table with a pretty tablecloth. Grab fancy cups and saucers (you can find these in antique stores, or better yet a whole tea set complete with a tea pot!) and have a tea party. Drink rose or jasmine tea, have scones, bread & jam, miniature sandwiches, cookies/biscuits, cake. You could even do it Marie Antoinette, high-tea inspired. Dress all regency and cute and make it the fanciest, coquette, tea party ever! <3

Beach day ~ Grab your heart shaped sunnies and have a beach day! Bring a pink towel with you, a large pretty sun-hat, and make sure you pack all the pretty-girl beach essentials. Tanning lotion, a romance novel, fresh fruit, a blanket to sit on (if you don’t have a deck chair) sun cream (spf) lipgloss, a hair brush, and your camera to snap some cute beach shots! Walk down the boardwalk, listen to Lana and grab an ice cream, wear pink flip flops and a cute pink and white gingham bikini <3

Berry picking ~ Wear the most dreamy, float cottage-core, princess dress, a large sun hat and take a wicker basket with you to go berry picking. You can book a slot online and go into a local field. Take pictures and pick ripe berries to take home with you, ready to use for baking later on in the week <3

Baking day ~ Wear a cute little apron, put Lana on your record player in the kitchen and have a baking day! Bake cherry pie, heart-shaped cookies, jam cookies, chocolate-chip cookies, scones, cupcakes, an actual cake… anything and everything! Take cute photos when you bake, it can be great to make memories with friends. Once you’ve baked all your sweet treats, package them up and choose some to give to friends and family, some for later occasions (picnics & tea-parties) and most importantly… some for you! <3

Go to a market ~ If you live in the country there are loads of cute farmers markets on in summer. Keep some money back with you, wear a long, flowing style skirt and a bow in your hair and take a cute tote-bag to keep everything you buy in. Look for small Coquette trinkets on some of the handmade stalls, buy fresh fruit and lemonade for lunch and have a slow, relaxing day at the market <3

Antique shopping ~ Go antique shipping. For your room or house. You can find so many beautiful, Coquette homeware items, clothes, trinkets, jewelry and much more in antique shops. Google the best ones in your area, set aside a day, and go <3

Try out new café’s in your area - Google fancy café’s or even café’s that do afternoon tea. You could go with friends or have a solo cafe trip. Bring a book with you if you go on your own, to read. Or a sketchbook to sketch the world around you. Try something new on the menu! <3

Coquette movie day ~ Plump out your bedroom or living room with pink pillows, fairy lights, candles and lavender room spray. Put on the comfiest pair of pajamas you have Grab snacks, popcorn, anything you baked earlier in the week, fresh fruit (anything you like!) And have a whole day of watching JUST coquette movies. Disney princess films, any period drama’s, any mystical and magical movies, romance movies. Movies that are super light-hearted and make you feel like the princess you are inside. This is really fun to do with friends too! <3

Jewelry making ~ Learn how to make prettt, coquette jewelry. I always see such cute jewelry online and want to know if I can make it myself. The kits might be a bit pricy to buy, but once you’ve built up a jewelry making collection your all set! Make some summer earrings, necklaces, and bracelets <3

Learn to Crochet ~ Something I have wanted to learn for ages! There are tons of tutorials on YouTube and you can pick up pretty colored yarn from the market. If you are really good you can crochet things for the summer like tank tops, bikini sets and headbands! <3

Start a summer journal ~ Or just start journaling in general. I’m making a summer journal full of scrapbook pages I can add all of my coquette summer pictures too when summer is over. Decorate it with coquette stickers and really make it your own. Get creative <3

Have a self care day ~ It’s not sunny everyday in Summer (usually) so set aside one of the cloudier or cooler days for a movie day, or self care day! Wake up early and have an everything shower, and take care of YOU! Do a face mask, manicure, pedicure, do every step to your skincare routine, wash and remake your bed, tidy your room. By the end of the day you will feel like a new person and trust me it’S WORTH IT! <3

Have a sleepover ~ You kinda need friends for this one. I’m sure everyone knows how to have one but do really coquette activities! Paint each others nails, style each others hair, Watch coquette movies, talk about boys. All the classic things you see in the girly movies that you feel never actually get done at sleepovers… do them! Order pizza, do face masks, bake things, and stay up as late as possible for a… midnight feast! <3

-HERE ARE SOME MORE IDEAS! <3 -

Re-decorate your room for summer <3

Go on vacation <3

Go bowling <3

Cute cinema trip (watch a romantic movie) <3

Go to a fancy restaurant <3

Make a summer scrapbook <3

Plan cute summer outfits for the weeks ahead <3

Try out new summer hairstyles <3

Go to a milkshake-bar/diner <3

Go roller-skating <3

Go to the arcade

Find some pretty summer walks in your area, take pictures of wildlife you spot etc <3

Go to a farm (farmers daughter vibes iykyk) <3

Go to the theatre and watch the ballet <3

Have a signature, coquette summer scent <3

Write in your daily summer diary every night and seal it with a lipstick kiss <3

I hope you found these ideas helpful, aesthetic and fun! Have the best summer ever darling’s ~

🌸☀️🧺🍦🎀

#baby pink #coquette #coquette aesthetic #lana del rey #girly pink #girly #girly aesthetic #girly girl #girly kei #girly stuff #summer #summer bucket list

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tj-dragonblade · 2 months

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[FLUFFBRUARY FIC] Love, Rain Down on Me

Rated: M Word Count: 2272 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2024, fluff, human AU, writer!Dream, professor!Hob, stargazing, care packages, acts of service, kisses in the rain, realizations, confessions, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus loves Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, 5+1 fic

Notes: Final entry for Fluffbruary 2024; turns out I wasn't done with this Umbrella Boys AU just yet. Shoutout to @academicblorbo for asking about Dream's pov and suggesting the first 'I love you' as an idea; my brain said 'Oh yes' 1489-Hob-style and while this is not exactly what I first envisioned, I'm still happy with where we ended up.

Fluffbruary Prompts: Day 25: fox twilight sweat Day 26: fluff woolly care package Day 27: table blush laundry Day 28: reward shelter piano Day 29: breakfast valley sign alt prompts: wish hot solid

Summary: 5 times those Three Little Words go unspoken, and one time they do not

On AO3

1. The first time Dream realizes it, Hob has taken him to the astronomy department at the college, after hours, to look at the stars. "Gale lent me the key," Hob had laughed when Dream expressed trepidation about breaking into Hob's place of work. "I'm allowed to come moon over the stars sometimes, and I'm allowed to bring you with me if I want."

So they are taking turns looking through the telescope, peering into the perpetual twilight of the heavens and marveling at the beauty that cannot be properly seen with the naked eye nor from within the light-polluted aura of the city. Hob laughs when Dream observes as much. "Maybe come end of summer we'll take a drive out of the city, camp out for a night in the countryside and do some real stargazing. Sound good?"

And Dream looks at him, this beautiful man squinting up at the skies through his colleague's telescope, the way his hair falls around his face, the scruff of his three-week-old beard and the elegant line of his nose, this beautiful man who offers anything he thinks Dream might like as if it's nothing. Hob has shared with him the woes of past breakups, the consensus that he is too intense, moves too fast, is too much to put up with, and he has admonished Dream to please please tell him if he ever oversteps or pushes too hard, too far because he is trying to do better, but all Dream can think in this moment is how warm he feels in Hob's affections, how priveleged to receive his time and attention.

I love this man, he realizes, like camellias blossoming beneath his ribs, like the sun breaking over the horizon.

"Dream?" Hob is looking at him now instead of the stars, eyebrows raised, mouth curved in a patiently-amused smile.

"That. Would be lovely," Dream answers at last, smiling warmly back at Hob, and cradles his newfound revelation close in the hollow of his chest.

2. The second time, Hob is away at a conference and Dream has emerged from a morning of fitful writing to discover a neatly-wrapped package delivered for him, tied with a ruby red bow. His sister has brought it up and left it by his door rather than interrupting his writing time, as they've agreed. Upon opening it, he finds a letter from Hob atop an airtight plastic container.

Hey Dream, reads the letter, just wanted to say that I'll miss you while I'm gone and can't wait to lavish you with sweet kisses when I get back. Meantime, I made you some of those lavender-rosemary-lemon biscuits you love and here's my shirt you can sleep with if you want. Enjoy ~♥

Delighted by the package and the letter and the biscuits, and the intent behind them, Dream lifts the container out of the box; beneath it, there is a compact umbrella nestled in what turns out to be one of Hob's favorite t-shirts, worn just enough to smell like him. Dream presses it to his face and inhales, absurdly touched, and smiles as he picks up the umbrella.

Of course Hob has sent him an umbrella; that is their 'thing', that is how they met, and he is also terrible at remembering to bring one with him. Tied to the handle he finds a piece of card stock about the size of his palm, with a drawing penciled on one side. It's a rough cartoon figure that is recognizably Hob, smiling brightly and holding a sunny yellow cocktail umbrella that has been carefully attached through the card so that Hob's penciled hand appears to grasp the toothpick handle. Don't forget! says his speech bubble, and Dream feels tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as his smile grows too wide for his face to contain.

I love you, Hob Gadling, he thinks, both hands wrapped around the umbrella, and presses his lips gently to cartoon-Hob's precious happy little face.

3. "You did not have to do my washing, Hob," Dream protests, somewhat futilely as the deed is already done, dried, and being folded. "I am a grown man, capable of doing my own laundry." Never mind that his clothes had been accumulating in Hob's flat all week while he worked through additional revisions to The Seeds of Fate; Hob's space was conducive to this particular story, he found, and Hob was generous in allowing him to hole up here during the day while Hob was at work and on into the evenings when he returned, overnight when Dream wished it.

Hob shrugs. "They were here, I had a load of darks, they fit. Don't worry, my washing powder's the allergy-free stuff and I checked your tags for temps and such. Which reminds me." He sets the black jeans he just folded aside, takes up a pair of his own. "Your fancy lace shirt's hanging in the shower; hand washed it in cold just like it said and put it up to drip-dry."

Dream is keenly struck by the soft warmth of Hob choosing to do mundane everyday chores for him, taking care with his things, simply because he wants to and he can. It is not new, by any means; Hob has engaged in little acts of service the whole of the time Dream has been acquainted with him, from the very moment he first offered shared use of his umbrella to Dream. The domesticity of this moment settles something deep within him, something that sings of home and happiness and contentment.

"Hob Gadling, you are a chivalrous and wonderful man," he says, when what he means is I love you. "Truly, you make my life so much easier." He comes close, presses a kiss to Hob's cheek.

Hob just smiles, soft and warm and pleased, and continues folding his laundry. "You're welcome, duck. My pleasure."

4. "Here, take ours," Hob says, handing his umbrella to the woman with the toddler at the bus stop as the skies open up.

"Oh I couldn't!" Her eyes dart from the umbrella (which Hob is of course holding over her and her child) to Dream and back to Hob. "That's very kind, but then you'll get soaked!"

"We're not far," Hob assures, pressing the umbrella into her hand. "I insist. We'll be fine."

"Well…if you're quite certain?" She clutches it gratefully.

"Of course. Take care." Hob offers a friendly smile, the kind that makes his nose scrunch up adorably, and they turn to leave.

"Thank you!" the woman calls after them.

Dream finds that he doesn't mind the rain, is not inclined to run for shelter, not with Hob beside him, not when their getting soaked is because Hob does not hesitate to offer kindness to strangers. It gives him a warm glow inside, to know that he loves a man who works to put kindness out into the world, to brighten the days of those around him when he can. Damp clothes and wet hair are a small price to pay, and the summer rain is not so cold.

Halfway to Hob's flat, Dream steps around in front of him and drapes his arms behind Hob's neck. "That was a very kind thing you did," he murmurs, stepping backwards, drawing Hob with him so they do not stop moving onward. It is very much like a slow sort of dance down the street, and Hob's arms wrapping about his waist only heighten that impression.

"Yeah?" Hob shrugs, smiling. "She needed it." Like it is truly that simple.

To Hob, it is.

Dream kisses him, pressing close while the rain falls upon them. "Not many would give up their own comfort for a stranger." His lips brush Hob's with the words and then Hob is drawing him back in, warm, hungry. Dream fancies he can taste the rain, between them.

"Not a hardship, not when I've got you to keep me company," Hob finally says, nipping softly at his lips, water dripping steadily from a loose lock of hair.

"Such things you say." Dream is intoxicated with the moment, the atmosphere, the swelling of feeling he holds for this man and the tender warmth in Hob's eyes gazing back at him while the skies wash the world around them in soft hazy grey.

I love you, he thinks, kissing Hob again, pulling him close in the falling rain, I love you, I love you, I LOVE you—

5. He thinks it next when he is tangled with Hob in his bed, breathless and sweating and coming apart in Hob's practiced hands, when every time Hob moves within him he is crying out, starlight bursting behind his eyes.

He thinks it as Hob shivers to a halt, pulsing hot inside him, trembling in his arms.

He thinks it laying in Hob's embrace after, Hob's chest solid and warm beneath his ear, rising gently with each of Hob's sleeping breaths. I love you, I love you, I love you, he whispers in his head, in time with the steady beat of Hob's heart, and lets himself drift to sleep, content.

One day, one day when the moment is right, he will say it aloud; until then, he hoards it like a precious secret safe in his heart.

+1 Dream wakes on Sunday with a groan, protesting the sunbeams that have found his face; they had not closed Hob's bedroom curtains last night and he is paying the price for this oversight now.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Hob says, leaning on one elbow beside Dream with his head propped in his hand. He is supremely unbothered by the brightness, leading Dream to surmise he awoke some time ago.

"You are watching me sleep, now? You will not convince me that it is entertaining." He blinks once, twice, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Entertaining is not the word, no, but I do enjoy it. You're so pretty when you're asleep, soft and relaxed and at peace. I love that I get to see it." Hob smiles, reaches to trace a fingertip down his cheekbone. "Was trying to decide what to make you for breakfast, actually."

Dream squirms onto his back, throws an arm over his eyes, stretches his toes. "You need not make such effort—" He cuts himself off with a jaw-cracking yawn.

"You're worth it, though," Hob says easily, and Dream rolls his head to the side, meets Hob's eyes again. The sun is striking them exactly right, illuminating the depths of the brown to amber, honey.

He is so beautiful.

"Very well." Dream smiles, indulgent, lazy. "What will you be offering to please my discerning palette?"

"Fry you up an egg and a couple slices of bread? Tomato too, if you want. Blueberry jam for your toast and your sweet tooth. And if you're hungry enough, a nice hot juicy sausage?" He waggles his eyebrows.

Dream arches one of his own in return, and Hob grins. "Yeah alright, that's for later. But I will cook you actual sausage too if you like."

"I will take actual sausage with breakfast, yes, and 'sausage' when I am awake enough to enjoy it." He swings himself out of Hob's bed and makes his way to the toilet, the warm sound of Hob's laughter following him.

By the time he wanders into the kitchen, having donned his pants and a t-shirt of Hob's, bare feet and bare legs and bare arms because he's comfortable and because he knows Hob likes it, Hob has sausages and tomatoes frying in one pan with eggs and bread in another. He's tied an apron over his bare chest and joggers, captured most of his hair in an elastic band, is whistling cheerfully over the stovetop with a spatula in hand. The kettle is going, and Dream retrieves two mugs from the cupboard.

He preps Hob's tea once it's steeped, a quarter the milk and sugar that he puts in his own, and offers it to Hob to taste once he's finished plating their breakfast.

"Perfect," Hob pronounces, handing it back and picking up the plates to carry to the table. "Why's it always taste best when you make it?"

"I infuse it with my charming personality," Dream quips, deadpan, and Hob huffs a laugh.

"God, I love you," he says, his smile still broad, bright enough to rival the morning sun outside the kitchen window; and then he stills.

Dream, too, has gone still; Hob has never said those words to him before, and it sets something joyful and effervescent singing through his veins.

Hob loves him.

But Hob is shrinking in on himself, just a little, as if he could hide behind the plates in his hands and the apron he wears—every inch the man who fears (too much too fast I always come on too strong) the consequence of words he had not intended to speak aloud. Dream will be sad about this later, that he has failed somehow to make clear to Hob beyond the shadow of any doubt how welcome his affections are, how endearing his intensity, and he will vow to do better; but now, in the moment, with his heart soaring, the solution is simple, so simple, as easy as breathing.

He has never said the words aloud either, but they are as familiar to him as the beating of his own heart and they are spoken with as little effort.

"And I love you, Hob Gadling." He leans over the corner of the table, kisses Hob soft and sweet on his blossoming smile. "Now, where is my blueberry jam?"

= Started: 2/26/24 Drafted: 2/29/24 Posted: 2/29/24

The lavender-rosemary-lemon cookies were first written by @softest-punk and then brought to life by @carnelianmeluha; you can find the original fic and the recipe via this link One day I will brave my utter dearth of kitchen skill and make these myself. One day.

#TJs Fics #Fluffbruary 2024 #TJs Fluffbruary #Dreamling #Sandman #wip: umbrella boys 2

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magicalcelestialgem · 1 month

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The Smiling Critters - CatNap Headcanons & AU info

Heyyy! I have drawn CatNap in my style/AU! I suck at poses still. And following below is some CatNap headcanons/AU info.

A little info before looking at the headcanon and AU info below:

The Smiling Critters are young adults in the AU (currently unnamed). This is CatNap as a young adult (20 years old). Art of him in his younger years will appear later in the future.

The AU will be focused primarily in the cartoon universe, with a few elements from the game.

Because the AU is still in the works, some of these planned infos/headcanons will change.

There will be ships involved, especially CatNap x DogDay.

And that’s it for now! Next would be our favorite sun dog!

Toon/Cardboard CatNap Headcanons (Game)

Headcanon Voice: Benjamin Diskin

Sounds like: Jack from Beastars, Haida from Aggretsuko

Headcanon cardboard cutout lines:

Hey, there! My name is CatNap! Have you been getting enough rest?

Oh. You haven’t? Well, sleep is very important for you!

I can help you go to sleep.

I can even you make your dreams come true!

All you have to do… is follow him…

*soft exhale*

🌙 AU Info 🌙

CatNap and DogDay lived pretty far away from each other when they were young.

CatNap is the quiet and reserved type and rarely talks. But when someone asks or tells him to talk, he talks. He talks a little more when DogDay is with him. He is only more talkative when he’s alone. Example:

🌸 CraftyCorn 🌸: Hey, CatNap! What do you think of my lavender painting?

🌙 CatNap 🌙: *thumbs up* Good.

☀️ DogDay ☀️: Hey, CatNap! How are you doing?

🌙 CatNap 🌙: *tiredly, but still smiling* I’m doing alright, DogDay? And you?

CatNap was DogDay’s very first friend. They met in elementary school. CatNap was a loner and many kids did not want to hang out with him because he was “too creepy.” DogDay was the one who insisted that he will be CatNap’s first friend. Ever since then, the dog and cat have been inseparable.

CatNap and DogDay kept in touch when they were in high school. Unfortunately, the two were in separate high schools, but they never stopped talking to each other. It’s mostly through letters as they did not have phones at the time.

CatNap slowly began to develop feelings for DogDay throughout his high school years. He gave the dog small hints and signs, but DogDay was so oblivious and dense.

CatNap left with DogDay to their new homes because not only did DogDay request he come with him, but CatNap also felt like he was ready to move out and be on his own. Not to mention weird dreams he had of a voice telling him to go with DogDay.

When DogDay and CatNap went to the mysterious land, they found their new homes. And their new pendents.

After he walked into the mysterious land, CatNap was secretly happy that his new house and DogDay’s new house are close to each other. And also the fact that his house is a cat tree and he is allowed to scratch on it.

Ever since he moved into his new house, he spent most of the day, sleeping in his new comfortable bed.

Every time CatNap visits each one of his friends’ homes and sees where they sleep, he feels tempted to save up all of his money and buy every single one of them a comfortable bed or something that can be like a bed.

CatNap, just like what his bio says, enjoys watching his friends sleep. He makes sure everyone has a good night’s rest. That includes making sure they have a nightmare-free sleep, and as he stays up, he keeps watch over his friends. Protecting them through the night. And when dawn breaks, he turns in for the day.

He loves to knead DogDay’s belly. His fur is so soft and smells of vanilla, he cannot resist making biscuits.

CatNap acts like a cat a lot. He even loafs, sleeps in such strange (yet cute) positions, and even has cat body language (slow blinking at DogDay, tail up to show he’s happy/friendly, dilating white pupils once he spots a perfect target to pounce on). And he can land on his feet.

CatNap likes to sit and sleep in boxes, sit in anything he can fit in, and pretty much sit where he wants. Why? Because he wants to and it’s comfortable.

He even said one time, “If I fits, I sits.”

One time, Bobby BearHug just hugged DogDay while CatNap was nearby. After Bobby let him go and left, CatNap just quietly went to DogDay and rubbed himself against the dog’s side like how a cat rubs itself on things, mixing his lavender scent into DogDay’s vanilla scent.

Add onto the fact that CatNap can smell who hugged/touched who. PickyPiggy is a bit of a tough one since she eats many different foods, even peppermint candies and vanilla dessert.

Ever since CatNap walked into the land that will soon become his new home and neighborhood, he has been given two breath abilities. One is lavender, but the red gas came as a last resort if someone keeps staying up late, but it also comes out if he has ill intent, negative emotions, or is under stress. Following that is magical powers, since he was chosen to represent the Moon and all of its aspects (Night, Sleep, Dreams, and Darkness).

#catnap #catnap x dogday #dogday #dogday x catnap #the smiling critters #the smiling critters headcanons #smiling critters #smiling critters au #The Protectors of Joy AU

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ralkana · 1 month

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Dreamling Lemon Lavender Rosemary Biscuits!

These are SO delicious!

So first @softest-punk wrote a fic called Catching Up, where Hob bakes some lemon lavender rosemary biscuits for the New Inn, and newly-returned Dream greatly enjoys them. It was one of the first maybe dozen Dreamling fics I read, around Christmas time, and really helped to set my new obsession!

Then @carnelianmeluha baked the biscuits!

Then @tj-dragonblade wrote a fic called Love, Rain Down on Me for her Umbrella Boys series, where Hob bakes the same biscuits for Dream while they're apart.

And @carnelianmeluha baked the biscuits again!

And so, I was inspired. I used a slightly different recipe than @carnelianmeluha's because they are a surprise for @ladytian, my bestie and partner in crime, who dragged me into Dreamling with her enthusiasm, and she loves shortbread. The recipe I used didn't have lemon, so I added some lemon zest and lemon juice. More zest next time, I think, because I will definitely be making these again. They're so yummy!

Here's a few more process pics and pics of the finished goods!

#dreamling #baking #fanfiction recipes #centennial husbands #adventures in fandom

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thisblogisaboutabook · 4 months

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Cowboy Like Me - Part 3

Azriel x Reader

Part three of my fic inspired by the queens of my heart, Taylor Swift and Sarah J. Maas.

Warnings: Language, references to SA

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

“At least one of you has the agility of a spy.” The grey eyed beauty tsk’d.

A smug look of satisfaction flickered across my face. “I swear he wasn’t this clumsy when we danced on the pleasure barge.”

Nesta smirked, “He wasn’t this clumsy when we danced in the Court of Nightmares either.”

Azriel’s features contorted into that of mock offense. “I missed ONE step.”

My eyes rolled back. “Yeah, tell that to my poor foot that your one missed step landed on.”

Nesta and I both giggled before Azriel finally stated “Okay, we’re done here.” turning around leaving the two of us behind.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, “Don’t trip over your feet on your way out, Az!” to which I was greeted with a vulgar gesture.

Nesta and I once again burst into laughter. She placed a firm yet delicate hand on my shoulder as we both fought to catch our breath.

I hadn’t known what to expect when Rhysand informed me that I’d be brushing up on ballroom dancing with the fierce sister of the High Lady, the King Slayer herself, but it certainly wasn’t an afternoon of finding amusement at Azriel’s expense. I could get used to such lessons.

Before Rhysand came back to retrieve Nesta, we enjoyed a cup of lavender tea together. Aside from a brief walk-through the seating area where he swiped a biscuit off my plate, Azriel sulked elsewhere in the palace.

Poor Illyrian baby.

Nesta laughed so hard that she nearly spit out her tea when I informed her of my stealthy baguette attack on the Spymaster the night before. Though, despite all of the laughter, I could see in her eyes that she cared for the male and none of the humor at his expense was entirely malicious.

“This is good for him.” Nesta whispered. “He’s always been quiet but lately he’s been noticeably quieter - making himself scarce. He doesn’t even come to family dinners like he used to.”

“Oh.” I muttered. “Do you know why?”

Nesta started to speak but caught herself, shrugging. “I’m not sure.”

Very well, I was a spy after all. One that wasn’t from her court. I wouldn’t share too much with me either - not to mention that they were friends and it was his information to share.

We enjoyed the remainder of our tea in casual conversation with Nesta confirming that she’d return in two days to instruct Azriel and I further. She parted with what could have been a threat or just friendly words of advice, softly yet firmly put. “He’s a good male. Try not to be too hard on him.”

With a wink she walked out of the palace to meet Rhys.

~~~~~~~~~~

After a long soak in the bath, I indulged in another comfortable Night Court lounge set - this pair including a silken set of shorts falling just below the curve of my ass and wandered to the kitchen.

A meal was already placed on the table, set for two. I wandered over and loaded my plate. It felt silly to sit by myself at such a formal table but I wasn’t exactly sure of the “etiquette” surrounding dining alone in a castle - seating myself next to a fireplace would be optimal.

As I dug into the seasoned roast on my plate, I noticed a shadow make its way to my wrist. “Hello, Shadowsinger.” I stated without looking up from my plate. “Sending your friends to spy on me?”

Azriel stepped into view with a cocky grin. “Just didn’t want you falling out of your chair again.”

I scoffed. “Alright, I deserved that.”

We sat in silence for a few moments before he looked up to meet my eyes.

“You said earlier that you had trained with others,” his eyes swirled with something akin to rage before gently continuing, “others who were not so professional. Why?”

“Why did I train with them or why did I tell you?”

“No, I appreciate that you told me. It’s not easy to open up about past experiences like that.” His face turned empathetic. “but why did you train with them? What path led you there?”

I paused. Nobody had ever asked me such a question before. I barely knew this male and yet he looked at me like he cared. Perhaps it was all a part of the Spymasters rouse but… I bought it. He looked at me as if I was more than just an asset to be used for one form of gain or another - a pain in his ass, yes, but something more than that.

He gave me a moment before his deep voice broke through the silence. “You- you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, I just,” suddenly my nails were very interesting. “Well, I-“

here goes nothing.

“Nobody has every asked me that before. The path has been a spool of memories unraveling within me, threading itself into the the very fibers of my being. I’ve just never… verbalized it.”

His fixed gaze remained patiently upon me, allowing time for my words to form.

“My parents were murdered when I was a child - barely twelve. Amarantha’s cronies ambushed my village, our house being one of the first that they broke into. Like a coward, I hid. My mother was skilled with glamours, using her last burst of power to put a glamour over the door to our underground cellar.”

My throat bobbed as I caught my breath. “Though my parents had instructed me to hide - it ate away at me. What if I could have done something? Anything? To help them - to help the others in my village.

By the time they were through, half of the houses were irreparably burnt, and most of my village had been murdered. They didn’t light the home aflame until after their brutal raid was over and I was fortunate enough that my home was one of the last lit aflame. Someone from the town winnowed to the Summer Court gathering a group of fae with water abilities to help put out the fires. My house was damaged but fortunately, livable enough to carry on with part of a roof over my head.

I spent the next several years there. I had hoped in time the village would rebuild but the remaining population dwindled over the years. The memories too unbearable and the homes far too damaged - the effort of repairing them not worth it.”

I paused, my trembling fingers wrapping around the glass of water before me as I took a sip. Setting the glass back down, I continued.

“When I was sixteen, and word spread that the remaining villagers were fleeing, I knew that the effort of surviving would be too much. I was skilled in hunting and even growing produce but I was one person. I couldn’t spend the remainder of my life in solitude, so I decided to take life back into my own hands.

Never again would I cower. I refused to be afraid. If danger found me again, I would defend myself. I traveled from court to court, taking up any apprenticeship that could aid in building my strengths, both mental and physical. I became adept in glamours, fighting with a range of weapons, stealth and agility, forging weapons, information extraction and so forth. In turn, I would assist my mentors with everything from household duties to their work.

The problem was, over time the males would become entitled. An ‘accidental’ slip of the hand that would reoccur until it became outright groping, there were multiple instances of males attempting to force themselves on me, some would bring in sleazy acquaintances in hopes that I would offer ‘services’ to them.

There were a couple of males who kept their hands to themselves but eventually their partners would become uncomfortable and send me away. I didn’t blame them, however. It was uncommon enough for a female to practice such trades. Townsfolk would gossip, rumors would spread, and they’d be forced to send me away or ruin their reputations - they couldn’t afford to lose business over salacious gossip.”

I took another swig of water and gestured around me, “and now, here I am.”

A muscle feathered in Azriel’s jaw - an unreadable expression on his face.

“Who?” he asked, his voice as dark as night.

“Who, what?” I puzzled.

“Who touched you?”

I huffed a bitter laugh, raising an eyebrow over my next sip of water. “Remember when I said I’d never cower again? Those males are either dead or missing their favorite appendages.”

His expression changed to one that could be read as… pride? Silence momentarily overtaking the room.

His deep voice finally cut through the silence as he spoke two words that sent a wave of heat through my body.

“Good girl.”

~~~~~~~~~~

I couldn’t sleep that night. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, I stalked out to the seating area with a romance novel I’d found on one of the shelves in the palace. I was surprised to find Azriel seated in one of the chairs, a glass of whiskey in hand.

“You’re up late.” I whispered.

“As are you.” He stated plainly.

“Couldn’t sleep.” I replied.

He nodded his head in understanding adding a two finger pour of whiskey to a glass, holding it out for me.

I accepted, sitting in the seat opposite of his. We sat in companionable silence as I read and he laid his head back, staring at the ceiling.

An hour later I was jolted from my reading by a soft snore. I looked up to see Az had nodded off in his chair. I chuckled to myself at the sight, but couldn’t help reveling in the softness of those sharp features. He truly was the most beautiful male I’d ever seen - I wondered if he realized his own beauty.

I retrieved a blanket from a nearby settee and gently placed it on him. Azriel didn’t stir, only his shadows briefly circled around me before deeming that I wasn’t a threat - one playfully tickling my ear.

I didn’t have the heart to leave him in the room alone, so I laid myself on the settee and drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

AZRIEL

A tug pulled him from his rest.

“Look.” his shadows whispered.

“See her.”

He opened his bleary eyes, smiling as they adjusted to the sight before him.

Gods. She was beautiful. The soft glow of the fire illuminating her feminine features added a delicate warmth to her that felt almost intimate - how rarely did she allow others to see her in such a vulnerable state? In this moment, you’d never know the strife she’d been through in her life. He couldn’t help but appreciate it - this moment of trust she was gifting him - laying her guard down before him, that strength she carried herself with at rest. He couldn’t help the feeling of contentment stirring within him at the sight. So many feared him - and for good reason - yet she felt comfortable enough to not only bring him a blanket but to fall asleep in the same space as him.

He gazed at her for longer than he cared to admit before his shadows lulled him back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning came quickly. I awoke to Azriel tapping my shoulder gently. “Wake up” he whispered.

“What- what time is it?” I asked.

“Time to get up - we’ve got a big day today.”

I let out a groan as I stretched, “I thought we were taking the day off from training?”

“We are.” He stated. “Get ready and meet me back here in an hour.”

“It’s too early for your cryptic bullshit, Azriel.” I yawned. “What are we doing?”

He smirked, arms crossed in a warriors stance. “We’re going to Velaris.”

———————————

Tags: @fxckmiup

#acotar x taylor swift #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #Azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #fanfiction #cowboy like me #velaris #moonstone palace #nesta archeron

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forthelostones · 7 months

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i. through the darkness - a fanfiction

꧁ since the apocalypse you found yourself living a stagnant but fulfilling life. you lived in the cabin you watched your parents build many years ago. you never ended up in a qz or sought out refuge anywhere else. living just outside jackson, on a lakefront, away from the world. you watched them build a community around you, something someone so isolated could dream of. but what would it cost? on a lone day, while you're hunting for dinner you hear a dry voice cry for help. it's a familiar voice, one you've only heard of ruffled behind static. she's helpless in your trap, unconscious in the dirt, leaking with blood, her auburn hair stuck to her fighting face.

content: mention of loss, mention of two-parent household, parent/ sibling death (implied), grief, blood, aged!ellie, fluff/angst.

an: waaaaa let's see how long this'll last. first ff since i was 13? woaaaa. also thanks guys for all the follows, that’s means sm to me!!! also any requests? let me know.

wc: 2.2k

Your stomach spoke to you while finishing your glass of herbal tea. It warmed you, but it wouldn’t satisfy you until dinner, which you were putting off. You knew you'd need to go hunt since the change of seasons left you with such little protein. But you so desperately enjoyed the weather and the coolness that allowed you to sit by the fire, read your favorite books, and go thoughtless. The crinkling of the wood created a hazy picture inside your mind of when you would sit by the fire with your mom and read her childhood books. You look around and sit alone with a copy of a graphic novel with pages that have become dusty with time.

You close up the book and swallow the last drops of tea as you slip on your house shoes to walk to the kitchen. The floorboards creak beneath you, echoing in your ears, reminding you how quiet this place has become. Your hands wrap around the ceramic sink as you lay the glass down and peer out to the lake. Your memory floods with flashes of Christmas, the house noisy with the clattering dishes from the same meal mom made every year. Meatloaf, fire-roasted chicken. mashed potatoes, green beans, biscuits, pumpkin pie, and iced lavender tea. A meal that filled your belly up so much that you could barely stand at the sink to wash dishes. But as you stood, you so desperately wanted to lay in your father's arms, on the couch, listening to the laughter of your mom and brother dancing to a record. But instead, you looked out the window, into the never-ending treeline, watching the snow fall heavily over the deck sloppily washing.

You sniffled as you fought the distance between your mind and the present. You weren’t in the business of crying, that ended a long time ago. But when you peered out that same window and watched the sun hallow into the lake slowly you felt as if you could.

Better go, you thought.

You strapped on your boots, tossed your rifle over your shoulder, and headed towards the door. All your gear was already set up from the day previously when you decided you would just eat vegetable soup again for dinner. You groan as you step into the frosty air, colder than you thought, but you smile, knowing Spring is knocking, waiting to come in. The world around you had become so quiet, so you constantly hummed a tune your dad taught you to keep your mind from wandering.

♪ Open the door, Richard…

Open the door and let me in…♪

You hear his voice chime in on the next line…

♪ Open the door, Richard

Richard, why don't you open that door?♪

The whistling breeze came to a brief halt, amplifying your voice and your feet crunching on the recently defrosted grass. As you walk to your post, opposite the lake, you hear coughing. For a moment you think it’s in your head, a new bit your memory made up while singing the vaudeville tune. The gurgle of trapped liquid triggered your senses causing you to leap to the ground.

“‘Elp—“

It wasn’t an infected, it was an actual human. Your body jerks a gasp out of your mouth causing you to muffle your excitement that faded quickly. You set up a conibear trap down that way to ward off the trespassers you thought you’d get. You stood to your feet and sprinted ferociously to the sight. The voice yelped again, softly, as they hear you crash towards them.

Lying in a shallow ditch was a girl with the thick of her calve stuck between your trap. How long has she been out here? Her face was dirtied with earth and her body twitched from the pain. She had dropped out of consciousness as you appeared. Luckily the trap was old and somewhat defective, so her blood flow wasn’t as intense as it could’ve been. You check the surrounding area cautiously to make sure no one is hidden along the shore or tree line. You went over to her, prying the trap away with any remaining strength you had, nicking yourself and freeing her leg. Her pierced veins dripped blood, so you unwrap your scarf and tie it around her flesh until you could get her into the cabin. You hoist her up over your shoulder and walk quickly from shore, up the grassy plain, and twisting the door handle open with a free hand.

Your heart raced at the human connection.

“I gotcha,” you say hoarsely.

You open the bathroom door and lie her in the bathtub, hand behind her frosted neck. She's practically frozen, you thought. You remove her backpack, shoes, and additional layers down to her warming garments and grab the med kit from your living room. Your hands quake as you attempt to remember what to do. Find the source, stop the source, stay clean baby, you hear your Mom say. You cut a strip up her pant leg to view the wound. She needed stitching, on both sides of her calve, bulbs of nervous sweat gathered on your forehead, and fell quickly into the tub. Your hands were damp with fresh blood, more than you’ve ever dealt with before even when you went hunting. You reached for the spout to the tub and rinsed your hands off before delving into the kit for a needle and thread, she was going to be okay.

You stood at her bedside, sponging her face with warm water you boiled on the stove and a clean washcloth. Your heart rate hasn’t dropped since you found her. Almost ten years since a human was breathing around you and you couldn’t believe it, you wished it didn’t go this way, but part of you was glad she did. Questions rummaged through your curious mind about how she found you, why she was here, what if she came to kill you, what if there’s a cure and they were alerting others? The thoughts didn’t stop. She was still unconscious, lying in your bed, tucked warmly with your flannel pajamas, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. You had given her a nice cleaning, wiping away the days-old dirt built up on her skin, even picking it from under her nails. Slathering her dried lips with petroleum, combing her hair after washing it, and now cleaning off her cheeks. Her face pleased your eyes, and that short hair sparked fiery against the dullness of your bedroom, filled with trinkets of the past illuminated by a flickering candle. Your sponge slowly swiped over her tattoo, it looked a few years old, faded away with time, and stretched over her aching muscle.

Cool, you thought in the midst of then constant brain chatter.

You dragged the loveseat from the living room to where she peacefully slept. You had been monitoring her after drowning her in freshwater with crushed-up painkillers. You had been worried because her breathing began to stagger into choking snores. But you also thought it would be a good idea to stay by her side to explain why she was here. In the meantime, you warmed up leftover soup on the stove, making sure there was enough for her when she awakened. You pulled a blanket off your couch and dragged a cup of soup to your post. As you spooned in the warm broth with potatoes and carrots to your mouth you watched her chest rise and fall, even if her breathing became shallow, you watched to make sure. She began to sweat late in the night, so you placed a cool rag on her forehead and dulled the fire. Something about her made you want to know her.

The morning broke through the sheer curtains and the birds from last Spring arrived again. You looked over to your patient who cuddled a pillow to her chest, hair sticky, and sprawled all over her face. It actually makes you smile because for a moment, life feels familiar — she feels familiar. You have a stretch and head to the kitchen to get started on breakfast, oats with apple butter. You toss more fire starter into the pit to bring more warmth to the brisk morning. A loud groan, that flowers into a scream, comes from your bedroom and you are met with the fiery woman once again. Her eyes bulging out of her head as her arms flail with her head tossed back. She searches around your room for something, anything to protect herself, and for a moment you feel the threat of danger comes as she grips the glass of water you set out for her.

“Stop!” You holler, but your voice cracks, it’s been a while since it’s been used like this.

Her strong arms chuck the glass at your feet, which causes you to wince and jump onto the bed. You wrap your hand around her aching, freshly stitched calf. She spits out profanities, reaching for your face, but you just squeeze her throwing arm harder.

“I’m help, I help you, I’m helping you!” You stutter, trying to get the phrasing right.

But she doesn’t stop until tears form in the corner of her eyes.

Her body stops shaking the second she makes eye contact with you. In that moment you felt like Eve, full of sin, being discovered by God's wandering eye, naked, with her pupils melding into yours. She sighs as you lift your hand.

“It’s it’s me,” you suggest, repeatedly saying your name.

Her forest eyes settle on you as you move quickly off of her, freeing her wrist.

“Okay. Okay.” She replies.

Her voice is dry with rasp laced between her moans of agony.

“You got stuck in my trap, do you remember, I-I live here. This is my house.” You explain anxiously.

Which feels weird to say out loud, it’s just yours now.

She remains silent.

“Your leg got caught in a trap, do you remember?” You enunciated slowly.

“I can understand you.”

You twitch at her unpleasant reply.

“Can you? Look, I’m sorry you got stuck. I’ll get you more meds.”

“No, no,” she winches. “It’s fine I have to go, my people are probably worried, how many days has it been?”

You shrug your shoulders, which wasn’t sufficient enough for her, and she spits a nasty what at you. “I don’t know and what do you mean people? Is there someone coming here, are you…”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence at the possibility of this girl attracting people to you.

“No, no one knows I'm here exactly. I wouldn't willingly walk into a trap.”

You keep your post near the door, away from the broken glass as you observe her attempt to sit up. She looks around the room and you feel a wave of embarrassment. Posters from your youth are plastered on the walls, crooked and dusty.

“You won’t be able to make it far with that leg.” You distract her.

She pulls the sheet away from her now bloody gauze. The sight makes you jump into action and elevate it. You thought your stitches would hold, but they didn’t. The glass crunched under you as you leaped to the loveseat where you moved the kit for the night. You frantically removed the swatch of gauze and unraveled it in your hands.

“Give it.” She demands.

But you’re not listening to her words, you unravel the fabric to see your stitches in place, just her movement made her bleed a little more.

“Give it,” she reached for your hands.

“Let me do this!” You scream, shutting her up.

She sits as quiet as she can, sucking her teeth, as you change her bandages. You look up to her and she looks away, avoiding contact with your eyes. You silently walk to wash your hands and grab the broom.

The room falls quiet other than the hay sticks scraping the wood.

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice breaks through the silence and you just freeze, squatting on the ground, over the glass, out of her view. Once the glass is in the metal dustpan you walk it to the kitchen to dispose of it.

“It’s okay. I would’ve reacted the same way.” You sigh, propping yourself back in your chair.

“You alone?”

“I am, have been for the last ten.”

“Oh shit.”

Her reaction pulled at a nerve you didn't think you had.

“Ten years,” she adds. “By yourself? What…”

You just nod, thinking of how your mom would’ve handled this situation. Brought breakfast to bed, made a natural creme for her wounds, and played soft music to awaken her. She wouldn’t have attacked Mom.

“I’ll get started on breakfast.”

You watched her devour a bowl of warm oats. The spoon entered her mouth swiftly, clattering against her front teeth and scraping as she pulled it away. You added milk into her oats to be more filling, lots of cinnamon, and apple butter to hide the stale taste. Her tongue even rode the ridges of the bowl where the thick, sweet glue dried and hardened. Her breathing was sporadic, almost like she would die if she didn’t devour the food immediately. You were still on your fifth spoon, almost halfway through. You deducted from her hurriedness that she was outside for at least three days. She sat patiently against the headboard and waited for you to finish. You had forgotten how to speak to someone. The only time you spoke these days was when you read to yourself, acting out the scenes and trying character voices. As you try to speak to her your voice caught in the back of your throat. But you could ask the one question humans asked each other upon first meeting.

“What’s your name… by the way? The by the way you added hurriedly as you remembered from the movies you watch that they say that.

“Ellie.” She replied.

“Ellie.” You repeat.

You smirked as you took another spoonful, hiding your mouth, you liked the way her name sat at the tip of your tongue. Instead of worrying, you just thought Ellie.

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